#awkward encounters of the 3rd kind

[bunny7567]

I don't know how the night might change us

Pairing: Fox x Padawan!Reader / Fox x fem!Reader

Summary: Trying to escape the unwelcome attention of a senator, you take refuge on a balcony - and find yourself in the company of a certain Commander in scarlet armor. Little do you know, this encounter is about to change you forever.

Word count: 8.2k Tags/Warnings: NSFW 18+; I wanted to write porn with plot, but this turned out to be 73.96% plot and 26.04% porn (I did the math); pinv sex; oral (f receiving); edging; kind of drunk sex; unprotected sex (but we all know better right?); smoking; alcohol; Fox is a cocky bastard; Reader is wearing heels and a red dress; Reader is over 18, just didn't pass the trials yet; had to throw in an overprotective big brother; it's Cody, of course it is; just a tiny bit of angst; slightly awkward!Reader

Part 2 here

A/n: So this is the first 'x reader' thing i've ever written. Fox brainrot is real guys, couldn't escape it. Was this supposed to be a one-shot? yes. Is it a one-shot? not really, i'm pretty much setting up possible follow-ups. Am I gonna write said follow-ups? ...maybe.

Title is from Terrified by Vincent Lima - which is sooo Fox-coded in my opinion 😭 3rd image is a painting by Miguel Dominguez Cody's scar origin is from this video that I loved so fucking much, I had to adopt the headcanon too.

ori'vod - older brother ; vod'ika - little sister vod - brother ; vode - brothers cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling mesh’la - beautiful osik - crap, shit shabuir - extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger Shab kyr’unsen’ye - made this up to mean 'fuck off and die'

~~~

The senator grips your arm in a way that causes your face to briefly scrunch in disgust, but there’s nothing you can do besides quickly schooling your expression back to a neutral one. Your eyes search through the crowd of elegantly dressed sentients, franticly trying to find anyone that could help get you out of this uncomfortable situation. You see your Master – Obi-Wan is all the way on the other side of the grandiose event hall, engrossed in what appears to be quite a serious conversation with Master Windu. Or, it might as well be idle chitchat about the weather – you can never tell when it comes to the Council Member.

Your eyes keep shifting through the crowd, scanning for orange-painted palstoid – if Obi-Wan can’t help you, maybe your ori’vod can. But any hope of securing help from the Commander dissolves in a second. Cody seems to be in just as bad of a situation, standing next to Rex and surrounded by a group of wealthy socialites you know they are supposed to impress – that’s the point of this whole damn gala isn’t it? showing off the Republic’s perfect soldiers and gathering more funds for this never-ending war. You catch his gaze and faintly tilt your head towards the man still holding onto your arm, allowing a barely visible eye roll to communicate you disdain. Cody’s shrugs and nods, his movements just as discreet – he knows exactly how it feels. Your attention is then caught by the same speech you’ve heard at least five times tonight.

“And she is the first Jedi Master that our planet has had in 200 years. We could not be more proud of all her accomplishments”, the senator exclaims.

“Padawan”, you correct, “I have not yet passed my Trials”. How many times do you need to explain it to this man?

“Right, of course. We’re still so, so proud”.

The mixed group of men and women nod, and a few flashes from the holo-cameras make you recoil – journalists form your homeworld, the senator explained earlier. You don’t understand why he insists on having so many pictures of the two of you taken, but you bite your tongue and play your part, praying to the Force you’ll finally be able to escape his grasp soon. You take a sip of the sparkling chandrillan wine you’re holding – you are so over this whole evening.

The Force finally seems to take pity on you – a man in expensive-looking robes calls the senator’s name and he finally releases your arm in order to shake his hand. With a curtly muttered “excuse me just a moment” you hurry away, making a beeline for the nearest balcony door. The room feels stuffy and you desperately need some air. As you move through the crowd, you slightly roll your ankle and curse under your breath – what in the hell possessed you to wear heels? – but nevertheless you carry on.

As soon as the door shuts, you lean against its coloured transparisteel, close your eyes and finally breathe out a sigh of relief. The night air is chilly, the sun having long disappeared past the horizon, and it feels soothing against your heated cheeks. You did not think you’d have to stay for so long, but the damn party just won’t end. Maybe you’ll be able to hide out here for the rest of it.

“You alright?”, a deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open.

Turning your head to your right, you notice a man leaning against the durasteel railing and you feel your heart skip a beat. He is a clone – Coruscant Guard by the looks of his armor, but he’s just so…

The clone’s hair is drizzled by streaks of grey and there’s a prominent scar across the bridge of his nose. There seem to be more scars scattered on his face, but in the faint, reddish light coming through the transparisteel, you cannot make out that much detail. Smoke is enveloping him, and your eyes travel down to the lit cigarra in his hand. An empty glass sits next to him on the railing, only two cubes of slowly melting ice remaining on the bottom. Another details grabs your attention – the kama. You’re pretty sure you’re looking at a Commander. Now if you could figure out which one.

The man cocks his head to the side, an amused expression sparkling in his eyes. Right… he asked you a question and all you’ve done is stare at him – you might as well be drooling. Get a grip.

Straightening, you turn to face him better. “Yes. I just really needed some air… and to escape some unwanted attention”, you confess.

“Senator Brenko”, the clone nods, an understanding passing over his facial features.

“Yeah… how did you know?”

“It’s my job to pay attention”, he says dryly, taking a drag out of the cigarra.

Your eyes involuntarily track the movement, focusing on the way his lips enclose around it. Suddenly, your throat feels really dry, so you down the last of the sparkling wine in your glass. Maybe that wasn’t the best decision – it was not your first glass of the night and you’re starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. But it’s not enough. The past hours of being paraded around by the senator have left you restless and irritated, and you’re craving something to take the edge off.

Slowly, you walk to the railing and place your empty glass next to his, then eye the cigarra which is back between his lips. You promised Cody you were done with tabac… but one cigarra every now and then can’t hurt, right?

“Do you have another one of those?”

A small smirk tugs at the clone’s lips as he reaches for one of the pouches on his belt, procuring a pack of cigarras and tilting it towards you. You take one out of the pack, bringing it up to your nose to inhale its aroma before placing it between your lips. The clone then takes out a small, metallic lighter, igniting the flame and holding it out in front if you. The normal thing to do would be to simply lean in, but for some reason, your hand gently grasps his, bringing it closer in order to light the cigarra, your gaze lifting to meet his as you do so. You’re not sure if he minds – his face remains impassive, but you do catch the way his posture slightly tenses at your touch.

“Thank you, Commander…?”, you prompt, exhaling the first puff of burning smoke.

“Fox”, the clone replies, standing a bit taller.

Your eyebrows briefly lift up. The Commander Fox, head of the Coruscant Guard.

You’ve heard plenty about him from Cody – mostly complaints. Then again, Cody might still be slightly bitter about that scar on his face, courtesy of a very drunk Fox one night at the 79s. You weren’t there to witness it, but Boil has provided a very detailed retelling. The words “miserable asshole” have also been thrown around – that one was Wolffe’s description. Cody’s main grievance, however, is Fox pulling away from them for what he considers no good reason, and how impossible it is to get to talk to his brother.

Rex, on the other hand, always tries to defend Fox whenever he comes up in conversation at the 79s, especially after Wolffe has had a few drinks and starts tearing into him. You’ve heard so many contradictory accounts of the man standing in front of you, you have no idea what to make of him.

Safe to say, you are intrigued.

“Nice to meet you, Commander. I’m–”

“Cody’s Padawan. I know”, Fox interjects, his eyes giving you a once-over.

“Cody’s Padawan?”, you repeat with a chuckle. “I don’t think Master Kenobi would agree with that statement”

“Just clone-talk”, he shrugs.

You narrow your eyes. You really, really shouldn’t meddle in their relationship – it’s not your place. But Cody is important to you – he is your ori’vod after all – and you’ve seen how much Fox’s gradual disappearance has been weighing on him. What the hell. You’re feeling bold tonight anyway.

“That implies you and Cody talk, and I know for a fact you do not pick up his comms”, you jab, taking a slow drag of the cigarra.

All amusement seems to disappear from his eyes and his gaze turns cold. You don’t falter – you square your shoulders and stare him down, making it very clear you’re expecting a reply.

“I’m busy”, he mumbles.

“Cody’s busy too”, you counter, “but he still makes time to comm his brothers”.

Fox’s jaw clenches and his eyes dart to the door of the balcony. For a moment you think you’ve offended him so much that he’s going to leave and you’re about to open your mouth to apologise, only to be stopped by a low, defeated sigh. Fox tosses the nearly-finished cigarra into his empty glass, the ambers fizzling out as they touch the melted ice. He pulls another one from his pouch, lights it, and shifts his stance, resting his forearms against the railing.

“Well, busy looks different on Coruscant”, he says, gaze lost to the skyline.

He sounds so tired and for some reason your heart breaks for him. You have seen your fair share of the ugliness of Coruscant – and if you’re honest you’ve never really liked it here. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt stirs in your stomach. You do not know this man and you do not know what he has to deal with on a daily basis. All you know is what other people have told you and their retellings are clouded by personal feelings. Maybe you were too quick to judge.

“This place does fucking suck”, you comment, leaning back on the railing.

Fox huffs a small laugh and turns his head to look at you. “Is that the kind of language they teach at that Temple of yours?”.

You roll your eyes. “My master had a very colourful way of expressing herself. My first Master, that is. She died at the beginning of the war – it’s how I ended up in the 212th”, you explain, smiling ruefully at his muttered condolences. “Obi-Wan would probably have a stroke if he heard me”.

“Don’t think Cody would be too pleased either”, he adds.

“Really? Cause he’s the one who taught me how to swear in Mando’a”, you lie, wanting to gauge how well he knows his brother.

“Cody?”, he asks, giving you a look.

“Yes, Cody”, you affirm.

“Not a chance. I do not believe that for a second”.

You genuinely laugh and shake your head. “Fine”, you admit, “it was actually some of the boys from the 501st”.

“That I can believe”, the Commander nods. There’s a pause in the conversation as both of you gather your thoughts. Before you can find the next thing to say, he continues. “What’s your favourite then?”

You mull it over, going through the words and phrases you know. “Not sure if I have a favourite, but ‘Shab kyr’unsen’ye’ was pretty much all I had in my head earlier”, you say, gesturing to the door of the balcony with the hand holding the cigarra. “Honestly you should get a medal just for dealing with these fuckers every day”.

Fox arches a brow, that spark of amusement back in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry. Esteemed fuckers”, you correct.

The Commander laughs – actually laughs – something that, based on everything you’ve heard about him, you didn’t think was possible. “I see why Cody likes you”.

You join in on the laughter, before adding, “no but really, how do you deal with them every single day? I’ve only spent time with one tonight and I was ready to commit murder after only 15 minutes”.

“Honestly?”, Fox says, taking a long drag of the cigarra, “I tune out most of what they say”.

“Really?”.

“Really”, he confirms. “They just like to hear themselves talk, they’re never really looking for a reply – it would interrupt their monologues. I’m sure you’ve noticed – did Brenko let you get a single word in?”.

“Not really”, you contemplate. “And I’ve even corrected him on something at least five times”.

“How dare you ruin his campaign?”, Fox jokes.

You frown, confusion clearly written on your face. “What campaign?”.

The Commander straightens, turning to face you better. “The re-election campaign. His term as a senator is almost over. I assumed that’s why he was parading you around all night – trying to imply he has the support of the Jedi”.

Your entire body tenses as a wave of anger violently crashes over you. “That… that fucking shabuir. Of course he was just using me, I should’ve realised”. Shaking your head, you let out a sharp exhale. “You know that could actually get me in trouble? I’m a Jedi, I’m not supposed to support anyone’s fucking political campaign. Fucking bastard!”.

Finishing your cigarra, you throw it into the empty glass next to his earlier one. You’re already imagining having to explain yourself in front of the Council, and the disappointed looks you will receive. Why did you always have to be so polite? You should’ve said no to the holo-photos. You shouldn’t have let him drag you around and introduce you to all those people. You should’ve told him not to touch you. Your gaze lifts and you suddenly realise the Commander is studying you intently. Was your outburst too much? Heat rises to your cheeks and you quickly look away.

“Sorry”, you mumble.

“Why are you apologising?”, Fox asks, eyebrows pinching.

“For getting so angry. Not very Jedi-like”, you laugh bitterly.

The Commander shakes his head and chuckles. “That’s adorable – you actually think that was angry”, he teases.

You swear your heart does a somersault at hearing he thinks you’re adorable and you shuffle awkwardly in place, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. The movement reminds you that your feet are killing you and you once again curse your decision to wear heels. You need to sit down for a moment.

Placing your hands on either side of your hips on the durasteel railing, you push yourself up to sit. Before you're even fully settled, a strong hand encircles your waist, steadying you with a firm hold at the small of your back. Your brain takes a second to process what’s happening – his hand on your lower back feels as if it's burning, filling you with a warmth that seems to unfortunately travel to your core. He’s close now, too close, and his whiskey-coloured eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m not gonna fall, Commander”, you say once you regain your composure, your voice a little strained but mixed with amusement.

“Don’t want to risk it. Cody would have my head if I let anything happen to you. And that is quite a drop”, he remarks.

“Yeah but I’m a Jedi”, you scoff playfully. “Even if I fall I’d be able to use the Force and land safely”.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t fall”, Fox reiterates.

His hand is still on your back, and it doesn’t seem he’ll move it away any time soon. You’re not sure why, but you want to test him. Maintaining eye contact, you allow a small, mischievous smile to grace your features, right before you abruptly push back against his hand. As expected, you barely budge.

“Don’t!”, Fox warns, his voice low and commanding.

You roll your eyes, trying your hardest to ignore the dampness in your underwear. Maker why do you find him so hot?

“Fine, fine, I’ll behave”, you promise, “You can let go now”.

“I’ll let go when your feet are back on the ground”, he counters.

“Are you serious?”, you laugh.

The look he gives you silences you immediately. He is, actually, dead serious. You bite your lip and look away. The warmth of his hand, even though the fabric of his gloves, is extremely distracting.

“Well then, Commander, I hope you’re comfortable. My feet are killing me and I plan to sit here for a while”, you challenge.

“I’m fine, don’t worry”, he replies. His tone is infuriatingly casual.

Silence settles over the two of you and you don’t know which part drives you more mad – his hand on your back, his thighplate pressed against you knee, his intense gaze or the way he appears completely unfazed by any of it. You try to keep your face neutral and your breathing steady, but you simply can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat when Fox finishes his cigarra and leans over you to toss it in the empty glass, briefly caging you in. For a second, you think you see his gaze dropping to your lips and you curse yourself when your own eyes wonder to his.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this – it would be wrong on so many levels. Maybe you both share the same rank, but he’s a clone, a soldier, and you’re a Jedi – it’s simply not allowed. Plus, he is Cody’s brother, and not just in the way all clones are vode – Fox and Cody were batchmates, they grew up together, their bond is different. Cody would not approve. And you’re fairly certain it’s all in your head anyway. But even if you weren’t imagining the tension, even if Fox somehow felt it too, it wouldn’t change the fact that it was forbidden.

“Would you really get in trouble?”, Fox breaks the silence.

“W-What?”, you stutter.

“For those holo-pics with Brenko”, he clarifies.

You jolt, pulling yourself together. “Uhh, depends how they’ll use them, I guess”.

Fox appears to contemplate something before giving you a stern look. “Do not move!”, he orders.

All you can do is nod.

His hand finally leaves your back, coming to tap the comm on his vambrace. You almost whine at the loss of his warmth, but catch yourself before making a sound. Maker, what has gotten into you?

“Stone, come in”, Fox speaks into the comm.

“Yes, vod”, a voice replies in less than five seconds.

“The journalists following Brenko around – say there’s a problem with their accreditations and confiscate the holo-cams. Return them after you delete all images with General Kenobi’s Padawan”, he orders, eyes not leaving yours as he does so.

“Understood”.

Your lips part as you realise he’s about to save your ass without you even asking and a warm feeling blooms in your chest. “Are you allowed to do that?”, you manage to utter.

“I’m the commanding officer of the Coruscant Guard”, he says, a small smirk breaking through his mask of professionalism.

“Yeah, but freedom of the press and all that”, you argue weakly.

“The press needs the proper accreditations. They have it to document the gala, not to participate in a political campaign”

“Isn’t that stretching the truth?”

“That’s playing their game, cyar’ika”, Fox declares, his tone of voice bordering on teasing.

Your cheeks immediately heat up – you know what the Mando’a term means. “Thank you, Commander. You, uhh… you’re a lifesaver”, you reply with a small, embarrassed chuckle.

His eyes soften and he smiles, and this time you’re certain – he does glance at your lips. He’s still so close, he could just lean in. You want him to lean in… His eyes quickly return to yours but you saw it clearly and your heart begins to race. Without thinking, you tilt your head up, and you hear him inhale sharply.

Before either of you can make another move, a couple of raindrops land on your forehead and shoulder. You both look up. A thick layer of black clouds covers the night sky and the faint rumbling of thunder reverberates through the air. The raindrops keep falling, quickly multiplying, and Fox curses under his breath. It was already a chilly night, and with the rain now pouring down, it’ll only get colder.

“We should get you back inside”, the Commander voices.

You shake your head. “I cannot go back in there; I just can’t stand it anymore”.

His head turns to the balcony door, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. Whatever he’s thinking seems to make him tense; you notice his fist clenching and unclenching. However, any sign of tension disappears before he turns back to you, his expression carefully composed.

“Come on”, he says, his hand settling on your back again, gently coaxing you to jump down from the railing with a soft, guiding pressure.

“But–”, you begin to protest.

“Once we’re in, head right and stay close to the wall. I’ll cover your flank so the senator can’t approach you again. We’ll slip out through one of the side doors and go to the Guard HQ”, he instructs, picking up his helmet from the floor and securing it in place. His voice takes on the same commanding tone you've heard his brothers use countless times during briefings.

You hesitate for a moment, considering all the implications. But what’s the alternative? Stay out in the cold rain or go back inside only to be used as a prop by the senator? Simply heading to their HQ doesn’t mean anything – he’ll probably take you to the mess hall or maybe a break room, like the ones you’ve been in countless times aboard the Negotiator or at the base on Coruscant. You’ve been enjoying his company, and if you’re honest, you want to spend more time with him.

Deciding to trust him, you nod and follow his instructions. The heavy air hits you as soon as you step inside and the general noise of voices, laughter and music is overwhelming. You move quickly, not wishing to spend a minute longer in this large, overcrowded space, and as promised, Fox walks right beside you, blocking you with his large body from anyone’s prying eyes. His hand presses against the small of your back on a few, brief occasions, as he steers you through the crowd and towards a concealed door, which he opens with the help of an access card.

You’ve been in the Senate building before, but never walked these maintenance corridors. Fox guides you, his fingers brushing yours as he walks by your side down the stairs. Your heart races every time you feel the contact and you tilt your head to look at him a few times, but his face is safely hidden behind his helmet.

The Coruscant Guard compound sits just behind the Senate building, appearing separate but connected through a network of underground tunnels. You’ve never been here – never had a reason why – and you find yourself looking around and taking in every detail. Although, there isn’t really that much to take in, as it has the same cold, utilitarian architecture of the main base.

As you walk quietly beside Fox, you begin to feel out of place – though, funnily enough, your attire matches the Corrie’s colour scheme. The shock troopers you pass nod at their Commander but always do a double take when they see you. You’re starting to wonder if coming here was a mistake.

Fox leads you to the turbolisfts, then to one of the upper levels and down a couple of corridors until you are stood in front of the door to an office – the door to his office. He opens it and gestures for you to go in first. The room is small and very minimalist – there’s one desk and chair, one file cabinet and a worn-down couch. The desk is full of datapads and flimsi files and the sheer amount of work looks overwhelming, yet somehow everything is neatly arranged and stacked.

You pause in the doorway for a second, but your feet really are killing you, so you plop down on the couch, kicking your heels off with a dramatic sigh. You hear a chuckle as Fox walks over to his desk and takes his helmet off and you want to make a snarky comment, but the words get stuck in your throat. You take a moment to study him better, the brighter lights of his office allowing you to see more of the scars on his face, the bags under his eyes and the silver strands in his hair. You’ve always found the clones attractive, but Maker, there was something about Fox that was hitting you harder than ever before.

The Commander is also observing you and a self-satisfied smirk breaks through his mask of composure.

“Like what you see?”, he teases, crossing his arms over his chest.

A “yes” escapes your lips before you can stop it and your eyes go wide at the realisation of what you just admitted. “T-The paint job”, you then blurt out, as if that would somehow save it.

“The paint job?”, he repeats, thoroughly amused.

“Mhmm”, you hum, the sound coming out strained. “Cause most of the Guard troopers I’ve seen have the-the red on the chest plate and the white is-and you know, nice choice having it the other way around”. The words spew out with a rapid flow and you cringe internally.

“Glad you approve”, Fox bites back a laugh.

You give him a look before you throw your head back, starring at the durasteel ceiling and cursing the stream of stupidity that came out of your mouth.

“Do you want a drink?”, he asks.

“Yes, please”, you nod, meeting his amused gaze again.

Fox crouches down and procures a bottle or corellian whiskey and a glass from the lower drawers of the cabinet. You watch intently, your gaze following every motion as he pours the amber liquid. The Commander then walks over to the couch and hands the glass to you, clinking the bottle against it before taking a swing directly out of it. A laugh escapes your lips at the sight.

“Only have one glass”, he shrugs before sitting down next to you.

“So you usually drink alone?”, you ask, voice playful. “That’s a bit sad, Commander”.

Fox huffs a bitter laugh and shakes his head. “You can drop the ‘commander’, you know?”, he says instead of answering your question.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away, taking a sip of the whiskey. The liquid burns as it slides down your throat and you cough – it’s stronger than what you usually drink. You really should put a stop to this.

“Alright… Fox”, you say.

You glance back at him, heart beating faster. Fox closes his eyes, almost as if he’s savouring the way his name sounded as it left your lips. When he opens them again, the look he gives you is different, hungrier, and it sets a slow burn alight in your core. You should get up and leave, take yourself out of this inappropriate situation, but instead, you shift in your seat to face him better.

“So”, you start sweetly, pausing to sip your whiskey, “tell me something about yourself”.

He takes another swing of the bottle before placing it on the floor next to the couch. “What do you want to know?”

You have no idea what compels you to do it, but your hand moves on its own, cupping his face. Your thumb gently brushes over the scar at the corner of his mouth. “How’d you get this?”, you ask.

His eyes flick down to your hand, then back to yours and you can feel his jaw clenching as he sharply inhales. “Careful, mesh’la”, he rasps, “you might make me do something we’ll both regret”.

“I wouldn’t regret it”, you whisper.

“You’re drunk. You would regret it”, he insists, his voice coming out strained.

“I’m not that drunk, Fox”, you counter. “I know what I want”.

He stares you down, his expression unreadable, and your boldness begins to falter. You try to pull your hand away, but before you can, he catches it, holding it firmly in place against his face. You can almost see the internal conflict behind his eyes. Slowly, he tilts his head and presses a kiss to your wrist. His lips feel so soft, so warm, and goosebumps appear on your skin in anticipation. But then – he lets go of your hand.

The disappointment is fleeting. Fox takes your glass, downs the whiskey in one go, and sets it on the floor. Then, he moves closer, devouring you with his eyes. The look is electric and it sends a shiver directly to your core. When he cups your face, your breath hitches, quickens. You are completely at his mercy – if only he would just kiss you already.

“Please don’t regret this”, he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.   

The raw vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard and your heart clenches. “I won’t. I promise”.

The last of Fox’s self-restraint finally breaks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss – slow, tentative, sweet. Not at all what you expected. You thought he would be rougher, demanding, but the way he takes his time, the gentleness of his lips – it’s endearing, but also maddening, and it fills you with need. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and his other hand settles on your hip. You want more of him – you need more of him – and so you deepen the kiss. Your tongue brushes past his lips and he groans, his grip on you tightening. Somehow, he tastes like caf, even though what you expected was tabac and whisky.

The kiss becomes hungrier, more desperate, and you start to suspect that Fox needs this even more than you do. His hand leaves your hip and starts exploring your body as he guides you down onto the couch. He’s caging you in now, his large frame looming over you – it’s intoxicating really. He breaks the kiss in order to pull back slightly, finding your eyes.

“Is this okay?”, Fox asks.

“Yes!”, you reply, eager for him to continue.

You pull him back to you and feel him smile against your lips. The need for more pours into the kiss – you’re really worked up now – and your hands roam over his chesplate then up to his shoulders, fumbling to find the latches and get it off. It is not an easy task.

“Do you need help there?”, Fox chuckles against your lips

“I need you out of the armor”, you whine.

“Maybe if you asked nicely”, he teases, his lips trailing down your neck.

You tilt your head in order to give him better access, and moan when you feel his teeth scrape on your pulse point. The feeling is so exquisite you almost forget what you wanted. However, the hard plastoid pressing down on your chest quickly reminds you of your wish.

“Fox”, you breathe, “please take it off”.

Fox smirks and sits back on his knees, his eyes not leaving yours as he expertly sheds his upper armor with impressive speed. He leans back in, more urgent this time, kissing you deeply. You immediately take advantage, gliding your hands over the planes of his chest. The fabric of his blacks feels smooth against your palms, but you yearn to feel his warm skin. Slowly, your hands make their way down to his belt, pulling at the material tucked in, and Fox pauses the kiss to assist you in taking his top off.

You take a moment to admire him, your fingers gently tracing over the scars scattered across his chest. Your eyes then land on a bruise on the left side of his waist – it's the size of your fist, fresh and a dark purple with yellowish-green edges. Concern flashes in your gaze as you meet his eyes.

“Incident on the lower levels last week”, he answers your silent question.

“Are you alright to continue? That looks painful”, you ask, the worry in your voice genuine.

“I’m fine, mesh’la, don’t worry”, he reassures you with a soft smile.

He doesn’t give you too much time to keep thinking about it – his lips crash into yours, kissing you with a renewed hunger. He then trails down, nipping at the skin on your throat and chest. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling his greying curls gently, an action that makes him moan. He pulls back, staring intently in your eyes as his hand comes to cup your breast. Your soft moans encourage him to continue and he pushes the material of your dress and bra to the side. Your nipple pebbles as the cool air of his office brushes against it and Fox sees it as an invitation to lean in and close his lips around it. His tongue swipes over the hardened bud, and the whimpers falling from your lips only spur him on.

You hook a leg around him, drawing him closer as he moves to the other breast. You hiss at the contact with the hard plastoid of his codpiece, your core aching with need. His hand slides on your thigh, pushing at the hem of your dress.

“You’re wearing too much fabric”, he groans, lifting his head from your breasts.

“What’s stopping you from taking it off?”, you purr.

His hands find the zipper and pull it down, and you shift your body to assist him in freeing you from the dress and bra.

“You’re so beautiful”, he murmurs, eyes raking over your naked form under him. You bite your lip as heat darkens your cheeks.

He throws the garments somewhere on the floor before his mouth claims your breasts again, sucking a mark on the left one. His lips then continue down your abdomen, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. When he finally reaches your center, you’re dripping wet, and Fox curses under his breath as he pulls your underwear to the side and sees your arousal. His eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod eagerly, not trusting yourself to speak.

His hands spread your legs a little wider and he impatiently dives in, his warm tongue sliding though your folds. A loud, needy moan sounds from the back of your throat, and your head falls against the armrest of the couch. Your eyes are squeezed shut and all you can focus on is the pure pleasure that his lips and tongue elicit as they flick over your clit. Slowly, you start grinding on his face, helping him find a rhythm that makes you head spin.

You gasp when his fingers find your entrance. He slips two of them inside in a slow, maddening pace, stopping his attention to your clit for a just a moment in order to gauge your reaction.

“Don’t stop”, you manage to whimper, not even caring how needy you must sound.

Fox chuckles – a low, self-satisfied sound that reverberates through your core. He resumes his earlier assault on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you in a faster pace at the same time. Your hands tangle in his hair again, pulling sharply on the strands. He moans at the pain, and the sound only increases your pleasure.

His fingertips find a spot that makes you cry out and you’re desperately grinding against him. You’re so close, the pressure is building and you squeeze your thighs around his head instinctively. Pleasure overtakes your senses and it only keeps increasing with every pump of his fingers and lick of tongue. You're so, so close now – the damn is about to break. And then he stops, swiftly pulling the digits out of you.

“Fox!”, you shout, the indignation in your voice sharp as all pleasure dissipates.

“Sorry cyar'ika”, he laughs, “but I want to be inside of you when you come”.

“I could've done that after. There was no need to stop now”, you whine in protest.

“It's more fun this way”, Fox teases as he gets up and begins removing the rest of his armor.

“You are such an asshole”, you mumble under your breath.

The smirk he gives you is so disarming, you’re glad you’re already laying down. “Someone must've warned you about that before”.

“Well maybe I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt”, you bite back.

“You should believe everything you've heard about me”, Fox declares, now standing before you in nothing but his underwear. “Especially the bad things”.

Your gaze falls to the outline of his erection, lingering on the way it strains against the fabric of his boxers. The sight sends a wave of heat through your body, reigniting the desire simmering in your core. You bite your lip – he is big and you can already imagine how he’ll feel inside of you. You swallow, your mind racing in anticipation of what will come next. He pulls the boxers down, letting his cock spring free, and your eyes go wide.

“If you’re done ogling, I’d like to continue”, he taunts.

“I am not ogling!”, you exclaim, a bit defensive.

“You are definitely ogling”, he says with a smirk as he climbs back on top of you. “Drooling a little too”.

You playfully slap his chest with the back of your hand, trying to give him a dirty look, but the smile frozen on your lips betrays you. It seems you do enjoy his teasing. His lips find yours again, and any indignation you felt from earlier immediately melts away. You wrap your arms around his back, nails scraping his skin in response to his erection pressing against your clit. He swallows your moans and pushes his tongue into your mouth, filling it with the unexpected taste of your arousal.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”, Fox pulls away to ask, the tip of his cock positioned at your entrance.

“Yes”, you nod eagerly. “I want this – I want you”.

 His eyes darken and the look he gives you is almost possessive. Slowly, he sinks in, and you gasp at the stretch. You look into his eyes as he gradually bottoms out, lost in their mesmerising amber hue. A sudden wave of panic violently crashes over you – you’ve been around so many troopers before, yet you've never felt like this. It's overwhelming, terrifying... and yet, you don't want it to stop.

“Fuck, you’re so tight”, Fox groans, the awe in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“You feel amazing”, you respond, the words coming out strained.

Fox pulls almost all the way out, before sharply snapping his hips back into you. The cry that leaves your lips echoes around the room and, based on the smile on his lips, gives him immense pleasure. His lips claim yours again, as he thrusts harder, faster, driving all coherent thought from your mind. All you can sense, all you can feel – it’s him. Fox consumes you completely – he is everything you taste, everything you smell, everything you see and hear.

Your breasts bounce with each sharp thrust and Fox brings a hand up to cup one of them, pinching the nipple between his fingers. The extra stimulation is almost too much and you moan as you feel your peak quickly approaching. A thought crosses your mind – maybe you shouldn’t be so loud; but that is easier said than done.

“You’re… you’re taking me so well, mesh’la”, Fox rasps, voice rough with effort. “Fuck! It’s… it’s like you were made for me. So perfect, you’re perfect”.

You try to speak, but no words come to you. The tip of his cock hits that spot inside of you just right, and every thrust of his hips brings you closer and closer to your release.

“What is it, mesh’la? Use your words”, Fox teases, noticing the crease in your brows.

Your mouth opens and closes silently a couple of times before you finally find your voice. “Don’t stop”, you beg. “Please, Fox, please don’t stop”.

The sound he makes almost sounds like a growl and it sends a visible shiver across your body. Fox presses his forehead to yours, grunting as he forces himself to maintain the same pace. Your hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit, and you begin circling it with quick, urgent motions. It doesn’t take long for the coil to snap – your back arches as your walls contract around his length, and your climax washes over you in powerful waves.

The sounds you make and the sight of you writhing beneath him soon push him over the edge. With a low grunt, Fox quickly pulls out, spilling his release across your stomach. He collapses on top of you, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck, and you tightly wrap your arms around his still-trembling body.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like that – lost in each other’s embrace, catching your breath. It feels peaceful, natural, almost necessary. You stroke his hair, savouring the way his arms pull you closer, how he nuzzles your neck. Honestly, this might even be better than the sex. When he finally pulls away, the look he gives you is reverent, and he leans in to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll be right back”, he says as he gets up.

Fox disappears into the small fresher attached to his office, returning shortly after with a damp towel in hand. He sits down beside you, and with slow, deliberate movements, he carefully wipes his release from your stomach. You mumble some thanks, your gaze lost to a random point on the ceiling as your mind races with a thousand thoughts.

“What’s on your mind?”, Fox asks, his voice cautions.

“Uhm…”, you hesitate, sheepishly meeting his gaze. “Cody’s gonna kill me”.

“You plan on telling him?”, he questions. “Cause I sure as hell won’t”.

You shake your head and exhale deeply. “He’ll know – he always just knows somehow”.

“As far as he’s aware, we don’t even know each other”, Fox counters, his hand resting on your hip. “I think we’re safe”.

“Hope you’re right”.

Fox huffs a small, bitter laugh. “So you regret it then?”.

Your eyes snap to him, and the resigned expression on his face breaks your heart. “No!”, you exclaim, sitting up and taking his hand. “Absolutely not, that was amazing. Honestly, 10 out of 10”.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Very funny”.

“What?”

“My CC number”, he says. You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowed in confusion. “My designation? CC-1010?”, he adds.

“You’re kidding”. You try your best to stifle your laugh at the serious look he gives you. “Very fitting then”, you manage between giggles.

Fox shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You’re terrible”.

“That’s not what you said earlier”, you tease. “I think the word you used was… perfect?”.

“Get dressed”, Fox orders, trying to keep from smiling. “We’re going to the mess to get some food”.

“Yes, Commander”, you purr, earning another eye roll.

Unbeknownst to you, Cody has been trying to speak to Fox all night. Besides a brief holo-call a couple of months back and a short meeting last leave, he hasn’t seen his brother in ages and really hoped the gala would give them the opportunity to catch up. Unfortunately, he kept getting stopped by senators and wealthy donors, and pulled into long, tedious conversations. He lost track of Fox at one point, and by the time he managed to slip away, he couldn’t find him anywhere.

Cody did find Thorn, who told him that, considering how much Fox hates these events, he probably went back to his office to get some work done. So the Corrie Commander lead Cody back to their HQ, but when they reached Fox’s office, they were stopped from knocking by the muffled, yet very distinctive noises coming from inside.

The two commanders shared a look, completely shocked by what they were hearing. The fact that Fox would be fucking someone in his office – in the Guard HQ – it was unbelievable. They stepped back and leaned against the wall, trying to figure out who could possibly be inside with their brother.

A senator? Impossible, according to Thorn – Fox hates senators. An aide? Unlikely for the same reason. One of the waitresses? Maybe.

Thorn was curious and adamant about waiting to see who will come out of the office. And Cody – well, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some dirt on his brother.

So unfortunately for you, the moment the door swishes open and you step outside, your eyes lock immediately with Cody’s.

His mouth falls open as he tries to process what he’s seeing – who he’s seeing. Your eyes go wide – almost as wide as his – and you instinctively step back toward the office, only to bump into Fox. You meet his gaze, silently pleading for some help, even though you know he’s just as much in trouble as you are.

“Osik”, Fox curses, his eyes darting between Cody and the other man.

The man next to him – another Corrie Guard commander you suppose, judging by his armor – looks confused. But Cody? Cody looks furious. His face contorts as realization dawns, and he steps forward, eyes locking onto Fox with pure fury.

“You!”, he thunders.

“Vod, it’s not what–”, Fox starts, trying to diffuse the situation.

“You’re dead”, Cody interrupts, his voice filled with rage. “My Padawan, Fox? Y-You… my Padawan? You’re so dead!”.

“Oh shit”, Thorn whispers.

You step in front of him. “Cody it’s-I didn’t mean… w-we-”. The look he gives you could melt durasteel, and it silences you immediately.

“General Kenobi is looking for you. I suggest you leave now, before he somehow finds you here”, he hisses.

“But–”

“Go. Now!”, her barks.

You can’t argue anymore. With one last glance at Fox – who gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod – you turn and make your way to the turbolifts, head hanging low. As you walk away, the sound of their argument follows you.

“We can’t talk about this in the corridor”, Fox insists. “Let’s step into my–”.

“I am not going inside your office”, Cody snaps, disgust evident in his voice.

“Mine’s down the hall, let’s go there”, Thorn cuts in.

You don’t dare turn around – afraid that Fox might look back at you, or worse, that he wouldn’t spare you a second glance at all.

Three rotations later, you’re back aboard the Negotiator, en route to your next campaign in the Mid Rim. You’ve barely slept, your mind constantly replaying the events of the gala. You cannot get Fox out of your head. You’ve tried, really, really tried. You’ve hidden yourself in the Temple – mostly to avoid Cody but also any chance of running into the Coruscant Guard – and you’ve tried to focus on meditation, lightsaber training, anything to keep your mind from thinking about him. But still, Fox lingers in your thoughts.

That’s why you’re here right now, in front of Cody’s office, trying to talk yourself into going in and facing your ori’vod. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t ask what you’re about to ask – but you just can’t help it. You take a deep breath, press the buzzer, then step inside.

Cody greets you with an icy glare – he’s still pissed off, you assumed that much –but you walk to the chair in front of his desk and sit down, drumming nervously on your thigh. Where do you even begin?

“I didn’t mean for it to happen”, you start. “We just got… caught up”.

Cody shakes his head disapprovingly. “If this is your way of apologising–”.

“I’m not”, you cut in. He lifts an eyebrow. “Apologising. I’m not. I don’t regret it, and I’m not sorry it happened”.

“Then why are you here, vod’ika?”, he asks.

“I, uhm… I was hoping you could give me his frequency”, you say, sheepishly looking away.

He visibly tenses, your request catching him off-guard. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”.

“Probably not. But I can’t stop thinking about him”, you confess.

The silence that settles in the office is deafening. Cody is staring at you, his expression unreadable and you begin to squirm under his gaze, shifting in your seat. The reality of what you’re asking come crashing down on you, filling you with guilt and shame. You’re a Jedi – what the hell are you thinking?

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?”, you murmur. “I’m sure he doesn’t even want to hear from me…”

Cody sighs and leans back in the chair, his gaze finally softening. “He asked me for your frequency two days ago”.

Your eyes light up. “He did?”

“Yeah. I didn’t give it to him. But if you’re asking now too…”, he trails off, shaking his head. With a few taps on his datapad, your comm beeps. “I hope you know what you’re doing, vod’ika”.

“Thank you”, you exclaim.

“Don’t thank me for this. I’m sure I’ll regret it”, he retorts.

You walk back to your cabin at a brisk pace, unable to hide the grin on your face. You cannot wait to comm him, and maybe, hopefully, see him again next time you’re on Coruscant.

Taglist: @selene131

[pikahlua]

So, I’ve been in the fandom for some time, and I wanted to ask you about the way, in the vast majority of bkdkbk fics and doujinshis, Izuku often talks TO Katsuki in 3rd person. “Kacchan is hot,” “Kacchan looks so good like that,” etc. I haven't noticed it in any other ships, and only ever Izuku speaking like that to Katsuki. Is this some kind of quirk of the Japanese language that I'm not getting? It sounds strange to me in English. What do you think?

I think I've touched on this a little before, but what you're probably encountering is a translator's specific flavor of how to bring those moments into English. In Japanese, second-person pronouns are in many cases impolite, not to mention there are MANY second-person pronouns to choose from that each have their own meanings and implications. Izuku is an average person with an average level of politeness, and so he often does the very Japanese thing of just saying a person's name in place of a second-person pronoun. It sounds awkward in English because we don't usually do this with our conversation partners, but it's actually the norm in Japan to refer to a person to their face directly by their name rather than call them "you." As for other pairings, it's really just a matter of those artists determining how these characters refer to each other likely based on what they say in the canon material. Some characters DO use second-person pronouns, or maybe they use second-person pronouns for some people or in some situations only. This is a whole level of consideration in writing how characters interact that I would say is not as pronounced in the English language, but we do have our own versions of this same phenomenon. It's just what we consider polite and rude in addressing people is different.

[n3komika]

ENSTARS TRANSLATIONS SHORTCUT ★

★ personal enstars TLs link shortcuts ! ‧₊˚

. . .

Reminiscence ＊ Marionette (追憶*マリオネット)

"Nazuna starts thinking about the reason for Valkyrie's departure—and fine. The story of the Five Eccentrics' past begins..."

Obbligato (オブリガート)

"COS PRO creates Project COMP to draw more attention to its affiliated schools. Consequently Eden, Tatsumi and HiMERU are invited to join COMP LIVE. While reminiscing about their old days, Jun notices that the HiMERU before him is different from the one he remembers..."

Checkmate (チェックメイト)

"Leo meets Eichi and begins building a relationship as friends. On the other hand, Eichi has begun his plan for a revolution."

Meteor Impact (メテオインパクト)

"Two years ago. Chiaki comes to the pool to clean up the mess made by that era's Ryuseitai when he finds Kanata crouching down at the bottom. This is the story of a boy who longed to be a hero, and a boy who was a god. ★"

Crossroad (クロスロード)

"Keito makes an effort to reform the school... Starting with a live at an underground live house that he visited with Rei, Keito's surroundings start to change."

Element (エレメント)

"Spring. Some days after the DDD ends, Switch was trying to hold a DreamFes in the school. Eichi is made to recall last year's incident by the new unit. The second chapter of fine and the Five Eccentrics' story, continuing into today."

Beasts (ケダモノ)

"Arashi receives huge fanfare for her photo collection, which put her masculinity on the forefront. Tetora sees this and begs Arashi to teach him how to be manly, but... ★"

Performance! The Tragicomedy of Romeo and Juliet (公演！悲喜劇のロミオとジュリエット)

"A Romeo and Juliet in which Romeo is a girl, and Juliet comes at her with animosity. The drama club’s performance this time does not at all seem to be a normal one, and... ★"

Part 1 - 12

Part 13 - 25

Setsubun Festival (節分祭)

"In accordance with Rei's plan for the Setsubun Festival, the school will play tag in which they will throw beans at the 'ogres'. Will there be any 'ogres' who survive to become the winner!?"

Human Comedy (人間喜劇)

"The Repayment Festival is the 3rd years' last stage. With all kinds of thoughts, they move along in their preparations, but Kuro comes to Ra*bits looking for Mika, who has gone missing... ★"

Steampunk Museum (スウェットパンク博物���)

"Valkyrie and 2wink, who have received a request for a live from a museum, are to portray the world of steampunk under Shu's supervision! ★"

Raison d'être (レゾンデートル)

"Mika makes his way to Paris after Shu tells him he wants to talk about the future. Upon hearing Mika's intent following graduation, Shu grows enraged. That's when news comes that Shu's grandfather has passed away. The two return to Japan to confirm the truth, however…"

ABYSS (海の鼓動 – Look back –)

"A mysterious vase left behind in the Marine Biology Club brings back memories of the old days. What is the mystery of "ABYSS" that Kanata and the others experienced when they were young…?"

JANUS (いざよう月の歌 – Look back –)

"Through a single photograph comes the recollection of childhood memories. This is a story about the encounter between two brothers who appear to transcend humanity, and an ordinary boy like any other."

PORTRAIT – Look back –

"Time has passed, and the truth of a "certain incident" is revealed in an interview. This is the story of three child models and a gravure model."

Dramatica (ドラマティカ)

"The theater group Dramatica is organizing their very first show, and Wataru leaves the casting to Hokuto. Hokuto goes to Tomoya for advice, and decides to ask Shu to play Sanzang, but..."

Sweet Halloween (スイートハロウィン)

"Ryuseitai, Ra*bits, and MaM have all decided to work together and prepare for the Halloween Party. While they're busy at work decorating the place and practicing for the event, it seems that Hajime and Tomoya are awkward around each other, and Chiaki is terrified of something…*"

Matrix (マトリックス)

"ALKALOID and Crazy:B are to face off in Matrix, a major event held by ES. To garner attention to this sibling face-off, Hiiro and Rinne end up exchanging the units they each lead."

Romantic (?) Date (ロマンチック？デイト)

"The idols have been asked to star as characters in the dating sim video game Love★Star. The filming is to be done in pairs, but HiMERU and Tatsumi seem to be having trouble..."

✦•┈๑⋅⋯

For more TLs refer to Enstars TL masterlist (by mika_enstars):

Event/Scout

Idol/Feature

⋯⋅๑┈•✦

※ synopsis are taken from The English Ensemble Stars Wiki

※ for removal please kindly let me know through dms

[paper-crab]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

summary: letters to your past crushes get out and its a whole mess, based on the movie/book, yadayada

warnings: swearing, cliché, very rushed

wc: 6914

ignore any grammar mistakes it’s too long for me to reread and if it doesn’t flow smoothly i’m so sorry i rushed it so bad

Writing letters was an emotional release; something healthy to pass the time, and look back on later.

That’s why you’d written a series of letters, spanning from 3rd grade to now- senior year. They were intimate letters, ones you wrote to get your mind off of a crush you’d gained, so when you’d looked for the box to add a new letter and couldn’t find it, you freaked out.

Luckily, younger you was only able to get her hands on two addresses.

Unfortunately, those addresses were the two worst ones you could have gotten. Everybody else had either moved, or come out. They were irrelevant.

Who had gotten the letters, however, were not irrelevant: your school's player, and your best friend's boyfriend. You were fully in panic mode now, how are you supposed to recover from that? You can only contemplate your options for so long before anxiety eats at you. Maybe if you skipped a week or so of school it would blow over.

“Yeah, not happening. Rise and shine.”

You groan. “Dad, you don’t understand. This could ruin my life, I might actually die.”

He doesn’t respond, leaving you to grovel and pick up the pieces of your pride.

In order to avoid your friend's boyfriend, you need to avoid her, which means you’re walking around school alone. You know you’ll need to have that awkward conversation, telling him ‘I liked you when you were just my childhood best friend- those feelings have passed’, but you also know that you are going to avoid it for as long as humanly possible. Asserting yourself was never really your strong suit.

You had grown up next door to her boyfriend, and fell out of touch with him in middle school. While he was blossoming as a social butterfly, you lurked in the background, like a moth drawn to his effervescent light. Like the sun, the light was too hot for you to stay in, and you stopped talking until mid junior year when your friend had reintroduced you.

The other letter, the heartthrob, had been a lot kinder in middle school. You’d heard some not-so-kind stories about him recently though, and they were the exact opposite of the kid, Matt, that you knew.

You hadn’t been particularly close or anything, only exchanging a few words in your 7th grade math class, but you were infatuated with him. When you were younger, he hardly talked, but lacrosse had brought him out of his shell; the shell you’d never managed to crack- or rather the cocoon you’d never emerged from.

Matt probably didn’t know your name, even though you’d boldly signed it in your letter, so you were confident he wouldn’t find you. It’d be just another day for him, hopefully.

Your friend's boyfriend, on the other hand, was constantly with you. He lived right next door to you, and you felt like it was impossible to avoid him. You’d try to get through the school day without an encounter, then lock yourself in your room to never be seen again.

The first couple periods you had? Had gone off without a hitch. Then you hit lunch, and even if you tried, you couldn’t run from your friend forever. She found you, her boyfriend trailing behind.

“I missed you this morning!” She tells you, reaching to give you a hug. You don’t do much but nervously laugh, pulling away from her. “Yeah, I came late.” You lied.

“Ugh I wish, I’m going to get lunch, you coming with?” She says, more to her boyfriend than you. He shakes his head, “I’m good.”

“Alright, be back in a minute!”

“Can we ta-”

You cut him off immediately, nervous laughter coming back. “I have a test to study for, so I’m going to the library, sorry. We’ll catch up later. He knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t really want to talk about it himself.

After excusing yourself, you make a beeline for the library, seeking a moment of respite. The library turns out not to offer that much solace either, because you see Matt’s two brothers enter, meaning he can’t be far behind. When he rounds the corner, his eyes land on you, lighting up slightly. You see him excuse himself from his brothers, and you immediately stand and run out of there, muttering “Nope, no, no,” under your breath. The sound of you slamming the library door open definitely isn’t quiet.

You can’t help but begin to panic, packing up your things and abruptly running out of the school, through the parking lot, and jumping into your car. If studying wasn’t how you were going to escape the situation, avoiding lunch apparently was. It’s tempting, incredibly so, to skip the rest of your day, but you know you’d be in so much trouble. You can’t handle that right now.

You head back in and continue your day, just praying, wishing, dreaming that you won’t encounter the two people you don’t want to see most- but now you’re seeing them out of the corner of your eye in every passing period; and you can’t even confide in the one person you most want to.

The school day ending feels like your saving grace. You’re exhausted, mentally and physically, from running away from your friend and her boyfriend, and narrowly avoiding Matt didn’t help.

You walk out of the school, into the parking lot towards the direction of your car, ready to be done with the day.

In highschool, you’re never done.

Your friend's boyfriend is leaning against your car, looking around for you, arms crossed. You make a sharp left, in the direction of the lacrosse field and bleachers. You’re not really thinking about it when you do it, it’s just the closest shelter, other than walking back in the hellhole that is the school.

You make your way onto the bleachers mindlessly, trying not to think about the events of today. You set your backpack next to you, not realizing there’s an unexpected guest making his way up to the top of the bleachers where you sat.

“Hi.” You jump, startled by the sudden voice as he sits next to you. You recognize that voice, obviously, so you flinch before turning to him. “Y/n, right?”

You nod, not sure how to continue this. There’s a plethora of things he could say, and you’d rather not hear any of them. Matt taps his fingers on the bleachers, waiting for you to acknowledge that he’s said anything; when you realize you nod.

“Look,” he starts, and that’s never a good sign, “Your letter was really kind and whatever, but I just broke up with my girlfriend. I’m not really ready for anything serious, so if you’re looking for casual-”

“I wrote that in 7th grade.”

“Oh.” He says, scratching his head. “Why’d you send the letter then?” You look to your left, spotting your friend's boyfriend walking towards you, and you panic.

“Kiss me,”

“Okay.” He shrugs, grabbing you. His eyes are closed, but you don’t bother closing yours. You’re a bit busy glancing in the direction of your other victim, and when you watch his face fall as he turns back around, you finally close your eyes. “Not that I’m mad about it, but what just happened?”

“It’s really hard to explain, but you’re not the only one that got a letter. The other person is my best friends boyfriend,”

“Damn. That’s low of you, and I’m not special? My feelings are hurt.” He smiles a little bit, trying to ease your tense expression. “I wrote his before I ever wrote yours, and before they knew each other. I can’t talk to him, though, and if she ever finds out, it'll break her heart.”

“Okay, respect. I gotta get to practice, but I’ll find you tomorrow?”

You want to say no, but you don’t. He did just do you a big favor after all. “Yeah, see you then.”

-

He sticks to his words, finding you in the library the next day. His mouth twists into a grin when he sees you, and he shuffles over holding eye contact with you.

“Hey,” He says, slightly whispering. It might be lunch, but the librarian is still strict. She wants to preserve the quiet atmosphere of the room, in which you can only hear the sound of flipping pages and an occasional murmur. “Mind if I join?” He settles in next to you.

“Uhm.. listen,” You say, launching into a monologue, “about the whole letter thing, It’s, uh, not what it seems. Well it is, but it’s not. I wrote those letters a long time ago, and they don’t reflect my feelings now, and I never meant for them to get out, so, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into it, and I’m sorry you did, get dragged into it, that is.”

“If you didn’t mean for them to get out, why would you send them?” He questions, tilting his head.

“I didn’t send them.”

“Okay, uhm, who did?”

“I don’t know, but I cannot talk to my friend's boyfriend, like ever.”

He nods, a mixture of concern and confusion evident on his face, like he’s really mulling the situation over.

“So, someone sent those letters behind your back? That’s not cool, dude. Messed up, but I think we can help each other out here, take control of the situation.” A wicked grin takes over his face. If you squint hard enough you can imagine a lightbulb over his head, like he’s had an “aha!” moment. “I have an idea,”

“What do you mean, control?”

“Yeah, control. Think about it, we fake date. You need your friend’s boyfriend off your back, and I need my ex to get jealous and come back to me. Win win, and it gives us a chance to control the narrative.”

“Yeah, I mean… it could work, maybe?” You respond, uncertainty in your tone. “How would it even work?

“I don’t see how it couldn’t.”

“Okay, I guess, but I don’t see how it could be that simple.”

“Yeah, it could. Trust me, we play it smart, manipulate the situation, and we get what we want.”

“Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”

“You sure about this?” Matt asks, searching your eyes for confirmation.

“Yeah, I mean, you said it best. I can’t talk to him about this, not for a long while, anyways.”

“Sick.”

“So, uhm, what next?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, rules and stuff?”

“You want rules, you make ‘em’” He shrugs. You grab out a notebook, labeling the top ‘Rules’ in neat handwriting. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“No kissing,” you start writing, and Matt groans.

“If we’re not kissing, how do you expect anyone to believe we’re dating?” You squirm a little bit.

“Matt,” you say in a hushed tone. Heat rises to your cheeks. “I don’t really kiss people,”

“Wait,” he chuckles, trying to make a joke, “was I your first kiss?”

When you don’t answer, he gasps. It almost makes him feel bad, but not enough to apologize. “No kissing then,” he confirms, trying to steer the conversation forward. “What else?”

“No couple-y social media shit,”

“Agreed. We keep it low-key.” He nods. “What about spending time together? How often do we go on dates, and are we hanging out all the time?”

“I don’t know, maybe like, once a week? And I don’t wanna be around your friends all the time.”

“You don’t want to be around yours either,” he points out.

“Fair point. Once a week, I hang out with you?”

“Most days, yeah.”

“Also, no meeting the parents. That makes it too real.” You add.

“Off the table. Oh, I’m not calling you babe or any of that gross shit.” He says. You pale at the thought, literally gagging. “Please don’t, I think I’d throw up.”

“That it?” He laughs at you.

“Uh, yeah, I think so.”

The bell rings. “I’ll walk you to class,”

Your face morphs into confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“To make it seem like we’re really dating..?”

“Oh. Yeah,”

He walks you to class, hugging you when he drops you off. “Meet by the bleachers after school?”

“Yeah,” You say, slightly dazed by his request.

When you walk out of your classroom, you let your mind wander back to his ask, ‘what could he possibly want’ playing through your head. You walk through the front doors, taking a sharp left towards the bleachers; just like yesterday.

You’re not waiting for very long when Matt sneaks up on you, whispering “Boo.” into your ear.

You jump, caught off guard, but that’s besides the point.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hands on your waist.

“What are you doing?”

“People are looking.” He shrugs a little. You’re eager for him to get to the point; the longer you’re away from your bed, the more cozy and inviting it sounds. He clears his throat. “I need your number,”

He’s careful to make it come out as a whisper so surrounding students don’t hear. To them, you’re already a couple.

“And your address, so I can pick you up tomorrow.”

“What?”

“As your boyfriend, I’ll be driving you to school, and home, and I need to pick you up for our date too.”

“Date tomorrow?”

“If you’re free, for the ‘spending time together’ bit,” he says, pulling his hands from your waist and doing air quotes with his fingers.

“I can drive myself,” You tell him, as he grabs his phone out and hands it to you sneakily. You proceed to put your number in, and your address, before handing it back to you.

“You can, but it’s more convincing if we come together.” He murmurs, absorbed in drafting you a message. After a moment, you hear the familiar ping of a notification.

“There,” he grins proudly, showing you the message. “Now it’s official.”

-

The morning sun casts a warm glow on you, making you feel cozy and relaxed, despite the nerves growing. The idea of Matt, and his brothers, coming to pick you up scares you a bit. You fiddle with the strap of your backpack as you wait on your front porch.

When you see a car pull up, you know that’s your cue to start walking down your driveway. Matt hops out, rushing to hug you and open the passenger door for you.

“Doesn’t Chris usually sit there?” You ask quietly, still smiling to keep up the charade. “Yeah, I made him move.” He whispers back before he walks to the driver's seat.

“Good morning,” Nick says, sounding completely done. Chris doesn’t even raise his head, giving you a small wave. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys.” You say softly, not wanting to disturb them. You think them going out of their way to pick you up this morning was disturbing enough.

The car ride was a mixture of awkward silence and small talk. Nick and Chris are both too tired to engage much, but Matt is trying his hardest to keep them involved.

You pull up to the school gates after a short while, Matt parks the car. You get out and he walks over to you, joining your hands while you walk in. He gives you a reassuring smile as you walk in, “Don’t worry, they’re not always like this in the morning. I promise it’s not personal.”

You nod, trying your best to offer a smile that comes out faint. “Yeah, I won’t take it personally. Thanks again for the ride, Matt.”

“Of course,”

The second you get into the school, Nick and Chris part ways with you two. You’re still holding hands, you realize, when the murmurs and glances direct themselves towards you. Matt can feel the anxious energy you radiate because of it, so he leans in to whisper in your ear, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “Don’t worry, it’ll blow over soon.”

For all the stories you’d heard about him, you hadn’t expected him to be even half as polite. Maybe it’s because you were faking, you decide.

The rest of the day seems to float by in a blur, but Matt was right; the buzz around your relationship did seem to dissipate the more people saw you together. During lunch, you find yourself next to Matt. You’re doing your best to maintain the facade with his lacrosse friends, Chris among the group.

You can feel the stare of your best friend and her boyfriend though, and it only brings back those feelings of guilt and anxiety. You’re grateful for the distraction of food, though, because it provides you an out from conversations.

You’re not used to basking in the light like this.

As the bell rings, you feel a mixture of relief and apprehension. Matt walks you to your last class, of course, offering you a quick hug before parting ways.

The class passed by slowly as you try to piece together the events of the day. In under a week, you went from a nobody with 3 friends to a somebody dating one of the most popular boys. Fake dating.

When you’re finally dismissed from the shackles of public school, you feel an odd sense of relief. You know it won’t last very long because of your scheduled date tonight, but it’s there nonetheless.

You find Matt waiting outside your classroom, as promised, a smile on his face. He falls into step beside you as you make your way towards his car. The chatter of surrounding students fades into background noise when you’re with him. A cool breeze dances through the air, making you shiver a bit. For a moment, you stayed silent, enjoying the comfort he brought you just by being next to you.

It was reminiscent of middle school; his silence made you comfortable because you weren’t alone.

“Wait, don’t you have lacrosse practice?” You interrupt.

“I take Nick home everyday, I have time to take you too.”

You nod. As you navigate through the sea of juniors and seniors preparing to leave, Matt turns his head towards you. “Hey, you okay?” he asks, concern evident.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, offering a chuckle and a hesitant smile, “Just processing the day, you know? It’s kinda weird.”

He nods understandingly, turning his head back towards the car that Nick is already waiting at. The ride to your home feels significantly shorter when you engage in pleasant conversation with Nick and Matt.

Despite the guilt you feel over keeping up this act, the conversation flows genuinely and you find yourself really enjoying it. He pulls into your driveway, putting the car in park and smiling at you.

“Thank you, and thanks for today.”

“No problem, I’ll see you tonight?”

“You bet,” You say, waving goodbye to Nick. You walk into your house and feel like a puddle of goo, every emotion flooding your body in one go. It’s only the second day of pretending, and you’re feeling like a fly stuck in a web of lies.

Despite your conflicting feelings, you begin to get ready for your date, feeling genuine excitement. Even if it’s just as friends, Matt is really pleasant to be around.

Matt: Movie at 7:30?

You: Perfect, see you then.

The hours tick by as you prepare yourself to hang out with him. You hear a knock on your front door that makes you jump. “Dad, I'm going out!” You yell, rushing out to join Matt.

You weren’t expecting him to hug you when you stepped out. There was no one around to keep it up for, but you decided not to question it. “Hi Matt,”

“Hi.” He grins, pulling away from you. “I didn’t buy tickets yet because I wanted you to choose the movie,”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You tell him, heart filled with gratitude. It was a small gesture, yet it immediately made your middle school crush on him come back.

“I feel like you know a lot about me, so I thought you choosing the movie would help me learn something about you.” He said as you pulled into the movie theater parking lot.

“Yeah, I’ll pick.” You giggle at him, hopping out. When you walk in, you’re overwhelmed by the aggressive scent of buttered popcorn. Matt glanced around, beginning to guide you to the ticket counter. “Shit, that’s my ex.”

“It’s cool, play up the pda to make her more jealous,”

His arm wraps around your waist as he leans into you, pretending to whisper something in your ear. When you walk up to the counter, he unwraps his arm for a mere second to grab his wallet.

“Movie?” He asks. You tell him and he nods. “Two tickets please, he hands his ex his card.

“Hi, Matt.” She says, smiling at him. You immediately get possessive vibes that make you feel uncomfortable, but that means the plan is working. “Oh hey,” He smiles lightly, acting nonchalant.

“Who’s this?” You can literally feel the jealousy she's emitting, and it makes you shift in his grasp. “This is my girlfriend, the tickets?”

“Oh, sorry.” She hands him the tickets, making sure to brush his hand while she glared at you. As you walk towards the next counter to buy popcorn, you start laughing. “I don’t think she liked me much.”

“Good, means the plan is working.” He says, going to fish for his wallet again.

“Nuh-uh. My turn.”

“That’s not really how dates work, but nice try.”

It feels like the hours have crept away from you. The movie comes to an end, despite you willing it to last longer. Matt offers you a hand and pulls you up, making sure to hold your hand when you exit the theater. It almost makes your heart flutter; then you remember why he’s doing it.

“So, what did you think of the movie?” He says, offering you his jacket when you step into the brisk air. You smile, feeling fulfillment while you slide his jacket on. “I liked it, thanks for letting me choose. And, um, thanks for tonight. It was… interesting.”

“No problem,” he says, sounding relaxed. “I liked it too. We make a good fake couple, don’t we?”

You continue chatting while you walk to the car, and while he drops you off. Matt gets out to walk you up to your door, genuinely surprising you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He says, offering you another hug. You slide off his jacket and melt into him before handing it back. “Thanks, Matt.”

“See you tomorrow morning?”

You nod.

You close the door behind you, feeling the weight of the day settle into your skin. You’re beginning to ease into the fake relationship; even as the facade gets increasingly complex. You sink into your bed, shifting off to dreamland.

As the week goes on, your arrangement only gets better. You avoid your friend's boyfriend, and he starts getting desperate texts from his ex. By the end of the week, you’re sure he’s close to breaking it off.

When Matt drops you off at home on Friday afternoon, you’re insanely smiley. You feel on top of the world. The day seemed normal enough, for your new normal anyways, but there was an odd air of tension everywhere you went. You knew something was wrong when your best friend landed on your doorstep mere moments later.

She was your best friend for a reason- you trusted her with almost everything, so she didn’t understand why this week, you’d suddenly gone ghost. You normally talked every second of every hour if you could, but this week, your communication had been limited to fleeting glances across the cafeteria, or in the hallway.

You open your front door to find her standing there, eyes ablaze with anger. “Hey.. what’s up?” You say, prompting her to talk and cut through the thick silence.

“Where have you been all week?”

“At school..?”

“No, I mean, where have you been? You avoided me on Monday, and you started dating Matthew Sturniolo out of nowhere; I didn’t even know you were talking! I’ve barely seen you this week and normally we spend all our time together. Something isn’t right.”

You feel like you’re shrinking under her intense gaze. Stammering out an apology isn’t really working for her, or you, because the weight of your fabricated relationship with Matt pinned your tongue. “It’s not like that..”

“Don’t give me that!” She says, glaring at you. “We tell each other everything. Why are you shutting me out now?”

You wrack your brain for an excuse, trying to think of anything to get her off your back when you remember a conversation you’d had with her about Matt. “Look, I know I’ve been unfair to you… but I know you don’t like Matt, and I really do. I’ve been caught up with him, and I didn’t want to tangle you into it because I know you don’t like him.”

“He’s a dick.” She says to you, bluntly. “I don’t think you should be dating him, much less talking to him and ignoring me for him. Haven’t you heard the shit he’s pulled with other girls?”

“Of course I have but-”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not different. He’s going to leave you in the dust too.”

Her words cut through you, sharp and painful. The truth hovered on the tip of your tongue, but the weight of secrecy still held it down. You didn’t know how to get out of this one. “He’s not like that with me,” you attempt to defend, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “People change, you know?”

“You’re being naïve, and I hate seeing you like this. Ignoring your best friend for a guy who’s going to hurt you in the end.”

You’re feeling shackled, like you’re in the ocean trying to stay above the surface, but there’s a weight tied to your ankle.

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, voice shaking “but I know what I’m doing. We’re happy together. You say, a feigned smile gracing your lips. Her harsh glare softens. “I trust you. Just, be careful. Okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod, acting like you’re relieved, but the pit in your stomach only deepens as the web of woven lies becomes more intricate. She leaves, and you close the door behind you, sinking down to the floor.

All of this because of some letters.

The sound of a message coming through your phone snaps you out of your contemplation. You glance at it, immediately smiling when you see Matt’s name pop up.

Matt: Hangout tomorrow? Nick and Chris r asking

You: Yeah, what time?

Matt: Noon?

You: I’ll be there

Matt: I’ll pick you up

You heart the message, standing from the floor. When you retire for the night, your friend's warning re-enters your mind. You know she’s right, but the reality of your fake dating thing with Matt tugs you back into its tangled web, as it always does.

Each text from Matt, while making you smile, feels like another string of deceit weaving into a thousand more. It just deepens as time goes on. The lure of his attention and the comfort of the familiarity you feel with him vie against the guilt that gnaws at your conscience.

You’ve realized the gravity of the situation, but the truth remains locked in, barricaded by fear and the entanglements you’ve created. You want to call it off, you’ve wanted to, but you don’t want to risk falling into a chasm of more confrontations- from both your friend, and her boyfriend.

You try to shove it out of your mind so you can sleep though, preparing for your day with Matt tomorrow.

-

When you wake up the next morning, you feel giddy. You put more effort into getting ready than you normally would on a Saturday. Then, there’s a knock on your door and a hug awaiting you. This time, you don’t question if people are around, you just accept it with a grin.

“Nick and Chris wanted to come get you,” He tells you, pulling you down the driveway. Yet again, the front seat is empty for you. The energy of the triplets was infectious, in the best way possible. You immediately found yourself comforted by their presence, the simplicity of just being around them had an inexplicable effect on your already good mood.

The drive feels effortless as you settle into conversation with the group. It reminds you of how uncomfortable you’d been mere days ago, and how much had changed. You kind of frown at the thought, but quickly catch it. Matt’s smile never faltered though, leaving you with an odd sense of melancholy when you’re reminded that it’s all fake.

You can’t help but be surprised by your surroundings when you enter the house. You knew the outside, obviously having known the address, but the inside exceeds all your expectations. Family pictures litter the walls, candles are everywhere. It’s cute.

“Your parents aren’t here, right?” You whisper. “Nope.”

“So, what should we do?” Chris speaks up, cutting through the silence. You shrug in response while Matt and Nick go into deep thought.

“We should bake!”

“Nope.” Matt says at the same time you say “Okay.”

When Matt hears you, he turns in your direction. Seeing your smile at the presented idea, he changes his mind. “Yeah, baking sounds good.”

Nick glances at him skeptically, the switch-up being unusual. When your eyes wander towards Chris, you notice his confusion too.

“Baking it is.” Nick mumbles, leading you to the kitchen.

“Alright, what are we making?” Chris pipes in, pulling out various bowls. “Brownies?” Matt suggests, “I think we have a mix and I don’t wanna run to the store right now.”

“Wait, we’re awful at baking. Why are we baking?” Chris questions, wracking his brain to find the answer.

“It’ll be eventful,” Nick replies.

“If we mess shit up and it gets messy, I’m blaming it on you.”

Nick groans, going to grab the mix and the various ingredients listed on the box. “If you do that, I’m gonna tell mom about that time that you-”

“And that’s enough!” Matt cuts him off, grabbing eggs out of Nick’s hand. He ushers you further into the action of the kitchen, imploring you to get comfortable.

“You bake a lot?” He asks, smiling.

“Not really,” You admit, laughing at the commotion surrounding you. It’s fascinating to you how those around you have become such an integral part of your everyday life in the week you’d known them, despite only being in your circle for under a week.

You know your relationship with Matt is false- how could you not? You remind yourself constantly, but these new relationships you’d forged because of Matt? Some of the realest ones you’d ever experienced.

A crack snaps you out of your thoughts, followed by a millisecond of silence. “Chris!” Nick yells, looking at the fallen egg.

“How is this my fault?!” Matt finds himself laughing with you.

The brownies turn out so horribly burnt you’re not even sure if you can call them brownies anymore, and the mess is colossal, but even when Matt drops you off you only have good things to say about, and to, the group.

“Thank you,”

“Of course. I’ll pick you up on Monday?”

“See you then.” You say, waving to Nick and Chris.

The next couple weeks go by so smoothly, you almost forget you’re acting. They’re relatively the same as the first, save for more interactions with your friend. Being with Matt and his brothers, and even his friends, feels natural. Your weeks become more routine, and the plan is working. Matt’s ex is obviously getting more green as time goes on, and your friend's boyfriend won’t even spare you a passing glance.

By your one-month ‘anniversary’, you’re almost 100% sure you two are in the clear. You’re waiting at home for Matt to pick you up, excited to be with him, but feeling a pit on your stomach nonetheless. When you hear the now-familiar knock on your door, you can’t help but run to answer it.

“Hi Matt,”

“Hi.” He smiles and reaches out to hug you, like normal, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes in the way it usually does. It’s missing its charm. He guides you to the car, sure to open the passenger door for you, but the gesture is missing its usual warmth. He takes you to this cute diner, one that you’ve mentioned in a passing conversation, but the earlier apprehension you felt only grows stronger.

When you sit down, you finally decide you can’t take it anymore. “Is something wrong, Matt?”

“Not wrong, really. My ex wants me back. She texted me the other night,”

“Oh,” Is all you can say, trying to force a smile to your face. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” He says. You’re not sure if you’re grasping at straws, but you feel like he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself too. “Do you think you’re okay to break this off?”

“Uhm, yeah. I think my friend’s boyfriend is leaving me alone.” You nod at him, looking everywhere but his face. “Should we just go?”

He can’t argue with that, so instead of getting that cute little dinner date you were promised, you’re sitting back in Matt’s car in silence as he drives you home. The atmosphere felt heavy. You’re stopped at a red light when you finally glance over at him for the first time this entire ride back. He’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tic you’d never noticed before, while his eyes are set on the traffic lights.

“I’m sorry,” He finally says, the second the light turns green.

“For what?” You reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“For coming up with this idea. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t be sorry, Matt. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed. It wasn’t stupid; it did what we wanted it to do.”

He nodded, but your gaze lingered on him. You could see the mixture of guilt and gratitude swirling through his eyes. “At least it’s over, right? We manipulated the situation.” You say, trying to bring up the mood. You’re trying not to make something of nothing, but his mood seems just as melancholic as yours. “At least it’s over.”

When the car reaches your house, Matt can’t find it in himself to move, to walk you to your door. He hears your seatbelt click, signaling that you’re taking your leave.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Matt.”

When you exit the car, a bittersweet realization washes over Matt. This isn’t what he wanted. He grips the steering wheel, hurriedly putting his car into reverse. He can’t linger any longer, or he’ll make a rash decision and run back to you. He wanted his ex back, and now that’s what he’s getting.

The next day, you wake up with absolutely zero pep in your step. You drag yourself out of bed, drag yourself into your car, and drag yourself through the halls in the morning. The entire world seems more quiet without Matt next to you; your steps echo in your ears. You catch glimpses of familiar faces, but today, they seem almost alien. It makes you wish you’d never left your bed. By lunch, everybody knows something is wrong. Your spot by Matt’s side has been reclaimed by his ex girlfriend. You don’t miss the pitying looks his friends give you, especially Nick and Chris.

You never realized how humiliating it’d be when people saw that Matt left you for his ex.

You settle in your old spot, across from your best friend and her boyfriend, trying to make the whole thing feel natural. It doesn’t.

The whispers and glances you’re receiving from others feel like needles pricking at your already unsettled emotions, and your friend’s compassionate eyes don’t make you feel any more comfortable.

“Matt’s a jerk. I hate him.” She tells you, and it hurts your heart a bit.

“I don’t.” You reply, voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the situation pressing on you. She winces at you defending him, but rebounds. There’s a strong desire to call him every name in the book, but resorts to saying “I can't believe he would do that to you.”

You want to tell her the truth, the lies of the situation having weighed heavy on your mind, but you know that’d defeat the purpose. You thought that when you’d ended the relationship, the entanglement of fibs you’d found yourself in would unravel, but you feel as though they’d only gotten more complicated. “You told me he would.” You say, pushing your school lunch around. She winces again.

“I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.”

When Matt stands next to his ex, who all his friends tell him is a catch, he can’t help but feel empty. His eyes wander away from his table, landing on you. Memories flood back, a mixture of genuine and orchestrated moments swirling within his mind. He’s completely dipped out of the conversation his friends are having, his grip on his new-old girlfriend's waist weakening as he thinks of you.

He catches the slightest glimpse of your eyes, one that you immediately divert; a mixture of confusion and hurt sprinkled within. A pant of guilt hits him, but he tries to forget about it as he turns back to the conversation presented to him.

“What’s gotten into you dude?” Someone asks. Matt shrugs, trying to stay involved. His eyes wander back to you, and then over to Chris, who mouths “Get her back.” at him.

He tries to pretend like he didn’t see that. He has what he wants, his girlfriend, and you have what you want, maybe.

He knows one thing: he doesn’t like the hole your absence has left in his daily routine.

The week comes and goes, Friday night rolling around and the pain of losing each other doesn’t go away. Matt’s battling himself internally to convince himself that both you and him are happier apart; he knows that’s not true. You’re fighting with yourself constantly to not spill your guts to someone, pressure that you had shared with him before the fake, but impossibly real split, weighing on you. It’s past midnight by the time your wandering mind calms enough for you to sleep.

At this point, Matt’s drafted up about 4 text messages to you, and none of them convey what he’s truly wanted to say. He called it off already with his ex-ex girlfriend. The moment she’d started badmouthing you in front his friends put a sour taste in his mouth; that, and he’d realized he was searching for you in every one of their interactions.

He’s restless, consumed by thoughts of longing for your presence. In the silence of the night, he’s grabbing his keys and heading. You think you’re imagining it when you’re awoken by the stall of an engine, but you’re forced to confront the taps on your window.

As you slowly approach the window, pulling back the curtain, you're confronted by Matt’s anxious gaze, illuminated by the faint, cool glow of the moonlight. You rush downstairs, barely stopping to slide a hoodie and some shoes on. The mix of emotions you feel are mirrored in his expression- a blend of nervousness, vulnerability, and longing. With the weight of unspoken words hanging between you, he opens his arms, pulling you in for a warm hug. He’s worried you won’t hear him out, desperate to express what he wanted to tell you in his unsent messages, but his desire to hold you far outweighs his uneasiness.

“I couldn’t keep lying to myself, and you.” He says, face buried in your neck. “I’ve been lost without you, and I can’t pretend I’m happier this way. I miss us, even if it wasn’t real.” His voice contains traces of sincerity, regret, and insecurity, but he feels a sense of strong relief take over at his admission. “I know it was fake- it started out fake- but I’m in love with you now.”

His honesty resonates as his eyebrows unfurrow, his entire body relaxing, and the weight that’s been dragging you to the bottom of the ocean is shed. Rather than sinking, you’re floating peacefully above the soft waves. You pull away from him, your anxieties dissipating like mist under the moonlight. The depth of his words stir an array of emotions within you: astonishment, relief, and a spark of hope. You search his calm eyes, being practically slapped in the face by his sincere and loving expression.

You can’t help but kiss him, seeing the way the moon puts an ethereal glow on his gestures. “I missed us too,” You start, in a soft voice. The air between you is finally cleared. “and I love you too.”

“Can we date, for real this time?” Matt blurts out, going to kiss you again. He feels intoxicated, your second-ever kiss not being a fraction of enough to sate his ever-growing hunger.

You might have started as a fraud, but somewhere along the way, when the tides shifted and your world changed, you emerged from your cocoon, into a glorious and charismatic butterfly.

“If you’ll have me as your girlfriend, for real this time.”

He kisses you again.

[huelovening]

stupid with love

hueningkai x fem! reader

summary: the boy in your calculus class is so cute! but you get awkward when trying to talk to him and it doesn't help that he's your friends ex either. what do you do?

wc: 1208

you really tried to make a move on him, really. but somehow you didn't have enough courage, as you keep telling yourself, "maybe he will notice me first!!"

well, it was kind of true. on october 3rd he even asked you what day it was.

"hey, what day it is?" he turned around, looking at you with his beautiful, big, brown eyes, if you looked even closer, you could see the entire milky way in his eyes.

love sick y/n stuttering out a small "it's october 3rd." your new favorite day.

after first confessing your little crush on huening kai to your newfound friends, they quickly made it known that he was off limits, being wonyoung's ex boyfriend. still, you were allowed to look at him right?

everyday when you would walk into your shared class with him, you would do only what you were permitted to do, ogle the pretty boy sitting in front of you. you hoped that he'd talk to you but you didn't actually expect it! so when he turned around at the end of the class instead of immediately leaving like he usually does, it was a shocker.

"hey y/n, me and my friends are throwing a small party this weekend, i'm not really a party guy, so i'd enjoy your company. will i see you there?"

"yeah! of course.. totally!" you didn't mean to sound THAT excited but who could blame you?

after that you rushed home right away, trying to throw cute outfits together and thinking about how to do your hair. you didn't tell your friends about your encounter with kai, maybe it was better that way.

the day of the party came withing the blink of an eye and you couldn't be more excited. after a final look in the mirror, you decided you were ready and left the house excitedly. at your arrival you were greeted by yeonjun, he was one of kai's bestfriends, his house was pretty big, which was the reason most parties were always hosted at his house. the faint smell of alcohol entered your nostrils quickly, you weren't sure if you were actually about to drink tonight, the idea of it never seeming very appealing to you. maybe you would just look for kai first.

you walked around the big living room eyes scanning for the brunette boy, stumbling across a few drunk bodies. gosh, were you just late or do these people get drunk within 5 minutes? everything about this party was overwhelming, the huge house, the amount of people, the reek of various alcoholic drinks. where was kai?

"y/n! i didn't know we'd see you here!" you turned around, to see sullyoon, one of your shared friends with wonyoung and yuna.

"oh, hi sullyoon! i got invited by this guy, not sure. but i'm glad to see you, are the others here too?" you lied about the fact that kai had invited you, you couldn't risk loosing your friends but at the same time you liked him too much to resist him.

"yeah actually, i think wony went to talk to kai, they seemed really close earlier and yuna is just grabbing more drinks for us" she innocently smiled at you.

what. why would she talk to him? they broke up for a reason, now you weren't sure what to do. do you start looking for them or just pretend this never happened and go home?

you decided on the first option, it wasn't hard to not see wonyoung, wherever she was there would be a bunch of people trying to hit on her. she had so many options why does she feel the need to go back to him?!

you said your goodbyes to sullyoon, telling her you would try to talk to the guy who invited you, which wasn't exactly a lie.

you continued to roam around the house, seeing two familiar faces, talking to eachother, they didn't exactly appear to be having a friendly chat. you observed as she tried to get closer to him, batting her eyelashes at him and you could agnize the discomfort in his eyes, watching him run off.

you don't know what possessed you in that moment but you went to follow his steps. he definitely knew his way around, as he went from corridor to corridor, walking up what seemed like thousands of stairs, until you arrived at some sort of balcony.

he opened the door, you had expected him to close it behind him. but he held it open.

"why are you following me?"

you stayed silent at that, looking at him signalling for you to come outside with him and sit on the expensive chairs the balcony's been equipped with. "are you okay?" you dared to ask, not quite sure what to talk about in this kind of situation.

"i don't know. wonyoung tried to win me back again, using all kind of excusing for leaving me the last time. i'm not attracted to her anymore but it just hurt. i don't want anything to do with her." he confessed to you, honestly filling his voice, like he had some sort of point to prove to you.

you sighed, you haven't known her that long but knew that when she wanted something, her mind was set on it. "she can be a huge deal, i know. i don't think she will leave you alone that fast but it's best to just ignore her, it's the only way to get her to stop. and then, it will be all good!" you tried your best to cheer him up, and he looked up at you, smiling at your enthusiasm.

"you're right, i will be okay" he chuckled. "but.. to be honest, i'm just scared that she'll try to hurt you. i'm sorry to talk about this, since it must be embarrassing for you but she mentioned your crush on me. now that i rejected her she will try to get rid of you, thinking it will do something."

"oh.. wait, so you know? i-.." embarrassment filled your body to the brim, how the hell were you supposed to look at him now?? your first instinct was to stand up, but he went to stop you. "y/n, it's okay. i like you too and i think, if we really try this out we can make it work. what do you think hm?" he hopefully asked. you looked at his hand caressing your's, beginning to smile again.

"i think.. we can do this." you giggled. the moonlight hit you perfectly, enhancing your facial features and kai couldn't help but stare. "w-what's wrong? do i have something on my face, god i keep embarrassing mys-"

"y/n, can i kiss you?"

you thought you would faint at that moment. his eyes reflecting the stars, attentively looking at you, waiting for your response.

you believed you forgot how to speak right now, desperately nodding for him to do what he indicated.

his lips meet yours and oh, how soft they were, it felt like it lasted an eternity and you didn't want it to stop, and kai felt the very same way. as the kiss stopped kai smiled at you.

"let's do this."

[grandwitchbird]

I touched on some thoughts on adaptation especially re: Nilfgaard and the political plot in the Witcher games previously. Mostly that was so I could tackle the convergent narrative that emerges across the games as a mirror or homage to the novels. To do that I have to talk about romance choices in Witcher 3. And to do that I have to talk about Triss. Buckle up.

TW: discussion of SA, nongraphic but frank

The first game specifically created some significant problems for 2-3. And no matter how I turn the issues around in my head, it really comes down to Triss. The amnesia plot is a silly contrivance, but so was Yennefer’s prison stint in the novels. If the contrivance does the job and gets a character where they need to be or out of the way for good enough reasons, we roll with it. The first game over-all has some interesting ~stuff~ happening as an rpg, but I’ve realized I mentally have it categorized as a Witcher-flavored rpg that mostly the next two games have to account for, for better or worse. It gets at some of the short stories’ charms but misses the weight of the novels. Intentionally I think. I guess we’ll see if that changes with the remake. Still, we can think of this as the kind of awkward prelude, a dip into the world in the same way the stories provide snippets of Geralt’s life before Ciri’s story really kicks off in the novels.

The second game is a bridge between this kind of standalone homage to the stories and the 3rd game’s homage and epilogue to the novels. It suffers for it. And Triss is right in the middle of that.

The Triss Problem

Triss Merigold, Yennefer’s best friend, sometime-mentor to Ciri, friend to Witchers, Geralt’s rapist. That’s the woman the first game decided could be sacrificed on the altar of characterization so Geralt could have a random red-headed love interest.

In the novels, Triss is a young sorceress with a complex about her friend Yennefer. She’s a coward. She’s sweet. She’s manipulative. She’s deeply insecure. Shes very into Witchers. She’s also a powerful mage and a pretty solid teacher and support to her Witcher friends and Ciri. Her arc in the books sees her facing herself and eventually growing a spine.

Along the way, however, she essentially magic-roofies Geralt when he’s in an off-again phase with Yennefer. He represses so hard he’s kind of just weird around Triss forever. Nobody else knows. We know why these two don’t address it. Triss is a coward and Geralt is king of repressing. It’s horrible. It’s also notably nongraphic and well-written, centered entirely on the abuse of power and trust and what that does to Geralt.

The Triss we leave behind in the novels would never repeat that choice, I think. Or any choice like it. She went and she changed on her own for her own reasons. The Triss we encounter in the second game is very much doing a retread of her novel arc. But now it’s worse because she’s literally used Geralt’s amnesia to act out her fantasy of supplanting Yen, everything is reasonably graphic, and everything after does kind of stem from the abuse of power.

In a way, I think this is the game owning the mistake while trying not to punish non-reader players for it. No matter what the player does, these two split. Geralt will go after Yennefer. Things will be weird in the 3rd game. Geralt gets back in character and being in character for him means repressing and being weird around Triss. He can’t blame her. She’s his friend. It’s painful to watch. Time is a circle I guess.

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Part elven, invisibly disabled, a century old, absolute menace of a woman. Yennefer is mean. She’s petty. She scares the hell out of Geralt’s friends. She’s the best friend anyone could ever ask for and also intimidating as hell. She causes problems wherever she goes. This is not an rpg love interest. She is the only woman for Geralt though. And it’s obvious. The 3rd game can’t and doesn’t avoid the obvious ‘canon’ nature of this relationship. It does try to counterweight canon a bit for RP by resetting the sense of conflict and how other characters react to the relationships.

In 2, Dandelion’s narration characterizes the relationship with Yennefer as “toxic.” This goes along with the overall reset and retread the games are doing for characterization beats. In the books, we were well past this version of Dandelion. We see the same thing play out in 3 where everyone and their uncle has to weigh in on how hard Yen is to deal with and how nice Triss is. This is probably handled as well as possible. Eskel’s exasperation with the dynamic, where Geralt can actually clarify and push back, is reasonable. Vesemir is likewise just kind of put off by Yen, which is fair enough. And you essentially have to ignore Yen’s quest entirely or actively treat it as purely a gameplay mechanic to break the romance off at all. The question isn’t whether Geralt and Yen are together, it’s whether or not they can move forward. This is contrasted to all of the pressures towards Triss coming from her own desperate manipulations and people who don’t understand anything about the history the two share.

Time is a Circle:

Recreating the Convergent Narrative

At the end of 2, we find out that Yen is essentially a prisoner again (hello Vilgefortz lol) and we set out to find her. This is where W3 opens more or less. We’re tracking a Yen who has since written to Geralt and is on the run. We don’t yet know from what. She, of course, finds us instead. And we find out that Ciri is back and on the run herself. Now we’re really doing a speed run of the novels. How many times can this family separate and miss and lose each other before they find each other again. Yennefer is off to Skellige (again) and Geralt is doing a (one man this time) road trip and playing detective. Ciri is being the protagonist of a much crazier mythic story, with space elves once again causing her all kinds of problems and a tyrant trying to claim her power for himself. Time is truly a circle.

Somehow, the games have pulled all of this together in 3 via rp options for Geralt. You can play as book!Geralt and stay on theme. This will ultimately lead to the Witcher ending where Ciri takes over as not just protagonist of her own story but as the Witcher herself. This closes out the convergent narrative the game has been recreating and sets them up to carve out their own stories in future. Or you can deny your role. You can rp a random-rpg!Witcher hero and lose Ciri forever, one way or another.

All that said. The Triss Problem(tm) is a problem. It’s the biggest, most glaring flaw in the series to this day, and we’d probably all be better off if that had really been some random redhead in the first game. 3 gets some serious credit here for Geralt just being generally weird around her again, but the rp demands to counterweight the pull of canon with Yen have done nothing but confuse non-readers and frustrate readers. Narrative conveniences are fine. The Hunt becoming a plot device works to pull the mythic layer of storytelling back in, and it gives everything a solid motivation. Regis being back just stretches the lore a bit and serves a great story. The political plots can be a bit of a sticking point but flesh out the game world. We can even forgive amnesia. But The Triss Problem(tm) is forever.

Honestly, as a reader, I kind of respect the skill involved in reworking the arcs and the commitment to not just cutting Triss out after the first game. I also appreciate the effort made to bring these characters back to essentially their book-selves and to give game-Geralt a final hurrah without just wiping the slate. It shows a certain amount of integrity in the writers room that I think we’ve since seen confirmed with the additions to Cyberpunk 2077, where they committed fully to the night city experience and doubled down on it in phantom liberty.

[scotianostra]

On July 3rd 1844 the last pair of Great Auks were killed.

I sometimes get a nose, or in this case a beak, for history and this story took my interest when I found it on Wiki a number of years ago.

Now the two Auks mentioned above were killed on Eldey off Iceland. It was from here I searched for more details and found out the story of the last Great Auk in Scotland.

In June of 1840, three sailors hailing from the Scottish island of St. Kilda landed on the craggy ledges of a nearby sea stack, known as Stac-an-Armin. As they climbed up the rock, they spotted a peculiar bird that stood head and shoulders above the puffins and gulls and other seabirds.

The scruffy animal’s proportions were bizarre—just under three feet tall with awkward and small wings that rendered it flightless, and a hooked beak that was almost as large as its head. Its black and white plumage had earned it the title the “original penguin,” The Great Auk is a lost part of the biogeography of the British Isles and the only flightless bird that has bred in Europe in historical times.

The sailors watched as the bird, waddled clumsily along. Agile in the water, the unusual creature was defenceless against humans on land, and its ineptitude made it an easy target “Prophet-like that lone one stood,” one of the men later said of the encounter.

Perhaps the men enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, or perhaps they realised its meat and feathers were incredibly valuable. In any case, they abducted the bird, tying its legs together and taking it back to their ship. For three days, the sailors kept the Great Auk alive, but on the fourth, during a terrible storm, the sailors grew fearful and superstitious. Condemning it as “a maelstrom-conjuring witch,” they stoned it to death. And that was that!

It was the last of its kind to ever be seen on the British Isles. Four years later, the Great Auk vanished from the world entirely when fishermen hunted down the last pair on the shores of that Icelandic Isle.

The description by the men hired to hunt down the last Auks in the would is a sad one;

A trio of men, hired by a merchant who wanted specimens, cornered the last pair on Eldey. One crushed their egg with his boot. Then the adults were killed. “I took him by the neck,” said one of the men of the last bird, “and he flapped his wings.”

“He made no cry. I strangled him.”

And that was that an entire species was no more by man, the most destructive species that planet Earth has ever spawned.

[tremendoussteelturtle]

Hell-A Love part one

Dead Island 2 x FtM Reader

Five years before the zombie outbreak that turned LA into Hell-A, Y/N left his sisters place after an argument with her husband.

Now he's back, why even he doesn't know. His sister has new friends who are immune to the virus, and her ex Sam B is back on the scene. After being hurt by LA and Hollywood before can Y/N find a home with his sister again and possibly a lover?

A huge thank you to my good friend @brunos-wife360 for helping me out with this and for allowing me to take inspiration from her Slayer x Reader fics.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

●●3rd Person POV●●

The day started out like any other day in Hell-A, the slayers, Sam, Michael and Emma where hanging out by Emma's pool enjoying the sun on a rare day off from zombie killing.

"Hey Emma, I forgot to ask you earlier but where's your brother?" Sam asked as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Last I knew, he was in New York, but that was years ago" Emma said, her eyes glossy with uncertainty.

Sam looked at the woman he loved most in disbelief before asking "What happened to him living with you?"

"Robert happened, he started saying some nasty things about Y/N so he left" Emma responded "yeah he ended up at mine one night and asked if I could help him find a place away form Hollywood" Michael added.

Suddenly there was a bang at the gate. Everyone shot to their feet readying themselves for a fight to protect their safe haven.

"I'll go check" said Carla as she started to approach the gate that separated them from the undead hoard that roamed the streets.

Just as Carla reached the gate a man catapulted himself over the gate, landing hard on his left shoulder.

The man looked up at Carla and smiled with a grimace "would you believe me if I said that I used to do my own stunts?" The man asked with a pained chuckle.

"Who are you?" Carla asked, her weapon raised ready to strike if needed. Drawn in by the commotion, the others cautiously made their way over to the pair.

Emma gasped when her eyes landed on the stranger before turning her attention to her PA.

"Michael, please go and tell Andrea that she needs to go and double clean Y/N's room" she said. Without needing to be told twice Michael left to inform their housekeeper.

"Ha, no way man, I can't believe it's actually you, speak of the Devil and he appears" Sam laughed.

"Wait you know him?" Asked Bruno as Emma walked towards Carla and the man.

"Well Sam, you said it yourself, no room in Hell" the man said before turning his attention to Emma who was now standing in front of him. "Hey Em, how you be..?" He was suddenly cut off by Emma slapping him.

"You stupid arse! What are you doing here?" She exclaimed readying herself to slap more sense into her brother.

"I feel like I'm missing something, Emma who is he?" Asked a very confused Dani.

"This twat is my younger brother Y/N" Emma responded before pulling her brother to his feet, "brother mine, this is Jacob, Amy, Dani, Bruno, Ryan and the one pointing her weapon at you is Carla"

"Hi" Y/N said with a nervous wave, "Do you think you could be so kind as to lower your weapon Carla? I'd feel better knowing that I won't end up like Glenn Rhee after his encounter with Negan" Y/N asked with an awkward smile.

●●Y/N's POV●●

After that very awkward encounter with my older sister, her ex? boyfriend and their new friends I was ushered inside where I was met with a hug from Andrea "I've been making sure that your room is nice and clean for you, although you must be starving, why don't you go and rest and I will have your favourite dish ready" after thanking her I went down the stairs to my room.

It didn't take long before I fell asleep, though it wasn't peaceful at all. The rotting faces of the zombies that chased me all the way to my sister's kept flashing into view as I slept, but they were disorganised and staticy like an old Romaro movie. Suddenly, I was jolted awake by a hand shaking me. When I opened my eyes, Emma was stood next to me, a plate of food in her hands.

"Andrea was going to bring this to you, but I told her that I would instead" she said answering my unspoken question.

We sat in silence for a while, the atmosphere was tense between us; before I left, before Robert came about, me and my sister could sit in silence for hours without needing to do anything else, but now I found myself counting the lines in the wooden door.

"Y/N, why did you come here?" Emma asked me after what felt like years of nothingness.

"I was in the area and needed a place to crash, I thought you, Michael and Robert would be already out of LA by now" I replied, only half telling the truth, "Where is Mr Steel anyway and why is Sam here?" I asked her.

"Robert got bitten, didn't tell anyone and turned on our evacuation flight causing the military to shoot us down. Sam showed up by bursting through the storage door in the game room and well, we've decided to give it another go" Emma explained while pacing the floor of my room.

"You don't seem very upset about Rob..""Our marriage wad just PR, you know this" again I'm cut off by my older sister.

Emma took a moment to calm down before she spoke again "I'm sorry that I let him say what he said to you, when you left I decided to give you a couple of days to calm down before asking you to come home, but then Michael told me that you had asked him to help you find a new place to live".

"To be completely honest with you, Ems.. I needed to get out of LA away from Hollywood anyway. My argument with Robert just gave me the excuse to leave, " I told her.

"Why, what do you mean by th..?""I mean Hollywood wasn't the right place for someone like me, Emma, you and I both know that" This time it was my turn to cut her off. Getting up, I headed for the door when my sister called out to me, "Y/N, where are you going?" Without answering her, I left my room and headed to the one person I could talk to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list

@brunos-wife360

@morgana-artt

@amdaspoon

[fanfiction-obsession]

Hello. In honor of pride month and the new upcoming season of Phineas and Ferb, I’d like to pitch one of my fics to y’all.

Steady Voice is a rarepair Carl Karl/Paul the Delivery Guy fic, following Carl’s journey to healthy self-esteem. He knows he’s the kind of guy most people don’t want to spend time with (that happens when you’re socially awkward, spend all your time at work, and your best friend is a platypus) but a series of encounters with a specific delivery guy might prove him wrong. Can he wrestle with the idea that someone might actually want to get to know him? Can he open up enough to be loved?

(Additionally, his evil ex (literally) may or may not be haunting him. Please mind the tags for potential triggers and discussion of a past unhealthy relationship.)

12k words, 3rd person past tense POV.

(I’m so excited for more Carl in the upcoming episodes. I really really hope they do him justice. This is my love letter to the character just in case they don’t.)

[swaps55]

About (writing) Horizon

@painterofhorizons asked me to go into more detail about this post, in which I whinged about the logistical complexities I was running into while drafting Horizon for Mezzo. I proceeded to write a dissertation on the topic, so here is my Ted Talk for anyone who has some time to kill. I kept it as spoiler free as possible. :D

Not surprisingly, I’ve got a number of challenges to deal with to get this scene to have the emotional impact I want it to have, but the one I referenced in that post has mostly to do with what I refer to as setting the chess board. It’s something I do for combat scenes, or scenes where the setting plays any kind of important role in understanding where characters are in relation to one another, or when I just have too many characters in one place. Ideally, before I write the scene, I lay out in my head: what does the setting look like, and who is where?

For fight scenes, this is important so I understand what combat will look like, and so I won’t lose track of anyone during the scene. How many enemies are there? Who is taking on who? What limitations or advantages does the setting provide to influence the action? How can I use that to provide characterization or advance a character arc? Etc. In the case of Horizon, the issue isn’t the combat: it’s understanding where people start and how they get from one place to another.

Here’s the challenge: I have 3, and eventually 4 groups of people or person. Let’s call them A, B, C, and D.

A and B are in very separate locations.

C joins the fray in a 3rd location that cannot be near A or B.

A, B, and C are all aiming to reach the same location: the AA gun.

C cannot encounter A or B, which means A & B must reach the AA gun via different routes than C.  

D separates off from C, and must encounter B but not A.

C needs to arrive first, then B, then A, then D.

Simple, right? D:

So instead of the chess board dictating the flow of action, I need to set the chess board in a way to facilitate the scene as I need it to play out. This means the basic layout from the game isn’t sufficient, because it’s too linear, and provides only 1 “entrance” to the area where the AA gun are, and I need two different routes to get there.

Now, am I going to waste a lot of time painstakingly explaining to the reader the layout of Horizon? No. That’s boring, and the reader doesn’t need it. But I need to know it well enough and establish it well enough that even if the reader isn’t backchecking my logic, they trust that I have not dragged them into an MC Escher painting. I don’t want people to stop and wonder, “wait, where the fuck did B come from?” in the middle of a high stakes, high adrenaline scene.

The other logistical issue I have is a very clumsy POV handoff. I do not like putting in a scene break just to switch POVs and continue the exact same scene you were just in, but there is a crucial moment where a POV handoff has to happen as a new character arrives on scene and takes over POV duties from someone who is already present. My options are:

Do the entire scene from the first POV and don’t switch. But this would completely alter the impact of the scene and shut me out of accessing some pretty critical information that only the new POV character will have.

Do the thing I don’t like: put a scene break in the middle of the scene, end the first ‘scene’ on a dramatic moment that feels like the close of a scene before jumping back in with the new character.

Do the scene break, but back up a few minutes before the new POV character arrives on scene. This does two helpful things: creates a fresh scene and minimizes the awkward handoff, while giving me a chance to fill in some of the logistics to avoid the, “where the fuck did this person come from??” problem. Because while I know where they come from, there isn’t a good opportunity for me to communicate it to the reader otherwise. Originally this is what I planned to go with, but when I got there, I changed my mind. The problem with this is that it kills the tension and feels like a bait and switch: get the reader to the moment they have been waiting for, then pull the rug and back up a few steps. The last thing I want in this chapter is for the reader to be frustrated by the way I am telling the story.

End the chapter on the POV switch and move the Big Moment to a new chapter. I don’t love this either, because it feels like a cliffhanger for the sake of a cliffhanger – if not for the POV shift, it wouldn’t occur to me to break the chapter here. While I do love it when people yell at me for things, getting yelled at for this particular cliffhanger would feel cheap and manipulative rather than earned, if that makes any sense.   

Option 2 is best for the story, but it leaves me with this clumsy POV handoff that I still don’t like.

Now, on top of all the logistical complexities, I still have the other layers of this chapter: the sheer emotional complexity of it, which causes additional logistical issues. This is some of what I am trying to juggle:

Convey scene setting through the eyes of characters who are not paying a lick of attention to their surroundings because they are preoccupied or distressed by other events.

Telegraph Sam’s distress and anxiety through the eyes of someone who does not have enough context for it. This is further complicated by it being very likely this character would have more context than I would prefer them to have, so now I have to work with that in a way that feels right for the character and right for the story. Too often, supporting characters get shoehorned into plot in ways that does them a disservice, so I try to take the approach that the POV character is now the main character in THEIR story. My job is to get their priorities and motivations to circle back and support the plot while also serving their own interests. Sometimes this is very hard.   

Portray Kaidan, a character known for thinking things through, as someone being extremely (and understandably) reactive in a high stakes and very personal moment while still feeling like Kaidan. He cannot be thinking straight, and he would not be thinking straight, but I have to sell that to the reader and make them believe it.

Not losing track of every other character in the scene,while also not having them interrupt the flow of the scene. If you are familiar with Arrested Development, imagine the scenes in which the camera focuses on two characters having a VERY private discussion, only to zoom out and reveal they are surrounded by a much larger, captive audience. That keeps happening in this scene, ha. These characters are not the focus of the scene, but they are still present, and therefore the reader needs to be aware of where they are and what they’re doing so they don’t seem to magically appear out of thin air when they do or say something.    

So how do I put all of these pieces together? Well, it’s still in progress, so I don’t have a success story yet, but the emotional thumbtacks come first. The whole point of the scene is something I have been dying to write for years. All the details and logistics that ultimately make it work are just in the way when all I can think about is the Big Confrontation, so I just spit it out, even if it’s mostly just broad strokes, because once it’s out there I can actually think about the rest. Now I can go back through and chip away at the logistics, create a deeper and richer narrative for the POV characters, turn the volume up on the side characters who play a smaller role, and sharpen the knives so those emotional moments really land in a meaningful, gut wrenching way. Doing all of this will inevitably reshape the manner in which some of these events unfold, because drilling deeper into characters often leads to new discoveries. But I can rewire the underlying skeleton when the skeleton at least exists.

The hope is that in the end, it reads like the whole thing was effortless, and you would never guess how much work and angst and handwringing went into writing it unless you read this post. Wish me luck!!!!! I need it.   

[lynnettys-world]

My Beloved Idol || Taehyung X reader (ft Jimin X reader) || Fanfiction 

[Chapter Four – Fan Meet ]

64.media.tumblr.com

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (ft jimin x reader)

16+

Warning: Angst, cursing, mild/light smut, accusations, hate, constant POV change.

Words: 2.1k!

Summary: When an enthusiastic international fan named Lia sets off on an exhilarating journey with her friends to Korea, she has no idea that this trip will alter her life forever.

Unexpectedly, the group bumps into BTS, the sensational boy band dominating the music scene. Lia's heart races as she meets her idols, especially Taehyung, her bias.

However, this dream encounter quickly turns into a nightmare when Taehyung accuses Lia of being a sasaeng fan.

Feeling wrongfully accused and heartbroken, Lia is forced to accept her fate, no matter how unjust it seems.

Adding to the chaos, their parents drop a bombshell by announcing an arranged marriage between Lia and Taehyung. 

The once joyous sparkle in Lia's eyes fades as she realizes she is now bound to someone who views her as a threat.

As the days go by, Taehyung's behavior reveals a cruel side Lia never anticipated.

Despite Lia's innocence and genuine intentions, Taehyung's harsh words and actions cut deep, leaving her shattered but determined to endure in a chilling silence as a side of her starts to reveal itself.

Despite the challenges and pain ahead, Lia's journey is a testament to the strength of love and the courage to endure even the cruelest trials. As she navigates the treacherous path laid out before her, Lia's unwavering strength and tolerance becomes a source of hope and resilience. In the stormy clouds of her arranged marriage will everything be sorted or will the unexpected happen...

Read to find out more.

《Series Materialist》 《Content》

《Previous》 《Next》

3rd Person's POV

It was finally Lia's turn to meet BTS, and her emotions were a chaotic whirlwind of excitement and nerves.

Her friends had already met each member one by one, leaving her as the last to approach. She tried to calm herself, but the memory of her earlier awkward encounter with Taehyung lingered in the back of her mind. Would he have mentioned it to the others? The thought made her stomach twist, but she decided to shake it off and put on her best smile—the kind that hid her unease perfectly.

As she stepped forward, RM greeted her with a warm smile that radiated reassurance.

"Hey, how are you?" his deep voice wrapped around her like a comforting hug.

"I'm alright, thank you," Lia replied, her voice steady though her hands trembled slightly.

RM's dimples deepened as he smiled, his presence as calming as it was magnetic. "What's your name?"

"Lia," she answered softly.

"That's such a beautiful name," RM said without hesitation, his compliment so genuine that it caught her off guard.

Her cheeks flushed instantly. Could it be that Kim Namjoon—the brainy, poetic Namjesus—had just called her pretty?

"T-thank you," she stammered, her voice a little too high-pitched for her liking.

After he signed her album with a flourish, she exchanged goodbyes and stepped toward the next member. Jin's wide smile greeted her like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"Hey there, beautiful ARMY!" Jin's cheerful voice boomed, his charisma impossible to ignore.

"Hi, Jin!" Lia replied, her own smile brightening in response to his infectious energy.

His eyes widened slightly as he took her in. "Your Korean is amazing! Where did you learn it?"

Lia couldn't help but chuckle. It wasn't the first time someone had assumed she wasn't Korean at all. "My mom's Korean, and my dad's Black," she explained, her voice tinged with pride. "So I grew up learning both."

"Daebak! You must be so smart," Jin exclaimed, nodding approvingly. "And so beautiful, too! Wow, your parents must be proud."

Lia's heart warmed at his kind words, and she left him with a newfound confidence as she approached Yoongi.

"Hello," Yoongi greeted her with a calm demeanor, his tone soft yet somehow commanding her full attention.

"Hey, Suga," Lia replied, her nerves bubbling up again but less overwhelming this time.

"Nice to meet you. What's your name?" Yoongi asked, leaning slightly closer to hear her over the murmurs of the room.

"My name's Lia," she said, her voice quieter than intended.

He smiled faintly, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Pretty name for a pretty girl," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a subtle teasing edge.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she fumbled for a reply but could only manage a shy smile. He handed back her signed album with a small nod, and Lia moved on, her heart racing.

Next was Hoseok, who practically bounced in place, his energy filling the room.

"I'm your hope, you're my hope, I'm Jayyyyy—" Hoseok started, his voice playful and sing-song.

"Hope!" Lia chimed in, grinning as she completed the line.

Hoseok laughed, his eyes crinkling with delight. "Omo, you're adorable! And your hair is so pretty! Can I touch it?"

Surprised but not offended, Lia nodded, giggling as Hoseok gently touched one of her curls with fascination.

"Wahhh, it's so soft," he marveled, his tone as delighted as a child's.

Lia laughed, the interaction leaving her with an even deeper appreciation for his bright, uncontainable energy.

Jimin was next, and Lia found herself holding her breath as he turned his signature dazzling smile her way.

"Hey there, cutie. What's your name?" His voice was warm and inviting, yet there was an undeniable flirtatious lilt that made her heart leap.

"M-my name's Lia," she replied, her voice catching in her throat.

"Aww, you're so cute! Can I touch your hair too?" Jimin asked, tilting his head and pouting slightly in a way that made her feel completely at ease despite her initial shyness.

"Uh, sure," she managed, her cheeks burning as he reached out to gently play with a curl.

Jimin grinned as he signed her album, and she floated to the next member in a daze, thoroughly charmed.

And then, there was Jungkook. The youngest member eyed her curiously as she approached, his intensity nearly tangible.

"Hi, Jungkook," she began, but he cut her off almost immediately.

"Wait—are you older or younger than me?" His question was blunt, but the competitive spark in his eyes made her laugh.

"I'm your noona," Lia replied with a playful wink, which caught him off guard. His ears turned pink, but he quickly masked it with a sheepish grin.

"Ah, noona," he murmured, as though trying out the word for the first time. He signed her album quickly, and after a short exchange, it was time.

Her stomach knotted as she took a deep breath and stepped forward to face the last member—the one she had been both anticipating and dreading.

Kim Taehyung

Lia's POV

Meeting the other members was like a dream come true, especially Jimin. His playful flirting left my heart fluttering, and the warmth and kindness from everyone else almost made me forget about him. Almost.

Now, as I stood in front of the man who had hurled those sharp words at me, the memory came rushing back.

What had I done to deserve that? I wasn't trying to stalk him—I was just looking for the bathroom.

I swallowed hard, forcing a weak smile to mask my nerves as I approached him.

"Uh, hey," I stammered, my voice barely audible.

To my shock, his face lit up. "Hey, you're so cute!" he said, pinching my cheeks in a way that felt far too familiar.

Heat surged to my face as I instinctively covered my cheeks with my hands. My mind was racing. What was this sudden change? Just hours ago, he wanted nothing to do with me, and now he was acting as if I was his favorite fan.

"Don't hide that pretty face," he said casually, tilting his head to study me. "You kind of have a Korean look... but with something else. That's so cool."

His words caught me off guard. "Oh, I'm actually mixed," I explained, trying to sound calm. "My mom's Korean, and my dad's Black."

"Wow," he said, his expression softening with genuine curiosity. "That explains why you're so beautiful and adorable. Maybe I should consider marrying you, we could have the cutest babies, huh? What do you think?" He ended his remark with a playful wink and a chuckle.

I froze, unsure if I should laugh or run. Was he being sincere, or was this some kind of cruel joke?

"Hehe, yeah, maybe," I replied awkwardly, my mind still grappling with the situation.

As his teasing words lingered, I found myself questioning everything. Was this just a front to look good in front of the other members? Or was he actually trying to connect with me? His compliments and playful banter felt like whiplash, leaving me flattered and confused all at once.

But then, just as I was starting to lower my guard, the illusion shattered.

The manager's voice signaled that my time was up. Relief washed over me—I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold myself together. But as I turned to leave, Taehyung suddenly pulled me into a hug.

His touch was warm, but his voice was ice.

"Don't think I've forgotten what you did," he whispered harshly in my ear, his tone low and biting. "You disgust me, and I never want to see your face again."

My body froze, his words cutting deeper than I thought possible. When he pulled away, his expression was unreadable, but that dazzling, heart-stopping smile he wore told a different story to everyone watching.

I forced a smile in return, hiding the pain clawing at my chest. My idol, the man I'd admired for years, looked at me as if I was nothing. It hurt more than I could have imagined.

As I walked off the stage, the buzzing excitement of my friends was impossible to ignore.

"Looks like someone's skipping tonight's bath after getting hugged by our resident demi-god," Shontelle teased, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

The group erupted into laughter, but I could only manage a forced grin.

Then Isabella dropped the bombshell that froze me in my tracks.

"Guys, Jin told me we're invited to meet them backstage after the fan meet!" she squealed, her excitement infectious.

The girls erupted into cheers, their joy bubbling over as they hugged each other in disbelief.

I couldn't join in. Not after what had just happened. Not after him.

Taehyung's words echoed in my mind, replaying on a painful loop. While my friends buzzed with anticipation, I felt only dread.

How could I face him again?

The man I adored with all my heart despised me, and I didn't know how much more of this I could take.

Taehyung's POV

When she walked into the fan meet, I almost did a double take. Of all people, I never expected her to show up after what had happened. What was she even thinking? Did she seriously believe I wouldn't remember? Maybe she was one of those fans who thrived on attention, no matter what kind.

I couldn't deny it—she was stunning. Seriously gorgeous. Her features were unique, and the way her mixed heritage added to her beauty was hard to ignore. She had that effortlessly captivating presence that turned heads, but it didn't change the fact that she irritated me to my core.

Watching her float from one member to the next was... unsettling. Jimin, of course, was eating it up. He couldn't stop smiling at her, his flirtatious side fully on display. She seemed to enjoy it too, laughing softly, her cheeks tinged with pink. I cringed internally at the sight. Was she playing him, too?

And then there was Jin hyung with his legendary dad jokes. Normally, I'd chuckle out of habit, but hearing her laugh at them—like really laugh—was almost unbearable. I rolled my eyes inwardly, trying to tune out her giggles. His jokes weren't even that funny.

I whispered under my breath, "Wow, she's such a pretender."

To me, it was obvious. She wasn't just a fan—she was trying too hard to fit in, to be noticed, to leave a mark. Maybe that was what frustrated me the most. She didn't seem genuine.

When it was finally her turn to face me, I decided to flip the script. I plastered on my brightest smile and acted like the perfect idol. It was petty, sure, but I wanted to see her squirm. And she did.

She blushed furiously as I complimented her, fumbling through her words, but her eyes kept darting away. She couldn't even look me in the eye. Part of me wanted to ask her why she was even here. Did she think I'd forgotten what she did? That I'd just let it slide because of her pretty face?

I hated to admit it, but she did look cute when she blushed—like she was genuinely overwhelmed. If only she wasn't a sasaeng fan, I might have found her endearing. But I knew better than to be fooled by appearances.

When the manager gave her the signal that her time was up, I acted impulsively. Before she could leave, I pulled her into a hug. For everyone else, it probably looked like a sweet moment between an idol and a fan. But only she heard what I whispered in her ear.

"Don't think I've forgotten what you did," I said, my voice low and sharp. "You disgust me, and I never want to see your face again."

I felt her body tense against mine, and when I pulled back, her eyes were glassy, as if she was holding back tears. She smiled faintly—probably for the benefit of the others—but the pain in her expression was unmistakable. Did I care? No. She had caused enough trouble. Whatever guilt I might have felt was buried under the weight of her actions.

As the fan meet drew to a close, a familiar bittersweet feeling crept in. Saying goodbye to fans was always hard. They gave us so much love, and their energy was what kept us going during grueling schedules. But goodbyes, no matter how temporary, always left a strange emptiness behind.

Still, the event had been amazing. Seeing their smiles, hearing their cheers, and sharing even a few fleeting moments with them—it reminded me why I loved what I did.

Backstage, the mood was lighthearted as we unwound from the event. Jin hyung, ever the entertainer, suddenly made an announcement.

"Guys, I invited someone and her friends to join us backstage," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So please, be on your best behavior. And Yoongi, try not to fall asleep this time, yeah?"

The room erupted into laughter, Yoongi giving a half-hearted grunt of protest as the rest of us teased him. But Jin's words stuck with me. Who did he invite?

Curiosity buzzed in the back of my mind as we settled into the lounge. Jin had a knack for surprises, and his choices were always... interesting.

My thoughts wandered as I tried to picture who these guests might be. Were they hardcore fans? Casual listeners? Or maybe even industry acquaintances? The possibilities were endless, and for some reason, my heart beat just a little faster at the thought.

And then, the door creaked open.

When I saw her step inside with her friends, my stomach twisted. Of all people—her again.

. . . . . . . . . Hey there, my lovely readers! 🥰

Thank you so much for taking the time to check out this chapter—I hope you're loving the story as much as I've loved writing it for you! Your support truly means everything to me. 💜

Before diving into the next part of our journey, I wanted to share something that's been on my mind. Writing is such a personal and creative process, and sometimes words can take on meanings we never intended. With that in mind, I want to take a moment to clarify something close to my heart.

This story and the admiration expressed for certain races, cultures, or ethnicities are meant to celebrate diversity and uniqueness. It's not about favoring one over another—it's about recognizing and honoring the beauty that exists in all of us.

The world is such an incredible place because of the different colors, traditions, and experiences we all bring to the table. My intention is always to share that love, positivity, and celebration of what makes us beautifully unique.

I hope you'll interpret my words with the love they're rooted in. Let's keep fostering understanding, kindness, and inclusivity, both here in this little fictional world we're building and in the big, real one too. 🌍✨

And of course, I wouldn't be here without you! To all my amazing readers, thank you from the bottom of my heart for every comment, vote, and bit of encouragement you send my way. Your support fuels my creativity and keeps me inspired. 💕

So, let's keep spreading love, light, and good vibes as we continue this journey together! Always remember—you're an important part of this story and this wonderful Army of readers. I appreciate you more than words can express.

Sending you all a big purple heart 💜 and the warmest virtual hugs. Until the next chapter, take care of yourselves and keep shining your beautiful light!

Much love, always, Your author-nim 💖

TAGLIST OPEN!

TAGLIST: @juju-227592

[asteroid-fruitcup]

more lore about myself:

ALSO TW FOR LIKE A REALLY REALLY BRIEF SH MENTION LATER ON

so if you saw the post i made like a billion years (2 months?) ago you’d know that fifth grade was a Huge Ride for me but what you Don’t know is about SIXTH GRADE (scary ghost sfx)

So recap. 5th grade I had a fren who wasn’t what I thought they were and they punched me and i had a summer depression (cries in girl in red) at the end of the year

This also marks my utter, terrible realization that maybe I was ALSO a little bit of a bitch even before 5th grade. When I had first moved back in 3rd grade I was really cringe. getting kinda personal here so you better not make fun of me but like I’d meow at people and stuff. And I had a huge warrior cats hyperfixation. I’m not very sure of why I was like that, but I’m suspecting ADHD something or other. Especially since I was also the talkative kid and stuff who had to be moved to the back of class and asked to Shut the Fuck Up every 5 seconds.

Anyways, I think that’s when I started to realize how utterly annoying I was to other people. No one wants to hear me rant about Warrior cats. And I also don’t have most of my main friend group to vent to. So yeah. My first months of sixth grade were… empty, to say the least. Nothing. Kind of my fault honestly.

Around the middle of the year I was able to hang out with my old friend group again. But things just weren’t really the same. I still felt alone. Invisible, almost. Or well, I was there, but no one really saw me. Terms of service. Accepted, but always ignored 😔

This was also around the time I started questioning my gender. Settled on genderfluid and omni for a time, but I can confidently say now that I am pangender and bi. Most my friends were cishet however, so that was also a little awkward.

A lot of the worst stuff happened in the last 2 months.

I suddenly started getting bullied. By who, you may ask? A LOT OF PEOPLE. Most weren’t even in sixth grade. In fact, almost everyone I got bullied by were younger than me. Some key encounters I remember:

• This random ass 4-5th grader girl confronted me in the bathroom, and asked me if I was a furry. I said no, but she kept insisting I was a furry. I have no idea of who this kid was.

• She also confronted me again at some point, same situation.

• Some 3rd grader meowed at me in the morning when I has just came to school. Also didn’t know this kid in the slightest.

And one of the most important and memorable events:

I was walking back to class from one of my VERY frequent counselor visits due to the bullying. Thursday afternoon. School was ending in a week or two.

This girl looked around 2nd or 3rd grade, and I’m pretty sure she was the younger sister to the other annoying ass girl. I’m almost to class and she just fucking approaches me and asks

“Is your name (astrid)?”

So I’m confused. I respond to her with “Yes, who are you.”

She ignores my question entirely. And I hear her quietly say “Good, I’ve found the right person.”

Panic mode for me. I freeze, no longer walking to class. “What’s your name?” No answer.

“So I heard you were being mean to some of my sister’s friends and they want you to apologise.” Bear in mind, I’ve barely talked to anyone the entire year and have no idea of what i could’ve done.

I say “I’m sorry. Please tell me your name.” which she FUCKING IGNORES AGAIN and then she runs up to me and hugs me really tightly and says “thank youuuu!” in this high pitched ass voice.

I told her “hey, I’m not very comfortable with hugs” which was drowned out with another “THANK YOUUUU!” before she let go of me and her entire ass demeanor changed.

Put her hands on her hips and everything, and very fimly said “Now WALK back to class.”

Again. “Hey, that was rude, what is your name?”

She cut me off mid sentence and kept saying “WALK. YES. GOOD, WALK BACK TO CLASS, THANK YOU!” and pushed me towards my class. As she walked away she kept throwing me these dirty glances like she wanted to make sure I told no one. When she finally left, I looked around, ran STRAIGHT back into the counselor’s office and immediately broke down crying.

They never found the kid 😔

Canon event right there. More stuff that happened around this time:

I was feeling horrible, and so I decided to get out a piece of paper and write a letter to all of sixth grade. As an apology. Gave it to some kids in my class during lunch and told them to pass around the message.

For like the next 2 weeks I was sent to the counselor’s office multiple times and even the principal once because people thought i was trying to hurt myself. If you know what I mean. (if you think I should tag or add a warning PLEAASE let me know)

Last week of school. Absolute living hell.

Here’s some context before I yap however:

We had this system where in the months before the last week you lost 5 points, you wouldn’t be able to parpicipate in one end of the year activity chosen by your teacher. I lost 9 points, and thank GOD my teacher chose this huge kickball game.

Now what the problem about this was is that the only way to step out the activities was not being allowed to go in the first place or using the bathroom. For me, this was a HUGE problem.

We had all our groups randomly selected for end of the year stuff and they’d rotate across each activity we had. My group was filled with annoying boys who would’ve bullied me if they could, popular girls who didn’t really care for me, and a single friend. And I wasn’t really in their main friend group anyways.

First activity went alright. Second one I used the bathroom for half. Between switching to the third one I believe, I asked to go to thr counselor’s office. The supervisors there said I had to ask my teacher, huge problem, my teacher fucking hated me.

After like 10 minutes of convincing (exaggeration) she finally let me go. Only for me to find out… the counselor was in a meeting.

So I very worriedly and reluctantly trailed back.

The next activity was this thing where you get in a circle and hold hands with everyone and pass a hula hoop through yourself. I was seemingly being forced into a spot close to the boys in my group and as much as I also hated the girls, I knew I’d feet better around them then these’s guys my friend said started trash talking me when I went to the counselor.

I tried talking but as a joke the girls talked over me. I was basically yelling but nothing I said got across. I was really fucking uncomfortable and eventually and spaced out on the grass and broke down crying again.

One of the supervisors noticed this and FINALLY called in the vice principal and we walked around on the grass and conversed. I got to sit out for the rest of the event, although I know my teacher was probably shooting me looks while I wasn’t looking.

But yeah, there’s my sixth grade in a nutshell. Now how has this impacted me now?

I have a lot of friends irl now. Tons of people to talk to. I have 2 friend groups who I’ll call the silly friend group and the music friend group. Self explanatory.

The silly friend group is VERY FUCKING LOUD, and kind of 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂. Pinterest comment character ai type 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

Music friend group is a little bit more laid back in those categories but still loud and 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 to some extent.

I have this friend who I’ll call, idk. Flower. She has a lot of really prominent sensory issues and 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 jokes make her extremely uncomfortable, so she doesn’t usually hang out with my other friend groups. So I hang out with her. Alone.

I’m genuinely one of her only friends. Since no one else really chills around us or anything plus I actually care to listen to the stuff she says. I’ve just been feeling kind of horrible lately because of some stuff.

She’ll be leaving to go to a different school at the end of the quarter so I decided to hang out with her whenever I can for the time being. Because I know how it feels to just be alone. And she has her own bullies and such, I want to be able to help protect her.

But most importantly, I never want her to experience the same type of loneliness I did back in sixth grade. I had no one to rant to about my interests, and I want to make sure she has that person. I want to be there to uplift her and make her feel heard the way I wished to be and never felt.

And there comes a problem.

I have my other friend groups too. I also want to chill with them since sometimes I want to talk about other things. Or be louder, or just be around more people in general. And I feel like this is keeping me from being around them too.

I don’t want Flower to feel like they’re tearing me away from my other friendships. They already feel that way. And plus, I don’t want her to have to be alone.

I had to leave early from school today since I had an after school meeting to go to, and she just looked devastated. I couldn’t focus throughout most the program. I hate leaving people to be alone like that.

So far, I’ve just been told the usual “hey, it’s her problem, not yours.”

But seriously. I at least don’t want her to have to face this problem alone.

hows your day been? :3

[2easy4yoga]

People said that a heartbreak is one of the worst pain you ever felt in your life, beside death of your loved one of course.

But losing your best friend is far worse painful.

I'm the type of person who rarely fully trust someone over me, basically because I got a rough childhood that made me the witness of my family torn apart. It took me years to fully gain my trust to my Mom.

I've been living alone since 14, when I enter highschool. There's only a really few person that I can entrust my back to, that I can fully expose everything. The Japanese said there's 3 kind of faces that each person have. The one that you shown the world, the one you shown to your closest, and the one you never shown to anyone.

When I deem someone as my best friend, they'll have a peak of what the 3rd face truly looks like.

People told me I can easily befriend people, even when we didn't know each other at all, totally random. Little that they know, its absurdly hard for me to consider someone as my best friend.

Lets call it best friend break up. In my life, I encounter that thing 3x. And those moments was some of the most hurtful thing that mess up with my mental state.

The first one is in senior high school. I'm close to his family to the point I was welcomed casually to their house, raiding their fridge, even when my best friend isn't home. Just a small mistake, and that friendship ends. I never knew what he do, or how is he till now. This one scar me to the point of me not trusting anyone but myself, friendship is just a concept of time that will eventually over.

The second one is in college. A random encouter made me get to know this girl. At first, it was her attractiveness and hobby that made attracted to this girl. Time goes by, it became love. But its not the love that couple share. Its the love for a friend, a best friend.

We share our secret, the ugliest deepest one, we cheerish the smallest things, we enjoy each other company, completely platonic. I've seen her strip her clothes, and its not lust that came out, its nothing. We cuddle up looking for comfort, but never goes more than that. Accidentally kissed once, and its awkward af, never again.

Funny thing is our birthday is less than a week apart, so we used to celebrate it together. We're that close that people thought we're dating, even both of our partner that time are jealous. Another funny thing is, when I'm in a relationship, she's single, vice versa. She made me a woolen bracelet that I still use in my leg till this day.

We broken apart when she's close with a guy, and that guy is obsessively jealous, and we're casually drifting apart. At first, I was clueless why would she pull herself away, no information whatsoever. I finally knew why after years and years later we randomly encounter each other in Jakarta. This one scar me to the point that I became a cold person. Doesn't gave a single fuck of what other thinks, since whatever I do, people got their own agenda and things, I will be focused on mine.

The last one was recently. I know my bro here from a game called Ragnarok. We encounter each other in place names Prontera, in the field below the city map. I was recruiting people to join my guild, when he came in an insult me and eventually join the guild.

Its like we became stupid duo, doing random things together in game name it hunting, flirting to girls, going on war, even encountered sensitive peeps that made the conflict inside the game rose to real life. He would back me up against anyone, literally anyone, vice versa.

At the guild real life gathering, we finally met in real life. We instantly became buddies, starting from where everyone else eating at a fancy expensive restaurant. I let myself out the building, saying I wanna buy a cigar, yet the truth is I wanna buy cheap fried rice outside. Waddya know, he think the same thing lmaoo.

We became bros. He's like my bro from another mother. We hang out at random places, supporting each other through the hardest shit, talking to girls, wing man-ing each other, etc. Simply broke idiot duo.

If I have money, we have money.

If you have money, we have money.

I known almost all of his encounter to girls, from a fling, crush, and exes. From the charming one, to those that destroy him. And I'm gonna defend his honor with everything I had. Vice versa. Remember when I had stupid fling with our mutual friend in your room when you're at work? LMAOOO, sorry bro, I properly clean your room tho, even tho he scold me due to his neighbours and landlord complaining at him over that girl scream so hard they heard it at the 1st floor. His room was at 3rd floor.

I remember his ex that cheated on him that tore him apart. That longest relationship he had, and that bitch surely regret her decision, I made sure of that. There's also that one plane stewardess that used him, and broken him apart. I swear if I ever met her face to face I'm gonna slap that hoe.

His downfall started when he lost his new job due to age limit. After that his confidence drop downfall to the floor. He barely knew how to flirt with girls anymore, he hardly get a job, got no money, his family is in trouble back then. I remember he called me from time to time the moment he start thinking to kill himself. I told him, don't you dare, if you wanna die, I'm gonna be the one that gonna kill you, no one else.

I help him flirt with girls by text, vice versa. He also support me on whatever stupid things I do. Its like, you jump, I jump, right after I laugh hard first.

And finally he get a job, more so at one of the government ministry. There, he regain his confidence. I remember at his first paycheck, he told me to check my bank account. He send me money after he split it to give to his parents and sister. Boy do I love this guy, no homo.

He helped me a lot when I start my perfume business, even tho we're thousand of km apart because we live in different island. I made sure to protect his girl that time behind the scene because we live in the same city.

This idiot broke up again, since his mother doesn't approve of this girl, and this girl is also... How to say it, not a social person? Awkward? Too egotistically demanding? She's a fine person tho, just not clicking on the right tune with him.

He lost his confidence again, think he would be alone. I remember that day, at 2023,I'm at dunkin donuts stall, doing a job over my laptop at midnight when he call. He told me, "dudee, you won't believe it. I met a girl! She's a junior in my college back then!". "I think I'm gonna get married next year".

It was a mixed feeling because I'm afraid that this is just another girl that gonna tore him apart again. But all my fear was wrong, she's the one that he was waiting for all these time. They really gonna get married! I'm overwhelmed omg omg omg finally this piece of shit gonna get married!!!

I told him, only contact me when there's something wrong, since he's on the path to the top, while I'm still figuring out myself. He need to focus so there won't be a slip anymore.

But that's the gong. At first, he called me to introduce me to that girl. It was fine back then. But after that, I feel that we finally torn apart slowly. The laughter isn't the same. The journey isn't the same. The insult isn't the same. Our friendship isn't the same. But I knew that for whatever reason, its for his good.

November 2024 is the month they tie the knots. I'm im the moment where I kinda struggling financially since there's a lot to pay for, and they married in far away town. But I remember our promise. When you wed, I'm gonna be your best man, vice versa. I never forget that promise. Not even once.

I scrap a chunk of my savings and went to that town. I contacted all of our other friends but looks like nobody came because they were busy. Still, I wouldn't miss it for the world, bro.

There I am. At the church. At the very back seat of that church. Sobbing like a girl seeing one of my best bro finally going to tie the knot and gone to next chapter of his life with this awesome lady as his wife. Mind you, in usual state, I'm this cold unseriouss, always joking around, and getting angry at simplest things kind of person.

But it feels like it's not like I went to my best friend's wedding. Its like I'm coming to an acquaintance wedding. It felt awkward. I gather my courage to step forward to them when the ceremony was over, going to congratulate them in person. But I ends up I'm just holding my distance, taking a video of them from afar, while smiling.

At one point, his wife ask me do I wanna get a picture with them? The usual me would just march on without a care in the world, being stupid, more so it's my best friend's wedding ffs! But no, I decline and said that they better took picture with others and goes to the car back to the hotel, while I retreat to random places.

Its raining, I remember. I'm alone for hours at that coffee shop, waiting for the reception party at 2pm.

When its 2pm, I march myself to the place. Thought I'm gonna see the reception ceremony, but no, when I arrive, the ceremony already ended, people already feasting at the foods. I'm dumbfounded, but its okay.

I try to joke around like usual, eating food while teasing them that I can eat while they stuck sitting in that bride and groom's throne stage. But the reaction wasn't it used to be. Its plain. I retreat outside to smoke, alone, I remember its raining because its hard to light up the cigar.

Turns out there's also member of our guild that came, 2 of them. I met them, share a laugh here and there, and gather my courage to goes on that stage personally. I went there, expecting that its all in my head, that nothing changed, I'm about to annoy him by saying his sister is beautiful 👀. But when I encounter him, its not the same anymore. I'm stupid, but I can feel it. An awkward hand shake, and awkward hug, an awkward small talk, a quick photograph with the groom and bride, and I'm gone out, smoking again.

I knew it, I can feel it. Its the change of era. We're not idiot duo anymore. He already focuses on the next step of his life, and I'm proud of him. I'm overwhelmingly happy because I also know how good his wife is, and I knew the both of them will thrive. I know its the chapter where I lost yet another best friend. Lost a brother. But he's happy, so I won't trade it with anything in this world.

In the middle of that rain, while puffing my cigar, I can hear The Fray's singing:

He smiles politely back at you,

You stare politely right on through.

Some sort of window to your right,

As he goes left, and you stay right.

Between the lines of fear and blame,

You begin to wonder why you came.

Where did I go wrong?

I lost a friend.

Somewhere along in the bitterness.

And I would have stayed up with you all night,

Had I known how to save a life.

It's officially the end of an era.

To my bro, I wish you all the happiness in the world with your new small family. Once again, congratulations to the both of you.

I wish you would always remember that I'm one call away if you ever in trouble, I came out running with all my might to deal at whatever troubling you. One call away. I promise you that. You know I never break my promise.

I'm sorry that I can only gift you a small amount of money. But if I had 100, you know that I would gave you 90. Because you're my bro. When I have money, we have money, remember?

You used to say to me when we're still playing that online game, "hurry up and log in you idiot!".

So this is me, Kumon, officially Logged Out.

I'm always gonna cheer for you on the sideline.

Have a good life, brother.

No Homo motherfucker.

[dawnofrosa]

have you ever adored someone? a crush? falling in love is the greatest feeling!

i did have a crush and hilariously, it happened on October 3rd (lol mean girls reference skskks). Let’s start with the first letter of his name M. Hear me out, our first encounter was something akin to airy and awkward but cute. We were in class and I stood up and walked, and suddenly he was in front of me and we both tried to move away only to end up meeting halfway. Then we both chuckled. He grabbed me once, out of accident because I almost fell and he immediately teared it away. Maybe out of awareness that he might make me uncomfortable. I kind of missed him! Let’s say he’s one of those boys who makes me feel different amongst them. Falling in love?? Never actually thought of it.

[kskfkakkldnsna]

I have a two day grieving period every weekend where i grieve all the awkward, weird sht my socially anxious ass did during the week.

[scotianostra]

On July 3rd 1844 the last pair of Great Auks were killed.

I sometimes get a nose, or in this case a beak, for history and this story took my interest when I found it on Wiki a number of years ago.

Now the two Auks mentioned above were killed on Eldey off Iceland. It was from here I searched for more details and found out the story of the last Great Auk in Scotland.

In June of 1840, three sailors hailing from the Scottish island of St. Kilda landed on the craggy ledges of a nearby sea stack, known as Stac-an-Armin. As they climbed up the rock, they spotted a peculiar bird that stood head and shoulders above the puffins and gulls and other seabirds.

The scruffy animal’s proportions were bizarre—just under three feet tall with awkward and small wings that rendered it flightless, and a hooked beak that was almost as large as its head. Its black and white plumage had earned it the title the “original penguin,” The Great Auk is a lost part of the biogeography of the British Isles and the only flightless bird that has bred in Europe in historical times.

The sailors watched as the bird, waddled clumsily along. Agile in the water, the unusual creature was defenceless against humans on land, and its ineptitude made it an easy target “Prophet-like that lone one stood,” one of the men later said of the encounter.

Perhaps the men enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, or perhaps they realised its meat and feathers were incredibly valuable. In any case, they abducted the bird, tying its legs together and taking it back to their ship. For three days, the sailors kept the Great Auk alive, but on the fourth, during a terrible storm, the sailors grew fearful and superstitious. Condemning it as “a maelstrom-conjuring witch,” they stoned it to death. And that was that!

It was the last of its kind to ever be seen on the British Isles. Four years later, the Great Auk vanished from the world entirely when fishermen hunted down the last pair on the shores of that Icelandic Isle.

The description by the men hired to hunt down the last Auks in the would is a sad one;

A trio of men, hired by a merchant who wanted specimens, cornered the last pair on Eldey. One crushed their egg with his boot. Then the adults were killed. “I took him by the neck,” said one of the men of the last bird, “and he flapped his wings.”

“He made no cry. I strangled him.”

And that was that an entire species was no more by man, the most destructive species that planet Earth has ever spawned.

The picture shows “Specimen number 8″ in Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow, it is thought to have originated on the Icelandic island of Eldey.