The Road Goes Ever On And On...

...down by the door where it began.

[billthebullfrogs]

K-Change of Plans (A Damien Haas x reader oneshot)

Improv day at Smosh goes off-script when you get paired with Damien for a seemingly harmless game, and what starts as pure chaos slowly turns into something a little too charged to ignore. Between banter, lingering looks, and post-filming decompression vibes, the vibe leans hard into mutual pining, soft tension, and that unmistakable “wait… is this still a bit?” energy.

This stupid game was NOT meant to go like this.

It was one of those simple Smosh Pit improv bits. The kind that only needed a table, a camera, and everyone dressed in the unofficial black improv uniform. Shayne, Courtney, Angela, Chanse, Tommy, and Damien were all there, already half-losing it before the game even started.“K-Change of Plans,” Shayne explained, tapping the bowl sitting dead center on the table.

The rules were easy. Inside were folded slips of paper, each one holding a character you had to commit to: an old woman, a pilgrim, something equally ridiculous. You pulled one. Your scene partner pulled one. The rest of the group threw out a situation.

And then, BOOM. Improv time.It started out really silly. Shayne was Guy Who Can Only Say Zonk™, Angela was some sort of... little Italian man? Cortney was a scarily good Facebook Mom. You were amused, but not surprised by the talent of your castmates. Now, however, it was time for you to go. Damien volunteered as your scene partner, and while you managed to stay cool, your head was screaming and your heart was pounding. "

This is gonna be awesome!" Angela grinned, and added: "I mean, it literally can't be worse than Straight Chanse." She added a dramatic shiver. "Let's fucking go!" Tommy slammed a hand on the table. Everyone was hyped, the mood on improv days was always so good. That was why you felt comfortable enough to actually go a little crazy.Damien picked a paper slip first. "Geez, Guy Who Thinks Everyone Is Participating In His LARP? That's hilarious."

And then he looked at you. Him in his gorgeous black button down, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the tattoos on his ridiculously pretty arms. It was truly unfair how he got to be everything all at once; talented, adorably nerdy and unfairly gorgeous as well?! You took it as a sign to pull your card, though. "Tired Customer Service Person? I like it. Let's do this!"

Oh, you were ready.

You'd been ready for a long time, you thought. Secretly, you had been hoping for this to happen. To be quite honest, you'd been interested in Damien from the start, since you got to join the crew and this ridiculously attractive man grinned at you like you were just what he'd been hoping for. You felt like a secret mastermind, always turning the situation so you'd end up somewhere with him. But is a girl to blame for that?

No, no one was to blame for liking a man like that. He had been there, even when you weren't this entertaining, actress persona. Even when you weren't the funniest, or the best at something. His eyes were on you. You could still remember the first time you got overstimulated at a Smosh event. You'd been masking up until that point, but it was exhausting and one day, it just kinda dropped. You'd left the room, thinking, HOPING, they'd not come after you, because crying in front of these awesome people was just embarrassing— especially because of seemingly nothing.

But he came looking for you. When he'd seen you, he just sat next to you for a moment. After some time, he'd asked what happened. That was the day you'd admitted your hypersensitivity. Instead of being all confused or asking you too many questions, he just nodded. Then, he started talking about the original Pokémon, about his D&D character and literally anything else to distract you. And after that, you were basically inseparable—

—which led you to where you were now. Crushing on a fucking theatre kid with interests which competed with those of fucking Sheldon Cooper. Said theatre kid was now facing you on the little space used as the improv stage. You instantly switched to acting mode. Pretending to sit at a register, you waited for Damien to approach you.

“Ah, good evening! You- you must be the mysterious innkeeper! Pray, how many shillings for a room? Preferably with a bed.”

You blinked, leaning back against the counter.

“Sir… this is a Hilton.”

"What? YOU'RE Ms. Hilton?” He stepped a little closer, chest puffed out as if presenting a ceremonial sword.

“No! I meant—” You threw up your hands, almost knocking over a stack of imaginary brochures.“Ah! So you are the Guardian of this establishment!” He swept into a bow so dramatic it nearly knocked over a brochure stand that did not exist. “I knew it. You’re the boss encounter. The one Hilton was named after...”

You groaned but laughed anyway, crossing your arms. “Is this a bit? Sir… I make fourteen dollars an hour and none of them cover medieval combat.”

“LIES! To get a room in this establishment, I must fight you first, correct? Hah! I am a level five paladin! I will SQUASH YOU!” He raised an imaginary sword and took a deliberate step closer, forcing you to lean back slightly.

“You can't say that! PLEASE lower your voice. And your expectations. I don’t have a sword.” You leaned forward over the counter, hands planted firmly, staring him down with mock seriousness.

He tilted his head, smirk twitching, and stepped closer, so your shoulders brushed. “Yet I sense a great power within you… and frankly, it’s distracting my oath. Are you a practicer of magic, perhaps?“

You rolled your eyes but smirked. “Magic? Surviving this lobby every day without losing my mind has to count for something, right?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice like the fluorescent lights were suddenly torchlight. “Tell me, Guardian… do you challenge all who seek rest, or only those who catch your interest?”

Courtney whispered, “Why does he always do this?”“Because God abandoned us,” Angela murmured, already laughing.

You leaned over the counter, unimpressed. “I challenge anyone who raises an imaginary sword in my lobby. And if you don't stop, I'm going to call the police.”

“Ah,” he said softly, shoulders brushing yours. “Then I will sheathe mine… for now.”

You let out a long, exaggerated sigh, slumping slightly on the counter. “Sir… if you don’t either book a room or do something that isn’t… whatever this is, you’re going to have to leave.”

“Ah!” he gasped, stepping closer like the fluorescent lighting suddenly became torchlight. “You do not yield easily, Guardian. Truly… you are remarkable.”

You snorted, trying to shove back a laugh, but your chest betrayed you for a millisecond when his hand brushed just slightly against yours while gesturing wildly, a completely accidental touch, and your stomach did that stupid, fluttery thing that made you hate yourself a little more.

"What's remarkable is that I haven't QUIT MY FUCKING JOB ALREADY!" You'd caught yourself and ended the scene with a well deserved crashout.

“Aaand scene!” Angela laughed.“Nice!” Shayne clapped, and you high-fived Damien, the energy still buzzing.“Be honest,” you said, grinning. “Is this just how you are outside of improv?”

He snorted. "Mhm, you got me. I run around with my wooden sword and act like LA is fucking Baldurs Gate or something." After you, Chanse and Tommy had their turn, something about a mime and an opera singer, and you realized you hadn’t actually been paying attention at all.

Damien was sitting beside you. And he was so close. Close enough that your legs touched, warm denim against warm denim, and it felt impossibly loud in your head despite no one else seeming to notice.You didn’t move. Neither did he.

You laughed when everyone else laughed, stared resolutely forward, and tried not to think about how aware you suddenly were of your own body, of how stupidly fast your heart was going, how carefully you were breathing.It was nothing, yet it was more than that. It was everything.You felt like a teenager again, full of nerves and hope and humiliation, praying he wouldn’t notice while desperately wanting him to.Eventually, the scene ended. The moment didn’t.

And when things finally moved on, it felt like waking up from something you weren’t ready to leave.

—

Pretty soon after, they wrapped up filming for the day. It was a good day, and you all were pretty satisfied with your efforts, but it was loud. Yeah, you loved improv days, but they were quite exhausting. Keeping up the performance even when things got too much was part of the job, and so draining nonetheless. You were sitting in the break room, sipping on your standard chamomile tea. That's kinda what you were known for here at Smosh, because every time you were on set, you'd have at least two cups of that damn tea every few hours. That was when someone sat down next to you.

"Chamomile tea again, huh?" Of course it had to be Damien. You didn't even have to look at him to know he was smiling as well. Your eyes drifted to his anyway. "If you see me drinking anything else, you know that's my evil twin," you joked. He grinned. "Do you not get tired of it?"

You shook your head. "Never. It's kinda like my emotional support tea, you know? It, uh, it always tastes the same, no matter how loud things get. That's what I like about it." "No, I get it." He paused, tilting his head to look at you better. Under the table, your hand was gripping your jeans, you were trying not to explode because of the eye contact.

"Today was loud again, yeah?" He asked. You shrugged. "I mean, it's what I signed up for. Plus, for emergencies, I still have these babies," you said, pointing to the noice cancelling headphones you always kept around your neck, just in case. He gave a small nod. "Well, you did really good today. Kinda made me wanna go again, to be honest." You looked at him with a grin.

"You just want an excuse to flirt with me," you teased. Sometimes, you wondered where you got the balls to flirt, but you had realized a whole ago that sometimes, you'd have to fight for what you wanted. This wasn't a fight, really, it was much better, but you weren't usually the one speaking up like that, so every battle counts for something. Damien leaned a little closer. "Oh please, I don't need excuses to flirt," he stated, crossing his arms. "Just don't want you to explode the moment I say something that's not PG-13."

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. "Jesus-" You whispered under your breath, before catching yourself and flirting back because WE DIE LIKE MEN.

"Hm, you know what I think?" You asked, tilting your head teasingly. "I think YOU'RE the one who can't take it." With a grin, you blinked up at him, before getting up, having finished your tea.

Unexpectedly, he followed. "Nuh uh, you're not leaving. Not after you looked at me like that." He gently grabbed your wrist, and after realizing how demanding he sounded, he added: "Please?"This time, you couldn't regulate yourself enough to form a proper answer. "I... you... Damien, are... are we still acting?"

He carefully, almost hesitantly stepped closer, having let go of your wrist to not crowd you. "Honestly? I've stopped acting a while ago."

"What?"

"Listen, I... I don't want this to be weird or anything, really, I just-... I think you're pretty awesome, and, uh," he took a moment to breathe before continuing, "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you." He didn't look at you for a moment, he couldn't. But when he did, he saw a ridiculously red face. You were rendered speechless for a moment, but you were sure your expression spoke for you. It actually made him chuckle. "You doing okay there? Geez, I... I didn't think I could do that."

"Oh, shut up!" You finally shook it off, but you were smiling like an idiot. "In case it wasn't completely obvious, I am head over heels for you, Day. Sometimes I scare myself, but, uh... I guess I don't have to anymore." You smiled a bit at your own awkwardness. He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Wow. Okay. So this is… happening.”

“Yeah,” you said, still smiling like you couldn’t stop it even if you tried.He bumped his shoulder against yours, warm and solid. “Guess we’re really bad at pretending, huh?”

You leaned into him, just a little. The space between you shifted, subtle but unmistakable, like the air itself had leaned in too. His shoulder was warm against yours, steady, and you became acutely aware of how close his face was now. Close enough that you could see the way his breath caught, the way his jaw tightened as if he were working up courage all over again.

“Hey, uh... Can we-... Can I kiss you, please?” He asked, voice soft, careful, like he was holding something fragile in his hands.

You felt your eyes widen, your heart stuttering hard enough that you were sure he could hear it. You turned your head to look at him fully now, really look at him, and found that he was already watching you, hopeful and nervous all at once.“You wanna kiss me?” You blinked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. His smile came slow, crooked, fond.“If that’s okay?”

“Please.”

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then he lifted his hand, hesitant, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t. His fingers brushed your jaw, barely there, like he was still making sure this was real. When he leaned in, it was unhurried, reverent, his forehead resting against yours for a heartbeat as he exhaled a quiet laugh of relief.

The kiss itself was gentle, soft pressure, more promise than anything else. It lingered, unspoken words settling between you as easily as his lips did. You kissed him back without thinking, without fear, and something warm and steady unfurled in your chest.

When you finally pulled apart, you stayed close, foreheads touching, breathing the same air.It felt right.It felt like the easiest thing in the world.

And you realized that the easiest scenes were the ones where you didn't have to perform.

[billthebullfrogs]

DOWN UNDER— A Robert Irwin Fanfiction

Summary: You came to Australia Zoo for a fresh start—art, koalas, and maybe a little courage. You didn’t plan on breaking down behind the exhibit on day one. And you definitely didn’t plan on Robert Irwin finding you there. A soft slow-burn about healing, overstimulation, and the boy who sees you anyway.

Cover: @meximex090

PART ONE── ⟡ ˙🌱 ̟

You had promised your therapist you'd take it easy. And really, you tried. But after the last school year took EVERYTHING out of you, and you had to take a break, you decided you didn't wanna keep going like this. How would you get more resilient if you didn't test yourself?

You were hypersensitive. That meant you were basically living on full volume without an off button. Emotions, smells, textures and tastes overwhelmed you like quantum physics would a third grader. It sucked, but you felt it made your art better— more real, maybe. That's why your therapist suggested you go to Paris for your gap year. Or a quiet place in the Highlands, or a little village in Italy. And yes, that sounded good. Really good, in fact, you almost decided to do exactly that.

But then you got that gut feeling. That little tingle telling you to finally dare something. To risk something. And, even though you were the epitome of a scared little mouse, you'd promised yourself to finally start living.

That's what led you to the Australia Zoo— the place for weather that literally melted off your shoes, masses of people trying to squeeze through the roads all at the same time and noises that made you bite your lip and cover your ears in frustration. It was truly ironic. A person like you in the land down under. But it wasn't all bad. It would be a great opportunity for your art. You could finally draw with live models. Drawing wildlife was your favorite thing to do, and in one of the biggest zoos in the world, there was plenty of it. Especially Koalas. The sleepy little marsupials had captured your heart ever since you watched Crickey! with your dad when you were a kid.

And, let's be honest— Robert Irwin was the other, secret reason for your bold choice. You'd always had a sort of parasocial crush on the conservationist, how could you not? He was gorgeous. Especially his ways of treating animals. Like they were breakable. Not in a bad way, never, but he made their fragility seem like it was something beautiful. That spoke to you. And how he didn't scare away from bigger animals like crocodiles or pythons made your heart flutter— he had this way of appreciating life with a passion not many people got to feel. But you guessed it was an Irwin thing. His sister, Bindi, and his mother also had this sort of sunshiney aura, and you didn't even have to mention Steve— you felt like Robert and his dad shared a lot of resemblances.

So, there you were. Standing in the middle of the Australia Zoo, crowded by screaming kids and their parents who tried to get them under control. It was then you really began to question your decision. A person like you in a place like this? What made you think this was a good idea?

But now it was too late for regret. You tried to shrug it off. When a worker approached you, offering you a tour of the place after she found out you were new, you gladly took her up on the offer. It was a necessary distraction.

"And here," she pointed to a big eucalyptus tree within a fenced area, "are the Koalas. We check on them every day, the little guys are quite clumsy."

I know, you wanted to say. That's why I love them. Instead, you gave a small smile. She asked if you had any questions, but you barely registered it, because you heard a familiar voice from afar. Robert Irwin. He was probably doing a crocodile show, like the ones you'd seen on videos and blushed like an idiot around. A part of you hoped that he'd be there. But the other really just shut down. This was a bad idea, you thought.

Apparently, the worker noticed you were zoned out. "Oh, that's the croc show. Happens everyday at about 1.30 pm, it's a bit loud, but you get used to it. You wanna see?" She smiled. You panicked a bit. Honestly, as much as you'd like an opportunity to ogle Robert like you were no better than a man, the crocoseum was really overfilled— especially since he did the show. You didn't think you could take that right now.

So you shook your head. "No, thank you." The worker nodded and kept explaining things about the zoo. You tried to listen, and somehow managed to register most of the information she gave you, even though your mind wandered throughout the conversation. Hopefully, this would go alright.

── ⟡ ˙🌱 ̟

It did, in fact, not go alright.

You should’ve known it would be like this. You’d been warned— by travel blogs, by Reddit threads, even by your aunt who did a yoga retreat here in the 90s. Australia is intense, they all said. The sun, the bugs, the colors. The way the air hums at a different frequency.

But you still weren’t prepared for the noise.

And now, on your first real day volunteering at the zoo, (yesterday's introduction didn't count) you sat curled up behind the Koala exhibition, pressing your hands to your ears and trying to shut off that damn manual breathing that was just a little too fast to be comfortable. It was like your lungs didn't fill up properly, like you were starved for air even though you were breathing just fine. Your stupid khaki clothes felt a little too tight, too restraining, and you felt hot. Kids were screaming, the adults didn't have a concept of personal space and somehow always seemed to wanna walk by when there was no room to let them. Animal noises, that weird zoo smell, the sun burning your skin. Everything overflowed. And what made it worse is that you thought you could handle it. You thought you'd gotten strong enough to survive— yet here you were, getting overstimulated on your first day of the job.

It was frustrating, you wanted to bite your tongue really hard or punch something, but instead, you cried. You didn't want to, but it was like your brain saw it as the only way to calm down again. Though it just made everything worse, because now there was no way out. You always felt intensely. Sometimes it was nice, but most of the time, it made you end up like this— crying, with no way to stop.

You tried to think of something to distract yourself. Koalas, the way they sleepily waddled from tree to tree. It almost worked. Almost. But of course, your feelings were too big. That made you cry more. And then—

"Hey, you alright there?"

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please. Not now, not him. You didn't have to look up to know who that voice belonged to. Yet you did, anyway. And there he was.

The Robert Irwin.

This was just too cliché to be true, you almost scoffed. The sun was setting, painting the Australia Zoo a golden hue. It smelled like that indescribable smell of those summer evenings spent sitting outside with friends. You were at your literal dream destination, and Robert Irwin actually talked to you like he was a damn saint. For some reason, that made you feel worse. The man who made kindness look effortless, the man who cared about the smallest of beings, was taking time out of his day to talk to you, and you were sitting there, unable to do literally anything. Well, it wasn't like he came here just for you. He was probably going to check in with the Koalas or something.

You couldn't bring yourself to reply.

However, instead of laughing, scoffing, or telling you to suck it up, he silently sat down next to you, seemingly not afraid of getting dirty sitting on the ground. Well, he did wrestle crocodiles for a living, a little dirt wouldn't stop him.

And then, he started talking.

"You're new, yeah? For your gap year? Heard Zoey talk about an artist who took a break from uni to come here."

He kept going.

"I've always admired people who can draw. While photography is kinda my thing, I've got two left hands when it comes to art like that," he chuckled, and it sounded heavenly. You sniffled, trying to pull yourself together. You finally managed to form a reply.

"My art's still a work in progress.." You huffed out a soft, watery laugh.

"But that doesn't make it bad," he said, turning to look at you. "Not at all, actually. Art doesn't have to look good, it just has to be, y'know? You got all your life to practice. What's your favorite thing to draw?"

After a moment, you replied.

"Koalas."

You couldn't believe it. You were just barely holding it together, and now you talked to Robert Irwin about Koalas. Meanwhile, he just nodded.

"Ah. I get it. Marsupials are the best for calming down. Well, Koalas are. Kangoroos can be pretty wild, almost had one fight me once. Can't recommend that. But Koalas are chill." He smiled. "Did you know that they sleep about 20 hours a day?"

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, cause eucalyptus leaves aren't exactly the most nutritious. They're honestly a mood."

"True. You should really meet Marley. She's one of our Koalas here, and she's a diva. Gets real pissed when you wake her up at the wrong time." He huffed out a laugh. "It's understandable, though." He paused.

"…you feeling better now?"

You hesitated, before nodding. "Yeah, I… thank you. I'm just— my stupid brain shuts down at every bit of stimulation. Maybe I shouldn't have gone here for my gap year.." It was kind of humiliating, admitting this to your… who even was he to you? Technically, a stranger. Why were you telling this a stranger? What was going on with you? Shit. Before you could spiral further, he spoke up again.

"That's just not true. You know, it's not a bad thing to feel. My dad always admired people who are passionate. And you know what I think? I think this is the place for you. Yeah, I get that the crowds can be overwhelming, but you got the Koalas, don't ya? And the Cassowaries and Wombats and Sugar Gliders… You get the point. Not every human will get you, but the animals do."

You looked at him.

"Why are you doing this?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Why are you so patient with me? You barely know me."

"So?"

That simple question rewired your brain. So? He didn't have to know you to understand you. After a moment, you gave him a small smile.

"Thank you."

He gave your shoulder a light pat and got up. "No biggie. Now, c'mon. I gotta show you Marley."

Robert didn't even give you time to think. Possibly because he knew that sometimes, thinking was not good for you. And so you followed him. Maybe this wasn't gonna be so bad. You had your art, you had the animals and friendly coworkers and him. He was, you couldn't pretend, the best thing that happened to you that evening. You still didn't understand why he took that time for you— he was really busy most of the day, after all. But for some reason, he did. And you were incredibly thankful for that.

Now, the only thing you had to watch out for was falling for him. Like, actually falling in love. That had always been a stupid idea for you. But after that evening, the numbers were not looking good for you at all. Fate, if there was such a thing, didn't seem to be on your side. You bit back a sigh.

As if reading your mind, he looked over at you.

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Like hell you were.

[billthebullfrogs]

sure thing.

“Hey, firecracker,” a voice—unmistakable, to you, at least —calls from behind, and you instantly knew who it was. “Need to talk to you.”

There was only one person that would call you that nickname. Luke Castellan, the bane of your existence, thought it was extremely funny to remind you of that one time you almost burnt down the pavilion. The moment they figured out it was you; you had earned the nickname you dreaded so much. He loved reminding you of embarrassing stuff you did. You desperately wanted to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face. What did he even want? Didn’t he have something better to do than to bother you?

He leaned against one of the posts in the arena, eyebrows raised expectantly. He just needed a change from training the newbies. He wanted to go all out, and the best person to do that with was sadly you. Well, at least the satisfaction he’d get from beating you—because he would beat you, obviously, was totally worth it.

You sighed, “What?”

“Need a sparring partner, that's all,” he said, a smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips, now accompanied by a raised eyebrow. “And I'd rather have you than anyone in this camp.”

“That sounded too nice for your standards... Are you that desperate?” Your eyes narrowed; you were skeptical.

“Desperate to beat your ass, yes," he said, an easy laugh breaking past the steely look on his face. Luke was aware of the fact that he often annoyed you, and maybe he liked it just a little. "Besides, I wanna try some new sword techniques I came up with. So, whaddya say? Pretty please?" His head tilted a little when he said that, he was giving you that look.

You were silent, biting your lips just like you always did when you were focused. After a moment, you gave in. “Fine,” you said. Maybe you’d benefit from this, too.

"That’s my girl," he said as he casually walked toward you. "I promise not to go easy on you. If you feel like you're gonna trip and impale yourself with my sword, just say the word, alright?" A smirk flitted past his lips, though his words seemed genuine enough. Luke knew you would never stop being rivals. But the feeling of respect he had for you was real. He trusted you and even cared for you, but he’d rather commit war crimes than admit that.

“Fuck you,” you spat as you got into your signature fighting stance. Maybe this was a mistake, but if you gave up already, he’d think you’d gotten cold feet.

“If you ask nicely.”

That smug bastard. You hated him with all your heart. You hated his stupid smile and the way he made everyone around him feel comfortable, even you. You hated the butterflies he gave you. You hated his guts.

With a smooth slashing motion towards his torso, you started the fight. He blocked it with ease. Without a further word, Luke went in towards you with a quick and precise strike, sword arm extended forward in a tight grip with the tip aimed towards your sternum. He wanted to overwhelm you, thinking you hadn’t improved since the last time you sparred. But oh, was he wrong.

You’ve been watching him, his rather aggressive style of fighting, and the look in his eyes when he tried a certain move for a long time now. You’ve fought him many times before, and you were getting the hang of it. You’ve been training a lot, and while he was busy with the new campers, you had developed your own, unique fighting style. He knew you as a pretty good fighter, who could almost keep up with him on a good day. Almost. But now, you’d surpass his expectations. You blocked his hit, your body moving smoothly like liquid. Instead of using all your strength to try and withstand his attacks, you just gave in. Let loose. You used the force of his hit and channeled it, transferring it into your own with ease. He did not see that coming.

You'd always had a strong sense of intuition and your body would respond accordingly, as if it had a mind of its own. Luke was quick to counter, his body leaning back with a fluid motion to avoid any of your quick strikes, all the while trying to find an opening. The back-and-forth movement that was once just a spar has now become a deadly dance of swords, the two of you constantly in motion, no pause in sight. There is a certain excitement in the air, almost a spark that has ignited your mutual hostility and aggression.

Your movements were fluid as if you could predict all of Luke's moves in advance. You were a master of timing, of anticipating all of the demigod's strikes. Not once could he match your fluidity, his movements jerky compared to your graceful flow. There was something about the way you both fought so elegantly that made you feel like you were part of an agile performance, each of you matching the other's movements perfectly. It felt less like a fight and more like an art.

Yet even as you moved with effortless ease, the clash of swords kept you both on your toes, your bodies moving in such perfect sync that neither could find a flaw in the other's defense. Your movements almost appeared as if you were both working together, but this was not the case—in fact, Luke was becoming more frustrated by the second as he strained to find a way to slip past your guard.

“You’ve improved,” he breathed out while you fought. “I like it.” The way he said that sent shivers up your spine. It was embarrassing how these words affected you so hard that you made a small mistake. It was a mistake that could happen to even the best swordsmen in history, but a mistake nonetheless. And it led to his sword held at your throat. You fucked up. And he made you feel it, the cold tip of his sword gently tapping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You prayed that he didn’t notice the color on your cheeks.

“You're distracted too easily.” He looked serious for once, that glint of smugness had left his eyes for just a moment. “I win again.” And there it was again, that stupid smile of his. He dropped his sword and held out a hand to help you up. You let him pull you up, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Did you get what you wanted out of this fight?” You asked, and he nodded. “Much better than trying to teach the newbies not to drop their swords while fighting.”

“Good,” you turned to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist. “Same time tomorrow?”

You could’ve said no, could’ve walked away, could’ve done ANYTHING, but instead, you looked at him and said, “Sure thing.”