#what if there is something neither of them told him

[f1fantasys]

It ends with, how quick can you get it up?

Summary - y/n and lando are exes who meet again, some angst, then a whole lot of smut. ITS FILTHY. MINORS DNI !!

Warnings - angst, swearing, smuttttt, fingering, oral m and f receiving, p in v sex, anal, squirting, blowjobs, pure filth. Magui lol - no hate to her at all. Her character is a negative character.

7.3k words

It was coming up to years since the day that you and Lando had broken up. You were together for almost two years prior - young and in love, naive. But then the realities of both your jobs jumped right in front of you, and you mutually decided to breakup, it being too much to handle.

The breakup wasn't messy. You were both understanding of each other, and you'd decided to remain friends - though you could count the number of interactions you'd had since on one hand. That was the whole point of separating - not enough time to each other.

As hard and weird as it was to admit, the it affected you more than you let on, to anybody. You absolutely adored Lando. Yes you were young, but he'd stolen your heart the second you two met for the first time. You loved him with everything you had in you, and even know going you own ways hurt in the worst ways possible, you knew it was for the best.

During these two years, you struggled everyday, and had to build yourself up each day from what it seems. You still held onto a thread of love for the boy - you don't think you'd ever stop, and so whenever you saw a new picture of him on socials, or when you knew you were to be at the same event, you stayed as far away as possible, because you knew seeing him in person again would crumble all the walls you've built so hard to put up.

Neither of you had deleted pictures together on Instagram, and you still often wore things and precious gifts that Lando had showered you with - he had done the same. The one thing that always made your heart tingle was a certain silver bracelet. It was a gift you had given him after his first podium in F1, and he'd always say it was his favourite because it was a memory of the two things he loved the most - racing, and you.

Of course, you'd tried to move on, meet new people, but you only ever got as far as an hour into a date until you started comparing a guy to Lando. Although they'd be decent looking with a good body, you'd notice how none were close as to how devilishly handsome Lando was, how no one's body could be compared to his slim but stern and toned abs, no one's hair would curl in all the right places, and how no one would give you the smile that melted your heart.

You always told yourself that Lando was the man who was made for you. Everything about him was absolutely perfect. But, it wasn't to be, and that was something you had to keep reminding yourself.

Recently, Lando had been spotted a few times with an actress, Magui. You had known her through your modeling connections. From the time you knew her and had interacted with her on a few occasions, quite a few years ago, you knew she wasn't someone who you could ever be friends with. There was always something about her that made you hold a step back, no disrespect to her.

It was a surprise that Lando chose to be with someone like her - not that you were judging - but you just thought he could do better. But whatever - it was his life and as long as he's happy, that's all that mattered to you, even though a piece of your heart broke everytime you saw them together.

Last week, your agency had told you that you were to attend an event at the Singapore Grand Prix. This wasn't the first time since the break up that you'd be attending a race, but what hitched your breath was when you found out this morning that it was a McLaren event, where the full team would be present.

As much as your heart wanted to, you weren't sure if you were ready to meet Lando. Yes, it had been a long while, but again, you were scared of crumbling down.

But you had to be strong, because you were currently in the elevator to the top floor of the building for the event. Of course, you made sure you looked like a million bucks - not skimpy like a certain someone.

When the door opened, you held your breath and walked through, face lightening up when you immediately spotted a friend of yours that worked at a different agency.

''Y/N'' Lissie squealed, just as excited to see you.

''Fuck I'm so happy you're here'' you said as she hugged you tightly, knowing exactly why you appreciated seeing her here.

She pulled back. ''Think you'll be ok?'' she asked.

''Yeah'' you said, taking a breath, has to happen sooner or later.

The night was actually going well, until the presentation started and you saw none other than Lando walk on the stage, making his presence known for the evening.

You swore you stopped breathing for a second. Here he was, in the flesh, and even though you'd seen countless pictures of him since the last time you were together, he looked ten million times better, devilishly handsome.

The lights shining on his face showed off the perfect contour of his jaw, nose, lips, the way his eyes glistened beautifully, and don't even get me started on his hair. It was overgrown but his curls sat so effortlessly gorgeously on his head. You really couldn't tear your gaze away from him.

And as if not breathing properly wasn't enough, your legs turned jelly when his eyes found yours, staring into your soul, face shocked though a smile spread over it quickly when his brain caught up with who he was looking at. You smile back gently, when you heard the elevator ding from where you were standing, you watched how Lando's eyes left yours and instinctively looked over your shoulder, his smile widening even more so like a small boy seeing candy. You quickly looked back and felt a knot in your stomach.

It was her. She looked beautiful no doubt. Long curled hair, perfect taunt body. You felt Lissie grab your hand and squeeze it.

For some reason, the thought of her being here tonight hadn't crossed your mind.

You don't why the hell you did what you did next, but your eyes drifted over to Lando again, and it almost felt as if your heart broke into a million pieces when he winked at at her - it was something he'd always do to you in a crowd full of people, his way of telling you he loved you.

As the presentation went on, you tried your best to keep your mind and eyes from drifting to him, though when it was his turn to talk you allowed yourself to take him in for a few minutes. Your mind started drifting away to the days you'd wake up snuggled up in bed together, share looking looks, before Lando would ruin you by fucking you senseless.

''Shit'' you thought, that was the last thing that should be on your mind. You needed to focus on something else, but not surprisingly, you struggled to do so.

Once all the formalities were done, the evening went on with lots of food and drinks, dancing, catching up with people. There were a number of people you knew, which was good, and Lissie was stuck to your side through it all.

While you were at the bar waiting for another drink, your body shivered as you felt a presence next to yours.

Magui. ''Hey'' she greeted, leaning in to kiss your cheeks. You reciprocated the gesture.

She knew your history with Lando, hell the two of you were dating when you used to have to work with her before, so to say this was awkward would be an understatement.

''Hey, been a long time'' you pressed, hoping she would just leave already.

''Yeah it has. Works been busy, plus following Lando to a lot of races as well'' she said.

You tried to keep a neutral face, internally screaming for Lissie to come rescue you.

You chatted about random things, until she dropped the elephant in the room.

''So this must be weird, being here, seeing me and Lando together.''

''Uh, I mean, maybe a little, but we've all moved on with our lives. Each to their own'' you said, not believing yourself one bit.

''But still. I mean, do your feelings for someone so handsome just go away?'' she asked.

This time you had to keep a scoff in. Yes, Lando was a handsome man, but that's not all he was. He was passionate, clever, kind, caring, honest, intelligent, selfless, every single good wood in the dictionary. His looks did not define him. And even though you aren't together now, what you had with each other was real. Your love was real. And no one could take that away from you.

''I,-'' you started, but of course you had to get interrupted by the man himself.

''Y/n!'' he called your name out, came jogging over from where he was.

You held a breath as he hugged you, and it took everything in you not to keep him tucked in your arms.

''Lan Lando, hi'' you smiled gently.

''How are you? It's been forever'' he said.

You didn't miss the way Magui's arms slid around his waist as she kissed his cheek. He placed his hands above hers.

You cleared your throat. ''Yeah, um, I'm really good, keeping busy'' you cooed. ''How are you? Congratulations on your first win, by the way, you earned it'' you said.

His first win made you both cry with joy and sadness. When you were together, his first goal was always to get that win under his belt. It's what he worked tirelessly for day in and day out, and ultimately, towards the end of your relationship, it almost seemed that the only way he could do that would be to have zero distractions. At the time, and even now, you never took that as a reason for your break up or a reason to hate him for it. It was what was best back then, and you couldn't go back now. So as happy as you were for him, a part of you was sad that it was something that couldn't be celebrated by you at his side. It was her.

''Thank you, yeah, finally got that done. Next up, championship, hopefully'' he said, smiling year to ear.

The conversation went on for a few more minutes, but you decided you needed to get away from it. Magui was giving you eyes. Eyes that warned you, eyes that basically said back the fuck up, even though it was Lando who was making most of the conversation.

You excused yourself and made your way to the bathroom after failing to find Lissie in the crowd.

You fanned your face and tried to control your breathing to stop the tears that were threatening to spill down your face, as the door opened.

She walked in.

''What the fuck are you playing at?'' she all but shouted at you.

''What?'' you asked in disbelief.

''Seriously, stay the fuck away from him'' he spat before walking out the door.

You were shocked, where was this coming from? You had an innocent conversation with your ex boyfriend and his new girlfriend. What's more to it?

You went back out and found Lissie, told her everything that happened. She had been no where to be found as she was pulled to go do a few photos for her page, but now she was fuming with how it all played out.

You decided to block all of that out of your mind and enjoy the rest of the night, It was all you could do, besides curl up and cry in a corner, and you really weren't in the mood for the latter.

At some point, a few of the crowd had wanted to carry on the party at a nearby club, and so you found yourself at the back of a taxi, waiting for Lissie to come in, and until it was Lando who had taken a seat next to you, beaming at you.

Your breath halted as he closed the door and told the driver the address of the club. (Obviously it was a race weekend, so he wouldn't be drinking, but had to make an appearance)

You were glad it was dark out so Lando hopefully wouldn't be able to see the flush on your cheeks. But fuck, where was his girlfriend in all of this. Did she know he was here with you right now?

''I-'' you started though he cut you off.

''It's actually so good to see you y/n'' he said, softly.

''You too Lando'' you replied, not sure where this conversation was going.

''Even though we left each other as friends, i feel like i have to tell you...'' he started.

You just listened and waiting, not sure what to say back.

''What we had was good, so good. So real... Some of my best moments in life were the ones spent with you'' he almost whispered. ''I wish we could get those days back. Just be together, never have broken up, but just lived on with each other, loved each other forever..''

You let out a breath, more tears threatening to spill out your eyes.

''Lando..fuck. You know i feel the same way. But i don't think it's fair firstly to Magui, that we're talking about...us, like this, and secondly it's not fair to me. Because I've been trying to move on every fucking day since, and hearing you say that breaks down all the words I've built up.

''I just feel like there was too much left undone'' he said softly.

''Lando, stop. I..Where-where's Magui? Why are you here saying all to this to me right now?'' you asked.

''She got pissed that I came to talk to you. Went back to the hotel.''

''So go back to her then.''

Now he took a breath.

''Fuck..we're not even together. We're just hooking up. I mean, she's great, but i just don't see myself with someone like her, y'know?''

You kept quiet for a bit.

''Well that's not what she makes it seem to be. She fucking told me to stay away from you not even an hour ago'' you said, sounding angrier than you intended to.

''What?'' he questioned.

''Yeah'' you said softly. ''Honestly? with the way your fans are treating her, and all that she's said to me tonight, this is something i can't get involved with. She's toxic, and with where i am in my career, i can't be having her drama follow me'' you said.

Suddenly Lando's whole demeanor changed. He was agitated, fuming, metaphoric steam blowing out of his ears.''

He chucked, to himself then looked you. ''It's always gotta be about the other woman, right? Forget everything good we had, blame it on the other woman.''

''Lando what? What are you even talking about? I'm not blaming her for anything, just saying I don't want to be associated with her. And I'm sorry if i do become, I'm not willing to jeopardize myself to look like the bad one.'' you said.

''Honesty? fuck off'' he spat.

The rest of the ride was silent, you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay, and when you finally got to the club, Lando got up and slammed the door with such force it had you jolting in your seat.

You took a minute to compose yourself before telling the uber driver to take you back to your hotel. Your tears were flowing freely, uncontrollably.

The man you loved basically said he wanted to get back with you, and you shut him off because of the woman he's just fucking. And now he was done with you. Fucking fantastic.

Needless to say, you cried yourself to sleep that night. Seeing Lando, thinking back on memories you hadn't allowed yourself to for so long, having her there, Lando telling you things you'd wanted to hear forever though it wasn't so simple to live through them, and eventually ending with Lando basically telling you to fuck off. You were broke, all over again.

You were to attend the race as well, and you did, because you were cooped up in the Ferrari hospitality all day. Your heart clenched when Lando won the race. He deserved it, no doubt. But everything still hurt. Once again, it wasn't you he'd be celebrating with. And whatever good thing about your relationship ended a few nights ago.

Lissie had dragged you to a club to just let loose and forget about all your problems - something you'd kill for right now.

It was nice to have a night out with the other wags and people you knew, though your mind kept drifting back to Lando. He still had a hold on you, and no matter how much you tried to forget him, you just couldn't.

Him being less than 20 meters away from you wasn't helping either. You'd just seen him walk in, with Magui on his arm. The both of them joined at the hip.

He hadn't noticed you yet, though she did. She smirked, and quickly pulled Lando's face in for a heated kiss. You forced yourself to look away, and walked in the other direction.

Much to your mismay, you found yourself within your friends group, and now Lando and Magui included. They were sat directly opposite you. You seriously wanted the ground to swallow you up, rather be anywhere else but here.

It was awkward, sure, because only you, Lando and Lissie knew what went on the other night - unless he told anyone else.

Everyone was chattering and drinking, laughing and dancing, and for the first time tonight, Lando glanced your way.

You breath - hitching as it always does when he looks at you, caught in your throat as you took a sip of your drink, keeping your eyes trained on his, which were lingering at you still.

He was throwing daggers at you, and when Magui jolted him out of his trance, he immediately pulled her closer, practically on to his lap as he started nuzzling her neck.

You quickly busied yourself, trying to make conversation with Charles and Alex though your eyes kept involuntarily wandering back to Lando.

Now he was full on making out with her, tongue and all, as his hands groped at her ass.

Deciding you needed some air, you went to the bar to get another drink, and while waiting, as if the universe was playing tricks on you, the pair of them, landed beside you, Lando's back to you.

Although the club was loud, you could still just about make out what Lando was saying to her.

He was whisper-shouting dirty words into her ear. Telling her how plans to ruin her later. Fuck her into oblivion, kiss every inch of her body, devour her pussy, and salivate over her delicious juices. The most delicious he's ever had.

Forget the universe. It was Lando. Lando himself who was playing you dirty.

When you were together, dirty talk was one thing that you absolutely loved during sex. Lando knew how to do it well, and he'd fuck you for hours while whispering filthy words into your eyes, making you cum again and again until you had none left in you.

You knew he was playing you - trying to get a reaction from you. From what he old you the other night about whatever he had going on her Magui, you knew he would never have shown her a second glance or said things like this. It was all just a act to rile you up.

She, though, was loving it. Giggling in his neck as he showered her with kisses all over, hands roaming each others day, and you wouldn't be surprised if she was putting on her own show - to make it clear to you ''into her'' Lando was.

You grabbed your drink, downed it, as you clenched your thighs together, trying your hardest not to let Lando's words affect you as he knew they would, because what the fuck - you wouldn't stoop so low hearing him say those things to someone else, would you?

A short while later, needing some proper air this time, you made your way outside, using the excuse of needling a cig break to the others.

As soon as you walked out the door, you let out a big breath you didn't realize you holding on to. It felt like a weight lifted over your shoulders, though that chest-tightening feeling returned straight away when you saw Lando walk out behind you and follow you to a secluded area.

''Lan-'' you started but he cut you off, his eyes piercing through yours with something you weren't sure you'd ever seen from him. A mixture of longing yet laced with anger of some sort.

''Out celebrating my win, yeah?'' he said, cockiness oozing out of him.

You scoffed. ''Huh, what are you doing out here? Thought you'd be rushing out to get back to your hotel? Something about fucking your girl and all'' you said, gaining confidence from the few drinks you had.

''Y/n'' he warned, stepping into your space and bring his hand up to cover your mouth.

His touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, like suddenly you were alive again.

''Shh'' he whispered softly. ''Only one person who gets to call themselves 'my girl,' and it ain't her.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You wanted to be mad at Lando, forget him and move on, but how can you do so when he was looking at you like this, talking to you like this?

''I-'' he cut you off again.

''Don't need to say anything right now, baby, but let's get out of here?'' he said, voice low and hoarse. The nickname sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, not knowing what to do. Your heart was telling you to go with him, though your head was screaming at you not to.

But all thoughts and hesitations were lost when Lando leaned down and kissed your cheek ever so gently, letting his head rest against it.

Instinctively, your hands reached up and cupped his face, pulling it back to look at him again.

''What about her? you asked.

''Already told her to fuck off, she was already throwing herself at someone else'' he said quickly.

''Lando''

''Fuck, please'' he said, licking his lips, while his hands were now wrapped around you and on the small of your back.

''Fuck'' you whispered, your mind racing more and more by the second the more you took into account what was really happening.

Lando so close you could feel his breath on your face, the smell of his musky and expensive cologne, the intensity of his crystal blue eyes staring right through you, his hold on you as if his life depended on it. Fuck, you were screwed.

''Baby'' he whispered, but this time you were quick to react.

You roughly pulled his face in, crashed your lips to his to which he responded immediately. It was rough, desperate, messy, but somewhere at the back of both your minds, there were fireworks going off.

Lando pulled you impossibly closer and his hands ran through your air, pulling at it from the ends as you both fought for dominance over the kiss, tongue battling each other until you gave in and let him slip his through. He explored your mouth like a starved man.

It may have been years since your last kiss, but right now, it felt like you were both home. It felt right, and with the way you knew each others triggers, it felt timeless.

You played with the hair on the back of his neck as his lips left yours, both desperate for air, sloppy smiles playing both your lips, until a voice broke you out of your trans.

''Are you fucking joking me? You're leaving me for this piece of shit?'' said the voice as you both looked to where it was coming from.

Magui.

Lando's hold on you tightened to a point where it was painful.

''Of fuck off'' he said. ''As if your tongue wasn't down that guys throat the minute i ended it with you, what not 10 minutes ago'' he spat.

''Don't turn the subject around. Seriously Lando, fucking going back to leftovers when you can have the finest ass in town?'' she pressed.

''Yeah actually, because the 'finest' ass in town already rotten though MY leftovers are as fresh as day 1'' he threw back.

Your heart clenched at that.

This time she didn't have any answer back, so she muttered something incoherent to herself and walked away.

''Don't listen to anything she said. Ignore her. I'm sorry for the way she spoke to you the other day as well. I'm sorry for how i fucking spoke to you. I was a dickhead and you deserved better'' he said softly, eyes begging for forgiveness.

You didn't say anything back. Instead you pecked his lips a couple of times before pulling him in for a simple hug, pouring all your love for him into it.

''Take me back to the hotel'' you whispered. ''Now.''

Lando smiled to himself, took your hand and called for the valet to bring his car.

The ride back was palpable with tension, no words spoken again, just cheeky glances at each other, eyes dark with lust, as Lando let his hand rest on your thigh, achingly close to where you craved him the most.

Your mind was racing, not paying attention to where he was driving, so when he stopped the car and parked at an area overlooking the sea you were quick to question him.

''Lan?''

He said nothing, but adjusted his seat back, manhandling you and pulling you onto his lap.

You straddled him, your dress already bunched up at your stomach as his hands roamed your body, eyes glued to yours.

''Need you now'' he said breathlessly before leaning up to lock lips again, biting down harshly on your lower lip causing you to whimper.

You started grinding down on him, feeling his cock grow through his jeans as he practically ripped your dress into two pieces, eyes growing big when he saw you weren't wearing a bra.

''Fucking hell. Can't say i haven't missed my babies'' he said, smirking as he rolled your left nipple between his thumb and index fingers, earning a series of dirty moans from you.

''Please, Lan'' you begged. Your cunt, still grinding down and creating a wet patch through your panties and on his jeans, was clenching achingly around nothing.

As he continued to toy with you nipple, his mouth found your other one, wasting no time in biting and sucking on it harshly, making you pull his hair tightly, still begging for more.

''Still taste so good'' he mumbled, snaking his hand down your toned body until he reached your core. He ran his fingers over your clothed pussy, smirking when he realized how wet you were.

''Don't flatter yourself'' you teased when you saw his smirk.

Lando raised his brows, ''didn't say anything babygirl'' before he pushed your lacy panties to the side and finally touched you, sliding his fingers through your juices and quickly finding your clit. He knew your body better than you did.

''Fuck Lando please'' you begged again, the feeling of him on your clit having you more desperate than before.

''Patience love'' he whispered, holding your hips still to stop your movements.

His fingers suddenly pulled away from your cunt, you were about to protest when you saw what he was doing - licking them clean on your juices, before he bought them up to your own lips to take in.

''My favourite fucking taste'' he murmured and you moaned around him.

Finally though, he returned them down there and settled at your entrance His eyes gave you a questioning look and you eagerly nodded, before he thrust two fingers in at once, curling them straight away having you a shuddering mess in his arms.

You bit down on your lip, letting a few guttural moans escape you as Lando sped up his movements of thrusting in and out of you.

''Yes, fuck, so fucking good'' you said through bated breaths, while Lando started edging you on with his own words.

''Baby you're so fucking tight, how the hell are you gonna take my cock, huh? You think you can take it? Being so fuckin tight'' he threw at you.

''Fuck, yes, please'' you said, quickly feeling the warmth start to build up in your stomach.

''Lan I'm close,'' you warned, and this time he added a third finger while his thumb toyed with your clit, causing your orgasm to rip through your body as you came violently all over his fingers.

''Oh my, fuck'' you said, eyes squeezed shut as Lando didn't slow his movements. Instead he added a whole fourth finger, you heard him say something about ''needing to stretch you out before you were ready for his cock''

Within minutes you came again, your warm juices gushing out, making a mess of everything. Again, you were blanked out, just about hearing what Lando was saying again. Something like ''''you're so fucking good for me darling, such a good brat'' until he finally pulled his fingers out, and once again licked them clean as you sat there, eyes hooded, sweat shining on both your faces, and a shy smile on your face, chest heaving.

''Lan'' you said, pecking random parts of his pace.

''Think you're ready for me y/n? Wanna ride me? Then let me take you back to the hotel and take you from behind, yeah?''

His words had you dripping with want, needling more from him. When you dated before, you were young, but your sex life was amazing. You wondered though how it would feel now. Would it feel more fulfilling? Even better than before? You certainly couldn't wait to find out.

You bit your lip as you gently lifted yourself off Lando's lap, just enough o let him unzip and unbutton his jeans, pulling them down, together with his boxers.

You won't lie, seeing his thick girth spring out and stall tall before you had your mouth watering.

''Like what you see?'' he asked, a smirk on his face.

''Fuck off'' you threw.

''I'd rather you fuck me''

'''Gladly'' you said, before taking your place again, cupping him and pumping him a few times. You were internally thanking him for ''stretching'' you out because he was bigger than average, and you weren't sure how he'd have fitted easily.

Lando reached to his pocket and pulled out a condom, ripping the packet open with his teeth as he was about to roll it on though you stopped him.

''Lan we're not 20 anymore, I'm still non birth control, but fuck, i need to feel all of you. Please'' you begged.

His eyes turned even darker, breath hitching as he listened to your words before you grabbed the condom from him and threw it somewhere in the car, then palmed him again.

You slid his dick through your folds, which were clenching uncontrollably as Lando leaned back and shut his eyes, taking in the feeling of having your hands on the place he's dreamed about for almost two years.

''Fuck baby please'' he begged now, impatient to slide into you.

You mimicked his words from earlier. ''Patience baby'' you said, though you were just as desperate as he was.

Lando was not having it today, instead he roughly took a hold of his dick, and pushed you down onto him by your waist.

You gasped at the intrusion, mind foggy at how incredible it felt, but at the same time there was always the unavoidable sting because of just how much Lando stretched you out.

He bottomed out straight away, hips joined together, as you sat still on him, both your faces contorted with pleasure as you allowed your body a few minutes to respond.

After a few seconds though, your braced your hands on Lando's shoulders and began to move, up and down, up and down, riding his pole like your life depended on it.

''Fuck baby, that's it, so fuckin tight around my dick and taking me so well'' Lando cooed as he felt your walls clench around him, making his dick twitch uncontrollably through your movements.

''Fuck Lan, missed this, feels so good, fuck'' you said between breaths.

Both your moans were lewd, filthy, and anyone walking by your car would be able to hear how you were ruining each other, fucking each other hard and fast, rough,but you didn't care. You wanted the whole world to know. You wanted her to know.

''Lan I'm gonna come'' you said, feeling your orgasm approach, not holding back.

''Let it out, fuck y/n, cum all over me, then later cum again when i push my dick through your asshole'' he threw, his words instantly sending you over the edge, releasing your sap all over him.

''Oh my god, yes, uh, i can't you panted, body like jelly in his arms as Lando had to hold you upright, and now fuck himself into you to chase his own high.

You slumped forward on him as he placed his head over your shoulder, bouncing your body up and down his pole until suddenly he was ready for his own release.

''Uhhh, gonna cum y/n, where?'' he asked.

''In me! Please'' you all but shouted, needing distressingly needing to fell his cum inside of you.

Your words sent him into overdrive, and before he knew it, Lando was spraying your insides white with his warm cum, letting out a series of swear words through your ears as he held onto you tightly, spit flying out of his mouth.

''Feels so good'' you whispered, leaning back and cupping his face that was dripping with sweat, cheeks flushed.

Both your movements slowed, riding each other through the high as eventually it halted and you just sat there, Lando softening inside you.

He gave you a sheepish smile, chest heaving, before kissing you gently.

''How are you this fucking amazing?'' he asked. ''you were incredible back then, but now, fuck me, how did i survive this long with you?''

You bit your lip, ''feeling's mutual.''

''Back to the hotel? Let me ruin you again?'' asked, excitement in his voice.

'''Please'' you said, climbing off his dick and settling into your seat again.

Before he could zip himself up again, you leaned over the console and deep-throated him, having Lando jolt in his seat at the contact.

''Fucking hell'' he said as you pulled back, cum and spit running down your chin.

''Wanted to taste...us'' you said, watching the darkness in his eyes return.

The drive back was quick, desperate, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel painfully tight.

You had to wear his jacket, which luckily was oversized and big for you, for the walk up to his room, since he'd torn your dress.

As soon as the door was closed he pounced on you, shoving the jacket off leaving you standing bare in front of him.

Lando was about to kiss you before you pulled back and pouted.

''You're still wearing too many clothes'' you whined.

He chuckled, couldn't hold back his smile as he shed everything over, leaving himself bare you are were.

''Hmm better'' you said as your eyes shamelessly roamed his body, stopping at his dick which was twitching and growing harder by the second.

He cleared his throat. ''Permission to touch?'' he asked, already having cupped your face.

''Always'' you said, before he left your face and ran his hands down to pick you up, hauling you over his shoulder and giving your ass a few smacks.

He threw you on the bed before throwing himself on you, kissing you with an urgency, groping your body while his hands found your cunt, waltzing through your folds.

''Please fuck me?'' you asked innocently.

He smirked. ''Gonna destroy you'' he said lowly, leaning up and wrapping your legs tight around his hips before he pumped himself a few times, already hard as rock.

He lined himself up and pushed in gently, setting a slow, painfully slow pace as you whined and wriggled your body, begging for more.

''Noo Lan please, faster'' you pressed.

But he ignored you, instead bringing his mouth up to your boobs, ravishing them violently as he continued to thrust slowly in and out of you.

You were impatient though, and so you roughly grabbed his face and pulled it away from your boobs.

''Lando, fuck me now, or-'' you started sternly though he cut you off.

''Or?'' he asked teasingly, eyebrows raised.

You blushed, not having an answer. ''Or no sex for two weeks'' you threw.

''Hmm, survived two years, think I'll manage two weeks'' he said softly.

You eyes grew wild with shock. ''Of fuck off'' you said, thinking of what else to come up with but your brain short circuited when suddenly his pace was faster, rougher, harder, fucking his dick deep within you.

You shut your eyes, nails digging into his biceps and surely leaving bruises for tomorrow when you could practically hear him smirking at you.

''You fucking asked for it baby, don't take back your words now'' he said.

You got a burst of energy at his words, your eyes flying open.

''Not complaining, am i?'' you said, sending your own smirk his way.

''Fucking brat'' he mumbled, reaching his thumb down to your clit, pinching at it dramatically which within seconds had your body shaking underneath him, your cum coating him and leaking out of you with each thrust as your mind was blank again, no energy to say anything, just broken breaths as you bit down on his shoulder.

He slowed for a moment, before pulling out. ''Let me do you from the back? he asked.

''Uh huh'' you responded, though your body was jelly so he basically had to pick you up and manhandle you again until you were on your tummy, ass up in the air.

Lando coated two of his fingers in his spit before circling your rim, teasing you with a thrust but not in enough.

''Lando, now'' you threw at him, causing him to giggle.

''Okay baby, no more teasing'' he said, letting his two fingers enter your ass.

You held your breath, bit your lips together as he gave you a few licks as well.

''Gonna take me so well, my love, yeah?'' he asked.

''Yes, please, hurry'' you said, your body responding as if you haven't had multiple orgasms already.

Finally Lando coated his dick with his spit again, before pushing into you, both your moans obscene at the feeling.

He braced his hands on your hips as you held onto the headboard, his pace quickening quickly as he slammed himself in and out of you.

''Fuck, so good, look at you, such a whore for me, my own dirty slut, that's it baby, doing so fucken well for me'' he said between moans through gritted teeth.

''Lando, huh, gonna cum'' you said in a daze, letting him take full control of your body.

''Go on baby'' he pressed, and before he could even finish his sentence your orgasm rippled through you, shaking your body literally uncontrollably with the stimulation.

He slowed his movements, knowing how exhausted you were, though he didn't stop. He was just gentle now, letting you catch your breath as you body calmed down.

Lando pulled out and flipped you over again gently this time, kissing you long and slow as your wrapped your arms around him.

''Think you have one more in you baby?'' he asked. ''For me?''

Who were you to say no? You gently opened your tear-stained eyes and nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist again.

''You've done so well for me today, fuck'' he said, lining up against your cunt again, sliding in once again.

''Hmm, Lan, too much'' you cooed.

''I know love, almost there, you can do it'' he encouraged you.

By now, your brain was blacked out, you were saying things without thinking through, and your next words shook Lando to his core.

''Í love you Lando, missed you so fucking much. Baby, please, please, i fucking beg you, fuck a baby into me''

Lando had no words, no actions as to how to respond to you. He wasn't even fucking into you at a quick pace right now, but his dick thought faster than his brain, and in seconds he was cumming deep within you again, filling you up to the brink as his cock twitched painfully so inside of you.

''Lan?'' you questioned when he stayed silent - apart from his pornographic moans and pants.

''I love you too, so much, and fuck, i want a baby, like right now with you. Fuck y/n, you're it for me'' he whispered, and eventually his brain caught up to what was happening. He also noticed that you hadn't cum the last time, so he quickly pulled out and placed his tongue on your cunt.

You grabbed onto his hair and pulled it, unable to keep your groans in, as he lapped and lapped at your folds, moaning himself when he tasted the mix of both your cum.

You looked down to see his face a mess. Spit, cum, sweat, everything just sticky and dripping. Just the one look at him sent you spiraling over the edge, erratic noises leaving your mouth, though this time you didn't just cum, you squirted all over his face and hair, hands flying to cover your mouth in shock, though all Lando did was smirk and lick everything up, swallow as much as he could.

Eventually he pulled back and leaned down to your lips, letting all the juices drip down from his mouth and into yours.

You seriously didn't know how you were wake right now, but having Lando close like this had given you enough to carry on.

''That was so fucking hot, fuck y/n'' he whispered, leaving wet kisses all over your face.

All you did was hide your face in his chest and hold him tight, get both of your breaths back to a decent rate again, bask in what had just happened.

A short while later, as much as you both just wanted to doze off, your bodies were too slick and sticky to be comfortable.

With not enough energy to shower, Lando got up and gently cleaned you both up with a warm towel, before he jumped into bed beside you sleep-clad body, pulling you to his side.

You were half asleep, though awake enough to say something.

''I love you Lando, please don't leave.''

He kissed your forehead. ''Trust me baby, I'm stuck to you forever. And I'm so fucking sorry for the other night. I love you so much. So so much.''

''Nah, forget that. Just happy to be together now. I'm home'' you said, smiling in your daze.

Suddenly, something piped up and you shot out his arms.

''Lan!''

''Baby what, are you ok?'' he said, shocked at your burst of energy.

You giggled.

He shot his eyebrows and hands up.

''We did...a lot of things tonight..'' you started.

''Yeahh, and? he asked.

''I didn't get to blow you'' you pouted.

''Fuck'' he mumbled, and you didn't miss the way he palmed himself.

You wiggled your eyebrows.

''How quick can you get it up?'' you asked as he pulled you onto his lap.

''You're gonna fucking end me'' he whispered.

But finally, it was you and Lando. Together. Forever.

A.N - i think this is my longest fic. Wasn't sure if I liked where it was going, but pretty happy with how it turned out. The smut is probably my favorite that I've written, so please enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments. Also - absolutely no hate to Magui.

[chrissv4mp]

YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE IF I TOLD YA!

if you go, i'm goin' too,

'cause it was always you!

"Y/N," Matt mutters, cracking his knuckles as he watches you from his desk chair, "Come on, you look absolutely breathtaking." He sighs, a smile creeping on his face as you catch his eyes in the mirror.

He didn't understand why you would frown each time he said something nice to you. It was almost as if you didn't believe the things he was saying were truthful. All he wanted was for you to see yourself the way he did, but that wasn't humanly possible, even with words.

You shrug your shoulders as you fix the straps of your top again, pouting your lips as you groan quietly. It didn't look right on you. No, you didn't look right with it on your body. Just like how you didn't look right while standing next to Matt.

He stands up from his desk, moving to stand behind you, his hands running along the sides of your body before landing on your waist. His head rests on your shoulder, turning to the side to press a soft kiss on your neck, "I can see that look in your eyes. You're thinkin' too much,"

"That pretty little head of yours can't process all those thoughts, can it?" You sigh quietly as you look deep into your boyfriends eyes through the reflection of the mirror, "Y'know... I don't think you'd believe it if I told you how many of my compliments you've missed." He whispers, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

You raise an eyebrow in confusion, your hands moving to fix yet another flaw you caught. But, Matt's hands stop you, grabbing then softly and placing them back at your side, "So, I guess I'll just give you a few reminders. That sound good?"

His lips are moving before you can answer, whispering every compliment or praise imaginable, all while he caresses your hands with his thumbs, "You're so, so fuckin' pretty. So smart, so... awesome. My girl is such an amazing person, so sweet and kind and mine."

"Don't think I'd ever looked as good as I do whenever I'm by your side. You complete me, Y/N." He mutters, kissing your exposed shoulder as he smiles, "My girl, my girl, my girl. So good to me."

Tears prick in your eyes at his soft words, the feeling of his lips on your skin just making you feel even more secure in his hold. You've never been showered with so much... love.

You don't even know what you were crying for. You suck in a breath, cutting off your boyfriend mid-sentence, "I honestly don't think I could love you more, Matt." You sigh, turning around to face the very boy who you knew you'd be with 'til the day that you die.

You were sure you'd love him 'til the day that you die. You just hoped he felt the same, "Me neither." He whispers, eyes darting all across your face as he breathes in.

His hands went to cup your face, pulling you close until your lips connected in a sweet kiss. Your own hands moved behind his neck, fingers intertwining as he rocked you two back and forth subtly.

@jetaimevous @livialifesblog @watercolorskyy @blahbel668 @her-favorite @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @fallingforfalll2 @ncm9696 @ifwdominicfike @hrtsdollie

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

[toasttt11]

the right boy

summary: being in love with your childhood best friend isn’t always the right choice maybe the cute hockey player is the right boy?

jj mccarthy x reader, luke hughes x reader

Growing up with the McCarthy family and being best friends with JJ especially. From going high school together to being accepted into Michigan University together, the two were always glued to each other sides.

Anyone with eyes could tell JJ was in love with her just as she is in love with him, what no one could figure out is why neither had confessed yet.

She did and admitted to her feelings to JJ one night in her dorm and JJ was stunned didn’t say anything back but kissed his best friend back.

They ended up falling into bed together and fell asleep after and when JJ woke up way before her and realized the consequences of getting in a romantic relationship with his best friend, he quickly put on his clothes and grabbed his stuff and left her dorm.

Leaving her to wake up in a bed all alone. Humiliated and upset with him and herself. She confessed her love and she woke up naked and alone.

JJ ignored her the whole week and the first time she actually saw him was a week later as she was heading up the stairs up to his room, as a party is going on in the Football house and she was told that JJ is in his room.

She knocked on the door before opening it and freezing at the sight in front of her, A bleach blonde sorority girl who JJ has said he did not like at all but she was on JJ’s lap straddling him.

JJ looked up at the sound of the door and his eyes widen drastically and his heart dropped seeing who was in the door, he immediately pushed the girl off him and was chasing after his best friend who was already down the stairs and quickly hurrying through the party to outside.

“Rosie! Rosie! Stop!” JJ called after his best friend, using the nickname she got when they were young and she would make rose crowns and make everyone wear them, JJ saw her slowing down but not turning towards him.

“What’s wrong?” JJ questioned seeing the tears on her face and the way she ran out of the house

She just looked at, “Why?” She asked the question she had been wanting to know.

“Why What?” JJ asked looking extremely confused.

“If you didn’t feel the same why did you kiss me back.” She demanded towards him glaring at him with tears still in her eyes.

JJ blanched looking pale, “Ro- i do feel something for you, i have for years.” He desperately spoke moving forward to hold her hands but his heart broke even more seeing her flinch away from his touch.

“In Love? So in love that you kissed me back after hearing my confession and didn’t say if you felt the same, then slept with me but was gone before i woke up and completely ignored me for a week only to stop ignoring me because i found you making out with someone else. Yeah JJ i’m sure you are so in love with me.” She sarcastically nodded watching JJ’s face fall the more she spoke.

“Rosie that’s not-“ JJ desperately tried to get out knowing how bad he screwed up, especially knowing he’s been kinda messing with her on accident, didn’t help he asked her to be his prom date in high school and bought her flowers and everything, always touching her and letting her wear his jerseys. JJ always denied it when anyone asked about his feelings for her because he was scared and know he realizes that wasn’t a good idea.

“Save it JJ.” She cut him off sniffling, “I’m done. I’m done trying to read into all of your double sided actions, I’m done trying to be there when you’re sleeping around with half the girls in the school and come cuddling up to me after. I’m done letting you stomp all over me.” She spat out all the words she had been holding on for years.

She quickly turned around and started walking away ignoring his calls after her and continued the walk home.

“Fuck!” JJ cursed as slammed his foot against the light post watching her continue to walk away eventually until she was out of sight.

She stopped going to anything football related and blocked JJ’s number and ignoring anyone who contacted her that is connected to JJ, making all of the McCarthy family sad and confused why she wasn’t talking to them until JJ admitted he screwed up.

It was a few weeks later and she was sitting in the library working on her history assignment when she heard someone clear their throat, she looked up seeing Luke Hughes standing there with a nervous look messing with the straps of his backpack.

“Is it okay-“ He asked gesturing to the empty seat next to, “Everywhere else is full.” And he wasn’t wrong the whole library was packed of students.

“Sure.” She nodded softy and looking back down at her assignment, blowing out a frustrated breath when her hair fell and covered her face.

“Your McCarthy’s Girl?” Luke hesitantly questioned knowing who she was since he started at Umich and saw her at a party and she was sophomore then and he thought she was stunning but knew he didn’t have any chance as JJ was her boyfriend.

“I am not JJ’s girl.” She looked up sternly speaking as she glared at the cute curly haired boy.

“Sorry, just everyone thinks that.” Luke flushed apologizing quickly not meaning to offend her, but also feeling hopeful that she might be single.

“It’s okay, but JJ lost his chance and i’m moving on.” She explained shaking her head knowing Luke didn’t mean anything bad when he asked. And she wasn’t lying about moving on the more she remembered how bad JJ has treated her the easier it has been to start moving on.

“That’s good, i mean sorry?” Luke awkwardly scratched his head, She couldn’t help but let a laugh at how awkward but adorable he looks, she hasn’t laughed for days, Luke perked up smiling happily hearing her laugh because of him.

Luke started coming back everyday and sitting next to her getting to learn a little more and more about her each day, he also noticed she always seemed frustrated with her hair, always looking annoyed when it fell her face but never putting it up.

“I have a question.” Luke spoke leaning his chin on his hand looking at her as she was writing onto her notebook.

She looked up setting her pen down giving him her full attention, “Shoot.”

“Why don’t you put your hair up? You always seemed annoyed by that.” Luke questioned noticed the many times she gets very annoyed by her hair.

“Uh when i put my hair up i get headaches pretty quickly so i’m just stuck with it being in the way all the time.” She looked away slightly trying to ignore the warmth growing on her cheeks as she realized Luke noticed that but she was not suprised as Luke is very sweet and attentive.

“Why not cut it short?” Luke softly questioned frowning, His mom always has her hair short too because she hates it long so he wondered why she hasn’t cut her hair short.

“I’ve been told i look better with long hair.” She awkwardly explained thinking of the time that JJ told her short hair just didn’t look good on her and she should keep her hair long.

“That’s bullshit, you’ll look great with either hair length. But it’s more important that you’re comfortable and your hair now seems to not do that.” Luke reached over gently squeezing her hand giving her a meaningful look, “Whoever said that is stupid because you’re absolutely beautiful and your hair is not gonna change that.” Luke smiled softly at her reassuring her.

She felt her eyes soften as she listened to Luke speak and she hated feeling her heart race a little faster remembering how it did that around JJ, “Thanks Lu” She smiled softly squeezing his hand back and she knew she had to rethink about getting her haircut short.

A month later she had slowly felt she was moving on and really healing from all of the pain, she had talked to the rest of the McCarthy’s besides JJ and they all understood why she didn’t talk to them for a little while.

A big part of moving on was because of Luke, she has spent most of her free time with Luke and has went to more hockey games in the last month than her last three years at Umich.

Luke’s friends are lovely and easily accepted her in their group making her feel as if she gained multiple brothers.

She had just came back from a hair appointment where she finally decided to chop her hair off and it was above her shoulders now and it felt so incredible.

She headed to Luke’s dorm and walked down the hallway to his dorm knocking on the door waiting for Luke to open the door.

Luke smiled hopping of his bed hearing the knock and knew who it was, he opened the door and froze seeing her, “Yo-You cut your hair!” Luke stuttered out looking shocked.

She smiled bashfully tucking her shorter hair behind her ear, “I did.” She has to admit she really liked how she looks with the short hair and regretted listening to JJ and not cutting it sooner.

“It looks beautiful.” Luke softly spoke, thinking she looks more herself with the haircut and he never thought she could get even more beautiful but with her new hair, she definitely did.

“Yeah?” She asked hopefully her dimples showing up from smiling up at him.

Luke smiled at her gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “Beautiful.” His eyes flickered between her eyes and lips.

She smiled even wider, “Thank you.” She softly mumbled.

Over the past few weeks of knowing Luke, she began to feel more herself and smiled easier with him. He made her feel in the way not even JJ even made her feel.

She accepted the fact that she has feelings for Luke, feelings that are only growing stronger and stronger every day.

Luke smiled softly seeing her smiling and his hand stayed on her cheek gently rubbing her cheekbone.

“Kiss me?” She hopefully whispered, looking up at him.

Luke froze his eyes widening in shock and hope, “Kiss you?” His voice went higher but he had a very hopeful look on his face. He has hoped to hear her say those words for a very long time.

“Please.” She whispered her eyes flickering nervously around his face.

Luke let out a sigh of relief and bent down to her finally pressing his lips to hers and sighing happily as they melted to each other.

Luke whined when she pulled away making her laugh fondly and press another kiss to his lips.

“Does this mean i can take you on a date?” Luke whispered taking a step back into his dorm and closing the door but not letting go of her.

“You can as my boyfriend.” She teased his softly back enjoying the way his face softened even more.

“I would love too.” Luke beamed pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, she sighed in relief and wrapped her arms around him resting her head on his chest.

Luke’s leg bounced up and down as he waited for his girlfriend to come see him, they have been dating for almost two months now and he just got back to Michigan after playing with the Devil’s for the playoffs and he was going to have his girlfriend finally meet his family.

Jack and Quinn shared an amused look at how excited Luke is to see his girlfriend, they have known about her for a little bit now and Luke surprisingly talked about her quite a bit to his brothers.

Luke smiled getting a text from her that she is here and he quickly got up and walked down the front steps seeing her car in the driveway, she got out of the car and Luke immediately wrapped his arms around her spinning her around.

“Lu.” She giggled as he spun her around making her cling to him, Luke slowly stopped setting her back down, “I missed you.” She whispered holding onto Luke tightly.

“I missed you too my sweet girl.” Luke softly whispered back pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“Gonna introduce us Lukey boy.” Jack playfully called out from where Quinn and him were standing on the front porch.

Luke pulled back from their hug rolling his eyes making her snicker but flashing a slighty nervous look at his brothers. Luke saw her nerves and grabbed her hand squeezing it reassuring and walking her over to his brothers.

“Jack, Quinn this is my girlfriend.” Luke proudly introduced her making her flash a smile at the two.

“So you’re the girl who my brother never shuts up about.” Jack teased flashing her a soft smile back.

“You talk about me.” She playfully teased her boyfriend making him fondly roll his eyes blushing.

“Shush you.” Luke grinned pinching her side. She just smiled softly at him before turning back to his brothers, who were watching the exchange and thought she was already perfect for their little brother.

She followed the boys into the house and saw a very beautiful woman in the kitchen who looked very similar to Jack.

Ellen looked up and beamed seeing her youngest son’s girlfriend, “You are just as pretty as Luke said.” Ellen softly complimented her walking over and she held out her hand for a handshake but Ellen just smiled pulling her into a hug.

“Thank you.” She softly spoke to Ellen as she was hugged her back softly and she gave Luke a wide eyed glance, Luke had told her that Ellen was exicted to meet her but she thought he was being nice but Ellen seems genuinely excited to see her but she shouldn’t be suprised with how kind Luke is, it is obvious he got his kindness from his mother.

Ellen linked her arm with her and started taking to her youngest son’s girlfriend wanting to know everything about her as she can easily tell how smitten Luke is for her.

Luke smiled softly seeing the two most important woman in his life getting along immediately. He let his mom take his girlfriend and he knew his mom would introduce her to his father. Luke also knew there was no way he was going to get his girlfriend back from his mother for a while.

“You picked a good one.” Quinn told his baby brother squeezing his shoulder softly, it was easy to see how in the love the two are with each other in just one glance and she obviously is good for Luke and got along with their mom immediately.

“You better keep her around.” Jack pointed a playful finger at his little brother, already liking his girlfriend and couldn’t wait to get to know her more especially with how easy she teased Luke.

“I plan too.” Luke firmly told his brother smiling as he heard his mother and girlfriends laugh.

Luke spent some time in the living room with his brother, letting his girlfriend have some time with mother before he couldn’t wait any longer and got up walking to the dinning room seeing the his girlfriend, his mom and dad all talking.

“Can i have my girlfriend back now.” Luke whined as he walked into the dinning room and stood being her wrapping his arms over her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Ellen smiled amused but nodded, Luke grinned and let her stand up and immediately pulled her to his side skiing her laugh and wave at his parents as they walked out of the dinning room and to the living room where Jack and Quinn were still playing videos games.

“Ah he got you back.” Jack looked up and laughed seeing how less grumpy Luke looks now with his girl in his arms. Quinn chuckled too as he saw how Luke was clinging to her.

She smiled and chuckled as she looked at Luke fondly, Luke pulled her down onto the couch and pulled her as close as possible burying his head in her neck and letting a happy sigh.

She easily talked and laughed with Jack and Quinn as if she had known them for years making Luke so incredibly happy as he just was content to listen to them talk.

She stayed for a week with the Hughes and easily everyone just adored her and she fit into their family perfectly. She was the best choice Luke could ever make.

The Hughes were all going to the first game of the 2023-2024 football season, Luke was in town for a few more weeks before he headed to to New Jersey for his rookie year so they were spending as much time together as possible. Lucky for the couple it was her senior year so they would only have to long distance for one year.

She stood on the sidelines of the football field talking with Ellen and Jack as Quinn and Luke were a few steps away talking to some friends and Jim was making new friends somewhere down the sideline.

She has a small blue denim skirt, a yellow tank top and Luke’s michigan jacket.

She laughed at something Jack said when she heard her name being called and she spun around seeing JJ’s sisters.

“Hi.” She awkwardly spoke not sure how to act around the two anymore since she no longer speaks to JJ even if she did grow up around them. She walked over to them meeting them in the middle.

“Rosie!” Caitlin beamed and pulled her into a tight hug.

Morgan smiled and waited for her turn and once Caitlin stepped back Morgan pulled her into a tight hug, “We missed you.”

“I missed you guys too.” She truthfully told them, but she was trying to stay away from JJ and unfortunately it’s easier to stay away from him by being away from the girls too.

JJ finished warming up and was trying to find his sisters and saw them talking to a girl with short brown hair, he walked up to them and threw an arm over his little sister’s shoulder and froze when he saw the face of the girl they were taking to.

“Ro.” JJ whispered shocked as he looked at her, she had cut her hair. She looked so glowy and more beautiful than usual, she looked happy and that was hard pick to swallow knowing he has been miserable without his best friend.

“Hi.” She bluntly spoke, not feeling as nervous as she thought she would feel when she saw JJ again.

“You uh look good.” JJ stammered out flashing a hopeful smile at her.

“I know.” She smiled calmly back and flashed a much softer smile at the girls, “It was good seeing you two.” She squeezed both of the girls hands and turned around and walked away letting JJ see the name on the back of her jacket. Hughes.

JJ’s jaw clenched as he watched her walk to Luke. He knew who Luke is. It was harsh realization as he watched the two knowing he had lost her forever.

She let out a long sigh as she walked away and felt lighter and more free, she walked back to Ellen and Jack and saw Luke back with them.

“You okay?” Luke asked her the second she got to close to as he scanned her face, he saw JJ near her and wanted to give her space but he was watching to make sure she didn’t look uncomfortable.

She let out a sigh and walked to him wrapping her arms around his waist. “I am now.” She mumbled happy as she hugged her boy.

Luke smiled softly, “Good.” Luke pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and she knew she had picked the right boy.

Her boy.

[rafesapologist]

strangers ─ drew starkey; ch. 2

summary: getting casted on outer banks threw you into overnight stardom, and an unforeseeable off-screen romance with one of hollywood's newest and biggest heartthrobs.

warnings: unedited, tension (kind of)

author's note: the info in this story about drew is mostly made up!! some of these scenarios and 'facts' are not things that have happened in real life, this is all merely part of the plot of the story.

As if the expectations of being cast onto one of the biggest shows wasn't enough, you were in for the surprise of your life when your manager called and told you that the directors wanted you to start spending time off-screen with your soon-to-be co-star.

"They think it'll make the chemistry on the show more believable if you guys get to know each other more in real life," Kendra sighed and you could practically hear her shrug over the phone.

"Okay?" You responded with a subtle temperament in your tone that went ignored by your manager, "I auditioned for the show, not to become some PR stunt for ratings." You rebutted firmly, crossing your arms as if it made your testament any more earnest.

"Not PR, just friends. If you're gonna work with somebody for who knows how long, you need to at least be acquainted with them," she reaffirmed blithely and you could hear her light up another cigarette over the line, as if her raucous smoker's voice wasn't prominent enough already.

"Then what are we supposed to do that doesn't make it look like we're dating? Cause anything we do is gonna draw attention," you asked, pointing out the burning question in your mind. Drew was a rising star in Hollywood, and it didn’t take much for the media to latch onto any spark of gossip, let alone the proximity between two co-stars. You could already imagine the headlines—"New Romance on Set?" or "Chemistry Beyond the Screen?"—flashing across tabloids, fueling rumors neither of you had any control over. The mere thought made your stomach twist, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the pull of curiosity.

"I don’t know, just grab lunch, go over lines, anything normal," Kendra responded with a casualness that felt at odds with the gravity of the situation. "The point is to make you two comfortable around each other, not to stage some fake romance. But hey, if the chemistry works out in your favor, it's not a bad thing, right?" Her tone was light, but you could sense the subtle hint of persuasion.

You bit your lip, considering the reality of it. Drew—charming, talented, and devastatingly handsome—had already made an impression during the audition, and though his professional demeanor had been disarming, you couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of tension that had crackled between you both. But off-screen was a different game altogether, one where your vulnerability wasn’t masked by a script or camera angles. The idea of spending more time with him outside the confines of rehearsals left you feeling exposed in a way you weren’t sure you were ready for.

"Fine, I’ll do it. But if this turns into some media circus, you owe me a long vacation after this project is over," you finally agreed, letting out a deep breath that didn’t quite ease the knot in your chest.

Kendra laughed, the sound raspy yet full of amusement. "Deal. Besides, you never know what might happen. Worst-case scenario, you make a new friend, right?"

But even as you nodded, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this arrangement than just bonding over scripts and coffee. Drew's name carried weight, and being linked to him—professionally or otherwise—was bound to stir something bigger than either of you could control. And for a brief moment, you wondered if it was the career boost you’d always needed, or a risk you weren’t prepared to take.

"Alright," Kendra continued, breaking the silence. "I’ll set something up. Keep your schedule open for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" You almost choked on the word, your pulse quickening at how soon this was all happening.

"Yep. No time like the present." Kendra’s voice was cheerful, almost too cheerful. "You’ve got this, kid. Trust me."

The call ended before you could protest, leaving you standing alone in your apartment, staring at your phone. You sighed, running a hand through your hair as the reality of tomorrow loomed over you. There was no backing out now, no escaping what was already set into motion.

You treaded over to your fridge, the soft hum of it the only sound in your quiet apartment. Pulling out the bottle of sangria you’d been saving for a special occasion—though right now felt more like an emergency—you unscrewed the cap with a small sigh of relief. The deep, ruby liquid swirled into the stemware glass, filling it halfway as you watched the dark red hues glisten under the dim kitchen light.

It wasn’t a celebration, not yet, but it was something—a moment to collect yourself before you plunged headfirst into whatever tomorrow would bring. You took a slow sip, letting the sweet, tangy taste linger on your tongue, savoring the small comfort it provided. The cool glass felt grounding in your hand, a quiet contrast to the chaos spinning in your mind.

With your hands pressed firmly against the cool countertop, your head hung low as you silently questioned how you ended up in this whirlwind of events. The soft buzz of your phone broke the stillness, pulling you back to reality. You glanced at the screen, and there it was—a text from Kendra.

"I talked to Drew’s managers, they said he suggested having lunch tomorrow at 2. I'll have a driver booked for you around 1:30."

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest, the words sinking in as you scanned the message over and over. Tomorrow. Lunch. With Drew. And with little to no time to prepare, your anxiety came to life, flooding your mind with a thousand what-ifs.

You stood there, staring at your phone, trying to piece together how you were supposed to handle this. Drew seemed perfectly polite at the chemistry read—cordial even—but one-on-one? Would he be the same, or was that all just an act for the directors?

Your mind raced through every worst-case scenario like a rapid-fire slideshow: what if your mind went blank, and you sat there fumbling for words like an awkward mess? What if you somehow got food stuck in your teeth, making a fool of yourself in front of him? Or worse yet, what if he wasn’t the nice guy he seemed to be? What if Drew, the rising star with all that charisma on-screen, turned out to be an arrogant asshole in real life?

The swirling thoughts made your stomach churn as you stood in the quiet of your kitchen, your fingers gripping the counter tighter. It felt like the universe was pulling you into something far beyond your control, leaving you standing on the edge of tomorrow, unprepared and vulnerable.

You gulped down the remainder of your wine, feeling its chill cascade down your throat, sending a fleeting shiver through your chest. The slight buzz gave you a brief surge of energy, enough to momentarily push aside the weight of tomorrow’s uncertainty. In that brief spark of clarity, an idea—unusual but oddly practical—struck you.

Without hesitation, you darted over to the couch, grabbed your laptop, and flipped it open with renewed purpose. The glow of the screen illuminated your face as you typed in the familiar search bar. But your focus wavered for a moment as the homepage tempted you with random recommendations—cooking tutorials, music videos, travel vlogs—each one a distraction you almost fell for.

You shook your head, quickly typing in the search: Drew Starkey.

As soon as you hit enter, the screen flooded with clips of interviews, behind-the-scenes footage, and fan-made compilations of your soon-to-be co-star.. You clicked on the first interview, your heart picking up pace as his face appeared on screen. There he was—laughing, smiling, completely at ease in front of the camera. His presence was magnetic, the same kind of charm you witnessed during the chemistry read, but now you were analyzing him in a different light. You weren’t watching an actor—no, you were trying to get to know the man behind the character.

Each video you watched painted a picture of Drew’s personality, his mannerisms, the way he laughed mid-sentence, his casual but thoughtful way of answering questions. It was easy to see why he’d become such a rising star. He had that effortless charisma that made him seem approachable yet untouchable all at once.

As you watched one of his MTV interviews, something about a particular one shifted your perspective. Drew was talking about his methods for diving into a character—how he found little pieces of himself in each role and let that guide his performance. But it wasn’t just the professional insight that caught your attention; it was the casual, almost vulnerable tone of his voice as he spoke about his life beyond acting.

He talked about college, how he had balanced classes and part-time jobs, how uncertain he’d felt back then—just like anyone else trying to figure out their future. He laughed about the odd jobs he worked before landing his first big role, like waiting tables and doing temp work. It was such a stark contrast to the larger-than-life persona the media often painted around actors. In that moment, Drew wasn’t just the rising star you'd auditioned with; he was a regular guy who had worked hard to get where he was.

Suddenly, the looming anxiety of tomorrow’s lunch didn’t seem as unbearable. If anything, the idea of talking to him felt almost comforting. You realized he was probably more grounded than you gave him credit for—despite the fame, despite the rising spotlight. It was refreshing, and it put a part of your mind at ease. You’d been so caught up in the idea of him as a powerful actor, you hadn’t considered that, like you, he might just be navigating this career with a sense of uncertainty, too.

You closed the laptop and leaned back, exhaling a long breath. Maybe tomorrow would be more casual than you imagined—just two people talking, finding their rhythm, building that off-screen chemistry in the same way you had in front of the directors. For the first time, the thought of sitting across from Drew didn’t feel like a storm waiting to hit. Instead, it felt manageable. And maybe, just maybe, it would even be enjoyable.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

“Seriously, Kendra, what should I wear?” you huffed, your phone perched precariously on the edge of your bed as you sifted through the chaos of your closet. Fabrics of every texture spilled over your arms as you frantically flipped through hangers, eyeing each piece with increasing frustration. Nothing felt right. You didn’t want to come off like you’d tried too hard, but showing up looking too casual to lunch with Drew Starkey didn’t feel right either.

“It’s just lunch, Y/N,” Kendra's voice came through the phone, nonchalant and steady as usual. “Just dress like you normally would. No need to overthink it.”

You paused, clutching an emerald green blouse in one hand, a simple beige sundress in the other. “But what if I show up looking like a total slob, or worse, like I’m trying too hard? I don’t want him to think I’m one of those actors.”

Kendra sighed on the other end, and you could practically see her lighting another cigarette in her usual blasé way. “Look, you already met him. He’s seen you act. It’s not a pageant, it’s lunch. Just wear something you feel comfortable in and go be yourself. You’ve already impressed him—trust me, your wardrobe is the least of anyone’s concerns.”

She made it sound so simple, but the weight of it all still sat heavy on your chest. You weren’t just meeting up with Drew Starkey; you were being thrown into this situation with someone whose presence alone had enough gravity to throw you off balance. Even though he’d been polite, kind, even reassuring at the chemistry read, today felt different. More personal, more exposed. What if you said the wrong thing? Or worse, what if there was nothing to say at all?

Your eyes landed on the black sundress, a light fabric that flowed in all the right ways—comfortable, but still enough to make you feel put-together. You plucked it off the hanger and held it up in front of the mirror, examining its soft, understated elegance.

“Okay, okay, I think I found something,” you said, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “A sundress. It’s casual, right?”

“Perfect,” Kendra replied, almost as if she wasn’t really paying attention. “Remember, Y/N, this is supposed to be easy. You’re overthinking it. Just go, have lunch, talk. You’ve got nothing to prove to him—you’re already Maisy.”

You nodded at her words, trying to absorb her confidence. “Yeah, I know… You’re right. I’ll text you after, okay?”

“Good luck, kid. Don’t sweat it.”

The call ended, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The room suddenly felt too quiet, and you found yourself staring at the sundress again, smoothing out the wrinkles. Kendra was right—this wasn’t an audition, not anymore. It was just lunch. But the thought of being alone with Drew Starkey for more than five minutes made your stomach flutter with anticipation.

It was already 1:30 before you knew it, and the driver was waiting outside your apartment complex just as Kendra had promised. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection, the black sundress clinging to your figure in a way that made you feel both presentable and oddly exposed. The sun streamed in through the windows, casting golden streaks across the floor, but all you could feel was the thrum of nervous energy buzzing through your veins.

You took a deep breath, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you prepared to step out the door. But just as your hand touched the doorknob, an impulse hit you, a wild flicker of hesitation. One more thing, you thought, as if something—anything—could make the looming lunch with Drew feel more manageable.

Without a second thought, you turned back and hurried over to the fridge. The cold hum of the appliance felt almost calming as you pulled out a bottle of liquor, the glass cool beneath your fingers. You reached for the shot glass on the counter, the one you hadn’t touched in weeks, and quickly poured yourself a small measure of liquid courage.

With a swift motion you knocked back the shot. The bitter burn hit your throat like fire, and you winced as it traveled down your chest, leaving a searing heat in its wake. The burn did nothing to dull the nervous energy that coiled in your stomach, but it brought with it a flash of warmth—maybe just enough to get you out the door.

You set the glass down with a clink, exhaling sharply. Okay. Just get this over with.

The city noise hummed in the background as you locked the door behind you, your heels clicking softly against the floor as you descended the stairs. By the time you stepped outside, the black SUV was already waiting, sleek and ominous, like a portal to the unknown. The driver glanced up at you from his phone, offering a quick nod as you approached.

This was it. You were about to spend the next hour or so sitting across from Drew Starkey, face to face, with no script to guide you. Just conversation—easy, simple conversation. You repeated the words like a mantra in your mind as the driver opened the door for you, and you slid into the backseat.

The drive to the coffee shop felt like a blur, as though time had folded in on itself. Twenty minutes passed in what felt like mere moments, your mind a carousel of spiraling thoughts. Each new scenario played out in flashes—awkward silences, fumbling over your words, or worse, making a terrible first impression. You barely noticed the city streets, the buildings slipping by as your pulse quickened.

Before you knew it, the car slowed to a stop. You glanced out the window and felt a jolt in your chest—the café stood before you, quaint and modern with wide, floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to strip away all your defenses. You could already imagine Drew inside, perhaps sipping on his coffee, glancing up to see you through the glass. The thought made your stomach flip.

Your driver stepped out and came around to open the door for you, his gentle nod barely registering as you mumbled a quiet "thank you" and handed him a tip. As your feet touched the ground, the sunlight was warmer than you'd anticipated, but it did nothing to chase away the cold wave of anxiety coursing through your veins.

You stood there for a moment, frozen in place as you stared at the entrance of the shop. The cheerful chatter and soft clinking of cups inside only heightened your nerves. You could feel your heart beating harder, faster, each step toward the door a battle against your own hesitation.

He’s just a person, you reminded yourself, trying to quell the panic rising in your throat. But it didn’t feel that simple. Drew Starkey, with his effortless charm and natural presence, was far from just a person in your eyes. This wasn’t a screen test or a scripted scene; this was real, and the vulnerability of it all felt like stepping into a spotlight with no lines to recite.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed down the front of your dress, squaring your shoulders as you approached the door. The reflection in the glass showed a version of yourself that seemed far more composed than you felt inside.

The moment you stepped through the door, it hit you—a wave of vulnerability like never before. The cozy warmth of the café felt stifling, too intimate, too exposing. Every eye seemed like it could be on you, but none more so than the one pair you hadn’t yet found. Your heart thudded in your chest, your breath quickened as your gaze darted around the room, desperate for a familiar face.

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you prayed Drew hadn’t noticed your awkward search. You fidgeted with your purse, shifting it from one shoulder to the other in a vain attempt to appear more casual, less like a deer caught in headlights. Your arms instinctively crossed in front of you, a small shield against the sudden discomfort that surged through your veins.

Your eyes swept over the café, landing on tables filled with groups of friends, couples huddled in cozy corners, and lone patrons with their noses in books or laptops. And then—thank God—there he was. A tall figure with broad shoulders, his back to the door, sitting by the window.

Drew.

Relief rushed through you, as if finding him tethered you back to reality. He was alone, his posture relaxed, almost casual, as if this was just another day for him. You took a slow breath, allowing yourself a second to gather what remained of your composure. The butterflies in your stomach still fluttered, but at least now you had a destination, a focus that made the swirling anxieties just a little more bearable.

With as much confidence as you could muster, you made your way toward him, every step feeling like it stretched on forever.

"Hi," you greeted softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you approached the table. You pulled out the chair opposite him, your nerves fluttering beneath your skin. "Thanks for taking the time to do this. I know you're probably super busy." The words left your lips with a quiet, breathy chuckle, an attempt to mask the awkwardness that clung to you like a shadow.

Drew looked up from his coffee, his eyes warm and inviting, as if to assure you that there was no need for nerves. A soft smile tugged at his lips, and he shook his head. "Actually, I have this week off before we start filming season 4," he explained with an easy laugh, his thumbs tracing the rim of his cup absentmindedly. "I needed to get out of the house anyway."

You laughed softly at his comment, reaching for one of the menus to give yourself a brief moment of reprieve from his gaze. Drew straightened in his chair, the subtle movement drawing your attention just before he cleared his throat.

“So, how did you get into acting?” His question was direct, almost startlingly so, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made you feel suddenly seen—too seen. You weren’t used to such earnestness from someone you'd only just met, but in a way, it was a relief. At least he wasn’t skirting around small talk.

You shifted in your seat, caught off guard by his boldness, but grateful all the same. "Uh, well..." You started, your fingers tightening around the menu. "I was in college for a while, studying psychology, but..." You hesitated, glancing down as if the table could offer some solace. Opening up so quickly wasn’t something you were accustomed to, especially with someone like him. Still, there was something disarming in the way he listened, waiting for you to continue.

"It didn’t feel right," you confessed quietly, your voice softening. "I always had this dream of becoming an actress, ever since I was a kid. So, eventually, I just... dropped out and moved to L.A." You let the words hang there, reluctant but honest. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to lay your cards on the table like this, but it seemed to happen naturally with him in that moment.

Drew’s gaze never wavered from you, his attention unwavering in a way that both flattered and unnerved you. You weren’t used to being the center of someone’s focus like this, especially not someone with his kind of presence. But his expression was kind, reassuring even, and you found some comfort in that.

“There’s no shame in that,” he said with a gentle shrug, his voice warm and understanding. “I took acting in college, but if I had done anything else, I probably would’ve left, too.”

His words brought a flicker of relief to your chest, causing you to sit up a bit straighter. You tilted your head slightly, your eyes tracing over his face, searching for any trace of insincerity but finding none.

“Really?” you asked, a light chuckle escaping your lips. “I don’t think my school even offered that.” You tugged at your bottom lip for a moment, a nervous habit you hadn’t realized you were doing until now. “Besides, I couldn’t have done that anyway. I only went to school because my parents wanted me to. I was basically just trying to make them proud.”

Your confession came out more candidly than you intended, but in the quiet of the café and under Drew’s steady gaze, it felt natural to share. For a moment, you expected him to change the subject, to keep things surface-level, but instead, he continued to pry.

"How did they feel when you came to L.A. to act?"

Your eyes widened slightly at his question, taken aback by his curiosity. It was such a personal, almost mundane topic, yet he was genuinely interested. "They were… wary about it," you replied, your gaze drifting down to the table as you absently picked at your nails. "But they told me they’d support whatever I wanted to do. Though, I’m pretty sure they thought I wouldn’t make it very far, deep down."

You laughed softly, the sound half-hearted, as if trying to ease the seriousness of your own words. You didn’t want to come off as too open or vulnerable so soon, but there was something about his attention that made it difficult to hold back.

Drew didn’t look away. His focus on you never wavered, the intensity of his gaze somehow soft yet unrelenting, making you feel both exposed and heard.

"That’s tough," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "It’s hard enough chasing something you love, but doing it without knowing if the people who matter most really believe in you… that’s even harder."

His words surprised you. Most people would brush off a confession like that or try to lighten the mood, but Drew leaned in, showing a depth of understanding that made you pause. You glanced back up at him, searching his expression. He wasn’t offering empty sympathy. It was like he genuinely got it.

“Yeah,” you responded quietly, nodding in agreement, “I guess I’ve always had that in the back of my mind, like this little voice telling me I need to prove something.” You hesitated, wondering if you should go deeper, but there was something safe in the atmosphere between you two. “I think that’s why landing this role means so much. It’s not just for me—it’s to show them I wasn’t wrong for following my gut.”

A silence settled between you both after that, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt purposeful, like both of you were letting the weight of your words sink in.

Drew gave a small smile, one that seemed to reach his eyes, softening the intensity of his stare. "Well, I think you’ve already proven that. You nailed the audition, and now here we are. You’re here for a reason."

For a moment, the two of you sat there, enduring a silence that wasn’t awkward, but the tension felt almost suffocating. Drew's gaze lingered on you, so intense that it felt like it was burning through you. Heat rose to your cheeks as his blue eyes seemed to analyze every inch of your face. You wondered if he was searching for flaws, or maybe even finding them. You felt small under his stare, like you wanted to say something to break the tension, but the words wouldn’t come. You were simply speechless under his trance.

"Have you ever taken a role like this?" Drew suddenly asked, breaking the silence as he took a sip of his coffee.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. "What do you mean?"

"Like playing a love interest," he clarified, his voice calm, almost too casual for the depth of his question. "Have you done that before?"

Your brows furrowed slightly as you processed his words, feeling the weight of them sink in. "No, not really," you replied slowly, your voice quiet but steady. "I’ve done smaller roles, but nothing like this. It’s… new for me."

Drew’s eyes softened, his expression shifting from curiosity to understanding. He nodded as if he expected that answer, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn’t just asking about acting. There was something deeper to the question, a vulnerability you couldn’t quite place.

"That’s interesting," he said, leaning back in his chair, his gaze never leaving you. "Because it doesn’t seem like it. You handle it like a natural."

His words caught you off guard, the compliment landing heavier than you anticipated. For a second, you weren’t sure if he was still talking about the role or about something else entirely. The air between you thickened again, the tension suffocating, though not entirely uncomfortable. It was the kind of tension that made your heart race, the kind that left you wondering where the line between professional and personal blurred.

"Thanks," you murmured, trying to shake off the growing heat in your chest. You didn’t trust yourself to say more. You could still feel his eyes on you, studying your reaction, and it made your pulse quicken.

“It can be intimidating at first,” he admitted, his tone reassuring as he leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on the table. There was a sincerity in his voice that made you feel at ease, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “But I’ll make sure you’re always comfortable. They can write some pretty crazy plot lines in there, so just let me know if you ever feel uncomfortable doing a scene. I’ll talk to Jonah if I have to.”

His words hit you suddenly, unexpected in their warmth and assertiveness. You paused, lips pursed in contemplation, trying to grasp the significance of his commitment to protect you from any overwhelming scenes. The air between you seemed to thicken with unspoken understanding as you wondered if this was the kind of guy he was towards everyone—protective and kind—or if this consideration was reserved solely for you, his co-star.

Regardless of the reason, you felt flattered, a soft blush creeping to your cheeks as a sense of security enveloped you, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. His presence across the table offered a calming reassurance that you hadn’t anticipated.

“Oh, well thank you,” you finally replied, sincerity coloring your voice. “Nobody has ever done that for me.”

There was a moment of silence, and in it, you could see a flicker of understanding pass between you—a shared acknowledgment of what was ahead. His blue eyes held yours with an intensity that made your heart race, as if he was searching for something deeper within you.

“It’s important,” he said softly, his tone earnest. “Acting can be raw and vulnerable. It’s easy to get lost in it all, especially when the emotions run high. I just want to make sure you feel safe.”

You nodded, a swirl of emotions churning within you as you searched for the right words. The moment felt fragile, hanging delicately in the air between you, and you didn’t want to shatter it with any misstep. Yet, the intensity of his demeanor made you feel small and nervous, as if the weight of his gaze was both exhilarating and suffocating.

Breathless, you sat across from him, the man who was still practically a stranger, yet in this moment, it felt as if you had known him for years. There was a strange familiarity in the way he looked at you, a connection that ran deeper than surface-level pleasantries.

“Thank you, Drew,” you finally managed to say, your voice softer than you intended, tinged with sincerity.

His smile widened, a warm and genuine expression that sent a flutter through your chest. “Of course. I’d be happy to do that for you,” he admitted, softly biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips, as if caught in a moment of contemplation. It was a fleeting look, but it made your heart race, igniting a mix of anticipation and curiosity within you.

“And I’m sure the rest of the cast will do the same. They’re great to work with,” he added, taking it upon himself to shift the mood, straightening his posture as if shedding the weight of the moment. You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment at the change in direction, yet a part of you understood the necessity of pacing yourself. Maybe diving too deep too soon was better left for later.

“Yeah, I’ve heard great things about them. I’m excited to meet them next,” you replied, attempting to mask your intrigue with enthusiasm.

Drew nodded, his expression brightening as he spoke about the cast. “You’ll love them. We all hang out outside of filming too. It’s like a little family, you know? Makes the long hours much more bearable.”

You giggled slightly at his comment, a lightness in your chest blooming as you absorbed the warmth of his enthusiasm. “Well, I’m honored to now be a part of it,” you joked back, a playful lilt in your voice.

Drew’s eyes sparkled at your smile, the corners of his lips curving upward in a genuine grin that seemed to radiate joy. It was as if your lightheartedness sparked something within him, and for a brief moment, the café around you faded into a backdrop.

“I think you’ll fit right in,” he replied, his tone sincere and warm, and you could sense the unspoken camaraderie beginning to take root between you. It felt refreshing, as if he was offering a piece of reassurance that made going ahead seem a little less daunting.

You felt a surge of confidence at the playfulness in his tone, fueling the conversation further. “And what makes you so sure of that?” you teased, a hint of mischief in your voice, as if daring him to justify his statement.

Drew’s tongue grazed across his teeth as he pondered your question, his blue eyes narrowing slightly in thought. The pause between you was brief, yet charged with a subtle tension, the kind that comes when two people are testing the boundaries of familiarity. His gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, you felt as though he could see right through you.

“You just seem like a likable person,” he replied, his voice soft yet confident, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sly smile. His tone was earnest, but there was something about the way he said it that made your pulse quicken—like he knew more than he was letting on, like he could already sense there was more to you than what lay on the surface.

You couldn’t help but smirk, leaning slightly forward as if to match his energy. “Is that your professional actor assessment?” you quipped, raising a brow, trying to mask the flutter in your chest with humor.

His grin widened as if your playful retort amused him. “Maybe,” he shrugged, leaning back in his chair, completely relaxed yet fully engaged. “Or maybe I’m just good at reading people.” His eyes glimmered with something more—an invitation, perhaps, to challenge him further.

Your heart raced slightly as you matched his stare, the game between you intensifying without either of you needing to acknowledge it. You felt emboldened by the easy rapport, as though you could push the conversation anywhere, and it would still feel natural, still flow effortlessly. There was something refreshing about it, and it left you wanting to keep the banter going just a little longer.

“Well, you could be wrong, you know,” you shot back, your voice lilting with amusement. “I could be the least likable person you’ve ever met, and you wouldn’t even know it yet.”

Drew chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Somehow, I seriously doubt that,” he said, his tone low and smooth, leaving just enough mystery in his words to keep you guessing.

“I guess we’ll have to see,” you shrugged nonchalantly, playing into the lighthearted banter. Drew’s eyes sparkled with amusement, as if your coy responses were entertaining him in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Despite the casual nature of the conversation, there was something in the air between you that made it feel deeper, more charged.

He leaned in slightly over the table, his body angled toward you, his presence suddenly filling the small space between you. “You know,” he began, his tone shifting to something a little more serious, yet still playful, “if we’re going to be working so closely together, why don’t we start hanging out more? It’ll make everything on-screen more believable.”

His suggestion hung in the air, sending your mind reeling. Your initial instinct was to question it—was this about the job or something more? His words seemed casual, but the way he looked at you now, with a sincerity that felt more personal than professional, told you there might be another layer to his offer.

You tilted your head slightly, trying to read him, your lips curling into a small smile. “You think so?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing, leaning just enough into the moment to keep things light, while still acknowledging the subtle tension between you.

Drew’s gaze didn’t falter. “Yeah,” he nodded, his smile widening. “The better we know each other, the easier it’ll be to build that connection on-screen.” He paused for a second, watching your reaction, and then added with a smirk, “Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know you a little better off-screen too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile back, trying to keep your cool. You glanced down at your hands for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I guess that makes sense,” you replied, your voice light and playful, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

The suggestion seemed innocent enough on the surface, but the underlying implications—the chance to spend more time together, to see if this chemistry extended beyond the lines you’d be reading—made your pulse race just a little faster.

“Alright,” you said, leaning back in your chair with a shrug, pretending to be more nonchalant than you felt. “Let’s give it a try. See if we can make this whole thing more believable.”

Drew smiled in agreement, his eyes lighting up with a warmth that seemed to settle the tension between you. He opened his mouth, about to say something more, but was interrupted by the soft buzz of his phone lighting up with a text. He glanced down at it briefly before shifting his attention back to you, his smile still faint but genuine.

“It’s been nice getting to know you a little more. I really enjoyed this,” he admitted, his voice sincere. You noticed his gaze flicker toward the window, as though he was checking for something or someone, before returning to you. “Why don’t I give you my number so we can plan something soon?”

Your heart skipped at the casual offer, but you maintained your composure, feeling the air between you both shift into something more comfortable, yet still charged with potential. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied with a small smile, trying to keep things light despite the slight flutter in your chest.

Drew pulled out his phone, tapping on the screen before handing it over to you. You quickly typed in your number, handing it back to him, your fingers brushing briefly as you exchanged devices.

“Great,” he said, locking the phone and slipping it back into his pocket, his smile widening. “I’ll text you later, and we can figure something out. Maybe something less... formal,” he added with a playful wink, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Sounds like a plan.”

"I'll see you later, Y/N." Drew’s voice was soft, still carrying that same warmth and kindness that had made you feel so at ease throughout the afternoon. He offered you one last smile before gathering his belongings and heading toward the door.

You watched him as he stepped outside, the sunlight casting a soft glow on him as he made his way to the black SUV parked out front. There was something effortlessly graceful about the way he moved, the casualness of it, yet it left you with a feeling of weightlessness. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you saw him disappear into the car, the sound of the engine starting up almost muted by the rush of your thoughts.

The café around you sounded with the usual hum of life, but your mind was far from the present moment. Instead, it replayed every detail of the past hour—the way he had smiled at you, the easy flow of conversation, the unspoken connection that had blossomed between the two of you. You could still feel the warmth of his gaze, the way it made you feel seen in a way that felt both exhilarating and unsettling.

As you sat there, a small smile crept onto your lips. The butterflies in your chest wouldn’t settle, and you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted them to. Something about today had changed things, and as you grabbed your bag and stood up to leave, you realized the anticipation for whatever came next was already beginning to build.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

taglist: @romantic-punch, @cl4uus, @clearpoetryobservation-blog, @willowpains, @simp4f1, @kaiparkerwifes, @cali-888, @allthoughtsmindfull, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday

“I can’t believe you fucked that old man.”

Bill’s head snaps up so quickly from where it was inside of the air duct that he smacks it on the metal internals. When he reappears cursing and rubbing at his head, there’s dust bunnies in his hair and clinging to his eyelashes.

“You can’t believe I what?”

“You fucked that old man,” Red repeats, feet up on the counter as she lazily reads something called “Lumberjack Layabouts Weekly.”

“I—“ And Bill lets out a grunt as he comes down from the ladder to slam his hands on the counter and lean into her space. The action does little to phase her other than make her look up.

“Neither of those things are right!”

Red takes a second to turn the page of her magazine, but doesn’t look away from Bill.

“That’s not what I heard.”

Bill’s eyes roll back into his skull for a second. He thinks of what he was told to do both by the therapium and Question Mark’s fiancée: deep breaths in and deep breaths out, count to ten, don’t visualize throttling them no matter how fucking annoying these fleshbags are.

“First of all, I’m older than him,” he begins, like that’s the important part.

“You don’t look it.”

“That’s because I take good care of myself.” Which is only partially true.

When the Axolotl and the entire therapism decided Bill’s methods of rehabilitation weren’t working, they’d sent him here. To hell.

…to earth.

Stripped of his powers, they’d shoved him into a meat suit that was an “appropriate approximation of his natural form” (Bill resents that statement entirely, but the appearance has grow on him). The dark skin and golden eyes are quite a contrast coupled with the golden hair offset by strays strands of grey or white hair. Melody has helped him figure out how to wash and maintain it, which is far more maintenance than he was expecting after watching Ford for years barely do anything more than occasionally wash it and wake up. Bill’s currently picking dust bunnies out of an individual lock, throwing them into the trashcan by the counter (like hell is he sweeping up in this damned place more than he has to).

He has it on good authority that this is a desirable fleshbag form, both from the open way that people compliment him and the way people stared. …he’s getting used to the staring and has stopped threatening to flay people alive who let their eyes linger too long.

Question Mark calls it progress; Bill calls it not wanting to see that haunted, barely contained disappointment on Melody’s face again. She is simultaneously the kindest and cruelest person he’s met on this plane. In spite of literally everyone’s reservations about Bill being on the same plane as the rest of these humans, she’d been willing to hear him out, offer him accommodations here at the Mystery Shack, and even provide a job if he could behave.

She also detailed to him with a sunshiney smile and no insignificant amount of knife waving that if Bill started anything, anything looking like world domination under her roof, not even the Axolotl would be able to save him.

If nothing else, she’s done more than a little to earn his respect and compliance than anyone else in this entire reality.

So, he’d gotten used to people staring and it doesn’t bother him.

At least, until one particular person started staring.

“Second of all, I didn’t—“ And he looks around, makes sure no hide or hair of thirteen year-old menace can be seen before he continues, “—fuck Sixer.”

Red closes the magazine entirely and shifts to take her feet off the counter and lean on it with her arms folded—this is what she’d wanted to hear.

“I heard Stan caught you two in the bathroom.”

Bill clears his throat and starts back up the ladder to avoid having to look at Red even as he feels something warm in his face.

“Stan doesn’t know what he saw.”

Red lets out a raucous laugh that makes Bill wince and wrinkle his nose as he sticks his head back in the vent to continue clearing it out.

“I heard that you two also got into a fistfight at dinner before that. Weird foreplay, but I can respect it.”

Everyone, mostly Question Mark and Shooting Star, have insisted on family dinners since both sets of Pines twins returned to Gravity Falls. And, somehow, Bill gets lumped into that because he sleeps in the Shack (specifically, the sofa in the living room because everywhere else is off-limits). It’s been three weeks and most everything has been simpatico, Shooting Star was the fastest to warm up after her initial talk too of “unspeakable horrors” she’ll unleash on him if he steps a toe out of line. The fact that he’s powerless seems to make her willing to humor him.

…also something about him looking like a wet rat? And it was a good thing? Bill didn’t ask. Or, rather, he had asked and she brushed him off and because he knew Stanley will flay him alive if he lays a finger on either niece or nephew, he let it go.

Pine Tree has been a lot more hesitant in his behavior, sure, but he’s recently started being in the same room with Bill and musing aloud in ways that Bill knows are directed at him without talking to him. Pine Tree will state something stupid about the state of the town and when Bill corrects him, he’ll scribble it down, go silent, then rinse and repeat.

Stan has been… well, they were avoiding each other without problem. The closest they get to a conversation is when they’re both sitting in the living room after everyone else has gone to bed and before Stan goes to his bed and Bill passes out on the sofa. Their talk is a roundabout back and forth about complaining about what’s on the television and saying there’s “never anything good on”. Occasionally Bill will liken something on the screen to something he’s seen on television in other dimensions, Stan will grunted, and then they go back to silence.

They’ve also worked out a system where they’re allies in their silent agreement to watch The Duchess Approves as long as no one else finds out about it.

…and then there’s Ford.

They haven’t been in the same room as each other outside of dinner even remotely. Bill doesn’t look at him, Ford doesn’t acknowledge him, and it’s fine.

It’s fine.

It doesn’t bother him even a little that Ford won’t even look at him, won’t talk to him. Doesn’t bother him that when Bill does talk, he rolls his eyes. It doesn’t bother him either that Ford gets up every time Bill enters the room even for a moment. It’s not like he cares about the asshole or wants to see him. It’s fine for Bill.

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine.

And because it is so fine, he’s not sure what exactly caused him to get mouthy with Sixer the night before.

Ford had made some inane comment and Bill couldn’t help but correct him. Over a trillion years in the multiverse, he knows when he’s right about something.

Ford bit back.

And Bill argued against.

It’d devolved into a petty back-and-forth, both of them digging their claws in places it shouldn’t go without caring for the carnage it spread.

It ended when Bill called Ford “my shining star” like this was just a philosophical disagreement thirty-one years prior.

He shouldn’t have done that.

The next thing Bill knew, he and Ford were rolling on the ground, fists flying and snarling at one another. Ford caught him in the nose, Bill punched him in the mouth, both of them scratching and pulling hair like a pair of animals.

It took Stanley and Soos both to pull them apart, both of them still swinging until they were forced to calm down.

After that, Bill had left his unfinished dinner to sit on the roof and wait out everyone else’s dinner. It was only because the blood wouldn’t stop flowing from his nose while the blood on his knuckles had dried uncomfortably to the point he kept accidentally ripping it when he flexed his hand that convinced him to go downstairs.

He’s still figuring out this whole human thing and, yeah, he was fumbling with the tape and his nose was dripping all over everything and he was fighting not to get it on the stupid sweater he got from Shooting Star and—

That’s how Ford found him.

There were no words as he crowded into the small bathroom with him, took off his gloves, and started to doctor Bill.

Neither of them say that there’s something familiar about this, them being together while cleaning up blood and puss and setting bones, usually injuries inflicted on Ford by Bill. There’s probably something funny about the idea of it being the other way around now.

They’re both too tired or embarrassed to say anything for awhile, but then Ford makes an innocuous statement that raises Bill’s hackles and there goes the peace. Then they’re shoving and pushing into a wall, Bill effectively having Ford cornered against it, chest-to-chest, spitting in each other’s faces, and then—

Then they were decidedly not fighting.

“Yeah, well, Fordsy is a know-it-all prick who doesn’t actually know everything,” Bill defends. “He started the fight.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Red replies in a singsong voice.

“And who’s telling you this?!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Red goes quiet for a moment, but he knows she’s still staring at him. “Did you two really make out though?”

Bill is quiet, can’t quite find the words he wants to say about this. Was his tongue in Ford’s mouth? Yes. Were Ford’s hands in his hair? Also yes. Did Stan walk in while Bill’s hand was halfway down the front of Ford’s pants? Regrettably.

“It was a… heat of the moment thing.”

“Wow. I mean, I knew you two were something back then, but I figured you two had, you know, moved past that.”

Bill doesn’t respond for awhile, leaning back to sweep the dust into the garbage bag he’s holding.

“So did I.”

[struggling-jpg]

Thoughts About the Potential Underlying Hidden Tragedy of Yanqing and Jing Yuan

that isn't just the "Yanqing will have to kill Jing Yuan eventually" red flags.

A relatively longer-ish post so thank you for bearing with me if you choose to do so!

I'd already been thinking about this whole mess of thoughts for a long while now, and so have other people, but the urge to write this came from a comment I saw on a post that mentioned how Yanqing had lost to "Jing Yuan's ghosts" and overall how it contributes to the dynamic of them being mentor/mentee + father/son. While the narrative seems to be leading to "Yanqing having to strike down a Mara-stricken Jing Yuan," there's just enough weird points that stick out to the point some alternative outcomes for Yanqing and Jing Yuan's fates to play out.

And while I anticipate HSR to follow that most expected point, I feel like there's enough there that could lead to a subversion or something more likely than that, an additional twist to the knife alongside the expected point.

Jing Yuan's Flaws as a Mentor and Father-Figure:

While most of us love the family fluff, I'm pretty sure we can all acknowledge the issues in Jing Yuan's approach and decisions in regards to Yanqing. Yeah, this is a fictional space game story where it's likely they aren't going to delve into the consequences of having someone as young as Yanqing be a soldier, there seems to be something there regardless. Like the brushes with death that he has and how we see him have to worry about the Xianzhou's security as a teen due to having a higher position in a military force. This is all set up for more of a coming-of-age type narrative for him, which HSR has done amazingly so far, but there are a lot of chances for this to explore something darker.

Among official media, the one time I could even remember the term "father" being used in relation to Jing Yuan is in Yanqing's official Character Introduction graphic:

Another notable thing that we see here is how we do have moments where Yanqing expresses thoughts and questions about his own origins and birth parents. The fact that even here, he wonders if the general is hiding something from him, sets off some alarm bells in my head. But he then brushes that off because he's always been with the General and Jing Yuan accepts him for who he is (which under the theory that Yanqing originates/is connected to the Abundace adds a whole heavy layer (this will be discussed in a later section)).

Yanqing does something similar in his texts:

As Huaiyan says to Jing Yuan:

"Yanqing can understand your concerns."

Alongside Yanqing generally being a considerate and polite boy, it can possibly be said that his eagerness to share Jing Yuan's burdens not only stems from his own gratitude towards him but possibly also Jing Yuan's distance.

As in, Jing Yuan doesn't really express his feelings so blatantly, and what we can clearly tell from when Yanqing first met "Jing Yuan's ghosts," neither does he speak much about his past too on a personal level. In Jingliu's quest, Yanqing says that Jing Yuan simply told him to forget everything he saw that day.

For Jing Yuan, the loss of the quintet is a grief that feels fresh in his heart, especially with echoes of them running around him. This is in the description for "Animated Short: A Flash":

(Will also talk about this in a different section)

While Yanqing learns about his General's past in a more direct manner (aka the people involved), it's sad how avoidant Jing Yuan is at times. While he's never been a upfront person, especially in the case of solving problems, I wonder if HSR would go as far as to show the negative side of that in terms of raising and teaching Yanqing.

History Repeats Itself (Sometimes It Don't Need A Reason):

+ the Jingliu parallels

Following up on that last image, Jing Yuan, especially in A Flash, has that whole "history repeating itself" thing going on for Jing Yuan. It points to Yanqing having to take down Jing Yuan but it also comes with a lot of its own possibilities and meanings.

It's blatant that Yanqing parallels Jingliu to an unsettling degree. Anyone who personally knows Jingliu and meets Yanqing sees her in him. Jingliu probably sees herself in him as well. Beyond powers and passion for the sword, her Myriad Celestia trailer shows that her principles before getting struck with Mara were the same as his. But it took her losing her dear friends in such a cruel and brutal manner (alongside how long she'd been alive) for all of that to fall out and form the version of her we see today.

And while it seems that Yanqing is deviating from Jingliu's due to the teachings he's learning, especially with Jing Yuan's effort, I feel like there's still a chance for things to go so wrong and mess with that. Yukong's line about him strikes me as concerning:

"A sword will vibrate and beg to be unsheathed if it is unused for too long... Once unsheathed, it will either paint the battlefield in blood, or break itself in the process..."

Even though I don't think HSR will go down a route of tragedy with Yanqing, like say, he gets Mara struck somehow or killed because that's not how Hoyo's writing has fully gone for playable characters (Misha and Gallagher aside in terms of death). Even in the most despairing parts for Hoyo's games, they're usually outlined and tinged with hope in one way or another. It's just that with what's been presented, there's got to be more here than meets the eye.

Yanqing's Origins - The Breaking Point:

From what we've been given, I think the number one thing that would have the potential of shaking Yanqing's entire sense of his life and the reality he lives in is learning where he comes from. Where he actually comes from has been a strange mystery since the beginning, how Jing Yuan getting him being recorded in the military annals of all places.

As shown from the screenshots of Yanqing's texts, he doesn't know and tries to brush it off because he's happy with Jing Yuan now. The choice to have this aspect here leaves a lot to ruminate on. What is Jing Yuan hiding? And if he really is witholding information, does he ever intend to tell Yanqing? If he doesn't and Yanqing finds out, how will it play out? And even if he does mean to tell him, depending on the severity, how will Yanqing take it?

It's why the theory that Yanqing is connected to the Abundance, possibly even coming from it directly, is as harrowing as it is.

With his arc in mind, will his development be enough to sustain him when he does find out the truth? If he finds out sooner than he should, will he be able to rise above it? And what of Jing Yuan? If confronted with a situation that's outside of his control again, what will he do and how will he react?

The potential in that scenario is so fascinating to me, because we can all anticipate the absolute gut punch that Yanqing killing his master would be. It fits Hoyo's writing style of something so sad but having a hopeful end for the future type beat. But the idea of that being twisted, that expectation being flipped on its head, could be so agonizing. It's not a narrative we see too often explored, at least in my experience, so maybe that's why I'm brainrotting over it so much lol.

[cl-0v3r]

can I talk about something real quick?

I hate how 99% of arcane fans completely Ignore their favorite character's flaws so much. I know this has been complained about multiple times but i genuinely get so tired of it and physically need to turn off my phone when that happens.

And Im not talking about Jinx, everyone knows she's not a great person, neither am I talking about silco or Sevika or quite literally any of the characters that are placed on the darker shade of grey.

Im talking about characters like Viktor or Mel or Jayce, Vi & Caitlyn aswell, but specifically the first three.

Look, we all know what their intentions are, they only wanted to help, they wanted the best for their cities/family and their goals, but the way they do it is Flawed. The sacrifices and nuance they go through and do just to achieve that specific ideal and goal affects how morally ambiguous or not they are.

What annoys me is that most of these people KNOW, but refuse to accept it and continue bringing down other characters because they refuse to accept there's different opinions over something in the show.

Especially with viktor, he is NAUNCED. He is selfish one way or another, he is willing to destroy himself for the sake of making something too far gone work, and not only did that destroy him, but completely result in the death of Sky. And eventually, that is going to destroy his relationship with Jayce too. He refuses to create weapons even if it means as a tool for self defence because he refuses to accept that zaun is not the most stable in terms of aggression, he got mad at Jayce for calling them dangerous when there was a literal riot on the bridge, a scene playing right infront of his eyes. Again, he is rightful to feel protective of his home, but he is ignorant towards certain things too.

I see so many people ignore viktors flaws and wrong doings, did we forget who he's going to become next season or what?? He literally committed a murder wether he wanted to do it or not. which is lowkey kinda hilarious because I don't see people defending Jayce for murdering that child despite the fact that its equally as wrong as Viktors mishap. He.is.not.flawless.

Mel, oh my god. i love Mel with all my heart, shes my everything, but she is a councilor. yes she's focusing on proving her family wrong, yes she wants to make piltover a better, safer place, and I don't think she's completely ignorant towards the undercity's state, but what has she done about it? Now, its not entirely her fault, I know, its all accumulated from Himerdingers ignorance, but that does not change the fact that she is apart of the same body that kept the undercity in its current state with all its problems for generations. She is a manipulator too, she wants things to go her way, wether it was with good intent or not. She pushed for weapons, YES, as a means of self defense, YES as protection from external threats coming from places other than P&Z, but her mother wasn't completely wrong about how weapons will always be used in every way possible, but she finds it difficult to accept such fact. Not to mention the fact that she literally told a zaunite to create a weapon that would be used against zaun.

So no, her being manipulative is not hot (this literally pisses me off the most) , especially not after that scene with hoskel because she BASICALLY called him stupid and belittled him indirectly. Is it true hes not the smartest? Yeah, did she do it to get him under her palm and ended up using him to do something "Good" in the end? Yeah, Is she good at doing it? Yeah, does she look good while doing it? Yeah, but she looks good ALL THE TIME. Manipulation is not what makes her attractive, its a FLAW, an ugly one. So calling Mel attractive ONLY because she's manipulative is mischaracterization at its finest. And I will bring this point again, separate intention from action.

I don't want to get into more details about mel, I will lose myself, but she is FLAWED, shes morally grey, she isn't perfect, just as the other characters in the whole show.

Jayce, he goes through multiple extreme points during his arc, he's quick to decide on things. At some points it could be a good thing, like how he apologized to viktor for saying harsh words to him. But what his major flaw with this trait is the fact that he goes between violent and peaceful multiple times, figuratively AND literally. He was settled with the fact that he doesn't want to harm zaun, infact, he wanted to help them in the first place, but he got influenced, and ended up resorting to violence, he lost himself, and it ended with the loss of a child's life. He didn't want to make weapons before, got influenced, look where it got him now? He is selfish too, and the list goes on.

Though, Its rare to find people who defend Mel and Jayce in this entire fandom, most of the people I've seen who claim to be fans of them tend to do this all the time smh.

And I just know I will start a war as soon as I open my mouth to talk about Vi & Cait. Which is why I won't because this post is long enough and I want to cover other things.

Please keep in mind that I wrote everything as flatly as possible, so the way you understand the things I say may be different from what I initially thought of, I swear on my life I do not hate these characters, Jayce Mel & Viktor are literally my upmost favorite characters of all time.

This is mostly talking about how sometimes you need to separate the intentions from the actions these characters do, because most of the time, actions speak louder than words.

ALL your favorite characters in Arcane and flawed, they have problems, they aren't perfect. And that's what makes each so special, because it makes you wonder how they will clean their footsteps and deal with those said flaws later if they decide to partake the lighter path, or how they will step deeper into the darker one. And even so, they will still be on the grey scale.

By far, Ekko is the only character closest to white if im being honest, and he still isn't perfect.

Arcane fans need to understand their favorite characters in different points of view, not just from their eyes, even if you agree with their doings and find it right.

One big example that i will bring up again, that scene with Mel, Viktor and Jayce discussing the potential misuse of hextech as Viktor dismantles the bomb. You can understand Viktors point of view, but why not Mels too? (& Vice Versa)

Another is the scene when Vi finally gets to see her sister in episode 5, Caitlyn tagging along with her. You finally get to see powder and Vi reunited, you feel content, and then Jinx comes back and gets angry on why Vi is with an enforcer, which is well within her rights considering how they literally killed countless of zaunites and people, but why not understand from Caitlyns side too? Jinx is a wanted criminal, she'd put a building on fire, killed people in the process, stole volatile items with possibly horrible intentions considering what her crimes are.

ANOTHER is the bridge scene with Jayce and Viktor with the riots, Why the fuck is Jayce calling them dangerous infront of viktor??? Hes well within his rights to be mad! But he isn't WRONG, And jayce is under a lot of stress, and viktor is literally going against him by taking shimmer, and God that list never ends.

Literally almost any other scene.

caitlyn Ekko & Vi , Vi and the Council , Vi and Jayce , Jinx and Vi on episode 9 , Silco and Jayce , Mel and Ambessa , Mel and Viktor, Mel and Jayce in some scenes (like when she put him on the council) , singed and Viktor , etc etc etc

Need i say more??

All of these characters are full of layer upon layer of writing, they're all so well written, their intentions, ideals, morals, are all bricks and pipes of what builds them as characters, but their flaws and nuance is the 'glue' of what keeps them standing too. They may have no choice but to do or say those things that they do or say, because if they don't, they will possibly crumble. But that does not mean it gives them a pass, in the end of the day,, murder is still murder, ignorance is still ignorance, manipulation is still manipulation, and etc. They're not all equally as horrible as the other, but that does not make them better qualities, comparing all these issues/problems and completely siding with one thing because you find A to be less horrible than B is not a good start to understanding Arcane or any show with a similar level of writing to it.

as usual, im sorry for any mistakes or if this is uncollected and full of reptitivness, I don't usually correct my rants or anything because they're like... rants... And im very sorry for nagging about certain things, some points may actually be wrong so please don't feel afraid to give advice or correct me over them NICELY. Other than that its really just my opinion, i just wanted to get the "understand characters from different views" & "sEpEraTe InTentIons FroM ActIons" points across.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 9

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Summary: The two of you find a common ground in family feuds.

A/N: The chapter at the end may include some sexual undertones that's the only warning for this chapter.

A03 link

-

Chapter 9: Unwinding Past

Messmer is a man of his word, for he's there waiting for you the next day at the doorway to the storehouse. It was as if he always had a constant radar on your whereabouts.

Interacting with him for the first time without being at each other's throats was one you didn't realise would be so awkward: neither of you speaks as you walk around, trying to train your gaze on the many artefacts surrounding you. You would pause and observe, whilst Messmer would give one line of the history of how he got it, and then move on, continuing around the storehouse until you found the books you wished to survey.

"May I asketh how didst thee learneth how to readeth?" Messmer finally asked, breaking the silence. Though he tried to seem approachable in his question, his words tumbled out rather clumsily, "T'is something all Tarnished art taught?"

"I don't know, I just... knew?" You didn't buy into your answer, and you knew Messmer didn't either, thanks to the way his eyebrow raised quizzically. "I think... I just remembered how to, it automatically came to me, like I already knew."

Messmer hums, "From the deaths thee experienced, I'm surprised thee remember thy name," he pauses mid-sentence, his eye wide as if something dawns on him. He turns to face you, "What is thy name?"

It dawns on you too that you never told him, for all he called you and those of his knights and staff called you "Tarnished" or "My Lady" or a mixture of the two. It was as if spilling the biggest part of your identity: a part of you that so few knew of, not even fellow Tarnished cared to ask for your name, or rather, you didn't give it to them, to begin with. Coyly, you eyed him carefully, "Promise me you will not tell a soul?"

It was he who rolled his golden eye, yet despite his body language, he leaned in close to you and surprised you by the way his voice was a hushed tone that eased your worries. "Who am I to tell?"

You sigh deeply, uttering it to him as quickly as you can, and wishing he had heard it the first time. It felt foreign to say it aloud as if your name had died a long time ago with you the first time. It had been the first thing you recalled when you had awoken the first time after experiencing your first death, with nothing but rags and a rusty dagger to your person, you carried the title of Tarnished wherever you went, for it was easier to be addressed as one than not at all.

You were thankful Messmer didn't go further into it, simply nodding as he took in your name and didn't ask further. "You're one of the few who has ever asked of my name."

Messmer hums, eyeing the toms of books as if he's through mid-thought, but you know deep down, there must be some ulterior motive as to why he wished for your name only now.

You can distract yourself momentarily as you continue your search, using a small step ladder to help you reach the taller shelves despite Messmer constantly asking if you wished for him to reach for them. Maybe it was stubbornness that was wielded in you, but you stuck to defiance only you could be proud of.

Yet, as you gather the book you wish to present to Messmer, you turn too clumsily, your foot not staying on the step as you suddenly find your body being propelled forward into the air, the book still in hand. 

You think you're quick to gather yourself and stop your fall, but Messmer is quicker.

With a speed you've only seen once in your fight against him, Messmer managed to use his body as a cushion, blocking yourself from the cold ground and a book being dropped. He had wrapped his arms securely around your waist in time, not expecting your momentum to bring you crashing almost face-first into him. The sound he let out was similar to a grunt, his eye wandering over your face as he assessed you. 

"Bid not me thee didst wend looking in mine own wine cellar last night of all?"

His humour is not enough to make you realise your situation: your body snugly resting in the arms of Messmer. He's always warm, that's no surprise, but now, you feel as if you're sweating profusely, your body melting the way candles melt under the heat of flame. You scramble back to the floor on your feet again, stepping back from him as if he may catch some disease from you. He doesn't seem as embarrassed as you do, more so, he's taking it a bit better than you are.

He smells nice today... like oranges? You curse yourself for making a mess out of yourself, apologising until the word seems to lose its meaning. Messmer is silent once more beside you, though you can feel his golden eye on you. "T'is a shame you didn't lose thy manners." He jests and you feel suddenly less warm, your head doesn't feel as if you're swimming underwater, and you're thankful he's making light of it all.

It takes you some time to sort yourself out, to control your heartbeat, unsure why it was beating so fast. You're certain the redhead is aware of your risen heartbeat but continues with looking around the books as if they hold some mild interest to him. It's when you finally present the book you meant to show him. Messmer peers over the book to look at the title. "Art thee one for the histories of the Golden Order?"

"It may hide some answers I've been looking for." You open to random pages, flicking through them until one of the pages catches your attention. Blond hair, golden warm eyes. He's dressed in the colours of the sky, trimmed in gold armour. 

You can feel Messmer's presence behind you, close but not enough to frighten you into believing he's lingering too close into your space. "Here, we can start here," you point to the portrait, of a man who was long dead before everything went wrong, "what do you know of Prince Godwyn?" Your question is genuine.

"He was mine own brother as well as mine own dearest friend," Messmer answers earnestly, though there is a pain to his voice that he does not try to hide from you. "I didst not receiveth much of a time with him before mother did place me here."

"You were familiar with him? In the Lands Between?"

"I knew of Queen Rennala's kin too, the young lion idolised Commander Gaius and me."

Radahn. It didn't make sense as to how he had been around for that long that he was familiar to the demigod children, but his name had never appeared in any of the histories in the Lands Between.

Your silence didn't seem to go down well with Messmer, for you noticed the way the serpents circled him in concern, his fist clenching and unclenching. "Is something the matter?" Did you hurt a soft spot by bringing up his family?

"T'is nothing." Messmer's voice strains, continuing you despite the obvious way he looks uncomfortable. "Mine own mother was greatly inconsolable by Godwyn's death." 

"It was the beginning of the demigods," you muttered more to yourself, but your words did catch Messmer off guard. You didn't know whether he knew of how he died, or who killed him. It had been a painstaking struggle, no doubt one no drama with siblings and kin could compare. "He must've been a good man for a fate so harsh."

"Yes, a valorous man, one did admire by all." Messmer sighs, "he may has't did ceased this family feud."

 It's only when Messmer is abrupt as if he's ready to leave the room the second you have your back to him. He seems rigid, stressed even. "Forgive me, I has't dealings I might not but attendeth to."

"Of course." you don't think a second as to why he's being so cold, since it's been in his nature to be so. He dismisses himself quite quickly, his long legs striding out as he rounds the corner, out of sight.

You watch as he disappears before turning back to the pages, unaware that Messmer is, around the corner, one hand holding his head, the other trying to stop the ache in his chest. He's thankful there's none of his knights around to see him like this, as he tries to calm the ache in between his legs. He huffs, storming off as he tries to think nothing less of you being in his arms and the feeling of your skin against his, burning him, smouldering him with this unknown, intense heat that he wishes to be rid of.

-

A/N: So… Messmer is feeling like some horn dog, but let's be impressed that he did manage to keep it together for that long!😉 Gosh, this honestly took longer to write only because sickness came over me and left me not wishing to do anything for a whole week. I started writing this before getting sick and then by the time I came back around to it, I had lost all motivation and knowledge of how I wanted it to go. So hopefully it doesn't feel jumbled or clumsy in writing. I will try to get back to it in the next chapter.✨

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Eleven: Normalcy

Chapter WC: 11,172

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: This chapter is 95% dialogue, and yes I could’ve cut it but…I didn’t want to.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

After a fitful sleep, one fraught with nightmares, you wake early the next morning. 

You’ve taken to writing down your dreams when you wake, no longer confident that the nightmares are truly that and not something more prophetic. After Felucia, you know better. 

You don't write down much, just the barest of details, and a vague recollection, but it's enough. And, when you read them back, a pattern emerges. Ever since you awoke in the medbay, you've been dreaming about golden fields, dust and smoke, and a searing pain in your chest so intense, you wake up gasping. 

There's no one else, just the grass, and the dirt, and the wind, and, above it all, the feeling of something horrible about to happen. It's the same every time. Over and over again in a loop, and you're growing tired of it. And despite your efforts, you're no closer to understanding it.

You haven't told anyone, and you're not sure what to do with the information. So, for now, you've decided to keep the details to yourself, at least until you figure out what they mean.

You set the dream journal aside, and you dress quickly, slipping into a fresh pair of robes and leaving your quarters to resume your duties at long last.

Overnight, there was a fire in the Undercity, and the Council dispatched you to investigate the issue. It's far from the first time such an event has occurred, and after a quick debriefing, you head out. The fire had originated in the abandoned warehouse district and had spread to several nearby structures, making cleanup tricky. You spend the better part of the day assisting in the recovery effort and meeting with the survivors, taking note of their injuries and asking questions where you can.

The next few days pass in a blur of activity, and, before long, you've forgotten about your conversation with Obi-Wan and your evening out together. He doesn't bring it up, and neither do you, and the two of you continue on, acting like nothing ever happened. 

It's not exactly a healthy choice, but some things are better left unsaid. It's not like either of you have had the time to talk about it, either. There's always something going on, and the War keeps everyone busy. It's easier, and safer, and the Council doesn't need any more reasons to scrutinize the two of you. Well, mostly you, but you were doing your best to make sure you were on their good side.

By the end of the week, you and the Coruscant Guard are able to catch the arsonist. A local crime boss, known for his use of black market chemicals, had set the blaze in an attempt to cover up the evidence of his operation. You bring him and his crew to justice, and after a long debriefing with a Senate committee, another subcommittee, and then the Council, you're finally dismissed.

With the issue resolved and your report completed, you find yourself with some unexpected downtime. And for the first time in a long time, you're able to enjoy a bit of a break. 

It's still early when you decide to go for a run, and you're out of the Temple and onto the streets in no time. The weather is mild, and the sun is shining, and despite the constant buzz of the traffic, it's pleasant. You've missed running, the only thing that seems to actually clear your head these days, and it's not long before you're lost in thought, the city fading into the background.

It's been weeks since the incident on Felucia. And since then, you've barely had a chance to process what happened. In fact, aside from the nightmares, the only time you've really been able to stop and think was the night you and Obi-Wan snuck off to the cantina. 

Now, as you jog through the city, the air crisp and cool, and the noise of the world dulled, the memories come rushing back. The conversation with Rex in the woods, the pain of the explosion, and the way the Force had screamed at you. You'd been trying to forget, but, somehow, the memories are clearer than ever. As though the alcohol had stripped away the fog, and now, all you're left with are the images.

The war has intensified in recent months. More troops, more missions, and the losses have only increased. Every day, there's a new report of another battle gone wrong, another platoon lost, another planet captured. 

It's getting harder and harder to keep up, and you can only hope that when you return to the frontlines, you're ready. You can’t afford to let yourself panic as you did on Felucia, and the consequences of your failure would be even worse.

The thought makes you grimace, and you force yourself to run faster, pushing the memories away. There's no use dwelling on what's already happened, and you need to focus on the present. And on what’s yet to come.

Your run takes you through the Upper Levels of the city, and as the day progresses, the crowds thicken. Soon, the streets are full of people, and you're weaving between them, ducking and dodging, apologizing under your breath. 

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you keep moving, not paying attention to your surroundings. Until, eventually, you stop in front of the clone barracks.

You look around, and when you realize where you are, a frown tugs at your lips. The building looms in front of you, and you stare up at it, more than a little stunned. You hadn't intended to come here. Or maybe you had. You're not really sure.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you watch at the entrance for a few moments before shaking your head. There's no reason for you to go inside, and there's certainly no point in bothering him. He's busy. So are you. The two of you don't need to worry about the other. And you certainly don't need to complicate things.

"General?"

You jump and turn. Rex is standing a few feet behind you, his helmet tucked under his arm. He looks exactly as he did the last time you'd seen him, only this time, his eyes are wide, and his cheeks are flushed.

"Captain," you say, smiling. You wave and nod toward the barracks, trying to keep your voice casual. "I didn't expect to see you here. Are you on leave? I thought the 501st was still stationed on Devaron."

Rex doesn't respond, his gaze drifting down momentarily before he quickly refocuses on your face. He looks a bit startled, and more than a little flustered. 

It's only then that you realize you're still wearing your workout clothes, a sleeveless shirt and shorts that reveal quite a bit of your body, your windbreaker tied around your waist. You're not really one for modesty, but Rex has never seen you like this. In fact, none of the clones have. And it's obvious that he's struggling to keep his eyes on your face. 

Your cheeks heat slightly, and you cross your arms, arching an eyebrow. 

"Rex?"

"Yes?" he mumbles. His widen before they snap back to yours, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. General. It's...you...look good—healthy. Healthy. It’s good to see you looking healthy."

"Well, thank you," you say, your amusement growing. He looks so embarrassed, and yet, he hasn't stopped staring at you, and it's making it hard not to laugh. You shift your weight and tilt your head. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, sir," he stammers. He blinks a few times and clears his throat. "I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting to run into you. Here. At the barracks."

"Right," you chuckle. You take a deep breath and shake your head. "I was just taking a run. Got a bit lost. Guess I was distracted."

"I see."

"Mhm." 

The two of you stand there for a few moments. You're not quite sure what to say. Rex is cute when he’s flustered, but the tension is awkward, and you can tell he's not comfortable. So, after a few seconds, you force a smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your morning. I'm sure you have a lot to do,” you say, giving him a friendly nod. You glance over at the barracks and then back at him. "I should get going."

"No, no, you’re not interrupting," he assures you quickly, and he shrugs, his eyes meeting yours. “I was actually on my way out."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah," he replies, and he gestures to the door. "We got in last night. Just finished debriefing. They're giving us a few days of downtime. Figured I'd take a walk, see the city."

"Ah.”

You look down and fiddle with your jacket, biting the inside of your cheek. This is exactly why you shouldn't have come. Things are too complicated, and you're making it difficult. 

You let out a quiet sigh and look up. He's still staring at you, and he seems genuinely happy to see you, his eyes bright. He's always been so kind, and attentive, and respectful. And he's never once asked anything of you. He's just...Rex. Rex, who treats you like a person, and not just a Jedi.

And, selfishly, you like that. You like having someone who doesn't see you as an asset, or a tool, or a weapon. Someone who isn't afraid to challenge you, and who makes you laugh. Who gives you his full attention and doesn't look at you like a disappointment or a disaster waiting to happen.

While it might be the height of foolishness, and you know that nothing can come of it, it doesn't mean you have to cut yourself off from him completely.

“Would you...like some company?" you ask slowly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "On your walk."

Rex blinks, his eyes widening, and a hint of red creeps up his cheeks. He looks so surprised, and a little pleased, and a warm feeling blooms in your chest.

"I'd be happy to show you around," you continue. "If you'd like. I know the city pretty well."

He opens his mouth and then closes it. He looks a bit like a fish, and, again, it's cute. Really cute. You find yourself smiling wider, and you wait patiently, the awkwardness dissipating and your confidence returning. 

When he doesn't say anything, you roll your eyes. 

"Unless you don't want to hang out with me, and then I'll leave you alone. You know, I can take a hint. I won't be offended."

Rex chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I...would love some company. But you must have better things to do."

"I'm off duty.” You shrug. "And I've been meaning to get back to the city. Besides, you could use a guide. The last thing you need is to get lost in Coruscant. Not a great look for a representative of the Republic."

"Right," he says, laughing. He takes a step toward you, and he smiles, his eyes warm. "In that case, lead the way."

You grin and turn, heading down the walkway. Rex falls in step beside you, and you set off down the street, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you. You lead him down several winding pathways, weaving through the crowds, the buildings towering over you. The sun is high overhead, and the air is warm, and the city is filled with noise, the hum of the traffic, the sounds of the people, the buzz of the air.

You point out various sites and monuments, telling him a little about each, and Rex listens intently, his eyes moving from one structure to the next. He doesn't ask any questions or press for details, and he seems content to let you ramble, his gaze focused on the city.

You continue like that for a while, chatting and strolling through the streets. The city is beautiful, and it's nice to have a bit of a break. A chance to do something, anything, normal.

As you walk, you sneak glances at him, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He looks a bit more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, but you’re starting to notice he’s making a concerted effort not to look directly at you. 

You wonder if he thinks you haven't noticed, but it's impossible to miss. Anytime he catches your gaze, Rex looks away, his cheeks turning pink. It's not a bad look on him, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't find his efforts to cling to professionalism as frustrating as they are amusing.

You decide to take pity on him and put on your windbreaker, zipping it up to cover your exposed skin. As soon as the fabric is covering your chest, his shoulders drop, and his eyes flick back to yours. He smiles, and you smirk back before turning to point out a statue. The conversation resumes, and his gaze never leaves your face.

You spend the next hour wandering the streets and taking in the sights. It's been a long time since you've gotten to enjoy a day without the weight of responsibility and duty, and even longer since you've been able to show someone around. You almost forgot how much you love this city. Or how much you used to.

At one point, Rex stops and tilts his head, looking up at the tall spires of the skyscrapers, the sun shining down on him. He looks so relaxed, so peaceful, and it makes your heart ache. He doesn't get a chance to do this. None of them do. They're constantly fighting, constantly at war, and, if it weren't for the fact that he was wearing his armor, he would look like anyone else out for a stroll.

He deserves this. To feel normal. To live a life that isn't dictated by the needs and wants of others. To know freedom, and happiness, and joy, and love. And you don't know if he ever truly will. You hope he will. But the chances are slim, and it's hard not to feel a little guilty.

"Something wrong?"

You blink, realizing you've been staring at him, and you smile. "No, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You look around, taking in the scenery, and you try to distract yourself. "It's just...been a while since I've been able to do this. I forgot how much I loved this city."

"I can see why," he says. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," you agree. "It is."

You watch him as he takes in the cityscape. He looks so at peace, and so carefree, and the sadness that had overtaken you disappears, replaced by a different kind of ache. An ache that you're all too familiar with. One that you've felt more than once since you were brought back together.

You push it aside and clear your throat. 

"So...where to next? Got any place in particular you'd like to see?"

"No," he replies. Rex turns his attention back to you and grins. "Just thought I'd follow your lead."

"Are you sure?" you tease as you nudge him with your elbow. "You don't have a hidden desire to visit the Museum of Fine Arts? Or the Opera House? You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an all-Bith performance of the Cantina Cantata. It's a Coruscanti classic."

"Ha, ha," he says dryly. "Very funny."

"What?" you ask. You bat your lashes in a show of innocence, and he scoffs. "It's a legitimate question."

"No, thank you,” he says, rolling his eyes, and he gives you a look. "I'll pass. Unless, of course, you want to."

"Force, no," you groan, and Rex lets out a laugh that has your heart fluttering. You smirk and start walking again, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. "There is one place I'd like to go, if that's alright with you. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he admits with a sheepish smile. "We've been eating rations for two weeks straight. Haven't had real food in ages."

"Perfect."

You're getting close to the industrial district, and you take a left down an alley. It's a narrow path between two towering buildings, and the air is hazy, and there's a smell of smoke and fuel. The street is mostly deserted, and you're careful not to trip over any loose stones or stray bits of scrap. 

It's not the best area of the city, but, if there's one thing you've learned, it's that the best places are often in the worst neighborhoods. And this one was the best.

"You sure this place serves clones?" Rex asks warily as he follows you. He's looking around the alley, his hand resting on his blaster. "Seems a little rough."

"Trust me," you tell him. "This place is great."

The alley ends abruptly and you're greeted by the familiar sight of the small diner. It's an older building, and it's been there for a long time, a relic of the old days. The rounded durasteel walls glint in the afternoon sun, the neon sign blinking in the window, and the door is open, the sound of conversation spilling into the street. A few patrons are standing outside chatting, their eyes watching the two of you, but no one says a word as you enter.

"Hi honey," a cheerful voice calls. A waitress droid wheels over, her round eyes shining. "Welcome. Welcome. What can I get for you today?"

"Table for two, please," you say. “Thanks, FLO.”

"Right this way," she chirps, and she spins around, heading toward the back of the diner. 

You nudge Rex, who's looking around the room nervously, and you nod your head toward FLO's retreating form. "Come on. She won't bite."

"I've never been to a place like this," he mutters as he follows you, staying close. "It's so...normal."

"That's kind of the point," you laugh. You glance over your shoulder and give him a reassuring smile. "Everyone deserves a little normal."

"Fair enough." He takes a deep breath and gives you a half-smile. "Thanks for doing this."

"Of course," you say.

You follow FLO to a booth at the back, and you're about to slide into the seat across from him when a large shadow falls over the table. Rex tenses immediately, his hand moving to his weapon, and you whirl around, expecting the worst. But, instead, you're greeted with the wide grin of an old friend.

"Hi Dex," you say warmly. "Long time no see."

You wince as you're immediately wrapped up in a hug, four arms squeezing you tightly and lifting your feet clean off the ground.

"Hey kid!" he booms. "How the hell are ya?"

"Good," you squeak. "And yourself?"

"I can't complain," Dex says. He releases you and sets you back on the floor, his hand on your shoulder to keep you from toppling over. "Can't complain at all. How've you been? Haven't seen you in forever."

"Busy," you reply with a shrug. "You know how it is."

"Always working," he sighs. He looks around, his eyes landing on Rex for a moment before focusing back on you, a frown bisecting his face. "Where's Obi-Wan? Not used to seeing one without the other."

"Offworld," you explain. "The war’s keeping him busy."

"Ah," Dex says. "And this is...?"

He nods toward Rex, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a hard line. Dex isn't an aggressive man, but he's no pushover either, and he doesn't suffer fools. You have no doubt that, should the need arise, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And you're equally certain that he won't hesitate to put a few bolts in anyone who threatens his customers.

"This is Rex, captain of the 501st Legion," you tell him. "My friend."

"Your friend," Dex echoes. He stares at Rex for a long moment, his gaze scrutinizing, before he grins and offers one of his hands. "Dexter Jettster. Welcome to Dex's Diner."

Rex hesitates before he takes the offered hand and shakes it. "Thanks. It's a nice place."

"It's a dump," Dex laughs. "But it's mine. And it's been a good place for years."

"Well, it's a great dump," Rex replies. He looks around and grins. "Very welcoming."

"Glad to hear it," Dex chuckles, and he glances down at you and gives your shoulder a squeeze. "Don't be a stranger. You’re always welcome. You tell Obi-Wan, too.”

"Thanks, I will." You smile and watch him go before turning back to Rex. "You good?"

"Yeah," he says. He lets out a deep breath and gives you a wry grin. "For a second there I thought he was going to throw me out."

"Nah," you tell him. You slide into the booth, and Rex does the same across from you. "He has a very strict 'no questions asked' policy. As long as you're a paying customer, he won't bother you. Unless, of course, you're bothering someone else. Then he'll break your legs."

Rex snorts. "Noted."

FLO comes back with two menus, and you both order your caf, the droid zipping away on a squeaky wheel.

"You two are close," Rex says, his eyes scanning his menu.

"Dex? Yeah," you agree as you do the same. "He's a good friend to have."

"I meant you and General Kenobi."

"Oh." You're taken aback by the question, and the tone in his voice. There's no judgement, no accusation, but the statement still manages to catch you off guard. You set your menu down and meet his gaze. "I suppose we are. Why?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. He glances at his menu and then back at you. "It's just...the two of you seem like a good team. That's all."

"We've known each other a long time," you reply, not entirely sure what he's trying to get at. "And we're good friends."

"I've noticed," Rex says quietly. His expression is guarded and unreadable. He's not being hostile, and his tone isn't rude, but the conversation feels oddly...tense. You desperately want to reach out and sift through his thoughts, but you don't, your curiosity not enough of an excuse to cross such a line. So you wait, your hands clenched under the table, your eyes searching his face for some clue as to where this is going.

Rex seems to sense your apprehension, and he sighs. He puts his menu down and leans forward, his eyes fixed on yours.

"You're different around him," he says carefully. "Around everyone else, you're..."

"Distant," you offer. Your voice is soft, and a bit sad. You're not proud of the fact, and you're not sure how else to describe it. "Unfriendly. Cold. Difficult. Take your pick."

Rex is quiet for a moment. He's not judging, and he doesn't seem angry. In fact, if anything, he looks a bit hurt.

"I was going to say intimidating," he corrects, frowning. He tilts his head. "Is that really how you see yourself?"

"Isn't it how everyone sees me?" you challenge.

"I don't."

"Liar.” You scoff. You lean back in the booth and arch an eyebrow. "We barely know each other."

"I think I'm beginning to understand you pretty well," he argues. "And I don't think I've ever met someone more selfless or compassionate." 

"You should get out more."

"Seriously," Rex says. He sits up and holds your gaze. "I’m not the only one who thinks that way. Everyone else, they just...don't know you well enough."

"You don't know me at all," you tell him. "Not really."

"Maybe not," he says. "But I'd like to."

You stare at him, unable to believe what you're hearing.

"Why?"

He's silent for a few moments, his brow furrowing. His jaw is set and his eyes are focused on the table, his fingers tapping against the surface. Finally, he looks up at you, and he sighs.

“Because I think it’s important to know who you're fighting beside," he explains. "And I'd rather die knowing the person standing next to me."

"That's a pretty bleak outlook," you mumble. You can't argue with the sentiment, but the words still sting. You've never been much for talking about yourself, and even less for sharing personal information.

You pick up your menu and hide behind it, pretending to look over the lunch options. "And there’s not much to know."

"I find that hard to believe." Rex reaches out and gently pulls the menu down, his eyes meeting yours. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you. Or pry. I just—"

"I'm not offended," you say, and you shrug. "Just surprised."

"Why's that?"

"It's just rare to hear someone say they'd like to get to know me," you explain. You pause, and then, after a moment, you decide to continue, "Most people either already know who I am or don't want to know. There's no middle ground."

"That's unfortunate," Rex replies. He picks up his menu again and looks it over. "And unfair. You're not all that bad."

"Not all that bad," you repeat with a small smile. "I'm flattered."

"You should be," he says. He glances up at you, and his face is serious, but his eyes are shining with mischief. "I'm an excellent judge of character."

You chuckle, and the tension breaks as FLO returns with two mugs and a carafe of caf. You manage to persuade her to leave the pot, and Rex can't hide his delight at the first sip, his eyes closing as he takes a deep drink, a content sigh escaping him. You bite your cheek in an effort to disguise your smile as he practically moans.

"I take it the stuff in the mess hall isn't as good as this?" you tease.

"Nothing's as good as this," he murmurs. He opens his eyes and gives you a sheepish grin. "Sorry. It’s been a while since I've had a proper cup of caf."

"I can imagine," you laugh, and you nod toward the pot. "There's plenty more."

"You're my hero," he jokes. He picks up the carafe and refills his cup, taking another sip, his eyes fluttering closed again. He shakes his head and smiles at you. "Best cup I've had in a long time."

"I'm glad you approve," you say as you pour your own drink and spoon sugar into it, trying to hide your amusement. 

You're not sure why, but you like watching him enjoy things, even something as simple as a mug of caf. There's something sweet and charming about it, something almost innocent. He's seen far too much for someone his age, and yet, he still manages to hold onto his optimism and his spirit. He's not jaded or cynical. He's a good person, one of the best you've ever met, and you're finding it hard not to admire him. 

You pick up your mug and lift it in a toast. "To proper caf."

"Proper caf," he echoes. He knocks his cup against yours, and the two of you drink. He sets his mug down and leans back in his seat. "So, what do you recommend?"

"What do you like?"

"Honestly? No idea," he answers. He gestures toward the menu. "I'm a bit out of my depth here. Never had real food. Only rations, or whatever the mess serves."

"Right," you say. You take a sip of your caf and scan the page. "How about I order a few things, and we can share?”

“That would be great,” he says, sounding relieved. “Don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Oh, please," you snort. You wave a dismissive hand and give him a smile. "No worries. It'll be our secret."

You flag down FLO and order, and Rex falls silent, his gaze focused on the window, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. The droid wheels away, but he doesn’t look back over. He takes another drink and sighs, his fingers drumming the table, his brow furrowed slightly. 

You tilt your head, waiting, and he lets out a breath, his expression becoming neutral as he turns back to you. 

"If I ask a question, will you answer honestly?"

"Depends on the question."

"Fair enough."

He drums his fingers on the table again, and then he squares his shoulders and clears his throat, his eyes focused on your face. His expression is calm, but you can feel a hint of apprehension. Whatever he's about to say, he's nervous. And that makes you nervous.

"The last time we spoke, you seemed certain that the Jedi Council was going to punish you," Rex says slowly. "And you knew how they were going to handle Ahsoka. Like you were speaking from experience."

You stiffen and take a sip of caf, avoiding his gaze and hoping that he doesn't notice your sudden discomfort, but it doesn't take a genius to know that you've been caught off guard. And that you're not particularly keen on talking about the subject. 

You'd thought you'd done well to avoid the topic of your past indiscretions during your time with the Order, but apparently, you hadn't been as subtle as you'd hoped. Rex was too smart for that. You should have known better.

"That's not a question," you tell him. It's an obvious deflection, and the way his eyes narrow makes it clear that he's not buying it. But it's a deflection nonetheless, and you're not inclined to give him an honest answer. 

"Would you be willing to answer if I asked it?" Rex asks cautiously. He hesitates, and you can feel him probing, trying to gauge how receptive you are. 

You give him nothing, your face a carefully constructed mask of polite indifference. It's the expression you'd perfected as a youngling, and the one that has served you well for years. It's kept people from asking questions, and it's kept you from having to answer them. 

Rex seems to recognize it immediately, and he lets out a breath, a rueful smile on his lips. He leans back in his seat, his eyes studying your face, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and he lets out a low chuckle.

"What?" you ask, your brow furrowing.

"Nothing," he says. He shakes his head and shrugs. "Just starting to understand why you and General Skywalker get along so well.”

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the two of you are both stubborn," Rex chuckles, and he picks up his mug and takes a sip. "He does that same thing, the whole stone wall routine."

"Does he?"

"Yeah."

"Good for him."

Rex scoffs and shakes his head again, but he doesn't say anything, his gaze drifting back to the window. There's a slight crease between his brows, and you can tell he's debating whether or not to drop the subject.

“Look,” he starts. He turns back to you and meets your eyes, his face serious. "I can tell you're not comfortable talking about it. I just...want to know what to expect. What I can do. How I can help."

"I don't need your help," you tell him. It's a knee-jerk response, one that has always been your go-to, and you know it's not exactly true. You sigh and shake your head. "I mean...it's not that simple."

"Okay." He nods, his face patient, his eyes kind. "Can you explain?"

"It's...complicated." You hesitate, and you pick at your nails, staring at the table, your mind racing. You're not sure how to begin, or where to start, or what to say. How to put into words the shame and guilt and regret. You open your mouth, and the words are there, but they're stuck in your throat, refusing to budge.

Rex watches you for a few seconds, and then he sits forward and picks up the carafe, pouring more caf into your mug. You blink, the spell broken, and he pushes the cup toward you along with the sugar you’ve been using.

"Here.”

"Thanks," you reply, grateful for the interruption. You add the sweetener, and stir, your eyes on your mug. 

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me,” he says softly. His hand is resting on the table, his fingers tapping the surface. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressed."

"It's not that I don't want to," you tell him, the words tumbling out. “Well, okay, it is, but...not for the reasons you're thinking."

"Then what are they?"

You sigh, and you rub your eyes, the exhaustion from the night before settling in. You don't want to lie, and you're tired of secrets, and he's been nothing but understanding and supportive. If there's anyone who might understand, it's him. 

"I'm just...not a very good Jedi."

"You can't be serious," Rex says. He looks appalled, and a little indignant. He shakes his head, and his mouth presses into a thin line. "Of course you are.”

"Hardly." You scoff, and you gesture vaguely in the air, not meeting his eyes. "I have a very complicated relationship with the Council. One that involves me doing the opposite of whatever they want me to do. On multiple occasions."

Rex smirks. "Another thing you and General Skywalker have in common."

"Maybe," you admit. "But I've been on their shit list longer than he has."

"And what have you done to earn that?" he asks. His tone is light, but his words are direct, and a little pointed. He's not judging you, but he wants an answer. A real one. And you're not sure you can give him one, but you try anyway.

"I...have a lot of opinions. And I'm not very good at keeping them to myself, as you know. The Council doesn't appreciate it, and neither do some of the other Jedi."

"That's hardly a crime," he points out.

"Maybe not," you concede. There's a moment of silence, and then you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's...something else."

"Something else?"

"It's not just the opinions."

You fiddle with the spoon, trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how much you should tell him. But the truth is, you don't want to have any more secrets. You trust Rex, perhaps more than you should, and the idea of sharing this particular secret with him is oddly appealing And maybe, just maybe, it will help.

"I'm...not always in the best place, mentally," you finally confess. You keep your voice low, and your eyes on the table, afraid to look at him. You've never said the words out loud, you’ve never had to with Obi-Wan, and he’s the only one you’d ever spoken to about this. The only one still alive, anyway. "Obi-Wan's been...kind enough to overlook it. For the most part."

"For the most part?"

"He has his limits," you explain. You run a hand through your hair, your eyes still downcast. "There are certain things that are...not permitted. Or rather, certain ways that Jedi shouldn't behave. And, as far as the Council is concerned, my behavior has crossed that line on several occasions."

"What sort of behavior?" Rex asks quietly.

"You mean besides arguing with them and disobeying their orders?" you counter.

"Yeah."

You hesitate. You've come this far, and you know you've already said too much, but there's no turning back now. You take a deep breath, and you push aside your pride and your anxiety, your eyes meeting his.

“This doesn’t leave this table, alright? If I tell you, it doesn't go any further. No one can know. You understand?"

"Of course," he agrees immediately. "I won't say a word."

You take a long drink of your caf and let out a sigh, your gaze falling back to the table. It's now or never.

"When I was a youngling, I was apprenticed to a Master," you tell him, keeping your voice low, even though the diner is mostly empty. "Her name was Yaddle. She was one of the High Council members. By that point, I’d had a...history. Of trouble. Of making trouble. I was a handful."

"A handful?" Rex asks, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

"Oh, yes." You roll your eyes, and you can't help the smirk that crosses your face. “Starting fights, running off, talking back, getting in the way, breaking rules. Anything and everything I could think of to get attention."

"And why would a kid like that be apprenticed to one of the most important people in the entire Order?" he asks. "Didn't anyone else want you?"

"No," you admit, and you laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. "Not really. Most people didn't want anything to do with me. The Masters all thought I was too much of a problem. Too difficult."

"Why'd she take you?"

"I don't know," you confess. “At first, I thought it was a punishment, but...after a while, I realized it wasn’t. She genuinely wanted me. And she was the first person who did. I mean, really wanted me."

Rex nods, his face solemn. "What happened?"

"She died," you answer bluntly. You stare at the table and shrug, your eyes burning, and you bite the inside of your cheek. "After the Naboo incident, I’d gone to attend the funeral of Obi-Wan’s Master. She was supposed to come with me, but she said she needed to stay on Coruscant. She said she'd catch up later. But later that night, I felt it. The moment she was gone. I just...felt it. It’s hard to explain if you haven't experienced it. The severing of the bond."

"That must have been rough," Rex murmurs.

"It was," you agree. You swallow hard and look up at him, and the concern and sympathy in his eyes almost breaks you. "And the worst part was, no one believed me. They told me it was my imagination, or a trick of the mind, or a hallucination. But I knew what I felt. She was gone.”

"That's terrible," he says, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I can’t say it was entirely unwarranted." You let out a bitter laugh and take a drink of your caf. “After she was gone, I was...angry. Really angry. And the Masters and the Council were so busy trying to keep the Order together, no one paid any attention to me. Which meant no one noticed when I started investigating. On my own."

"Investigating what?"

"Her death." you say. You finish your caf and set the cup down, turning it between your fingers, and you let out a long breath. You glance around and lower your voice even more, and Rex leans forward, his brow furrowed. "It was murder. I know it was. I managed to find a few clues, but nothing concrete, and I…”

You trail off and stop, suddenly unable to continue. Your mouth goes dry, and you feel sick. You know what you did. You know what you've done, but saying it out loud makes it real. It means you're acknowledging the worst thing you've ever done, and, while you've done some terrible things, this was different. This was personal. And it hurt. More than anything.

"You did something." Rex's voice is soft, and gentle, and there's no judgement, only understanding. You don't deserve it. You know you don't. But it's hard to ignore the warmth that fills your chest. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. "What was it?"

“It wasn’t intentional. It wasn't like I'd planned to do it. It just...happened," you explain. Your hands shake slightly, and you curl them into fists to steady them. "Obi-Wan and I had an argument, and I stormed out. I went off alone to the Undercity, and I was angry, and hurt, and...and I wasn't paying attention."

"You weren't paying attention?" Rex repeats, his brow furrowed. He sits forward, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth is a tight line. "What do you mean? You weren't paying attention to what?"

"I let my guard down," you tell him. You hesitate, and then continue. "I should've known someone would be after me. After what happened. But I was too busy trying to figure out what to do next that I didn't even think..." 

You trail off and close your eyes. You can feel the tears threatening to spill over. You open your eyes and force yourself to meet his. "I was tricked into entering a trap. By the time I realized it was a set-up, it was too late.

"I found some of Yaddle’s things planted there, and then I was attacked. They used the Force to restrain me," you say evenly. "They put me in a chokehold somehow. I couldn't move or speak or fight back. They told me that I should've stayed away. And then, they..."

Your throat closes and your chest tightens as the memory flashes across your mind, as fresh as the day it happened. You can feel the cold, damp air of the Undercity, the pressure around your neck, the sound of their voice in your ear, the taste of blood in your mouth. 

The rage and fear and shame are just as strong as they were back then, and you have to clench your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, the urge to scream and break something almost overwhelming. You take a few seconds to calm yourself, and when you speak again, your voice is hoarse.

"They tried to kill me," you say. "And something inside me…clicked. A power I didn’t know I had. I lost control. I nearly collapsed a building on us both. The attacker escaped." 

You pause and take another deep breath. "I don't remember much after that. I was barely conscious. All I could think about was getting out. I don't know how I made it back to the Temple. I only found out later that some civilians were caught in the collapse."

Rex doesn't respond. His jaw is clenched, his mouth set, and his eyes are focused on you. You’re taken aback by his reaction, the force of it a surprise. You had expected sympathy or concern. Pity, maybe. But not anger.

"What?" you ask.

"How long ago was this?" 

“I was twenty, so...about ten years ago."

"Ten years," Rex repeats, his expression darkening. "You've been carrying this around for ten years?"

You sit back and fold your arms across your chest, watching him. You can’t help but feel defensive, and more than a little irritated.

"You seem upset."

"You almost died," he snaps. He lets out a huff and shakes his head. "Someone set a trap for you, and you almost died."

"That's generally what happens when you're careless." You try to keep your tone light, but the look he gives you is fierce. His eyes are hard and cold, his jaw tight, and his shoulders are tense. He's furious. You frown. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"What?" Rex asks. He blinks, and his face softens slightly. "No. No, I'm not angry with you. I'm just...concerned."

"You don't need to be."

"I think I do," he counters, and he leans forward, his eyes searching your face. “Who was it? The person who attacked you?"

"I don't know," you say honestly. "I never saw their face. But I have a few theories that I’m still trying to confirm."

"Any suspects?"

"One."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Maybe."

Rex's frown deepens, and he leans back, his expression wary. "What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot." You shrug, and he rolls his eyes, which makes you smile. "I'm not trying to be coy. There's just a lot of information that isn't relevant to the current situation. Or your job."

"I disagree."

"You would," you scoff. You sit back and cross your arms over your chest. "Look, this is...really hard for me, okay? And I'm not exactly eager to relive the whole thing. Especially with someone who could easily report me."

"I wouldn't," he says, quick and earnest, and his brow furrows. “I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it. But, if there's someone out there who wants you dead, we should be aware."

"There are a lot of people who want me dead," you reply with a huff of laughter. “That comes with being a Jedi. We tend to piss people off."

"This was personal," Rex argues. He sits forward, his eyes narrowed, and his hands folded on the table. "You said the attacker told you that you should've stayed away. They knew you."

"I did."

"Which means they're likely connected to your investigation into Master Yaddle's death," he points out. “Potentially even the murderer themself.”

"Maybe."

"So who do you think it was?"

You give him a long, hard look, and he meets your gaze. His eyes are unflinching, and his jaw is set. He's not going to back down. And, even though you know you shouldn't, you can't help but admire him for it. He's stubborn and tenacious, and it's hard to refuse him. Harder than you'd like to admit.

You sit forward, folding your hands in front of you, and your voice drops to a low whisper. “Dooku.”

"Count Dooku?" Rex repeats. He blinks, and his eyes widen. He glances around, leaning forward and keeping his voice low. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Dooku," he whispers. His mouth sets in a grim line, and he shakes his head. "That's...that's a pretty serious accusation."

"I know." You sigh and lean back, running a hand through your hair. "Look, I've had a lot of time to think about it, and it makes sense. Dooku has the resources and the ability. Plus, he has a personal connection to Yaddle, and he was missing from the funeral the night she died, despite Qui-Gon being his Padawan. The only thing I’m still shaky on is the motive.”

"That's a solid theory,” he admits, his tone resigned, as he rubs the scar on his chin with his thumb. “On Geonosis, you wanted to go after him. I stopped you.”

“Yeah, well, it turned out to be a good call." You snort and shake your head. “If I had, I'd be dead. He probably would've killed me before I even got close."

"Still," he insists. He takes a deep breath, and he studies your face. "So what happened next?"

"Next? I tried to forget it ever happened. And, for a while, I succeeded," you answer. You can't keep the bitterness out of your voice. "I didn't tell anyone. Not the Council, not Obi-Wan. Nobody."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't have proof. I had a necklace and a few vague memories."

You shrug, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You let out a frustrated sigh, and you drop your gaze to the table.

"It was easier, alright? I was afraid. If I told them the truth of what happened, and the power I used, they'd send me away," you confess. You pick at your nails, and your voice is quiet. "The Council was already looking for a reason to get rid of me. If they found out what I'd done, that I'd nearly killed civilians, even if it was an accident...I’d have been expelled or sent to rot in the Citadel."

"They'd do that?"

"Without hesitation," you tell him. "They're not exactly big on second chances when it comes to the Dark Side. And they were already convinced I was going to fall."

"That's absurd."

"Is it?" You glance up at him and smirk. "They were right, in the end."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true."

"No, it isn't."

"Rex—"

"No," he says firmly. He reaches out and gently tugs your hands away from where they're picking at your nails, and he squeezes once before dropping them. "Whatever happened, whatever you did, it doesn't define you. You're a good person."

You bite the inside of your cheek and shake your head. "I’d hold your applause until the end."

"I'm serious."

"So am I," you snap. You sit forward, your hands curling into fists. "You're acting like I didn't do anything wrong, or that I'm somehow an innocent party in all this. I’m not. What I did was terrible. And the consequences were severe."

"I understand, but—"

"You don't," you say flatly. "You can't."

He opens his mouth, and you hold up a hand, stopping him. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, forcing yourself to calm down.

"Sorry," you murmur. You rub a hand over your face and shake your head. "This is a lot harder than I thought."

"You don't have to explain anything," Rex says quietly. His voice is warm and soothing, and when you look up, his eyes are kind. He offers a small smile, and you try your best to return it.

"I know. But I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"No," you sigh. "But I'm doing it anyway."

Rex nods, and you let out a breath. You can feel the anger and shame and guilt still simmering below the surface, but it's tempered by his reassurance. 

"So," you continue. "Where were we?"

"After the attack," he answers, his eyes on your face.

"Right. Well, things were...awkward, to say the least," you admit as look out the window. "For a while, no one would talk to me. They avoided me, or looked the other way, or pretended not to see me. Which was fine, I guess. I wasn't exactly keen on talking to anyone either."

"What about General Kenobi?"

"Obi-Wan? No. Not really." You hesitate, and then you shake your head. “Actually, no. Not at all. He didn't say a word to me."

"That doesn't sound like him," Rex remarks.

"No, it doesn't," you agree. You can't hide your bitterness, and Rex seems to notice.

"Did he say why?"

"Not at first. We didn't really speak to each other for the next decade, actually," you say, your tone dry. "We kept our distance. He was busy training Anakin, and I was busy..."

"Busy what?"

"Busy trying not to lose my mind," you answer, your voice hollow. You swallow hard, and force yourself to look him in the eye. "The isolation was hard. No one wanted anything to do with me, and I was...paranoid. I thought everyone was watching me. Waiting for me to slip up. So I kept my head down. I did my duty. I served, I waited.”

"Waited for what?"

"An opportunity." You let out a slow breath, and you can't stop the bitterness from seeping into your words. "Turns out, that opportunity was the Clone Wars. You know what happened on Geonosis, but later, before we were…reunited, I was sent on a mission. I encountered the man who lured me into the trap, and, when I realized it was him, I...lost control. Again."

"You lost control." Rex frowns, his eyes narrowing. He leans forward, his hands on the table, his gaze locked on yours. "What happened?"

“I left my charge to track him down. He didn’t have much to offer, just that he was paid anonymously to lure me into the Undercity." You rub your temples, the memory flashing through your mind. "While I was interrogating him, the Senator that I was protecting was attacked. 

“I hurt people that day saving her, and when I returned to Coruscant, the Council decided that enough was enough. They suspended me from duty and placed me under constant supervision. I was a liability, and an embarrassment. They told me that, if I continued to act like a child, I would be treated like one."

"That's harsh."

"It was fair," you say, and he scoffs. "They didn't trust me. I didn't trust myself. I was angry and reckless and out of control, and I hurt the people I was supposed to protect. The only way I could protect anyone was by staying out of the field and away from the war. I'd failed. I'd let my emotions get the best of me, and it had almost cost me everything."

"That doesn't make it right," he argues. "What you did, losing control, it was an accident. They shouldn't have treated you like a criminal."

"I was a danger," you remind him. “And the Order can’t afford to have unstable Jedi. It's our job to maintain order and peace. We can't do that if we can't control ourselves."

"You weren't dangerous. You weren't unstable," he argues. He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "You were scared. I may not be a Jedi, but I know what fear does. It's a survival instinct. And, sometimes, the body does things to protect itself that the mind doesn't understand. You weren't in control of yourself. It was an accident."

"It doesn't matter," you reply. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. “We’re supposed to be able to control ourselves. Our feelings, our actions, our thoughts. We're trained to use the Force, it's not supposed to be the other way around. What I did...what happened...it was wrong. And it can’t happen again. Not ever."

Rex falls silent, his brow furrowed, his eyes fixed on your face. After a moment, he nods, and he sits back in his chair, letting out a long breath. 

"Okay."

"Okay?" you repeat incredulously. "That's all you're going to say?"

"Yes," he answers. His mouth twitches, and his eyes meet yours. "What did you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," you confess, and you can feel a small grin forming. "Kinda expected you to lecture me, honestly. Maybe argue with me a little bit more."

"Do you want me to?" Rex asks, the corner of his mouth turning up in a wry grin when you roll your eyes. "Because I can. You seem to enjoy arguing with me."

"It is fun," you admit, and his lips curve into a full-blown smile, his eyes sparkling. "And you are good at it."

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late." He chuckles, and it's such a genuine sound that you can't help but join him. The tight knot in your chest loosens slightly, and you let out a breath, a wave of relief washing over you.

You feel lighter, as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. There's a quiet calm in the air, and you allow yourself a moment to relax. You can't help the small flutter in your chest when Rex’s eyes meet yours, his smile bright.

He looks younger when he smiles, the stress and tension gone from his face. You like seeing him this way. Happy and relaxed. It suits him.

"Thank you. For trusting me,” Rex says, voice soft and sincere.

"Well, thank you for listening." You take a drink of caf and smile at him over the rim of your cup. "And thank you for not judging me."

He shakes his head. "You don't need my judgement. You're doing enough of that yourself."

"I am not," you protest. He raises an eyebrow, and you scoff. "Okay, maybe I am. But only because it's true."

"Maybe," he says. "But, if you don't mind me saying, it's also unnecessary."

"I do mind,” you mutter. "I was reckless and arrogant and stupid, and a lot of people got hurt because of it. Including me."

"You made a mistake." He shrugs, and his smile fades, his expression becoming serious. "Everyone does. That doesn't make you a bad person. Or a bad Jedi."

"Then what does that make me?"

"Human."

You snort, and you take a long sip of caf, trying not to roll your eyes. Rex chuckles and ducks his head. "All right, that was cheesy, I'll admit. But it's true. That's what makes us different from droids. We're flawed. We make mistakes. It's how we learn."

"Some of us more than others."

"True."

"You're being too nice to me," you tell him, only half-joking. You finish your caf and set the mug on the table, folding your hands in your lap. "You're making me uncomfortable."

"I'm not," he argues. He tilts his head, studying you. "I'm being honest."

"Same difference."

Rex huffs, exasperated, and his eyes roll up. "Why does everything have to be a fight with you?"

"It doesn't," you say. You smile, and it's a real one. "Just most things."

He starts to reply, but FLO returns before he can, rolling to a stop beside the table with a tray floating beside her. It's overflowing with food, and the smell is incredible. Your mouth waters. You're hungrier than you realized.

"Here you go," she chirps. She lowers the tray onto the table, and she starts unloading the plates. Rex's eyes are as wide as yours, and the both of you sit in stunned silence, watching as the diner droid arranges the food with a flurry of mechanical arms. "This is the breakfast platter, the lunch platter, and the dinner platter. Enjoy."

"FLO, wait," you call, but the droid is already rolling away. "There's way too much food here."

"Not a problem," she says cheerfully. She stops and turns around, her mechanical arms whirring. "Anything for you, honey. You just let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," you say, smiling. She lets out a pleased beep and rolls away, leaving you alone with Rex and more food than either of you could possibly eat. "Wow."

"Wow," Rex echoes. He's staring at the table, his eyes wide, and you're pretty sure you've rendered him speechless. He shakes his head, his mouth hanging open, and he meets your eyes. "Is it always like this here?"

"I mean, yeah, but this is a lot, even for her," you say. You glance at the tray and let out a low whistle. "She must really like you."

"Lucky me," he mutters, and you snort. He frowns at the pile of food, his brow furrowed, and he glances at you. "So, how are we doing this?"

"You need a strategy for everything, Captain?” 

"No."

"Then stop stalling," you tease, and he fixes you with a flat look. "Just try what looks good. If we can't eat it, she'll pack it up. Don't worry."

"Right," he says. He hesitates, and you roll your eyes and snatch a slice of toast from the plate. "How are we splitting this?"

"I don't know. You pick first, and I'll grab whatever's left." You take a bite of the toast, and Rex gives you a long look. You shrug, your mouth full. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Then quit looking at me and eat."

He sighs, but he reaches for a bowl, and for a few minutes, the two of you eat in companionable silence. You keep an eye on Rex, watching him from the corner of your eye as he tries everything FLO has given him. His expression is thoughtful, and he takes his time, trying to decide what he likes best. He's savoring every bite, and every time he takes a sip of caf, his face relaxes, his shoulders sagging. 

It's kind of endearing, in a weird sort of way. And, as you watch him, a small, traitorous part of your mind wonders if it'd be so bad to have this every day. This quiet. This calm. You quickly banish the thought, and you shove another piece of bread in your mouth.

You can't think like that. You can't allow yourself to become attached.

You don't realize you've been staring until Rex looks up, catching your eye. His cheeks flush and he puts down his fork.

"Sorry," he says, a little sheepishly. He gestures vaguely at the food. "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't be sorry," you cut in. You shake your head, and the words come out without your permission. "It's cute."

Rex's eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a short, sharp laugh, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile. "Cute?"

"Yes," you say, and you try to sound confident, but you can't quite keep the edge of embarrassment out of your voice. You duck your head and take a bite of fruit, keeping your gaze focused on the table. "Relax. You're fine."

"If you say so."

"I do."

You can feel him watching you, and you resist the urge to hide behind your hands. Instead, you take another bite, and you're careful not to look at him, afraid you'll make things even more awkward than they already are. You can still feel his eyes on you, and the heat rises in your cheeks, your ears burning.

"So," you start, the silence suddenly unbearable. "Any big plans while you're on shore leave? Aside from eating.

"Not really," he admits. He takes a long drink, and he leans back in his seat. "I was just going to rest, honestly. Catch up on reports. Maybe spend some time in the sims."

"You can't just spend a day relaxing?" you ask. He shrugs, and you can't help but smile. "What do you do for fun?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah." You gesture vaguely in the air, and you tilt your head, watching him. "Like, something that doesn't involve work."

"Oh." Rex frowns and stares at the table. His expression is thoughtful, and you get the sense that no one's ever asked him that question before. He meets your eyes and shrugs. "I don't know. I read, sometimes. Watch the holonet. Train. Nothing exciting."

"You like to read?"

"I like to learn," he says. He gives you a half-grin, and he picks up his fork, poking at the scrambled eggs on his plate. "You can learn a lot from military history. And there's not much else to do on a starship other than train or sleep. Reading's a good way to pass the time."

"Fair point."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah," he says. "What do you do when you're not on duty?"

"Honestly? The same thing as you," you confess. He snorts, and you shrug. "I'm not exactly a social butterfly, if you haven't noticed. Most of my free time is spent in the library, or the Temple gardens."

"I have noticed."

"Well, there you go."

Rex smiles, and he shifts in the booth, stretching out his legs. His knees brush yours under the table, and you ignore the rush of warmth that courses through your veins. It's strange. He's wearing armor, and the touch should be cold, hard, uncomfortable. Instead, it's the opposite. His armor is warm and solid and sturdy. Comforting, even. 

You shift your legs away from his. You need to stop.

"Tell me," you start, and Rex glances up. He's still smiling, and he's watching you intently. You gesture at the empty plate in front of him. "Was that better or worse than the rations?"

"Better," he answers immediately. He grins, and his eyes meet yours, soft and bright. "Definitely better."

"Good." You smile back, and you can't help but be proud. Your foot nudges his under the table. "I'm glad."

"Thanks for this," he says, nodding towards the tray of food. His gaze meets yours, and his voice is warm and sincere. "For bringing me here. It's...it's nice."

"Of course," you say. You duck your head and try to ignore the sudden rush of warmth in your chest. You swallow hard and focus on the table, pushing down the feeling. "We can come back again, if you want. There's plenty more I can show you. If you're interested."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," he says. His smile is gentle, and he tilts his head. "I'd like that."

"Me, too," you say. You smile back at him, and his lips twitch. His foot nudges yours, and, this time, you don't move away.

The rest of the meal passes quickly. You finish eating, and the two of you sit for a while longer, chatting about everything and nothing until the sun begins to dip lower behind the buildings towering over you.

Eventually, though, it's time to leave. You pay for the food, ignoring Rex's protest with a quip about the Republic’s illimitable pocketbook, and you head outside into the late afternoon sun. The street is busy, filled with the bustle and noise of people going about their lives, and the two of you stand on the sidewalk, unsure of what to do next.

"So," Rex starts, and he rocks back on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks awkward, almost nervous. "I guess I should go."

"Yeah," you say, and, despite the fact that you've been telling yourself all day that this is a bad idea, your heart sinks. You gesture vaguely toward the Temple looming in the distance. "Me too. I've got some things I should probably deal with."

"Right."

The silence stretches between the two of you, and neither one of you moves. After a few seconds, Rex clears his throat, and he meets your eyes.

"Thank you again. For bringing me here," he says, his voice soft. "And for the food."

"Don't mention it," you reply with a small smile.

You look down at the ground and kick at a stray stone, trying to bury the sudden pang of sadness. You'd had fun. More fun than you'd had in a long time, but you're not naive enough to believe that this is something that can happen again. Your schedules are far too erratic, and you're not sure you can trust yourself around him. The brief physical contact is already beginning to wear on your resolve. 

"I'll see you later then," you tell him, forcing a casual tone.

"Later," he agrees. 

He takes a step forward and hesitates. For half a second, you think he might hug you, which is a ridiculous thought. He wouldn't. And you certainly wouldn't let him. But there's something in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes flick down to your lips, the way his hands flex at his sides. 

For a moment, everything feels frozen. Neither of you move, and neither of you speak. The noise of the crowd seems distant, and the world falls away. It's just the two of you, standing there, waiting. Waiting for something, anything.

And then Rex nods stiffly, his hands resting on his hips, and he takes a step back. "Take care, sir."

"You too, Captain."

You turn and walk away.

When you finally make it back to your room in the Temple, you flop down onto your bed, your head buried in the pillow. You let out a long sigh and close your eyes, the sound of Rex's voice still ringing in your ears. 

He'd been kind and charming and sweet, and he'd listened to you and laughed with you and made you smile. And, for a brief moment, you'd forgotten all about the war, the Order, and everything else. You'd just existed.

It was stupid. You were stupid.

But you'd had fun.

It'd been nice.

Really, really nice.

"Shit," you mumble into your pillow. You roll over and stare up at the ceiling, and you groan.

This is going to be harder than you thought it would be.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @aynavaano

@ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon

@heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bimboshaggy @bunny7567

@lostqueenofegypt @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay

@callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky @captn-trex @feral-ferrule

@webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino

@silly-starfish @floofyroro

[charlie-thewitch]

Chapter III

⚠️Warning⚠️ Implied SA ⚠️

First

He came back. He came back. He came back. He came back. He came back. Gege came for me.

That's all that is currently running on Shen Yuan's mind. A constant stream of "Gege came back for me" and "He saved me" drowning anything else.

"Hehehe..." little giggles escape him as he looks at the other carry the demonic cultivator as if he weighed nothing at all. Grumbling about having left the cart and horse too far from the illicit encampment where the auction was being held at. Gege is so cute. All grumpy as he is.

Shen Yuan is honestly riding such a high right now. Head cottony and heavy, but unbelievably light at the same time. Is blood even getting to his head? Does he even care anymore.

He was so scared.

The guards in charge of the slaves were already taking liberties with the... Women. Some more girl than woman. And one or two kept giving him looks. The same looks that Shifu's friends would give him, that intent that makes him want to shed his skin, burn it, and wash the ashes in the river.

He... Knows, alright? He already knows men find him pretty enough. He knows what those looks mean. He also knows where to kick and where to stab to make them stop. But the fear reflex never leaves, neither do the nightmares.

But he was unarmed. They took his knifes and his poisons and his cultivation! He was prey again. Was vulnerable and scared like before. Before he managed to trick Shifu into training him and letting him keep weapons at all. What is the use of cultivation if he is helpless at the mere presence of a fucking rope.

...But Gege came for him.

Shifu used to make fun of him with that. Laughing and laughing at how not even his twin wanted him, not even his parents.

Poor little orphaned slave; couldn't save anyone, not even his mother, nor his brother, nor his sister.

"Why did you stop walking. Come here and be usefull" Gege quips, and it takes him back to reality enough to notice they are in a little clearing. Completely surrounded by trees a simple horse-pulled cart waits for them with said horse tied to a tree a little ways of the side. It's brown, with white spots and appears to be calmly eating the fresh grass. Shen Yuan is immediately smitten.

"Cute!" He doesn't even aknowledge Gege's orders to not move and don't touch things because he is already across the clearing, offering his hand to the horse to sniff at. He- She? Is so cute and calm, already letting him caress her muzzle affectionately. "Such a good girl. So tranquil and elegant. What pretty lashes you have"

"I just fucking told you to not touch anything" Gege walked swiftly to where Shen Yuan was getting to know the mare, taking her reins brusquely to walk her back to the cart. He doesn't even look at Shen Yuan, hasn't for a while.

It's fine, Shen Yuan knows Gege doesn't want him, no one does. He is usefull. Nothing more, nothing less. Gege wants to know about his past and probably will kick him out of his sect after he gets it and that's ok. Why would Gege keep him anyways? Shen Yuan may have a little cultivation but he could bet a novice disciple of one of those fancy sects could kick his ass in seconds!

And that is seriously fine. Shen Yuan has a plan after all. He just thought of it but a plan is a plan!

He just needs to find a way to be usefull a little longer. He has maybe 4 memories about their mother and that'll last him maybe a week if he reveals them bit by bit. After that he needs something else to get Gege to keep him a little while longer, but it's definitely a start.

If he can get Gege to get attached to him maybe Shen Yuan can even see him once in a while! Maybe Gege's sect needs servants? He knows how to do that. Perhaps he isn't a great cook but cleaning is easy enough, he's been doing it for decades after all.

"Get on"

Shen Yuan is starting to notice Gege is very bossy.

He doubts Gege will want him to sit next to him on the drivers seat so Shen Yuan climbs onto the cart from behind. Maybe he steps on the demonic guys dick, maybe not. It's not like he can protest anyways. Shen Yuan sits as close as he can to his brother without touching him.

"Ready" Gege doesn't answers, but Shen Yuan is starting to guess their first conversation was the outlier and his brother actually talks very little.

Prev - Next

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

A race for love p.6

Hii guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed the other parts you can find them in my masterlist.

- Silverstone 2023 -

It's not your first time at Silverstone, and it surely won't be your last—especially with McLaren's home race being such a staple in your life. The familiar roar of engines and the endless stretches of track feel comforting, grounding you in a way that's desperately needed. The past week has been a blur, with your dad busier than ever, leaving you to your own devices and, more importantly, your own thoughts. And those thoughts? They've been anything but quiet.

You can't stop thinking about that anonymous message. Who could have sent it? What did it mean, "Franco is not who you think he is"? And how did they even know about you and Franco in the first place? You hadn't told many people about meeting him. The only one who really knew was... Oliver. And that thought sends a ripple of unease through you.

But there's something else gnawing at you, something even more confusing—your feelings for Franco. You like him, that much is clear. You feel a connection with him that's hard to ignore, a playful, easy energy that makes your time together feel effortless. But now, that message has planted seeds of doubt in your mind. What if Franco isn't what he seems? What if his feelings toward you aren't genuine, or worse, what if he's playing some kind of game? You hate how much that idea bothers you. You can't tell if the confusion you feel is about him—or about how much you've already come to care.

And what about that other question, the one that lingers just under the surface? What exactly is going on between you and Franco? Are you just friends, or is there something more developing between you two? Every moment you've spent together has felt significant, but neither of you have put a label on it. Now, you're not sure what to believe.

As your thoughts spin, something clicks in your mind—Oliver. He was the only person who really knew about you and Franco. Could it have been him who sent that message? He'd acted normal the last time you spoke, but maybe there was more beneath the surface than you'd realized. What if he knew something you didn't about Franco and was trying to warn you?

Determined to get answers, you make it your mission to find Oliver while you're at Silverstone. You need to know if he sent that message, and more importantly, why.

You spot Oliver in the Prema garage, warming up for a test session. He's chatting with a few team members, the usual calm confidence on his face. You approach cautiously, unsure how to start this conversation, especially with everything on your mind. When he sees you, his face lights up in a friendly smile.

"Y/N! Hey, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," he says, stepping away from the crew to meet you.

You return his smile, trying to push the anxious thoughts aside. "Yeah, I figured I'd check in before everything gets crazy later."

Oliver laughs. "It's already crazy, but that's Silverstone for you."

You chat for a few moments, the conversation is easy and comfortable, just like it's always been with Oliver. He's kind, engaging, and makes you feel at ease. But the question you came here for lingers, and as much as you're enjoying talking with him, you need to know the truth.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to dive in. "Oliver, there's something I need to ask you. It's been on my mind, and I just need to clear it up."

He tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes. "Sure, what's up?"

You hesitate, then pull out your phone, showing him the strange message you received. "I got this last week. I don't know who sent it, but you're the only person who knew about me and Franco. Was it you?"

Oliver's brow furrows as he reads the message, clearly taken aback. "No," he says quickly, shaking his head. "Y/N, I swear, I didn't send this. I don't even have your number. How could I have texted you?"

His reaction seems genuine, and for a moment, relief washes over you. But there's something else in his expression, a flicker of something more—concern, maybe even frustration.

"Are you sure?" you ask, still a bit unsure.

"Positive," he replies firmly, meeting your gaze. "But... this is weird. Whoever sent this clearly knows about you and Franco. And to be honest," he adds, his voice lowering slightly, "I don't think you should trust him."

You blink in surprise at the sudden seriousness in his tone. "Why?"

Oliver sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He's reluctant, but something about this situation has clearly bothered him for a while. "Look, I've never really liked Franco much," he admits. "I don't know if he's the kind of guy you think he is. There's just something about him that doesn't sit right with me."

What he doesn't say is the part that's been growing louder in his mind recently—now that he's gotten to know you better, now that he's found himself thinking about you more than he should, his dislike for Franco has only intensified. It's not just about Franco anymore; it's about the way Franco seems to have caught your attention, a place Oliver quietly wishes he could fill.

But he pushes that thought aside, not wanting to show his hand. "I'm not trying to scare you or anything," Oliver continues, keeping his tone neutral. "I just... want you to be careful, that's all."

You look at him, unsure how to respond. His concern seems real, but there's a hint of something deeper you can't quite put your finger on. Still, you appreciate his honesty.

"Thanks, Oliver," you say quietly, tucking your phone away. "I'll be careful."

He gives you a small, reassuring smile. "Good. If you ever need anything, I'm here, okay?"

You nod, grateful for his support, but as you walk away, your thoughts are swirling. I guess it's time to talk to Franco.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Falling Into Place

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Word count: 1k

Pairning: Aaron Hotchner x Agent!reader

Summary: After a difficult case leads Y/n and Hotch to share a hotel room, an unexpected moment of intimacy unfolds when they wake up with Y/n nestled in Hotch's arms

______________________________________________________________

A few weeks had passed since the soccer game, and the dynamic between you and Hotch remained mostly the same—professional, with those brief moments of warmth that neither of you ever dared to fully acknowledge. You told yourself that was for the best. There was no way you could risk letting your feelings grow, no matter how much you caught yourself thinking about him, especially when you were both working so closely on cases.

And then, this case came.

It was a hard one. The kind that weighed heavy on everyone’s shoulders. A series of brutal murders in a small town that had been tearing apart families, and the emotional toll had already left the team weary. By the time you all arrived at the hotel, exhausted from the day, you just wanted to collapse and sleep off the weight of it all.

But there was a hitch—the hotel was short on rooms. A large convention was in town, and when you all arrived to check-in, it became painfully obvious that there weren’t enough rooms for everyone to have their own.

Rossi, in his usual charming manner, secured his own room before anyone else could even blink, leaving the rest of you to share. JJ and Emily paired off immediately, as did Reid and Morgan, leaving you and Hotch to share the last room.

The tension was palpable as the two of you made your way down the hall to the room. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust each other—you were professionals, after all—but there was something undeniably awkward about the situation. You could feel Hotch’s presence next to you, the unspoken tension growing as you both remained silent.

When you opened the door and stepped inside, your heart dropped. One bed. Of course, there was only one bed.

Hotch stood next to you, his eyes scanning the room with the same calm, controlled expression he always wore, but you noticed the subtle shift in his posture. He was tense. As were you.

“Well,” you started, trying to lighten the mood, “this could be worse, right?”

He glanced at you, his lips pressing into a thin line before he nodded. “We’ll manage.”

You both called your kids, as usual. Hotch checked in with Jack, and you had your nightly conversation with Ava. It helped ease some of the awkwardness, grounding you both in the reality that you were parents, just trying to make it through the night like any other.

But when bedtime came, Hotch didn’t even hesitate. Grabbing one of the blankets and a pillow, he moved toward the floor, spreading it out at the foot of the bed.

You stared at him, frowning. “Hotch, what are you doing?”

He looked up at you, his face still perfectly composed, though there was a hint of discomfort in his eyes. “I’ll sleep here. I don’t want to make this… uncomfortable for you.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms as you stared down at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he said simply, starting to settle down as if this were perfectly normal.

You took a step closer, shaking your head. “We’re both adults, Aaron. We can share the bed. You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, and for the first time that evening, you saw the hesitation in them. There was something else there too—something he wasn’t saying. But whatever it was, he nodded slowly, standing up again.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” you replied, moving toward the bed and pulling back the covers. “Trust me, it’s fine.”

He hesitated for another moment before finally relenting, slipping under the covers on his side of the bed. You settled in on the other side, keeping a respectful distance between you. The tension in the air was thick, but you forced yourself to relax, closing your eyes and focusing on the soft sounds of the night outside.

The silence stretched between you both, the only sound the occasional shuffle as you adjusted on your respective sides of the bed. Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off, lulled by the warmth of the blankets and the steady rhythm of Hotch’s breathing beside you.

When you woke up, it took you a moment to realize what had happened.

You were no longer on your side of the bed. Instead, you were nestled against Hotch’s chest, his arm draped protectively around you, your body curled up in his embrace. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, you didn’t want to move. It was… comforting. Safe.

But then the reality of the situation hit you, and you froze.

You were the little spoon. In Aaron Hotchner’s arms.

Before you could react, you felt him stir behind you. His body shifted, and his arm tensed around you as he woke up, clearly realizing the same thing at the same time.

“Y/n,” his voice was rough from sleep, low and gravelly in your ear. “I—”

You quickly pulled away, rolling onto your back and putting some distance between the two of you. Your heart raced, but you forced a nervous laugh, trying to brush off the awkwardness of the moment.

“I, uh… guess we got a little too comfortable,” you said, your voice lighter than you felt.

Hotch sat up slightly, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly trying to compose himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving a hand. “Really. We were both asleep. These things happen.”

But the truth was, your heart was still pounding. The feel of his arms around you had been… nice. Too nice. And from the look on his face, it seemed like he wasn’t entirely unaffected either.

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, the weight of what had just happened hanging between you. Then, Hotch cleared his throat, standing up and running a hand through his hair, as if he was trying to shake off the tension.

“I’ll, uh… go grab some coffee,” he said, clearly needing an excuse to leave the room for a minute.

You nodded, watching him as he made a hasty exit. Once the door closed behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, leaning back against the pillows as your mind raced.

What just happened?

And why, despite the awkwardness, did part of you wish it hadn’t ended so quickly?

[thespiritssaidso]

Emotional Support Psychic

Summary: Lassiter had no clue what touch-therapy was, let alone that it even existed. That is, until he saw an ad for one in the newspaper.

Shawn had been hired to be a ‘professional cuddler’ — his words — as a side job when Psych was running low on cases and money.

Notes: thank you psych discord for this idea. Needed to write myself a pick-me-up and you guys came in clutch <3

Also I should say right now that I have no idea where Lassie lives in season 3. I have no clue if he actually does live within a mile perimeter of the station. But it’s whatever, y’know. This is fanfic. So, enjoy lol

Word count: 2,472

—————

Shawn spun around in his rolly chair, legs tucked up against his chest as his hands did all the work, pulling at the desk every once in a while to regain lost momentum. He’d wobbled a few times, but would quickly right himself every time. He hummed a tune under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘Around the World’ by Daft Punk.

“Shawn, if you keep doing that, you’re going to puke.” Gus, who was sitting calmly in his own chair, reprimanded. He himself was on his computer, checking emails to see if he’d missed anything from his boss or coworkers.

“My stomach is made of steel, Gus. It’ll take a lot more than this to make me throw up.” It was true. The only times Shawn ever vomited was when someone else did it right in front of him. And even then, it was still a 50/50 chance of him reacting to it.

Gus just rolled his eyes. He knew that Shawn was telling the truth. But just watching him spin around like that was making him feel dizzy and lips tingly with nausea.

A ding from Shawn’s phone startled them both. Well, only a little bit. But that was enough to unbalance him and send him to the floor in a heap. He wasn’t deterred, however, and hopped right up and resituated his chair as if nothing happened.

A quick glance at his screen told him everything. “Ooo, finally!”

“What? What is it?”

“You remember that uh… that hug-therapy thing I put out an application for and got hired?”

“Yeah. And I still don’t get why you did that. Touching random strangers isn’t exactly something that sounds the most exciting. Kind of the opposite, actually.”

“First of all: don’t say it like that. It makes me sound like a prostitute. Nothing against them, that’s their choice of work.”

“Well, you are technically selling your body to people you don’t know.”

Shawn ignored that comment. “And B: That’s where you’re wrong, Gus. All kinds of young, touch-starved hotties who grew up unloving homes need hugs. I’d say that’s not very boring.”

“So, you’re taking advantage of someone in need.”

“Quit twisting my words around, man! You know what I meant.”

Gus clicked his tongue. “Whatever. Why’re you bringing it up, anyway?”

“I just got my first assignment! But it’s anonymous. They’re probably embarrassed about getting a professional.”

“Now look at who’s making it sound weird.”

Shawn just waved him off. “They’ve booked a thirty minute session at their place.” With an address listed, of course. In fact, that was all that was in the small text he’d gotten. No name, not even a gender. Only a time and place. A little weird, but hey, who was he to judge? He was the one that basically signed up for this.

“I don’t like this, Shawn. What if it’s a serial killer?”

“Chill out, Gus. If it is a serial killer, then they’d have to be the dumbest one in the history of ever. The address they gave me is like, four blocks away from the station. If they pull a knife on me I can just run out and grab Lassie or Jules. Or even Buzz, if neither of them are there.”

Gus didn’t look very reassured. “Maybe that’s why they chose that spot. Because no one would suspect somewhere so close to the police.”

“You’re so clinical. You know that, right?”

“You mean cynical. Clinical wouldn’t make any sense in that context.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

———

Shawn sped down the road on his motorcycle (Gus refused to let him use the Blueberry). Buildings were a blur, meshing together in his peripherals. As he drove, he checked his watch. 7:13 p.m. Yeah, he was gonna make it.

It was still a little odd to him that the client gave no details other than when and where they wanted the session to take place. Shawn was no expert when it came to this, but he knew some people would at least put in a comment or two about themselves. Heck, maybe even just if they had some topics they wanted to talk about or movies they wanted to watch during their session. He seriously didn’t expect his client to want to just sit there in awkward silence as he snuggled up to them.

So, as he rode, he tried coming up with topics. 80’s movies or shows, if the topic came up. Pineapple? Maybe put that one on the back burner, as a last resort.

What if whoever it was asked why he’d chosen to be a touch-therapist?

He could make up some sob-story about how his parents never gave him enough love as a child and now he wants to give others cuddles so no one would have to feel how he’d felt.

It… actually wasn’t totally far from the truth. He did in fact sign up to work as a touch-therapist as a way to satiate his own touch-starve-ingness. Maybe he should go with that. Makes for a good sob story. But he wouldn’t admit that to Gus, or his dad, or anyone he knew personally, for that matter. All it would do was just open up a whole discussion that he definitely didn’t want to have.

Besides, Shawn didn’t just want this, he was built for this. The stockiness of Shawn’s body didn’t come easy, no sir. It took a lot to go from eating only when he was hungry, to eating regularly scheduled meals and when he was hungry. If that made sense. And it worked, too. He’d gone from being called a twink by random people at bars while he was on the road, to being… healthy. Not so much of a stick, or a walking skeleton. It was also probably how he’d gotten hired so easily, given his extensive resume.

Shawn parked his bike on the curb next to the house. It was nice, the paint was a pretty shade of green, single story but wide enough to look like it could easily house two people with space for other rooms. The yard was decently sized, and the grass wasn’t overgrown. It was all painstakingly tidy. Whoever lived here was probably the biggest neat freak ever-

Then he noticed the red Crown Vic parked in the driveway.

No way. No way. Lassie? Lassie had called and scheduled an appointment with him? The Carlton Lassiter had scheduled an appointment to be cuddled by the fake psychic?

Well, not with him specifically. All assignments were at random, unless special requests were made by the clients. So that meant Lassiter, Carlton Lassiter, had either made a request with such specific details that made Shawn the only candidate, or he just hadn’t cared and Shawn was chosen by some weird stroke of fate.

Either way, Shawn needed the money. And he definitely wasn’t going to turn down the chance at being able to — professionally — cuddle up with Lassiter. This was his dream, since… well, since he’d been manhandled by him during the missing ring case. He just didn’t expect it to come so soon. Or like this.

With that, he shoved his helmet under his arm and walked up to the small porch. Five knocks later, and he heard the sound of footsteps along with Lassiter's voice, muffled by the door that stood between them. “-know I didn’t put a lot of information, sorry about that. Thanks for coming anyways-” The door opened, and there stood Lassiter, in all his two-piece suit glory. Seriously, why was he still wearing that? He stopped mid sentence when he saw who was at the door. “Spencer? What the hell are you doing here, I’m expecting… someone….”

Shawn ignored Lassiter and the look of realization donning his face. “You know, you could’ve just asked if you wanted to snuggle up with me. Not sure why you had to go around this way.” He put on his award winning smile that always made the ladies — and sometimes the guys — swoon.

It had… some effect on Lassiter. It at least made his cheeks go bright red. “No. No no no no no. No way-”

“Wow, I feel so cherished right now Lassie.”

Lassiter’s mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words to say. “Since when do you work for-”

“Since last week. Cases weren’t coming in and Gus and I were running out of money. I saw the ad and went ‘Hey! That’s a job I haven’t done yet!’”

“Doesn’t Guster have an actual job?”

“Yeah? What does that have to do with anything?” Sure, Gus had him claimed on his taxes. But he didn’t rely on him for everything. He used the money they earned on cases to pay for not only part of the rent on the psych office, but also to pay for the rent at his apartment. Or at least, the apartment he was currently living in.

“Well, I can’t have you as my touch-therapist, so you can kindly turn around and pretend this never happened.”

“Okay, ouch.” Lassiter went to close the door, but Shawn quickly stuck his foot in between, jamming it open.

“Spencer, get your foot out of my door!”

Shawn didn’t do that. He continued, “But! But the way I see it, you either kick me out and get assigned with a random stranger. Or, you could let me in and we cuddle for the allotted 30 minutes you’re paying for.”

The door stopped pushing against his foot and was opened once more. Shawn could see the gears turning in Lassiter’s head. On the one hand, Lassiter didn’t look like he wanted to snuggle up to his rival — harsh — but on the other he also didn’t seem too keen on meeting with a stranger. He knew how this worked. Although Shawn had the advantage of knowing the detective, Lassiter was painfully easy to read.

Finally, he gave in. “Take your shoes off, I don’t want you tracking dirt inside.”

As soon as Lassiter’s back was turned, Shawn pumped his fist.

First impression of Lassiter’s house was about the same as his impression of the outside. Extremely tidy, very minimalist. A painting of a gun sprouting roses hung up on the wall caught his eye. Shawn couldn’t help the grin. That painting was so Lassie.

“So.” Shawn averted his eyes from the decor and over to the detective himself, who was sitting awkwardly on the couch. “How… How does this work?”

“I dunno. This is my first session, too.” He didn’t feel too proud admitting that. “But! I have had many a cuddle session with other partners. So this shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Wait. Partners? Why didn’t you just say girlfriend?”

“Well, just saying ‘girlfriends and boyfriends’ seemed kind of like a mouthful.”

Lassiter didn’t say anything to that, simply nodding thoughtfully.

“Alright. Scooch over, gimme some room.” Shawn moved to push him but was stopped by Lassiter slapping the hands away. Not harshly, but enough to let Shawn know not to do that. He was being paid to cuddle with him, nothing more nothing less.

Slowly, Shawn lowered himself into the cushion next to Lassiter. He was close enough he could feel the detective tense at the contact. This wasn’t going to work. “Okay, look Lassie. I can’t really work my magic with you if you’re gonna sit there all rigid like a stick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sarcasm dripped from Lassiter’s words.

“Just- loosen up some man! This is a two-person exchange, both parties have to participate.”

Lassiter grumbled before complying, ever so slightly relaxing his tensed up muscles and leaning just a bit into Shawn’s side.

“There you go, Lassie!”

“Don’t demean me, Spencer.”

“I wasn’t! I wasn’t.” Shawn had an idea. Gently, he raised his right arm up and over Lassiter’s shoulder to bring him closer.

Of course, he tensed up again. But after a moment he settled down once more.

“So. Did you have anything you wanted to do?”

Lassiter looked over at Shawn, confused. “What do you mean? I’m paying you to… to uhm…”

“Cuddle. You can say cuddle, Lassie.”

“Mmm yeah, that. I’m not paying you to do anything else.”

Shawn snorted. “What, you thought we were just going to sit here, doing absolutely nothing but snuggle?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Shawn could only look at Lassiter incredulously. He was being serious. Dead serious. “Wow. Uhm, okay. Hang on, gimme a sec.”

“A- To do what?”

“Trying to think of something to talk about. I am not going to be sitting here in silence. That’s torture.” He sat for a moment longer, searching for a topic he and Lassiter could both relate to. What would that even be? So far, all Shawn knew about the detective was that he liked his job just a little too much to be considered normal, along with a love for firearms. Two things that he didn’t exactly feel like talking about.

Wait, actually…

“So, remember when Gus and I went down to Camp Tikihama?”

Lassiter furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah, didn’t you have to call O’Hara because there was a serial killer? That happened yesterday, of course I remember it.”

Shawn smiled to himself. Perfect. He had something to talk about now. “Well…”

———

Light streamed through the Psych office windows as Gus walked in, carrying his case full of experimental medications. Shawn had told him they had finally had a case, and he was on his way over with the file he’d gotten from the chief.

Gus set his case down next to his desk and sat down, opening up his laptop. Might as well check his emails while he was waiting for Shawn. The fake psychic was notorious for being later than he said he would be. Unless that thing included food. Shawn would always make an exception for food.

But he found himself unable to stop looking over at his friend’s desk. The clutter was really getting to him. He hated that Shawn couldn’t just pick up after himself. There wasn’t really any point to it, anyways. It just looked messy and made stuff get lost.

He could just… organize it. Not much, only a little bit. Maybe straighten up the newspapers into a neater pile and line up the small toys Shawn kept. Nothing too serious.

So that’s exactly what Gus got up to do. But of course, he was stopped by the sight of a check of all things sitting dejectedly and slightly covered up by a newspaper from last week. One glance at what was written on the check was enough to get Gus to grab his phone and dial his friend’s number. “Shawn, why do you have a check written out to you for ‘Services’?! And why is it from Lassiter?! What services did you do for Lassiter?!”

—————

Notes: ughhhh this was so cute and i had fun writing this.

Ao3 link

[patsothercorner]

Try Again

TW: mature themes. do not read if you can't handle it. based on true real events.

I was 3. During an eye appointment, when I said I couldn't see the letters on the giant glowing screen. The doctor looked at me.

Try again.

I was 4. The dresser had fallen, me taking the brunt of it. I'm trapped, under the bed, where I attempted to seek shelter. I'm stuck. I can't get out.

Try again.

I was 6. After an hour of attempting to tie my shoe, my father glared at me.

Try again.

I was 8. Tears in my eyes as I get tackled to the concrete by a middle schooler. I told him I couldn't get up. He looked at me, outstretching his hand for me to take.

Try again.

I was 9. I walk down the stairs, and watch as my father presses his knee into my mother's neck. I listen to my mom call his mom. Saying she's gonna leave next time, but that for now, she'll do what she's been doing.

Try again.

I was 10. My father showed me how to mow the lawn. I miss the line, again and again. My dad rolls his eyes.

Try again.

I was 11. Locked in my home, while people outside suffered. The virus taking over every source of entertainment I had access too. I ask my sister to play a game. She says no.

Try again.

I was 11. I sit in my room and stare at the walls. Walls that were once clear, now have marks of my agony and suffering. I pick up the blade and swipe it across my skin. Nothing happens.

Try again.

I was 12. It's late. Maybe 3am. I open the medicine and scan for the ones I'd think would do the most damage. I take 4. Nothing happens.

Try again.

I was 12. Tears fall down my face as I stare at the pills once more, this time, they've multiplied. 16. I take them all. Something happens. I start to think. About my life. About all the things I have to live for. It isn't much. Still, I stick my fingers down my throat, and gag. Nothing happens.

Try again.

I was 12. Third time wasn't the charm. Neither was the fourth. Or the fifth. Maybe it's not my time. I think that's what my mom thinks when she looks at my arms. She asks if I want help. I look at her.

Try again.

I was 13. The blade was buried under dust, left untouched. Tears fall down my face as my therapist tells me that my father has good reason to beat me. She tells me kids have the tendency to be dramatic. I look at my shelf, where my worst enemy had found home.

I was 13. I stare at my sister as my father threatened to shoot my cousin. I watch as the boy who made our life hell for two years, sits there, and faces the man I've faced many times before. He's scared. He picks up his shoes and leaves. I don't miss the way my father smiles at me. Saying the same words.

Try again.

I was 13. The music volume isn't enough. They're yelling again. Fighting. You'd think they'd be tired of it, the arguing. But everytime, it's the same thing.

Try again.

I was 14. Getting home from a fun day at the fair with friends. The house is quiet, the silence as stark contrast from my pretty cousins running around. Young, one still a toddler, one starting 5th grade. My sister and I sit on the bed as my father stands in front of us. They're divorcing. They'll figure out the details later, but for the night, he's leaving. He does. My mom sits us down on the couch. He'd choked her. The kids were awake. Nobody knows what they'd heard. She wasn't going to assume they'd heard nothing. She'd ask when they were awake. Until then, we do what we keep doing.

Try again.

I was 14. We hadn't moved out yet. School had started. I wasn't enrolled. They hadn't accepted me. My mom suggests we move to the same district.

Try again.

I was 14. We'd moved out. I'm a week behind. I don't know anyone. Making friends is hard.

Try again.

I was 14. I made a couple friends. They're not great. It's okay. Better than being alone. I look at the walls of my bedroom. White. I can't bring myself to put anything on them. They're better white anyway. I've looked through the boxes. I've found the blade.

Try again.

I was 14. My mom stared at my arms once more. Not as bad as last time. An isolated incident. She asks if I want help.

Try again.

I was 14. New lady. She's nice. I like her.

Try again.

I was 15. I sit in my room, staring at the white walls, bottle in hand. I hadn't opened it. I stopped this problem a while ago. I look at the bottle. I open it. What's the harm?

Try again.

I was 15. I don't know how much I'd drank, maybe a shot or two. I open the medicine cabinet. Do I do it?

Try again.

I was 15. Tears fall as I listen to my dad's voice through the phone, muffled by my mom's ear. She's not crying, but I can tell she wants to.

Try again.

I was 15. They're going to therapy. We're going out to dinners again. He's coming over again. We're going over again. They're getting back together.

Try again.

I was 15. I'd tried again. A couple times. Every time, it'd failed. So I gave up. Maybe living is for me. Maybe I should be like my mom.

Try again.

I was 15. Living's not so bad. It's hard. But maybe it gets better. Maybe it's worth it. Maybe, instead of giving up, I should do what everyone else is doing.

Maybe I should try again.

Maybe trying again is hard, sure, especially when that's all I've been doing. But I guess when you do something long enough, you start to get the hang of it.

It's easy to say it. Try again. But doing... one of the hardest things we'll ever do as humans. I'm only 15. I shouldn't know the things I know. I shouldn't have gone through what I have.

I'm more mature than my sister, even though she's older. I've shielded her. She doesn't deserve to think the way I do, to realize the things I do. She doesn't like that I've done that. But it's hard to just stop when I've been doing it for years.

I've tried again. I haven't picked up the blade in months.

I'm trying again.

I stopped drinking. Addiction runs in my family.

I'm trying again.

I still talk to my therapist. She's helped a lot.

I'm trying again.

I've made great friends. Real friends.

Trying again.

I haven't tried to stop trying in almost 6 months. Fighting for me.

It's okay to fall. It's okay to struggle. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay.

It's not okay to not try again.

From me to you, do whatever you want. I can't make these decisions for you. But I can tell you this.

Try. Again.

[spielzeugkaiser]

the love child update from today was 🔥🔥🔥 outstanding as always, i’ve read it like 12 times already i love them sm

i can’t remember if this is smth you already addressed, so feel free to ignore this if it is, but does milek know that geralt is his dad? like obviously jaskier told him to find geralt if he was ever in trouble, and he knows about their friendship, but does he know how far it went? and if he does, does he know that geralt doesn’t know? i just feel like that conversation they had today could be read so many different ways, like are they talking past each other? is milek facepalming bc goddamnit both his dads are morons, fucking typical? so many possibilities!

Ohh, that is a good question, I guess the whole thing is a bit convoluted.

Milek knows that Geralt is his father, he knows that his parents have a long, but complicated history (in which Milek is under the impression that his parents were a couple at one point and Jaskier feels like they were fuckbuddies at best. He felt rather used at times, more like a substitute for Yennefer).

Milek was taught from a young age that he is not supposed to tell anyone about this. First it was a safety measure because Nilfgaard was looking for them and later it continued to be one; they're already not seen in the most positive light and in the best case, it would look like he's lying. In the worst case he would meet anti-witcher sentimentalities. He learned later that Geralt has no idea either - which is something Jaskier needed some time to realise too, as he was accusing Geralt in his talk with Yennefer here about knowing it, but still sending him away.

So there are years of secrecy drilled into Milek, and he knows Jaskier would be fine with him telling Geralt, because I do think Jaskier and Milek had the the talk once he was older that it's his decision if he wants to get to know and tell his father, or not, but.

I think he imagined that talk a hundred times. He daydreamed about this a lot. But now, in reality? The thought of saying something is a suddenly very, very scary.