#i am perhaps slightly more bitter about this than usual

[s6daz]

♰ sevika x f!reader ִ ࣪𖤐⋆˖

cw: angst(?, sevika is a little bit evil, prostitute!reader, sad lesbians is my passion.

note: i wrote this while listening to stay a little longer on loop, after a bit of smut comes the sad.

status: fixed

the brothel was more crowded than usual. The dim lights dyed the walls a warm red, while the air smelled strongly of cigarettes along with cheap liquor and sweet perfume. you and sevika were in one of the rooms of the place, after having sex and enduring how crazy sevika can be –sometimes– you remained lying on the bed exhausted.

in exchange for you, sevika was on the edge of the bed, lighting her second cigarette of the night while you watched her in silence. there was something about her posture that intrigued you, the way in which sevika avoided your gaze more than usual had you on alert and with a slight anguish that was difficult to ignore.

"can you stay a little longer?" you finally said, breaking the silence.

sevika didn't answer at first, instead she exhaled the smoke slowly, as if she was thinking about what to say.

"you know that's not possible, babe" her finally replied in her neutral, almost cold tone.

"you know it's not like that..." you insisted, sitting down and wrapping yourself in the sheets. "sevika i..."

you broke off, biting your lip and trying to find the right words. you didn't want to seem like a desperate bitch for her, but you really couldn't stand her distant attitude anymore.

"just... could you stay a little longer? please"

she finally looked at you and for a moment you thought you saw something different, guilt, perhaps. or something even more painful.

"this isn't what you think..." she said as if she knew what you were referring to, you were an easy book to read for her and it's not like your actions right now were being very professional.

"so what is it??" you asked, ignoring the horrible lump in your throat that was becoming increasingly difficult to untie. "because I can't continue like this, sevika. i know that... this is not against the rules here and that I am a simple prostitute but if this doesn't mean anything to you..."

she leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees as she ran a hand over her face.

"it's not that it doesn't mean anything..." she said in a defensive and frustrated tone "but i can't give you what you want either"

your heart tightened as you heard her words.

"then don't make it any more complicated," you whispered, approaching her and placing a hand on her face. "just stay with me... tonight."

sevika closed her eyes and for a moment looked like she was going to accept, but she quickly moved away from your touch and put on the remaining clothes that were on the floor, her bad mood filling the room in a way that made you feel so small.

"why are you making this harder than it already is?" she growled, breaking the silence as she finished putting on her shoes.

"because whatever we have matters to me, you matter to me" you spoke trying not to let your voice crack as you went along. "you know that what we have is not just client and sex worker"

she shook her head, her lips curving into a bitter smile.

"this isn't love, this is a job for you and me... this is just a distraction"

your breathing stopped. you knew perfectly well what sevika was like, someone direct, even brutal with her way of speaking, but you had never thought that she could say something like that to you.

"you don't mean it," you murmured slightly awkwardly, with a lump in your throat.

"yes, i say so" she replied, her voice as cold as steel. "don't ask me something like that again"

and with that sevika finally left the room, letting the silence speak louder than any words. she didn't look back as she left and you didn't try to stop her this time.

when the door finally closed, you lay back on the bed, your eyes burning with the tears that were beginning to come, and for the first time you began to wonder if you had been naive to think that her would stay by your side, pretending that this meant something and you would have wished that even if she left she wouldn't have done it so quickly.

because in the end two people can share four walls, but not the same feeling and staying becomes harder than leaving.

[syluslnd]

Hello I'm sorry if you're not taking requests. But please please if you are can you make the part 2 of Sylus as an online sugar daddy meeting with his sugar baby.

But please ignore it if you don't take requests and your writing is SOOO GOODD. Have a nice day!!

Sylus meeting with his online sugar baby

(note-you sent this a while back when I first started posting so I hope you’re still around lol I’m sorry for taking so long🤍)

Tags • virgin reader,sugar daddy sylus,verbal teasing,fingering,climaxing

5k word count (I got carried away sorry)

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Sylus himself couldn't even believe he was doing this. It wasn’t just a waste of time for him; he never thought he’d be the type to seek out a woman, especially in a place like this but something about you intrigued him in a way he couldn't ignore.

As he leaned against his sleek black car outside the arcade the neon lights flickered, illuminating the faces of the young couples and friends inside. He felt out of place the leader of Onychinus waiting in a childish venue a stark contrast to his usual world of power and control.

He glanced at his watch, the minutes stretching painfully. He was serious about this arrangement, after all. He had his reasons, practical ones—companionship, a distraction from the relentless pressure of his life. But he couldn't deny the thrill of meeting you, the allure of stepping into a world so different from his own.

The sound of laughter drew his attention, and then he saw you approaching. Your smile was bright, a refreshing contrast to the shadows that usually loomed around him. You looked confident almost carefree as you made your way toward him.

“Hi! sorry if I kept you waiting,” you said your voice light and cheerful,opposite of how he’s used to people greeting him.

“It’s fine,” Sylus replied, maintaining his serious demeanor. “I’m just getting used to this.”

“This?” you asked, gesturing around the arcade. “I get it,It’s not exactly your usual scene.”

He finally met your gaze, feeling a flicker of something unexpected—curiosity, perhaps. “I’m not here for the games sweetie”.

You smiled at his straightforwardness, your cheerful demeanor undeterred by his serious tone. “I figured,but the games are kind of fun! You should try one!”

Sylus raised an eyebrow, intrigued but unwilling to show it. “I doubt I’d find much enjoyment in... this.” He gestured around, feeling a mix of irritation and fascination at how different your world was.

You chuckled softly, the sound warming the chilly air between you. “You might be surprised,It’s nice to escape sometimes.” There was a glimmer in your eyes that caught him off guard.

“Escape?” he echoed, feeling the weight of his own reality settle back over him. “I’m not sure that’s possible for me.”

Your expression shifted slightly, the playful light dimming as you regarded him more seriously. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than intended. He didn’t want to scare you away, but vulnerability was foreign territory for him.

You looked at him, studying his chiseled features and the tension that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” you said softly, as if sensing the walls he’d erected around himself.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” he replied, a hint of angst creeping into his tone. It was a reminder of the danger he lived in, the enemies lurking in shadows,never being able to be off guard . “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Your gaze remained steady, unwavering. “and yet here I am,Isn’t that the thrill of it? To step outside our comfort zones?”

“Thrill,” he muttered, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “More like recklessness.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the instinct to protect you, to shield your brightness from his dark world.

You tilted your head, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “You’re so serious sylus,what are you afraid of?”

He hesitated, the weight of his duality pressing down. “That I’ll lose you, kitten.” The admission surprised even him. He didn’t know you well, yet there was something about you that ignited an urgency within him.

Your smile returned, softer now, disarming his cold demeanor. “I’m not going anywhere,not yet at least.”

For the first time, Sylus felt a crack in his armor. Perhaps this sugar daddy arrangement was about more than just companionship; it was a chance to explore a connection that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

As you took a step closer, he felt an instinctive need to draw you nearer, to keep you safe. “Let’s get out of here,” he said abruptly, surprising even himself with the sudden protective urge.

You blinked, a mix of confusion and excitement dancing across your face. “Where to?”

“Somewhere... away from all this.”

And with that, the tension shifted. Sylus realized he was no longer just a mafia boss seeking distraction; he was a man drawn to someone who could bring light into his otherwise shadowed existence.

As sylus drove you to the hotel, the tension in the car was palpable, a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The neon lights outside blurred by, but all he could focus on was the way you shifted in your seat, a nervous smile playing on your lips.

Once inside the hotel, he led you to a private suite, the door clicking shut behind you with a sense of finality. The room was elegantly furnished, dim lighting casting a warm glow. You looked around, your earlier cheerfulness tempered by a hint of shyness.

“What happened to the lively little kitten I met at the arcade?” Sylus teased, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “You seemed so confident, and now...”

You bit your lip, glancing at the floor. “I don’t know! It’s just… different, you know?”

“Different,how so kitten?” He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “You’re not worried about me, are you?”

“No, it’s not that” you replied, trying to maintain your composure. “It’s just... you’re a bit intimidating.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Intimidating? Sweetie, I promise I’m just a guy, a guy who’s curious about why you’re suddenly so shy.”

You took a breath, trying to regain some confidence. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be here, with you, like this.”

“Is that so?” He leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, the teasing glint in his eyes intensifying. “I would’ve thought you’d be eager to explore every aspect of this arrangement.”

“Explore?” you echoed, feeling your cheeks heat.

“Yeah, you know,” he said, a playful smirk on his lips. “Try out all the fun things you can’t do over the phone .”

Your heart raced and you glanced away, flustered. “I—”

“Come on, kitten,” he coaxed, stepping closer again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you a little more innocent than you let on? Is that what this is about?”

You froze, your mind racing. “Um, well, I—”

“Are you a virgin, sweetie?” His words hung in the air, a teasing challenge that made you blush even deeper.

Your eyes widened, caught off guard. “I… maybe?” The admission slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt utterly exposed.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, that explains the shyness,but it’s cute,” he said, leaning in closer a playful glint in his eye. “I didn’t realize I was dealing with such an innocent little thing.”

You shifted your weight, heart pounding. “Stop it!” you protested, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “You’re making me feel like a kid!”

“Maybe you are,” he teased, his tone light but his gaze serious. “But don’t worry, kitten. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, a mix of excitement and nervousness washing over you. “You’re such a meanie!” you said, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably.

“I’m just having a little fun, sweetie,” he replied, his voice low and inviting. “You’re adorable when you blush like that. I could get used to this.”

The playful banter hung in the air, creating an electric atmosphere. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself slowly crumbling. “Maybe I’ll show you more of my personality if you promise to be nice,” you offered, your voice teasing back.

“Oh, I’ll be nice,” he promised, stepping back slightly to give you space. “But I can’t make any guarantees about being gentle.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the thrill that raced through you at his words. “I guess I’ll have to hold you to that.”

And in that moment, amidst the teasing and the laughter, something shifted between you, a connection deepening beneath the playful facade. Sylus felt a flicker of something he hadn’t anticipated—an urge to protect not just your innocence, but also to cherish the light you brought into his dark world.

Sylus moved towards you, the teasing smile on his lips fading just enough for his expression to darken, a serious intensity taking over. He crossed the room slowly, closing the space between the two of you, and before you could react, his hands were on your waist. With a firm but gentle grip, he lifted you effortlessly and plopped you onto the bed. The air left your lungs in a quiet gasp and for a moment, you were caught off guard by how swiftly he moved.

“Sweetie,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something lower, something that made the room feel smaller. His gaze locked on yours, the playfulness still there but laced with a seriousness that hadn’t been present before. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

You swallowed hard, the nervousness creeping back in as he loomed over you. “I… I think I do.”

He smirked, but there was something almost sad in it. “You think, huh?” His thumb brushed lightly against your waist as he knelt onto the bed, his hands still holding you in place. “Kitten, I’ve been playing this game for a long time. I know when someone’s out of their depth.”

The teasing edge in his tone made your heart race, but there was a weight behind his words that made you shift beneath him, uneasy but drawn in all the same.

“You’re a sweet little thing,” he said, his voice almost tender, though his words held a darker undertone. “Too sweet for someone like me. This isn’t like those playful messages online, sweetheart. I live in a world that’s... far from innocent.”

Your breath caught as his fingers trailed up your side, the motion almost soothing despite the tension in the air. “But you… you still want me here, don’t you?”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I want you, kitten. More than I should,but I worry about what happens if you stay in my world too long.”

You blinked, trying to steady yourself, your mind spinning. “What do you mean?”

Sylus pulled back slightly, his face hovering just inches from yours. The smirk returned, but his eyes were shadowed, conflicted. “You see, I’ve got my fun little games, but outside of this room? My life isn’t soft. It’s sharp edges and shadows..and you” he said, brushing a thumb over your cheek, “you’re too innocent,you don’t belong in that darkness.”

Your stomach tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. “I can handle it. I’m not a kid.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it this time. “You’re not a kid, but you’re pure, and I’m not.” His hand found its way to your chin, tilting your head so your eyes met his. “You think being my sugar baby is all fun and games. But in person? It’s different. You’re not just playing with me anymore, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire.”

Your pulse quickened as he shifted his weight, pinning you gently beneath him. “And what if I want to get burned?” you whispered, feeling bolder in the heat of the moment.

For a second, his expression softened, and his fingers threaded through your hair as he gazed down at you with a mix of affection and regret. “Careful what you wish for, sweetie,” he murmured. “I might just give it to you.”

Despite the teasing, there was an undeniable protectiveness in the way he spoke, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull you closer or keep you at arm’s length. It was as if he feared that pulling you too far into his world would extinguish the light you carried—something that had begun to matter to him in ways he wasn’t prepared to admit.

And in that moment, you realized Sylus wasn’t just worried about what he could do to you. He was worried about what his world could do to someone like you.

Sylus hovered above you, his eyes flickering between restraint and desire, that teasing smirk playing on his lips as if he was holding himself back. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, his fingers still gently grazing your cheek. Despite all his playful words and sly smirks, you could see it—he was hesitating, his dark world swirling in his mind, wondering if pulling you closer would be a mistake.

For a moment, you bit your lip, considering what to do. But something inside you shifted. If Sylus wasn’t going to make the move, you would.

With a sudden burst of boldness, you reached up and cupped the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. His eyes widened in surprise, the smirk faltering just slightly as you pulled him closer, your lips hovering inches from his.

“I’m not as fragile as you think, Sylus,” you whispered, your voice steady even though your heart pounded in your chest. “I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if caught completely off guard by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker, something hungry.

“Oh, kitten,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, “you think you’re being serious, don’t you?”

You kept your grip firm on the back of his neck, refusing to back down. “I am serious.”

The way his eyes softened at your determined expression made your stomach flip. He found you adorable—your attempt at taking control only seemed to amuse him more. “Look at you,” he said, voice dripping with affection and a hint of that ever-present teasing. “So tough, huh?”

Before you could say anything else, Sylus closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His hands, which had been holding you so delicately, tightened their grip, pulling you flush against him.

Your boldness evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a wave of flustered heat. The intensity of his kiss left you dizzy and though you had initiated this, you quickly realized you were in over your head. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you felt your face burning with embarrassment.

He broke the kiss just long enough to chuckle against your lips, his breath warm as he whispered, “What’s the matter, sweetie? You’re the one who made the move.”

You could barely respond, too flustered to form words. He loved it—he could see it in your wide eyes, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. You’d been so bold just moments before, but now? Now, you were back to being the adorable, innocent girl that had him wrapped around her finger.

Sylus leaned in again, this time brushing his lips over your cheek, down to your jaw, his voice a low, teasing rumble. “So cute when you’re all shy like this.”

Your hands trembled slightly, but you held onto him, trying not to completely melt under his touch. “I’m not… shy” you mumbled, but the words came out weak, betraying how flustered you really were.

“Oh, sure” he teased, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “Is that why you can’t even look me in the eyes right now?”

You wanted to protest, to regain some sense of composure but before you could, his hand slid down from your waist, trailing over your hip, slow and deliberate. His touch sent a shock of heat through you, and you instinctively arched toward him, though the movement only made you feel more embarrassed.

Sylus grinned against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you responded to him. “What happened to handling everything, kitten? Still think you’re in control?”

The way he spoke, his voice thick with amusement and a teasing edge, made it clear he was fully aware of the effect he had on you. He wanted to push you, see how far he could take it.

His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing over the curve of your thigh, teasing you just enough to leave you breathless. He pulled back just slightly, his face hovering above yours, his eyes scanning your flushed expression with a mixture of fondness and wicked delight.

“You look so cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his tone soft but with that same edge. “But you’re not ready for the things I want to do to you, are you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you met his gaze, determined not to back down completely. “Try me,” you whispered, though your voice was shaky.

Sylus chuckled again, leaning down to kiss you once more, slower this time, savoring the moment. “Oh, kitten,” he whispered between kisses, “you’re going to be so much fun.”

Sylus hovered over you, his lips barely leaving yours as he deepened the kiss, drawing out every flustered breath and soft sound you made. His hand, still trailing over your thigh, paused, fingers curling just enough to make you squirm beneath him. He pulled back, only an inch, enough to look at you with that knowing smirk—the one that told you he had complete control of the situation, no matter how much you’d tried to take charge.

“You really think you’re ready for this?” he asked, voice low, dark, but still teasing. His hand slid higher, resting on the bare skin just beneath the hem of your dress, his thumb brushing in soft circles that made it impossible to focus.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest, but you managed to meet his gaze with more boldness than you felt. “Yea,I can handle it.”

For a second, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, his smirk softened into something more, something almost affectionate. “You’re adorable,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Trying so hard to be brave.”

Before you could respond, his hand gripped your thigh a little tighter, drawing a soft gasp from you. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your neck. “But you don’t have to pretend with me, kitten. I know exactly how to get under your skin.”

The teasing lilt in his voice sent a thrill through you, and though you wanted to hold onto that boldness, the way his fingers danced across your skin made it impossible to keep up the act. Your breath quickened, and you could feel the heat rising in your face as his touch became more deliberate, more confident.

“See?” he murmured, his lips brushing over your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “You’re already trembling, sweetie. I told you… you’re not ready for this.”

His words were a challenge, but they weren’t mocking. It was as if he was genuinely testing you, seeing how far you’d go before backing down. And despite the way he was unraveling you, you weren’t ready to surrender just yet.

“I can handle you,” you whispered, though the quiver in your voice betrayed your confidence.

Sylus chuckled softly, his lips moving up to your ear, the sound of his voice sending a shiver through you. “Is that right?” His hand slid even higher, fingers brushing dangerously close to places that made you gasp. “Then why do you sound so nervous, kitten?”

Your face burned, and you instinctively bit your lip to stop the soft whimper threatening to escape. But Sylus wasn’t about to let you off the hook that easily. His lips were back at your neck, pressing a lingering kiss there before whispering, “I love how quiet you get when you’re flustered. It’s like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

You could feel the warmth of his smile against your skin and it made your pulse race even faster. His hand moved deliberately now, tracing the edge of your inner thigh, teasing but not giving you what you secretly craved. It was maddening how in control he was, how effortlessly he played with your reactions.

“You’re so easy to read, sweetie,” he said, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression both amused and intense. “I could keep this up all night, just watching you squirm.”

You couldn’t help it—your face flushed a deep red and you looked away, embarrassed by how easily he was getting to you. But Sylus wouldn’t let you escape that easily. He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently turning your face back to his.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “I want to see every expression, every little blush. It’s too cute to miss.”

The tenderness in his words made your chest tighten, but there was still a darkness to them, a possessiveness that left you breathless. You were caught between the soft affection he was showing you and the overwhelming heat of his touch and you were losing, fast.

“I can’t…” you started, but the words fell apart as he leaned down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss. His hand slid higher, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, and you gasped into his mouth, your body arching involuntarily toward him.

He broke the kiss just to smirk against your lips, clearly loving the way you were reacting. “Can’t what, sweetie?” he teased, his breath mingling with yours. “You were so sure you could handle it.”

Your mind was spinning, and though you’d started this, it was clear that Sylus had taken control completely. But despite how flustered you were, you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more, even if you could barely keep up with him.

“I can handle it,” you whispered, more determined now, though your voice shook.

Sylus smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned down again, this time his lips brushing just beneath your ear. “You’re so stubborn, kitten. I like that about you.”

Then, his hand slid down, tracing a slow, torturous path along your inner thigh. His touch was light, teasing, just enough to leave you aching for more but never giving in completely.

“But you still have so much to learn.”

Sylus’s smirk deepened as he watched your breath hitch, every little movement you made betraying just how much he was affecting you. His fingers, still tracing delicate patterns along your inner thigh, were slow, deliberate, and maddeningly teasing. Every time he got close enough to make your heart race, he’d pull back just a little, dragging out your anticipation until it felt unbearable.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped lower, sending a thrill down your spine. “You’re trembling already, kitten. You’re not used to this, are you? No one’s touched you like this before.”

You didn’t trust yourself to respond, but that only made his smile grow. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your neck, letting the heat from his lips sink into your skin. His free hand slid up to your waist, gripping just firm enough to make you arch toward him instinctively. He knew exactly how to play with your body, how to drive you wild without even giving you what you wanted.

Sylus pulled back just slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and the intensity in them made your stomach flip. He tilted his head, watching every flustered expression cross your face, drinking in the way your lips parted, the soft, breathless sounds that escaped you.

“Still think you can handle me?” he whispered, his voice rich with amusement, but his touch told a different story—it was heavier now, more intent.

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath, but it was impossible with him this close. His fingers trailed back up your thigh, higher this time, slipping just beneath the edge of your underwear, the movement slow, teasing.

The sensation made you gasp, your body instinctively pushing closer to his. That small, desperate movement wasn’t lost on Sylus. He grinned, clearly loving how much you were craving his touch now.

“You’re not as innocent as you act, are you, kitten?” he teased, his breath warm against your skin. “Look at how you’re moving for me. You’re not shy now, are you?”

His words sent a wave of heat through you, and though you wanted to hold onto that boldness from earlier, you couldn’t deny how flustered you were under his control. Your body was betraying you, responding to every touch, every low whisper and Sylus was enjoying every second of it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, but he didn’t kiss you—not yet. He stayed there, close enough that you could feel his breath, the teasing proximity making your pulse quicken.

“You’re going to have to ask for it,” he whispered, his voice dark and tempting. “If you want more, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell me.”

Your mind was spinning, but the heat of the moment made it impossible to think clearly. Sylus’s hand was still tormenting you, fingers barely brushing over the sensitive skin between your legs, teasing you in a way that made it hard to form words.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as his touch grew more deliberate, his fingers moving in slow, torturous circles that left you breathless.

“Come on, kitten,” he coaxed, his lips grazing your jaw, his voice dripping with amusement. “I know you want it. Just say it.”

You could barely breathe, let alone speak, but the way he was looking at you, the way his touch had you completely at his mercy, left you no choice. “Please,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

“Please what?” he asked, his tone smug, but his touch never faltered. “You have to tell me exactly what you want.”

Your heart raced as the words hovered on the tip of your tongue, but Sylus wasn’t going to give you any relief until you said it. He waited, his touch slow and deliberate, every movement sending shocks through your body.

“I want… more,” you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk grew, clearly satisfied with your answer. “That’s a good girl” he murmured, and without warning, his fingers slid fully beneath the fabric, pressing against the heat of your body.

The sensation made you gasp, your back arching off the bed as a wave of pleasure shot through you. Sylus’s hand moved with deliberate precision, his touch confident and unrelenting. He watched your reaction with a dark, predatory gleam in his eyes, clearly reveling in the way you responded to him.

“You’re so sensitive, kitten,” he whispered, his voice low and husky as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles. “I could make you come just like this, couldn’t I? Just by playing with you a little.”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath him, and you hated how much truth there was in his words. The heat was building inside you and the way Sylus’s fingers moved—slow but intentional, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—had you desperate for release.

But he wasn’t going to make it that easy for you.

Just when you were about to lose yourself completely, Sylus’s hand stilled, pulling back just enough to leave you breathless and aching. You let out a soft, frustrated whimper, but Sylus only smiled, leaning down to press a teasing kiss to your lips.

“Oh, sweetie,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with dark amusement. “I told you, I’m not going to be gentle. I want to see just how far I can push you.”

Sylus watched you squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling under his touch. His lips ghosted over your neck, sending shivers through your body, while his hand lingered just out of reach, keeping you on edge. Your breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, your body aching for him to push you further.

“Look at you, kitten,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with wicked intent. “So desperate already… all from a little teasing.”

You whimpered in frustration, your hips moving involuntarily toward his hand, silently begging him for more. But Sylus wasn’t going to give in that easily. He smirked against your skin, his fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive spot between your legs, but not applying enough pressure to give you what you wanted.

“I could keep you like this all night,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Just on the edge, begging for more. But…” His hand slid back into place, pressing more firmly now, drawing a gasp from you as he began moving again, slow and deliberate, each touch pushing you closer to the edge. “…I want to hear you scream my name.”

His fingers worked with maddening precision, moving in slow, rhythmic circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. Every touch, every stroke, was pushing you higher, closer to the point of no return. Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the heat coiled tight inside you, ready to snap.

“That's it, sweetie,” Sylus whispered, his voice dark and enticing. “I can feel it. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You could barely respond, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation building inside you. Your fingers gripped the sheets, your body trembling beneath him as his pace quickened, his touch becoming more relentless, more intense.

“Sylus…” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his tone both commanding and teasing. “I want to hear you say my name when you come.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and before you knew it, the wave hit you. Your body tensed, then shattered, pleasure crashing through you in overwhelming waves. You cried out his name, your voice shaky, breathless, as your body gave in to the intense release.

Sylus didn’t stop. His fingers kept moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were trembling and gasping for breath, completely undone beneath him. Only then did he slow, pulling back just enough to leave you sensitive and spent, but still aching for more.

As your body came down from the high, Sylus grinned down at you, clearly pleased with the way he had unraveled you so completely. His eyes were dark with satisfaction, and that familiar teasing smirk was back on his lips.

“You look so cute when you’re a mess like this,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Was that what you wanted, kitten? Or did I push you too far?”

You could barely speak, still trying to catch your breath, but Sylus didn’t need a response. He chuckled softly, his hand trailing lazily down your thigh as he watched your flushed, exhausted expression.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his tone both affectionate and mocking. “I’ll take it easy on you… next time.”

He pulled back slightly, his fingers still brushing over your skin in slow, teasing strokes that made you shudder even in your sensitive state. “But you’ve got a lot to learn if you think you can keep up with me.”

You looked up at him, still dazed from the intensity of your climax, and Sylus’s smirk only deepened. He leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth before whispering against your lips, “You’re mine now, kitten. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he slid his hand away completely, leaving you breathless and aching, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent

“We’re just getting started,” he teased, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he watched the lingering need in your eyes. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

[girl-next-door-writes]

I Miss You

Characters: Armitage Hux x reader

Summary: In the cold emptiness of space, you found warmth in General Hux’s rare vulnerability. As his walls falter and darkness encroaches, your bond deepens but grows uncertain. Now, you cling to hope, striving to be the one exception to his solitude amidst the silence of the stars.

Word Count: 1326 words

Prompt: I Miss You – Blink 182

A/N: This is one for the wonderful @caplanbuckybarnes for the decades challenge, for which I have taken a million prompts and am slowly getting through them.

The galaxy felt unbearably quiet tonight, as if the void of space was doing its best to swallow the silence. The distant hum of the Finalizer’s engines served as a constant reminder of the cold, unyielding world you had chosen when you joined the First Order. It had never been an easy path, and it certainly wasn’t one made for finding warmth or comfort. Yet somehow, against all odds, you found it in possibly the least likely person of all.

General Armitage Hux had always been an enigma, a man who wore the mask of precision and control as if it was a second skin. His eyes were often icy, and his words even colder. Yet, in rare moments when the facade slipped, you had seen the rawness behind his exterior, a vulnerability that he desperately tried to hide. That was what had drawn you in, what kept you up late, lingering in his quarters or in the control room long after your duties ended.

You leaned against the window of his quarters, staring out into the endless black of hyperspace. The stars blurred into thin lines, rushing past you as the ship cut through space. But your thoughts were elsewhere, pulled back to the moment you first saw him crack—just a little.

It was a routine debriefing that turned into a heated argument. Your opinions on a tactical matter clashed, his temper flaring as he berated you for questioning his judgment, the audacity of you as a lower ranking officer something that needed to be squashed. But then, for just a moment, his voice had faltered. A flicker of something haunted crossed his features, and you had instinctively reached out, placing a hand on his arm. The touch had lingered longer than it should have, and though, after the initial shock had worn off, he had turned away and you saw his resolve crumble ever so slightly. That was when everything changed.

The closeness that developed wasn’t intentional; it felt more like a gradual unravelling. The walls Hux kept around himself slowly began to lower, bit by bit, until you found yourself in a strange kind of intimacy with the man who had once been nothing more than a superior officer. It was in the late hours of the night, when no one else was around, that he’d allow himself to be softer—when he’d speak quietly about his ambitions, his bitterness, and the loneliness that seemed to follow him like a shadow.

Yet here you were now, standing alone, the emptiness in the room mirroring the emptiness in your chest. The past few weeks had been different. He had been distant, colder than usual, as if retreating back into his shell. It wasn’t anger, at least not towards you; it was something darker, like a slow spreading toxicity, something that felt like a wall coming back up, shutting you out. You hadn’t spoken about it, afraid that if you pushed too hard, it would drive him away completely. But you couldn't ignore the feeling that you were losing him, or perhaps that you had never truly had him at all.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed, where a data pad lay discarded. The screen showed Hux's latest report—cold and impersonal, like everything else these days. But then, as you glanced to the side, you saw something out of place: a crumpled piece of paper on the floor beside his desk. You hadn’t meant to invade his privacy, but it pulled you in like a magnet.

Smoothing out the paper against the desk, your fingertips brushed over the indentations of his handwriting. The note, written in his neat but hurried script, sent a shiver through you. It was a confession, quiet and resigned.

'I cannot sleep. This sick, strange darkness seeps into my bones, haunting me, taunting me. I think that maybe I was designed to be alone.'

These were thoughts meant to be kept private, a glimpse into the depths of his despair. You couldn’t tell if he’d written them as a reminder to himself or as a desperate attempt to exorcise the truth he feared most—that for all his power, for all his carefully crafted control, Hux was losing a battle against the loneliness that clawed at him from within, your heart ached at the thought. You hadn’t been there to cure his loneliness, nor did you believe you could. But you had hoped to be an exception to the solitude, a small spark of warmth in the otherwise cold existence he led. If he truly believed himself destined to be alone, where did that leave you?

The sound of the door hissing open startled you out of your thoughts. Hux entered, his expression stoic as always, but there was something different in his eyes—something wary, as if he had been caught off guard seeing you here.

“Working late?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you replied, forcing a small, strained smile. “Thought I’d stay up and…keep myself occupied.”

He glanced at the data pad on the bed, then at the crumpled note on his desk. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and he crossed the room, his eyes locked onto the traitorous piece of paper. There was a moment of heavy silence, the kind that seemed to thrum with unspoken words. You couldn’t bear it any longer.

“I saw what you wrote,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “About being alone.”

Hux’s shoulders stiffened, and he looked away, his gaze fixing on some indeterminate point across the room. “That was nothing,” he replied curtly. “A passing thought.”

“No,” you said, more firmly. “It wasn’t. You don’t have to pretend with me, Armitage.”

His name slipped from your lips like a plea, and he flinched as if the intimacy of it stung. The vulnerability that flickered across his features was brief but unmistakable. He sighed heavily, his hands clenching in his lap as he sank down to sit on the edge of his bed, struggling for a moment to find the right words.

“It’s…foolish, isn’t it?” he murmured, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “To think that I could be anything other than what I am. I’m not made for…this.” He gestured vaguely, as if the very idea of closeness, of connection, was something foreign to him.

You took a breath, steadying yourself as you sat beside him and reached out, covering his hand with yours. “You don’t have to be anything other than who you are,” you said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone, either.”

He looked at your hand, as though unsure whether to pull away or hold on tighter. His hesitation spoke volumes, the doubt warring with a longing he could never fully express. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his fingers closed around yours, tentative but firm.

“I’m afraid,” he confessed, the words barely more than a breath. “Afraid that if I let this—let you—too close, I’ll lose the one thing that I can control.”

You squeezed his hand, offering a gentle smile that spoke of understanding and patience. “Then let me be the one thing you don’t have to control.”

For the first time in what felt like weeks, a faint warmth glimmered in his gaze. It wasn’t a grand declaration or an outpouring of emotion, but it was real, and it was enough. In that moment, you realized that maybe you hadn’t been trying to heal his loneliness at all; you had simply been trying to share it. And that, in its own way, was more powerful than any words you could have said.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, the hum of the Finalizer’s engines no longer felt so unbearably quiet. The silence between you was no longer empty—it was peaceful, filled with the promise of something more, together.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas - Part III

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. NSFW. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

III. Just what the world needs, Another Fucking Sunset Wedding

It’s almost sweet. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Frank had been waiting for you to catch the shuttle to the wedding venue, dallying in the lobby pretending to look at an atrocious modern art print while keeping one eye on the hallway.

“You look nice,” he grumbles, taking in your white A-line sundress printed with big red roses.

“Thanks,” you say, admiring his navy blue suit unabashedly, since he brought it up first. “You look very handsome.”

This makes him stand up a little straighter, clearly not sure how to take the compliment, but you dare to think, he liked it.

When the shuttle drops you off at the base of the vineyard you look up the steep hill planted with curling grape vines in their nice neat rows with a sense of dread.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I am not wearing the right shoes for this.”

He looks down at your platform heels. “It said in the itinerary you’d have to walk up a hill.”

“Ok, but what was I supposed to wear? Hiking boots? The unfair standards of women’s dress clothes don’t allow for that.”

He holds out a hand, albeit begrudgingly. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

“I swear, these shoes are actually usually the sensible option.”

“Sure they are. Wearing anything that elevates your feet four inches off the ground is a sensible option.”

You sigh, and take his hand, trying to ignore the thrill running through your bones as you feel the strength in his fingers and his arm, as he helps propel you up the incline.

“I can’t believe they don’t have…stairs, or something? Did the old people have to do this?”

“Presumably not.”

“Then what the fuck?”

“Quite.”

Men’s dress shoes aren’t exactly made for rough terrain either, and at one point you both almost slip, clutching each other in a bid not to tumble back down the hill. It’s…nice, you have to admit, to be held close by this man.

He looks at you with wide eyes, for a moment for all the world appearing as though he’s drowning, before that thunderous frown appears. “Fuck this.”

You yip with surprise as he sweeps you up into his arms, and marches determinedly the rest of the way up the hill. Before you can even think about taking it as a romantic gesture, he practically drops you back to your feet at the top, releasing you as though you’d burned him.

You sit together in the back, as usual, though Frank very pointedly crosses his arms and is careful to keep a respectable amount of distance between you.

That shouldn’t make you feel sad, but it does.

The excruciatingly drawn-out bullshit Reception

“I used to like this song,” you muse, watching the dancers on the floor with an odd mixture of wistfulness and distaste. Keith dips his new bride, and a mean little part of you really wishes he would drop her.

“Do you…want to dance?”

Frank could have knocked you over with a feather, after how he’d behaved earlier. It definitely colors your answer, the knee-jerk impulse to push him away too.

“I said I used to like it.”

“Fine.”

Then, of course, you feel bad. And maybe you feel…a sliver of hope, however stupid.

“Why, do you want to dance?”

“Of course I don’t want to dance. It’s moronic and ridiculous. No one wants to fucking dance.” There is more venom in this statement, than perhaps the situation calls for.

After a moment, a bit softer and with a hint of apology, he qualifies, “I just thought it might take your mind off things.”

If you looked miserable, it’s ironic that for once, Keith was not the cause of it.

Perhaps this should send you running in the opposite direction too.

“Do you want to take a walk?” you ask instead.

He looks pointedly down at your questionable footwear, but you point at the basket behind you bearing what are professed by a whimsically written sign: Walking Shoes. They’re some kind of slide on deal that will do in a pinch. Honestly you’re willing to go bare foot, if it gets you out of that tent.

The meandering and pointless Walk

“You know, I was actually diagnosed with PTSD after the whole Keith thing?”

Frank snorts at that, the farthest reaction from sympathy he can manage. “Rich people’s PTSD.”

“I’m not rich.”

“Fine. Privileged.”

That’s probably true. Goddammit.

“Well…am I not allowed to have problems?”

“Sure, just no one wants to hear about them. Anyone who doesn’t have to worry about food, housing, or getting shot by the police should just keep it to themselves.”

“That’s not very healthy.”

He shrugs. “It’s not just you. No one should care about my problems either.”

“What if I care?”

He snorts. “Then I will feel even sorrier for you than I already do.”

“Ok, fine. Maybe not me specifically. But what if…say, you find someone else you actually like. Isn’t it ok to talk about your problems with friends?”

“Isn’t that a terrible thing to do to someone you like? Making friends or a significant other listen to your problems for free, when you should be paying a shrink for it?”

“It’s just a thing people do who are close to each other. They talk.”

“People who aren’t close too, apparently.” He says all this with a surprising amount of cheer in his tone, either enjoying himself, or the walk, or the view…or maybe even your company.  

He changes the subject as you round a bend. “So, are you glad you came to this thing? You made your show of strength, you’ve got your closure now that the knot is tied and they’re legally bound to be miserable together, and you’ve fled the scene with his half-brother, whom he despises, which the family surely will gossip about. You could almost chalk it as a win, if you squint just right.”

You huff, breathing a little heavy as you walk up a hill on the ridge the path follows. It truly is beautiful in the backcountry of the vineyard, rolling mountains planted with nice neat rows of green vines.

He makes a good point, but strangely…you don’t feel satisfied. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I’m not sure how I feel,” you admit, pausing to incline your head up at him. He pauses too, looking down that straight nose at you, and he is standing very close. You fancy you sense him tense, as though about to take some great leap, and he looks at your mouth with something like consternation, when a god-awful yowling roar travels down the path at you.

You both turn to see a very big, very unhappy cat displaying its impressively large and sharp canines at you.

“What the fuck is that?”

“I think it’s a mountain lion.”

“What the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t know. We’re too far away, no one will hear us scream.”

“Is it a bobcat?”

“It’s not a fucking bobcat. Look at the tail.”

“You should run. It’s going to eat me anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m smaller and slower.”

“I wouldn’t presume about the last part.”

It roars again, and you clutch at his arm.

Suddenly Frank charges the thing, making that god-awful hissing sound from earlier with his finger in his ear. They both sound like demons from hell, and with shock you watch as the predator backs away.

“Now, we run,” says Frank, grabbing your hand and booking it down the hill.

You run what feels like a long way. Your legs are burning, and the stupid little slide-ons are not made for athletic activity. And the thing about running downhill is…sometimes gravity gets the best of you. Like now, when you trip over a rock, and take Frank with you. Suddenly you are both tumbling down a steep grassy incline, locked together in a death roll.

“Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

When at last you come to a stop you are utterly stunned. “Y/n?”

You just lie there, unable to move.

“Y/n?”

Are you even alive?

Suddenly, Frank grabs your arm, hauling you around. “Ah!”

He looks…so worried, that if he hadn’t wrenched your back, you would have been touched.

“I’m fine! Jesus!”

“Ok. Sorry.”

You lie there for another moment looking up at him. He has grass in his hair; it’s endearing somehow, seeing this put-together grouch of a man just a little undone.

“You saved me,” you tease, sitting up beside him.

“I saved us.”

“Yeah right. It would have eaten me anyway. Why’d you save me?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Just trying to spare myself the guilt.”

He reaches up to pluck grass out of your hair. His light touch gives you a thrill down your spine. Again, you are aware that you are very close, and his dark eyes have gone wide again, that slightly panicked look he gets. His gaze flicks to your mouth, then back to your eyes, and you are completely taken by surprise when he grabs the back of your head and pulls you swiftly into a hard kiss.

He retreats from it just as quickly, and now he does look like he’s seen a ghost. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“I—”

Before you can say anything he’s grabbed you again, and this kiss is less forceful, though maybe no less desperate. You’re able to reach up to cup his cheeks before he shoves you away again, this time hard enough that you topple back in the grass.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” he pants again, looking for all the world like a horse that would like to bolt. “I don’t—it’s been a long time. Heat of the moment. Near death experience. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“How long?” you ask, incredulous. Because, this man is so…so. Fucking. Good looking. How has he not been with anyone?

He scowls at the grass. “I don’t think I’ve felt real pleasure since 2006.”

This admission makes your eyes go wide. You sincerely hope he’s exaggerating, but then again, the way he behaves towards people…maybe he’s not.

“It’s just…” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “If it all sucks, then fuck it, but if it doesn’t? Then there’s so much pressure.”

A part of you wants to snark at him. Well well well, welcome to the human race at last. But another part of you…another part of you just wants to kiss him senseless and fuck him silly, and make him feel all the things you’ve both been missing out on because he’s been such a goddamned coward this whole time and you’re not much better.

 Maybe he reads the pity on your face, because he feels the need to defend, “Not that I haven’t been with anyone. Just…”

“You weren’t that into it?”

He looks away, glaring at the world again. “Yeah.”

“It’s been a while for me too,” you admit.

“Please don’t say it was Keith,” he snarks. “I’ll kill myself.”

You laugh. “No, your brother was incredibly, monumentally selfish in bed. I literally could have had better sex with a lamppost.”

He looks at you sideways. “That really shouldn’t make me as happy as it does.”

Your lips twist as you try not to smile. Frank, however, is back to frowning at the vineyards again. “We can’t have sex right now. I don’t have any protection. It would be irresponsible.”

You’re a little amused, that his brain has leapt immediately to sex, while you are sitting in the dry grass together. Apparently just kissing was not enough—or maybe he’s been thinking about it for a while. You’d be a liar, if you said you haven’t.

“What if I said you’re in luck?”

“I would say that’s highly improbable.”

You feel bold enough to cup his cheek, bringing his attention back to you. It doesn’t take much persuading this time, when you press your lips to his. He kisses you back, his fingers digging into your ribcage, and you’re not really sure who’s more desperate to feel alive after defying death at the claws of a tiger or whatever the fuck that thing had been.

“That’s not helping,” he pants when you part.

“Why? Are you actually into it?”

He pulls you closer with hands on your waist. “Pretty into it,” he admits begrudgingly. You smile against his mouth, suddenly feeling electrified from head to toe. The colors of the world around you seem brighter, somehow. You take him by surprise when suddenly you straddle his waist, perching on his legs and pushing him back down into the grass, your pretty skirts spread around you.

“What—”

You unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, freeing him to the desert air. “Oh…” When you bend over to lick his tip and take him into your mouth you get an even more emphatic, “Oh…”

“What about now?” you ask him as you withdraw with a pop.

He blinks, for the first time since you’ve met, speechless. At least, for a few long moments.

“I think I’d like to be inside you.”

“How’s your health?”

“Fair to middling, for a man my age.” You give him a look, and damn if he doesn’t soften for you, even if just for a fleeting second. “Clean,” he answers quietly. “You?”

“Clean. And fully armed with IUD.”

He blinks. “Like they use to blow up humvees in the Middle East?”

You laugh, throwing your head back, your curls bouncing around your shoulders. You haven’t had this much fun in a long time. “Like, an intrauterine-device?”

“That definitely makes more sense.”

“Well?”

You watch as he licks his fingers, reaching under your dress to push your panties aside and find your center. The saliva is appreciated but not necessary. You are drenched, and his big fingers rubbing your clit feel like magic. “Is all that for me?” He sounds genuinely surprised, like this was a gift from the universe he did not expect to receive. Usually it’s more inclined to deliver a kick to the balls.

“Who else would it be for? The lynx?” He snorts, and in a softer tone you confess, “I have been a wet little mess for you since…the moment we started arguing in the airport.” He blinks at this, dumbstruck for a moment, before kissing you with an edge of desperation you both feel keenly in your bones.

He guides you onto him with his big hands on your buttocks. That feels like magic too, his thick tip at your entrance sinking in. It’s your turn to say, “Oh,” with your head thrown back, his big cock sliding deeper and deeper inside you, until he’s filled you to the hilt. For a moment you just sit like that together, joined, wrapped up in each other’s arms. It’s wonderful.

You imagine how ridiculous you must look, to an outsider looking in. Two people tangled in the dirt, grass in your hair, dust all over your nice clothes. You giggle a little to yourself.

“Something funny?”

“Just…do you ever think about how silly humans look, doing the things we do?”

“All the time.”

You laugh joyously, but you feel him withdrawing from you, that subtle tension returned in his limbs. You realize he thinks you’re making fun of him. It’s like this man expects he’ll have to defend himself from the world at any given moment. Then, from what he’s told you about his life, you guess he has. You don’t let him get too far, pulling him closer. “But fuck it feels glorious. I don’t care. Fuck me, Frank. I need you.”

 You feel him relax, and maybe even surrender. He moves for you, and you with him, his thumb on your button and his mouth on your neck as you ride him out…it’s the fastest you’ve ever orgasmed, with another person involved, that shining pleasure ambushing you in the cradle of your hips and spreading outwards. It’s almost embarrassing, except he’s right behind you, holding you almost desperately with arms locked around your waist, his face buried in the bend of your neck. Neither of you are quiet about it, your yells echoing across the empty hills.

“Oh my god…” you pant, resting your forehead against his.

“Can’t say…I believe much in god,” he informs you, out of breath.

“Me neither,” you admit. “But that was fucking fantastic.”

“Yeah. That was pretty damn good.” He sounds so surprised about it.

He kisses you, more softly this time. There is a long moment of eye contact between you; it is vulnerable, and electric, and raw. He is the first to look away, almost flinchingly. Then he focuses on the business of disentangling yourselves.

“I’m afraid we’re about to make a huge mess.”

“You don’t have a handkerchief?”

“What am I, a nineteenth century dandy?”

“Okay, relax, Romeo. I’ve got it.”

You rather cleverly, if you don’t say so yourself, use the petticoat of your dress to avoid staining his trousers as you uncouple, in a way that won’t leave you an embarrassing mess when you return to the tent either.

“I like that dress even more now,” he quips, looking at you with something almost akin to tenderness as you right yourselves. He reaches up to pull another sprig of straw out of your hair with a smirk.

“Frank…” You’re not really sure what you want to say. There’s a pent up ball of something in your chest, and it kind of actually hurts, and you’re not sure you like it at all.

“No,” he answers resolutely, but he cranes his neck down to kiss you anyway. “Want to go back to my room?”

“Yes.”

TBC...

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

ahhhhh I didn't have the courage to make it as awkward as the movie 🤣🤣🤣 but I feel like I need to make a note here bc i'm always writing wildly irresponsible sex practices: always use protection with a new partner. It's just a good idea. And ALWAYS use some kind of birth control, or you WILL get pregnant. mother nature is a bitch.

[lisalamona]

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 - III

Chapter III: Full Speed Ahead

. Summary: Despite your brother's insistence, you stubbornly decided to join him and his men in the war. Now, are you prepared to face the consequences of your actions? . Pairing: Various x Fem! Reader (platonic) . Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, trauma, and other sensitive content. . Notes: I'm starting to upload this story here on tumblr, I am really sorry for clogging the tags.

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Masterlist

The boat swayed gently beneath your feet, the murmur of activity around you blending into the steady rhythm of waves lapping against the ship. Shouted orders, ropes creaking as they strained against the mast, and the sea breeze carried the faint tang of salt and ash. Yet, amidst the chaos of men and motion, your gaze remained fixed on the receding silhouette of Troy.

The city that once stood tall and unbroken was now a distant smudge against the horizon, its once-proud walls crumbled into memory. Smoke still curled into the sky. You could almost hear the echoes of the past—the clash of swords, the cries of the wounded, the relentless roar of battle.

And the child.

Your stomach twisted as you thought of the boy, so small, so innocent, held aloft above the battlefield. The moment replayed in your mind, over and over, like a cruel refrain. His wide eyes, the faint gurgle of breath, the way the world seemed to hold its breath as Odysseus... You didn't want to think about it, sure you would've done the same but still... You swallowed hard, forcing the thought away, but the weight of it lingered, heavy and unshakable.

The war, the men around you called it glorious. A cause worthy of songs and legends. But standing here now, watching the ruins of Troy grow smaller and smaller, you could only feel the bitter aftertaste of victory. Was this what glory looked like? The shattered bodies, the grieving mothers, the wails of orphans left behind? Was this the price you were willing to pay?

You gripped the railing tightly, the rough wood biting into your palms. It wasn't just the child. It wasn't just the war. It was everything—the years of bloodshed, the sacrifices demanded, the lives unraveled. You had fought so hard, for so long, to prove yourself. To stand beside Odysseus as an equal. And now, you weren't sure if you had gained anything other than guilt.

Behind you, the voices of the crew carried on, oblivious to your turmoil. You envied them, in a way. For them, this was a return to life—a chance to go home, to rebuild. For you, the path ahead felt uncertain.

A sudden gust of wind ruffled your hair, carrying with it the scent of the open sea. You closed your eyes, letting the coolness wash over your face. When you opened them again, Troy was little more than a speck on the horizon, a distant dream—or perhaps a nightmare.

"Hey." You jumped slightly as a hand landed gently on your shoulder. Turning, you saw Eurylochus, his face shadowed with concern as he took in your startled reaction. "Are you alright?" he asked, his tone softer than usual.

"Uh, yes. Just... a bit jumpy," you said, forcing a weak smile in an attempt to reassure him.

"Well, that's what war does to people," he replied, trying to inject some lightness into his voice. You chuckled—soft, awkward, and strained—but the moment your laugh died, his sharp eyes cut through your pretense.

"Look," he started, his voice dropping into something more earnest. "I know how hard these past ten years have been for all of us. We've lost comrades, friends... we've seen men fall to swords, to starvation, to the wrath of the gods. We've watched people we love slip through our fingers." He paused, searching for the right words before continuing, "But it wasn't all in vain. We survived. You survived. Every step forward was for something greater."

His words hung in the air as he nudged you lightly. "You did great, you know. Where's the spunk you've shown all these years gone, eh?"

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping. "It's hard to hold onto that 'spunk' after everything we've been through."

"I'm no Polites," he said with a crooked grin, trying to lighten the mood. "But look at the bright side: we're still breathing. And soon, we'll be on our way home. Peaceful days, good wine, home. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?"

You couldn't help but smile at his attempt at optimism. The gods knew positivity wasn't his strong suit, but he was trying, and somehow, that made it better. Though the ache in your chest didn't ease entirely, his words chipped away at the heaviness.

"Not bad at all," you admitted.

For the first time in a long time, a small sliver of hope pierced through the despair.

Your eyes met, and a soft smile passed between you. His hand moved gently, stroking your arm with a touch both soothing and grounding, as if silently assuring you that you weren't alone in this.

The tender moment was broken by a voice calling for Eurylochus in the distance. He gave your arm one final, reassuring squeeze, his warmth lingering for a heartbeat longer, before rising to see what was required of him.

You closed your eyes once again, letting the fresh, salty sea air brush against your skin and tousle your hair. The sound of the waves lapping against the hull offered a fleeting sense of calm, though it couldn't quite drown out the storm raging in your mind.

"Feeling seasick?" Polites' voice broke through your thoughts, warm and steady like the breeze around you.

You opened your eyes to find him standing beside you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It wasn't teasing—more like an unspoken offering of comfort.

"Not exactly," you murmured, looking down at the endless expanse of water.

He didn't push, just leaned on the railing next to you and gazed out at the horizon. "You know, no matter how many times we've been out here, the sea never gets old. It's... endless, isn't it? Like it's holding onto secrets we'll never know."

You nodded, letting his words fill the quiet.

"Think about it," he continued, his tone deliberately light. "When we get home—really home—what's the first thing you'll do? Me? I'm heading straight for a feast. A real one. Wine flowing, music playing, none of this dried rations nonsense."

Despite yourself, a small smile crept onto your lips. "I'm guessing you'll be first in line for seconds."

"Thirds, if I'm lucky." He grinned, his easy demeanor chipping away at the heavy weight pressing on your chest.

Polites turned to face you more fully, his voice softening. "We'll make it, you know. Past all of this." He gestured vaguely to the sea, but you knew he meant more than the journey itself. "We always do."

You wanted to believe him, even if the shadows of what had just happened lingered like ghosts in the back of your mind. For now, you let his words carry you, like a current guiding you closer to shore.

──────🗡️──────

As Odysseus stood alongside Eurylochus, their gazes drifted toward you and Polites, who stood a little apart from the group. The air was heavy with the sounds of the bustling of men and the murmur of voices. Despite the bustle, Odysseus couldn't shake his concern.

"She's holding up better than I expected," Eurylochus said, his tone measured. "She always does, doesn't she? Stronger than most men I know."

Odysseus let out a low hum of agreement, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his unease. "I should have never allowed her to come," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His fist tightened, nails digging into his palm. "What was I thinking, dragging her into this?"

Eurylochus glanced at him, his expression softening. "You didn't drag her into anything. She made her choice." He paused, then added with a small sigh, "But if it were up to me, I wouldn't have let her come either."

Their conversation fell quiet for a moment, both men watching as Polites said something that made you laugh—a bright, unexpected sound in the gloom of their circumstances. For a brief moment, your shoulders relaxed, and the lines of worry etched into your face softened.

Odysseus's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, but the worry in his eyes remained. "She's strong," Eurylochus repeated, his voice firm now. "She'll get through this, just like she always does."

Odysseus nodded, though the knot in his chest didn't fully ease. "I hope you're right," he said quietly, as he turned back to his work.

"Captain." Odysseus turned his attention back to Eurylochus, whose face was tight with concern. "We're running out of supplies to eat," he said, his voice low but steady. Straightening his posture as if slipping back into his role, Eurylochus gestured vaguely toward the men around them. "We don't have much left, but we still have 600 mouths to feed. What do you suggest we do?"

Odysseus barely hesitated. The answer came to him like a whisper carried on the wind. "Watch the skies," he said, his tone resolute. "Follow the birds. They'll lead us to land. There, we'll hunt and restock."

With a decisive nod, he gestured for Eurylochus to alert the others, his eyes sharp with determination. "Let them know—hope is on the horizon."

"Captain!" A cheery voice called out to Odysseus.

"Polites!" Odysseus returned the excitement, striding toward the source of the voice where you and Polites stood.

"Look!" Polites gestured eagerly toward the horizon. An island loomed in the distance, still far but close enough for a faint glow to be visible against the growing shadows of dusk. The golden light flickered softly, almost invitingly. "There's an island up ahead. I can see a faint glow—it might be a fire. Maybe there are people there, and maybe they'll share some food."

You squinted at the distant glow, a strange unease stirring in your chest. "Something feels wrong," you said quietly. "I see fire... but no smoke."

Eurylochus, not far from Odysseus, scoffed and crossed his arms. "Then we don't take any chances. We strike first."

Polites whipped around to face him, his expression caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. Before he could retort, you placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Let's not be hasty," Polites muttered.

"We don't have time to waste," Eurylochus pressed, his voice hardening. "I say we raid the place and—"

"No."

The single word from Odysseus cut through the growing tension like a blade, leaving no room for argument. His expression turned serious, the gleam of caution in his eyes silencing the debate.

"Polites, [Name], gear up. We'll go ahead." Odysseus's voice was steady, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He knew it was risky bringing you two along, but a small part of him clung to the hope that a moment alone—just the three of you—might cheer you up. Or, at the very least, help you relax. He just prayed that small part of him wasn't wrong.

"We should try to find a way no one ends up dead," he added, though the weight of his tone made it clear he wasn't entirely convinced it was possible.

Polites shot Eurylochus a small, mocking grin. It was the kind of jab shared between friends, harmless. Eurylochus didn't respond in kind, his wariness about Odysseus's plan clearly written across his face.

"We don't know what's ahead," he muttered.

Odysseus cut him off with the confident bravado that always seemed to rally the crew. "Give me until sunrise. If we're not back by then, send in six hundred men and burn this place to the ground. Now, full speed ahead!"

As he barked orders to the rest of the crew, his voice carried that infectious determination. "We're up, we're off, and away we go!"

Eurylochus lingered behind, his hand rubbing his eyes as if to ward off a vision of the inevitable. "It's just a matter of time before we all end up dead."

"Don't worry, big boy," you teased, patting his back with exaggerated mockery. "You'll get your turn to play next time."

With that, you turned on your heel, Polites falling into step beside you as you both prepared for the journey ahead. The weight of what was to come loomed large, but for now, all you could do was press forward.

[halfdeadgemini12]

Some of my inchoate late night thoughts

I have thoughts in my head They go smoothly They are unspoken Without awareness

Each dressing of something in words is an attempt to recreate a reconstruction of a reconstruction; a conscious process of grasping subconsciousness

And how I recreate myself in the tension of pressure A short time

A whole line of data

Lost disjointed confused mixed up How to translate it into the code of language

A few seconds? A few vibrations?

And each application of pen to paper A finger to the screen

Is like forcing I hate being forced As if I don't want to As if I'm tired of forever converting something unconvertible Something that will always be skewed I love words because they are the closest But I hate how much gets lost in them And this subconscious awareness that they will misunderstand you that you will get so comically lost that again in all these connections something will not connect? You could say that love is that connector but that's a question not explored at the moment. (I had to chastise myself slightly because I will drift away). (Thought after thought each thought leads to the next until it meets the first one) I talk a lot about getting lost, maybe it's because I've been doing it all my life and getting lost is a companion trait for me on many levels. In my dreams I get lost in buildings, they are rarely normal. Then they usually resemble school but in my dreams nothing is clear. I'm going somewhere by myself, I don't know where. I take some bus or train (usually not the right one) I walk around strange cities. Everything is strange and they have their own very specific atmosphere.

My dreams especially after certain specifics even lead me to metaphysical experiences that I can't process, explain, keep up with. They introduce a lot of confusion, fear and this very strange complex sensation that I am also unable to explain. The experiences in my dreams can be so extremely powerful and "real" in a sense… that I am on the verge of being unsure of their unreality. However, I am not able to tell if this is a matter of dreams or perhaps…. of these substances.

In dreams there are also beautiful landscapes, they look basically like in the world but the colors are mostly much more vivid, everything seems more spacious "free" it is difficult to explain. Feelings,sensations, impressions in dreams are also strange. Landscapes, even the play of light are usually amazing but difficult feelings can be cruel. So intense that their aftertaste is very bitter difficult to swallow. You have to shake it off and it can take a while. The very process of realization, recalling individual frames, words, atmosphere, feelings, impressions…. unconfined confusion Endless contexts and interpretations overwhelm Frustrating lack of understanding forgetting most details A puzzle with many lost puzzles Frightening and saddening experiences emotions Great despair great fear great anger And all this leads to an excessive focus on analyzing intellectualizing Even giving mythical meaning

Are not all these emotions a reflection of all these great emotions? Specifically: immense sadness immense fear immense frustration immense anger… i.e. an explosion, hell unbearable AND uncontrollable…. impossible to control…. too much data too much stimulus too many feelings too much definitely too much of everything need to withdraw as soon as possible escape

The eternal desire for control shows up in dreams The complete lack of it

And temporary ignoring leads to a delayed ignition

And so it will come

And more than once

What it's like to know but not to be aware that you know It is also possible not to know to be aware that you don't know And then you talk lol

[solar-nightengale]

helloooooo, if you feel like it, 'defending the other when someone says something only slightly criticising about them' or 'comforting the other as soon as they're alone' from the protective prompts list for the two betrothed idiots please? :)

HI HELLO!!!! Ngl I leapt for JOY when I saw the choices for this ask!! And, most unfortunately, I couldn’t decide between either. 👏 So lucky you!! You’re gonna get both of them just for the hell of it JHDGKU like another one done previously, this’ll also be from the past. Which part of said past, well… 😏, you’ll find out 😉

~ I GOT YOU ~ PROTECTIVE PROMPTS

1. defending the other when someone says something only slightly criticising about them. AND 14. comforting the other as soon as they're alone

!! CW !! : There's hints at manipulation and childhood trauma

Lampwick had to admit: while he had been ready for as bothered of a reaction as they got, the Blue Fairy was taking the news pretty well.

He had expected very loud protests and public degradation, given what she had just been told. But they were neither in any public setting and no shouting had yet to be heard from the kitchen. Perhaps that was him simply wishing she’d give him a reason to bite back just as hard. Despite Pinocchio’s displeasure of him doing so, Lampwick loved getting on the Fairy’s case whenever he could. Someone had to do it—he felt—and he knew Pinocchio wouldn’t dare try his luck with her, so it was up to him. A task he so gladly took on.

Unfortunately, it looked like the Blue Fairy had no intentions of giving him that satisfaction today. Instead, what stood before them was the pest, silent and stoic as ever, her expression just barely withholding her displeasure on receiving the news. He wondered how she’d take it if she found out she was the last to be told.

“Well, this is quite the-,” she paused with a huff, “shocking development.”

Lampwick cocked a brow up from where he sat at the table, taking a quick peek at his, ah, newly proclaimed boyfriend. Pinocchio stood by the edge of the table with his arms crossed. He reclined warily against the wood, his fingers digging into the fabric of his dark shirt. His pale face, even whiter than usual, held a tame frown on it, Lampwick unable to tell if the man was more frustrated or more terrified.

The fairy stood across them both, pose straight and unmoving as though she were made of stone. Her gaze had yet to leave Pinocchio’s face, Lampwick seeing the subtle way that Pinocchio tried to avoid looking at her properly. The red-head scoffed as he leaned back against the table, kicking his leg out and crossing it over the other.

“Really? You’re tha’ surprised.” he asked, finally drawing the gnat’s attention to him.

He pretended to not see the look the woodcarver gave him, as the fairy bristled.

“Well, no, of course not. Seems Pinocchio has always had a strange intrigue in you.” she explained, glancing between the two of them. Her words sounded almost bitter, Lampwick’s smirk only widening as he sighed wistfully.

“What can I say? I’m both a charmer and a good-looking guy, am I right?” he asked, cocky grin shot at the woodcarver. But Pinocchio gave him no response.

“Right.” the fairy deadpanned, looking back at the woodcarver once more. “Pinocchio, are you sure this is the right choice for you-”

“Yes.” Pinocchio responded curtly, finally glancing up, “Yes, I’m sure. I’m as sure as I was the last three times that you’ve asked me that question.”

The fairy seemed as surprise as Lampwick was by the tone, but her shock faded away quickly enough as her expression melted to something softer once again. “I just want to make sure you’re doing what’s right-”

“And I feel that what I’m doing is fine.” Pinocchio continued, is tone equally as terse as before. Lampwick noticed how tightly he gripped at his arms, the nervous tension from the young woodcarver visible from even a mile away. “Is-is it so wrong to love? He’s not as bad as you’re making him out to be.”

“I’m not saying he’s a bad person, but-”

“No buts! I don’t want to hear anymore buts, you’re not even listening to me!” Pinocchio interjected his voice pitching upwards, as he ground his teeth together. “I said I was sure about my choice, so why can’t it be left at that?”

“Pinocchio-”

“No, I’m- I’m done listening to all of this! Like I didn’t call you over and-and tell you this stuff for you to go on about how wrong it is. I’ve made my choice and I’m sticking to it. I’m sticking to him.”

Lampwick couldn’t help but grin. He was almost tempted to reach out and give the man’s arm a reassuring squeeze as he continued to talk, held back only by the tenseness of the man’s poise. Maybe touching him at all wouldn’t be all that helpful right now, he wasn’t entirely sure. Still, it was nice to see him holding out on his own for once. A rare sight to see but one that made him feel proud of the man when it did happen.

Blue sighed that typical sigh of hers that Wick could only understand as “I’m gonna say something no one is going to like here.” And whether he liked it or not, he couldn’t help but brace himself for it, spotting Pinocchio do the same out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not saying that it’s wrong, dear, but understand that what may be a good choice right now could go south still. And I know how easy it can be for either of you to take a less pleasant route that’ll lead to them-”

“Blue, that’s enough.” Pinocchio cut in, steely eyes on the fairy. “Please, I’ve heard this time and time again before any of this. And you’re still not listening to me! Lampwick is here to stay for as long as we’re happy and I don’t plan on changing anything here. We’re not suddenly going to dive off a cliff into darkness for fun for goodness sake!”

“I understand. And your intentions are well-meaning, but even with the best intentions it’s easy to fall astray without someone there to guide you down the right path. I only want what’s best for you, you know that. I wouldn’t say what I’m saying if I didn’t think it was the right thing to do.”

Lampwick’s smile dropped, peeking up at the woodcarver curiously. Much as he was eager to hear if the man would have anything to say on that matter, he knew that face. He knew that daunting gaze and the silent gaping that it all came with. He knew far too well that the man had little else to say on the matter; not so much because he didn’t want to but because he simply couldn’t. And judging by the sudden patience that the Blue Fairy seemed to flair, he wondered if he knew what she had been doing the whole time.

He slammed his hand hard on the table, watching both jump as he stood up, his expression carrying a strained but polite smile as he stared the fairy down.

“I’ve reason t’ believe you’ve outsayed your welcome.” he stated, watching her bristle.

“You have no means of-”

“Yeah yeah, though you seem to have forgotten that this ain’t your house.” he retorted as he led her to the door, feeling her grow more tense under his hold. “Maybe come back once ya’ve aired out your aptitude!”

“Pinocchio is-”

“A grown ass man and doesn’t need babysitting when it comes to the choices he makes, aight?” Lampwick cut in, his grin widening all the while the fairy seemed to grow more frustrated. With a wave of his hand he shooed her past the threshold and leaned against the doorframe. “Take your leave.”

“You-”

“Good day, Reul Ghorm!” with a final cheery grin he slammed the door shut, locking it for good measure.

Lampwick let out a breath, his smile still plastered on his face as he turned back around and moved to the kitchen. “Well! I’d say that went pretty well!”

Pinocchio peered up as Lampwick drew closer, ice blue eyes holding a haunted look on his ashened face. “Yeah?”

“Well, given all things considered about her!” Lampwick snorted with a half-hearted shrug. His smile soon vanished, as Pinocchio only hummed in response and returned his gaze back to the ground. “You okay?”

“Sure.” he heard the man mutter tersely.

Lampwick hummed, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Mmmmmm yeah don’ really believe ya.”

“You just asked me the question and now gonna doubt my answer as well?!” Pinocchio snapped as he looked up, the irritation once more alight in his gaze.

Lampwick looked taken aback, even as Pinocchio ground his teeth together with his shoulders drawn in as he pulled his gaze down to their shoes again.

“S-sorry.” he heard him murmur, Lampwick taking the time to scoff this time around.

“Geez it’s fine, no need t’ use any of those wit’ me. You know I’ve said worse.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I-” the man shook his head, Lampwick withholding a frown as the words sunk in.

Doesn’t mean what? That he wanted to do the same? Wanted to stoop to his level?

He shook his head, revoking the thoughts any chance of taking further hold as he looked down at the man.

“It’s no big deal,” he shrugged, “B’sides, not so much I’m doubting your words jus’…” he trailed off, his hand hovering over the other’s shoulder.

It was strange how until he started dating him, things like gentle touches and hugs still felt normal. Now, even just the thought of doing that or Pinocchio trying to kiss him had his heart beating faster than any festival drum and his face warmer than the summer sun. He pulled his hand away and rubbed at the back of his neck, clearing his throat and avoiding the blue eyes that were now looking up at him. Fuck it should be illegal to look this pretty, shit.

“L-listen,” he cleared his throat again, acting that he didn’t stammer. Keep it cool, Wick. He was your best friend only three weeks ago, remember? “I can’t pretend to know what’s on your mind, bu’ given who w’s just here—” he paused and gestured towards the door, the brunette sighing as he hung his head.

“I don’t regret it. What I said I— I don’t take it back. Not really.” Pinocchio glanced up once more. “I don’t regret having what we got.” Aaaaand the look paired with the words has the older boy’s heart leaping to his throat again. “But at the same time–” The woodcarver ran a hand through his hair, the movements growing more frantic and expression more tense, “Fuck me, Lampwick! I knew she would take it like this but that doesn’t mean— I-I still wanted—”

“You were still hoping for a better reaction.” Lampwick finished, as Pinocchio huffed. Though the frustration sounded less angry now. He face, previously paler than snow was growing red, the brunette blinking rapidly as he gripped at his arms once more.

“Was that too much to ask of her?” Pinocchio murmured, glaring off to the side. “Have I- Have I sunken so low in her expectations that I can’t even get a smile out of her or what?!”

Lampwick’s eyes narrowed. “You know what she’s like.”

“But is it really too much to ask of for her to be proud just once? To approve of-of anything? To be happy with me? Am I really that much of a screw-up?” The man’s voice was barely above a whisper by that last point, his bottom lip trembling.

Fuck!

“No!” Lampwick gritted out. “Cut that shit out, you hear me?!”

“I just want to be enough for her for once.” Pinocchio’s eyes had dropped to the floor as he gripped at the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re enough. You are enough.” the red-head retorted, his eyes widening as Pinocchio’s eyes screwed shut, his shoulders shaking harder.

“Not for her!” The young woodcarver choked out, the grip still tight around his arms.

“Then forget her!” Lampwick exclaimed, the previous flutterbyes forgotten as he pulled the man closer. “Just… forget her. Her opinion matters as much as… m-much as- as rotted through wood!” he finished off, feeling a jolt under his hand as Pinocchio hiccuped.

“It matters to me! And that’s more than enough!”

Lampwick’s gaze narrowed, ignoring the thoughts that spun around in his head as he instead focused on the man he was holding. He sighed, cupping the crown of the woodcarver’s head and rested his chin on top of it. He tightly held onto the woodcarver, as the storm of emotions waged on, soaking into his vest as he listened to the man quietly sniffle. “You need a chance to grow, Pinks. Without her dictating every step for you.” he murmured.

“It’s not been easy without Jiminy. Or Papa. I don’t- I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Pretty sure half th’ realm doesn’, it’s not that huge of a deal.” Lampwick muttered quietly, “B’sides, was it really easier wit’ either of them? Be real with me here right now, was i’?” Lampwick asked, looking down at the other man. “Cause I feel you were more often left to your own devices back then as well. And if not,” He held a finger up in protest at the glare Pinocchio’s eyes were already forming as he peered up at him. “Even if I’m wrong, ya still have others. You don’t need t’ rely on her, Pinou. You’ve Eugene, Kin—dare I suggest—. That other fairy… and that ruddy Woodcutter friend—or whatever he was—of your dad’s that’s still alive somehow. Fucking…. Anthony was it?”

“Antonio.” Pinocchio corrected bluntly.

“Eh, close enough!” Lampwick shrugged, smirking as Pinocchio rolled his eyes. “Bu’ yeah you’ve… several behind ya. And you’ve,” he glanced up just a touch, just barely meeting those pretty azures as he felt his stomach turn to knots. “You’ve… you’ve me as well.” Awkward pause. “Grace, Isk and Jefferson too I guess.”

He didn’t think he hid the noise in his head as much as he would have liked to. It took all his strength to keep his leg from bouncing, yet the proximity meant Pinocchio could still hear how hard his heart was hammering in his chest.

One thought escaped containment, rolling around in his mind as he watched and waited.

Would that… be enough? Could they be enough?

“I wish I could rely on her too though,” Pinocchio murmured, Wick letting out a breath.

“Well, you can’t.” He shrugged, watching the other deflate even more. “I know tha’s not the answer ya wanna hear, bu’ look at her. She can’ even give you a congratu-fucking-lations all because that stick’s so far up her ass and she needs everyone t’ know about it.”

The sad look vanished as he glared up at him once more. “Don’t be so rude!”

“I’m just saying how it is.” Lampwick chuckled, cheekily sticking his tongue out the moment Pinocchio scoffed. “Maybe she’ll eventually suck her shit up and be nicer but for now you jus’ gotta– Jus’ gotta keep going on you’re own. Maybe that other one will be nicer ‘bout it.”

Pinocchio carded a hand through his hair and nodded. “’m sure she would. Probably already has my letter about it.”

“Then I say fuck the first fairy and get ready for what the hell the other will put ya through, yeah?” He asked with a lopsided grin, watching as the other sadly nodded. “But for now, how’s about a visit to The Pear, eh? Food’s good t’ chase all the bad shit away, and heard Gene’s cook got something new on the menu.”

Pinocchio groaned as he rubbed at his face and exhaled heavily. “It’s not ‘food poisoning’ again, is it?”

Lampwick waved him off with a snort. “That was one time and that was ‘Kin at the pot. Trust me, b- Pinks. It won’ be the death of ya. Heard it’s something good.”

The woodcarver hummed and shook his head. But his eyes seem to lighten a touch as he gazed up at the red-head once more. “I’ll hold you to your word.” A gentle smile spread across his lips, something that Lampwick felt like he hadn’t seen since last night, yet it rendered him utterly frozen to the floor. Worse yet, the tease took the opportunity that Lampwick was still close enough to stand up on his tip-toes, and press a kiss to the corner of his lips. Lampwick felt the air leave his lungs entirely.

“And if you’re wrong, good luck with dealing with my current patron.” the woodcarver whispered, any response gone from Lampwick’s head as he grew completely aware of how close they were. The startlingly blue eyes that peered up at him, cheeks still red but gaze so gentle and warm; to the breath Pinocchio exhaled close enough for him to feel it; to the hand still pressed against his chest, as Pinocchio worked to keep his balance. He even felt the weight leave once the brunette pulled back.

Lampwick’s brain was still working to catch up, even as stars danced in front of his eyes from the lack of oxygen, the one thing clear to him being the warm smile the woodcarver held on his face.

Pinocchio passed him by, fingers brushing softly yet so carefree against over his arm, Lampwick still unmoving from his spot as he felt his ears burn. The part of his arm he ad been touched on tingled, the man still feeling the touch as though it was still there even though it no longer wasn’t.

He inhaled deeply, nonchalance gone the moment the other was out of sight as he leaned against the table and looked behind him in stunned silence. He saw Pinocchio looking back curiously, though he was so fucking sure the man knew exactly what he had done. Despite having a breakdown almost moments ago, that puppet sure knew how to work his strings whenever.

Gods, fuck the bad food. This man would be the death of him first.

[fleetingpetal]

OH MY GOSH YAME,,, THE 3RD STILL ISNT HERE FOR ME BUT KUNIS BDAY LETTER IS TOO CUTE I EVAPORATED INTO THIN AIR 💥💥💥 all i can think about is reader secretly giving tips to those students who ambushed him and next time they surprise him with a cake that isn't sweet and he actually likes it 💔💔 i just know you end up being popular at the akademiya solely because of kuni and people try to ask you things about him 😭😭 (i just had a sudden rush of scara love and i had to share with someone 🥹)

SUZU .. OH MY GOODNESS OKAY — first and foremost, you're very much welcome! second, i am honored and glad that you reached out to me for this bc 🥹🥹 i wanna pour my heart out in regards to the brainrot and how much i adore him and his letter so here we fucking go. welcome to another episode of ayame loves scara <3

in regards to evaporating into thin air; that is such a perfect way to describe how i felt while reading it too ;; i mentioned this in my silly lil post but i was literally smiling from ear to ear reading his letter, it's just so nice hearing he's up to his usual mundanities yet still experience something eventful in a way :') "it was so incredibly ridiculous i had to laugh" just the image of him laughing. like. genuinely laughing has me going so soft and melt into a puddle

now brainrot time ( ✧ ✧⁠)

reader, in this vision of this specific scenario, wouldn't be affiliated with the akademiya. sure, visits are quite common for you, but it's only for a certain vahumana scholar... he's been the talk of the town for a decent while, not only for his eccentric personality; but also for possessing an insight vastly different from your typical scholar. some students had the gall to examine that harsh exterior falter ever so slightly when you arrive to mainly check up on him with a meal prepared for him, heard saying such things like “you didn't have to trouble yourself.” under his breath only for you to hear all the while he's taking what you had for him that day in his hands, scurrying away in the wild whilst treating himself to the delicacy he's grown to take a liking to ( code sentence for: loves immensely ).

of course, noticing your close bond with vahumana's one and only hat guy, it prompted a few brave souls from the akademiya to approach you and inquire about your lover. some questions were a little on the nose, and you didn't hesitate to turn those questions down for both his sake and yours. mainly his.

overtime, kuni would start hearing your name echo in the halls. sometimes in the house of daena while he occupied himself with reading to pass time. more popular for your connection to him rather than something else... of course, occasional praises being sung about you would enter his earshot, but that is precisely what they should've settled on first. regardless, the first time they ( some of the students ) interrupted his peace; jumping out of a bush with a cake that, in his gaze, was sickeningly sweet as he so described. sharp eyes from one of the students was enough to alert the others that perhaps the cake they got him wasn't something he particularly liked... so, they seek who for guidance? you, of course.

encounter after another when the students spot you at puspa cafe on your own, your desire to see your lover being unceremoniously interrupted by a student or two having a few things to ask you. you admit, you found a bit of amusement in how literally everyone in the akademiya knew little to none about him. and truthfully, you felt like some divinely favored being to be able to call him your boyfriend, but you digress. his dessert preferences was something you didn't expect to be asked a day prior to his birthday, but the question wasn't unwelcome. you'd dawn on a small smile and explain to the students that he isn't so fond of sweets. sure, he'll have dessert, but they're always bitter. your excitement was unfortunately not kept at bay when the group of vahumana students brought up why they were asking. and you, naturally, tagged along with them to surprise him.

all you did was provide directions, the path he always takes to his favorite spot that he rarely ever visits unless with you tagging along or something would weigh down his mind. and for the fun of it, you made sure to remain hidden as the group jumped out of the bush with a cake that this time, was one exactly to his liking. that same laughter that erupted from him last time, as the students told you, escaped his lips again. this one seemed more... genuine, in comparison to the last one which the students explained as "feeling like they were getting spit in the face."

from his perspective, as his eyes were fixed on the matcha flavored cake presented to him, he could just about feel your presence lurking here. you're the one who's been indulging them in their meaningless questions that were only answered for the sake of knowing more, you're watching him right now, aren't you? of course you are, not when he was able to make out the little hum that was almost taken away along with the breeze and the accomplished squeal from one of the students.

just how much did you indulge them? not much he figured, but you didn't shy away from explaining his dessert preferences. typical from you, yet that laughter that escaped his lips, the slightly lighthearted snark thrown at the students standing in front of him with his favorite cake, and the acknowledgement of your presence here that slowly began to dissipate... you have some explaining to do.

[byoldervine]

Where Two Became Three

Layni set the drinks down on the table as she slipped into the booth, taking her seat next to Connor. She lightly pushed the sweeter drink over to the charcoal-haired woman opposite, who took it and nodded stoically in appreciation

“Gratitude.” The word had a sort of drawl to it; a slightly nasally voice but still rather deep and smooth. Refined, even. Not the kind of voice the pair would expect from a wandering nomad as she claimed to be

“So… Kennedy, was it?” Connor began, mixing the whipped cream and sprinkled cinnamon into the rest of his drink with his straw. Her eyes followed the action for half a moment as she spoke up

“That’s correct. Was there something else you wished to request?”

The siblings shared a glance, unsure how to proceed; while it was true that they had more to ask, they’d planned to probe a little more first, but here she was getting straight to the point

“Uh… at the moment we’d just like to get to know you a little better,” Layni began. “Like where are you from? You look like you’ve been travelling for a while.”

“A good few years now,” Kennedy confirmed. She took a moment to sip her drink, and for a second Layni wondered how anyone could drink something so full of sugar and sweetness. Then again, Connor always did call her weird for wanting something as bitter as a simple black coffee, so maybe she was the outlier here?

“… For the most part, I have stayed within Taverus; hunting in the forests or working odd jobs in exchange for coin or hospitality. Nothing of particular interest.”

“Wow, so you’ve been all over the kingdom?” Connor asked, leaning forward in his seat, his elbows propped against the table. He sipped eagerly on his drink as he listened to Kennedy’s recollections

“Yes.” It seemed he couldn’t get much more out of her, but he wasn’t one to relent

“What else have you got up to, then? Seen much else outside of Taverus?”

“Not recently.”

“No? Then where’re y’ from?”

“I… have moved from place to place for a long time.”

“Then what caused you to start moving?”

She didn’t answer that one. The deadpan expression on her face was enough of a dissuasion, and Connor held up his hands in a show of mock surrender

“I’m a bit nosy, aren’t I?”

“Evidently.”

Connor looked to Layni for help, so she jumped in. “Well how about this, then; I’ve been looking after Connor for years, and I’ve never seen someone handle him losing control so easily.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘easily’,” Kennedy shrugged, the casual action not quite as fitting for someone of her posture. “All I can do is put out the fires after he sets them; I’m not quite able to prevent the issue at hand.”

“It’s still better than what we’ve got.”

“Maybe so. How would you typically handle these… episodes?”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, a laugh escaping him. “Not well? I’ve tried a few things to keep it from happening, but nothing really seems to stick. It’s mostly been just avoiding things that set me off or trying to distract myself from them or block it out.”

Kennedy considered this for a minute, frowning slightly. “And when it does occur?”

“Usually Layni tries to talk me down from it and then we put the fires out… literally…”

“Hardly a sustainable system,” she noted. “Though it’s hardly unheard of, I suppose.”

“He used to get them more as a kid, but he’s a lot better with it now.”

“Well that’s a relief. Perhaps one day a new solution will come to you; things can never be too easy to manage.”

Connor laughed a little at that. “Gratitude; fingers crossed, am I right?”

“Right.” Kennedy sipped on her drink again. Connor did the same, and so with Layni not wanting to chime in unprompted on a subject such as this, the trio fell into silence for a few moments, with only the noises of the coffee shop around them to break that. The clinking of spoons against china cups, the low buzz of chatter from their fellow patrons and the bustle of the baristas to mix up drinks eased the lull in the conversation to something more accommodating than awkwardness

“… Soooo,” Connor began, setting his drink down once more. “How long are you in town for, princess?”

Layni noticed immediately how Kennedy tensed at the nickname and lightly swatted Connor’s shoulder. “Can you not flirt for literally five seconds?”

“It’s just a nickname!” He defended, raising his hands once more. “I’m not flirting! Yet…”

Layni groaned, facepalming at his antics. “Ignore him, Kennedy; he’s an idiot that thinks he’s funny.”

Kennedy looked between them both for a moment, not really reacting much, but she at least seemed less on alert than before. “Ah. I can see that.”

“Hey!” Connor cried with mock indignation, crossing his arms over his chest with a dramatic huff

“How old is he?” Kennedy asked Layni, to which the older of the two siblings snickered while the younger pouted, as if that helped his case

“He’s sixteen.”

“He could pass for younger.”

“Hey!”

“He doesn’t half play up to it, either,” Layni teased, bumping Connor’s arm with her shoulder. Connor just rolled his eyes at that, glaring out the window. Layni noted that he did seem legitimately annoyed and eased up a tad, if only because they were with company. “But he’s a good kid; literally don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“I can tell,” Kennedy nodded. “Bright for his age, in spite of his immaturity.”

And now he’d gone from annoyed to smug, and Layni immediately regretted her decision to be lenient on him when she saw that smirk on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yes. But also cocky.”

“I’ll take it!”

Layni sighed, but Kennedy chuckled a little. Not much - it was certainly more of a throaty chuff than anything wildly amused - but it spurred Connor on all the same. “So you didn’t answer my question; how long are you sticking around Kettringham?”

“I have no plans.” The woman tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Only to find some work and accommodation for the time being.”

Connor looked to Layni at this. “We could use someone to help with the deliveries tomorrow, right?”

“What? You think we have the space for a third person?” Layni knew as soon as the words left her mouth that they did indeed have the space, but the idea of setting foot in there didn’t appeal to her. From the look on Connor’s face, he was only just catching on to the same thing

“… I mean… the den?”

She nodded at that. “… Right… right, the den… um, Kennedy? We run the carpentry across the street, and we’ve got a big delivery coming in early tomorrow morning; if you’re willing to help us haul everything in, you’re welcome to stay a night or two.”

“Gratitude. I will be more than happy to assist.”

Connor sighed in relief at that, earning a curious glance from Layni. She knew immediately what he was thinking, and in truth she’d been considering the same, but she didn’t say a word; if having someone of Kennedy’s abilities made him feel more secure, she was more than willing to house a guest

Kennedy shared their look, and it seemed they all knew the truth behind Connor’s suggestion to have the tephrakinetic stick around

[alliceolivia]

Relapse (Loki)

pov Y/n

Two years sober gone just like that. It was easier than I expected. I have imagined relapse a few times over the years and in each scenario, I saw myself in this big inner fight. I would go into the liquor store, then go out. I would open the bottle, and then close it again. I would pour myself a glass, and then push it away. I would go to and fro like that for a long time before losing the fight. But that wasn’t what happened at all. When it came down to it, I hadn’t even purchased the alcohol myself. I stole it from Stark Tower. I don’t know for sure if stolen is the right word as I live here too, but I’m not supposed to have it, so I guess the word would be right. But yes, it was easier than I expected. I hadn’t even gotten out of the wine cellar before I had taken the first sip, and now, I can’t remember why I started drinking again. I lay on my floor knowing if I try to stand up, I will fail.

I woke up with a huge headache. I look at the time, 12.30 pm, I slept through breakfast. I scramble around my room to find clothes to wear. I managed to make my way to the bathroom and I tried my best to make myself look presentable. The second my hand hits the doorhandle it’s as if a sonic wave hits me and I am overwhelmed by shame. What have I done? Two years, I was two years sober. They are going to know the second I walk out of here. They are going to be so disappointed. I can feel my heartbeat quicken, I need to calm down. I need to calm down. I need to calm down. I need to, calm. I need to calm down. I need to calm down. The next thing I know I have opened a beer and downed it. And it helps. I feel calm again. I go out of my room and I join the others.

---

I step into the common room, hoping to blend in, to not draw any attention to myself. The beer from earlier is still settling in my stomach, its bitter taste lingering in my mouth, but it did its job. I’m calm, at least for now. The shame still gnaws at the edges of my mind, but it’s quieter. Manageable.

They’re all here—Tony, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Thor. The usual faces, all caught up in some conversation I can’t quite focus on. I avoid eye contact, especially with Steve. He’s the one who always notices when something’s off, and today, everything feels off.

I take a seat on the couch, sinking into the cushions as quietly as possible, trying not to seem like I’m hiding. But I am. I’m hiding everything—my shaky hands, my racing heart, the emptiness that made me reach for that first drink. And the second. I promised myself I wouldn’t, but promises seem so weak when the cravings come. When the noise in my head gets too loud.

“Y/N, you good?” Natasha asks, her sharp eyes flicking toward me. I force a smile, nodding quickly. Too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired,” I lie, but I know she doesn’t buy it. None of them do. I can feel their gazes on me, lingering a little too long. The shame creeps up again, hot and suffocating. They know. They all know.

But no one says anything.

pov Loki

I’ve been watching her. For days now, I’ve seen the way she moves through the tower, quieter, more withdrawn. It’s subtle, but I notice. I always notice these things. The rest of them, they turn a blind eye. They pretend not to see the way she flinches at their questions or how her hands tremble ever so slightly when she reaches for a glass of water.

But it’s not water, is it? Not always.

The others think they’re helping by giving her space, by not addressing what’s glaringly obvious. Fools. Silence is the enemy in matters like this. They pity her, yes, but pity does nothing but rot from the inside. She needs help. She needs someone who sees her—really sees her.

I wasn’t meant to know. I wasn’t meant to find out about her past, her struggles. But when I arrived here, curiosity got the better of me, and in my exploration of Stark’s office, I came across her file. I wish I hadn’t. Or perhaps I’m glad I did, because now, at least, someone knows the truth.

Y/N is strong, but even the strongest need help. The others are too wrapped up in their own worlds to notice how close she is to the edge, but I see it. She’s unraveling, and if no one does anything soon, she’ll fall—and I’m not sure she’ll get back up this time.

pov Y/n

The room feels too small. Every breath feels heavy, and I can’t shake the feeling that everyone is watching me. Judging me. Maybe I should’ve stayed in my room. But I can’t hide forever. I can’t let them know something’s wrong.

I hear Tony say something sarcastic, but it’s drowned out by the pounding in my ears. I catch a glimpse of Loki from the corner of my eye—he’s sitting quietly, as he usually does, but there’s something different today. His gaze is fixed on me, sharp and unwavering. It’s like he knows.

I don’t know how, but he knows.

I stand abruptly, the sudden movement making my head spin. “I, uh... I think I need some air,” I mumble, hoping no one asks questions. Natasha gives me a concerned look, but I don’t stop. I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe.

pov Loki

She’s slipping.

I watch as she stumbles out of the room, making some excuse about needing air. None of them stop her. None of them follow. They sit there, pretending that everything is fine, but it’s not.

I wait a moment before standing, making my exit as casually as possible. None of them notice me leaving. Typical.

The hallway is quiet when I find her, leaning against the wall, her breathing heavy, her hands shaking.

“Y/N.”

She jumps at the sound of her name, and when she looks at me, I see the fear in her eyes—the fear of being caught, of being seen for what she really is right now. But I won’t play their game. I won’t pretend that nothing’s wrong.

“You’ve relapsed,” I say, my voice low but firm.

Her eyes widen in panic, her lips parting to deny it, but the words don’t come. She knows there’s no point in lying to me.

“I’m fine,” she finally whispers, but the crack in her voice betrays her. “I can handle it.”

I take a step closer, my gaze never leaving hers. “You cannot handle this alone. And it’s clear that no one else here is willing to help.”

She looks down, her shoulders slumping in defeat. For a moment, she’s quiet, and then, barely audible, she says, “I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“And yet,” I say softly, “you’re drowning in front of them, and they do nothing.”

She lets out a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t want them to know.”

“They already do,” I say, glancing back toward the common room. “They just don’t want to see it.”

Her silence is telling, and I feel a strange, unfamiliar pang in my chest. I don’t know why I care so much. I barely know her, but there’s something about Y/N that draws me in—something raw and broken that I recognize all too well.

“I’ll help you,” I say quietly. She looks at me, surprised. “If you let me.”

For a moment, I think she’s going to refuse, to push me away like she has with the others. But then she nods, and I feel something shift.

Maybe she doesn’t have to face this alone after all.

[stra-tek]

Yet another excerpt from I Survived Kirk, my forthcoming fanfic autobiog from the POV of a bitter redshirt on Kirk's crew

I’m going to step outside the usual retelling of events in a vaguely chronological order here to talk about hypotheticals in a particularly vague manner.  Perhaps I’m just making up bollocks to sell more copies of my book, or maybe I’m dancing around subjects that were deemed “no no” by Starfleet Command.  You decide.

The Vulcan Science Directorate determined that time travel was impossible, centuries ago.  That’s what they claimed, at lest, and what they drilled into generations of Vulcans.  “It’s not possible.  We tried it.  You don’t need to try it, just take or word for it.”

WHAT IF… what if… it were possible?  Some of you might have heard of Zefram Cochrane’s legendary drunken rant and rave at Princeton, about cybernetic creatures from the future attempting to interrupt his warp flight.  What if he was telling the truth?  Maybe the Vulcans were lying because the implications of time travel being possible could be devastating.  Or perhaps they were just plain wrong?

So… strictly hypothetically, if time travel WERE possible… surely some of the ancient aliens we know of would have discovered it too, yes?  They’d probably have perfected means of using it.  And used it repeatedly, to go anywhere and anywhen in time and space.  Probably for all the reasons any of us would want to use it today.  Changing things.  Big things, like maybe the equivalent of stopping Hitler or Green, or preventing the Xindi attack or the Romulan war, or small things like saving a loved one or completely trivial things like getting to see a famous concert.

Which opens up yet another quantum fuckton of worms. How would you feel about finding out the life you live is in some kind of heavily modified timeline?  The whole word you now is the result of someone else fucking with the universe?  Perhaps things are better than they might be otherwise.  Or maybe it’s much, much worse.  You don’t know, you never will and it’s something you had no input in. You’re not who you’re supposed to be, but some weird alternate you that exists as the result of some douchnozzles tampering with something, somewhere. Even little tiny things can have massive consequences.  Imagine for a second, your Dad was doing something important, heard a suspicious noise outside (our hypothetical time traveller running through your yard) and your Mum’s the worrying type so she made him check it out, he never finished what he was doing.  What was the important thing he doing?  YOUR MUM and because he didn’t you were never conceived.  Imagine every life you’ve affected.  Even if you REALLY don’t matter, even if you have no friends and never had sex with anything other than your left hand and are the biggest failure ever.  Even then, you’ve slightly impacted the day of your schoolteachers, or your doctors or even random passers-by have looked your way and either seen or not seen something that had a similar crazy spiralling effect on their lives. It’s called The Butterfly Effect, named after some theory or other that a butterfly fluttering its wings can cause some kind of wind-related chain reaction that ends in a hurricane somewhere else.

So maybe, due to obscure and completely unpredictable effects of ancient aliens altering events in time, your life might not be what it should.  Does that bother anyone else?  It drives me nuts.  It makes my skin crawl.  Fuck whoever the hell it was who may have affected history on their planet or maybe even mine which rippled through time and made my life different to how it should be.  What would the universe be like if none of this happened?  And what’s it going to become when more and more aliens figure it out and start doing all the bad things?  What happens when we figure it out?  Once there was a Basic State, a history untampered with.  Am I a better person there?  Worse?  More or less successful?  Am I happier there?  Was I even born, or are my parents meeting off-chance knock-on effect of one of these tamperings?

[therewasatale]

How old are you?

On Ao3.

Vimes was shaken up by the clearing of a throat.  He shuddered and opened one of his eyes towards the interloper.

It was his senior clone commander looking at him with slightly disapproving eyes standing in the door of the meditation room.

“Sorry to wake you, sir.” He said with an even voice.

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was meditating, immersing myself into the force.”

He answered rubbing his tired eyes. He felt as if he was wringed through a power converter. He stayed awake all night perusing the reports from the front.

He wanted to figure out where the man might be so he could finish this force damned mess, before the war escalates even more, but unfortunately Vetinari proved just as cloak and dagger as always. Oh, he appeared plenty of times to give some speeches, or welcome a system joining into the CIS, but there wasn’t really any way to figure out where he will be next. In this rate Vimes would need either a galaxy’s worth of luck or the assistance of the Force itself to ever get to the trail of the man.

“Only a layman could have mistaken such a deep trance to mere sleeping," he added hurriedly.

“Admittedly the snoring didn’t help, sir.” Said the commander folding his arms with a slightly disapproving look in his eyes.

“All right, all right, you got me. I might have dozed off a little. “ Vimes pushed himself up, his body was aching, he was far too old to sleep on a cold floor, but he rather take up a carrier in shovelling bantha manure than ever admit it to anyone. He had to steady himself as his legs began to itch and prickle when the blood returned into them.

“You should have a proper eight hours, sir. In Kamino we had a strictly mandatory sleep period every night.”  Said the clone, his voice indicating that this was in fact the right and proper way one should conduct his nightly rest.

Vimes shook his head while trying to massage some blood into his legs. Sleeping on the floor was one thing, but in the meditative position was an even worse idea.

“That sounds like a form of torture to me, I have no idea how they were able to do that while you had your teenager years. Keel and I was patrolling the streets all night when I was that age. He always said it was easier to come with me than to try to keep me within the temple. “ He smiled a bit as he reminisced before catching the clone’s puzzled expression. “Yes?”

“Are teenager years supposed to be different than any normal growth period, sir? Clones do seem to be more competitive with each other around the age of five, sir, perhaps that could be the teenage years?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“Don’t be daft. Teenager years are about, oh, I don’t know, from 13 to 19 usually, full of hormones, anxiety, getting embarrassed if a pretty person looks at you…” Vimes, finally getting proper blood flow in his feet now leaned down and dusted himself off.

“Well then, I see the problem, sir, we haven’t had those yet. The oldest clone trooper I have ever known was 13 and a half. “

Vimes froze halfway up as he was straightening himself up.

The clone commander could feel the change of temperature in the room. It felt like walking into a freezer from the sweltering heat of the Tatooine sun.

“What?”  The jedi asked the word seemingly coming with a hollow echo from somewhere.

“I am sorry, sir, did I say something wrong?” He tried desperately to guess the reason of his superior’s sudden change of mood. Vimes expression was suddenly seemed to be carved out of stone.

“How old are you, Commander?”  He finally asked, staring at the man, eyes fixated on his face.

The clone had the idea that even though the jedi was looking at him, his mind was occupied with something else.

And he was right, in Vimes' mind thoughts chased each other, as a bitter realisation slowly presented itself. They might look like adults but, you can change a lot of things during cloning.

“I am, biologically around 22, sir. “He answered primly but sensed that this was not the right answer, because Vimes tensed his jaws.

“And in the real actual world commander? How. Old. Are. You?” Vimes was forcing out the words because something was roiling inside him and it took all his concentration just to not let it burst out.

“I am 11, sir. “Said the commander. There was a silence, it was cold, and empty, like the one between the stars. Vimes tried to bottle up the rage blossoming in him, but it would have been easier to stop a celestial collision with his will alone.  “I'm sorry, sir I-”

One of the bulkheads in the meditation room suddenly buckled inwards.

“Don’t you dare say sorry to me! “Said Vimes through gritted teeth. “You damned well haven’t done anything wrong! Nothing in the world. You did not ask for it, you haven’t got a choice commander. You were made without a name, given a number, and a rifle to fight to the death at 11 years old, and you dare to say sorry?!” Another bulkhead began to creek.

“I-I don’t know what I should say, sir, I-" the clone commander tried and found himself trembling.

Vimes caught the movements and the fires of rage died down inside, they began to freeze into icy mountains instead.

Taking a deep trembling breath, he forced down his storming thoughts.

“Nothing, you don’t have to say anything commander, this was not done by you, this was done TO you. Done to you by this accursed war. I was this far unaware of how far we have fallen…No am I wrong, I do want you to say something Commander. “

“Y…Yes, what is it, sir?”

“Your name. I want to know your name. I hope you choose on already. “

This will be the first step, Vimes promised to himself. Those Kaminoans, those spineless grey bastards took their life away from these boys and he will give it back to them no matter what, even if he has to go against the whole council. Treating people as things, as weapons?

There was no bigger injustice in the galaxy, he wouldn’t abide his own people doing it.

“Yes… “The Commander nodded finally calming down himself. He never saw a jedi angry, but he began to understand that at least there was some truth about what he learned about their fighting proves. “ Padawan Carrot was a great help in it. He suggested a couple of alternatives…”

“Glad to hear it.” Vimes shook his head trying to seem nonchalant, even though the glacier were still towering against each other inside him.  “So, what is it?”

“I am Law, sir. Commander Law. “

“Law? I assume he told you we were coppers back in our world after I took a leave of absence from the jedi order.”  He nodded slowly.

Of course, Carrot would tell him that, he probably told him some more than a little embellished tales about Vimes heroics to boot. By the force the kid doesn’t need more nonsense in his head, the Kaminoans put enough in there as it is.

“You know you could have chosen anything?” Vimes asked with a gentle sigh.

“Yes, but I wanted to choose this one, Sir.” Law eyes met Vimes’s. “To show that I am serving with you and the Peacekeepers. “

Vimes suddenly shuddered, the ice inside him still remained but there were some other feelings too now. These boys had such a trust, such a faith in them, he couldn’t allow himself to let them down.

“You… I have done nothing to earn that yet.” He managed to mumble at last and before the commander could protest or say something daft about him not needing to earn it, he began to gently push him out the door. “At any rate, let’s call an assembly right now, shall we? I want to create some new rules, and want some input about possible new equipment and food rations I wish to order.”

“New equipment and rules Sir? And aren’t our nutrient blocks sufficient?” He tried vainly to protest,

“Sufficient my arse commander, you are eleven years old and had no opportunity to be yourself, I will be damned if I don’t give you some normal food, free time, and personal items. “

“But sir we are soldiers made to…” He tried again as he was In the corridor. Vimes raised his finger and gently poked him in his chest.

“Not on my ship Law. On my ship you are a Peacekeeper, and more importantly, yourself.  Call that general assembly, everyone in the hangar within the hour. And find me Carrot, I need to speak with him about stuffing your head full of nonsense. And Law…”

“Yes, sir?”

“Cherish yourself, and be more independent. That’s an order. “

“Yes, sir.”

[heathfall]

Crown of Thorns (Chapter 4)

I wanted to get this out before my finals start tomorrow!

No equivalent post on AO3 right now-- I’m feeling quite embittered due to some of the backlash I’ve received there, so I might move Crown of Thorns to Tumblr only until it’s done and only then finish it on AO3.

Anyway, not much to fear in this chapter! Some uncomfy Bramble/Squirrel interactions, but that’s about it.

Text under the break!

"Are you planning to sleep 'til it's moon-high?" Squirrelflight asked him. In seasons past, she would have awoken him with a paw jab to the ribs. He would have winced, leapt to his feet, and eventually laughed once he had fully awoken.

Though he was still a young warrior, those seasons seemed very far away and very long ago now. Squirrelflight kept her distance, flicking him with her tail.

"Thornclaw wants you for the dawn patrol," she meowed. "It'll be him, you, me, Rainwhisker, and Cloudtail. They're already waiting for us outside."

"Could the good deputy not deign to wake me up himself?" Brambleclaw grumbled, still shaken from his dream and not fully awake. Squirrelflight merely stared at him, confusion and concern in her green eyes.

"He's outside naming the other patrols," she said. "If we're lucky, he'll only have put himself on two or three." She mrrowed with amusement, although it seemed a bit hollow. When Brambleclaw didn't laugh with her, she stopped. "Seriously though. What's gotten into you lately? You didn't congratulate Thornclaw on the deputyhood last night, you wake up like you didn't sleep at all, and now you're rude and snappish. What has you so bitter?"

"I'm not bitter," he snapped, raising up to glare at her. "It's not my problem that I'm apparently the only one dedicated to this Clan." He didn't train in his sleep every night, getting cuts, sores, and bruises, so that Squirrelflight of all cats would disrespect him.

She took a step back out of the warrior’s den. "Yeah, whatever, bossypaws," she said, the childish name sticking like a sharp bone in a mouse. "I'm going to go join the patrol. When you groom all those burrs out of your pelt, let me know." She left the den, which was now nearly empty.

Brambleclaw stood up and gave himself a quick lick. Perhaps he had been too harsh. Squirrelflight couldn't know all the things he had been going through, and she had only been following orders. He shook the thought out of his head, resolving to share tongues with the she-cat over a plump piece of fresh-kill later. He couldn't tell her the full truth; she would never remain friends, much less mates with him if she knew that he was meeting with his father every night, but at least he could tell her a half-truth and say he walked with StarClan each night.

He joined the patrol just as they were leaving camp, rushing to catch up. "Oh, Brambleclaw!" Thornclaw said in a far more jovial tone than he was used to. Brambleclaw couldn't help but bristle slightly, feeling as though Thornclaw was forcing the idea that he was now deputy into his face. "Good to see you finally joined us."

"I made it before you left camp," he said, doing his best to joke with him. "That counts as being on time, right?"

"I'll let it slide this time," Thornclaw said, his amusement fading to his more usual seriousness. "Next time, though, please try to be ready before we leave."

"I was just a little tired from the vigil last night," he said. "I won't let it happen again."

"I will," Cloudtail joked. The white, fluffy warrior plodded along behind Thornclaw. One of his eyes was cracked open, the other still closed. "I'm not made for the dawn patrol."

"But I am?" Rainwhisker said, gently ribbing his old mentor by trying to nudge him off the path. Cloudtail barely moved, plenty used to Rainwhisker's antics. "You were plenty spry when Thornclaw sent you to wake me up."

"Oh, he didn't send me," Cloudtail yawned back. "I took that upon myself, like any loyal warrior would."

Brambleclaw noticed at last that Squirrelflight walked silently beside Cloudtail and Rainwhisker, nearly off the path at times. That left him bringing up the rear of the patrol by himself.

She once would have fought her way to the back to walk with him or forced him to join her in the front of a patrol. Now, though, she didn't even look at him, focusing on the forest in front of them. Brambleclaw felt a brief pang of sorrow, missing her company.

Brambleclaw passed the patrol in a daze, doing his best to not think about meeting Hawkfrost in a few days' time. He hoped his nervousness wouldn't betray him, but as the patrol passed, he realized that no one was watching especially close.

Thornclaw trotted down the paths with a barely concealed pride. He had never actively vied for the deputyhood, but Brambleclaw could tell he was proud over it. Watching him silently gloat made him want to dig his claws into the ground.

Squirrelflight, on the other hand, seemed to be actively refusing to look him in the eye. She shared words with Thornclaw for a time, then fell back to walk alongside Rainwhisker. The two laughed and teased each other playfully, and Brambleclaw watched from behind as her whiskers twitched in amusement. It felt like it had been moons since he had seen them do that.

By the time they returned, the hunting patrol had returned with their prey. Without pausing to rest for a moment, Thornclaw set the apprentices to their duties. He discussed with Dustpelt about plans for the following day, well within earshot. Brambleclaw was relieved to hear that he would be free for his meeting with Hawkfrost.

"I think Thornclaw is talking about assigning himself to every patrol," Squirrelflight mewed in amusement. Brambleclaw startled at the sound of her voice, too lost in thought to have realized she was approaching. He turned to look at her. A glimmer of affection sparkled in her green eyes, though it was far dimmer than he was used to. "Do you want to share a piece of prey with me?"

"Sure. Pick one out. " As she walked away, Brambleclaw wondered what she would think if she knew he was planning to meet with Hawkfrost. Her gaze already belied a glimmer of fear—if she knew the truth, he would lose her forever. Tigerstar was exiled for his plots against the leaders of the Clans—would they do the same for him.

Tigerstar killed other cats, he reassured himself. He didn't think he had the nerve to kill anyone. It had been seasons since ThunderClan had a strong deputy, and he wasn't sure Thornclaw was the right cat for the job. All he wanted was for ThunderClan to see that and appoint him to the deputyhood—a position he thought, with an uneasy feeling in his stomach—that he deserved.

[libidineaurumque]

@argentumvolvi asked:

Something, or someone was trying to destroy the district of Shining Life - it was only by the time Urick had become aware of it that the growing fear he would be dead before even truly being able to reach the district that he had taken notice enough of the suspicious activity around the area to care. Usually there was little more than the subhumans to worry about with the occasional casualty, but now... They didn't seem to be the work of subhumans. They seemed to be targeted. People he knew - people getting closer to the keys. Both Generals had seemed just as agreeable to the request for added security in the case of a mishap, and Urick's leave from the Shrine was scheduled at the earliest convenience to leave an assure the safety of the seal - his own life. Urick seemed to be in a rare moment of visible anxiety as he opened the doors heading back from his address to the Generals, though almost immediately, the momentum was halted to all the stillness of a statue at the recognition of the one waiting for him beyond those doors. Of course he was there - right outside, waiting. Urick couldn't tell whether the sight of that man being like a stray dog that stayed at his heels or a snake that stared and waited just as deceptively upset him more. He once remembered being happy at the surprise of seeing him beyond those doors. "...Yaha." The name was spat out like a curse, Urick's now hardened gaze able only to lock onto the other for a moment before closing and turning away. "I don't have the time to waste on idle goodbyes. If you have something important to tell me, then you'd best spit it out and go." As usual, the tone was cold, yet the hostility brittle - if there was one thing that could serve as comfort to the elf, it was that Urick could never bring himself to delight in the brute behaviour he showed towards his friend. Still, or perhaps because of it, he refused to look his way through his words. A pause. A soft scoff of a laugh, and Urick's back turned. He knew there was only one thing Yaha had to say. "...No. Of course you don't. I meant it when I told you I didn't want to see you, and that isn't about to change, Yaha. So why not do us both a favour and go make someone else's day?" There was a certain bitter edge to his tone as he spoke those last words, a final, perhaps accidental glance cast his way for only a moment before the sound of quickened footsteps sounded through the great corridor, Urick making haste to get away himself with the final words spoken over his shoulder: "I don't know what you're doing back."

The elf's ever cordial smile did not leave his face, even as Urick's every word was like ice cold knives piercing his heart. A small reminder, at least, that he still had one. But as soon as he'd heard about the attacks on the District of Shining Life, he had to come. If not just to see Urick himself, than to offer support. The leutenant made his feelings on the matter of Yaha's company quite clear, however. He dipped his head slightly with a soft chuckle. "We both know the answer to that question, my dear friend. I came as soon as I'd heard. I am certain you will be fine on your own, but I am always here to offer my aid." Ah, but Urick was already leaving and Yaha had to quicken his own pace to catch up. "We should be defending each other, should we not?"

Look at me, he pleaded in his mind, instinctively reaching his hand out to try to touch Urick's shoulder.

Yaha bit his tongue and stopped himself from doing such a rash action. But as much as he wanted to tell him that he'd made that pact for him, it would only fall on deaf ears.

[lemonseeds-blog]

Vlad Journal | Prologue

"At the start of the night, he was as far as he could be without blatantly sitting elsewhere. But as we went on, it was as if we were pulled together, unconsciously. A force that we did little to fight against. The rest of the night…I’m not sure I could pen it here properly. (And perhaps should not?)"

This will be an in-character journal entry summarizing Vlad's thoughts from the latest episode of The Sanguine Society. You can find the public copy of this journal here, if you prefer google docs. This particular post is a bit longer than is usually to be expected, as it contains several entries; it is also mildly NSFW, though not all entries will be. If you like to listen to music while reading, I would recommend Elegie, Op. 24 for today's entry. I Hope you enjoy 🖤

Wednesday, April the 28th, 2023

I had kaffe und kuchen with Elenor today. She found me sitting in the greenhouse again, practicing for the show. She has been such a dear since I took residence here; accommodating my 'odd' hours and habits, with hardly a question. We chatted a bit, but my German is barely conversational these days. Shame I did not pick it up more, and leaving already. But it is nice to sit quietly as well. She says she enjoys my playing, and I enjoy her company. 3 decades has gone impossibly fast.

Friday, April the 30th, 2023

Louis Roederer Cristal Brut (2008) 1.5L

Colour: Amber, Sunlight 

Fragrance: wonderfully golden fruit

Savour: Opens bright and fruity; pear and apple. A bit bitter on the end; floral, but pollen

Paired with Crème Brûlée: slightly too much fruit for the dish, but lovely to sip afterwards

Transcribe to wine notes⤴️

Sunday, April the 1st, 2023

Performance with the company has been going well; we will have our final show tomorrow. And my final altogether. I will greatly miss living here. The town is quiet. This apartment is quaint, but has only gotten finer over my stay. The people have been kind and allow me to keep to myself. I think I could stay here for quite a while longer without being bothered. But it is time. Adăpost Manor cannot sit absent and idle, it is a waste. I will be meeting with Reya after the show tomorrow, and perhaps get some updates on the community while catching up. It really will be so good to see her, it has been too long. Too long since many things. When I left Adăpost, I thought I might put it up for sale before returning, but I have found myself longing more and more. To perform in the music room and to have the smell of good food in the kitchens. To sit and read in the library and to tend to the arboretum. The place has had many lifetimes already, and it will be good to get back and find footing in a new cycle. It is not a home only for I, after all. 30 years of selfishness is enough. 

Monday, April the 2nd, 2023

Aurelio was at the show tonight. Aurelio. 

It was no accident of course, Reya must have planned this. Though I am not sure why. I had no words, and am still in lack. After 60 years, suddenly, Aurelio walks through my place of work. I don’t know that I ever gave much thought on what I would say, if he were to return. I would not have allowed myself to dwell there. And yet, here he is. And here am I, at a loss. He was polite, as always; asking about my colleagues and the city. Feigning interest, at the least. But he was nervous too, if I am not mistaken. In some ways it was just like we used to speak; joking, laughing, touching.  And in other ways, he was more frightened than I have ever seen him. He has been traveling around Europe; backpacking and visiting family. He spoke often of loneliness, and longing for the familiar, so I offered to accompany him while he is in town. He surprised me with his enthusiasm, and then even more, with an invitation to the opera. A bold proposition, coming from him. But his excitement showed genuine, and after all this time, a night out could be refreshing. A date? 

My coworkers invited us to a drink and we spent most of the night at Schlenkerla, and before I knew it, it was nearly sunrise. The rest of the lot turned in after the bar stopped serving, but I was not yet ready to watch him go. So I invited him to join me, and he agreed, even without knowing where I would take him. I showed him to the greenhouse. 

His delight was apparent as soon as he saw the greenery and life growing over it.

"It's like a part of the old world reclaiming what has become modern" he says.

 I had forgotten what it's like to see the world through his eyes. I feel I have been missing much. We sat and talked and waited for the sun to rise. He told me more about his family; how he has been tracing his blood lines and finding the ends. How he's gotten close to some of the younger ones, despite his eccentricities. And now he is unsure of where to go next. It seems like he has grown; the travel must be good for him. As the sky grew lighter, his face glowed with joy in telling me about the different generations he's met. His love has always made him beautiful. The sun coming through the leaves and on his skin and filling the colour of his eyes…I could almost let him burn to see his beauty in direct light. But he lives in chiaroscuro, and my heart aches all the more in the limbo. I feel that the opera will be difficult, I am not entirely sure what he expects from me. But I cannot let nerves stop me. I cannot miss this.

Friday, April the 5th, 2023

Yesterday was beyond words, but I will do my best. The opera was lovely. The champagne was delicious. And Aurelio, a beacon of light in all of it. He sent me a letter, penned in his own hand, though I did not receive it until nearly too late. I hardly had time to put together something to wear.  He still dresses in his classic fine things, and wears them just as well as ever. I worried at first that I had overdressed, and that I would look quite the fool showing up at his place of stay in a tuxedo. But he knows me well, and suited for the occasion just as we used to. It was as if I had taken a step back through time, and this persisted for a good portion of the night. We shared looks, we laughed, we walked arm in arm and talked and talked. About the show and technology and travel and Vienna. I admitted to him that I will be returning. He seemed a bit excited at the concept, and said that he would like to visit. Apparently he has been searching for his sire, and thought he might be able to find more information at the Manor’s library. Perhaps he could have more casual visits, along with the research.  

He apologized as well, for leaving all that time ago. Though I wish he hadn't. To see the pain I had caused him etched on his face and then take the blame for it all. I can hardly stand it. But he would not hear of my reasoning, and seemed nearly desperate to explain himself. The least I can do for him is listen and accept an apology. He said he couldn't imagine being enough; that he had never stopped to ask how I had felt. It never felt like we needed to. The fact that he suited me in a fashion that no other could, always felt so obvious. Until it was too late, I suppose. It was a bit of a relief though, to finally know. He says he was afraid, and so certain he would lose me, that he somehow ended up making sure of it.  

“I had not felt the way that I felt with you for any one before, and that certainly frightened me”

My heart aches at the words, but I do not dare ask if he still feels this way. The reassurance of what once was, is enough. I brought him to the townhouse after the opera, to show him the stereo system and have some more conversation. Sat on the couch next to me, sipping wine and talking music, it was almost as if he had never left. At the start of the night, he was as far as he could be without blatantly sitting elsewhere. But as we went on, it was as if we were pulled together, unconsciously. A force that we did little to fight against. The rest of the night…I’m not sure I could pen it properly here. (And perhaps should not?)

“I don't want to waste anymore time”

My hand went to his cheek, without a thought. And our lips, meeting in a second. I am shocked for a moment, and look to his eyes to find a familiar fervor. He pulls at me, and the nostalgia washes over. The touch of cold marble, the smell of orange blossom. The look of his eyes, that of dark woods at dusk. My teeth at his neck, a taste of bitter iron; and a moan rising from his chest and vibrating in his throat under my lips. A groan that laments all the wasted time, and every second lost now between touches. 

Waste no time.

My hands move faster than my thoughts, strict, leading; his fingers are gentle, pleading as ever. As always. On neck, on shoulders, on chest. Our movements and his song flowing and sliding ever down and down.

I can still hear it. And this letter he wrote, I trace the characters over and over to see the movement of his hand in the starts and stops of the ink. This letter that he penned and touched and surely fretted over, I can almost smell the orange blossom on it still. Perhaps I shall write him back; it would be my move at this point, no? I would not want him to think this was a single affair to me. 

Saturday, April the 7th, 2023

He is not here. I had hoped to catch him for some coffee before I departed, but that may have been asking too much too soon. It was a fine evening, and we talked of many things, but perhaps that is all that he needed. A chat, a date, some closure. I was a fool for expecting more, really. One night with him again…It will have to be enough. I have so much to attended to at the Manor in any matter, it is long time tha

He’s here. 

He came to me at the train station. He is coming with me to Vienna. He will stay in the Manor with me. I can hardly believe the words as I scribble them with him getting settled into the train car. 

We're going back to Vienna.

[livredebelle]

Twenty-two.

"...I KNOW, BUT... wait a second. She's stirring."

The first thing I heard when I awoke was the shrill piercing ringing sound in my right ear. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to sit up in bed, only to be pushed back down by a familiar, warm hand.

"What do you think you're doing? Lie back down."

"What happened? How did I get here?"

I had no recollection of how I'd ended up in my room, in my bed. I knew that had been my full intention when I'd come "home," but I also remembered the sensation of falling.

"You fainted at the doorstep. Don't you remember? You were losing some blood and severely dehydrated; it was only natural that would happen."

"Are you a doctor or something, then?"

He chuckled. "No, but my mother was." As my brain tried to process this new bit of information, he snapped his phone shut. Who still used an old flip phone in this day and age? "Shall I take your temperature one more time?"

"No, thanks. I feel fine." No need to give this guy an excuse to touch me, when that was the least of my worries. As my memory came back to me slowly--the horridness of the evening drama with my so-called "family"--I shook my head, as if trying to deny it happened. Refusing to dwell on what could very well be the cause of an upcoming panic attack, I changed the subject. "What time is it?"

"3 AM." Heath cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes darting back and forth every time my body made a movement.

"I'm sorry, you should be sleeping, not having to take care of me like this. I'll be fine now, so could you leave?"

"You don't sound sorry at all," he observed.

I clicked my tongue. "What else do you want to hear? It's not like I asked you to help me--you did it of your own accord. What, should I fall down on my knees and thank you for your sense of heroism?"

"One day, I'm going to do something about that poison-laden tongue of yours." His promise was sensual and dark, and I stared hard at my hands, barely holding back a shiver. He stood, and headed towards my bedroom door. "You're right though. I decided to help you on my own, so I suppose there's no one to blame but myself for your... lack of enthusiasm. And there's no need for you to be sorry towards me--not now, not ever." What was he saying now? He wasn't making sense, as was usual. "I'll let you rest--holler if you need anything." And with that, he made his graceful exit, leaving me angry and fussy and exasperated. What did I want? Wasn't it for him to leave? Yet why was I feeling so frustrated...

Sighing, I collapsed back onto my pillow and stared up at the ceiling, trying to empty my mind and failing miserably at it. Should I skip school when the sun comes up? No, it wouldn't be right--a waste of tuition money. I could never be so ungrateful. For now, though, I would sleep, and in my slumber fervently pray, once again, that I would not wake up and have to face the day.

***

I woke up.

I hate God.

As I trudged my ass to school, panting as it was difficult to breathe, I pondered briefly about who Heath had been on the phone with before I had awoken with him in the room. A secret girlfriend, perhaps? A bitter taste infiltrated my mouth.

I barely recalled how I made it to my seat for the first class. It happened to be the class Heath was assisting, too--hard to not think of the guy when I saw him more often than I did anyone else.

"Hi, is the seat next to you taken?"

A girl with short pixie hair and an overly sweet smile inquired, pointing to the one by my right. Immediately, I became uncomfortable. Why did people persist in talking to me when I had my beats in? Did that not give off the vibe, "Don't talk to me"? Maybe this person was just that dense.

I shook my head without saying more, hoping she would drop it. In my peripheral vision, I spotted Heath entering the lecture hall to hand the professor a stack of papers. He caught my eye, witnessing my discomfort and raising one of his eyebrows, as if he also couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Usually, nobody talked to me. But this annoying girl beamed and commenced to talk my ear off about how excited she was for the semester, and how she was hoping to make a lot of friends in college because she was a loner in high school... yadda yadda... I intensely focused on the blackboard in front of me, not because I found what the professor was writing was that interesting, but in an effort to dissuade her. But she could not be dissuaded so easily.

"Ooh, I like that anime character too!" She pointed to a sticker on my notebook. "The ending was such a plot twist, didn't you think so?"

"Do I know you?" I said, failing to hide my irritation.

"N-no, but I was hoping--"

"I hate spoilers."

I didn't let her finish and turned my attention back to the board. It didn't matter what she hoped for; I was not in the mood to make small talk--fuck what she wanted.

The chatty girl bit her lip but otherwise abided by my request for the remainder of class, to my relief. However, once class was over and I stood abruptly to leave for a smoke break, I noticed the girl tailing me, barely a step away.

Not wanting to cause a scene in the campus hallways, I pretended not to notice until we got outside to the outside smoking area. I crossed my arms and whirled to confront her, but she was no longer there. Huh. Maybe it was in my imagination...

"Hi! Do you need a lighter? Wanna use mine?"

The pixie-haired girl was here after all; still managing to smile somehow, she held out a rainbow-colored BIC lighter and held it out to me all innocently. What a complete paradox.

"I have my own. More importantly, what do you want?"

"Like I was trying to say earlier, I was hoping we could become friends. Is that too much to ask?" Her face crumpled in despair, which caused me to be taken by surprise--a rare accomplishment on her part.

"Why would you want to be friends with me?"

Truly, I was baffled. What made her think--no, what made her approach me to begin with? I knew I had a reputation for having one of the worst resting bitch faces on earth. This girl was bubbly and friendly--two characteristics I tended to avoid because I simply could not relate to those kinds of people.

She tilted her head. "What do you mean? I think you're really cool and pretty, and as soon as I saw you in the beginning of the semester I've wanted to be your friend. I only had the courage to talk to you now." She shrugged sheepishly and smiled brightly once more. "Is that too much?"

It was. It definitely was. And yet...

I couldn't shake her off, and that impressed me. It took a lot of patience to deal with me, I knew. It made my bitchiness melt away--albeit reluctantly.

I took out my own lighter and lit up a stoge without a word, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, she didn't stay quiet for long.

"I always thought it looked cooler when women smoked. Don't get me wrong, I don't smoke," the girl clarified as if I had asked, "but I do admire the women who do."

"What does that even mean?"

"I have a thing for tall women," she confessed, and winked at me. When I stared at her in puzzlement, she burst out laughing.

"I'm only teasing you, I'm teasing! God, you should've seen the look on your face."

Giving me another one of her wide smiles, she held out her hand for me to shake.

An offering.

"Nice to meetcha! I'm called Ruse, but I prefer Rue. I have a feeling we're going to be the best of friends."

Little did I know then that this would be the start of another human relationship full of bitter lies and disappointments.

But I supposed that, by this point in my life, I really should not continue to be disappointed by people.

So whose fault was it, really, if not mine--as always?

***

Rue followed me around all the time after that, whether I liked it or not. She was difficult to shake off, and I had grown tired of trying only to be faced with more of her optimism, which was even more annoying.

Truthfully, though, I was acting sulky on the outside, but I kind of liked the feeling of someone wanting my company again, for whatever weird reason. It was hard for me to accept the fact that there must've been a reason for her wanting to do so in the first place. After all, who would?

But if I could let myself live in this lie for just a little longer.

Just until I could feel like a normal human again.

"You should totally come to the party tonight, too, Irina," Rue sang as I closed my locker after shoving my books inside. "Only the hottest seniors are attending, and I heard their numbers are uneven and they need more girls."

"I told you, I'm not like that. I don't like going out."

"But you promised we'd hang out outside of your apartment sometime!"

"I did no such thing."

She pouted and linked her arms with mine. "C'mon. It'll be a nice change of pace. You said so yourself that you've felt stuffy lately--what better than to go out and enjoy the fresh air with new people at a beach bonfire? Doesn't that sound romantic?"

"No. I hate sand. And even if it did, that would be more of a reason for me not to go."

"Such a party pooper!"

I shrugged. "It's not like you didn't know."

It was new, this feeling, yet familiar at the same time. I hated to admit it, but spending time with Rue reminded me of Abel more often than not. Their personalities... they were so similar. It was like their happiness could never be dampened, even by my own exuding darkness. Of course, still different, but at this point in time I was craving familiarity because it gave me a sense of comfort.

Hanging out with Rue also made me nostalgic for Quinn, because my friendship with him had been so effortless, where I could wholly and unapologetically be myself--different from my friendship with Rue. Because she and I were so different, I felt the need to shield her from my toxicity, and I found myself prioritizing her emotions over mine in attempts to eradicate myself. If that made sense.

"True, but there'll be free drinks for freshmen! Isn't that alone good enough of a reason to go? Pretty please, for me?"

I rolled my eyes. Rue was a couple years younger than me; a nerd who graduated high school early with all her scholarships for college. It did strike me as odd that such a person would wind up coming to a local university like here, but I didn't ask--she probably had her own circumstances. Sometimes the age difference bothered me because it made me feel like the need to become an older sister figure, maybe because she and Rose were around the same age bucket.

"Pleaseeeee--"

"God, fine, I'll go! Just stop whining!" I snapped, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. I immediately regretted lashing out.

But Rue just clapped her hands and laughed giddily. "Okay, yay! I'll let them know. This is going to be so much fun! I'm so happy!"

I knew I was going to regret saying yes, but my head was thumping, and I felt the need to do whatever necessary to extract myself from her presence for a little while. Lest I lose my mind.

"See you later, then," I said dismissively, walking away. God, I needed a smoke very badly, but first--coffee. My headache was turning into a migraine, and I needed to appease it very badly; caffeine often helped. I headed towards my favorite vending machine (it was my favorite because it was old and wonky, and sometimes spat out my coin, giving me a free drink). I used to joke with Quinn that whether I'd be able to get a free drink from the machine depended on the amount of good karma I was harnessing on a particular day, and I needed some good karma right about now.

Turns out the world was against me--the machine would just keep spitting out my coin without giving me the canned coffee I wanted. Frustrated, I kicked the damn machine. Why was nothing going right today?

"Finally shook off the mongrel, I see," Heath's smooth voice interjected. He was standing behind me--I knew even without turning around based on the soapy aroma that was permeating from him, damn my sensitive nose.

"What do you want now. I told you before, I don't want people seeing us together and getting the wrong idea."

"Or the right idea." I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. Sly bastard.

"Shut up. And isn't it kinda rude to call someone 'mongrel'? You don't even know Rue."

Heath shrugged and casually handed me a canned coffee that he pulled out from his work bag. I glared at him but took the drink as he said, "Was that her name?"

"She's in your class, too!"

"I don't recall. In fact, I don't keep tabs on anyone in that class other than you."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm honored." I took a swig of the coffee he gave me and felt immediate bliss and relief. Sighing, I closed my eyes. "Thanks for this, I guess. I desperately needed coffee."

He nodded and sipped his own. "I understand the crippling effects of caffeine dependency. Speaking of, your health is still not up to par since the night you passed out--are you sure you should be going out so late at night?"

It took me a moment to understand what he was referring to. "How did you know I'm going out? Were you eavesdropping on us? You creep."

"Not at all. I just happened to be nearby so I could give you the canned coffee... not my fault if neither of you noticed."

"Ugh. Look, I don't even want to go, okay? But I already gave Rue my word, and I'm going. One night out can't hurt. Plus, I'll take some Tylenol later before I head out."

"I still don't approve."

"You don't have the right to approve of my going out."

By this point, despite the tone of our conversation, we had naturally started walking towards his car together. Even though I made a fuss about people at school seeing us together, to be honest I had already given up--by now, people knew that we carpooled to and from school in recent days. I had eventually acquiesced to Heath's offers for a ride because riding public transportation or walking are both equally more tedious, and I needed to save my energy for homework and other bullshit.

"Hmm," was all Heath said as he casually leaned over to buckle me into the front seat.

"I'll be home before curfew," I commented mockingly.

He smirked. "Good girl. You better--unless you want me to punish you."

With those words I turned into a pool of liquid in my car seat. My desire for him flared hotter than ever. Must resist...

As he buckled me in, I felt his warm, addictive breath wash over my face, overwhelming my senses completely; and I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I leaned towards him to impose a peck on his cheek.