#post series soft

[meg-noel-art]

"Nothing's gonna clean me out."

(Post series wives)

[wwillywonka]

rewatching where no man has gone before and it's wild how different spock's characterisation is in this versus the rest of the series. like i know logically (haha) that the episode was so early that the show and nimoy didn't really have a grasp on the character yet (made evident by the "one of my ancestors married a human woman" line), but it also strikes me that this is technically kirk's first episode in timeline (production) order, meaning jim and spock have barely started to get to know each other. it's obvious from the chess game that they're already very close and likely have been joined at the hip since their very first meeting, so i like to think that spock is almost, ya know, giddy at this point, adjusting to the comforting warmth and joy and security he feels just by being around jim all the time because it's all so new, because he's never had anything like this before. spock likes jim so much and so immediately and wants to get to know him better and feels safe enough around him to let jim get to know him better, too. the interaction at the end, "i felt for him, too" and "there might be some hope for you yet, mr. spock." followed by a very not-subtle, fond smile from our dear vulcan first officer, just stands out so much against the rest of the series. young spock and his brand new blossoming crush for his captain and he hasn't gotten to the point where he's afraid of those feelings yet, just basking in how nice it feels to have a proper friend. so damn cute. it fills me with butterflies.

[zara-renata]

Control | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV, a little Sylus POV This is not actually strictly part of the Sylus series, but rather a bit of an interlude outside of the series I'm writing because it doesn't advance the plot and I don't know where I'd fit it in. I was having an awful day earlier this week and wrote this purely to make myself feel better. I hope it does the same for others. It doesn't contain all the same triggers as the series (but I'd still advise checking the CWs) and can be read as a standalone if you'd like. This story contains: sfw, pure self-indulgent hurt/comfort for overachievers who, despite doing their very best, still feel like they didn't do enough, fluff, banter, tender Sylus, clingy Sylus, still-bit-of-a-jerk-Sylus, CWs: grief, discussion of the realities of law enforcement and innocent civilian death as a result of criminal activity, violence typical of the game and Sylus's criminal tendencies, mention of slight depression and feelings of emptiness.

Here you are, again. It has been a long day, a long week, a long month. You’ve been called out almost every shift to counter an increased spurt of wanderer attacks, while also trying to execute a carefully orchestrated undercover mission to stem the tide of illegal modified protocore weapons that recently flooded the black market by arms smugglers.

No, not Sylus. He’s too clever to put himself on the Association’s radar for his arms dealing in a way that could result in a trap being set for him.

No, the idiots you were going after couldn’t hold a candle to Sylus.

But their activity resulted in civilians being caught in the crossfire, and you had spent the last month seeing firsthand the carnage left behind after a gang battle erupted on the outskirts of Linkon City. You forced yourself to look at the broken bodies and broken families of the people affected, boots crunching on shattered glass, trailing bloody footprints on the cracked tarmac of the street. You would not allow your… situationship with Sylus to blind you to the reality of what his line of work could do to people. People just trying to live their lives, make their rent, raise their children–to survive a life that’s already painful and short enough already, without people like the assholes you just finished bringing down tonight arming other assholes with weapons that no one should be able to access. Weapons designed with one purpose in mind: maximum damage, minimum finesse. Weapons designed as if collateral damage is a feature and not a bug.

You’re tired. Days like this have always happened to you, even before you became a Hunter. The lethargy seeping through your body, the disinterest in doing anything that normally makes you happy. You lie on your bed, staring blankly through your gauzy curtains, the autumn wind driving the intermittent raindrops against the glass of your window. Each one a crystalline jewel, splattering, liquid diamonds trailing down the pane like tears. 

You have the evening stretching before you, and you want to enjoy it, you do. But you can’t seem to make yourself get up, as your mind drifts to the images you made yourself engrave in your brain. The least those people deserved was you to bear witness, and ensure that you never forget, since your work as a Hunter came too late to help them, in the end. 

You turn your gaze away from the gloomy late afternoon, let it wander over the riot of plants hanging from your ceiling and along the shelving in your room. Life continues. Proof of it is right here in your bedroom, the plants turning carbon dioxide into oxygen for you to breathe with your healthy lungs. You’re fine. You’ll be fine.

Before, you might have dropped in on your grandmother, making her a meal and sharing it in quiet companionship. If Caleb weren’t on a flight mission, you might have asked him to go on a run or to the gym with you, worked off some of this jittery aggression on the mats or by pushing your lungs past their capacity in an effort to leave him laughing in your dust.

But they’re gone now, of course. Victims of the same type of assholes you took down today.

You should be reveling in the success of your mission, but all you can see is the still form of one victim in particular, a snapshot in your memory of their slender wrist, their half-opened hand, lying in the street amongst the glittering shards of glass and scorch marks on the asphalt.

This empty feeling will pass. You know that. You have enough life experience to understand that feelings like this, moods like this, ebb and flow like Rafayel’s tide. So what if it’s harder now, to pull yourself out of them when you find yourself drifting in this sorrowful sea, because your support network has been washed away? That doesn’t mean you’ll feel like this forever. Only that it might take a little longer to drag your tired body off the bed, to refill your empty tank and survive and maybe enjoy another day.

Suddenly, you hear a tapping. You turn your head back to the window. Mephisto is perched on the other side of the glass, gently pecking the pane. He tilts his head and regards you with one glittering red eye.

You haven’t seen Sylus for several weeks now, both of you busy with your respective occupations, and you, doubly busy with the undercover mission. He has sent photos, here and there–blurry pictures of a black cat, a flock of birds in flight against an evening sky, the setting sun’s rays the color of fire and blood. He has asked how you’re doing, and you’ve lied and said you’re fine. He sent you a photo of a glass of wine on a low table near a roaring fire. “You should be here,” he’d captioned it.

Despite all of your complicated feelings about who he is, who he was to you when you first met him, what he does to afford his huge open hearth fireplace and all the finest things in life, you wished you were there with him too.

But you weren’t, and you haven’t been for awhile now. Over the past few weeks, you’ve seen Mephisto in the trees, heard his grating call over the sounds of traffic. But he hasn’t approached you, until today. Normally you would play your typical cat and mouse game with him, or rather, crow and worm, and you’d grab your paintball gun and see how good your aim is as he flaps outside your window, or you’d lure him in with a treat and lock him in the bathroom and wait and see how long it takes Sylus to send Luke and Kieran to set him free. You like to think of it as enrichment activities for both the crow and his owner–you’re not going to make it easy for Sylus to stalk you. He might get bored, after all.

But you just don’t have it in you, today. You slip off the bed and pad to the window, throwing it open. Rain mists your face, drawing goosebumps up your bare arms. Mephisto watches you, and caws softly. You’d call it a coo, if it wasn’t such a horrible sound. Much like his owner’s attempt at a lullaby. You back away, slip back onto the bed. If he’d like to come in, he’s welcome.

You return to staring at your bedroom walls. After a while, you hear the flapping of wings, and suddenly Mephisto lands next to you on the duvet. He shakes his mechanical feathers, and water droplets are flung onto the fabric and the mountain of pillows.

“Thanks, buddy,” you murmur, watching as he uses his beak to groom himself. It’s uncanny, sometimes, how alive-acting he is. Like a real bird. You’ve always wanted a pet. You know that Sylus insists that Mephisto is not a pet, but you really can’t see the difference. Mephisto clearly likes his owner, and does his job dutifully, and sometimes you think, with great pleasure. He drops little destroyed bits of surveillance hardware at Sylus’s feet on occasion, like a real crow bringing something shiny to a human who was previously kind to him. 

Curiously, but without much expectation, you extend your hand to the bird. He hops backward, away from you, but remains on the bed. “May I pet you?” you ask.

He cocks his head, makes soft little chirruping noises in his mechanical throat. You let your hand fall to the duvet, palm up, and close your eyes. It’s nice to have company, in any case.

After a while, you feel him hopping again, and then something cold and smooth hesitantly nudges your palm. You open your eyes. Mephisto is gently pecking your palm. He nudges it, then bobs his head, observing you with his beautiful ruby eye.

“Is that a yes?” you ask. In response, he sits down, nestling into your duvet. You lift your hand, and he lets you run your fingertips along the top of his head and along the smooth, cool metal feathers along his back. 

Every few minutes, he ruffles his feathers and readjusts his position, slowly inching his way closer to you on the bed. Finally, he is resting against your thigh, within easy reach of your hand, head tucked into one of his wings like he’s ready for a nap.

The open window lets the brisk, rainy autumn evening in, and the light slowly fades. Eventually, you manage to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

And this is how Sylus finds you, towards midnight. He lets himself in through your front door, using the fingerprint scanner he reprogrammed to accept his own as well as yours. He enjoyed seeing the look on your face, when you figured out that’s how he had gotten into your apartment without the key you had offered and he had refused. Your angry facial expression is worth more than all of his dragon’s hoard of wealth, in his trustworthy opinion.

He notes that the temperature in your apartment is surprisingly cool, even through the warm wool of his thick black coat. He had sent Mephisto to check on you, but he hasn’t managed to get an update since the bird was tapping at your window, sending back images to Sylus’s phone of you lying on the bed in your sleep clothes, awake, but not looking at your phone or watching your wall-screen, even though it hadn’t even been dinner time yet. He had told himself not to worry, that you were probably just tired after the past grueling month. But now he is worrying. He slides off his black monk strap shoes, and places them neatly along your entryway wall. Despite the faint worry edging up his spine, he takes the time to neatly line up your own hastily kicked off boots next to his, because he also worries that you’re going to trip and break your neck one of these days on all the shit you just leave scattered around on your floor, too exhausted to immediately tidy them up and put them away.

He makes his way through your dark apartment, picking up discarded clothing and folding them over his arm to put in your laundry basket, and quietly steps into your bedroom. 

No wonder it’s cold in here–your window is wide open. It’s no longer raining, but the chill night air drifts into your bedroom and stirs the leaves of your indoor plants. You’re buried in your duvet, curled around an equally nestled Mephisto, who deigns to lift his head from where he had it tucked under his wings. He caws softly, as if to tell Sylus to be quiet and to not wake Sylus’s sweet little Hunter.

“This is dereliction of duty,” Sylus quietly scolds the bird, lifting the lid of your laundry basket next to your closet and neatly putting the clothes inside. He goes to the window and shuts it, and then draws the gauzy as well as the blackout curtains against the night outside. He returns to the living room, hangs up his coat, and brings a glass of water back to your bedroom.

He leans over the bed and pokes Mephisto. “You’re in my spot.” The bird puffs up his feathers a little in indignation and caws quietly.

“Nope, out. You’ve had your turn.” Sylus prods him again, and finally Mephisto ruffles his wings, hops to his feet, and flaps off to the living room, making disgruntled noises as he goes. Sylus sympathizes, but doesn’t feel guilty at all for dislodging him from your side. It’s Sylus’s turn now.

He slips out of his slacks, pulls his sweater and undershirt over his head, and slides under the blanket next to you. You sigh in your sleep, frowning a little, and Sylus runs his finger between your eyebrows, smoothing the furrow there. If he could, he’d reach into your dreams and crush anything that would cause such an expression on your face in his bare hands. Unfortunately, that’s not one of the perks of the aether core in his eye. He settles for plastering his body against your back and wrapping an arm around you, running his nose along your neck and inhaling the scent of your hair. The distance between Linkon City and the N109 zone is getting harder and harder for him to handle gracefully.

While you’ve been busy taking down the low level morons playing at being arms smugglers, Sylus has also been busy for the past few weeks, negotiating deals, consolidating his power, tightening his grip in his efforts to acquire a monopoly on the illegal protocore arms trade in both the N109 zone and Linkon City. He’s making progress, but his work is not yet done. He’s tired, and he has spent every day of the past month missing you. Now that he knows your latest mission is over, he intends to soak in your presence for as long as you’re available, before he has to head back out into the cold gloom without you again.

Sylus closes his eyes. Just for a moment. He’ll check in on some online auctions in a few minutes, review the stock market moves of the day and reconsider investments, but for just this moment, he’ll hold you in his arms, and warm your cold hands in his warm palms.

And that’s how you find yourself waking up in the early hours of the morning, a big warm body pressed against yours. You blink, note the time of two in the morning. You reach out and feel around, setting your bedside lamp to its dimmest setting so that you can see in the pitch-black room. You turn your head, and find Sylus’s sleeping face on the pillow next to yours, looking more peaceful than he ever appears when awake. The furrow between his brows is almost nonexistent, and his mouth is soft, plush lips parted a little. In this moment, you can imagine him as a little boy, angelic in sleep, mischievous while awake. Your heart hurts a little, imagining what kind of life that little boy had to endure to become the sleeping panther next to you tonight.

You turn fully, brush your nose against his, and then cuddle into him, head tucked into his neck. You breathe him in. He smells like warm, sleepy Sylus, a little sweaty under the duvet. You resist the urge to lick him.

“This is the best way to wake up from a nap,” his hoarse, sleep-filled voice vibrates through you.

You laugh softly. “Good, because this is the only package we offer tonight. No refunds.”

“I wouldn’t dream of returning this experience.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

You both lie like that for a while, the sound of the wind outside and your combined quiet breathing the only sounds filtering through the room.

You had fallen asleep feeling empty, but waking up with this elusive man in your bed has you feeling sated. Refueled. Full. You sigh. How is it possible that a man who is responsible for the same things as those assholes you apprehended yesterday can make you feel like this? You remember that person lying in the street, eyes that will never see again, a parent who will never come home again. As if they were just sleeping. But as you stood over them, you knew better–your heart was the gravity well of a black hole, and you felt like you would fold in on yourself from the weight. If only you had been a little quicker, a little cleverer. If only you could disintegrate another human being like Sylus can, with just a gesture. You could have disappeared the assholes who were responsible for this person’s death, an entire life, someone’s baby at some point, brought into the world with love and effort and surviving each and every day, right up until the day you found yourself standing over them, as they lay broken in the street. And they died, for what? For some senseless, stupid feud over money? Turf? A feud they had absolutely nothing to do with. Fuck . You’re feeling sick again.

You burrow deeper into Sylus’s warmth.

“Speak,” Sylus says.

You pull back slightly and look up into his sleep-bleary face.

“Speak?”

“Are we a parrot tonight?” He smiles, eyes heavy-lidded.

“A parrot?”

“And a comedian, ladies and gentlemen,” he leans forward, nuzzles your nose with his.

“Don’t get too close, I probably have morning breath,” you murmur.

“Ah, so you can formulate your own thoughts.” He nuzzles the side of your mouth. “Do I look like a give a fuck if you have morning breath? I probably do too.”

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then you yawn, widely. 

He runs his hand down your side and pinches your hip. You yelp.

“Don’t change the subject,” he commands. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I can hear it racing from here–I’m pretty sure it’s what woke me up from my pleasant nap.”

“Oh, did I disturb his royal highness’s beauty sleep?”

“Yes, so you owe me. The compensation is telling me what had you staring into the void yesterday, and what made you sound so sad just now while enjoying being wrapped in my extraordinary arms. Many people would pay a lot to be in the position you’re in right now,” he says smugly.

“Yes, in order to slit your throat.”

He huffs. You note that he’s wrong; you’re probably the only one with morning breath. He somehow manages to just smell good. Toothpaste and mouth. You want to lick his teeth. “You’re probably not wrong.” He pauses. “Please talk to me. I’ve gotten used to hearing your worries. You can shut everyone else out, but I don’t like it when you shut me out too.”

You roll away from him, but his arm around you prevents you from going far. You glance at your windows, but the blackout curtains block even the city lights. 

“I’ve just. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things over the past few weeks.”

“Uh oh. Nothing ever good comes from that,” he teases. You swat him in the chest. His body shakes with quiet laughter.

“Do you want to know or not?” you gripe.

“It’s not my fault that you didn’t make it clear that you won’t be accepting editorial commentary at this time. But I’ve learned my lesson. Continue.”

You throw your arm over your eyes and laugh. You can’t help it. Even when you’re feeling at your worst, this man manages to make you laugh. But you feel guilty for laughing, because the person you can’t get out of your head, this stranger who you were unable to save, will never laugh again. You hate it.

You sigh. “I’ve always struggled with the fact that my evol seems to have only a support function. Like, I often need a partner in order to be optimally effective in battle against wanderers, because otherwise it’s just me and whatever my physical talents are. Which, though amazing,” you sniff, “are often just, not enough when dealing with the kind of creatures that I often have to deal with.” You fall silent, imagining if you could set shit on fire like Rafayel without resorting to a flamethrower, or freezing a swathe of enemies all at once like Zayne. The battles you would wage would be epic.

“And I’m obviously competent at eliminating wanderers–I can usually arrive before the damage occurs. I can actually help people. And wanderers, they’re not like human perpetrators. They have no ill intent. They’re like animals, driven by instinct. Even when I do arrive too late, it feels more like a natural disaster than a malicious injustice. Of course, it’s still awful when someone dies for something so senseless, but that’s been the case for all of humanity’s history in the face of stronger predators.” Your mind races. You’re trying so hard to articulate what has been weighing on you. “But that’s only one part of my job. The other side of it, the side that involves going after humans with ill-intent, that’s a lot more complicated. So often, I arrive after the damage has already been done. I feel like the cleanup crew, completely useless to the normal people who just are trying to get through the day who get caught up in other peoples’ cruelty. It’s not like evil assholes announce their arrival with a metaflux fluctuation like wanderers do. I’m just.. too late, too often.” You try to imagine everything you’d do if you had Sylus’s power. You’d probably turn into a supervillain too, to be honest.

You fall quiet again. Sylus props his head on his hand and runs a finger along your clavicle with his free hand. You enjoy the feel of his calloused fingertip along your skin.

“And what else? I’m sensing there’s more to this story.”

You don’t want to hurt him. But you also don’t want to lie to him. “I just can’t reconcile the fact that I spent the last month tracking down the arms smugglers that I managed to catch yesterday, and I’d have gladly killed them if given half a chance. If I could snap my fingers like you, and just fucking annihilate them. But here I am, lying here in bed, with you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the face as you say this.

You feel Sylus’s fingers begin to trail up your forearm and gently encircle your wrist, pulling your arm away from your eyes. You turn and look into his face. 

“I’m certainly glad you’re not in bed with them now, sweetheart,” he says drily. “I don’t think there would be room for all of us, what with your army of plushies and my impressive physique.”

You groan.

“So let me get this straight. You’re upset because you feel like your skills aren’t sufficient to protect every single person who is in need of help. You’re upset that you can’t kill with a thought. And you’re upset because you would have killed these guys, who are in the same business as me, but you refuse to do the same to me?”

It sounds so simple, succinctly listed like that, for how heavy your heart feels. For the emptiness you felt, instead of triumph, after successfully protecting a lot of people over the last month, and getting a few more petty dealers off the street so they can't contribute to hurting anyone else in the future.

The bit about Sylus being the same as those criminals, without meeting their fate, on the other hand. That doesn’t sound simple at all.

You nod. “Instead of feeling like I did well, and taking the free time I have after I’ve completed a job to enjoy myself, or do something that makes me happy, all I can do is think about all the ways I failed, or how could have done it better, or how I’m still not doing everything I should be doing to help people. That’s why I was …staring at the void, as you put it. I couldn’t imagine one thing that I wanted to do with the free evening I had.”

Sylus pokes you in the forehead. “I knew you were arrogant, and greedy. I just never realized how much until this moment,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

You jerk back from his touch. “I pour my heart out to you, and you call me arrogant and greedy?” He lifts his eyebrows at your outburst. “The fuck, Sylus?”

“Quiet, or you’ll wake Mephisto.” He drapes an arm back over you and pulls you back into his warmth.

“Oh nooo, wouldn’t want to wake your mechanical murder bird,” you bite out, but quietly. You feel like you have a new understanding with Mephisto now that he let you pet him and you shared a nap with him. It’s not his fault that his owner is an insensitive asshole.

“No, we wouldn’t,” he agrees placidly. “Would you care to know why I am rightfully pointing out that your attitude about what you 'should' be capable of is arrogant and greedy? Or do you just want to stay upset about it for a little longer? I can wait.”

You scowl at him. “Oh, I’m happy to wait if you keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You put your palm on his face and push him away. He rolls away with a soft laugh.

“Just tell me,” you grumble. “And then go home. I’m suddenly not feeling like company anymore.”

“Hmm,” he props himself back up on his hand. “You have an incredibly powerful aether core in your heart, one that is coveted by countless people.” He rests his other hand over your heart as he speaks. “You've recently increased its power by absorbing the power of another aether core. You can heal other evolvers, resonate with them to exponentially increase their power, and probably do a lot more than you’re aware of yet. You’ve probably not even scratched the surface of what it can do for you.” 

You look away, but enjoy the press of his palm against you.

“You have extraordinary physical capabilities–I’m not just patronizing you when I said that I’d rather have you at my back than anyone else I know, even without your evol.” He reaches for your cheek, and gently tilts your head to look at him again. His wine-dark gaze drifts over your face. “And you’re not the only Hunter in the Association. If only one person were capable of doing your job, there would be no Association at all. You can’t expect to be one-hundred percent successful, one-hundred percent of the time. Not even I am greedy enough to feel like I should be able to have that kind of success rate. And I’m also not arrogant enough to expect that of myself. I can’t run Onychinus alone. I rely on many subordinates and competent people to take care of the business when my attention is elsewhere.” He looks at you pointedly, as if you’re the elsewhere slurping up all of his attention.

You blow a raspberry at him.

More quickly than you thought he could move, he snatches your tongue between his thumb and forefinger and gently wags it. His skin is salty. “Da thuck, Thylus?”

“Keep it in your mouth if you don’t want me to take it,” he wags it once more, as if to emphasize his point, and then lets go. “Next time I won’t give it back.”

You suppress the urge to just slobber all over his face in retaliation.

“So yes. I find the expectations you have for yourself to be arrogant and greedy, and entirely excessive. Do you think that your colleagues are failures, or haven't done enough, when they return from missions that went tits up, or when they failed to protect one hundred percent of those threatened?"

You scowl. Of course not. You know that they work their asses off to the best job they can. You'd never think less of them for having a bad day, or a bad mission. For people dying on their watch. But they're not you.

"Kitten, you’re doing your best, with everything you have in you. The world is cruel, and so are the people in it. You can’t control that. But you can control what you do about that cruelty. You're already fighting as hard as you can--too hard, if you want my valuable opinion."

"Trying as hard as I can with as much hardware and bodywork I can exploit. But it's just no the same as having your evol," you grumble. You might be slightly jealous of Sylus's power. Just slightly. 

Sylus huffs, sounding a little impatient. "If it's not enough for you to be a walking grenade launcher, and you're frustrated that you can’t disintegrate those you want to eliminate with a snap of your fingers, just bring me with you. You can control me, and I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

You just stare at him, mouth hanging open a little. He lifts his hand and chucks you under your chin with his thumb to close it. “Why so shocked?”

“Aside from the fact that you just offered to murder for me?” you ask, shaking your head a little.

“I already have murdered for you. I’d do a lot more than that, for you.” He pulls you into his side again and rests his head on your shoulder. “So don’t be too greedy. You're already very talented at what you do. You have control over the most powerful person in the N109 zone. The people you work to protect every single day are lucky that you are on the Association’s side, and not anyone else’s. You can’t save the entire world from injustice. But you can continue doing your best, with your already impressive skills, to protect as many people as you can. And if anyone tries to tell you that what you’re doing isn’t enough, you can send them to me. Including yourself. I will take care of them for you.”

You turn your head and rest your cheek in his silky hair. You breathe deeply and feel your heart settle in your chest. You notice that he hasn’t addressed the fact that he’s involved in the same business as the people you took down yesterday. But you don’t care. You know, somehow, in the calm beating of your heart, that he isn’t anything like them. He isn’t anything like them at all.

Your thoughts drift to a slender wrist, to an open palm. You will never forget this person. Hopefully you can honor them, in some small way, by continuing to force yourself to look, and not surrendering to the horror of it. You will keep going. Maybe next time, you'll arrive in time. You hope it is enough. And you'll also try to hear what Sylus is telling you. All you can give is your everything. No one can ask more of you than that, even if it's you who is asking.

As you continue rubbing your cheek in his hair like a cat, he speaks again. "And as for you not arresting me... or taking advantage of your position and slitting my throat." You freeze. You thought maybe you could just pretend you hadn't expressed this worry tonight. "Have you ever considered the possibility that, in order to treat an infection, it's not sufficient to just address the symptoms?"

For a second you feel like you can hear Zayne coming out of Sylus's mouth, and you're totally weirded out. "What do you mean?" you reluctantly ask.

"Sometimes, the only way to destroy a rotten core is to work from the inside out. It's not enough to desperately amputate the affected limbs. And that kind of work requires getting your hands dirty."

You feel like he just told you something very important. But you can also sense that he won't explain anything else tonight. This is the closest the two of you have ever gotten to actually discussing the substance of his work, and you're satisfied with that. The certainty you felt before, about him being utterly different than the others, settles deeper into your bones. You relax into him again.

“And your last worry. About not knowing what to do with yourself when you’ve completed something extraordinary, and find yourself with some free time on your hands… just call me. We can figure out what to do together.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything. If you do, you might start crying and not be able to stop. He is everything you needed tonight. You just press closer into him, hoping he can hear everything you can’t say out loud yet.

“So, still not feeling like company anymore?” Sylus asks, after you’ve sat in peaceful silence for a few moments. “Or am I allowed to stay?”

“Would you go even if I asked you to?” You reach up and run your fingers through his soft hair, and he makes a pleased noise deep in his throat.

“If I thought that was what you really wanted, sweetheart.”

And you believe him.

[secriden]

Just going to cry again (see: my previous post about the parallels between the storage room scene and the abandoned factory scene) about parallels and juxtapositions in the store room scene vs the one in Styles bedroom:

Both these scenes have such a tone of desperation and are characterised by an overflowing of emotions, but in drastically opposite directions.

(Note, some of what I say in this post directly relates to concepts and themes I talked about here, so it may not wholly make sense without that context.)

The scene in the storeroom is filled with frustrated desire. Fadel kisses Style because he wants Style's body and also wants to take his frustrations at Style out on his body. He doesn't need to look Style in the eye (and in fact very intentionally only does so only in small snatches) because this isn't about a connection as much as it is about a release. Fadel's kisses come fast, hard, and are intended to bruise more than to adore.

But episode 5's scene is filled with much more quiet and tender sort of desire. Style is kissing Fadel so much more slowly and purposefully. He keeps looking back at Fadel, checking in to see how he feels and whether Fadel is enjoying it. Everything Style wanted in Episode 3, he now gives to Fadel here, pours the secrets of his knowing and choosing Fadel anyway into the way he presses his lips onto Fadel's skin. His kisses linger, they carry a weight but are not gentle, and contain meaning that Fadel's kisses couldn't in Episode 3 because in all honesty they were relative strangers back then.

There's also the way there's such a ferocity and carelessness in the way Fadel starts the encounter in episode 3 that is juxtaposed beautifully by the slow, tender, almost hesitant way Style slides his lips onto Fadel's. Both of them are in such different headspaces, between these episodes and its especially evident in the way they care so much more about the other person's comfort and how intentionally they showed that to the audience.

There's hunger present in both scenes but what this hunger is focused on is so drastically different. In the storeroom, they're both mainly focused on a physical release; its primal and visceral but lacked emotional resonance. Fadel gives Style what he knows Style wants (that hint of danger, with the hand on his neck), but its not because he really cares about what Style wants on anything more than a physical level. In Style's bedroom, however, Fadel is drunk (intentionally and by his own design) and desperate to open himself up to Style on an emotional level. Meanwhile, Style wants that desperately too, but knows that Fadel shouldn't because of his own terrible secret. So this kiss is what they both will allow themselves - an honesty and a hunger for this deeper connection they can only share in act but not in words.

In the storeroom, Style wants Fadel to want more than his body but knows (or thinks) he can't push for it yet, so he remains passive, lets Fadel do whatever he wants, lets him turn and shove and place Style how he wants because at this point, this is all Fadel will give him. Here, Style is passive in spite of what he wants. But in the bedroom, Fadel is passive because it's what he wants; he wants to let Style do whatever he desires to and with Fadel's body. He wants to lay himself as bare as he possibly can, which is only physical, and so he does.

And because the encounter in Episode 3 lacked that emotional connection, the focus is merely their respective releases. There's a sense of two people trying to find pleasure and 'finish' while remaining emotionally disconnected despite actively having sex with each other. Because in some ways, they didn't really need each other in that moment to get there (there's actually a lot of truth in what Fadel says about it being easier to just jerk off alone). In sharp contrast, the scene in Episode 5 isn't focused on the destination but on the journey. Style is taking his time and Fadel is letting him - Style is choosing to worship Fadel's body, with his fingers, with his lips, to respond to his vulnerability with gentleness and tenderness and adoration. The goal has stopped being about finding a release, it's about allowing both these men to revel in the giving and receiving of pleasure.

The point of these scenes is to show to us the ways in which Fadel and Style have grown to care for and, dare I say it, love each other in ways that are so purposefully portrayed by showing the nature of their physical connection. Because the ways in which these scenes are the same and yet so wholly different showcases how their touches are now no longer merely tied to their senses any longer, but also to their hearts as well.

[balletbunnies]

Blair Waldorf Winter Outfits ⋆⁺₊❅.

[aprilblossomgirl]

Hey? I thought you were with Jun. I cleared things up with him already, but I’ve got a new problem now. What is it? I don’t have your number. Huh?

ThamePo Heart That Skips a Beat | Ep.03

[honeygrahambitch]

I honestly think they truly forgave each other in this exact moment

[stonerfromlesbos]

it was a bad idea! | b.e

summary: what could go wrong when you ask your girlfriend to come over in the middle of the night? well, a lot of things… specially when no one knows that you two are dating.

warnings: rought make out session, pet names, mentions of sex (breast sucking, oral, grinding), masturbation, !switch but mostly dom billie, !switch reader, choking.

— 1am, in your bedroom.

You honestly didn’t recognized yourself in that moment… you were a few minutes ago, just seeing cute photos of you and your girlfriend. But in the moment when you played that video, you just shoved your hand into your lacy black panties. You could remember that day pretty well, every. fucking. thing.

Billie was with her now healed nipple piercings, and you were just on her lap… sucking on them like you needed it to survive, like you would die if you didn’t let hickeys all over her chest. It just turned you on so fucking much, you sucking on her tits while griding on her clothed thigh. After that, she made you knee on the ground and suck her clit, while she recorded your puppy eyes looking up at her… you would do anything she fucking asked you to.

You needed her, so fucking bad. So you decided to do something risky… You knew all your brothers were home, but if they’re asleep, no one would know right? Thats what you though before calling your fucking famous girlfriend. After a few tries, she picked up.

“babe? are u okay?” she said with a sleepy voice, it was obvious that she just woke up with your calls.

“bills.. mhm, i fucking need you babe.” you said in a needy voice, moaning softly.

“don’t fucking do that.” she says getting pissed, realizing what you were doing.

“why bills…?” you try to question between little moans and gasps.

“im coming over, stop fucking touching yourself or i won’t let you fucking cum, understood?” she says in a serious tone, as you could hear she getting up and taking her car keys.

“okay.. just hurry up please..” you say as she hang up, in less than 5 minutes, you heard an knock in your window.. billie was fucking climbed a tree just to get in your roof.

“billie?! wft?? you know that you could use the front door? everyone is asleep rn.” you say as you open the window for her to come in.

“and you know i like the risky feeling… don’t you babe?” she says as she walks towards you, quickly grabbing your chin and leadind you to the bed. “you have absolute no idea of the things i thought when i was driving.. babydoll.”

“what have you thought bills?” you said in that classic soft voice of yours, the one billie liked the most.

“of you fucking touching yourself.” she says in an raspy voice. “did you cum, huh?” she says in a demanding tone.

“no.. i was waiting for you bills.” you said as she sits on the bed and proceeds to put you on her lap, straddling her sides.

“good.” she replies as she pulls you into an kiss, an needy, but passionate kiss. She just wanted to taste you, to explore your mouth with her tongue, and all your body with her hands.

She was grabbing your waist so hard, you could clearly tell how turned on she was. She quickly grabbed your neck and gave it an gentle squeeze as the kiss continues. Your fingers digged into her hair while she squeezed your neck with one hand, and your tits with the other.

Quickly you two broke the kiss to breath a bit, but billie didn’t waste anytime. Now she was with one hand on your ass, and the other on your waist.. while she was kissing and sucking your neck like she was an fucking vampire.

Both of you were too into it to realize how loud you were being.. The only thing that you heard was your brother, nic sturniolo, opening the door..

“sis, is everything fine? bc i heard some noise- oh.” he just froze, looking at you on top of billie, almost grinding on her as she fucking squezeed your ass and sucked on your neck.. he just shut the door as harsh as he could.

You quickly jumped off her lap, clearly terrified. As she turned to look at you.. search for anything in response of what just happened. You just said…

“billie.. that was an fucking bad ideia.”

HII GUYSS, hope you like this onee, i think i took it a little too far but i fw so much with the ideia of billie having nipple piercings😭😭 reminder: english isnt my first language, so im sorry if theres some grammar/spealling mistakes. THANK YOU FOR THE ANON WHO REQUESTED AND LOVE YALL MY HOMIES🫂

[khaopybara]

❝I only confessed my feelings. Why does he have to haunt me? Pull yourself together, Ryan!❞

GUN ATTHAPHAN as RYAN ANAWAT and OFF JUMPOL as JANE episode 8 of THE TRAINEE

[itsallaboutbl]

If you want to know if you like him or not, you have to walk closer to him. Then, try touching him. After you touch him, if you hear your heart beat faster than usual, that's what's called love.

+ bonus

[ablazenqueen]

Three eps later…

#Top Ten Most Believable Bullshit Attempts

[zprite-x]

A Small Nap

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

Okay so I just noticed something and I'm going feral, feral I tell you.

This is going to be a really, really long one with a lot of picures and I'm honestly not sure if I saw something completely obvious that everybody immediately got whilst watching^^° or if I found something here.

Nonetheless strap in in this essay I will...

So in Cap's flashback he enters the room and looks around clearly looking for someone and when he spots Havers he gets this relieved, smitten "omg I found you/you're here and alive" expression in His face

And Havers who spots him out of the corner of his eyes gets all wide eyed

and turns himself towards Cap with this tiny little smile and he looks so fond at him and also as if he's internally screaming (also in an "omg you made it I'm seeing you again" way)

And then Cap walks in his direction but then bumps into Cartwright and they start talking and Cap who seems to be on good terms with him smiles back at Cartwright and seems super happy and giddy (because Havers is alive and in the same room and they will reconnect in a few moments)

And then Havers watches them like this

and starts to turn back towards his colleagues with this almost jealous/shooting daggers look.

and then he makes the face on the left and looks so spaced out, a bit resigned, disappointed and hurt. And then he does his thing again like in Redding Weddy where he presses his lips together and forces a smile (this time tiny smile) with a tense jaw to regain control over his emotions, to put on a stiff upper lip. But look at his eyes the man is clearly hurt (heartbroken) about something

and at first I did not really get what was going on but then it clicked.

You ever had that moment when someone is waving to you that you don't know and you're like do they mean me? and you wave back but then realise they were waving at the person behind you? It's like that just with "in front" instead of "behind"

Because when Cap's eyes fall on Havers look who's standing in front of him in the Captain's line of sight

Yep it's fucking Cartwright. And when Havers has his little "I turn to you moment" Cartwright is also walking towards Cap in the frame

So from the camera angle and they way it's shot we see them bump into each other but do not see if Havers actually saw it ; what he definetely sees is them turning towards each other, though.

and in the next frame Cartwright takes a step to his right and we see them standing like this

So it's a line and Havers is basically looking at Cartwright's back so when Cap lifts his finger to indicate that he wants to go over to Havers, it's probably not visible to Havers because

first of all we can't see Havers anymore in the background when the camera focuses on Cartwrights face. And secondly from the shot of Cap pointing it becomes apparent that Cartwright's body is blocking Havers's view of that.

So but what am I actually getting at?

Well...

OMG I think Havers thought for a bit that Cap didn't want to reconnect with him (or wasn't there because of him) but with (because of) Cartwright!!

Because what he's seeing is Cap entering the room looking for someone, their eyes meet Cap takes a few steps staring happily in his direction. But then some guy walks to Cap in front of Havers who he realises is in Cap's direct line of sight. Then the two of them start talking and Cap looks so happy whilst talking to this other guy! And then we see Havers's heart break! And how he struggles to collect himself and hide that!

He probably thought Captain moved on, that he no longer has the same feelings for Havers, that maybe he has affections for Cartwright. Or at least that Cap prefers o talk to Cartwright instead of him.

So and then when Havers runs to his aid he turns to the next person, who happens to be Cartwright and yells "Well fetch a medic!", he sounds soooo angry. I can think of a few explanations here tbh from "why aren't you helping him?" to "what have you done to him?!" to "oh it's you I can't stand you since 5 minutes ago get out off my sight!" maybe it's neither, maybe its all of them or a mixture. Who knows.

However we're not finished here because guess what

When Cap says "I'm sorry I had to find you" this is Havers reaction.

He looks legitimately surprised in an "who, me?" kind of way (and /or his "omg is this happening now" kind of way just like back in RW) but also worried about Cap and his Adam's apple does the bobbing thing it does when he's nervous or emotional.

But then Cap's words seem to sink in and he's now clearly emotional. Not just worried but also look how softly he gazes as Cap and tries o smile at him whilst clearly being distraught.

And then the realisation hits him about what exactly is happening right now. That Cap indeed was there because of him and that he is now dying in front of him and that there's probably not much time left. And that's even before Cap tries to confess his feelings and Havers confirms that he knows about them.

And it's all just so absolutely fucking heartbreaking.

PS:

Just realised that this would also explain why Havers didn't walk over to Cap and just interrupted the conversation with Cartwright or joined in. Because he thought that Cap was there because of/ wanted to talk to Cartwright and Anthony was heartbroken about that ;_;

Btw also a little thing that's interesting to note in this regard: before the older soldier walks over to C&C we can see Havers in the background just constantly looking at them from the distance. Maybe it's jealousy, maybe it's yearning, maybe it's both.

Yeah so that's that. Safe to say I as always have a lot of opinions and emotions about these two. Curious to know what you guys thought was going on there with Havers .

[natsuki-bakery]

France Graphics !

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭ "𝓦𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 , 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮 !" ੈ

[gugugyuu]

secret boyfriend - beomgyu x reader

warnings: very suggestive content, insecurity or self-doubt, etc.

it seems like the air between you and beomgyu became cold these days.

you felt it everytime he responded, every glances no longer hit like it used to. his voice that is once warm and teasing had grown cold too, each word is like a wall building between you.

it wasn't supposed to be like this. your relationship has always been your quiet source of joy. and now? it felt like a fragile secret you couldn't protect no longer, thus suffocating both of you.

you stole a glance at him during class. he sat at his desk wearing an unreadable expression, totally focused on the notes in front of him.

whenever you sent him text messages, he would barely acknowledged it. answering your questions with an icy,

"yeah."

"i don't know."

"i guess."

and it hurts more than you wanted to admit.

even though the classroom was filled with energy during the break, you just couldn't join in.

groups of boys and girls hanged out near his desk and their laughter bursting out. beomgyu leaned back, pretending to listen. he barely even said a word yet his presence alone was enough to keep their attention.

you also sat at your desk, pretending not to notice the way your chest tightened at the sight, wishing you're also near him

beomgyu's everything you thought you aren't; beautiful, confident, admired, unattainable.

and he was yours.

or at least, he had been 'cause now it felt like he was slipping away and you don't know how to stop it.

"hey..."

the sound of his voice startled you. he was standing by your desk, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "can we talk?"

his tone was calm, making you very nervous.

you hesitated, glancing around the room. the noise had dulled slightly and curious eyes started looking towards you. "uuh… now?" you asked him.

"yes. now..." he replied firmly. beomgyu didn’t wait for you. he immediately turned around and headed towards the hallway. you also hurried to follow him, the stares of your classmates burning into your back.

the hallway was empty, the noise of the classroom faded as the door shut behind you. beomgyu stood with his arms crossed, staring at the ground before finally looking up.

"what is it, beomgyu?" you asked cautiously.

"what is it?" he repeated, his laugh cold and humorless. "you seriously don't know?"

you opened your mouth to respond but the words were stuck in your throat.

"i'm tired." he said, cutting through your silence. "i'm tired of pretending. tired of feeling like i'm the only one who cares about this relationship."

"that's not true." you said quickly, panic rising.

"oh, then why?" his voice wasn't loud but the weight of his frustration was enough to make you sad. "you act like i don't exist whenever we're around other people. you can't even admit we're together. do you know how that feels?"

"beomgyu, i-"

"yeah, tell me." he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly. "what are you so afraid of? why do you keep pushing me away like this?"

the lump in your throat swelled and your vision blurred as tears threatened to spill. "i'm not pushing you away." you whispered.

"then what are you doing?" he questioned, his looks softening despite the frustration in his voice.

you hesitated, heart pounding. "i just… i don't want people to hate me."

his brows furrowed, his frustration giving way to confusion. "hate you? or what?"

"for being with you." you admitted, sobbing. "everyone likes you, beomgyu. girls... they all have a crush on you. if they knew we were together, they'd… they'd hate me. they'd think i don't deserve you."

the honesty of your words hung in the air and for a moment, beomgyu just stared at you. his expression changed from disbelief to hurt.

"babe come on, that's what you really think?" he asked quietly.

you nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "i see the way they look at you, the way they talk about you. and i… i don't even know how i got this lucky. i'm scared, beomgyu. i'm scared they'll hate me and that you'll realize they're right."

he took a step closer, reaching for your hands.

"babe..." he said softly, his voice was steady but filled with emotion. "i don't care what they think, i don’t care if they don't like it. i care about you. you're the one i chose because you're the only one i want. isn't that enough?"

tears spilled over and you bit your lip, trying so hard to stop it from trembling. "it should be..." you whispered, sobbing. "but i'm just so scared."

"me too." he admitted, squeezing then kissed your hands. "you mean everything to me. can we face it together?"

you looked up at him after a while, then slowly, you nodded. "okay..." you whispered. "together."

a small relieved smile formed in his lips. "yes, together." he echoed, pulling you into his arms.

and without warning, you leaned forward, kissing him with a sudden boldness that caught even yourself off guard. beomgyu froze for a fraction of a second, he was startled but quickly melted into the kiss. his hands started finding their place on your waist as if they belonged there.

when you finally pulled away, he was breathless and wide-eyed. the faint, unmistakable sound of your lips parting, echoed softly between the two of you. beomgyu's eyes were locked on yours, his chest was rising and falling as he tried to steady himself.

he leaned his forehead against yours, lips curling into a dazed grin. "that sound..." he whispered, fingers traced your flustered face. "the sound of your lips leaving mine… i swear, i could get addicted to it."

you blushed and tried to look away but his fingers gently tilted your chin back to face him. his eyes held yours, captivated.

then you felt your heart ache.

beomgyu's used to people getting shy around him but whenever he watches you melt in front of him? it hits different.

"you know, you're full of surprises." he said, a breathless chuckle escaping his mouth as he leaned in to give a kiss one more time.

come on, why would you keep beomgyu as your little secret?

go to: title || masterlist

[t-u-i-t-c]

"You'll triumph someday, as long as you never yield. I'll take you on any time." "You never fail to piss me off, Geats."