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miraculouscontent · 3 years ago

Video

dailymotion

It’s heeeeere! Another summasalt, this time with nearly twice the length of the first one!

(Turns out that not having caffeine doesn’t help me talk any slower.)

Script below:

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on Rocketear?

Can you Rocketear the newest episode apart with your salt, my beloved Salt Queen?

Penny for your thoughts on Rocketear?

Aw, anon! You can have that for free! I'm a generous goddess.

"Rocketear" begins with Chat Noir and Carapace - just Carapace, really - holding back a pack of what I presume to be the physical manifestation of the writing staff's age, or at least a representation of how behind the times the writing seems.

Just as the dinosaurs break through Shellter. Ladybug shows up with the scientist who revived the dinosaurs in the first place and said scientist uses a whistle to calm the dinosaurs down. There's also a line from Bob Roth about putting the dinosaurs in a theme park to make money and I know what it's referencing but it's so incredibly random that it doesn't really come off as a proper joke.

Carapace was notably sad right after battle, but insisted that he was fine when Ladybug asked. Rena, sporting a... - I would like to say "new design" but it's a recolor in every sense of the word - is hiding behind part of a building and smiles after the heroes before walking off. Ladybug takes Nino's miraculous back but sees that he's still upset and asks him again what's wrong. Nino asks where Alya was and Ladybug claims that she only needed Carapace for the job, which cheers him up but only until Ladybug is already gone.

Mm, I guess Nino and Adrien relate in heroism not being enough for them unless they have their respective love interest to flirt with.

Also, I know this is an obvious set-up, but the show can't tell me that Ladybug just always brought Nino and Alya whenever she needed one of them. Season 3 required her to go to Master Fu to get the miraculouses, and unless she already knew that Nino and Alya would be in the same location - which, okay, the show does basically shove the two of them together whenever Nino is onscreen, fair, if two characters are in a relationship in this show then it's weird for them to NOT be with that person - but it just seems like a gamble, not to mention proof to Shadow Moth that the two are close if Ladybug constantly brings both of them.

Anyway, Ladybug goes into the sewer and asks Rena if she's seen any sign of Shadow Moth or his traps. Rena didn't see anything and they de-transform. Marinette is about to leave when she thinks of something, but Alya assumes it's about her new look, which was apparently not voluntary on her part and the suit automatically adapted to Alya's new role as Rena Furtive, which she has now named it as.

Marinette reminds her that this is supposed to be a secret and that they agreed that the fox has no owner. When Alya is evasive about whether she told Nino that she won't be Rena anymore, Marinette stresses that everyone needs to believe that Alya won't be using a miraculous anymore so that she can remain an undercover spy.

What's the point in changing the look if you're not going to show yourself anyway? I mean, insurance, I guess, but still.

Alya, exasperated, parrots what Marinette has apparently told her before: that she helps Ladybug with Mirage in case Shadow Moth tries to follow her so Rena can follow him instead. Marinette stresses the situation again and Alya tries to get Marinette to agree on her telling Nino that she's Rena Furtive, but Marinette refuses.

At Marinette's house, Alya talks further and explains that she doesn't know if she can lie to Nino since they don't keep any secrets--Alya, babe, you kept Rena Rouge from him and didn't tell him that you knew he was Carapace until Ladybug was forced to give you your miraculouses at the same time. I don't wanna hear it.

Marinette states that it's too late for that and also not technically a lie, but Alya gets upset and says that Nino will never trust her again if he finds out that she kept something from him. Marinette brings up how she had to keep secrets from Alya too, but they're interrupted by Tom appearing and wanting to play games with them. Marinette makes an excuse about homework that she's repeated many times, as Tom comments that the teachers give her too much. After Tom is kicked out - hang on, lemme just... - Marinette uses the moment to show Alya that she's lied to her family a lot and hasn't played games with her father in months. She states that there's no other option as they have to protect their identities, and Alya agrees to talk to Nino.

In Alya's room - I just presume at this point that Nino's house doesn't exist and Chris is an illusion - Alya tells Nino that they need to talk, but stammers and states that it's hard to talk about. Nino thinks that she wants to break up with him, but Alya assures that she loves him. She finally gets to the cover story that Rena herself made up in "Sentibubbler" and Nino understands, sad that she won't be around anymore but agreeing if it's what Ladybug thinks is best.

Is it weird that Nino respects Ladybug's wishes more than Alya does?

Nino hugs her and is confused by why Alya was nervous to tell him, as she can tell him anything and nothing will change their relationship. Alya feels guilty and hugs back, murmuring about how they don't have any secrets; that's not what Nino said, but sure, push this plot to its already predictable conclusion. I mean, I thought it was vaguely sweet that Nino switched to seriousness immediately when Alya said that she wanted to talk, but how am I supposed to be invested in this couple when their dynamic boils down to "STRONG, INDEPENDANT WOMAN who wears the pants in the relationship because her boyfriend is portrayed as a wimpy coward"? Like, the show constantly dragged Nino down to make Alya look "powerful" by comparison, and then when it comes to characters like Marinette, we get a girl who works very well outside of her relationship with her endgame love interest.

It's the fakest form of "girl power," dragging guys down to raise girls up or actually making a strong girl character but having her love interest be a weakness that creates flaws in her that weren't there originally and having that love interest be who she's "destined for."

I'm rambling, sorry.

In class, Marinette assures Alya that she did the right thing and Alya agrees. As they're leaving school, Marinette talks about how their "night walks" start soon, and Alya non-subtly talks about how Rena Furtive will be on the lookout while Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol. She stops, however, as gets excited about some pictures she took of herself as Rena Furtive, which has a lot of details that Marinette hasn't seen. I don't know whether to groan at what I just heard or remind everyone that Rena Furtive is literally just a recolor and therefore this is the writers patting themselves on the back for this design, so let's just move on.

Alya then shows Marinette her phone--AUGH, MY EYES--and suggests making a poll on her Ladyblog so people can vote for their favorite Rena design. Marinette has to stress again that Rena Furtive is supposed to be a spy and thus invisible, which Alya admits that she forgot about.

Okay, I've been holding off on talking about this, but now seems like the best time to bring it up. Alya has been a trash friend as well as a trash confidant, and her role as Rena Rouge boiled down to, "it was convenient for her to be the fox at the time it was needed." She's not particularly stealthy like one would expect of a fox, and she was easily one of the worst candidates to be told Marinette's big secret. I'll get more into this later, but I have to stress that Alya has treated Marinette no differently since learning of Marinette's identity and has already gone against Marinette's orders once before at the time of this episode airing. Episodes are constantly torn between validating their decision to have Marinette tell Alya, having Marinette be worried about the decision while the show considers her to be ridiculous for it, and then having Alya either consider or make choices that clearly don't gel well with what's good for her role. Much like Marinette, she lacks a sense of self-control and--wow, a female character who's impulsive, never seen that stereotype before.

Point being, "Sentibubbler" stressed over and over that Alya was the right choice and deserved to be both the permanent fox and the understudy for guardian, but then we have "Rocketear" here where Alya is making basic emotionally-driven errors that I'm not even remotely sympathetic to when Marinette has gone through so much worse over the course of three+ seasons.

*sigh*

Alya laments that it's hard to find new content for the Ladyblog - ah, yes, tell me more about your struggles, Alya - but figures that at least she can post stuff about Chat Noir instead of--I don't know--making fake Ladybug theories to lead people off Marinette's trail. Marinette says that it's a great idea, though Alya still doesn't look too happy. The scene then rewinds to a little bit to show a different point of view, this time with Adrien and Nino. Wait, this feels familiar, wasn't there another episode that did something like--ohhhh no, this is going to hurt.

After saying good-bye to Adrien - something I wish I could do every time he's mentioned or on-screen - Nino catches the bit of conversation where Alya talks about the Ladyblog. Nino talks as if Marinette isn't there and asks Alya out to the movies because Marinette is chopped liver and this is about Alya and how sad she is, guys.

Wow, she's turning into Adrien faster and faster.

Alya hesitates, but Marinette assures her that there's still time. Alya excitedly runs off with Nino and they watch what I presume are previews given the narrator, featuring recycled footage from the Ladybug PV. Nino is upset because Rena is mentioned but not Carapace, and the preview features Rena telling Chat Noir to forget Ladybug because it's Chat and Rena herself who are trulu made for each other.

I don't know what's funnier; the complete lack of self-awareness or the suggestion that a biracial couple would exist in this show outside of a special that gives them maybe a minute of screentime and acts more like suggestive canon anyway. I think I might've been too generous with that line about dinosaurs.

Nino is offended by the preview and Alya brushes off his comments, stating that it's just a cartoon and it's made to entertain people, though Nino himself is certainly not entertained. Can't say I entirely blame him considering that Alya doesn't really try to say anything substantial or even agree with him. No cuddling or reassuring kisses, she just gets slightly sad and turns to her phone for a bit.

After the movie, Nino is cheered back up again until he catches Alya on her phone once more. He offers to take her home, but she's distracted, and he comments that what she showed to Marinette looked pretty nice; I don't know because they didn't show it. Nino asks what it was and Alya evades the question, stating that her battery is running out. Nino is suspicious, but spots Andre's ice cream cart and the two head over there. Andre calls them his favorite couple and asks what they want, but Alya sees Ladybug gesturing for her and has to run off, giving Nino a cheek kiss as she goes which feels like too little too late at this point.

Nino catches some conveniently-placed kids arguing over who Chat Noir loves, but they settle on the fact that girls in general love Chat Noir. Nino is then seen at the Seine watching the Ladyblog's latest video, where Alya is talking up how amazing Chat Noir is. I hate to stop every five seconds to complain - okay, actually I don't - but I presume this video must've been made after the movie since Nino seems like the type who would actively follow his girlfriend's blog, yet not only is this video perfectly set up to echo the kids and the movie preview, but Alya - despite apparently caring about her boyfriend soooo much that she kept trying to convince Marinette to bend the rules - didn't even try to warn Nino or text him so he doesn't take it too seriously. It's like "Sentibubbler" with the conflicting messages about identity rules; Alya cares about her boyfriend but both isn't thinking about how he'll take the things she says and apparently doesn't know him well enough to realize that he wouldn't be mad over her keeping a secret that she was told to keep. I already talked about how they play up Nino to be the emotionally weaker one of the relationship, but then they don't have Alya try to cover or make up for that. She's been acting very much not like Alya - you know, the one who in "Sapotis" practically bragged about how great she'd be at covering for Ladybug - with her stutters and weak excuses, so I can't completely blame Nino for being upset after everything that's happened when he sees the writers projecting onto Alya as she talks about how Chat Noir is brave and funny and cute and showing all these images of him as well. I don't agree with all of his actions, but--oh yeah, speaking of which--

Nino calls Adrien and is talking to him about how Alya must be in love with someone else. Adrien dismisses the idea, as Alya and Nino are together basically all the time, and asks who she could possibly be in love with. When Nino suggests that it's Chat Noir, Adrien laughs and jokes about it being Fang instead. Nino points out the video but Adrien did see it but is overall unphased and convinced that it means nothing. Nino says that he'll find proof and hangs up, but Adrien is certain he'll find nothing. Plagg comments that Nino will find someone because Plagg's charisma has definitely contaminated Adrien.

Ugh.

Adrien expresses concern that he put on the cat's charm too much and accidentally made Alya fall for him, and decides to visit Alya as Chat Noir to be sure.

Meanwhile, we get a reference to film noirs as Nino narrates. That's the second blatant reference this episode and now I feel like they wrote this script while doing a movie marathon.

Chat Noir arrives at Alya's house and Trixx hides before Alya opens the curtains to reveal her surprise guest. Nino is nearby watching the scene with his phone as Alya wonders aloud if something's wrong. Chat assures that everything's fine, but brings up the video she posted. He insists that it made him happy, but points out that she's been following him and Ladybug since the beginning and that they know each other much better due to everything that's happened. He has some conveniently-worded dialog as he starts to say that he hopes something's just an illusion and Alya gets worried that he's about to bring up Rena. Chat continues and clarifies that he wonders if she started to feel something for him, though adds that he understands because just look at him.

UGGGGH.

Chat clarifies by making a heart with his hands, which Nino sees. Alya laughs at this gesture and states that she has a boyfriend, doing the same heart gesture and suggesting that her love for Nino is even more than that. Chat Noir apologizes - hm, I didn't know he had the capacity to do that - and hugs Alya, saying that he was just confused.

An absolutely unnecessary hug for two people who, at least in terms of their current selves, have had very little screentime together, but this is also the show where making eye contact basically means your friends and it's all just to push the plot along so Nino inteprets that Alya is in love with Chat Noir, so whatever I guess.

Alya states that Nino is far more irresistable than Chat, then adds that she doesn't even know his secret identity, and she'd never fall in love with someone she doesn't know. Nino then runs away upset and the scene cuts away to the next day where--

Wait, wait, wait, hang on a second. Two things right off the bat there.

First off, we're just gonna sidle past that "wouldn't fall in love with someone you don't know the identity of" while ignoring the existence of the love square? Not even Chat thinking about how he doesn't know Ladybug's identity and trying to excuse that he doesn't have to? This guy is that certain of their relationship?

Secondly, Nino is practically sobbing and Shadow Moth doesn't take this as his opportunity? Same guy who akumatized Mr. Pigeon 72 times and has akumatized Gigantitan more than once? What is this pacing???

But--alright, so Adrien comes into school and sees Nino, still dressed up in his detective gear, which gets ignored completely as Adrien goes to tell him about Chat Noir and Alya. Because the show doesn't know how Adrien would convey this within reason, Nino interrupts him, taking him down into the lower part of the school where he has a desk and chairs set up. Adrien goes to ask when Nino had time to do this, but Nino slams his hand on the desk to cut him off. Nino presents the evidence he took and they go back and forth, likewise with Adrien turning off the background music while Nino turns it back on. Adrien insists that it's a misunderstanding, but pleads innocent when Nino asks how he knows. Adrien states that Alya is just a superhero fan and that she and Chat Noir have nothing in common.

Again, the complete lack of self-awareness is astonishing.

Adrien repeats what Alya said about secret identities and how she wouldn't fall for someone she doesn't know - they're really ignoring this, aren't they? - and continues hitting Nino's soft spots about how unlikely it is until Nino decides to tell Adrien something he's not supposed to.

He tells Adrien, not only that Alya is Rena Rouge, but that he's Carapace. Adrien goes through a range of emotions beyond sAD for once, shocked at the fact that they know each other's identities. Nino states that they don't keep secrets from each other, except now Alya is with Chat Noir. Adrien still doesn't understand and brings up how secret identities have to be protected, or else Nino wouldn't have told him because Ladybug wouldn't agree to it.

Oh, here we go. So that's why they waited.

Nino states that it was Ladybug herself who gave them their miraculouses at the same time; not giving the reason why, of course, nor pointing out that they're temporary heroes so there's understandably some leeway. Adrien is having a moment, but manages to bring the subject back to Alya and Chat Noir, who he still doesn't think are a thing. Nino argues that it's because Adrien doesn't know Chat Noir, but he does because he's Carapace and knows how Chat Noir acts. He says that it's all flowers and confessions when Ladybug appears, but he gets rejected because Ladybug thinks that he's annoying, and she's right. He adds that Chat flirts with Rena Rouge and that's all that needs to happen, with Chat stepping in on the first mission Carapace lost in. Nino laments the loss of the love of his life and wishes to shut Chat Noir up forever; we all do, Nino, we all do. Shadow Moth finally steps in with - oh, less than eight minutes left in the episode, yikes - and Nino is akumatized into Rocketear.

Rocketear rejects Adrien's pleas to stop, insisting that Chat Noir is who he's after, not Adrien, and Adrien transforms in sad fashion despite Plagg's reminder of who Rocketear is after. Alya, meanwhile, is in the art club with Marinette - wait, since when was Alya in the art club - telling Marinette about how Chat Noir thought she was into him due to the video, which Marinette groans at. There's an earthquake and they peek outside to see Rocketear firing his tears at Chat Noir, shouting that he stole Alya from him. Chat Noir tries to tell him otherwise, but Rocketear won't listen.

Alya groans at Nino doing this, then she and Marinette set off to find a place to transform. They conveniently go to the same place Adrien and Nino were, so they see the desk that Nino had set up.

Genuine question, how seriously does this episode want me to take itself, because now when I recount all the unnecessary love square drama in my head - because you know that's where this is going - I'm going to have to think, "Nino, dressed in a detective outfit, ripped off his fake mustache and told Adrien both his and Rena's identities, and also that Ladybug was totally cool with it and thinks that Chat Noir is annoying."

Gettin' two completely different vibes here. The episode clearly wants to be important but it doesn't take itself seriously either, which it totally could while including enough jokes to keep things light. Instead, I'm just left scratching my head and wondering what tone they're going for.

Marinette finds Nino's phone on the desk - I'm calling continuity error on that one because he at no point put it on the desk, at least not on-screen - and she questions Alya on the video she sees. Alya insists that nothing happened, apparently completely unphased by her boyfriend having spied on her, and says that he wouldn't have misunderstood if he'd heard the actual conversation.

The two transform and Ladybug immediately uses Lucky Charm, receiving a projector. Ladybug is clueless and Rena Furtive suggests creating an imaginary movie like Nino. Ladybug gets an idea, remembering Alya's earlier comments, and Rena confirms that she remembers every word of it.

Aaaaand, just like that, all of the tension has been completely sucked away. You know, "Backwarder" was a trash episode, but at least when Ladybug was showing every step of her plan, she didn't tell us what it was.

Meanwhile, Rocketear and Chat Noir are still arguing--I started zoning out at hearing the same thing over and over again at this point, so I just presume they were fighting over who does stuff behind their love interest's backs better; I don't think they came to an agreement but they're both losers anyway.

Chat Noir says that he'll prove his innocence, tossing his baton aside to show him giving up, but Rocketear points out that it proves nothing and strikes Chat Noir with his tears.

Our endgame love interest, everyone. Straight As yet about as smart as a sack of bricks, and that at least won't flirt with anyone non-consensually.

Chat Noir makes a point that he doesn't want to hurt Rocketear, and Shadow Moth tells Rocketear to take his miraculous before finishing him. Chat Noir can only weakly tell him not to before Ladybug snags Rocketear's wrist and diverts the shot. Ladybug explains to Rocketear about the projector and how it'll let him hear the audio of the recording he took. She adds that she doesn't know what Chat said, but she trusts him.

Marinette, I'm sorry, I feel so bad for you.

Ladybug turns on the projector and Rocketear relaxes at actually hearing what was going on. Rena then de-transforms and hurries out to meet with Rocketear, hugging him as Rocketear apologizes for doubting her. Alya also kinda sorta apologizes in a way I don't understand and Rocketear then breaks his akumatization, very casually, all on his own.

Yeah, just--casually, in a matter of seconds in fact. You know, it's really sad when people resisting akumatizations are more tense and emotionally compelling than them breaking them. This is twice in one season now and has zero impact considering that Nino's reason for being akumatized was already taken care of so he had no reason to stay akumatized anyway. Him breaking his own object to release the akuma would've at least been different, but instead it's just a repeat of what Alya went through with even less tension considering that Alya's wasn't even that good in the first place, relying on her relationship to Ladybug rather than who she knew to be her best friend.

Moving on, Ladybug captures the akuma and uses Miraculous Ladybug to bring everything back to normal. Shadow Moth monologues about how love and secrets don't go well together and he's sure that she has a lot and I'll talk about this later.

Ladybug hands over the magical charm, which Nino takes but insists that he won't need it, as he'll never let Shadow Moth use his love to manipulate him again. Plenty of other things to get akumatized over, but they gave the supposedly ace character a robot to help him stick out and also gave the supposedly aro character a miraculous back in season one to give her more importance. If characters aren't in love then they need something to ceompensate for it.

Nino apologizes to Chat Noir for being wrong and Chat Noir assures him that everyone has doubts, even him. He gets sad and Ladybug asks him what's wrong, but he insists that he's fine - officially throwing away his right to be upset at her later as far as I'm concerned - and they do their usual fist buuuuu--

...Really?

Everyone then splits up and Chat Noir sulks by himself instead of--you know, talking to Ladybug, or asking her anything, or making any sort of excuse for her because that would mean he actually has faith in her and understands that their partnership is different from temporary heroes, even if the excuse was as basic as her wanting to protect him more than the others because he would be that egotistical if they didn't want to stretch out this unnecessary drama.

Later on, Adrien is staring at a picture on the Ladyblog that might be a metaphor for the show considering how "in the foreground" Chat Noir and Rena are.

Adrien vents about Ladybug giving miraculouses to Alya and Nino, but Plagg states that she's the guardian. Adrien clarifies that he's referring to Alya and Nino knowing each other's identities, but Plagg doesn't see the issue. Adrien gets huffy and asks why the rule exists for LadyNoir but not Ninya, but Plagg again points out that she's the guardian, so she makes the rules, though obviously he uses cheese metaphors to convey it.

Okay, Plagg is only, like--half-right because he doesn't have all the information. If you don't mind me rambling for a bit, I'm on the fence here because, on one hand--yes, I agree that Marinette should be allowed to make her own rules, and I often do that in my writing because I think she should be permitted leeway in order to let herself be happy, but on the other hand, it's not technically her rule, as she had to let Alya and Nino in on their identities back in the Season 2 finale, so Fu was still around for a season. She wasn't even guardian yet!

Now, presumably so the fandom could blame Marinette if anything happened, Marinette never discussed this with Fu on-screen, so I can't say whether or not Fu knew, but I feel like he must've since Marinette had to have told him the heroes' identities off-screen, given "Party Crasher," and thus I imagine that Marinette would tell Fu everything that happened, which is consistent with what she does on-screen even if she'd keep things from him for a little while.

"Furious Fu" had also established that not even Master Fu followed rules completely, meaning that Marinette is in this awkward spot of mostly following what Fu taught her, which aren't all guardian rules anyway, and having to break the rules on occasion for various purposes. I can't say what Fu approved of and what he didn't, because episodes spend so much time on the love square that they forget about Marinette as a person and how she interacts with everyone else. From an emotional standpoint, I can't blame Marinette for not revoking the miraculouses of people whose identities get discovered because of her, as I imagine she feels guilty and it probably doesn't seem fair to force them into another miraculous or have them be entirely without one because of a mistake that she made, meaning that someone needs to be throwing a lot of red flags for Marinette to be through with them.

Though obviously, from the show's standpoint, it's just an excuse to not make new models, but I complained about that enough in "Sentibubbler" and this episode even went out of its way to design a detective model for Nino while spraypainting Alya's bodysuit in the same breath, so this is the world we live in.

Anyway, Marinette is essentially in this position where she still has Fu's rules hovering over her, but she's also trying to step out on her own and make her own decisions to varying degrees of success or failure depending on your point of view. Tikki--wait, no, bad idea--Su-Han then, could easily give input on these things, perhaps with Marinette discussing a modern day set of rules for someone her age and going back and forth with Su-Han on what the right choices to make are, finding something that's comfortable but within a realm of predictable control. Su-Han was okay with some rules being broken after seeing how Ladybug handled them and they could've easily made this episode about that instead, but instead, we get rules being set and then being broken on a writer's whim.

Which now brings us to the end of the episode, where Marinette is on the phone with Alya and apologizes for causing trouble between her and Nino. Alya tells her not to worry and she'll fix things - you know, those things that, to Marinette's knowledge, have already been fixed - and asks if Marinette trusts her. Marinette does, and Alya hangs up in order to face Nino.

Yeah, that feeling of dread in your stomach? That means you know how predictable the writing is and what's about to happen, good for you.

Alya explains that she has to tell Nino something and he's worried, this time trying to sheepishly break the tension. She explains that she's still Rena Rouge, much to Nino's shock, and adds that she's in hiding, which is why Ladybug didn't want her to tell anyone. Nino asks why she's telling him if she's not supposed to tell anyone - proving my point from a while back that he wouldn't have been upset had she kept it a secret - then asks if Ladybug agreed with it.

I want to give him a pat on the back for considering Ladybug, but he didn't even tell her when he had the chance that Adrien knows his identity now, so I'm just beaten down at this point.

Instead of answering the question directly, Alya says that she can't hide her identity from him because she loves him and they don't have secrets.

You know, like Nino telling Adrien about Rena's identity, or Alya saying specifically that she's a permanent holder, which I'm sure both of them will confess to since they said that they don't have--aaaaand the episode ends on happy triumphant music, okay.

I mean, I guess Alya at least didn't tell him that Marinette was Ladybug, but that is such a low bar and not even remotely worthy of congratulations when Alya told Nino the specific thing that Marinette told Alya not to tell; the thing that they had agreed on.

Nino wasn't upset anymore. He won't be getting akumatized either. Alya endured the supposed hardship of being a permanent fox holder for four episodes before breaking down and telling her boyfriend. Even her excuse doesn't hold any water because, again, they're both still technically keeping a secret, particularly Alya who knows Marinette's identity as Ladybug. The episode also apparently forgets that Alya and Marinette's friendship must not be as strong by her logic of telling Nino specifically everything, as Alya kept Rena Rouge a secret from Marinette for all of Season 3, but tells Nino about continuing to be Rena Rouge in Season 4. Boyfriends before BFFs without explicitly saying it, or to be more specific, whatever screws Marinette over the most, because that's what this comes down to, made worse by "Optigami" where Marinette told Alya that she'd tell her everything and I guess that doesn't go both ways.

"Sentibubbler" had Alya stress that no one would ever know. She promised Marinette and told Marinette to trust her, and the episode spent its entire running time talking her up and assuring Marinette that she was the right choice, even considering Marinette ridiculous for worrying when Alya had done something without Marinette's permission the episode right before it. Then, three episodes after "Sentibubbler," when Marinette is finally comfortable and trusts Alya completely, Alya betrays that trust. Nino betrayed that trust, knowing he wasn't supposed to do so but telling Adrien his and Rena's identity anyway, because he was losing an argument and needed to PROVE something.

Marinette gives them an inch and they take a mile. Marinette bent the rules so that they could continue to have the miraculous they'd started with and they disrespected her because it was hard for like a day.

And if this bites them back, it won't reflect poorly on them, it'll reflect poorly on Marinette.

It's not like Alya just overrode Marinette. She didn't go, "Hey, I'm telling Nino, I'm sorry," or tried her hardest to go back and forth with Marinette until they both agreed. No, she did what she told Marinette she wouldn't do without saying a word to her, because LOVE and SEEEECRETS.

And this only applies to her, of course, because don't think I didn't notice the parallels between this episode and "Truth," because WOW.

Episode begins with Marinette hoping for something and it blows up in her face? A date at the cinema that ends on a sour note? Plot-centric couple trying to get Andre's ice cream and the female with a secret needing to leave in a hurry? Boyfriend character getting akumatized over their girlfriend's secret? Boyfriend assumes/suggests that the girlfriend's secret involves Aaaaaadrien - or his alter-ego in "Rocketear"'s case - and the episode hints as much to him even though he's completely wrong? Akuma's colors are blue and black? THE BRIDGE?

But, ahhh, little difference, here and there, y'know, like how Marinette was forced to break up with her boyfriend while Alya got to keep hers, and Nino got to have long talks with Alya while Luka got little to nothing with Marinette.

Because do note that Alya, while trying to convince Marinette and talk to Nino about not keeping secrets, at no point suggests that Marinette deserves to be happy and deserves to have a boyfriend and that Marinette should be allowed to tell Luka her secret so they can get back together, so you have Alya here selfishly prioritizing her relationship with Nino while making no comment about Marinette's relationship, essentially asking Marinette to allow her what Marinette herself didn't have the luxury of, and Alya knows this because Marinette told her. It is both incredibly insensitive of Alya and incredibly insulting of the show to make so many parallels between this episode and "Truth" just to have everything crash down for Marinette because she's Marinette while everything goes well for Alya and Nino because they're not Marinette.

We've talked before about the formulas that are literally baked into the show, and one of those is how Marinette makes a mistake in every episode and has to learn from it. What that mistake is in this episode, I don't know, but considering that she apologizes for Alya and Nino's problems, I guess the show blames her for what they themselves had taught her.

Point being, there's a clear karma system in place, but it only applies to Marinette, and forcing her to mess up in every episode means that she is literally not allowed to be with Luka because had she been able to clear things up between them, he would've eagerly accepted her and they could've been happy. It'd be too difficult for her to mess up when Luka doesn't put mountains of pressure and expectations on her like everyone else. Factor that in with how she can be herself around him and it leads to situation that are too difficult for her to screw up in because her mistakes - more often than not - center around Adrien or her role as guardian.

And because another rule in the show is to bring up Adrien so they don't "lose him for too long," she can't avoid bringing him up either. If he's not in the plot, he has to be mentioned, leaving Marinette in a lose-lose situation that she'll never be free from.

So, let me just get this straight then:

The guy who spied on his girlfriend instead of talking to her about his assumptions gets to keep his girlfriend, not because he realized it was wrong regardless of whether he was correct or not, but because the situation had been cleared up for him, yet the guy who actively resisted his akumatization, saddened by his girlfriend's secrets but wanting her to share them when she was ready, gets broken up with and tossed to the wayside because he's not a rich blond boy who got a miraculous because he happened to be within the twenty meters of space where Fu was searching for new holders?

Meanwhile, the girlfriend who has gone against the wishes and insistence of her best friend - guardian of the miraculouses, by the way, so she calls the shots, something that Alya herself said in "Optigami" BEFORE GOING ON TO DO HER OWN THING IN THE SAME EPISODE AND BEING REWARDED FOR IT - is allowed to go against the wishes and insistence of her best friend again for the sake of "all love, no secrets" with her boyfriend and so she can have the happy ending she wants, yet the girl who was chosen for a miraculous without her consent, forced to screw up and talk about a random boy who doesn't even go out of his way to spend time with her, treated like absolute trash by writers who find humor in her misery, and is the only one to receive overly harsh and long-lasting consequences for her actions while also covering up and forgiving the actions of others within the episode where they do it...

doesn't get her happy ending, and won't ever get her happy ending. That thing Shadow Moth said about love and secrets not going well together? Yeah, only goes as far as the writers want it to, because both Nino and Alya still have secrets, and some of the ones they did tell each other were forced by someone else and kept until that very moment. This idea that people in love have to tell each other everything and that it makes a relationship stronger makes me immensely uncomfortable, and that lesson is also in "Guiltrip."

People should be allowed their secrets, and obviously there are exceptions for things that are being hidden with malicious intent, but being essentially forced to share everything or risk not having a "full and complete" relationship is stifling and sounds like it'd only cause stress.

This episode sucks. It furthers and confirms everything I've already thought about the show, Nino's screentime continues to be dependent on Adrien, Alya, or both, there are pointless references that completely take me out of the experience, and the utter betrayal from Alya and supposed message of the episode just reminds me that Marinette is inevitably going to be stuck with a guy who didn't even DO anything in this episode and is going to let himself stew instead of asking for any sort of clarifications from someone he apparently trusts so much.

So the takeaway is that Marinette's life is awful, she'll be forced to apologize for rules that she didn't even come up with herself, her best friend will walk all over her for the sake of her relationship with a guy - not even for the sake, really, they were going to be fine, it was more for HER personal comfort if anything - and the guy who actually makes Marinette happy and could've known her identity instead BECAUSE HE AT LEAST DIDN'T HAVE A TRACK RECORD OF SPILLING HER SECRETS gets treated in the exact same way that she does; like nothing, just something to abuse unfairly.

What a waste of an episode.

#MC's Videos #category: episode summaries #category: salt #salt: adrien agreste #salt: chat noir #salt: alya cesaire #salt: nino lahiffe #video: critique #MC's Renders #render: persona #episode: Rocketear #((I would usually apologize for rambling but you guys seem to like it lol.))#((I could still afford to trim down the summary probably and repeat myself/ramble a BIT less but yeah.))#((I'm also feeling a little more comfortable this time around))#((which might come off in my inflections.))

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shemarmooresfedora · 4 years ago

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Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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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.

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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 4 years ago

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i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.).

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.)

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy.

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

#cockles #cockles ask #liz answers #i really just. spend hours. writing about misha and his boyfriend.#why. why do i. do that #long post for ts

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sagendipity · 3 years ago

Text

the law of attraction: de minimis

a quackity x reader law school au

part one, chapter two

[PREV] | [NEXT]

“Now turn to your left and say hi to your partner, the person your significant other will hate, after you blow them off on Valentines day to do voir dire.”

Alex chuckles, the sound drawing your gaze right over to him. You sigh dramatically, but can’t help yourself from letting a fond smile take over your features.

“Figure it’s time to introduce myself,” Alex quips, holding out a hand invitingly. “Alex.”

“Yeah,” you say, as you take his hand and shake it. He is warm, and your hand fits perfectly in his. “I picked up on that.”

“You will each work in teams of two within larger groups. I will assign you into a group. Each group will have a defense and a prosecution. You do not get to choose which side you represent. You do not get to choose your client. You do not get to choose the crime.” The professor rakes his eyes across the room of students. They all, including you, are silent and sitting attentively. “The only thing you get to choose is how well you represent your client, whether your client be the accused, or the state.”

Beside you, Alex lets out a low sigh, almost a whistle. His knee is bouncing, the black fabric of his track pants bunching up around his knee with the movement. You want to reach out and straighten it, fix the three white stripes running parallel down the side.

“You may know this: the university is granted a courtroom at the William Kunstler Courthouse for academic use. When you leave this room in a few moments, you’ll find informative packets on my desk.” The silver-haired man grabs a heavy stack of papers, and spreads them out on his desk like a dealer spreading a stack of cards. “Take one. It contains all the information you need to win your case, and pass this class.”

Your breath catches in your throat- you had a feeling this was coming.

“If you lose your case,” your professor says. “You will receive a maximum of a B+ in my class. If you win, you are guaranteed an A.”

The static sound of unsettled murmuring steadily rises in the echoey lecture room. You glance over at Alex, who is leaning back in his chair, legs crossed casually. He’s fiddling with one of the hoodie strings that hangs from his collar.

“This mock trial will work as any other real case. Your jury consists of freshmen students in a jury studies elective. They have no knowledge about this case, and you should treat them not as students, but as ordinary citizens when you go through voir dire.”

Alex huffs a laugh again, a little noise that is quickly becoming very familiar to you. “Explains why he went over voir dire for three hours last week.”

Despite the anxiety thrumming through your veins, you nod in accordance. Your fingers thread and twist through each other, the poor ring on your index finger falling victim to your fiddling. You pull it off your finger and twirl it around in your lap, the metal warmed from your body heat even if you feel more frigid than not.

“A real judge will be presiding over your case. Kissing up to them by bringing them a gift basket and ‘thanking them for their time’ is not frowned upon, but it is not effective. They are the only truly impartial ones in that courtroom, most of the time.”

With every word out of your professor’s mouth, you feel your exhaustion growing.

Isn’t this what you want to do? Isn’t this what… everyone here wants to do, for the rest of their lives?

You look to Alex. He’s looking at the professor with bright enough eyes, but the bags underneath them tell a different story, the skin taking on a bluish tint. His relaxed posture, his crossed arms with his fingers tucked into his own sides, the confident yet also unreadable expression he tends to wear still constant as ever. He looks like he knows something you don’t, and that should scare you.

You slide the ring back onto your finger and fold your hands atop your desk.

“The only difference from a real trial is that you have more prep time, and that you have your partner to help you with your side of the case. Both of you will be present in court, choosing jurors, delivering opening arguments, questioning witnesses, presenting evidence and arguments, and, yes, delivering your closing statements. You better get comfortable with your partner. Your futures rest in each other’s hands.”

You think you feel a headache coming on. You’re about to put your entire future, the fate of your entire career, in the warm hands of someone who is, at this point, just this side of total stranger. That should scare you.

“Everyone take a packet on your way out. I suggest you get coffee or a meal with your partner in the time you would spend in this class on an ordinary day. Information about Wednesday’s class is in the packet. We are meeting at the courthouse.” The professor spreads his arms wide, an enthusiastic grin suddenly spreading over his face, looking as out of place as a daisy on a sidewalk full of snow. “Welcome to real criminal procedure. Class is dismissed.”

“Here, before I go.” Alex’s voice pulls you out of your stupor with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You think you can feel the warmth seeping into your chilled skin through the thick fabric of your coat. You look down at where his hand rests on you, his skin a beautiful contrast to the dark red of your coat. Then, you notice his other hand- holding out a post-it note. “My number. I’m really sorry, I have to go- I have a thing to do for a friend- but, are you free this afternoon for lunch, maybe? We can get to know each other a bit before we start spending hours together each day.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you force out, the teasing normally coming naturally, but today it feels like speaking around a rock in your throat. “Um- you have to go?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s a- work thing.”

“I thought you said it was for a friend?”

“It is- look, it’s complicated, I’m sorry. I promise, you can have me as soon as I’m done, I’ll call the minute we’re done.” His furrowed brows stab at your resolve, the questioning facade you put up disappearing like a melted snowflake.

Taking the post-it from his outstretched hand, you carefully fold it into quarters and slip it into the pocket of your slacks. Before you do, you catch a glimpse of a little :] scrawled at the end of the string of numbers.

“What makes you think I want you?” you quip back after a moment.

His face falls for a moment, before he gets the joke and his brown eyes spark back up with the intensity of a firework. An unapologetic laugh bubbles up from his chest, an addicting sound that you feel echoing in your own chest, as well throughout as the high-ceilinged lecture hall.

“I’ll grab you a packet,” you say, nodding your chin at the table at the front of the room that has assembled a bit of a crowd around it. “Go, get your thing done.”

“You- thank you!” Alex grins, his hand on your arm squeezing in some sort of a thank-you before he leaps to his feet and grabs his binder. “I’ll see you soon- promise.”

“Promise,” you nod seriously, holding up your pinky.

You don’t expect him to turn on his heel and link his own finger with yours, pulling your hand tight against his for a moment before nodding with an enthusiasm entirely inappropriate for the situation. Then, he is actually gone, with his green jacket slung over an arm and the papers in his binder fluttering as he whisks out the door.

You notice that the frost in the windows had cleared when you see him jog across the street. He crosses just in time for a gust of wind to threaten to tear off his beanie- he slaps a hand down on top of his head, unruly black strands curling around the edges of the hat as he disappears around a crowded street-corner.

You sit yourself down in the library with a pen, a highlighter, and a steaming cup of coffee from the campus coffee shop. For midmorning on a Monday, the library is packed. Most of the students are windblown and dusted with snowflakes, their jackets pulled tightly around their shoulders as they seek out shelter from the horrible weather to chat with friends, classmates, and partners.

One of the only open tables rests right in the corner, sandwiched between two wide windows. You find why it’s empty very quickly, the thin glass doesn’t do much to stop the icy air from leaking in. Regardless, you shoulder your messenger bag onto an empty chair before setting yourself up in the chair farthest from the window. The packets you’d grabbed from your professor had taken a bit of a beating in the trek here, both dotted with little spots of water from stray, melting snowflakes.

Wincing as you smooth the packets out with your hand, you carefully wipe away an ink smudge that one particularly big snowflake had created. The words “de minimis” are smudged out, at least you think that’s what had been there, considering the following sentence.

A court of law is focused on the smallest things. Arguments are described as de minimis, as in, having their foundation built upon the smallest of things. One partial fingerprint is enough to seal someone’s sentence. One word misspoken is enough to cause a mistrial. One sentence too far is enough to get yourself held in contempt. The smallest things seal fates and shape lives, in law as in life.

You take your pen and carefully scrawl in de minimis onto the dampened paper.

TAGLIST: @just-a-dreammm @strawberrymilkgeorge @wmmy @nochuwastaken @noraimp @axths @tinyegg @moonamor @lincolnns @boiled-onionrings @esylwen @queennightsetz

#quackity #alex quackity #quackity x reader #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #quackity imagine #quackity fanfiction #quackity headcanon #quackity fluff #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #sage vs the law of attraction #sage vs the law of attraction qxr #sage vs quackity #law school #lawyer #law school au #quackity au

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4dtk · 4 years ago

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pas de deux — gojo satoru

pas de deux [pa•de•de] (french, literally “step of two”), a dance duet.

summary: striving to become a principal dancer, you’re unaware of the curious blue eyes from across the studio, only knowing of his reputation from rumours. when you have to shadow your seniors to learn a principal role and meet the infamous gojo satoru, what happens then?

word count: 11k lmfao

genre: a bit of angst, mostly fluff

a/n: gojo brainrot done. sorry this took so long lol i’m not used to writing long fics but i’m glad i did bc this is acts also as a place for me to dump my passion of ballet aha :”)

playlist here! most of them are classical pieces and a bit of ballet class music, i hope you don’t mind uwu. personally, i’d recommend watching (before or after the fic doesn’t matter hahah) the crazy talented marianela nuñez and vadim muntagirov in the pas de deux that i reference a lot in this fic. they’re my absolute favourite! (´･ᴗ･ ` )

tags: @fiona782

it was unconventional to see a ballerino don white hair during rehearsals, let alone in a company; the familiar head of white whizzes through the studio like an angel of the night, with graceful moves and powerful jumps to match those of a faerie's seamless manoeuvers through her flowers.

that was only expected out of a principal anyway.

gojo satoru, a principal dancer of the six eyes theatre. they were part of the three prominent companies that carried the ballet world and industry. behind all the glimmer and glitz lay hours of endless rehearsals and worn-out pointe shoes, as well as smiles behind kitri's fans or even the emotional miming from giselle.

he was untouchable, a leading face that carried the ballets he starred in with immense skill and an aura admired by everyone. anyone lucky to score a pas de deux with him would be torn between a world of conflict. those soft eyes that looked down at you with love were solely meant to portray siegfried's ardour for odette and nothing else.

you sigh, eyeing the confident man giving his all in the company class, no doubt hyping himself up for tonight's last show. you couldn't fall behind, either, knowing your performance was monitored way more now that you were considered amongst the directors to be promoted to principal.

"next group, pay attention, loves!" the teacher for the morning caught your attention, letting the chattering group in front head out first before the next group of dancers took their turn.

dancing was all you could remember, taking up most of your life even when you were a kid. through competitions and gruelling schedules, you managed to land in the six eyes theatre. sure, it wasn't as popular as the zen'in company or the kamo national ballet but, it still held up a wicked reputation, partially thanks to gojo satoru.

your feet naturally hail your command, placing it behind the other in a curtsey to thank the instructor for the morning class as you stretch your feet in some simple pointe repertoire.

"nervous about your posting, (y/n)?" nobara asks, rolling the arch of her feet back and forth with a tennis ball.

you shrugged, "in a way, yeah. i'm getting observed on mainly every move that i make."

the smile your best friend gives you calms you down, at least. megumi chipped in, "hey, you'll become one of the best principals around, i know it."

"yeah! and we'll go to your shows, no matter wha... oh, right, we're first soloists," itadori trails off.

you laugh, settling down to wipe the sweat from your brow. however, there's an uncharacteristic silence when you start to remove your pointe shoes.

"what if i do become principal? i'll miss you guys like hell." you mutter, rubbing off the skin peeling from your toes. removing the tape and toepads, you sigh again even after nobara lands a hand on your arm.

"stop sighing, you idiot, the company's small. sure, you'll have extended rehearsals, and i will now have to deal with yuji's noisy ass, but i doubt we're going to be separated like oil and water."

you roll your eyes, chuckling a little through glossy eyes, "true. it's just that we've always been together, through the competitions where we met and going up the ranks. hell, i wouldn't even imagine all of us becoming first soloists when we entered six eyes."

megumi raises an eyebrow, "are you underestimating us?"

putting your fingers together, you offer a sheepish smile, "just a little."

"and now you're going to become a principal, (y/n). we all know you put yourself to crazy standards that you always reach, maybe even higher than that. you're going to kill it as a principal, i'm sure."

thankful to nobara for the little speech, you pat her arm gently, easing into a stretch to prevent any tensing up later in an afternoon class.

"(y/n), they're coming over, look sharp," itadori notifies you, turning to the barre to do his own stretching as your friends busy themselves with their phones.

you take another curtsey at your instructor, along with the director of six eyes, masamichi yaga.

why... was he here now?

"(y/n), love, we'll need to talk to you about something. would you mind coming to the office later on? just before the company's afternoon class at 2 would be good."

you were at a loss for words.

was i already raised to principal? no... they wouldn't promote someone who's only danced her first soloist role a couple of times. were they going to remove me for consideration? maybe they found a better dancer to monitor?

"it's nothing terrible, (y/n), i promise." with a smile, masamichi walks away, not before patting your shoulder for reassurance.

the next few hours go by in a flash: eating lunch, lazing around in the studio, filming some tiktoks and then getting ready for another class took up most of your time that you didn't get to ponder over the office visit.

so you were definitely surprised to see gojo satoru himself, a shit-eating grin on his face once he hears you enter. he lays back on both arms to welcome the first soloist, you.

you curtseyed again to ms ieiri and masamichi. before you got to gojo, however, he held a hand up before standing up himself to bow. you let out a small smile as the familiar step led you to curtsey on the other foot.

it left a weird feeling in your bones to greet a principal dancer, but you two weren't all that close, anyway. plus, curtseying was basic courtesy in the company, where actions spoke louder than a "good morning" or a "thank you".

"nice to see you, (y/n). miss nitta, as you know," masamichi gestured to your teacher and then to the white-haired man, whose beauty never fails to amaze you, as cliche as it sounds, "and gojo satoru."

"nice to finally talk to you, miss (y/n)," he nods his head, wearing an attractive smile that had you sucking in a breath. you could only manage a smile at the moment, brought back to reality when masamichi's firm voice resonates in the office.

"you've done a tremendous job these past few months, love. we've been watching your roles this season, hopping from one position to the other with no problem at all. i'm sure you were informed that you were being considered to be principal..." you leaned forward in anticipation, "...although you'd have to let your skill shine through more before we promote you to principal any time soon."

bummer, but it's nothing you can't handle.

"we do have something to ask of you, however. your potential is clearly set in the right place, and your talent and determination are not lost. we want you to shadow and learn the repertoire of shoko ieiri and gojo satoru while they rehearse for the next season's premiere."

nevermind, it might actually be something you can't handle.

"me?"

masamichi only lets out a knowing smile. "are you up for the challenge, (y/n)? you'll get to learn and watch how principals rehearse, act and mime out the story in the hands of ballet masters and mistresses like kiyotaka ijichi and mei mei and even tengen hoshi."

your fingers dug into your thigh at the well-known names, always seeing them in the corridors but never knew how they taught or conducted rehearsals. this was your chance.

"of course, director masamichi. i'd be honoured to observe and shadow the company's principal dancers, let alone miss shoko ieiri and mr gojo satoru here. their chemistry onstage is honestly unmatched!"

okay, shut up, (y/n). you're laying your fangirling thoughts on the actual director of six eyes theatre. a simple yes would've sufficed.

"great! you start tomorrow. skip the afternoon class and come straight to the studio on the ground floor. we'll be expecting you."

you couldn't help the grin that appears on your face this time, passing a bow to everyone in the room before curtseying and almost exclaiming a "thank you!"

once you're out of the professional eye, you have a little celebratory dance outside the office, immediately fishing out your phone to text the trio.

"a...ah! gojo senpai!" you take a step back in instinct, the tall principal looming over you with nothing but an intimidating air around him.

however, nothing screams intimidating on his face, as he shoots you a polite smile and a hand to get introductions out of the way.

all you can think about is his large hand enveloping yours while he tells you his name. you're stuck in a trance, locked on his eyes cut off by the black of his sunglasses.

how would those hands feel on my hips when he's lifting me? or maybe we'd engage in a kiss in romeo and juliet...? are we doing r&j for the next season's shows?

fuck.

"uh- yes, nice to meet you too, senpai! i-"

"call me gojo, (y/n)."

you're at a loss for words, the man knowing he's left you speechless with the way he's smirking off into the other direction. you manage to get the prodigy out of your head, willing yourself to get to the company class as soon as possible. since your distraction was gone and the air cleared of any tension, you were able to hear the voices in the office.

"are you sure about this, nitta? we can't have any more dancers off their game just because they were enamoured with satoru to the point of confessing their love to him. every time we get first soloists and principals to pair with him, something always comes up."

"i'm sure, director. (y/n)'s mettle and focus on her roles are strong, and her skills are off the charts. if anything happens, we'll just pair her with another principal, like kento or something." masamichi sounded unconvinced, grunting as their footsteps increased in volume.

company class! company class!

you slipped into the studio just in time to avoid nitta and masamichi, carrying your things as you looked for the trio.

"(y/n)!" yuji catches your attention, although a little too loudly for your liking. you were left to greet the other dancers on the way to their corner, dumping your bag with much more exasperation than you expected.

"what's wrong?" megumi asks, doing some plies at the bar to warm up his feet and muscles.

"i think i should text y'all instead. let's wait for after the show tonight."

you get three nods from the trio in reply, dropping into some simple stretches as the next instructor takes over. at least gojo wasn't here...

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

the applause was deafening as you take your bow, thanking the audiences from the balcony and stalls as you gestured to your pas de deux partner, megumi. putting your hand in front of your heart was a big thing to do, giving thanks to one of your best friends and partners for a fun pair such as bluebird and princess florine.

as you walked back to join the other dancers, the principal roles were taking their bows with no doubt roars and cheers from the audience from yet another electrifying performance from the golden pair as princess aurora and prince florimund: gojo and ieiri.

as ieiri led the conductor on stage, he was the last to thank the audience, bringing the heart of the ballet to life with the score of tchaikovsky's sleeping beauty.

with one last bow, the curtain closes, leaving you to let loose from the rigid position you were used to.

"we're done!" you laugh, hugging megumi as nobara and itadori squeeze their way through the many dancers on stage. the two convey their compliments, prompting you to nudge the two on their puss-in-boots and white cat roles. the two then freeze up, staring at something that was approaching from behind.

"miss (y/n)-" gojo bows, interrupted by ieiri as she crashes into you with a hug.

"oh man, (y/n) you were great out there!" you grin, embracing her as tight as she did.

"thank you, senpai," you were practically beaming, thankful she still remembered you after being promoted to principal years ago. it was hard to communicate and talk when she had so much going on, a natural dancer who rose up the ranks fast with her hard work.

ieiri formed herself up into a refined dancer that you wouldn't think she was the young girl at your studio trying on pointe shoes for the first time years ago when you were a kid.

that was if you didn't know her personally, of course.

"here, first position, just like that!" the curious girl interacted with the kids outside a smaller studio, teaching them the various positions that at least a grade two or three class would use.

she picked up pointe work fast, obviously guided by the mentors at the school with nights of rehearsal and decision making whether she wanted to pursue this professionally.

"oh shush, you, you don't have to call me senpai, see you tomorrow (y/n)!"

ieiri bids you goodbye, no doubt to talk to the choreographers and director. gojo follow suit shortly after your exchange, not before taking your hand to plant a kiss on it.

you retract almost immediately after his lips descend on your skin, the area hot from the lighting, your sweat and your feelings.

nobara tsked, "what's his deal?" you let out a shaky sigh and shrug, hooking an arm around megumi's as you went around to mingle with the dancers.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

[nobara is typing...]

you're to shadow gojo-senpai and shoko-senpai?! no way???!?!1/!?!?

[itadori is typing...]

no way, that's so cool!

what was he like? was he in the office that day?

[(y/n) is typing...]

yeah, he was. not gonna lie, a bit cocky... kinda overheard that partners throw themselves at him sometimes too, which makes it a bit troublesome, lol.

and yes, kugisaki i'll need to observe them starting tomorrow. i cant come for the company class :(

[megumi is typing...]

Then what about Shoko-senpai?

you shake your head even though no one could see you, the forgotten tv series playing in the background while you text your friends instead.

[(y/n) is typing...]

she's too good for him, i think. they're long time friends too, but i'm not sure if any feelings blossomed since then tho

[nobara is typing...]

you don't like him, do you? i know you dont like guys that are full of themselves, altho that man rlly is that attractive .......

[itadori is typing...]

LMAOO whos the smitten one now

nobara sends a vibe check sticker, the one with both hands outstretched with a threatening stare into the screen.

[nobara is typing...]

i'll kill you tomorrow, yuji itadori.

[itadori is typing...]

you'd have to reach my height first, loser

[nobara is typing...]

you- UFGGHKHH

i'll kick your shins, thats what!!!!!!

you roll your eyes as the two of them get into another friendly banter, leaving the group chat to blow up in messages as you switch off the neglected tv.

there's a silence that feels almost too foreign, contrasting to the fact that you enjoyed silences daily. it felt criminal, almost, to be in such a quiet space with no one to fill in the gaps.

you look to your black and white poster for some clarity, the young boy standing at 16 with a softness in his eyes and a lengthened extension that conveyed his love of ballet to you.

you never knew who was the boy, getting a poster shoved into your hands in a hurry when you and your mom bought tickets to the local ballet competition. you never questioned the poster, nor had you caught the boy in the midst of his variation either, settling for a theory that his performance had already passed the day before.

"how do you think it's going to go down tomorrow?" you mumble to no one in particular, tossing and turning in your sheets that didn't quell your worries no matter how much you thrashed.

the dreamless slumber welcomes you into its arms almost immediately, although the morning after was the opposite.

"shit, shit, shit," was your mantra, jumping from place to place in your small apartment to get the things you needed for class. you manage to catch the bus in time, heading straight to the studio with no cup of tea in your hand as usual.

"(y/n)!" nobara grins, seeing you stumble through the door just as everyone finishes their individual warmups. the instructor greets everyone, eager to get into the class as soon as possible.

the thought of the rehearsal shook you up more than you thought it would, leaving you to let out nervous breaths that got worse by the time that class ended.

ieiri didn't miss the way you'd wipe your hands on your tights in worry, going over the steps more than you usually would. you had a killer memory, but it seemed that today that that ability had melted away at the sight of gojo.

"wish me luck, guys," you muttered, hurriedly packing up your things before heading off yourself. the trio only could give you a small smile, knowing you had wanted time to yourself to calm your nerves.

you had always done this for the many shows you starred in: the music and positions mimicking a recording. it was as clear as day when it replayed in your head, the different orchestral parts and the dynamic changes you apply to your steps to give the best performance, for performing your best was all that mattered. the trio understood instantly, always sending you off on your memory replay with an encouraging smile.

well, almost, for you didn't even know what the rehearsal entailed or what piece they would be dancing to.

"hi," your voice appeared meek in the big studio, the only three people there slowly getting warmed up to each other. your feet carried you into a curtsey.

"ah, mei mei-sensei! miss shoko and mr gojo," you acknowledged their presence, placing your things down right where you stood.

"let's begin then, shall we? for this is a gala event, the pas de deux couple will only be performing the entree and the adagio parts. there might be the possibility you two would have to rehearse your individual variations and the coda. still, the organisers haven't gotten back to us on the duration we'll be on stage for. with the switching in and out of the different repertoire, this year should align with don quixote. before we start, i wish that everyone is honest with each other; that way, we can learn from different views."

don quixote?! you hold in your excitement at the revelation, thinking back to the fiery portrayals of kitri and lively spanish music to pair with it. your excitement was on cloud nine while by fifteen minutes, your feet and body were seemingly screaming at you to take a break.

to say it was tiring was an understatement, at the very least. you were to only shadow ieiri's parts, and the absence of a male partner proved challenging when you were the first soloist mirroring a principal and her partner.

"(y/n) should try too, of course! come, come," mei mei beckons you over from where you went over the steps, fingers fidgeting with the waistband of the sheer skirt you'd just bought a few days ago.

"i trust that you are familiar with the wedding PDD, (y/n)?" mei mei asks.

you nod eagerly, not missing the way ieiri beams at your enthusiasm.

"good. we'll just try this part on your own. remember to keep yourself lifted and trust your partner," mei mei eyes you while gojo was already getting comfortable with a hand on your back, "would you like to try it without the music first?"

you nod cautiously. you take note of the way it burns like fire, the contact of his skin on yours. oh god, you wished you had wiped the sweat from it, although the other didn't seem to mind it due to the many partners he's worked with before.

with a quick glance, you snuck a look at the tall dancer, never much prepared for the striking blue of his eyes. however, this time, the cheeky gojo appeared to be kept under wraps, bringing forth a more solemn and nervous exterior. he did seem different and quiet, even catching the attention of mei mei-sensei and ieiri herself. they opted not to say anything.

nevertheless, the two of you narrate the lifts and steps, mixing in the counts with the french vocabulary that stuck with you throughout the years. you were surprised at how much leeway gojo had provided you, allowing you to move freely while bringing you back effortlessly for the couple work.

a smile formed on your face at the flow of your steps as the music plays seamlessly in your mind with how much you've watched different renditions of the wedding pas de deux.

"with the music now, my dears."

ieiri shoots you a thumbs-up, noticeably more tired than you, as she massages the bottom of her feet with calculated force.

the piano starts as the pas de deux passes by smoothly with minimal mishaps, save for some off balances here and there. as always, your hand tingles when it comes in contact with the principal's, willing the quick heartbeats away by thinking of his cocky smirk the other day. with the easy beginning completed, the lifts were now appearing more often.

"hold your body up during the fish dive (y/n), hold your back and position!" gojo stumbles a bit at your mistake, but for the second time around, you manage to get it, coming up from the tricky step into a beautiful arabesque.

a hasty nod, and you're off, pulling away from gojo a tad bit quicker than how you wanted to initiate it. he's taken by surprise at your change of personality, wondering where the flustered soloist had gone to previously. with the same corrections directed at you, mei mei gives you a "good job" before bringing ieiri back in.

"we'll cap you two's pas de deux at that point before the turns. ieiri, you ready to get back into it?" she hesitantly nods, albeit more relaxed than the earlier exchange.

the music starts again, and this time, you manage to gape at the couple's artistry, weaving over and under to fit the delicate notes of minkus' score. with the many turns and tour en l'airs, it now came to the difficult part of the pas de deux: where the woman will wind their hand around the man's single finger, engaging in two turns connected only by that single contact point.

they complete it easily, leaving ieiri to then balance en pointe with one leg suspended in the air. the two repeat it again with no problem, except for the fatigue seeping through their faces at a few moments in time.

as the music reaches its climax, so does the movements with increasing pirouettes and lifts. their chests heave with exhaustion, but their smiles showed that they were satisfied with the run.

it was hard to believe that gojo and ieiri only started to rehearsed this a few weeks ago, especially since these were leading roles with a reasonably complex pas de deux to pair with. nothing seemed to faze them as they received the feedback from mei mei, nor did they have trouble correcting the lift that had gone wrong earlier or the balance that ieiri fell out of.

so this was what it meant to be a principal.

"(y/n)! any feedback that you'd like to give to the two?"

"h..huh, me? i'm not sure if it'd be helpful to-"

"nonsense, hit us, (y/n). rehearsals are always a place for feedback," ieiri grins, taking your hand to bring you closer to the three of them.

"well, i think... i'll comment on the repeated melody where you'll go from the turns into the attitude balance is where it's a bit difficult. since gojo-senpai is tall, he might've put his hand a little too high. i mean, of course, lifting up is ideal, but ieiri-senpai might have some trouble balancing because of that."

they wordlessly try it out without the music, noting how gojo places his hand at a lower height for ieiri. it might've felt foreign, but it looked a tad bit better to you, with a better centre of gravity and stability.

"yeah! like that!" a smile dons your face, "does it feel better, senpai?"

"tons," gojo simply states, almost too eagerly as blue eyes uncharacteristically boring into yours. opposed to the quick glances he always gave you along the corridor or within classes, this one was a strange, longing one. ieiri's voice snaps you out of the spell, almost not wanting to leave his stare.

"way better, thank you (y/n)," she pats your arm before turning to the sound of mei mei's voice.

"alright, beautiful legs and extensions, but we still have a lot to work on, as well as getting (y/n) accustomed to more pas de deux and principal work. would you like to stay on (y/n)?"

you admired your own determination, but sometimes it was better to take a break. having just attempted the coda, you could already feel blisters forming due to your prolonged use of pointe shoes. with a breath, you let gojo complete his pirouettes, restraining the sigh coming from your lips at the perfect revolutions and momentum he had going.

a little more, and you were close to catching a breath, finishing off a quadruple pirouette and tour en l'air with gojo's help. with a slight stumble, you let out a startled laugh before taking your last step with a knee to the floor. with palm outstretched, the piano does a trill before ending off on a chord.

out of the corner of your eye, you spot gojo smiling down at you, a beam that doesn't come often with how much confidence he carries around the company.

ieiri applauds first, followed by mei mei's impressed smile.

"you execute your fouettes well, (y/n)," you bow your head in thanks, brought up unconsciously with gojo's hand as it stays linked in yours.

"thank you, mei mei-sensei. i'm just glad to have tried it out; the don Q coda is one of my favourites," you gush, "the costumes, the music is just everything."

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"to dance with your partner is one thing, but the connection is another. translate the story of the elation of kitri - her father finally gives his blessing for their wedding, and she's excited to the moon. basilio is marrying the girl of his dreams. know what and who you're dancing for." mei mei speaks over the music easily, giving pointers they go over the steps like always.

"i know it's just an empty stage. there's no set, no scene to show the joy all around the cast, but you still are dancing as kitri and basilio," mei mei says after, "let's try again with (y/n)."

rehearsals carried on like this, day after day. some days longer than the other, and on others, you were paired with another first soloist. however, he wasn't tasked with shadowing the couple every day, so the pas de deux was left to you to master.

as you wipe your sweat, ieiri waves her towel in front of you, "wanna have lunch with us?"

"i don't want to intrude-"

"it's gojo's treat," ieiri whispers, "plus he doesn't treat people often."

"is he okay with me coming alo-" she pulls on you, leaving you no choice but to pack your things hurriedly.

"(y/n)'s coming, yea?" ieiri mumbles quickly, hooking her arm around yours in a hassle as you try to keep your things from falling out of your bag.

"i'd like that." gojo says to no one, finally catching up to you two after switching off the studio lights.

"whaaaat, you're leaving so fast?" you pout, eyeing ieiri's neat tray of finished food as gojo lets her pass through in the booth.

"i'm sorry you have to stay here with this dumbass (y/n), but i have a date with the orthopaedic today," ieiri groans.

"like an actual date?" gojo jokes.

"no," she rolls her eyes, "my muscles are acting up a little lately. plus, my arch hurts more often than it usually does. it's best to just check it out, i guess. but yeah, an actual date would be nice, too."

you shrug, "eh, hard to come by when you're a busy ballet dancer in a company. bye, senpai!" you and gojo wave to her as she leaves the diner, now coming to terms with the fact that you were alone with the charming dancer, as much as you hated to admit it.

with his perfect hair and long eyelashes and the enchanting smirk he always seems to wear. not to mention the sheer strength in his leaps in contrast to the delicate grip on your waist-

"thinking about me, love? of course you are."

"what? no!" you stiffen, the blush on your cheeks immediately giving away your thoughts.

"for the record, i've thought of you, too," gojo drops a bomb, leaning over the table to plant a gentle kiss upon your cheek before leaving the booth in a hurry.

you were thankful that he was gone, at least and thankful for the empty diner, leaving you to melt in a puddle of confusion and warmth.

just like the first rehearsal, your cheeks feel hot, as does your body. the place where his lips touched seemed to burn a hole through, your gaping mouth failing to close even after a minute of staring into nothing.

fishing out your phone was the first thing your mind sought out from the endless thoughts in your head.

nobara, nobara, nobara... gotta find her contact..!

[nobara is typing...]

he WHAT???!??@

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"ieiri-senpai, what's a pas de deux to you?" you mumble after rehearsals one day, picking at the tape stuck in between your toes.

"it would have to be what mei mei said, definitely. she still says the same exact thing till today: dance and connection are two different things. and it can't go to the point where two different stories are being told by the male and female dancer. you'll need to go into pas de deux work with a mindset that you come in a pair. every correction and every emotion needs to be felt by both parties for it to reach the audiences."

"what about you?" the question catches you by surprise, resorting to humming as you think of the answer.

"it's something along the lines of your answer and mei mei-sensei's definition. you'd have to be on the same wavelength as your partner. every extension that appears or a gentle port de bras is meant to show the character's personality. you'd also have to think of the context of the ballet, i guess," you stop yourself, looking at gojo as he finishes a tour en l'air en passe. three revolutions and you realise that a. you're staring and b. you were talking way too much.

"sorry! i'm rambling again," you splutter, going back to your original task of taking out the tape from your toes.

ieiri giggles, "no, no! ramble all you want. i love listening to my juniors talk about how much they love ballet."

"sleeping beauty, just like the show a week ago, is set in the royal court, so it's hard to show aurora's personality. she's a little playful and young, although it's hard to slip that in when the wedding pas de deux for that is so grand. and then you'll compare it to the black swan in swan lake, where it's also in a royal court, but odile's the one deceiving siegfried, so there's an opportunity to include some side-eyeing in it. i personally love zenaida's version," you trailed off, "i mean, of course, there's also-"

"then what about odette?" gojo shouts across the studio, with his hands on his hips. the white of his hair matched the pureness of odette's tutu, something you always wished to wear and dance and master when you got accepted into six eyes theatre.

"don't mind him-"

your words take precedence without effort, "with the white swan, odette has to show the struggle of her spell with the frantic miming that she has to do. 'i'm the queen of the swans, rothbart the bastard turned me into a swan' and so on and so forth. because she's a swan, she has to imitate the gentle way that swans move, along with the technical challenges of the pas de deux. she's very soft and fragile, and the violin makes it all the better in showing the shyness and fear in odette."

two pairs of eyes stare at you curiously as the male's smirk leaves you to break into a nervous laugh as you fidget with your fingers.

"sorry, i'm talking a lot. too much. do carry on with your jumps," a small apologetic smile appears on your face, failing to note gojo's hesitation to move from his spot and his interest in the way you can talk endlessly about the art.

gojo's smirk merges into a smile even when he accomplishes the many pirouettes demanded of him. he'd want to hear it from your lips next time when you're wrapped up in each other.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"don't you think he's a little bit too confident for his own good?" nobara whispers to you. with rehearsals off for a few days, you were able to see your best friends again, munching up the calories lost from the afternoon class.

"yeah... for all we know, he might be stumbling around in rehearsals and picking up girls," megumi muttered.

you rolled your eyes, "he's... not like that, guys. he is confident in class and seems a bit cocky, but that's because he really does live up to his name."

"we might not know much, either. (y/n) has been in rehearsals with the guy. he's probably more focused when there are lesser people in the room," yuji chats through his food, gaining disgusted looks from the three of you when lettuce and chicken litter the table.

"well... don't go falling for the guy, yeah? i've beaten up too many exes in the past," megumi tsked, devouring the salad bowl in front of him.

"yeah, but i didn't ask you to, plus you'd do it anyway. didn't even have to ask," you grin, leaning back in your chair triumphantly.

"if i beat up gojo-senpai, i'll probably get jailed."

you and yuji stifle a laugh at his comment, but nobara doesn't seem impressed with the joke, instead focused more on you and your reactions.

you weren't actually developing feelings... right?

the memory and kiss linger in your mind like a stubborn stain, not forgetting the intense stare nobara had given you before you said goodbye to the three. a vibration from your phone snaps you out of the daze, opening your chat group to answer your friends.

[nobara is typing...]

how was rehearsal today?!???! we jsut finished class

also it's been so long since we saw u :(

[(y/n) is typing...]

so good as always is that even a question luv xx

theyre both so talented as individuals as they r in a pdd... it was rlly insightful too!

gojo-senpai kept staring at me today for some reason tho. he felt different today, a little more reserved and whatnot

[megumi is typing...]

Maybe he felt intimidated by your skill lol

"i'll take my leave first, (y/n)! i've got an errand to run. mei mei's accompanying me," ieiri grins, bringing you into a sweat-filled hug. she's used to soaked leotards, even if the grimace on your end doesn't go unnoticed by the principal.

she lets out a chuckle, "you'll get used to mixed sweat and whatnot, (y/n). see ya!"

curtseying comes easy, bidding goodbye to the principal and the ballet mistress.

you were ready to go back to the conversation on your phone, although a call of your name distracted you from the conversation.

"yes...? gojo?" you mumbled, the last name feeling foreign on your lips without the honorific at the back. you put your phone away as the studio immediately diminishes in size, seemingly putting the two of you in a tight space with nowhere to go. it certainly felt like it, with the wordless prompt of his hand.

"try the pas de deux with me," gojo proposes, pulling up a piano rendition of the score on spotify. it wasn't hard to spot the mischievous sparkle in his eye, along with the attractive grin plastered on his face.

the studio appeared calmer now that ieiri and mei mei had left, yet the conflict in your mind was loud and unwelcomed. it felt like a battle between the angel and the devil, and you were sure the devil was nobara herself, screeching at you to remind you of the shit-ton amount of conceitedness he had.

"are we allowed to? don't other people need to use the studio?" you mumble, standing up with the help of gojo nevertheless.

you're playing right into his hand, yet you took it anyway.

he waves a hand, "it's fine; you do know the pas de deux, don't you? we didn't go over it together much, but i'm sure the past rehearsals served you well."

the beginning was refined, having done it earlier with mei mei's help. it was mostly the only thing the two of you went over when mei mei was around, leaving the more complicated parts to ieiri. the fish dive comes naturally this time, imagining the glowing lights and the striking wedding tutu that kitri sports in the third act.

there are howls of laughter at the many mishaps after that. knowing you hadn't rehearsed any of it with your partner, nor with the music before, it was only fair that accidents were to happen.

"no, no, if you let me go, i will kill you- ah! gojo!" you threaten, but it's lost in your mouth as he spins you way too many times, letting a loud shriek escape your mouth.

from a failed pirouette to a fish dive where he almost dropped you (he didn't), the laughter spilling from yours and his lips weren't common in a company class with everyone trying to dance their best.

"hey, hey, lay off the hair!" gojo quips, catching your off-balanced pirouette with a secure hand on the waist. you went along with the music, anyway, giving your exaggerated interpretation of kitri just as the music builds up. that earns a laugh from him, skillfully guiding you through even with the light banter in the room

"here it comes," he mutters to you, feeling the support of gojo's hands on yours as he pushes you off the complete the double attitude turn before hearing a loud ‘thwap!’.

"fuck, sorry! oh my god," you apologise, retracting your leg almost immediately after the collision.

"ah, shit," gojo exclaims, rubbing the side of his thigh as he brings you down gently. there's a frown on his face as you take a peek at the place you hit, the only thoughts running through your head being the articles or scandals you might be caught in.

(y/n) attempting to harm six eyes theatre's golden principal dancer? (y/n)'s downfall full of jealousy? (y/n) and the infamous gojo caught in a fight?

a giggle gets you out of the trenches, hands revealed like a finished magician's act.

"i was kidding; that didn't hurt one bit," gojo jokes, hands naturally reaching forward to place them on your hips, "loosen up a bit, (y/n)."

"i am loose!" your mouth falls into a straight line, "shit that sounded bad, didn't it?" bursting into laughter, your head falls onto his shoulder as your hand reaches up to grasp at his forearm before recovering from the unexpected joke.

as the pas de deux fades off into nothing, only your breaths could be heard in the large studio, blending with the cold air of the air-conditioning and the hot breaths coming from your mouths. strings play softly from the phone, but all you can hear is the echo of the familiar melody as if it was being played in an auditorium.

gojo gives you a gentle smile that you reciprocate, stuck in that annoying hypnotisation of his blue eyes and the same soft look he gives you whenever you aren't looking.

you were looking now, though, and you'd like it even better if time stood still for you to savour this moment.

"would you like to go on a date with me (y/n)?"

there it was, the million-dollar question. it wasn't like you imagined this every night before you slept or whether he'd perform a flashy proposal to ask you out.

but even then, you thought back to the smirks he directed at every other dancer, you thought back to the conversation in masamichi's office, you thought back to nobara's advice.

"surely you're not thinking of getting wooed by gojo satoru, are you? it's dangerous, (y/n), i'm sure you know that."

"fuck, i know! but then he kisses my cheek that one time and everything feels right again. he jokes with me in rehearsals and nudges me when mei mei-sensei compliments me. he treats me to lunch and looks at me with so much passion i almost want to believe it. these past weeks of rehearsals have taught me well in dance, but i'm sure it's making my love life miserable with how much he looks at me and then goes back to flirting with the other dancers."

"i'm sorry, i can't, gojo."

you make haste with the way you're scurrying out of the studio, breaking into a jog to make sure he doesn't catch after you.

you should've said yes, right? with how much he's been building up the courage these past few weeks, careful not to let ieiri spot his sneaky glances. even the kiss on your cheek left his heart pumping long after he's left the diner.

all that to leave him in the dust.

gojo lays in bed that day, eyes fully open as he struggles to get some rest, unaware of the similar turmoil you were going through. the dancer managed to sleep after innumerable amounts of overthinking, departing from consciousness with thoughts of you, just like he always has.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

there weren't any tears involved on your end, save for some of the glossy looks you've given your black and white poster as you played with your pillowcase in anxiety.

you dreaded the next rehearsal, knowing you had to face gojo sooner or later, especially with how you reacted to his question.

"mei mei-sensei, gojo," his name was muttered instead, embarrassed with the way you rushed out of the studio the previous day. mei mei looks between the two of you, clapping her hands together to get your attention.

"ieiri pulled a nerve around her arch, which was why we've been going to the orthopaedic more often. it's a minor injury, and she's resting right now, so we'll have to work with the two of you first. we'll stop at where we always do but feel free to continue if you feel comfortable."

great. it had to be on a day where i couldn't possibly face gojo.

he says nothing at that, both you and the pianist unsure of whether you were to continue.

gojo was still in his a game, hitting every leap and lifting you without much struggle. you, not so much, as the words you said to him replayed in your head like a broken record.

you fell off your balances, you couldn't portray kitri well, you felt the weight of your body get heavier with each repeated thought of the day before. hell, even your practice tutu felt heavy.

he sighs again for the umpteenth time as the music stops, the two of you receiving the same criticism from the previous run. mei mei tries her best to be polite, although you can tell she's losing her patience as well.

"(y/n)? what's gotten into you? i understand every dancer has their bad days, but today appears terrible with the silent treatment you two are giving each other."

you swallow at the question, taking a shaky breath before opening your mouth. you look to gojo for help, but his eyes evade yours by looking at the floor with arms crossed. his head whips toward you with your following words.

"he asked me... on a date. i rejected him, rushed out the studio," you mutter, tracing the fabric of the tutu hanging on your hips.

"you asked her out on a date?" mei mei states in disbelief, looking at the ballerino with a face full of perplexity.

"yeah, i did, and i would do it again," the last whisper is lost to you, unable to hear because of the distance between you and him.

"wh- why? what's wrong with that?" you ask mei mei-sensei, yet again being pulled in by the sky blue of his eyes before looking to the ballet mistress.

"mei mei-"

"gojo never asks anyone out. ever. i'm sure you're the first one."

you can see gojo deflate at that at the corner of your eye, shoulders sagging forward in defeat while mei mei takes the chance to leave for you to sort things out.

"what...?" was the only thing you could muster, eyes following your instructor as she exits the space.

"you two are dismissed for now. talk to him about it and resolve your problem," she waves a hand at you, the tension growing by the second as she's entirely out of the studio.

"gojo?" you ask cautiously, stepping up to him to pull him from the position he was in.

"you believe the rumours, the articles, don't you?" he says, completely unrelated to the situation at hand. the look he gives you was something you couldn't figure out, snatching his arm out of your grip as he puts some distance between the two of you.

"you think i'm some cocky bitch who's just strutting around the company, free to do my own thing?" the other says it in a quiet tone, but it didn't make it less menacing than if he were to shout it.

"do you think i enjoy the way the female dancers throw themselves at me when i'm trying to focus on my mistakes and corrections? you think i enjoy the annoying ass articles written about me?"

with each question, gojo doesn't fail to intimidate you, taking a step each time until you're cornered against the barre. those questions are left unanswered as gojo's eyes bore into yours, losing its usual spark when he glances at you during the pas de deux or when he's laughing at a joke you made over lunch.

"do you think i enjoy being talked about every. single. time?! when i'm passing in the corridors, in masamichi's office, in the company classes, among the little trio you have going on. when i asked you out, it was because i genuinely felt that i could connect to you: with no wrong assumptions or bad impressions," gojo runs a hand through his sweaty hair, the frustrated emotions he felt seeping through into his speech.

"...everything felt so fake to me while getting to know you were the only real thing i could cherish when i get to hold you during the pas de deux, or when my lips landed on your cheek. it was the only real thing that brought on your blush that i imagine your lips on mine way too much."

you chose to ignore the way your heart flutters at the confession, staring up at him with apparent conflict on your face.

"then why can't you just ignore them? i'd expect someone like you to not give a shit about what people think," you whisper.

"you got to know the wrong gojo, then. just like right now, i can't face what others have to murmur around about me."

"right now...?" you caught onto his words fast, your eyes immediately spotting the curious faces of both your friends and a few other dancers fighting for a spot to watch you two through the studio door's glass.

"c'mon, pack up, let's not talk here," gojo states. within seconds, the two of you were out the door with your hand clasped in his. you were quick on your feet to leave the premises, naturally following gojo's lead to an unknown building.

letting go of his hand, you explore the space, taking note of every tiny little thing that made the apartment his own.

"sorry for the mess. i live alone and hardly clean the apartment." the nervousness from the studio stayed, the other opting to remain at the doorway in worry. the silence in the apartment grows, your eyes now trained to the floor as gojo suddenly speaks up.

"i couldn't ignore them, (y/n). their expectations disguised as gossip and rumours allowed me to perform properly. i was afraid of disappointment, of getting ridiculed if i were to make mistakes on stage. any slip-up was seen by the company's sponsors, critics, everyone. their eyes were always on me, and i could never let myself get eaten up by the articles."

"the industry is filled with competition and talent. anyone can replace anyone at any given time; you'd have to have a mind of steel to not get affected by every little thing!"

his eyes meet the back of your head, the fatigue leaking through the lines of his eyes and face. as you turn around, you meet his exhausted ones, and, step by step, you approach the man.

"i can't say i have that mind of steel that i mentioned. i hardly come close to it, (y/n). i'm happy with the company, i'm content with my place, and i'm terribly in love with ballet, but... i'm so tired, really."

your expression of unsaid pity was all you could offer, bringing gojo into a hug as he wrapped his arms around you. the way he relaxed told you of the safe space you provided, while his tight, squeezing arms showed he hasn't embraced in a long time.

a minute or two passes, relishing in the now comfortable silence as the other collects himself.

"i'm laying everything on you, fuck, i'm sorry."

you shake your head into his chest, "don't apologise, you idiot. i should be the one saying sorry for rushing off like that," pulling away, you were heartbroken to see the shine of his tears waiting to cascade down his cheeks.

"i'm sorry i ran off. i was afraid, for a different reason. my rational side always protects my heart, knowing i've had bad experiences with friends and connections. if i couldn't sustain a friendship, who was i to jump into a relationship?" you hand trails to his nape to mindlessly play with the hair there as a form of habit with your own hair.

"it was brave of you, putting yourself out so vulnerably when i only looked at the surface of what you were. i'm sure it felt like those weeks of getting to know each other meant something to you, and i threw it away in fear that you'd leave me after a few months."

"so please don't apologise, i'm sorry i ever made you feel like shit because i didn't know about the weight on your shoulders."

a smile graces your face, the hand on his nape going back to his cheek.

"and stop crying; it doesn't make your eyes look good," you whisper, wiping the tears before they fall as gojo lets out a chuckle.

"you think my eyes look good?"

you roll your eyes, "god, who wouldn't? it's like looking at the sky and the ocean all at the same time. and when you stare at me? i always have trouble looking away from you because of how striking they are."

"are they now?" distracted from the emotional vomit earlier, he grins at your description of him. you're lucky to have your hands on his cheeks just so you can feel the effect you have on him every time you offer a compliment.

"are you done complimenting me?"

"i've only commented on your eyes, though. would you like me to continue?"

"i think you should kiss me first."

you're taken aback by gojo's boldness, a surprised expression appearing at the question. the way he looks at you beats the gazes through the mirror as he warms up and the look of interest over his bowl of miso soup. it beats the glances at you during the company classes and the short, fleeting glimpses as you move together during the pas de deux. it beats every single one that your head descends back into his chest, shy at the look of adoration he was giving you.

"can i really?" you whisper in his shirt, refusing to look up even when he pulls away from your embarrassment.

as his arms unwind themselves from your middle, he crouches down to reach your eye and bring you back from a world of uneasy firsts.

"is it your first?"

this was when gojo satoru was at his rawest, with his hands cupped around your cheeks in the slowly darkening apartment as he prepares himself to kiss you.

"it is."

gojo says nothing after that, the moment of silence feeling like forever before his lips meet yours. the sunset coming in from his windows hits at the right time, because then you'd be able to point at it and describe the colours you feel when his mouth moves against yours. you'd be able to sense your heart pumping and blood flowing more clearly than when you've just finished a demanding combination of steps when he encircles his arms around you to bring you closer.

without choreographed steps, nothing feels more fitting than a kiss full of passion that isn't in a pas de deux. ironically, it was the ones you enjoyed more, more than the kisses in romeo & juliet or in manon.

oxygen becomes scarce, then, prompting you to break away from gojo just as your heart fills up with joy, way more than you can fathom.

you crash your lips into his again, now catching him off-guard. he melts into it with no problem, a laugh spilling from his lips at your eagerness.

"i like you a lot, tons, (y/n). i don't say this often, but i like you."

"it's too early to say it's love, right? because i think i like you too, a lot, tons."

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

you agreed to keep it under wraps for now, with you planning to leave half n' hour later to avoid suspicion. the dancer sacrificed his Z's so you could catch them instead, although you continued to lay awake in his bed watching the white-haired man get ready.

"are you sure the floor wasn't uncomfortable? you could've just used your own bed, y'know."

he only shakes his head, "'s okay. my back was acting up, anyway. it was basically free therapy."

you laugh at that, now sitting up fully to admire gojo's physique. with how affectionate and sweet he is behind closed doors, you swore that he was a different man. he shoots you a finger gun and a wink, knowing the way he's got you wrapped around his finger.

"see you later," gojo whispers, landing a peck on you before taking off on his own. it wasn't long before you had to get up, taking in the room and its decorative spaces. he has ballet posters and photos of his friends; he even had a diffuser.

a yawn takes over you as your hands land on the shirt on you.

fuck, you didn't have anything clean to wear. gojo had provided you with a shirt and pants from his wardrobe yesterday, rejecting his briefs with a laugh. with no bra, you decided to just use a spare leotard you keep in your bag, settling for the clothes gojo had lent you the day before.

the theatre felt different when you entered, heading straight for the studio to avoid any more prying eyes from the younger dancers.

"hey," you say, rubbing at your eyes to the trio warming up their feet.

nobara gasps, grasping at your hand immediately to pull you down onto the floor.

"are you good?" she mumbles, staring at your face for any signs of hurt or crying.

"do i need to beat him up?" megumi challenges, flexing his bicep as a joke, "i've been working out more."

"i'll go tell him off for you, (y/n)!" yuji grins, preparing to quite literally stand up to head over to the other corner of the room.

"no! i mean, yes, i'm good. please don't beat him up, and... sit down, yuji." you sigh.

"nothing... happened, guys. i know what it looked like in the studio yesterday but there wasn't any catfights or physical fights," you pause, looking at megumi, your hands instinctively going to the pouch where you kept your shoes, "we figured out our problem and solved it, that's all."

"so why are you wearing his shirt, then?" nobara shoots without hesitation, causing you to halt your movements for a bit. beside you, you can hear yuji choking on his water.

"i... we.. uhm," you trail off, trying to find the right words to fill in the gaps of your explanation. your eyes flit around the room before landing on gojo's, finding that his were already fixed on you.

"uh... yeah... we cleared up our differences and talked a bit," you mutter, lips breaking into a smile before you break eye contact with him. the trio stay dumbfounded at your word vomit, witnessing the exchange with the principal dancer with puzzlement.

"oh my god, did you guys fuck?" nobara whispers.

"what? no!" you laugh, whacking her shoulder as you stood up to loosen up your feet, preparing for the class conducted by masamichi himself today.

"i'll explain everything when i get back home, okay?" you say to the three of them, stuck in a side hug with nobara as her arm stay loosely wrapped around your waist.

they can only offer you their nods, bidding you goodbye with a slight wave.

as you enter the same rehearsal studio, there's only a single lone dancer in it, stretching over in a middle split as he scrolls on his phone mindlessly.

"hey," you call out to gojo, setting your bag of things down while you run up to him. he stands up instantly, pulling you into an embrace that shocks you with the sheer force of it.

"did you already miss me? that's fast."

he mumbles into your hair, "mhmm... shut up, please."

you laugh at that, recovering from the hug despite the other's protests.

"c'mon, i need to warm up, plus we're supposed to keep this a secret, right?"

gojo whines but lets you go anyway, but not before he plants a kiss on your hand as he lets you do your own thing. the next set of footsteps catch you in surprise, eyes widening at her presence when you run up to her in excitement.

"ieiri-senpai! are you feeling better?" you ask, peeking around at her feet, where she limped on earlier.

"yes, i am, (y/n)," she pats your head and realises your choice of clothing. you noticed her smirk, but before you could counter her question, she beats you to it, "and... i've seen that the dumbass finally made a move."

there's no denying the blush that makes its way onto your cheeks, seemingly oblivious to the stares from everyone when in reality, they were curious to know of what happened the day before.

"yeah, i guess he did," you sigh dreamily, giving off your feelings as ieiri could only smile at your situation.

mei mei enters the room with authority, making you perk up at her words as she walks to the centre of the barre with purpose.

"i trust that you've solved everything, yes? because you two have been quite the talk around the studio," mei mei states, braiding her hair into a side braid as ieiri takes a seat.

"i took her hand to get away from the crowd, sensei. if anything, i should be blamed for engaging in contact that might've given off the assumption that we were dating," gojo steps up.

"but you are dating, aren't you?" mei mei grins, putting on her shoes.

"i..." you tried to speak, but gojo interrupts you before then.

"only if she'll have me, then yes, we are."

you fight back a smile, stepping forward to catch his hand in yours. he's shaking, not at all the confident gojo satoru that you've become so accustomed to.

"yes," your single affirmation holds so much weight, looking up at him with as much joy as he did with you in the morning.

"okay, good! i've gone through enough of gojo staring at you from across the room. let's continue," mei mei casually says, "i'm sure (y/n) has heard the news, yes?"

she's quick to pull you out of your thoughts of gojo looking at you during rehearsals with the question of the news that left you texting the trio at 1am.

[nitta-sensei is typing...]

(y/n)? do you have a minute to spare?

[(y/n) is typing...]

yes sensei?

what seems to be the...

you're cut off by the abrupt phone call as gojo brushes his teeth, speaking to you, though incoherently, through the foam and lather in his mouth.

"yes, nitta-sensei? what is it?"

"i'm sorry for conveying this news over the phone, and i was too excited to wait until the next day. you might or might not like it, but... you're to replace ieiri in the gala event for now." by now, gojo had stopped brushing due to your lack in reply.

he peeks his head out of the bathroom as nitta continues, "she has to heed her orthopaedic's advice and take a break for now, but since you've been shadowing the two for a good amount of time, masamichi thinks its best you take up the role of the female part."

your jaw stays dropped even after nitta says her goodbyes, the phone lit up due to your shock.

"(y/n)? what happened?"

"i'm going to be dancing with you, gojo," you say quietly, "i'm dancing the pas de deux with you!"

you bow your head in acknowledgement, "yes, i have."

ieiri sees the hesitation since now the original dancer was seated in front of you. she shoots you a double thumbs-up as motivation while mei mei briefs you on the gala like she did with the couple at the start.

it's short, and within the next moment, you're already flying through the sky with gojo's help. the steps start to become more apparent and distinct to you, letting the pianist lead the way as the lifts and pair work merge together like a seamless thread.

mei mei is firm in her teaching, knowing your weaknesses and strengths by heart with the past rehearsals that she's done. stopping the two of you before letting ieiri take over was routine, but for now, ieiri contributes with her wisdom from the chair instead.

the rehearsal progresses slowly, opting instead to complete it bit by bit as the weeks turn into days and the days turn into hours. you had to take extra care of your feet, icing them and making sure your blisters don't distract you as rehearsals extend longer to ensure your best performance.

when you had your own commitments, your best friends had theirs, fulfilling principal or first soloist roles just for the gala. there was hardly any time for you to see the trio, but you made up with late facetime calls and online dinners with them.

even with the distance in the company class, gojo never fails to make it up to you with kisses under the moonlight as you watch video after video on don quixote, although taking a specific liking to the pairing of nuñez and muntagirov.

・．━━━━━━━━━━．・

"you ready?" gojo lets out a nervous breath, already hearing the chatter of the gala attendees behind the curtains. beside you, other dancers are warming up for their own parts. some were doing a solo while others were doing a pas de deux like you were, but nonetheless, everyone gathered here was to share the love for ballet.

"hell no, i'm shaking," you laugh, playing with the elastic that was to go over your middle finger. a beautiful, white tutu was tailored just for you with minor tweaks from ieiri's tutu while they were in the midst of completing it. to honour and perform the role of kitri gave you immense joy and excitement, even though you were jittery at the responsibility passed on to you.

"how are you doing?" nobara asks, making you jump at the sudden voice. she lets out a giggle, "sorry."

"i'm... very nervous. is that even a question?" you ask her, holding onto her exposed shoulder a little too tightly. she dons a breathtaking, flowy costume with puffy sleeves and intricate detail. at the same time, yuji was suited up as nobara's partner in a pair of yellow tights, completing the couple look in the comedy-filled la fille mal gardée.

"oi, hot pants, come here! my partner's here finally after taming his hair," nobara jokes, pulling yuji over. they lean into each other's sides naturally, posing with peace signs and big smiles that they were asked to convey to the audience.

"good luck out there," megumi catches your attention, awkward as can be, as he pulls you in for a hug. his pas de deux partner is smiling at you beside him, taking your hand in hers.

"your rehearsals with gojo-senpai are incredible, (y/n)-senpai! all the best for your performance later," she bows, clearly relieved at saying the things she wanted to say.

"all the best for your le corsaire, too," you grin, waving them off excitedly before joining your basilio at the hip.

"you'll do great out there, trust me," gojo places a peck on your temple, holding you close by the waist as you warm up together. there's shared laughter between the two of you, exchanging jokes to calm your nerves and keep your mind moving. with the rush hour backstage, it was imminent that the show was starting soon, the many dancers continuing their warmup without trouble.

only you seemed to be on edge, performing as the first couple of the night for a role you've always loved and adored while watching from the balcony of auditoriums.

"i will. we will." you nod, hands twined with the other's as the curtains make their way up.

"breathe. we'll nail this like we always do," gojo kisses your linked hands, staring down at you with those same eyes you fell in love with. a smile replaced what you couldn't say out loud, bumping your head into his chest as an affectionate gesture, "let's go."

among the cheers and blinding lights, you could only focus on gojo's hand on the small of your back as he led you out. with practised steps, nothing could faze you except, maybe, his dazzling smile and the gentle eyes he has on you for the whole pas de deux.

living the life of an innkeeper's daughter was what you had to portray. while your 'father' was hesitant at first, he's finally given you the blessing to marry your lover, basilio. the glimmering tutu and effortless partnership was only half the job done, and for the radiant smile you had on at the moment, you hoped at least ieiri and mei mei would be proud of the story you were telling together with gojo.

the feeling from rehearsals is amplified on stage, with the orchestra's power and the costumes, providing you with a feeling like no other. and as gojo approaches with a flawless tour en l'air, you realise that with how much work you put in behind the scenes, the result always pays off.

as gojo has his hands on your waist, twirling you around like nothing in a quadruple pirouette, you realise that every step was made possible with the help of ieiri and mei mei and your best friends and lastly, gojo satoru.

the golden, treasured prodigy which you somehow managed to develop feelings for. the talented principal who whines when you won't refuse to give him affection and the once-cocky individual who softens just at the sight of you.

and as the music reaches the end, you want nothing more than to stay in this pas de deux with gojo satoru, in a dance of two.

you end off on an incredible note, chest heaving from the demanding technicalities of the pas de deux. nevertheless, your brain shuts out the thunderous applause, with some imparting you with their standing ovations and others who decided to scream 'bravo!' at the stage.

gojo offers a grin, bringing you close with a hand as you thank the audience with endless curtseys. bowing to your partner was next, thanking him for the interminable rehearsals and that hectic day of emotion from the studio right up to his home.

you almost practically run backstage with the adrenaline flowing through your body, the next act already on stage for the gala.

"oh my god, oh my god!" you whisper-shout in pure glee, hugging gojo close the moment you were out of view of the audience.

"you did it."

"we did it," you reassure, pulling from the embrace to smile up at him. you could feel the dancers' eyes around you, not knowing whether they should look to you or to look away.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, "'s okay, let them look. i don't mind it when i'm with you."

"just to confirm, we... shouldn't kiss, right?" you mumble, but you inch closer to his lips anyway.

"no... i don't think we should," gojo grins, indulging you in the very kiss you've waited for, knowing that right now, it wasn't the stage lights, nor was it the general heat after completing a difficult pas de deux.

it's as if the world gave you rose-tinted glasses, because that was all you could recognise now as gojo pulls you from backstage with your hand tightly locked onto his. he wasn't the six eyes theatre's prized principal, he was just gojo as you run past the many costumes being hung with the click-clacking of your pointe shoes.

you could compare it, almost, to running across a field with a billowing dress behind you, but alas, you were satisfied with being his kitri. for when she and basilio have a life of marriage ahead of them, you and gojo satoru have nothing but longing glances and shared laughter over your stumbling slip-ups in the studio as you tackle one act after the next.

the pas de deux was a connection and a story, and the both of you were just starting out yours.

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carladuquette · 2 years ago

Text

Ich habe 1.209 Mal im Jahr 2022 etwas gepostet

Das sind 59 more posts als 2021!

235 Einträge erstellt (19%)

974 Einträge gerebloggt (81%)

Blogs, die ich am häufigsten gerebloggt habe:

@narcobarbies

@useraljoscha-archived

@cantputitintowords

@asthmaticsarcasticasshole

@elitenetflixsource

Ich habe 1.162 meiner Einträge im Jahr 2022 getaggt

Nur 4% meiner Einträge hatten keine Tags

#elite – 252 Einträge

#lucrecia montesinos – 108 Einträge

#fanfiction – 96 Einträge

#succession – 69 Einträge

#writing – 64 Einträge

#danna paola – 60 Einträge

#lu x valerio – 52 Einträge

#close your eyes – 45 Einträge

#ask answered – 43 Einträge

#rebeka de bormujo – 42 Einträge

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#‘at times you find yourself tending to others more than you do yourself and you often take on more than you can bear of others' sadness’

Meine Top-Einträge im Jahr 2022:

missing them hours

49 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 31. Januar 2022

I’ve been having a lot of THOUGHTS about Lu and Carla’s friendship recently, so bear with me.

(Does anyone still care about the og Elite characters? Probably not. Is that stopping me? Not in the slightest!)

Carla and Lu are kind of opposites in many ways, but here’s one more: Carla’s big issue is that people always want/need sth from her. Polo basically consistently needs her as his pillar of strength while they’re together, then he wants her to come back to him, then he needs her to hide the murder. Samu wants the truth abt Marina, then he wants her to tell the truth in court. Her parents need her to be the girl they can pimp out to save the biz, Yeray wants her to be this vision he’s had of her for years, the ornament to show everyone he’s made it. Everyone always wants sth.

Lu is the exact opposite- her issue is that people don’t want her, or not the full, real her. Guzman doesn’t want her, not really, no matter how hard she works to make him. Her father only wants her as long as she conforms to this picture he has of her: Perfect student, perfect daughter. As soon as she stops conforming, he makes it very clear the family doesn’t want her anymore. Even Valerio pretty much tells her “I saw the person you really are and now I don’t want you anymore.” She gets tossed aside and rejected by everyone who’s important to her.

And the sad part is, they do this to each other, too. First, Lu is pushy to Carla about how she should behave in her relationship. She wants Carla to do what SHE, Lu, thinks is right. Then After Marina, she wants Carla to open up to her, be close with her again, because they supposedly were best friends before this (sth we don’t see much of but are told flat-out).

Carla doesn’t seem to really care much for Lu’s friendship anymore once she gets started with the throuple. And After Marina, she sends the clear message that she doesn’t want Lu in her life. She has to get rid of her because Lu would push until she found out her secret, so of course Carla cannot let her close, but Lu doesn’t know that. She can just tell she’s being rejected, again, this time by her best friend.

Carla always has all these expectations on her and Lu constantly gets the message that she isn’t wanted. That constellation makes it really hard for them to be friends, even without murder and secrets: Purely by virtue of their opposite situations, Carla is bound to be more dismissive w any “demands” she can afford to be, and Lu is bound to be pushy and demanding because she’s learnt that people are bound to reject her and she’s trying to counter it preemptively (subconsciously of course).

And that’s the heartbreaking Ballad of Lu and Carla.

thanks for listening to this first and not making me feel like i was crazy, @asthmaticsarcasticasshole

62 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 9. Juli 2022

The German cabinet has voted to get rid of paragraph 219a of the German penal code, which bans “advertising” for abortions - meaning doctors sharing information for abortion procedures on their websites, for example. This law meant that women trying to find information online about how and where to terminate their pregnancies would often land on extremist websites telling them they’d go to hell if they murder their baby (one such site I found while researching for an article was called babycaust- as in baby and holocaust. Yes, really.)

Now Germany is FINALLY getting rid of this archaic law. Women in need of medical information will find help more easily and doctors can provide this information (about a procedure that is decriminalized in Germany until the 14th week of pregnancy) without fear of getting sued.

There’s still more work to be done, but this is an important step for women’s rights to their own bodies, and for freedom of information. After way too much time, we can say f*ck you and good riddance to 219a!

image (c) Doctors Without Borders

115 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 9. März 2022

dracula: let’s chat about how many solicitors i should have in england!

my good friend jonathan harker: sure, so-

dracula: you’re not actually leaving next week, you’ll stay with me for a month

jonathan: wha-

dracula: here, tell your friends and your boss, but only write about business or else. and know that i’ll be reading your letters

jonathan: i

dracula: also don’t you EVER fall asleep anywhere in this castle that is not your room, you’d regret it 🙃

jonathan:

dracula: [crawls down the castle wall like a lizard]

jonathan:

jonathan: fml

553 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 12. Mai 2022

Meine #1 des Jahres 2022

glennon doyle via twitter on that oscar madness

1.121 Anmerkungen – Gepostet 28. März 2022

Hol dir deinen Tumblr-Jahresr��ckblick 2022 →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #gawd that effing oscar post #i stand by that sentiment but ppl in the comments ruined it #happy w the other 4 posts tho

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things-we-cant-say · 4 years ago

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pretty little liar

Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader

Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.

Genre: College!AU

Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing

Word Count: 4,867

A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️

The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.

You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.

And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.

“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”

Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”

You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”

She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”

“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”

He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.

Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.

“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”

“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”

Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”

With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”

Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”

You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”

Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”

Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”

“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”

Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.

The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.

And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.

Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.

For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?

Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.

You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.

Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…

If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.

Heh.

Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.

“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”

“Um…”

She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”

“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.

Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.

And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.

“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”

“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”

It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”

He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”

“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”

Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”

You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.

Tequila’s kicking in…

Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”

Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”

This bitch.

Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”

Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.

And then he spoke.

“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”

His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”

Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”

Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”

Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”

“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.

You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?

Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.

Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.

The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.

It made you feel powerful.

You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.

“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.

You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.

With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.

“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”

“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.

Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”

“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.

You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.

A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.

When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.

All you could do was try to give as good as you got.

You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.

And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”

Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”

He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”

With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.

You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.

“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”

Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.

Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.

Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.

After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.

Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”

You fixed your dress. “Sure.”

“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”

Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”

“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”

“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”

Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”

That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”

He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”

You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”

Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”

You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”

The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.

#wayv ten #ten imagines #wayv smut #ten scenarios #ten x reader #ten smut #nct scenarios #ten oneshot #wayv imagines #woc reader #wayv ten imagines #ten lee #wayv au #nct au

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allsassnoclass · 2 years ago

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Hazel’s 2022 Writing Roundup

some of you may be thinking “but hazel, you just did a 2022 writing self-evaluation” well this is DIFFERENT this one is almost completely by the numbers and includes GRAPHS

a summary of my writing this year is under the cut!

Let’s start out easy. How many fics did I write? What was the fandom distribution?

11 5sos fics on AO3

2 1d fics on AO3

1 fic for the It movies on AO3

1 fic for Stranger Things on AO3

1 fic for High School Musical: The Musical: The Series on AO3

1 fic for Cobra Kai on AO3

13 ask box prompts right here on tumblr (all for 5sos)

Here’s a handy little pie chart:

As you can clearly see, 5sos still totally dominated my writing year. I assume this will continue, although it could possibly even out slightly next year depending on how much cobra kai retains its claws in me and if I expand into any other fandoms.

Total word count: 147,702 wahoo! That’s more words than Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austin or One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Main pairing distribution (for the 5sos ones)(friendship fics are counted under the overarching pairing, as it focuses on those two (or four) characters)

Cake: 2

Cashton: 5

Lashton: 1

Malum: 2

Mashton: 10

Muke: 2

OT4: 1

Roylum: 1

I think it’s no surprise that mashton is by far my favored pairing, but i’m surprised that cashton had so many fics when malum and lashton did not, as previously I favored those two pairings a lot and I would say cashton is tied for my third or fourth favorite pairing, rather than above either of those. In fact, the fact that lashton has less than cake (who i historically do not write) is very surprising. it looks like i should step up my lashton game a bit next year, although I have to confess that I don’t have any strong ideas for them right now (besides unmute, which constantly haunts me). I also only got 1 lashton prompt request this year out of the 15 total i received, which definitely impacted how much I wrote them.

Here’s a little pie chart, to fully show just how much mashton dominates my writing:

For ao3 ratings, I had 15 teen, 1 for general audiences, and 1 mature fic. All of my ask box prompts are rated teen as a general rule

For my 5sos writings I wrote:

10 fics or ask box prompts that I had the ideas for or received before 2022

10 fics or ask box prompts that I had the ideas for or received during 2022

One of the ones from before 2022 has not been posted, as it’s chapter 6 of an ongoing work. There is another fic from 2022 that is complete that I’ve been holding on to until the right now.

I started keeping track of all of my ideas and when I got them (or received the prompt for them) this year because I was curious to see how many of my fics were new ideas or not, and I’m honestly surprised that it’s so even! I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Looking at which specific fics got completed, only one of the 2022 ideas that I posted was an AO3 fic (when i watch the world burn). The other 9 were ask box prompts from my follower milestone celebration.

I added 30 ideas to my 5sos ideas doc in 2022!

For word count, all of my AO3 fics are somewhere between 1,395 and 50,140. pas de deux (the 50,140 word fic) is the longest fic I’ve ever written by over 20,000 words! I will likely not stop talking about it any time soon lol. It is also my favorite fic of the year, as it includes ballet, minnesota, and hotei within his sack, which are all things that I love dearly.

Looking ahead, what does the future of hazel fic hold? I have no idea! We’re playing it completely by ear. Hopefully, it’s enjoyable for everyone involved. If you’ve read this far, I am giving you my affection

#personal #writing roundup 2022 #i will be honest i'm consistently surprised that i write That Much mashton #it kind of feels like i'm never writing them. i'm always writing someone else #but that's apparently Very Very False #and i'm so flummoxed over the lack of lashton #y'all just have not been asking about them lately #we'll see if any of my lashton fics get developed this year #we'll sure see!

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nol-an · 4 years ago

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when our stars aligned || n. patrick

hello everyone! i’m super excited to finally be posting this slow burn, friends-to-lovers fic that has been in the works for almost a month now!

grab a drink and some snacks, this one’s 12.5k words (and not proofread oops)! as always, feedback is appreciated <3 enjoy!

__________

+ her

Your sweater-clad figure collapsed into your plush mattress as soon as you finished your last assignment for the day. After a hell week of university, you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your night de-stressing and indulging in the bottle of wine that had been calling your name since the beginning of the week. You wanted nothing more than to catch up on the Bachelorette —because who doesn’t love trash TV— and to coil yourself in blankets for the rest of the night.

On the other hand, your best-friend-slash-roommate, Maya, had different plans. She was fully convinced that the only proper remedy to your school-induced slump was a night out on the town. However, you knew that Maya’s plans for you would really just result in you third-wheeling her and her boyfriend, Joel. You don’t even need to ask your friend to know that Joel would be coming along too because the two were a package deal. Although you don’t mind Joel and think he’s a wonderful match for your long-time friend, the last thing you need is to be awkwardly tagging along with the sometimes overly-affectionate couple.

After a back-and-forth negotiation that seemed to last hours, you finally agreed to Maya’s proposition after she offered to wash the dishes and take out the trash for the next two weeks. You still expressed that you wouldn’t be happy if you came across any Bachelorette spoilers while you were out with Maya and Joel, but eventually, your mind became occupied by thoughts of what to wear. Deciding not to think too much into your outfit, you settled for a Pittsburgh Penguins pullover and your comfiest pair of black jeans. You sprayed yourself with perfume and glanced in your mirror one last time before leaving your room with the hopes of returning to your tempting bed soon.

As Joel’s car pulled into the parking lot of your and Maya’s apartment complex, you soon noticed a figure in the passenger seat. Squinting to see if you recognized the man, all you could deduce was that he had long hair and florid cheeks. Turning to Maya in confusion, your best friend looked unbothered as a grin spread across her face at the sight of her boyfriend. You trailed behind her as she jogged towards Joel’s car. She promptly gave him a peck on his cheek before giving the stranger in the passenger seat a hug. Huh, so maybe he wasn’t a stranger after all.

It only took you a few seconds afterwards to realize what was going on.

You were going to kill Maya.

As if she read your mind, your best friend waved you over to the car. Deciding to play nice for the sake of Maya and her excitement, you plastered on your best I-don’t-want-to-be-here-but-you-don’t-know-that smile, and greeted the two guys.

“Y/N, this is Nolan, one of Joel’s friends,” Maya explained. “I know you said you didn’t wanna third wheel, so Joel and I, being the wonderful friends we are, took what you said to heart,” she laughed as she watched your smile twitch a little.

It always took you a while to warm up to strangers and being your best friend of three years, Maya knew you were going to give her an earful after the night was over. So, she figured she’d at least have some fun while she was at it. Your eyes sent daggers in her direction before you waved at Joel and stuck your hand out to greet Nolan.

Other than his small smile that you would’ve missed if you weren’t as observant, Nolan didn’t give much indication that he wanted to be here, either. Great. You couldn’t read his expressions, but you hoped to god that this night wouldn’t be as awkward as you think it’s going to be.

Shortly after the introductions, you and Nolan are squeezed into the back of Joel’s car as him and Maya bicker over who should get the aux. Rolling your eyes, you turn to Nolan, who looks quite amused at the couple’s antics. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to break the ice, you attempted to start a conversation with Nolan.

“I’m guessing this isn’t the first time you’ve been stuck in the same space as Joel and Maya, either?” you joked.

He chuckled and angled his body a little closer towards you. “Unfortunately it’s not. If I’m being honest, this is not how I envisioned my Friday night going.”

Immediately processing his own words, a blush formed across his cheeks. “I- that’s not what I meant. I mean, I’m sure you’re a wonderful person, but Joel told me that we were getting food with Maya. I didn’t know this,” he used his right hand to gesture around the car, “was his actual plan,” he explained.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips, your eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m in the same boat. No one mentioned that you were coming, but honestly, I’m glad I’m not third-wheeling because I wanna puke every time they get too lovey-dovey.”

Nolan nodded in agreement, “You know what, Y/N? I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

Relieved that Nolan was a lot less intimidating than you initially thought, you agreed with his comment and thanked the gods that this night was starting to look up.

“But there is one issue,” Nolan spoke up.

Your raised eyebrows cued him to speak again.

“I don’t know how I feel about that Pens sweatshirt of yours.”

+ him

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” an amused Kevin Hayes emerged from his room. He’d been living with Nolan for quite some time now, but the last thing he expected was to wake up to the sight of his roommate organizing their apartment, dust swiffer and all. There was even a vase of fresh flowers that Kevin sure as hell didn’t buy or remember seeing last night.

“Isn’t it fucking obvious, Hayesy? I’m cleaning the place,” Nolan deadpanned.

“Ok firstly, no shit. I was hoping you’d explain why you’re cleaning. I didn’t even know we had this much cleaning supplies,” Kevin quipped back, glancing over at the array of window and wood cleaner that was haphazardly strewn across the kitchen counter.

“Y/N is coming over,” Nolan curtly responded. He didn’t need to turn his focus away from scrubbing away the stove top’s stains to know that his roommate had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I thought you said the two of you were just friends?”

“Can’t friends hang out?” Nolan retaliated.

“Sure, they can. But why are you disinfecting this whole place? Teeks comes over all the time and you never do this for him,” Kevin pointed out. He knew Nolan enough to know that you weren’t “just a friend.” Nolan talked about you way too much for that to be the case.

“It’s the first time she’s coming over. I just don’t want her thinking we live in a pigsty,” Nolan started, “which is gonna be a little difficult considering you leave your shit all around the place. Plus, don’t act like you’ve never cleaned the place up when you’ve had someone over.”

Kevin was having a little too much fun messing with Nolan. “Okay, first of all, that was one time. And it was for a girl I liked,” Kevin enunciated his last word.

Nolan knew Kevin had a point, but he’d be damned if he let Hayesy know that. Nevertheless, Nolan’s silence gave it away, and that was all Kevin needed to rest his case.

“Deny your feelings all you want, but I know you like her — even if you don’t even know it yourself. Don’t be surprised when I say ‘I-told-you-so,’” Kevin laughed as he headed towards the front door. “m’Gonna head out, but text me if you need anything. Maybe confess your feelings for Y/N while you’re at it.”

Nolan flipped off his roommate. Sometimes he was sure that Kevin was a middle-schooler trapped in a grown man’s body. Why couldn’t you and him be friends without feelings being involved? Nolan was sure you only saw him in a platonic light and he was perfectly fine with that. If anything, he was glad to have met you — in the few months you’ve been in his life, you’ve become a breath of fresh air from his circle of Flyers friends. Sure, he didn’t think the two of you would talk again after the little number that Maya and Joel pulled, but he was glad that his friendship with you bloomed. Not only was he glad to know someone else to tolerate Maya and Joel’s shenanigans with, but he enjoyed how you made him feel like he didn’t have to maintain any facade. Your welcoming aura appreciated Nolan as the goofy, indie music-obsessed Winnipeg native — not a Flyers centerman who was more often than not, under the microscope of Philly and NHL media. He was perfectly content with the friendship and appreciated the soothing presence you offered. Wasn’t that enough of an indication that the two of you were just friends?

Within the next twenty minutes, three knocks on the door vibrated through the apartment, and Nolan rushed to the door to greet you. A smile gleamed on your face and you greeted Nolan with a hug. Although it was your first time hanging out at Nolan’s place — the two of you usually stuck to more public locations — nothing about the exchange was awkward and for that, Nolan was extremely thankful. He knew his quiet demeanor could sometimes scare people away, but you didn’t seem to mind it. Instead, you were patient with him and understood that the two of you would become more comfortable around each other as time wore on.

After setting your bag down on the key table, you casually dove into a story about how you nearly couldn’t make it to Nolan’s apartment because you were convinced you lost your keys.

It was nice, nothing felt stiff and Nolan was relieved that the two of you were able to skip the formalities that usually occur when someone visits for the first time.

Once you wrapped up your story, you finally took the chance to look around Nolan’s home. From the look on your face, Nolan knew you were expecting the place to look different. Whether or not that look was a good thing, however, he wasn’t sure.

“Nols, if I’m gonna be honest here, I was not expecting you and Kevin to have such an organized place,” you laughed, your light-hearted tone indicating that you meant it in the nicest way possible.

Releasing the breath he was holding, Nolan chuckled a bit. “Well, don’t get used to it. It’s only this clean like once a month,” he laughed while scratching the back of his neck. He almost contemplated telling you all the trouble he went through to make sure the apartment was clean for you, but a nagging voice in the back of his head told him not to. Probably a good call. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Yea, water would be great,” you sat on one of the kitchen’s bar stools and watched Nolan pad over to the fridge. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as you peered into the relatively empty fridge.

The hockey player rolled a chilled water bottle over to you, perplexed by your reaction. “If you have something to say, say it to my face,” Nolan attempted to intimidatingly say. His cheery voice and sheepish smile gave away his tough-guy act, though.

“Just wondering how you have like three things in your fridge. What are you supposed to make with two carrots and eggs?” you chuckled.

Nolan feigned offense. “I’ll have you know that my ultra-busy schedule doesn’t let me go grocery shopping much. You should be honored that I was able to fit you into my agenda.” It wasn’t a lie that time didn’t permit Nolan to go shopping for food often, but he knew that if you wanted to hang, he would’ve found a way to make it work. But that’s normal, right? Friends can be excited to hang out with friends, right?

“So I’m guessing your pantry is just as bad?” you inquired.

“Ever the detective, Y/N,” Nolan confirmed. He opened the pantry door, gesturing to the several empty shelves.

Seconds later, the two of you got into a conversation about your favorite snacks. Nolan wasn’t sure how he found so much entertainment from talking about cookies and chips, but he wasn’t complaining. The discussion eventually moved over to the living space of the apartment, where you and Nolan settled on watching “How to Get Away With Murder” before promptly resuming your increasingly-heated debate on the best snacks.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore, Nols. How could you possibly like goldfish more than cheez-its?” you seriously questioned.

“They’re the superior snack, can’t do anything about that. That’s like asking me to choose between indie and country music, no competition,” Nolan shrugged.

Promising Nolan that you’d one day convince him otherwise, you let the conversation slowly fade out as the show started. The next few hours passed by in a blur. There were some side-conversations here, and there, but the two of you were mainly focused on the show and enjoying each other’s presence.

You’re not sure when it happened, but you and Nolan started sharing the same blanket. Minutes later, you were curled into his side, your head resting lightly on his right shoulder. You were so close to him that you could feel his body rumble with laughter every time you made a witty comment. Despite the position the two of you were in, things didn’t go further than that. You didn’t think much of it and based on Nolan’s concentration on the show, it didn’t seem like he gave it much thought, either.

It was nice. More than nice, really. You became so comfortable that you had to keep yourself from dozing off. Every once in a while, Nolan’s hand would play with your hair, his gentle movements nearly lulling you to sleep.

Eventually, you two found a good stopping point and you told Nolan that you should start heading home, not wanting to overstay your visit. Although Nolan protested, you insisted that you would definitely find another time to see him soon and that he should hang out with Kevin, who had gotten home just a few minutes ago.

“Text me when you get home, alright?”

“Yea, of course. Don’t watch any episodes without me, okay?” you said, sticking out your pinky to make Nolan promise.

“Only if you bring over some of your homemade chocolate-chip cookies that you talked about earlier,” he bargained.

“Deal,” you waved goodbye to Nolan one last time before slipping out the door. “Tell Hayesy I said hi,” you hollered from down the hall.

Speaking of the devil himself, Kevin walked over to Nolan once he shut the door. Before Kevin could even wipe the smirk off his face, Nolan stopped him.

“Just friends, Hayesy,” Nolan reaffirmed.

+ him

Another few months passed on, and everything proceeded as normal. You and Nolan’s bond inevitably grew, and he could confidently call you one of his best friends. You two made an effort to hang out at least every other week, and your plans ranged from short weekend getaways to study sessions where Nolan attempted to help you cram for tests. Nolan loved every second he spent with you, and he was more than grateful that Maya and Joel had introduced you to him. Eventually, the hang-out regimen that you and Nolan had developed started wavering as the universe had different plans for you two. You had totally forgotten about a major ten page paper you had to do and with the season starting soon, Nolan was back to practices and workout sessions nearly every day.

You two texted and FaceTimed, though, so not all was a lost cause. Especially for Nolan, it felt as if he was spending every minute of his free time talking to or texting you — not that he minded it, anyway. The text conversations were always light-hearted and mostly consisted of funny tweets and song recommendations. Even when you and Nolan called, your minds that were typically flooded with thoughts of school or hockey became more relaxed upon hearing the other’s voice.

After wrapping up a morning skate with Travis, Nolan checked his phones for any notifications.

Hayesy: Y/N is here. Not sure why but she was looking for you.

With panicked eyes, Nolan tried to think of all of the reasons why you’d be at his apartment. The blood nearly drained out of his face at the thought of making plans with you and accidentally forgetting, but he reassured himself that there was no way that was the case.

Is she okay???? Nolan quickly texted before running into the showers.

Nolan had never showered and changed that quickly, and he was almost positive that he put his shirt on backwards as he ran to his car. He mentally cursed Kevin, who for some reason thought it was acceptable to send him a cryptic text about you without any follow-up. You were usually good about texting Nolan about any updates to your life, so Nolan couldn’t help when his mind started conjuring worst-case scenarios.

Once Nolan got to his apartment complex, he sprinted up dozens of flights of stairs thinking that they’d be faster than the elevator. However, coupled with his growing soreness from his earlier workout, each step on the stairs sent rays of pain through his legs and a regret for thinking the stairs would be a good idea.

After it felt like he had run a marathon, the hockey player finally reached his door. He frustratingly searched for his keys, hoping to god you were okay.

Nolan swung the door open with so much force that he was almost sure he’d have to tighten the screws on its hinges. “Y/N?” Nolan called. His frantic eyes searched for your figure, but he was instead met with the sight of his roommate.

“You just missed her,” Kevin replied from the kitchen. In his hand was what looked like a cookie, and behind him was at least three grocery bags. “I told her to stay because I figured you’d be home soon, but she seemed like she was in a rush. Something about a paper she had,” Kevin elaborated, his mouth full of the cookies. “Did you run here from the rink or something? You look like shit,” Hayesy jokingly noted.

Nolan rolled his eyes at his roommate and sighed, genuinely relieved to know that you were alright. As soon as any of the fears of you being hurt left his system, Nolan started thinking about how he would’ve been able to see you had Travis not persuaded him to run extra drills. It had felt like centuries since he last saw you, and seeing you even just for a second would have undoubtedly made his day better. Dammit, Travis.

Deciding he didn’t want to endure any of Kevin’s teasing, Nolan suppressed his disappointment and tried to subtly get more details out of his roommate.

“She didn’t text me about coming over. What did she need?”

“Well, after making fun of us for our empty fridge and pantry, she said gave me all of these bags,” Kevin gestured to the bags behind him. “Said she visited a grocery store nearby and figured she could get some stuff for us, too,” he continued.

A smile graced Nolan’s face as he recalled the conversation you and he shared about his grocery shopping (or lack thereof) habits.

“She also brought over these cookies she made, but I think I’m gonna have to take these for myself,” Kevin grinned, reaching for another cookie from the tupperware container. “Why do my ‘just-friends’ never bake me cookies?” he nearly moaned at the taste of the treats.

“Maybe because you have no restraint and eat cookies that are meant for your roommate, you jerk,” Nolan remarked.

“Hey, I was being nice by telling you she brought these cookies over. If I really wanted to, I could’ve hid these. You can have a bite, though,” he stuck out his already half-eaten cookie in front of Nolan’s face.

Flipping Kevin off, Nolan walked over to the counter with the bags. Pulling out their contents, he slowly started placing everything in the pantry and fridge. In the second bag, he found a box of cheez-its with a small piece of paper tacked on the top.

Doing you a favor by buying you these, no need to thank me. Miss ya lots <3

Under the message, your name was messily etched onto the lined paper along with a smiley face. Nolan could almost hear your feigned-snarkiness through your note.

Once all of the groceries were put away, Nolan returned to his room. He immediately plugged in his phone before pressing your name under his FaceTime contacts. It only took a couple of rings before you picked up. Your hair was in a loose ponytail, large glasses covering your face. You looked exhausted from the stress you were undoubtedly experiencing because of your soon-to-be-due paper, but your positive personality radiated through Nolan’s phone screen nonetheless.

“Should I feel guilty that my snack collection was so pathetic that a busy college student felt compelled to take time out of their day to buy me food?” Nolan joked.

“I felt guilty that we had been friends for months before I found out that your pantry was that pathetic,” you laughed. “But seriously, don’t worry about it. I was in the area and I know you’ve been super busy recently so I figured I could help you out. The cheez-its were the first thing I saw in the store and I thought of you and that conversation we had when I came to your place for the first time,” you sheepishly responded.

Every few seconds, your eyes would dart back to your laptop, where you were taking notes. Nolan knew that you would never want him to think that he was calling you at a bad time, but the laptop’s reflections on your glasses gave away your act. Of course he felt bad, but he was momentarily distracted by the warm feeling that overcame him. It was such a sweet gesture, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t get butterflies at the sound of your confession.

“Y/N you didn’t have to do this, but I really appreciate it. Thanks for the cookies, too. Pretty sure Hayesy destroyed half of the container before I even got home,” Nolan laughed.

“Oh, gosh,” you started, “in hindsight I probably should’ve texted you to let you know I was coming over, but I wanted to surprise you.”

Upon hearing you words, Nolan’s beaming smile grew impossibly wider. And to his dismay, the butterflies came back for a second time.

“Hey, I gotta go but I promise I’ll text you soon. My prof is out for blood with this assignment,” you groaned. “Maybe we can do dinner at your place now that you have more than two things in your fridge.”

Nolan laughed off your banter and nodded in agreement. He felt like a giddy school girl. “Yea, yea of course. We can pick up on ‘How to Get Away With Murder’ while we’re at it.”

“It’s a date,” you flashed him a thumbs up. “Oh, and I think your shirt’s on backwards,” you giggled and tugged at the collar of your own sweater to emphasize your point. Luckily for Nolan, you hung up before you could see his embarrassed expression.

Had it not been for the fact that you called your upcoming plans with Nolan a “date,” he would have cared more about his shirt issue. But, here he was laying in his bed and already counting down the days until he’d get to see you again.

He knew you meant it as a friend date, but could you blame him for envisioning what it’d be like to go on a romantic date with you? He wanted to bake homemade cookies with you, run his fingers through your hair when you were stressed from school, and become consumed in pointless conversations about anything and everything with you. Hell, he even wanted to help you proofread your school papers, even if he’d have no idea what the fuck the Pygmalion Effect is. He adored so many things about you and was more than willing to jump through hoops and hurdles if it meant he could be your source of happiness and support.

And that’s when Nolan knew he was in trouble. He had never let his mind drift this far, and he usually had enough self-restraint to stop himself from envisioning you as his girlfriend. He knew he needed to stop before he dug a hole for himself that he wouldn’t be able to get out of. But if he was being honest, Nolan quite liked the warm feeling he had from the thought of calling you his.

Oh god.

Nolan was so far gone for you. Kevin knew it, his teammates probably knew it from the dozens of times he managed to bring you up in conversations, and now he certainly knew it for himself. What he didn’t know, however, was if you felt the same feeling of anticipation in the pit of your stomach at the thought of being more than just friends.

+ her

After your FaceTime call with Nolan, you finally gathered enough motivation to finish your paper. You weren’t sure if it was because of your excitement to see Nolan or because you were sick of staring at your screen, but you were nonetheless relieved when you sent off the finalized version of your work.

The two of you eventually settled on meeting at his place on Saturday night, which was only a couple of days away.

If you were being frank with yourself, you knew that you were catching feelings for Nolan, but how could you not? He has immaculate music taste, is a great listener, and always knows the best ways to make your off-days better. Not long after you met him for the first time, you had a feeling that it wouldn’t take long for you to want a more-than-friends relationship with him. In fact, it was frightening to acknowledge how much better your life has been now that Nolan is involved. You were a little embarrassed that he was able to sweep you off your feet as quickly as he did, but you couldn’t control how you felt. Well, that’s at least what you kept telling yourself.

You weren’t entirely sure how to deal with your feelings for Nolan. You relied on familiarity and stability in your life, and if Nolan didn’t reciprocate your feelings towards him, there was no doubt all hell would break loose — at least for you. Per every rom-com you’ve ever watched, you were fully aware that unrequited feelings, in most cases, was a one-way ticket to a doomed and awkward friendship. If confessing your feelings towards an indifferent Nolan meant that your friendship with him would be jeopardized, you would gladly keep your thoughts to yourself.

It was hard, though. Sometimes he treated you like you were the only person in the room, and other times, it felt pretty clear that he only saw you in an extremely platonic light. Of course none of your friends could tell the difference between your interactions with the centerman because they always teased the two of you about needing to finally date each other. However, his mixed-signals convinced you that you had a chance with him on some nights and that you were overthinking everything the next.

As much as you wanted to tell Maya about your dilemma, you knew that she was terrible at keeping secrets. In any other circumstance, you would’ve told her that you liked someone the minute you found out. However, considering how her boyfriend’s a teammate of Nolan, it would have been game over if Joel knew. As much as he prided himself on having a tighter seal on secrets than Maya, he wasn’t much of an improvement from your best friend. You considered telling your other friends because you desperately needed someone to vent-out your feelings to, but you didn’t have the energy to explain how you ended up being wrapped around the fingers of a Philadelphia Flyers player.

So, here you were, in bed and confused. You were counting down the days until you’d get to see Nolan again, but you also wish you had more time to figure out what to do about your feelings. Part of you told you that you could handle pushing away your emotions for the few hours you would be with Nolan. The other (and more obnoxious) part of your brain, though, sent blaring red sirens through your body at the thought of your Plan A. It warned you that internalizing your feelings was a terrible idea and that no matter how tempting it would be to pretend like you weren’t falling for Nolan, maybe it’d be better to just rip off the bandaid and tell him.

You went back and forth between your two plans and were sure that if anyone could take a look into your brain, they would be faced with thoughts that were racing around at a million miles per hour. (And they’d probably have pity on you.)

As if someone was witnessing your inner turmoil fetter within you in real time, it seemed like your prayers for more time were answered when you fell ill with a cold Saturday morning.

Sure, it wasn’t ideal. You sure as hell were not enjoying your congestion and occasional chills, but at least you had plenty of time to sort things out. It was disappointing to know that you wouldn’t get to see Nolan, but he was extremely understanding of your issue. He reassured you that you shouldn’t feel guilty for bailing, especially since you were sick. He even made you promise that you would get plenty of rest and that you wouldn’t apologize for something you couldn’t control.

With those words from Nolan, you took your promise to heart and slipped into a much-needed slumber.

+ him

“So, Patty, care to explain to Teeks what you were planning to use these candles for?” Hayesy teased as he plucked a tealight candle from its spot on the kitchen table.

Kevin knew you and Nolan had made plans for dinner, and he also happened to know that Nolan finally came to terms with his feelings for you. As much as he chirped the younger hockey player, he was glad that Nolan wasn’t beating around the bush anymore. Kevin adored you and had no doubt that you were a perfect match for his friend.

Travis, on the other hand, looked extremely confused. With furrowed eyebrows, he shifted his focus from the television to Nolan, who was sending death glares at his roommate.

“Well, I, um-” Nolan was cut off by Kevin.

“Patty here was gonna have a super-romantic, candle-lit dinner with the girl he’s been pining over for ages,” Kevin excitedly cut to the chase. If a bystander didn’t know any better, they’d think that Kevin was more ecstatic about the dinner than Nolan.

Those words definitely caught Travis’ attention. He got up from his spot from the couch and joined his two friends in the kitchen. “Wow, Pats,” he playfully shoved his friend's shoulder, “took you long enough. Was fully convinced I was gonna have to do something about your weak game.”

Nolan’s eyes widened upon hearing TK’s comments. Was he really that obvious?

He could barely comprehend his feelings for you just a couple of days ago, and he definitely didn’t tell Travis about these newly-discovered feelings yet. He didn’t even plan to tell Kevin about it. He fully intended to have you be the first to know, but Kevin managed to get Nolan to crack.

“Ok, fuck off,” Nolan mumbled. Sure, he was a little slow at realizing his feelings, but better late than never. “Y/N was supposed to come over for dinner tonight, but she’s sick,” Nolan explained. He purposefully left out the fact that he was toying with the idea of confessing his feelings for you after the now-cancelled dinner.

“Oh shit,” Travis was the first to speak up.

“Does that mean you’ll be cooking for us instead?” Kevin added, wiggling his eyebrows towards Nolan and fist-bumping Travis.

“No, I don’t know what it means, but I can tell you right now that there is no way in hell I’m cooking for you two slobs.” Nolan replied. “I was thinking of bringing soup over to her place as a surprise or something.”

At that, both Travis and Kevin’s faces told Nolan that they needed him to elaborate.

“What? She told me that she was craving soup, and Maya is on that road trip with Joel so I figured…” Nolan’s voice gradually decreased in volume.

Travis was the first to interject, “I, for one, think that’s a great idea. Gotta roll with the punches, you know?”

Of course, no conversation between the three guys would be completed without Kevin’s incessant teasing. “We can barely tolerate you when we’re fully healthy — what makes you think Y/N is gonna want to see you while she’s sick?” he chuckled.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Nolan groaned.

“You know you love me,” Hayesey playfully blew a kiss in Nolan’s direction. “Here, let TK and me help you with the soup. We gotta make sure it doesn’t make Y/N feel worse than she already does,” he suggested.

+ him & her

Staying true to his words, Kevin made sure Nolan’s attempt at making homemade soup went smoothly. After getting a thumbs-up from both of his teammates, Nolan filled some soup containers up and headed over to your place. He opted out from texting you about his arrival just in case you were sleeping and banked on the possibility that you still had a spare key under the small flower pot in front of your door.

Although Nolan nagged you for the key placement and insisted that it was a terrible hiding place for a key, he was grateful that it was still there when he arrived to your apartment’s door. Quietly letting himself in, he set the soup on the kitchen island before softly calling your name.

He quietly treaded to your room, which he’d only been in twice out of the dozens of times he had come over. Once he poked his head into your bedroom, he couldn’t stop his heart from overflowing with adoration for you. You were swaddled in a mountain of pillows and blankets. Your soft snores flowed through the room, and your messy hair partially covered your content face. You looked like you were at peace, and Nolan was glad to see that you were resting up.

The sight of you filled him with joy and he silently thanked his past-self for not calling and waking you up. Snapping himself out of his trance, Nolan had to remind himself that he was probably being extremely creepy. You probably wouldn’t let him live it down if you caught him, and he knew he wouldn’t have any excuse for his compromising position. Well, other than the fact that he was hopelessly falling for you and that everything you did made his feelings for you increasingly clear.

With it being close to dinnertime, Nolan figured that it wouldn’t be much longer until you woke up. He returned back into the living space of your apartment and found a comfortable place on the suede couch as he waited.

Sure enough, 15 minutes later, you emerged from your bedroom. “Nolan?” you softly murmured. The two syllables were coated in drowsiness, and Nolan swore he would’ve done anything to hear you utter his name like that again.

He looked up from his phone and suddenly had to remind himself how to breathe.

You were wrapped in a wool blanket, but a sliver of your sweater peaked out from the part where your blanket couldn’t fully cover. He’d recognize the black and orange pattern anywhere, but what stuck out to him was the “19” that was spread across the corner of your sweatshirt. Well, it was actually his sweatshirt if he wanted to get technical. His heart was beating out of his chest at the sight of you wearing his clothes and if he wasn’t sure if he was falling in love with you before, he was definitely sure now.

“I-, hi, Y/N. M’sorry for coming over like this, but I knew you said you wanted soup, and my mom has the really great chicken noodle soup recipe, and Teeks and Hayesy even helped me even though I’m not really sure if that was the best idea because Teeks almost mistook cinnamon for cayenne but-” Nolan started to ramble. He wasn’t sure why he was so flustered. It was the first time he’d gone out of his way this much for a girl and he was subconsciously stalling just in case you might’ve perceived his act of kindness as something that was way too creepy and something that supposed just-friends don’t do.

“Nols,” you started, “that’s so sweet of you, but you didn’t have to do that! I could’ve just sent for an UberEats so you wouldn’t have had to go through all of that trouble for me.”

Nolan wanted to stop you and let you know that he’d swim across the Atlantic Ocean for you. However, he settled for something a little less revealing. “Don’t worry, Y/N, I promise I wanted to do this. Plus if I didn’t, how would I have gotten to see you wearing my number?” he smirked.

Your gaze slowly descended to your body, where you were in fact wearing Nolan’s sweater. He forgot to take it home the last time he was over at your place, and you couldn’t help that it looked extremely comfy. A rush of blood and warmth flooded through your face. “I started wearing it because I missed you and it smells like your cologne,” you cringed for including that last detail, “but it’s actually so soft and I don’t think I’ll be returning this,” you tightened the blanket around you to emphasize your point.

Were you trying to kill Nolan? His brain was overloaded with emotions and this was probably the nail in the coffin. This was it for him. In the few seconds following your explanation, he knew he’d do everything in his power to get to see you like this for the rest of his life. He was sure a younger version of himself would’ve laughed at him for being so dramatic, but he also knew that his younger-self hadn’t met you yet.

“You pull off the sweater better than I do, so you can keep it,” he cheekily smiled. His eyes couldn’t decide if they’d rather look at your sleep-pampered face or his sweatshirt that engulfed you.

“What rom-com movie did you pull that line from?” you chuckled.

He dramatically gasped, “I’m truly offended.” He also took note of how you’ve been standing in the same place for minutes, “Also, why are you standing so far away? Promise I don’t bite,” Nolan joked while he reached out in your direction with grabby hands.

“I don’t wanna get you sick. Don’t know how your coach would feel if you caught the cold with the season so close,” you reasoned with a playful tone.

“That’s a later problem. Please c’mere, I missed you too much,” his eyes pleaded with yours. How could you say no when he had that look on his face?

You hesitatingly approached Nolan, still trying to keep your distance from him. You genuinely didn’t want to get him sick, but you were also still deciding about whether or not you wanted to bury away your feelings for him or let him know what was on your mind. You weren’t expecting Nolan to come over, and you were now wishing that you spent some of your snooze time on sorting out your Nolan dilemma.

Taking a few strides forward, you reached the coffee table that was only a meter or so away from Nolan. Apparently that distance was still too far for Nolan, though, because he grabbed for your hand and tugged you into his body. His scent instantly overcame your senses and you promptly relaxed into his hold. Your body was awkwardly positioned over his but his tight grip on you, which shifted down to your hips, gave no sign that Nolan wanted you to get off of him. With this signal, you repositioned yourself so each of your legs found a home on either side of his lap. His arms wrapped around your body, and your chest was pressed against his as you nuzzled your head between the junction of his neck and shoulder.

For a while, neither of you said anything. It was a serene moment and truthfully, neither of you needed to exchange words to express how much you both cared for one another. There was no better way to make up for lost time than to fully appreciate the other’s presence, and neither of you were in a rush to get out of the situation that you two were in.

Occasionally, Nolan would pepper kisses along your hairline and twirl your hair along his fingers. Praying that you couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating, he tried his best to calm the thoughts that were incessantly running through his mind. Nolan never wanted this delicate moment to end for multiple reasons. Perhaps the biggest reason, though, was because he was trying to formulate the right way to tell you how he felt about you. He wasn’t sure if he’d find a more perfect time than this one, and he wanted to make sure that everything he was going to say to you would properly express how much he cared for you and wanted you in his life as a more-than-friend.

Another few moments passed before he finally mustered up the courage to break the silence.

“I love you,” he breathed out.

He waited for your response, but was only met with a deafening silence. Unfortunately for Nolan, he never got to see your reaction to his confession because your drowsy state seemed to pull you into another sleeping trance just as quickly as Nolan spoke the three words.

+ her

Following the night that Nolan had come over to bring you soup, the two of you became a lot more physically affectionate. Whether it was cuddles on your couch or hugs that lingered for a little too long, you knew you were chartering into dangerous territory. You didn’t treat any of your guy friends in the same way you did Nolan, and somewhere along the road, you knew this shift in dynamic was precariously dancing between the line of platonic and romantic.

Maya and Joel picked up on it, too. Nearly every chance they got, the two attempted to get you or Nolan to finally confess that things had changed. They were never successful, however. Nolan would always brush off Joel’s inquiries and play off the situation. As for yourself, you ultimately decided to keep your feelings to yourself, too scared to lose the special connection you had with Nolan.

You had done a decent job of keeping your feelings locked away in the depths of your heart until the season opener for the Flyers.

Nolan had asked you to go, and as much as you would love nothing more than to root on your best friend, you were called into work at the last minute. You tried your best to see if any of your other co-workers could pick up the shift, but you were stuck watching the game from your phone as you begrudgingly got through your shift. You couldn’t forget the way Nolan’s excited expression fell after you told him you couldn’t make it and even though your shift was scheduled to end during the game’s third period, there was no way you would have made it to the Wells Fargo Center in time.

After your shift, you took out your phone and swiped through your friend’s SnapChat stories. Since Maya went to the game to support Joel, you had the apartment to yourself. Clicking on your best friend’s name on the app, you smiled as you watched the video that she’d put on her story. The Flyers clinched their first win for the season, and based on Maya’s story, it looked like everyone had gone to a nearby bar to celebrate. Despite the fact that her story was a video of Joel, that’s not what caught your attention.

Instead, it was the sight of a man in the background, his arms draped around a girl who was cozily perched upon his lap. His chin was resting on her shoulder, and you knew from the unmistakable rosy cheeks that the man was Nolan. Although the image lasted no more than a few seconds as the frame of Maya’s camera moved, you suddenly felt yourself become nauseous. Your fingers moved by themselves, torturing you as you watched the video over and over again to make sure you weren’t playing mind games on yourself.

You weren’t sure how to react. A mix of hurt and jealousy swarmed your body, sending shivers of confusion through it. You knew you had no right to be so upset. After all, Nolan and you never had a conversation about where you two stood. You two were still just friends — even though you’ve known for a while that your interactions with Nolan have meant much more to you than you’d let on. For all you knew, you could have been mistaking Nolan’s physical affection for something more. For all you knew, the physical affection never made Nolan’s heart beat race in the same way it did with yours.

Nolan wasn’t yours, but you so badly wish he were. You became increasingly frustrated at yourself for letting your heart believe that there was something more between you and Nolan. You knew you were playing a risky game — a game that you had just lost, because it became painfully apparent that Nolan only ever saw you as a friend. The video continued to play, though your clouded vision and mind drowned out its volume. A teardrop slipped down your heated cheeks and pattered onto your phone screen. You berated yourself with what-ifs, wondering if you could have done anything different to be able to call Nolan yours. Maybe it was never meant to be, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t beat yourself up over the situation.

Ditching your plans to immediately sleep after getting home from work, you made a beeline to the kitchen’s wine cabinet. You now let your tears run freely and let yourself drown in affliction. You didn’t even flinch when Maya and Joel entered the apartment, who both rushed to you with concern after they noticed your tear-splotched shirt and face that was swollen and red from crying.

Not used to seeing their typically calm and collected friend in such a state of disarray, the couple wasn’t quite sure how to approach the issue. For what felt like the first time in forever, you decided to be transparent with your thoughts. You had spent so long compartmentalizing your feelings that the need to let them out and the countless glasses of wine had you admitting your feelings for Nolan to the two. You didn’t want their pity, and you were thankful that they let you speak without interruption. Your words, though slurred, clearly explained how you felt foolish for falling for Nolan in the first place. You explained how your friendship with Nolan had evolved into something much more for you and how you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t love him as more than just a friend anymore.

At the end of your spiel, Maya and Joel shared a knowing look with each other. Maya looked like she was fuming, though she tried her best to maintain composure as she pulled you into a hug. You almost missed the way Joel cursed under his breath, calling Nolan an idiot. They were so sure Nolan had felt something towards you, and weren’t sure how to respond when you drunkenly asked what you did wrong for Nolan to be oblivious to the way that you only had eyes for him.

As much as they loved Nolan, they adored you just as much and felt terrible for the pain that you were going through.

Apparently not terrible enough to postpone movie nights, however. Some time down the road, you, Nolan, Maya, Joel, Travis, and Kevin made a habit of gathering for a few hours each week to watch movies and hang out. You almost forgot about it in your moping state until Maya brought up a few days later that it was your and Maya’s turn to host. The blood drained out of your face when she reminded you, and your first instinct was to come up with an excuse to miss the night at all costs. You didn’t want to ruin the budding tradition, but you weren’t ready to see Nolan either.

As much as it hurt to still be in contact with Nolan, the thought of cutting him off hurt just as much. So, you subjected yourself to the heartache of talking to someone as if you weren’t enamored with. After the night of your break down, Nolan tried texting and calling you as usual. Although you weren’t ignoring him, you kept your texts brief and the phone calls even shorter. You felt bad for creating a wall between you and Nolan, especially since he wasn’t sure what was going on with you. He often asked what was on your mind, but you typically brushed it off and churned out a half-true excuse about being busy with school before cutting your conversations with him short.

Maya understood your discomfort with the situation, and offered to call off the movie night. You quickly objected, not wanting to ruin the night for the others just because you were battling your own demons. You told her that the movie night could go on at your shared apartment, and that you would find something to keep you out of the house for a while.

Your escape from the apartment came in the form of Austin, a boy from your psych class. Although you two didn’t speak to one another much, his kind eyes and bashful smile always led you to gladly agree whenever he’d asked to sit in the open spot next to you in the lecture hall.

One day, after you offered your notes to him for a day he missed, he offered to take you out for dinner in return. Although you were hesitant at first, you couldn’t think of any cons that would weigh out the opportunity for a free meal and spending a few hours with the charming boy. Plus, he had mentioned that he was a transfer student from out of state, and you knew how much you would have appreciated a few friends from school when you first moved to the city. Ultimately agreeing to his proposition, you gave him your number and scheduled the dinner for the same night and time as the movie night.

When the night of your plans with Austin came around, you made sure to leave your apartment before the guys were coming over. Because you felt guilty for skipping on the movie night, you attempted to help Maya set up the snack. However, Maya insisted that you shouldn’t keep Austin waiting and that she could handle the food herself. When you told her about Austin, she was ecstatic for you. She knew how difficult the past week has been for you and nearly screeched with excitement when you told her that you had actual plans for the weekend.

She gave you a hug and reminded you to call her if you were in an emergency before practically pushing you out of the door.

+ her

The night with Austin went better than planned, and you genuinely enjoyed yourself. Not wanting to give Austin any false impressions, you made sure that the night was strictly platonic. Luckily for you, Austin was incredibly understanding. Although you didn’t miss the look of slight disappointment on his face when you told him that you weren’t interested in being anything more than friends, he respected your decision and upheld his offer for dinner.

Quickly, you found out that you two had a similar sense of humor. Austin was easy to talk to and eventually, you opened up to him about Nolan. You nearly apologized for doing so — you weren’t planning to drop your baggage on a boy that you barely knew. However, Austin was surprisingly good at giving advice and even recounted some of his own stories about unreturned feelings. It was nice to be able to talk to someone that could relate to you.

Knowing that Nolan was at your apartment, Austin suggested that you two get dessert and explore the city to make sure that the hockey player would be gone before you got home. At first, you turned down his idea, jokingly arguing that he didn’t have to spend his whole Saturday night with you out of pity. In spite of your protests, Austin promised that he wanted to continue spending time with you and didn’t mind the idea of getting ice cream.

You didn’t return home until it was nearly midnight. You were sure that the boys would have already headed home, since they had a morning skate the next day.

Opening the door, you were shocked to see that everyone was still in the apartment, eyes occupied on the Marvel movie on the television. Your eyes immediately landed on Nolan’s figure, and you contemplated your next actions.

Settling on trying to go unnoticed by the group, you tried your best to discreetly enter your home and head to your room. With everyone's backs turned away from you, you almost made it to your room safely.

You were so close until your keys loudly fell onto the floor as you tried to remove them from the lock. Instantly, everyone’s heads turned to the front door. Someone turned on the living room’s lights, and you became uncomfortably aware of everyone’s attention on you.

You flashed them a smile, and Maya was the first to speak.

“How was your date?” she slyly questioned, making sure that everyone in the room heard her.

You raised an eyebrow at her question. Maya knew that the night with Austin wasn’t a date. However, the way she glanced at Nolan reminded you that he and the other guys, for that matter, didn’t know that. Not wanting to entertain whatever plan she was brewing in her mind, you tried not to acknowledge her question, flashing her a nervous smile.

“You ditched us for a date?” Travis gasped incredulously, clenching his hand above his heart for the added dramatic effect.

“Is that why the cookies were weird? I knew something was wrong with them when I nearly broke a tooth trying to eat one,” Hayesy laughed as an embarrassed Maya threw a pillow in his direction. You chuckled along with the joke, knowing that you should’ve stuck around to help her bake them. You made sure to promise not to miss the next movie night and even reassured Kevin that you would make a fresh batch of cookies just for him next time.

As Joel chimed in with the others about your “date,” Nolan remained oddly quiet.

His body language was stiff, and his eyes were mostly glued to his lap. He was playing with his fingers and refused to look you in the eyes. He almost looked uncomfortable, his smile forced whenever someone made another funny remark. Although everyone seemed oblivious to it, you couldn’t help but notice the way Nolan was biting the inside of his cheek. It was a habit that you noticed before, but you usually only ever saw him do it when he was in deep concentration or thought. You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt to see that Nolan didn’t even acknowledge your presence. Of course he didn’t owe you anything, but your heart didn’t necessarily know that.

You didn’t want to overanalyze anything, though. So, after chuckling at their comments, you headed to your room to remove your makeup and change into the oversized tee shirt and lounge shorts that you had been looking forward to changing into ever since you left the apartment.

“Calling it a night already?”

Upon hearing the question, you nearly had to do a double take. It was the first time you had heard Nolan’s voice all night. The lack of inflection in his voice transformed the previously light-hearted atmosphere thick with tension.

“Um, yea. It’s been a long night and I don’t know how much longer I can keep my eyes open,” you curtly responded with the first excuse that you could come up with, continuing en route to your room without sparing Nolan another glance. You gave everyone in the living space a small wave before you slipped into your room.

Although your reasoning was partially true, you didn’t know if you could handle being so close to Nolan at the moment. The two of you had gotten used to snuggling up together during movie nights and with your current emotional disarray, you didn’t want to put yourself in the position where you had to pretend like you weren’t still hurt at the thought of Nolan not seeing you in the same light that you saw him. And, regardless of how idiotic Nolan’s teammates could act at times, you knew they were pretty observant — especially when it came to you and Nolan’s complex friendship. If you decided to join in on the movie night but sit in any seat that wasn’t next to Nolan, they'd undoubtedly pick up on it.

Even though you thought your excuse was enough to get by your attentive friends, everyone in the room —bar Nolan— exchanged knowing looks with each other after once they heard the lock of your doorknob click into place. They knew how much you loved movie nights and how you were usually a night owl, regardless of how busy your day was. In fact, it was usually you that begged for an extra movie to be played when everyone was ready to call it a night.

More importantly, they knew you had a soft spot for Nolan. They weren’t ignorant to the way you’d sprint through hoops and hurdles to spend time with Nolan, mostly because they noticed how Nolan would go great lengths to see you, too. It had been a while since you last saw Nolan, and they figured that you would jump on the chance to be in your best friend’s presence again. Of course Maya had to play along, pretending as if she didn’t know why you were avoiding Nolan.

Even though Nolan was a little more subtle with his actions and words, it was no secret that Nolan missed you. His question from earlier was his way of asking you if everything was alright and if you wanted to spend time with him, and your deflection to his implied questions told everyone what they needed to know.

They weren’t quite sure what was going on between you and Nolan, but they knew things weren’t the same as they used to be.

Noting the way Nolan’s shoulders sunk after you disappeared into your bedroom, Maya was the first to rise from her seat. The mood of the night quickly became awkward after Nolan’s short-lived interaction with you, and Maya had no intention of having to sit through another hour of the movie if it were going to be this uncomfortable. She also hoped to talk to you before you actually went to sleep.

“Well, I think I’m gonna head to bed, too. I have to pick up an early shift tomorrow,” she explained as she gathered her blankets from the couch. “You’re staying the night, right?” she asked Joel.

Painfully aware of the newfound tension, her boyfriend silently nodded and helped Maya bring the rest of the throw pillows and blankets.

“You all can finish the rest of the movie,” Maya nodded towards Nolan, Travis, and Kevin. “Just lock up on your way out once it’s over. There should be a spare key under the flower pot outside.” Waving to the guys in the living room, Maya tugged Joel into her room and shut the door.

And then there were three.

+ him

Nolan’s jaw was beginning to ache from how hard he was clenching his teeth together. He didn’t know how to take in the rollercoaster of emotions that he had been feeling for the past few days. He wasn’t oblivious to the barrier that seemed to build up between you and him, but he didn’t know how that wall formed in the first place, let alone how to get over it.

He thought the past few days had been rocky, but he was certainly not prepared for his heartstrings to be pulled into so many directions tonight.

Nolan was looking forward to seeing you in person and was more than disheartened to hear that you were out for the night after he awkwardly asked Maya about your whereabouts. Your roommate didn’t go into the specifics of why you were missing out on the movie night, so he was left to his own devices to figure out where you were.

Of course he could’ve texted you, but given your erratic reply rates as of late, he resorted to refreshing his SnapChat and Instagram apps every once in a while to see if you were posting about where you were spending your weekend night.

Nolan wanted to understand why there was a strain in the relationship and more than anything, he needed your reassurance to know that everything was alright. He partly thought you were distancing yourself from him because he had made his feelings for you too obvious and you didn’t see him in that same way. The theory wasn’t even farfetched. His friends always made fun of him for being so whipped for you, and Nolan knew that you hated letting others down. Throughout his friendship with you, he had quickly learned that you would much rather deal with the brunt of someone else’s problems than to let them down. The thought of you distancing yourself from Nolan just because you only saw him as just a friend hurt Nolan, and he needed to let you know that he’d much rather deal with his feelings being unreciprocated than to have you fade away from his life.

Nolan also thought that he said something wrong and made you upset. However, after replaying all of the conversations he had with you leading up to your new treatment towards him, he didn’t know what he would have said that would have made you this indifferent to him.

Your social media gave no hints as to what you were doing, so Nolan let his imagination run wild with all of the reasons why you would’ve skipped movie night, especially when you were usually so excited about them.

When you entered the apartment a few hours after his arrival, Nolan felt his heartbeat begin to thrum as loud as a kick drum. All of the hypothetical situations that were previously occupying his mind were now invaded with thoughts about how good you looked. Nolan recognized the denim jacket you were wearing as the one that you had gotten a few months ago. He had just finished an afternoon practice when you FaceTimed him and couldn’t contain your excitement about finding the “most perfect article of clothing” you’ve ever owned. Although Nolan chirped you for driving so far away just for a jacket, the ecstatic expression on your face that day was one he’d never forget. It was also one that he so desperately craved to see for the rest of his life.

Just as quickly as he was brought out of his slump from seeing you, he was rudely pulled back down to reality after Maya asked you about your date. Needless to say, the warmth that filled his heart left as quickly as it had entered. Jealousy consumed Nolan, and he was momentarily blinded by a pain that he couldn’t quite describe.

As his friends joke around with you, Nolan struggled comprehending the thought of you with another guy. He had no right to be upset, really. Not when he couldn’t muster up the courage to tell you how he felt and especially not when your eyes were twinkling with so much elation.

Throughout the friendship Nolan had developed with you, you never mentioned that you were going on dates or seeking relationships. The hopeless romantic in him let him believe that maybe, just maybe, you were saving your heart for the right person. For him.

However, the breathy chuckle you released after Maya’s question shattered any amount of hope that Nolan had built up. Now, instead of butterflies, Nolan’s stomach was filled with a piercing ache. As if he wanted to punish himself more for not being more vocal about his feelings for you, Nolan attempted to ask you to join the movie night. Sure, maybe he wasn’t exactly direct with his words, but he was hoping you’d pick up on his hint. Nolan shouldn’t have been so surprised when you decided to go to your room instead of joining him and the others, but the already-tense coil in his stomach continued to tighten.

After you went to your room, followed by Maya and Joel, Nolan looked at the remaining people in the room.

“We’re sorry, Pat,” Travis was the first to speak. His words were laced with sympathy, knowing how much his friend was head over heels for you.

Moving from his seat to stand over his younger teammate, Kevin rose from the couch and rubbed Nolan’s shoulder. “Let’s head home, yea?” Kevin attempted to dance around the topic of you.

“I’ll meet you two in the car. Just need to clear my head for a bit,” Nolan muttered to his understanding friends.

Quietly, Travis and Kevin left the apartment, making sure to shut the door carefully as to not disturb their teammate.

+ him & her

Thinking you were in the clear after hearing the front door close, you left your room in hopes of making a mug of tea.

You felt bad for avoiding Nolan, but you didn’t know how else to deal with the thousands of thoughts that cycled through your brain.

To say you were unprepared to see Nolan in your living would be an understatement. His arms were propped on his knees and his face was cradled by his hands. His shoulders were slouched and his tousled hair looked as if he had run his hands through it multiple times.

You weren’t sure if you should’ve just turned back around and locked yourself in your room, but your instincts beckoned you to come closer to Nolan. No matter how hurt you were, he was your best friend first and foremost. If there was anything you could do to bring him out of his clear distress, you would do it without a second thought.

“Nolan?” you meekly called out his name.

Nolan slowly moved his head just enough so he could hear the source of the sound. Unintentionally mimicking your facial expression, he looked just as stunned to see you. “Sorry, I thought you would’ve already been asleep. I was uh- I was just about to head out,” he timidly said.

“Stay as long as you need. I’ve been trying to sleep but didn’t have much luck, so I’m hoping tea will help. Haven’t been able to get a good sleep for a while now,” you explained while opening a kitchen cupboard for a mug.

“Me neither. Things haven’t felt right recently,” he sighed. After his statement, the apartment was eerily quiet. Neither of you wanted to say anything else, scared of stepping over any boundaries or maybe the situation even more awkward.

You’re not sure what gears clicked into place, but you felt compelled to finally tell Nolan what was on your mind. The guilt of ignoring him was eating away at you, and you felt like you at least owed your best friend an explanation as to why you needed space from him. After you dropped the tea bag into your mug, you walked back towards the living space to where Nolan was still sitting.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you started.

Nolan didn’t say anything, his eyes pleading with you to continue with what you were saying.

“I’m just gonna lay everything out because I know I’m not gonna be brave enough to do this on any other occasion,” you prefaced, making sure Nolan was paying attention to what you were saying. You were already embarrassed that you had managed to think that Nolan could ever like you, and you did not want to have to verbally explain your emotional affliction more than one.

“I don’t really know when, but I caught feelings for you. At first I wasn’t sure what to do about it, because everyone always warns about falling for your best friend and I didn’t want to make things awkward between us if you didn’t feel the same,” you continued with your explanation, eventually getting to the part where you saw Nolan and the girl on Maya’s story.

“It just sucked, y’know? I thought I was doing a good job of suppressing my feelings and then I saw that. Obviously it’s not like we were dating or anything and I never told you how I felt at the time, but having that confirmation that there wasn’t actually anything between us was like a kick to the gut.”

“I feel terrible for letting my feelings get in the way of our friendship and reading all of the signs wrong. I don’t wanna lose you because of this, and I’m really trying to get over my silly feelings becau-” you were cut off by Nolan.

“What if I don’t want you to get over those feelings?” he said while approaching the spot you were standing in.

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. You weren’t sure if you were hearing things right or if you were so sleep deprived that you were starting to make things up. “I-I’m not following,” you silently begged Nolan to continue.

“I liked you, too,” he confessed. “Well, I still like you. If I’m being honest, I think I’m in love with you,” he admitted all in one breath. “I thought it would be easier to try to get over you instead of dealing with the possibility of ruining our friendship just because I caught feelings,” he elaborated.

“Obviously it didn’t work, though. And I ended up messing up things between us anyway, so it really didn’t work,” he sighed with a hint of resignation in his tone. He wasn’t sure if he was referring to ruining the friendship, his chance of getting to call you his, or both. Upon that thought, Nolan became even more dejected after he was reminded about how you were just on a date a few hours ago.

Your head was spinning with each word. Every fiber in your body was consumed by joy, and you were now wide awake. Nolan was now only standing a few feet away from you. You still hadn’t replied to his confession, and you could tell that he was becoming increasingly nervous as he awaited your reaction. With that realization, you were drawn out of your thoughts. Your heart was lodged in your throat, and you knew that no words could articulate the words you wanted to tell Nolan, anyway.

With that, you closed the distance between the two of you. Your hands grabbed his and although he flinched a little bit, he welcomed your gesture and interlaced your fingers with him.

Going on your tiptoes to come a little closer to your face, you become hyper-aware of Nolan’s burning gaze. His face is painted with a light blush, and he’s biting the inside of his cheeks again.

“I hope this is okay,” is the last thing you whisper before you connect your lips to his.

Instinctively, Nolan’s hands pulled away from yours to find a home on your hips. He pulled you closer, attempting to deepen the kiss. The kiss was soft, reassuring, and everything in between. Nolan couldn’t stop the smile that was tugging on his lips, and had to pull away to make sure that this was actually happening.

He was met with your confused face, your eyebrows scrunched in the cutest way. His smile promptly turned into a smirk as you tried to pull him into a kiss, your shorter height causing you to barely graze the corner of his lips.

When Nolan released a chuckle, you started to become impatient. “What?” you questioned while narrowing your eyes towards the rosy-cheeked boy in front of you.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he cheekily asked.

“Only if I get a second kiss,” you said with gleaming eyes, fingertips grazing along his jawline. With those words, Nolan wasted no time fulfilling your wish and peppering your neck with dozens of chaste kisses.

The two of you were so consumed with the high of finally getting to hear the other admit their feelings that neither of you heard the sound of the front door violently swinging open.

“Patty, where the fuck are yo-” Travis called, immediately realizing the moment he was intruding on. “You know what, I think I’m just gonna head out. Have a good night!” he awkwardly chuckled, undoubtedly embarrassed. He sent the two of you a thumbs up before quickly shutting the door as if he never interrupted.

“Oh my god,” Nolan said, his head falling into your shoulder and arms wrapping around your body. “I forgot that TK and Hayesy were waiting for me to come down. It’s probably been like half an hour at this point,” his laugh rumbled through your bones.

“Stay the night?” you offered. “Maybe I can finally get more than four hours of sleep,” you laughed.

“Mm, sounds like a plan,” Nolan peppered kisses along your neck before scooping you into his arms and heading to your bedroom.

Although both of you knew that there would be a lot to talk about the following morning, neither of you wanted to disrupt the current state of bliss that both of you were in. You and Nolan’s hearts were finally intertwined, and for now, that was enough to engulf you in ease.

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