#i want the cards to look close enough to the real thing that i won't know what the card is when i'm not supposed to just cuz it stands out

[alphagodith]

the most frustrating thing about diy/craft projects for me is that i never know if i am doing something wrong, or if i just have higher standards than the people who made the tutorials i’m using.

like i’m trying to make some proxy cards for a game i’m playing since the cards are very expensive and i don’t want to take them out of their protective cases, and i’m using some guides i found online on how to make playing cards, but my results aren’t quite close enough to the real thing for my taste. i have no idea if that’s cuz there’s a step the guide creator assumed i would know about already and didn’t write down, i’m using the wrong product, or if me and the tutorial makers just have different definitions for what passes as a ‘professional looking’ playing card.

doesn’t help that they don’t include super specific details like how many coats of spray they used or how they set up the space they used to spray the cards, so i have no idea why i’m having so much trouble sealing my cards without getting them stuck to the table and stuff like that.

[the-tarot-witch22]

Personality of your future spouse - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

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Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you guys - 6 of swords, king of wands, 4 of pentacles, king of swords and 9 of wands)

Okay so the first thing i heard and feel is they are quite chatty or like to talk a lot, or travel a lot too when they are sad or not happy with circumstances at hand, They are also very masculine and dominant, like a leader or very bossy, They are also quite outspoken like they won't be quiet, if they see something which doesn't sit right with them, they might tend to not indulge in things which are holding them back, they are quite a problem solver, their advise and wisdom is to die for, they will speak right thing at right time, they might be extrovert too, but they will balance you out well, they like to move forward, they are comfortable in their own skin, they might have had a time or phase where they didn't like how they looked and how they were but time changed them now they comfortable in their own skin, and they try to make other person very comfortable as well, they are not very judgemental, for some of you guys travelling is so prominent, like your future spouse goes to different place, experience different cultures, try different food, it's a part of their personality, they also seem very mature regardless of their age, their situation might have caused them to grow early, they might like to go out or have fun in adventure parks, greenery, they also like to run or keep themselves in shape, for some of you your future spouse seems like a computer geek, they have a very unique and very charming personality, they attract people both genders towards because of their unique sense of humour and personality, they have transformed very much in their lives, for some of you your future spouse has gone through so many changes, hardships which caused them to where they are, they also seem very focused and determined, if they want something they will get it type of attitude, "i heard failure doesn't scare me, not trying enough does" spoken like a real business man, they seems very wise guys, they are also very seductive and sexual , like they are secure in their body, they don't have fragile masculinity, they are very respectful towards people and others, they might not seem to show emotions very well, but you will know they care for you, their action speaks louder than words, they are also quite private about their personal life, they won't be spilling secrets to everyone, just to someone who are close to them, they are also very quite protective and jealous, they won't like anyone clinging onto you, let it be anyone even a pet, like "they are mine", they will make sure the other person knows, you are with them, their temper is calm unless someone provokes them, then they are like they don't even see who is in front of them, they won't hurt you, but their anger is quite bad if someone gets on their bad side, they also seem bit materialistic, because off their past, i feel, they also seem very logical and intellectual a great person to talk to and spend rest of your lives with, they don't take betrayal easy, they might cut off people easily, they sometimes tend to hang on past or just look back at things that has happened but they try not to do that, they know its only gonna waste time and nothing can happen, but they also get proud of their growth, quite confident, they also seem hardworking independent and the person who stands their ground very well, they also don't care what others think of them. They also seem very passionate.

Honestly? They are wonderful! You guys are lucky and so is your future spouse!

They could be fire and air sign in their big 3 or 6. Especially Sagittarius or Aries, or might be you guys as well. Or they can have fire or air midheaven.

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you guys - 4 of pentacles, king of cups, 9 of cups, 5 of swords, The hanged man and page of cups)

Okay so the first thing i felt they wear heart on their sleeves a very honest and open book type of person, they are emotionally mature in tune with them, knows what they want in a person, so forget the fear of mixed signals, because your future spouse will tell you thousand times they want you, give you reassurance, the love you want and desire. They are the kind of person who would not like people eyeing you, very protective some of you can say over protective, but don't be scared they are not controlling but just scared to lose you, because you mean so much to them, they tend to think they are not enough for you and end up overthinking and becoming jealous, and honestly in a good way, i don't feel any negative and ill intentions from them, they tend to give you the world and love you want they won't be like refusing you, they will make sure your needs have been met, they are self sufficient too, and has a good job too, they seem very soft and loving, as i said an open book, so they won't hide things from me, they embrace their both sides, in bed they can be a switch, or be very versatile they tend to make you feel at home and very comfortable, their energy is calm, even while doing your reading i felt sleepy, very soft spoken and soft person, they also seem very curious to learn new things, they might have trouble saying no or might be you as well, They have a good heart, they don't like to cause pain to someone if they end up hurting someone , it will affect them too, they are quite sensitive too, they don't like conflicts they rather avoid having them, they also seem very loyal and honest, i heard "I will die for you queen", i also heard they are very caring towards environment, they will cherish you so much, they might sometimes take things to their heart, they are very sincere too, values honesty a lot, They also seem to have spiritual side, or they seem lucky in money or financial department, they tend to get anxious at times, like at time of conflicts it doesn't seem to suit them, i also feel their manifestations comes easily to them and they just don't realize it , for some of you they could be very religious, they might just be also lucky in general, they also have a tendency to win, or have competitive side to them, when it comes to their profession or you, they are very laid back to or might like procrastinate at times, for some of you your future spouse could be very lazy or just like to sleep in, very attractive and young personality, or they seem younger they might look young or have a heart of child, pure they seem to be very charming, can be quite flirtatious without realizing it, i heard "was it a coincidence, we met?", "i don't think it was i have dreamt of you so many times yet i can't remember you", wow, they just gave me something for you guys.

Your future spouse seem like a sweetheart honestly, so loving, love it for you guys!

Their possible zodiac signs could be - water signs in their big 3 or 6 especially Cancer and Scorpio , or for some of you - earth signs or they can have a water midheaven.

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you guys - 7 of wands, 3 of cups, The empress, Temperance, knight of cups, 3 of swords, 5 of pentacles and the star)

Okay so the first thing i felt was they are quite hardworking, for some of your future spouse could be workaholic and they have so many responsibilities and burden on them, They tend to overthink a lot, they are quite righteous and stand up for people who have been wronged, they like to earn but with their strength and hard work, they also seem kind of serious but warms up when you know them, they like indoors, they might be ambivert and they seem very adaptable, they tend to find happiness in small things around them, their might be someone they are close to or helped them come out of their shell, they tend to have many people or friends but only few of them seem genuine, they also could be teacher or have that teacher personality they like to correct you or tell you things teach you stuff, they might be quite experienced in bed, they also seem very focused and determined to get things done, they don't like to left things on tomorrow, more like do it now, they also seem to like to have parties or small celebration with their loved ones, as i said small things can make them happy and small things can make them angry too, they really seem to focus on self and self growth, i heard "self - righteous person", they have so much to give, the love, the things to their loved ones, their love language could be act of services, they tend to meet their friends or pals a lot, they don't like to do flirting or leading someone on, they are very nurturing and caring too in touch with their feminine side, they also seem to love kids, or they might be good with them, they are financially abundant too, but all because of their hard work, they don't like people who are very codependent, they will care and open up but at their own pace, for some of you they could have a water venus, they are good and caring boyfriend as well as husband, they are also very balanced, or have became balanced, after the traumatic or bad experience in past, but that's for another thing and pac, i won't go in details, but i also feel they got their heartbroken or for some of you they broke someone's heart, but later they now realize their mistake and respect people's emotion, they also seem very gentlemanly, or charming person, they are quite a listener more than a talker, for some of you they like to things slow or for some of you they are quite forward, for some of you they might had trusted wrong people in their friendship or business or work, they seem to be vulnerable too, but with right people, not with everyone if you earn that, they love you, i also feel for some of you they might have brought up in poverty, but now they are doing very much better now and has good job or money, or had a hard time when they were kid or younger, they value for things and money, as i said very caring, i also feel their aura is quite healing or they might work in medical field. They might at time be judgemental or jump to conclusions too, but nothing too bad. I also they are quite happy, when they achieve their desire goals.

They seem like chill person honestly! love it for you guys <3

Their possible zodiac sign in big 3 or 6 - Scorpio, cancer, Gemini, Libra or Virgo and Capricorn, Aries or Leo too.

Pile 4:

(The cards I got for you guys - Wheel of fortune, 6 of cups, 9 of pentacles, strength, the star, king of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, 5 of wands and 10 of pentacles)

Okay so wow the first thing i heard and feel is they are quite the provider or has that let me do it energy, for some of you, your future spouse is very mature, they seem very lucky and have things on their fingertips when they need it, if their is a situation they don't like, the situation seems to improve on its own somehow, they believe in "time is precious don't waste it" very understanding, and have figured out their life purpose, they seem to move forward, for some of you your future spouse seems introvert, but they like to move forward in their own way, they like to win and go ahead, they also feel loved when someone appreciates them and shows them with their actions, they might like to read as well, like self help books, or might be you guys, but they seem into reading anything news, articles, they likes to be updated on political affairs, or what is happening around them, "i also heard timid and shy" so for some of you might be that at first, they created their own fame and luck type of vibe i am getting, they also has a very transformative personality, or went through changes, they might have lost someone young a pet or someone close to them, a grandparent, but all the changes and ending has made your future spouse stand on their own which makes sense why they are very wise or mature, you guys can check pile 1 too, i somehow got similar messages for pile 1, your future spouse personality is very interesting honestly, sweet, spicy and calm, love that vibe i am getting, they seem to like and feel nostalgic things, for some of you animals or helping people make them happy, they seem very sweet, they like to help people and go beyond for that, they might like flowers or nature a lot, they are also quite very independent, and self secure, like they know they are good, they don't need someone's opinion, they value facts or honesty, for some of you they are quite confident, they have worked hard and has achieved their goals, as i said they created their own fame self made person, they are brave , courageous and very spiritual too, they like to believe in old myths too, not a blind follower don't worry, they are quite focused and determined to make their life a better for themselves and others, they believe in equality, They will go to lengths to protect their loved ones, their love is healing, their personality is healing so maybe they have at times attracted broken people in their life, they like to go with the flow, they don't let people treat them as pushover either, in past for some of them could have been, but now it's very different for them, As i said they changed a lot, they definitely are a sugar daddy very rich guys very rich, they might also like to have everything their heart desire let it be anything, when they love they love very deeply, they are also very possessive over their materialistic things and their loved ones, "its mine, so its mine" no one gets to have it, but in a good way, its hot honestly, they are self build and for some of you they have gotten inheritance or comes from old money, they might have been close to their grand parents, i also feel they have stress or they take sometimes too much work pressure which causes them to have inner conflict with them, but they are learning with time, They are also very practical and logical a very much problem solver, they are quite ambitious too and love to work on their goals.

Your future spouse is a package <3, good for you guys!

Their possible zodiac sign in big 3 or 6 - Earth signs especially Capricorn.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

To Be Alive In Summer

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

WORDCOUNT: 8.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, betrayal, intense gore, violence, death, allusions to intimacy, weapons, vulgar language, recovery, torture, happy ending, etc.

A/N: The final request is finished, hope you enjoy it @l-inkage! Onto the AUs next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You didn’t want to do it, but in this job, comfort was always an option and never a guarantee. It needed to be done. And that meant sacrifices had to be made to the dark altar of your contract with One-Four-One.

But this one just might break you in the process. 

“Are you sure that,” you pause and think over the instructions that Price had just given you—straight from the top of the line. “Are you sure that this is the best way, Sir?” 

The man’s lips are flat, eyes narrowed, he doesn’t like this either—especially if you don’t. John’s a Captain, he tallies out orders and expects people to listen without hesitation; doesn’t express his worry about their safety because that isn’t what this is about at the end of the day. It’s about keeping the good people outside of bases like these alive and breathing.

And right now that hinged on you being dead.

“Berto needs mercenaries,” Price grunts, “and any record of you needs to be wiped before we send you in.”

Vito Berto—head of a crime family that had been picking up traction in recent years, so much so that One-Four-One had to be put on it for covert reconnaissance before any more people ended up dead.

You would be sent in under the cover of an experienced mercenary; one among the ranks that Berto would need for a hostile takeover planned in three months on the Palace of Westminster in London. The House of Parliament. 

Vito was one cocky son of a bitch if he expected no one to get word of this.

Your job was to uncover the exact date, time, and the mission plan before getting out as quickly as possible. In order to do that, the soldier holding your name needed to be dead so nothing could be traced back to you, your task force, or your loved ones. 

And people needed to believe it.

“Can’t the records just be forged, Sir?” You ask, the meeting room dark and pulsing with the cold air from the vents. “What about Gaz and Soap?” Your throat closes for a moment and you speak slightly lower. “Simon?”

Price sighs and crosses his arms, fixing the stance of his feet.

“They’ll deal with it.” Inside of your pockets, your hands twitch. 

He won't. Not inwardly.  

“I…” your jaw clenched. 

Your relationship with Ghost was…strange. You’d both had your fun, of course, and you had a casual air about that sort of thing—it had happened, but nothing more could ever come of it. There was a modicum of soft care with you two; an acknowledgment of partnership in the field and out of it. 

You didn’t have to explain to people that Ghost was closer to you than others. You’d seen his face; that says enough. 

“It needs to look real,” Price explains, tilting his head down to you. “Not only for Laswell's state of mind but yours. I won’t be putting you in without giving you the best chance.” 

“You can’t tell them?”

“Negative. Security measure.” You frown, biting at your lip.

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. A second later a hand is set on your shoulder and the man leans in slightly to reassure you like a relative. You look up into your Captain’s gruff face, seeing the small amount of care he levels into his cerulean irises for you. 

He squeezes your flesh, watching hard.

“We need you for this, Trick.” The nickname was exactly why you were the only one who could do this. 

You were the first choice. No one was better at undercover work.

“How long would I be gone, Price?” Shifting out of the hold, you cross your arms and level him with a dead stare. “How long do they have to live with this lie?”

John grunts. “Less than three months, yeah? But all of it’s up to how long it takes to gather intel. Full black.” 

“Exfil point?” 

“Town five miles from Berto’s estate. Cafe with a red door near the bookstore. Woman inside’ll be your handler.” You turn away to glare at the far wall, hesitant even when you know you shouldn't be. This was your job. 

Brown eyes keep flashing behind your eyes—a skeletal mask that stares with stained glistening blood, blood you yourself feel reflected on your own visage. A shared damning of two people who would never see those great halls of the afterlife. Neither of you are good.

Simon had to understand. 

The Captain sees the shift in your expression.

“You in?” He asks you with a blank look. 

You take a deep breath, chest heavy and heart hurting. “I don’t like it,” your voice is low, monotone. “But, yeah, Sir, I’m in.”

“Good,” the man nods, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “It’ll happen in three days. Be ready.”

You watch him walk out of the room, patting you on the shoulder one last time before the door shuts behind him with a click of finality that pierces your lungs. You clear your throat and swallow down saliva, turning your face away as if ashamed. 

It’s the quiet that gets to you in that moment—the encompassing nothingness. So often you would have moments like these with Simon. Just sitting; not taking. But this silence was so different. 

This was betrayal. 

After you steady the slight tremor in your hands, you scoff and shake your head backing up a step before leaving the room; turning off the lights. 

You walk down the long hallway, feet heavy as your mind runs, and overhead the lights buzz like flies. Eyes stuck to the floor, your shoulders are hunched in with thought and your lids half-closed in a display of obvious inner turmoil. 

The shadow that waits for you, leaning against the wall, you walk past entirely—missing it and not hearing the confused call of your name behind you because of it.

“Trick!” Your hand comes up to itch at your chin, fingers pushing into your flesh. The aggressive Manchester accent slides off of you until large fingers curl into the back collar of your vest rig. 

You breathe in sharply, blinking in surprise as your feet get pulled back a step or two, pace halting as Ghost curls around your body, staring down at you. His brows are narrowed, that mask still on and the bottom fabric twisted in the obvious downward press of his lips.

“Bloody hell is wrong with you, then?” 

Sighing, you scowl and shake him off of you, moving back to allow yourself some air. Did he really have to show up now? Why was he even here, you had to ask yourself. Was he…waiting for you?

“Nothing,” you don’t look at him, speaking low. “Distracted, is all.” 

Ghost crosses his arms slowly, his brows flinching briefly as he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Meeting go well?” 

“Fine.” He can tell something’s wrong; you know he can—he’s the best at interrogations for a reason. Ghost knows when someone is lying to him. 

You glance at his chest before you begin to open your mouth. 

What could telling him hurt? Just a hint. He’d get it—I know he would. Berto had the nickname ‘The Tanner,’ given to him by his men. When he found out anyone had double-crossed him, he’d take a large breaking knife and separate the thin layers of skin from his victims. Intel suggests he keeps them awake for all of it, stopping when they pass out only to start again when they wake back up. 

If there was any leak in this base…any at all…you wouldn’t be coming back. 

You wouldn’t be coming back to him. 

Simon’s thighs shift.

“Talk to me.” He always speaks like he doesn’t care about the answer, but you’d be a fool this far into your… relationship? To believe that he didn’t. You’d seen Simon panic over your injured body before—it told you enough. 

The easy moments and the side-eyed looks when he thought you didn’t notice or weren’t doing the same to him. 

Your fingers twitch, forcing a smirk that didn’t convince even you. Your heart was telling you to explain it to him, but your brain was firmly set behind iron doors; tongue held back by iron tongs. 

“Personal matters, Simon. Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes. Brows set in a line and that mask jeering at you; almost mocking. 

The Lieutenant doesn’t answer and your heart is visible from under your gear.

“J-just,” you stutter, face getting hot as you look away. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s…” 

Trailing off, you rub at the back of your head in a self-soothing motion. 

Simon blinks slowly and you hear a large chest-rattling sigh. He shrugs in that way only he can—a fast jerk of shoulders that looks more like he’s trying to push off a bug than simply trying to move past what you’re saying to him. 

“Doesn’t make a difference,” it does. “Garrick and MacTavish are waitin’ down at the firing range. Best get down there ‘fore one comes looking like a kicked dog.” You can still feel him digging into you. Knives and the suspicion in his tone. 

You don’t want to do this to him. Not after all that you’ve gone through together. 

“Right.” Your feet are moving before he is, planted into the floor and pushing off through the small pinches of electricity in the nerves. Pushing out a hard laugh, you try to send him a light smile. “Did you tell them to be ready to get their arses beat?” 

Simon looks down at you as he walks beside your form in large steps; arms swinging. “Haven’t seen ‘em yet. Waiting for you.” 

If it were possible to shrivel up from guilt, you’d be nothing but bones.

“O-oh,” you huff, but it sounds like all of the air has been expelled from your lungs. “You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”

Simon grunts, accent grating as he stares ahead. “Wanted to.” 

“Good. That’s nice.” You feel like screaming. “Thank you.”

It’s nearly instantaneous how fast his eyes go dark with concern. “You sure that head of yours is on straight, Trick?”

You push open the doors outside and wonder if you even have the ability to answer him; out of everyone, you can’t lie to Simon.

“No,” your lips admit quietly, self-degrading in its own right. 

A hand grabs you by the wrist and before you can slip out, you’re being pulled back into the building and pushed into a side room. 

“Hey!” You shout, eyes flashing as the door is shut behind you. You’re released and the light is immediately turned on. “Simon, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Enough,” he levels, and your arms are clasped so you’re facing his chest, looking up into his serious and hard gaze. “Fuckin’ speak to me.” 

You’re surprised at how insistent he is about this. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” you speak through stutters and he growls in his throat. His hands are like motel lava even under his gloves and above your skin—burning like a brand.

“What happened in that meeting room, Trick?”

“It’s classified,” you say, harder than intended, spitting the words with a hint of desperation. If not for your own safety, then for his, but you know that if he keeps asking then you’ll tell him the truth. 

They were going to stage your death, and they won’t be making it pretty. 

“Fuck classified,” he leans in closer, curling over you. “You’re acting like someone’s bloody taking you hostage.”

“Simon! It’s not—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You growl and try to shove away from him, struggling with glaring eyes that go sharp with the onset of tears. “Somethings got you worried and I wanna know what it is.”

Simon wasn’t the greatest at articulation, but neither were you. 

You knew he was trying to tell you he was concerned. The man was holding you tight, but not hurting you; his face close and his shoulders wide. Along your face his eyes were darting, as if he could peel back your skin and make you explain what Price had told you. 

The Captain had given the Lieutenant a look as he’d seen him waiting for you but had said nothing. That alone had tipped Ghost off to something being wrong. 

But you weren’t having it.

Yanking out of Simon’s hands, you shake your head and put on your worst glare—meeting muddy brown and huffing. 

“Mind your own business, Riley. It’s for your own good.” The man blinks in mute shock, fingers in the air twitching before they fall to his sides.

You speed-walk out of the room before he can speak, lips slightly parted at your strange behavior. 

For his own good? What in the hell did that mean? 

Simon’s jaw clenches, a grunt in his chest as he aggressively rolls his wrist. He turns to follow after. The both of you don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

Your body shakes along with the helo as it takes off, carrying you away from the scene of gunfire down below. In your earpiece, you hear the loud calls and yelling from your friends. Gaz is calling out to Price to give him permission to move up; the Captain too busy grappling Soap to the ground. 

Ghost is taking cover behind a wall, but he’s not quiet. 

“Trick’s in the damn building!” 

No, I’m not, you want to flick on the line and tell him. Over the three days before this operation you'd barely spoken—in fact, you’d been avoiding all of them fervently by the mass amount of guilt in your stomach. 

In the nights, you hadn’t even slept, and now you’re sure it’ll take even longer too.

Their forms become tinier, and you grasp the roof’s handle as the helo rises farther and farther. 

“Price!” Simon barks. “We have to get her—”

“There’s no time!” John responds, grunting and forcing Johnny down as he spits curses and tries to call your name over the comms. You flinch violently, looking away for a moment. “We’re surrounded!”

“I can get through!” Bullets wiz through the comms, and you can nearly imagine you are down there—trapped in the house down the way after being shot and injured by hosties. But you’d never been in that house. Never been alone down the way for recon. 

You’d been at the second exfil point. Price knew it. Laswell knew it. 

But Simon had not. 

“Negative, Ghost! Keep where you are, we can get to her later. We need to—” The building you were supposed to be in explodes in a fiery wreck; a great bloom cloud going into the air as the helo shakes from the after-blast. 

You have to turn your face away, shielding your eyes. The pilot calls to see if you’re alright, but you don’t answer. All you can hear is the screams.

“Trick!”

“Simon, get back into bloody cover!” 

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!” It gets too much—the bareness of his panic for you. The panting breath; the running stomp of feet.

You rip the connection from the radio on your vest and place a hand over your mouth, breathing as if you had really been in an inferno like a piece of fodder. 

Simon had already been through so much in his life, and doing this to him as well as the task force was the definition of betrayal of the loyalty you’d cultivated.

Of the love.

Because you did love him—even if you’d never say it to each other. If he found out about what you did, which he would eventually, in one way or another, he’d hate you for the rest of his life. So perhaps you were mourning, as you stare below as the helicopter takes you higher and higher up. Farther away from him. You were mourning what you had, because you knew it would never be the same. 

Simon Riley would never trust you again, and all you had to blame was yourself. 

The tiny tears dribble out of you and fall all the way down to the ground, where the man still screams for you to answer him; John barks orders with a sheen of panic in his eyes from the bare-bones ferality of the Lieutenant. Brown eyes blazed and cities burned in his pupils. 

John had underestimated the bond that the two of you shared. 

And he just might pay the price for it.

—

Getting through selection was far easier than getting through SAS training, Vito Berto seemed to only want mercenaries that had the faintest hint of the ability to hold a smuggled weapon. It made sense because if the people he was planning to send in were well-trained, it would be easier to trace to him—ability equaled a higher level of intelligence. Planning. Resources. 

To fit in, you made sure to miss a few of your shots, even if it made your instinctual perfectionism rise. John would have torn you a new one if you’d missed this many during your selection all those years back. Probably would have asked how a Muppet like you had gotten this far with shite aim like that.

But Berto ate it up like Sunday dinner. Gave you the nickname Cross, actually. Like the crosshair of a scope.

It was safe to say you despised him. 

But the days grew longer and the nights short with all of your running around. You’d found out that your Captain’s timeline was incorrect—the attack wasn’t in three months, it was in two. And while Berto was cocky, he wasn’t reckless. 

He somehow knew there was a breach in the ranks; you could see it by how he looked over the squads in the underground bunker, all of you hidden under rock and stone like prisoners. The man would sneer, eyes filtering back and forth from the perch. 

Sometimes you had to stop yourself from simply taking the shot presented in front of you and deal with the consequences afterward.

Price had been clear: all of the people gathered here needed to be taken care of quickly and quietly—if you snapped, the rest would disappear like roaches. Alive and biding time.

During those two months, the thoughts of Simon wouldn’t leave you. 

Moments that seeped in behind closed eyelids after you’d slunk back into bed, the USBs full of vital intel stashed into the lining of your uniform in a small hidden pocket. His twitching smile and those deep scars along his face; the ones that would never go away. 

In those moments you wondered what it would be like if you had told him how much you cared for his quiet company or his dark humor. The way he would level a hand on the small of your back off duty at the bars as a way to silently shield you from the stares from patrons. 

You’d never be able to tell him now. 

Vito “The Tanner” Berto knew of a leak, and when you came back to the bunker after sending out the multiple USB sticks, the physical files, and the first-hand accounts of what was going on—eager for just a little more to make this betrayal worth it…he was waiting. 

You could only fight off so many others, no matter how subpar the training on their part, before sheer mass overtook ability. Like a house of cards with a bowling ball, you were shoved to the ground surrounded by multiple dead bodies of those you’d taken down with you—writhing and hissing as if a feral animal. 

Restraints were leveled with your wrists; your head pulled back so your nose faced the ceiling. You only stopped struggling when the chilled barrel of a pistol was set under your chin.

Breath stilling, it was hard to understand how, even then, all that was in the front of your mind was Simon. Simon and his brown eyes. Simon and his screams when that building went up in fire and smoke.

“Trick!”

You could still hear the exact pitch and rhythm like it was yesterday.

“Cross,” Berto mutters, gun heavy as it digs into your flesh. Men pant and grapple to keep you back as you sneer and jerk your arms. “I should have known it would be you.” 

“Well,” you growl, teeth bared, “obviously you didn’t.”

A slow smirk runs on his lips. 

“No, but I’ll have to rectify this. I can’t have you getting in the way.” You can only hope that the intel gets out before the end of the second month—if not, then all of this was for nothing. 

Why couldn’t you have left when you had the chance?

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!”

He was why. 

Simon—the source of all of your problems and the only person who could fix them besides yourself. It’s a sick joke really. 

Vito grabs your chin and you huff out a swift breath, heart skipping beats as he burrows his digits tightly into your skin; hard enough to leave marks. He sighs and clicks his tongue and you have to keep back a whimper as his nails create crescents along your jaw. 

“You won’t tell me anything, will you, then?”

“Negative,” you spit, heated. 

He scoffs. “Of course.” 

Berto throws your head back as you try to snap out and bite at his hand, rabid, but the man’s already gone and the mercenaries behind you yank you back like a dog on a leash. Your knees slide along the floor and you rage trying to turn around before the others are forced to shove your face into the ground. There is a distinctive snapping in your nose bridge as the concrete comes up to meet you; the tears come instinctually after—unable to be stopped as you yell in pain. 

Blood floods your nostrils and mouth, making you cough as Vito’s voice echoes in your ringing ears. 

“Let me get my knives.” 

—

They had you chained in some damp back room, the corners riddled with mold spores and the air heavy with condensation. You were tied to the ceiling—feet dangling uselessly below you and the tips of your boots dragging across the floor with a quiet scrape and a creak of metal. 

Above you, on the hook, the chains were tied so ruthlessly that you’d lost circulation to your arms entirely, nothing but an electric buzzing far inside of your bones. Akin to the static of a TV screen in between connections. Your clothes had been shredded by blades—long sections of your flesh underneath, cut away. 

Blood stains most, if not all, of the floor. It drips from your nose; it falls like rain to pool at your feet in rippling crimson. 

Simon had been your partner during required interrogation training and he was far better at it than you. The man could go for hours through the mental strain that was leveled out by other soldiers on him; stoic and silent. It was the way his eyes would blank that told you he could live through far worse—that he already had. You’d had your fair share as well, but never before had you felt as hopeless as this. 

There was a slim chance that anyone would come for you here. Laswell and Price would carry the guilt of it, but you didn’t want them to. 

The blood slips over your lips, and the taste of copper makes you gag; spitting out saliva from your lips. 

It was half your choice, after all. 

You try to slip into a happy memory as the lights fade in and out, the footsteps and mutterings outside the door of little interest anymore.

ironic, that the man with the mask of a dead person brought you comfort when so little could. 

You never got to tell him how much you loved him. A thin smile comes across your lips. 

“Shouldn’t be out here this late,” the man utters as you lay out in the field, arms and legs splayed and twitching when the long grass brushes against them. “Past curfew.”

“Like you aren't out here with me?” You raise an eyebrow, looking up at the stars now that the large base lights have been dimmed. The air is cold, and the breeze makes you shudder through a chill. But you don’t wipe that smile from your lips. “Bit hypocritical, Simon.”

You hear a low grunt. 

“Out ‘ere because you weren’t answering your damn door.” A shadow slips to your side, and the man settles down with a huff on his lips. Simon retired his combat mask for a simple balaclava instead, and he sighed long as he settled his arm on the bent form of his right leg. 

You blink over at him, raising a brow. 

“Looking for me, Ghosty?” 

“Bloody hell, Trick.” You chuckle, shifting your arms to rest on your chest as you look back at the stars far above. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Big Guy.” The man shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone you’re going soft for me.” 

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Trick, I’m tellin’ you to—”

“Shh!” You wave a hand in his direction, silencing him and making him blink at you in deep annoyance and confusion. Ghost’s eyes were narrowed, the black of his face paint gone and smelling like standard issue body wash. 

He must have gotten out of the shower and come to see if you were still awake before making his way outside when you never answered the door. Funny how he knew where you would be.

“Fucking what, then?” He growls, shoulders wide.

You place a finger to your ear, shifting so you’re sitting up on one elbow and facing Simon. On your face, a wide smile lingers, but on his, the dark brows narrow with knowledge of a deceitful event incoming. “Listen.” 

A silence falls, Simon’s ears twitching for something in the long grass or across the field. Nothing. Nothing but the breeze and the way your face glowed as you watched him, eyes glinting with amusement. 

After a long minute or two, he looks at you with utter bewilderment. You lean in closer, poking a finger into his bicep.

“Can you hear it, Simon?” You’re one of the few he lets call him that, though never in public.

He glares. “No.”

You flutter your digits in the air, giggles trapped in your mouth. A whisper hits the Lieutenant’s ears. “Silence.”

“Bugger off,” he hisses as you reel back and belt out laughter, holding your sides and lightly curling into yourself. “You’re worse than Johnny. Jesus.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You let your laughter die down to chuckles, sanctity of night broken, but not so between the two individuals who look at each other with brimming affection none will name. 

“You’re the one that came to find me, remember?” Your tease makes Ghost roll his eyes, looking away across the open area with its wave-like grasses.

“You’re right, then, I did,” Simon grunts, his hand coming up to rub his neck. “Mistake on my part.”

“Jerk,” a soft slap is leveled to his arm and he chuckles deeply. “But you can’t fool me, Ghosty. I know you’ll always come lookin’ for me—I’m too important to you to lose.”

“Keep kiddin’ yourself, Trickster.” He doesn’t say how he would agree with the statement, it was true after all. “I won’t be dragged into your bloody messes.”

He wouldn’t leave you behind to drown in them, even if it was as simple as you sneaking out of your bunk to watch the stars. 

You’d both known each other too long for that.

You smile over at him as he sighs before slipping off his mask, itching at his stubble with hard fingers. The air settles. No comment about it entering in on the see-through waves—there didn’t need to be one. 

“Mhm,” you hum, beaming. “You keep thinking that, Big Guy.”

“Trick!” Your memory shifts, and you sit up immediately. You’d thought you’d just heard…

Eyes dart out over the field, jumping back and forth rapidly. You look to the side, but Simon is gone entirely.

“Simon?” Heart beating, you stand fully up and turn in a fast circle, confusion and fear infecting your mind.

“Trick!” Pain sparks in your body, and you hiss and grab at your clothes. You blink so fast that you half-believe the world is ending.

“S-Simon?!” What was happening? What was hurting so bad? Where did Simon go?

“Trick, fucking wake up!”

Your eyes snap open and you instantaneously feel the burning pain inside of your ribs. 

The ground is underneath you, hard and wet from your own blood as you yowl and cough, air entering your lungs in quick bursts. 

Hands encase your cheeks, shaking your head—keeping you present. 

A skeletal mask littered with droplets of human fluid stares down at you, and behind it, panicked brown eyes slash through your psyche in the small moment between agony and confusion. 

Simon?

“Holy hell.” It’s that same Manchester accent. The same scrape of vocal cords. “Alright, Sweetheart. Keep those eyes open—keep ‘em on me, yeah?” 

What was going on? You try to open your mouth to say something but all of it is lead. Were your ribs broken? How? And why was Simon’s bottom covering pushed up to his nose; his lips stained with blood? 

The man frantically goes to press into his radio.

“This is Bravo 0-7,” he breathes, and you whimper as your throat gets clogged with congealed saliva and blood. You cough violently, gagging, and Ghost quickly turns you on your side to help you expel it. His hand is hard on your shoulder. 

“I say again, this is Bravo 0-7!” Those browns never leave you, shocked and serious. “Price, I’ve got ‘er. It’s not good; had to revive but I don’t know how long she’s got.”

Revive? You’re spacing in and out, limp, and trying to breathe. 

Simon tears open his medical pouch and begins wrapping tourniquets—packing the wounds with gauze until you can get proper medical treatment on the helo back to base. 

“Bloody…” he trails, Price barking an order over the connection to bring you out; the firefight was moving to the East to give him an opening to sneak back out. “C’mon, Trick.”

Everything swims; you want to go back to that field—those stars. 

Simon was here? Truly? The thought was hard to understand in your state. 

“S-Sim—” Your voice gurgles, and you can’t feel your legs. You had to tell him. Tell him the good and the bad; all of it.

“Don’t talk,” he growls, moving you as your body seizes in a state of static shock. “I’m getting you out of ‘ere.” You’re lifted up in one grand movement, Simon grunting as he shifts you carefully into a bridal hold. “Then you’re going to explain this to me when you’re squared. Won’t take no for an answer.” 

You could feel the anger sizzling off of him even half-conscious. The mixing emotions that convulsed into a mess of adrenaline and desperation. Forcing your eyes to stay open, you blink up at him as he glances down at you at the same time, just before he exits the door he had broken down. 

The visible skin of his lips and chin tighten; going down with the twitch of with a serious frown. Something flutters behind his eyes as he stares before glancing away and clearing his throat. 

“Eyes on me, Trickster. Don’t you dare close ‘em.” You grimace as he begins jogging, heavy boots echoing along the empty corridor as the sounds of gunfire and pandemonium sound off from the other side of the bunker. 

It was hard to push back the black at the sides of your vision; already it was seeping back in. Ghost holds you tight, unwilling to even let you slip an inch from his grip as the lights above swirl, brightening and dimming. 

“Oi!” You’re jostled, and you snap back to it, tensing as your wounds flex and pull. Simon glares. “What’d I just say?”

Your weakly poisoned grimace makes his lips twitch up. 

“Good.” 

There’s the sudden flick of a safety being clicked off, and the Lieutenant halts in a jerking of feet and a ruffle of canvas.

“I’ve heard about a Ghost making his rounds, hm?” Berto stands at the end of the hall, pistol held in front of him. “I saw an apparition disappearing to find one of its own. No worries. She’ll be a ghost, too, soon enough. Perhaps I’ll have to put you both to rest together.” 

The voice makes you go panicked, remembering the tear of flesh and the sharp blades slicing your skin away, chunks that peeled, and the long stripes of flexible tendons. Your lungs fight for breath, your head weakly slapping into Simon’s neck after an attempt to move your body. Limbs shake and battle nerves; the fabric of your brain.

Your blood stains the man’s gear all the way down the front. It’s dripping to the floor, down his arms and off his elbows. You’re bathing him in it—a full-body baptism of betrayal. 

“Berto,” Ghost says, accent casual despite the gun leveled at him. The name is drawn out. “Apologies, but I’m taking back what’s mine.” He tilts his head. “Scratch that, I’m not apologizing for getting back on a Bastard like you, eh? Pity I can’t hang you up like a hog, I’m proper good with a blade too, but as you can see, I’m on a crunch.” 

Vito’s face goes confused, skin scrunching. “What—”

The bang of a bullet being discharged echoes down the way. The clatter of a great expulsion of air from lungs. Stumbling. Gargles. 

The slam of a body to the ground. 

Smoke spreads up from under the clutch of your knees, where Ghost holds the abyssal body of an M19 forward, his finger lightly on the trigger before he shifts it back in well-practiced discipline. 

“Slag,” he spits. 

Simon hikes you farther into him, lending over his available body heat as you shiver. He presses his face into the top of your head, sighing in relief before starting his pace again. The man’s lips brush your flesh as your lids flutter. 

“Still with me?” You whine into his neck, fingers twitching. “I know it hurts, Love. I know. Easy with it.” 

It didn’t just hurt, it burned. Buried like the nine layers of Hell. 

He keeps whispering to you, slinking around corners and stepping into shadows. By the time he makes it outside with you, the chill of the air on the bottom of his face he didn’t even bother to re-cover, you’re tapering on the edge of oblivion again. 

Teetering like a porcelain doll on the end of the high shelf. 

“Bravo 0-6, leaving the bunker now, I need that MedEvac prepped and ready to go,” Simon speaks quickly, not wasting a single instant. 

John’s voice wafts through. “Copy, 0-7. Helo is comin’ in, be ready it’s going to get hot!” 

“Affirm. Keep it frosty down ‘ere.” There’s a low chuckle and the swift wizz of bullets. 

“Get our Trickster back in one piece, Ghost.” Simon hears the buzzing of helicopter blades in the night, a slick form descending from the dark clouds not moments later. He turns away from the flurry of air, walking hurriedly backward so the air doesn’t aggravate you. 

“Trick,” Ghost calls to you above the noise, hearing the hurried feet of medics coming out to take you from him. Your face is scrunched and you burrow into him. “I’m handing you over!” 

You try to open your eyes enough to convey your unease at that. You have to tell him. You have to explain why you had to do it. The guilt is eating you; gnawing with red teeth and gripping with devil’s claws. You have to explain that you love him even if he hates you now. 

Medics grapple you away, and you are in pain, lips peeling back to gasp sharply, thrashing. 

No!

“Fuck,” Ghost growls, pulling you away from the men as they ask him what in the bloody hell he’s doing. He doesn’t even know—all he knows is that he’s pissed at you for what you did, but never in a million years did that mean he wanted to see you in pain. 

Simon can’t lie, when he was told you were alive, the universe had held its breath. A miracle. A ruse. But alive. Alive and trapped. 

“Stop it!” He yells, caging you into him. “I’m here! I’m right here, Trickster!” 

You’re already too gone for it, not recognizing the metal of the helo as you’re settled on your back, the loud slam of the door. Fingers pull and prob as you hiss and snap, suffocating. 

Ghost holds down your shoulders, his eyes right above yours—but you’re not looking. The helo takes off

“Bloody hell,” Simon yells. “Look at me!” 

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but your eyes open just the slightest bit wider. Brown melts into your pupils, taking you in and reminding you of chilled summer nights. Simon. You pant but stop struggling. 

The medics jump into action, ripping away the remains of your shirt and pants so they can get to the wounds; assess the damage done. 

“That’s it,” Simon sighs long, swallowing. “That’s a girl. There we go, Sunshine.” 

You blink, face peeled as everything swirls far more aggressively this time. 

“Listen to me, Trick. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you understand. You said I’d always find you, yeah?” Hands grab your cheeks. “Well, I fucking did, eh? I found you. We’re gonna fix you up, Sweetheart. It’ll all be gone by morning.” You stutter down a breath, ragged throat stretching.

“Let ‘em fix you up—”

“I love you.” 

It all fades to black, but all you remember is the sweep of horror that spreads behind the man’s eyes.

—

“You went back,” Price’s arms are crossed, and he stares at you as your fingers play with the sheets of the hospital bed. “Why?”

You sigh and rub at your face.

“Trick.”

“I felt like I needed to,” you give away, twitching your fingers out in an expression of nonchalantness. “I felt…” Your voice trailed off into a growl. “Bad.”

“Feelings aren’t a part of this, Trickster, you bloody know that,” John hisses, leaning his head closer as you glare silently. “If you’d left when you could, none of this would have fucking happened.” 

“I feel bad, Price!” You break, snapping. “I fucking know! But I-I thought if I just got a bit more intel, then this would have been worth it.” Taking a deep breath you shake your head and rub at your face, all of the bandages and stitches pulling tight. “It’s eating at me. I can’t…I can’t just act like what I lied about can be forgotten.” 

You shrug as the man listens silently, monitors beeping and the small buzz of the overhead lights. 

“Soap barely looks at me—Gaz gave me that fucking pity smile and it makes me want to scream.”

“They’ll get over it.” The Captain repeats what he said months prior firmly. “They know the Op was top priority, they’ll grow up and be back to fucking around in days.”

You scoff, muttering in a dejected tone. “He won’t.”

John is still, fixing his feet from under him as he rolls his nose and looks away slowly. 

Simon hadn’t come to visit once in the time you’d been here in the ward—four days. That fact alone makes you restless. You don’t remember what you said to him, if you said anything. But you knew that he wasn’t going to be going out of his way to be near you anymore. 

You’d taken a grenade to the relationship you’d built. Toy building blocks are scattered. 

“Simon’s…Simon,” Price ends on. You groan and itch at the IV in your hand. “He cares about you more than anyone, yeah? He just needs time. Wasn’t himself after the set-up.”

“I’ve been told,” Gaz had informed you about the Lieutenant's self-isolation after your ‘death’. The snappy orders—deathly glares. He’d gone back to the ruthless man he was in the field and instead of being directed at his enemies, it was directed at them.

Kyle explained how he’d argued with Price about how he could have gotten to you, before abruptly falling silent and stalking away as if a flip had been switched. Snake eyes and clenched fists. 

They’d heard him in the gym late at night, reaming on the punching bags. They didn’t think he slept more than three hours per day if the red lines in his eyes were anything to go by.

And then they were told that you were alive but captured, and he’d gotten worse.

You’d nearly started sobbing when the Sergeant had told you all of that.

“I betrayed his trust, Price,” you level. “I…I never wanted to do that to him. Ever. Not Simon.”

A shadow passes by the door just as the Captain grunts. “That’s the job.”

“That’s not the job I signed up for when I got into this. We don’t lie to our own.”

“‘We get dirty, the world—’” You cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘stays clean’.” Your eyes level with his. “I can do the dirty work, John, you know that. Infiltration and undercover work is what I’m good at.” The man nods slightly. “But if you ask me to betray One-Four-One’s trust again, I’m out.”

Blue eyes blink in shock, but you don’t let him speak.

“Find someone else to get fake blown up in a building. I can’t get his fucking screams out of my head.” John watches you silently, eyes narrowed. 

You meet that gaze head-on, not backing down from this.

The Captain shakes his head a minute later. “Bloody made for each other,” he mutters under his breath, grunting. Another shadow slips past going the opposite direction, probably a nurse.

Without another word John turns and exits the room, tossing a hand behind his head casually in a way to say goodbye.

You huff and roll your eyes, heat on your cheeks. 

The day wains, and you let the nurses come in to do their checkups and replace the IV. As the curtains are pulled back into place, supper sits heavy in your stomach. 

You wanted to see Simon. 

You knew it wouldn’t go well, and wouldn’t be the goody-goody outcome you prayed for…but you felt wrong without apologizing in person. It went against your morals, and already those were incredibly skewed. Maybe he’d yell, or even ignore you as if you weren’t there.

Simon wasn’t above not speaking to people he didn’t like.

You had to try.

When all was dark, you shuffled out of the hospital bed and fought the weakness of your legs. Shaking like a leaf, you walked around with only your tied gown, unapologetic of the slit down the back showing flashes of your bra and underwear. 

It wouldn’t be anything the Lieutenant hadn’t seen before.

Walking through the silence, you sigh and stand outside of his door; dread in your heart and seeping from the pulled stitches of your wounds. Your bare feet on the tile make you shiver. 

Lifting up a fist, you hesitate. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, sliding forward before you pull it back to you. Closing your eyes tight, you clench your jaw once and take a deep breath.

Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.

The sequence was your call sign. If you knocked like that, he would know it was you—whereas Simon's own was just a single slam of the side of his fist.

The only real problem now was that he wasn’t answering.

You stare dumbly at the barrier, blinking like a fool. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to understand the realization that he wasn’t ignoring you—he just wasn’t in his room. 

Taking a step back, you rub the back of your neck in exasperation and hurry to the nearest exit.

“Of course,” you breathe. You know exactly where he is at a time like this.

The field holds a standing shadow, a ghost of issued fatigues with a thick jacket against the chill that leaves you shivering. Simon stares out over the training grounds with his hands in his pockets, balaclava pulled all the way down to hide him from you. 

You come to a slow halt behind him and stare. 

It’s not long before the man gunts, turning his head back from over his shoulder to look at you blankly. He knew you were there.

The eye contact stays for a long, long while—until you’re hypnotized in the shades of brown and amber and the large build that seems to broaden because of your appearance.

“I’m here to apologize.” You say it breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to hear me out, but I have to let you know I regret doing it. Price said that it was time-sensitive and I—”

Stopping yourself, you look away. It sounded too much like an excuse, you hissed to yourself. At the end of the day, it was still your acceptance that pushed the pawn forward. 

“I’m sorry, Simon,” you breathe. “I betrayed your trust.”

His eyes are piercing you, but you still can’t look at him. The man slightly turns your way. His voice was monotone and grunting out like a dog.

“You think I couldn’t handle it?” Your heart starts, and you’re shaking your head instantly.

“No.” You explain quickly—honestly. “It’s that…I didn’t want you to.” 

You hear his lips take in a quiet breath. Simon rolls his shoulders before looking away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“You said you loved me.” Your body freezes, jaw going slack as your face drops. You don’t speak, mute as if the air in your lungs has been stolen.

You had done…what?

All of your tricks couldn’t get you out of this one.

“I,” you force a fake laugh, hands beginning to shake. “I, what? No, I’m sure that’s not what I said. A-are you sure it wasn’t, like, an ‘I appreciate you’ or maybe a…a,” your voice catches. “A whole ‘I’m fond of you’ sort of thing…? Hm?”

Simon takes a step forward and you take one back. This was worse than torture, you decided. The pain in your pulling stitches and re-set nose was welcome here.

“Trick,” Ghost utters, and you stare hard at his neck, humming. “Stop talking.”

“Copy,” you whisper quickly, shoulders falling. 

He’s so close you can feel his body heat melting into you, and you want nothing more than to touch him. Simon’s hand comes up to your chin, and he angles it up as you stop breathing, lips parted.

“I heard you in the med ward talkin’ to Price. Was outside the door the ‘ole time.” The shadow. 

He tilts your head to the side to stare at the medical tape over the slashes in your skin. The scars won’t bother you—you had plenty of others to show as well. But Simon was…studying you. Assessing. 

His eyes blink slowly with those long pale lashes, and they slide up to you as he leans in close to your ear. Still, you stand comatose.

“You put me through a fucking heap ‘o hurt, Love.” You stare over his shoulder, not speaking, not moving. 

Simon leans back and lets go of your chin, brushing a finger over your nose and the puffy skin there.

“Never do that again.” It’s final, how he says it. But the layers of depth are plain to hear. Simon speaks low and even—gaze trapping yours like a curse. 

You know he won’t talk about the things you’ve heard. The aggression or the late-night gym trips. You’ve known him for years, and know his brain like the back of your hand.

Shivering, you nod once, content with not answering verbally to break the sanctity of the moment. Seeing Simon like this made you ease your fears. You clear your throat to push back the stuffiness.

“Thought you held grudges, Big Guy?” Nearly not heard, you mutter and pick at where the IV needle is supposed to be. 

A hand catches yours and stops you from making it bleed.

“Do,” Ghost grumbles, turning your hand over and moving his face closer until you feel his breath. “Just not with my Bird.” 

His balaclava is suddenly up to his nose, and those lips that had been covered in your blood previously situated themselves perfectly to yours. 

You gasp, arm outstretched beside you in shock. 

You’d kissed him before, but this felt different. More intimate. Simon’s arms slip around your waist, and you retaliate by locking your shaking arms behind his back, feeling the gentle passes of his lips. 

Mouth to mouth, you breathe each other in as if grasping for the other’s soul in desperation. A desperation that tells you how much the beast of a man around you was terrified of your death and the body he had to carry into the helo—of the lengths he would go to stave death from touching your tender flesh. 

No, only he was allowed to do that, and he was a reaper in his own right.

A small death that infected you at every breath puffing into your mouth, every whine and whimper he could draw like water to swallow down as ambrosia. Nectar of the Gods, and it was right there in his arms. Back. Alive. 

To be alive in the summer field of this old military base was to accept that death, and into it, hope that the few moments you had together truly made a difference. 

Simon would hold you there—and when that was done, wrap you in his jacket and carry your battered body back inside; watching your swollen lips and the wide eyes as they gaze back at him. 

Because he could hate you all he wanted for this, for the lies, for the way you made him care…but the both of you would still be alive to do so.

He guessed that was all that mattered.

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[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Everyone Else Is No.2 {One-Shot}***

Lewis Hamilton x Attorney Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, Mature 18+ Content, Angst, PLENTY OF WORDS, DIALOGUE HEAVY

Words: 15.2k

Summary: Again, nah.

Note: Inspired by that old August Alsina song "Kissing on My Tattoos". So sorry for how long it is and for the long sentences toward the end, it couldn't be any other way. Forgive the weird spacing throughout, Tumblr has a 1,000 block limit per post, and guess who reached it before correcting the spacing.

Note II: Really interested in hearing what you guys think about this one. Let me know.

As always, thank you guys for reading! I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this.

If you did enjoy this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

-Y/N-

"You're beautiful you know that right?"

You smiled and took a sip of your drink.

"Thanks."

The man sitting across from you, Darius, nodded and before he looked down to his plate you caught his eyes drop to your cleavage. Of course, you thought. This was your 2nd date with him. The first went smoothly though you'd went with little to no expectations for it to be so. Tonight, he said the right things, did the right things, and was the perfect gentleman.

He'd even chosen a great restaurant. The ambiance was perfect for a second date. So far you had only counted 2 things that were less than satisfactory, everything was on point. He was so on point that you wondered if he was acting and not being his genuine self.

You hated the dating scene. Everyone held their cards too close to their chest. No one was ever real about anything. Everyone liked to waste people's time all in the name of fun and sex. These days you only treated dating as a pastime and a way to relieve stress after long hours of working on briefs and reviewing case files.

"A woman with your track record in law. Wheeew. Was it hard?"

You shrugged then wiped the corner of your mouth, "It definitely wasn't easy. I still remember the sleepless nights, and times when I only had 1 meal a day. My parents still remember not seeing me for 3 months because of the bar and my first major case that came nearly right behind the other. They won't let me forget it."

"It looks like it paid off. You're on the partner track. Shit, you'd be the first woman under 35 to make that happen at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw," Darius said.

You bristled, but politely smiled and took another sip of your wine.

"I'm sorry I don’t mean to make this weird I'm just in awe of you."

You studied him for a few moments but found no lie. You could always tell a lie. No matter what the case, no matter who it was. It was your secret weapon and it served you well as a lawyer.

"Thank you, but enough about me. What about you? Tell me about Darius Forrester."

He smiled, licked his lips then looked you directly in the eye.

"I'm pretty much a what you see you get kind of guy. I've been at Berry & Clark for the last 6 years as a criminal attorney. The work is challenging but I do alright for myself.

You nodded. He did. From what you heard his win ratio was nearly 92% and he took upstanding cases. He was a good attorney. Normally you wouldn’t shit where you ate because mess was not your style. You did not want to walk into a courtroom or boardroom and see the opposing counsel was an ex. That one thing gave you nightmares.

So dating lawyers was out of the question. You dipped in every other career field, playing it safe. The further they were from a law career the better. However, after a conversation with your other lawyer girlfriends about limiting oneself in the already limited dating pool, something clicked, and you decided to try it once but only if they weren't in your firm. Darius was your first attempt.

As he continued to tell you facts about himself you listened, but he didn't have your full attention. There was another person who held your attention, a person who though was usually out of sight was never really out of mind.

You heard your phone sound from your clutch resting on the table and both your eyes shot to it. Darius spoke before you moved.

"Go ahead please."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm an attorney as well, Y/N I know you come attached to it."

You smiled, held up your finger to him silently promising it would be quick, then took your phone in hand. You expected it to be Kemi, your paralegal, with files you were expecting, but it wasn't her name on your screen.

MSG Lewis: What're you doing tonight? Going over an endless to-do list of contracts and briefs?

You smirked.

MSG: Not even close.

MSG Lewis: Wow did someone finally decide to live a little and cut loose?

MSG: This sounds an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black.

MSG Lewis: Plead the 5th.

MSG: The Lewis Hamilton out maneuvered. Say it ain't so.

MSG: I'm close to your place. Just got back in town. Can you be ready in 10?

Your eyes flitted to Darius across from you who was taking the time to check his messages as well. You looked over him slowly, noting again how great he looked in his suit and how you liked the effort he had put in the last 2 dates down to the flowers he brought you and the activities you'd done. Things could progress if you chose to allow them to.

MSG Lewis: Is that a no?

MSG: I'm not home.

MSG Lewis: Okay. Where you at, the office? I can come pick you up.

MSG: I'm not at the office. I'm actually on a date.

You waited a few seconds, but he didn’t reply. Why didn't he reply?

"Everything ok?"

Caught off guard, you looked back up to Darius whose eyes were already on you. His brows were knitted with concern.

"Uh--yeah. I uh--I think so."

"A case?"

You thought about it and technically he was right. You were Lewis' entertainment lawyer. You were his personal attorney who reviewed the contracts after the company attorney said they had. You gave it to him between the eyes, never sugarcoating, and told him what was made with his best interest and what was made to capitalize off of him. However, when your services weren’t needed you were friends. Had been for practically a decade now.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you’d known each other that long. You’d known him since he was just another F1 driver rather than the greatest. He knew you when you were going through school always on an empty tank all in the hopes of rising above the tax bracket you were born into. A decade later and he was dominating F1 and you’d more than risen yourself several levels past the tax bracket you’d been born into.

You were on the partner track at one of the largest firms in Europe. You brought in more revenue than most of the attorneys at the firm thanks to your high-class clientele. You'd both worked your asses off to get to this level and enjoyed the spoils of your labor often. You clubbed together, went to dinner, and sometimes did the vacation vibe together. You enjoyed one another’s company.  

"A client."

"Oh. Everything cool or---," Darius said.

Another message came in just then. "Everything is cool."

Darius smiled. "Good. I'll be right back, men’s room."

"Yeah."

Darius stood then walked off leaving you with the perfect opportunity to check your phone.

MSG Lewis: Is that right?

MSG: Yeah. 2nd date. Well technically 3rd if you can have 2 dates in one day.

MSG Lewis: Cool. Is it going well?

MSG: Yeah. He's made it this far.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

MSG: When he drops me home Ill text you. Come get me then.

Several moments passed before he replied. Again, you wondered why.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

The remainder of dinner you were distracted. Darius played all his cards right, even scoring himself the green light on a little hand-holding action. You had to admit he was smooth. When he pulled up to your condo building he walked you to your door then went in for a kiss. You hadn’t expected it, but rather than pull away, you allowed it to play out. It wasn’t a bad kiss. He hadn’t been too overzealous, only slipped you a little tongue, and had kept his hands respectful. All in all, for a first kiss it was a solid 8.

With a promise to call to set date number 4 sometime next week, you went inside and allowed yourself to come down. The dating scene was not something you enjoyed often. You always felt like you were performing, like men wanted a certain kind of woman, the perfect woman who they could prance around on their arm to make other men envious and that took its toll.

You never felt you had to perform with Lewis. Never felt like he wanted the perfect you. He made fun of you whenever you were perfectly put together for work meetings and said many times he liked you out of the makeup and heels. After another sigh, you took your phone out and texted him.

~~~~~~

-Lewis-

The ceiling looked like every other ceiling he’d ever seen but that didn’t stop him from focusing most of his attention on it like it was the most interesting piece of construction ever. His eyes should have been focused elsewhere but they weren’t. A loud 'slurp' echoed in the mostly quiet room reminding him again that he wasn’t alone.

"Mm. Why are you so distracted tonight, bae?"

Julissa's voice was as smooth as honey and as seductive as ever. He lowered his eyes to where she was kneeling between his legs and took her in. Her lips and chin were wet as she gave him her bedroom eyes. This was not the first time between them. Usually, it would work but not tonight. Tonight he was struggling to even keep his head in the room.

He watched her tip her tongue out and lick from the base of his dick to the glistening tip. Once there she swirled her tongue around him then sucked his head into her mouth. He’d have to be dead for it not to feel nice but that’s all it was--nice.

He sighed then brought his attention back to the ceiling. "Work."

"Aw babe, when you’re with me work should be the last thing on your mind," Julissa said before lowering her mouth down his shaft. When he felt her tonsils he groaned. His body wanted to like this wanted to give her the reaction she was working so hard for, but something was holding him back. Julissa's mouth bobbed up and down his cock sucking and slurping to her heart’s content trying to get him off, but he knew she had her work cut out for her.

He thought back to your text from 2 hours ago. You were on a date. Well shit, he hadn’t seen that coming. That was the last thing he had expected you to be doing tonight. It wasn’t because you weren’t desirable, or he thought no man would want you. For fuck's sake, you were beyond desirable, you were gorgeous and so damn intelligent. He couldn’t figure out which of those made you more beautiful, your looks or your brains. You also worked hard to be where you were, and you deserved all the praise and attention you got wherever you went.

However, sometimes he wished you got a little less male attention--x that, a lot less male attention. He sighed again. This had been going on for 10 years now. Your friendship had only strengthened but along with a strengthening friendship came a lot of other stuff. Stuff like him taking notice of the fullness of your hips or being tempted to peek when you’d been changing in the backseat of his car, or being painfully aware of how your breasts felt against his chest when you hugged.

That coupled with things he had picked up from you, made the unspoken and ignored things that much more—confusing. There were times when the way you stared at him when you thought he wasn’t looking spoke volumes or the way your hand always lingered on him for a few seconds longer than necessary but not long enough for it to be inappropriate, or the time you'd fallen asleep together on the couch and he'd woken to you wrapped around him using him as your personal body pillow and mumbling his name in your sleep.

Yeah, there was a lot of extra stuff, stuff neither of you ever addressed. The only ones who assessed it were his friends. Miles told him on several occasions that he should be careful before he or you fucked around, and someone ended up hurt. That stuck with him, but not in the way Miles had probably meant it. Rather than taking it the way Miles meant, he used it as a means to keep himself in check, a form of prevention from him crossing the line. He knew if he did, neither of you would be able to go back. It would be impossible and was one fuck up worth a decades-long friendship?

So friends were where you stayed until he added another facet--professional. Years passed, dates passed, flings, non-labeled encounters on both your parts passed and through it all your friendship remained, and nothing changed. Except today there was even more extra stuff.

The feel of Julissa’s lips wrapped around his balls sent his hips jerking upward as a curse left his lips. Julissa moaned and giggled.

“Daddy likes that?”

He knew how he would like it more. As quickly as he revved to that thought he steered away from it. That was when his phone sounded.

MSG Y/N: I’m home. Whatdaya you wanna do? Should I change?

His eye caught the time. 1am. Almost 3 hours from your last text and you were only now getting home. Clenching his jaw he took a deep breath. He had no right to be mad or annoyed right now. He knew where this was coming from. You’d been on a date, and you said it was going well. A date going well had a chance of making it upstairs. He closed his eyes squeezing them tightly. He hoped to God that you hadn’t just gotten it in.

MSG Y/N: Hello?

MSG: You don’t have to change. How about some treats and a view?

MSG Y/N: Okay. Still 10?

MSG: Make it 15.

Pulling himself up he reached down to stop Julissa. She looked confused.

“I gotta go J.”

Now she looked even more confused. He didn’t owe her an explanation, that’s not how this worked between them.

“With your dick out?”

He scoffed then fixed himself as he stood.

“Lewis this’s never happened before. Are--,” she began before he cut her off.

“All good, just—not in the mood I guess.”

She looked offended now. “I’m sorry J. We’ll talk.”

He walked to the door then left her apartment without a glance back. He didn’t feel any way about it because both of them knew what their relationship was and wasn’t. She’d agreed. Once he was in his car, he zipped through the London streets maneuvering the quickest route to your place. Thanks to the time it was an easy drive with minimal traffic. 15 minutes on the dot he swerved around to the front of your luxury condo building then sent you a text letting you know he was there.

A few minutes later, he peeped you from the corner of his eye. You walked off the elevator in a short and tight black dress, impossibly high strappy black heels, and a flowy robe-like jacket that danced behind you as you walked.

“Fuck.”

You were beautiful. Just then the thought that you’d gone on a date dressed like this rubbed him wrong. Some other man had seen this view, a view you gave willingly. Clenching his jaw, he looked through his windshield as he tried to push all those thoughts—all that other stuff to the side as he’d done countless times before. He looked back just in time to see you open the door of his car then climb in. His eyes dropped to your legs but seconds later he corrected that.

“Hi!”

Your smile was bright as if you really were as happy to see him as your voice indicated.

“Hey.”

You reached over and pressed your cheek to his for a bougie kiss. The only thing he could think was that you smelled like a treat all by yourself.

“How are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. Wow, what’s it been? 2 months?”

He shrugged as he shifted gears and took off. “Something like that.”

“Mercedes sure knows how to keep you busy,” you teased.

He tried to focus on the road but from his peripheral, he could see you crossing your legs displaying even more skin.

“What were you doing? You smell like fruits.”

He chastised himself because he hadn’t done a bit of cleaning up before he came. His only thought was you. Julissa’s fruity lip gloss still stained his dick that he couldn’t manage to get hard for her.

“Nowhere special. Just kickin’ it.”

You didn’t press further which said you knew just what he was doing. He clenched his jaw again, this time annoyed with himself. As he drove to the dessert place you told him about what was going on in your life while he shared some bits of his with you. Like always conversation flowed like a calm river. It was something he loved. It didn’t take long for him to pull up to the drive-thru of the vegan dessert shop. When it was his turn at the window he tipped his hat lower and left the ordering to you.

You ordered damn near everything on the menu. You didn’t care if it was cake, cupcake, ice cream, brownie, or whipped cream. You ordered at least 2 of everything. It took the staff a good 5 minutes to prepare it all and when he loaded them in the backseat it was completely filled. When he looked at you with an “are you serious right now” look, all you did was giggle. Fuck, he thought. There went all that extra stuff again.

“There is no way we can finish all this,” he said looking at the bags they’d moved to the front since parking at their destination.

“Speak for yourself. I always have room for sugar, sugar.”

He snorted then shook his head. “Mad whack.”

Your jaw dropped as you gaped at him, and you looked too fucking adorable. You sifted through the bags until you found the dessert you wanted—the vanilla bean cheesecake. Your eyes lit up as you gawked at the large slice that was topped with white chocolate shavings. “It's so pretty,” you gushed.

He watched you snap picture after picture of the treat before you took your first forkful. When you did, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out a completely indulgent, hearty, and dick-hardening moan. The fuck, he thought as his dick spasmed to life. Quickly he moved one of the bags to his lap and looked out the window.

“This is so good,” you obliviously said still munching on cake.

He pulled out the vegan chocolate truffle cake and took a bite. It too was good.

“That looks good. Is it?”

“Try it,” he said holding out a forkful to your mouth.

You paused for a split second then cut off a piece of your cheesecake before you held your fork to his mouth.

“You try too.”

The image that came to mind was that of a new husband and wife feeding each other wedding cake and with it, his throat went dry. He knew if he tried to speak he’d sound like a pre-pubescent boy, so he wrapped his lips around your fork taking the piece of cake then fed you his. Your eyes lingered on one another for a few moments nut when you moaned again his dick spasmed again. with that he turned his head so fast that he was surprised he hadn’t snapped his own neck in the process.

“So good,” you repeated.

The two of you sat there commenting on the desserts you went through in record time. He didn’t indulge in sweets often but when he did he found it was usually with your sugar-addicted ass. You said there were 4 things in life you would never give up, sugar, your favorite perfume, your favorite underwear set, and sex. He believed you on all points. When there were only a few pieces of cake left the silence in the car stretched.

“So—a date huh.”

“A date.”

“I thought you gave up dating.”

You took a deep breath then slowly released it before turning your body at an angle facing him. The hem of your dress hiked a little higher and he forced himself to look away.

“I did. Then I got bored and he asked.”

“What does he do?”

You didn’t answer automatically, instead, you took another forkful or 2 of cake, then you spoke.

“He’s an attorney.”

“I thought you didn’t date attorneys.”

“I don’t but me and the girls were talking, and it clicked that by x-ing out a whole career field greatly decreased me finding someone who could stick around.”

He paused. Stick around? This was new.

“Stick around? Are you—are you looking for something—serious?”

You took a beat then shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought the other day, I have everything I have ever wanted. I am on this partner track, I make very high 6 figures, I have a great condo, my mental health is amazing, I have no debt, no baby daddies or drama, I—I’m kinda a catch but I go to sleep alone 98% of my nights. I come home to an empty place, I have no meaningful text exchanges, there is—nothing fulfilling in my life. I began to wonder if it was time to change all of that last bit.”

Silence stretched again as he thought over your words while studying you. This was the first time he’d heard you speak like this. Usually, you changed the subject or downplayed having any other thoughts than fun, sex, and work. Now hearing the vulnerability in your voice he knew you’d come to a point where all of this, intention-free dating, pastime sex, stress-busting flirting and all the meaningless interactions were unfulfilling and empty. You wanted more, you wanted love, a life, a husband, kids, vacation homes, and retirement funds, you wanted the quintessential definition of it all. He also noted you now found everything he was currently partaking in meaningless and unfulfilling.

Dropping his head, he stabbed the cake still in his hands. The more puncture holes it picked up the less and less he wanted it.

“Fuck, maybe I’m just bored and need a really, really, good fuck.”

He snorted but it was humorless.

“Don’t downplay what you feel, Y/N. Don’t—make what you feel insignificant, so you feel less vulnerable. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s you and me here.”

“It’s just—you—I know those are things you don’t necessarily want and you’re happy with the--.”

“Who said I don’t want those things?”

His tone was sharp and defensive though he hadn’t meant for it to be.

“Uh—you did.”

“No. I said it’s not something I can afford right now with my schedule and my contract extension. I didn’t say I never wanted it.”

You looked away from him to out the window. “Yeah, but your actions say a lot different,” you mumble.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, look at me. What does that mean?”

You sat quietly for a few moments then just when he was about to ask again you blurted.

“There is a difference between I don’t want it now and I don’t want it ever. Someone who wants it someday would leave themselves open to it rather than boxing every interaction they have into--other things.”

“What if I don’t want to open myself to it?”

“That’s clear Lew.”

“No. You don’t get it. What if I don’t want to open myself to it because I don’t want to find the perfect thing—the perfect woman and then be fucked because it’s too soon and too hard to keep her in my world to wait until I can make those commitments because my world is fucked—I’m fucked because I want the world and will actually keep going until I get it anyone else be damned.”

He could feel your eyes on him, and it was his turn to feel vulnerable and exposed.

“You think because you put everyone in one box it stops what’s meant to be from—being?”

He glanced at you with a pained expression, he knew it. He was actually feeling pain.

“Also—you’re not fucked because you want the world. I want the fucking world. Am I fucked?”

“To be determined.”

You both busted out laughing then. You laughed for a good minute then smiled as it tapered off.

“Aren’t you the tiniest bit lonely in the other side of your life—away from F1?”

He didn’t need to think about that. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to tell you. The facts were that he was lonely more times than not. That was when he called someone to come distract him or make him feel good. He’d become an expert in the art of distraction. In his life, he only had time and the capacity for low stress and no mess. He had enough of both already.

He felt your hand creep into his and squeeze gently. Suddenly, there was all this other stuff again. The feel of your smaller hand in his larger one was something he really liked. Usually, when either of you took the other’s hand it was in passing or for a second, but the moment lingered and stretched, and still you kept your hand in his swirling your fingers against his palm and other fingers. He liked this too much.

“You can tell me. I won’t judge you. In fact—I’m lonely.”

His eyes slipped to you. Your head was down staring at your hands. It had now moved to trace the tattoos on his hand with the point of your nail as if his flesh were an adult coloring book. He watched you trace the rose on his pinky, then the planets on his ring finger. When you got to the lined arrow down his middle, he was having trouble swallowing again. Slowly, you traced the spaceship then went up across the sword until you reached his wrist.

He didn’t know if there was rhyme or reason to your movements or if you were just absently doing it. Goosebumps peppered his skin when you went up his forearm. He looked at you just before your eyes met his.

“You are?”

You nodded. “I am,” you whispered.

The air was on but inside the car easily felt like a sweltering 99 degrees. He didn’t know if it was from your touch or if it was the shift in the air between you. Did you notice it too?

“I think it’s okay to be lonely especially looking at how we live. We’re always working, always pushing ourselves to and through glass ceilings and when we do there is no one really there to share it with, not really, not in the way that fulfills,” you said.

Your face was closer to his now. Had he moved closer or was it you? Your eyes met again, and the temperature kicked up again. Fuck, he thought as his dick recklessly spasmed, begging for attention.

“I’m never lonely with you,” he said before his brain could stop his mouth.

A small smile lit your face, “Me too. Never with you.”

The smile slipped. “Well—not always.”

He turned to you more now, curiosity filling him. “What do you mean?”

You stayed quiet for a few moments but kept tracing his skin with your nail.

“There are times I can’t—guess what you’re thinking. Times I can’t—figure you out.”

“Then ask me.”

“Would you really tell me?”

He leaned closer. “I’d tell you anything.”

You searched his eyes, but you didn’t move back.

“Anything?”

He nodded slowly. His head felt hazy like you had him under some sort of spell with nothing more than your presence and the tip of your finger and all he truly wanted was to touch you in return. So he did. Reaching across to your exposed knee, he circled his finger around the smooth skin there. You sucked in a breath the moment his finger touched you and that one action nearly had him pulling you across the partition right onto his lap. Nearly.

So there on a hill that overlooked London, in his car, sitting near enough to a lone road light, you trailed your finger across his forearm while he did the same to your knee. The low light that illuminated the car bathed your skin in amber making him feel like you were on a whole different plane of existence rather than this real proven and tangible one. Your eyes held him in place to the point where he felt like he couldn’t move though he wanted to.

Without even realizing it you were mere inches from him. In fact, you were so close he could make out the hidden colors in your eyes, so close he could smell the fragrance on your skin that went deeper than perfume. This was your essence and by God he was intoxicated. Unable to stop himself, he inched his hand higher gripping your inner thigh. A soft moan fell from your lips and that was all it took for him to press his forehead to yours like the sound was tethered to his very core.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

The sheer might it was taking to keep himself restrained was becoming too much. At this point, it wouldn’t take much for him to abandon those restraints and give in.

“Lewis,” you whispered.

Your voice was raspy and dripping with what he dared label as desire. Fuck, he thought as he squeezed your thigh. He was so close, mere inches and it wouldn’t take much to close the gap between his fingers and your core but still, he fought himself. He was so wrapped up in his own battle for control within himself that he didn’t even realize when your hand rested on his upper thigh. You were dangerously close to kicking the lid off the box of other stuff that he’d worked years to keep shut. Half of him silently begged for you to keep going and kick it off so everything would be out in the open and it would be do or die but the other half of him hesitated still. The unknown was a powerful and sobering drug.

Your hand inched higher, then closer to what was the rock-hard physical evidence that deep down, now closer to the surface than ever before, he felt more, wanted more than what was. He wanted more than he could possibly afford. Still, his hand persisted, it inched higher making your hips jerk forward. The knowledge that he’d hit a sensitive spot sent his system into overdrive making a deep moan from his lips fill the car.

On cue in response, your legs opened a few inches more, making way for his hand. Jesus Christ he thought. There was his consent, you wanted him as he wanted you. There would be nothing wrong with him slipping his fingers underneath whatever underwear you wore. Fuck, he hoped they were lacy and strappy. There would be nothing wrong with him letting your hand slide to the aching dick straining against his pants begging for your attention. Shit, he bet your hands would feel incredible wrapped around him. There would be nothing wrong with him moving closer and finally claiming your lips as his. Damn, he just knew they were as sweet as they looked, that they felt amazing. There would be nothing wrong with him pulling your body against his for more than a clothed hug. There would be nothing wrong with him cupping your breasts and swirling his thumb across your nipple just to see the reaction it elicited. God damn it, he knew your moans would destroy him. There would be nothing wrong with him finally learning what you tasted like, nothing wrong with him finally smearing your wetness across his lips. Holy fuck, he knew you had to taste like pure sugar and cream.

His cock spasmed again then your hand made the move for him. In the same breath with his eyes squeezed tight, he lurched for your hand, gripping you by your wrist stopping you just before you touched him. As he did that his jaw clenched, the only thing he could do to stifle the moan at the tip of his tongue. It came out as a half groan and growl instead. The strangled whine that left you said you liked it, and he knew he had to end this here. It took him some time to find the smallest bit of control to open his eyes, but he didn’t possess enough control to look at you. There was no way he could.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, voice low and so close to a whisper.

He tried to keep the longing, regret, and hope from it. Slowly he removed his hand from your thigh hoping with everything in him that you grabbed it and nudged it higher. You didn’t though, so he turned forward readying himself to drive. You didn’t move for several long moments; you remained there half facing him with your thighs still tempting him to go back and take things further. With his hands on the steering wheel, he trained his eyes forward. He could feel all the antsy energy bouncing off every cell of his body, he could feel all the need in him wreaking havoc on him telling him to stop being a pussy and do what he really wanted to, say what he wanted to, take what he wanted.

His hands squeezed so tightly that the creaking of the leather echoed in the intense silence in the car. Just when he was about to say fuck it, you turned away from him. You softly cleared your throat then buckled yourself in. Sighing, he pushed started the ignition then swerved out of the parked spot they were in taking the route back to the city. As he drove you didn’t speak, you didn’t even move. You kept your head turned away from him looking out the passenger window with your legs crossed away from him. Your body language sent a completely different message now. Before you were open and so close to him. Now, you were so far he wondered if he’d turned Miles’ words into truths.

~~~~~

-Y/N- 8 Months Later-

The loud ‘pop’ of a champagne cork echoed just behind you making you spin in that direction. A group was just behind you laughing and toasting to something you guessed was momentous. You sighed then turned back to the painting you were currently studying. The abstract lines and swoops looked so similar to the slopes of a body. The longer you stared at it the more it felt like an erotic image than some random lines and swirls. There was something about it that stirred something in you, something that you’d ignored and buried so deep, something you hadn’t felt for 8 months.

You drained your champagne glass then squeezed your eyes shut. It had been a long 8 months. You’d worked your ass off times ten taking on more and more clients than before. You brought on 12 celebrity clients and 4 major corporate ones which brought Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw to the top of the field in revenue. You brought in so much money that you’d gotten 7 poaching offers from firms in different parts of the country.

Thanks to those offers that you hadn’t necessarily kept confidential, the interest in you for partner rose to unbeatable levels. Anyone you were competing against for the position paled in comparison. Those 8 months of ass-busting work led to your name being signed on the paperwork titling you as the new partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw. It was so much of a done deal that your bank account proudly embraced your new status.

With that new status came an increase in the events you had to make an appearance at as thee number 1 entertainment and criminal attorney in London. Your calendar quickly filled with meetings, speeches, appearances, court appearances, dinners, and more. You were so booked that the next time you had any schedule free time was 6 months away. You’d catapulted so far out of your original tax bracket that you’d shattered the glass ceiling that tried to confine you and now you wondered if you’d aimed too high.

“Looks like I’m right on time.”

You looked to your right and found Darius holding another glass of champagne for you. Smiling, you took it.

“That you are, thank you.”

“Of course. To you, the youngest and newest partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw and in the greater London area.”

You smiled as the man who’d stuck around through your insane schedule, your hot and cold behavior, your pull you close one minute, push you away the next, your disappearing acts, your reluctance to place a label on your interactions, your give me sex then get gone rule, and more for the last 8 months.

“Thank you, Darius,” you said leaning toward him and pressing your lips against his.

Darius moaned and reciprocated the kiss, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close. You felt like you were thanking him for much more than the toast and the fresh glass of champagne. You felt like you were thanking him for taking your bare minimum and it made you feel like shit.

Darius pressed his forehead to yours and instantly you had a flash back to the last man who’d done that to you. In a split second, your heart rate spiked, and an intense feeling gripped you.

“You don’t have to thank me, love.”

Your reaction to the action ricocheted through you making you pull away from Darius. Turning back to the painting, you gulped down the champagne.

“It’s crazy that your firm has so many celebrity clients and that this many are here to welcome you as partner,” Darius said in hushed tones.

“It is crazy.”

All night you’d been rubbing elbows with actors, musicians, models, athletes, and more. All of them congratulated you on your promotion and wished you greater success in the future. It was touching but a little bit overwhelming. You couldn’t let on though, so for the entire night you’d been performing, and you were nearing the limits of your stamina for it. You’d been performing for the last 8 months. Shit, you’d even been performing with Darius. You’d been performing ever since you were dropped off in those early morning hours those 8 months ago.

“Y/N,”

To your left, your paralegal now turned assistant, Kemi touched your elbow drawing your attention to her.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, you look incredible,” she said.

“Stop saying that please, you’re gonna blow my head up so big I just might start thinking I deserve a higher position.”

She giggled but gave you a look that said “well ya’ do.”

“The big wigs are asking for you, although you’re now one of them so--.”

You snorted while rolling your eyes. “Then doesn’t that make you the big wig assistant?”

She posed then making you laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” you said to Darius as you walked off to find those big wigs.

It didn’t take long before you found them surrounded by a group of about 10 people. When they saw you they waved you over with large smiles on their faces. You took a deep breath and approached them with an equally large smile.

“There she is ladies and gentlemen!”

The group smiled, patted your back, and welcomed you with friendly banter.

“Everyone!”

The music died down and someone handed Malcolm Boyd a microphone. He was your biggest fan, a black man who’d made unfathomable feats in the field and became an incredible mentor and second father to you. He put his arm around your shoulder as he always did.

“I am filled with great happiness and pride calling this woman the new partner here at Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw!”

Everyone began applauding then, drowning out his next words so he paused and allowed them a few moments before continuing.

“She has been with us for 6 years now and in those 6 years she has accomplished incredible things and when she was done with those incredible things she moved on to outstanding things. Y/N has reminded many of us of what it means to be determined and persistent. She tackles every case with poise, confidence, and grace and that confidence has given her that 99% win record.”

Again everyone clapped. You softly smiled at them half embarrassed by the praise but half so damn proud of yourself and happy that your accomplishments were being recognized.

“Just as Malcome said, “Patrick Halsey began placing his hand on Malcom’s shoulder, “Y/N more than deserves this promotion and I expect her to blow all of our minds in the coming months and years. We just might have to add another name to the plague.”

Many in the audience hollered and hooted at that and you couldn’t lie that the greedy ambition within you salivated at that possibility. You still wanted more. You exchanged a look with Malcome who gave you an all-knowing look. You just found your next accomplishment. The founding partners took turns praising you and giving reasons why you’d earned this promotion then raised their glasses to you for the ultimate toast of congratulations. You humbly thanked them and gave a quick appreciative speech before lifting your glass to the audience.

As you drank down the tart liquid, your eye caught sight of a figure you hadn’t seen in person for almost 2 months—Lewis. He stood at the back in a black suit that clearly was made for him. His braids were pulled back in the way he liked when he was tackling more professional events. He looked as good as ever. He lifted his glass of water to you and in response you gave him a tight smile.

The same thing happened that always happened when you met one another ever since that night. Your body went through this strange cycle of reaction, excitement, confusion, hurt, anger, annoyance, and disappointment. It was exhausting. Because of these feelings, you regretted that night. You regretted allowing your thoughts to go so astray that you opened up your ‘what if’ box. You regretted every whisper, every lean in, every almost touch, every lingering look, everything. You even regretted getting out of his car when he pulled up to your condo instead of pulling him by his hair to you and telling him to go upstairs with you. you didn’t know what you regretted more.

The worst part was that you had to continue on like always. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem because that night was not the first night there had been many ‘what if’ nights over your decade-long friendship. The common factor was that both of you moved on and slinked back into the basics of your relationship—comfort and friendship. This time is difficult, so difficult you contemplated passing his case off to another attorney. If it hadn’t been for Malcome talking you out of it he would have been someone else’s responsibility. Instead, you put on your big girl panties and a mask and did something you never thought you’d ever do with him—performed.

When the crowd thinned out and everyone returned to what they were doing you began making your way back to Darius in the opposite direction. You were ready to leave. Before you got far Lewis stepped in front of you stopping you in your tracks.

“Congratulations, Y/N.”

Smiling, you thanked him.

“You look--,” his words stalled as his eyes roamed your body. You noted the conflicted look on his face before it disappeared. “Incredible,” Lewis finished.

His compliment made your body warm and something like hope filled you. Chastising yourself you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. You look nice too.”

Lewis scoffed softly then nodded. You then tried to slip by him, however, Lewis wasn’t having it. Again, he stepped in front of you.

“In a rush to get away from me?”

“Why would you say that? Have you done anything to me for me to want that?”

Silence stretched and Lewis studied you his jaw clenched tightly. Instead of speaking, he looked down, an act of defeat.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

“We’re talking right now.”

He gave you an unamused look, but you kept your nonchalant, innocent one. Unexpectedly Miles approached then.

“There she is--partner lady. Congratulations Y/N.”

You smiled then hugged Miles. “Thank you!”

“This is incredible news, Y/N. So happy for you.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you for coming,” you replied.

“You know me, always this fool’s plus one.”

You smiled then the silence returned for a few seconds before Lewis spoke again.

“Maybe we can go somewhere—quiet after this?”

“Unfortunately I don’t think I can.”

“Why?”

Just then Darius approached and wrapped his arm around your waist resting his hand on your hip. You watched Lewis’ eyes drop to that hand and continued to watch as his jaw turned tight as if it filled with cement.

“Oh wow. Lewis Hamilton,” Darius said turning to you, his voice awestricken. “Babe it’s Lewis Hamilton.”

You nodded as a soft smile played on your lips. “Let me introduce you. Darius, this is one of my clients, Lewis Hamilton, and his best friend Miles Chamley-Watson fencing champion and Olympian. Miles, Lewis this is my—.”

You hesitated and in the same second, you felt Darius’ eyes on you filled with hope. Two other pairs of eyes were on you--one giving complete double eyeball emoji and the other searing you almost daring you to continue. The longer you didn’t speak, you watched Darius’ hope turn to disappointment. Glancing back at Lewis you found his eyebrow up with a curious and confrontational look while Miles was the epitome of if ‘well this is awkward’ was a person.

“This is Darius Forrester.”

You felt even more like shit now. Darius shook Lewis’ hand first then Miles’. While he did Lewis looked him over sizing him up. You knew he was wondering if he was the same man from those months ago when you’d told him you were on a date.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m a fan,” Darius said to Lewis.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I can sign something for you if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at his underhanded jab while a half chortle escaped Miles. Darius on the other hand leapt at the opportunity, handing Lewis the only thing he had, an art bidding ballot. Lewis signed the back but kept his eyes on Darius’ hand on your hip.

“Bidding on some art tonight?”

“I am. There is a piece this gorgeous angel has been staring at all night, it’ll be my gift to her for her promotion,” Darius explained rubbing your hip.

You smiled at him then kissed his cheek. Lewis now looked entertained while Miles’ eyes widened as he finished the drink in his hand.

“Ehm, anyway. So I’m sorry I can’t pencil you in tonight but if you call Kemi and make an appointment she’ll get you on the calendar for a different day for that talk,” you said.

“Plans tonight,” Miles guessed looking between you and Darius.

“Absolutely. I’ve had way too much to drink and plan on taking advantage of that.”

You leaned closer to Darius kicking up your performance another notch. Lewis smirked but also clenched his jaw to that. Miles whistled while nodding his head.

“Go on then Ms. Partner, fly by the seat of your panties or no panties,” Miles teased making you and Darius chuckle while Lewis gave him an unamused look.

“Well, enjoy your evening gentlemen. Thank you again for coming by,” you said before you made a move to walk off with Darius.

As you walked away you placed your hand over Darius’ and slyly slipped it lower to rest on your ass. You knew Lewis was watching and decided to deliver the last blow. Was it petty? Yes. Was it fair to Daius? Not at all.

The next hour or so passed with you roaming around the gallery looking at the art while Darius flirted with you. As you roamed, no matter where you went you saw Lewis from the corner of your eye and no matter how much space was between you, your skin reacted as if Darius’ touch was his. The more you felt that way the reality that Darius’ touch was in fact all his own annoyed you making you feel even worse. You knew what needed to be done and knew it had to be done soon.

The only way you could distract yourself was with glass after glass of champagne. As you emerged from one of your countless trips to the bathroom you bumped into Miles.

“Funny bumping into you here.”

You smiled warmly, “Still here? I thought you and Lewis left hours ago.”

“You knew we were still here,” he accused.

You tried to give an affronted look but failed. He was right. Sighing, your act fell for the first time that night.

“Wow. Feels good to not perform huh.”

You looked at Miles and wondered just how much he knew. He didn’t keep you in suspense long.

“What a twisted web we weave when we practice to deceive.” He scoffed, shook his head then continued, look, I am going to tell you the same thing I told Lewis.”

You perked up then but tried to play it off.

“You better stop playing before somebody gets hurt and by the looks of it, it’s gonna be your homeboy Darius if not all three of you.”

You took in his words then put your mask back in place. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah you do, just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

Your curiosity peaked then. “What are you talking about Miles? What do you think you know?”

He scoffed. “I’m a straightforward kinda guy so I’ll say I know everything. As the neutral 3rd party who is both on the outside looking in and the inside watching this train wreck, I know everything. I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Your eyes lingered and the longer they did the more you got his meaning. Glancing away you tried to pretend like his words meant nothing, but you knew you were failing.

“I get it, I really do; 10 years is a long time to put at risk but are you really putting it at risk knowing all you know? You have 10 years of proof. Man up.”

Miles leaned in, kissed your cheek, and whispered, “Let homeboy go so he can find someone who really loves him, someone who can love him. Your corner is full.”

With that, he walked away leaving you speechless and confused. Your corner was full? You had no idea whatsoever what that meant, and you were tempted to follow Miles and get some clarification, but you decided against it remembering the last time you chased down the rabbit hole. When you found Darius again his expression was somber when he told you that the painting he’d been bidding on was outbid and that he didn’t have it to gift you. After assuring him you were fine, you decided you were more than ready to leave.

Darius got the car as you waited outside allowing the cold air to cool your skin. You didn’t care that you were risking illness because it served as a needed distraction. When you felt a fabric drape over your shoulders you bristled at first but then Lewis’ scent circled you and your body relaxed. Even that annoyed you.

“I don’t need this. Darius will be back soon anyway.”

Lewis snorted. “8 months, is that a record?”

“I think it’s a record for you, but I’ve gone longer.”

He scoffed then shook his head. “No doubt, remember Y/N. I will be here long after you get bored with them all. I’m always here.”

Your eyes locked and his should have been radiating cockiness that matched his words, but instead, they were gentle, open, and vulnerable.

“Will you?”

There was no time to reply because a car horn blared drawing your attention. Darius waved at you as he got out of the car to walk around to the passenger side.

“Good night Lewis.”

You walked away from him then slipped into the passenger side. As you waited for Darius to get in and drive off, you stared at Lewis who hadn’t budged from the curb where you left him. Miles’ words echoed back to you then.

“Just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

“You have 10 years of proof.”

“Your corner is full.”

The word ‘full’ echoed over and over as Darius pulled off. Bullshit, you said to yourself in disbelief.

When Darius pulled up to your condo you sat there marinating in all your thoughts throughout the nearly thirty-minute drive. It wasn’t until you felt Darius’ hand on your exposed knee did you realize he was still there.

“Are you okay? Want me to come up?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “We need to talk Darius.”

When you looked at him his expression said he knew just what you were about to say. Being as gentle as you could, you ended things. Although the old “it’s not you it’s me” line fit the situation perfectly. You dug a little deeper and gave him and heartfelt reason without revealing you were and had been in love with your best friend for 10 years and didn’t realize it until his feelings were already on the line. When you finished, Darius remained the good guy he was and told you he understood and that he’d expected this sooner or later. You thanked him for being good to you then began making your way to the elevators.

Halfway there you dug into the pocket of the jacket you wore and froze. When you took your hand out you held a note with your name sprawled on the front in Lewis’ handwriting.

-Y/N-

I’ve thought for months about what to say to you because there is so much to say, so much that has gone unsaid for so long that I don’t know where to start—how to start. 10 years is a long time especially when neither of us has been 100% honest with the other. I want to end that. Please.

-Lewis

You read then reread the note over and over hoping you would know what to do next but no matter how many times you did, you had nothing. So you walked back and forth in the lobby. When your phone sounded, you found a message from Lewis.

MSG Lewis: Ball’s in your court. I’m outside your building.

You froze then slowly turned and saw his car. It had been months since you’d been in a car with him and the thought of doing it again freaked you out a little. Your eyes met at that moment, but he didn’t move. He was giving you the time to decide for yourself. You turned your back to him then walked to the elevators but stopped halfway. After a few moments, you turned back around and walked to the doors only to stop halfway again and repeat the whole cycle. Still, Lewis didn’t budge. He just watched as your internal debate played out physically.

After ten minutes you stooped down and put your down, completely exhausted by your indecisiveness. Taking a deep breath, you held it and allowed your lungs to adjust. It was an action you often did to help you think and calm down. As your oxygen levels decreased your heartbeat would slow and as it did, there was always one particular beat where you figured it all out. It usually came right in the nick of time.

So you allowed your heartbeat to slow and though you should have panicked you didn’t. You thought clearer than you’d ever thought before.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Miles’ words came back to you again and it was then you gasped filling your lungs with air. After a few breaths, you stood then turned to the doors. It worked all the time. With your head high and back straight you walked toward them then climbed inside Lewis’ car. Without a word, he pulled off then turned back onto the streets.

~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later you walked into a penthouse suite right behind Lewis.

“Why here?”

“Thought neutral ground would make you more comfortable.”

You scoffed and beelined right to the bar, tossing his suit jacket over the back of one of the bar stools. As you mixed yourself a drink you tried not to focus on him, but you did. No matter where he went you knew. You were hypersensitive to him at this point. You’d only meant to make a glass but ended up making a whole shaker cup. You kicked off your heels, climbed onto the bar stool then plopped yourself on the countertop. Once comfortable you crossed your legs and sipped your drink.

“Where’s Darius?”

“Not here obviously.”

“You and I are so alike it’s insane,” he said as he approached you, but he didn’t come close. He stopped at the sectional couches in the middle of the large living area and then sat.

The silence in the room was thick for such a long time you began thinking about leaving altogether.

“Congratulations again. I’m so fucking proud of you. You saw something you wanted and didn’t stop until you got it. You deserve this.”

Your stomach flipped hearing his praise. More than anyone he knew what you’d gone through to get here. It touched you. Looking away from him, you cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

His eyes remained on you as if daring you to look back at him. It was a dare you had to accept. Your eyes locked and you instantly felt it. There was so much to say. Just behind him, you saw something familiar. Squinting, you made out the painting you’d been staring at all night, the painting Darius wanted to bid on for you. It clicked then, the reason why Darius couldn’t win it was because Lewis claimed it first. You scoffed, the man was competitive and dominant to a fault. You couldn’t help but be touched by the gesture though.

Lewis sighed bringing your eyes back to him, “I don’t even know where to start,” groaned, rubbed his eyes then spoke again. “Maybe I’m sorry is a good place.”

You studied him for a few moments then took a mouthful of your drink. “For what?”

“You know for what.”

That night.

Those words hung in the air, and you did your best to remain aloof. Scoffing, you shook your head. “It’s all good Lewis.”

“You’re lying and you know it. I thought attorneys believed in the truth.”

“Who are you to tell me what my truth is?!”

You hadn’t meant to shout it, but you did.

“Because more times than not our truths match up and I am sure that what happened was not all good to you because it wasn’t to me.”

“And what exactly wasn’t all good to you?”

“The way we—I left things,” he quietly said.

You waited for him to continue because there was no way in hell you were going to make this easy for him. He wanted to talk so he’d talk. Lewis shook his head then hung it backward. He sat there staring into the ceiling for almost a full minute before he looked back at you.

“I just—flipped when we were—you were—you wanted--,” he stuttered.

You scoffed again, “Don’t flatter yourself, Lewis,” you said slipping into the barstool and spinning it around so your back faced him.

“What?”

“You and I both know that none of that meant anything to you. It’s all good.”

“Now who’s telling who what their truth is?”

You didn’t take the bait, instead, you kept your back to him and finished your glass.

“You forget, I know you, Lewis. 10 years of friendship and I know you so well that it was my own damn fault that night.”

“Whatdaya know?”

After refilling your glass you turned back around then hopped off the stool and walked toward the large floor-to-ceiling window. “I know that that you were with one of your rotation chicks before you came to pick me up. I smelled her on you. That fruity aroma was all her. I know that because of that tidbit of info, none of it meant anything.”

Leaning against the window you stared down at the view of London. Lights glistened down below, and you imagined everyone scurrying to where they had to go so wrapped up in their own thoughts or existence to even suspect that it all was fleeting.

“Okay, I’ll own that bit. Yeah, I was with one of them but that was only after I found out you were on a date.”

“So it’s my fault. I was on a date living my life, so you decided to get your dick wet. Okay.”

You took another sip from your glass not liking the direction of this little talk he wanted to have.

“I never said it was your fault. It’s just a fact. I texted you because I wanted to see you, wanted to spend time with you and you were spending time with someone else, someone you probably did God knows what with hours before you saw me.”

And with that, you were done here. Finishing the glass you turned and walked to the door.

“Good night Lewis.”

He scurried in front of you blocking your path. “Wait, please. Shit! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Two sorries in the span of twenty minutes, cool. Get out of my way.”

“No, Y/N, please wait.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I’m sick and tired of waiting. I’ve waited 10 years!”

“You’ve waited? I’ve—.”

Lewis threw his hands up then walked away grunting and talking to himself. He looked insane and it kind of made you pleased seeing it. He always appeared so in control, so aware of himself and his actions at all times. It had all gone to shit now. You stood there debating if you should just leave and let things remain how they were until the day you both just stopped talking and checking in and it ended up going on for another 10 years until you were just people who used to know one another, people who’d missed out on something. It was then you realized you weren’t wearing shoes.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“I wanted you that night. I wanted you more than I had ever wanted anyone, including anyone in the rotation. Do you know what I was doing while you were on your date?”

“Getting your dick wet. I know.”

“I was lying on Julissa’s bed as she gave me head.”

You scoffed, “Of course you were.”

“She’d been going for 40 minutes and still I was barely hard. No matter what she did, no matter the tricks, no matter how nice it felt, barely hard. I was lying on her bed with my dick in her mouth thinking about you on your fucking date.”

You looked at him then. Those were words you hadn’t expected.

“My mind went crazy thinking what was happening. The longer that went by without you texting me the thoughts killed me. As soon as I got your message I left. No other thought, just you. I prayed to God that the date didn’t go well enough for you to let him upstairs. Then I saw what you were wearing, and I couldn’t believe I was jealous. I was jealous.”

“Why?”

Lewis looked at you then. “Because he got to see you like that. You’d dressed up for him, wanted to turn him on with that outfit. He’d spent the entire night with you. He’d had what I wanted.”

Well shit, you thought before walking back to the bar. Rather than making another drink, you took up a bottle of champagne and brought it to your lips.

“Do you know what it feels like to want someone so bad that it fucks with you and everything you do? To want someone more than you’ve wanted anything. To want someone in a way that is new to you, so new that it scares you. Do you know what it feels to have this crippling fear every time that someone is in your grasp, but not being able to resist the temptation, the desire to make them yours? Do you know what it feels like to know that you only burn this bright, this hot, this dangerous with one person, and the burn is all-consuming?”

He looked almost hysterical now. “Do you know what it feels like to want the perfect someone for you? I’m talking molded for you in every way while knowing it’s not the right time for you because you both want too much from the world and because you know that because you burn so hot, so bright that you’ll burn each other if either of you ever let go and let it happen? To know you are so similar that you will either destroy each other or ruin one another for anyone else.”

The look on his face was so damn relatable. He’d just said everything you’d thought over the last 10 years. Everything.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me.”

He was practically ranting now. Spewing every single thing that he’d ever thought, confessing it all.

“So because of all that you try to keep up pretenses that you’re friends and nothing more though you have countless moments where you slip up and stare at them too long, or hold them in your arms from a hug for half a minute too long, or let your hand linger in theirs or around their waist to test boundaries because you just can’t not touch them, or even find reasons to do every single thing together. You take those 2 steps forward not realizing you do because the pull is too strong, then you freak out and leap back 5 steps. You do this for weeks, months, years until 10 of them have passed and you have this huge box you’d filled with all the other stuff between you that you can’t express or fess up to until that box just gets stirred by one action, one moment--one night.”

His eyes were locked on yours. Somehow he’d traveled across the room to the bar and was standing right in front of you. Somehow he’d locked you in the frame of his arms leaving you nowhere to run. Somehow he’d managed to inflate your chest with hope right beside your thundering heart.

“Then suddenly—everything has changed, and nothing can be the same ever again,” he finished, his voice a whisper in the completely silent room.

You watched his eyes lower to your lips and your gut flipped again.

“Do you know what any of that feels like, Y/N?”

There were only mere inches between you now and the sheer proximity of his body to yours made you shiver.

“H—how long—have you—felt this way?”

Your voice quivered in a way that made it obvious to him what his nearness was doing to you.

“10--fucking years,” Lewis replied eyes glued to yours.

He took one step to you, “I’ve spent the last 8 months cleaning my life, cleaning my circle because I’ve gotten to the point where I could no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. You’re number one, Y/N.”

You were frozen in place, unsure what to say, and even more unsure what to do. He was right, your truths usually did line up and this was no different.

“And I know it scares you, shit it scares me too. All of this does. I know my life is insane and yours is about to be even more so, I get you still have things you want to accomplish; I saw your face when Halsey mentioned adding your name to the plaque. You want it and I want it for you as well as the world for both of us. Our timing can’t be any worse, but something has got to give, love, because I can’t take another year let alone 10 of this.”

You took a deep, ragged breath.

“Where--,” Lewis began before stopping and chewing his top lip.

It was a nervous tick. “Where do I—stand—with you?”

For 10 years he’d been so hard to read, so nearly impossible to gauge, and here right now in the darkness of the room you could see him as clear as day. He was oh so transparent and scared you’d reject him. Scared you’d decide he was more trouble than he was worth. Scared he’d just showed you his heart and ruined your friendship in the process. Without realizing it you were crying; you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

Sniffling, you wiped it away, “Ehm, I broke up with Darius tonight.”

Lewis looked shocked. Clearly, he thought you were still together.

“Why?”

You wiped the other tear that fell from your eye then looked away from him. All of a sudden the room felt smaller than it was, it felt as if the walls were closing in on you. Lewis cupped the back of your head cradling your skull in his palm making you look him in the eyes.

“Why?”

“For the last 8 months, I’ve been hot and cold with him, I pulled him close one minute then the next pushed him away, I disappeared a lot always using work as the excuse. I was busy, yeah, but it wasn’t work. I was always so reluctant to put a label on what we were doing, every time he brought it up I changed the subject never giving him the answer he wanted. Even when we had sex--.”

Lewis took a deep breath, dropped his head, and harshly released it, clearly displeased with confirmation that he’d had you that way, but you continued.

“Even then it was usually always on my terms, and I always wanted him to leave right after. I was—I was always thinking about someone else, something else instead of him, and for 8 months I never felt anything remotely close to what I felt that night with him. over the months every time I saw you it hacked at whatever was going on between me and him until tonight seeing you again it just--.”

You flicked your five fingers indicating an explosion. I’ve become hypersensitive to you, and I don’t know when it happened. It dawned on me that—I was using Darius and it wasn’t fair.”

Lewis searched your eyes not hiding the hurt in his. You took a step towards him. “You’re right about a few things. Our timing couldn’t be any worse.”

He nodded.

“Our truths usually always line up.”

Lewis looked hopeful then.

“Your life is insane.”

The hope faltered.

“I do want my name on that plaque, and I will get it.”

A small smile crooked his lips.

Another tear rolled down your cheek and again you wiped it away, “I can also no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. Always has been because you’re my number one.”

He clenched his jaw then and the emotion that washed over his face rocked you. Like an earthquake rocking the Earth’s surface.

“I am scared.”

As this tear rolled, Lewis was the one to reach out and gently wipe it with the pad of his thumb. Your lip quivered.

“I’m so scared.”

Lewis pushed forward then, crashing his lips to yours in one swift move. Once your lips met neither of you went slow. The kiss was frenzied from the beginning, both of you wanting it all and not wanting to waste any more time taking it. As his tongue rolled with yours you closed the space between you pressing your body against him. Lewis softly moaned, wrapping his arms around you. When you bit down on his bottom lip he groaned then walked you backward until your back collided with the edge of the bar. Trapping you there once again, he kissed you without holding a thing back and your body responded to him instantaneously.

In a matter of seconds, you both were moaning against each other and completely wrapped up in the new feelings that were consuming you. Lewis cupped your face as he kissed you then ran his hands down to your neck. You couldn’t deny that this felt even better than you imagined. Moaning, you clutched his waist but when that didn’t suffice, you slowly slid your hands up along his toned abs, over his chest taking in the bulge of muscle there. When you wrapped them around his neck, Lewis pressed more persistently against you.

“Mmmm!”

Lewis tore his lips from you and put his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I don’t want to get too carried away. I’m sorry I should have asked first.”

“Consent fucking given,” you said before you crashed your lips to his.

This time you took control. Swirling your tongue with his you didn’t give him time to react or gain the upper hand. You wanted to taste him, and you refused to wait any longer. Teasing his lips, you nibbled his bottom one, taking your time to sensually suck on it until he moaned against you. The vibration shot through you making you feel like you’d only now just begun to truly feel. Lewis’ hands roughly gripped your hips, holding you steady so you could feel that you weren’t the only one finally feeling for the first time.

Heightening both if your pleasure, you sucked his tongue until he groaned. The next thing you knew Lewis’ had you by the hips lifting you onto the bar top. You wrapped your thighs around him and nearly came when you felt his hands pry your legs apart. The heat radiating off of his hand on your bare thigh reminded you of the night in his car and you prayed he didn’t stop again.

As if reading your mind, Lewis met your eyes while he slid his hand higher and higher and higher until his fingers crawled to your inner thigh. Softly he raked his manicured nails against your skin forcing a whimper from you. You bit down on your bottom lip and silently willed yourself not to cum from the anticipation. Suddenly the back of Lewis’ fingers brushed against your sex. Your gasp was loud, breathy, and stretched out as he took his time moving centimeter by centimeter until he’d trapped your clit between his pointer and middle finger. Your jaw dropped all the while he held your gaze.

When he tightened his fingers and rubbed against you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You knew then he was dangerous, and you were going to cum.

“F—ha—fu-huck!”

Your back arched, head fell back as your body moved like it were possessed. Each spasm of pleasure had you bucking against his fingers until you could hardly breathe.

“My god you’re so fucking beautiful when you cum, love.”

You giggled and moaned as the tremors worked their way through you. “Mmm, orgasms and compliments, a girl could get used to this,” you cooed.

“Good. This is your future.”

Lewis moved his hand, brought them to your thighs then lifted them. As he planted your heels at the edge of the bar, you knew what he wanted. Your eyes dropped to his lips then you moaned. Pulling your dress away from your legs you allowed them to fall back to the bar showing him not only gymnasts were flexible.

“Oh fuck,” Lewis groaned.

You watched his eyes drop to your sex and the look on his face was unlike any you’d ever seen. No one had looked at you like this before. He stared where your thighs met like it was the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen, the first of its kind and something he wanted to completely destroy. You now felt like prey spread before him like this, like at any moment he was going to pounce on you.

“Mmm.”

Lewis came closer and closer until he rested on his elbows and was just inches from your sex. The anticipation was killing, and he had to know it.

“I knew you were a lacy knickers kind of woman,” he muttered.

“I take it you’re a lacy knickers kind of man.”

“On you, fuck yes.”

With that, Lewis hooked his thumbs in your underwear and pulled them to the side. He blew out a breath in reaction to seeing you bare for the first time and that breath fucked you up all over again. You threw your head back trying to calm your anxieties, but just when you met his eyes again you found his tongue out sliding against your wet folds.

Oh—my—goooood!”

Lewis moaned and did it again and again until he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Mmmm.”

Lewis pressed your thighs back keeping them spread then went to town. If you’d ever doubted before that his mouth game was incredible you didn’t now. He licked, flicked, and sucked along your flesh making your back remain in a prolonged arch. Within seconds you were whining and writhing as his tongue worked literal fucking magic. The sound of Lewis’ slurping echoed in the living room and that was when your hands grabbed his head. Pulling his hair free you held on and bucked against his mouth.

“Mmm.”

He stuck his tongue out and let you take over. With every buck against his tongue, you called his name and the more the tip of his tongue flicked your clit the more out of control you felt. Your release was so close your body moved more wildly needing it at all costs.

“I’m gonna cum Lewis.”

“Cum for me, Y/N!”

You didn’t need to be told more than once and when you were right on the precipice you felt Lewis slid two digits inside of you. Just like that, your orgasm morphed from a toe-curling release to soul snatching one. You screeched as your body convulsed but he didn’t stop then, he pumped his fingers in and out of you then added a third finger stretching you wide.

“Uuuugh fuck!”

You barely finished your words before Lewis threw you over his shoulder, keeping his fingers inside of you. As he walked through the suite his fingers kept fucking you, readying you for him. When your back met the soft sheets of the mattress, Lewis still hadn’t broken contact. He watched you now as you lay there unable to control your body.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Pulling his fingers free he cleaned two of them off before you sprang to your knees to claim the third. As you sucked his finger you kept your eyes on his. You could see how badly he wanted you, how much he wanted from you, and you couldn’t believe he’d held back all this time. You took your time sliding each button through its slot until his shit was wide open. When you pushed it off of him you took in a sight you’d seen plenty of times only now it was different.

You brought your hands to feel across his torso marveling at each defined ab muscle and each tattoo. When you intentionally rubbed against his beaded nipple you noted the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. How had you never noticed your effect on him? How had you never taken it seriously? Bringing your hands back to his waist you undid his pants. You brushed your palm against the protruding mass straining against his pants which made him shiver as he grunted.

“Oops.”

Lewis scoffed then licked his lips and that was all it took for him to claim back some of the control you possessed over this exchange.

“Of course, you’re a fucking tease.”

You innocently smiled. “I haven’t even begun to tease you.”

“I bet.”

Lewis snuck forward kissing you one peck at a time, over and over.

“Mm, can you take it?”

“Any other night my answer would be yes, hell in an hour my answer will be yes but right now--.”

He cupped your sex with on hand and the back of your neck with the other.

“Mmm.”

“Right now, I have no control left. I’ve remained in control around you for 10 years and right now I just want to let it all go. I want to bury myself so deep inside of you there is no mistake that we belong to each other bad timing or not. It’s you and me, Y/N.”

You groaned as his words only increased the wetness between your legs. You kissed him again, then you turned your back to him and swayed your body against him. Lewis dropped a kiss to your shoulder as his hand crept around to cup the underside of your breast. You leaned forward getting on all fours with your ass poking out to him.

“Undo me?”

He didn’t move for a few moments, and you waited for him to enjoy the view. When you felt his hand rub against your ass you dipped your back lower which only made your ass poke out more. Lewis trailed his hand along your spine that the backless gown proudly showed off. Then he went to your tailbone and lowered the zipper of the dress. Peeping over your shoulder, your eyes locked as you allowed the dress to fall away from your body.

His groan was low—primal. It was all you needed to hear to know he liked the strappy number you wore that was made of fine lace. You expected him to take his time but instead, you felt him peel off the garment leaving you completely naked before him for the first time ever.

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N. So wet and so fucking perfect.”

You spread your legs further then stretched your arms over your head using your head to hold you up. As expected, Lewis flipped you onto your back making you giggle. You roamed your hands over your body, cupping your breasts then sliding them down your abdomen to your dripping core. The entire time, Lewis kept his eyes on every move you made while he pulled his pants and underwear off.

When he stood bare before you, your surprise could not be masked. You didn’t know what you’d expected in your late-night thoughts about what he was packing but you had no way of expecting this. Lewis gripped his length then slowly stroked it as he pressed a knee onto the mattress.

“Scared?”

You bit your bottom lip as you gawked at what the good lord blessed him with. It was unfair and completely intimidating.

“Now I see why everyone in the rotation was so happy being one of many.”

He snorted, bringing his other knee to the mattress between. Slowly he stalked closer like a predator with a deadly weapon in hand.

“There is no rotation anymore.”

“Oh yeah. The LH44 Harem has been disbanded?”

As he crept closer, you slid backward.

“You’re not funny.”

“So am I the first to usher in a new era—a new harem?”

Lewis grabbed your ankle then pulled you back to him making the backs of your thighs slam into the fronts of his. He then hovered over you before dropping an opened mouth kiss on your nipple. Sucking the peak into his mouth he sucked raising your back off of the bed.

“You’re in no harem. I told you, it’s you—and me,” he said nibbling your flesh.

Stared at him letting it all sink in. You brought your hand to his bearded cheek and rested it there.

“Are we really doing this? Like—for real?”

Lewis boxed your face in with his muscular arms and stared into your eyes. “I’ve told you where I stand, Y/N. I’ve told you everything that’s in here.”

He took your hand and placed it over the roaring lion etched on his skin keeping his hand over yours.

“It’s time you tell me what’s in here,” he finished placing his other hand over your left breast.

“You,” you whispered.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Before you could react or even respond Lewis thrust forward sending the tip of his hardness inside of you, stealing your breath, and every thought. A breathy gasp filled the air. Slowly he pushed forward, leisurely filling you giving you time to adjust to his size.

“Haaaa.”

Lewis kept his hand over your heart while holding yours over his as he filled you inch by tortuous inch never taking his eyes off yours. Your entire being was on fire like he was pouring molten lava inside of you with every inch he gave you.  

“Oh fu—Lewis,” you panted.

From the way his jaw was clenched, and eyes focused intently on you, you could tell he was feeling everything you were.

“How are you so tight?”

Digging your nails into his chest you tightened your leg around his waist and as if that was his last straw, Lewis flicked his hips forward filling you completely and tearing a scream from both of your lips. Neither of you moved for several moments but with every second that passed by your body blazed. Bucking against him, you slid your hand up to his throat and then gripped it.

“I love you. Fuck me. Now!”

Those words would be your ruin because he did just that without mercy and complete recklessness. Your moans and whimpers melded together rising in decibel and power until the entire room shook with the power of your screams for one another. As he plowed inside of you he didn’t go slow, he followed his basal instincts that were imprinted in his DNA, a need to claim, and dominate.

You’d never felt so out of control in your life. No matter how he fucked you, you couldn’t get enough. No matter how deep he went you wanted him deeper. No matter how he called your name you wanted him to scream it. You wanted every fucking thing he had. You wanted to leave him in shambles. When he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, he held your ass in the air and fucked you so thoroughly you’d lost track of how many times you came. It didn’t matter because you wanted more.

He must have been able to read your mind because there was no way he could tell what you needed this soon, you thought to yourself as he grabbed your wrists and pulled you back, so he had your upper body hovering above the mattress.

“Oh my god, I’m cumming Lewis! Ooh shiiiiiit!”

He took advantage of this new angle and circled his hips as he jackhammered into you, fucking you as you did something you’d never done before—squirted. You screamed from the force of your release, but Lewis didn’t stop, he fucked you through it then torpedoed you into another one that you knew would tear you apart. Racing for it, you slammed yourself back into him relishing the mix of pain and pleasure that only intensified when Lewis bit down on your shoulder.

“You got one more for me, darlin? Cum for me. Soak this dick, pretty girl, drench me so I can fill that pretty pussy up.”

“Aaah!”

You clenched around him as you lost yourself and fell off the cliff and into an endless pit of pleasure. You felt Lewis spasm inside of you before he cursed and shouted his release doing just what he promised. Filling your pretty pussy up.

When the two of you finally collapsed on the bed Lewis held you to him spooning you while still being nestled inside of you. Bit by bit you came back to your body and slowly your body went from violent shakes to subtle tremors and a hazy feeling washed over you. Lewis peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder nipping your skin every now and then.

“Mmm. Oh my god!”

He snorted. “You good?”

“Good? Am I good? Are you—at the risk of swelling your head even more than it already is that was--.”

“Was?”

You searched for the words but couldn’t find the right ones. “It was,” you settled on making him laugh as he held you tighter.

“Naw, I was alright, you—you were,” he said making you snort.

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m being for real for real. It’s a miracle I held on that long, you feel unbelievable, so good, too good. You—are!”

You giggled then moaned, sleepiness creeping up on you.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, I’m nowhere near done with you.”

His manhood inside of you lurched nudging your g-spot and just like that your eyes snapped wide open.

“Watch yourself, I know your weakness now.”

“You?”

“Nope, this pussy.”

Lewis snorted then flipped you onto your stomach again. This time he straddled you as he slowly pulled out of you only to plunge right back in.

“Mmm.”

“Still so damn tight,” Lewis groaned.

“You’re welcome to try stretching me out.”

Lewis jerked his hips forward delivering a bruising thrust as punishment for your your sassy mouth. It was a thrust that took your breath and made you go cross-eyed.

“Mmm, yes!”

“Oh, aren’t you full of surprises. Pretty girl likes it rough and hard.”

He did it again and again, making you hit the bed each time as you buried your face in the sheet to muffle your screams.

“God yes, Lewis!”

“So fucking alike,” Lewis said before lowering his lips to your ear. “Remember I love you 'cause I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

Not waiting for a reply he held your arms to the bed then delivered on his promise. Everyone else was number 2 compared to you being each other’s number 1. Nothing else mattered.

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

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[belle--ofthebrawl]

Hiya, how about “eyes meeting from across the room” and “a subtle wink” with Dew and Phantom/Aeon?

Hello! This is what happened one night at a fancier bar. :)

“Think our little Bug’s got a crush.” Swiss murmurs under his breath, lips tracing over the rim of his beer bottle.

“No shit.” Dew mutters back, too focused on flicking his thumb in just the perfect way to light his joint. He doesn't want to look up through the window yet, into the building. Doesn't want to meet the sparkling amethyst eyes that have been following him around the bar since they decided to stop in and one drink became three became five. Dew’s sitting comfortable with two beers in his stomach, followed by good old fashioned tavern food, carb-loaded and filling. He just wants a little bit more, he thinks, finally sparking up the top of his finger and lighting the little roll. Something that will make him feel dopey and happy.

“It’ll be good for him to make the first move.” Dew continues after a deep inhale. “Since everyone around here can't keep their hands to themselves.”

“Hey, that's not true.” Swiss tells him with a rich chuckle. “My Rory girl switched keys without telling me and was waiting naked in my room a few nights ago.”

“Oh good for you, stud.” Dew snorts. “You hear if Aeon's been brave enough to approach anyone yet?”

It's silly to gossip like this. They're grown adult hell spawn. But he can't deny the warm feeling of camaraderie in his chest when Swiss sidles close to whisper his next words into Dew’s hair.

“Rory said he wants to impress you.” Swiss confides. “He's just waiting for the perfect moment.”

“Well he better be quick.” Dew says, finally looking into the building. “I'm not exactly known for my patience.” It's warmly lit with a fireplace, dark wood accents and cracked green leather on the stools, studded with tarnished brass. Real nice place. Different from the dive bars they've patronized in the past. Aeon's easy enough to find, his lanky form on a couch in a conversation pit, laughing easily at something Cumulus said. Like he can sense it, and he probably can, the quint glances up at the perfect moment, meeting Dew’s lidded gaze with his own full of mischief and planning. He taps two fingers against his lips, blows a little kiss and winks.

Against his better judgment, Dew’s nose twitches in the way it always does when his pack mates do something adorable.

“Oooup.” Swiss grins, fangs flashing in the light. “Think it's tonight.”

“Maybe.” Dew says, turning away. His body is floating pleasantly, mind going blank. He looks up at the sky, admiring the stars and hardly notices the way Swiss starts rummaging in his pockets for something.

“It's a sure thing.” He says, tapping his key card against the railing. “He traded with me before left the venue.”

Dew considers this information for a moment. Thinks about the way Aeon grinned at him. The way he's been peacocking around for attention ever since their first show together.

“I think I’m alright with that then.” He finally says with a soft smile. “Won’t Aether just love to hear about it.”

“Won't he just.” Swiss says with a wide grin. Behind them, the heavy wooden door is pushed open and none other than Aeon joins them on the little patio, drink of his own in hand.

“Hey guys.” He says amicably. “Enjoying the night?”

“Just gettin’ started.” Dew mumbles, exhaling a long stream of smoke. Don't scare the guy, hey. Aether says into his mind, a recollection from the day before they left. I'm putting a lot of faith in him as my replacement.

So far he's been living up to expectations just fine. He can't wait to tell Aether all about it, as Aeon jostles in between them, saying something about a certain constellation. An invisible tail strokes up his calf and Dew smiles in anticipation for whatever happens next.

[jacksprostate]

For a moment, my world is a single concussive blast, shattering my skull and sending my soul straight to hell. Direct flight. Short enough, there's no single serving refreshments to match the minty white hot incineration of my mouth.

When I open my eyes, cavern the size of Kansas blown through my last good cheek, the afterimage light of the bullet inflicted on the world — it's with the distinct sense that I fucked up.

I had told Marla, I wasn't killing myself. I was killing Tyler. But doesn't anyone with a gun in their mouth want to die?

I try speaking, and it works about as well as one would expect. I wave them away. Even Marla. Strangely enough, they listen. Or maybe they go to find a paramedic. No one ever told them to staunch the massive source of blood flow first. That's alright.

This is time to think. Solo reflection before group therapy.

I am alone, and Tyler is nowhere in sight.

Maybe it really was a murder suicide. Both victims, Tyler Durden. Cause of death, his stupid, stupid creator stopped wanting him. I realize this puts me in the stance of God, and I shudder. Tyler is not one of millions axeing themselves because daddy dearest and holy didn't love them enough.

And yet, I'm standing in his paraffin iconography. His pointless tomb.

Tyler says, "That's not quite nice, you know."

Tyler.

Cortisol receptors, burnt, back on fire.

Houston, we have a problem.

Tyler.

Tyler says, "Did you really think that would work? Tied it up in your head with a little bow, metaphorical gravestone marked with my name?"

Tyler says, "Didn't think you had it in you, psycho boy."

I stumble. I fall onto the ground and my head should ricochet and get scrambled like hens who've just met the fox. I fall on the ground, and my head falls into Tyler's lap. He looms over me, eyes crinkled like when he kissed me and introduced me to lye.

Tyler.

He cards his fingers through my hair. Supports my head with his palm. Turns it this way and that, tsking, humming.

Tyler says, "You did quite the number on yourself, psycho boy."

It feels like he could crack my skull open, pour out the contents like it's egg drop soup. There is sweetness to how he handles me.

"I told you," he says. "We won't really die."

Did Tyler move the tip of the gun? Did Tyler save my life?

"No. You fucked up killing yourself all on your own," Tyler says.

I wasn't trying to kill myself. I wanted to kill Tyler.

"Same thing," Tyler says, and my eyes water.

He lets his fingers slip close to the mangled chops of my cheeks. It is something that should probably hurt, but when he sticks his fingers in my face, I feel nothing. I can't tell if it's because it's not real and I don't have the energy for Tyler to use my hands, or if it's because my pain has become the ultimate white ball of healing light.

Two of his fingers slip into the gash of my old scar. It's been open since I learned about Patrick Madden. He fingers my mouth, traces the bitten chunk of my tongue. Tyler chides me. How could I ever expect fight club to release me from myself, now? It loves us too much.

"Not just Tyler Durden," he says.

Tyler says, "You might be my shadow, but they love you, too. They see you."

Be still my beating heart.

Why paraffin, Tyler?

Why not blow up the building. Doesn't this mean anything?

I thought it was my secret will to live. Tyler had come to me, perfectly handsome and an angel in his everything-blond way. My will to live tried to commit suicide, sure, but maybe he didn't. Did Tyler add the paraffin, just like how he tipped the gun?

"I told you," Tyler says. "I didn't tip the gun."

I didn't though. I wanted to die.

Why paraffin?

Tyler says, "Look at what you are now. What you've come to accept. In the best operas, the best stories, you don't really die. You learn a lesson. You up the stakes."

He pulls at my newest wound, stretching the skin tight. It gushes blood direct into my throat. Tyler opens me like a chip bag, and now I have no corners to my mouth but the ones all the way back at my ears. I've got four nice chops, ready to be pared.

Dragon of avarice.

Rough cut of beef. Pork. Good enough for stew, maybe.

I can hear the police helicopters, closer, closer. The impending doom of my discovered resurrection.

Tyler says, "You've been here since the start. I wouldn't be here in the first place if you didn't want me."

Trying to kill myself would never kill Tyler. I love him too much. It's the experience of being me I want to let go of. I stopped wanting to wake up.

That means I'm the hallucination.

Tyler says, "Think of it as metamorphosis."

Tyler is a sculptor. Carver. He is slicing the unneeded and unwanted parts of me away. This is just the largest cut of his knife. I think of little soap bears made by Boy Scouts. I am his self portrait.

Tyler says, "This is only the first step."

The helicopters land. There's stitches on every single officer.

[childofsardior]

What are each koopalings fears and how do they react to them

I admit in advance that I was not too sure about this one ^v^' but I thought about this for a while and now I'll try to answer!

I will talk about the *main* or most *iconic* fears that came to my mind!

Ludwig: Talking about irrational fears, Ludwig is scared as heck from Pipe Organs. Not only of their sound, but also being close to one or even see one in the distance. This fear was actually developed by Lud after "The Incident", when, at the age of 15, a huge Pipe Organ actually collapsed on him while fighting the Mario Brothers (yes, an HC version of Pipe Down exist in my AU if you're wondering :P). He didn't touch that instrument even since and will refuse to come too close to one of his own will. He is also secretely afraid of failure related to missions or competitions he really cares about. Being so full of himself and all, he'll always picture himself as the obvious winner of a fight or a race or a contests even before the start, but in the end he will usually accept his defeat if his opponets were *actually* better than him - somethimes even compliment them. But...! If Ludwig was actually following some important orders from Bowser and ended up messing things up, if he could not prove himself as a perfect big brother to his siblings in tricky situations, or even if he could not "reach the podium" in some sort of musical competition he worked so hard for with his orchestra and all... well, in these cases failure will actually matter a lot, even affecting his self-esteem for a while.

Lemmy: This one is easy: Lemmy is afraid of growing up, responsabilities and adulthood in general. He's technically the second oldest, but having Ludwig as the "responsable one" as a big bro allowed Lemmy to spend time with his younger siblings playing and chilling without caring much about "responsabilities". But as he's growing up, his childish vibes started to feel more like a confort-zone for him, while the idea of being forced in a cold future made of burocracy, hard decisions and real responsabilty for his action really do bothers him - he's afraid he won't be able to play around and be silly and do wathever he feels like anymore, basically seeing adulthood as a sort of horrible prison made of boredoom and bags under the eyes.

Roy: Roy looks like he's not afraid of anything - well, he actually is afraid of Wendy when she's angry, but everyone in the family is, so this doesn't count. In reality, Roy has some secret fears nowdays, the biggest one being his fear of loosing his tough and cool mask in front of the others. He literally won't take off his sunglasses because he's ashamed of his heterocromia. He won't let his hair grow again after he found this style because he's afraid he won't look cool enough. Most of all, he will play the "rough guy card" claming that books are dumb and everything refined is for loosers, while he secretely enjoys reading and he can actually knows how to do things such as playing the violin (yes, you read it right). He won't admit in front of his family that he loves bunnies and would want one as a pet. He will mock Wendy's exagerate style while secretly wanting to polish his own claws pink or purple, and so on. He only talks about this with some friend out of the castle, but only in rare occasions and in a "but-I-am-joking-bro!" way.

Iggy: His siblings joke about he must be afraid of herbicide and rabbits, since he looks like a carrot. But in reality, Iggy seem to have no actual fears at all. He will laugh in front of his enemies and find deadly monsters cool as heck, and will probably try to study them at best or adopt them at worse. He can be sometimes annoyed or bothered by things in a "please-stop-doing-that-like-right-now" way, and he is a bit germophobic too, but rarely he'll be truly afraid of things or situations... except made for the times he looses his glasses. If this happens, Iggy will totally panic - he can barely see anything without them, and will lose all his composure if they break. When he was a kid, he often cried aloud or even weeped dramatically while trembling in a corner if he lost his eyeglasses, while now he'll just panic a lot while blindly searching for them in a very nervous way, usually asking Lemmy or Morton for help if near.

Wendy: Only a few things can actually scare the only girl of the group. One thing she's afraid of is her make-up or outfit being ruined during important events - especially if she spent hours choosing her clothing, trying different make-ups and so on. But if someone actually *does* ruin her appearance - usually Roy or Larry - then they are gonna be the ones scared for real as soon as Wendy stops being ashamed for the incident and start getting angry, REAL ANGRY instead. She's a a bit claustrophobic too, and she could get nervous if she suddenly finds herself in a dark and small space. The only exception for this is made for her seashell custom bed that she owns at one of her seaside residences - she feels safe enough inside it, even is she prefers to keep the upper part open a bit while sleeping.

Morton: Morton's biggest fear is hurting his siblings without noticing, or being unable to protect them, especially Junior. Morton wasn't too aware of his own strenght when he was younger, but after the incident of the Malatone Formula:X, when he found himself fighting his own siblings under the BFF' brainwash, he now is quite scared by the possibility of hurting them. Talking about more irrational fears, he is scared of bugs, especially if very colorful or noisy - he likes to observe the ones in Iggy's terrariums, but he could panic if he sees a butterfly or a wasp flying towards him during a trip, or a grasshopper jumping around randomly while he's walking on a field.

Larry: Larry's biggest fears revolve around Bowser's anger - especially, he hates being scolded in a "no please not again!" way and one time he even tried to run away from the Dark Lands to avoid his adoptive's father rage - and the deep fear that he will never reach his big siblings'. He's always trying his best to be noticed or complimented by them or Bowser, but nobody seem to ever notice all the effort he put on things. So Larry's starting to think that he will be always the "mediocre" one, that he'll never be as skilled as Ludwig, as cool as Roy, as carefree as Lemmy, so clever as Iggy, and so on.

Bowser Jr.: Junior is a bold and brave kid... apparently. He likes to think he has no fear exactly like his dad, and that nobody and nothing can stop him. But in reality, Junior is quite scared of the idea of being alone. Especially after the attack of Fawful in the Mushroom Kingdom and Dark Lands, Junior started to learn the importance of team work and all. He is also used to constant company - from his half-siblings, from servants and minion, and most of all, from Kamek - and if left on his own for too much time he'll start to feel gloom at first, and desperatly scared after some while.

[the-moon-devi]

MESSAGES FROM THE LUMINARIES & PLUTO

Look at the pictures, Close your eyes & take a couple deep breaths. Open your eyes and choose. If you can't choose a pile this may not be the reading for you!

Attention ❗ ( this reading will not be for everybody!)

Hey ya'll! I wanted to make a Tarot reading channeling the planets. Originally This was supposed to be just Neptune.... but spirit said not right now. So instead they told me to do the luminaries & pluto. Idk why these specifically. Pluto did just move into aqaurius so i understand pluto but the sun & the moon are probably the divine feminine & masculines. Depending on which pile you pick will tell a lot about the energy you are. But it's alot with karmic issues & divine unions. I'm also picking up on venus energy as well. Ik venus is finishing up her flower. So maybe I'll just do a channeling venus next for the Twins/ soulmates out there. It won't be a pac just a collective read. I want those of you who are in these type of dynamics to understand your purpose & what it means when you come across certain omens etc. I'm sure your spirit team as well will help you to understand. I just feel called to speak on it. Alright enough of my rambling! As always enjoy! (444 as I was typing this)

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Pile 1:

Tarot: 3 of swords, 7 of cups, 2 of wands, 6 of pentacles, The Empress & The Emperor

Runes: Ehwaz- horse, transportation, partnership; Nauthiz- Need, necessity, hardship; Tiwaz-honor, justice, leadership, authority

Extra Messages: virgin,fated,water,dancing/music

Oracle: jump in, karmic relationships, surrender to the sweetness

Moonology- full moon in cancer, New moon in aqaurius, full moon in aqaurius

Messages from the moon:

If you chose this pile you are heavily connected to Lunar & water life energy. The moon is saying something about relationships. You have went through a break up that left you feeling confused. You may have had bad luck in love & receiving dreams about this. With the 2 of wands & 6 of pentacles I'm really getting that you're going to come together with a person. You guys may explore the world together and give charity or just really help people. So I pull my cards/runes as I'm writing. If you look above you'll see the runes you got and they match up perfectly with what I just said. You & this person may travel. You both may be very powerful & earlier I wanted to say you gave me power couple vibes. But there may be some type of misunderstanding that's going on here and the moon may be sending you dreams to understand this. But there's like a need for your two to be together. This is karmic and Fated. You may be new to relationships and things like that. Moon wants you to open up. You may be a dancer as well ik that's random but your energy kept pulling song cards. You and this person may have not had s*x yet and your scared of that but again moon is helping you to open up. You may have really gotten hurt before or your scared of this person hurting you again. You should connect with water as well. You may have moon-venus,moon-Uranus, or moon in aquarius, cancer, taurus/libra. Yall may be traveling out the country soon as well because I just heard, "visa". I can't get over this 3 of swords & 7 of cups energy so I'm gonna pull some more...... ok so I pulled the world card & the 3 of wands wanted to come out. I getting maybe your scared/paranoid to travel. Maybe it's with the person. I think you might have social anxiety and the moon wants you to show the real you. Whatever issues you have will come to a close. The moon wants you to bring love onto your situation & freely show yourself. Be vulnerable. You could also be afraid of large bodies of water. I'm also getting that your beautiful. (I mean you did pull the empress so ofc) your uniqueness is pulled to the front. I feel like yall have like Lunar and Uranian energy heavily in your chart maybe even venusian. It's kinda crazy because Im not getting much on your person they may be moving really slow towards you. They could even be long distance or live overseas and your scared to take a leap of faith to go see them. I'm really getting your protected tho. Yeah there's definitely some type of wedge that's driving yall apart but your going to come together. It's really something with travel but this issue will be fixed. There may even be a certain lesson you have to learn about letting go & be OK with change. Don't stay stuck in one spot because your scared. Alright bye pile 1!

Pile 2:

Runes: Mannaz- Mankind,Divine structures, mind, learning,memory; Peorth- unknowable, luck, chance, fate, divine intervention, ancestry memories, feminine, destiny; Ansuz- ancestors, ancestral knowledge, God/gods, communication, omens; Thurisaz- regeneration, chaos & power, protection, violence

Tarot: Knight of Wands, 8 of wands, 2 of cups, Queen of Pentacles, The lovers, The judgement card

Oracle: Star Family- you're apart of a team of souls call in support; Portal- doors are opening. you decide. Rewards. Wild card; The Great Severing- mars energy, anger, conflict, softening to love

Moonology- full moon in libra New moon in aqaurius

Extra messages: Past Lives, My Soul Evolves, Countertop,Yin-yang

Hey to my plutonian pile!!

If you chose this pile 222 & 88 could be important numbers to you. So before I even pulled anything I started singing London Bridge by Twenty88. Maybe if you fell off it would be really bad for someone/ something. Maybe pluto is really taking you through a destruction moment. Perhaps something is coming to an end? Let's pull to see!

Ok so basically from these cards I'm getting that your ancestors could have built some type of mystery school. There are definitely assisting you in your path. It's funny we are talking about past life's because plutonian energy does rule over death. And old memories. So maybe you remember your past life. Your waking up to what you used to be to help you in the present. They always say "know where you come from so you can know where you are going". There is definitely love invovled. You and your person text or talk alot. Definitely a divine union because we have two of cups, the lovers and the judgement card. The judgement card to me in this scenario is saying that you both are waking up to remember something. You could be getting alot of messages from source. A lot of the runes are saying the same thing. This is something that is Fated and has to happen. You are protected by pluto and if anybody messes with you they gone kick they a$$. I really just heard that. You may teach mankind some type of ancient knowledge. Maybe you were a queen in your past life as well. So yeah I just pulled two extras and we have the empress and death. And with that London Bridge song the catch phrase,' the London Bridge is fallen" means the queen has fallen. So maybe you were killed in a past life by someone. You were definitely a queen and I feel like you feel this energy in the present. You have very strong energy. Maybe someone was jealous of you and your partner.

Wow yall I didn't even need to pull oracle because it's just confirmation. You have support when it comes to your spirit team and ancestors. They are opening doors for you on the other side. All you have to do is tell them and they're willing to ride and do it. The last Oracle card you pulled was mars energy and that's funny because scorpio is originally ruled by mars. But again with this jealousy and violent energy. Someone definitely was jealous of you in your past life. As for your person they may have been a little bit of a hot head. You were the queen of pentacles & the empress so you were very powerful . You had a lot of earth energy & connected to Gaia.

Something in summer could happen for you. This summer you may go through a transformation. But pluto is evolving you into a even stronger energy. If you don't remember certain past life memories you will start to get them back. You & this person are divine counterparts. I really feel like you & this person have already met in this lifetime so this is confirmation if you feel like you know them. They were like the other half to you literally. Yall may be building a house or something like that as well. Or your going back to a house from your ancestral lineage and seeing the countertop and you like it. Ik thats specific but thats only for a few of you! Also your ancestors or your family now may have a stone/rock business maybe they were into architecture. You guys may be being spied on as well. Thank you for reading pile 2! I hope this resonated for you!

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Pile 3:

Tarot: The Emperor, ace of swords, the empress,9 of cups, knight of cups,3 of swords, knight of wands, the tower

Oracle: Double mission- lightworker & starseex ; Deep cellular healing, The seas of mintaka- seeing potential bringing unconsciousness to light.

Moonology- full moon in cancer, full moon in saggitarius, New moon in cancer

Extra messages: sweet, hit different, angel for them but for me you a hoe

Runes: Berkana- mother earth, birth, fertility, growth; Fehu- wealth, property, new begginnings, luck; Jera- harvest, year, patience, harmony, abundant

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Heyyy pile 3! Ya'll are my solar pile! So before I pulled your cards I was hearing at your best you are love by Aaliyah. You are like sunlight for somebody. I just heard, "thank you" so maybe you really help people out. You really are the sun. The sun is giving you the light to light the world & spread love. Let's pull some cards now....

Now I'm hearing Ja Ara É by Burna Boy. This song really just sounds happy to me. But go give that a listen.

Ok so yall literally got almost the same cards as pile. I shuffled these card atleast twice before I even getting to this pile. So ik it's not me. Even the same Oracle wanted to come out and for the moon cards there was one card that is the same as pile 1. So yall are traveling somewhere. I'm getting like maybe moving somewhere far away. With the emperor I'm getting maybe this is a masculine energy watching this pile. Idk but if your a masculine and you have a DF her energy was in pile 1 and for some reason I really couldn't get much on you the masculine energy. So maybe this is the other half of pile 1! You may be wanting to talk to a feminine enrgy. Maybe you said some hurtful things and you want to make her feel better. Or maybe there is this mental understanding between the two of you to try something new and heal together. I'm seeing that this will be beneficial and make the both of you happy. You could be sending the feminine energy words of love & healing. Yall literally may be traveling to see one another. I'm getting one of yall are fast and the other one is slow. The 3 of swords and the tower tells me that there was some type of break up that happened abruptly. I think you are now coming back together and building. There's a new begginning between the two of you and there's a lot of abundance surrounding this connection. I get the feeling that the emperor is the empress sun like the emperor lights up her being but when the emperor is mean the empress isn't happy. You may have broken up to find yourself and not be so attached. I keep getting water energy so maybe yall are very connected to water. The empress is very sweet. The empress may actually be pregnant the more I look at these cards. Alrighty pile 3! I really didn't get much but I think this was just a wrap up of pile 1 from a different perspective. I hope this resonated!

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Catch ya later lovelies! Til' next time!

~𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 xx🤎💋

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𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕!

𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓓𝓮'𝓛𝓾𝔁𝔁𝓮 (masterlist)

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©𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵

[iamthecomet]

#oh THAT'S a thought#Dew visiting Ifrit and Zephyr's pillars#telling them about his day#about the new ghouls

EXCUSE YOU??????

In relation to this post and the incredible art by @floating-goblin-art (let me know if you don't want to be tagged in this and I'll fix it ♥), and my subsequent tags. Sorry Mal, I have a lot of thoughts about it.

Maybe they're not actually in there. Maybe they are. Maybe they're just stone. Monuments. Like graves. Not actual ghouls encased in whatever salt. That would be better. But Dew, honestly doesn't know. He was broken when it happened. Irreparably he thought. Sometimes he still thinks so. Especially on days when he wakes with a migraine, or an ache so deep in his bones he is sure it will never leave.

They're hidden away in a back room in the Abbey basement. Behind a door no one ever keeps locked. Maybe as a reminder in case anyone stumbles on them--this is what happens if you fail.

Dew still doesn't know why he isn't one of them. How he and Mountain and Aether escaped this fate and Ifrit and Zephyr didn't. They were all summoned by the same papa, in the same few weeks. It doesn't make sense, and trying to figure it out just makes Dew's head pound. It doesn't matter anyway. What matters is that Ifrit and Zephyr are in this dark room with Alpha and Pebble, and the first air ghoul who must have had a name but Dew never learned it. They're with Omega. Dew tries not to look at Omega--his face drawn towards grief and horror. Dew doesn't like to think about what he must have seen. Instead, he sits on the floor at Ifrit and Zephyr's feet. They're together. Close. There is something like resignation on Zephyrs face, acceptance. Ifrit, on the other hand, is frozen mid yell.

Dew can barely stand to look at him.

The floor is cold beneath his legs as he settles in. He leans his head against Ifrit's leg. Cold and solid and foreign in a way that makes his chest catch. It never gets easier. He keeps doing it anyway. He imagines warmth. Conjures some of his own just to make it feel real. He thinks of Ifrit reaching down to pet his hair. Of Zephyr sitting next to him, carding bitter tears off of his face with their thumb. "They summoned new ghouls today," Dew starts. Voice thin and wavering. He opens his eyes but doesn't look up. He encases himself in memory. Pretends they can hear him--all of them. But especially these two. "They're ok. I guess. Nice enough. Got a multi-ghoul this time so that's something. He's pretty too--Ifrit would be all over him." Dew's heart aches.

"We're going on tour soon so I won't be back for a while. But I promise I'll tell you everything about it when I get home." Dew always runs out of things to say before he's ready to leave. He presses his face against Ifrit's stony knee, reaches a hand up to brush over Zephyr's fingers. He closes his eyes, breathes them in like he hopes he can still catch the faint smell of them. Ginger and Snow. All he smells is salt and ash. "Miss you."

[katuschka]

Olalla – Chapter Two

Josh Kiszka x female OC

1903 words

(This one is rather short, but that's intentional. This passage should be posted separately, because of the mood. I promise the next one will be posted very soon.)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Even though this chapter is rather harmless, the rest of the story won't be.

Warnings: melancholy, allusions to heartbreak, allusions to the death of a close person, alcohol consumption

Taglist

Previous chapter Next chapter Olalla masterlist

Agnieszka

“I brought some blankets.” 

Even though he invited me to join him, I really wasn’t sure how to approach him. He was cute, and had been very friendly so far, but something about him almost intimidated me. I couldn’t really put my finger on it. Not many people traveled alone here, and those who did were usually seasoned climbers with one thing in mind (maybe two). This obviously wasn’t the case. He didn’t have any equipment when he arrived, not even a pair of decent boots. No lone wolf craving his daily dose of adventure; he was like a nightingale that got lost. Yet, this place seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be. 

That man simply made me irrationally nervous. So I fell into the role I knew best: a caretaker. I handed him the blanket and he accepted it with a silent smile, but kept it folded in his lap while he watched his hands laying on the chequered pattern for several long seconds as if he saw them for the first time. He really wasn’t making it any easier for me. 

“You were much more eloquent this afternoon.” I tried to sound as unaffected and playful as possible, but the sudden shift in his behaviour from bubbly to brooding was palpable and for a brief moment, it made me rethink my decision to join him. I felt like an idiot just standing there. It was almost dark now and the automatic lights above the veranda went on, effectively turning the perceived sky from electric to navy blue and at the same time putting out the stars that just started blinking. The artificial light still barely reached us, though, and with him facing the other side of the garden, I could only see the outlines of his profile. It was, however, enough to tell me he was troubled. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I had a rather unpleasant phone call earlier this evening.” He shifted a bit to make more room for me and threw the blanket over his shoulders. “Please, sit. I’d love to have some company.” 

Would he! Was he running from something? Or someone? I wrapped myself in the other blanket and climbed on the withered wooden table next to him. “So…I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why are you travelling alone?” He smiled ruefully and looked at me for the first time. The mischievous twinkle from earlier that day was gone. He really did look sad. 

I was very much aware that it was a blunt question, but still also one I asked frequently, for practical reasons, so I decided to play this card, hoping that he wouldn’t get offended. I’d have to ask anyway, sooner or later.  “I don’t want to pry, really, it’s just part of my job to give you proper instructions. It’s generally not advised to go hiking alone, and if you do, the lodging provider should be notified about your daily plan, so that we could give the mountain rescue service some valuable information about your approximate location if necessary. It’s just a common policy. The weather is unpredictable here and you might easily find yourself seeking a makeshift shelter somewhere on the way…” I know, it was still pretty lame. 

He only nodded. “Noted…I see I’m in good hands…and as to why, I just wanted to. I think I needed some alone time. I’m just not used to it, I guess…and it’s only harder when the ghosts won’t leave you alone.”

“So, a ghost called?”

My question made him laugh. It was genuine this time, and it sounded like sleigh bells. “Yeah, you could put it that way.” He took a sip of his drink and, remembering why he invited me in the first place, handed me the second, unopened can. I don’t really drink beer, and that wasn’t why I came, but I accepted anyway. 

“Is that why you were singing?” It had been a woeful melody and judging by his current state of mind, it had been an intentional choice, too. He didn’t respond at first and I saw how his jaw clenched. My own insolence surprised me, but what was I supposed to do, ask him what he thought about the daisies in our garden? Still, I didn’t want to make it sound like I was interrogating him, so I quickly tried to turn it into mindless chatter. “That’s what I was doing when I was little. Me and my sister, actually. We would sing when we were alone in the evening, to chase away ghosts and fairies.” I regretted it immediately. Good job Olalla, now you sound like you never grew up. 

He looked at me again, and the twinkle was back. He could see right through me. “You’re not the one to talk about the weather, are you. That’s ok, I like it. I’ve had enough chit chat in my life.” A car just passed by behind the garden fence and the headlights illuminated his face for a brief moment. He gave me just a side glance, so I could take a good look at his profile for the first time. A strange man, indeed. His features were symmetrical and delicate – plump lips with a slight pout, a straight nose with just a tiny bump at the bridge, and oh, those big dark eyes – but it was still masculine enough to be considered attractive, with sharp jawlines and well-tended facial hair. His haircut was strange, and he wore earrings too. Clearly a bohemian of sorts. You really couldn’t blame me for wanting to know who he was and what whim made him come here. I felt emboldened to continue. 

“I just did talk about the weather,” I teased. “But you’re right. I could politely ask you where you’re from and what you’re planning to do tomorrow, or some other meaningless casual shit. But, since you don’t even have decent clothes with you, I already know your only plan so far is to go shopping. Our guests often sing tramp songs around the fireplace, but you’re the first lonely siren we’ve ever had here. So yeah, I’m curious.”

I really wouldn’t blame him if my inquiry offended him, but he just laughed again and patted my shoulder gently. 

“It’s a song I wrote just recently with my brother. And yes, it’s kinda about chasing ghosts, although it was never my intention to chase them away...”

“You write songs?”

“Only when there’s nothing better to do,” he tried to laugh, but it was more like a sigh. “But enough about ghosts. Now I’m more interested in the things that are real. I’m Josh, by the way.” He offered me his hand and I took it. He didn’t shake it, just held my fingers gently, with his thumb slowly caressing my knuckles. I was so completely taken aback that I didn’t realize I was being rude again until his raised eyebrows put me back to reality.

“Umm, my name is Agnieszka, but everyone except my parents calls me Olalla now.” 

“Olalla…,” he rolled the nickname slowly around on his tongue, before he gestured towards the building. “…because of this?”

“Good catch! Eulalia actually is my baptismal name. You can tell my parents really love this place,“ I snickered. “Mom also liked the meaning behind it… But no, it’s in fact just a coincidence. It’s just my favourite song. I was listening to it all the time after…a bad thing happened. It helped me to let go of an actual ghost. It may sound like a cliche, but I think music can heal. And then it kind of stuck.” 

I didn’t even know why I said that. I was well known for keeping my feelings and hurts locked safely out of anyone’s reach, but something about him made me feel like I could pour my heart out and everything would be ok. It was wild. We were both complete strangers, yet both already overly familiar with each other. It felt surreal. 

I looked up to see his eyes boring into me. I realized that he was still holding my hand when he lifted it to his lips in a silent nice to meet you gesture. It seemed completely natural to him, but I must have looked a bit shocked, which I was, because he quickly dropped it and apologized. 

It effectively killed the conversation. There was nothing to apologize for, but I couldn’t force myself to tell him the real reason why I suddenly felt so shaken. He had nothing left to tell and I didn’t know what to say, so after a short, awkward while, he cleared his throat and suggested it was probably time to go inside. 

I didn’t want the moment to end. Under any other circumstances, I would just return back to my usual professional self and let go. People come and go, sometimes you click and sometimes you screw up. But other men who came in here never behaved like this. Hikers and sportsmen and family men and someone’s else’s men. Some were more polite than others, and the sweetest or the flirtiest of those single ones sometimes warmed my bed, but their intentions were always pretty clear…and so were mine. I never behaved like this either. He just made me. This Joshua was an enigma. And, even though I didn’t want to admit it, he just ignited something in me that I thought was long gone. Maybe if I did admit it to myself, I would just return back to bed and probably tried to forget anything happened. Instead, I wanted to get to know him. The best thing I could think of was to take his hand in mine again. “I’m sorry you’re chasing ghosts, Joshua.”

“Please, it’s Josh…”

“I Like Joshua better. I think it suits you more,” I whispered, smiling, and he squeezed my hand. “And I’m sorry you were haunted,” he mumbled. 

We spent another surreal moment in silence, listening to the sounds of the evening, until a particularly loud group of people returning from a pub to a nearby hotel brought us from our mutual reverie. 

I finally let go of his hand, opened the can and took a healthy gulp. “Fuck ghosts, and cheers to the living then!” 

We spent the rest of the evening in a lively conversation about my family and our life in Willa Eulalia, he told me about his siblings and his hometown that was some sort of a Christmas village. At least that’s how he described it. I also advised him where to go and what to see after he told me that he was rather a “valley guy” and didn’t dare to venture past the tree line. At least not yet. 

It was well past eleven when we finally made our way back to our respective rooms, both already chilled to the bone and I also desperately needed to pee. My private apartment was on the second landing so we stopped by my door to say goodnight. He took both my hands in his and shook them playfully. “Thank you for the lovely evening Olalla. I can’t wait to see your lovely face again in the daylight.”

“It was beautiful, by the way.”

“What was?”

“Your singing.”

He observed me for a few long seconds, thinking. Then he placed his hands on my shoulders and kissed my cheek. “Night, lovely.”

Previous chapter Next chapter Olalla masterlist

@its-interesting-van-kleep @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @fleet-of-fiction @takenbythemadness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @tripthelightfantastix @sanguinebats @love-isnt-greed @klarxtr

[kairithemang0]

Little Curtwen thing I thought of that probably won't be great but maybe I'll polish it and edit it if y'all like it

I haven't written a gay panic fic for them in a while

Curt's heart pounded in his chest as he grabbed the black bowtie from the end table of he and Owen's hotel room, wrapping it around the collar of his white button up shirt, holding his breath. Owen walked out of the bathroom, buttoning his shirt halfway as he placed a hand on his shoulder as he passed, going to the other side of the table as Curt quickly fixed his hair in the mirror, making sure he looked passable.

Curt's eyes trailed away from his reflection down to Owen, who tucked his shirt into his pants and pulled it out slightly, before finishing buttoning it. Curt was almost disappointed he didn't get a better look at his chest hair before it disappeared under his ironed button-down shirt. His hair dripped from the shower, he wiped it out of his face, feeling Curt's eyes on him.

"You need something, Mega?" He questioned Curt, who turned back to his reflection and finished with his bowtie.

"You need to dry your hair," he told him, knowing he didn't care what his hair looked like. Messy, clean, wet, dry, it always looked incredible. Curt didn't know how Owen did it, how him carding his nails through his hair to get it out of his face made Curt's heart skip enough beats to where it became unhealthy, and he needed a glass of water.

Owen let out a chuckle, leaning against the table, eyes falling up and down Curt's body, before a small smirk fell to his face. Curt thought he was about to crumble and die watching those whiskey eyes poison him with that little glint of attraction. Curt hoped it was attraction, at least.

Owen moved closer to Curt, hands crawling up his arm. Oh god. Oh god it was happening. Owen's hair was still in his face, dripping onto the cheap vomit smelling carpet that was hidden by Owen's cologne. He smelled incredible, like fresh honey and a hint of lavender. His hand crawled up to Curt's collar, eyes moving towards his lips. He was going to kiss him. It was actually happening. Owen Carvour, one of the world's greatest spies, man with his walls up, was about to kiss him.

Owen let out a soft laugh, fixing Curt's collar, "Why so flush, Mega?" He trailed his eyes down to Curt's bowtie as he flicked the collar down, "It was all messed up, it was bothering me," he mumbled, Curt feeling his heart stop as Owen walked away, continuing to get ready, grabbing his own tie and wrapping it around his neck with one swift motion that made Curt melt in the room that felt so dreadfully cold the night before.

Curt touched the back of his neck, turning to his reflection, noticing his disappointed look wished he could hide. He wanted to go into the bathroom and bang his hand to the old disgusting tile and when Owen came in to ask what the hell he was doing he'd push him hard against the wall, one hand in his hair, about to taste the lavender cologne on his lips as he held Owen's waist tight, nails digging into his skin, sliding down his perfect dress pants.

Forget the mission, forget the job, all he wanted was Owen so close to him, able to feel his painfully soft hands against his rough broken skin. Curt almost wished for a moment he was Owen's real partner, the one they were meeting at this party they were meant to go to, to track down old documents. He and Owen could dance, leave the mission behind and find a quiet bedroom and shove each other against a mattress that wasn't hard and agonizing to their backs.

Curt felt Owen's hand fall to his shoulder again, "Ready to go, Mega?" He grasped Curt's shoulder tighter, nails digging into his skin. Curt reached up and held it, he was gentle. Maybe Owen would be gentle too. Maybe Owen would be as sweet as his cologne. Owen grabbed his gun, handing Curt his own, waiting for him to respond, eyebrows raised.

Curt let go of Owen's hand and took the gun, "Yeah, I'm ready."

[being-addie]

How to have a productive study session.

When your finals are in 2 days, and you've definitely NOT studied enough, it's normal to panic. You sit down to study and get a solid 30 minutes of calculus done, then jump down the rabbit hole called YouTube. Soon enough the dread creeps up because you're still not done.

As a girl who doesn't attend school regularly due to coaching classes I go to (I'll expand on this later), it's pretty easy to forget to study for exams and projects.

But there's nothing better than getting 98% on that exam. So I'm writing this as someone who's been scoring straight As all my life. Here's how to have a productive study session:

Note: This isn't a guide for romanticising studies. This is meant for a serious, productive session. I will, however, be making a guide to help romanticise studies because I've found it helps a lot.

Before you study

Identify what your distractions are: Let's be real, almost everyone has their phone on hand during study sessions. Put your phone on Do Not Disturb and keep it in a corner of the room. Add a few selected contacts that can reach you while your phone is on DND. If you can turn off notifications entirely, do that.

Taking measures: After I keep my phone away, my brain turns to the next thing it could be distracted by. My laptop and tablet. Put those devices in focus mode, so you won't be tempted to use any other apps and use a Chrome extension like StayFocused or WasteNoTime to not get sidetracked.

Resources: Make sure you have all your material on hand. Video lectures, notes, guides, your formula sheet, and flash cards. Keep everything on hand so you won't have to rifle through papers to find that reference sheet.

Your space: Clean your desk. Keep only the things you need. Your pens and pencils, chargers, annotation material and water bottle. If you want, light a candle. Do not clutter it unnecessarily. Your desk is a sacred space. Treat it that way.

When you sit down

The checklist: Do you have all the material required? Electronics, chargers, a snack and a drink? Water bottle? Extra pen? If you have everything beforehand, you'll be less likely to lose focus because you forgot to charge your headphones.

Make a plan: I cannot stress this enough. You'll sit down and just start studying, and next thing you know, it's 7pm and all you've done is watch videos on celebrity drama. Make a goddamn plan. Write down a realistic number of chapters you can complete and then STICK TO IT.

Begin: Reread and review your notes. I usually like to rewrite my notes in neater handwriting, because my handwriting in class is appalling. To really solidify information, I recommend the 'Blurting' method. Read a paragraph, then close the book and say what you understood out loud. Reread to see what you missed and take note. I did this for my history exam and got a 100%. This shit works for a reason. Use the Pomodoro technique to maximise productivity. Set an alarm for 25 minutes, and do intensive study. Once that's done, take a 5-minute break. Return and repeat.

IMPORTANT

Take a break: Ah yes, if you don't get up every 40 minutes or so for a break, eventually whatever you're studying will start looking like garbage and you'll be back to square one. GET UP. Walk around. STRETCH. You've been looking like a croissant🥐. Eat something. Rehydrate.

Forgive yourself: If you couldn't hit your target, don't be harsh on yourself. Find out the cause: Were you distracted? Did something unavoidable come up? Then try to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Study buddy: This is a double-edged sword. Studying with a friend can either increase your productivity by a massive amount, or it can help you get absolutely zero work done. When revising with a friend, make sure you study with someone who has the same goals as you and won't get distracted by things.

It's 2023, procrastination is cancelled. Go drink some water, eat a granola bar and finish that assignment you've been delaying. Be the person who finishes all their work, on time and perfectly. You can do it.

<3

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

could i request a nikolai x reader imagine with a drunken confession from either party that leads to awkwardness the next day and then a real and sober confession?

Y e s. Sorry to keep you waiting, had a busy week.

On The Rocks - Nikolai Lantsov

Content Warnings: Alcohol Consumption. Drunken Confessions. Suggestive Content. Explicit Language. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Nikolai Taglist: @hauntedenthusiasttragedy , @writingmysanity

It was a dumb statement, clearly all ego and no sense and if Nikolai had thought about it even for a moment he would not have pushed his boastful comment into something he needed to prove, but he was already six shots in when the words left his mouth, and they didn't fall on deaf ears.

"I could still drink you under the table, Kir Bataar," he states, that grin of his so foxlike and devious even without the alcohol spurring him on.

Tamar laughs and she is ready to let it go, but he holds her gaze and Tamar wasn't born to back down from a challenge. "Want to test that, Captain?" She asks, raising a glass.

"This I have to see," you whisper into your drink.

Now you know, Tolya knows, and Tamar knows you should have cut him off a while ago. But it is hard to get Nikolai to listen to sense even at the best of times. It's often just rebutted with "I prefer to live on a healthy diet of impulsivity and regret." And you know how much he will regret when his head is hammering in the morning.

Tamar is still able to hustle cards while Nikolai is forcibly being tapped out. "I'm going to make sure he makes it to his bed in one piece," you tell the others.

"Don't let him drag you overboard," Tolya calls after you.

"Or into bed," Tamar adds before knocking back the last of her drink. You laugh at them both before guiding Nikolai out.

The alcohol has reduced his normally expansive vocabulary, and excessive capability to talk to the limit of your name. Like a request, a need, a prayer. Only your name over and over.

You're trying to ignore him, he is always charming, always flirty, but this... This feels specific. "Any port in a storm," you mumble. Nikolai drunk as he might be looks offended.

"You doubt my intention," he asks. His smile is soft and his eyes don't leave you, if you didn't know how much he had drank you'd almost believe it was really you he wanted, and not just because you are here and he is drunk.

"I doubt that you would be looking at me with those eyes if you weren't drunk," you tell him, making sure to keep him a distance from the edge of ship.

"I crave you," he admits, looking up at the sky, "you might notice that I'm in love with you to the point of breathlessness, if you weren't always looking the other way."

Your throat is suddenly sand dry and you think you might forget how to swallow, but then Nikolai is tripping up over the deck and you remember just how much he has had to drink. It would be foolish, you tell yourself, to put any merit to drunken confessions, things he would not otherwise say. But it doesn't stop your heart from begging you to reach out to him. But you've gotten pretty good at ignoring your heart until now, why should tonight be any different?

"If you keep walking like that Captain you won't get to your-" he pulls you in close, keeping you steady and your words fall short.

"See," he smirks and you can smell the bourbon, "perfectly balanced."

"It's cruel you know," you tell him, keeping your voice genuine but not scolding. "To play games with someones feelings just because you've had enough alcohol to not think your actions have consequences."

He frowns, and in the moonlight you can recognise that look of hurt in those eyes of his, all traces of Sturmhond long gone and just the boy prince remains.

"Come on," you remind him, "before you start the rumours going about why it took me so long to get back."

You wake him with a tall glass of water and he scrunches his face. "Couldn't you spare me some whisky?"

"After your performance last night?" You laugh, "no, Captain, I don't think I can. You drank like a fish, I can imagine your head hurts."

You're not incorrect, his head does hurt, but he wakes to the pain in his chest running a close competition to the banging in his skull.

His memories break the fog of the thumping pain and he wants to have words with himself, strong and explicit. That is not how he wanted to do things.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I was out of line."

"You were drunk, besides it isn't like I took you seriously, I know better," you tell him. That stings Nikolai more than he thought it would.

"What do you mean by that?" He asks, sitting up right.

"I just mean to say I know you have no real interest in me Captian, so I didn't take drunken flirting to heart," you explain.

"What makes you say that?" He asks. You look at him with softness and you are met with almost sad eyes- needy, wanting, restless. The ocean of emotions swimming in that gaze nearly knocks you breathless.

"I," you manage a breath, "Nikolai you cannot ask me that, it's unfair, if I think about the possibility of your feelings for me too long, I get dizzy and lightheaded. I cannot let myself get lost in the illusion youd have feelings for me, it's not fair to me."

"Do you have feelings for me?" He asks.

"That is a bold and frankly unfair question," you start.

"I have not said an untrue word, sober or otherwise, so I need ask, do you have feelings for me, because I want nothing more than to be clear and honest about the depths of mine."

You feel the air in your lungs tight in your chest. "You meant it?"

"I meant it," the look he holds you with is stronger than any physical grip you've ever known. "Do you?"

"I like you," you say a little coy.

"You... like me?" He smirks, edging closer.

"I really like you," you try, leaning to lessen the space.

"I was hoping for maybe a different word," Nikolai admits.

"Want?" You offer. Something in his eyes lights up.

"Oh, that word might be even better,l"

"Here, now?"

"Those are my favourites so far."

[nothingxs]

FFXIV Write // Steer

The air was choked with heat and smoke, the din of clashing steel echoing through the paths and corridors as soldiers pushed on further and further. The initial frontal assault on Castrum Meridianum was always just one part of a two-pronged attack, and now that the so-called Warrior of Light had upheld their end of the deal and the magitek barrier had been disabled, what was once a feint now became a real threat.

And so, it was up to them to make do on the threat. It was up to us.

"I wonder," Ilysa shouted over to the rest of us, "how much longer do you think before the Empire surrenders this position?" She held her planisphere (so much as one ever does) to her right, running alongside us and looking down to find a line of soldiers who had pressed the rest of the Flames.

"Ain't bloody likely!" Renolt shouted right back, keeping his pair of blades close. "They know how important th' position is, they won't surrender unless they're made to!"

Dameron and Nenera had nothing to add to that, following up behind me. I was about to check with them before Lanna, who had leaned ahead, had made to duck behind cover and motioned to the rest of us to do the same.

"It's a big unit," they called out to us. "From here, four magitek armors. Couple of dozen soldiers. They want to clear us out." They turned to look at me. "It's on you, Red. Our men could overrun theirs, but not with those armors with them. What do you say we give them hell?"

I remember feeling myself grin as I looked to the others.

"Right. Ilysa, give Ren and Lanna a little boost. Dameron, you rain some hell to give Ren a shot at one of 'em. Lanna, see if you can't briefly commandeer one of their machines to cause problems. Nene, once Lanna's clear, burn 'em." I drew my sword and readied my shield, confirming my instructions with everyone with a nod.

"Right, Red," Ren fired back as he started to pull some throwing daggers from his belt. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I'll be right there with you."

What followed always was a bit of a blur.

It's hard to really key in on things; we've always just trusted each other to have each other's backs. I saw Ilysa draw cards and pass blessing both to Renolt and Lanna. As soon as Dameron's massive fireball caused the Imperial ranks to shake for just a small moment, one of Ren's daggers had found purchase right through the neck of one of the pilots.

Nenera and I moved to draw attention, getting quickly behind cover and providing enough of a distraction for Lanna to swing around, quickly leaping up to the disabled pilot's machine, reaching in, grabbing the controls and letting loose on the Garleans themselves. Dashing out from cover and cutting through the line of soldiers with other Flames at my back, Nenera's Ruby followed through and unleashing hell upon the remaining armors as Lanna fell back.

And amidst the chaos, pressure from all of us on the now-scattering force was all that was needed. A few well-placed cuts to fuel lines and joints from my sword and the encouragement of levin, wind and ice joining soon after the explosions were the only things we needed to disable the machines. And so, we charged ahead.

Or in any other case, we would've charged ahead.

A small pain that I'd dismissed in the back of my skull, now radiated throughout my head. The deeper we got into the Castrum, the deeper the feeling had got. I had dismissed it as a lack of rest, but this wasn't just a headache. It felt like I was being pulled.

Pulled away.

As we advanced, I stopped, and clutched my head, and looked ahead in the distance. My breath caught and I was filled with what I could only call dread. Ilysa and Nenera, who had been tending to the lightly wounded in the back, caught on, and Nenera was with me first.

"Cel, love, what's the matter? Why've you stopped? Are you hurt?"

"…Something's wrong, Nene." My eyes were fixed forward.

"Well, it's war; I'd hope—"

"No. Nene, listen to me," and I crouched to meet her eye level, hands on her shoulders, though I could still not bear to look anywhere but into the depths of the Castrum. "Something is wrong. Something feels wrong. We need—we have to retreat."

"Retreat? Love, are you mad? Th—"

I had finally turned to look at her.

She never told me what it was in my expression that convinced her. I just remember her looking at me with some level of horror, swallowing, and nodding.

I sounded the call to retreat. Our men seemed confused, at first, but the urgency of the call convinced them of its seriousness.

We'd started to fall back. I like to think it was the urgency with which I was waving men back that convinced them it was serious. Our men had stopped to help the wounded to get back, as well. Among the wounded had been a few Garleans as well, and several Imperial soldiers had advanced… confused as to the sudden ceding of ground. Still, they didn't chase, choosing to gather their wounded.

The pain in my head suddenly felt like it might split it in two.

I yelled to my men to hurry.

One of the Imperial officers met my eyes in the confusion.

I yelled at him to run.

We were told there was a flash of blue and white, right after. None of us remembered.

All we remembered was waking up outside of the Castrum, our wounds being tended to, having been too close to the blast.

...did those Garleans make it out...?

[amemenojaku]

Hisami and Zanmu for 1 on that ask game!

When I started shipping it if I did: Since day 1 when I read Hisami's dialogues, like most people I believe lol. I mean, how can you see her and not start cheering for her to get what she wants... Since it's still pretty recent I can add that two lines in particular made me seriously consider it and think about it beyond 'this is nice/funny': when Hisami tells Zanmu that she doesn't have to hold back around her, and when Zanmu tells Hisami that she knew Hisami would mess up on purpose, and that she'll give her a reward anyway - both are about danmaku obviously, but it got my brain gears turning >:]

My thoughts: They've slowly but steadily been going up my favorite ships, especially for the past 2-3 months... They work well together. Obviously I'd love the ship in touhou where one of them has a big fat actual canon crush on the other one, I've been in this hole since 2010 or something so Hisami's kind of a gift... but also in general I think it's a good spin on the boss/henchman trope when the boss is some mega charismatic chessmaster who could probably get anyone they want on their knees and yet their subordinate is one of the only people they can't fully predict/control. The wild card aspect is really funny to me and I love seeing fanworks where Zanmu's like... fondly sighing at Hisami's antics.

Things done in fanworks that annoy me: I think there's too many fanworks where Zanmu looks generally uncomfortable around Hisami despite never doing so even once ingame, and also too many fanworks where Hisami harasses Zanmu, sometimes to make very early 2000s jokes in very poor taste... I won't name anyone but there's a few big yuri artists on twitter who do that and it makes me want to bash my head against the wall when they get praised for it just because their artstyle looks good..... On a more positive note there's a few people who've been creating constantly good content of this pair and I think given a year or two nature will be healing!!

Also I'm of the opinion that Zanmu's fairly tall herself, just a bit shorter than Hisami, so I'm not big on the crazy size difference stuff (funny coming from a seishin fan, I know......)

Things I look for in fanworks: MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING!!! Getting to know each other past the infatuation (in Hisami's case)/the curiosity (in Zanmu's case) in deeper ways. I promise this isn't about sex lol (I do think about that too but not here rn) I really want to see how their relationship can grow and I especially want to see Zanmu enjoying it (as a petty reaction to the stuff listed above...). In their case I think physical intimacy would be a good setting for that kind of scene where their emotional bond grows, so that's what I'd go with if I were to create something like it, but anything can work if it's done in good taste imo. And in general I want to see Zanmu answering Hisami's affections with a positive emotion... whatever it is... I'm desperate.......

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: It's difficult for me to imagine Hisami with anyone else, although I do think she'd have physical relationships with a bunch of women while her feelings for her boss are still unrequited. Zanmu on the other hand I can picture being interested in a few other characters like Reimu or other onis or even the sages, but ultimately not as something she'd commit to and take seriously. The only real endgame is still zanhisa haha

My prefered future/ending for them: Whenever Zanmu considers them close enough to tell Hisami to drop the honorifics and overly reverent language when they're alone, and whenever Hisami feels comfortable doing that would be the ideal "endpoint" for me because of all the things it implies :) I don't care if at that point they actually consider themselves in a relationship or if they just aknowledge there's something going on. Though if they do get in a relationship proper I imagine they'd be very discreet about it. Also I think Hisami should get a promotion so she can directly work as Zanmu's prefered right hand arm man. woman. her everything. her confidant. her silly rabbi

What is their favorite activity together: Probably drinking. I imagine with how old she is and hanging out with onis Hisami's built up a decent hold on alcohol, and Zanmu appreciates it. They reminisce about their respective pasts and talk about the inner workings of hell and Zanmu gets a huge ego boost from showing off her 4D chess plans and Hisami praising her for it

[dent-de-leon]

"The dreams are still getting worse, aren't they?" Caleb's voice is a soft lilt, quiet and comforting. The raw tenderness of it makes King bristle--prickling away at something beneath the skin, a festering wound that just won't heal.

"I'm not one of your students," he bites back, sickeningly satisfied at the stricken look on Caleb's face. "You don't have to keep an eye on me, professor."

The cabin walls were too closed in, too stifling. He very nearly ran at the last port, just taken off into the night and stolen the first ship to catch his eye. But somehow Caleb Widogast is still bloody here, with that soft smile and those knowing eyes, pressing a healing potion into his palms that's worth far more in gold than his pride.

And even here on the deck, bracing gusts of frigid wind tousling his hair, the ocean as vastly dark and deep as twisting nightmares of the Astral Sea--void black and spiraling endlessly--here in the open air, he still can't breathe.

A whispered word, a snap of the wizard's clever fingers, and brilliant glowing globules flickered to life, gently drifting in the chilled night air, bobbing and weaving among the stars like ghost lights. That faint pulse of golden amber--the barest brush of Caleb's magic, a simple cantrip--just that soft touch of delicate spellwork was enough.

Kingsley felt it. A rush of comforting warmth and light-headed glee, a constant hum thrumming in his blood. The man's magic called to him, vibrant and inviting, enveloping his shattered soul in its tender embrace. Beckoning him home. It's all he can do not to flinch, to suppress a shudder, gooseflesh prickling along his skin.

It feels...intimately familiar. Grounding. Like a scent you could never forget. Incense burning as he lays down his cards, the cloying sweet aroma of sandalwood wafting through their cozy caravan. Dried rose petals scattered amidst scrapped sketches. A cup of his favorite tea left to steep. Someplace he couldn't escape.

As if he always carried a piece of the other man with him. It was far too tempting to bask in the warmth of that dazzling light; to lay his soul bare again, let Caleb's magic wash over him, set his wanting heart aflame. "Empty no longer, Mr. Tealeaf," Caleb had whispered, promised. A vow was a dangerous thing in such rituals, as binding as the very threads of fate themselves.

He winces. Why does he know that? He shouldn't. He shouldn't, but. A dark whisper purred arcane secrets in the bleeding edges of his subconscious, forbidden power and sacred rites, the innate force of sacrifice. Caleb's lucky stone shattering, his tears falling, shaking hands combing through his hair, warm lips on his bloodied skin--Caleb giving his own magic as an offering, pouring his very life into every spark of flickering light, fervently promising to restore his shattered soul. A vow sealed with a kiss--

His heart was already Caleb's.

"I--I care for you, Tealeaf," his Magician murmurs softly, a tentative hand reaching out--

King shakes free of his grasp, pulling away and turning his back on the man. This was a mistake. Telling Caleb anything--nearly everything--of course it was a mistake.

"You're carrying enough burdens, Mr. Caleb. And there's only so much one person can bear. Don't go taking on another lost cause."

But his Magician gazes back at him with such wistful longing, it makes his heart ache. Kingsley stands there petrified, heart hammering in his chest, utterly powerless as the man before him starts to close the distance. They're worlds apart, but in just a few steps they're face-to-face, and this time when Caleb dares to reach for him, he doesn't flinch away.

Caleb's touch is the barest press of fingertips grazing over mottled scars and bleeding ink, soothing and calculated, a flicker of desire dancing between urgency and restraint, real enough to center his drifting, wayward soul.

Caleb's thumb brushes lightly over King's collarbone, eliciting a soft intake of breath--a wordless plea for more.

"These are new," Caleb breathes, just above a whisper, his delicate touch trailing over the bare skin at King's throat.

Ah yes, wizards and their perfect memories. A neat trick, he has to admit. But once he realizes Caleb has memorized him, meticulously cataloguing each new scar with such attentive care, tenderly running his hands over each and every wound--something in his infernal heart twists.

Don't, he thinks, all his lives bleeding together again, every memory coalescing in the soothing balm of a single kiss. Don't you dare. It's far too late for this.

"I've had scars for as long as I can remember," he laughs. "What's a few more here and there?"

Never mind that he usually keeps the collar buttoned up, hides as much of the scarring as he can--covers up the empty patch of unmarked skin where a red eye used to brand him.

He pointedly does not fixate on the mage's lingering touch, the way those piercing eyes see right through to his bleeding heart.

"You still fight the same, don't you?" Caleb asks, so quiet Kingsley almost didn't hear it. "Volatile and reckless. It's a wonder your crew still has a captain at all. You fear nothing, and yet--I know that look, friend. Tell me, how many nights have you gone without sleep? What is it you're running from?"

This body. The Mighty Nein. You. Everything--

There's a million things, but neither of them have time for this. Not when each new night brings more vivid, violent dreams. The Moonweaver's voice waning softer as Ruidus rises, the sweet dreams of a beautiful woman and charming circus decaying into restless night terrors. Alien screams and all seeing eyes, Catha eclipsed in a sea of red. The ever gnawing sense that he was running out of time.

When he speaks, his gaze gets lost in the tide, swept away with the steady crash of waves and gusting winds. If he peers out as far as he can into the horizon, he can just barely catch a glimpse of searing red.

"There's always this...this bloody scream and that red moon," he chokes out. "Chains."

He can feel them even now, binding him to some otherworldly plane. Pitch black manacles biting into his wrists and ankles and dragging him down, down--

"Tealeaf. Look at me."

He can't look. Can't let the Magician see him, not like this, not when he's had too many sleepless nights, too many drinks, too many close calls and quick escapes. And one day he's going to have to face the gutting truth. He still feels Empty whenever he's away.

It made him feel real, whenever Caleb's warm eyes lingered on him. He found himself intrinsically drawn to all of the Nein, the world less Empty and cold when he was by their side. But Caleb. Caleb. A single glance from the man, and he almost remembered everything. It was exhilarating. Terrifying.

He wonders if the Moonweaver meant it as a curse or blessing. And hopes foolishly that whatever magic binds them together, Caleb can feel it too.

"I did not follow you all the way to Cognouza just to lose you like this," Caleb says sharply. "You think I would not do it all again in a heartbeat? You think I'd just leave you to the wolves? Come, you know me better than that, ja?" His lips curl in a wry grin, a pained smile that echoes King's own melancholy. "Besides, I...I have always had a weakness for strays."

Somewhere in his mind's eye, King sees a stack of letters left unopened. A muttered curse and sharp hiss, drops of blood splattering down, soaking into the parchment. He scrambles to clot the blood, to stem the flow, tearing himself from the desk before his damned blood can desecrate anything else. He wants to tip the whole desk over and send it crashing to the floor, watch it all fall apart.

One wrong move and an inkwell spills over, bleeding into blood, blotting out the words he was so desperate to cling to.

He can never quite remember what the letters say. Why he couldn't bear to let go of a single one.

But Kingsley does know that a part of him is still a coward; that he still clings to a weathered journal he doesn't have the guts to read. That with each passing day, there is another message, another soft whisper of Zemnian echoing from an old Sending Stone. And for many long nights, he would toss and turn and replay Caleb's warm words over and over.

But he never replied. Not to Jester's cheerful voice still ringing with laughter. Not to Caleb's gentle murmur.

I have a weakness for you too, King thinks, his hand itching to reach for the coat pocket where a stack of creased and dog-eared cards still rests. Longs to let his fingers cling to something real, to trace the softly smiling portrait of his Magician.

Kingsley knows, deep in his bones, that their souls are inexorably bound. Caleb's ritual didn't end in Cognouza--the effects of it still lingered beneath his skin, ghosting at his every breath. Perhaps it was the infinite possibility of the Astral Sea, the ineffable world of imagination and dreams. Or perhaps it was the moment their cleric called upon Divine Intervention, the gods themselves pulling him back from the brink, severing him from the sweet catharsis of surrender--

But the Magician's spell, cast in desperation, imbued with all the power of dreams and gods and the beating heart of a man who lost all faith long ago--it tied their lost souls together still. Threads of fate weaving between their broken hearts, anchoring him back to this shattered world.

He wonders, idly, if there’s some way he can give it back. If…if anything ever happened to Caleb—and it wouldn’t, because he was a smart boy, a survivor; clever and stubborn and tougher than he looked—but if it did, then maybe Kingsley could offer that life back. Let it course through the Magician’s veins instead. Return the gift he never asked for and surely didn’t deserve. 

"If you really care"--and isn't that rich, the shattered shard of some empty husk without a soul, accusing someone real of not knowing how to feel--"then you'll stop trying to take on the whole world alone. If you were half as smart as I thought--or half as clever as you believe--then you won't go off and get yourself killed for nothing," he seethes through his teeth.

And Caleb, that arsehole, has the audacity to comb his fingers through King's hair so gently, to gaze into his eyes with such ardent longing.

"You don't know what you're asking of me. If...if you were truly born under Ruidus' light in the midst of the Savalirwood--more than that, if Lucien was fate touched--then you would be in grave danger, Mr. Tealeaf. I...I have seen firsthand what other wizards will do to fated souls. How much they'd torture you for just a taste of power. You managed to escape the Somnovem, but. What if you caught the attention of another? You got your life back, Tealeaf. You got another chance. You would risk losing it all again so soon?"

Of everything, that is what breaks him. Kingsley sees red, hands starting to tremble as he barks out a raw, hollow laugh. He sees it all in a flash, his hands clawing away at the dirt, tearing away at the earth until a beam of moonlight bleeds through--a glare of vibrant, burning crimson. His first gasps for air under a cursed moon. Whispers in the caravans of twisted fates and ill omen, rumors of other hapless souls sacrificed on blood red nights--

"You think I have a family or lover like everyone else? Anyone who'd really miss me? You think I've got a past and a future like the rest of you? I don't have anything to lose!" Kingsley snaps, a hoarse rasp that curls into a growl, words laced with the harsh, guttural snarl of Infernal.

The words are eerily familiar, an echo in the darkened caverns of a forgotten temple; smiling to bear sharp teeth, to stave off the clawing loneliness creeping in. "Why not?" he dares, challenges. Empty laughter echoing in the dark. "All of you weren't going to do it, you were all taking your bloody time. And what else do I have?" Rallying to justify it to himself, to them, as though speaking the words aloud will make them ring true, "I'm not betraying anything."

What else do I have? Just some bad dreams and an empty throne.

"You have me," Caleb breathes in a broken rasp. "And I--I could not bear to lose you, Mr. Tealeaf. Not again. Please."

The image returns, unbidden, of Caleb Widogast cradling him in his arms. Delicately parting his hair and bending down to return a gentle forehead kiss. Tealeaf imagines what it’d be like if his eyes fluttered open then, if he’d bolted upright and surged forward to meet the wizard—took him in a kiss that was far more passionate.

What it’d be like to feel Caleb’s lips on his, to pull him closer until they were lost in each other. Thinks of the two of them giddy and giggling after a good night at the tavern, Caleb singing some silly song, making the driest joke, showing off one of his rare smiles in the soft glow of candlelight. Holding him in his arms, taking him for a tumble. A night of fun and revelry and something he doesn't dare believe to be real.

A glint of moonlight washes over him, bathing Caleb in Sehanine's soft glow, sheltering him from Ruidus' gaze. Or so Kingsley hopes. Prays.

"Please," Caleb pleads. "It may sound foolish to you, but. If you would just stay until the solstice is over, it would put my mind at ease. I will have Beauregard, and we have--allies. Contacts. Reinforcements waiting for us in Marquet. We are prepared for this." He reaches out and squeezes Kingsley's hand, tries to ground him. "But if anything were to go wrong, the effects on a fate touched soul could be...catastrophic. Ruidus itself is said to twist fate. And wizards like Ludinus have sacrificed your kind for centuries. If only for my sake, promise me you won't take that risk."

As much as Kingsley hated it, he knew he could not deny him.

"Fine. But if anything happens to you two--anything, you hear me? I--I'm dragging both of you back here. This isn't how we do things, Caleb. That's not how this works. We--" We don't leave people behind--"You're not getting rid of me that easily."