#this will probably be how she's drawn going forward now that I have her locked in as a 3d model

[fluffyphocks]

her

[gyusvalentinesz]

OFFLINE

Hey guys!! Welcome to chapter two of OFFLINE. Just a heads up, this chapter is spent mostly with Mitsuri. Btw, I'd recommend reading chapter one for this story to make more sense. Here is Chapter 1 and Chapter 3 There is some dark themes in this story, but nothing sexual. (This chapter is slightly less darker than chapter one!) ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ You thought your last encounter was the end of what you'd hear from the siblings. But after doing some more research, you realize you couldn't be more wrong. ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ WORD COUNT: 3K!

!CHAPTER TWO!- One Click Leads to Another

What the fuck was that?

What the fuck just happened?

Your ears are ringing, but that might be due to the fact that your heart is pounding so fast you can hear it in your skull.

You’ve seen weird stuff on Omegle before. The weird men, the edgy teens that probably listen to Nirvana and can’t name five songs, and people flashing you.

But this? This was way more different than anything before. This was way too creepy, and way too real.

You reach forward to your laptop again, and reopen OmeTV.

You desperately skip through people, hoping to find Ume again. There’s thousands of people on this site, but none of them are the cute pale girl with the long white hair.

Your hands are shaking now, and you didn’t even realize how much you were crying until a salty teardrop fell into your mouth.

Skip, skip, skip.

“Come on, please…” you mumble.

Your legs are still drawn up to your chest, with your blanket wrapped around you. All you can do is hear her damn mom. You can still hear Ume’s moms loud and ratchet voice rattling through your mind like an 8D audio, screaming from behind the locked door.

Your eyes start to burn, and before you know it, more salty tears are sliding down your face.

You feel absolutely insane.

You don’t even know this girl, and you don’t even know that what you saw was real. It could’ve been a prank for goodness sake! A really, really, fucked up one.

You start sobbing into your hands, until a soft knock on the door makes you flinch so hard that you knock your mouse off the bed.

The door creaks open, and Mitsuri peeks her head inside. Her hair looks like a mess of cotton candy, and her oversized shirt is falling off of one shoulder.

She notices your tears as soon as she stops rubbing her eyes, and her expression immediately shifts from sleepy to concerned.

“Hey… What’s wrong?” Mitsuri rushes to your side, her eyebrows furrowed. “Did something happen?”

You slam your laptop shut, a bit too loud. You don’t answer her. The truth is that you don’t even know how to answer.

Your chest feels tight, and your hands tremble badly. You desperately want to tell her what you just saw, but the emotions are too much to handle. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Mitsuri, noticing her friend's sorrow, yanks the blanket off your lap and wraps it around your shoulders instead.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” she says softly, pulling you into a hug. “Breathe, Y/N. I’m right here. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You lift your tear stained face from your palms, and start breathing in and out. “M-Mitsuri…” you whisper. “Something happened.”

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, and brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Okay, talk to me. What happened?”

You hesitate, a headache starting to form. You know you’re gonna sound like such a liar, but you just have to bite the bullet.

“I… I went on Omegle. I just wanted to relax and have a little fun, y’know? Like— after work? At first it was just normal Omegle things. Creepy people, old men… But then…”

“I met this girl.”

Mitsuri blinks. “Okay…”

“Her name’s Ume. Or, well— Daki, but she told me her real name’s Ume. She was so sweet! She looked our age but then she said she was thirteen! S-she has white hair and blue eyes and—“ your voice cracks, “and she said her mom doesn’t let her leave the house, go to school, or even talk to people! She wasn’t even allowed to use the laptop! She was fucking hiding with it! And her room— Mitsu, it looked like a mattress on the floor and nothing else!”

Mitsuri’s expression darkens a little, concerning spreading on her face.

“And then—“ you stutter, wiping your leftover tears with your sleeve, “she told me about her brother. Gyutaro. He’s eighteen, and he’s not allowed in the house. She said her mom kicks him out constantly! But when their mom leaves for work, Ume sneaks him back inside.”

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself.

“And then— then—she asked me if I knew how to tie a slipknot!”

Mitsuri frowns hard, and you can tell she’s thinking about what you’re thinking. “So like… the rope?”

You nod slowly. “She said it was for a craft. That it ‘makes things fly’… but I think…” You hesitate. “I think it was something else. And then—“

You let out a breathy sigh as your voice gets thinner,

“There was yelling, screaming, and fighting. Ume turned off her camera and her mic and I just sat there. I was panicking, Mitsuri! Panicking!”

Mitsuri’s eyes widen in disbelief, and she’s not smiling anymore. Not like she even was from the start.

“She turned her camera back on for a second. She was in the closet. Then her mom came. Started banging on the door, screaming for Gyutaro. Like— Like absolutely unhinged! I couldn’t see her, but it sounded like something was wrong. It sounded fucking evil.”

“Then Gyutaro ran in and locked the door. He was protecting her! Then he saw the camera. I think the laptop was on the floor. He looked right at me,” your voice drops, “and he apologized.”

Another tear slips down your face, and you seem like you can’t even believe what you’re about to say.

“And he ended the call.”

There’s a long, long silence.

Your eyes dart towards Mitsuri’s, and you look at her helplessly. “I felt so damn useless… Not being able to do anything at all hurt me, Mitsuri. It really did… I don’t even know where she lives. But that wasn’t fake. None of it was. She’s real, and she’s clearly not okay.”

Mitsuri’s silent for a second, processing what she just heard. You can tell by the look in her face that she’s just as stunned as you are by the whole thing. 

You watch her blink, and lift her hands up to your shoulders, gently gripping them.

She finally speaks, quietly and firmly. “…That’s not normal.”

You nod frantically. “I know. I know, Mitsu—“

“No,” she cuts you off gently, shaking her head. “I mean—none of that is normal. That wasn’t just a bad home, Y/N. That was… that was dangerous. From what you’ve just told me, that girl sounded like she’s trapped.”

You stare at her, and for a second, you kind of feel like a child trying to explain why they didn’t hand in their homework. But she truly believes you. It’s in her voice, and in the way she’s sitting up now. Fully awake.

She exhales, eyes flickering to your closed laptop.

“And their mom? Jesus,” she mumbles. “That didn’t sound like a fight. That sounded like some psycho horror movie shit. You said she was banging on the door and screaming?”

You nod, the whole image vividly coming back to your mind. “She was shouting Gyutaro’s name over and over. She sounded like she wanted to kill him..”

Mitsuri’s jaw clenches, and she lets out a soft sigh.

“And Ume was just sitting there, letting it happen? At thirteen?”

You nod again, a little more heartbroken this time. “And just begging him not to close the tab.”

Mitsuri rubs her face, processing everything. Then she says, “Okay, okay. Listen to me, Y/N. We’re not gonna just sit here and do nothing! Something is seriously wrong with that family, and if that girl was telling the truth, then they definitely need help.

At this point, the tears on your face are already dried up. But that doesn’t mean a thing. That doesn’t mean more won’t come. 

You blink, your voice thin. “But… How? We don’t even know her last name. We don’t know anything.”

Mitsuri nods, biting the inside of her cheek in thought. “Okay, okay. We’ll start from what we do know. You said she has a brother named Gyutaro. And she goes by Ume. That’s something, I guess.”

“Maybe we can go through your browser history or something? Or maybe Reddit? You said she’s always in the house, and she doesn’t go to school, so she must be online a lot. There’s many people on Omegle, so some people had to have seen her before.”

☆

After talking to Mitsuri about what just happened instead of bottling everything up, you feel much better. It’s now 10:16PM, and Mitsuri is sitting right next to you on the bed instead of on the edge.

Mitsuri pulls your laptop closer and opens a private window, typing fast.

“Okay, let’s see if anyone’s posted about something like this. Maybe on forums or Reddit? I’ll check for threads about a girl named Daki or Ume, with a brother named Gyutaro, and a scary ass mom who won’t let them leave the house.”

You sit beside her, still shaky. Your eyes dart between the screen and your dark room.

Minutes start passing by. There’s been pages loading, threads scrolled, and maybe a few unrelated creepypasta stories that sound similar, but nothing exactly like what you just saw.

You drum a beat on your lap as you slowly start losing hope. You start thinking that maybe this is just stupid, and you should just drop it. Right?

You think that until—

Mitsuri freezes.

“Wait. Y/N! Y/N!” Mitsuri exclaims, tapping excessively on your shoulder. “I think I might’ve found something. Hold on.”

She clicks on an old, barely active thread on an obscure forum titled, “Has anyone else seen the siblings in that one town close to the entertainment district?”

The post is from a year ago, posted by someone named “ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH”

Wait… That name sounds familiar. Douma?

“Oh god,” Mitsuri mutters. “Douma? Ew, what kind of name is that? Some maniac or weird cult guy?”

You think deeply about this name. You swear you’ve heard it before. After nothing pops up in your brain, you just give up, deciding you’re just wasting time.

☆

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH

“There used to be a girl in the neighbourhood I lived in a long while back. She was pale, and she had long white hair. I always saw her staring from outside her window. I’ve heard some people say her name was Ume, but I’m not sure. I NEVER saw her step outside that house before. Ever. 

There was also some tall guy too. A little younger than me. I think he was her brother. I always saw him digging in the trash behind the corner store. Their mom was insane though. She was always wasted at night, and I passed by her sleeping on the sidewalk with a bottle of sake or vodka.

Some nights, I’d hear screaming coming from inside that house. Cops came a few times, but nothing ever happened. I moved a long time ago, but I think they still live around there. Something's wrong with that house. Does anyone else know about this??”

☆

After reading, you and Mitsuri exchange a knowing look.

“That has to be them,” you whisper.

Mitsuri nods in agreement, and copies the username. “I think I’m gonna try to message them.” She says as she moves her finger across the trackpad. But then she pauses.

“Wait… Shinobu. That name— Douma. Doesn’t she know someone with that name? That one guy who was obsessing over her from that weird volunteering thing she did last year?”

As you listen to her words, your eyes widen. It finally clicks. Douma. That’s it.

“Wait, yes. She did that internship at the psych ward for juvenile offenders. I remember! She said there was this guy who wouldn’t stop smiling. Gave her the creeps.” You mumble that last part.

Mitsuri’s already whipped her phone out. She’s on her chats with Shinobu on SnapChat. “I’m calling her. Right now.”

You sit there, tapping the side of your hip impatiently with your finger.

The phone rings once. Twice.

Shinobu picks up.

“Hellooo?” Shinobu’s sleepy voice crackles through. “I just got back from watching this boring ass movie with Kanae…” she yawns, “What the hell do ya’ll want?”

“Shinobu!” Mitsuri squeals, “Listen, I’m with Y/N, and we have a situation. Do you remember a guy named Douma?”

There’s silence on the other end until, “…Yeah. Why?”

Mitsuri raises her eyebrows at you before placing the phone to the side of her head.

Mitsuri tells Shinobu about the whole situation. 

How you were on Omegle, and met this sweet girl named Ume. How everything was normal until it wasn’t. How the last thing you heard from Ume, was a scarring scene of her mother trying to hurt her brother while manipulating her into thinking she’s there to see her.

Shinobu understands the whole situation, and she actually had something to say. She said that Douma actually approached her once, and told her about a story similar. Before he could finish talking, Shinobu just swatted him off.

“…Okay,” Shinobu sighs, “Thanks for telling me. I think it’ll be a good idea to contact Douma— but…” She hesitates, “He might be a little weird. Just be safe, okay? Good luck.”

Shinobu hangs up, and Mitsuri slowly puts her phone down.

“…What did she mean by ‘a little weird?’ You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“With Shinobu, that could mean literally anything.” Mitsuri snickers, rolling her eyes.

You nod slowly and unsurely. “And she still wants us to contact him?”

Mitsuri sighs. “Well, she didn’t say not to…”

Your laptop hums softly in the quiet room. The soft glow of the screen reflects on both your faces as you open the messaging option on the forum.

Mitsuri fully turns the laptop to you. “You wanna do the honors?”

You take the laptop and start typing.

Y/N_Is_N/Y! hey, douma? I saw your post about the siblings. the girl with the white hair. i think I just talked to her on omegle she said her name was ume. or daki. is she real? she also had a brother named gyutaro

You hit send, and now it’s time to wait. Seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like centuries. You and Mitsuri stare at the screen, anticipating nervously.

Typing…

He’s online!

The message comes surprisingly fast, maybe a little too fast. It’s almost like he’s been waiting his whole life to answer this question.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH Ohhh!! So you finally saw her? Isn’t she lovely?

You and Mitsuri glance at each other. Another message pops up instantly.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH U know… I told someone once. She didn’t listen to the rest of the story :( I’m glad you’re different. Do u wanna know what happened the last time I saw gyutaro?

Mitsuri, slightly panicking, grabs your wrist. “Don’t say yes yet. He might just be fucking with us.”

You really want to listen to her, but your curiosity is clinging onto you like a damn parasite. Plus, if you don’t say yes now, then maybe you’ll never know at all.

Despite her words, your fingers hover over the keys. “We need to know. This might be the only lead we’ll ever get.”

Mitsuri looks deeply into your eyes, and she hears you out. Maybe you’re right. Hesitantly, she takes a shaky breath, and nods.

You start typing.

Y/N_Is_N/Y! yeah. tell me.

Almost immediately, a new message pops up.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH :) okay.

You and Mitsuri just stare at each other, then back at the screen when a new message pops up.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH Sooo, picture this. I’m sixteen, and Gyutaro looks around twelve maybe? I’m out on a night stroll, minding my business, when I hear this loud ass woman screaming like she’s trying to win the Guinness world record for the “Worst Mom Ever.” She’s yelling at her son, and this is EXACTLY what she said. “Why do you have to be so fucking ugly?! You’re ruining my reputation here! You’re a damn curse. You’re lucky you have an angel as your sister, or I’d drag your ass down to hell with me.” Like, damn? Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I peeked over the fence, and I watched the guy literally shrink into himself like a turtle. Honestly, it’s no wonder the poor dude never wanted to leave the yard. Who would? Anyways, yeah, that’s what I saw. Moms a psycho, sisters an apparent “angel”, and that boy’s stuck in the middle. Crazy world we live in, right? Haha.

You blink at the screen, confused by the tone he’s texting with. It’s almost like he’s joking, but the story is so dark.

Mitsuri leans in, also confused. “Is he… serious? Or just messing with us?”

You shrug, but the weight of the story settles on your back like a boulder.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH Anyways, if u want more, just ask. :33

You and Mitsuri exchange looks, both half shocked, and half unsure of how to process this new information.

Mitsuri scoffs and blinks slowly. “Wow. That was… something.”

“Poor Gyutaro” You whisper, your voice soft and full of pity. “That’s… honestly heartbreaking. How can someone treat a kid like that?”

Mitsuri sighs, and tilts her head down.

“I don’t know, but now I want to know everything. There has to be more to the story, right? What happened after that night? Did anyone help them?”

You shrug, and look back to the laptop. You wonder if Douma knows more, so you start texting again.

Y/N_Is_N/Y! hey, can you tell us more? what happened next? u said you used to live around them?? Where is it?

Seconds tick by, but no response. After six minutes of waiting, another message pops up. You’re expecting an informational answer, but it’s just an emoji.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH ;)

You groan. “You’re fucking kidding me. Of course he’s ignoring us.”

Mitsuri looks just as dumbfounded as you. “I can see why Shinobu called this guy weird now.”

You shake your head, but you can help but smile a little. “At least we know a little more now, right? That counts for something.”

☆

You close your laptop again. It’s now 11PM, and you’ve spent your whole evening trying to solve a case that you really shouldn’t. This could just be a whole waste of your time, but at least you could possibly help someone in the end.

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Set Up

Fic prompt from @always-and-forever-alone : I was wondering if you could write a store of reader, being called a monster for most of her life, and he either telling her she's not or saying something well it's happening(in he's way, because let be honest he probably wouldn't say it directly, God forbid he cares)

A/N: not proofread or beta-ed. I really wanted to get this one out today so I am going down with my typos. I had another idea in the works for this but this idea snuck up on me as I wrote. I honestly might keep working on v1 to post eventually but here's this one for now! :) ______________________________________________________

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” you screamed, your voice overlapping with the immense witcher standing across from you, who said the same thing.

When your longtime friend had asked you to come into town to meet a friend of his, you’d been hesitant. Life wasn’t kind to non-humans, and it certainly hasn’t been very nice to you. But you’d known Jaskier for years, and he’d never given you any reason to think he’d hurt you. Until now of course.

“Woah! Hey,” Jaskier, to his credit, sounded about as panicked as you felt, “please both of you just sit down and let me – Geralt put the sword down for fuck’s sake.”

You tore your eyes off the white-haired brute, his merciless grip easing off the hilt of his still-sheathed weapon, and chanced a glance at your supposed friend. There was a little bit of sweat on his upper lip, his eyes were wide, and he had his arms outstretched between the two of you, palms down – pacifying? He looked nervous but not guilty.

Why the fuck doesn’t he look guilty? You thought, confusion and hurt mingling bitterly in your stomach.

Wait. The witcher – Geralt? – yelled at Jaskier too. Why the hell was he pissed? Maybe Jaskier expected he kill you for free, or maybe he was on some kind of vacation and resented the job.

You set your eyes back on him, still refusing take a seat at their table, and your breath caught in your throat as his harsh, cat-like eyes, met and held your gaze.

“Y/N,” Jaskier said, waving you forward with the hand closest to you, “please sit. Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” you hissed, “How you hired a witcher to kill me?”

“Kill you?!” Jaskier and, confoundingly, Geralt, said in unison.

“Come on,” Jaskier continued, softening his tone and looking from you to his guest, “you know I would never do that. I have no reason to do that. Please, just sit.”

Fighting every instinct, you pulled up a stool from an adjacent table and joined the pair. Your heart was beating into your ears but you figured the witcher wouldn’t make his move in the middle of a busy tavern so you should be safe – for now.

***

Geralt watched the woman sitting across from him with growing curiosity.

When the bard had told him he was looking forward to introducing him to a friend of his in town, he’d rolled his eyes. Jaskier was always trying to introduce him to women he knew, women he hoped would sway and soften him up a little. It was exhausting, infuriating, and frankly, a little embarrassing. Geralt didn’t need any help in that department and he definitely didn’t share Jaskier’s taste in partners.

But this woman was nothing like the others. For starters, she wasn’t human. Geralt could sense her power even before she entered the tavern, his medallion vibrating in warning against his chest. When she entered, he took immediate notice of the way every candle got brighter, each flame now leaning toward her slightly, drawn in by her power.

She must have been a fire elemental of some kind, he’d thought. Or maybe a sorceress who’d given into the Power brought by fire. Either way, Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off her.

His fascination had only grown when she spotted Jaskier from across the room and her guarded face erupted into a wide and open smile. A smile that turned defensive as soon as she locked eyes with him over the table.

She bared her teeth and sent a surge of power through the room, flames flickering around them. How did Jaskier even meet this woman?

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” he said, pushing up from his seat and reaching for his sword, a confusing mix of defensiveness and jealousy settling in his gut. How and where did his soft, flowery friend meet someone like this?

***

“Okay, first of all, thank you both for agreeing to this.”

“I would never have agreed had I known –”

“Jaskier you son of a –”

“Okay, sorry! Sorry! That was a mistake, I admit that, I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, rambling, “but look, Y/N, you’re always saying how you wished you could find someone who saw you for who you are and not what you are.” He turned to you as he spoke, cupping his hand gently over your elbow, urging you to uncross your arms.

“And Geralt, please don’t kill me for this,” he blurted, placing his other hand next to the witcher’s on the table, “you’re too lonely for your own good, and I thought maybe if you met Y/N, someone who could match you, you could, I don’t know…”

“Wait,” you interrupted him, laughing despite yourself, “you’re saying this is a romantic set-up and not a,” you brought your hand across your throat in a mock-slice, “murder-for-hire set-up?”

“Now, wait, hang on. Why would I kill you?” Geralt said, speaking over your realization defensively, as if he didn’t reach for his sword when you made eye contact. “I’m a witcher, not a damned assassin.”

“Because I’m,” you hesitated and glanced around you to make sure no one was looking before briefly demonstrating by drawing a flame up in your hand and extinguishing it just as quickly. Jaskier was looking at you so softly, his eyes betraying the way he pitied you, but Geralt? He was looking at you like you’d just juggled the bread rolls on the table rather than summoning fire.

“Why would that be reason enough to kill you? You’re not a monster.”

“Tell that to every village I’ve ever dared to call home.” You scoffed.

“Geralt can relate!” Jaskier said, jumping in far too loudly and with too much exuberance. “People have been wrongly treating him like a monster for years!”

“Jask!” Geralt hissed, looking pissed and, wait, was he embarrassed?

“Sorry!” he squeaked, throwing up his hands as he got up from the table. “I am going to get us another round, the two of you… get to know each other.”

You watched your idiot friend rush over to the bar for a beat before rolling your eyes. “I can’t believe he did this.”

“We could take him if we team up,” Geralt said, a mischievous glint shone in his eyes when you looked back at him.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you then, nor could you stop the blush that crept up your neck when you saw the witcher’s face break into a wider smile.

“Yeah,” you breathed, uncrossing your arms so you could lean over the table toward Geralt conspiratorially, glowing under his open and earnest gaze, “I think we’d make a good team.”

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 73)

(Honesty, every chapter from here on out is probably going to be gross...)

“We have to get back to the bunker.” N dropped back into the nest suddenly, processors firing on all cylinders as he scooped Tera up in his arms, looking behind him occasionally.

“Woah, hey. We just got here, what's the rush?” Uzi cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, reaching up to hold his shoulder.

“I just ran into…something.” He choked out, stopping his frantic movement to look at her, he could feel his core trying to beat out of his chest.

“Descriptive clues babe.” She deadpanned, looking slightly irritated at his lack of detail.

“A zombie? I don't know how else to describe it! It was a drone, but dead, and not dead?!” He looked like he was grasping for straws fir a way to say it without sounding absolutely insane.

“It had weird, veiny tentacles all over it and a big one burst out like a weird creepy worm!”

Uzi blinked, before slowly laying back down onto the plush colored floor. “Uuuuuuuggh". A long-suffering groan left her mouth as she covered her face with her hands.

“Dammit. Come on, can't we catch a break?!” She complained to no one, grumbling irritability.

Tera was squirming in her father's arms, still wanting to play.

If it was any other time in her life, she would be flying down into the city and taking a look for herself, but now? She was in no condition to do much of anything physical, especially fight.

“I'll grab V and we'll do a sweep tomorrow, it came from in the direction of camp. Maybe theres something there?” He thought aloud, already drafting up a message to V. Uzi looked conflicted, wings fluttering as she took a long look out of the entrance to the nest.

“I don't like the idea of not going with you…”

“You need to stay where it's safe, I'm not going to risk you getting hurt. And… Tera needs her mom, in case something happens.” He added, words sounding thick and heavy. “Not that anything will! Just thinking logically.”

Uzi sucked in a wary breath, he was right and she hated it. She hated this situation, she hated this planet.

“Yeah.” She replied simply, worry creasing every one of her features as she looked back at him.

“It'll be okay, maybe it won't be that bad?”

…

N and V walked side by side, both drones on high alert as they made their way through the thick trees and hanging fog. The brightest lights being the ones attached to them, their headbands and tails glowing brightly.

“How do you keep finding this stuff?” V complained, raising an eyebrow as she walked slightly ahead of him with a sword drawn, she scanned the tree line ahead of them, squinting as she tried to make out any drone-like shapes.

“I wish I didn't…” N's tone was deadly serious. Something that caught V slightly off guard. N had always been the excitable, happy one. But here, with his gaze locked forward and him holding onto his inbuilt rifle. He looked a lot less like N and a lot more like J when she was leading a hunting party.

“Hey, uh, relax. There's nothing on this planet we can't deal with. We're the predators, not some stupid infected drones.” She smirked, making N crack a small smile before it was once again washed away by whatever internal battle he was having.

“Hey, V?”

“Mm?”

“Do you ever want kids?” He asked, and she stopped suddenly in her tracks. N raised an eyebrow as it looked as if she was stealing herself.

“No, It's too dangerous right now to think about.” She said before starting to walk forward again, her footfalls sounding heavier then they did before.

“I said ‘ever’ not ‘now’.” N hummed, being extremely curious about V's odd reaction to a question he'd assumed would be a straight ‘No’.

“N-no. I wouldn't be a good parent.” She replied, refusing to look at him as she did.

“What do you mean? You're great with Tera.”

“Tera's not mine. You two take care of her. Not me.” She sounded irritated, swiping her sword at a branch that had gotten in her way.

“I know you've been coming around more when I'm not home…”

V didn't say anything at that, only pushed her head down more as she walked forward, N sighed.

“I just wanted to thank you. Uzi could use the help, even if she won't admit it.”

There was silence for a few moments, before he heard a deep sigh come from in front of him.

“She's pregnant, it kinda just feels like my job. You know? Even if I still think you two are stupid.” She added, making him laugh nervously.

Snap!

A branch snapping underfoot startled them both, both drones looked around rapidly, tension rising to fever pitch almost instantly. N growled in warning, and despite him never hearing it out of her voice box before, so did V.

A drone came through the trees, hunched over and leaking oil from its mouth, it had been sliced in half at one point, because a large black vein was the only thing keeping it together. It’s arms outstretched towards V as in lumbered toward them.

“Oh that’s so gross.” V spat before slicing the drone in half again. Releasing the thick black appendage from its job of holding its host together, and sending it careening towards her outstretched arm, where it wrapped around and squeezed.

V screamed as tiny black veins snaked quickly up her arm, sending searing pain through all of her sensors and nearly sending her to the ground. She was in so much shock she almost couldn’t move,

N brought a sword down between the tentacle and her, blasting it to bits with an energy cannon until it was nothing but scrap. That didn’t stop the spiderwebbing of pain up her arm though. She watched in horror as her arm twisted up unnaturally and without her input, switching to a rifle aimed directly at N.

“N! Look out!” She cried out, N just barely moving out of the way as a stream of bullets left the tip of the rifle and dug themselves deep in a gnarled tree. Thinking quickly, N brought his sword down on her shoulder, severing it utterly.

The severed arm twitched erratically, switching between different weapons until N blasted it to smithereens as well, leaving nothing but scattered shrapnel and bits of undulating flesh.

“Are you okay!?” N leaned down and immediately pulled her shoulder into him, looking for more veins. V let out a stuttering breath, the burning pain was gone, taken along with her arm.

“Fine. It’ll regenerate. What the hell was that!?” She shouted, letting him fret over her only for another minute before pushing him off and standing. Watching her nanites fill the space with grey goo before solidifying into a new arm.

“That was the thing I saw yesterday! I didn’t know it could do that though!” He exclaimed, looking around just in case there were any more infected drones around. The trees were silent, but that meant very little.

“I think it’s the same thing that was in Dolls room… what happened to my arm happened to Uzi’s leg.” V huffed breathlessly, flexing her new arm before switching it to a flamethrower.

“Come on, and don’t let them touch you.”

The closer they got to camp. The warmer the air got, damp with the smell of iron and decay. They stood hip to hip, both wary of being grabbed from something unseen. When the clearing broke and they both stopped in their tracks.

Camp 98.7 was no more. A massive sinkhole had opened up from underneath, pulling in the surrounding buildings, a red mass of flesh surrounding the entire hole, pulsing. Black veins jutted across the ground, digging themselves deep within the planets very crust. The air was putrid, a too-sweet mixture of rot and garbage. Sharp, jagged teeth wrapped around the sinkhole’s circumference, and hundreds of very human eyes stared out in all directions.

The hole gurgled, the ground shaking slightly as the tendrils of black visibly spread across the ground, N and V both stepped back to avoid it touching them.

“Holy fuck.” V murmured, looking down at her very small looking flamethrower in comparison to this portal to hell “What do we do?” She looked at N for answers, something she wasn’t used to doing but felt right in the moment. He looked at her, eyes hollow before shaking his head, replacing his fear with determination.

“We need to see how big this is. We should fly over, see how deep this hole goes.”

V nodded, her wings unleashing as she launched herself up in the air to get a better look. N right behind her.

The sinkhole went down for miles, the inside crackling with yellow energy, the red flesh also went down for miles, teeth lining the inside like it was the mouth to some insanely sized creature. She could see black tendrils slinking around near the ‘bottom’, moving like a nest of coiled snakes.

“This is bad… this is really bad.” N looked at the surroundings, everything the tendrils touched became flesh, several trees that had gotten sunk in now had growths of bone growing out of them, jutting out randomly, the ground itself moved as if it had a heartbeat.

“N this is too big, I can’t even see the bottom of this thing.”

The hole gurgled again, the hundred of eyes suddenly focusing on the drones hovering high above it, N gulped, watching the nest of moving tentacles inside suddenly stop moving.

“We need to move.”

“Wh-“

“We need to move, now!”

N dragged V by the hand just in time when a gigantic mass of tentacles ripped out of the hole in their direction, trying desperately to grab them and drag them down into a gaping hellish maw. N kept heading upwards, pulling V along until they were safely out of reach. The tendrils continued to swipe at them, arching up high into the sky.

Both disassemblers looked down, watching as the flurry of movement slowly calmed down and the pit pulled back in its determined appendages, once again beginning to coil and slide within.

“What the hell do we do, this thing is spreading!? V exclaimed, looking out at the mile of transformed land and how quickly this petulance was spreading over it.

“I don’t know…” N replied, looking in the direction of the bunker not far from here.

Next ->

[treasureboxmylove]

Your Eyes Are Here

Wearing: Very out of character (I couldn't get their personalities right for this idea for the life of me😭)

The theatre was quiet, unnervingly so. Not the silence of peace, but the kind that comes after something loud, something wrong. Dust drifted in soft rays of light from the high windows. One stage light still burned, casting a pool of golden haze over the center, but the rest of the world was still, holding its breath.

Puppet stepped through the backstage curtain, her steps careful, slow. The air felt… off.

“Eclipse?” she called gently.

No answer.

Then she saw him.

Slumped against the far wall, knees drawn slightly up, head resting against the concrete, one hand curled against his side. His face was slack—too still. Not like someone asleep. Not like someone present at all. His rays were retracting over and over again.

“Hey,” she whispered, crossing the distance quickly but quietly, crouching in front of him. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

His eyes were open. Glowing faintly. But distant—unfocused. Like he wasn’t in them.

She sat fully, knees folding beneath her, and reached out to cup his cheek. “Come on. You’re not gone, I know you’re not.”

Still nothing.

A low, humming vibration pulsed through his chestplate—like static buzzing under the skin. She recognized it now. Eclipse’s overload state. Not often triggered, but when it hit, it was like his entire processor locked up, frozen mid-vision or mid-analysis. Sometimes, it was too many futures. Too many people talking. Too much failure. Sometimes... it was guilt.

She eased her hand down to his, resting hers over the curled fingers. “You're here. You’re safe.” Her voice stayed low, steady. “Breathe, if you can. I know your vents are probably locked down... that’s okay.”

Her thumb rubbed slowly along the back of his hand. It was a strange contrast—her own ceramic-like joints against the cold metal of his knuckles. Still, she held on. Kept whispering.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me,” she murmured. “You don’t have to solve everything before it happens.”

The hum deepened—then stuttered.

A flicker in his lenses. A blink.

Puppet’s hand moved up again, brushing his rays gently. “There you are,” she said softly.

He didn’t speak. But his breathing started again—mechanical, shallow, slow. Puppet leaned forward just enough to rest her forehead against his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. “Your visions, your thoughts... they can’t hurt you here. Not while I’m with you.”

Another few minutes passed in silence. Then—

“I couldn’t stop it,” Eclipse said. Barely audible.

She blinked. “Stop what?”

“The variant. The thread. It ended the same way. No matter how I looked at it. I ran it twenty-seven times.” His voice was trembling, deep and full of static. “I thought I found one where she made it. But it looped. It always looped back.”

Puppet’s heart twisted. She knew who he was mentioning— that kid—but it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was Eclipse, paralyzed by helplessness.

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” she said, sliding closer, until his head rested on her shoulder. “That’s not weakness, Eclipse. That’s being alive.”

His voice caught. “But I see it. I see it and I still can’t stop it. What good is vision if it only makes you watch?”

“It makes you care,” she said. “That’s what makes it worth something.”

Slowly, gently, his arms moved—like thawing machinery—and wrapped around her. He buried his face in her shoulder, clutching her like a lifeline. She felt his breath hitch once, twice.

“I couldn’t protect her,” he whispered again.

“I know,” Puppet whispered back. “But you’re not broken for caring.”

For a long time, they stayed like that. In the half-light, in the dusty quiet of the theatre, where no one else could see Eclipse vulnerable—only her.

Eventually, his body stopped shaking. The static faded. His voice evened out. He didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he said at last.

Puppet’s fingers rubbed his rays soothingly.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Your eyes might see the future, Eclipse. But your heart lives here.”

A few days had passed.

Eclipse hadn’t mentioned the overload again—not directly. He had resumed his routines, his movement precise, his speech efficient. To most, he was his usual self. But Puppet had known him too long, seen too much. He didn’t hum to himself when he walked. He hadn’t made tea for them both in the morning. And he hadn’t met her gaze since that night in the theatre.

She didn’t push. She never did. But she noticed.

Then, one evening, after the others had gone into rest mode and the sky outside the dome flickered between simulation cycles, Eclipse emerged from his corner of the lab, holding something clutched carefully in both hands.

Puppet looked up from the book she was pretending to read.

“I… made you something,” he said.

Her brows lifted slightly. “You did?”

He stepped closer, awkward as ever when uncertain. “Yes. I know you don’t like things made for you unless they’re useful, or… heartfelt. I attempted both.”

He knelt beside her and unfolded his hands.

In them was a strange little object—about the size of her palm. A miniature glass music box, carefully constructed from repurposed plexiglass and wire. Inside was a paper moon suspended over a mirrored lake, and two tiny, jointed figures: one draped in dark thread, the other in strands of copper. One was sitting, the other kneeling beside it, hand outstretched.

She stared.

“It doesn’t play anything,” he said quickly. “I’m still working on the mechanism. But the figures are… us. That night. I tried to make it small, so you could put it somewhere—on your shelf, or hide it in a drawer, if you didn’t like it.”

Her hand drifted toward the box slowly. As if it were fragile. Sacred.

“I love it,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He blinked. “You do?”

She nodded, still staring. “You remembered every detail.”

“You stayed,” he said softly, “when I wasn’t sure I could find myself again.”

Puppet finally looked up at him, eyes shining with something too warm to name. “Of course I did. You're not just someone I care about, Eclipse. You're my someone.”

A silence passed between them. Full, not empty.

Then Eclipse sat beside her, a little too stiffly, and offered his arm—wordlessly inviting her to lean in.

She did.

They sat that way as the simulated stars blinked into place above them, and somewhere deep inside Eclipse’s chest, his backup vocalizer hummed faintly—just enough to let Puppet know the song had returned.

He hadn't forgotten.

And neither had she.

[mothgirlpanties]

thinking about being a magical girl

being presented with a gem that will turn me into my truest, most ideal self, with the power to strike down any that would harm the ones I love.

I'm not quite sure it'll work for me. I'm a girl, but I wasn't quite born that way. I don't know how the technology works.

The other girls assure me that the only thing that matters is what's in my heart. I'm not sure that makes sense to me, but there's only one path forward:

Taking a deep breath. Activating it.

Consumed by the flash of light, I'm not quite sure what I expect from this transformation. Frills and ruffles everywhere, those tend to be universal in everyone I've seen so far. I consider myself to be 'the smart one', so I'll probably be some sort of caster type? Long flowy robes, maybe showing a little leg.

I do not get long, flowy robes. I do not get long anything.

I'm embarrassed enough when the first thing to appear is a pure white sleeveless bodysuit that hugs my skin so closely I might as well not be wearing it. It gets worse as sections of it light up and dissolve into sparkles, baring enough of my skin that if it hadn't started in one piece it would be difficult to believe it wasn't simply an assortment of strategically placed straps. The most egregious is the gigantic heart-shaped cutout that bares most of my tits.

The moment the ruffled pink microskirt sprouts from my waist I desperately tug it down towards the front to hide my bulge, only for a thick, fluffy brown tail to sprout from the other side of my body.

The tail is immediately followed by a floppy set of dog ears and a pathetic little whimper.

A set of pink fingerless gloves shine into being on my hands; the material flowing up my arms followed by a thick white ribbon lacing it tight, ending with a gigantic flowy bow just below each shoulder.

I can sense the transformation dying down now, and almost relax into it- only to go stiff as the final touch brings the feeling of cold metal against my skin.

I let out a squeak and attempt to tug my skirt down again, and the transformation finally dies down with a thick silver collar around my neck and the smooth click of a lock that almost seemed to echo in the silence that followed.

I look at the others nervously; at their normal-length frilly skirts, completely bare necks, their- their reasonable amount of skin coverage!

I stare up at the leader- at some point, my knees had given out.

She looks down at me with a flushed face and heavy breathing. The other girls are little better, but for some reason she's the one my eyes are drawn to. Her white-gloved hands seem to be twitching at her sides.

The silence is utterly unbearable, so I open my mouth to say something- anything!

"...awooo?"

The next thing I know, I have a mouthful of magical girl tongue and white gloves running through my hair. One of the other girls pushes up behind me and clips a leash to the ring on my collar.

As my world is consumed by wonderful wet softness and a half-dozen roaming hands, I have one last coherent thought:

At least the cage this damn outfit put on my cock means I won't tent the skirt.

[ren14554]

*Want to start from the beginning? Chapter 1

Eternal

Chapter 24: Puzzling Discoveries

They weave between narrow doorways, through darkened rooms just big enough to fit four or five people. And it’s the one of the last doorways that leads them into the first truly open space.

Looking up, Sofia can just make out the top of the structure's interior. It ends in a high, shadowed point. The air is damp. Musty even. The kind that clings to her skin and makes her want to itch. Or maybe that's the scattering of bugs, disturbed by the first human movement this place has seen probably in centuries.

Her gaze moves, drawn by the quiet awe of the others—each one now staring at the far wall.

Hundreds, maybe thousands, of multicolored tiles stretch across it, fitted together like some ancient mosaic. There are cracks and chipped corners. Faint smudges of dirt swirled up by the environments subtle encroachment. But even beneath all the decay, the wall is striking, organized into a loose grid.

"Fuck," Rafe says, eyes climbing the wall. "What is it?"

"Great question," Kiara replies.

Sofia steps forward, reaching out, her fingers brushing across a few tiles. The surface is rough with age. Somehow it feels ancient, if that’s even possible. "Definitely a puzzle," she murmurs. "A better question is, how do we solve it?"

Rafe steps closer, head tilting up. The wall towers above her boyfriend, tiles stretching higher than he can reach.

"What if I—" Sofia presses a tile, and it sinks into the wall with a dull click.

Behind her, Pope's voice jumps in alarm. "What did you just do?"

She turns slightly, shrugging. "I pressed a button?"

Pope scans the room like he's expecting poison darts or a collapsing ceiling. "What if that releases toxic gas and kills us?"

"Or," Kiara cuts in, "it's just a button."

"I smell nothing out of the ordinary," Sofia adds, dry as ever.

"We're dealing with ancient Mayans here, Kie," Pope mutters. "Death might not be as obvious as you'd expect."

"Well, nothing's happened, and we've been talking for more than ten seconds," Rafe says, standing beside Sofia. His eyes stay locked on the pressed tile, but his hand drifts down, settling lightly at the small of her back.

She finds it comforting. Grounds her.

"What if we—" Rafe presses another tile. It clicks into place.

Then, it pops back out. Hers does the same.

Sofia exhales, annoyed. "Perfect."

"There's gotta be an order to it then," Pope mutters, more intrigued now than scared. He steps forward, pressing the same tile Sofia did. It clicks again, holding in place. “What that is, is lost to me.”

She takes a step back to study the whole thing. "There are hundreds of tiles. We're not guessing our way through this."

"Maybe another room has a clue," Kiara offers. "Like back at Uxmal." Before anyone can respond, she disappears down a nearby hall.

Sofia's eyes are still on the wall, taking in the size of it. Their effort snow feel worthless the deeper they go, a feeling that they’re still so far from the endgame of it all settling in.

"In what world would the Mayans have had time to build something like this?" she murmurs.

"Too much, it seems," Pope replies.

Beside her, Rafe lets out a low chuckle. "If Indiana Jones taught me anything, it's that if you want to hide something that could change the fabric of society, you bury it behind a puzzle."

Sofia rolls her eyes. She leans closer to the tiles, searching for any detail that might stand out. Colors. Symbols. Patterns. Anything.

She kind of wishes it was a snake. At least then, it might bite her with the answer.

"I think I found something," Kiara calls out from deeper in the ruins, a few rooms away.

"Something that actually helps us?" Rafe replies, voice low and skeptical. Sofia reaches out and lightly smacks his stomach with the back of her hand.

"There are constellations scattered on the walls in here," Kiara calls, tone curious, almost excited.

"What do you see?" Sofia calls back.

"I can't really… I can't really read it," Kiara admits. "But they've got tile patterns next to them."

"All of them?" Pope asks with a tinge of unease in his voice.

"Just about. There's gotta be…" Kiara trails off, clearly in awe. "Like thirty constellations scattered in here."

Sofia doesn't need to see her to know Kiara is grinning.

"Let's try it," Rafe says.

Sofia glances over. "Try what?"

"The patterns there… they've gotta match something here."

"She said there are tons of them," Sofia replies. "How do we even know where to start?"

Rafe doesn't answer. He just reaches up and presses a tile directly above the one she'd triggered earlier. It clicks—and stays. A soft glow hums from the stone, dim but unmistakable. The two tiles glisten faintly in the room's low light.

"It's all in…" Kiara calls again, "Mayan?"

"Would make sense," Pope sighs.

"They're definitely ones I've seen before," Kiara confirms. "This one is Orion's Belt. One hundred percent."

"What does Orion's Belt look like again?" Rafe groans.

Sofia can practically hear Kiara roll her eyes. "Literally three dots in almost a straight line."

Sofia tries again, pressing the tile to the left of the two already glowing.

They all pop back out and the lights vanish.

"Dammit," she mutters.

"What about the one to the right?" Pope offers. He hits the original two, then a third with the same result. They reset.

"So…" Rafe tips his head back in frustration. The momentary hope deflates from his expression.

"There are like six rough quadrants on this wall," Pope starts.

Kiara shouts again, "Mine have symbols next to them. This one's a dot with a line beneath it—"

Pope snaps his fingers loudly, suddenly animated. He darts to the far end of the wall, scanning a specific section. "That symbol is here," he calls back. "Bottom left corner."

Sofia moves toward him, eyes narrowing. The symbol is embedded in one of the corner tiles—a dot above a vertical line, just like Kiara described.

"Okay, the grid is emphasizing tiles on various rows and columns," Kiara calls. She recites fifteen tiles.

Pope nods to himself, then presses the first tile. It sinks into the wall with a soft glow. He moves fast, tapping the rest. All of them stay lit.

"Anything else for this one?" Rafe asks.

"Not here," Kiara says. A few seconds pass before she calls out again. "There's another symbol here. It’s just a straight line."

Sofia perks up. "We've got that here," she answers, moving to a nearby grid section.

"This one depicts… I think it's the Little Dipper," Kiara calls. "Okay, there are at least twenty tiles depicted here."

"Call them out slowly," Sofia calls back, to which Kiara complies.

Sofia presses them one by one. All of the tiles stay lit, glowing a soft mix of colors.

They hold their breath.

"What's happening?" Kiara calls.

"Nothing," Rafe says flatly. "What the fuck is the point? We could sit here for hours or move on."

"But this is the key," Sofia argues. "The only way past that gate and away from Groff's goons is through this."

"She's right," Pope agrees. He shrugs at Rafe, unapologetic.

"This one's Scorpio," Kiara calls again.

"What is?" Pope asks, stepping closer to the wall.

Silence stretches for a few seconds before Kiara's voice carries again. "Is there a grid with four dots? In a loose arc?"

All their eyes scan quickly, zeroing in on one section.

"Yeah," Rafe calls back. "We've got that."

Kiara calls out the tile positions, and Rafe presses each tile, slower this time, and watches them light up. Still, nothing moves.

"Okay, now the four dots symbol again," Kiara continues rattling off more tile positions and their row and column locations, voice a little more rushed now. 

Sofia steps in, quickly matching the tiles. Her fingers move with confidence now. "They're lit," she says, breath tight in her chest. But again… silence.

"Okay," Kiara says. "There's another for the dot and line symbol. This one's definitely Gemini."

"Another?" Sofia echoes dejectedly.

"Yep. And this one has a—"

Suddenly, a low rumble sounds. The lit tiles shimmer, the glow intensifying for a moment before settling into a low, steady pulse.

"What was that?" Kiara's voice cuts in as she rushes back into the room beside them.

The tiles of the fourth quadrant stay lit, but something else is happening. Every tile across the wall, even the unlit ones, begins locking into place. A quiet series of thunks echo around the chamber as each square settles in with finality.

"We broke it," Pope mutters, eyes wide.

But no one moves. They just watch as the patterns they've been assembling come to life, colorful light rippling in faint waves across the ancient stone.

"It's Gemini," Kiara says softly now, more to herself than anyone else.

"So we made a horoscope?" Rafe snorts.

"No," Kiara corrects quickly. "They're all constellations."

“The Mayans studied the stars religiously. It tracks." Pope adds.

Sofia steps in closer to the wall. "So there are five more sections. We've already partially lit up four."

"That's the puzzle," Kiara says, energized now. "Each constellation has a symbol. That symbol matches a pattern of tiles. Find the right set, match it, and—"

"—light up the wall," Pope finishes for her.

"If we finish lighting every section—" Rafe starts.

"—which form constellations,” Kiara adds. “Maybe it opens something."

"The gate," Sofia says. Her voice is firm now. "Or at least something that helps us get to it."

The next fifteen minutes are a flurry of motion and concentration. Kiara calls out more constellations from the rooms she's exploring while Sofia, Pope, and Rafe work together pressing tiles. There are mistakes. A few accidental resets. One near-miss where Rafe's knuckle grazes the wrong tile and nearly undoes an entire quadrant.

But eventually—finally—every tile in the wall is lit.

Nine constellations glow in vibrant hues across the chamber. Red and green. Blue and violet. Yellow and pink and orange. Each one forms a clear celestial symbol carved into the ruin's wall. It's stunning. If they weren't racing against time, Sofia might've taken a minute to actually admire it.

Then the walkie crackles.

"Um." Cleo's voice filters in, staticky but urgent. "What did you guys just do?"

Pope scrambles for the walkie clipped to his belt. "What do you mean?"

A bit of static, then Cleo’s voice, "The door. It's opening. Slowly, but definitely moving."

They all exchange a look. A flash of relief. A breath of victory.

Pope keys the receiver button. "Good. We're heading back now."

"Be careful," Cleo replies quickly. "Dalia's men are moving again. We had to dip into a nearby old house. We'll hold off until you make it back. Love you."

"Love you too," Pope murmurs, tucking the device back into his back pocket. "Let's be quick—"

But the moment of calm doesn't last. A heavy bang echoes through the structure. Dust falls from above. And then there's light. Faint at first, filtering in from a break in the ceiling. Heavy footsteps pound on the stone stairs they’d descended themselves.

Rafe grabs her hand, yanking her toward the far wall to a crouch. They drop low against it. The stone is cold at her back, rough through her shirt. Rafe's grip doesn't ease.

Footsteps echo closer.

Sofia holds her breath. The glow from the wall still spills into the room—soft but noticeable. It paints Rafe's jaw in streaks of color. Reds and blues and golds flicker across his clenched jaw.

A flicker of awe hits her and a part of her wants to ghost her fingertips across the stubbly surface. Still, she buries the urge quickly beneath the current urgency.

Across the room, Pope gestures wildly toward a narrow side doorway. Sofia guesses it leads deeper inside. Or maybe out. Either way, it's away from here.

Rafe doesn't wait. He pulls her with him, following Kiara and Pope as they slip through the opening, staying low. Every footstep feels too loud.

They move fast. Quiet steps, shallow breaths, weaving from one tight room to the next. The deeper they go, the more the walls close in. The air grows heavier and hotter. Sofia keeps her steps light, her ears straining for anything—footsteps, voices, danger.

They stop abruptly.

A wall. A final room that presents them with a dead end.

"Fuck," Kiara breathes, barely louder than a whisper. She runs her hands along the edges like a secret door might be hidden in the seams. Sofia wants to do the same, to find something, but her pulse is already climbing and it’s buzzes her body uncomfortably.

"We can't go back," Rafe mutters.

"Walk right back to them?" Pope agrees, his voice low. "Yeah, no thanks."

"There has to be another way," Sofia says. "The Mayans didn't build tombs with one entrance and no exit."

"Not like there's a map," Kiara hisses, frustration bleeding into her voice.

The sounds behind them are closer now—footsteps. Murmured voices. A different language. Sofia doesn't know it, but it sounds vaguely Eastern European… maybe.

"Shit," Rafe seethes under his breath and they scramble. Pope checks one side of the room. Kiara checks another.

Sofia drops low, eyeing the base of the wall and that's when she sees a small crack. Barely noticeable unless you are looking right at it. She crawls closer, peering through. There's a sliver of space on the other side. Narrow. But maybe…

"Rafe," she calls quietly.

He doesn't respond. Rafe's attention is on a different wall section.

"Rafe," she tries again, louder this time.

He looks over, confused.

She gestures urgently. "Lift me."

"What?"

"Up and over." She taps the the stucco-like wall. "There's a crawlspace on the other side."

"Are you—"

"Just trust me." She urges. 

He hesitates for only a second before crouching low, gripping her calf. With his help, she pushes herself up, hands finding the top edge. It's rough and relatively high enough for discomfort. Still, she manages to hook an elbow over.

She peeks. There's a drop, maybe two feet further down than the current wall height on their side. A nine to ten-foot drop. Doable. It’s dark, but there's space.

Kiara appears at the wall, whisper-hissing, "What the hell are you doing?"

Sofia doesn't answer. She shifts her weight, uses Rafe as leverage, and throws a leg over, straddling the top of the old wall. Then—hesitantly— she starts easing down the other side.

"Careful," Rafe murmurs from below. As Sofia slides out of his grip, his fingers brush down her ankle.

"What other option do we have," she whispers back at Kiara. "There's a path around. We need to get back to the stairs if we have any chance."

But halfway down, her grip falters. Her hands slip and Sofia drops.

The landing isn't bad, just jarring. Her feet hit the stone floor hard, and she stumbles back into the opposite wall, catching herself. Pain blooms across her palm, where she scraped it against the top edge of the wall, but she clenches her jaw and attempts to ignore it.

"You okay?" Rafe calls from the other side.

"Yeah," she breathes. "Hurry up!"

There's a shuffle of movement and when she looks up, Kiara's face appears over the ledge, strained with effort. Sofia smiles despite herself.

She reaches up, helping soften Kiara's descent. The other girl lands with a grateful nod.

Pope's hands appear over the top of the wall next as he pulls himself over and disappears only briefly before reappearing, straining to drag Rafe up with him. Sofia steps aside as Pope shimmy’s over and lands, surprisingly light on his feet.

The voices are closer now. Much closer.

Rafe scrambles over the top just as light spills into the narrow passage from above. Shouts echo off the walls. They're curious, not yet alarmed, but they're not far off.

Sofia grabs at his waist as he drops, steadying him. Despite her efforts, his landing is controlled. Rafe in a tense situation still somehow seems completely put together, a far cry from the anxiety raging in her at this very moment. When sounds enter their previous room, they crouch beside the wall, the four of them ducking down instinctively as if it’ll help.

Rafe's breath rises and falls under her grip as they stay silent, listening for any sounds that indicate they should move. The voices seem to argue for a few more moments before feet sound, getting further away. No doubt more interested in the glowing tiles than the random shuffling sounds from their actions. 

When they are confident the men are far enough away, they quietly meander their way through the narrow gap, stepping carefully. Rafe keeps close behind her, so close she can feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck every time they pause. The ghost of his fingertips steadies her whenever something snaps near them. 

Eventually, the path bends back toward the stairs. They reach a narrow crack in the wall, just wide enough to slip through.

Pope halts at the gap, peering out to scan the area. Then he nods.

They move, managing to make it back out the way they came.

One by one, they slip out into the overgrown clearing. The fresh, open air is a rush to Sofia's lungs. For a split second, it feels like they've made it. But then more voices filter in from around the corner. More of Dalia's men no doubt. Sofia sticks close to Kiara as they guys follow just behind.

And then a patrol rounds the corner.

Rafe's hand clamps around her wrist again, and he pulls her back, veering away from Pope and Kiara, who bolt in the opposite direction.

Rafe doesn't let go. He drags her with him around the remains of a crumbling wall, their feet pounding against the loose earth.

And when they’re concealed, they run. Darting between half-fallen structures and ancient stone. A once grand market ruin, maybe, but she doesn't care. She can’t. All that matters is distance and keeping good cover.

They end up behind a thick tree that's split a wall in two. The bark digs into her shoulder blades as she leans back against it, chest heaving.

Rafe is still beside her, brow furrowed as he glances behind her.

"Rafe," she whispers, her voice low but urgent. "What is it?"

He doesn't respond immediately, his jaw tightening as his eyes narrow in concentration.

"Wait here," he murmurs, kissing the side of her head quickly before slipping back around the tree.

"Rafe—" she hisses after him, her tone a mix of frustration and worry, but he's already disappeared into the underbrush. She debates whether to follow, the exasperation heavy on her lips.

Where the fuck does he think he's going?

Before she can decide, Kiara and Pope materialize beside her, breathing shallowly.

"Where's Rafe?" Kiara asks, her brows knitting together in concern.

"He freaking just— ran off," Sofia replies, gesturing wildly in the direction Rafe had gone. "The guy just up and left. Right back to them."

"The fuck," Kiara scoffs, glancing toward one of the many convoys in the distance.

Pope shakes his head. "We can't stay here."

"And we can't leave him," Sofia retorts, her tone sharp but laced with worry.

"They're getting closer; we have to get moving," Kiara counters, her voice laced with urgency.

Sofia ignores her, shifting slightly to peek around the tree. Her heart leaps into her throat as she sees Rafe slipping through the brush toward Dalia's men. He's weaving between the convoy and the crumbling ruins, staying low to avoid detection. The old, deteriorating wall is the only thing separating him from two armed guards standing alert, their weapons slung over their shoulders.

What the fuck is he thinking?

They wait, tension thick in the air. One minute. Two. Five.

Kiara presses closer, her voice a sharp whisper. "They're heading this way to search. We need to go."

Sofia shakes her head, refusing to budge. "I'm not leaving him—"

"Hey," Rafe's voice startles them, and they spin around to find him crouched next to them, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"What the fuck, Rafe?" Kiara snaps, her tone biting but quiet.

He raises a long rubber object, grinning as he dangles it before them.

"What is that?" Pope asks, his eyes widening.

"A belt or something," Rafe says, his grin widening. "Took it right off one of the armoured trucks. They're not going far anytime soon."

Sofia feels a mix of relief and amusement bubbling up. She grabs his shirt at the waist, her fingers curling into the fabric as a small smile breaks across her face.

Kiara and Pope exchange looks, the humor catching up to them as small smirks play on their lips. An eye roll or two.

"We need to get out of here before they realize," Rafe says, his voice shifting back to seriousness.

Without another word, he grabs her hand and leads them back toward the thicker part of the outer wall, their steps light. The adrenaline hasn't worn off, and they duck motionless whenever they hear a twig-like snap, eyes trained on their intended meeting spot and where the door should now be open. 

Keeping hope that John B, Sarah, and Cleo kept well away from Dalia's patrol unscathed.

————————————

Next part: Chapter 25

[lostinladsworld]

„Care is a Quiet Thing“

Tessa hadn’t left her apartment all day.

Since the morning she had been lying on the couch, buried under a thick blanket, her body aching and her thoughts clouded by a persistent fever. The windows were drawn, casting the small apartment in a dim, grey tone that matched the heaviness in her chest. The tissues piling up on the nightstand marked the passing hours. Her throat burned, her head pounded, and her nose was raw from constant wiping.

And worst of all - she was alone. Once, that wouldn’t have been the case. Once, he would’ve been there without her even needing to ask. But that was before the explosion. Before everything changed. And what is even worse - she got used to it. So even now when he was back it felt like he was still too far away to reach.

The sudden knock at the door startled her. For a moment she thought she imagined it. But then came the voice - deep, familiar, unmistakable.

“Tessa?”

She frowned, forcing herself from the warmth of the couch with a groan, every muscle aching as she trudged slowly to the door. But she didn’t open it. Not yet.

“Caleb?” Her voice came out hoarse, strained. “What are you doing here?”

He heard it, the rasp in her tone, and it tugged at something deep inside his chest. His brow furrowed, concern cracking through his carefully composed exterior. He leaned his weight against the doorframe, arms folded loosely, dark hair ruffled by the wind.

„Is it really that hard for you to figure out?” he said. “I’m checking up on you. And by the way you sound horrible. Let me in, pipsqueak.”

Tessa leaned against the wall, her forehead briefly resting on the cool surface. Everything ached. Still, she bristled at the nickname. She hated that she felt something stir at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah, well. I’m alive,“ she muttered. „You can go back to Skyhaven.”

It came out more bitter than she intended, but she didn’t take it back. She was too tired to pretend. Too upset. Maybe she was still angry about the whole year of silence, about thinking he was dead, about how he came back someone else. A colonel now. Always so composed, so full of secrets.

“And besides,” she added, “I wouldn’t want to be the reason a very important colonel catches the flu.”

Caleb’s expression fell, the amusement slipping away.

“I won’t get sick,” Caleb said, more gently now. “I’m more concerned about you.”

There was a pause.

“Just open the damn door. I’m not going anywhere until I see you.”

She hesitated, her hand tightening around a door handle. Part of her wanted to send him away. The other part - an aching, lonely part - wanted to let him in, even if it was just to remember what it felt like when things were still okay.

Finally, with a resigned breath, she undid the lock. The soft click echoed through the hallway like a sigh. She stepped back into the dimness, making sure the shadows hid her swollen eyes and flushed cheeks. Her pajamas were wrinkled, hair an unruly mess, and she hadn’t bothered with tidying the apartment.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Come in. Just don’t get too close unless you want to be sneezed on.

He stepped inside cautiously, eyes immediately landing on her frail figure. He had to stop himself from rushing forward. She looked awful, pale and miserable and somehow still beautiful.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a good immune system,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, I’ve gotten used to you being a little plague-bringer.“

His eyes drifted briefly around the cluttered room, but he said nothing. She was sick, after all. And she was not in the good mood. That much was clear.

„You seriously look like crap, pipsqueak.”

She shot him a glare as she reached for another tissue.

“Thanks I am aware,” she muttered, blowing her nose with a loud, wet honk. “I feel like crap too.”

She leaned back with a sigh, eyes briefly closing. His next question hit harder than he probably intended.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” he asked quietly.

„Why? Oh, I didn’t think you still wanted to know,” she said, her tone clipped with sarcasm. “After all, I didn’t hear from you for a whole year thinking you were dead.”

The words felt like a stone thrown right at him. She didn’t mean to snap like that. Or maybe she did. Or maybe she just didn’t know how to express everything she felt differently. She was tired. Hurt. After all he was the only one who ever made her feel safe - and coincidentally the one who had shattered that feeling.

„I guess I lost the authority to run to you whenever I encountered a minor problem,” she added.

Caleb’s face tightened, his jaw clenching. He didn’t interrupt. He let her words burn through the space between them.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, trying to keep himself steady, there was no point to snap back at her in that state.

„Pipsqueak… it’s not like I had a choice. You have to understand. I… I couldn’t contact you earlier. It was for your own good.”

She turned away, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The lump in her throat was rising, threatening to burst, but she bit it back. She wouldn’t cry. Not now.

„You don’t even know what’s good for me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You never did. But you always act like you do.

The tears came anyway, sliding down her feverish cheeks in silence. She sniffled hard, her next words shaky and full of pain.

„My idea of good is you here. Alive. With me. And even if there’s danger, we could face it together. But instead you disappeared. I thought I lost you. Do you even realize what that did to me?”

She broke off, the memory of those empty days hitting her like a second wave. Caleb stood frozen, guilt pulling tight at his chest. His fists curled, the tendons in his arms taut with tension.

„But I’m here now,” he said quietly. “I made it back. Isn’t that enough?”

Tessa’s eyes flashed as she pushed off the couch and stumbled to the window, legs shaky and uncooperative. She couldn’t just sit still there beside him.

“No, it’s not,” she snapped. “Just because you’re standing in front of me doesn’t mean everything goes back to normal.”

She turned to face him, voice low, raw.

“I lost my right to need you. And you lost your right to act like you care.”

Caleb’s breath caught in his throat.

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he said tightly. “Just because I had to keep some things from you doesn’t mean I stopped caring.”

He moved closer, inch by inch, his shoulders visibly tense and his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t know what I had to do to come back.”

“And I never will,” she replied, turning toward him, her voice breaking again. “Because you won’t tell me.” She stared at him, face pale and eyes glassy. Then, without warning, she sagged forward, pressing her forehead to his chest, shivering with quiet sobs.

She stormed away, her steps unsteady as she crossed the room to the window. She clung to the sill to stay upright.

“I lost my right to call you for help,” she said, voice low and bitter. “And you lost your right to act like you care.”

“That’s not fair,” he snapped, closing the distance between them. “Just because I kept things from you doesn’t mean I stopped caring. Damn it, Tessa, you have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“And I never will,” she replied, turning toward him, her voice breaking again. “Because you won’t tell me.”

She took a step forward and collapsed against his chest, shivering with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I am just...”

Caleb wrapped his arms around her carefully, as if afraid she might break.

„You can tell me,” she murmured, lifting her eyes to his. “Tell me at least a part of it.”

But silence met her again. She pulled back with a bitter little laugh.

“Right. You can’t.“ she said, voice laced with hurt and resignation. „Because it’s ‘too dangerous.’ And I need to trust you on this. Like always.“

She turned, pushing you away and wiping her cheeks with a shaking hand.

“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep. You can go or stay. I don’t care.”

Then she was gone, retreating to her bedroom and leaving Caleb standing alone in the quiet mess of her living room, jaw tight, hands useless at his sides. The faint sound of a door closing marked the end of their argument - at least for now.

He didn’t move. Not right away. Her words still echoed in his chest like aftershocks, each one more cutting than the last. You lost your right to act like you care.

God, that hurt.

Because he did care. He always had. More than he should’ve. More than he ever said.

He stared at the door she disappeared behind, his eyes heavy with guilt and a kind of helpless longing he didn’t let himself feel often.

She needed space. He knew that. Thirty minutes. That was always her cooling-off time. He remembered - like muscle memory, like the way he still knew how she liked her eggs in the morning and the sound of her laughter when she forgot to guard it.

So instead of knocking on her door or making another mistake, he swallowed the ache in his throat, shrugged out of his military jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. He would do the only thing he knew how to do in moments like these. He started to clean, to cook, to care in the quietest way he could. He would try to take care of her.

Like he used to.

Even if it seemed like he almost forgot how to do it.

The remnants of their argument still clung to Tessa like scent of smoke after a fire - sharp, stinging, and impossible to ignore.

She leaned against the door, pressing her forehead to the cool wood for a second before pushing herself toward the bed. She felt awful, her limbs ached, and her head pulsed with a rhythm that had grown unbearable. But what stung most wasn’t the illness - it was the way she had snapped at him. Again.

She pulled the covers over herself with trembling fingers, curling into a tight ball like a creature retreating from the world. Her mind reeled with regret, spinning through flashes of raised voices, the look on Caleb’s face - half hurt, half weary. Why couldn’t she stop lashing out when all he ever did was show up and stay? But she didn’t cry long. The fever overtook her quickly, dragging her down into a hazy half-sleep where time twisted and stretched.

In the meantime Caleb moved through the apartment quietly, reverently, almost like he was afraid to break something fragile. And maybe he was. Her. Or himself.

He picked up crumpled tissues, straightened the blanket she’d been cocooned in, and opened a window just slightly to let in some fresh air. In the kitchen, he boiled water, scoured the cabinets for ingredients to prepare tea and broth. He began slicing ginger then vegetables with precision, as if making soup could fix everything when the words failed him.

His hands moved on their own, guided by the desperate need to do something. Anything. Because Caleb had always been a man of action. Missions, objectives, decisions under pressure - that was easy.

But this? Watching her cry and not being able to fix it because he was the one who made her cry?

That was hell.

Sometime later, when she blinked awake, the headache had dulled into a heavy throb behind her eyes, and her nose was hopelessly stuffed. She reached for the tissue box and grumbled quietly when her hand hit cardboard.

Empty.

With a reluctant sigh, Tessa pushed off the blanket and stood on unsteady feet. Still, she staggered toward the door, muttering under her breath something about how cruel it was to run out of tissues mid-fever.

When she opened the door, her eyes locked with his.

Caleb stood there, hand frozen mid-air, just second away from knocking. In his other hand, he held a glass of water and a blister pack of medicine. His eyes, cautious but watchful, widened slightly at the sight of her - pale, shivering, visibly swaying.

For a split second, everything in her tensed, her instinct ready to bristle. To throw up her defenses and say something sharp just to keep him at a distance. But then she saw the look in his eyes - the hesitation, the guilt pressing down behind the quiet worry. His brows drawn just slightly, his mouth set with something unspoken.

And instead, the words that came out were softer than she meant them to be.

“You’re still here…“

He gave her a small, lopsided smile. The kind he only used when he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smile at all.

“Of course I am.”

There was an awkward pause. The kind that stretches too long when two people want to say the same thing but can’t quite figure out how to begin. Her fingers tightened around the doorframe for balance while he shifted his weight, mouth opening slightly before closing again, whatever sentence he’d had on standby dying in his throat.

Neither of them apologized.

Instead, he spoke gently.

“Come on, back to bed. You need rest.“

And she didn’t argue. Too tired to protest. She turned and walked back into the room on shaky legs, pulling the blanket back up as she collapsed onto the mattress.

„I wanted to grab some tissues,” she murmured, not quite meeting his eyes. “Could you…”

He was already gone before she finished, setting the glass on her nightstand. A moment later, he returned from the living room with a new box in hand.

„Here.” He placed it gently on her lap.

Tessa silently pulled one out and blew her nose with an unapologetically loud honk.

„Thank you,” she said, her gaze drifting to the glass and the medicine resting beside it.

„Found it in one of your cabinets,” Caleb said, his tone casual but careful. “Should help with the fever.”

„Oh.” She blinked. “I thought I ran out.”

She felt a bit foolish admitting that. She could’ve taken them hours ago, maybe even spared herself the worst of the symptoms - but half the time she forgot what she even had lying around. Caleb always seemed to handle that sort of thing better than her. Always had.

She popped a pill and took a sip of water, slow and thoughtful.

The gesture stirred up old memories - how she always used to come to him when she misplaced something. Caleb, where’s my hairclip? I swear it was right here! Or Oh no, I lost my school project! Ms. Terner’s going to kill me - what do I do?!

And somehow, like magic, he’d take three steps into her disaster of a room, scan it once, and then - boom - whatever she was looking for would appear in his hand. He always teased her for being hopeless, but she’d catch it sometimes. That flicker of joy in his eyes whenever he could help. Like it didn’t actually bother him at all.

A quiet sound - Caleb clearing his throat - pulled her out of her thoughts.

“You eaten today, pipsqueak?“ Caleb asked, voice light but edged with concern. „Or are you surviving on sheer stubbornness again?”

She shook her head slowly and lifted her gaze to meet his.

“Of course you didn’t,” he said with a quiet chuckle, a soft scold threaded through his voice. “What’ve you even been doing, living all by yourself without someone watching over you, huh?”

Her eyes followed his hands - and blinked. When had he…? A steaming bowl.

Her stomach clenched. Soup. When had he brought that in? Had she spaced out that long?

Tessa had never liked soup. She used to think it was just boring. But maybe it was more than that. She didn’t even know when the aversion started, only that something about it - its texture, the way the vegetables floated in oily broth - always made her stomach turn. Maybe it was the distant memories, like something out of the dull nightmare she barely remembered: grey metal bowls handed out in cold, sterile labs. Watery, tasteless liquid that was supposed to count as nourishment but somehow always made her feel sick.

But this - this wasn’t that. This was Caleb’s.

And maybe she was just too tired, or maybe it was the fact that this was the first thing he’d cooked for her since reappearing in her life - but the smell wasn’t awful. It was… warm. The air still faintly smelled of herbs and garlic. She didn’t know what he’d put in it, didn’t even care. She was hungry.

And she reached for the spoon. Because he had made it.

After the first spoonful she closed her eyes contently

„Mmmm…” The warm, rich broth soothed her sore throat like a balm. For a moment, she just sat there, breathing in the steam, letting it settle into her chest.

A flicker of nostalgia crossed Caleb’s face as he watched her. That little hum she made—it tugged at something familiar. The way she looked when comfort finally won over stubbornness. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat quietly beside her, elbows on his knees.

“You like it?” he asked after a beat, voice quiet - gentle in that way he always got when he didn’t want to spook her. Like the question mattered more than he wanted to admit.

Tessa opened her eyes again, a few messy strands of hair falling into her face. She glanced at him, then back at the bowl, before scooping up another spoonful and swallowing it slowly, greedily - but without rush.

“Yeah. It’s… good,” she muttered, reluctant, like the words were caught somewhere between pride and surprise. Her voice was still hoarse, but for once, it carried no sarcasm, no sharpness.

Caleb huffed a soft laugh, resting his hand on the edge of the mattress. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said with a grin. “Never thought I’d live to see the day you willingly eat soup.”

Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.

“I‘m sick,” she murmured. “Don’t have the energy to fight your evil schemes today.”

“Ah, so now I’m an evil mastermind,” he teased. “Caught red-handed trying to nourish you.”

Tessa rolled her eyes, but it was soft. No bite behind it. Just tired warmth.

Caleb’s gaze lingered on her face a second longer than necessary. “I’m glad,” he said finally, quieter now. “That you’re eating. But you know what I’m even more glad about?”

She didn’t look at him right away. Just kept eating slowly, the warmth of the soup beginning to settle in her limbs. But her silence wasn’t cold - it was something else. Something unspoken. A kind of truce.

“What?” she said.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just studied her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Then, with a gentle, almost hesitant motion, he reached out. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, the backs of his knuckles grazing her cheek. The touch was feather-light, like he was afraid she’d flinch.

“That you didn’t kick me out,” he said finally. “Despite everything.”

His hand dropped back to the edge of the mattress, fingers twitching slightly, as if they wanted to go back. His voice softened into something raw.

“You could’ve slammed the door the second you saw me. Could’ve told me to go to hell. And honestly? I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

He let out a breath, chest rising with the weight of something that had clearly been sitting there a while. His eyes were glassy - not teary, but full of something she couldn’t quite name. Regret, maybe. Or just some old ache.

“But you didn’t,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper. “And the truth is… I missed this. Fussing over you when you get sick. Arguing over whether or not you should be eating soup. You - curled up like a grumpy little shrimp. It just… it feels normal.”

Tessa stared at the vegetables floating in the broth, suddenly finding them very fascinating. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a small frown forming between her brows.

“I could never,” she said quietly. Her voice was hoarse, scratchy at the edges, but sure.

She swallowed, then added, “I might be angry. I might curse you out or give you hell. But I could never tell you to leave for good. Not really.”

She paused, swallowing past the lump rising in her throat. The next words came slowly, carefully - like they’d been sitting inside her for a long time, waiting for the right crack to slip through.

“You’re still important to me, Caleb,” she murmured. “I might say a lot of things when I’m mad… but I’d never mean that.”

Caleb’s heart gave a dull, aching thud. He stared at her, stunned silent for a moment. Her confession struck something deep - something fragile.

“I know, pipsqueak,” he said eventually, his voice thick but steady. “I know.”

The room fell quiet again. No explanations. No apologies. But this time, it wasn’t heavy. Just… full. Full of all the things they hadn’t said, and maybe didn’t need to.

“I’ll heat up more if you want later,” he said, trying to slip back into the easy rhythm of things. “But for now, eat a few more bites, then rest. I’m staying on couch patrol tonight.”

Tessa gave a faint nod. Her body was still heavy, but it seemed like the medicine and soup had begun to work their magic. And for the first time that day, she didn’t feel alone in it.

As he turned to leave, she spoke again. Soft. Barely audible.

“Caleb?”

He paused, halfway through the door.

“…Hm?”

She didn’t look at him. But her voice held the weight of something that had been waiting at the back of her throat for hours.

“Thanks… for coming back.”

He smiled to himself. Not a big one - just enough.

“Wasn’t planning on staying away.”

And as he slipped out the door, something between them felt a little lighter. Not fixed. Not forgotten. But no longer broken, either. The door was left open just a crack, the way he always used to do.

Just in case she needed him again.

[liquidstar]

april fools is over so now im going to be slash srs instead of slash j. im going to post a little excerpt from one of the oc writing practices ive been doing :) again im not super experienced for a variety of reasons but im doing my best here.

but im going to try and put my self conciousness to the side (thats probably an important part of the practice too, right?) since this isnt final version either way, i can just say im sharing a WIP! so for now it will go the way of most of my other oc stuff..... under the cut

the only context you need is that this would be the opening scene for the story. if i post others i'll have to give more context bc most of them are taken from the middle of something. anyway here goes:

-----

“I love you

I've loved you since the beginning

From when you were only stardust

To when you will rejoin the stars

When everyone will be together again

Understand, you don’t simply live in the universe

You are part of it, taking on a form uniquely alive

You are the universe giving love back to itself

I love you so much”

“Wait!!!”

A lone girl jolts awake, crying a plea into the empty air. Tears stream down her cheeks, as she calls for someone she doesn't know. Her heart aches with a nameless yearning that fades with the memory of her dream. Still, against her will, the emotions linger. A profound sense of love consumes her, an agonizing, grieving love, meant for her. She sighs and wipes away her tears. It was an absurd dream, a ridiculous notion.

As her conscious mind clears, she takes in her surroundings; a forest drowned in the pale blue light of dawn. Her sleeping bag, now encased in dew, was laid on the cold grass. She sits for a while, gazing at the faint sliver of the rising sun’s glow with an indistinct expression, and eventually stands up.

The lone girl begins her daily routine by braiding her hair. With a wave of her hand, she freezes dew on a rock, creating herself a mirror. Her fingers carefully weave her brown locks into a braid, now adorned with a snowflake clip and a scarlet ribbon. She throws on a long blue half-skirt over her shorts, matching her shirt. She forces on a pair of black boots and cuffs on her arm. Lastly, she grabs a moon-themed spear, and she's ready for the day.

Before setting off, she made sure to pack all her belongings, including her numerous hand-drawn maps and a compass. However, she also stops to look into the bag deeper, foolishly expecting to find something new. Instead, she only sighs, "Still no food."

She puts on the backpack and trudges forward anyway, ignoring the hunger pains as best she can. She hums to keep herself distracted.

As she walks, the trees tower above her, shrouding the horizon and taunting her. Birds occasionally fly into view, but seem to disappear in an instant. She wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her.

The lone girl scribbles on her maps, trying to record a labyrinth of identical tree trunks and twisted paths. This proves useless, as this elliptical forest has her going in circles. Exasperated, she fidgets with her compass, only to see the needle is frantically twitching around. She presses it gently to her forehead and quietly complains, “Don't tell me you're broken…”

Her train of thought was cut short by the sudden sound of running water, so loud she can’t fathom how she’s only now begun to hear it. She decided to put off one problem for another. Following the sound through some shrubs, she quickly finds the source.

Her spear at the ready, she approaches the stream. Scanning its depths for signs of fish, she walks cautiously. Her posture was awkward, her expression was uncertain, betraying her lack of experience. She held her spear to her chest with both arms as she encroached the water’s edge.

She inhales in preparation, removes her skirt and boots, and enters the water with slow, careful steps. The very surface of the stream begins to freeze as it makes contact with her skin. Tiny, thin crystals of ice form as she steps further in. Breathing deeper, as she tries to control the frost, she makes her way to the center of the stream. She stands waiting for fish.

Rather than throwing her spear to hunt, like the intended purpose, she stabs at the water. She’s not good at this, however, and only ends up scaring other potential prey away. She makes several attempts at this but is unsuccessful each time. Refusing to quit, her repeated strikes become more desperate and uncoordinated with each failure. Her growing frustration only makes the water freeze deeper, eventually solidifying around her legs. She yelps, now in a panic, and begins to frantically stab at the ice to free herself.

A mess.

Escaping this ordeal, the lone girl abandons any further attempt at fishing. It probably isn't her calling anyway. She trudges on, lost, wet, cold, and hungry.

She looks at her compass again, her face reflecting in its glass. “You're broken,” she tiredly states, as she feels her eyes begin to well with tears.

“No! No no no! Don't cry! Don't cry Polaris,” The lone girl, Polaris, reassures herself, “Last time you cried you froze your eyelids shut, and that really hurt,” She whines aloud.

Polaris takes a deep breath, slaps her cheeks, and swallows her tears. She elects to follow the river, her only hope of escape, pursuing the promise of a village just beyond this enigmatic forest. She daydreams of a warm meal in a cozy restaurant, and maybe a cold desert too. A glimmer of determination returns to her stride, as she continues her hum from before.

[wolfofcelestia]

Reactions to Homecoming Wings - 1-10 to 2-10

Not tagging it this time because I have a lot of Thoughts. And I'm probably close to making up my mind about him tbh

I am 100% sure that whatever the fleet is capable of, Sylus would be prepared to swoop in and grab her at any moment. Mephisto aside, he probably has eyes in Skyhaven too, especially since he'll know that she's going to be there

Gotta say though, the way Caleb is acting, just like Zayne and Sylus... it doesn't match his age lmaoooo

This isn't a 25 year old. He's at least 30. Especially with being a whole-ass colonel??

lmao the battle defaulted to Zayne, bless

The way Caleb just handed her pills and she took them without even thinking about it though. Girl... you just got a cold. You don't need to start popping pills the moment you get a sniffle. With her health conditions too, Zayne would have probably told her to always ask him about meds she takes too

See look, baby's here worried about you asnflasdkfjd

This does not like him though?? Didn't she say shew as gonna meet him with the kid?? Wouldn't Zayne ask what happened??

I don't believe that he'd just be like "oh you're safe? bye then"

This story really feels like just another otome game now tbh. It used to feel distinctly LADS, but with the plot going the way it is, it reminds me of just another otome game, especially now with all the suspicions flying around

Characters like Viper definitely make it feel... more cheap? And less realistic too

My theory that the second trio of LIs will act as villains is coming true

There are a lot of parallels between Caleb and Zayne, but also Caleb and Sylus

Sylus values freedom and never denies MC. Caleb locks her down.

Sylus puts a tracker on himself so that MC knows where he is. He wants her to know where he is

MC has to sneak a tracker onto Caleb. Caleb is a closed book whereas Sylus painfully wants her to know more about him

Their outward appearances and first impressions are completely opposite to each other

You mean like Dragon Sylus's crystal?? 🤔

I assumed it was his heart but does that mean dragons are wanderers? The song that Sylus was introduced with is playing here too

She's an Ever experiment though. Maybe they were trying to recreate dragons?

Cool image tho

This is kinda how MC acted with Sylus though right? She wanted Sylus's strength

Hm...

🫵🫵🫵 N109 ZONE MENTION!!

Wanderers are drawn to the aether core in order to strengthen themselves. So if MC gathers all the aether core pieces like dragon balls, then what?

"He takes a step forward and seizes my wrist with a lot of strength"

This is at least the second time he's hurt her without a good reason

One of his battle lines is "I won't let you get hurt again"

And yet, Caleb keeps hurting her in the main story

Honestly, all the standard yandere otome fare, I'm fine with. I'm expecting it. Hell, I'm even a fan of it. This is why I'm here on Caleb's ass in the first place

But him just hurting her for no reason or because he's upset with her doesn't sit right with me and it's probably gonna be the dealbreaker for me

With all of his secrets and doing things behind her back, if I were MC, I wouldn't be able to forgive him, much less date him. He was supposed to be someone she could trust, but he keeps betraying her trust again and again

And then there's Zayne who's actively helping her and has been a reliable person to lean on throughout Caleb's entire route

The thing that kinda annoys me the most though is that

This is an otome game

Yanderes are supposed to be fun, but Caleb's just kinda like... there. He's not hot. He's not doing anything that's exciting me

With Sylus, he comes right out of the gate with his hand fetish and that's very clear fanservice. But with Caleb? What fanservice have we gotten from him?

It feels like the writers aren't bothering with fanservice because they're relying on people to already be attached to him because of how long they've made us wait. I'm not one of those people but I'm attached to him because of his seiyuu, so I feel like I'm just floating in this in between zone where I like him because of his voice and I WANT to like him more, but his character does nothing for me

The only reaction he's gotten out of me was negative whenever he hurt her

The fact that I get so excited whenever there's a mention of Zayne or anything to do with Sylus on Caleb's route really says a lot

I do find it such a strange move for infold though. They've gotten this far with making sure to drop fanservice in whatever they write, but where is it for Caleb? Is the fanservice only for those who like the childhood friend aspect of him and him treating her like a little girl? Because even that is in short supply here

From a business standpoint, it doesn't make sense. They'd want to appeal to as many people as possible, but even people like me who actually want to like him... it's just not clicking

And I'm kinda pissed about it

Because I want to like him. And he's just not doing anything to get me to like him

I'm glad MC is starting to push back against him, but honestly? I'm bored at this point

These are all classic yandere lines, but I'm still waiting to be excited here lmao

Is this supposed to be it? Yeah I'm sorry, I'm not biting

This is where MC says he's important to her because he's family and he wants to be seen as someone different

Like, there's so much here that was expected for Caleb to go through in his character development, but I'm just not feeling it. If this happened before he hurt her and drugged her, maybe this would've been more impactful, but I'm not feeling it

This scene was incredibly short and I feel like this should've had more of a focus, than trying to portray him as someone who has all these mysteries surrounding him and never giving us any answers. Him making her see him as someone who's not her "big brother" should've been his entire arc. But we got a half-hearted scene that's marred by an entire background of him betraying her trust

God, MC is wearing that fugly outfit again too asdfnsasldfkj

Oh that's it? So his attempt at making her see him as not her "big brother" didn't even resolve? He just brought it up and then they just acted like nothing happened? The fuck?

I know I've said infold sucked at endings but this isn't even supposed to be an ending

Even Sylus's route had a resolution

This just sorta felt like infold tossed us a half-cooked dish to placate us

[astrxlfinale]

Head flat on the ever so dedicated trailblazer, coral locks would serve as the perfect phone support there they laid sprawled within the renovated room. Fresh sheets, geeky decorations as far as eyes could see (and Guinaifen could see a lot) and the sound of his tapping had his firekiss' arms tightening around his waist as she'd fully emerge herself in the role of a human blanket, head turning to nudge the back of his phone ever so slightly. It wasn't meant to disturb him, no, quite the contrary. Guinaifen was merely making herself more comfortable against his frame, completely unwilling to move away now.

Had finality set its tracks here, she would've gladly rested here forever. It wouldn't have bothered her at all.

"Do you think the express will ever make it to Court Camelot?" she'd eventually hum, fingers tracing the side of Caelus' waist as eyes would close themselves on the room around them. It was a silly question, of course, but of all people that seemed to hold knowledge of the planets beyond the one she 'remained on', Caelus was the most forward one. "I know you guys probably don't travel like that, but if you ever make it to Court Camelot, would you take me with you?"

Turning once again, face would shift downwards, nuzzling against the scent of Caelus. As nostalgic the thought of her home planet was, she was more than okay with the new one she had found within him.

"I know that I'm not a great fighter or anything, I'd p r o b a b l y be more in the way than anything else," Guinaifen uttered with a chuckle. "But, no matter the state of my home, there's no one else I'd want to be side by side with as I find my way back, and there's no one else I'd ever want to bring back home. You don't have to promise anything, just.. a small yes or no would be enough, really."

For in the end, she'd have him.

That would be enough.

To think she'd find her solace of refuge upon a catalyst and calamity alike. A Stellron's light, the advent of endings was drawn into the impossible. Through those long limbs and her loving heart, she'd dare to remain by that very sun and bask in the warmth through every thread of chaos. All this time, that old, dusted cardboard box he fondly slept in turned out to be the curse all along. Getting this whole damn room together feels worth it in more ways than one.

Seeing the rolling waves of coral blend with red, to feel those ticklish breaths directly against his chest, Caelus once again was rewriting what 'true peace' meant. Each foe upon his game found themselves doomed by the penultimate buff. His goddamn girlfriend, and the incredible mood her presence never failed to put him in.

"Lil bastard finally--- yes, go to hell." He'd victoriously murmur. Watching that apparition disappear amidst the sea of butterflies struck a bonafied sweet spot. And maybe Guinaifen knew that as well, a curious question, one enriched by hope and a desire for the past found itself bringing to the forefront. Just hearing the sound of her maiden home is what opted the phone's screen to go dark, the instrument carelessly tossed to the side (and accidentally off the edge of the bed) as he listened in.

"Guinaifen.." Uncertainty naturally drives itself in as a possibility. Both his inexperience as a seasoned Trailblazer, and the very depth of this wish, a big one. The Stellaron soul within found itself slowly nudged awake, as if that cursed light was equally attentive of the woman's wishes. It lead the Trailblazer's hand to traverse upon terrain he finds familiar as she roosts. Those gloved hands worked along the back of her head, combing down with carefully made brushes as she painted the picture.

How this very present would give her the courage to face the past.

"You do kinda suck at that line of business." The admittance is practically silly amidst her heartfelt confessions. Yet, here he was drawing his other arm around her, tightening that hold as if holding one of Camelot's last holy maidens akin to a treasure. Any such details didn't draw to light as the reason.

Caelus loves her. Simple as that.

"But that's what I'm here for. If you wanna make a journey, it'd be a new position, but I certainly don't mind being one hell of a knight."

She'd find that unspoken promise sealed by the tender touch of his lips. A soft mesh of affection and another building block to her inner flame being offered. His fingers would splay across her back, while the other settled carefreely along the side of her hip. "Truth be told, after learning we can take detours, it's something I can see in the cards now. Originally, I thought the Star Rail was gonna be some annoyin' thing that just hits a loop already of places already explored."

"--And even if it isn't? Then to hell with it, the Nameless find a way to chart the course their damn selves. So that's what I'll do."

What's one more Lost Kingdom in the span of this odyssey? There just happens to be a special brand of purpose tailored and tied to it.

@avaere

[littlemisswriter]

Saving London - Part 5

Summary:

Now with a gauntlet, it really seemed that the sky had been the limit for Jacob as he could reach new heights with his new gift. The mechanism was not accepted lightly, especially when presented from the woman he had admittedly grown quite attached to over time. Had she too begun to feel for the young man that showed nothing less than promise to her gang? Perhaps there was only one way to find out.

-

The night was clear and there appeared to be more people out on the streets than expected. A carriage had made its way through the streets, a pair of Rooks acting as its escort as Lily and Jacob sat inside. She hadn’t usually been the one perched on the inside, and truthfully told she hadn’t been on a carriage that had not been damaged in some way often. But the ride was pleasant, seeing as she had rather good company.

Her eyes drew from the window over to Jacob who sat across from her, attention on his new gauntlet as he inspected it on his lap. He appeared quite happy to have the new contraption, and that in turn had pleased Lily, even if she hadn’t voiced it so openly. There was no denying that the man had become a soft spot to her, but she didn’t know what to do with that feeling. So, she kept some distance and just admired from afar, it had been safer that way.

“Your gauntlet,” Jacob spoke up, catching Lily’s curiosity as he pointed to hers, “is there anything else other than a blade on it? Besides a hook that throws you atop buildings?” She chuckled as he bore a small cheeky grin, quite liking how relaxed he was becoming around her.

“It doesn’t just throw you atop buildings. It also flings you across them too.” Jacob blinked back as he ran his finger over the tip of the hook. “But that is something for another day.” Her body pulled to sit straight before him, both feet planting directly on the ground as she brought her weapon between them. “I probably shouldn’t show you every contraption I have. But,” she shrugged, “I guess no one’s particularly asked.” Once again, she flicked her hidden blade out between them, the sound of the weapon unsheathing had been nothing less than satisfying. “This is my blade, obviously.”

“Used often, undoubtedly.” Jacob joked, eyes tearing between hers and back to the glistening weapon.

“Undoubtedly.” She agreed sarcastically, the cheekiness in her tone flushing a touch of warmth throughout Jacob’s chest. Then sheathing the blade back into its compartment, she turned her left wrist upwards. “Then there’s the grappling hook beside it, and brass knuckles embedded onto it. The gold was a personal choice.” And gold did in fact compliment the look. “And this is a dart gun.” It had been across the top, the feature positioned well beneath the knuckles. “It releases poison against my enemies.”

“Poison?” The technology on this weapon seemed so advanced. Jacob had almost actually begun to feel sorry for anybody that crossed Lily’s path, unsuspecting of the weapons on her gauntlet. Almost.

“A hallucinogenic dart. Makes Blighters go mad and turn on each other so I don’t have to.” Fascinated, Jacob reached forward without thinking, wanting to touch such a weapon. And Lily could see how drawn he was to it all but had grabbed his wrist gently before he could go further. He looked up, not realizing he had physically insinuated a closer look without asking its holder. But she had not thought twice, just lightly smiling at him. “Careful there, wouldn’t want you to break it and start ripping out those glorious locks of yours.”

Jacob’s brow in turn raised at her compliment, the assassin not realizing the compliment as anything but a joke.

“So you think my locks are glorious?” He took his hand back to lift his hat and ran a hand through it. Luckily he had been easy to jump on the joke, though it was no matter none the less. “I would not fault you for noticing such a thing.” Lily laughed, a genuine laugh as she sat back, hands in her lap while shaking her head.

“A jokester I see. How refreshing.” Their playful banter eased the atmosphere around them. Jacob not knowing where they were going yet content to sit in the confined space with Lily just a little longer. Until a sudden knock on the top of the carriage pulled both of their attention.

“We’re here Miss Harvard.” Lily looked out the window once more to see the Rook’s words ring true. And she grinned before exiting the cart. Jacob was close behind, allowing his sights to set in on where they actually were. And before him stood the grand tower in all its beauty.

“Stay here until we return.” Lily instructed as Jacob looked back at her slowly.

“Big Ben?” She nodded, seeming all too pleased with herself as she came by his side, sharing the view of the Elizabeth Tower itself.

“Indeed. I remember you mentioning it once or twice.” She had actually remembered their short conversations before? Surely a woman running a gang throughout London would have better things to transfix her attention to. And yet here they were. “Well come on, you cannot stand here all night gawking at it. I have better plans.” With a swallow and a nod, he followed her past the gates and through the courtyard.

Wait… then what were they here for? It couldn’t possibly be…

“We’re going to climb that thing?” Jacob breathlessly asked, a shrill running through his spine as Lily looked to him humorously.

“No. But we will fling ourselves up the side of it.” His heart begun to beat out of his chest as Lily laughed, his expression was priceless. “Do not fear, Jacob. I have faith in you. Now come on.” She patted his shoulder as they continued through the arched walkway. “Now, getting to the first rooftop is easy enough, just like we trained. But alongside the tower will be a bit more difficult. Just aim a little higher and give it a tug. It’s a longer way up but if done properly, it’s just like any other building.”

Coming to their first stop, Lily stood across the wall and focused her attention onto Jacob completely. She had done this so many times that it seemed easy enough like jumping a top a train or into the river Thames. But Jacob looked as if some colour had drained from his face, a little terrified to be honest. And she realized that what was easy for her hadn’t necessarily been easier for others. She had adapted to being on her own for so long and eliminated the thought of being limited that she had almost forgot.

“Jacob,” she muttered, turning to put her hand to his shoulder, seeming to pull him out of whatever trance he was stuck in, “I believe you have the strength to do this. Not just out here,” she gestured to his physic, “but also in there.” She motioned to his head. His mind. “I’ve never brought anyone else here, and I didn’t really expect too either. You have what it takes, I know you do. But you also have to believe that.” He swallowed back hard as she looked between his hazel eyes, trying her best to calm any internal doubts he had. “It’s your choice.”

There had been a real possibility that Jacob would turn down the chance to rope launch up Big Ben, and thinking about it, Lily knew any sane person would. But deep down she had hoped that the hidden fire buried within the man would prove her wrong. She knew once he had overcome this obstacle, that there was a real possibility that he could advance into the Creed. But she had to be certain. She’d never taken a chance on anybody like this before, and hopefully her mind would agree with her heart when it was proved right.

Lily stepped back, aiming her grapple upwards. “You need to decide who you are.” He hadn’t known that she believed in him so deeply. What she was offering was overwhelming, sure. But it was also a chance. A chance to prove that there was more to life than what he knew. And for the first time, he could openly chase it without confines.

The assassin launched the rope with ease, pulling herself up to the roof and exhaling a breathe she was holding back. There she stood waiting. Hoping that Jacob would meet her up there. Her arms crossed her chest as she stood a moment, before hearing the clip of the grapple before watching Jacob pull himself up beside her. And she couldn’t help but smile.

She knew it.

Jacob’s heart beat out of his chest as he gazed up the rest of the way before looking back at Lily. She seemed genuinely happy to see him there, and it’s as if most of his nerves faded away. Who knew a person could have an affect on him as they did. It made his mind churn about everything including Lily. Why she had caught his eye and proceeded to infatuate his mind as she did. There was only one simple answer to it all, but could it be true? Was he able to feel for a person as deeply as he did so quickly? But seeing her smiled directed at him had confirmed all he had questioned, and a rush of adrenaline coursed through him in eagerness. This was who he was, and Lily helped him realize that.

“I’m glad to see you here.” Her body turned, eyes not tearing from his just yet. “Come.” They stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder as they looked to the top of the tower. The winds were easier to feel on higher ground, but they were about to get crazier. “Just watch and follow.” She crouched, eyes intent on her target as she took a moment, face focused as she withdrew a deep breathe before launching. The rope wavered through the air for a moment, the assassin offering Jacob a quick wink before suddenly pulling herself up. He watched in awe as she scaled up the building, losing sight of her eventually through the darkness.

Then a beat of silence, Jacob silently hoping she had made it up safe though there was no doubt she had. A moment where everything became silent, his heartbeat bumping through his ears. Until he heard her. “Come up, Jacob!” She called rather loudly, seeing as there had been quite the distance between them. His adrenaline rushed through again with a smile, copying as she did and doing his best to navigate through the dark.

“Come on, Jacob, you bloody crazy idiot. This is all you.” And with a similar exhale, he launched, holding steady to his gauntlet as the hook sored through the dark. A clamp followed by resistance told him he had landed it securely, swallowed the hardest breathe he’s ever taken before tugging at the mechanism.

He was thrown off his feet, both legs apart as he was taught while his feet slipped upside the building to steady himself. The wind rushed past his ears, deafening him to anything else as he ascended to new heights. His heart beat out of his chest as he came closer to the top, still unable to grasp what he was doing. But eventually he saw a dark figure peeking over the edge, and boy did he fling himself tightly to the side once he made it to the top.

“Holy shit!” He yelled, scrambling his feet as Lily helped yank him onto solid ground once more. He panted on his hands and knees, blinking back at the realization of what he had just done. Lily knelt beside the man, pride in her chest as she put a hand to his shoulder once more. “Holy shit…” He slowly lifted his head beside him, Lily smiling as she had done before. “Holy shit, Lily. Holy shit!” He began laughing as he pushed himself to his feet, running his hands through his hair before realizing his hat must have flown off at some point. But he wasn’t too worried in this moment. “I cannot believe I just-incredible!” He took both her hands in his as he laughed victoriously, running to the side to look back at where he had just been flung from.

But his sights slowly averted to over the city for the first time. He was gobsmacked by the view, the view he had been dreaming about witnessing first hand for a while. His breathe caught in his throat as he stood for a moment soaking it all in. And Lily slowly came by his side, grinning knowingly as she leant against the rest as she soaked in all that was London also.

It was a view she had seen before but having Jacob beside her had somehow made it all the better. She could finally share it with somebody. The pair stood in silence as they just looked across everything they knew. Lily giving it a short while before peeking at Jacob once more, the grin on the mans face was one she was coming to admire. Perhaps if he had followed her this far, then maybe it was time she had opened up a little bit. The man had surely earnt it.

“The first time I came here,” she began looking back over everything, “I was helping a friend of mine. He has this passion for freedom of speech, and ideas that will advance us into a new age.” Jacob turned, leaning on his forearm as he looked between the woman and the view. “It’s actually the same friend that helped me with this.” She lifted her gauntlet up to inspect it, smiling to herself as she did so. “He’s one of the smartest men I know, actually. And he deserves more credit than he’s given.” There was a glint in her eye, a recollection of the respect she held for her ally. “Coming up here had given me this sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in a long time. Something about being at this altitude is exhilarating.”

Jacob listened intently, seeming to be captured by every word she spoke. It was genuine and heartfelt. Truly it had been the first time that he had seen Lily so relaxed and honest since he met her. But as she processed her thoughts in her head, her smile slowly began to fade as she let her arm lie limp against the side once more, sighing in somewhat defeat as she lowered her guard. Jacob frowned.

“But the truth is, is that I always do things myself. Of course, I have allies that help me every step of the way. But when it comes to matters that actually need some form of action in changing the course of history, I do it all alone. And sometimes,” she took a moment, shrugging as she fumbled with her fingers, “sometimes I wish I had somebody alongside me. I know it sounds bleak with the life I live, but there are moments I wish I could share.” This raw emotion was new to Jacob. One he hadn’t imagined seeing Lily show, and even deep down, one he had been scared to show himself. He could make sense of her words though; running a gang alone and fighting oppression could become much. And it appeared that sometimes, someone could need somebody. A simple thing of companionship could go a long way.

“Perhaps,” he spoke up in a whisper, “you don’t need to be alone anymore.” His words making sense of the situation before his mind could. Lily tilted her head slightly, motioning that she was listening even if her gaze was elsewhere. “That maybe, there is somebody out there that wants to be by your side.” Her interest was peeked, slowly looking at him as she stood straight once more, turning her body to face his with her own. He held down his nerves, his sentences unravelling the truth of what he kept inside. He had come this far, so he supposed that there was no going back now.

Jacob was fond of Lily, that there was no denying. And with each day it seemed that his feelings had only grown with it, for his boss. She was an incredible woman, that was obvious. And he would be so lucky to be by her side if she gave him the opportunity.

Eyes now locked onto one another as he threw himself all in. It was all or nothing now. So he bit back his nerves and took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Lily hadn’t moved, seemingly glued to the spot as she watched the situation turn into something more intimate. Her thoughts ran just as wild as his did. The rampant images twirling through her head as she silently kept watch on Jacob eliminating the space between them.

It would be an adamant lie if she hadn’t admitted to herself that she thought about Jacob more than she cared to admit. There was no denying a connection between them, and how her spirits seemed to lift more often than not whenever he was around. Surely she knew that eventually this would happen one way or another, yet she couldn’t help but freeze all the same.

Their eyes looked between one another as Jacob’s would graze down to her lips every so often. It had been obvious his intent, and the thought had quickened both heart beats tremendously. She couldn’t initiate though she couldn’t pull away either, her emotions very prominent as they ran through her mind and right down to her body; her fingertips etching as her legs felt they would shake or give out if given the chance. Was it actually possible for the assassin to have caught feelings for the Rook?

“You’re very beautiful,” Jacob muttered, allowing himself to speak and feel what he had been hiding for a long time. His arm slipping out onto the ledge beside her, palm flat instead of balled as he noticed no sign of her retraction, it was a better reaction than what he was expecting though it seemed he wasn’t in the clear yet. “And I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I cannot deny it any longer. You…” He swallowed back. “You have ignited this fire inside of me that itches for more. Given me a purpose that doesn’t make me feel helpless. It’s wonderful… you’re wonderful.” She was the type of woman you didn’t meet twice, so he would make it known now before he missed his chance completely to tell her.

It was all sudden, like a lump in her throat that rendered her speechless for the first time in a long time. He was so close and very open to the thing she hadn’t allowed herself to indulge in. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

“I have grown feelings for you, Lily.” He finally mustered out. “And I wanted you to know,” his mind then took a turn as nerves flourished throughout his being, “but if you don’t reciprocate these feelings for me, than you can push me away and I will never try another advance again. I-I hope you won’t but I will not force myself onto you.” He was almost spluttering, now balling his open palm as he mentally smacked himself to return his focus onto what mattered.

So he swallowed back hard and pulled his face close enough where their breathes were felt against one another. Seeing Jacob this close had Lily truly look upon every inch of him properly. Jacob was attractive, there was no denying that, and every dint and crevice to him had him all the more appealing. Then, a brush of his fingers came to her arm, shooting a valve of electricity through her. She could feel a slight shake to his touch, his nerves driving him out of his own mind, but he was too captured in the essence that was Lily to pull away. His was mere inches, eyes slowly closing as he went to close the gap between them.

It had Lily think hard. It wouldn’t be terrible to let him press his lips to hers, but that would signify their union officially. Everything would change, and she didn’t know if she could do that with many words being unsaid between them first. Jacob hadn’t known her truly, of who she actually was and how deep her line of work actually was. There was nothing but pure temptation to kiss him as much as he wanted in that moment. But if she were to without being openly honest with him or even herself first, then it would be like it all meant nothing; like he meant nothing. And obviously he had not meant nothing to her.

She could not do that to him.

Jacob could practically feel his lips on hers, to enraptured in the moment that he might finally be able to do the one thing that he had admittedly been thinking of the moment his mind went elsewhere. But, much like a hidden blade to the chest, his heart sunk when he felt her hand to his chest. It halted his movements, his eyes blinking back at the sudden action to look between her own. They were so close, which made it harder for Lily to watch the hurt spread across his face. His eyes told all and it churned a pull in her chest knowing that she had been the one to make him react in such a way.

Embarrassment flooded through him as he leant his head back, clearing his throat awkwardly at how he had so clearly put himself out there to be rejected. It was a stab to the heart that had him freeze to the spot, much rather than throwing himself off the tower to the ground out of pure humiliation. But he could see it though, how he was not the only one that had been affected by the rejection. Lily too wore a regretful expression, not wanting to stop him as she had, and creating an awkward tension by her decision.

These emotions were all too much, especially running down her spine with a cold chill when Jacob had hesitantly step away, creating distance between them. She couldn’t deal with it all and turned her gaze back over to the city. The wind was suddenly louder and the breeze even colder now, there was no denying it. A silence sat between the two as she did her best to muster any coherent sentence in her brain to soften the blow. Like mental preparation for a gang war, she forced her expression to become flat and monotone, hoping her voice would match it.

“You deserve better.” She muttered, refusing to look at Jacob as he kept his stare on her. It was like he couldn’t look away, something of a statue as the hurt hadn’t even brisked the tip of how he felt in this moment. His mind began to justify her actions as best it could, relaying that he had been the one to initiate the awkwardness on his own free will. Still… it hadn’t seem to lessen the blow any better. “Jacob,” her breathe caught on his name, clearing her throat and mentally slapping herself for the slip up as she focused on delivering her words as plainly as she could, “there are things about me you have yet to know.”

Her delivery almost cold, and if it wasn’t for the crack in her voice, he would have believed it as such. Though that was all she could offer, nothing else coming to her that could deem worthy of an explanation. So he took a moment, swallowing back what felt like a lump in his throat as he finally tore his own eyes away and down to his feet. Lily noticed his solemn nod, brows drawing together in regret as she watched him lower his head as he stepped away further.

She couldn’t bear it, and without thinking had her hand reached out to grab his shirt. The movement itself had shocked her as much as it did him, the two looking at the limb before dragging their eyes over to each other once more. Lily fought the urge to pull him close once more and apologise profusely for what she had done. That in that moment she would say screw it all and latch her mouth onto his. But she couldn’t. And she knew that.

Her arm slowly pulled away, fingers etching from his shirt and back down to her side as she stepped away. With a louder clearing of her throat and a forced deadpan expression that she continued to wear, she decided to cut the loss short and side stepped around Jacob. His fists balling as his head lowered slightly again, eyes shutting as he silently sighed beneath his breathe.

With a stride in her step, she made way underneath the cover of the building and towards the bell centred in the middle. A trap door was latched down before it, Lily having seen it before but never having used it. But with a clip of the locks, she pulled the door open and stood back upright, briefly glancing over her shoulder to look at Jacob but halting herself as she did. No, it would only make it worse.

“Use that as a way down.” Jacob watched her walked back to the ledge, easily stepping up onto the rails and her eyes never meeting his as she did so. It was almost as if he had upset her, and it didn’t sit well at all. “It’ll be a safer descent to the ground.” Like a kick to his ego, finally finding the bravery to scale the building with his grapple hook only to be shown the way to walk down again. It was definitely a step backwards, especially in front of Lily. And the ache remained as he watched her jump off and out of sight into the night.

Jacob ran both hands through his hair and tugged his locks softly in frustration, leaning back as he groaned. What had he done?

[statusquoergo]

“Come on.”

“Uh?”

Diane looks up as Naomi stands and holds out her hand as if this isn't a ridiculously careless thing she's asking her to do, as if neither of them has the good sense to mention that neither one of them has any idea what they're getting themselves into. As if neither of them might be walking straight into a trap of their own making, or nothing much will change at all and they'll forget about each other in a month, or a few days. As if it's a risk worth taking to find out which.

As if there's anything else to do today.

“I'm not going to the hospital.”

“I know.” Naomi reaches a little closer. “I have a first aid kit at home.”

Enough to get them through, that's all. Enough for now.

“You know how to wrap it?” Diane asks as she takes Naomi's hand to pull herself up, as though the answer might change her mind somehow. Naomi smiles a little, as though she knows it just as well that it won't.

“Yeah.” She sets Diane's hand down on her shoulder. “It's not far, come on. I'll carry you down the stairs.”

“You'll drop me.”

“I will not.” Naomi urges her forward, along the concrete path out of the park. “I mean I'm just offering, I don't have to.”

It's a nice gesture, though, isn't it? It was a nice thought.

They walk slowly down the street, stepping more or less in sync past the general store with the baking supplies just past the doorway, turning at the corner to walk toward the coin laundry that's open even at three in the morning and also on holidays. A hand-drawn poster in the window of the discount shoe store across the street loudly advertises VACUUMS REFURBISHED while a Times New Roman printout on the telephone cubicle in the middle of the block offers “suitable compensation” in exchange for willing test subjects, No Questions Please; a few steps farther along stands an apartment building that somehow looks like it's missing a couple of stories, and Diane shifts her weight to her good leg as Naomi steps away to fumble with the lock on the front door.

“It's the door on the left,” Naomi says, the door sticking only slightly as she shoves it open. “When you get to the basement.”

She opens the first door on the right, a stairwell that only leads down.

“Upstairs is that door over there, but I don't know any of the neighbors, so. I'm not gonna introduce you to anyone.”

That's fine. Diane doesn't want to know any of them, either.

Naomi walks down the stairs first and doesn't try to carry her.

“Bathroom's at the end of the hall,” she says. “The taps aren't broken, the water's just cold when it's cold outside and warm when it isn't, but if you let it run for a little while, it'll...fix itself. And make sure you don't touch the water heater, it's metal and it gets really hot sometimes.”

Diane clutches the wooden banister nailed to the wall as she limps her way down and wonders how much of all this she's supposed to remember. All of it, probably. It isn't very complicated.

Naomi unlocks the door on the left and holds it open.

“You can sit on the bed.”

It's good of her to offer. It isn't much of a bed, really, more of a mattress pushed into the corner, but that isn't exactly a surprise, and it's good of her to offer all the same.

“Thanks,” Diane says, a little too late to seem quite natural. Naomi hums a disinterested acknowledgment and doesn't seem to mind.

“Take off your shoes.”

Diane promptly unties her sneakers, placing them on the floor beside the bed as Naomi kneels in front of her with a roll of ACE bandage in her hand and her eyes focused on Diane's ankle like she's the only attending physician in the entire complex who doesn't have better things to do with her time than tend to something as trivial as all this. Diane should count herself lucky the timing worked out the way that it did.

Lucky, was it? It's about time.

The single bulb in the overhead light flickers a little as if a public execution has just disrupted the power grid, or someone's turned on too many air conditioners at once and blown a fuse a few floors up.

“Don't worry about it,” Naomi says. Diane doesn't bother to assure her that she wasn't.

[solardick]

Happy BS day. Its valentines. I’m not allowed knowing love. Because god’s an asshole. And enjoys fucken with me. And it’s always ever going to be just me. And know that in dying. I dont care anymore. That stupid girl they always talking about is going to be there. Today, yay! My lung hurts. Smoke another ciggarette.

Wonder whys the dovstor arw going to say when i ask to be euthanized. Just send me a guy already so i can spend the rest of my short life being fucked. Like i have been since my first memory. And Since im never going to add anything to life. And for the first tome this year theres the semblance of winter. Its only ten degrees warmer than it should be today and not 20.

Oh and the girl is gone. Wonder who’s gonna replace her.

Yay for being punished all fucken day. Get the fuck out of my way.

And fuck tarot im done. All y’all fo id give me the oppositre of what i create and my intent. Fuck this rapist culture. Soend tbe rest of my short life gaming and hetting drunk. An dmy dragon image in now trash.

Not allowed being healthy others control my life. Wonder what having independance from malicious influences. Something id like to experiemce before i die. Ive never been. Maybe one day. Ill go. Lol.

I nailed it in that dragon image though. My perfect reflection. And the tower crumbles. Everytime.

Mmmnn i can feel it. Serpent. Its stirring. And after fetting hit in the face with a box. Fuck this. Im done. Fuck all of you. Go sit in the corner and wait.

Souffy, fuck off pls.

And… uh, maybe she realized she was in love with me. And could no longer stay. It was a nice two step dance we did though. Was fun. Bye luv. Maybe one day.

It’s always sexual. I have a very lovable image. I just be me. I always get fucked over. But circumstances won’t allow. Im locked down. Man. And they won’t leave me be. I left my family what eight years ago now. Haven’t had any peace pressence has always been there. … born in hell. I dint know what else to say.

Well you know what they say. Gotta poor your sexuality into something else. Like making love to god. Or jesus. Or blogging indiscriminately, unfiltered. It has to be raw. Or. Not at all. When uou have nothign good to say you sys nothing at all. Maybe in. Fairy tail ‘bout being saved by thee glorious father.

Maybe her boifriend, will show up and beat me up. Because she flirted to spite. Spite. Yeah, yeah. That word, works well. Think im being framed up again? Probably.

Hahah. Ugh. I mean. Im pretty celibate. So its usually from the opposing parties. Thats how it started. Even down near 6-8 yr’old. If its coming from women, its either a good desire that would play out right if present corcumstnaves werent treating me lije a marionnette or there wasn’t amole amounts of violent carnage preventing any act forward. Or its a dirty desire. And im turned off. And do the morally good thing. Ethically may be skitchy. The couple times it did. Treatment and marionnette and all that. Not in a healthy state of being. And thats beside the while line up of scripted ones. There to be serpents. Other people serpents. The white ones with the crow.

Where do you want me to step? Here?

Uh, ok. The added script. Strength from mother to the “king” the child as self. Mother to child. Leo. And death. A parental bond with mother. One showing trust and support. Missing piece to the script. My own, fuck her. Man. I cant do it. There’s nothing there. And for as long as im nothing but tred, i couldn’t afford to care even if i wanted to.

Now to see of i camt find something to watch that isnt predomiantly gay, or gradually drawn into being. Risky stuff. I live dangerously.

Like tomorrow war, where the threat is actually the russians. With there symbolic connection to man and the machine vs. Women and temptation. Gotta fight the good fight. It had monsters and russians in it. I should have known better. In godzilla it was what the Chinese? God sake. Gotta keep my uranus in sag occupied. Uh?

I soent what 20 years in a hole. Not being a part of the system. And then as soon as i do. “Covid”happens. Yeah, ok? Where the real world? I dont think ive met it yet.

Anyway. Crazy bs aside. Im grateful she left. Better pay, closer to home. Can’t go wrong. Even though she hurt me in two ways. Knowing that she wasn’t there to get in my way today. Was awesome. And the good feeling remains. The Dove and the Dragon. The dove, a portent to positive experience. This land is populates by too many crows though. The most dominate species here. Only in the spring and summer are they mostly chased away. Creating a loop of conditional experience. That of using the the functioning increases of solar energy to overcoming the negative association to growth. Its not at all different that the tv. Of fighting monsters and such. Except that there’s not an overlaying fabricated script over nature. And this function is towards the means of reproduction and establishing a suitable nesting home.

In high populated city zones, the natural is all but lacking. Amd the mass lives within a bubble of conditioning. Which cost millions of lives to make possible. While claiming peace on earth. Though millions of lives doesn’t seem so consequential considering the what now, eight billion?

Twisted metal does seem promising. Thanks justin.

No, it’s just sneaky. It hook punches you.

Well guess im goving up media. And going back to the wind.

Well y’all could give some hearts if your going to stock me anonymously. But no. Only the bad stuff.

[treasureboxmylove]

Your Eyes Are Here

Wearing: Very out of character (I couldn't get their personalities right for this idea for the life of me😭)

The theatre was quiet, unnervingly so. Not the silence of peace, but the kind that comes after something loud, something wrong. Dust drifted in soft rays of light from the high windows. One stage light still burned, casting a pool of golden haze over the center, but the rest of the world was still, holding its breath.

Puppet stepped through the backstage curtain, her steps careful, slow. The air felt… off.

“Eclipse?” she called gently.

No answer.

Then she saw him.

Slumped against the far wall, knees drawn slightly up, head resting against the concrete, one hand curled against his side. His face was slack—too still. Not like someone asleep. Not like someone present at all. His rays were retracting over and over again.

“Hey,” she whispered, crossing the distance quickly but quietly, crouching in front of him. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

His eyes were open. Glowing faintly. But distant—unfocused. Like he wasn’t in them.

She sat fully, knees folding beneath her, and reached out to cup his cheek. “Come on. You’re not gone, I know you’re not.”

Still nothing.

A low, humming vibration pulsed through his chestplate—like static buzzing under the skin. She recognized it now. Eclipse’s overload state. Not often triggered, but when it hit, it was like his entire processor locked up, frozen mid-vision or mid-analysis. Sometimes, it was too many futures. Too many people talking. Too much failure. Sometimes... it was guilt.

She eased her hand down to his, resting hers over the curled fingers. “You're here. You’re safe.” Her voice stayed low, steady. “Breathe, if you can. I know your vents are probably locked down... that’s okay.”

Her thumb rubbed slowly along the back of his hand. It was a strange contrast—her own ceramic-like joints against the cold metal of his knuckles. Still, she held on. Kept whispering.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me,” she murmured. “You don’t have to solve everything before it happens.”

The hum deepened—then stuttered.

A flicker in his lenses. A blink.

Puppet’s hand moved up again, brushing his rays gently. “There you are,” she said softly.

He didn’t speak. But his breathing started again—mechanical, shallow, slow. Puppet leaned forward just enough to rest her forehead against his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. “Your visions, your thoughts... they can’t hurt you here. Not while I’m with you.”

Another few minutes passed in silence. Then—

“I couldn’t stop it,” Eclipse said. Barely audible.

She blinked. “Stop what?”

“The variant. The thread. It ended the same way. No matter how I looked at it. I ran it twenty-seven times.” His voice was trembling, deep and full of static. “I thought I found one where she made it. But it looped. It always looped back.”

Puppet’s heart twisted. She knew who he was mentioning— that kid—but it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was Eclipse, paralyzed by helplessness.

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” she said, sliding closer, until his head rested on her shoulder. “That’s not weakness, Eclipse. That’s being alive.”

His voice caught. “But I see it. I see it and I still can’t stop it. What good is vision if it only makes you watch?”

“It makes you care,” she said. “That’s what makes it worth something.”

Slowly, gently, his arms moved—like thawing machinery—and wrapped around her. He buried his face in her shoulder, clutching her like a lifeline. She felt his breath hitch once, twice.

“I couldn’t protect her,” he whispered again.

“I know,” Puppet whispered back. “But you’re not broken for caring.”

For a long time, they stayed like that. In the half-light, in the dusty quiet of the theatre, where no one else could see Eclipse vulnerable—only her.

Eventually, his body stopped shaking. The static faded. His voice evened out. He didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he said at last.

Puppet’s fingers rubbed his rays soothingly.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Your eyes might see the future, Eclipse. But your heart lives here.”

A few days had passed.

Eclipse hadn’t mentioned the overload again—not directly. He had resumed his routines, his movement precise, his speech efficient. To most, he was his usual self. But Puppet had known him too long, seen too much. He didn’t hum to himself when he walked. He hadn’t made tea for them both in the morning. And he hadn’t met her gaze since that night in the theatre.

She didn’t push. She never did. But she noticed.

Then, one evening, after the others had gone into rest mode and the sky outside the dome flickered between simulation cycles, Eclipse emerged from his corner of the lab, holding something clutched carefully in both hands.

Puppet looked up from the book she was pretending to read.

“I… made you something,” he said.

Her brows lifted slightly. “You did?”

He stepped closer, awkward as ever when uncertain. “Yes. I know you don’t like things made for you unless they’re useful, or… heartfelt. I attempted both.”

He knelt beside her and unfolded his hands.

In them was a strange little object—about the size of her palm. A miniature glass music box, carefully constructed from repurposed plexiglass and wire. Inside was a paper moon suspended over a mirrored lake, and two tiny, jointed figures: one draped in dark thread, the other in strands of copper. One was sitting, the other kneeling beside it, hand outstretched.

She stared.

“It doesn’t play anything,” he said quickly. “I’m still working on the mechanism. But the figures are… us. That night. I tried to make it small, so you could put it somewhere—on your shelf, or hide it in a drawer, if you didn’t like it.”

Her hand drifted toward the box slowly. As if it were fragile. Sacred.

“I love it,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He blinked. “You do?”

She nodded, still staring. “You remembered every detail.”

“You stayed,” he said softly, “when I wasn’t sure I could find myself again.”

Puppet finally looked up at him, eyes shining with something too warm to name. “Of course I did. You're not just someone I care about, Eclipse. You're my someone.”

A silence passed between them. Full, not empty.

Then Eclipse sat beside her, a little too stiffly, and offered his arm—wordlessly inviting her to lean in.

She did.

They sat that way as the simulated stars blinked into place above them, and somewhere deep inside Eclipse’s chest, his backup vocalizer hummed faintly—just enough to let Puppet know the song had returned.

He hadn't forgotten.

And neither had she.

[pocketfullofnerdybby]

IV. Guided By The Stars

MATURE CONTENT! ONLY 18+

Bucky's POV:

It had been a few days since her comment about her weight set me off. Honestly, did she think that little of herself, that she didn't think she was worthy of being loved by someone because of how she looked?

Thinking about it, the look in her eyes, the way her features seemed to steel over, it made me think that she actually believed what she was saying. My god it drove me nuts thinking that she believed that. Although I'd never admit this out loud, I'd let her walk all over me because she was worth it. When she smiles, everything around me stops, and the only thing that I can coherently think of is how her lips would feel against mine. How they would mold to mine, and how she probably tasted so sweet. Like the nectar that attracts the bees to a flower.

She was my flower, and I was the bee that would always keep coming back for that sweet nectar. That's why it enraged me to walk into the cabin and see my father's filthy hand on her supple skin. It made my stomach lurch at the thought of anyone leaving a mark on her. Which was why I threatened to have any of my men drawn and quartered if they so much as left a mark on her when they brought her here on the ship during the plunder

I can still recall the fury that had spiraled in the pit of my stomach, swirling around like the thick smoke rising from the bowels of hell. The way he sneered at her, and how afraid she looked. Father or not, I was ready to kill him for touching her. I really didn't care if the crew called for mutiny at that point. No one was going to touch her but me.

The last three days had gone rather well if I was being honest. She had come up on deck a few times during the course of our travels. She started asking questions, some about the places we've been, and how one becomes a pirate. To be honest, she was drawing out more feelings and memories I had kept locked away for the longest time. Afraid that if I even so much as tried to think about them, I'd never be able to lock them back away.

With her, everything just felt at ease and natural. It made me almost feel bad for having to take the route I did to get her here. Almost.

As I stood on the upper deck, tossing directives to the crew in order for us to dock at the next town, I see a figure move out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to watch as she slowly came up from the cabins, and gradually found her way to the side railing, standing there as the salty breeze played with the tendrils of her hair, letting them dance in the rays of sun.

I shake my head, trying to push down the newfound feelings that were creeping up along my spine. Just as the thought of going to join her makes its way into my mind, Steve stands beside me, his head turned up to the sun, enjoying the warmth on his face.

"You know, if you stare any harder at her, you might burn a hole through her skirts or something." Steve says nonchalantly, not moving his head. I take a moment and clear my throat, it having gone dry again at the sight of her.

"I was just thinking that she looks overly warm at the moment. Her face seems a little red, does it not?" I ask, praying that he doesn't comment any further at the apparent starting problem I've developed since meeting her.

"Maybe?" he says, now turning to look in her direction.

"Now that you bring it up, she does look a little flushed." Steve agrees.

"I think there is a lighter skirt somewhere. I'm certain it will make her feel a lot more comfortable to be in something else bulky. I'll take a look." I say, turning to start towards the cabins, turning to Steve, "Keep an eye out for her, for me please?" I ask, already knowing that he would.

"Sure!" he says, leaning forward on the rail looking down on the main deck. I turn and go towards my cabin, and open up a trunk, looking through it to find what I was hoping was still there, and that none of the whores my father had taken, got to it. After digging further down, I finally find it. With the skirt draped over my arm, I head back to the deck, giving Steve a nod to let him know I was back, continuing my way over to her.

She seemed lost in thought, as she didn't turn when I stood beside her. I cleared my throat, hence making her jump with a startled noise, that I found to be the sweetest sound I could have possibly heard. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You were deep in thought, and figured if I put a hand on your shoulder, you would have jumped worse." I told her, offering an apologetic half smile.

As her eyes traveled up to mine, my throat felt suddenly parched, and I made an attempt to lick my lips. She tilted her head to the side as her eyes pierced into mine, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in them that I couldn't quite place. After what felt like an eternity, I remembered about the skirt I had over my arm, and motioned towards her with it.

"I um.. I figured you might like to wear something that wasn't so hot. So umm.. here is a lighter skirt." I finish, handing it out to her.

She looked down at the skirt, and her hand reached out to touch the material. Her fingers traced over the folds of the fabric, skimming across it. She made some soft sound at the feel of it, and that sound reverberated deep throughout my body. I wanted to hear more of the sounds that she could make, especially if my fingers did the same to her skin as she was doing to the material. In fact, it wasn't just my fingers that wanted to draw out those delicious sounds, but my whole existence. The sudden flashes of having her underneath me, as my hands and lips trail over her body, was making it hard for me to stand still, suddenly remembering that I was standing in front of her.

"Thank you!" she whispered, her voice soft and suddenly shy. It made me want her all the more. Before my body could betray me, I start to turn and walk away.

"You're welcome!" I said over my shoulder, stalking back to where Steve stood, pretending not to have watched that.

"Don't try to be coy, Steve. I know you saw that whole interaction. I'm going to head into town when we dock. Please keep an eye on her, and don't let her wander!" I told him, before heading to my cabin with the hopes of trying to calm down.

~~~~A few hours later~~~~~

When we finally docked, I didn't really want to stick around on the ship, so I did what I needed to, and immediately took off into town. I walked for a bit before coming up to this tavern. I paused for a moment, thinking that a drink or two probably wouldn't hurt, and maybe, just maybe, it would help me get her out of my thoughts for a bit. She had such a hold on me already, it was unnerving.

I walked into the tavern and scanned over the establishment, looking for a seat. I finally set eyes on an empty table, and make my way towards it. As I sit down, this busty blonde barmaid comes up to the table, not really looking at me at first, and asks me for my order. "Just a tankard of ale please." I say, and it was then that she looked up at me.

I could see it in her eyes, and the way her body language changed. She parted her lips to say something, but nodded instead and turned to get my order. She came back not only with the tankard that I asked for, but some bread and meats as well. "Compliments of the cook!" she says, setting the tankard down along with the plate of food.

I know damn well that the cook didn't send out the plate, but I didn't want to be rude. Once she set them down, she turned to walk back to the counter to fill the other waiting orders, but not before she turned to give me a look that could only be described as bedroom eyes. I really wasn't interested in another conquest, at least not the barmaid. My body responds involuntarily to the thought of her, as I take a drink of my ale. I put the tankard down, giving my head a light shake.

I had a woman here in front of me that pretty much was begging me to have my way with her, but my thoughts kept going back to the ship, so much so wondering what she was doing. After a few drinks later, the tavern started to get lively, as music started to play, yet I remained in my spot. I'll give the barmaid credit. She became increasingly bolder with every drink I had.

At one point, she had placed what was going to be my final drink on the table and decided it was the right time to full on make her advancement. Taking her chance, she trails her hand up and down my arm, lingering over my bicep a moment. I turn to look at her hand on my arm, and follow her movements as they snake down my chest, to the hem of my pants, dancing over my abdomen, making my mouth go dry.

As I look up her arm, to see her face, I try to wet my lips by running my tongue over them, which doesn't work so I take a drink from the tankard instead.

"If you are free tonight, Captain, I'm done in an hour. You can show me how you would plunder me?" She asks, in a very overly sweet tone that suddenly made me feel nauseous, as her hand didn't leave my abdomen. Before I could say anything, something pulls my gaze over to the middle of the room. My eyes landed on her, and I could tell by the way her body was tense, she had seen everything.

Even before I could react, I saw her cheeks flush, as she turned to practically run out of the tavern. Grabbing hold of the barmaid's arms, I forcefully moved her out of my way, trying to make my way to her, scanning over the faces of the crowd. I see her weaving her way through the crowd, frantic to leave. I moved a bit faster, reaching her before she could put her hand on the door knob, pulling her back towards me. I turn her around and force her to look up at me, staring deep into her eyes.

As she started to pull her body away from me, I grip her arms to try and hold her still, saying her name over and over, panic lacing through me the entire time.

After repeatedly trying to get her to listen to me, one of her arms broke the hold I had on her and I heard it before I felt it. I was dumbfounded. The sudden rush of heat where her hand had made contact spread like wildfire over my cheek. In disbelief I dropped my hold on her arm, my hand going straight to my cheek that now stung. I watched as she stumbled backwards a few steps, and turned to leave out the door. My eyes widened as she crashed directly into my father who stood directly behind her.

I watched as he looked down at her, pushing her away from him, but again holding her by her arm. He turned to look at me, the features on his face darkened and dripped disgust and contempt off of them. Shoving her towards me, so that she trips into my arms, his next words were fueled by drink and hate, slurred yet commanding. "Get her to the ship now. We're leaving!" as he turned to stumble out of the tavern.

Shame washing over me, I bow my head, and take her hand in mine, trying to interlock our fingers together, but she snatches her hand away with a grunt of anger, which causes me to grab her arm in the same fashion my father had just done, and starts to lead her back to the ship. With my head poised, I continue walking the trek back to the ship, feeling some resistance along the way as she falters, struggling to keep up with me.

At this point, being livid from both the slap and the embarrassment, I stop, turn around and throw her over my shoulder, trying to ignore the gasp that escapes her that sends jolts down to my groin, causing me to hold on to her tighter. As I continued along to the ship, I felt her beating against my back, not helping my temper. I let this continue on for a few more moments, finally having had enough.

She wants my attention? She's got it now. Without missing a step, my hand makes perfect contact with the contour of her ass, letting out a loud crack as it lands. The sting in my hand distracts me from what I just did, and dampens the lust that was running in my veins. "Let's just call that payback for the slap you gave me, pet. Next time I won't be so gentle with it!" I warn her, my voice dripping with a reined in darkness, even I didn't know I had.

I made the rest of the walk back to the ship, and strode across the deck, not looking at any of the crew and their questioning eyes, and strode directly to the cabins. I kicked open the door, marching right to the bed, throwing her down on it. I stifled a groan watching her body bounce as it made contact with the mattress. "Don't move, and don't TOUCH anything!" I growled at her before spinning around, leaving the room. As I slammed the cabin door and locked it, I turned and slumped down the length of it. I could hear her muffled sobs, which I could only presume was she was crying into the pillows.

I truthfully hated making her cry. It tore at me because all I wanted to do was wipe those tears away. To kiss every drop from her eyes until I could make her smile. But it was killing me that I was the reason she was crying... again. I missed her laugh. The way it made my breath hitch. The way her eyes lit up, and her cheeks flushed pink. I let out a sigh. I don't even recall how long I've been sitting there for but I can no longer hear her sobs, so I think she fell asleep. With that I get up and go to direct the crew on getting ready to set sail.

~~Later that night~~

I worked myself helping the crew prepare to set sail until I was beyond tired. Even when we were a sail, I continued to find what I could in order to work off the built up anger and sexual frustration I was feeling. As I continued to work, the heat beat down on my back, until I removed my shirt, letting the sun kiss my well worn skin. I tried not to think back to the way her ass felt when I smacked it, but it's like my mind had a mind of its own and wanted to torture me, recalling how it felt under my palm.

Even my cheek recalled how her hand felt on my skin, not helping the frustration any at all. I continued spooling the ropes for the sails until I could feel the muscles in my shoulders and arms burn. The setting sun drew my attention at the vibrant colors that cascaded throughout the sky. Taking a deep breath, I tossed aside the spooled up ropes and took a seat on the deck, letting the breeze from the sea cool the sweat on my skin.

I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the side of the boat, and the seagulls call out during their flight. The crew were scattered leaving the deck almost in quiet serenity. 

Suddenly I'm standing on the deck, facing out to the sea, wishing to be anywhere but in the hell that has been my life since ma passed. I felt her before I could see her. Her presence always had my skin prickling in anticipation whenever she was close by.

I didn't turn around just yet, staring at the sea a while longer. The touch of her hand on my shoulder instantly gave me goosebumps as I slowly turned to face her. My eyes started at the floor, traveled up her body slowly, as I watched her chest rise and fall with steady but deep breaths, almost like she was trying to control her breathing. I drag my eyes up further, scanning her neck as I notice that while she was trying to control her breathing, her pulse was saying something different. I continued up to her delectable lips that slowly parted as I continued my gaze up to her eyes.

There, I could see again a storm of emotions running through them, as they locked onto mine. As if on its own, my arm reaches out, letting my fingers gently trace along her jaw, until my hand is able to cup the back of her head, pulling her close to me, while tilting her head up to not break eye contact. "Bucky... " she whispers, my name sounding like my own personal oasis coming from her lips.

"It's ok, pet. I'll be gentle with you." I murmur back to her, my head slowly tilting forward, my eyes dropping down to her lips.

Before she could respond, I tugged her closer, my free hand finding its home on her hip, as my other hand brought her face closer to mine, our lips meeting with a spark of electricity, before completely crashing together.

The kiss was anything but quick, as the heat from the spark traveled through me, threatening to consume everything in its path. Her lips felt soft, and tasted like sweet fruits and honey. Emboldened by the kiss, my tongue darts out and sweeps along her bottom one, begging for refuge. Reading my intentions, her lips open up, as my tongue finds her in a half hearted attempt for dominance.

While our lips were busy, I molded her body to mine, letting her feel every fiber of my existence, and how each movement I make feels against her body. Pressing into her, she lets out a low guttural moan against my lips, spurring me on. The hand that was on her hip travels to the hem of her skirt, hiking them up, while spinning her around so her ass is pressed up against the railing. Breaking from the kiss, both of us panting with need, I drop to my knees in front of her.

As I looked up at her, her eyes hooded with emotions that fueled the lust in my veins as she stared down at me. Without another word, I dipped under her skirts, to find probably the greatest treasure I have found to date. I put one of her legs over my shoulder as I pressed forward, my tongue finding her most sensitive spot.

I can tell that I'm doing something right as I'm rewarded with a gasp that encourages me to keep going. I hold her hips in place as I continue to lick her folds, randomly teasing her by licking her sensitive bud. Each time I did, her hips bucked towards my mouth, making me want more.

I take one finger, and trace the folds, as I smirk at how wet she already was for me. "This is all because of me, pet?" I ask her, already knowing the answer.

All she can do is let out a hum. I chuckle softly before returning to my task at hand. I put her other leg over my shoulder and continued to eat like a starved man. Her hips move to get more friction against my tongue, as I lap everything that she is giving me. I can tell by her breathing that she's getting close. Pulling away slightly I murmur loud enough for her to hear.

"That's it my angel, come undone for me!" 

I could feel that she was getting closer, so I took my thumb and started to rub her clit as I suck and licked her juices. After a few moments more, I feel her go rigid, as I am rewarded with her orgasm drenching my face. As I stand up again, in front of her, I spin her around and place her hands on the railing. "You are not to move your hands from that railing, no matter what. Do you understand?" I ask her. She looks back over her shoulder at me and nods. I hike up her skirts, and undid my pants.

"Use your words, my angel. Are you ready?" I ask her, need dripping from the tip.

"Y-yes, Jamie!" she says, the pet name she calls me pushing me over the edge. With one motion, I thrust hard and deep into her, until I'm completely sheathed in her.

I let out a low and animalistic groan and how tight and wet she was. "Fuck!" I grind out between clenched teeth.

"Please Jamie," she says, catching my attention. That was all I needed as I started to increase my pace and thrust harder into her. Every thrust draws out a whimper from her, feeling myself hit deep in her, making me lose my mind. I keep going for I don't know how long, feeling her clench around me every time she's close, which makes me slow down a bit to get her to relax and draw this out more.

She reaches back to grab my hip, and I end up smacking her ass, earning a yelp from her. "I said to keep your hands on the railing no matter what. Now I have to fuck you harder for disobeying my orders!" I growl low in her ear, pistoning my hips harder and faster.

At this point I don't know how much longer it is that I can hold on, as her muffled cries indicate that she's close to another orgasm. The sound of our skin slapping together pushes me towards my own release. With a few more thrusts, my hips falter as I let go and coat her insides with my cum. "I knew you would be amazing at plundering me!" she says.

As I looked down at her, it was no longer my sweet enchantress, but the whoring barmaid from the tavern. I pushed away from her and turned to see her standing behind me, hurt in her eyes, letting me know she saw everything.

"Wait..."

I bolted up from where I fell asleep, sweat coating my skin, looking down seeing I was sporting a raging hard on. "Fuck!" I muttered, getting up and heading to my cabin, hoping to wash away that dream. There was no chance of me getting more sleep tonight, so I settled in with a book and prepared for a long night.

________________________________________________________________________________

Your POV:

It had been a couple of days since the incident in the tavern, and since you had received the smack on your ass. You don't know why you reacted that way to seeing Bucky with the barmaid. You had no claims over him, and clearly, he was free to do as he pleased, and who he pleased.

The only reason why he brought you back to the ship was because of his father. If you had been able to get away, you were pretty sure he would have gone back to that stupid wench and slept with her. You ran your hand through your hair, picking it up off your neck and letting the breeze cool off the sweat. Other than being able to feel the smack on your ass, you were kind of grateful at not sweating to death in the heavy skirts you had been wearing when you came on the ship.

It was nice of Bucky to do that, even though he wasn't obligated to do so. You groan in confusion. Why are you teetering on this, when there clearly isn't anything to teeter on, especially not on his end. He only was being polite with the skirt. And he clearly was only talking out of his ass when he said about real men loving women with curves.

You huff out a breath in exasperation at that. Clearly he enjoys blonde barmaids that will be willing to let him bed them. Throwing your arm down in frustration, you started pacing along the floorboards. You debated with yourself as to whether you should go find Bucky and apologize for reacting that way. But then again, you don't want him to think that there is something more coming from your end.

Wait? Is there? Did you react that way because you were jealous? Why were you jealous? He's your captor for crying out loud! Actually come to think about it, you hadn't seen Bucky since he locked you in here a few days ago. You hadn't seen anyone except Steve, who would come to the cabin and bring you food. Eventually the door was no longer being locked, and you would try your luck by stepping out onto the deck to get some fresh air and sun.

Steve would come and find you while you were on the deck and would keep you company. He never brought up Bucky, nor did you ask. You were in a way, too ashamed of your behavior to even fathom inquiring about him. That was, until the fourth day.

"You know, he doesn't always have a choice in the things that he does." he says, randomly.

"Who?" You ask, fully aware of who he was talking about, but wanted to see if he'd say.

"Bucky." he clarifies.

"And why should I care about the things that he does? Did I care when he... " you started but trailed off, not wanting to bring that up.

"He can be, no he is a good guy. People don't give him a chance because of his father. People are afraid of his father. Hell! Bucky's afraid of turning into his father!" he says, quickly realizing the last part he said.

That caught your attention. 

"Wait? He's afraid of turning into his father?" you ask.

Steve lets out a sigh. "He doesn't want to be cold towards anyone, especially not to you. I'm pretty sure he has a soft spot for you, but if you tell him I said that, I will deny it and make you walk the plank! Got it?" he says, a boyish smile on his face.

"I cross my heart!" you said, making the motion to show you were serious.

With that, Steve started to turn to leave. But before he did, he turned back and handed you a very tattered book. You look down at the cover and see it's a version of "Water babies".

"I figured you'd like something to keep you occupied." he says with a partial smile.

"Thank you Steve, that was nice of you!" you said, holding the book to your chest. You turned back to the cabin, the book in hand, and proceeded to sit by the window so you could read.

You don't know how much time had passed but the sun was starting to descend into the sea. You closed the book and set it down on the table. Just as you did, there was a knock on the door. Standing up, you walk over to the door and open it.

There stood Bucky, looking down at the floor, and you couldn't help the little "Oh" that escaped your lips. 

"Bucky, what? What are you doing here? You don't normally knock, especially considering it's your ship." you say, curiosity taking a hold of you.

"Can you come with me please?" he asks, finally looking up at me and holding his hand out for you to take. You look at his hand with curiosity. After an internal debate, you take his hand and allow him to lead you out of the cabin.

"Where are we going?" you ask, looking from side to side as he led you up to the deck.

"Here." he says, coming to a stop.

You looked around and the entire deck was empty. There in the corner was a barrel that had been covered over with a sheet, and two crates to allow us to sit. 

"Did you arrange this?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Please sit." he says, waiting for you to do so before he takes a seat himself.

He starts bringing out some bread, cheese and fruit, along with some cured meat, putting it all on a plate in front of us.

"I wanted to make sure you ate, and figured you would have slapped a plate out of my hands again if I brought it to you, so I figured I'd bring you to it."he says.

"Bucky, I ... " you started, but the words got stuck in your throat.

"It's ok, you don't have to say anything. In fact, it is I that should be saying something to you. I'm sorry for slapping your ass the other day. I ... I was still embarrassed and shocked that you slapped me. I'm not saying that I didn't deserve it, because what you saw, I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." he says, looking down at his hands. You couldn't believe it. You acted the way that you did and he was apologizing to you.

It made your eyes water at the fact that he was apologizing for everything it would appear, including your behavior. You reached across the makeshift table, to grab his hand. You realized then, that whenever there was skin to skin contact between you; you missed it until it happened again.

"Bucky, I need to apologize too. I was hoping that if I gained your trust, that I could escape. But when I saw you in that tavern, I didn't recognize who I was, and how I behaved. I should never have slapped you. I had no reason to behave like some jealous school girl. I have no claims on you, and you certainly don't owe me anything." you said, you turn to look down at your clasped hands.

Suddenly his hand leaves yours, and he's now kneeling in front of you. The same hand you were just holding, now tucked a finger under your chin, lifting your head to bring it up to look in his eyes.

"Pet, if you could only see what you're doing to me, you'd know that you have more claim to me than ever possible. You've laid claim to me even before I said my first words to you. I was captured by your beauty the very first time I saw you. I knew then that I had to be with you. I know I went about this the wrong way, taking you captive and all. And I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry for everything. I just don't know how to be without you, now that I've had a taste of you being in my life." Bucky says, as his eyes hold yours, and you see nothing but pure and raw honesty in them.

"Really? But why me?" you asked, your voice sounding meek and soft.

"Why wouldn't it be you, my angel? Whenever I walk into a room and you're in it, my skin vibrates with anticipation. My heart beats so fast that I think it's going to burst out of my chest when I look at you. You've been on my mind non-stop, and if I'm being honest, I was wishing it was your hands that were all over me in that tavern, not the barmaid's." he said, and that admission made my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"But she... " you started, but was cut off by his lips softly molded to yours. You feel your eyes flutter shut as you lean in to the kiss. It wasn't at all how people describe their first kiss.

This was sweet, slow. Full of passion, but tenderness. Who knew Bucky had this side to him. His hand slowly makes its way to cup the back of your head, drawing you closer to him, deepening the kiss. You felt like you were drowning, but yet, you didn't want to be saved.

Softly, he pulls away, causing your eyes to flutter back open. You're met with blue eyes dancing with excitement, and you can't help but smile.

"I tried to imagine what kissing you would feel and taste like. It's safe to say, it was better than I'd ever imagined." he said, picking up your hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles. He sat back down, and offered you some fruit.

you both took your time eating, letting the sun finish its descent, as the stars started to dance and twinkle in the sky. As you ate, you talked, asking questions back and forth, getting to know each other better.

"What brought you into this life?" you ask, taking a bite of a sweet grape. You look at Bucky, and his face has an edge to it, like he's remembering something that he doesn't want to. It's a few seconds before he speaks again.

"When I was young, I lost my mother in childbirth with my sister." he starts, his words having a sobering effect on me. "My father couldn't handle losing the love of his life, and his child. The same day that we buried them, we left for sea. That's been the only thing I knew ever since" he finished. You were about to put a piece of bread to your lips, but put it back down onto the plate.

You went over to him, kneeling in front of him, clasping both of his hands in yours. You could feel your heart breaking for him.

"Bucky... I'm so sorry!" you whisper.

You lean down and brush your lips over his hands, feeling the tears that had formed spill where you had just kissed. With that, he sat up straight, pulling you to sit on his lap.

"It was a long time ago." he says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less." you counter.

"Where did the name Bucky come from?" you asked.

"My name is actually James Buchannan. My mom called me Bucky for short." he said.

"James.... " you said the name, testing it off your tongue.

"Jamie..." you whispered.

At that name, he inhaled deeply, and shifted a bit under you.

"Can I call you Jamie?" you asked, not knowing really how he'd take to that. He picks up your hand, turning it over and places a kiss on the inside of your palm.

"You can call me that when we are alone. But when we are around the crew and especially my father, please call me Bucky." he asks. 

You spend several more hours talking and asking more questions.

Finally, when the night sky was completely dark, and all the stars were out, he picked you up off of his lap so he could stand up. He took your hand, interlocking your fingers together, bringing them up to his lips as you watched him intently. He guides you over to the helm of the ship, as you move in front of him, looking out over the vast sea.

He pulls you back close to him, so you're leaning against his chest, as he wraps an arm around your waist.

His other hand moves your hair away from your neck, as he leans down and softly brushes his lips over the sensitive spot, teasing as he lightly nips at it, making you gasp. You hear him chuckle at your reaction, and then feel his tongue softly swipe over the spot he bit. That action is definitely enough to make a low moan escape past your lips.

You feel Bucky's body tense, as he pulls you closer, you can feel the effect you have on him.

"Jamie... that... that feels really good." You whisper, turning your head a bit to try and look at him. His finger comes under your chin and guides your face up to meet his, his lips capturing yours, as he turns you to face him, never breaking the kiss, pushing you back against the rail.

He pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

"You're going to be the death of me, my pet." he says, his breath ragged. You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"Is the Pirate King falling for me?" You asked coyly.

"You have no idea." he smirks.

With that you turn back around, looking out over the sea, as you spend the rest of the night watching the stars, getting lost in each other's embrace. 

Each action, guided by the stars until the sun starts to rise.

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Charlie's POV:

I suspected that my son was falling for that wench. His resolve was weakening, and he was becoming more like the man I used to be. 

Head over heels for the love of my life.

But that was a life a long time ago, nothing similar to the life now. I didn't want my son to go through what I did, and that's why I was so hard on him. I figured if I was hard on him, it would keep him safe in a way. But she was threatening everything.

I watched as they stood at the helm of the ship, laughing and talking, pointing up at the stars. I heard him tell her about his mother, causing my heart to ache at the memory of the loss. I needed to do something, anything to keep him from being weak.

I knew what I would do.

Come the morning, she was going to earn her keep on this ship, and she was going to become the crew's plaything, whether my son liked it or not.