#maybe i'll talk more about this some time

[majikkulu]

━━ ❝MASTERLIST❞

in this pick-a-card reading, we’ll dive into what people really have to say about you—whether it’s glowing praise or secret whispers. what’s the tea they spill when you’re not around? remember, this is a general reading — take what resonates and leave the rest.

if  you  have  any  ideas  for  tarot  pacs  you'd  like  me  to  do,  feel  free  to  drop  them  in  my  ask  box,  and  i'll  make  it  happen!

choose the picture or pile that calls to you and let the magic unfold!

PILE ONE i  can  tell  this  pile  feels  personal—what  people  say  about  you  hits  close  to  home.  they  think  you're  indecisive,  struggling  to  take  action  or  follow  through  on  what  you  said  you'd  do.  it  frustrates  them;  they  feel  like  you  can’t  commit  to  certain  things.  some  even  say  you’re  guarded,  mysterious,  hard  to  read.  and  that  only  makes  them  more  curious—what’s  really  beneath  all  of  that?  there’s  also  this  idea  that  you  avoid  confrontation,  preferring  to  stay  neutral.  while  some  see  that  as  wise,  others  view  it  as  passivity,  like  you’re  afraid  to  stand  your  ground.  interestingly,  one  specific  person  seems  to  stand  out  here.  they’re  obsessively  focused  on  you,  constantly  talking  about  you.  they  might  discuss  things  you’ve  been  through—maybe  toxic  relationships,  bad  habits,  or  difficult  patterns.  but  it’s  not  all  criticism.  a  lot  of  people  are  fascinated  by  you.  they  find  you  magnetic,  charming,  even  alluring.  some  are  jealous,  though.  they  notice  your  sensitivity—maybe  they’ve  seen  you  cry  or  assume  you’re  the  type  to  cry  in  public.  they  might  even  think  you  look  younger  than  you  are,  which  makes  them  wonder  about  your  age.  there’s  also  talk  about  your  creativity.  whether  it’s  how  you  dress  or  how  you  express  yourself  artistically,  it  leaves  an  impression.  and  then  there’s  the  assumption  that  you’ve  “got  it  all.”  some  think  you’re  rich  or  incredibly  successful,  even  if  you  don’t  feel  that  way  yourself.  maybe  something  big  happened  recently—an  achievement,  a  win,  or  an  opportunity  that  others  wanted.  it’s  clear  they  see  your  potential,  and  that  potential  is  both  admired  and  envied.  people  question  if  it’s  luck  or  hard  work  that  gets  you  where  you  are.

PILE TWO people  talk  about  how  cautious  you  are,  how  you  take  your  time  with  everything,  and  how  you  question  every  little  detail.  to  them,  it  might  come  off  as  overly  slow  or  even  boring  because  you’re  not  impulsive.  they  see  you  as  someone  who  hesitates  or  spends  too  long  planning  before  acting,  and  some  might  say  you’re  no  fun  because  of  it.  they  notice  how  you  like  to  have  a  plan  for  everything,  but  they  don’t  realize  that  beneath  that  calm  surface  lies  an  inner  beast—a  strength  they  can’t  begin  to  comprehend.  you  handle  things  with  patience  and  emotional  control,  and  people  see  that.  they  talk  about  how  calm  you  remain,  even  in  serious  or  emotional  situations.  it’s  like  nothing  can  shake  you,  and  that  composure  either  impresses  or  frustrates  them.  some  gossip  that  your  strength  borders  on  stubbornness,  but  let’s  be  real—that  envy  stems  from  wishing  they  had  the  kind  of  self-control  you  do.  there’s  competition  swirling  around  you,  even  if  you  don’t  see  it.  people  notice  how  you  deal  with  disagreements  and  conflicts.  you’re  unbothered,  and  that  drives  them  crazy.  they  might  talk  about  how  you’re  not  afraid  to  speak  up,  even  if  it  causes  tension.  they  focus  on  how  you  defend  yourself,  how  you  never  back  down,  even  in  situations  where  others  think  you  should.  they  see  you  as  determined,  standing  firm  in  your  beliefs  and  decisions,  and  that  resilience  makes  some  people  misunderstand  or  even  resent  you.  it’s  funny,  though—they  think  you  provoke  them  with  how  you  respond  or  even  just  with  your  presence.  your  energy  bothers  them,  but  that’s  their  problem,  not  yours.  you  stand  your  ground,  and  that’s  what  really  sets  you  apart.

PILE THREE people  gossip  a  lot  about  your  quiet  nature  and  what’s  going  on  in  your  life  behind  the  scenes.  they’re  curious  about  what  you’re  up  to,  especially  since  you  keep  things  so  private.  it’s  like  your  silence  sparks  endless  speculation.  some  even  find  you  suspicious,  questioning  your  motives,  intentions,  or  honesty—accusing  you  of  being  manipulative  or  using  tricks.  there’s  talk  about  you  avoiding  confrontation  or  shying  away  from  taking  responsibility,  and  for  some,  this  feeds  into  the  narrative  of  you  being  a  liar.  there’s  a  sense  that  you’ve  distanced  yourself  from  people,  maybe  even  withdrawn  completely.  this  makes  others  wonder  what  you’re  searching  for—your  purpose  or  direction  in  life.  your  quietness,  while  intriguing,  can  make  you  hard  to  approach.  some  feel  like  they  can’t  fully  connect  with  you,  as  if  you’re  masking  your  true  self  or  staying  intentionally  detached.  on  the  other  side,  there  are  those  who  admire  you.  they  see  you  as  wise  and  insightful,  someone  who  remains  calm  and  composed  even  under  pressure.  your  guarded  nature  and  emotional  detachment  make  you  magnetic  in  a  way  that  draws  people  in,  even  if  they  don’t  fully  understand  you.  they  gossip  about  how  cautious  and  hesitant  you  are  to  take  bold  risks,  calling  you  predictable.  yet,  they  also  acknowledge  your  ability  to  handle  life’s  ups  and  downs  with  grace  and  poise.  whether  people  envy,  misunderstand,  or  admire  you,  it’s  clear  that  your  energy  leaves  a  lasting  impression.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Nevermind I'll Get It

How I imagine the LADS Men reacting to you being too impatient to wait for their help. [Requested by: Onliafaze]

Zayne

MC: Zayne can you help me real quick

Zayne: *sending a quick email* Yes what is it

MC: Can you grab my tumbler off the shelf for me I want to drink my tea on the balcony without bugs flying in it

Zayne: Yes give me on minute

MC: Okay

Less than three minutes later there's a loud crash in the kitchen

Zayne: What was that?

MC: Nothing!

Zayne finds you halfway off the counter trying not to step in glass

Zayne: I told you to give me a minute

MC: Yea and then two minutes passed

Zayne: So shattering multiple glasses was a better solution than waiting?

MC: Just help me down

Zayne: I should leave you there to think about your actions

MC: Zayne please!

Rafayel

You walk into the living room and find Rafayel sketching in silence

MC: Raf can you help me bring this box in?

Rafayel: What is it?

MC: A new bookshelf and it's heavy

Rafayel: Yea just give me one second cutie

You leave the room and suddenly Rafayel hears you scream bloody murder

Rafayel: *Rushes to you* What happened?!

MC: I DROPPED IT ON MY FOOT GET IT OFF!

Rafayel: I TOLD YOU TO GIVE ME A SECOND!

MC: AND YOU TOOK FIVE!

Rafayel lifts the box off your foot and moves it so it won't fall on you again

Rafayel: *Inspecting your foot* Two seconds if you would've waited two more seconds

MC: I thought I could carry it on my own

Rafayel: Thats what you get for thoughtin' now look at you *holds your foot up*

MC: *pouting* Put some pep in your step next time

Rafayel: At least I have feet to step and put pep in … you almost lost your toes being impatient

MC: I know you're not talking you are literally the most impatient person alive

Rafayel: That's beside the point

Xavier

MC: Xav where's the step stool?

Xavier: I think Jeremiah still has it

MC: Well can you come grab this wine glass of the shelf I don't feel like climbing the counter

Xavier: Yea give me one second

MC: Nevermind you sound busy

Xavier hears the sound of glass shattering and your cry of pain.

Xavier: What happened?

MC: The glass slipped out my hand when I jumped down and now I have glass in my foot

Xavier: Why didn't you wait for me?

MC: You sounded busy

Xavier: I'm never too busy for you wait for me next time

MC: Okay okay whatever please get this glass outta my foot

Xavier: *Scoops you up off the floor* Alright does it hurt?

MC: No it feels great I wish I could have glass in my foot all the time yes it hurts!

Xavier: No need for the sarcasm you did this to yourself

Sylus

MC: Sy can you come get Mephisto off my vanity he keeps building a nest with my stuff

Sylus: Maybe he just wants to feel half as pretty as you

MC: Come get him before I dismantle him

Sylus: I’m coming sweetie give me one minute

2 minutes later....

MC: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!

Sylus walks in the find you chasing Mephisto around the room

Sylus: What’s going on.

MC: I tried to scoot him off and this bag of wires cracked my concealer in half and got it all over the place

Sylus: He doesn’t like being pushed

MC: How was I supposed to know that?

Sylus: You would've known if you had given me a minute sweetie

MC: I gave you one and two minutes passed after that so that’s not my fault….

Sylus: *Raises his brow and smirks* and what did we learn from being impatient

MC: That my concealer is not Mephistos color

Sylus: No.

[cringefortress2]

Finished reading the comics

Gonna cry so hard tonight you can't even imagine

I love everything about how it's done, knowing how little resourses they had. Gonna leave some spoiler thoughts ahead

(old artwork just to make this post a bit more presentable)

Sad that demo literally got no screen time, but I'm happy that he'll be living his best life. Love that he's still living with his ma and eyelander. Love those little details with him and sniper hanging out together, seems like they got a bit closer wich is cool even in a friendly way. But i still feel kina robbed (not blaming this on the creators of the comics though. they really did a great job not only finishing the "big plot", but also managing to at least a bit show us the future of all the characters)

Love the way scout turned out. I always hated him as a person, but now he's kinda..grown? He now takes responsibilities and learns that world doesn't spin around him. And it breaks my heart to realise he only has like about 8 years left to spend with his family until the "scout's death date".

Love how spy, that always seemed the most emotionally "grown-up" still finds a lesson to learn and to change for the loved ones. I love how they showed us his face and not pyro's. Spy hiding his face is a portrayel of him not really trusting people around. So seing him without his mask shows that maybe slowly, but he manages to start opening to the people that he cares about. And hopefully one day he'll finally be able to say out loud that he's scout's father. But it can easily stay off screen

Love Merasmus. I always loved his goofy interactions with soldier and mercs. It always was obvious he'll be trolled for the rest of his life. But I really love that he had at least some time to gain self-esteen, other's respect. And love that at the end he can stay with at least somebody (talking about his roommate Tom Jones, but also soldier I guess). It's silly. And I just love that not everyone has to survive for a happy ending. That's the TF2 vibe in general

And of course I really love Zhanna and Soldier arc. Love them so much and so happy that they got the screen time they deserved. Don't know how to express it, just seeing their emotions, love they show to each other, their kids. Not a big fan of the "And then they married and had kids" trope, but here it feels so sincere. They stayed chaotic and stupid. Love it

Oh, and also Saxton and Maggie's final scene... I love it. Can't put it into words in English since it's already pretty hard for me to translate most of my ideas, so here i'll just leave it be

ALSO I love a lot of things and details about the main plot, but I'm afraid it'll take me a bit too much time to wright all my thoughts about it so to make things short:

I love how they managed to portrait the "eye for an eye" and pointless revenge in here. Through the covers of the chapter. through emotions, moments, the whole concept

Love the fact that mercs are literally the loosers of a big company that didn't even get payed enought without even knowing it. They veren't supposed to play an important role. Yet they did. Just like the game itself did in real life. I love it.

And also of course huge thanks for the artists. This comics was one of the most detailed ones. Huge, a lot of pages, great colors. Maybe it's hard to get used to the new style (especially since some of the characters are reeeaally different from the previous chapters), but i'm glad to see it and see how much time and effort was put in it.

[takeurexam]

the look of love - sylus x reader

sypnosis - sylus cant help but express his love for you through his magnificent look of love to you, and even if it's something you miss from him- all he cares about that his eyes still can reach you.

• no. 1 party anthem - artic monkeys

ps: this song's meaning is not connected to the concept in any way... maybe just think about the sound?

- fluff, sylus being smitten real, blood/injuries mentioned, short

There are so many moments where Sylus can just blur the whole backround, and just look at you as if you were a goddess sent down from the heavens. His look wont leave you until you snap him back to reality- if you even can.

He can name so many moments.

There was even a time when he almost bled to death, because of some fight that happened in an auction he went to while protecting the Protocore he wanted to bid on. It unfortunately was not protected, causing Sylus to get severe injuries from the fight.

Well, he could heal- but why do that when you're there tending for his wounds? How can he tell his sweet nurse, her heart full of concern for him? The sight was so amusing to him, that he couldn't seriously get his eyes off you.

"You know, I didn't expect for someone like you to get injured so seriously like this." You murmur, dipping the hot wet cloth into his wounds to clean them. You cant see it, but your patient had his eyes straight towards you, as if he was a motion detecting device.

"Don't be so careless, okay?" You whisper too quietly, but it was enough to reach the white haired man's ears. He couldn't hold back the smirk curling on his lips, seeing you so concerned for him just switches a light bulb inside him.

He looks at you, red eyes full of love inside them; he cant just get enough of it. He can't survive a day without seeing you, and the sight of your hair, your skin, your eyes, or merely your ear could be enough for him.

"You're too caring, Sweetie. It makes me want to get injured more-" Sylus recieves a not too strong, yet forceful hit on his chest from you. He sees your furrowed brows, and he swears- it was the last tug on his strings.

"Dont say that, I'll actually kill you." You lift a fist suddenly, yet it never hits Sylus. He just laughs it out, seeing you lift a fist at the Leader of Onychinus. As if you had any power against him. You did.

"Ouch." He hisses, for your words and the pain of the injury. Your eyes flicker towards him, a sting of pity stinging your heart; you were like a stingray, and you have stinged his heart completely.

You slowly patch up the wound, adding last necessary items to cover up the cleaned wound. Once you finish, you fix the materials and set them aside for now; you have something more important at hand- babysitting a twenty-eight year old.

He stares at you, his red eyes making the official color of love. You raise a brow, confused on to why he was staring right at your soul. Is there something behind you? Your face? What was it?

"You're staring at me as if I killed your whole family." You comment, crossing your arms together. He erupts into chuckles, but his gaze never leaves you.

"Nothing."

There was another moment where in you were both crossing the road, talking about where to walk to next in four in the morning, having friendly arguments on where the best place in Linkon can be for watching the sunrise.

You two decided to just walk, as it was just four in the morning, and a morning walk cant be that bad. Its cold and the atmosphere is comepletely nice, unless theres kidnappers or something- but aside that, its nice.

"This is very heavy." An elderly woman was beside the stoplight for pedestrians, carrying four heavy looking bags, at the middle of the night.

You and Sylus look at each other, with the same thought to why there was an old woman in the streets at four in the morning.

But setting your concerns aside, you leave the white haired man beside you, stepping your way to the old woman. "Here, let me help you." You smile, carrying the two other bags for her.

"Oh! Thank you, young lady. My old body cant carry bags that much anymore." She cackles, her teeth shining. "I bought so many gifts for my lovely grand children, that they were too heavy. I'm suprised I got this far." She exclaims, her smile contagious.

Your conversation with the old woman dosen't make you aware of Sylus entering the picture, as he walks behind you. He smiles, carrying the other bags from the old lady. "Let me help you too, Miss."

"Oh, how lovely." She giggles, pointing towards the house a few blocks away. "I'll just settle there, and you two can continue your way." The two of you nod, making your way to the said place.

But ago, Sylus was once again caught up in your web. He couldn't stop staring at you when you stepped up to the old lady, with no hesitation to leave him hangging alone, knowing the risk factors.

He looked at you, as if he "found his bride." He just stood there, staring at you smile widely at the old woman.

And as you two walked, he can't help it- his eyes cant stop lingering over you, he can't stop his heart from racing, how the night sky couldn't even engulf you in its darkness, and how you shine so brightly in his eyes.

It wasn't even the last time. He cant even count how many times it happened, but there was one exact moment that made his heart tie its knot to you.

When you accidentally witnessed something you weren't supposed to see. You were normally walking in Linkon, nothing unusual, until you notice a familliar red evol roaming around a balcony of the building you were staring at.

As your eyes zoom closer, you see the man who held his evol; his suit red and black. He carelessly beat up the men with him, as if he was in an action movie and he was filming for mission impossible.

But your eyes squint a little more, and you see a strand of white hair on the man. "Sylus?" You murmur, not deciding to scream it out.

Like the wind carried your voice to him, Sylus looks down from the balcony, seeing your little figure looking at the mess he is right now. His heart stops, as if blood just stops flowing towards him, but it cant; he finished up the men, and with a heavy breath- he used his evol and flew down to settle beside you.

He sees you, clothes formal as you just came from work- compared to him, he looked like a mess. Blood was all over him, not even his- but from his enemies. His clothes were dirty, whilist yours were clean.

He felt his mind race. You knew about his position in Onychinus, and how dangerous he was- but he never involved you in his dirty work. He could never let you see how much of a monster he was.

His fear crept up to him, awaiting the words "monster" come out from your throat.

"Need a tissue?" You tilt your head, your tone offering and sweet. What? He was confused, where were the words he expected to come out from your mouth?

He stood there, blood creeping from his forehead, as he remained dumbfounded. He accepts the tissue you reached out to him, his eyes not leaving you.

The tissue didn't matter, damn it. Why weren't you running? Why were you still there, right infront of him, acting as if it was nothing? Was fear consuming him right now- maybe he was just hallucinating, and you already ran away from him.

You click your tongue, grabbing back the tissue from his hands. You wipe the blood from him yourself, the dim streetlamp was the only light source for you two.

While you wiped his blood, his crime- he spoke. "Why are you here, wiping the blood on my body when you've seen what I do?" His voice is quiet, a voice laced with confusion, fear, and a little bit of sprinkled hope.

"Honestly, does it matter?" You laugh, "I jumped into your life aware of what you do, so dont come to me playing the confused man, 'kay?" You snort, finishing the process of wiping the blood.

And his eyes absorbed the sight of you, as if he was being cursed by a witch to hallucinate you forever, well, for him- would it even be a curse?

You truly have recieved the look of love.

a/n: finally done! after one month of the poll, i finally release the short ahh oneshot i promised. i deliver! ❤️ so sorry this is short, i just have a thing for short fanfics LOL

[number1villainstan]

"Consciousness-raising, Mitchell has suggested, was a matter of 'speaking the unspoken: the opposite, in fact, of "nattering together".'" The wizard raised his eyebrows and lowered his bong. "Now, personally, I think Mitchell's usually full of shit, going off about how everyone but her is an idiot all the time, but maybe she has a bit of a point there."

"I do agree," the witch to his right said. "After all, it wasn't until we started 'speaking the unspoken' that us witches started to gain status as mages and not just heretics. Although perhaps maybe it was all of the demon-summoning that we did in the palace instead. But then again, we wouldn't have gotten to that point if we hadn't banded together and dared to, well, speak..."

"Oi now," the warlock to her right cut in. "You all ought to be careful. Some things are left unspoken for a reason."

"Yes, yes, we all know about your terrible forbidden spells, but we're not talking about spells. We're talking about class consciousness. Here, take a hit of this, it'll calm you down," the wizard said, offering his bong to the warlock.

The warlock waved it away. "You know I need to keep my mind sharp."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now!"

"This is all very well and good," the soldier interrupted, "but what exactly does this have to do with our dead monarch?"

"Everything, my dear!"

"Don't call me that."

"Oh hush. Anyways, I was saying, it may seem like the monarch was decently popular, but there may have been resentments boiling that no one knew about because they were all too afraid to speak it. There's power in speaking, as our dear warlock friend knows all too well."

"So more investigation?" the soldier says.

"Yes, more investigation will certainly be needed."

"I'll report that to my superiors," the soldier said drily, and then left. Gah. Mages were fucking useless.

Writing warm-up:

Take the nearest book to you, open a random page, the first full sentence that you see is your first sentence.

"The wizard raised his eyebrows and lowered his bong" is your second sentence.

Carry on from there.

[hoardingpuffin]

Okay friends. Romans. Countrymen. I wish to yell about my bird and the most recent lore, so. Spoilers below the cut.

WE FINALLY GOT THERE! VIRWOOD NATION, HOW ARE WE FEELING?

God, I am so excited to finally have gotten there. Connor and I pretty much decided after the very first time we did lore together that we wanted Virwood to be a thing and it's finally here!

One thing that was very very important to me [actually obviously it was important to us both but I don't wanna talk for Connor, so I'll focus on my end of things for the time being] was to portray these birds' aro-ace-spec identity truthfully.

Elwood is demiromantic and that, mixed with the fact he is just not really used to the idea of being loved or even wanted, really was gonna impact any relationship they were gonna have. Before he got to Brightstep he didn’t ever really consider having friends or family a possibility, let alone having a partner, so when he figured out he liked Virgil that was really terrifying for them. His experience with love, love of any kind, was limited to reading about it, and he didn’t even plan on telling Virgil. I think his plan probably was to just bury it for the time being - and then Virgil was presumed dead for a week. Not that Elwood nessecarily believed that, but they also didn’t not believe it. He simply clung onto inaccceptance - if he didn’t accept the option of Virgil being gone, then maybe it wasn’t real.

And then Virgil showed back up in the library, and confided in Elwood about the void sickness, and suddenly a mess of feelings - love and fear and worry - bubbled over and even though Elwood didn’t mean to confess, he indirectly did by blurting out the one solid truth he came to realize over the previous week sitting in Virgil's office, not talking to anybody, just alone with their own thoughts. He would not accept a world that Virgil was not in.

I didn’t want Elwood confessing to be like... him just saying "I love you" or "I'm in love with you" or "I like you" - those are things he feels, but he doesn't know how to articulate how he feels a lot of the time. This is heavily based on how my experience with the combination of being autistic and demiromantic impacts how I process and experience emotions. Sometimes I know the word for an emotion, but it's not enough. One word does not even get close to describing how emotions feel. And I wanted to express that with Elwood. He does love Virgil, but to them I don't think the word has the same weight as saying that Virgil is kind and a good person that they refuse to live without. Describing how an emotion feels, what he thinks, how he experiences being around Virgil is more impactful to him than just saying one small four-letter-word.

I loved seeing everybody's reactions to the lore and I am sending you all hearts and I am so excited to get to keep telling Elwood's story and to create some depiction of aroacespec relationships that I can confidently say feel truthful to how I experience those identities.

💕💕💕💕💕

Also obviously I am excited for the Angst. Void sickness makes brain go brrrrrr fr fr.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

you in my eyes [2]. l Javier Peña

Summary:  you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings:  angst, enemies (?) to lovers, Javier is nasty and mean, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, sexual innuendo, Murphy shows up, Messina too.

A/N: maybe I'm adding this too quickly. I have this thing that when I write something, I want to share it with you right away. I'll be grateful for every response, it means a lot to me. thank you for reading!

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter]

Your body swayed to the rhythm of the muffled music, the crimson liquid in your glass did the same. The dress you were wearing hugged your body like a second skin. Shapely hips, bust, waist. He could see it all clearly. A few strands of hair stuck to your neck, this place was really stuffy.

A young boy moved towards you. Javier could see him very well. He looked like he wanted to beg to feel your body, you seemed like an angel who could fulfill his request. False hopes.

Javier shook his head and blew a wisp of smoke from his mouth. It was an interesting sight, too interesting. The boy wasn't even halfway to you when you noticed him and you shook your head slightly. He understood immediately. He wouldn't leave this place with you that night.

But the other man, the one who, like Peña, had been watching you for a long time, was probably luckier. 

His hand soon landed on the small of your back, he whispered something in your ear, you caressed his freshly shaved cheek and gave him such a smile that Javier thought he would gladly trade places with him.

He was the winner.

Peña didn't know you very well. You had worked in this department almost as long as he had, your paths had crossed a few times, but you had never stayed on his radar for long. He didn't know why. 

He usually noticed all the women, the office was a limited space after all. You worked hard, Messina often noticed you, which pissed off the male part of the team. Javier didn't give a damn. 

Just like you, he did his job. There were rumors about you, just like you had probably heard the ones about him. But you had a job to do.

Monday found him with a strong coffee. Steve had something to do and he was waiting for him at his desk, trying not to fall asleep. How much he would give for a few extra hours of sleep...

He flinched at the sound of Messina's office door slamming. She had never been at work this early, and Javier was even more surprised when he saw you with her. 

He frowned. The distance didn't allow him to hear exactly what you were talking about, but he thought he heard words like "report" and "informant". That was enough for him.

"Did you have a busy weekend?" he asked, catching up with you in the now empty hallway.

You turned around, slightly surprised by his presence in the office at this hour. "My free time is my business, Peña." you replied, glaring at him. "Do you need something?"

"Messina knows?"

"About what?" you frowned and folded your arms over your chest.

"About how you get information?" Javier muttered. "I saw you at the bar with that guy."

"Jealous?" you sneered.

“I don't think there's anything to be jealous of." he said with a grimace on his face "You hope you can climb up to Escobar through the beds of his associates?"

Your eyes narrowed and a jaw clenched. This guy was getting on your nerves. His sly attitude and arrogance were almost comical.

"Listen." You replied quietly, gritting each next word through your teeth "I'm the same kind of agent as you, Peña. I went through the same training, but my standards were set higher. I've met a lot of men like you, sexists who thought that if I had a pussy, I couldn't do anything right. But now I'm here." You took a step closer and Javier caught the distinct scent of your perfume "If I had a dick like you, you'd probably high-five me and buy me a drink. But now all you can do is sweat with rage in your too-tight jeans."

You fell silent for a moment as a group of men approached you. They greeted Javier and quickly disappeared down the hall. Javier felt his jeans starting to get tighter in the crotch. Damn, it pissed him off.

"I don't care what you think about my methods or me. You can go to your buddies, tell them what a bitch I am and then you can all cry together. But we have work to do so pull yourself together and stop following me around like a spoiled brat."

Javier opened his mouth to answer you, but someone called out to him. Murphy was walking towards you, clearly agitated about something.

Steve nodded in your direction, and you responded with a gentle smile, after a moment you turned around and headed towards your office.

"I have something you'll like." he said, patting Javier on the shoulder, but he noticed his face immediately. "What happened?"

"Nothing." He mumbled, rubbing his mouth with his hand.

"Are you sure? Okay." He handed Peña a folder with documents. "Messina just gave it to me. We'll be able to talk to that guy we wanted to get to. Someone convinced him to talk to us."

Javier quickly looked through the documents. "Who the fuck did that?"

He didn't like Steve's smile, or the fact that he nodded in the direction you had just disappeared. "She. And she told Messina that you should be the one to take care of it. She convinced that guy to only talk to you."

Peña closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. "Fuck." he hissed.

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, let's go to him before he changes his mind."

Despite everything, you liked your job and you were really good at it. You didn't get into this department because you had a lovely smile, you worked hard for it all. And although sometimes you wanted to give it all up and go back to America, something still kept you here. 

Stubbornness? Probably yes. A sense of duty? Too. You also wanted to prove something to yourself. Not only to yourself, but that was also a good reason.

You couldn't stand the smell that wafted through the archive. Poor ventilation and cardboard boxes with documents were not a good combination. Despite everything, you took out more boxes and looked through the documents, hoping that you would find what you were looking for.

Suddenly, a low voice that you knew very well filled the silence surrounding you.

"It's hard to find you."

You slid the box onto the shelf and glanced at the next one. "I guess it's not too hard since you made it, Agent Peña." you replied.

You threw a quick glance over your shoulder and saw Javier emerging from the shadowy corridor of shelves. He hadn't been in the office for a few days, your files and new information had dragged him and Murphy out of town.

"I met with your informant." he mumbled, watching you as you took down another box, pressed it against the shelf with your hip and began rummaging through the files. "He helped us a lot. We'll be able to arrest some important people soon."

"Sounds good." you replied without even lifting your head from the papers.

Javier cleared his throat. He felt embarrassed, and seeing you working, he almost felt like he was an intruder in this room.

"Listen..." he began, you hummed to show that you were listening. "I wanted to apologize to you. I was a bit... Fuck. I was an asshole to you. I don't know why I acted like that. And you got me something I've been trying to get for so long. You didn't have to."

"The best agent should handle things like that, I wouldn't give it to any rookie." you replied, turning your face towards him. There was no anger or disappointment in your gaze, which Javier expected. You looked at him with interest and even politeness.

"So why didn't you take care of it yourself?" he asked.

He wasn't ready for that. Your lips widened in a smile that immediately caught his attention. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Right, because every time you talked he made you furious.

"Oh, please!" you said, clearly amused. "I knew perfectly well that you would give your left arm to be able to meet this guy. I'm not as much of a bitch as they say I am."

"Now I feel even worse." Javier scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, at least that means you have human feelings."

He chuckled.

"What are you looking for? Maybe I can help you?"

You shook your head and put the box on the floor. "I already found it. Look."

You showed him a folder with a photo of a group of men, then pointed to one of them. "He's the one who shot your last informant." Javier frowned for a moment, his jaw clenching.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"I didn't paint my nails while you were out of the office." You shrugged. "I heard rumors so I asked around. He's just a kid, but he's ambitious. Too ambitious. It makes him reckless."

"Do you have anything else?" Javier looked at you intently.

You had and gave him everything he needed.

"I don't like it when someone new comes into the office." Steve finished coffee and stretched in his chair. "They're always so strict about following the rules."

Javier flicked his cigarette and looked up from the documents he was reading. "Messina says it's someone important. O'Connell or something like that."

"Yeah. Maybe he won't be here long."

Javier shrugged. He didn't care. 

After the last arrests, they had to process all the statements and put everything together again. They had been working late and spending every free moment gathering leads. Peña and Murphy felt like they were knee-deep in the mud again.

You disappeared again, and even though Javier asked his boss where you were, she just looked at him sideways. "She's doing her job, Peña. You should be doing it too."

Loud chatter and an unexpected commotion in the hallway meant that someone important had arrived at the office. Steve craned his neck in that direction.

"I think that's him." he mumbled, then stood up from his chair as Messina ushered the new agent into the office.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to Peter O'Connell. He's here from headquarters to see how our work is going." she said, and the man standing behind her nodded in greeting. "Peña and Murphy." she said, pointing at them, and O'Connell quickly shook their hands.

He had a firm grip. Underneath his blazer, they could see the solid build of a man, and his dark hair was neatly combed on the sides.

"I've read your reports, boys." he said, smiling. "Great job with those last arrests. You've got your hands full of work."

Messina began to outline what O'Connell's visit would consist of, but Javier quickly stopped focusing on the boring protocol. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar figure.

He saw you sneaking over to your desk with a cup of coffee and a stack of files under your arm. You must have slept a little, because the dark circles under your eyes were a clear sign of that.

O'Connell's gaze followed Javier's and his eyes widened at the sight of you. He said your name, and you suddenly stiffened.

"Peter?" you whispered as the man approached you "What are you....."

"I didn't expect to see you here!" O'Connell laughed, leaning down to kiss your cheek, but you pulled away and he could only awkwardly cover up his gesture by shaking your hand. "You look great."

"Thanks." you replied, embarrassed. "Boss, I have those documents you asked for. Can I show you?"

Messina nodded, and you quickly left the office. Peter's sharp eyes followed you to the door.

"Surprising." Steve said. "Meeting a friend in the middle of nowhere."

"Right?" O'Connell laughed. "We used to work together. Pretty close, if you know what I mean." He winked at them.

For some reason, Javier felt that he didn't like him. Maybe he was prejudiced, maybe he was too quick to judge people? But he certainly noticed your discomfort with the guy who had visited you. 

In the meantime, Peter exchanged a few more comments with them and went to the other agents he wanted to talk to.

"Slippery guy." Murphy muttered, looking at him for a while longer. "What do you think of him?"

Javier folded his arms over his chest. "I'm sure he knew exactly that she worked here." He replied. "He came from headquarters, he must have had the names of all the agents."

"So why the show?"

Peña shrugged. He was sure that he would find out soon enough.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[zorosangell]

I love your fics sm they’ve been getting me through my weekend! In honor of the cold and flu season, maybe a Zoro x Sick Reader would be cute ^^ (where of course Zoro is a big blockhead who doesn’t know how to care for someone who is sick but is too overprotective to not at least try).

⛥ﾟ・。 ham melon

synopsis: after you contract a rare, deadly disease, zoro has to take care of you... the best he can.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a lovable idiot, reader's a little nervous

a/n: love the love i'm receiving from some of you guys tysm. though i just wanted to remind some of you in my inbox that it is the holiday season, and while i'm writing these i am also getting my house and gifts together for christmas. so plz give me some grace lol. i am doing my best to work through my asks

"Zoro... honey... I don't think I can eat that," you rasped, breathing labored and voice weak as you glanced toward the man standing at your bed side. "I can barely keep down water..."

Eye wide, Zoro flushed with embarrassment, now feeling stupid as he glanced down at his hands, which held the bone of a comically large cut of raw ham melon.

And after he spent a whole hour looking for it, too...

'Dammit.'

"Shit..." he cursed under his breath, tossing the meat off to the side as he ran an anxious hand through his hair, looking around the room for something else to help.

Of course, fate had to have chosen the worst possible person in the world to leave you with.

"Alright, I'll... um... shit..." he frantically thought aloud, his hand coming to rest on his chin as he brainstormed more things to give you. "Tea helps people when they're sick, right? Do you want some tea?"

He turned to you for an answer, only to be met by your heavy wheezes, your chest rising and falling both slowly and deeply in an attempt to get as much air as possible.

Your eyes were shut, blankets pulled up to your neck for the body chills and rag placed carefully on your forehead for the fever—which was a whopping 104 degrees last he checked.

Moving closer, Zoro removed the wet cloth and placed the back of his hand in its stead, letting it rest against the painful flush for a moment before quickly yanking it away, worried.

"Christ, woman, your burning up! Tea's gonna kill you!" he winced, concerned, before quickly turning around and rushing toward the exit. "Here, gimme a second!"

Bursting into the kitchen, he bee-lined it for the cupboard and grabbed a glass, moving to get water out of the fridge.

Chopper and the others would have to hurry up if you were going to survive the night.

After docking on a mysterious, tropical island, you somehow managed to catch a rare disease—a disease that had a one-hundred percent fatality rate.

Naturally, the entire crew was worried, but an elderly woman from the town explained that a cure could be made from the large lotus flower that sat in the center of the jungle.

But, because there's always a catch, the jungle was teeming with dangerous animals and man-eating plants, thus making the trip a suicide mission.

So, Luffy and the others embarked on the journey, while your boyfriend was left on ship-watching and you-watching duty.

Though, it was clear that the crew was having a far easier time with their task.

"I got you some water," Zoro stated, walking back into the room.

Quickly, he took a seat next to your bed, scooping his hand under your neck and lifting you up, helping the cup to your lips as you drank.

"Thank you..." you mumbled, taking a few sips before allowing him to lay you back down. "M'sorry... m'such a pain in the ass."

"The hell are you talking about?" he raised a brow, placing the glass on the end table.

"Well... you never get sick... and it's my luck the one time I do, it's deadly," you looked down at yourself, slightly embarrassed. "Not to mention you probably had things you wanted to do today..."

"You talk as if I think you're a burden."

"Well—"

"That's stupid."

You piped down, slightly surprised by his blunt statement.

"There's no burden in this relationship. There's me... and there's you," he stated, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "You keep me sane... and I protect you... and both of us pick up the slack where we need it."

Seriously, he turned to you, eye practically peering through your soul.

"I don't date dead-weight. If that were the case, I would've never asked you out in the first place."

Gagged, you could do nothing but sit there, stunned to silence.

You didn't know he thought so much of the relationship...

Not that you were treating it was a fling, but that you didn't think your swordsman read so much into it.

"You're talking better. The fever must be breaking," Zoro yawned, standing up from his seat. "You need anything else?"

Quietly, you shook your head, and he let out a heavy sigh, allowing his shoulders to slightly sink before he flopped onto bed with you.

"Good... M'takin' a nap..."

"Zoro! I'm gonna get you sick!"

He grunted in response, allowing his eye to shut as he rolled over and dropped his head in the pillows, tucking his hands behind his head.

"You said it yourself... I don't get sick..."

"Well, I don't wanna risk it!"

"Just shut up and c'mere," he mumbled, looping his arm around your waist and jerking you into his side.

The moment you came in contact with his shirtless body, you nearly let out a sigh of relief, his warm skin doing wonders for your body chills.

'Maybe... a few snuggles won't hurt...'

"Five minutes..." you warned, groggily, resting your head on his chest as you inched closer.

"Mhmmm," he hummed in agreement, already half asleep.

Though, when the rest of the crew returned around midnight, the two of your were still in bed together, a mess of limbs and snores as Zoro held you close—his position that of a shield as his front cradled you in his arms, and his back shielded you from any outside dangers.

After Chopper administered your medicine, and Luffy ate the ham melon left behind on the desk, the crew left, leaving you both to continue your slumber.

Zoro, relieved that you were still alive, able to sense your breathing through his sleep.

You, relieved to know that your swordsman viewed you so highly, and saw you as anything but a burden.

[cats-mayhem]

OK so I am very new to lifesteal. I think I've been into it for about a month? maybe a little over? Either way, I don't know too much about it. I got into it because I decided to impulsively look at the art tag on Tumblr, saw very pretty art, and delved deeper.

As for what I do, I am, of course, a reblogger. I have the most disorganized blog ever tho (I hardly tag things but i'm trying to get into the habit of it).

HOWEVER I am a chronic analyzer. Like no matter what i'm into I have a need to analyze it. But I also have a very hard time putting my thoughts into words so every time I "analyze" I end up sounding like I'm rambling to a brick wall. (I low-key already made an analysis for lifesteal here. Even if i'm not the proudest of it, it's still part of what I typically do. very spur in the moment & rambly. There's more of these for different fandoms i'm in though)

I also like to write! I have an A03 here but I haven't uploaded a fic in like. Two years. Whoopsies! Maybe I'll upload one again. Not for lifesteal though idk if I got that RPF courage in me. But I support their beliefs.

As for who I typically watch, I suppose you could say Poafa, Jepexx, Mapicc, Zam, Leo, Squiddo, Minute, Kaboodle and Jumper. That's where I typically vibe.

But the thing is, I'm not really a live-stream friendly kind of gal. Mostly because I like it when I know things have a set beginning, middle & end and I can pause whenever and jump back in whenever. And livestreaming isn't very friendly to my ways (I'll watch vods though. Very slowly. But I'll watch them). Also the way my sleep schedule works, I'm asleep when they're streaming. It is what it is!

Anyways, all that to say that I get most of my information from the live-bloggers I follow. I feel like I'm in Ace Attorney trying to piece together what's going on with these queerbaiters. It's fun!

So yeah that's what's with me! As I mentioned, I'm in different fandoms but lifesteal is taking the brain by storm rn. But the other things I really like are Pokemon, Ace Attorney, Twisted Wonderland, Undertale, Sonic, and other Minecraft SMPs like Empires, Hermitcraft, & traffic series. And probably some other stuff I'm forgetting right now.

idk what it is with lifesteal, but for the first time in my like, 4-5 years on this website, I wanna talk to people & try to make friends! I've been a lot more active in tags when I reblog stuff now and it's super fun! Although I can get easily nervous while talking to new people, I gotta try! Anyways that's it for me!!!!

you 🫵 yes you 🫵 lsblr ❤️⚔️ resident 🧍, what is your ecological niche?

(use this as a promo post whether you do liveblogs, reblogs, analysis, art, writing, webweaves, crafts, etc as well as say who you main, who you have brainworms for even if you dont post about them a lot, etc)

[warblogs17282]

Obviously we're all aware of this tweet by now, and tbh, considering that we've now seen Mastermind, the only possible 'significant arc' I can think of that they might be referring to has to be something along the lines of getting Stolitz on the same page as each other.

Before any of you mention the divorce at all, it is definitely not that, Andrealphus literally says that Stolas is Stella's ex-husband at the start of the episode.

To save time I'm just gonna skip over to Ghostfuckers and Mastermind, but to summarize things a little simply, do remember that even the start of season 2 had a focus on getting Stolitz on the same page as each other, by showing us the start of Stolas getting the Asmodean Crystal for Blitz, aka, getting rid of the grimoire arrangement that was preventing them from ever being able to be on same exact page as each other. With the grimoire arrangement coming to a true end on s2 e8.

With that out of the way, let's discuss this scene.

I hate to break it to you if you're not already aware, but Stolas and Blitz did not hear each other during this part of the song at all, what we actually witnessed was a soliloquy.

Which is defined as by the Cambridge dictionary: 'a speech in a play that the character speaks to himself or herself or to the people watching rather than to the other characters'.

Which as a result, while it definitely moves Stolitz much closer to being on the same page as each other, they still aren't fully on the same page as each yet, Stolitz is not fully canon at this point in time, but will be very soon.

Let's break down where this scene leaves us, for Blitz, we're definitely at the point where he has realized and accepted his own love for Stolas, with the best lines I can think of to showcase this point being "The bird got to you that bad, huh?" and "Only death can rend our love apart!".

Blitz has also recognized and accepted the fact that Stolas loves Blitz back as well, with the episode making this extremely clear. The most obvious point of the episode that shows this is the moment when Blitz makes the conclusion that Stolas is going to sacrifice himself in order to save him. Because well, what says 'This person truly loves me' to someone more than 'This person is literally about to sacrifice himself in order to save me.', especially with the heart pupils as well, which overall, puts Blitz into a position where he thinks it's possible to have a relationship with Stolas, and wants one with him as well.

As for Stolas, it's made extremely clear that he recognizes and accepts his own love for Blitz, as the entire soliloquy section of the song shows.

But the key difference between them is the fact that I'm pretty sure that Stolas hasn't realized Blitz's own love towards Stolas at this point in time, which in all honesty, makes this scene pictured below hurt even more.

What I'm trying to say here is that Stolitz is still not on the exact same page as each other yet in regards to their relationship with each other, they're close, but not quite there yet.

Which is where Sinsmas comes into play. You all have seen this scene a million times by now in posts, but I really do feel like this is going to be the scene where Stolas starts to realize Blitz's own love for Stolas.

Because well, what says 'This person truly loves me' to someone more than 'This person is actively putting themselves into mortal danger by fighting against a royal demon in order to protect and save me.' (I could've sworn I used a very similar phrase earlier in this post, surely you can figure out why?)

And I'm pretty confident in saying that this scene definitely is not a dream, as I'll let @lost-romantique's post explain for me.

Basically, we're at the last page of the book, the last section of the arc I mentioned at the start, we're so close to Stolitz actually being on the same page of each other in regards to their relationship, we're so close to witnessing the whole miscommunication trope thing between them end, we're so close before we get to see the renewed and bettered start of Stolitz again.

Because let's be real, for all of the reasons I have mentioned here, there's absolutely nothing else I can think of that's being going on for the whole season that would count as a 'significant arc' over than the one I mentioned at the start of this post.

[thefallennightmare]

One angst request for the blurbmas🫶🏻

You and Noah have a son that just turned the age (like 4 years) where he can understand more stuff and why Noah leaves once in a while.

He knows why Noah leaves, but around the christmas time he is more sad about it, because there are events in kindergarten that Noah misses and stuff. At one point that sadness turns into anger and your son doesn't want to call Noah, throws tantrums, says stuff like 'dad doesn't like me' etc. And Noah can sense that something is wrong when you tell him that your son is sleeping or at the neighbours for the third time he calls.

Thank you Tina💗

"Where is he?" Noah asked, his concerned face on full display with your facetime call.

Biting your lip, you sat down on the couch, illuminated by the Christmas lights from the tree to your left. Noah had been on the road the last two weeks touring and with Christmas two days away, you were worried he was going to make it in time due to the large snow storm that was headed your way. He was supposed to take a flight home tomorrow, Christmas Eve, but when the news broke that his flight might be canceled, your son took it extremely hard.

"This is the third time I've called, angel," Noah's voice sounded strained. "He can't still be asleep."

Your shoulders fell as you sighed. "He's just sad, Noah. He knows that there's a chance you won't make it home to us for Christmas. He just feels like you're missing all these important things because of touring."

"I'm trying. There's nothing I can do about this storm," Noah began to get defensive.

"I know that. Deep down he knows that too. But I think we really need to discuss the idea of maybe taking some time off from Bad Omens. You said it yourself that you want to focus on being a dad for awhile."

Very quickly, Noah nodded before running a hand down his face and you adjusted yourself on the couch and held the phone tighter in your grip.

"I'll talk with Matt and Sumerian, tell them we all need some family time for awhile. I don't want our son to hate me."

Even through the phone, you could tell Noah was trying not to cry.

"Love, he does not hate you," you assured him. "He just misses you, that's all. I'm sure when he sees you tomorrow that he'll forget being mad at you."

Reluctantly he nodded. "Let's just hope I can make it home in time for Christmas."

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 18

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen and Gabby savor their long-awaited reunion, starting with a cozy coffee date where they reconnect over laughter and conversation. Back at Gabby’s apartment, Glen convinces her to focus on studying while he tackles some of her chores, finding joy in the normalcy of helping her. Their playful banter takes a turn when Gabby tries to stop him from folding laundry, leading to a lighthearted wrestling match that ends with them tangled together on the bed.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut (Light hair pulling. Protected Sex. P in V.) I promise one day I'll right more interesting smut but I'm still new to writing smut so keeping it simple for now.

A/N: Please continue to let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know, and I will get you added to the tag list!

The sun was warm but not stifling as Glen and Gabby strolled down the quiet street toward her favorite coffee shop. The hum of the city filled the air—cars passing, a faint honk in the distance, and the occasional bark of a dog being walked by its owner. Gabby felt the corners of her mouth tug upward every time she glanced sideways at Glen. He was here, walking next to her, his hand brushing hers occasionally as they moved in sync. She had to resist the urge to pinch herself, still half-convinced this was all some vivid dream.

“You’re staring,” Glen said, his voice soft and teasing.

She glanced up at him and shrugged lightly. “I just… I can’t believe you’re here. This doesn’t feel real.”

Glen chuckled, and before she could pull her hand away, he caught it in his, lacing their fingers together. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s real, Gabby. I’m here. And I’ve missed you like crazy. I had a small break in filming today and tomorrow and I knew that there wasn’t any other way I wanted to spend it.”

Her chest tightened, and she squeezed his hand back, not trusting herself to speak without her voice breaking.

When they reached the coffee shop, the warm scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloped them like a hug. Gabby led the way to a cozy table in the corner, tucked away from the bustling counter. Glen pulled out her chair before taking the one across from her, leaning his forearms on the table as if closing the small space between them even more.

“This place is cute,” he said, glancing around at the mismatched wooden furniture and chalkboard menu above the counter.

“It’s my go-to,” Gabby said, scanning the menu. “The tea here is great, and they make this avocado toast  that’s ridiculously good. I’ve heard the coffee is good too, but you know how I feel about coffee.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Glen said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. “Though I think I’d eat just about anything if it meant I could sit here with you.”

Gabby rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t suppress the blush creeping up her neck. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin widening.

When their food arrived—Gabby’s avocado toast and Glen’s bacon-and-egg sandwich—they dug in, the conversation flowing easily between bites. They talked about everything and nothing: Gabby’s classes, Glen’s time on set, and the small moments they had missed sharing during their weeks apart.

At one point, Glen reached across the table, brushing his thumb over her knuckles as he held her hand. “You know,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “I could sit here forever. Just talking to you.”

Her heart swelled, and she blinked back the tears threatening to form before taking another bite of her toast.

The walk back to Gabby’s apartment was slower, more leisurely. The comfortable silence between them was occasionally broken by Glen pointing out little things he noticed—the dog trotting by with its tongue lolling out, a family laughing on the steps of a brownstone, or the way the autumn leaves scattered across the sidewalk seemed to crunch louder underfoot. Gabby didn’t mind the quiet; it felt natural, like they were slipping back into a rhythm she hadn’t realized she missed so much.

When they reached her apartment, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside so Glen could enter first. He barely made it two steps inside before a flash of orange fur darted toward him.

“Willow!” Gabby called, half in surprise, half in amusement.

The orange tabby cat skidded to a halt at Glen’s feet, her fluffy tail held high as she circled him. She gave a loud, insistent meow, then rubbed herself against his legs, purring like a tiny engine.

“Well, hey there,” Glen said, crouching down to her level. He reached out cautiously, but Willow wasn’t shy. She nuzzled into his hand, practically shoving her head into his palm as though she couldn’t get enough attention.

Gabby stood frozen in the doorway, watching the interaction with a mix of disbelief and humor. “She… she never does that.”

Glen glanced up at her, his hand still gently scratching behind the cat’s ears. “I mean I’m kind of her favorite. Didn’t you say she’s basically claimed my shirt as hers?”

The cat responded with another loud purr, pressing her face into his knee.

Gabby shook her head, a grin spreading across her face as she closed the door and leaned against it. “She’s really laying it on thick. I think she likes you more than me right now.”

Glen chuckled, standing back up as Willow weaved between his ankles. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

Gabby rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t deny how much the sight warmed her heart. Willow was usually content to observe people from a distance, barely tolerating affection on her own terms.

Glen scooped up the cat effortlessly. Willow settled into his arms like she’d been there a thousand times, her head resting lazily against his chest.

Gabby’s heart ached in the best way as she watched them. How was it possible that he could make her fall for him even more just by holding her cat?

When Glen caught her staring, he gave her a knowing smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

He walked over, still holding Willow, and gave her a teasing grin. “What, you didn’t think I was a cat person?”

“No, it’s not that. I just didn’t think Willow was an anyone cat,” she shot back.

“Well, I guess we’re full of surprises today,” he said softly, brushing his lips against her forehead.

Willow gave a soft chirp, seemingly annoyed at being ignored, and Glen chuckled. “Alright, alright, I’ll put you down. You’re a little attention hog, aren’t you?”

As he set the cat down, she trotted off to her favorite spot on the windowsill, leaving Glen and Gabby alone again.

“Speaking of pets, where’s Brisket?” Gabby asked noticing that Glen hadn’t mentioned him and the dog clearly wasn’t with him.

“Les is watching him for me. Wasn’t sure what our plans would be…or how much attention he’d get. So she offered to take him until I fly out tomorrow.” Glen explained before changing the subject. “So what were your plans for the day?” he asked, glancing at the stack of textbooks and notebooks on the coffee table.

Gabby sighed. “Nothing exciting. I was going to study for a bit, maybe do some laundry, vacuum, and tidy up. The usual. But now…”

“But now?”

“Now?” she repeated, leaning back against the door and giving him a shy smile. “Now, I just want to spend time with you.”

His expression softened, and he closed the space between them, placing his hands gently on her hips. “I want to spend time with you too,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “but I don’t want you to fall behind because I showed up.”

“Glen-” she started, shaking her head.

“Listen,” he interrupted, his hands tightening ever so slightly. “How about this. You study for half an hour, and I’ll take care of some of the chores. Then we’ll have the rest of the day to do whatever you want.”

Her eyes widened, and she laughed softly. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.” His grin was teasing but sincere. 

“You want to spend your day off doing my chores?”

“It’s only for half an hour,” he reasoned. “Besides I like doing stuff like that. It makes me feel… normal, you know?”

Gabby tilted her head, studying him. “You’re really okay with it?”

“Gabby,” he said, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers, “if it makes your life a little easier and gives us more time together, I’m more than okay with it.”

Her chest ached with the kind of gratitude that made her eyes sting. She nodded. “Okay. But only if you let me help after I’m done studying.”

“We’ll see,” he teased, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before stepping back. “Now, go. Books. Study. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Gabby smiled as she grabbed her textbooks and settled onto the couch, the sound of Glen rummaging in the kitchen grounding her in the moment. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

Thirty minutes later the timer on Gabby’s phone buzzed softly, marking the end of her self-imposed study session. She closed her notebook with a sigh of relief, glad to escape the dry material she’d been slogging through.

“Half an hour exactly,” she muttered to herself with a grin, stretching her arms overhead as she stood. She tucked her books neatly back onto the shelf and wandered down the hallway toward her bedroom, curious to see what Glen had gotten himself into.

The sight that greeted her made her stop in her tracks and lean against the doorway with an incredulous smile. Glen was standing by her bed, a neatly folded stack of her laundry already on the corner, and another shirt in his hands that he was methodically folding.

“Glen,” she called out, crossing her arms as she stepped inside. “What are you doing?”

He glanced up at her, completely unbothered. “Folding laundry.”

She rolled her eyes, though the amusement in her voice was unmistakable. “You don’t have to do that. All I needed you to do was load the dishwasher. I can do all this once you leave.”

“I know,” he replied casually, shaking out another shirt and folding it with practiced ease. “But I want to.”

“Seriously,” she insisted, walking closer and trying to take the shirt from his hands. “You’ve done enough already. Let me finish it later.”

“Nope,” Glen said, stepping to the side and holding the shirt just out of her reach.

“Glen!” she exclaimed, laughing as she tried to grab it again.

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “What? I’m just being helpful.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to swipe at the shirt, but he easily lifted it higher.

“Am I?” he teased, his voice light as he dodged her attempts to snatch it.

“Yes!” she said, giggling as she lunged for him. This time, she grabbed his arm in an effort to pull him down, but he was too strong, his stance too steady. Instead, he turned the tables, gently catching her wrist and spinning her around so that her back was to him.

“Careful,” he murmured in her ear, his voice dropping to a playful growl.

Gabby felt her heart skip at the proximity, her laughter trailing off into a breathless chuckle. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, releasing her wrist only to scoop her up with ease.

“Glen!” she yelped as he carried her the few steps to the bed, depositing her onto the mattress like she weighed nothing at all. Before she could sit up, he leaned over her, pinning her wrists gently to the bed.

“Say it,” he said, his grin wide and victorious.

“Say what?” she shot back, her voice a mix of mock indignation and delight.

“That I win,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes locked on hers, warm and full of affection.

Gabby raised a brow, refusing to back down despite the fluttering in her chest. “Never.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re so stubborn.”

“And you’re—” Whatever retort she’d been about to make was lost as he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was firm yet achingly tender.

Gabby’s resolve melted instantly, her body relaxing beneath him as she kissed him back. His hands released her wrists, one sliding down to cup her cheek while the other braced against the mattress to support his weight.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her lips. “You were saying?” he murmured, his grin returning.

She let out a soft laugh, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Fine. You win.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice low and satisfied. He brushed his lips against hers once more, lingering as if neither of them wanted the moment to end.

Gabby sighed contentedly, her earlier protests forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down beside her. The laundry could wait. For now, she just wanted to stay wrapped up in him.

Glen’s lips coaxed hers apart, his tongue sliding inside to explore with a slow, deliberate heat that made her heart race.

Gabby let out a soft, involuntary sigh, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if she needed to anchor herself.

Just as she thought she couldn’t handle another second of the delicious pressure of his mouth on hers, Glen pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her damp lips. Before she could protest, he began to brush his lips along her jawline, each soft kiss igniting tiny sparks that raced down her spine.

“Glen…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with anticipation.

He didn’t answer, at least not right away. Instead, his mouth found the sensitive curve of her neck, his lips warm and soft against her skin. Gabby gasped quietly as his teeth scraped lightly, his tongue soothing the spot before he began to suck gently. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark—Glen knew better—but it was enough to send a shiver cascading through her body.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured against her neck, his voice low and husky, filled with a raw honesty that made her chest ache. His hand slid along her side, his touch warm and grounding, yet it only heightened the heat pooling in her stomach. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

His words sent a surge of confidence coursing through Gabby. She tilted her head back to look at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with need. For a moment, she just stared at him, taking in the way his eyes burned with the same longing that was consuming her.

“Then take me,” she said, her voice soft but steady, laced with a newfound boldness that left Glen momentarily stunned.

His gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as a slow, almost predatory smile spread across his lips. “Careful what you ask for,” he warned, though the teasing lilt in his tone only made her more sure of herself.

“I mean it,” she replied, her fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer. “I’m yours, Glen. Just… take me.”

Glen’s hands slid under Gabby’s shirt, his palms warm and calloused against her bare skin. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every second of the moment. His fingers brushed over her ribs, making her shiver before he gently pushed the fabric up. Gabby raised her arms without hesitation, letting him pull the shirt over her head and toss it somewhere behind him.

His gaze dropped to her, and the way his eyes darkened made her stomach flip. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and something deeper, something more primal.

Gabby felt her cheeks flush under his intense stare, but before she could get too self-conscious, Glen reached for the hem of his own shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

Her breath hitched as her eyes roamed over him, taking in the changes she hadn’t expected. The last time they’d been together, his chest had been smooth, but now, a fine dusting of hair covered his chest and trailed down to his abs, accentuating the defined lines of his body.

Her fingers reached out instinctively, tracing the new texture with curiosity. She let her palm glide over his chest, down to his stomach, where the muscle flexed beneath her touch. The sensation was different, but not unwelcome—it was grounding, a reminder of how much she’d missed him and how time hadn’t dulled their connection.

Glen watched her, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and edged with amusement.

Gabby glanced up at him, her hand still resting on his chest. She nodded, her lips curving into a shy smile before her confidence surged again. “I do,” she said honestly, tugging him gently back down to her. “Makes you more rugged.”

Their lipsthen met in a kiss that was hungrier this time, fueled by the heat building between them. His hands moved to cradle her face, holding her close as he poured everything he couldn’t say into the kiss.

Gabby’s hands slid up his chest and over his shoulders, her fingers curling around the nape of his neck as she pulled him even closer. The world around them disappeared again, and all that mattered was this—being together, feeling each other, and making up for every second they’d spent apart.

Glen’s lips moved across Gabby’s skin, lingering at her collarbone before he kissed his way back up to her mouth. Each touch of his lips sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fire that had been building since the moment he walked back into her life.

“Gabby,” he murmured, his voice heavy with desire as their foreheads touched. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this—about you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart racing. “Then don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with want.

He kissed her again, slow and deliberate, before his hands slid to the waistband of her leggings. Gabby arched into him as he gently tugged them down, his touch careful and reverent. When they joined her shirt on the floor, he leaned back slightly, letting his eyes take her in.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice rough but genuine, making her cheeks flush under his gaze.

Glen reached for the button on his jeans, but as much as he was swept up in the moment, a flicker of restraint passed over his face. He froze, his hands stilling as he took a deep breath.

“Wait,” he said, his voice steady but soft. He leaned back slightly, brushing a hand over her cheek as if to reassure her. “I just… I need to grab something first.”

Gabby blinked, momentarily confused, before realization dawned on her. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she nodded. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice carrying no trace of frustration or impatience.

Glen pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before climbing off the bed, his movements hurried but careful. He retrieved his wallet from his jeans, fumbling with it for a second before pulling out a small foil packet.

When he turned back to her, Gabby couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him—his hair mussed, his chest rising and falling a little faster than usual, his expression a mix of anticipation.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin as he climbed back onto the bed. “Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

“You didn’t,” Gabby reassured him, reaching up to pull him down into another kiss. “I’m glad you’re responsible. It’s… kind of hot, actually.”

Glen chuckled and then his hands slid down Gabby’s sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake as he positioned himself between her legs. He shifted his hips slightly and then slowly started to press himself into her.

The moment they connected, both of them let out simultaneous sounds—his a deep groan that rumbled in his chest, hers a soft moan that hitched midway, the sensation a mix of longing and adjustment.

Gabby's fingers clutched his shoulders, her breath catching at the sudden fullness after so much time apart. It wasn’t pain, but the unfamiliarity of it made her tense momentarily.

Glen froze the instant he noticed, his hand immediately finding her cheek. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. His forehead rested against hers as his thumb stroked her skin. “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, but her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling against his. “I’m fine,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I just… It’s been a while.”

His lips pressed a tender kiss to her temple as he stilled, giving her a moment to adjust. “I know, baby. I’ll take my time,” he assured her, his voice filled with nothing but patience and care. “Just tell me what you need.”

Gabby exhaled slowly, her hands relaxing their grip on his shoulders. She looked up at him, her gaze soft but determined. “I need you, Glen.”

His heart swelled at her words, and he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I’ll go slow, okay? Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

She nodded, her body gradually relaxing beneath him as his kisses trailed from her lips to her jaw, then down her neck. His hips shifted slightly, rocking gently to let her adjust at her own pace.

Gabby gasped softly, her body responding as the discomfort gave way to the ache of longing she’d been carrying for weeks. Her fingers slid into his hair, holding him close as her legs wrapped loosely around his waist.

“Better?” he asked, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“Much better,” she breathed, her voice carrying a newfound confidence.

Glen groaned softly as he felt her starting to clench around him. His movements started growing more confident and intentional. Gabby arched against him, her body responding instinctively to the rhythm he set, every fiber of her being focused on the way he made her feel.

His lips started trailing kisses down her jawline and back to her neck again. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently as her breaths turned into soft cries, uninhibited and full of longing.

The sounds coming from Gabby spurred Glen on, his pace quickening slightly as he continued to thrust in and out of her. He whispered her name like a prayer, his voice filled with both love and desire, as they reveled in the closeness they’d both been craving for weeks.

Gabby’s hands roamed over his back, her nails digging in lightly as her body moved with his, the tension building until it threatened to spill over. Glen lifted his head, locking eyes with her, and the intensity of his gaze sent a fresh wave of heat through her.

“Let go, Gabby,” he murmured, his voice thick with encouragement. “I’ve got you.”

Their movements grew faster, more desperate, as if neither wanted to waste a second of the precious time they had together. Gabby clung to Glen, her fingers tangled in his hair as her breath hitched, her body arching toward him as the heat coiled tightly inside her, ready to snap.

“Glen,” she gasped, his name breaking from her lips like a plea.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice strained yet full of love, his forehead pressed to hers as they moved together. “Let go for me, baby.”

His words, paired with the way his body seemed to perfectly match hers, sent her over the edge. A cry escaped her, her body trembling beneath him as the waves of release coursed through her, pulling her under in the best way possible.

Glen followed moments later, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his body tensing and then shuddering as he found his own release. His arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her against him as they both rode out the moment together, connected in every possible way.

As the tension ebbed, Gabby melted into Glen, her body relaxing completely beneath him. She buried her face in his shoulder, her breaths coming out in soft, uneven pants as she clung to him, savoring the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

Glen shifted slightly, careful not to crush her, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he collapsed onto the bed beside her, one arm still wrapped tightly around her waist as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

“God, I missed you,” he said, his voice rough and full of sincerity as he nuzzled his face into her hair.

Gabby smiled against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his skin as her breathing began to steady. “I missed you, too,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of emotion.

For a moment, neither of them moved, content to simply hold each other in the quiet aftermath. Glen’s thumb stroked soothing circles on her hip, and Gabby felt completely at ease, her worries melting away as she lay in his arms.

“You okay?” Glen asked after a while, his voice gentle as he tilted her chin up to look at her.

Gabby nodded, her green eyes sparkling with both happiness and contentment. “Better than okay,” she replied, her lips curving into a small smile.

Glen chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Good,” he said, his arm tightening around her.

They lay there for a while, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, the quiet stillness of the room making the moment feel even more intimate. Gabby traced her fingers lightly along Glen’s chest, marveling at how real and solid he felt beneath her touch. It was as if her body was trying to memorize every detail of him again after so much time apart.

Glen sighed contentedly, his hand combing gently through her hair. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost sleepy.

“Mmm,” Gabby agreed, her head resting over his heart. “I’ve missed this. Just being able to touch you. Hold you.”

“Me too,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “You have no idea.”

The peaceful quiet lingered until Glen shifted slightly beneath her, sitting up just enough to swing one leg over the side of the bed. Gabby’s eyes opened immediately, her arms tightening around his torso as she pulled him back toward her.

“Where are you going?” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with contentment and just a hint of sleepiness.

Glen chuckled softly, looking down at her. “Relax, I’m just getting a drink,” he teased, reaching for her hands as if to pry them loose, but Gabby clung tighter, nuzzling her face against his side.

“Don’t leave me,��� she murmured, her voice muffled against his skin.

His teasing smirk faded, replaced by a look of tenderness that softened his entire expression. Glen turned back toward her, lying down again and pulling her into his arms without hesitation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring as he kissed the corner of her mouth. “You’re stuck with me, remember?”

Gabby smiled faintly, her face still buried against him. “Good,” she said, her fingers curling into his side as if she wanted to hold on to him forever.

Glen tilted her chin up gently, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “I’m here, baby. I promise.”

The sincerity in his tone melted Gabby’s heart, and she leaned up to kiss him softly, grateful for every second they had together. As they settled back into the quiet, Glen held her even closer, whispering little reassurances in her ear until she fully relaxed against him again.

“Can I go get that drink now?” he teased after a moment, his lips brushing against her hair.

“Not if it means letting go of you,” Gabby replied, her voice playful but honest.

Glen laughed quietly, his chest rumbling beneath her. “Alright, I’ll survive.” 

He pressed another kiss to her forehead, settling back into the bed with her nestled against him. It was moments like this that made the distance and the waiting worth it. Being here with her was everything.

[strangelittlestories]

Everyone said that Xinyu the necromancer was a 'death' of fresh air.

Ever since she arrived at the Tower of Erudition, it had felt less stuffy.

A skeletal bard now played gothic renditions of the land’s most popular music in the common room.

She had summoned ghosts to haunt the library's index system, so that books were easier to find and late night research was more companionable.

And after one particularly memorable resurrection, an undead dragon could ferry wizards who struggled with stairs up and down the many knowledge-stuffed storeys.

Some of the professors still wished she would pay more attention to her studies, saying:

“Mages are only permitted so much time at the Tower in one lifetime. Stay too long and the archival sphinx will consume you. Don't you want to fit in as much learning at you can?

To which she would reply:

“Don’t worry, I'll be back in my next lifetime. They say 'you only live once', but I say that's quitter talk!"

Then she would wink her solar eclipse of a wink and go back to whichever project had her attention at the moment.

In her final year, she was named Head Girl. She was always available to help students with their concerns; she operated a strict ‘open grave’ policy.

One day, a student came to see her in the students’ common room (which she had renamed the ‘common tomb’).

"Pull up a chair, I just cast Blaze Dead." Said Xinyu.

"Do you mean Raise Dead?"

"I certainly do not!" she replied and took a drag on a long black cigarette. The smoke smelled faintly of sweet decay.

“I, uh, need help. I think.” the student said, a tremble of nerves in their voice.

“That's what I'm here for.”

“I found something in the archives. Well, *someone*, I suppose.”

This was odd. If a sphinx ate you, it wouldn't leave anything left to be found. All the data that was your body would just be added to the Knowledge Chorus at the heart of the Tower.

“And you want me to speak to them?”

“Maybe? I tried going to my academic supervisor. But, they, uh … I think they've been replaced?”

“So it's gonna be dangerous?” Xinyu’s smile had something of a skull's rictus grin about it.

“Probably.” The student got up. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't get you mixed up in this. You're busy and you're nice and I don't want you to disappear…”

"Oh no. You have presented a student welfare issue and I am honour-bound to intervene.”

“I did mention the danger, right?”

“Hey.” Xinyu took another look drag of her corpse joint. “It's better to have girled and bossed than never to have bossed at all."

“I'm not sure that makes sense.”

“No, but it sounded cool, right?”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

'Tis The Damn Season - Part Three

A/N: Man, don't you hate it when you're two idiots clearly still in love with each other, but unable to properly talk about your feelings? At least someone's getting action in this cabin this weekend 😉 Hope everyone enjoys, especially the beloved bestie @xxvalkyriesxx! I know I'll be enjoying #JailTime 😈 @acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3 // Previous Part // Next Part

Nesta scoops a spoonful of sugar from the glass dish, pouring it into her mug and stirring it into her tea. She carries her mug into the large living room of the cabin. Someone started a fire before they all left, but Nesta still grabs a blanket from the wicker basket. She sets her tea down on the coffee table, curling up in one of the oversized armchairs with her book and the blanket draped over her legs.

She shifts until she’s really comfortable, eagerly opening her book to the last page she’d bookmarked. She’s more than ready to take advantage of the empty cabin for the day, of the peace and quiet up here in the mountains. She’s more than ready for the main character of her book to stop fighting it and give in to the big, hunky duke that wants to give her the world. She’s more than ready for a distraction from the thoughts of the previous night that have been vying for her attention all morning.

She hates to admit it, but last night was some of the best sleep she’s had in a while. Although, maybe it shouldn’t be that surprising. She used to always love staying at Cassian’s apartment or convincing him to stay the night at hers, and not just because he would make her breakfast in the morning. There was a comforting safety wrapped within the circle of his arms, and his big body was always so warm. And even though she often grumbled, she really didn’t mind when he’d sleep almost fully on top of her. It was like her own personal weighted and heated blanket.

And she hates to admit it, but she misses it. Misses him.

Nesta isn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but last night, she swore she could feel Cassian’s arms curled tightly around her waist. That she could feel the warm weight of him pressed along her spine and seeping beneath her skin. That she could feel his nose buried in her hair and his soft breaths fanning across her ear. But was it real or was it the dream of a memory still tied like a golden thread around her heart?

“Hey, Nes.”

Nesta’s head snaps up at the greeting, surprised to find Cassian standing in front of the french doors that lead out to the cabin’s back patio, a stack of firewood cradled in his arms. She can do nothing but watch as he steps out of his snow covered boots, as he pads across the room and toward the large, stone fireplace. He kneels down, taking one of the logs and tossing it onto the fire, the flames crackling and growing in response.

“Aren’t you supposed to be skiing with the others?” Nesta finally asks, sitting up straighter and closing her book.

“You don’t have to do that,” Cassian says, not even looking her way as he sets the remaining logs in the rack beside the fireplace.

“Do what?”

Cassian sighs softly, pushing back to his feet and wiping his hands on his jeans. “It’s just me. You can relax. You don’t have to worry about donning that mask you always wear.”

Nesta has to swallow hard against his words. Leave it to Cassian to still see straight through her, even after all their time apart. It used to terrify her, the way he seemed to see all the way down to her very soul, the way he was intent on peeling back every piece of armor, on squeezing past every defense she’d so carefully laid until he’d wiggled his way right into her heart.

It terrifies her now that he’s still never really left.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Nesta deflects instead.

“I broke my ankle earlier this year.”

Nesta frowns at the explanation, her attention instantly darting down toward Cassian’s ankles, looking for any sign of injury or discomfort. “I didn’t know that…”

“Don’t worry. It’s all healed now. I even finished PT already,” Cassian assures her, moving to settle on the sofa perpendicular to Nesta’s armchair. “But I figured it’s best not to risk anything on the slopes.”

Nesta hums softly in response, but she’s not really sure what else to say. Things are so stilted and awkward between her and Cassian now. His fingerprints used to be tattooed across her skin, the crack of his smile used to bring light to her shittiest and darkest days, his laugh used to be her safety net and the space between his ribs her home, and now they’re… this.

There’s too many emotions tangled between them, a heavy ache that settles deep in Nesta’s bones and a yearning that still pierces through her heart. Too messy, too many unsaid words, and with every second of silence that passes, those words only seem more intent on cloying up her throat and choking her, the tension scraping hard against her skin.

And the two of them are now stuck inside, just the two of them together, for the rest of the day.

Perhaps this is the weekend where Nesta finally decides to give skiing a proper try again.

“So what are you reading?” Cassian breaks the quiet.

“What?”

“The book you’re reading, what’s it about?”

“You want to talk about my book?” Nesta asks, her tone dry.

Cassian chuckles softly, pushing a hand up and through his hair, a nervous tick he still hasn’t quite kicked it seems. “Well, I doubt you want me to ask how you’ve been.”

“Why do we have to talk at all?”

Cassian shrugs at that, settling back against the cushions of the sofa, so Nesta decides to return to her book after all. But it’s easier said than done. She tries to focus on the ink splashed across the pages, tries to focus on the words and the characters and the story. But they all just blur together, that needling voice in the back of her mind continuing to draw her attention toward the man sitting a mere foot away from her, the eyes she can feel watching her.

“Fine,” Nesta says, snapping her book closed again. “How have you been?”

“Now you want to do small talk?”

“We’re stuck here until everyone returns from the slopes, so unless you have any better ideas…”

Cassian hums, as though he’s really thinking about it, before he reaches toward the coffee table in front of him. He pulls open one of the drawers, rooting around until he produces a deck of cards and a handful of plastic spoons stored there. He slides the cards out of the packaging, and Nesta is transfixed watching the way his hands move, the way his fingers flex, as he shuffles them. Somehow, the large span of his hands make the cards look small.

“Well?” Cassian asks, tearing Nesta free from her spiraling thoughts and gesturing to the space across from him.

“You can’t play Spoons with two people.”

“Says who?”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she stands up, dragging her armchair until it’s across from Cassian, getting comfortable again with her blanket. Cassian’s grin grows, and he shuffles the deck of cards in his hands one last time before divvying up four cards for each of them. Nesta quickly snatches up her hand, taking a moment to arrange her cards in numerical order. Not the best start, a two, a six, a jack, and a queen.

“So how did you break your ankle?” Nesta asks, reaching forward to take the card Cassian slides toward her. An ace of spades. It becomes the start of the discard pile.

Cassian chuckles, deciding to add the next card he draws to his hand and sliding a new card toward Nesta. “How do you think?”

“Something stupid, then.”

“Mor got this new dog, a tiny little chihuahua thing she named Bella. And it hates me, genuinely despises me.” Nesta can’t help but laugh at his words, but Cassian’s grin only grows in response, the hazel of his eyes surprisingly sparking despite his words. “I’m serious. The dog planned the whole thing. It purposefully got under my feet and tripped me.”

“You’re clearly giving that dog too much credit,” Nesta tells him, trying to keep her face neutral even as she picks up another jack, trading the two in her hand for the card.

“Maybe I was always just meant to be a cat person.”

Nesta can’t help but think back to the afternoon date Cassian took her on to the small cat cafe downtown. Can’t help but think about the tuxedo kitten that had climbed onto Cassian’s shoulder and chewed at his hair while he laughed. Can’t help but think about how small that kitten had looked curled up to nap in the cradle of Cassian’s large hands. Can’t help but think about the promise they made to each other, to go back and adopt that kitten once they moved in together.

“Maybe…” Nesta agrees quietly, focusing hard on the cards in her hand.

Cassian clears his throat awkwardly, turning his own attention to his cards, and Nesta wonders if his memories have carried him back to that same afternoon too. Carried him back to the way the rays of the sun spilled through the cafe’s windows, the sweet scent of coffee and cakes, to soft fur beneath fingertips and promises just for them.

“Are you still working at the same firm?” Cassian asks after a moment, trading another card in his hand and sliding it toward her.

“Not anymore. I took an offer from a different firm. Better pay, more interesting work. I’ve really been enjoying it.”

“That’s great. I’m really happy for you.”

The sincerity of his voice is enough to draw Nesta’s attention back to his face, and her breath almost catches in her throat when she finds Cassian’s gaze already pinned on her. With the firelight dancing in his eyes, there’s no mistaking the greens and golds that make up the hazel. No mistaking the honesty, the emotions, swimming in those eyes.

Nesta opens her mouth, but she quickly closes it again, not quite sure what to say. She wants to hate the way her chest starts to tighten, brambled vines twisting tighter and tighter around her heart. But there’s no denying the emotion that wells up her throat, those unsaid words weighing heavy on her tongue and her mind again.

“You have to draw, to keep the game going,” Nesta points out instead.

Cassian laughs softly again, his lips twisting up into that lopsided, cocksure smirk of his, as he raises his hand, a plastic spoon poised between his fingers. For a moment, Nesta can do nothing but blink, her mind not quite catching up to what she’s seeing. She snaps her attention back down to the coffee table, and sure enough, the spoon next to the discard pile and stack of cards is gone.

“What?”

“You didn’t even notice,” Cassian teases, turning around the cards in his other hand to show four eights. “I win.”

Nesta scowls, tossing her own hand of cards on the table. “This is exactly why you can’t play Spoons with two people.”

“Still always a sore loser, Nes?”

“I am not being a sore loser. It’s a simple fact.”

“If you say so…”

“Fine,” Nesta huffs, narrowing her eyes and shoving all the cards back toward Cassian. “Best two out of three, then.”

She waits for Cassian to gather up the cards, to shuffle them again and deal them a fresh round of four cards, but instead, he merely continues to watch her. His smirk twists into a soft smile, his whole expression one that Nesta used to know like the back of her hand, one that Nesta hasn’t seen directed at her in a long time.

“What?” she asks quietly, feeling almost self conscious beneath that soft fondness.

Cassian shakes his head, finally gathering up the cards and beginning to shuffle them. “Nothing… just… that look…”

I’ve named every single one of your looks and poses, you know.

Those were the words he spoke to her once. She never knew exactly how many of her expressions he’d cataloged. She never knew what his names were for each one. She never knew exactly which one was his favorite, though he did claim to have one. Was it the one she was giving him now?

“No cheating this time,” Nesta tells him, reaching forward for the four cards he placed in front of her, desperate to ease that tension that keeps rising and falling between them like waves.

“Not exactly beating the sore loser accusations, sweetheart,” Cassian offers, picking up his own cards and taking a moment to arrange them to his liking. “Besides, do you really think I'd cheat?”

“Well, it wouldn't be the first time you've lied to me.”

Despite her attempt at keeping her tone light and teasing, the silence that follows her remark is palpable. Clearly, she’s hit her mark, that festering wound torn back open. It’s the subject they’ve been tip-toeing around all weekend, the subject that Nesta has tried and failed to cover up for months despite its persistence. Like wine stained red across fabric.

“I deserve that, I suppose,” Cassian finally concedes. “Does that mean we’re finally going to talk about it?”

“I don’t see what there is to talk about.”

“You never let me explain, let me tell you why I never said anything before that night.”

Nesta sniffs, crossing her arms across her chest. “What was there to explain? I know why you did it. Caught dating Feyre’s awful big sister, how embarrassing that must have been for you.”

“I don’t know what’s worse, that you think so lowly of me or that you think so lowly of yourself,” Cassian drawls, his voice bitter and dry.

It’s close. Too close.

“Draw a card, Cassian.”

“No.” Cassian sets his cards down on the table, the gesture filled with as much finality as his voice. “I’m not going to sit here and have awkward small talk and pretend while we play cards.”

Nesta raises a derisive eyebrow. “Who’s the sore loser now?”

“Nice try, Nes. That type of baity deflection might work on your sisters, but I know you too well.” He sighs softly, scrubbing a hand down his face and across the stubble on his jaw. “I didn’t know. I really didn’t know when we first met.”

Nesta sighs as well, placing her own cards down on the table. “But you knew before the dinner that night. It’s why you were acting so weird that day.”

“I know, but it took longer than you think. I didn’t start to realize until the night you told me everything about your past, your family. It was just too much of a coincidence, the stories too close to what I’d heard about Feyre. But I didn’t know for sure until I went to Rhys’ for dinner after that. I pulled Feyre aside and finally asked her about the sisters she sometimes spoke of, asked what their names were.”

“And yet, you still didn’t say anything.”

“It was never the right time.” Nesta scoffs at that, so Cassian continues, “and I was selfish, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I was. I knew you’d be upset once you knew, knew it would change everything for us, so selfishly, I just kept putting it off longer and longer. I thought that I could keep you longer, but I… I just ended up losing you anyways.”

Nesta isn’t sure what she expected Cassian to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Maybe some part of her expected him to turn it back on her, remind her that if she and her sisters weren’t such a tangled, complicated mess of parental issues and childhood scars that scabbed over but never truly healed, that they wouldn’t have had this problem in the first place. Maybe that cruel, whispering voice in the back of her mind had expected him to finally confirm her worst fears, that it was all a game, a trick, that he was embarrassed by her.

But to admit that he was selfish…

Nesta’s pride had certainly kept her from ever admitting those words.

Damn him and his open book honesty. Damn him and his bleeding heart that he holds so confidently outside his chest. No icy walls to keep it tucked safely away. Instead, it sits beating and bleeding in the palm of his hand, stretched out toward her like he has such blind faith in the world. Such blind faith in her.

“Wow. I’ve finally struck you completely silent. That has to be a first.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“Go on,” Cassian coaxes, his tone almost mocking as he leans forward in his seat. “Tell me I was selfish. Remind me that it’s all my fault. Tell me how your life is so much better now without me.”

“Now who’s thinking so lowly of the other?”

Cassian sighs softly, finally dropping his gaze away from her. He pushes almost aimlessly at his abandoned stack of cards on the table, as though he’s trying to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right words to say. Trying to gather his courage.

“Do you think y–”

A crash sounds from the front entryway of the cabin, cutting off whatever words Cassian was going to say. Nesta snaps her attention in that direction, just in time to watch Eris and Azriel all but stumble into the room, limbs tangled together and Azriel’s hands already pushing open Eris’s Ralph Lauren ski jacket. Both their cheeks are flushed, but Nesta isn’t convinced the coloring is just from the cold and the snow outside.

Cassian clears his throat loudly, and both men freeze, clearly completely oblivious to the other occupants of the room. Azriel is quick to step away from Eris, to put distance between them, but the illusion is long broken, and Nesta doesn’t believe the too casual stance, the cool and aloof mask, for a second.

“Shouldn’t you both be skiing?” Eris asks, raising a single eyebrow.

Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I don’t ski.”

“I broke my ankle a few months back,” Cassian offers with a shrug. “But how were the slopes?”

“Pretty good, actually. It’s a damn shame the sun sets so early this far north.”

“The other won’t be long behind us,” Azriel cuts in to add, turning and walking toward the kitchen. “I’m sure everyone will be hungry after a day on the slopes.”

Nesta snorts at Azriel all but fleeing the room, knowing damn well he’s not going to be preparing everyone lunch despite his excuse. She shares a pointed look with Eris, but the redhead seems unfazed by the actions of his boyfriend-not-boyfriend. Still, with Azriel leaving, silence settles heavily over the room again, pressing against Nesta’s skin and the reopened wounds until it stings.

She catches movement out of the corner of her eye, turning to watch Cassian push up and to his feet. He seems to hesitate for a moment, his own gaze meeting Nesta’s, hazel eyes burning low in the firelight. His lips part, and Nesta holds her breath, waiting to hear the words clearly weighing heavy on the back of his tongue, but they never come. Instead, Cassian shakes his head, seemingly thinking better of it. Instead, he follows the same path as his brother toward the kitchen, leaving that thread between them untouched, too taut under the weight of what they used to be.

Nesta finishes twisting the strands of her hair into a simple, soft braid, tying it off and letting it drop along her shoulder. She gathers up her small toiletries bag and the towel she’s been given for the weekend, switching off the bathroom light and padding back down the hallway. She’s surprised to find the door to her guest bedroom already closed, distinctly remembering leaving it open before she went to do her nighttime routine, but her confusion quickly morphs into annoyance when the distinct sound of a moan filters through the wood.

“I’ll help with cooking.”

~ * * * ~

“Eris, I’m going to kill you,” Nesta grumbles half to herself.

“Kicked out again?”

Nesta spins on her heel to find Cassian leaning against the doorjamb to his own room. He’s already changed as well, a soft-worn pair of flannel pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips, showing off and drawing attention to the hard cut of his v lines. She’s half tempted to tell him to put on a shirt; although, she’s not sure she really wants to. Not with the way his crossed arms add to the bulge of his arms. Not with the way the shadows cut into every line, deepen every swirling stroke of ink across his skin.

“I’m beginning to think this is all just a ploy by Azriel to get a proper bed for the weekend.”

“Probably. The pull-out is pretty lumpy,” Cassian offers with an easy shrug. “My offer from last night still stands for tonight though. You’re still welcome to crash in my room.”

Nesta knows that she should tell him no. She knows that she should turn and walk away, that she should resign herself to spending the night on one of the uncomfortable sofas. Especially after their conversation from earlier. Their unfinished conversation from earlier. There’s still too much tension, too many words left unsaid, brewing like an oncoming storm between them, threatening to strike them both down like a bolt of lightning.

But maybe there really is too much still between her and Cassian despite all this time. Maybe they’re still a tangled mess of golden thread tied so tightly around their hearts that it never leaves, only bruises and scars. Or maybe Nesta truly is just so exhausted and the idea of a proper bed too tempting. Because she steps around Cassian and inside his guest bedroom.

She hears the soft snick of the door as Cassian closes it, moving to set the things in her arms down where she’ll remember them in the morning. She can hear the slow shuffle as he seems to move about the room, but she can’t quite bring herself to look. Can’t quite bring herself to face him. Instead, she merely makes her way to the bed and slips beneath the blankets, tucking them up to her shoulders.

The bed dips behind her as Cassian settles as well, the warmth he always seems to exude seeping across the space between them beneath the blankets. It’s almost second nature, the way Nesta scoots back closer, chasing that warmth. A soft click and the room is blanketed in darkness as the bedside lamp is turned off. It’s like a safety net, that darkness, and Nesta dares to roll over in the bed.

She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised to find Cassian with his eyes still open and watching her. The moonlight spilling in through the window cuts a bright line across his cheekbone, along his nose. And a strand of curly hair tumbles down along his temple and across his forehead, Nesta curling her fingers into a fist in the blankets to keep from the temptation to brush it aside.

“There were surprisingly no drinking games tonight,” Cassian breaks the quiet, the corner of his lips twisting up in the barest hint of a teasing smile. “Do you think our family is losing their touch?”

“That or this is finally a sign that we’re all getting old.”

“You calling me old, Nes?”

“I do think I can see a few grey hairs.”

Cassian’s laugh is surprisingly soft, but still warm, practically curling around Nesta’s limbs like a second blanket. “We could play a game right here and right now.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she presses her lips together to hold back a smile. “I’m pretty sure that is the opposite of the no funny business promise.”

“If you’re scared, sweetheart, just say.”

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Nesta doesn’t bother biting back her scoff. “You went through all that just to pick truth?”

“I’m cozy,” Cassian argues, making a big show of burrowing deeper beneath the blankets and offering her a winning grin. “I don’t want to move.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she nibbles on her bottom lip and tries to think of a good truth. Tries to think of a question she really wants to ask him, really wants the answer to. A few spring immediately to mind, a warm whisper tugging at her thoughts. Perhaps…

Maybe it’s the safety of the quiet and the dark, the perfect hiding place for whispered truths and honesty. Maybe it’s the safety of the blanket wrapped around them as surely as that thread between their hearts. Maybe it’s the way the teasing between them is so reminiscent of the way they were before, of so many nights just like this, tangled up together in bed.

“If we didn’t break up,” Nesta begins, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. “Where do you think we’d be right now?”

Cassian’s eyebrows dip slightly, and Nesta can tell it’s not a question he was expecting, what he was anticipating her to ask. She wonders briefly if he’ll answer honestly or if he’ll fall back into that mask of easy grins and teasing remarks he so often wears.

“I think… I think we’d still be right here, celebrating Feyre.” Cassian pauses, his lips parting before he closes them again, swallowing down whatever words he was going to say. “But… I think I’d have begged you to agree to marry me by now.”

“Begged?”

“Would you have accepted anything less?” Cassian’s chuckle is soft and almost breathless, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Truth or dare?”

Nesta doesn’t bother biting back her smirk. “Dare.”

Even in the dark, the way Cassian’s eyes spark is unmistakable, his grin growing wider still. The sight leaves Nesta’s breath catching, her traitorous heart twisting between her ribs. It’s almost involuntary the way she moves closer still across the bed, pulled into that gravity, his warmth, that look on his face. It’s almost involuntary the way her gaze drops to his mouth, to the way his lips pinch as he makes a big show of thinking.

“I dare you to…”

Kiss me.

“Finally forgive me.”

The words are jarring enough that Nesta is sure that she must have misheard him. But when she focuses properly back on Cassian’s face, that smile of his is long gone. Instead, his expression is… guarded. It seems odd, practically unnatural, to see such an expression on Cassian’s face, especially directed toward her. And it stings, niggling like icy fingers around Nesta’s lungs and squeezing, digging its claws straight into her already bruised heart.

She thinks she might hate it.

“Sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry,” Cassian says suddenly, shoving the blankets off his body and clambering up and off the bed. “I don’t know what I was…”

Cassian doesn’t finish the thought, shaking his head and shoving a hand up and through his hair. He won’t quite meet Nesta’s eye, scrambling around the room until he locates a hoodie, quickly tugging it on. His name sits heavy on the tip of Nesta’s tongue, but she can’t seem to bring herself to say it, can do nothing but watch as he moves about the room and then toward the door.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian mutters one last time, and Nesta swears his voice sounds thick, as though he’s holding back tears.

The sound of the door opening and closing again is too loud in the dark of the bedroom. Too final. And it’s more than just the loss of Cassian’s large, warm body in the bed that has cold needling beneath Nesta’s skin, burrowing all the way down to her bones, to her soul. She curls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and staring at the door, at the space Cassian once filled.

With every moment that passes, the silence presses in harder around her, her heart sinking deeper until the ache between her ribs is palpable. Until she can do nothing but speak the truth to the empty room.

“I already forgave you.”

—

2025 tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed; bolded names mean Tumblr won’t let me tag you 🥲): @moodymelanist @sv0430 @bookstantrash @hiimheresworld @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @glowing-stick-generation @goddess-aelin @melphss @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @wolfnesta @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @that-little-red-head @kale-theteaqueen @superflurry @lady-winter-sunrise @freakingata @susanbanarchy @jsmelodies @unhealthyfanobsession @presskmewleroux @nativeswfl @livinforthetea @dying-of-wanderlust @berkskc @the-new-ribbon @underneath-the-sidras @deadandsane

[arilevenatz]

Chasing Shadows - TEASER

Pairing: popular guy!yeosang x fem!reader

Genre: Angst (?), fluff

Word count: 582

Warnings: kinda frat boy yeosang, him and his friends are handsome (yes that's a warning), reader has anxiety, she is also insecure, anxiety attacks, yeo is cheeky, like really cheeky, you might wanna flick him a bit, bestfriend! San and wooyoung, there are prob gonna be more

AN: y'all bear with me this is my first time posting on Tumblr, I'm still figuring out stuff. I had a dream about this and I decided that I'm gonna write a yeo fic. And also if you wanna get tagged, you can give your @ in the comments I'll tag y'all. And also please reblog and like, so I can get more motivated!!

"stop mocking me. I know people like you. you guys go up to girls like me and say you like them only to say 'April fools' or say 'its a dare' later. I hate guys like you"

His grin fades, his expression turning serious, but his eyes still hold a glint of mischief. "You really think that's what I'm doing?" He tilts his head to the side, studying your face intently. He maintains eye contact, his expression unreadable. He sees the suspicion in your eyes, and it only seems to fuel his mischievous glint. He leans forward, his voice lowering. "Let me ask you something..." He studies your face intently, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "First off... do I look like I have a problem finding girls to talk to?" He gestures to himself, a hint of pride in his tone. "And second..." His voice drops lower as he deliberately maintains eye contact. "Second what?" You shout.

"No shouting in the library student!" The librarian warned you. You sit back down embarrassed and all red.

He leans in closer, and says "Second, would I really waste my time pretending to like someone just to play an April Fool's prank?" His words send a shiver down your spine as he pulls back, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or maybe..." He looks at you with a half-smirk, half-serious expression "You're actually quite... interesting. Not many people stand up to me like you do." His eyes crinkle again as he studies your reaction "And hey..." He reaches over and lightly taps your finger. You retreat your hand from his touch. His expression shifts to a playful pout, though his eyes still hold a glint of amusement "Wow, so I'm not even worthy of a tiny hand tap?" He leans back in his chair, studying your defensive posture with interest "You're not scared of me, are you?" He chuckles low in his throat, his gaze never leaving yours. "listen, can I not just like you? I like you. I want to be with you"

"No! people don't simply like girls like me" you felt like crying, but you can't. His expression turns mockingly serious, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, so you're saying you're not likeable? You think I can't like you because you're... what?" He crosses his arms, leaning forward again, his curiosity piqued.

"You know what I am"

"No I don't"

"Fuck. Fine! Im fat and ugly"

His face freezes and for a moment, he looks genuinely shocked. But then, he lets out a harsh laugh. "Fat and ugly? He shakes his head, his gaze raking over your form appraisingly. "You really think that's what I see when I look at you?"

"You don't need to look at me like that, I am like that so fuck off I don't need you laughing at my face."

You stand up harshly, take your bag and walk outside the library. He follows you and grabs your upper arm, not harshly but firmly enough to hold your attention. "Listen carefully..." His voice softens, losing its usual mocking tone. "I'm not some creep who goes around lying to get in girls' pants." You open your mouth to say something but he quickly shits you off. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who's honest, even if it hurts. I see someone who's strong, even when they feel weak. And I see someone who's fucking beautiful, inside and out."

[admirationandromantics]

Teacher's Lounge

Another request! I'm thinking about not posting updates to anonymous requests, and instead just pasting said request in here? I'll tag you if you didn't ask anonymously. It's easier and more neat.

🍋‍🟩 Hear me out, Josh becoming a temporary teacher for film with his own office, he often let you study in there seeing as the campus didn’t have enough study space to accommodate everyone and you become quite overstimulated on a normal day (@b3rryb3t)

This is therefore maybe a teacher x student thing, but you're roughly the same age anyway (maybe 2 years difference), since he graduated before you and has already come out with his debut movie. You're still hanging out with the friend group as well.

Word count: 1,6k (Unedited)

It’s hard to find good reading spots on campus. My messy room could be an option, but I can’t get inspired there. I need different surroundings than what I’m used to. Booked rooms are a no-go, especially now that exams are coming closer. They’re always booked, and everyone uses them. I’ve tried going to the library, but if there’s room, the place is never quiet. The librarians don't care. I get it though, everyone is stressed, and the only place you can work on a group assignment is the library. You have to talk, you have to discuss. This means that I’m still left without a spot to study. I’ve tried other libraries, other cafes and even at my friends place. Nothing works. Maybe there’s something in the other buildings? Somewhere quiet where I’ll feel content. 

The first building that comes to mind is the Teachers house. A large building with some group rooms and many small study sofas. Many of the teachers have offices there, but if I'm quiet, they won’t mind. These spots are usually also taken, but maybe I’ll have a chance if I’m quick. 

I walk down the hall, stopping when I see the old abandoned office. This room is usually always empty, waiting for someone to inhabit it. But it’s not empty anymore. The previously collected dust is cleaned away, the wood door has a new furnish and a brand new slide-on plate reads a familiar name. Joshua Washington. 

I widen my eyes in surprise, it cannot be. Why is he here? Didn’t he already finish his degree? He just finished his debut movie, which was excellent. I saw him at one of Emily’s parties too, which was not long ago. About three weeks. He looked good then, very good. Like he felt fulfilled and accomplished. He should feel good about himself. Not many people do that on their first big project. He did talk about a new job he got, but I assumed it was another film-related gig. Was this the job? 

My curiosity gets the better of me, and I carefully knock three times. The sound is beautiful, hard and dark wood which doesn’t vibrate as I hit it. I wait, hearing shuffling and metal clinking inside. 

“Um, yeah, come in!” 

I open the door, holding the handle hard. If I was wrong, then this would be an awfully awkward encounter. The door glides easily without making any sound. They have really improved this place. He lifts his head, meeting my stare as he does. A smile creeps on his face, eyes lighting up by the sight. I stand still, mouth agape and furrowed brows. He’s really here. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite student” 

“You teach here?” 

“As of this Monday, yes” 

I close the door behind me, looking around the room. It’s cozy, filled with family pictures and a couple of movie posters. His diploma is also on the wall. On one surface are many small film trophies from his childhood, and in front of all of them, the price he got last year for his first debut Hollywood movie. I look around in awe, the yellow light making everything feel so professional and real. 

“And by the way, I’m not your student, I take another course” 

“That can’t stop me from stating that you’re in a superior’s office” 

“How did you get this job?”

“They offered it to me”

“Just out of nowhere? You don’t have experience in teaching. You’re not even a professor” 

“I guess my talent shines through”

I look at him and his smug face. He’s leaning back in the roller chair, feet upon his desk. Everything here is so neat, so unlike him. He also loves being able to joke like this, but honestly, I’m still surprised by the circumstances. He made one movie, and now, the university wanted him to teach a course? 

“If I know you correctly, you’ll probably be fired by the next month” 

“And why’s that?”

I take a seat in front of him, not surprised that the chair is lower than him. Oh, how he loves his power trips. The chair is comfortable, and suits the surroundings, but I feel small. 

“Because you can’t keep your hands to yourself” 

“That’s true” 

“There’s only a question about time, when will you fuck one of your students, and when will you get caught” 

He laughs, shaking his head as he fiddles with an expensive ball pen. He looks at me in disbelief, maybe a little surprised that I said exactly what I thought. 

“Who’s to say I haven’t done it already?” 

“One week into the job?” 

“Maybe” 

“You’re disgusting, Washington” 

“That’s Mr. Washington to you” he corrects, pointing at me with the same pen. I smile at him, almost unable to hide my laughter. 

“I’m not gonna start calling you that” 

“Ugh, damn you” 

A slight silence follows, and analyse his desk. Many, many pens, his laptop, a stack of papers and a couple of memory sticks. Again, everything is so neat. It makes me feel weird. 

“By the way, I actually haven’t had a teacher-student relationship” 

“You shouldn’t” I quickly shoot back. It would not be a good idea. Being in the filming industry is hard in itself, but he also has a shot of doing something more. This was not something to take lightly. 

“At least not gonna with my own students” 

“Jesus Chris Josh”

He laughs again, loving my overdramatic reactions. He knows what gets me to tip over, how to make me irritated and upset. Of course he’ll use it to his advantage. 

“Anyways, what are you doing here? Isn’t your building on the other side of campus?” 

I sigh loudly, leaning back in the chair and letting my head fall back. I’m tired, exhausted even. But just two more weeks, and I’ll be finished with the exams. My diploma isn’t far away. 

“Trying to find a study spot, but everywhere is taken”

“Why don’t you just use your dorm?”

“Easy for you to say, you never lived in one”

He leans back, furrowing his brows and being deep in thought. 

“You could sit here?” 

I look up, surprised by the offer. Is that even okay, am I, as a student, allowed to do that? I think about it, the place is quiet, cozy and a completely different atmosphere than usual. It could work. 

“Can I?” 

“Of course, it wouldn't be the first time you’ve been in my quarters” he teases, leaning back over the desk. 

“Haha, very funny, but are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I mean, my students usually don’t come here, too busy actually understanding the material, compared to some” he points at me and my backpack. I roll my eyes. 

“Well, if getting my degree consisted of knowing the on and off button of a camera, I would excel at it”

“Careful, or you might not get to study here” 

“Okay, okay, sorry. You’re an accomplished producer and teacher who’s totally awesome” 

“And you have to call me Mr. Washington”

I scoff at his request, shaking my head. He’s still smiling, biting casually into his lower lip. 

“I draw the line there”

“Fine”

I take up my laptop, immediately starting to type. This was gonna be great. Might have some negative effects though. We’ve got a history. Too much time spent together has usually led to more uncivilised activities, but that’s not something I have to worry about now. 

***

The weeks pass, and I truly enjoy his company, even if it’s in silence. He’s busy grading papers and making schedules. I’m prepping for my exams, writing, reading, and memorising. Everything was going great, and the day of the exam finally came. 

I took one look over the questions, and my heart fell. What the hell was this? I did my best, drawing out a mind map to help me refresh my memory. It actually went quite well, if I do say so myself. Not the best, but I’m definitely not failing. 

I walk down the hall yet again, not bothering to knock on Josh’s door. His head rises, noticing my presence, and he smiles. God I love how he smiles. 

“So, how did it go?” 

I close the door, biting my lip as I turn to face him again. He looks up expectantly, eyes big and round. He rises, walking around the desk to face me. 

“It went great!” I blurt out excitedly, arms going out. He smiles, meeting me in a hug as I throw my arms around him. His hands go to my waist, pulling me closer against him. I bury my face in his neck, warm skin against mine, smelling his expensive cologne. 

“See, you just needed a place to study”

“I indeed did”

We break apart a little, arms still holding tight so none of us leaves. He leans in, eyes lowering to my lips. I know what’s about to happen, it has happened a million times before. In his bedroom, a couple of random bathrooms, the mountain lodge, but never in an office. My finger finds its way to his lips, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Mr. Washington, what do you think you’re doing?” 

“Just celebrating” he whispers against my finger, hand going up to take it away. He finds his way to the back of my head, tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer. 

“You can get in trouble”

“Never stopped us before”

His breath feels hot against my skin, head getting dizzy and body warmer. How long were we going to keep this thing alive? 

“Fuck it” I whisper against him, capturing his lips on mine.