#the synonym threw me

[lifblogs]

Obviously that person is being helpful and isn’t going to know what I know and don’t know or what I remembered, but I legit know this stuff, so it feels like I’m getting talked down to.

[parfaitblogs]

you're losing me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. no happy ending. argument/fight. strong language. word count: 2.0k a/n: big fan of soul crushing angst. clearly. i dreamt this one up in an everything shower. likely place for me to plan fics? whole lot of nothing happening i love yapping about sadness!! my least favourite spencer trait is that he doesn't think he deserves good things so he pushes them away so obviously i have to write novellas on him doing just that? this used to be based on tolerate it but i listened to ylm the entire time so erm. things change! lol enjoy xoxo

Perhaps you were stupid. 

Very, very stupid. And ridiculous. And every other synonym for those two words that your brain could not possibly imagine up right now. You were all of them. But also none of them. Because you also felt like there was not a single word that could describe you anymore; if there was, maybe you'd consider yourself a person. But clearly you weren't a person. Not anymore, at least. Not to him. 

An awfully painful year it had been. And maybe that's what stripped you of your right to be a person. Maybe it was the overtime. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was everything all at once. Maybe it was nothing at all. 

Three years of dating one man meant you learned quite a bit about who he is as a person to you. Eight years of knowing him meant you knew very well what sort of person he is in general. 

And this wasn't him. 

He was sitting on your couch. A piece of furniture that had, in just one year, erased the memory of you from it, there no longer being an indent on the right side where you always sat. A book was sat in his lap, but he wasn't properly reading it. You could tell from how slowly he turned the pages. From how he stopped every few minutes to rub his eyes, his eyebrows creasing and a quiet, irritated huff leaving his lips. 

It was a habit he had developed. 

This was how it was every night. Three o'clock came, and your body would wake you up from an otherwise restless sleep, and you would drag your feet out to where the man who should be occupying the other side of your bed, actually is. And he wouldn't look up, but you both acknowledged each other's presence, silently. 

And you would watch him for an hour. Until your eyes began to droop, and your feet started to ache, and your heart couldn't handle any more shattering for the night. And then you would drag yourself back to the bedroom, and you would climb into a now cold bed, and you would fall back asleep for another two hours. 

Like clockwork.

You were good with him. So patient. You would make him mugs of morning coffee that he wouldn't drink, and you would wash clothes he wouldn't say 'thank you' for. You wondered if he was actually grateful or not. 

You were too scared to ask. 

"Hey," you said, quietly, when he had come home from work, shrugging his bag off his shoulders, and slipping shoes off his feet. 

"Hi," he answered. As if on instinct, he moved to where you were seated at the barstool to kiss you in greeting, before brushing past and heading into the kitchen. 

You watched him for a few moments as he found a piece of bread to eat, nothing on it. Just... dry. Before your eyes returned to the laptop screen you had open in front of you, fingers tapping away at your keyboard. 

"There's been another terror threat," you said to him, tilting your head to the side. "But they let me work from home."

"Why'd they do that?" he asked, but he could not sound less interested. 

You lifted your head, because you thought he knew. "Because of you, Spence."

"Oh, okay," he answered, and you watched as he threw out half of the bread he did not eat, before he disappeared down the hallway. 

He didn't even care. 

You stared at the empty space down the hall, where he had once been, heart lodged in your throat in an uncomfortable lump you couldn't swallow. This was why you felt stupid. 

Maybe you were sick of feeling stupid. You must be, because subconsciously, your feet had already planted themselves firmly on the floor, and your legs were already taking you down the hall in the exact direction he had just disappeared to. 

He was taking his button up off when you appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, replacing it with a t-shirt. You had never seen him wear so many t-shirts until now. 

You cleared your throat, alerting him of your presence, and he turned, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you. 

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you said, voice wavering with cautiousness. 

His lips parted, then they closed, and all he managed was a short nod, before he turned back around to find pyjama pants in his drawers. 

"Spencer, I'm serious," you pressed, taking a step into the room. "You need to talk to someone about this."

"I have those counseling sessions at work," he answered, turning back around to face you only once he was wearing pants. 

Your lips pursed. "You hate those."

"Yes, but I'm talking to someone."

"Not someone you trust!"

"And if I talk to you, it would be so different compared to a counsellor, right?"

You froze. He froze. Maybe he realised the implication of his words, you certainly did. That such a simple spoken sentence had your heart stuttering in your chest. 

You shakily exhaled. "I'd hope it would be different," you decided to say. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't anymore."

He stood straighter at your comment. Perhaps not the best thing to say. Certainly not the most mature. 

"What does that mean?"

Right. The reason you decided to follow him in the first place. "I just—I don't feel like you care anymore. And I have tried to be patient, Spencer. I really have. But you shut me out, and we don't even talk anymore. I make you coffee, I do your laundry, I offer to cook, I clean up the house, I do everything I possibly can so you can focus on healing, and I can't even get a proper sentence out of you unless we're arguing."

He inhaled sharply, staring at you. "I don't know if you forgot, but I was locked in a prison for three and a half months."

Your shoulders deflated, your eyebrows creasing and lips pulling down into a frown. "Seriously? I express that I am feeling neglected, and your only response is that you've been in prison—"

"—Well, it kind of changed who I am!"

You fell silent for a few moments, trying to collect your thoughts before you threw them all in his face and actually ruined things between you two. 

"I just feel like you don't care anymore," you repeated, voice awfully soft compared to how hard your body was shaking in anxiety. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and he opened his mouth to speak with that same frustrated frown, so you cut him off. 

"And yes, I know you're dealing with everything that happened to you in prison. I only know what they told us, so I can't even imagine how much you're withholding. Because I know that's what you do. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like I'm not important in your life anymore. I mean, If I'm not, then tell me. If you really don't care, or you've decided that you can't be in a relationship and process everything at the same time, then I'd like to know."

The silence is uncomfortable. And thick. And you're staring at him with eyes that burned with tears you weren't ready to shed yet. He's coming up with a response, so slowly you think maybe prison actually did break his brain. 

"I do care," he finally said, and you wondered if it took him three minutes to come up with that because he was controlling a lie. You pushed that thought out of your head. "But I also don't want you to wait for me to be better, if it's making you feel this way."

Oh.

"Okay," you manage to say, voice not above a whisper as you stared at him. 

"Okay," he echoed, and the tears you were trying so hard to keep in brimmed your waterline, blurring your vision. If he hadn't become one big blob in your vision because of them, you might've seen his eyes soften and his shoulders deflate. 

Maybe he was waiting for you to confront him about it all. So he could end things. Maybe he's been thinking about this for too long, and this was just the final push he needed. You'd like to hope it was a spur of the moment decision, and he wasn't banking on this relationship ending. 

"I'll stay at a friend's," you then murmured, wiping the tears from your eyes, sniffling pathetically. 

"No, this is—"

"—You deserve familiar walls," you cut him off. "I'm sure anything else would freak you out."

He fell silent, because you were right. But he didn't want to kick you out of your own home. He didn't want to kick you out of his life, a sickening revelation he was having all too late.

Maybe that was why, when you turned around to leave, he called your name. Pleadingly. So, you turned back, and he stared at you, and silence fell over you two again. 

"What?" you breathed out after a few too many minutes of quiet. 

"I don't know how to talk to you. Or anyone. Not—not just you."

"About what happened?"

"In general."

You stilled, confusion sweeping across your features, for the thousandth time tonight alone. "You don't have to talk to me, if you can't. Regularly, I mean. That's not... that's not what I'm asking of you. I just need you to communicate with me. I feel like you don't even have feelings for me anymore. That's where most of my issues lie."

"I do have feelings for you."

"It doesn't feel that way."

More silence. More thick, deafening silence that felt like you had submerged your head underwater. And you really just wanted to come to a final conclusion. If this was the end.

"Then is it just that you don't want to be with me anymore? If it is, please tell me," you said, voice pathetically desperate.

He stared at you some more. Silence accompanying him, like some (annoyingly) comforting best friend amidst this conversation. And you slowly nodded your head as what he wanted became clear to you, your heart stuttering uncomfortably in your chest. Your stomach flipping. 

"Indecision doesn't look good on you," you finally cut through the blanket of quiet. "I need a verbal answer, Spencer."

"I do want to be with you—"

"—Then fight, dammit!" you finally snapped, the tears you had managed to control coming back to you, a sob lodging in your throat. "I am sick of you saying you do feel this, and you don't feel that. Make a fucking decision. Please. I cannot keep up a fight for the both of us anymore. You're losing me here, Spencer."

"I'm scared!" he shouted, and you took a step back, his voice vibrating throughout the room. He waged an internal battle for a few moments at your recoil. "That. That right there is what I'm scared of. I am so scared of scaring you."

"You scare me more when you shut down. I will take your anger over your silence."

"I won't," he snapped, watching you flinch. Again. You wanted to stop flinching. 

"It proves to me that you're actually feeling things. Spencer, I feel like I've been living with a ghost."

"I can't control my anger anymore," he added your name with a voice crack, mirroring your heart.

You blink some more tears down your cheeks. "You don't have to. You are allowed to be angry."

"Not around you," he shook his head, his hands brushing curls out of his face. "What if I—I hurt you."

"What if you don't?"

It seemed he hadn't considered that possibility, because he fell silent, and averted his gaze to the ground. He shook his head after a beat. "I can't take that risk."

You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing up your options, before you sighed. "Fine. Don't." He said your name again. "No. If you're not willing to fight, then... then fine. Don't fight. But neither will I."

He didn't say anything as you took a step back from the room. And even as you stilled for a few seconds longer, achingly but silently begging him to ask you to stay, he didn't utter a word. Which was, really, all you needed in confirmation. 

And so you left.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[acotarxreader]

Storm Chaser

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: You and Azriel go your separate ways after a vicious fight leaves Azriels jealousy calling the shots but can the ever brave Illyrian brave a storm without you.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, storms?

A/N: A silly goofy fic. I wrote 5 other fics today and I'm going back to edit a monster of a one tomorrow, it has such a serious amount of angst in it I've run out of synonyms 😂 Nothing like a day off from college to send my hands typing😌

------------------------------------------

“WELL THEN?!”

“IF YOU DON'T STOP SHOUTING AT ME AZRIEL I’M LEAVING!” your partner crossed his arms tightly across his chest and furrowed his brows, anger and frustration twisted across his face. He huffed loudly while you threw your head back in frustration. Taking a long, deep breath in and out before looking at him again. His bedroom, the stage of this battle.

“Azriel” he couldn't meet your eyes. You huffed at his response. Azriel was always the jealous type but this was taking it to the next level.

“I’m the one who should be mad with you Azriel… you followed me...like I was one of your targets” you said quietly and firmly. Azriel still looking anywhere but you.

“Azriel…”

“WELL WHAT THE FUCK ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO YNN?!” His raise in volume again fueled your anger.

“I DON'T KNOW? HMMM? WHAT COULD MY PARTNER HAVE POSSIBLY DONE TO FIND OUT IF I WAS CHEATING ON HIM? HMMM, I WONDER, I MEAN HE COULDN'T TALK TO ME ABOUT IT, THAT WOULD BE INSANITY!” you sarcastically shout back to match his volume. Azriel ran his hands through his hair in angry frustration. He hated this argument even though he was always the one to start it. He couldn’t help his thoughts, his jealousy, his behaviour.

“You have to stop this incessant insecurity” The words cut Azriel probably deeper than you intended, his voice escaping him before he could control it.

“OH FUCK OFF YNN I WOULDN'T PUT IT PAST YOU, YOUR PARENTS WERE CHEATING ON EACH OTHER, IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY!” Azriel tried to stop the words from bellowing from him as they left his mouth but he couldn’t. You took a step back from him at the words, regret fogging Azriel instantly. 

“No wait YNN, I didn’t mea-”

“Don't call me that, don’t call me YNN ever again” You fought the tears growing, this was further than the argument usually ran on for. Deeper than it had before. 

“I-I can’t do this anymore Az! I can’t! This is insanity, round and round again. It’s too much, it’s too much all the time, you’re too much all the time. You go off threatening everyone who even looks at me. You threatened Cassian, Az. Cassian! I can’t handle your intensity every single day in and out.” The words were low and shaky as Azriel found himself unable to support his weight under your words, sitting down to relieve some ounce of strain on the edge of his bed. 

“You don’t love me anymore?” The words were as heartbreaking as the look on his face. You sat slowly next to him, taking his hand lightly in yours. 

“I think I love you so much some days I think my heart will burst but-but- I need space, I need time, I need-”

“Anyone but me? I can’t help but want to protect you” You shook your head at his words, standing again, releasing his hand for what would be the last time in a long while. 

“This level of control goes beyond protecting. Az I-”

“Go YNN, leave! Go!” anger leaked through the words, his armour to shield his shattering heart, his face twisting in an almost blind rage, a look he had never given you ran a chill down your spine. Then you did. You went.

-

You fell to the outskirts of the group, only meeting to carry out your official role within the Court as Rhysand’s emissary to the other Solar Courts. You and Azriel did your best to stay out of one another's way, trying not to show the hurt you both still felt by the words that had cut you both. The group could feel the awkward energy but chose to believe that you both would sort it yourselves and were in no rush to get involved. A few months after the break up, Feyre had had enough of the divide. 

“Please come YN”

“Feyre” you sighed, closing your novel, landing your eyes on Feyre's puppy dog eyes. 

“C’mon, we’re all going to the cabin for my birthday, it’ll be fun! Please come, Mor is already not coming because she’s on the continent, you’re not also going to bail are you?”

“Fine” you sighed, the guilt trip working on you. 

-

Your friends and you sat around the painted living room table of the cabin, the wind howling violently outside. You enjoyed the familiar energy of your family truly relaxing into their environment. You sat across the way from Azriel, all playing a round of cards, for the first time in a long time, some element of normalcy hung between you. Until it was time for bed. 

Everyone was mated except for you and Azriel, even Amren had brought Varian to keep her company in the wild hills. The cabin expanded to allow enough rooms for all the guests and as the fire crackled down the couples retired to their rooms, leaving you and Azriel alone for the first time in a long time. 

“Well, I better head to bed Az” You smiled softly at the Spymaster who looked like sleep evaded him. 

“Goodnight YNN- or sorry YN” he pushed the flush rising to his cheeks away. 

“It's okay Azills'' You found a small laugh leaving you at the nickname you never thought you’d hear again. Lucien came stomping out of the room the Cabin had given him and Elain, pillow and blanket in hand. 

“I have to sleep out here” he said sheepishly. 

“Lucien, take my room, I’ll sleep out here, I’m very comfortable” Azriel sprawled along the deep sofa, pulling a throw blanket down around him. Lucien nodded in thanks, swiftly exiting the room in his embarrassment.  You then gave Azriel a small wave before leaving him to cuddle into the couch. 

You stared up at the ceiling of the cabin for an hour or two, the last time you were here you and Azriel stayed awake the whole night worshipping one another's bodies. A small shiver ran down your spine at the warm memory. 

The sky then seemed to entirely crack and shatter open above, the heavy torrential rain making an attempt to come in the wooden roof above you. You swaddled yourself deeper into the sheets, protecting yourself from the eardrum-bursting sound. 

The lightning came then, cruel and unforgiving, making your veins feel alive. Lighting the whole bedroom before plunging it back into darkness, the electricity of the storm interfering with the power in the cabin, plunging the place into the dark. Thunder rattled the wooden walls, almost shaking you in the bed. You smiled at the feeling, loving storms so deeply for their unkempt uncontrollable nature. The air was thick with the electricity that coursed through it and then a thought came to you as fast as the lightning. A certain someone who hated storms with a burning passion, an irrational fear he was quite ashamed of was in the sitting room full of windows, alone. You rose from the bed, another crack of lightning hit, setting your adrenaline on fire and you loved the feeling so purely. 

“Hey Az?” you cautiously whispered in from the doorway of your room. 

“Y-yeah YN, are-are you okay?” he replied quickly, cursing his shaking voice. You thought about the proud male, quietly rattling in his make-shift bed and decided to be kind. 

“Az, I’m kind of scared, can you come in here?” you buried your lying smirk as you removed yourself from the doorway and lay back into the bed. The silence that followed had your mind racing, did you make the wrong call? Had you just embarrassed yourself for the sake of nothing, you could almost feel Azriel through the wall weighing up his options. Another boom of deafening thunder sent Azriel bolting across the living room, slamming to a stop on his heels in the doorway, trying to play his run off as easy breezy. You buried your grin under the duvet as he slipped into the bed below the sheet. 

“I’ll protect you” 

“My hero” you teased, he wrapped his heavy arms around you, pulling you into such a familiar position. You could hear his heart beating 120km/hr off his chest in erratic movement and you muffled your smile into him. 

“That’s what partn- it's what friends are for” he said into your hair, cursing his little slip-up internally. Lightning lit up the room again, Azriel gripping you to almost bone-crushing levels of pressure. You intertwined your legs with his, tracing a small circle along the base of his spine, calming him down under your touch. Azriel had missed being this close to you, missed your scent on his skin, your loving touch and he knew you loved storms, he knew this whole thing was to protect his ego. He didn’t mind, if this was his one and only chance to hold you again in his arms he’d take it. 

“YNN, I don’t think you cheated on me” he found the words slip from his voice into the comfortable silence. You looked up from his chest to meet his eyes. 

“I don’t think I did either Azills” you smirked and he returned the same.

“I’m serious YN, I should have trusted you more, I know I can trust you more…..would you consider giving me the opportunity to trust you more?”

“I don’t know Az” your voice betrayed your heart in favour of your head.

“I can prove I’m serious” he pulled away from you suddenly and you missed the heat and the shape of his body against yours. 

“What are you doing?” you half laughed, leaning up on one arm to watch him run out into the living area before you followed him confusedly. You watched him haphazardly throw on his shoes, and whip the front door open, the wild cruel wind blowing gail throughout the cabin. 

“Are you crazy?!” you almost shouted over the wind. 

“About us?! Yeah!” 

“Crazy and cheesy it would seem!” you laughed before he winked at you and ran off into the storm, you chased after him, stopping at the threshold of the door. 

“Azriel what the fuck come back!” you were shouting in a mix of hysterical laughing and absolute fear for him. 

“Do you believe me?!” The rain lashed off of his body, the wind threatening to whip under his wings and lift him to be lost to the sky forever. 

“Yes! Yes! Come back inside you freak!” your laugh rose over the lightning, lighting the path back to the house for Azriel. He bolted in fast from the storm, the bravery being seriously tested as the thunder bellowed. His soaking hand took yours, as he almost ran you back into your room. 

“You’re out of your mind Az” you looked at the drenched Illyrian with wind-burned cheeks and messy dark brown hair in knots on his head. He looked as wild and untamed as the storm but more of a mess, your mess. 

“YN, I know it will take more than storm chasing to prove it to you but please, let me prove it to you and I -”

“-Yes" you cut across him with the best word he had ever heard, he pulled you into his soaked body as you shrieked with the cold, but you couldn’t not laugh. Azriel's icy lips met your warmer ones and you missed one another in immeasurable amounts. Thunder rolled loudly again, causing Azriel to jump. 

“Come on storm chaser, you can protect me better from under the covers”

“It is my only job”

--------------------------------------------

Hehe, whatcha think?

[fyodere]

actor!dazai au + hate fucking

I hope nobody catch us (but I kinda hope they catch us)

“she wanna go viral . . ?

keep fucking for hours

that pussy got power ”

— P POWER

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), actor!au, dazai is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, reader is a new name on acting scene, semi public sex, child star dazai, rivals with benefits, hate fucking, petnames, degradation, dazai is a sadic, unprotected sex, dirt talk, light dom/sub dynamic ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Dazai was rougher.

Now you’re at the after party, all the paparazzi and interviewers are gone. You can finally relax now. At least, that was what you thought.

“Meet me in the bathroom.” Dazai whispered to you and quickly vanished, you were used to his superstar behavior, but it still annoys you.

You always fight on set and hate each other. What’s up with him now?

﹙ 🧥 ﹚── author's note : OKAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS i absolutely loved writing the whole rivals with benefits thing. it’s just too hot. i hope y’all enjoy it <3 my requests are always open so don’t be shy!

. . . ꒰ ꐦ › ﾛ ‹ ꒱

Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Osamu Dazai was rougher. For years, you had clawed your way through auditions, rejections, and fleeting moments of success, all in pursuit of that elusive breakthrough role. And just when you thought you had finally made it, fate threw you yet another curveball: co-starring in another film with the enigmatic and notoriously difficult Dazai Osamu.

The after-party buzzed with energy as celebrities mingled, champagne flowed, and laughter filled the air. For you, it was both a relief and a moment of triumph. Landing a role alongside the enigmatic Osamu was a career milestone, but it came with its own set of challenges.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. It was Dazai, his dark eyes glinting mischievously as he beckoned you with a subtle gesture. You rolled your eyes, accustomed to his dramatic antics. Despite their on-screen chemistry, behind the scenes, you both clashed like oil and water.

Reluctantly, you slipped away from the crowd, your curiosity piqued by Dazai's clandestine summons.

The tension between you and Dazai was palpable from day one of filming. Both of you were fiercely talented and fiercely competitive, each vying for the spotlight in every scene. The set became a battleground of egos, with sparks flying whenever your characters shared the screen.

Now, amidst the glitz and glamour of the after-party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. But as you leaned against the bar, nursing a cocktail and trying to unwind.

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in Dazai's whirlwind scheme, the lines between enemy and ally blurring in the face of ambition. And as you stood on the precipice of this daring venture, you realized that sometimes, the greatest battles were fought not on the silver screen, but behind the scenes, in the shadows where dreams and egos collided.

Dazai was a star since childhood. After starring in a movie at the age of 5, his career was an unstoppable ascent with no contenders. Every role, every appearance, no matter how small, made the project take off. Having Osamu in a project was synonymous with success.

At least, it was until he turned 15.

At 15, Dazai found himself on a thin line brought about by the consequences of fame. Surrounded by a world of drinks and nighttime dangers, Dazai felt embraced by the dark side of fame.

At 18, Osamu stepped away from his acting career. He needed a break from the spotlight and to clean himself from all the vices he had started in his adolescence. The media portrayed him as a comet in eruption disguised as a shooting star—if the media didn't want Dazai Osamu, then it wouldn't have him. Dazai distanced himself from screens and public scrutiny.

Now, at 22, Osamu was preparing for his comeback to the prestigious world of cinema, and when the cast was announced, people were stunned. Dazai's return after 4 years away from the stage. The return was so sudden that the media had no choice but to remind the public of Dazai's difficult phase.

His return was in a minor role in a drama film, the same film where you were one of the stars. You're a model represented by Fyodor Dostoevsky who landed this role by chance. It was a simple equation: good agents, beauty, charisma, and connections. There was no way your career could go wrong.

Despite the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry, the atmosphere on set was anything but glamorous. From the moment filming began, it was clear that the animosity between you and Dazai was more than just a clash of egos—it was a full-blown feud.

Every interaction was laced with tension, each scene a battle for dominance. Behind the camera, snide remarks and passive-aggressive jabs were exchanged with alarming frequency, as you and Dazai vied for control of the spotlight.

But as the days turned into weeks, a begrudging respect began to simmer beneath the surface. Despite your mutual disdain, there was no denying the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you on screen. And as much as you hated to admit it, Dazai's talent was matched only by your own.

Yet, even as you grudgingly acknowledged each other's skill, the bitterness between you remained palpable. Every success felt like a personal affront, every compliment a thinly veiled insult. And as the pressure mounted, so too did the intensity of your rivalry.

But amidst the chaos and conflict, a glimmer of opportunity emerged. As filming progressed, it became increasingly clear that the success of the project hinged on your ability to set aside your differences and work together towards a common goal.

And so, begrudgingly, you and Dazai began to cooperate—not out of friendship or camaraderie, but out of sheer necessity. As the stakes grew higher and the deadline loomed closer, you found yourselves reluctantly setting aside your differences in pursuit of a greater good.

But, returning to the premiere of the film you were starring in: the after party was perfect. Only the most renowned people, the most coveted celebrities, all of it without any paparazzi or interviewer to disrupt the moment. That was the perfect opportunity to establish connections with the big names in the media. But, honestly, at that moment, all you wanted was to enjoy good drinks and soak in the energy of the place, having a well-deserved rest.

Navigating the treacherous waters of the entertainment industry had always been a challenge, but nothing could have prepared you for the tumultuous journey that came with co-starring in another film alongside the enigmatic Dazai. The tension between you two was palpable, a constant undercurrent of rivalry and animosity that colored every interaction.

Now, amidst the glittering lights and pulsating energy of the after party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. A chance to unwind and revel in the success of the film, to bask in the glow of your hard-earned achievements. But fate had other plans.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice sliced through the air, pulling you from your reverie. It was Dazai, his words laden with urgency and mystery. "Meet me in the bathroom," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd. His abrupt departure left you both bewildered and irritated, a perfect encapsulation of your tumultuous relationship.

You and Dazai had always clashed on set, your fiery personalities and fierce ambition fueling a rivalry that bordered on hatred. Every scene was a battleground, every interaction a test of wills. And yet, beneath the surface animosity, there was a begrudging respect—a recognition of each other's talent and determination.

But as you made your way to the designated meeting spot, the backstage area cloaked in shadows and secrecy, you couldn't help but wonder what game Dazai was playing now. What could he possibly want from you?

As you rounded the corner, you found Dazai waiting for you, his expression inscrutable. The air crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a veil. And in that moment, you realized that whatever lay ahead, it would be anything but predictable.

You walked to the bathroom concerned. What the hell Dazai would want with you? You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of curious.

“Oh, well.” You said looking at the tall man with brown hair and mysterious eyes. “The demon prodigy want to talk to me. What an honor. Should I thank God for this?” You said with the voice dripping sarcasm as you roll your eyes.

The bathroom was empty and quiet. The place reeked of cigarette smell. Dazai was waiting there with a slight smile on his face. As soon as he saw you, he quickly put out his cigarette and threw the bud to the dumpster.

“Why so nervous?” His tone was taunting. He was leaning against the wall while talking to you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You retort. “I’m trying to enjoy this after party but, damn, you really want to ruin everything.”

“Ruining it… or making it more interesting?” Dazai crossed his arms and smirked. His tone was still annoying. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Like always.” Dazai muttered. You could see he was trying to make you angry.

“I wanted to talk with you in private. Since we’re having another film together. I want to propose something to you, since our reputation is on the line…” He said slowly.

“Our reputation?” You said laughter than you planned. “Oh, please. You’re the one who couldn’t resist to alcohol at 15. You’re the one who fucked up your image to the midia. Don’t put me into your twisted games.”

“Just listen before you go all ‘I hate you!’ On me, I get enough of that from the paparazzi.” Dazai said with a fake laugh.

Dazai stayed silent for a few seconds.

“You know how the rumor mill always says we are both in a relationship?” He sighed. “That’s not a problem to me. In fact, I believe it’s even better for us. I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend and feed the media with the idea that we are dating—“ You abruptly cut him off.

“Oh, don’t even come with this. I get enough bad ideas from my agent. I don’t need even more.”

Dazai's smirk widened at your reaction, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your hesitation, but think about it," he urged, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "This could be mutually beneficial for both of us. Imagine the headlines, the buzz surrounding our 'relationship.' It would catapult us into the spotlight like never before."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "And what about the fallout when the truth inevitably comes out?" you countered, your tone dripping with skepticism. "We'd be crucified by the media, branded as frauds and manipulators. Is that really the kind of attention you want?"

Dazai's expression softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "I know it's risky," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But think about what we could achieve together. With our combined talent and charisma, we could dominate the industry. This could be our ticket to the top."

You hesitated, torn between your reservations and the tantalizing prospect of fame and success. The allure of the spotlight was undeniable, but at what cost? Could you really trust Dazai to have your best interests at heart, or was this just another one of his manipulative schemes?

As you weighed your options, the air between you crackled with tension, the silence stretching taut with unspoken possibilities. And in that moment, you knew that whatever decision you made would irrevocably alter the course of your career—and perhaps your life.

For a moment, you considered leaving, quitting the project before it even began, but the thought of walking away from such a high-profile opportunity filled you with dread. Instead, you looked back at Dazai, your expression unreadable. "I guess I have no choice," you said ironically. "If you insist on being such a jerk, I'll play your game. But remember, you're the one who's going to end up regretting this. Just wait until I show my true colors, and the world sees what a fucking asshole you really are."

With those words, You turned your back on Dazai, ignoring his derisive snort as you walked out of the room. You could feel his eyes burning into your back, and for a moment, you wondered if you had made the right decision. But then you reminded herself that you didn't need to like him; you only needed to tolerate him. After all, there was no way you could afford to lose your job over their petty feud.

Osamu couldn't help but smirk as he watched you storm off, your back rigid with anger and defiance. He had never cared about your opinion, but he still found himself curious about your reaction to his antics. There was something about your fierce determination and independence that intrigued him, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever decided to fight back against him.

Without thinking, Dazai grabbed you by the arm. “Hey, I’m still talking to you, belladonna.” He smirked. “Don’t think you could run away from me so easily.”

“Huh? Get lost!” You said firmly. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You gnashed your teeth while stepping closer to him, stepping on his foot.

Dazai’s grin widened as he felt your foot press down on his foot. It was clear that you were furious, and he reveled in the knowledge that he had managed to rile you up so quickly.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know you love it when I tease you like this," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's part of my charm." His smile turned mischievous. "Besides, I think I deserve some credit for getting you to stay after all."

“Oh, don’t be so cheeky.” You said while rolling your eyes. He was still holding your arm, like he didn’t want to let you go.

"I am being cheeky, hmm?" Osamu retorted, his voice low and dangerous. "And you know it. Don't play innocent, sweetheart. We both know you secretly enjoy the attention I give you."

"I do not!" You spat, glaring at him. "You are such a jerk."

"Is that so?" Dazai asked, his tone still light and carefree "I am?" Osamu arched an eyebrow. "You really believe that, don't you?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know you want me to keep doing it, right?"

"Shut up! I hate you, demon prodigy. You know how much I dislike you?” You said stepping on his foot even more heavily. Putting your face close to his.

Osamu laughed, the sound harsh and unpleasant. "So, you say you hate me?" He took a step closer, pressing his body against yours. "Well, I hate you too, sweetheart. But we can't seem to get rid of each other, can we?"

He moved his hand up to cup your face, turning your head so their gazes locked. "But that doesn't mean I can't make your life miserable, does it?" Your faces were to close, a single word could make your lips touch.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension as Dazai looked into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing its outline. "If you don't want me to keep bothering you, then you should tell me to stop. If you do, I'll back off and leave you alone."

“Just shut up.” You said and finally pressed your lips against his.

Your tongues tangled together, Dazai's fingers digging into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. He was rough, demanding, and yet there was something undeniably compelling about the kiss.

As if he couldn't help himself, he deepened the kiss, taking control of the situation completely.

Osamu gripped you tightly, using all his strength to hold you in place. When he pulled away, he let out a loud laugh, a harsh bark of humorless mirth. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Osamu broke away from the kiss, leaving you panting and gasping for air. His breath was hot against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry.

Osamu smirked, the smug expression making your blood boil. “I think you're enjoying it,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You know what? I'm going to keep doing it until you beg me to stop.”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you above your head, pinning you against the wall. “Now, let's see how long you can last before you give in to my charms, hmm?”

Dazai leaned in again, pressing his body against yours once more. This time, he didn't use his tongue; instead, he bit down hard on your bottom lip.

“Fuck…” You said between heavy breaths.

“Mmm, that's my girl.” Dazai grinned, showing off his teeth. “Keep screaming out your protests, sweetheart. I love it when you fight me like this. Makes it all the more fun.”

With that, he licked at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Then, he released it, only to bite down harder. The pain was intense, almost unbearable, but it also had a strange sort of pleasure attached to it.

Osamu's hand moved to your breast, cupping it through your dress. He squeezed it gently, then twisted it, causing her nipple to pierce through the fabric. The sensation was both excruciating and exquisite.

“A-Ah! Fuck!” You yelled, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Osamu laughed softly, his smile growing wider. “You're so cute when you get mad,” he said, still holding onto your breast. “But remember, you asked for this, sweetheart. You wanted to play with the big boys, right?”

He released your breast, letting go of it. Instead, he began to run his fingers up and down your spine, making sure to tease you wherever possible. As he did so, he gave you breasts a rough tug, forcing your chest to arch upwards.

“Now, tell me, do you want me to continue or should I stop?” he asked, his tone casual and nonchalant. Osamu knew that he could push you to the breaking point, but he also knew that you would never say no to him.

You were breathless, your heart racing. Your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn't help but feel hot and bothered by his actions. It was clear that he enjoyed tormenting you, and you found yourself wondering if you should just let him have his way with you.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely audible over your panting. “... Fuck. Just keep going.”

Osamu nodded, his grin widening even further. “As you wish, my dear,” he said, giving you another hard pinch between your legs. This time, however, he made sure to rub against your thigh, pressing it against your sensitive flesh.

The sensation was incredibly intense, and it left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. But you didn't seem to mind; instead, you moaned softly, your body reacting to the stimulation.

Dazai's hands roamed across your back, tracing every curve and line. His fingers brushed against your skin, leaving trails of heat and desire in their wake. He grabbed hold of your ass, squeezing it tightly, before giving it a sharp smack.

“I'm going to fuck you, dear.” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I'm going to make you mine, and I'll never let you go.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers.

The sensation of his finger pressing against your entrance made you shudder, your skin feeling sensitive and exposed. It was then that you realized just how vulnerable you was in this situation, and it scared you. But for some reason, it was addictive.

Still, you didn't back away from him, even though you knew he had the power to hurt you. Instead, you just looked at him, you eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, Osamu. Please, keep going.”

Osamu chuckled, his amusement evident in the twinkle of his eyes. He leaned back slightly, keeping his finger pressed firmly against your entrance as he glanced up at you.

“You're adorable when you beg, sweetheart. So cute and pathetic. But you know what? You asked for this, so you get exactly what you deserve.”

Without warning, he pulled his finger out of you, leaving you aching and needy.

Osamu chuckled, his smile wicked and predatory. He continued to tease you, gently rubbing your clit and pushing his finger deeper into you tight hole.

“You're such a good girl, aren't you?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “So obedient and submissive, like a dog. Always ready to do whatever your master tells you to do. But I bet you haven't ever asked what your master wants, right? I mean, it's only fair to ask before you start serving him, isn't it?”

The moment he pulled out, you whimpered, your body desperate for more. You wanted to cry out, to beg him to continue, but you knew it would only encourage him further. So instead, you just watched him, waiting for his next move.

As he sat up, you noticed something odd about his expression—it was almost as if he was enjoying himself. And yet, there was something cruel about the way he was treating you, something that made you want to run away from him.

But you couldn't leave. Not when he had you trapped in this bathroom.

“Dazai…” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “What do you want from me?”

Osamu laughed again, a harsh sound that echoed through the small space. His gaze never left hers as he spoke.

“I'm doing this because I hate you,” he said simply. “I think you're a terrible actress, and I can't stand the sight of you. Plus, it's fun to see you squirm and beg for mercy.

He reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you close enough that your bodies were practically touching. He let go of you, however, and stood up, taking a few steps backward.

“Now, come here, belladonna. I want to fuck you until you beg for my cum.”

You sit down on the cold sink of bathroom and spread your legs, waiting for him.

Osamu smirked at your submission, a dark satisfaction curling deep within him. He walked towards you, his every step heavy with purpose and determination. When he finally reached you, he took hold of your hips and began to push your legs apart, making sure you were fully exposed and vulnerable.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear. “You know how much I hate you, right? Well, I hate you even more when you look like this, all pretty and helpless. It makes me feel powerful.”

With that, he released your hips and took hold of your thighs, lifting them off the ground and exposing your cunt completely.

As soon as he lifted your legs, you could feel his hardness pressing against your sensitive flesh. You shivered, feeling the chill of the air on your most intimate parts. Your heart raced, fear coursing through your veins. But still, you didn't try to stop him or fight back. Instead, you waited, your eyes wide and filled with fear and anticipation.

Osamu smirked once more before pushing into your tight, wet entrance. The sensation was intense, almost painful, but he continued to press forward, slowly filling you with his thick member. He gently rocked his hips, causing his cock to rub against your walls in a way that felt both rough and pleasurable.

As he did so, he couldn't help but grind out words against your neck. “Fuck, you're so tight. You'll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

The pressure inside you grew unbearable, but you tried not to let it show. Instead, you bit your lip and tried to focus on something else, anything else. All you could think about was how much you hated him, how much you wanted to make him suffer. But the thought of doing so only made you feel guilty and ashamed.

Osamu moaned softly, his voice low and rumbling against your neck. His hands clenched tightly onto your thighs, keeping your legs raised and exposed as he continued to pound into your with fierce intensity. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he would do whatever it took to make you suffer.

The sound of his moans echoed throughout the bathroom, the only thing breaking the silence besides their heavy breathing. Despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying himself, there was no love or affection in his actions; rather, it was all fueled by anger and hatred.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you found yourself unable to move or speak. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and every time he moved, it caused your insides to writhe and protest. The thought of having sex with someone you hated so much was sickening, but at this point, you had no choice but to endure it.

You tried to bite down on your own lip, hoping to muffle some of the sounds of discomfort that were escaping your mouth. But it was no use; your moans were too loud and too frequent for you to keep quiet. And even though you knew that he would only use it against you later, you couldn't help but give in to the pleasure, however small it may be.

Osamu groaned out loud, his voice rough and strained as he felt his orgasm approaching. It was almost painful, the way he had to force himself to continue moving. But he wouldn't stop until he had finished, and when he finally did, he collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing you against the bathroom sink.

He pulled out of her with a grunt, his eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath. Then, without warning, he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you opened your mouth to say something, he cut her off with a harsh glare.

"You think you can get away with your little tricks?" he growled, his tone dark and threatening. "Well, guess again."

He felt his climax approaching, so he released all inside of you, and as soon as you left, Dazai let out a sigh, his face twisting into a scowl. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. "Why does she have to be so difficult? It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of her. This is going to be a nightmare." He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I swear, sometimes I wish I could just strangle her and be done with it."

[imagine-darksiders]

Eden's Heir, chapter 6.

Prison break.

Summary: You manage to get your hands on Vulgrim's precious artifact. War is nice to you in his own, strange way, and Strife is his usual self.

------------------------

War has never been one to hide his true motivations behind crooked smiles and sly glances. Their eldest, Death, used to say that of all the Nephilim to be born from the dust of angels and demons, War was always the most forthright. Abnormally so.

Even among his ilk, he was the odd-one-out. Too fair, too just, 'getting to be a little too much like those damned birds.'

Why? Because he doesn't care for lies? As if Angels can't be just as underhanded and amoral as demons. Still, those who threw critique his way usually ended up leaving sadder but wiser, and often sporting broken bones and a new gap between their teeth courtesy of either himself or Fury. Death was more the sort for dolling out verbal degradation, and Strife... Well, Strife wasn't around a lot when War was still a whelp.

Regardless, perhaps it's that very forthrightness that means it doesn’t concern War in the slightest to be staring at you as he is, nor that you’ve been casting several, perturbed glances up at the underside of his chin before snatching your eyes away again every few seconds, evidently rattled by his unwavering attention.

Conversely unashamed and indiscreet, War has absolutely no qualms about frowning down at the small human in his arms, regarding you as one would a piece of mildly interesting trivia he’s never encountered before but is determined to decipher.

Truly, you’re nothing at all like the humans he’s heard about.

Humans aren’t fighters. Eden was a historically peaceful place, the name itself synonymous with Paradise. And yet only moments ago, War had borne witness as one of its prior denizens pulled a tiny blade from out of nowhere, and with a feverous desperation carving lines into your face, you’d plunged that blade into the hand of the gumptious demon who snatched you up.

… Belatedly, War realises he’ll have to tell Strife to be more thorough the next time he goes snooping for hidden weapons.

Humans adapted well to their new home on Earth, faster than anybody thought they would. They’re sturdy and solidly built, well-defined in body, and often ungainly in how they carry and present themselves; perfectly suited to learn the pursuits of agriculture, crafting and gathering.

You, however, stand as a stark contradiction to your entire species.

You’re soft. Graceful in your extravagant raiment, but inarguably fragile, far more-so than your fellow human, which is saying something.

War has felt the jarring give of your skin under his blade.

Strife has not.

War has tested the pressure of his grasp on your limbs and found them astoundingly delicate.

… Strife has not.

It’s why his brother’s actions riled War so fiercely after throwing you across a Creator-forsaken pit of lava onto this stone platform. He’s not certain Strife quite grasps the magnitude of the situation, nor the implications of a human being here in the first place. For you to turn up in the Void, speaking Common, dressed like a pampered Seraphim… it raises a series of rather urgent questions.

But to even have a hope of getting them answered, he and Strife ideally need to keep you alive...

… If only he could figure out how to get that notion through his brother’s thick skull…

Blinking out of his musings, War sees you raise your eyes to peer up at him again, although in this instance, much to his unspoken surprise, you don’t look away. Whilst certainly anxious, there’s a spark of something else tangled within the labyrinthine strands of your unusual irises, something that nearly has an invisible thread tugging at one corner of his mouth.

At last, it seems you’ve rediscovered the same nerve that called you to defend yourself from the demon.

“Put me down,” you utter quietly in a voice that quavers with the effort of keeping it level. You even maintain bold eye contact as you say it.

Again, War almost has to admire your gumption to demand something of one of the Four...

Almost.

If he were a curious Nephilim like his brother, he would probably concede that, yes, there is something about you that invites fascination. Like a mystery that hasn’t yet revealed its secrets.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, merely holds your watery gaze expectantly until you either remember yourself and lower your eyes or-

“Please, put me down?”

And just like that, War’s unspoken admonition is knocked off its tracks.

He hadn’t been expecting… He thought you’d just…

… Oh.

In hindsight, he supposes it was rather foolish of him to expect a human to adhere to the same social rules as another species, and he has to remind himself that just because you’re still meeting his stare, you aren’t being deliberately provocative.

Just… naive.

But why would you know of his reputation? Or of the tall tales whispered by nervous, fledgeling angels who like to try and frighten each other with stories… Stories about what happens to those who are unlucky or unwise enough to look the Horseman, War, in his eye.

Your ‘please’ is foreign to him. He knows of its usage, of course, but to hear it spoken so liberally… It’s as though you assumed ‘please’ was what he was waiting for. Is offering it a human’s way of showing deference?

Curious…

“Ahem…”

The sound of a throat being cleared snaps through War’s thoughts like the crack of a whip.

Quick as a flash, the scowl that had been gradually lifting from his expression slams back into place, and he turns his heated glare onto Strife, who stands in front of him with his arms folded neatly across a silver chest and his helm cocked to one side, eyes narrowed accusingly.

“You done being greedy, or are you gonna share?”

War’s scoff, and your huff occur at the same time, leading the two of you to share a brief glance before the former gives his eyes an exaggerated roll and finally, finally obliges, lowering you to the ground as swiftly as he can while maintaining a strange air of caution that betrays how breakable he thinks you are.

Large, metal gauntlets slide out from underneath your legs, depositing you on a flat piece of stone that’s relatively clean of demon blood.

The very instant you’re free, you only hesitate long enough to squeak out a hurried ‘thanks!’ before tearing yourself away from the gauntlet that hovers behind you and stumble several paces off to the side, putting some much-needed distance between you and the Horsemen. You almost trip over the train of your dress in the process.

Clinging to your elbows, you have to stuff your teeth into your lower lip to stop the sound of despair bursting out through pursed lips.

Your legs may as well be replaced with toothpicks for all the support they’re giving you. Terrible possibilities have begun to swirl across the mire of your brain.

What if you hadn’t found your nail file in time…?

What if Strife had never returned your bag?

You shudder, overwhelmed by the feeling that you’ve landed on the right side of a coin-flip, by no other will than dumb-fucking-luck.

You’ve never come that close to certain death before. You never want to come that close again.

At your back, unseen, Strife gives you a fleeting once-over, only returning his eyes to your veil when he doesn’t spot any immediate damage.

With his typical flair for bad timing and inability to read a room, he stretches his mouth into a hidden, cocksure grin, gives an approving nod and declares, “You did good, kid.”

Giving a harsh sniff, you tip your head towards the ceiling and let out a sharp, brassy laugh, utterly devoid of humour.

“Good?” you echo, rounding on the Horseman, your lungs still feeling two sizes too small when you draw breath, “GOOD!? I could have died! I almost did!”

“Almost!” Strife parrots eagerly, venturing a few steps towards you and spreading his arms out wide, apparently unbothered by your brazen reproach, “You almost died. But you didn’t.”

“That isn’t reassuring, Strife!” you wail.

Shaking fingers lift to try and thread through your hair, only to meet the barrier of your veil. Thwarted, you let your arms flop bonelessly back down against your sides and curl your hands into fists. “I’m not…-!”

But the words won’t come. Instead, you fall silent, realising how redundant it would be to say, ‘I’m not like you,’ out loud.

Christ, what an understatement.

You’re not the type to look at an ‘almost death’ and consider it a triumph. It’s a nightmare. You want to avoid death! That’s the most human instinct of all.

You shouldn’t even be here. You’re not like these two larger-than-life beings from another world. You can’t shoot guns like a master marksman, you can’t swing a sword that’s longer than you are tall, and you certainly can’t make impossible jumps that seem to defy gravity itself.

Hell, you can’t even stand up to your own fiancé and his family…

Sullen, despondent, you allow the adrenaline to seep out of you like water from a leaky pail, leaving you with limbs that feel far too heavy, and a head that’s tired as death.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” you eventually murmur to yourself, resisting the urge to scrub at your eyes lest you spread mascara all over your face. Your heart thunders inside your chest, palms slick with the heat, but more so with the creep of dread that rises in your belly as you picture the demon’s rancid maw in your mind’s eye and grit your teeth, unable to quell the waves of anxiety crashing against you like breakers that pummel a rocky cliff.

All the while, Strife is busy trying to pluck a response from midair, racking his brain for reasons as to why you can’t just ‘get out of here.’

Then, to his surprise and your own, the silence is broken, and it’s War’s stoic voice that brings a pause to the hopelessness dragging your soul down into the pit of your stomach.

“That was a Slag Demon.”

Blinking, you knit your brows into a frown and lift your eyes to the Horseman’s hoodless face. “Excuse me?”

And War, evidently sincere in every aspect, assumes you didn’t hear him, and repeats himself. “That was a Slag Demon.”

Once again, your eyelids flutter in a series of rapid blinks. “Yeah, I… I heard you,” you reply falteringly, “I just-“

“That demon,” he cuts you off, sending you a pointed look, “was forged in the deepest blast furnaces of Hell. They’re deceptively fast, almost invulnerable, and notoriously hard to kill.”

When he falls silent and doesn’t continue for several moments, you shift your weight and awkwardly drawl out, “… Oh-kay~?”

What the Hell is he getting at?

The way he’s peering down at you is… odd, you decide. He still has that perpetual scowl on his face, but the eyes under his furrowed brow seem… brighter, somehow, not quite as piercing and disparaging as they were before.

You’re not sure you like it any better.

Appraising you for a few more seconds, War gives a solemn nod, and states, “You found a weakness. You used what you had at your disposal to gain the upper hand.” Then, after taking a brief moment to consider his next words, he must eventually deem you worthy of them because he averts his gaze and scowls off at the distant stalactites, grunting, “It was a good kill.”

… Your jaw nearly hits the ground.

And judging by the way Strife’s helmeted head snaps around to send a wide-eyed stare at his larger brother, you suppose War must not say this sort of thing very often.

Looking down at yourself, you take in the meringue wedding dress, the ruffled tulle and overall extravagance of your attire.

“But…” Your tongue darts out apprehensively to wet your lips, “But I didn’t even kill it.”

Turning away from you, War begins to march back over to the grate, stopping only long enough to retrieve his enormous sword from the ground.

He barely takes a second to mull over his next answer as he slings the blade into its proper place along his spine. “You created the opening that gave Strife a clear shot,” he tells you, coming to a halt above the iron bars set into the floor and twitching his head towards you, his profile obscured by long, ice-white hair, “It counts.”

And with that, he reaches up to thread large, metal fingers into his hood and flips the crimson fabric up and over his head, once again hiding his face in dark, familiar shadow.

For… quite some time, you’re left speechless, gawping at the back of War’s head, and reeling now from the near-death experience and the unexpected approval of one of the scariest men you’ve ever met. A glance down at your hands confirms they’re still shaking, fingers tight and rigid like the bones under your skin have locked up.

“…Well,” Strife chimes in, heaving his massive shoulders in a shrug, “Good thing I don’t mind sharing.”

Sauntering over to you, he lifts an arm as if he’s about to drape it across your back, but the moment you see him coming, you lurch into motion and start after his brother, following the path War had picked through the dead imps, all the while trying to avoid glancing down at their cold, dead eyes.

Only thrown for a moment, Strife is quick to recover, waltzing after you and continuing, “So! Big day. You killed your first demon, kind of. How d’you feel?”

Your mouth twists up into a grimace. “Like I’m going to pass out, throw up, have a heart attack then die. In that order.”

Which is eerily similar to how you felt walking up the steps to the church.

The panic is… well, it’s definitely still there. The threat of a downward spiral haunts the edge of your mind, always keeping itself in the periphery. But for now, War’s stoic assessment has apparently shocked you so much, it broke the nosedive you were about to take into a total fit of hopelessness.

The Horseman beside you barks out a laugh and takes a few loping steps until he’s swaggering along beside you, the heavy ‘clunk’ of his boots drowning out the ‘clicks’ of your heels. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep a closer eye on you, next time.”

“Next time?” you sputter, brows shooting up towards the top of your veil, “I-I am not planning on doing this again.”

“Eh.” With a dismissive waft of his hand, he replies, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Now c’mon! Sooner we get the artifact, the sooner we can be outta this heat.”

Well. You suppose you have to agree with him on that front.

The sudden clatter of metal skittering across the ground nearly has you jumping out of your shoes.

At your side, Strife jerks to a halt, his boot lifted halfway off the ground and his helm tipped down to search for the thing he’d inadvertently kicked with the toe of his sabatons. His keen eye latches onto it at once, and he utters a sound of intrigue at the back of his throat.

Following his gaze, you hone in on the little object that’s still skidding several paces away from you before it slides to a stop, laying small and shiny on the dark stone.

Stooping down, Strife reaches out a hand to gather the little object into his palm.

“Huh, guess it was knocked when I shot that big bastard...” he mutters, rising to his full height and unfurling each finger one by one, peering down at his prize, “I thought you didn’t have any weapons in there.”

Turning towards you, he holds up your bloodied nail-file as he jerks his chin at your bag.

Admittedly, you’re surprised to see it again, and even more surprised at the surge of gratitude that courses through you at the prospect of being reunited with something from the real world.

“Technically speaking,” you sniff, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “A nail file isn’t a weapon.”

Bringing it close to his visor, Strife tilts his head and squints at it, humming dubiously as he runs the pad of his finger over the coarse metal, giving the end a testing tap.

“… It looks like a dagger,” he points out, “… A very small dagger.”

“Or a toothpick,” his brother grumbles up ahead.

“Well, it isn’t either of those things… It’s just something I use to keep my nails tidy…” At the incredulous glances you receive – one from Strife and one from War who deigns to cast you a bemused look over his shoulder – you breathe a weary sigh and thrust your hand out towards the former of the pair expectantly. “Look, can I just… have it back?”

In truth, you half expect him to refuse, whether to simply get a rise out of you or to mitigate your temptation to attack them with the nail file – not that you’d be so foolish.

So, when Strife extends an arm and holds your ‘weapon’ out towards you, you can’t help but let your jaw drop open in undisguised shock.

“Sure,” he says breezily, “I ain’t gonna keep it. More of a gun man, myself. And War’d be embarrassed to be seen with a blade this small.”

You don’t know whether you’re supposed to take offence to that or not.

“Here,” Strife offers again, lowering his upturned palm in the private hopes of coaxing you closer when you just continue to gape at his appendage, “Take it.”

Warily, you start inching your hand up towards his, keeping your eye on the silver helm and those piercing, golden eyes that drill right into you with attentive wonder.

Swallowing thickly, you dare to flick your gaze down to the nail-file, still sitting pretty at the centre of his palm… Up this close, you spot something that threatens to turn your stomach inside out.

“Ew! There’s blood all over it!” you exclaim, retracting your outstretched hand like he’s trying to give you a live snake.

Indeed, it isn’t the silvery metal that’s glinting in the firelight, but a coating of thick, shiny blood that’s already begun to dry on the file’s roughly-hewn surface.

Strife – who had given a start at your exclamation – pauses, then blinks and cocks his brow down at the offending blood sticking to your weapon.

“Oh, so-rry, Princess,” he chuckles, lifting the file to his cowl and wiping it several times against the fabric, smearing dark flakes of blood into the wool before he holds it out towards you again, “That better?”

Tipping your nose into the air, you give the file a thorough once over. Deeming it adequately clean, you at last reach up to pluck it from his grip, holding it gingerly between your thumb and forefinger. “Much. Thanks.”

You’ve turned away before you can see his eyes glow brighter, considerably pleased with himself.

By the time he stops sticking out his chest, you’ve already reached his brother, stopping a respectable distance away near the opposite side of the grate.

War doesn’t even spare you a cursory glance. Instead, he stands still and strong as a statue, his frost-blue eyes scrutinising the bars with rigid focus.

You don’t dare ask him why he hasn’t retrieved his ‘artifact’ yet.

“Hey, War. What’s the holdup?”

Apparently, you and Strife are on the same wavelength. How disconcerting.

A metal elbow suddenly brushes against your side as a titanic body disregards your own personal space and sidles up next to you, pulling a gasp from your lips that goes entirely ignored while Strife addresses his brother over the top of your head. “You gonna grab the artifact or what?”

Grumbling under his breath, War raises his eyes to fix his fellow Horseman with a stony scowl.

“The grate,” he retorts darkly, tossing a hand at the ground as if the answer should have already been obvious, “It’s locked.”

“Oh,” Strife answers flatly, though it isn’t long before he plants a decisive fist on his hip and declares, “Well, then we’ll just have to find the key…” Swivelling around in place, he casts an eye around the chamber and adds, “Maybe the demon had it?”

… You hate to point out the obvious, especially when you haven’t been invited to do so, but…

“Um… You mean the demon that just fell over the side?” you venture.

A thick, uncomfortable silence ensues, during which you’re sure you must have offended him somehow, because Strife’s body goes utterly motionless, and War huffs a breath through his nose.

“… I see your point,” the former concedes at last, and you realise he isn’t angry, just... bashful.

Another derisive sound escapes from the larger Horseman’s mouth, prompting Strife’s helm to snap towards his brother. “Well, you’re the strong one,” he gripes, “Just tear out the bars.”

Now it’s War’s turn to stop and ponder. He casts a sideways glance down at you, regarding you briefly from the shadow of his hood. By the time you’ve lifted your eyes to his face, he’s already turned away, cracking his neck with an audible ‘Pop!’

“Very well,” he rumbles.

It’s a little prideful of him – and Creator knows Death would expect better - yet War can’t help but wonder if you’ll be awed by a show of might. Maybe you’ll be afraid... Moreso than at present.

Pounding a fist into his gauntlet, he lowers his immense bulk down onto one knee and slides his fingers around the bars, rolling his shoulders as he prepares to demonstrate the raw, physical strength of the Red Ri-

“-Can’t you just… reach in and grab it?” you ask, cleanly derailing War’s train of thought and knocking the wind from his sails, “I mean, it looks small enough to fit through the bars, right?”

… Well, War supposes that’s a fair suggestion, but for one not-so-small problem.

Without turning to look at you, War simply holds up his gauntlet and flexes the metallic fingers into a fist.  “I would not get my knuckles through,” he states simply, bobbing his head sideways at his brother, “Nor would Strife.”

“Oh,” you falter, shrinking backwards and stuffing a canine into your bottom lip whilst the Horseman curls his hands around the bars once more.

“Um, why don’t I take a crack at it then?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you find yourself wishing you could snatch them out of the air and stuff them back behind your teeth.

Of all the fool things you could have said, why on Earth would you offer to put your hands anywhere near a stone that’s glowing like raw Uranium?

But it’s too late.

Strife has turned a thoughtful, wide-eyed gaze onto War, who returns it with the slightest parting of his brows.

“… Why didn’t we think of that?” Strife posits.

Before you can verbally – and physically – backtrack, War has already twisted his torso about and wrapped his colossal fist around your forearm, notably aiming for the one he hadn’t sliced open with his sword.

Warm metal engulfs your appendage all the way up to your elbow, and though you try to resist, he hardly seems to notice your efforts as he tugs you towards his side, then lowers his hand, leaving you with no choice but to follow its weight and drop to your knees in front of the grate, wincing as they bump against the hard stone beneath your dress.

“Here,” he says firmly, allowing you to snatch your arm back in favour of pointing his finger down at the glowing crystal, “Reach down and take it.”

Curling your hand into your chest, you give your head a shake and protest, “I can’t!”

“You just said you could!” Strife rebuffs.

That you did… “But-!” Wracking your brain, you add, “But what if it’s like… radioactive or something!?”

Visibly, the Horseman balks. “Ray-dee-oh… what?”

War’s eyes start to roll towards the ceiling as he listens to your back and forth with his brother, and he considers whether it would have been faster to rip the grate out of the stone after all.

You proposed a solution however, and in his frank opinion, you ought to stick by it.

The massive gauntlet enters your peripheral just as you open your mouth to shoot another argument up at Strife, but no sooner have the metal tips of War’s fingers ghosted across your arm than you wrench it away, whipping around to face him with startled eyes.

Hastily, you hold up your hands in surrender.

“Okay! Alright!” you acquiesce, “Jesus, just… give me a second…”

Flicking part of the veil over your shoulder, you lean forwards and brace yourself with one hand on a bar, lowering your torso down to stretch your other hand down and into the pit below, fingers blindly fishing around for the Vulgrim’s precious artifact.

When they brush against a warm, smooth surface, you can’t refrain from yelping and snatching your hand back as if it had moved.

The leathery smack of a gun being drawn from its holster reaches your ears.

“You okay?” Strife demands, shifting his weight restlessly.

Swallowing back your embarrassment, you nod and reply, “Uh, yeah, yeah. It’s just hot!”

“Hot enough to burn you?” War cuts in with a rough growl.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you brave another go, reaching down and brushing your fingertips hesitantly over the surface of the crystal. Though it is disconcertingly warm to the touch – no doubt from the ambient heat in the atmosphere – you realise with a third stroke that it isn’t anywhere near as hot as you feared it would be.

“No,” you sigh, only partially relieved.

The massive presences surrounding you relax slightly.

“Good,” Strife murmurs, raising his voice to add, “Can you get it loose?”

You can, as it turns out. Quite easily in fact. The crystal isn’t being held in any kind of clamp. To your mounting astonishment, it seems to simply float in midair.

“This is so freaky~,” you sing to yourself as you slide your palm down the long side of it, feeling for the pointed base and cupping your fingers around it with an audible gulp.

The whole crystal seems to buzz and hum under your touch, sending an eerie tingle racing up the length of your arm and raising the hairs all the way up to the back of your neck.

According to all sense and reason, this thing is nothing more than a pretty, pink crystal. But here, where sense and reason have been turned on their heads, pulled inside out and shaken up like a vodka martini, the thing in your hand is no more a mere crystal than the Horsemen are mere men.

Trying very hard to ignore how much the fluctuating thrum beneath your fingertips reminds you of a pulse, you clench your jaw tight, close your eyes, and pull… with a little too much force.

It’s lighter than you expected it to be. Nearly weightless. And it slips straight through the bars of its prison without even dinging against the sides.

Letting out an undignified bleat, you teeter backwards and land painfully on your backside, the crystal smacking against your bosom before falling from your trembling fingers and sliding safely into the soft, white fabric of your skirts.

Cracking your eyelids apart, you blink down at your lap, chest stuttering on a breath. “I… I got it?”

That was…decidedly easy…

Well, aside from almost getting eaten by a demon in your quest to find the damn thing.

The soft, pink glow of the crystal lights up your face as you peer down at it, glittering off your wedding dress and bathing the fabric folds in warmth.

“Wow,” you hear yourself whisper.

With cautious awe, your fingers wander towards it and slip gently around your rescued prize.

You’re so busy admiring the smooth, faultless lines that you don’t notice the shadow of a hand falling across your shoulders until War’s gauntlet has slid beneath your arm.

Aside from blurting out a squawk, you helplessly have to let yourself be lifted with unnerving ease onto your feet, still clutching the crystal close to your breast.

“Good job, kid,” Strife declares, slapping a palm on your back.

If War’s fingers hadn’t tightened around your arm at the moment, you’re sure you’d go tumbling over onto your face.

The force of the larger Horseman’s warning growl sends tremors through his gauntlet and down into the toes of your shoes, rattling the teeth in your skull.

Strife, pleasantly unfussed by his brother’s idle threat, leans over your shoulder as War releases you, and together, you all stare down at the crystal in your arms.

“Wonder what this thing’s worth to that soul-sucking ghoul,” Strife remarks after nobody breaks the quiet hush that’s fallen over you, as though he can’t bear to sit in silence for too long. Bringing his gauntlet up to rub at the chin of his helm, he thoughtfully adds, “We could always convince Vulgrim to throw in a little extra…”

At his suggestion, a tiny frown-line blooms to life between your brows. It is a very pretty gem… but while you know next to nothing about demons, you aren’t sure you like the idea of trying to bargain with one, not when your run-in with one of Vulgrim’s ilk had almost ended so disastrously.

You don’t know if it should come as a shock or not when War’s shoulders bristle moments later, and he bares his canines at Strife, his cavernous chest puffing up until you have to lean sideways to avoid getting jostled by it.

“The artifact, in exchange for information,” he snarls dangerously, “We will honour our agreement.”

‘Honour among Horsemen of the Apocalypse?’ you muse privately, ‘Wonders will never cease.’

Though only in War’s case, evidently. Strife just heaves an obnoxious sigh and tosses his helm back, “Ugh, you have no ambition… Why’ve you gotta be such a killjoy?”

War’s lips start to curl even further apart.

“So!” you quickly interrupt the broiling fracas, “We’ve got the… this thing-“ You shrug the crystal in your palms. “-H-how exactly do we get back?”

That, at least, gets the pair of bickering brothers to fall silent and pivot their attention from one another onto you. War’s expression is still as stony as ever, but you consider it a win that he looks marginally less murderous.

“Huh,” Strife says, “That’s a good question.”

Rumbling at the base of his throat, War grunts, "It would be prudent to find a way out of this realm as quickly as possible."

"Oh?" A mischievous glint sparks in his brother's keen gaze. "And here I thought you were.... warming up to the place."

Unbidden, a short puff of laughter is scoffed right off your tongue, more amused by how bad the joke was than the joke itself.

Either way, Strife's chest fills out proudly as his helm quirks towards you, one eyelid flashing closed behind the visor in a wink.

Oblivious, War just grumbles, "You know your humour escapes me."

And quick as a whip, Strife returns, "All humour escapes you."

Giving a brusque shake of his head, the larger Horseman decides it isn't worth getting into this argument for the umpteenth time. Turning his attention down to you and the crystal in your hands, he beckons with a gauntlet for you to step closer.

"Come. If we retrace our steps, we may be able to-"

You never get to hear the end of his sentence.

It isn’t that you’re particularly unlucky, you think… God, you hope. You’ve never thought yourself significant enough that the Universe would have it out for you personally, after all.

But when the ground suddenly disappears from under your feet in a blinding flash of vivid, blue light, and the deafening rush of air buffets your dress and boxes your eardrums, you can’t help wondering if you’ve somehow - in some unwitting way - slighted the powers that be, and now they’re playing their revenge card.

Which is a hassle for you, because you’ve had just about enough of portals and getting whisked off to places unknown for one day.

The last thing you see as you throw your head up and open your mouth to release a scream that’ll be sucked away with you as your atoms once again rearrange themselves to fit through a spatial rip, is Strife’s luminous, golden eyes flaring hotly like bursting stars – a direct contrast to the cool, ethereal blue of his brother’s, who’s own gaze opens up in surprise and, you think, alarm, one gauntlet outstretched in your direction.

And that’s all you manage to glimpse before the light overtakes you, and your body is yanked like a fish on a hook into the luminiferous aether.

[queenie-official]

Part Two Of Summer Love: ‘The Lie’

series masterlist celebration event camp logo

pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x fem!reader

word count: 11k next part

Monday, 5:00 a.m.

"way too fucking early" you grumbled to yourself staring at the date and time on your phone.

"you'll get used to it" Padme says; walking into the room already dressed for the day with wet hair she was letting air dry.

you groan, every cell in your body screaming at you to crawl under the blankets and go back to sleep. you could actually do that, campers won't arrive till 8:30; of course, if you did go back to sleep now you won't have time for a shower beforehand unless you skip breakfast.

"what are you plotting over there?" Padme asked with an energy you envied, you look over at her wondering how anyone could be so peppy this early.

"world domination" you answer dryly, falling backwards and letting out a soft 'oof' as your back hits the mattress.

"pretty bold plans for someone who can't even get herself up to use the bathroom" she quips; you grab the pillow from beside you and chuck it vaguely in her direction not bothering to aim because that would mean having to properly get up.

"you'd be surprised what you can get done lying down" you argue only to get smacked in the head by the same pillow you just threw.

"Yeah, like what? more sleeping" you hear her say, the words muffled because you don't bother moving the pillow off of your head.

"also napping, dozing, snoozing, resting- the list goes on really" she pulls the pillow off of your face and gives you an inquisitive look.

"first of all, those are all synonymous. second of all i'm not letting you rot in the bed and skip breakfast" you close your eyes letting out an annoyed whine. "let's go, up and at em" she grabs your hands and starts pulling you up; instead of helping, you relax your body completely forcing her to deal with your dead weight.

she groans but doesn't relent, shifting to let gravity do most of the work and aid her in getting you up. "this trick doesn't work on me y/n, i did it on my older sister growing up" she grunts, somehow pulling harder now. "and guess what she figured out the trick to winning, now i know too" she finally gets you up with one last tug and you slam into her from the momentum.

you both yelp then Padme stumbles backwards causing you to trip on her feet and the next thing you know you're both on the floor. a tangled mess of limbs and wheezing laughter.

"you're stronger than you look Amidala" she giggles then gently pushes you off of her.

"and you're heavier than you look" you gasp dramatics in full swing now.

"how rude" you huff, pulling yourself up from the floor and pretending to storm off angrily. grabbing your shower supplies on the way out.

you drop the act when you turn to close the door behind you smiling brightly at her and sharing one last laugh.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

its easy to forget you and Padme have a third roommate, not just because you two spend all of your time together when you're in the shared room or the fact you both pretend she doesn't exist but mostly because Jasmine seemed pretty content with you guys ignoring her- with everybody in the camp ignoring her in fact.

whenever you ended up in a room alone with Jasmine she would remove herself from the situation. sometimes physically, other times by just busying herself with her phone.

this unspoken system worked great for the entirety of staff week, unfortunately, now campers were going to be introduced. which meant you had to put aside your morals and differences in order to communicate with one another. the campers' safety came first, so an exchange of numbers was in order.

after your shower, and once breakfast was over all the staff stayed in the Log hall for a final speech from the Camp directors before the Campers finally arrived. during this time you all exchanged numbers with one another. obviously you didn't have everyone's number but you all had enough to be able to communicate with one another through at the very least a mutual.

the number you were currently staring at belongs to Jasmine. Padme had given it to you, she bit the bullet and asked her for it while you were busy smiling at the number you'd just received from Anakin.

"i wish i didn't delete her number from my phone after camp last year, then i wouldn't have had to talk to her at all. i just really thought she wouldn't be back this year." Padme sighed. she was sitting next to you, hunched over and leaning into your side. it was like the exchange with Jasmine drained all the energy she had for the day.

"i could have asked her for us" you honestly felt guilty she was the one who did it. as much as you didn't like Jasmine you at the very least had the advantage of not truly knowing her like the rest of the camp did, it would have been easier for you to pretend.

"if i can prevent you from ever having to interact with her one on one, i would do it again one hundred times" she says while turning off her phone, she had to unblock the number once it was added again.

you could only hope that you'd never have to use her phone number. Padme said that it was probably unlikely as long as Jasmine doesn't lose the kids she's in charge of and vice versa, and as long as an emergency doesn't arise.

emergencies weren't a common occurrence at Camp Wookiee and the staff took great pride in that fact, so as far as you were concerned this meant you'd be able to remain contact-free with Jasmine. what could possibly go wrong right?

“you two look rough" Rex's voice pulls you and Padme's attention away from each other and your thoughts.

"thank you Rex, that's just what every lady wants to hear first thing in the morning" Padme's voice was dripping with sarcasm, a sour look on her face as she glared at the man who now sat in front of you two.

"happy to be of service" he answers back just as sarcastically. it's not long before Anakin and Ben find and join you guys.

Ben sat beside Rex and elbowed him in the ribs as a greeting. "the hell was that for!" Rex grumbled and Ben just shrugs.

"you probably deserved it judging from the looks on their faces" he answers with the cross of his arms and a smile. you don't bother hiding your own smile that grows on your face, the corner of your mouth twitching from the urge to giggle.

"you guys ready for the campers to arrive?" Anakin asks from beside you. his choice to sit beside you any chance he got no longer phased you but it still confused you. especially when there was an open seat right beside Padme, you chalked it up to him being nervous to sit next to her.

"yep, we got the list of names from Bail this morning; i've got a lot of returning campers to look after" Padme spoke up first and Anakin leaned in closer towards her, what good it did with you in the middle of them you didn't know.

you leaned back only slightly, fighting off the warmth in your cheeks from how close his face was to yours. his lashes were long and there was the cutest little mole on his chin that you hadn't taken the time to truly notice before.

Ben cleared his throat and Anakin pulled back to look at him, you internally thanked him when you noticed he'd done it for you. you hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath and took the space from Anakin to breathe again calming your racing heart.

his brows furrowed and he grumbled a 'what' to Ben who just rolled his eyes at his friend's ignorance. Padme nudges you and you can see the knowing smile on her face out of the corner of your eye.

"who'd you get for campers y/n?" Rex asks curiously. you honestly hadn't checked yet, it didn't feel necessary until you were face-to-face with all of the campers anyway. it's not like you'd be able to recognize them.

you pull out your phone and open the messages app to Bail's contact after swiping out of Honey's chat. there's a hitch in Anakin's breath from beside you that you decide not to address. "uhh here you guys can just look, i won't know who they are anyway" you hold your phone out to them.

a smile grows on Ben's face when he sees the name of one of the campers "ooo Anakin's gonna be mad about this one" he points at the screen and Rex snickers.

Anakin reaches over and snatches the phone from you, you take a moment to process what just happened before turning to the boy with an annoyed look on your face.

"no way!! You got Ahsoka" you squish your face next to his to look at your own screen, you feel him tense for a moment at your action before he forces his body to relax.

"who is she?" you ask curiously pulling back as he hands you your phone back.

"only Anakin's favorite Camper" Padme answers and you raise a brow. "he's had her the last two years working here." she continued and you turn to him for confirmation.

he has his arms crossed and the beginning of a frown starting to form on his face. "yea and i figured she wasn't coming back this year because she wasn't on my list" he's fully frowning by the end of the sentence.

"Why is she your favorite?" you ask curiously, Ben speaks up before Anakin can.

"honestly she's almost everyone's favorite. Ahsoka's the one kid you never have to worry about following the rules. she even helps the other kids stay in check." Ben answers before Anakin can.

"well maybe she chose the crafts center as one of her activities- and even if she didn't you'll be able to talk to her during breakfast and lunch." you say in hopes of making him feel better.

Anakin opened his mouth to respond but was swiftly interrupted when you were all called to attention by Qui-Gon. the campers had just arrived and were loading off of the Buses.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

when you first had lunch with all of the staff members last week it was incredibly loud and there were only forty of you. now as you stand in front of 100 ornery children you realize just how quiet you guys were in comparison.

The second the campers were loaded off of the bus camp director Windu led them to Center hall also referred to as the camp auditorium. the kids had already been told who their camp counselors were and to ensure each kid was where they belonged you were instructed to look over the roster that was given to you on the way into the hall and check off each name.

the way this worked was simple, there were twelve kids per cabin. Padme, Jasmine, and you were responsible for all twelve kids at Naboo cabin. however, to make things easier each counselor was given four names out of the twelve to look after in particular. so theoretically you only had four kids to worry about.

the three of you stood off to the side waiting for your names to be called so your campers knew where to go. it was awkward, Jasmine stood directly beside you and no one was allowed on their phones. so the usual method of escape was a no-go.

the silence from all three of you was loud. Padme kept busy with the clipboard in her hands fiddling with the pen chained on it. you had reread the twelve names on the list at least twenty times already in lieu of making the situation any more uncomfortable.

Padme and you both shared a breath of relief the second your names were finally called and saw kids stand up and head towards your direction. you both put on your best fake smile and prepared for the fact you'd now have to pretend to like Jasmine at least a little bit.

"Hey everyone!" Padme started off the introductions. "i see a few familiar faces from previous years and some new ones. here at Camp Wookiee we welcome all" she said with a sugar-sweet smile, most of the kids seemed to like her.

you couldn't help but notice the two boys in the back who were snickering to each other though. you made a mental note to keep an eye on them. "let's do roll call" Jasmine spoke up, this was the first time you'd heard her voice and boy was it weird. it felt almost wrong to hear.

what truly shocked you was how cheery she sounded, it's not like you'd really given much thought as to what she sounded like but if you had to guess that never would have been it. talk about a direct contrast from everything you know about her and how she portrayed herself.

Padme looks down at the clipboard in her hand "alright here's how we're gonna go about this, when i say your name you say here and i'll check you off as present. when your name is called the counselor who will be looking after you will raise their hand for you to join their side, of course all three of us will be here if you need something though so don't think you're limited to just your sole carer."

it was interesting to see this side of Padme, she'd always been a tad on the serious side but there was always a more joking aura to her. As she spoke now it felt like encountering some type of politician- okay maybe that was a stretch but honestly, she was a great leader and it showed in the way she spoke to them.

"Ahsoka" Padme read off first, you raise your hand and she greets you with a smile as she walks to stand by your side. "Aubrianna" she says next and you raise your hand once again.

"you can call me Aubri" she corrects and Padme nods, then writes 'Aubri' next to her name. the little girl smiles proudly and comes to stand at your side next to Ahsoka.

"Colton" the shortest boy of the bunch, steps forward and over to the small group forming next to you when he sees your hand raised. he doesn't say anything, looking rather overwhelmed by all of this. you watch as Aubri tries to spark up a conversation with him and he practically folds in on himself.

you softly call Aubri's name and she happily turns to you, a small gesture for her to come over to you and she's giddily rocking on her feet standing directly at your left side. Colton relaxed the second he was alone again and although he didn't say anything you can tell he felt relieved.

Just about every other kid in the group is named before you get the last one for your group. "Zion" Padme finishes with a smile. he was one of the kids snickering earlier, Zion drags his feet over clearly not happy about the arrangements.

the friend he was snickering with, Matteo, was one of the kids under Padme's responsibility. followed by Lily, Quinn, and Ren.

Jasmine got the most boys out of the group to look after. Henry, Jason and Theodore- well Theo actually, that's what he told Padme he preferred to be called. then there was Mia, the one girl assigned to her, she seemed like a sweetheart honestly. not even the look of a complaint on her face when she skipped over to the group.

"Alrighty well now that everyone is accounted for we can get started" Padme was once again the first to speak, very much the natural leader of the Naboo cabin. "we are gonna show you guys around as one big group and then we can split off for free time before lunch, how's that sound?"

Matteo raises his hand and Padme gives him a small nod as a signal to go ahead. "are we gonna be able to hang out with whoever we want during free time?" Padme's brows crease slightly at the question, a sympathetic look growing on her face that makes the boy's instantly sour in turn.

"sorry but we're going to be dividing so that your primary counselor can get to know you better" Matteo scoffs with the most annoyed look an eleven-year-old can muster.

"that's stupid!" he shouts and crosses his arms pouting. Padme doesn't deter nor does she take offense by his very clear distaste towards her at the moment.

"i'm sorry you feel that way, i understand how frustrating it can be to do something you don't want to do, especially when you just want to hang out with your friends." she lowers herself slightly to his level while speaking "but i have to remind you that stupid isn't a nice word and we don't use mean words here."

Matteo seems to fluster in embarrassment at the way Padme is talking to him like a small child, which of course he was but no middle schooler ever wants to admit something like that. "if i promise that we'll have free time later where you'll be able to hang out with your friend, do you promise not to use that word?" she gives him the ultimatum and he doesn't seem sure what to say clearly having expected more of a fight.

it's only when Zion starts laughing that he seems to snap out of it and mutter a quick 'whatever'. Padme is quick to move on from the situation and redirects the whole group to start heading outdoors.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

you plop down on one of the picnic benches near the Camp's Lake. you'd all just finished the tour and gone in your separate directions. Ahsoka, and Aubri seem to get accustomed to you quickly. they both sat directly in front of you and befriended one another instantly.

Colton and Zion on the other hand were proving to be difficult. Zion didn't wanna talk to anyone not out of shyness but simply because he didn't think you guys were worth his time, rather than sitting with the group he sat as far as you would let him. in other words against the nearest tree.

Colton's lack of words was a little bit of shyness and lack of interest, but he at least made the effort to sit with the group. he was on your side of the bench about an arm's length away from you every so often throwing you a glance like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure.

you wanted all the kids to get along but it's not like you could force them to enjoy each other's company, so you decided to do the next best thing. work on getting along with them individually and work your way up.

since the girls were busy chatting and Zion was content sitting by himself and chucking rocks into the lake you decided Colton would be the first on your list to befriend. you just had to figure out how to approach him without scaring him away.

"i like your shirt" you start simple. at first he doesn't acknowledge you but when he realizes that statement is directed to him he finally turns to look at you.

"t-thanks, it's umm Gravity Falls" his eyes are darting back and forth between your face and the ground unsure how much eye contact was considered too much.

"i love Gravity Falls, Waddles is my favorite character" You watch his eyes light up and know you've nailed it.

he scoots slightly closer to you and points to Bill on his shirt "He's my favorite!" he says happily there's a big smile on his face as he flaps his hands excitedly at his sides.

there's almost an instant switch with how quickly He opens up to you- sure it was just him excitedly rambling on about the show but that's a lot of progress from him not talking to you at all. also, you weren't lying when you said you loved the show so it was just as fun for you to listen to him talk about it and discuss theories.

"Hey Snips!" you and Colton's conversation gets cut by Anakin's voice yelling towards your group. Ahsoka's head snaps behind her so quick you're shocked she doesn't get whiplash.

"Skyguy!" Ahsoka cheers perhaps a little too loud as both you and Colton flinch. Colton instinctively covers his ears, squeezing his eyes closed until the noise dials down.

Anakin and Ahsoka share a bear hug before pulling apart. Anakin does what any annoying older brother would do and places his hand on her head tussling her hair, she huffs and shoves his arm away making him snort.

the rest of Anakin's campers finally catch up to him, he must have jogged ahead of them when he spotted Ahsoka. while the two seem to catch up you wave his campers to come join yours, and they happily oblige.

Zion starts talking to the boys and Aubri the girls. oh how you don't miss being a kid when boys thought they couldn't be friends with girls, you had to hold back a laugh at the thought they still might think cooties existed. Colton hadn't left your side, now preferring your company rather than being alone.

you didn't mind, now you had a buddy and if you could provide a space he felt safe to be in that's all that mattered. Anakin Plops down in his usual spot right beside you as always invading your personal space. "so how's she treating you?" he asks Ahsoka while nudging you with his elbow.

Ahsoka takes a minute to access the interaction between you guys before a smug smile appears on her face. "pretty good, we haven't talked much yet but i think that's gonna change pretty soon" Interesting phrasing you weren't going to question her though.

Anakin throws his arm around your shoulder pulling you into him. your face burns and you're pretty sure your heart just stopped altogether before kicking into overdrive, should it be beating that fast? "You're gonna love her" he tells her and gives you a squeeze.

literally what was happening, you two hadn’t even hugged before let alone whatever this was. maybe this was just some one-off thing because he was excited. you let out a nervous laugh but don't push his arm away from you. he put it there what harm could it do to enjoy it?

Ahsoka's eyes lock in on his arm and you can see the gears turning in her head, she's definitely plotting something. you clear your throat feeling like if you spoke beforehand nothing would have come out. "Ahsoka what activities did you choose?" you ask, trying to pivot the conversation just a tad.

"Arts and crafts, Zip lining, Archery, sports, and woodshop" Anakin smiles brightly when she lists off crafts first, looks like he would be able to talk to her more than he thought.

he lets his arm slide off your shoulders making you feel disappointed as much as you are relieved. "you're in for a treat then, you're gonna have to deal with me and Rex" Ahsoka grimaces slightly.

"in the same room? you're both idiots though" you choke on your spit unable to hold back your laugh.

"hey we aren't that bad!" Anakin defends himself looking back and forth between you two as if you'll stop laughing and back him up.

"just the other day you and Rex were fighting over friendship bracelets" you laugh and he dramatically lets his mouth drop open in faux shock that you would further smear his name.

"friendship bracelets really Anakin" Ahsoka deadpans at her former counselor and shakes her head in disappointment.

"hey he started it, i was just defending myself" you hear her mutter 'and you’re the adult' as well as Anakin mumbling 'snippy' right after. suddenly the nickname made more sense you just smiled and turned away briefly to examine all the kids and make sure they weren't doing anything they shouldn't be.

they were all chucking rocks in the lake now, attempting to skip them rather unsuccessfully. except Colton who remained on the other side of you, comfortably swinging his legs back and forth occasionally knocking his shoes together so they would light up.

"who's this?" Anakin asks, turning to get a better look at the little boy beside you. Colton doesn't acknowledge him, he was either in his own world or just simply didn't want to talk to him.

"this is Colton" he turns to look at you slightly when his name exits your mouth but shys away when he sees Anakin looking at him.

Anakin's face flashes with recognition before a small smile appears on his face. "Cool name, when i was little i had a stuffed Dolphin that i named Colfin which is like the same name if you think about it" Colton wrinkles his nose in disapproval.

"it's not the same though and i don't like dolphins" he says rather bluntly Anakin doesn't deter and just nods in acknowledgment.

"the bullies of the sea right?" Anakin asks and Colton nods. "how about sharks?"

Colton ponders the question over for a minute "they're cool but i prefer Jellyfish" there was a brief glint in Anakin's eyes that looked an awful lot like he was going to tease him but ultimately decided against it.

"why jellyfish?" he asks instead which results in Colton's undivided attention ready to explain his stance without a second thought.

"they're the coolest marine animal- did you know there's a type of jellyfish that's immortal!" he's speaking animatedly now explaining how the jellyfish can revert to a younger state by reprogramming its cells.

the key to getting Colton to open up was simply just having a conversation he wanted to participate in. the four of you keep the convo alive while the other kids play exchanging questions as well as your likes and dislikes. it was a peaceful way to spend the rest of free-time.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

The rest of the day went by smoothly, all of the kids were getting along well, Zion got his hang out with Matteo at the bonfire later in the evening and you were right to think they were troublemakers. one of the first things they did was find a stick that they tried to set on fire with the intent to chase the other around with it.

safe to say you and the other camp staff did not let that happen, the second they got close to the fire their plan was snuffed. thankfully that was the only real concern that arrived today and currently, you were helping the campers settle into the cabin.

Padme was helping too and as much as you'd like to give Jasmine the benefit of the doubt and say she was helping too, that would be a lie. in truth she seemingly abandoned her kids once they were all in the cabin and went to your shared staff bedroom. it's not like you needed her help and even if you did the rooms were directly connected so she'd be able to hear, but it was the principle of the matter.

you were all responsible for these kids and even though she seemed to handle them fine it was clear she couldn't care less. honestly why was she here? you try not to let your frustrations show as you help one of Jasmine's Campers, Theo, set up his bed.

"alrighty kids lights out at Ten so you all have a little over an hour to just talk and settle in for the night" Padme announces from somewhere behind you as you finish up.

all the kids give her their own versions of okay and continue with their conversations. Theo thanks you and jumps onto his bed with one of the other boys Henry. it was always nice to see how quickly kids were able to befriend each other.

you glance around the room and relax, no unhappy kids that's a win for the day. even Colton was chatting away, him and Ahsoka seemed to get close. the conversation during free time earlier definitely helped.

"we can leave them alone now y/n" you turn to Padme, she's smiling at you from the doorframe ready to head into the other room. you nod and follow after her. plopping onto your bed and truly relaxing for the first time today.

"tired?" she snorts and you turn to her. she's braiding her hair in front of the mirror for the night.

"definitely, you aren't?" she shrugs in response, finishing off the braid and tying it with a small elastic.

"it'll hit me more in the morning when we have to get up early again" she states while walking over to close the door so she can change. you groan already dreading it. "it's not like we'll have to be up as early as we were today" she offers thinking it would make you feel better. it doesn't.

"why did i choose a summer job that requires me to be up this early" you put your hands on your face dragging them down dramatically. "i'm not built for this Padme" she giggles and sits down next to you on your bed.

"you'll be fine, you've just gotta whine about it first" she snorts and you smile, kicking off your sneakers and scooting over more so she can have more space. she takes the invitation and lays beside you so you're both shoulder to shoulder.

"gosh you're starting to know me too well" you laugh, turning on your side so you guys can look at each other better while speaking.

"ooo is Honey gonna get jealous?" she jokes while turning onto her side as well.

"she'd probably be more jealous of me than you" Padme's brows shoot up in confusion.

"She totally thinks you’re amazing and insisted i become besties with you so she can as well through association" You pull your phone out and go onto Honey's chat to show Padme the messages between you two during one of your debrief sessions.

Honey🍯💛: 'i think i’m in love with your cabin mate y/n ngl'

you: 'she's amazing right?'

Honey🍯💛: 'the total package honestly, you have to become besties with her 🙏🙏 i'm not exaggerating when i say i need her energy in my life'

you: 'wow im chopped liver i see'

Honey🍯💛: 'never you'll always be my number one 😚😚'

"oh my gosh" she laughs while reading over everything. "you two are something else"

"friendship goals you mean?" you swipe off of the app and let your phone fall from your hand once you switch it off.

"oh absolutely, i honestly wish i had a friend where i was that comfortable with them. im close with my friends but not that close" you gasp in faux offense at her words.

"i thought we had something" you fake sniffle, pushing your lips into a pout. your ready to put on the most dramatic performance of your life when Padme lets out a loud laugh at your antics.

you break character and smile, she's quick to pull you into a hug. "we definitely have something" you cheer while hugging her back and she laughs more.

you hear your phone ping and pull out of the hug to answer. "is it Honey?" she ask curiously, peering over to look at your screen. your frozen in place from the contact name that appears, Padme on the other hand is smiling like a madwoman. "you okay there y/n?" she asks teasingly.

"why wouldn’t i be it's just Anakin" you do your best to brush it off, but the flush in your cheeks and panic in your eyes gives you away completely.

"just Anakin" she pushes further and you give her a nervous smile. "i didn't know you texted"

"we don't but it makes sense that we start right, we're friends after all" you grimace at how high pitched your voice is getting as well as your own defensiveness.

"of course it does, especially since you’re friends with a mutual crush" you turn your head off to the side unable to look her in the eye, you’re burning alive here.

"he doesn't have a crush on me" you grumble and you can tell she wanted to oppose your statement but instead she focused on something else entirely.

"you're not denying that you have a crush on him though!" she says with a gasp of excitement and you can feel your heart racing, when your silence remains she shoots up energetically. "i knew it!!"

you hush her, the walls here were thin and you could not handle the campers finding out about this. "i don't know- i don't dislike him" she deadpans and gives you that look she always does.

you flop backwards laying flat on the bed with a huff. "y/n i love you girl but we gotta work on your honesty with yourself." she hovers above you forcing you to look her in the eyes while she speaks.

"i can hide from my own desires if i want to" you protest, grabbing your pillow and placing it over your head.

"oh so Anakin's a desire now" she pulls the pillow off of your face and holds it out of your reach. "how quickly the truth tumbles out"

"has anyone told you you’re insufferable before?" You say annoyed and she laughs.

"no i'm usually told i'm a delight in fact" she gives you a blinding smile and you roll your eyes but smile back nonetheless.

"they'd unfortunately be right" she lets out a quick 'aww' while placing her hand over her heart jokingly.

"so are you gonna answer his message orrr" you purse your lips together in thought. "if you don't do it i'll do it for you."

you gasp "you wouldn't dare" she gives you a ‘try me’ look and you suddenly regret ever sharing your phone password with her. "diabolical" you mumble before picking your phone up and staring at the message notification.

'hey you ready for tmr?' it was a really simple message so why was it so hard to work up the courage to respond. Padme stands up and climbs the ladder to the top bunk leaving you to figure this out on your own.

"okay you can do this" you whisper to yourself, sitting up and cracking your knuckles finally opening up the chat to respond.

'totally' you type and then sit there for a good minute trying to figure out what else to say so your message doesn't come off dry and uninterested. maybe you should of consulted with Honey first for back up, it was too late to back out now though.

still coming up empty you just give in and press send hoping for the best. to your horror the message is read instantly and he responds just as quickly.

'three minutes just to type totally, didn't realize i was talking to a granny' mortifying was the only right word for this. you knew he was probably just teasing but that did not help one bit.

one negative about acknowledging you have a crush on someone, you begin to fumble over everything you do. second guessing your every action, why couldn't you just be normal- no, this was fine you can salvage this.

you bite your tongue and ask yourself how you would normally respond to someone saying something like this to you. you take a deep breath and start typing 'not everyone can be the flash when typing'

'much quicker this time trying to fight the granny allegations y/n?' you groan but relax; one bonus of it being Anakin you're talking to, you could always count on him to be unserious and joke around.

'i'm not fighting anything, besides i was talking to Padme when i typed that out so i was a little distracted' a little white lie never hurt anybody, Padme wouldn't mind anyway.

'alright i'll let it slide this time, only because Padme was involved' your stomach twists and you suddenly feel a little nauseous. it was like the universe loved to torment you.

'you know she's practically my bestie here, maybe i can put in a good word for you' if the universe loved to torment you then it was only fair to say you were devoted to torturing yourself even more.

'why would you do that?' you can't help but furrow your brows in confusion, what did he mean why?

you brush it off and reply 'because we're friends and friends help each other out'

'right, i gotta help Ben with the kids so goodnight. i'll see you tmr' strange, you shrug it off and send back a goodnight after liking his message.

you look at the time 9:56 just about time to tell the kids lights out. you turn off your phone and stand up. "do you wanna come with me to turn off the lights" you ask openly, Jasmine of course doesn’t respond but Padme does.

"you've got this, but if any of the kids need something and you aren't sure how to help let me know" you nod at Padme's answer and walk into the other room.

some of the younger kids already put themselves to sleep the rest were either busying themselves or still chatting with friends. "hey guys everyone into their own beds alright, i'm going to turn off the lights for bed"

there is a few groans of protest but they all do what you say anyway. you walk over to the lights before asking if everyone is comfortable and when there's a unanimous yes you flip the switch off and head back into your room closing the door.

you finally change out of your clothes from the day into pajamas and are just about ready to turn off the lights in your room when there's a light flurry of knocks on the door.

you open the door to see Colton, he looks uncomfortable and you can’t help the worry that washes over your face. "is everything okay bud?" you squat down to his height and he looks around behind him before whispering to you.

"i can't sleep in new places" his voice was barely audible not wanting the other kids to hear him. you frown sympathetically and hold your hands out for him to take; he hesitates at first, unsure whether he wants to make physical contact but in the end he takes you up on the offer placing his hands in yours with a big breath of air.

"is there anything i can do to help?" you ask quietly giving his hands a small gentle squeeze in hopes of comforting him.

he shrugs unsure "i don't know…" you let him think on it, taking all the time he needs. "i don't really like the dark" he settles on and you nod immediately scanning through your mind for a solution.

"how about this, we have a little portable lamp that i can set up on one of the shelves in there and i'll leave our room cracked open so you can come and get me if you need anything else" you suggest and he pauses in brief thought.

"but then the other kids will know" you smile softly and tell him to trust you. he's very clearly uncertain but eventually gives in and lets you do your plan.

while he climbs back into bed you head back into the room and grab the lamp off of Padme and yours dresser. placing it on the shelf closest to the hallway and switching it on. Thankfully Colton's bed was closest.

"guys i’m gonna leave this lamp on so it's easier for you all to see if anyone needs to get up and use the bathroom alright?" the kids who are still awake give an okay, or well some of them did, others sorta just grunted like cave dwellings.

you look at Colton who seems much better, still a little uncomfortable but it was still a new environment and It wouldn't be that easy of an instantaneous fix. But you were glad to help even just a little bit.

you left the door open just a smidge like you said you would and then flipped off the lights for the room finally crashing onto your bed- hopefully for good.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

to your body's exhaustions' relief there were no interruptions throughout the night. Padme had even managed to get you up this morning without too much of a fight, in other words without having to physically drag you out of bed.

getting the campers all up and ready in time for breakfast was way more difficult than you thought though. a good majority of the kids were in fact worse than you, which according to Padme is a massive feat.

"tired already y/n?" Ben's voice calls you over from the food line.

"not as tired as Anakin" you joke gesturing over to Anakin's tired form at the table closest to the door. you wait for Ben to exit the line so you can both walk over to him together.

"he looks like he's ready to make a run for it" you snort once he's filled his tray. you both start walking toward the aforementioned man who was as usual barely awake.

"yea a run for it straight into his bed" Ben quips and you giggle before taking the seat next to Anakin.

the man in question gives a grunt for a greeting not even bothering to open his eyes. "pathetic honestly" Rex says before joining you three. "you do realize we have to be fully functional in an hour right?" he kicks Anakin from under the table to wake him.

Anakin opens his eyes just to death glare him "an hour is all i need" Rex puts his hands up in defense before he starts eating his breakfast.

"No offense Anakin but you look like you need a lot more than an hour of resting your eyes" you poke his cheek and he swats your hand away.

"you're right, and i've got just the solution" you raise a brow but your question is quickly answered when he rests his head on your shoulder, completely placing his weight against you and closing his eyes. this wasn't actually happening right, you turn too look at the two boys in front of you with burning cheeks.

Rex doesn't even seem phased as he continues eating like this was an everyday thing, Ben isn't any better as he just shrugs with a smug smile. maybe you just needed to relax, after all you did stuff like this with Honey all the time.

you decide to just focus on your food and ignore the soft snores that have started coming out of Anakin's mouth. how he could fall asleep that easily with the noise level in here you weren't sure but boy did you envy it.

you did your best not to read into the situation while finishing up and just chatting with the other boys until it was time to leave. you honestly felt bad having to wake Anakin back up but he was surprisingly not too grouchy, guess that hour of sleep actually did help.

the way today was going to work was easy, now that breakfast was done you'd all head to the bonfire pit where you'd divide into who you worked with. then the campers would go to whichever group was part of their first activity, after that there would be a quick roll call then you'd walk with the kids to the crafts center.

rinse and repeat this process each period throughout the day till lunch, then free time followed by the last two periods till dinner. this of course was just for today so the kids knew where to go as well as knew their schedules a little better. Come tomorrow they'd be in charge of getting to their activities on their own.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

"are you sure that's what you're supposed to do?" you hear one of the kids ask Rex from the table near yours.

all the kids at your table were just about done with the activity, working on cutting out the flower petals just like you'd shown them. it was one of the easier crafts you'd found as long as it wasn’t rushed through. you decided the kids would be fine on their own and stood up to take a look at how Rex was doing.

"pretty sure kid" he mumbles and the kid beside him grimaces before looking at their own, it looked better than Rex's but that wasn’t hard to beat clearly.

"Rex you’re butchering it man" you look over at Anakin who's on the opposite side having stood up curiously at the same time you did.

"i am not- it looks just like y/n's does" he argues and you honestly take offense to that statement.

"mine does not look like that" he snaps his head towards you with a frown.

"that's honestly an insult dude" Anakin adds and Rex chucks the paper plate on the table, crossing his arms annoyed. the kids are laughing at the situation, only making Rex grow more annoyed.

"maybe you should stick to organizing the materials Rex" you pat his shoulder encouragingly.

it was the last period of the day, you'd been doing the same craft each time so you'd think by now he'd have gotten it down. to his credit he got it right the first period but somehow has gotten worse each time since.

"i can't believe the camp directors stuck you in crafts" Ahsoka's voice garners the attention of all three of you.

"not you too" Rex frowns, running a frustrated hand down his face.

"i mean Anakin's not much better but he's still doing significantly better than you are" Anakin scoffs at her.

"hey i'm doing great thank you" he defends. you snort walking over to him and pinching his cheek like he was a small child.

"yes you are sweetie, don't let anyone tell you different" you joke; and his cheeks flush, probably from embarrassment as he swats your hand away.

"you guys are cute together" Ahsoka states and You both snapped towards her at the same time.

"you know we aren't together snips right?" he asks crossing his arms with a deadpanned expression, not wanting to come off as joking.

"i do know that yea… do you?" she asks half teasing half serious. you think you see him blushing but that can't be the case.

"he likes Padme" you interrupt doing your best to save him from her teasing. Ahsoka just wrinkles her nose before shrugging off your response.

"everybody likes Padme" okay, factually correct but you know as well as she does that's not what you meant.

Rex clears his throat, "hate to interrupt whatever this is but it's time to get these kiddos to the lodge hall for dinner." you turn to look over at the clock and sure enough it's almost six.

"right" you clap your hands together a few times to get the attention of all the kids, when they clap back you can’t help but smile.

"it's time to clean up so we can head out to dinner. so i want everybody to stand up and throw out any paper clippings or trash you see on the tables while Anakin, Rex, and i put away the supplies we used today, okay? then we can all line up at the door to go" they all give an okay before standing up and doing what they were told.

it didn't take long for the crafts center to look like it did at the beginning of the day, it was a good thing all of the kids were hungry enough to do as asked without much of a fight.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

dinners were handled differently than lunch and breakfast. at dinner everybody had to go to their assigned tables to sit with the people at their cabin, it was easier for the counselors this way as the kids would all be in one place to walk back to their respective cabins.

that's how you ended up with Colton seated to your left and Padme on your right while catching up on how your respective days went. well you and Padme were anyway, Colton had headphones to help block out the noise while he ate.

what stopped you mid-conversation with Padme however was something one of your older campers said right in front of you.

"Quinn what did you say?" you ask her completely shifting your attention from Padme to make sure you'd overheard the girl correctly.

"i was just telling Ren how you and Anakin were a cute couple" you felt your mouth open and close a few times at Quinn's words, searching for the right thing to say right now.

"omg Anakin asked you out!?" Padme practically shouts and you feel your whole body tense as the fight or flight urge to run away kicks in.

"No!" you shout back and then turn to the two girls in front of you "who said me and Anakin were a couple!? we are not dating" Quinn tilts her head in confusion.

"all the kids who have arts and crafts with you guys is saying it" she shrugs. "it's okay if you are, no one's judging you guys for it" you truly wanna curl up into a ball and wither away. maybe have the room swallow you whole while you're at it.

"yea i mean we all see how you guys act together it's pretty obvious" Ren adds and your jaw drops again rendered completely speechless.

Padme is snorting from beside you now very much unsuccessfully holding back laughter. "oh my gosh this cannot be happening right now" you stutter out, putting your hands over your burning cheeks just wanting to hide from everyone.

"hey it's time to clean up and head back to the cabin" Jasmine's voice interrupts your spinning mind. she was talking to the kids but it was also directed towards you and Padme.

the kids all do as she asks before you even get the chance to clarify to Ren and Quinn that you and Anakin were definitely not dating or together in any way for that matter. you turn to Padme with pure fear written on your face and she places a hand on your shoulder.

"hey it's fine relax" was it fine? what if Anakin heard the kids talking about it and thought you were the one who started that rumor. "y/n deep breaths hun, you look like you're gonna pass out"

"i'm freaking out Padme" she gives you an ‘i can tell’ look.

"i promise you it's not that deep, you know it's not true and kids are gonna believe what they want" she shrugs a little too calm for your liking.

but of course she wasn’t freaking out it's not like the rumor was about her and who she had a crush on, no it was about you and someone who had a crush on her. there's that torment the universe loved to inflict upon you.

Padme chucks out your trash for you and puts the tray away. then she takes both your shoulders into her hands and guides you out of the lodge hall back to the Naboo cabin.

it wasn't until you sat down on your bed while Padme took care of the kids by herself that you finally touched back down with reality. you look up at the bunk across from you where Jasmine is sat on her phone, living in her own world. as much you hated her for what she did you were very much envious of her right now.

oh what you would do to only have to communicate with your friends back home. home, god you missed Honey right now. a ping comes from your phone, talk about speak of the devil and she shall come.

'hey pookie ☺️ i miss you' it's times like this you swear your both telepathically connected because what're the odds.

'so much happened today Honey it's not even funny' you send back after hearting her message.

'tea time?' you let out a sigh and fall back on the bed as you type out a long rant going over today's events from breakfast to dinner.

'are we sure this is a bad thing?' the question makes your brows furrow.

'how on earth is it not' you wait for her to respond as the speech bubble appears, your attention briefly flickering to the the door as Padme enters.

"i turned on the lamp for Colton so don't worry about him alright?" she whispered to you, not wanting the other kids to overhear. you give her a quick thumbs up, currently too drained to use your voice. she just smiles back at you and closes the door to change, then reopens the door just a crack like it was last night.

your phone vibrates and turns your focus back onto your conversation with Honey. 'i mean i'm not saying it's a good thing, but if even the kids can see you belong together maybe it's a sign✨'

you fight back a smile 'now is not the time to be delulu Honey' she dislikes your message before responding.

'wrong it's always time to be delulu. it's called manifestation and it works😌' you smile fully this time and allow yourself to feel better.

'yea but what about Anakin's what’s he gonna think?' you argue, it was the only real thing that plagued your mind about this.

'we can't assume what he's going to think, you'll just have to wait and see babes' she's right of course but boy do you hate it. 'you could always bring it up yourself and talk about it with him tomorrow, if you're that concerned he'll think it's you who started the rumor. clear your name and all that'

you scrunch your face together at that suggestion. you hated confrontation, she knew it too, but you also knew this was the best plan you had so it was time to Women up and do just that.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

you tried your best to act normal during breakfast, especially when Anakin pulled a repeat of what he did yesterday. resting his head on your shoulder and effectively passing out. the entire time all you could think about was how this was probably fueling the kids' imaginations right now.

you could hardly even focus on eating which Ben and Rex both seemed to pick up on as they shared a concerned look. "are you alright y/n?" Rex was the first to ask.

"i'm fine yeah" you don't sound convincing but he takes it as a sign not to push.

"if you ever wanna talk we're all ears, or if you feel more comfortable texting you're always welcome to message." Ben reminds you and you give him a grateful smile.

"Yeah no matter how late it is, and i'm sure Anakin would agree. besides he's up later than all of us anyway so if anyone's likeliest to answer it's him" Rex is quick to add, wanting to double down on what Ben said.

"thanks guys, i appreciate it" you relax a bit as the pit in your stomach starts to settle, morphing into exhaustion instead. you don't even realize you're doing it until you see Rex elbowing Ben, a silent way to say 'are you seeing what i'm seeing' and Ben swats his arm away in a wordless way of saying 'of course i am'.

you had rested your head right on top of Anakin's, you fought the urge to pull away in fear it'd look suspicious. suspicious of what you weren't sure but it's what your brain said- or maybe it was your way of justifying staying in the position you were in.

his hair was soft and smelt of sandalwood and coconut, it was kind of calming. you wondered briefly if Anakin thought similarly of you when he rested his head on your shoulder, but quickly pushed the thought away when you realized he probably didn't pay attention to something like that with you.

you do eventually lift your head up only when it's time to get up and leave the lodge hall and start the day. today was at the very least going to be a little easier as you all would just be walking straight to the crafts center.

with a few shakes of your shoulder, Anakin wakes up. sitting up straight and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. completely oblivious to your previous actions which you were internally grateful for, mostly out of fear he'd think it was weird.

the walk to the crafts center was quiet between the three of you, a peaceful silence. you and Anakin walked side by side, Rex in front of you two a few feet ahead.

"do you know which project you wanna do for today with the kids?" Anakin asks through a yawn.

"yea i think we're going to do the paper bag kites, Padme said it's gonna be windy today so they could use them during free time later" he nods before getting lost in his own thoughts.

maybe you should bring it up now, this was probably as close to alone time as you'd get with him. you turn your head to examine him; he still looks slightly sleepy, there's a bit of a slouch to him with the way he's walking right now making you promptly decide against talking to him about it. who were you to ruin his sleepy mood after all?

the three of you walk inside the Crafts center and start setting up all the supplies on each table for the kids. it's not long before they all start filing in, and as usual you lead; today was a much easier craft than yesterday's honestly. most of it consisted of just decorating the paper bag to their liking, then either Anakin, Rex, or you would attach a long string to it for them.

the kids liked this way better as they had much more creative freedom, you took a mental note of that so you guys could plan accordingly.

you're helping one of the little boys, Darnell, cut out a bat shape to glue on his bag when you hear a few kids talking about you and Anakin again. it makes your heart stop, you have to force yourself to focus and finish quickly before you start to panic too much.

"hey y/n is there any more purple glitter" one of the girls at the table, Sasha, asks and you blink away your thoughts to process her question.

"um, i'm not sure i'll check for you" you hand Darnell his bat cut-out and head to the back where the supply closet is, biting the inside of your cheek nervously and silently praying to whatever god will listen that Anakin doesn't hear any of the kids saying you two are dating until you can address it with him.

your digging around the closet when another person joins you. you turn to look behind you meeting eyes with Anakin who smiles at you.

"what are you looking for?" he asks while grabbing some extra glue sticks, it's honestly insane how fast kids go through those things.

"purple glitter, do you know where it would be?" he points to the top shelf above you, and sure enough there's a line of different glitters. in rainbow order too so you could only guess you had Rex to thank for that.

you grumble disgruntledly to yourself while standing on your tiptoes to try and reach it. "you know you can ask for help right" Anakin huffs from behind you.

"why, i've got this" you can feel the amused stare from behind you as you prove to him you very much don't have this. you're about to step on the bottom shelf for a bit of a boost before you stop completely at the feeling of Anakin's chest against your back.

he reaches over and grabs the glitter easily and holds it low enough for you to grab. your brain buffers for a moment before you actually do grab it and by the time you turn around he's already heading back out of the closet, glue sticks in hand.

you head over to Sasha, taking her small tube of empty purple glitter and refilling it. your mind is still reeling from what just happened, this man was going to send you into cardiac arrest at this rate. you force yourself to take some deep breaths and calm down after handing her the little glitter tube and walking to put the rest back in the closet.

was it too far to be thinking about how much you enjoyed the slight pressure and weight of his chest against the back of you? well it's not like anyone can hear your thoughts so you allow yourself to indulge just this once.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╝

the next few periods go back quickly and simultaneously slow as molasses. without a doubt you overheard kids talk about you and Anakin as if you were a happy couple multiple times each period. the final push for you was when Anakin was walking by the same table you were during clean-up before lunch and heard kids talking about it.

he didn't say anything but there was no way he didn't hear it so you decided to confront the situation on the way to lunch. you let Rex lead the line of kids out this time and walked at the back with Anakin, it was time to stop procrastinating and get this over with.

"are you alright?" Anakin asks and you tilt your head slightly. "you've been acting weird all day" he crosses his arms unwilling to back off even if you try to deny it.

you press your lips together into a thin line before speaking up "i… it's just the kids have been- have you heard what they've been saying?" you mentally slap yourself, of course he heard, and even if he didn't you need to just spit it out.

he just shrugs nonchalantly, which gives you nothing. was that an 'i don't know i haven't been paying attention' shrug, or an 'i have heard but don't care' shrug?

"they're all saying we're dating, and each time i deny it they only seem to think we're dating even more." you finally spit it out and feel a huge weight on your shoulders lift off.

"oh, that's it?" you come to a full stop and so does he, why is he being so nonchalant about this what the hell? your brows crease together.

"that's not weird to you, or annoying?" you ask and he licks his lips in thought.

"i mean some of the kids at my cabin brought it up yesterday, i denied it and they didn't believe me so i sorta just accepted the fact they wouldn't believe me." he explains and now you feel dumb, all that overthinking for what.

"shouldn't we address this with them?" this time his face scrunches up in confusion.

"why? they're clearly not gonna believe us, honestly we're better off just saying we are then maybe they'll let it go" you blink dumbly up at him, the last part of his sentence on repeat in your head.

does he not realize they wouldn't be letting it go at all, sure they would move on but in their little ten to fourteen-year-old brains it would be a confirmed fact. not like to them it wasn’t already though… maybe he did have a point. or more accurately you just liked the idea of confirming to everyone you were dating.

"do you really think that would work?" his eyes twinkle with something you're not quite sure of before he answers.

"i mean it's worth a shot right? let's just pretend we're dating and then they'll leave us alone" okay woah wait a minute, how'd this go from just saying you were dating to pretending you were dating? to be fair it's synonymous right? but when he says pretending, does he mean just a simple 'yea we are' or fully method acting the situation?

you decide to just take the chance, what harm could come out of this right? if it was just confirming then you could live with that, and if it was more than that at least you could satisfy your little crush on him. yea he likes Padme but she was very clear on the not liking him back department.

"okay yea, let's do it" he holds his hand out to shake on it. "looks like you just got yourself a fake girlfriend" you joke, shaking his hand. "Honey is going to have a field day with this" you laugh once your hand slips out of his and you see him look at you with both shock and confusion.

your brows crease worried that you said something wrong. "Honey is someone's name?" he asks bewildered. oh, that's right you haven't brought Honey up in conversation with Anakin before.

"yeah she's my best friend and that’s her name, why?" you watch him go through a shit ton of emotions all at once before he settles on a relieved smile.

"nothing, don't worry about it. let's go to lunch" he turns and walks ahead of you, you don't let him get too far before you pick up the pace so you're once again walking side by side.

a/n: here she is the much anticipated Part 2 ☺️ i hope you enjoy!!

i only proofread this once instead of the dozen times i usually do so if you spot a mistake please pay no mind 💀👩‍🦯

see you all next week for the final part 💋💋

Tag list: @anakinskwkler @anakinstwinklebunny @divineani @huayan @poppysrin @bxbyysstuff @dollhobigem @skywalkercinema @corio-letit-snow @avatarobsessedgirly @kelsxxyawn @tartine-de-pain

[chgridlock]

Fine. LN- pt 2.

Part. 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/chgridlock/749224119672995840/fine-ln-series-1

Y/n and Lando were childhood best friends, an inseparable duo who knew each other’s secrets like the back of their hand. But then came F1. Lando transformed into a playboy prince, his name synonymous with champagne showers and a different model on every arm. Models just like y/n, except for her. Disgusted, she distanced herself, the warmth of their friendship replaced by a biting cold. Y/n, chasing her own dreams, blossomed into a sough-after model, gracing the covers of magazines right under Lando’s nose, well, at least that’s what she assumed. In taught, Lando followed her religiously on social media, a secret admirer hidden behind a facade of arrogante.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, ex best friends au, Lando being a little dick

The torrential downpour caught me off guard, it was way worst now, transforming the picturesque cobblestone streets into a treacherous obstacle course. My flimsy jacket offered little protection against the relentless onslaught, and my heels sank precariously into the slick pavement with each step. I was a comical sight, a clumsy ballet dancer struggling against the elements.

Lando watched from the car, his initial annoyance replaced by a growing sense of unease. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt stab at his heart. Perhaps he had been too hard. Seeing you struggle, your once defiant stance replaced by a comical awkwardness, chipped away at his resolve.

He sighed, a heavy exhale that fogged up the windshield for a moment. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the car back into park, the engine sighing softly to a halt. The silence outside was broken only by the relentless drumming of the rain in the roof.

“Just get back in…” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the downpour. I could sense the shame in his eyes, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before it was masked by his gruff demeanor.

I couldn’t help but scoff at his suggestion. “Oh, really?” I drawled, my voice dripping with sarcasm. With a flick of my damp hair, I sashayed past the car, the precariousness of my heel adding an element of defiance to my movements. “Who does he think he is for real…” I think to myself.

Lando watched me go, a wave of frustration washing over him. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sound echoing hollowly in the car. “Damn it…” he muttered, more to himself than anything else.

“Can you just get back in the car?” He yelled, his voice laced with exasperation. “Do you have any idea how stubborn you are right now?” The rain blurred his vision as he looked out at my retreating figure, a sense of helplessness gnawing at him.

“You literally said ‘get out’” i retorted, my voice barely a whisper carried on the wind. I stopped, turning to face him, my posture stiff and defiant despite the rain cascading down my face. “It’s not my fault that you’re so-“

He cut me off, his voice rising in frustration. “I said ‘get out’ because you were being difficult…” he explained, the words tumbling out in a rush. But even to his own ears, they sounded hollow.

“Difficult?” I scoffed, the sound laced with a hurt that mirrored his own.

“It’s no my fault that you’re so stubborn and unreasonable that you’d rather walk in this heavy rain and get soaked to the bone than accept my help.”

I stood there, a defiant island in a sea of rain, my jacket clutched protectively around my shivering form. I met his gaze, a silent battle of wills playing out between us. The air crackled with unspoken emotions.

He glared at you, his eyes burning with a mix of anger. His patience had worn thin, freaked by your defiance like a threadbare rope. Dealing with this felt like navigating a minefield, one wrong step and the whole thing would explode.

“Fine,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “Walk home alone in the rain. Be an idiot. Just know that I don’t care if you catch a chill or a fever.”

He revved the engine, the sound growling in the quiet street. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his features as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. But the satisfaction curdled quickly, replaced by something akin to worry again. How can you do this to him? You felt like a drug he can’t let go.

You stood there, a solitary figure dwarfed by the storm, your bravado slowly dissolving as the rain soaked through your clothes. Seeing you like that, shivering and defiant, chipped away at his resolve. He couldn’t understand why he care. He didn’t want to care.

But you irritated him so much, that the line between annoyance and concern became blurred. He slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. Before he couldn’t think twice, he was out of the car, his boots splashing through the puddles separating you.

He approached you, his jaw clenched tight. He wanted to scream at you, to shake some sense into your stubborn head. But the anger simmered just below the surface, overshadowed by a strange protectiveness he couldn’t explain. He stood in front of you, towering over your rain-soaked form, the unspoken conflict swirling between you thick enough to touch.

“Can you please come in the car now?” He finally managed, his voice rough around the edges. A hint of exasperation lingered, but beneath it, a softer note resonated- concern. Your Lan. “Your clothes are all soaked. I’ll drive you home.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a command, albeit a reluctant one. You sighed, the sound heavy with a concession he wasn’t entirely sure he’d earned.

“Fine,” you mumbled, defeat lacing you voice. “Just because my feet are killing me.”

He rolled his eyes, a flicker of annoyance persisting despite the relief that washed over him. “Then come on”

He extended his hand towards you, a silent invitation. His voice remained gruff, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

“I can go alone,” you challenged, a hint of defiance clinging to your voice.

He rolled his eyes again, exasperation bubbling back up. “Don’t be stubborn. Take my goddamn hand.”

He barked the order, clearly annoyed. His anger, like a storm cloud, was threatening to engulf the fragile truce that had just been established. But the moment your fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity sit through him, a forgotten memory come alive. Your touch, oh, how he’d missed it. Nothing in the world felt quite as right as the way your hand fit perfectly in his.

He gripped your hand tightly, the warmth seeping through your damp clothes, a silent reassurance in the midst of the storm. His eyes, however, remained stormy, reflecting the inner turmoil he refused to acknowledge. As he walked you back to the car, a grange protectiveness washed over him, a stark contrast to the annoyance that still simmered beneath the surface.

He opened the car door with a flourish, a touch more dramatic than necessary. “Get in,” he mumbled, the gruffness in his voice a mask for the unexpected tenderness he felt. He gently guided you towards the passenger seat, his touch lingering just a moment too long before finally letting go.

Slipping into the car, you stole a glance at him. His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. A tense silence, descended, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the wipers and the steady hum of the engine.

Despite the anger radiating from him, you couldn’t but feel a flicker of a warmth blossom in your chest. The entire ordeal had been frustrating, a tempestuous dance that left you both breathless and bewildered. His irritation, however, was slowly morphing into something else, a concern he couldn’t quite disguise.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. Finally, you felt compelled to break it. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the rain.

He didn’t respond, his gaze unwavering on the road ahead. You knew he heard you, the slight twitch of his jaw a silent acknowledgement. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a tangled web of emotions caught between the two of you.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence, his voice cold and curt. “Don’t thank me,” he muttered, his words clipped. “I just did it so you wouldn’t complain about getting sick later.”

He fell silent again, the car an isolated bubble in the storm outside. But beneath the gruff exterior, a flicker of something more complex flickered in his eyes, a secret he wouldn’t share, not yet.

“Great,” I muttered, the sarcasm dripping from my voice like the rain from the car roof. He glanced at me again in the mirror, his jaw still clenched tight. His grip on the steering wheel was a white-knuckled testament to his simmering frustration.

“You don’t even feel the least bit guilty about how stubborn you were?” He scoffed.

“And you?” I shot back, anger flashing in my eyes. He met my gaze for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion clouding his features.

“Me? What about my stubbornness?” He genuinely didn’t seem to understand. How could his actions be construed as anything but helpful? The unfairness of it all gnawed at him, fueling his irritation. He wanted to yell, to unleash the torrent of emotions swirling within him, but the words wouldn’t come.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please,” I drawled, the dismissiveness in my tone adding fuel to the fire.

“Don’t ’oh please’ me,” he growled, he stole another glance at me, his expression morphing into a scornful glare.

Silence descended one more, thick and suffocating. He focused on the rain-slicked road ahead.

“Then you shouldn’t have helped me,” I said, my voice laced with a bitterness that mirrored his own.

The anger he’d been struggling to contain flared up, a hot member rekindled. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I shouldn’t have,” he conceded, the words laced it’s regret. “Now I just regret it because i was stupid enough to think you were sensible enough to realize that someone was trying just to help you…”

He refuses to look at me, the silence reminder of the tangled mess this whole ordeal had become.

“God, you’re so arrogant…” he muttered under his breath, his irritation spiking with every scoff and cold glance you threw his way. “You can’t even admit you were wrong and just stubborn as hell,” he pressed.

“Whatever,” you snapped, the frustration hanging heavily in the air. “Just get me home and that’s it.”

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice tight with barely contained anger. The car fell silent one more, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And, for the record…” he started after a long pause, his voice low and dangerous. He hesitated, weighting his words carefully. “I hope you catch a cold from the rain.” A childish taunt, but one laced with a deeper meaning.

“Touché..-idiot,” you countered, a sly smile playing on your lips despite your irritation. His words, though mean-spirited, held an undercurrent of concern that you couldn’t ignore.

“Shut up…” he mumbled, his annoyance flaring at your defiance. But beneath the anger, a flicker of relief sparked. He hated the way you got under his skin, the constant back and forth that drove him crazy, yet somehow, it was better than the suffocating silence.

He pulled the car to stop in front of your apartment building, the arrival a bittersweet relief. “Fine.” You spat, flinging open the car door and stepping out onto the rain-slicked sidewalk.

He watch you slam the door shut, the sound echoing through the quiet street. Part of him was glad to see you go, the tension within the car finally released. But another, deeper part, a part he refused to acknowledge, felt a pang of something akin to loneliness at your departure. He wanted to call you back, to follow you inside.

The urge to chase after you was a physical ache in his chest but his stubborn pride, a double-edged sword, wouldn’t allow him to admit defeat. He watched you walk away, your figure growing smaller in the distance, his frown deepening with each step, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. You cast one final glance over your shoulder, your eyes filled with a mixture of anger and something he couldn’t decipher, and you left him alone, alone with the storm outside.

Author’s note: Tysm to everyone who liked the first part of the story. What do you guys think about these two childish idiots? More parts to come ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Tag list: @persiar9 @mia-rrrs @ssararuffoni @kapsylia

[intheholler]

i know tumblr didn't just,,

didn't just,,,, put this on my dash days after me complaining about people using appalachia as little more than a shallow, misappropriated aesthetic

like

lmao please say psych rn

yes, i get it, it's an ethel cain song. that still don't help nothin. she's from tallahassee like. pls

so what part of appalachia is nebraska in?? who knew this whole time appalachia, home to the appalachian mountains, was flat as a plank with nary a single hill to be spotted

new ARC map just dropped i guess. i threw in a lil bit of south dakota there too since we're just making shit up now. it has "south" in the name so it counts as southern gothic too right

point being: 'appalachia' is not synonymous with disrepair and decay.

we aren't a catch-all for decrepit buildings. we aren't the sole owners of poverty. put this energy toward fleshing out yalls own regional gothic (and midwest gothic is actually so cool, why wouldn't you want to???) and give it the same intrigue that appalachian gothic has garnered instead of furthering the idea that all we have to offer here is forsaken rot.

[leviscolwill]

bad idea right ?

pairing: ex!jude bellingham x fem!reader

genre: girl making bad decisions, suggestive (no actual smut tho)

warnings: possibility of questionable grammar, a bit toxic sorryyyy

summary: meeting up with your ex after one too many drinks, what could possibly go wrong ? (wc: 1,2k)

note: based on olivia rodrigo's song,, it's just so good i had to 😪

now playing: bad idea right ? by olivia rodrigo (guts)

you did a good job at ignoring jude's constant calls and messages up til then, you really did. but the few shots you downed threw all these efforts away.

it was over, and you knew it when you replied asking for his new address that he sent you almost instantly, also adding a little "already ordered a uber for you :)"

"i need to go"

you knew your friends would kill you if you told them where you were actually going, so you kept that part to yourself.

"what happened ?"

"something came up, my roommate needs me home like right now."

"nothing bad right ?" you could feel a bit of worry in your best friend's tone so you tried to reassure her.

"nothing too bad, our washing machine is just acting up" you surprised yourself with your newfound ability to come up with lies so easily.

but no, it was truly nothing too bad, just about to meet up with my ex you guys hate.

there was a small part of you that wanted to tell them where you were actually going so they would convince you not to, but a bigger part wanted nothing more than to be at jude's right now.

after hugging your friends goodbye and hopping on the uber, you still had to fight a mental battle against the part of your brain that was still somewhat rational about this whole situation.

nothing good would come out of you meeting up with him, and deep down you knew it, you'd fall head over heels for jude again after you did such a good job at pretending to forget about him.

but at the same time, maybe you read the signs wrong, maybe he just wanted to catch up and nothing more. and there was nothing wrong with being friends with your ex, matter of fact, a few of your friends were still friends with their exes and it was never a synonym of a bad idea.

you were still debating whether or not seeing jude was a bad idea when you felt the car come to a stop.

you hopped out of it and jude opened his door right after like he'd been waiting for you for a while. he had his stupid smirk attached to his face, like he knew you would come back eventually. his attitude would have irked you, but in this very moment you didn't care, you walked in front of his door with a smile on your face and stars in your eyes.

jude wasted no time with greetings and let you in his living room while he went to his kitchen.

when he came back he was holding two glasses of water and he handed you one.

"i figured you might need a bit of water after tonight" he said with a tentative smile.

he was right, in a way, except you were pretty much sober by now and fully aware of where you were and the possible consequences of your actions. you thanked him and took a sip looking at your knees from the way he watched you intently.

you heard him chuckle and looked up at him.

"why did you want to meet up ?" you asked finally breaking the silence full of tension.

"i just don't like the way things ended between us." you rolled your eyes at this, it didn't have to be this way, but jude decided to break up with you and found a new girl a bit too fast for your liking, making things awkward after your breakup.

but he kept talking. "i know i haven't been the best boyfriend but i really want to fix things between us." the look he gave you made you weak in the knees, he grabbed the hand that sat on your thigh and started stroking his thumb on its back. "we can just take things slowly, one step at a time".

but you didn't want to take things slow, and neither did jude. there was no doubt left, it was wrong and you'll always end up hurt. and you believed jude could read your mind by the way his gaze changed, like he could tell that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. in this very moment you didn't care if it didn't last once again, you needed to have him for a night, a week, a month... it truly didn't matter.

jude tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and you felt his breath closer to your face, exactly what you wanted.

when you felt his lips against yours, you forgot to kiss him back for half a second as your mind started running laps. but when you kissed him back you poured out all those months of pent up frustration from ignoring him and his stupid texts. he grabbed your jaw deepening the kiss and you could feel jude's smile against your mouth when your hands wandered down his chest to his abs.

his mouth trailed down your neck where he started kissing at your skin while you gave him more space to do so, he took the opportunity to lick and bite your sweet spot, the action making you whine in return. you knew by the way he was sucking at your skin that it would leave a mark but your lucidity was long forgotten at this point, you would deal with this mess in the morning.

just as he started unzipping your dress, jude asked "do you really want this ?" with a yearning tone. you nodded fervently, hoping for him to give you something more. but instead he stopped kissing your sweet spot, much to your dismay. you looked up at him with confused eyes. "i need words princess, do you want this ?". of course he wanted to tease you as much as he could, but you didn't feel anything but desire so you simply complied. "i want this, i want you... jude please".

you could feel jude's look change after your words as he took your hand to lead you to his bedroom, both of you no longer caring about the intangible line between right and wrong, only needing to feel each other like you used to.

-

"is your roommate the one responsible for this ?" you didn't look where your friend was pointing, because you didn't need to. she was talking about the obvious purplish mark on your neck that even concealer couldn't hide away.

"no i just... spent the night at someone's." you felt your cheeks reddening by the minute thinking back to the night you spent at jude's after leaving your friends. you didn't even fully regret it, because as much as this idea sounded terrible you had a good time and your hopes were up once again that things might have changed.

"do i know who ?" you already knew she'd ask this question but you still couldn't find a believable lie so you just looked at your shoes that seemed like the most interesting thing on earth right now.

"no."

yes.

"no, don't tell me you spent the night with him."

but you did, and she could most definitely tell.

"i didn't mean to, i just tripped and fell into his bed i swear."

i'm always looking for new ways to improve my writing !! feel free to leave some feedback xx

[pineapplerightsideupcake]

Nobody is saying that aro/ace people are gay, we're saying that they're queer. And why are you so hung up on calling them straight men? Women can be aromantic or asexual, too. And not all aro/ace people are straight. You can be aromantic and lesbian or gay or bi, and the same thing applies with asexuality

And neither of them is just a lack of commitment. They're lacks of sexual or romantic attraction

You people made “queer” and “gay” synonymous. You decided for same sex attracted people we were now annexed into YOUR movement, and that having our own was bigotry. Then you threw open the gates to our oppressors and have Target and Wells Fargo calling us a slur on social media. Universities offer “queer studies”. Fuck you forever for that.

So let me say this slowly: no one gives a fuck if you don’t have sex or date. NO ONE. This is an invented oppression that you wave around for attention and then when your community is criticized for your actions from my first paragraph your turn around and pretend I have a problem with you not dating. I couldn’t care less if you fuck. I don’t give a single solitary shit if you in your endless solipsistic musings feel “romantic love”.

Straight women that don’t have sex or date are just straight women. A lesbian that doesn’t have sex or date is just a lesbian. But pretending that men claiming to only want to have sex with but not love women is the same thing is ignoring thousands of years of context that men have historically seen women as less than human.

You don’t get to dodge accountability by pretending the anger directed at you is because people are just THAT angry you don’t fuck.

The reason we’re angry is because you invaded our space, convinced the world to call us a slur, invited in our oppressors, and told us we aren’t allowed to leave or even complain.

[darling-i-read-it]

Whispers

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: insidious 5 spoilers, literally i think tahts it 

Author’s Note: In theory this is a part 2 to blue paint but honestly could be written by itself if you just squint lol. Everyone wanted me to write more for dalton and i was at WORK people but i am here to provide a plotless fluff. An old classic style of mine 🫡Also this fic could literally be called ‘maya googles whispered synonyms’ 

Everyone that asked to be tagged <3 : @geeksareunique, @chaoticxbee, @snixx2088, @ellaneyt, @bespinnn, 

Summary: The night you and Dalton just kind of let your relationship silently grow to avoid the horror of his situation. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You could feel sleep starting to overtake you. It was in your eyes, the drooping of your lids as you sat against the twin bed. Dalton was sitting on the ground as well, across from you. You narrowed your gaze at him, pursing your lips. You both had class in the morning. He still had blue paint stained on his face. You had leaned him over the sink and scrubbed to no avail. Finally you had both given up, conceding to his embarrassment in the morning. 

The sticky heat of the day had given way for the night chills. You could feel the difference in the cracked window. The breeze had started to get to you so you threw a blanket over your shoulders. 

Dalton, not wanting to fall asleep, sat across from you with a hoodie on. 

“Uno.” 

“No way,” you muttered. You looked at the cards in front of you, a large stack turned upwards and a yellow 7 card on top. “You just had like 15 cards. Take off your hoodie.”

“No!” Dalton exclaimed, laughing a bit. 

“You’re cheating. There’s no way I missed that. I’m literally the only other person here,” you offered. He shook his head. The clock was ticking away past midnight. 

“It’s late, you’re just starting to get delirious.” You shook your head, tossing your stack of cards down beside you. Usually you would never let a game go, especially one that was decently close. But you weren’t sure if you were even going to wake up to your alarm in the morning, let alone go to class. 

“Am not.” 

“I told you to go to bed hours ago.”

“Didn’t want you to sleepwalk on me,” you muttered. 

“Astral project.” 

“Whatever.” You looked up at the window. You could see the moon outside tonight in the clear sky. It had been a while since you saw the nighttime in a peaceful way. You were so used to being passed out by the time any kind of sereneness came along, or at a party trying not to pass out. It had been too long since it was just you and the night sky. And Dalton. 

Your phones were laying on the bedside table, out of the way and silent. You told Dalton to call his mom but he refused. He said he could do it on his own. He was probably just overreacting, he promised you. Overreacting didn’t make someone stay up late before an 8:30 class but you decided not to mention that. 

“I think I’m out D,” you muttered through a yawn. He nodded. He still looked wide awake, sans the bags under his eyes. 

“I wish we had a TV in here.” 

“Then we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street,” you joked. He half smiled, one of his cute little smirks. When you came to college you never thought you would admire these quieter nights the most. 

“Yeah.” You stretched, trying to shake the sleep out of your eyes. 

“I think I’m still gonna try to go to class tomorrow.”

“You know I don’t have a choice.” You nodded once and stood up, stretching. You felt your body expand as a satisfying calmness came over your body. Dalton grabbed the uno cards at your feet and started to put them in the box. “My last card was red by the way. You could’ve won it.” 

“Rematch tomorrow,” you suggested. You put your blanket over the empty bed. It looked like it hadn’t been slept in. There was no indent of a human having been there, no one having a good night's sleep. Though it didn’t look exactly comforting, it also didn’t look unappealing to your tired mind. Dalton had given you one of his pillows. You plugged in your phone beside you and glanced over at Dalton’s side of the room. You had looked at his drawings before but never studied them. 

Things seemed clearer at night. 

There was a picture of his mom at the piano above his pillow. He was moving around, shuffling, getting ready for bed and doing the last things he needed to. His head obscured your view. 

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered. “Your mom.” He looked at his sketch like he had forgotten it was there. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. His eyes lingered for a moment. You wanted to ask if he missed her but you didn’t. Putting him in that sort of emotional position would’ve been too much for so late. “She writes music. I remember when I was a kid she would sit at the piano when she had a moment to herself. My dad was always working so I guess I thought it was her job.” He shrugged. His eyes moved away.

“She sounds like a nice lady.” 

“She is. She deserves better than that guy,” he grumbled. He sat down on his bed. You were still sitting on yours. You hadn’t climbed under the covers, even though the cold was nipping at your arms. Chris’s words lingered in your brain for a bit, the prospect of staying in the same twin bed. You shook it off and went to grab the edge of the blanket. 

Dalton’s eyes stayed on you. He didn’t want to go to bed yet. 

“Do you mind the night light?” he asked, voice laced with exhaustion and a little embarrassment. 

“Nope. I like a little mood lighting.” You climbed under the covers. Once your head hit in the pillow it was like relief flooded through your bones. You reached up and turned off the lamp beside the bed. You could still see the outline of Dalton. His face, his hair. “I like your hair when it’s down,” you whispered. Your voice was gentle, slightly fueled by the lack of sleep. You could see him turn to look at you as he was getting under the covers. You nuzzled your head into the pillow. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, awkwardly. You smiled. You liked it when he squirmed a little bit. 

“I set an alarm.” 

“Okay.” There was a silence. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight Dalton,” you whispered. Your name hung on his lips but he didn’t say it out loud. Instead he just watched as your eyes shut into an even calmness. The contours of your face were illuminated by his night light.

He rested his cheek against the pillow. 

He admitted to being potentially dangerous to you and you stayed. He felt safer with you. Like he wasn’t in this alone. 

You fell asleep in 15 minutes. He could tell because your face was completely relaxed. There was no tenseness in your features, no worries about anything except getting rest. When he was positive you had drifted off he sat up, grabbing his sketchbook off the center table. 

He had drawn nothing but dark memories lately. A red door with blood haunted him. A face he didn’t recognize but one that he knew, watched him sleep. After the darkness flooding his brain he was happy to think of his mom. He was happy to remember her when she was tranquil. He liked the sketches that were less cursed. 

He started to sketch you. 

His eyes adjusted to the darkness easily. Maybe if he was super tired the next night then he wouldn't be able to dream or astral project. Just sleep. He wouldn’t mind spending tonight sketching you with observing eyes. He drew your hair as it fell in front of your face. The way your fingers gripped the blanket. Your eyes, fluttering with dreams. He wondered what you were dreaming of. He wondered if you ever dreamt of him. 

Just the thought brought a redness to his cheeks. 

He grabbed his airpod to put on some music. 

The room was so still. 

Your blanket touching the ground. The wind from the cracked window. Your even breathing, mixing with his, the only living sounds in the space. His dried paint on the table. The light from the hallway seeping in under the door. His unpacked bag at the foot of your bed. 

Your bed. That wasn’t your bed. That was an empty bed, one that would be filled by anybody. 

He sketched your nose. 

That could be your bed. He had nothing against that. A sleepover every night, a buddy to help protect him from the nightmares. He thought of his parents. His brother. His little sister. He was safe. 

He turned the focus onto your closed eyes. He was listening to some indie rock or something, whatever he had playing from earlier. He wondered what kind of music you listened to. 

You moved. You hummed under your breath, eyes fluttering open. It hadn’t been that long since you fell asleep, maybe only an hour. It was two in the morning.

You forced your eyes open. Dalton was still awake, sitting against the wall. 

“Still can’t sleep?” you whispered. The sleep remained in your eyes. 

“Not sure where I’ll float too.” You nodded. You slowly sat up, keeping your blanket around your shoulder. “What’re you doing?” he whispered. Speaking any louder would break the muffled moment. 

You shuffled over to his side of the room. He looked up at you, shielding his sketchbook. You barely noticed it. You stood at the side of his bed. There was a beat where neither of you moved. You nodded towards the bed. 

“Lay down.” He squinted, unsure of what your intentions were. He put the sketchbook on the side of the bed, onto the floor. He had it facing the ground so you wouldn’t see your face. He couldn’t let you know how he perceived you quite yet. 

He did as he was told. When he was comfortable you moved his blanket aside and got under the covers. You put your blanket over his so you had double the warmth. 

Dalton froze. 

Did he put his hand on you? Did he just let you be? He had to touch you, there was no way he could sleep here, stiff as a board, all night. 

“I don’t have cooties D,” you whispered. You easily got comfortable beside him. Your eyes stayed open as you looked at him, straight ahead. “You can touch me,” you said, even lower, so much so that your voice almost gave out. “If this is okay.” 

“It’s okay,” he promised. You smiled sleepily. 

He put his hand on your side and you pushed yourself closer to him. You took the initiative and placed your hand over his waist. He moved so that you could nuzzle yourself into his chest. He tried not to breathe too heavily but he was sure you could hear his heart beating out of his chest. 

“Sleep,” you breathed. “I’ll keep you grounded.” 

His breath hitched. He finally closed his eyes. 

He fell asleep quickly with you in his arms. He remained in his spot the whole night, the first time in a week. 

[reddesires]

RUINS.

Chapter 2: Time Will Tell.

Summary: Could there be a world that would be accepting of kinship between an ape and a human? It's only by chance that you came across him, an ape who craves more of the outside world beyond his clans borders. Will there be common ground, or will your past prevent you from making the same mistakes?

Rating: No Warnings.

A/N: It's coming along. I'm actually glad that I'm pushing myself to write this series because it helps broaden my horizons by using new synonyms I haven't before and just creates potential works I could possibly come up with for the future.

Who would've thought you would put yourself in this position?

Your body on autopilot as you threw your hand out into the boundless open sky that often embraced your deepest regrets and unrelenting dread, the red lining depths transitioning into clear blue that painted the horizon bathing you in the dawn.

The fear sweat lining your palms as your hands gripped into his furry forearm, the sockets of your arms trembling under the muscular weight that your unyielding grip refuses to release.

You could see his eyes taking you in, the tremble of disbelief that is trying to register this scene into his mind. You're just as shocked as him. Risking yourself for someone who may just hate your humanness to the core, your existence nothing more than a pest that should be eradicated from the earth, his very species have overruled.

It didn't matter to you at that moment. His scream of panic set off a feeling a little too known to you, uncapped a painful reality.

“Mind giving me a little help?” The ground below painfully flattens the pressure from your lungs, compensated by pulling backwards into the safety of the shelter, you wondered if once he made it into safe ground would he plunder his fists into the vulnerability of your back? Your bones crushing under the sheer power of the devastating blows, entirely ridding you of all life that clings to every vein and tendon..would your life be the consequence of saving his?

All questions but no answers as you help this ape from his untimely death, a death you had no will to bear witness to. As you pull him over the ledge with the help of his mustered strength, you're taken aback, the flashes of a what if passing before your eyes..he's shrouded by a figure that is not of himself but another, another that no longer walks this earth, that has long since ascended far from the soil you walked upon.

The rays that shone down on him honeyed his fur, his hackles raised in what seemed like a state of shock, the green of his eyes reminding you of the meadows that you used to frequent, the flecks of gold only adding the marigold accent of your memories, he held wild flowers in his irises.

“Are you okay?..” The question came out almost strangled, the allure but fear that struck down on you as you gazed upon your potential undoing, he could very well be your bane, the cause of your own untimely death.

The resounding hollers of his companions make you tremble with trepidation, the quiver of your lip catching his attention, you resembled an alarmed fawn, just awaiting the moment to bolt in hopes of evading oncoming danger.

You looked worse for wear and he felt a pull of empathy, he was unsure of you but you saved him and there was gratitude that gnawed at his mind, he was stuck in a limbo at your presence to even begin to express it, his emotions hitting him from all incoming sides.

Soona and Anaya grab onto Noa as soon as they reach the alcove, checking him over, not yet noticing the human staring awkwardly at the scene, unsure of what to do or say. Noa extends his hand, pointing before he finally utters

“She saved me..” There was no malice, no distaste in his tone, just pure awe and it startled you when his companions quickly looked to you, their own expressions of astonish overtaking their faces. There was a fuckton of unease coursing through your body right now, the tingling running from your fingertips down to your toes almost made you lightheaded, not only are you being stared down by 3 apes but there was no escape plan for this kind of scenario, the hole in the wall would do little to absolutely no good of protecting you.

“I didn't want you to die..” It was a half truth, you truly didn't want him to meet his end but your body reacted by second nature, the neurons in your brain delayed but the nerves in your body on automatic, it was the oddest thing but you can't say you regretted it.

You are terrorized by remnants of death surrounding you, the thought of your existence being a curse to those around you that overrides every other logical idea that corroded the inners of your brain, if there was a chance to save a soul thrown in front of you, you took it without hesitation.

“Thank you.. My name is Noa.” As he's introducing himself, his hands are signing in a way that was all too familiar to you, you were taught to sign in the same dialect and it sent a wave of nostalgia over you, you were only able to keep your head above water for so long as you're constantly reminded of the life you had no choice of leaving behind.

“I'm (Name), your friends?” You gently gesture to them, hoping that your interest in them shows your docile intentions, they weren't defensive by any means calmed by their friend's peaceful approach, you could tell there is a strong bond between them from the way their eyes stray back and forth between you and Noa, a gleam of trust but unease, they're unsure of your nature and what will come from you being there but they trust Noa enough to know that he'll handle the situation they're presented with

“My friends, Soona and Anaya.” He quickly glances at them with a smile as he reassuringly gestures to them, Anaya almost waves shyly but you think it isn't so much shyness but anxiety and Soona has a mask of protectiveness as she slightly nods at you, you understood the distance as you felt the tension in the back of your neck, you were just as much on edge as they were.

Noa was a stranger to you but his aura gave you what seemed like dejavu, like you've met him before but you know that was impossible, you have never been to this valley before now and you traveled miles from your last location.

“There was more.. of you..” He says in esteem, your eyebrows furrow at his statement, more of you? Did he mean humans who spoke? You knew it was few and far of intelligent humans left. You haven't been in contact with another like you in years, not since losing your mother and others in your tribe.

You step forward the question clear on your face, Noa shows no sign of fear to your movement as he looks you over observing the state of your clothing and the scars that laid home onto your otherwise smooth skin, you posed no threat to them after all you did save his life with no reserve and it was like an opportunity was standing right in front of him, an open door that was tossed open in a form of a Echo who risked their own safety for his sake.

“You've met more humans like me?” There was intrigue that broke through the amazed timbre of your voice, he felt guilt prick at his mind as the reality that Mae just have been the last of intelligent humans left other than you but she was long gone now so he now had no revenlant information to give if you were in search for others like yourself but nonetheless he nodded.

You smiled to yourself as a feeling of unknown unresolved bitterness built up in your heart, despite it being a revelation of knowing there was others out there, you had no motive of going out looking for them, you've lived your life apart from them for so long that there was little to no exigency for their community.

“Are you alone?” Anaya's voice holds no reserve but has a soft edge, it's almost like he has a hunch that you are but not wanting to overstep, Soona shifts looking at her friends before also looking you over, her observations concluding that you aren't dirty nor starving but there's an exhaustion that clings to the delicate skin underneath your eyes, almost like you haven't slept properly in a long time and she can't help feeling pity, if you truly were alone then you had no coverage or protection while your vulnerable body was swept into the throes of sleep. She was cautious of the fleeting nature of humans from her prior experiences with them, but you saved Noa when she wasn't able to, so you have earned a quiet respect from her.

“For a long time now..” Your answer hung in the air, your sadness seeping through the cracks and tainting the atmosphere surrounding, the lure of devastation radiated off of your figure, the day's light shining through the alcove and bathing your figure in warmth, it truly contradicted the cold reality of your situation as the rays envelope you with its illuminating tendrils lightening the deep colouration of your hair and the silky undertone of your skin, such a sad but unusually beautiful sight.

There was so much to humans Noa didn't understand, from what he took from his experience with Mae is that humans can be deceptive but there's a whisper of haunted sorrow to them, resilient but dangerous in many ways, Apes have no reason to not express their motives, their thoughts, and their experiences but humans are a labyrinth of encapsulating enigmas.

A maze that he wanted to run through to better understand their nature, a living history piece that carries these similarities from times long before them, you were a bridge to what he's been looking for.

You may carry the knowledge of things he didn't quite understand.

“It's dangerous..to be out here alone..” His concern is gentle, his envy colored eyes holding a docility that pulls a tremble to your bottom lip. You bite down on it in an attempt to stop it. You were more than aware of that truth, the fear enveloped you as the night skies fell upon you, the shadows that taunted you as you curled into your corner with hopes of daybreak coming on soon just so you could live to see its light break through the horizon another day.

Soona and Anaya look to Noa, knowing the implication he was suggesting, but they put up no counter to his decision. They trusted his judgment but there were doubts that the others in Eagle Clan would be so accepting of having an Echo within their lands, the Elders most definitely would be against such a bold ask, they're old ways of being often backing their rebut to Noa's newer perspectives and courses of action.

He wouldn't miss this opportunity, the opportunity to open himself up to what Raka suggested he learn about the world before him. Finding out why humans meant so much to Caesar and his way of being, but as he looks at you, he can understand the empathy Caesar had for humans. The emotion filled eyes that gazed back at him made his stomach turn but not in an unpleasant way but with familiarity to those he loved, the way he felt when Apes expressed their own sadness.

Humans felt just like Apes did, but do they love the way they do? Build a community like Ape? How alike are they? As he extends his hand out and the question falls from him, he can feel the metaphorical bridge building from under his feet to yours just hoping you'll cross over onto his side to grasp his own hand.

“Will you come with us?” He was not only offering you salvation but genuine connection between you as two different species, and you had an inkling it was exactly that. You are reminded of the past far behind you, the extension of ape to a human to build a connection that was weakened by time and hatred.

Your fingers trembled as you slowly walked that bridge, walked into the unknown of where this could possibly lead you.

Would this only end in blood ash? Or would this bond withstand the history that towered over ape and humankind?

Time would only tell as you gripped his hand into yours, the skin of his palm pressing against your scarred one.

“Yes.” 

TAGLIST:

@ohwaitimthewriter

@unlikelyfoxpaper

[identitty-dickruption]

kind of frustrating seeing people use “masked autism” and “late diagnosed autism” as synonyms. I had meltdowns where I threw chairs at school up until the age of 15. I got in trouble for wandering off all the time, to the point that adults in my life would frequently joke about putting me on a leash. I had more days off school than any other kid I knew. I was bullied no matter how many times I changed schools. I got diagnosed when I was 18 years old

now, I was privileged in that I had a little more stability in later high school, and a couple of very dedicated teachers helped me to be better at school. I’m still privileged in that I’m now at university and looking to have a career in academia. I still can’t mask super well, but life has certainly started to get a little easier for me. that is absolutely not the case for everyone

being diagnosed as a child can be a kind of violence, in that a diagnosed child is vulnerable to particular kinds of abuse. being undiagnosed as a child has people feeling like they’re fundamentally broken for no reason. but there’s an overlap between those two things, and it doesn’t help anyone to act like the only reason a child could go undiagnosed is because they learn to mask. it’s way more complex than that

[chloessleepystories]

We have storms hitting both the east coast and west coast. Could we get a story about storms changing people on a rainy day leading to some steamy nights?

The buzz was insistent, a double, triple buzz. Jeremy hit the button to unlock the front door and a moment later heard her pounding steps coming up the stairs.

“Jesus look at you, you’re soaked!”

Candace was drenched, but smiling, as she crossed the threshold of his apartment. “Whaaat? It’s just a little rain,” she grinned.

He laughed. “You’re an idiot. Let me get a towel.”

She peeled off her sopping sweater as he called from the bathroom, “You know we could have just done this another night.”

“Are you nuts?” she called back. “It’s already hard enough to avoid spoilers online, I’m going to wait another 24 hours before catching up on Ahsoka?”

“Here, try this.” Jeremy was holding out one towel as he threw another on the floor at her feet. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Well if you would just share your password like a normal person, I could watch it at my house.” She squeezed the towel around her long hair, then tried to pat dry her skirt.

“I would if I could!” he protested. “You know they’re all cracking down on that shit.” He led the way into his cozy living room. “Anyway, I like sharing it with you.”

“I know. I like coming over here too.” She smiled shyly. He smiled too. After a moment, she looked away. “It’s a … It’s a good thing our apartments are so close together.”

“You mean you walked over here?”

“What?” She was standing by the TV, still dripping everywhere. “It’s just a couple blocks. And it’s a nice warm night.”

“A nice warm night with a freak storm,” Jeremy laughed, reclining on the couch. “You didn’t check the weather forecast before you headed out, huh?”

“Nah. I don’t believe in that stuff, any – ahchoo! - anyway.”

The sneeze didn’t seem that hard, but she swayed dizzily for a moment.

“You don’t believe in … ? What, just a conspiracy of meteorologists, you mean?”

She giggled. “I just mean the forecasts are so often wrong, I don’t even – don’t even – ahchooo!! … Don’t even uh bother … ”

Jeremy stood up, slowly. The first time he thought he was imagining it, but the second time … “Are you feeling all right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I coulda sworn, when you sneezed just then, your … your uh …” He gestured to his chest, unable to say ‘breasts,’ or any of the other synonyms that came to mind. “I mean, it’s a pretty thin top, it doesn’t hide much, like …”

She folded her arms, and pouted, a little cuter pout than he had seen her make before. “Jer, you’re actin’ real weird all of a – all of a …”

There was no denying it this time. Her chest bulged as she let out her biggest sneeze yet. Candace was normally flat as a board, but suddenly her soaking wet top was sticking to – well, there was no other word for it – her sizeable tits.

Her eyes crossed for a moment, and she staggered. When she recovered from the explosion, she looked down and gasped. “What the shit are these?” she said, grasping them with both hands. Her voice seemed a little higher than before, more breathy, but there was an edge of panic to it as well.

“I think you’re coming down with something …” Jeremy said, knowing how dumb it sounded.

“Oh, you think?”

“You should probably uh … you should get out of those wet clothes …?”

She giggled, then mock-scowled. “Oh, nice try, buddy, I see what you’re – I see … I … oh shit”

Ah – CHOOO!!

“Ow ow ow!!” Her voice had climbed another octave. “It hurts!! Je-er, help mee!!”

Her tits were straining the buttons on her shirt, and her tiny bra, usually barely needed, was obviously pinching in several places, trying to hold in the unaccustomed mass. He moved toward her.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to – oof!”

She threw her arms around him, held him tight. She pressed her whole, wet body against his, soaking his tee shirt in moments. She was nose to nose. She pushed her bottom lip out and made her eyes big and damp. Jeremy thought she had never looked lovelier. “I need help, please,” she panted.

She was rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. Probably by accident. His erection didn’t care. He licked his lips. “Yeah, yeah, let’s uh … let’s get that off. Do you want to go in the uh …”

She stepped back, and ripped open her top in a desperate moment. A button pinged off one of his bookshelves. In a moment, she was showing him more skin than she ever had in all the years of their friendship – her chest heaving, her arms bare, her hair long and flowing (and could it possibly be longer than before?) and her plain-and-simple bra laboring with the effort of holding back the swelling melons.

Jeremy swept a palm across his forehead. Was it getting warm in here? He was wet with sweat. Wet with something – he plucked at his damp tee shirt, which was sticking to him. He rubbed his jean-covered thigh, which was spongy with water too and likewise sticking … like, were his jeans shrinking?

“Now, now listen uh – ”

“Here, here,” she turned around to show him her almost-bare back, and he broke out in sweats again. “I can’t reach it! Can you get it?” He barely registered how high-pitched her voice was now, so distracted by trying to figure out what she was asking. After a moment, it clicked, and he sprang forward to fumble with the clasp of her bra.

As soon as he had it undone, the cups flew off her boobs to land on the carpet two feet away. Her tits, released, sprang out and wobbled around like nothing he had seen outside ridiculous anime porn, as she swung around toward him. She was topless, and he grasped his swelling cock through his jeans. She was topless in his apartment, and she looked like a wet-dream cartoon.

Sounded like one too. “Ohhh!! Thank you thank you!!” she chirped. “That’s sooo much better!!!” Her eyes went to where his hand was kneading his erection, and she licked his lips. “And I know what would make it better still …”

In a moment, she was pressed against him again, her wet jugs soaking his tight tee shirt further. She stripped the shirt off him with flattering haste, catching his ear painfully with the fabric, then ran her hands over his bare chest. “Mmmm … such muscles …”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, fumbled for words. A skinny dork, he’d never considered himself muscled but … he had to agree she was right.

She dragged her boobs down his body, falling to her knees, fumbling with his belt. “I need it, I need it,” she whimpered.

“Candace … Candace, don’t you think we should …”

“Unh uh!” she giggled, shaking her head. “Call me Candi, I think I like that better …”

She jerked down pants and underpants in one movement, and gasped at the erection inches from her face. Her eyes crossed a bit, dazed, and … was she actually drooling, a little?

She swirled her tongue around the helmet, then took a couple inches of the shaft into her mouth. It swelled between her lips, and she looked up at him, his cock in her mouth, and winked.

Candi let the cock out of her mouth with a pop. She held up her heavy melons with both hands and whispered, “I know where this belongs …”

Jeremy’s shaft slid between her swaying funbags, still slick with the storm’s rain and Candi’s sweat, and as she held her tits around it, he began to stroke it up and down against her wet skin. It grew. And grew. And grew, to a length and thickness he absolutely knew it had never possessed before.

And as it did, he felt his brain grow more sluggish. His eyelids drooped. He looked at the bimbo on her knees before him with an animal lust. “Couch. Arm,” he grunted, his voice much lower than usual. “Now.”

She draped herself over the arm of his couch, flipping up her skirt. He snatched the panties off her trembling legs in an instant, and speared her gushing cunt with his thick monster cock. She screamed out in pain and ecstasy …

As the rain came down all over the city. All over thousands of unsuspecting strangers …

An hour later, Candace and Jeremy lay sprawled on his carpet, panting. After a lot more exertion than either was used to, and months’ worth of orgasms crammed into one night, they were finally feeling a little more like themselves.

“What the fuck was that,” Candace said, in something closer to her usual tone of voice. Her breasts were no longer coconut sized, but they were still healthy large apples. Or maybe oranges, thought Jeremy.

Or maybe I’m just hungry.

He had expended a lot of energy, after all.

“I don’t know, but it was amazing, that’s for sure,” he rasped.

“We should uh … ” She sat up, looking around. Where was a glass of water when you needed one. She was powerfully thirsty. “Maybe we should hit the shower? Wash off the rest of it?”

“… Together?” he suggested.

“Why not? I think we’ve broken down that barrier.” She smiled. “You’ve been abusing all my holes for an hour, I think you’ve earned soaping up my bottom.”

Jeremy got slowly to his feet, cricked his neck. He was glad she still wanted to be friends. Maybe … maybe be more than friends. “Or …” he said.

She put out a hand, and he helped her up. “Or?”

He looked to the window, where rain was still spattering the panes.

“Or we could go outside and dance in the rain.”

Candace looked to the window. Her eyes slid to Jeremy’s smile.

And she grinned.

[cellythefloshie]

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Nicole's Bingo Card Tropes: Friends to Lovers | Wedding Season | Only One Bed | Argument Scene | Fake Dating | “Don’t you trust me?” | Playlists as a Love Language

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N:  I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1. 

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule. 

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained. 

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach. 

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away. 

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer. 

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-” 

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his. 

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide. 

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun. 

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair. 

Act 2. 

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it. 

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together. 

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up. 

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there. 

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way. 

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor. 

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting. 

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside. 

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face. 

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a  small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?” 

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago. 

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed. 

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.” 

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.” 

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him. 

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight. 

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back. 

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out. 

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing. 

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room. 

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow. 

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you. 

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin. 

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor. 

Luc had never touched you like that before. 

So carefully. 

So slowly. 

Hell, had he ever really touched you? 

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser. 

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once. 

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc. 

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too. 

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his. 

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you. 

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter. 

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner. 

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed. 

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt. 

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him. 

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in. 

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew. 

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded. 

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth. 

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own. 

If you had the air, you would have gasped. 

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc. 

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open. 

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel. 

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair. 

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability. 

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips. 

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you. 

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest. 

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?” 

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered. 

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him. 

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage. 

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall. 

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you. 

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them. 

So instead, you suffered in silence. 

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed. 

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth. 

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow.  The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him. 

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours. 

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned. 

Both of you were restless. 

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you. 

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth. 

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark. 

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow. 

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his  neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow. 

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest. 

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again. 

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further. 

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend. 

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that. 

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties. 

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core. 

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline. 

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier. 

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first. 

No regrets. 

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made. 

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips. 

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click. 

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy. 

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.  

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing. 

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg. 

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock. 

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him. 

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back. 

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more. 

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold. 

Around your throat. 

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips. 

Your core clenched. 

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core. 

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you. 

But then Luc smiled. 

You smiled too. 

And you regretted nothing.  

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception. 

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs. 

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night. 

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car. 

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love. 

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began. 

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers. 

But you did get your kiss. 

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you. 

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne. 

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips,  as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone. 

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to. 

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone. 

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t. 

Luc was tucked away with his ex. 

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his,  as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only. 

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous. 

And it worked. 

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up. 

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more? 

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow. 

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc. 

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street. 

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him. 

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too. 

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue. 

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest. 

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.” 

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars. 

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with. 

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.” 

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him. 

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face. 

“Why should I?” You bit back. 

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there. 

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street. 

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab. 

Act 3. 

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal. 

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc. 

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room? 

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before. 

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time. 

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you. 

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat. 

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door. 

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed. 

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first. 

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home. 

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression. 

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind. 

You weren’t going to. 

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind. 

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board. 

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say. 

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way. 

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you. 

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand. 

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play. 

Kiss Her You Fool. 

Take Me to Church. 

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never. 

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab. 

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology. 

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you. 

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him. 

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car. 

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened. 

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him. 

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist. 

Luc smiled. 

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed,  “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath. 

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions. 

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss. 

You loved him too. 

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Wait ppl think it was fine that PJO was set in America and not actually in Greece?? I watched the PJO adaptation, I'm not even Greek and it felt weird for the series to be hinged on the idea of "every Greek god goes to America and has kids". It just...idk. it threw me off. I think that's why I never rlly got into PJO. That's someone's religion?? It's like if someone turned around and made a series about American kids of the prophets or djinn of Islam, my religion. It makes no sense. I'm sorry about this and the PJO fandom needs to like...have sense knocked into it

Unfortunately the imperialism runs deep and many progressive people have been caught into the lie of "We are the inheritors of Greek heritage which is synonymous to the Western Civilization, and we are the protectors of the Western Civilization." (Which is really funny because Greece was and is the Most Eastern "Western" Country culture-wise but whatever) Riordan also had the best intentions when writing the series and he probably didn't even realize that his story was largely influenced by US propaganda.

Needless to say, I don't wish the same to happen to your culture and religion 😅