#She simply lacks the range

[withbriefthanksgiving]

Has anyone talked about the divergent films as a trans allegory or am I going to have to do it

[sleepn0tfound]

Do I Look Like Him?

[Dc x Neglected!Batsis!Surgeon!Reader]

Word count: 2.0k

Standing at the corner of the gala, she was nursing a cup of wine. The light perfectly reflected against her purple sapphire earrings.

Her off shoulder black dress was long and sparkly, it was low cut which showed off her cleavage, with a slit that cut all the way to her upper thigh. She wore gloves that reached up to her elbows, matching her dress in colour. Over the gloves on her right arm, there was a singular white gold bracelet that stood out, clearly costing a fortune.

It was no wonder why they called her "The Untouchable Wayne." She was the spitting image of her father back when he was younger, just with long hair, she even has the same temper as his old self as well.

Whispers could be heard all around her, short glances aimed at her failed in being subtle. Her eyes looked up on for drink as she saw a man arrogantly walk up to her.

"So... You look very nice today, princess."

Her calcutative gaze turned into a disgusted one as she looked at the man in front of her but she gave no response.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

The man wouldn't give up despite his multiple following comments being met with silence, not even a glance from Y/n was given to him.

The man was visibly getting agitated at the lack of response to his flirtations, "You should say sometiming little girl. Do you know how many women would die to be in your spot—"

The man abruptly stopped his words as he felt his suit getting soaked. The rest of the gala fell silent as they watched the red wine fall from her cup.

"Y-You— Useless bitch!"

She held her cup in the air, the red wine still dripping from the cup, it looked almost like blood, her grin was foxlike as she looked down on the man. Before the sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the ballroom as the wine glass came into contact with the man after she threw it at him

Her heels clicked as she walked towards the man who had staggered back, his hand shakingly touched his cheek, feeling the blood that was leaking out from the cut made by the glass shards.

She walked through the glass elegantly, stepping on the glass and breaking it with her heel before picking him up by his collar, "If you want to be that arrogant, maybe make sure your height is taller than your ego."

The sickening sound of the punch that came afterwords left the gala pindrop silent, before it all erupted into whispers and mumurs.

"Hey don't you think.."

"She looks exactly like..."

"Well even her temper matches so..."

The crowd looked at the expression on the main character's face. No longer was there a foxy grin, no. What they saw was the face of anger, a face that looked exactly like a teen Bruce Wayne. Anguished and filled with rage after his parents' death. That's what it looked like, the spitting image even.

Despite what many think the elites of Gotham weren't that stupid. Most of the older elites knew that the whole Brucie Wayne thing was just a facade, they were just glad they no longer had to face a feral, angry teen Bruce Wayne, but just as he mellowed out she came along looking exactly like what they had remembered of teen Bruce.

It looked like she was ready to take another hit before her phone rang. She picked it up, not even a minute in the call she takes off running out of the ballroom, whispers following her as she went.

But everyone knew what it was. A call from her hospital. Yes hers.

Y/n Wayne had a lot of titles. No not 'The Princess of Gotham', that was given to Cassandra Wayne-Cain, who Bruce simply adored. No, she was known as 'The Queen of Gotham', 'The Untouchable Wayne', and many more. But the ones that held the most merit?

The Surgeon Who Defies Death, The Reaper's Rival.

It didn't matter what kind of surgery it was, she could do it all, a miracle worker, is what they called her.

She was so well known that she had her own hospital. The biggest and most adavanced hospital in the world.

Apollo’s garden.

The name was odd to many Gothamites at first, until they saw how children and teens alike would be less nervous in the hospital, the parents of said teens who saw the surgeon herself saw that their children would talk animatedly to her, even the more introverted ones. Saying something about "Percy Jackson", was it?

The word "Hospital" wasn't in the name either, making it seem less daunting to the children, that hospital became even busier than Gotham General Hospital, mandatory shots for children were scheduled to be done at Apollo's Garden instead, there was even a block dedicated for children that was designed like a zoo, each level having a different habitat, the Savanna, the Arctic, the Rainforest, etc.

She built that hospital from the ground up.

The elites saw her running out of the glamorous ballroom, she immediately got in her black and purple convertible , starting it up and speeding towards her hospital.

Once she parked she rushed into the hospital, hurriedly changing out of her dress into her surgical gown, taking off her heels and changing into rubber shoes. The call said that the patients were caught in a shooting, too many critical patients too little experienced surgeons to attend to them. 

Changing her gloves while rushing to the ER she saw one of the other experienced surgeon, “Solace, give me the run down.” 

“11 patients, 3 in critical, 8 injured badly.” Will was already in his scrubs, rushing to the other critical patient.

“Damnit. The 8 injured have enough doctors tending to them, right?"

"Yes but the only experienced surgeons who clocked in tonight are Zayne and me, so we need you."

"Well then, good thing I'm here then." She stopped as she reached the door of the operation room she had to be in.

"See you on the other side.” She said as she entered one of the three critical patients' room, nodding at Zayne who passed by her, the three separating as they went into different operation rooms.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

As she exited the operation room she sighed, that surgery was nothing new to her, but that doesn't mean it got any less tiring each time.

Taking off her bloody gloves, she plopped on the chair in the staff room, collecting herself when she heard the door click open, she saw Zayne entering the room, his usual stern face added with a bit of tiredness could be seen. He went to sit next to her, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"How did it go for you?" Y/n's usually teasing voice for him was now serious, a tone reserved for after important operations.

"As good as it can be. He's stable now." Zayne placed his glasses back on.

"Mine too." The woman nodded seriously.

"Tough night for all of us, eh?" Will had came in as well, reuniting the trio.

"More like the usual. It's Gotham, shootings are bound to happen." Y/n responded, leaning back into the couch.

"It shouldn't be the usual." Zayne's voice was stern, his expression hardened.

"Well there's nothing we can do but save lives." Y/n sighed as she finally got up from the couch, "I'll start with the paperwork—" Her words were interrupted by the ringing of her phone, her face darkened even more as she saw the name of the contact.

She looked reluctant as she picked up the call, "What do you want." It was more of a statement rather than a question.

Zayne and Will knew her long enough to know exactly who it was from the tone of her voice.

"No I can't go back now I still have to do the paperwork—" She looked more frustrated as the call went on, "No I can't just give them to employees, I'm not like you."

She ended the call with a scowl, tousling her hair as she looked at her two other surgeons in the room, "Sorry guys can I trouble ya'll to do the paperwork. Wayne won't stop pestering me to go back to the manor."

"Yeah no problem. We know how... he can be." Will gave a small smile at his friend.

"Thank you so much. Ugh I was planning on going back to my penthouse too. Whatever." She waved her hand as she walked towards the door, "Don't overwork yourselves."

"Says you." Zayne finally lightened up a little, a teasing undertone in his voice.

"Haha very funny." Y/n rolled her eyes playfully before leaving to go back to change. She put her dress back on, grabbing her purse and walked to her car, driving back to the manor in silence.

She drove into the massive garage with a lot of other cars, parking hers in the corner, exiting her car and walking to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. She quietly snuck in, hoping that nobody would be in the manor this time and that they would all be on patrol by now.

Though it seemed like Tyche wasn't on her side that night because just as she thought she was safe, her hand on her room in the manor's handle she heard a voice she really didn't want to hear.

"You're back." That undeniable stern tone only belonged to one man, Bruce Wayne.

"Yeah. You kind of gave me no choice." Her hand slipped of the handle of her bedroom door, turning her body to face the man.

"The stunt you pulled at the gala was unacceptable and leaving with no warning right after—" The man was cut off.

"So what did you expect me to do? Just take those disgusting comments from that man?" Her voice was monotonous as she looked up at the man who was supposed to be her father.

"I expected that the second oldest of this family to at least have some decency and restraint!" He froze as he realised that he rose his voice, he sighed, collecting himself, ready to speak again but Y/n interrupted him with her chuckle. The chuckle that slowly turned into a full-blown laugh, she wiped the tears that formed at the side of her eyes.

"Family? Since when have any of you considered me as family?" This was the form of her true anger, not shouting, not hitting, just the calm way she said her words, though there was pure unbridled anger hidden underneath.

Bruce froze at her words, "What do you mean—"

"Don't you dare act fucking clueless. You don't deserve to do that after what you have all done." Her anger started to seep out a little more.

"The way I sat silently during family dinner. How I sit in the corner alone during family movie night. Did you even notice that I was gone for 5 years at a camp?"

Bruce was speechless, he had no words to say to that, had she really left this manor for 5 years without anyone noticing?

"Why so silent? Got nothing to say?" Her words held a mocking tone, before she took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Just... Just leave me alone Wayne. Just as you always have." Her anger faded, now her words just seemed... tired.

Wayne? Why was his daughter, his baby, calling him by his last name as if it wasn't hers as well?

She opened her door, closing it behind her, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the hallway. She leaned against the door, an exhale leaving her lips, before she looked up.

'At least this night is over and I can just sleep—'

Just as she thought she was free for the night she saw a small figure, exactly three apples tall, standing in the middle of her room.

The girl looked down at him and sighed, “What is it this time, demon spawn? Going to make fun of me again?”

“Tch. I don’t have time for that.” The young boy scoffed, turning his head to the side, clearly having heard the entire argument from the other side of the door.

“Then what are you here for?”

Damian swallowed his pride for once as he spoke.

"I want to volunteer at your hospital."

.

.

.

"What."

As promised, here it is! Guys is it crazy if I say I already got the second part of this planned out. I think I should priortise Death of a Star chap. 1 tho hehe anyways I hope you guys enjoy this LOLS

Btw thank you all so much for 500 followers! Take this as my 500 follower special hehe Also if you guys can submit asks I would be rlly happy... My inbox is always so empty😭😭

📷: sleep._.n0tfound

[neilsbeloved]

underneath the covers

summary: freshman year of college has you going insane. good thing clark has a knack for knowing exactly when to sweep you off your feet, way before any unwanted crashouts happen.

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader (same universe as the alchemy and so high school)

warnings: fluff then pure smut / established college relationship / penetration (f) / teasing / public stuff?? idk u do it with another person in the room / clark being a sweet (and horny) bf / dirty talk / foreplay / alludes to cockwarming

a/n: i’m bad at tagging warnings so forgive me if i missed anything else

A choir of relieved sighs—including yours—echoed throughout the auditorium-styled classroom.

You had already packed your stuff five minutes before the bell rang and so you literally dashed out of the classroom as soon as you could. You don't think you could spend another second in that wretched classroom without going insane.

You already spent an all-nighter last night trying to finish your research. Earlier this morning, you slept in. If it weren't for Chloe waking you up with a cup of coffee, you would have definitely slept through the day.

Walking through the halls of the building with a frown on your face until you reach the entrance door. Your phone rings the moment you stepped out. The ringing sound making you cringe as you put it close to your ear.

"Hello?"

Instantly, a voice you've been waiting for comes through. "Hey baby."

"Clark." You melt into the phone, sighing relievedly as you sit on the steps, running your hand through your hair. "I missed you."

"I missed you even more, sweetheart. How was your day?" Clark's tone softens even more, his voice bordering a mother's cooing.

You don't respond to him, simply shaking your head side-to-side as if Clark could see you do that. You're on the brink of going into a mental breakdown when you hear Clark speaking again. Only this time, not through the phone.

"I'm guessing it wasn't good, huh?"

An overly joyed yelp leaves your mouth as you lunge yourself at him. Clark's strong arms wrapping around your body as you nuzzle yourself close to him. Your eyes close, letting his scent infiltrate your senses as you forget about the world for a second.

"You couldn't even imagine," you groan, placing your hand on his chest.

"Good thing I have something planned for us," Clark smiles, placing a gentle hand on the back of your head before you pull your head away from his shoulder. "I'll take you back to your dorm, okay? I have DVDs in the truck, take-out, weighted blankets—everything. It'll be fun."

You look at him confusedly, "Sounds like the perfect night-in, Clark, don't you have classes tomorrow?"

"Well…" he trails off, glancing at your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. "I may have a free day tomorrow."

"You're kidding."

"And, I asked Chloe for your schedule—looks like I'm not the only one with a free day tomorrow," Clark's tone held a tinge of teasing to it. His hand pinching the naked skin of your hip affectionately. "So, what d'you say? You up for a movie night with take-out?"

"That's like asking me to marry you, Clark," you pause, narrowing your eyes. "Of course, I would!"

Clark grins, pulling you in for a sweet and longing kiss in front of all the students walking in and out of the building.

Clark's own definition of a movie night and take-out date is simply you and him, underneath the weighted blankets, eating chow mein while your favorite comedy movie plays in your laptop.

You had pretty much the same definition as well, the only difference is that Chloe's in your definition.

"I can't believe you invited Chloe," Clark says, snaking his arms around your stomach, resting them on your belly button while you leaned back comfortably on his chest. "Wasn't she busy interning?" He takes a glance at Chloe at the other bed—focused on the movie, busy eating a dumpling.

You crane your neck to look at him, meeting his eyes despite the lack of light in the room. "Clark, Chloe was the only reason I got up on time today. It's the least I could do after practically zombie-ing around the dorm.

Clark sighs, rolling his eyes as he went back to watching the movie.

You shifted quietly in your position, scooting up just a little bit so you could rest your head on his shoulder, the rest of your body nestled in between his legs. Clark clenches his jaw, moving his hands to rest on top of yours.

"You sure she doesn't have things to attend to?" Clark asks, still keeping his voice low as to not disturb a focused Chloe.

"Clark, I'm sure. She wouldn't agree to this if she had things to do, obviously," you reply back sassily, voice just as quiet.

Clark inhales sharply, thinking of a way he can continue his original plan now that there's one more extra character. A light bulb pops in his head, prompting him to lean down to your ear, his nose bumping with the shell of your ear.

Clark only notices now how engrossed you've gotten with the movie when you don't even move. The subtle crease in your forehead giving it away.

He removes one hand from yours, trailing it just an inch lower from your belly button before he begins to rub soft circles on the flesh. Clark kept his eyes glued on the wall, eyebrow arching ever so slightly the moment he felt your stomach tense.

"I've already asked Chloe if we could spend the night, though," Clark whispers in your ear. His neck stretched in a way that he can still watch the movie while keeping himself close to the open space by your neck.

You spare him a glance, a quick one that barely even lasted a second. "Clark, watch the movie."

Clark clenches his jaw, this time because of the way your body rubs on his lower region. Again. Like you didn't even notice his hand tightening its hold on yours, or the way blood starts rushing into his cock the more you keep the warmth of your back on it, completely unaware.

He inhales, licking his lips before pressing it softly on the side of your neck. "Fine."

You thought that'd be the end of it, that Clark would finally let the subject go and actually watch the movie with you. However, you quickly realized that he had other plans the moment you feel his free hand play with the garters of your pajama.

You swallow on nothing—clenching on nothing, trying to keep your breathing calm and steady as you did your best to focus on the movie.

"Clark, what're you doing?" You try to move your hands but the hold Clark had on it kept you from doing so. His other hand—the one by your pajamas—slipped underneath the fabric.

His eyebrows shoot up in sheer surprise when his hand is met with the soft skin of your pussy, bare and naked, seemingly waiting for him all this time.

"You're not wearing panties," Clark says, not as a question, but as an observation. The amusement evident in his tone as he keeps himself from chuckling loud enough for other ears to hear. "You planned this, didn't you?"

You ignore him, doing your best to focus on the movie despite his hand descending lower and lower.

He swipes a finger through your slit, smiling contentedly as the answer to his prior question comes in the form of your wetness. His eyes focus on the way your features twitched with the subtlest of movements, how your breathing slowly changes into labored breaths, and how your heart starts thumping even louder.

Clark pulls his hand out of your pants carefully, watching the way your shoulders relax as he did so. You keep yourself calm, still trying your best to wriggle out of his one-hand grip that's restricting you from using your hands.

"Can't believe you told me to focus on the movie when you didn't even bother wearing panties…" his voice drops, the deeper timbre of his voice has you squirming in place. "Are you giving me mixed signals or what?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say through gritted teeth. Never moving your eyes away from the projector.

Clark chuckles softly, licking the shell of your ear before he moves his hand underneath your pants. He wastes no time searching for your clit, rubbing soft circles on it the moment he does. "I think you do, baby."

You melt into his touch involuntarily. The pleasure he's giving you with just two fingers on your clit was enough to have you mewling like a cat in heat.

He lifts his fingers from your clit, sliding them down your slit once more to gather the wetness seeping from your hole. He moves back up, slathering it on your clit messily, this time rubbing figure 8s.

"Looks like you really got some stress in you, sweetheart," Clark says, picking up the pace while you drop your head weakly, his legs moving to rest on top of yours, keeping you wide and open for him. You look up at him, locking into his eyes when he smirks at you. "Let's take some of it off of your shoulders, yeah?"

The coil in your stomach tightens, lips falling open as quiet moans left your lips. Quiet enough that Clark only heard it through his superhuman hearing.

You turn your head to Chloe’s direction, watching her watch the movie in utter silence. Completely unaware of the absolute filth going on between two of her best friends.

Your eyes squeeze shut when you feel yourself release all of a sudden. The pleasure coming onto you in one strong wave, not even a warning before it snaps. Clark helps you ride it out as he slows down, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while leaving kisses on your neck.

Clark smiles proudly. Gathering your release from your hole before slipping his hand out of your pajamas and into his mouth. Your eyes round as you watch him suck it hard and hungrily, as if making sure to remember the taste of your sweet release until he gets his next fill.

"You're welcome," Clark whispers, releasing your hands from his grip.

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, Chloe lets out a loud groan, her bed creaking loudly. Both you and Clark turns your heads to the projector, noticing how the movie had gone static.

"Sorry guys, give me a sec, I'll fix it." Chloe, who had suggested the idea of a projector, felt burdened to fix the situation.

The exact second Chloe turns her back to the two of you, Clark's pulling you up, strong hands lifting you like you were nothing. You shake your head continuously at him, eyes widen and clearly nervous. Clark simply grins at you, contradicting your head shakes with a nod.

"It'll be fun." Was the only thing he says before he quickly moves up your bed. Once more reminding you of his superhuman speed as he has you on top of his hips, cock resting on your cunt, blanket covering both of you—all in record time.

Chloe turns around with a smile, one that says she successfully fixed the projector. You two return the gesture, though for very different reasons.

When the movie began again, picking up from where it left off, Clark's back to having his way with you.

"I already gave you one release, baby. This next one, you're gonna have to cooperate with me—so tell me, what do you want me to do?" Clark's heavy cock twitches in between your pussy lips, aching to be inside of you.

You sigh, the arousal clouding your brain. "Whatever you want, Clark, just…" he lifts his cock before letting it fall back down. The sound of it colliding with your cunt easily drowned out by the movie. You bite your lips, continuing, "Just make me fucking come, please."

A liquid substance then drips on top of your cunt, sliding down onto his length as it left a cooling sensation everywhere. You look to Clark with a question, while he only smiles at you reassuringly.

"I may have snatched a few things from your drawer."

Then, you feel his cock push into you. The liquid he poured a moment ago letting him slip through your walls with ease.

You gasp, hand slapping on your mouth to stop the sound from going into unwanted ears.

"Clark," you struggle to get out. "You're… It's so big."

Clark chuckles, shushing you with a kiss. "I know I am, baby. But you can take it, right?"

"Yes." You say breathlessly.

"Good girl," he thrusts up carefully, hearing your soft moans from underneath the hand on your mouth. "Because this is the only thing you're gonna get from me tonight. After all, it was you that wanted to invite Chloe, right?"

When you nod, head dizzy with his cock inside of you, with his fingers continuing their attacks on your clit, Clark already knows he's gotten you exactly where he wants you⎯underneath the covers.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! xoxo

[txttletale]

Sorry for anon, I'm shy. I think I'm one of the liberals you're complaining about and I don't want to be. If (and only if) you have the time/energy, could you elaborate more on where the Harris campaign went wrong? I promise I don't mean this in a sealioning way - I genuinely want to understand and move towards a better perspective, but I don't even know what to Google to start.

it is extremely conventional political wisdom that running as the incumbent party during an unpopular administration is a gruelling uphill battle--harris was in this position, and i think going all-in on her continuity with biden, who is extremely disliked (for many reasons, ranging from his fervent passion for genocide to a vague sense that He Made The Ecnomy Bad And Woke) was a catastrophic error that any dickhead with a political science degree would have told her to avoid. unfortunatley she surrounded herself with biden's people who in the run-up to him stepping down had already proven themselves to be completely self-deluding and isolated from reality.

the absolute worst thing you can do in the electoral situation harris was in is go on television and say "i would do absolutely nothing differently to the current (unpopular) administration" and she did literally exactly that.

other facts are that the constituency her campaign decided to go all-in on, of, like, sensible moderate center-right republicans who value bipartisanship, basically hasn't existed since tea party birtherism became ascnedant in the republican party if it ever did at all. the idea that there was an election-winning segment of voeters who would vote for harris if she proved that she wasn't "too liberal" through serious policy commitments to right-wing positions was just not founded in reality--like it was a strategy that failed to grapple with the basic reality that the modern republican position on democrat politicians is that they're adrenochrome-chugging child rapists.

in a similar vein her hard pivot to border fascism was morally deplorable but also a total waste of time because donald "build the wall" trump has made his personal brand synonymous with anti-immigration politics and so she was simply never ever going to win anyone over from him on that ground. & finally of course there was the campaign;'s wholehearted and total contempt for her own potential voters, which manifseted most obviously and evilly in their treatment of anti-genocide protestors and their flying bill clinton out ot michigan to lecture arabs about how they deserved to be bombed but also seems responsible for their total lack of consideration of (again) conventional elecvtoral tactics 101 like "energizing the base" or "getting out the vote"

so tldr it was just a disastrous campaign that prioritized the egos of biden campaign staff and biden himself over winning or facing basic reality

[madebycloud]

Love Is Not Over

rumi x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary．workaholism is practically her middle name. rumi works to the bone day in, day out, always putting her work before everything else… and that includes you. (requested by @remmia) warnings/themes．light angst and fluff, argument, happy ending words．2.0k

Rumi was supposed to come home at 9pm, according to her.

11:14pm. She's two hours late.

You tried calling her, but it just rang endlessly. No answer. Texting her was no use either, as she rarely replied to your texts these days.

She's busy.

She's just busy.

Too busy for you, at least.

Too busy to spend time with you. Too busy to pay attention to you. Too busy for the person she's supposed to come home to every day. 

It wouldn't bother you so much if it hadn't happened so often... late nights, lack of responses, missed calls, canceled dates. Sometimes it feels like Rumi puts her job before anything else. The fans, the fame, the work, the music. Everything, except you.

You've been patient. You've been understanding. You've tried to support her in every way. You've tried to be the best partner you could possibly be. 

It's not like you're asking for much, is it? just a text to say she's running late or a call to say she missed your call. Anything would be better than the silence you're constantly met with. 

Rumi promised. She promised she'd make time for you. 

And yet...here you are. Sitting alone in the apartment, waiting for a girl who's always too busy to give you any of her time.

And waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Eventually, you hear a click as the door opens slowly, spilling light from the hallway to flood into the space.

“Oh... babe, you're still up.”

You scoff in response, not meeting her gaze. “I am. been waiting for you to come home.”

Rumi closes the door behind her, taking off her coat and shoes. She then turns towards you, sighing. “Babe... please, let's not get into this right now...” she says, stepping cautiously into the apartment. “I'm tired, okay? It was a long day—”

“A long day, huh?” you interrupt, standing up from the couch.

It's always the same excuse. 'Too tired.' 'Work was busy.' 'We'll talk tomorrow… I'm sleepy...' Yet, here she is again, showing up late and expecting you to simply accept it without complaint.

Rumi walks over to you, reaching out to take your hand in hers, but you bat it away. She frowns. “You know how it is. The company's got a lot of big projects coming up… I had a lot of things to take care of today.”

You look at her incredulously. “And how many times have you said that exact same thing in the past month— in the past three months?”

“I… I just… I can't always control my work schedule, you know? Babe—”

You cut her off again, pointing a finger at her. “You know you can control when you answer my calls. You can control when you send me a freaking text back—”

“I was busy, okay? I tried my best to respond whenever I could, but work—”

“Work, work, work! That's all you ever care about these fucking days. You never have time for me. I'm not asking for much, just a call or a text or ANYTHING!”

“Why are you so angry about this?!” she snaps back, throwing her hand to the side. “You know how important my job is to me. It takes a lot of my time, and I'm trying my BEST to juggle everything— the company, the comebacks, the fans, and you! I'm trying to do it all, and it's not easy—”

“Not easy?” You laugh bitterly. “Is it difficult for you to send a ten second text to your partner? To give them a quick call just so they know you actually remember they exist? What's so hard about giving a few minutes of your time every once—” You swallow. The knot in your throat tightens. “When was the last time we even went on a date, Rumi? when was the last time you even told me you loved me? Is that how you prove you're 'trying?'”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” Rumi's voice suddenly rises over yours.

You step back instinctively, eyes brimming with tears. “I just want some of your attention, Rumi. Is that really too much to ask for...? Just show me that you CARE about this relationship— that you CARE about ME. I just want—” You pause, inhaling deeply, wiping away a tear that rolls down your cheek with a trembling hand. “...I just want to feel loved... by you.”

Her features soften instantly. Guilt creeps into the corners of her eyes when she sees your tearstained face, noticing the vulnerability that you rarely showed.

Rumi exhales slowly, steps towards you, and pulls you into a tight hug. You rest your head against her shoulder, arms remaining limp at your sides. 

“I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry...” she whispers. “I don't mean to neglect you. I just get really caught up in my work. There are music shows, performances, fans, and a million things happening at once... it's not easy, babe.”

You don't hug her back. Her words don't comfort you; her touch doesn't ease your worries. She's just saying what she thinks you want to hear, what she has to so you'd forgive her.

“If it's not easy for you, Rumi... if you find it that hard to make time for me. Then maybe... maybe we should just... end this... whatever this is.”

It's not that you actually want to leave Rumi...but you can't keep living like this. Constantly ignored, constantly feeling unloved. You deserve better than this—to live in a shadow, to feel so little but to give so much. 

“No. No, wait, no— babe, please... please don't say that.” Rumi pulls back to look you in the eye, grasping your face between her hands. “You're just upset... you don't mean that.”

“I am upset, Rumi. I'm tired. I'm hurt. I'm so fed up. I just feel like you've forgotten that I even exist. I can't keep going like this, Rumi... and I don't think you want to either.”

The words seem to stab straight into Rumi's heart. Her hold on your face trembles. “You're not thinking straight right now...I'm tired, you're tired, and it's late. Can we just go to bed, please? we can talk about it tomorrow, I promise.”

She's right about one thing: you are tired. Not just from the late hour or the emotional strain of the argument. It's the weariness of putting up with this situation for so long, hoping that things would somehow change.

So you don't protest as she leads you towards the bedroom, gently pushes you onto the bed, and don't resist as she climbs on top of you, laying on your body, not wanting to be apart from you. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm so stupid, so selfish. I'll be better. I'll—” Her voice falters. “I love you. I love you so much... I'm so sorry.”

You lift your arms as if to push Rumi off, but your gesture changes midway, folding around her quivering frame, cradling her against your chest. The warm wetness seeps from her eyes onto your skin.

There you stay. Rumi sobs into your neck, hands tightly clenching fistfuls of your clothes. She'll probably be back to ignoring you when the sun rises. 

But for now, for just these few stolen moments while she clings onto you with all her might...

...you want to believe her and hope that come morning, things will feel different.

───────────

Morning arrives. Your mind slowly pulls awake, but your eyes stay closed. Hands instinctively reaching out to your side in search of a familiar warmth. Except... the only thing your hand manages to find is a cold, empty space.

Wait. Cold? Empty?

Your eyes snap open, the sleep clearing from your vision in an instant.

There's no Rumi. No warm body, no messy hair on the pillow, no comforting weight pinning you down in place. The covers beside you are ruffled but already cold.

Sitting up, your eyes drift to the small clock on the bedside. 9:15am.

You throw the covers off yourself, standing up. The hardwood floor is cool under your soles as you leave the room. 

The apartment is silent. No sounds of water running or the hum of a hairdryer.

No sign of Rumi.

What were you expecting? for her to actually keep her promise? ...How pathetic, desperate, stupid, and gullible you are. 

Just when you're about to wallow in your own self-loathing, the sound of the front door opening suddenly catches your ears.

There, in the doorway, stands Rumi, dressed in sweatpants, cropped hoodie, holding a plastic bag filled with groceries. “Morning..,” She then shuts the door and walks towards the kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter. “I went to the supermarket early to avoid the rush. Got us some things we needed, a few extra snacks I thought you might like—”

“I thought you'd be at the studio right now.”

Rumi pauses, stalling as she begins unpacking the groceries. She doesn't turn around when she says, “I took a break...for a month.”

You blink in disbelief.

She continues as you approach the kitchen. “I told Bobby that I needed some time off, and the company agreed. I won't be going into the studio for a while or having any schedules. So we can spend some time together.” 

“What about the girls?”

“Mira and Zoey are also taking time off to take care of their own things. It's just you and me. No work, no studio, no interruptions to deal with. Just us. For an entire month.”

Did you hear her right? Rumi, who's always working, always busy, always has no time to answer her phone, took a whole month off? For...you?

“Where do you want to go? I was looking online earlier, and I think going to Jeju would be nice. We could get a small rental car there and just drive wherever, or if you'd rather stay in Seoul, we could—”

You don't realize you've closed the distance between you until you're standing right behind her, arms encircling her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder. 

You've missed this. Holding her, feeling her, being with her like this. It's like...you can breathe again. 

Rumi stiffens at the sudden contact, hands freezing around the milk she just grabbed, then lowers it back into the bag before slowly melting into your embrace, leaning back as her hands cover yours on her stomach, thumb tracing over your knuckles. 

Neither of you speaks for a while, simply content to stay in the other's arms after such a long time.

A month off. 

No distractions. No late nights. No schedules. 

Just the two of you. 

To try. To fix things. To fall in love again. To make up for lost time. To simply exist in each other's presence. 

“I'm sorry.” Rumi tilts her head to rub her cheek softly against yours. “I know I wasn't the best girlfriend to you...and— and I messed up. A lot. I've hurt you. A lot. I can't promise I won't screw up or be able to fix the mistakes I've made, but...I promise I'll try. For us.” 

You don't reply. Can't reply. Not when your heart is stuck in your throat and the words are choking you from within.

So instead you hug her tighter. Hold her closer. Hoping that this time it'll be enough. That after all the hurt, heartache, tears, pain, things will finally work out as long as you both try.

It's then that your stomach decides to make its presence known, rumbling loudly. Rumi laughs, her own stomach following suit, gurgling as if on cue, earning another laugh from both of you.

Your laughter dies back into a chuckle, Rumi turning in your hold to look at you with a small smile. “Do you want an omurice?”

You nod, mirroring her smile. You haven't had her omurice in so long.

She then presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Rumi.”

Both of you end up making omurice for breakfast, and despite the fact that the eggs get slightly overcooked and you make a bit of a mess while rolling the omelette, your heart is lighter than it's been in months.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I worked at the jewelry store there was this notorious lady I worked with. She was, for lack of a better word, an absolute bitch. I don’t say this lightly but truly, she was heinous, much of staff was a little afraid of her, but it took her a while to get fired because her sales were so good.

Her name was Lynn. It was hard to get a read on her age because she’d had work done but I’d guess she was in her sixties, a very posh white lady who towered over most of the staff with lips that looked a little too puffy and hooded judgemental eyes.

I was generally beneath her notice but one day I did something to bother her and she went off into a snit to glower at me from across the showroom. This, to my little autistic brain, was very unacceptable. I didn’t even know why I’d upset her but our job was extremely team oriented and I couldn’t succeed without being able to communicate with the whole team.

You see, in the jewelry store we matched customers to sales people. If someone came in who was very nerdy or queer, that customer would be passed along to me because I’d be the best at relating to them. We called this process a TO trade off. The first sales associate got half the sale and the TO got the second half and the customer got a much more enjoyable experience. Everybody won.

Everyone on the team had a niche that they could relate to really well. Lynn cleaned up with older white ladies who had too much money and a certain kind of dude she could boss around. Because we traded off sales all the time it was important to have a good working relationship with everyone on staff.

Lynn being pissed at me would just make both our jobs harder. I asked around why she was mad at me and no one knew, but they advised I just leave her alone until she cooled off.

I thought that was stupid. So I just went up to her and asked, “Why are you mad at me?”

It was if a lizard had grown sentience and spoken to her. Her face was was too immobilized with botox to show a full range of emotion but her eyes widened and her puffy lips pursed as she looked down at me.

She was so used to psychologically terrorizing people and not getting called on it that being very directly addressed by her tiny lesbian coworker was something she didn’t have a ready answer for. Barring a reflexive response she resorted to honesty and said that she was upset that I had passed a sale along to someone else and not to her.

She felt like no one passed sales to her. It hurt her feelings. I could recognize that she'd gotten her wits together and decided to try to incite pity. I'd heard her sound more upset when she told me that her daughter insisted on sleeping on their fanciest couch despite knowing how much Lynn hated the idea of her skin oils permeating the white leather.

I was honestly a little surprised to learn she would admit to having feelings that could get hurt, even as a gambit I didn’t say that part. I agreed that she wasn’t my first choice for the couple I'd passed off and confirmed the reasons why I had done the TO to someone else. Then I pointed out that the statistics for how often sales were traded to her were freely posted for everyone to see. She had the second highest TO rate in the store. That was just facts.

Confronted very bluntly and faced with statistics Lynn decided it was pointless to be mad at me and dropped it. After that dropped most of her mind games in my direction. If I spoke she would often regard me like an unwelcome species of bug before simply turning away. She won the award for coworker most likely to ignore me because she had no idea how to respond to me most of the time.

The only time I remember getting along was when she would start telling bold faced lies that she swore were true. My favorite was when she said she’d had a very lucrative career as a luchador and she could show me a thing or two in the ring. Because I love getting absurdly lied to I played along and said I’d love to see pictures.

She got fired eventually which was a long time coming after it came out that she had told my Vietnamese friend she needed a translator just to understand her. She was not missed, and we left the Older Bitchy Lady niche unfilled on the staff TO roster once she left.

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 1

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

| Next

Series Summary: He’s not sure how he got here, perhaps it’s the aching loneliness or the overwhelming stress. You’re there because it seems like easy money and you have a pushy friend. All in all, it’s a good deal — he gets the companionship he’s after, no strings, and you get your utility bills paid on time. It’s pretty simple, easy, until your arrangement bleeds into something a bit more…complicated.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: Me?? Coming off hiatus?? Bit nervous about this one, but I’m jumping right in lol not sure how long this’ll be. Struggled between making it a reader fic or making an oc, but here we are.

Takes place prior to The Pitt.

Word Count: 1.7k (they’ll likely be longer going forward — just needed to lay the groundwork)

Warnings: BIG age gap omg (roughly 18 years even after I aged Robby down a bit, ~44), foul language, ptsd mentions, mentions of sex work, descriptions of hospitals/patients and brief mentions of violence at said hospital, mild dubious consent later on (like barely), eventual sexual content (afab!reader), angst, mutual pining, mentions of difference in power dynamic, medical errors bc I am a simple bitch, Dr Robby lacking some emotional intelligence/bottled up feelings. (Also you go to school for accounting and have two named friends). Slowburn. Mature themes.

This is not a promotion of such gaps or sugar daddies in general — it was just an idea I had and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Dr Robby seems like a good man, so I doubt would actually seek out such a relationship, but I have no doubt that that man is lonely and stressed as hell lol and this is my fic soooo

not beta read

Michael Robinavitch really had no idea how he had ended up in this situation, sat in that little cafe miles away from his normal stomping grounds. There was the obvious — getting on the subway and physically walking into the building, but the events that led him there nearly made him stand and walk back out.

It had started with a patient he’d had several weeks prior; a man not much older than himself, who had no family, and money to burn. The pretty woman who had come to visit was out of his league, painfully so, but she had sat diligently by his bedside and comforted him while the residents ran all the necessary tests. When she had slipped out of the room to make a phone call, the man had boasted.

His once complicated relationship with Heather Collins aside, Dr. Robby usually found such age gaps problematic and messy; a man looking to take advantage of such a gap or a woman looking to gain monetarily, or both. In his experience, it was rarely pure intentions — but what the man had gone on to explain after a confused look of one of the residents, was they weren’t in a relationship. They weren’t even having sex. He was simply paying for a beautiful woman’s companionship. No complex relationship, no true illegal activity or prostitution; just a busy man and an uncomplicated solace.

“Not really even a sugar daddy,” the patient had explained to Dr. Robby and Perlah, doped up on pain meds, “though it’s a fine comparison.”

What two grown adults got up to in their free time was their own business, the patient’s voice rang in Robby’s head, and if a man likes to spoil his lover or his friend, then that’s not illegal.

His heart thumped anxiously in his chest. This was only going to be a distraction, one completely unconnected to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center and that would be a breath of fresh air. Besides, if this turned out to be a complete disaster, he could just go on with his life. No changes.

—

You took the long way to the cafe, anxiety eating at your insides. Why had you allowed Erin to convince you this was a good idea? It had seemed harmless at the start — laughing and joking with Erin while you downloaded the app, talking to a handful of guys looking to spoil you. Eventually settling on one particularly reserved man (which you found mildly endearing) and securing a “first date”. It had been thrilling. It had even been fun.

At least while it was all over the phone. Now it was real and you had such an urge to turn around and run for the hills.

University was expensive, and between clocking in as many hours at your office job and still staying on track with your classes, you still found that rent was hard to keep up with. Erin had found you in a state of distress over a bowl of cheap ramen, explaining quite plainly what she did to supplement her income. It seemed like it would be too easy. Erin told you she didn’t start out with anything sexual, mostly just spending time with lonely older men and keeping them company.

It turns sexual only if you want it to, but the pay can be better, was the only relief that echoed in your head. The control lies with you, and never let that change.

It only calmed you slightly — that, and the fact that if this date went terribly, or in a way that you became uncomfortable, you could call it all off. He didn’t have your number, or any personal information, only your first name. No arrangements had been made or agreed to, and you found comfort in it. You thought to go in and just get it over with, return back to your apartment and tell Erin: “It’s just not for me.”

Maybe you could pick up DoorDashing instead.

Before opening the door to the cafe, you quickly sent your location to Erin and sent a text to Marsi about coming by to study in a few hours.

You were instantly hit with the calming aroma of coffee once inside, though you felt too jittery to order any. You settled on decaf tea before turning to the tables on the far side of the cafe. You wondered if he was on time, or if you would instead pick the table. Maybe he won’t show.

You caught sight of him almost immediately and it made your heart jump with a renewed sense of anxiety. He was here. He was here.

His eyes were on his own cup, though you knew they were brown from his picture. His hairline was only slightly receding, with his hair thinning slightly atop his head, plenty of laugh lines adorning his face and a thick beard that held several grey hairs. His features seemed scrunched up in thought, dark brows pulled together. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, part of the reason you had accepted his request in the first place. If you were going to do this, it wasn’t going to be with someone you could barely look at. You could fake a lot of things, but genuine interest was not one of them.

“Michael?” You asked softly, hand on the back of the chair opposite him.

He looked up and gave a stiff smile, before confirming your name.

You smiled back at him, nodding. You pulled the seat back and sat with slow, calculated movements. Feeling his eyes on you made you swallow thickly, nerves running a rampage through your insides.

Erin had coached you, explained good questions to ask to suss out the bad ones, plus her own advice as to what she looked for and what was a red flag. All the advice seemed to flow right out of your head.

“How are you?” You asked, thumb tracing over the lid of your tea.

He huffed a small laugh, “I’m…fine.” A pause. “Look, I’ve never done this and I don’t—”

Relief pooled through your insides, though the nerves held strong. “Well, at least that makes two of us.”

His brown eyes met yours, seemingly surprised. He swallowed.

Maybe he was looking for direction.

Your eyes flickered to your tea and back again. “So, can I ask what made you sign up in the first place?”

He leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah,” his expression suddenly turned uncomfortable, his left cheek scrunched up almost in a wince. “I’m just looking for some…companionship.”

Perhaps he was embarrassed.

You nodded, taking a slow sip of your hot tea. “Anything specific?”

His eyes flickered up to meet your gaze and he blinked. His eyebrows rose, “Nothing sexual,” he said, voice dropping into a whisper at the last word. “Just someone to listen, call and talk to, I suppose.”

Your heart stopped racing. “No interest in a girlfriend?”

“I’m too busy for that.” Though it seemed more like a deflection.

You watched him curiously, raising a brow, “Alright. Something like a friend, then?”

He considered it. “Someone unconnected to my life.”

—

He said unconnected, but he meant not worried about my wellbeing. He dealt with too many people asking how he was, too concerned with the past. He needed someone that let him breathe, someone he could reach out to on his own terms with no strings attached. Someone who wouldn’t pry, someone who would not be offended by his long silences and his avoidance of talking about his emotions. Someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m damaged.

“More like a companion.” He explained, elaborating, “I need someone who can give me more space than a friend would, who’s okay if we don’t talk for days at a time. Something easy and uncomplicated.”

“Ah, I understand.”

At least he didn’t sound insane. He had a few friends, but he frequently felt like he was putting on an “I’m okay” mask whenever he was around them. He didn’t want to wear that mask with just one person.

“Yeah,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “What is it you’re looking for?”

You smiled, adding to the warmth of your face. You were beautiful, with pretty eyes and hair pulled out of your face. Far too out of his league, and young. Your profile showed an age that put you at nearly eighteen years apart. But, a corner of his mind whispered, it’ll be nice to have a beautiful woman’s attention.

“A bit of a distraction myself,” you told him, pursing your lips. “I’ve been quite stressed with school and it’ll be nice to not think about all that from time-to-time.” Then you smiled. “And maybe get some help paying my utility bill.”

He chuckled, soft and quiet, matching the grin on your face. “What do you go to school for?”

“Accounting,” you answered after a beat. “I’m working on my masters. What do you do for work?”

“I’m a doctor.” He said, careful to not elaborate much more. He was proud of his position, but he wanted whatever this was going to be to be completely separate from his professional life.

You seemed to understand, not asking any follow up questions that most people might have asked.

After only a handful more questions, you seemed satisfied. He asked about allowance, and your expectations, and found you would be a fine fit for each other. He felt a strange calmness overcome him as your conversation melded into small talk.

When you excused yourself to leave, you explained you wanted a day or two to sit on it. You expressed it wasn’t him, but the situation at hand that you wanted to think about. It brought comfort to him, knowing you were both a fish out of water in this situation.

Michael left the cafe feeling lighter than when he had entered, taking a long walk back home — silently deliberating. You were easy enough to talk to, and seemed to understand right away when to ask questions and when not to pry. You weren’t asking for anything outlandish in return, or even looking to make a living this way, only needing some help to finish school. He understood that, Pittsburgh wasn’t the most expensive city someone could live in, but add in school loans and he could see why you turned to supplemental income, as you had put it.

By nightfall, he’d received a message though the app hidden in a locked folder on his phone.

It was your number.

[ Next ]

[homunculus-argument]

Been at my boyfriend's family cabin this week, haven't had the attention span to read either of the books that I brought with me, but I did find something to read from their shelves: print collections of Funny Things People Have Said gathered from the very best of some regional newspaper. I don't know what would prompt someone to go "hah! that thing you just said was so funny that I am going to send it to the newspapers!" (not that I don't personally have a blog for the same purpose), but for the most part these 'clever quips' range from Children Say The Darnest Things and "what's the punchline, that's just a normal conversation" to "wow, what a cartoonishly cruel thing to say to another person." Simply, my grandma's sort of humour.

But they are fascinating in a cultural, linguistic and historical sense. The texts are written in the contemporary savonian dialect, discussing matters of the day, in 70s and 80s. And one interesting cultural thing I observed was how these remark collections regard women. Thick women, in particular. One man boasts about having such a handsome wife that you can't get sight of all of her all at once, it is considered odd that one 'old maid' (age not specified) hadn't found a man since she isn't lacking in looks, height or heft. Another man remarks to his friend that the friend clearly figured out how to put his wealth into a form that won't get chewed up by inflation, gesturing towards the friend's fat wife.

And the thing is, this isn't the American Boomer "haha wife fat and ugly" jokes, this is pure old-fashioned finnish savonian rural 70s/80s sexism. These are not people who believe in saying things delicately. As far as they are concerned, wording things nicely and being considerate of other peoples' feelings is prissy city people bullshit, and brutally mocking someone for having physical features that are considered ugly is a national sport. If a man thought that someone's wife is ugly, he'll just say that she's ugly. Oh no.

All context clues considered, as far as these people were concerned, it is truth universally aknowledged that if a man can't have a wife with an ass wide enough to knock a tracktor off its' wheels, then what's the point of being alive.

[wileys-russo]

revenge of the missing eyebrow II barça femeni

another christmas fic, part of the pollito universe revenge of the missing eyebrow II barça femeni

"i'll get it!" you'd already spoken when the buzzer rang, darting past alexia who almost fell over with the speed you raced past by, popping up in front of the security box.

confirming the parcel was for you you buzzed in the delivery man to the lobby downstairs, your key already in hand as you shot out the front door, alexia starting with one word before it promptly slammed closed again after you and cut her off.

you tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for the elevator, stepping inside and smiling politely at one of your neighbors, and then rolling your eyes when they just started at you blankly not returning the greeting.

none the less you shot out first when it reached the ground floor, the delivery man at least returning you a smile and not seemingly too interested in small talk as you signed his clipboard and took your parcel.

"necesita ayuda?" the man asked with a slight frown of concern as you lugged the suspiciously large box with you toward the elevator, which from the floor rose up to your rib cage and was nearly as wide as you were.

"no, lo tengo, gracias!" you waved him off as he shrugged, wishing you a happy holidays and heading for the front door as the middle aged couple coming out of the elevator you stepped into gave you a strange look.

"tiempo de navidad." you explained with a curt nod as the woman hummed, her eyes baring into you with an air of judgement before the doors closed and you pulled a face.

"nosy." you rolled your eyes, grunting as the elevator reached your floor and you tugged the package out a strange wooshing sounded as you dragged it down the carpeted hallway toward alexias apartment.

not bothered to fish your keys out you simply kicked the door three times, hearing the deadbolt unlock and once again nearly knocking alexia over as you barreled inside and made a beeline for your room.

"hold it!" you froze, halfway there as the door clicked close and footsteps sounded behind you, alexia stepping in front to block the way with narrowed eyes and arms folded across her chest.

"that is the-" she held up a finger, pulling her phone out of her pocket and tapping around on the screen with her free hand for a moment. "-thirteenth package, just this week!" your captain read off the notes tab she'd kept track on.

"en qué andas pequeña?" the older girl asked, hazel eyes burning in warning not to mess her around as you sighed, dropping the package to the floor with a thump.

"christmas capi. gifts!" you replied in a duh tone with a roll of your eyes, shrugging your shoulders which had locked up from lugging around the heavy package.

"show me." the girl demanded with a raised eyebrow as you scoffed. "no! it could be for you. i do not know what is in it!" you defended gesturing to the lack of label on the box as alexia only hummed.

"confía en mí ale!" you smiled charmingly, picking the box up again with a huff, causing alexia to wince as you began to drag it toward your room again.

"trust you? yo no soy idiota!" alexia called after you, stepping aside as you marched past her, grumbling something inaudible under your breath before keys sounded in the door, alexia immediately distracted now olga was home allowing you to shut yourself away and have a little privacy.

"finally. el último!" you grinned happily, clicking the lock you'd fought tooth and nail for to have on your door and dropping the package to the floor, wasting no time wrestling to open it, eventually doing so with a determined huff.

"one hundred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three." you counted your final tally, snapping a photo with a grin and sending it to vicky, one of the only other people you'd entrusted to know your little plan.

within seconds your phone rang, your back hitting your mattress and your body bouncing a little as you clicked accept. "hola rata!" you greeted, and though you couldn't see it you knew she was rolling her eyes.

"this is not going to work amiga. for one there is alexia and she-" vicky warned as you faked a yawn, letting her go on the same rant she'd tried to spew at you for the last few weeks as you'd carefully started to align all the little pieces of this vengeful puzzle you were creating.

"are you done?" you sighed when finally there was silence on the other end of the line, a hum sounding in response. "alexia is going to her mami's tomorrow morning, olga is going with her. they both think i am going home to mi familia, and that my cousin, that they have not met and do not have a number for but have seen photo evidence exists, will be picking me up." you started to explain your master plan.

"my mami thinks i am coming on monday, and that i am staying with mi novia over the weekend. mapi and ingrid are leaving for norway, tonight, and yesterday they dropped bagheera to patri." you continued to explain, vicky sighing every now and then.

"frido is leaving for sweden tomorrow morning. i will use my spare key to frido's, to get her spare key for mapi and ingrids. then you, mi novia, martina, pina and alba will meet me there, and you know the rest!" you finished cheerfully, eyes flickering to the door every now and then to make sure no one was listening in, alexia having a habit to hover and try to hear through your door.

"dios mío pollito, we are so dead." "we are not! by the time they get back and see, we will have a water tight alibi."

christmas time, everyone had their guards down, heads focused on the celebrations ahead and the upcoming break, ready for time spent with loved ones and to engorge in enough food for an army.

christmas time, also known as the perfect time for revenge.

~

sure enough, everything went as smoothly as you could planned, bar one of fridos neighbours assuming you were breaking in and calling her. but with a rushed excuse that you just wanted to leave her her christmas gift to come home to which wasn't a total lie, you were back in the clear.

once you'd arrived to the apartment in question, belonging to the norweigan you were quite fond of and the zaragozana you and your freshly grown eyebrow were not, the plan was simple.

gift wrap, everything.

walls, doors, furniture, the roof, the cat tree, the books, the mirror, shoes, clothes, footballs, kitchen utentisils, whatever you could manage in the two days you'd lied your way to having free to wreak a little christmas havoc.

and with the help of your girlfriend and a few friends, you managed a good chunk of it, getting in and out pretty much undetected given mapi had unknowingly provided you with all the tools you needed.

with your teammates all scattered around the globe with their families, and your time spent with your own family keeping you well occupied, you'd almost forgotten all about your little holiday prank.

key word, almost.

~

"oh eres tan hermosa princesa, the most gorgeous in the-" mapi cooed fondly, adoration in her eyes as she stroked her hand softly over bagheera's little head, gentle purrs and chuffs sounding as she did.

"maría!" ingrid called out, snapping her back to reality as she glanced over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "a little help please?" her girlfriend scoffed, struggling to pull their bags out of the car.

"i am helping!" the spaniard held up the black feline tucked away in her arms, a fierce glare sent her way having her shrinking beneath the green eyes locked on her own.

"lo siento princesa, i will help." mapi hurried back to the car, putting bagheera into the carry crate she'd been picked up in and gently nudging her girlfriend out of the way, hauling out the last of their luggage with a grunt.

it took two trips back to the car and a carry on holding the elevator open but eventually everything was loaded in and headed up to their floor, door once more held open this time by one of their neighbours as the two quickly moved everything.

however as they arrived in front of their door, the alarm bells started.

"did you do this?" ingrid questioned with a confused frown, their once brown oak door now covered with red nosed reindeers with a huge bow tied in the middle, the wreath once nailed to the centre of it hanging on the door handle instead.

"no. did you do this?" mapi echoed the question, cautiously poking at the door, frown deepening when she realised it was covered in wrapping paper.

"did-" but the spaniards question fell short, glancing to her side to see ingrid already with her phone up to her ear, a brief conversation with their swedish blonde teammate confirming she also did not do this.

"the building? decorating for christmas?" ingrid guessed, the pair of them really running out of options now as mapi could only shrug, just as clueless though a brief walk up and down their floor showed it was only their door decorated.

ever so cautiously the couple pushed their key in, mapi going first and kicking the door open, wielding an umbrella making her girlfriend roll her eyes.

however they didn't stay that way for long, both girls jaws dropping as they took in what was once their apartment, but now seemed like something out of a cheesy hallmark movie.

both stunned to silence they dropped everything in their hands, bags hitting the ground with a thump and bagheera mewing unhappily from in her crate still by the front door.

however they had much, much, bigger things to worry about.

"who did-why did-when did-" ingrid stammered out, finger tracing the walls which were also plastered with wrapping paper. "the books. they even did the books amor." mapi breathed out, slowly tugging one out and dropping it to the floor in shock.

"oh my-the kitchen. maría, the kitchen." ingrid gasped, every cupboard door, utensil and appliance all neatly wrapped, some even with little bows stuck to the top.

then, they both shared a panicked look of realisation.

"the bedroom!"

feet thumping they burst through and both nearly dropped to their knees, mapi dragging her hands down her face with a sharp inhale, ingrid rubbing her eyes sure this was some sort of horrid dream.

"but who-who-who-" the norweigan stammered, sounding more like an owl than a footballer as mapi paused, sniffing the air and holding up a hand, silencing her girlfriend.

"amor do you smell that?" "what? paper?"

"no. tom ford perfume, vanilla body wash and...pizza?" mapi frowned, ingrid also sniffing the air as within seconds their heads whipped toward one another with wide eyes.

"pollito!"

~

"oye alexia all i am saying is that it was not even two weeks!" you groaned, repeatedly pushing away the tall blonde as she suffocated you in a bear hug every few seconds, sniffing your hair or pinching your cheeks, mumbling about how she'd missed you.

"get a grip." you huffed, shoving her off you as she attempted to wrap her arm around you in a headlock of sorts, racing off ahead toward the training centre.

though no sooner did you push through the doors did you choke as arms grabbed you, lifting you off your feet and squeezing tightly. "thank you for my present liten stjärna!" frido shook you side to side, kissing your head and placing you back down.

"you liked it? good! i could not remember if it was the right one." you sighed in relief, pulled into another hug by the tall swede which this time you returned.

"it was! i have already read it." frido grinned excitedly, you having fited her the latest book in her favorite series, which given it was in swedish was not easy to find.

"todavía? you have been back for two days!" you looked at her in disbelief, her arm settling over your shoulder as she walked with you down the hallway toward the changing rooms, both of you greeting staff members as you passed them.

catching you up on her time in sweden and you about your time with your family eventually you reached the changing rooms, broken apart by being pulled away by various teammates.

"oh pollito!" then, you heard her, and everything you'd almost forgotten came rushing back as mapi strolled over to you, slowly and with a terrifyingly calm smile on her face.

"hola! cómo estuvo noruega?" you plastered a smile on your face, trying desperately to hide the fear bubbling up inside you, knowing the moment the older girl caught a whiff of it she would pounce.

"bueno. qué tal la navidad? did you work on your...wrapping?" mapi asked, cornering you as vicky caught your pleading look and hastily turned her back and you bit down the gasp you nearly let out at the betrayal.

"sí! my mami runs a tight ship. because that is where i was all break, my mami's house." you assured with a less than confident smile as the defenders eyes narrowed, sizing you up.

"alexia! cuándo se fue?" the girls head whipped around, finger pointed accusingly in your direction as a few of the other girls watched on curiously.

"ehh, the 19th? same as me no?" alexia directed the question at you this time as you nodded quickly. "you dropped off my present on the 19th?" frido now chimed in with a curious frown as alexia's eyes slowly narrowed, catching the slight red tint of your ears.

"i thought you were at your girlfriends until the 22nd?" ona chimed in and you shot vicky a glare who winced and hid her face again. "so...where were you? maybe eh...santas workshop?" mapi laughed but there wasn't an ounce of humour in it as you shrunk.

"do you see my hands diablo? the little cuts? the paper cuts?" mapi continued to walk toward you as you tried to back up but only hit the wall with a wince.

"eh ¿feliz navidad? ¿feliz año nuevo?" you tried with a weak smile.

then ingrid walked in, and with one look at her girlfriend, and then at you, all hell broke loose and in the blink of an eye mapi lunged for you and you darted around her and took off running as she sprinted after you with ingrid hot on her heels.

"you get back here tonta! first i am going to shove a whole roll up wrapping paper por el culo and then i am going to shave your head!"

[melanchoire]

LES ──── kim minji.

── ( ☕ ) convinced a private, locked-door confrontation is the only way to finally end the never-ending war with your infuriatingly brilliant nemesis, minji, you corner her in the bathroom, only to find that your strategy backfires spectacularly as the close quarters and heightened emotions lead to an unforeseen and intensely awkward exploration of desires you never knew you harbored.

pairing. mean dom!student council president!kim minji x sub!student council vice president!fem reader

warning(s.) cunnilingus, degradation, fingering, making out.

word count. 4,9k

author’s note. rushed fic 💔 sorry if it’s bad

okay, buckle up. this is going to be a long ride, and your seat on the student council is about to get a whole lot hotter.

the air in the student council room hung thick with the scent of stale pizza and barely-contained tension. sunlight, already starting to fade, streamed through the dusty windows, illuminating the faces of your colleagues. they were a motley crew: danielle, the perpetually stressed treasurer; haerin, the quiet, dependable secretary; and a scattering of other students, eager (or perhaps just obligated) to shape the future of seoul high.

you glanced at the agenda in front of you: “student council debate: proposals for school improvement.” your stomach clenched. you’d spent weeks crafting these proposals, pouring over student surveys, and even enduring mrs. davies’ notoriously dull lectures on budget allocation. you believed in these ideas – cleaner bathrooms, a broader range of extracurricular clubs, maybe even a decent coffee machine in the teacher's lounge (okay, that one was for mrs. davies’ sake, but still!).

but your gaze kept drifting to minji, the student council president, perched at the head of the worn–out table. her expression was, as always when you presented your ideas, a carefully constructed mask of polite skepticism. her dark hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, accentuating the sharp angles of her face — you took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way minji was meticulously arranging her pens, each click a tiny hammer blow against your nerves. her posture was perfect, back ramrod straight, head tilted at a slight, perpetually critical angle. you knew that look. it was the “i’m about to dissect everything you say and make you question your entire existence” look. she looked every inch the composed, confident leader that everyone else saw. you, however, knew the carefully constructed façade for what it was.

“alright.” minji announced, her voice smooth and polished, like a freshly lacquered table. "Let's begin. (y/n), you may present your first proposal."

you stood, your heart doing a frantic tango in your chest. “good morning, everyone. my first proposal focuses on improving the condition of the student restrooms. surveys indicate a significant level of dissatisfaction, with students citing issues like lack of soap, broken dispensers, and overall cleanliness. i propose allocating a portion of the student activity fund to address these issues, including…”

you launched into your carefully prepared presentation, citing statistics, outlining potential solutions, and emphasizing the positive impact on student morale and hygiene. you even threw in a joke about the legendary bathroom graffiti, hoping for a bit of levity.

it didn’t land.

minji cleared her throat. “while i appreciate (y/n)’s... enthusiasm, i have several concerns. Firstly, the survey data, while perhaps indicative of some dissatisfaction, doesn’t quantify the severity of the problem. are the bathrooms truly unusable, or are students simply being… overly sensitive?”

a murmur rippled through the room. you clenched your fists, trying to keep your expression neutral. “the survey included open–ended responses, which clearly illustrate the extent of the problem. students have reported…”

minji cut you off, her voice dripping with condescension. “anecdotal evidence is hardly conclusive, (y/n). furthermore, allocating funds to bathroom renovations, however noble, is ultimately a short–sighted solution. wouldn’t that money be better spent on, say, academic resources or advanced technology programs? we need to prioritize initiatives that directly impact academic performance, not… superficial comforts.”

you felt your face flush. “hygiene isn’t a 'superficial comfort,' minji. it’s a basic necessity! and a cleaner environment can actually improve focus and concentration, which in turn can positively impact academic performance.”

the debate spiraled. you argued about the practicality of long–term solutions versus immediate needs. minji countered with arguments about fiscal responsibility and the importance of maintaining the school’s academic reputation. it was a dance you’d performed countless times before, a predictable and infuriating ballet of opposing ideologies.

the truth was, this wasn’t just about bathrooms or budget allocations. it was about power. it was about minji’s need to be right, to be seen as the smartest, the most capable, the most… everything.

your history with minji stretched back to freshman year. you’d both joined the debate club, brimming with naive enthusiasm and a shared love of intellectual sparring. but somewhere along the line, competition had curdled into something… else. minji seemed to resent your presence, your ideas, even your popularity. she saw you as a threat, a rival for the spotlight.

you remembered one particularly stinging incident during the regional debate competition. you’d delivered a closing argument that had earned a standing ovation. minji, who had debated before you, was noticeably frosty afterward. later that evening, you overheard her telling another debater that your argument was “emotionally manipulative” and “lacking in substantive evidence.”

the conversation still stung, festering like an unhealed wound.

the bathroom debate eventually petered out in a stalemate. you knew you hadn’t convinced minji, and she hadn’t convinced you. the vote was postponed until the next meeting, a tactic she often used to delay or bury ideas she didn’t like.

next up was your proposal to expand the school's extracurricular offerings. you suggested starting a photography club, a creative writing workshop, and even a dungeons & dragons club, based on student interest surveys. you emphasized the importance of providing students with opportunities to explore their passions and connect with like–minded individuals.

“while i appreciate (y/n)s… creativity.” minji began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “i question the practicality of these proposals. are we truly lacking in extracurricular activities? we already have a debate club, a math club, a science club… do we really need a dungeons & dragons club?”

a few students snickered. you bristled. “those existing clubs cater to specific interests. my proposal aims to provide options for students who don’t necessarily fit into those categories. not everyone wants to debate or solve equations. some people want to create art, write stories, or… yes, explore fantastical worlds.”

minji raised an eyebrow. “and how do you propose funding these… frivolous pursuits? we already struggle to maintain funding for essential programs. are we going to divert resources from academic clubs to support activities that have little to no educational value?”

“that’s not true!” you retorted, your voice rising. “extracurricular activities can foster creativity, critical thinking, and teamwork skills. they can also provide students with a sense of belonging and purpose, which can improve their overall well–being and academic performance.”

“perhaps.” minji conceded, her tone dismissive. “but i remain unconvinced that these specific proposals are the best use of our limited resources. a dungeons & dragons club? really, (y/n)?”

the snickering intensified. you felt your cheeks burning with humiliation. it wasn’t just the rejection of your ideas. it was the deliberate way minji was trying to undermine you, to make you look foolish.

you knew you couldn’t let her win. you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm. “minji, i understand your concerns about funding and prioritization. but i believe that these proposals deserve a fair hearing. i’m willing to work with you to explore alternative funding sources, such as fundraising events or partnerships with local businesses. and i’m confident that we can find a way to make these clubs sustainable and beneficial for our students.”

you looked directly at her, your eyes locking. “i’m not trying to undermine the existing programs, minji. i’m trying to create opportunities for more students to get involved and feel connected to our school community. isn’t that what the student council is supposed to be about?”

a flicker of something – perhaps surprise, perhaps annoyance – crossed minji’s face. for a moment, she seemed genuinely unsettled. then, she quickly regained her composure.

“of course.” she said, her voice cool and controlled. “i simply believe that we need to approach these proposals with a more… critical eye. we need to ensure that we're making responsible decisions that align with the school’s overall mission.”

she smiled, a practiced, polished smile that didn't reach her eyes. “but i appreciate your… passion, (y/n). we can certainly discuss this further at our next meeting.”

grabbing your backpack from the floor, you get up from your seat and leave the room. the slam of the door echoes behind you, a final, defiant punctuation mark on your simmering frustration. you practically feel the heat radiating off your face as you stalk down the sterile hallway, the linoleum a blur under your feet.

minji. just the name is enough to send a fresh wave of frustration crashing over you. President. she lords it over everyone, that title seemingly cemented to her forehead with superglue and arrogance. you knew she was sharp, intimidating even, but the position had amplified it, turning her into a veritable ice queen, ruling with an iron fist disguised as detached logic.

your ideas, again, dismissed. yasually brushed aside with a dismissive wave of her hand and a condescending, “that’s not feasible, you should realize that.” you’re tired of it. tired of the criticisms, the lack of constructive contribution, the sheer, infuriating smugness that clings to her like expensive perfume. it felt like she was deliberately targeting you, singling you out for her brand of cold, intellectual dissection.

it’s never constructive criticism, never an offer of a better solution, just pure, unadulterated dismissal. and the worst part? no one else seems to notice. they all just nod along, cowed by her supposed “seriousness and intelligence.” you suspect it’s more fear than respect, but you’re the only one who seems willing to acknowledge the elephant in the room – or rather, the ice queen sitting at the head of the table.

the student body had elected her out of respect, maybe even a little bit of fear. they saw her intelligence, her unwavering focus. they didn’t see the thinly veiled contempt that flashed in her eyes when anyone dared to disagree with her, the subtle power plays disguised as “efficient leadership.”

you shove open the door to the bathroom, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead a soundtrack to your building tension. your backpack hits the tiled floor with a dull thud, the sound momentarily satisfying in its abruptness. you stalk to the sink, your reflection staring back at you – flushed, angry, and frankly, defeated.

cold water rushes over your hands, and you splash it onto your face, hoping to shock some sense back into your throbbing head. you scrub roughly, trying to erase the image of minji’s icy face, her perpetually unimpressed expression. you need to calm down. you can’t let her get to you.

you take a deep breath, holding it for a moment, then slowly release it. better, but not enough. you repeat the process, trying to focus on the cool sensation of the water, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest.

“running away again? i thought you had so many brilliant ideas to share.”

her voice, smooth and laced with a mocking amusement, slices through the fragile calm you were trying to cultivate. you freeze, your hands still gripping the edge of the sink. you don’t even need to turn around to know she’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

you groan inwardly. of course. of course, she followed you. turning around slowly, you lean against the sink, arms crossed, trying to project a facade of calm you definitely don't feel.

“i wasn't running.” you retort, your voice sharper than you intended. you turn, meeting her gaze head-on. “i just needed a break from your… unique leadership style. the air in there was getting a little…stale.”

her lips curve into that infuriatingly subtle smirk. “stale? or perhaps you realized the brilliance of my…assessment of your proposals?”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “assessment? you mean your flat–out rejection of everything i suggest? is that what passes for leadership these days, minji? just tearing down other people’s ideas without offering anything constructive in return?”

her smirk widens slightly. “o sensitive. i merely offered constructive criticism.”

“constructive criticism?” you scoff. “all you do is tear down ideas. you never offer any solutions of your own.”

she takes a step closer, her gaze unwavering. you have to give her credit; she really knows how to intimidate people. “perhaps if your ideas were…viable, they wouldn't require such… assessment.”

“viable?” you scoff. “last week i suggested a school–wide volunteer day at the local animal shelter. viable enough? or what about a fundraising bake sale for new library books? too radical for you, minji?”

“those are… pedestrian.” she says the word like it’s a dirty thing. “we’re the student council, (y/n), not a bake sale committee. we should be focusing on initiatives that have a real impact, something that elevates the student body. not… fluffy nonsense.”

“fluffy nonsense?” you repeat, your voice rising. “helping animals and raising money for books is fluffy nonsense? what, pray tell, constitutes a ‘real impact’ in your world, minji? another policy proposal that no one reads? another pointless survey that gets ignored?”

“trategic planning.” she says coolly, ignoring your rising anger. “long-term vision. things that require actual intellect and foresight.”

“oh, i’m sorry.” you say, dripping with sarcasm. “i didn’t realize volunteering and helping the community were beneath your superior intellect. maybe you could enlighten me, minji. what brilliant, game-changing idea have you brought to the table lately? besides, of course, pointing out everything that’s wrong with everyone else’s suggestions.”

the smirk finally fades, replaced by a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. but she recovers quickly. “i’m focused on ensuring the council operates efficiently and effectively. that requires… critical thinking.”

“critical thinking isn’t the same as negativity, minji.” you retort. “it’s about identifying weaknesses and finding solutions, not just shooting everything down with a condescending smirk. you’re so busy playing judge and jury, you’re not actually contributing anything.”

“i contribute by ensuring the council doesn’t waste its time on frivolous pursuits.” she says, her voice hardening. “someone has to be the voice of reason.”

“reason?” you laugh, a short, sharp sound. “you think you’re the voice of reason? you’re the voice of 'no.' you’re the reason why nothing ever changes around here. you’re so afraid of anything that isn't perfect, you’re paralyzed. and you drag everyone else down with you.”

you can see the anger finally breaking through her carefully constructed facade. her jaw tightens, and her eyes narrow. “you’re being disrespectful, (y/n).”

“am i?” you challenge, taking a step closer to her. “or am i just finally saying what everyone else is too afraid to? you got elected president because people were intimidated by you, not because they actually liked you or thought you were a good leader. they just didn’t want to cross you.”

“that’s not true.” she says, but the words lack conviction."

“isn’n it? look around, minji. no one challenges you. no one questions you. they just nod and agree, terrified of becoming your next target.

and you eat it up, don’t you? you thrive on it. you love the power.”

“you don’t understand.” she says, her voice lower now, almost a hiss. “you don’t understand the responsibility…”

“oh, i understand the responsibility,” you interrupt. “it’s about serving the student body, not ruling over them. it’s about fostering ideas, not crushing them. it’s about building something together, not tearing everything down to prove how smart you are.”

you pause, taking a deep breath to try and control your still-rising anger. it’s exhausting, this constant battle with her. “you know what, minji? i’m done. i’m done with the student council. I'm done with your negativity. i’m done wasting my time trying to make a difference in a place where the only thing that matters is your ego.”

you reach for your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. “you can have it, minji. you can have the presidency, the power, the endless meetings where nothing ever gets done. i’m going to go find something more worthwhile to do with my time. you know, you wouldn’t be half as insufferable if you actually used your supposed intellect for something other than belittling everyone else.”

the amusement vanishes from her face, replaced by a flicker of something you can’t quite decipher. anger? annoyance? or something else entirely?

“careful.” she warns, pushing herself away from the doorframe and taking a step towards you. “don’t confuse confidence for arrogance.”

“oh, i’m not confused.” you snap. “i know exactly what i’m seeing.”

you turn to leave, but stop at the door, looking back at her one last time. “maybe, just maybe, if you spent less time criticizing and more time actually contributing, you might actually accomplish something. but i wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“you think you know me so well, don’t you?” she says, her voice barely a whisper.

you look up at her, your heart pounding in your chest. her eyes are darker than usual, intense and unreadable. you swallow hard. “i think i know you well enough to know that you enjoy making everyone around you miserable.”

she lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “miserable? or perhaps… challenged?”

before you can retort, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against your cheek. the touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of her words. a jolt of electricity shoots through you, a strange mixture of surprise and… something else.

“you have no idea.” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on your lips.

and then, before you can process what’s happening, she leans in and kisses you.

your mind blanks. the world shrinks to the feel of her lips on yours, the warmth of her breath against your skin. it’s not a tentative, exploratory kiss, but a fierce, demanding claim. her mouth moves against yours with a hunger that takes you completely by surprise.

your initial reaction is shock, pure and unadulterated. this is minji, the ice queen, the epitome of composure and control. this can’t be happening. but then, something shifts. a warmth begins to spread through you, melting the anger and frustration, replacing it with a confusing rush of… desire?

her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, erasing the space between you. the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more insistent. her tongue slides against yours, and you gasp, a wave of heat washing over you.

you find yourself responding, your own arms instinctively rising to wrap around her neck. you close your eyes, abandoning yourself to the sensation. the cool tile beneath your feet, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, the lingering scent of soap – everything fades into the background, leaving only the feel of her mouth on yours, the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

there’s a desperation in her kiss, a raw vulnerability that you never would have expected from her. it’s as if she’s trying to communicate something beyond words, something hidden deep beneath her carefully constructed facade. and you, caught in the intensity of the moment, find yourself wanting to understand, wanting to unravel the layers of her complex personality.

the kiss goes on, a seemingly endless exploration. her hands move from your waist to your hair, tangling in the strands as she deepens the kiss, tilting your head back till you fear your neck will snap. you moan softly, the sound lost in the intimacy of the moment, and she seems to take it as encouragement, pressing closer, her body flush against yours.

you can taste the lingering traces of her earlier coffee, mixed in with something altogether more raw and intoxicating. her lips feel soft, yielding, despite the possessiveness of her hold. every nerve ending seems to be firing at once, your body humming with a strange, electric energy.

air becomes a precious commodity, your lungs screaming for relief, but you can't bring yourself to break away. the kiss is too consuming, too addictive. You want to lose yourself in it, to forget the arguments, the frustrations, the complexities of your relationship.

finally, gasping for breath, she pulls back slightly, her forehead resting against yours. her eyes are still dark, dilated with desire, and her chest rises and falls rapidly.

"i..." she starts, her voice raspy, then stops, as though she's unsure what to say.

you stare at her, your own heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts a jumbled mess. the kiss has shattered your carefully constructed defenses, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

she searches your eyes, her expression unreadable for a long moment before breaking into a nervous smile. “you really do get under my skin, y'know?”

she pushed open the heavy bathroom door and dragged you inside, immediately pulling you into the last stall and locking the door behind you. the small space was dimly lit and smelled faintly of cleaning products and a lingering scent of cigarette smoke.

minji pinned you against the wall, her hands gripping your hips as she pressed her body against yours. she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear.

“god, you’re so fucking hot.” she breathed, nipping at your earlobe. “i’ve wanted to get my hands on you for so long.”

one hand slid up your side, brushing over your breast before gripping the back of your neck possessively. the other hand gripped your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. “tell me what you want, (y/n).” she growled softly, her dark eyes glinting with lust. “tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“we shouldn't do that here, minji. i don’t want to get in trouble and–”

“shut up.”

minji’s hand slid under your shirt, her fingers trailing up your spine and leaving goosebumps in their wake. she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your neck as she inhaled deeply.

“you’re so beautiful.” she murmured, her hot breath tickling your skin. her hand reached the nape of your neck, gripping your hair and tugging your head back gently to expose more of your throat to her eager mouth.

minji’s lips attacked your neck, kissing and sucking on your sensitive skin. she bit down gently on your pulse point before soothing the sting with her tongue. her other hand slid down to the hem of your skirt, slipping underneath to caress your inner thigh.

“i want to taste every inch of you.” she breathed against your skin, her voice low and husky with desire. “i want to make you scream my name until the whole school knows who you belong to.”

she gripped your thigh tighter, her fingers digging into your soft skin as she pressed her body even closer to yours. you could feel the heat radiating off her, the hard lines of her toned body pushing against your curves.

minji’s hand slid higher up your thigh, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. she rubbed you through the thin material, feeling the warmth emanating from your core.

“fuck, you’re already so wet.” she groaned, her voice dripping with lust. “you want this just as badly as i do, don’t you (y/n)? you want me to fuck you hard and raw right here where anyone could catch us.”

minji smirked wickedly as she felt you tremble beneath her touch, your body responding eagerly to her skilled ministrations. she was aware of the effect her unfiltered dirty words had on you, it was to be expected that you would be surprised and speechless when a person who is always serious and professional suddenly acts this way with you, and minji definitely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to humiliate you in other ways.

she hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties, playfully pulling on the elastic and teasing you a little, enough that your hips involuntarily buck against minji’s hand in protest of her stopping her teasing. “god, look at this pretty pussy… i bet it tastes as good as it looks.” she purred, her finger teasing your slick folds, feeling your wetness coats her skin.

minji dropped to her knees in front of you, pushing your skirt up around your waist. she looked up at you with a devilish grin before leaning in and dragging the flat of her tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. “mmh, fuck yes.” she groaned, the vibrations of her voice sending shockwaves through your core. “you taste even better than i imagined. and believe me, you’ve been on my mind for a long time.”

minji licked and sucked at your sensitive flesh like a woman starved, her tongue delving deep between your folds to taste every drop of your arousal. she focused on your clit, flicking the hardened nub with the tip of her tongue before sucking it between her lips, applying just the right amount of pressure.

her hands gripped your ass, pulling you harder against her face as she ate you out with wild abandon. she could feel your thighs trembling and your breathing growing ragged, knowing she had you right on the edge.

she pulled back briefly, looking up at you with a wicked smirk. “come on, (y/n). don’t hold back. i want to feel your pussy clench around my tongue as you cum on my face. i want you to soak me with your juices until i’m dripping wet.”

with that, she dove back in, attacking your clit with fervor as two fingers plunged deep inside your tight channel. she pumped them in and out, curling them to hit that special spot inside you with every thrust.

minji could feel your walls fluttering around her invading fingers, knowing you were close. she doubled her efforts, sucking hard on your clit as she fingered you faster and deeper, determined to make you come undone.

“that’s it, baby.” she encouraged, her voice muffled against your pussy. “cum for me. i want to feel this tight little cunt spasm around my fingers as you scream my name.”

“fuck minji– i can’t–”

minji looked up at you, her eyes dark and wild with lust. she smirked wickedly at your concern. “let them hear.” she growled, the words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “i want the whole fucking school to know what a dirty slut you are, getting eaten out in the bathroom like a cheap whore.”

she punctuated her words by plunging three fingers deep inside you, pumping them harder and faster, her palm slapping lewdly against your clit with each thrust. her other hand gripped your ass, pulling you harder against her face, not letting you escape the intense pleasure.

“don’t hold back, (y/n). i want to hear you scream. i want you to be loud enough for them to hear you all the way down the hall. let them know who this pussy belongs to now.” she demanded, her voice rough with desire.

minji attacked your clit with renewed fervor, sucking and biting the sensitive bundle of nerves, pushing you ruthlessly towards your peak. her fingers curled inside you, stroking your g–spot, determined to make you cum harder than you ever had before.

minji could feel your walls starting to flutter around her invading fingers, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. she doubled her efforts, sucking hard on your clit and pumping her fingers as fast and deep as she could, wanting to push you over the edge.

“that’s it, babe. cum on my fingers like the desperate little slut you are.” she growled, her voice dripping with lust and dominance. “i want to feel your cunt spasm and clench around me as you fucking soak my hand. give it to me, baby. give me that.”

she nipped at your clit, sending a shock of pained pleasure through you that finally tipped you over into ecstasy. your walls clamped down hard on her fingers as your orgasm crashed over you, your juices gushing out and coating her hand and wrist.

“yes, fuck yes! that’s it, scream for me (y/n)” minji cried out in triumph as she felt your pussy spasm and quake around her fingers, your body shaking with the force of your climax.

she worked you through it, her fingers slowing their movements but not stopping, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible. finally, as your body went limp, she pulled her fingers out of you and stood up.

minji brought her glistening, soaked fingers up to her mouth and sucked them clean, her eyes never leaving yours. “mmmh, you taste fucking incredible.” she purred, licking her lips. “i could get addicted to this pussy.”

minji grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the stall, straightening your skirt and hair as she led you to the sink. she turned on the faucet, running her fingers under the cool water and rinsing the evidence of your encounter down the drain.

as you both washed your hands, minji smirked at your reflection in the mirror, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction and a hint of something more sinister.

“not bad for a quickie in the bathroom, huh?” she said with a wicked grin, turning to face you. “but don’t think we’re done, love. that was just a little taste of what i can do. i’m not nearly finished with this sexy body yet.”

she stepped closer to you, backing you up against the counter. one hand slid around your waist, pulling your body flush against hers, while the other hand cupped your face, tilting it towards hers.

“come to my dorm after the debate. i have to make it up to you for my shitty attitude.”

[hikawilla]

Mother

Yuu = reader = female. Yuu is over the age of 20. The events take place after book 7

Silver's life was never “normal” from other people's point of view. His non-blood father was a fairy with a perpetually young face, a former general feared by enemies and all Briar Valley. Growing up Silver in the forest, deprived of all the benefits of civilization, he trained every day to become a knight and protect the king and his father. Together with his father, they used their own hands to find and prepare food.

And when he entered the school, you could say he was learning to live again. For Silver, all this modern technology was magic, although he lived in a house where magic was something ordinary. Silver was surprised by many things at first, but he soon got used to it.

Now new changes were taking place in Silver's life, or rather not by the white-haired man himself, but by his father… But the young knight himself was indirectly affected. Lilia began to meet Yuu, a young woman from another world, who did not possess a single grain of magic. This girl appeared out of nowhere and immediately attracted attention. First of all, Yuu was the only girl in the school. Secondly, being in her first year, she was the oldest, no one knew exactly Yuu's real age, and the girl herself said every time: “It's not proper to ask a lady about her age!” But everyone agreed that Yuu was definitely over 20 years old. Simply because only an adult complained about taxes, lack of time for everything, and expensive medicines.

Silver had crossed paths with Yuu a couple times before the events with Malleus. Silver was uncomfortable recalling those events. It came out that Silver ended up calling Yuu 'mom'. It was just that Yuu's demeanor and voice was somehow more motherly. A little later, at the riding club, Silver learned that many people called Yuu 'mom', and some guys complained, “Just when I thought I had finally gotten rid of my mother's guidance, a second mother appeared at school. A nightmare! The quiet school life is over.” Silver didn't know what a mother's love was, he only had his adoptive father, but deep down he was happy that he had touched at least a little bit of his mother's so-called “mother's guidance”. And in his father's dream, Silver kept calling Yuu 'mom'. By the way, Sebek also called Yuu “mom” a couple times. And the girl herself reacted each time, “Are you kids okay?”

In Lilia Silver's dream, it seemed that Yuu's main fear was if he or Sebek or Grim got wounds. After each fight, the girl would look at the boys, treat their wounds if necessary. Grumbling and if necessary, she could argue with Lilia to protect the guys. Silver remembered the moment when it was finally over. Everyone was rejoicing, dancing and laughing. Malleus had given Silver his father's last name and they were finally a complete family. A slap rang out, it was Yuu hitting Lilia. Lilia's head was turned to the side and his eyes were widened with shock.

“That's for making your sons cry,” was the only thing Yuu said, and as if nothing had happened a second ago, continued to celebrate further. And towards the end of the evening, Lilia walked over and asked: “Yuu, do you remember that dialog we had?” “Which one…? And you about that conversation, to be honest, I forgot about it,” Yuu said sincerely, but everyone could hear some trepidation in the girl's voice. “It's mutual,” Yuu looked at Lilia with shock in her eyes, and in the next second, his father kissed Yuu. Everyone was shocked.

Lilia and Yuu started dating. Silver's father went off the rails. Lilia became more clingy, greedy, and reluctant to leave Yuu. At some point, everyone began to think that Yuu was now living in Lilia's room. The young woman often spent her free time with the Diasomnia boys. Watching movies with them, having tea parties, just chatting. And a huge plus was that Yuu knew how to cook. Silver, Sebek, and Malleus ate Yuu's food with tears of happiness and begged her to cook more often.

Lilia was happy, and Silver was happy for his father. And the young man himself was happy, he had a mom. A mom who praises him. A mom who scolds him for his carelessness that led to his injury. A mom who treated his wounds and asked, “Does it sting?” and gently blew on the wound. The mom who helped brush his hair. The mom who covered him with a blanket, kissed his forehead, and wished him pleasant dreams. The mom who hugged me, stroked my head and said: “You're doing great.” Silver, realized what a complete family was and his heart was overflowing with love. “Yuu, can I call you mom?”

[yumenoberu]

She’s a Teaser

Kyoya Ootori x fem!reader

summary: It’s a regular Saturday afternoon in the Ootori estate. Y/n and Kyoya, the notorious Ouran Host Club’s very own managers, silently work on the club preparations. Worn out and fatigued after hours of endless calculations and composing, someone gets distracted by a curious scene from the corner of their eye…

word count: 700 words

warnings: none!!

published: 10/18/24

author’s note: my first published fic!! who cares if it’s assessment week its not like all my projects are due and i'm back tracking my tasks— hey! duty calls when ur mind decides to plague u with fluffy OHSHC brain rot yk!! and now, my doves, please enjoy ✨🥳

‘Sitting on the foot of his couch while crunching down an endless flow of numbers and letters till the sunset. Neither of us ever spoke a word, being simply content with the comfortable silence. This was our average weekend. ’

Such was the silent arrangement Y/n and Kyoya developed over time.

The click and clacking of computer buttons overrun the comfortable silence that rang through Kyoya’s living space. The two second-years alternate between buttons on their respective keyboards, typing up an almost rhythmic stream of characters for their shared digital accounting space. Although, for one of the teens in the room, Y/n couldn’t gauge what exactly she was writing—her mind was elsewhere.

The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the monochrome walls of the Ootori estate with contrasting radiant, warm hues. They’ve been working on a proposal for the next upcoming, unequivocally extravagant, Host Club event. Accounting for the lovable, yet ever-impulsive Host King’s whims always proved to be a task of considerable difficulty.

But nothing is impossible, no? Not for the Host Club! Why, their Shadow King irresistible charm is to blame!

Y/n’s grown quite accustomed to arranging for every outlandish fantasy the eternally flamboyant, capricious Ouran Host Club’s President desired to make a reality. But man could she never get used to how exhausting the process could be.

‘We’re gonna be here for another few hours aren’t we…’

She sighs out loud, rubbing a hand on her strained eyes as she looks up from the screen, straightening her back and stretching her arms up, but not without subconsciously stealing a glance at her ‘coworker’.

Kyoya was, as she anticipated, glued to his usual spot on the couch, posture impressively as straight as a knife even after hours of sitting in the same position, and was, similarly, typing away on his computer with tired eyes with an uncharacteristic brow arched, outwardly showing his irritation at whatever was on his screen.

‘The work’s starting to take a toll on him too huh,’ She almost chuckles to herself. There was something about the sight that was so amusing to her. Perhaps witnessing his usually unwavering prim and proper facade, peel off ever so slightly was, for the lack of a better word, endearing, to her.

‘What a look.’ She thought, a playful smirk inching its way up her lips. Opening her mouth to give a teasing remark on his state, she bites her tongue, rethinking her actions.

‘But then, it always seems like more trouble than it’s worth, annoying him.’

Her puckish gaze lingered even as she relaxed the rest of her body after her little stretch. She didn’t realize she was starting to stare—being much too preoccupied by the sudden train of thoughts that cascaded across her mind at the peculiar scene.

‘Nevertheless, he always seems like he’s in a bad mood around me, wonder what his deal is…’

‘Always so condescending and cynical, not a cute look Ootori, not a cute look.’ She teased. Though inwardly, of course, she wasn’t planning on dying just yet.

She internally contemplates for a while longer, exhaling aloud through her nose, exhausted from her own ramblings. Her work, completely abandoned.

‘He’d be annoyed if he sees I’m not working… Can’t the man relax for a bit, why's he always such a grouch. That's the Shadow King for you.’ At the notion, she unintentionally let her face contort into a playful scowl.

Her inner monologue continued on, her mind jumping through hoops of arbitrary thoughts, making all sorts of faces at her disses toward the boy.

To her knowledge, he was too focused on whatever he was doing to notice she was staring at him; however, ever so clueless to the reality of things, little did Y/n know that Kyoya had noticed since the beginning.

But he didn’t mind, not in the slightest. In fact, he finds it quite amusing, cute even. Because as he recalled, just moments before, while she still wasn’t looking at him, he was doing the same thing.

He almost smiles at the thought, nevertheless as stubborn as his nature is, he suppresses it.

Then, they simultaneously fondly think to themselves,

‘What goes on in that head of yours?’

masterlist

[porcelainbirdss]

forget me not

you gently twirled the small, blue flower between your fingers. you had always held a special fondness for them, as they were like living symbols of memory, reminders of things that should never be forgotten.

“what do you think of forget-me-nots?” you asked softly, letting your gaze settle on Mydei, sitting beside you.

“they’re…” he began, as if weighing each word. “they’re alright, i guess.”

his response was cautious, almost indifferent in a way, but there was something more lurking in his voice — something you had yet to decipher.

cw: fem!reader, thief!reader, descriptions of death, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, but also hurt/no comfort, descriptions of violence, blood, alcohol consumption, hinted depression, relationship established at some point of the story. || wc: 25k

"that was the last time we heard of [name]." Phainon explained, his posture stiff as the palpable tension in the room seemed to crush him under its weight. Castorice nodded along, fidgeting nervously with her fingers.

Aglaea took a moment of contemplation before finally sighing with defeat. even though the story they presented her with seemed almost unbelievable, her golden strings registered not a single waver. they were not lying.

"and what about Mydei?" she questioned, though the answer rang clearly in the back of her mind.

Castorice opened her mouth, but Phainon spoke first. "unresponsive. refuses to talk about it." he confessed, his eyes downcast. "i’m terribly worried about him. what in the gods’ name happened?"

the woman replied with silence, keeping her mouth pressed into a tight line. if only she eradicated the problem from the start, none of it would’ve ever taken place. alas, some things, no matter how tragic in their nature, cannot be undone.

———

your eyes narrowed at the blonde man, now idly talking to one of the many vendors who resided in the Okhema’s town square. Mydeimos. the crown prince of Kremnos, the Undying. at this point, there wasn’t a thing you wouldn’t know about him — long days of digging through information, listening on to another people’s stories, tracking and getting to know him better. Mydei was powerful alright, and if he was still there, he’d probably laugh at your face in that rumbling voice of his, saying "oh, you brainless girl, always biting off more than you could ever chew!". your lips twitched upwards at your own imagination, and even though you knew he was right, you simply couldn’t help yourself. Mydeimos wasn’t only popular, being one of the Chrysos Heirs — he was also dirty rich. it wasn’t hard to tell by the first look at him, golden necklace adorned with lazurite gemstones hanging heavily on the toned chest.

you licked your lips in anticipation as you lowered yourself behind the stacked boxes, the platform big enough to obscure your form entirely. robbery in the broad daylight was never no easy feat. you seldom did it this way, especially to someone of such high status, but the prince rarely wandered the streets during late night hours. you wouldn’t dream of mugging him — he’d knock you out within a second. instead, you’d use your wits and techniques, instilled within your instincts long before you were even taught how to properly hold a fork. patience was the key, and you waited in complete silence until the man finally bid goodbye to the seller, securing the big pouch of money to his belt. he was either as stupid as a donkey, or the holy city simply lacked in crime, hence why he felt no need to look after his belongings.

unfortunately for Mydeimos, you weren’t as honorable as the rest of the citizens, and you needed to steal from him — whether you wanted to, or not. it’s something you always did, and most likely will continue to do until your last breath. a fleeting memory of your old man flashed, and you grimaced, seeing his face in the eye of your mind, worn by age and hardships. your past wasn’t something you enjoyed reminiscing about. perhaps there were some fleeting moments of happiness — when your "Pa" finally managed to get you that doll you dreamt of, or when you both celebrated a generous surge of money, eating and cheering to your hearts content. however now, as you thought of the nameless man that raised you for those long years, all you could see is his agony state, once vigorous body destroyed by pneumonia.

you have struggled to make just enough to afford the medication you couldn’t steal, seemingly endless weeks of psychological torture and beatings you received from the victims of your (more often than not) failed robbery. as fear squeezed at your gut, you began to slip-up constantly, and most of your attempts ended up in vain. it was hell. living in a poor city was never easy, but at least you had Pa by your side. then, fate decided to sneer straight at your face, and take him away too. he wasn’t your biological father, yet you loved him like your own.

just as you thought things couldn’t get any worse, a sudden natural disaster decided to hit your town, hurricane ruining everything in sight. some people managed to survive, some died under the rubble. you wished you had joined the latter group.

your only desire was to lie in the middle of the place you once could call a home, and wait until your consciousness slipped into the nether. but you weren’t like that — fortunately (or maybe not), your drive to survive was much stronger than the grief pulling you down. you have traversed many cities since then, heart still wrenched by despair, but somehow you managed. leading a life of a vagabond was exhausting, and yet, you simply couldn’t give up. perhaps what helped was your rather unique talent — clairvoyance. it was useless most of the time, only allowing you to see brief snapshots of the future, not even on command — however the assurance of a promised tomorrow kept you going.

i’ll show you what i’m made of, old man. you thought to yourself as you got up from your crouching position, steadily tailing after Mydei. you kept a safe distance for now, your keen eyes glued to his back as you calculated what your best option of approach is. you knew you wouldn’t fail, as yesterday the vision revealed to you was of a big bathhouse, meaning — you weren’t imprisoned. unfortunately, the stealing part was still tricky, so you needed to focus, else you could miss your chance and go another hour or so without anything to eat.

you pretended to look at your own feet, 'accidentally' bumping into the man. there it was. you felt the pouch’s weight in your hand as you swiftly slipped it into your bag, the movement so brief no one around would be able to spot it. your head snapped up to look at Mydei with feigned apology. "oh, i’m so sorry, sir. are you alrig—"

you felt your heart jump up straight to your throat as he suddenly seized your wrist, the glare he sent your way sending shivers down your spine. did your vision fail you? no, that simply wasn’t possible — sure, it was just a brief glimpse of a bathhouse, but — gods, on the other hand, you never knew when it’s exactly taking place. it could have been a few weeks from now on, months, years! that stupid clairvoyance, was it supposed to help or torment you?!

you gritted your teeth, adrenaline instantly rushing through your body. Mydeimos was much stronger, it was obvious from the way his fingers clenched around you — but perhaps he didn’t mean to harm you, because the grip faltered slightly when he spotted your distraught expression. you didn’t want to cause a scene, however you had to break free, so you swiftly stepped to the side, pushing your body weight downwards before rapidly jolting yourself up. he seemed to underestimate you — by some miracle — his balanced stance faltered, if only just slightly. you hit the man’s arm with your whole might, wincing when the sharp metal of his gauntlet sent a painful wave through your muscles. with the impact, you managed to twist your wrist, and practically tear it away from his grasp.

you held back the triumphant smile that threatened to creep onto your lips, internally sneering at how Mydeimos’ pity caused you to take advantage of it, and give you a chance to flee. you turned on your heel, accidentally bumping into someone — you pushed that person to the side, making them collide with the prince. without looking back, you sprinted forwards, your calves starting to burn from the mere speed of your run. your vision narrowed as you kept moving between the crowd, your eyes searching for the best escape route. you’d have to leave the holy city as soon as possible.

you ran into a tight alleyway, almost stumbling over your own feet — you were fleeing for some time now, and so you risked a glance behind your back. nothing. you felt as if your lungs were on fire, and you gasped for air, leaning on the wall. you’ll have to resume your sprint soon, but now, you had to rest, else you’d collapse. after a few wheezes of exhaustion, you pushed yourself forwards, and you turned to the left, your eyes widening before you bumped into the very man who was chasing after you just a few minutes ago. how— when?! your mind started to panic as you wobbled backwards, his hand catching your collar just when you wanted to turn away and bolt.

"you damned—"

"what made you think you could steal from me, thief?" he seethed, tone dangerously low. you swallowed, trying to calm your hammering heart. you must think, think!

"let! me! go!" you growled, flailing your limbs around, your fists hitting blindly at him. "i didn’t steal anything!"

it was a poor excuse, you knew about that, but fear way too truthful for your liking started to bloom within your heart, and your usually sharp mind failed you. perhaps you weren’t as cunning as you deemed yourself. nothing other than pointless arguing came to your rescue, and you cursed yourself for your over-confidence.

Mydei swiveled you to face him, grasping both of your arms in just one hand, the other one unceremoniously reaching into your bag and pulling out his pouch. "what is it, then?" he asked, dangling the thing before your eyes. you felt the need to spit at his face.

"that’s mine."

"no, it’s not." the corners of his lips itched upwards, as if the whole situation was slowly starting to amuse him. "have you seen that vendor from earlier? he can confirm it belongs to me."

you huffed under your nose — it’s high time you switched plans. you forced the look of defeat, your shoulders hunching as you let out a big sigh, all resistance simmering down from your body. you could have begged for forgiveness — but you forbid yourself from falling this low, and you were sure Pa would be rolling in his grave from laughter if he saw you on your knees, crying and sniffling as you made up some hardly-believable story about your starving family.

you shook your head, keeping your tone coy. "alright, alright. you got me there."

the sudden surrender seemed to slightly surprise Mydei, but at least he didn’t point it out. "fine then. now let’s see what the Goldweaver will have to say about the whole situation."

Goldweaver. Aglaea. you knew who she was. you’ve never seen her personally, but the stories about her unmistakable beauty and coldness of character stuck, making a rather big impression on you. the woman wasn’t exactly ruthless, but she kept the entirety of Okhema on a tight leash, and you were sure the sentence she’d give you wouldn’t be lenient. damn your luck.

"so what? you’ll just drag me there?" you questioned, starting to feel Mydei tug you forwards. in response, he only nodded. heat of irritation crawled up your neck, as you thought you’d rather have him bind you into chains than pull around as if you were a small child.

for the whole length of your walk, you kept looking for opportunities to break free and run, however none came. people kept giving you dirty looks, but you paid little attention to them, well-used to the scrutinizing glances everyone would grace you with as you stumbled back home with a bruised face, a few dimes held tightly in your palm. when the time of your judgement came, you expected anything but this.

five months of cleaning the public bathhouse. no parole.

well, at least your vision wasn’t faulty after all.

for the first month, you were trying to run away. when the second and third came, you kept on seething, ferociously smacking the rag around as you polished the ceramics. by the forth you begrudgingly accepted your fate, and when the last month of your punishment came, you were almost grateful for such a forgiving penalty. they even gave you food, and a bed to sleep in — although the cell was rather cold. it could’ve always been worse, no? what surprised you furthermore, Mydei seemed to take no personal offense, and sometimes came to accompany you (or rather — make sure you caused no trouble, as during your first day you decided it would be a great idea to spill dirty water everywhere, and bang at the windows). at first you were very skeptical, swinging your broom at him as you tried to chase the man away, convinced he was there to just poke fun at you. as the weeks went on, it became obvious he harbored no ill intent.

"what’s this?" you asked as you bit off a mouthful of some pastry, your speech muffled by the big piece of sweetness.

Mydei chuckled dryly at your lack of knowledge. "you seriously don’t know?” you sent him a warning glare, still chewing on that certain something, so delicious and foreign to your tastebuds. growing up poor, you had no chance of ever experiencing such luxuries as tidbits. "it’s an eclair, [name]. pretty common, if you ask me."

you swallowed, wiping your mouth as you lazily leaned on the mop. "well, i’m sorry that i’ve never seen any of your fancy foods." you mocked, though it lacked in a real bite. "now, give me another one."

"no way, you’ve already had three of them—" he didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence as you snatched the 'eclair', or whatever the thing was called from his tray. at least now your quick reflexes were actually good for something. you immediately stuffed it into your mouth, delight seeping through your senses as the saccharine melted on your tongue.

Mydei sighed in resignation, and you giggled at him, starting to swipe the floor with more vigor than before. it’s something he often did — bringing you snacks, and while you didn’t understand why he was acting so kind, you never dared complain. truth be told, when he first walked in with a plate full of pastries, you genuinely thought he wanted to poison you. it took some convincing — and eventually a small fight — but you caved in, and decided to give it a try. when you took the hesitant bite, you felt as if your whole world collided and got rebuilt anew in a span of two seconds. ever since then, Mydei kept gracing you with the sweet treats, and you definitely deemed him as a godsend, the merciful cakes and donuts calling out to you while you struggled to clean up the entirety of the bathhouse.

"goodness, what do you put in those little ecleres of yours?" you mused, briefly glancing at his tall form, now leaning against the pillar.

“eclairs.” he corrected bluntly.

"yeah, yeah, whatever, eclairs—" you rolled your eyes, dipping the mop into the bucket of water, "how do you make them? they’re amazing."

he cocked one eyebrow at you, amused expression starting to pull at his face. "want me to write you a recipe? i doubt you’ll remember anything when you finally get out."

you huffed, now looking at Mydei with a feigned hurt. you had to squint your eyes due to the setting sun, its bright rays blinding you. "do you really think my memory is so bad?" you whined, your lips curling downwards before an idea sparkled within your mind. "oh, i know! what do you say — once i’m free again, you’ll just teach me. doesn’t that sound wonderful?"

you had no plans of staying in the holy city any longer than you were forced to, but you doubted you’d meet anyone as talented as Mydei, and your baking skills were practically zero. getting yourself a cooking book, and attempting to lean how to make everything from scratch by yourself sounded… well, it didn’t sound like anything, because you’d probably fall back into the whirl of crime and thieving, so taking up a hobby was out of question. perhaps those few months in Okhema made you too soft, but you desperately clung to the vision of sparse comfort. just a few more weeks, and you’ll be gone, but you still needed to try everything that once seemed completely out of reach. you had to.

Mydei blinked at you, as if your offer took him aback. "i don’t see why not." he shrugged, pretending your enthusiastic expression was of an indifference to him.

you jumped up, cheerily clasping your hands together as the forgotten mop clattered to the ground. both of you cringed at the loud noise, and after a second of awkward silence, you bent down to pick it up, thinking it would be best to get back to work. for now, you had to focus on being meticulous, so that Aglaea wouldn’t prolong your punishment — then, you can think about all the joys the holy city had to offer.

———

in the retrospection, your stupid resolve to flee, and abandon Okhema now seemed almost laughable. you remembered it clearly as a day, your past-self swearing that you wouldn’t stick for long. well, as it turns out, four years have passed since then, and you were striving. you can’t really recall what made you stay — perhaps your nervous system finally calming down, pushing the ever-present urge to "fight" or "run" aside. maybe it was your own indecisiveness, crumbling into one, solid resolution as you got tired of the constant back and forth with your mind. just one week longer, and after that you’ll leave. when the week passed, you usually repeated the same sentence, ultimately making it obvious you weren’t going anywhere. months stretched into years, and you could pat your own back with pride, surprised by your ability of making the right decision for once. you no longer had to fight for your own survival, prolonged days of starvation and dangers looming over your shoulder completely gone. it was comfortable. you were warm, you had enough food to eat, so the need to steal and mug others died simultaneously when the threats finally dissolved away from your life.

it’s not like you had it very easy, though. you had to make money somehow (because, as it turns out, stealing was out of question), and so you decided to use your rather unethical skills to improve your living situation. you have done it previously, and it wasn’t exactly demanding. at first, it was just a small tent on the side of the road, and the fraction was poor, however soon your ‘clairvoyant' career started to bloom. yes, you could predict a future in a way — but that was mostly useless, reserved only to your own person. what really came in hand was a thing called "cold reading". when you were young, your Pa taught you this unbelievably nasty trick, and you knew it was only supposed to make your thieving expeditions easier — however now, you could play an ever-seeing clairvoyant maiden, deceiving others into thinking you actually had some mysterious abilities.

people like this sort of thing, and it’s awfully easy to impress them. locals, tourists, children and adults flocked to your tent, asking you to read their fortune and give some good advice. you’d chuckle in response, your intent gaze catching on every single syllable of their words. how they dressed, how they spoke, all the mannerism and attitude engraving itself into your mind as you cracked them open. you offered them seemingly innocent questions, only pushing to explore further. it came to the point where you’d constantly hear how good you were at this, and you only expanded the trickery you previously fed to others on a silver spoon.

cold reading soon turned into hot reading, and you would spend long hours trying to find out everything and anything about your regulars. it wasn’t morally right, and you were completely aware you were scamming them, but hey — it’s their fault for being so gullible. sometimes, when you had an especially tough case, and couldn’t exactly deduce any sort of important information from your client, you’d just hit them with something extremely universal, like "true love always waits", or "soon your troubles will cease, and you’ll be back on your feet”. every time you cringed internally, afraid if it was too obvious — but five or six days later, they’d crawl back, saying how right you were. you only smirked under your nose as the money effortlessly filled up your wallet. of course, you had met people against the idea, and they seemed to enjoy criticizing your ways — you paid no mind to them, even though you knew they were right, and all the others were in the wrong, blindly believing in your words.

finally, all of your hardships payed off, and you were able to buy a place to live in. it was small, and quite suffocating, but you remember squealing and tearing up from happiness as you gripped the keys to your new house in your hand. he would be so proud of you. now as you had more opportunities, you set up a special place dedicated to your divination within the safe walls of your home. it was going great — both the business, and your life. long gone was searching for any scrapes of food, and worrying whether you’d soak in the rain as the night’s cold air shook your bones.

as for Mydei — and your other friends who were smart enough to see through your dramatic theatrics — they were rather… opposed. that’s a good word to describe it, you thought. it’s not like you’ve ever told them straightforwardly — "it’s a fraud", no, they simply knew of your eccentric nature, and couldn’t believe you’d possibly let go of your old ways. well, good for them, at least they won’t be milked from money just for a few half-assed prophecies. Mydei would often visit your house, so cluttered with trinkets (sometimes he questioned where’d you get all of the stuff from, you simply grinned mischievously in response), and chastise you for shamelessly deceiving innocent citizens.

he kept repeating how wrong you are for this, yet what he did to mar your business? nothing. absolutely nothing. you could barely suppress the salves of laughter creeping up in your throat as you watched someone ask Mydei about his opinion on your divination. the man swallowed, nodded stiffly, took a deep breath — and said it was the best one in area. you recall having to turn your head away, else the awfully contained grin spreading across your lips would betray you. he was so bad at lying, and yet for some reason he tangled himself into your own mess, covering up for you. what’s even better — Mydei’s recommendations were sought after, so the queue before your house was… rather long, at least for a few days.

truth was, Mydei and you decided to stick together, so perhaps that’s why he decided to look out for you. you would’ve never guessed the victim of your miserably failed robbery would carry so much importance to you, brightening up your days with so much more color. every single second here meant a ton for you, as the fleeting nature of life became more palpable than ever. you don’t know when the line got so blurred, smudging like fresh paint.

perhaps it was a long time ago.

you twirled with joy as you excitedly nursed your belongings by your chest — the day of your release turned out to be unbelievably sunny, sky’s hue a deep lazurite, devoid of any clouds or breeze. Aglaea returned your possessions, although now lacking in all of the lock-picking tools and knives. fortunately, you held little sentiment towards physical objects, and so you didn’t cry after the loss.

"okay! so what do we do now?" you asked, enthusiasm dripping from every syllable of your words.

Mydei huffed, running his fingers through the blonde locks. "you never run out of energy, do you?" he asked, his gaze fixing on your form as you skipped beside him.

"oh, i know! you promised to teach me how to bake, didn’t you? let’s go do that!" you blatantly ignored him, your eyes jumping across every other thing as you took in your surroundings. in exchange for your rather 'easy-going' sentence, you were also forbidden from taking walks, so now it felt as if you just got born into the world anew.

"you seriously want to do that now?" he sighed, your idea bemusing him. "wouldn’t you rather… i don’t know, go sightseeing, or—"

"sightseeing? Mydei, please, don’t make me laugh!" you giggled, knocking at your own forehead, "we’re as free as the birds, we should do something more exciting than that!"

"so you think baking is more worthy of your interest than actually learning about the culture?"

you nodded, "you know me so well! but if you’re really so opposed, then—" you paused, mulling over your options, "is there a bar anywhere? we could make bets on who’s going to win a fight."

the man shook his head with resignation. "y-you don’t want to do that? okay, so how about we go and roughhouse up a few of—"

"let’s just stick to the baking, alright?" Mydei muttered, starting to feel overwhelmed by the multitude of your unconventional ideas of spending one’s free time. he also wanted to point out how you’re definitely due for a bit of resocialization, but decided to keep his mouth shut.

he lead the way to his house, and your jaw slacked to the floor as you took everything in. while he prepared the ingredients, you walked about the space, your eyes glimmering with genuine wonder, and you had to grit your teeth as you resisted the urge to pack half of his belongings into your bag. it’s not like you wanted to steal from Mydei, but it was buried deep within your instincts. all of the expensive-looking artifacts, and gemstones… you swallowed thickly, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. it was a small fortune (or rather an endless wealth, at least in your opinion). while the man busied himself in the kitchen, you could swipe some of the stuff, and bolt through the window. you glanced at the glass, measuring the height of your fall — two meters. almost laughable, compared to your previous ones where you’d hit the ground with a sickening thud, feeling the breath get knocked out of your chest. then again, was it really worth it? you weren’t some ungrateful brat, biting at the hand that feeds you.

your fingers trailed over the small stones, their golden-brown color drawing you in. you wouldn’t take them — you just wanted to touch the smooth texture, smiling to yourself at the nice, cool sensation.

"enjoying yourself, [name]?"

you jumped up with a yelp at the sound of a familiar voice behind your back. you quickly turned to face Mydei, your expression twisting with the slightest of distress. "i—i swear i didn’t steal anything!" you pleaded, surprised that he was able to sneak up on you so effortlessly.

"i know you didn’t," his face eased into something more pleasant as he stepped closer to you, "i just asked if you like them."

you breathed with relief, letting out an awkward chuckle as you turned back to the stones. "yeah, i do. they’re beautiful."

the corners of Mydei’s lips tugged upwards. "this one is called tiger’s eye. i have plenty, so you can take one, if you want to."

"really?!" you beamed, selecting the smallest one from the collection. "thank you, thank you!"

the man observed as you placed the tumbled stone into your bag, his eyes briefly locking onto your overjoyed features. “i have prepared everything, so go back to the kitchen."

you gave an understanding nod, falling into step behind him as he led the way. as you reached the countertop, your gaze swept over the assortment of ingredients — flour, sugar, milk and melted butter, eggs. amongst the familiar things sat a peculiar fruit, it’s skin a pretty shade of red. "what is this?" you inquired, picking it up.

"a pomegranate." he responded, and you blinked twice at the name. you’ve heard of it before, though you had no chance of seeing it with your own eyes. you sniffed the fruit, and the vague smell didn’t remind you of anything. just before your teeth sank into its thick skin, Mydei snatched it out of your palm. "that’s not how you eat it. anyway, we’ll need it for later, so be kind and try not to eat anything."

you rolled your eyes at his strictness, but decided it would be better not to argue about it. "well, fine. so, uhh, what are we gonna make with all that?" you pointed towards the stuff lined up before you, wondering what it’ll change into.

"pancakes."

"oh! you mean those flat-like things?" you scratched your nape, starting to feel abashed by your lack of general knowledge. during your whole life, you managed to survive on simple food like potatoes, groats, rarely meat if you and your old man were lucky enough to rob a vendor, or make just enough to buy yourselves a piece of cold cuts. you had no idea of what the world could really offer, your sight focused solely on the basics.

"exactly," Mydei affirmed, taking the bowl and placing it in front of you, "they’re easy to make, so your brain won’t have any problem to catch up."

“hey!" you whined, though you paid no mind to the lighthearted bicker.

"take the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. whisk it in the bowl." he explained, and you gave him an unsure nod, pouring the previously measured ingredients and starting to mix them together, even though you saw no point to that. in the meanwhile, he set another bowl by your side, his studious gaze watching over you, as if he was sure you’d mess up something as simple as that. "that’s enough. now stir the butter, milk and eggs in the second bowl."

you obediently followed the instructions, wondering why you had to do everything in the separate containers. was it really necessary? still, Mydei would probably sentence you to ten years in prison if you decided to do things your way. you whisked everything, and although the process was monotone, you found yourself enjoying it. it was slow, and calming. you didn’t have to fight, or run while the ferocious barking behind your back rapidly picked up in volume.

"now mix it into the flour."

"why couldn’t we do it with just one bowl?"

"because it wouldn’t work. do as i say."

you huffed, thinking that maybe you preferred the hounds chasing you. you stirred the batter together, seeing as the consistency started to thicken. "when do i stop?" you asked, your eyes glued to the work at hand.

"when you deem it fit." Mydei answered vaguely, causing your eyebrows to narrow together. how do you know once the batter is ready? when it came to cooking, you were absolutely clueless, and you berated yourself for not trying to learn it earlier, even if it was useless to you. after a few minutes of mixing, you decided to put it down, thinking it would be best not to overdo it.

you looked at the man, searching for his approval. he briefly glanced into the bowl before turning on the stove, and starting to heat the skillet. "hey, is it any good?" you questioned, but your voice seemed to fall deaf on his ears as he melted the butter on the pan’s surface. he was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he?

"pour the batter on the skillet. but not too much," he said, completely ignoring your earlier question, "remember to keep it at medium heat, else you’ll burn the pancake."

you rolled your eyes once again this day, but ultimately complied, pouring the bowl’s contents out. you listened to the sizzle, and after a minute or two, Mydei grabbed the skillet’s handle and effortlessly flipped the pancake over. you hummed in acknowledgment, watching it take on a nice, auburn shade. "that’s how you do it. now, your turn.” he instructed, swiftly moving the ready food onto the plate.

you enthusiastically followed the steps, tracking down the minutes. after you counted to one hundred, you started to doubt yourself, your thoughts falling into disarray as you wondered whether that’s enough. just to be sure, you counted down to another hundred, finally grasping the pan’s handle and throwing the pancake up. you gasped in horror as the food flew into the air, way too high for your liking, finally landing with an unsatisfactory plop onto the counter. one of its sides was charred, and the other one looked definitely undercooked.

a stretch of silence filled the kitchen as you observed the atrocity you just made with your own hands. "so, uhh, Mydei… do you think it’s edible, or…?"

he sighed, taking the thing and throwing it into a trash can. "i guess not. try again."

"but—"

"try again."

you huffed, repeating the steps. alright, now you won’t mess this up — it was so easy, after all. when enough time passed, you carefully flipped the pancake, trying to control your strength, and you cheered with celebration when it turned out alright on one side. it could have been better, but you were still proud of yourself. gods, you were getting really good at this, weren’t you?

"what do we think?" you asked, taking in the beautiful sight of pancakes stacked over each other.

Mydei crossed his arms over his chest, a small smile tugging at his lips. "great job. you actually didn’t burn my kitchen." you laughed at his comment, patting his arm with a self-satisfied smirk on your face.

"me? burn your kitchen? oh, i’m way too talented for such mistakes." you boasted, even though you knew it wasn’t impossible for you to accidentally set everything on fire. "by the way, what do we need the pomegranate for? decoration?"

"it’s messy, so i’d rather you leave that to me." he answered, taking out a knife, "while i’m busy with that, you can clean up."

the protest died on your tongue when you realized you probably shouldn’t complain — after all, Mydei dedicated plenty of his free time to teaching you, and for that, you were grateful. you scooped everything into your arms, putting it away in the sink before wiping the countertop. you didn’t even get to finish your task when the man announced he was done.

you swiveled on your foot, clasping your hands together at the sight of the finished dish. a stack of pancakes, dripping with syrop and pomegranate seeds generously sprinkled on top made your stomach rumble with hunger. you exclaimed with excitement, practically bolting to the chair and sitting down.

however, as you two got busy with eating, you started to feel a little guilty — Mydei was giving you food, and you had no way of saying thank you. how’s that fair? what’s worse, what if he demands you pay him back? stress squeezed at your gut as you kept on mulling over all of the grim possibilities, remembering the awful things you were faced with once you couldn’t pay your debt to someone.

"Mydei, i—" you began before he cut you off.

"[name], would you like to learn another recipe some other time?"

you blinked at him, stopping your chewing. "i mean… yes, of course. but why? you don’t have to do this, and i have nothing to give in return."

"you’re foolish if you think i want anything from you." he chuckled dryly, placing the fork down. "and a mere pancake recipe won’t be enough. you have plenty of other things to learn."

you felt your chest swell — perhaps the concept of kindness was still quite foreign to you. you swallowed, your eyes fixating on the table.

"i’m not sure if i’ll stick around long enough for you to teach me." you admitted, though the vision of leaving the holy city behind seemed almost unpleasant.

"we’ll see about that." Mydei announced nonchalantly, and you wondered if he really was so self-assured about you staying in Okhema. still, maybe his gaze reached way further than yours, and he was able of deciphering what your heart really desired.

one year flew over your head like a flock of birds, and the roots connecting you with this place seemed to tighten around your ankles for good.

it was the afternoon. the weather was nice that day, and you thought taking a break from your work could do you some good. the business was booming, and you didn’t lack in money for a change, but the effort you put in made your bones heavy, and sometimes you felt as if you were falling asleep inside your own body. you needed to rest — if only just for a few hours.

you invited your friend to accompany you, even though your body demanded a while of loneliness. still, with how things were going, you were sure that you and Mydei spent way too little time together, both busied with your own responsibilities. earlier on, when you had nothing better to do, you’d constantly stick by his side, trailing after the man, and demanding he tells you more about the history of Okhema. he’d scoff and huff at you, even though you knew he wasn’t really annoyed. people often gave you weird looks, wondering how much audacity you could possibly harbor to unceremoniously bother the prince of Kremnos — however, you simply felt no need to follow the authority. it was as simple as that.

seated by the bank of a shallow stream, you let the cold water lap at your feet, its refreshing touch a nice contrast to the sun beaming on your nape. fortunately, you were already used to the holy city’s climate. a soft hum of contentment escaped your lips as your fingers brushed against the wildflowers swaying near your legs — you plucked one, smiling to yourself.

you gently twirled the small, blue flower between your fingers. you had always held a special fondness for them, as they were like living symbols of memory, reminders of things that should never be forgotten.

“what do you think of forget-me-nots?” you asked softly, letting your gaze settle on Mydei, sitting beside you.

“they’re…” he began, as if weighing each word. “they’re alright, i guess.”

his response was cautious, almost indifferent in a way, but there was something more lurking in his voice — something you had yet to decipher. you nodded with understanding, turning your body to face him as you tugged the petite flower between the stands of his golden hair. "there. now you won’t ever forget me."

you laughed at his perplexed expression, getting up and skipping into the stream, the water barely reaching your calves. you beckoned Mydei to join you, but he shook his head. truth be told, most of the time he didn’t understand you. every day, you managed to do things that surprised him, or say something so bemusing his mind failed to comprehend your words. you were from two completely different worlds — maybe that’s why he felt so drawn to you. your mannerisms and thoughts you’d often muse to yourself out loud, the way your feet fell so gently on the ground, bitter smiles as you failed to catch the grasshoppers into your palms.

you were different. that’s easy to say about someone, yet he genuinely had this kind of conviction — a brick wall separating you from all the others. you traversed unorthodox paths, your nonconformity ringing heavily in your steps as the trail of beargrass grown in your wake. at first he didn’t think you’d decide to stay, preferring to flee the city as soon as possible, yet here you were, splashing the water around as your eager hands clasped on little fishes, watching them wiggle until you let them swim again. you called out to him again, but he refused once more.

you were so pretty, and puzzling. the color of your eyes came out vividly in the sun, and you glanced at him, but he was already staring at you. he often pondered — how can you stay so positive all of the time? even as the rain poured down, you were still packed with energy, hiding under that makeshift tent of yours as you smiled up at him. perhaps that was the face of a person who was denied anything good throughout their whole life.

"how’s business going?" he asked, interrupting your wild chase after the dragonfly. you stopped, wiping the sweat off of your forehead, and slowly dragging your feet closer to the bank.

"good enough." you answered vaguely, that mischievous smirk pulling your lips upwards. "at this rate, i’ll be much richer than you."

Mydei chuckled quietly, taking in your breathless form. "and do you plan on buying a house? or will you spend the rest of your days in your poorly-made tent?"

"hey, you!" you groaned with feigned irritation, splashing the water at the man. a few droplets reached his face, making him grimace at the sudden coldness. "of course i will buy a house! i’m very close to it, actually."

"is that so?"

"yes! and you’ll be the first one to visit me!" you exclaimed, the look in your eyes turning dreamy as you imagined all of the comfort and possibilities once you’ll get your own place to live in. "oh, i’ll be baking tarts and cookies everyday, and i won’t need to worry about the weather, and—"

you kept listing all the stuff you wanted to do, and Mydei nodded along, listening with intent. it was so obvious you desired a home more than anything in this world. he remembers offering you to stay at his house, but you refused, stubborn on remaining independent. short after that, an idea born within your cunning mind, and soon you were making good money on clueless people who got themselves scammed. it came so easily to you, and he often criticized your shady business, feeling bad for all those innocent citizens blindly believing in your lies or guesses made on a whim.

at the same time, he was happy for you — and he didn’t want to admit it, even in his mind, but the way you danced oh-so carefully around your mirage of trickery and deception made him even more infatuated. you were unconventional in every sense, laughing at the fate as you provoked it with astonishing clarity. then, after you were done with your work for the day, you’d search for him and poke fun at the surprised expressions of your clients, mimicking their reactions as you retold the lies you fed to them.

he knew it was wrong. he knew he should oppose it harder, yet all he did was snicker at your silly faces, reminding you to be more mindful.

with the corner of his eye, he noticed the small forget-me-not that you earlier stuck into his hair, now falling out due to a brief gust of wind. he didn’t need it to remember you forever. even though he knew you for only a year, the image of your face was already buried deep within his brain, the unmistakable whimsy and slyness appearing engraved into his eyelids.

you finally plopped down beside him, sighing as you drained the water out of your attire. with you next to him, he felt as if everything he carried within his heart meant something more. more sacred, more precious. even the simplest "hello" sounded like "come here, [name]. it’s late and i missed you."

your back met with the lush grass, and you looked into the honeyed irises. you wished you could merge into one with the soil, the dirt and vegetation swallowing you whole, and he’d still be there, equally entangled within the vines and stems. but that wasn’t possible.

by the second year of your new life in Okhema, you were sure it’d be a place where you’d stay until the sorrowful moment. there was no other way.

"and here is my living room!" you announced with unconfined pride, stretching your arms in the rather small space, still lacking in any furniture or ornaments. "do you like it?"

Mydei sent you a wide smile, infected by your contagious happiness. you were showing the man your new house, a thing you worked for harder than any other. it took some sweat, and unbelievable amounts of effort (at some point you genuinely thought your mind would give up on you, and sizzle away, leaving your skull empty), but here it was — a place you could call your own. it was still devoid of anything other than a bed, basic kitchen equipment, and the most humble bathroom, but you were satisfied. properly decorating the space can wait.

"it’s nice, [name]." Mydei replied, his eyes scanning the 'living room', dimly lit by two oil lamps sitting in the corner. in the middle of the room stood a singular, low table, a deck of cards along with few tumbled stones he let you take from his house spread across its surface. there was nothing else.

you kneeled by the table, tapping its wooden plane. "i see you’re intrigued by my divination area, dear guest. want me to tell your fortune?" you giggled playfully as you picked up the cards, their corners battered from the flow of time.

Mydei cocked one eyebrow at you, amused expression starting to tug at his face. "no, thank you. i have no need of vixens trying to deceive me.”

"oh, come on, Mydei, just this one time!" you pleaded, patting the place beside you. "i promise it’s free of charge, since you’re my best friend!" he sighed at the sight of your pitiful face, sitting in front of you as your feigned hurt immediately shifted into a self-satisfactory smirk.

"fine then. let’s see what you come up with."

you shuffled the cards vigorously, the movement so fast, even his eyes had problem focusing on the way your nimble fingers shifted the cards between each other, changing their placement. "now, dear guest, please cut." you placed the perfect stack down, and Mydei begrudgingly separated the top half of the cards.

you kept an artful smile on your lips as you spread the cards along the table’s surface. he thought that if he were an unknowing client of yours, he’d definitely believe in your fraud too.

"alright, because i am only telling your fortune, we’ll skip over the rest of the steps.” you announced, your words slow and calculated as you already thought of whatever dramatic prevarication you’ll hit Mydei with. "please, choose one card. don’t show me yet.”

without further ado, he quickly picked out the third one to your left. his eyes studied the illustration on the card, lips itching upwards as the whole charade was starting to genuinely intrigue him.

"what now? you’ll guess what card am i holding, oh great clairvoyant?" he mocked, though it lacked in any real bite.

you chuckled lowly, batting your eyelashes at him. "why, of course. how could i not? my eyes are all seeing." you boasted, having one final glance at the card before you were absolutely sure. "it’s the chariot."

Mydei blinked at you, his eyebrows tugging together as he put down the card on the table — indeed, it was exactly as you said. by the look on his face, it was obvious he was pulling your leg earlier, not actually expecting you to guess. you grinned at him, happy with yourself.

"the chariot, huh… well, dear guest, it seems you need some encouragement. my instincts tell me you have been struggling with maintaining your direction. but worry not! you’re full of fierceness, and strength, aren’t you?” you got met with silence, pushing you to continue. "you need to hold onto your convictions, and your goal. i see bright future for you, though… shall we draw another card?" you mused, the absolute confidence radiating off your body. you were in your element, all the words slipping so effortlessly from your tongue as your fingers steadily tapped against your cheek in feigned contemplation.

Mydei shook his head. “i think that’s enough. now tell me how you did that."

"did what?" you teased, barely containing your amusement.

"don’t play a fool, [name], you know exactly what i mean." he urged, finally making you groan with resignation as all the mysterious atmosphere from the room dissipated.

"you see my cards are a little messed up in some places, right?" you offered, pointing out the bents and imperfections along the thick paper. "i just memorized their backs. people think i’m really all that, meanwhile i’m simply perceptive. well — i can’t say it works all the time, so i also count the cards, just to be sure."

the man nodded, having to admit it took him by surprise. to think you’d go such long ways — on the other hand, people wouldn’t fall for something too simple either, so what you were doing was probably necessary. "color me impressed, [name]."

you thanked for the compliment, quickly shoving the mess on the table to the side. "okay, you have seen the entirety of my house, i already told your fortune — what else would you like to do?"

Mydei shrugged in response, his gaze falling to the window. "i’m not sure. it’s pretty late, and you must be tired."

you huffed, an unsatisfied noise slipping from your mouth as you rested your forehead on the table. you didn’t want him to go yet, so you had to find a way to entertain him. he won’t play any card games with you, since you’ll cheat the hell out of them, and baking was out of question too, your house lacking in any ingredients. you could converse about something of not much importance, but the energy was still filling every fiber of your being, and your brain demanded more stimulating activities.

suddenly, through the dull darkness of your thoughts, an idea sparkled, bright as a day, and yet to stupid. still — you couldn’t help yourself as you rapidly got to your feet, starting to bolt towards the kitchen.

"[name]?" Mydei called after you, watching you sprint out of the room.

you ignored him, crouching by the cabinet under your sink, opening its doors to grab a big bottle of champagne, a red ribbon tied around its neck. it was supposed to be a gift for your friend’s birthday party — you honestly had no clue what to buy her, and alcohol seemed like the only available option. you were never big on drinking, however that’s… probably what people get each other as presents, no? you paused for a second, wondering whether your idea was really so brilliant, but you ultimately cast your concerns to the side, thinking you’ll buy another one tomorrow. even if it’ll hurt your wallet.

you paraded into the room with the champagne in your hand, dangling it proudly in the air. Mydei rolled his eyes in disappointment, but the corners of his lips itched upwards as he took in your form, relishing in yourself. "don’t you think we’re due to some celebration?" you hummed, setting the bottle down with a 'thud!'.

"what’s the red ribbon for?" he inquired, turning the thing around as his eyes searched for the percentages. Mydei didn’t particularly like drinking, especially when the alcohol was strong, and so he felt slightly unsure to see it wasn’t necessarily light. usually he’d refuse altogether, but since it was your big day, he couldn’t say no. you have gone such a lengthy way, prevailing through all the hardships, and finally reaching your dream — of course, it was only logical you’d want to honor your achievement.

you stepped by the window, opening it widely as you leaned forward, looking at the street. from this side of the road there wasn’t anything attention-worthy, your neighborhood stretching into the further horizon. no one was out, and the silence of the night got interrupted solely by the night birds, chirping away to their hearts contents.

"ah, don’t mind it. i bought it like that." you lied quickly, though it was hardly believable. if you told the truth, the man would surely deny drinking, chastising you for being so thoughtless. you grabbed the bottle, beckoning Mydei to stand by your side. he lifted himself off the ground, dragging his feet over to the window.

"want me to help you open it? it won’t spill out." he offered, but you shook your head, retracting the alcohol away from him.

"no, i’ll do it my way.” you announced, a mischievous smirk stretching your lips as you took the safeguard off the bottle, and he barely stopped himself from taking a cautious step back. you gave it a light shake, prying the stopper off with your thumb.

before Mydei could even open his mouth to warn you, the cork practically flew off, a loud 'pop!' piercing through the stillness of the air. the champagne’s contents exploded, rapidly spilling down your arm along with the road, and you bursted out into untamed laughter as you watched the pure-white foam gather everywhere.

"damn, it’s—" you wheezed, wondering what made it so funny, "it’s spilling everywhere! Mydei, please," you paused, feeling the salves of joy fold you in half, the muscles in your stomach and cheeks burning, "do something! do something!”

he swiftly grabbed the bottle, covering its opening with his own hand. you let go, shaking off the liquid from your fingers as you continued laughing, tears starting to gather in your eyes as you observed his half-panicked, half-amused expression. "[name], for gods’ sake, i told you i’d open it!" he exclaimed, your contagious emotions quickly spreading to his face.

you breathed, your laughter now easing into giggles as you tried to calm yourself down. when was the last time you let yourself feel this way? it must have been a long ago. "yeah, yeah, i admit it would’ve been better if you took care of it." you cackled, gently taking the bottle from his hands. "next time, i’ll listen to you."

with that, you cleaned your hands, and wiped the champagne dry, sitting back by your small table, surrounded by nothing in the empty living room. the alcohol’s contents were already reduced to a half, even though none of you tasted it yet. unfortunately, you didn’t have any cups, so you had to drink straight from the bottle. with the first swing, you grimaced at the bitter sensation spreading on your tongue, but you didn’t dare complain. Mydei seemed equally unsatisfied, however the both of you kept chugging, feeling more lenient than usual.

you never had much to drink, so you probably wouldn’t know, but as it turns out — you were a lightweight. an hour passed, and you were already lying on the floor, your gaze swiveling and doubling as you looked at the ceiling with a dumb smile. Mydei was completely unaffected, still sitting upright, forced to listen to your blabbering.

"so, you know," you slurred, gesticulating with your hand as you tried to gather your disarrayed thoughts, "he comes to me — crying, you know, snot running from his nose, and all that — and he tells me: '[name], please, steal that ring for me!'. i tell him to get lost, and he starts crying some more. you catching up?"

"uh-huh."

"uhh, well, i told him to get lost, but i went to steal that ring anyway. i felt bad for the guy." you explained, as if it was the most interesting story in the whole world. "i couldn’t— you know, pick the lock, so i—" you paused, trying to remember what you did, "so i broke the window with a brick. i come inside — guess what, that damn shopkeeper is still there, sleeping behind the counter. well, uh, not sleeping, cause i woke him up."

"and what did you do?" Mydei asked, his tone bordering on interest.

"i panicked, obviously." you chuckled, recalling how absolutely terrified you were at that moment. “he pulls a gun out on me — don’t know how he did it so fast, but he did. good thing the poor bastard was drunk out of his mind, and he kept missing, else i’d be turned into a strainer."

the man remained silent, his brows knitting together in quiet contemplation. though you recounted the story with laughter, the weight of your experience settled heavily on him. he couldn’t summon even the faintest chuckle, no matter how much he wished to. the thought of you enduring such a reality dulled any trace of amusement he might have mustered.

you yawned, starting to feel sleepy. "somehow, i survived that… frenzy, and i ended up snatching the ring. it wasn’t even the one he wanted, nor was it the right size — but oh well. he proposed anyway, and uh, they’re either dead or still married to this day. pretty funny, no?" you rubbed your eyes, stretching on the floor.

"was it worth it?"

"what?"

"risking your life for that man. you didn’t even like him, right? you could have died."

"Mydei, you don’t understand it, do you?" you giggled, trying to pull up your body into a sitting position, though you failed miserably, your head spinning as if you were sitting atop a carousel. "if i weighted— ugh, if i weighted my every single decision through the prism of a possible death — then i wouldn’t have moved a single inch throughout my whole life."

he sighed, drumming his fingers against the cold ground before finally deciding to get up, and check up on your well-being. you smiled as you saw him kneel next to you, carefully pulling the troublesome hair away from your face. "and anyway, i think that — you know, love is important. he wanted to propose, and isn’t that, i don’t know. something to die for, maybe?"

"perhaps, but you were still foolish to do what he asked you for." Mydei nagged, his looming silhouette obscuring your view of the ceiling. his eyebrows were tugged together, and you felt bad, because you didn’t want him to be somber. you both were supposed to be happy tonight.

you reached your hands upwards, catching his cheeks in your palms. even though your vision was still woozy, you didn’t fail to notice the glimpse of embarrassment flashing through the man’s face. that evoked a hum out of you as you pulled his head closer to your face, amused by how easily he got abashed (or perhaps what you were doing was already too much, but you were too drunk to realize).

"Mydei, would you go and steal a ring for me, if i asked you to?"

he huffed, starting to feel the heat crawling up his neck due to the close proximity. "don’t ask me weird things."

"answer me." you demanded, trying to form your features into something more threatening.

he scoffed as his golden irises focused on yours, and you swear there was four of them now. "let’s say i would."

"wrong." you warned, the clarity returning to your eyes for a split second. "don’t ever do anything for me. you’ll only waste away."

the tension seemed almost palpable, filling the room as the smell of champagne on your breath mixed with lilacs growing outside. Mydei’s gaze kept flickering over your whole face as he tried to decipher your words, and you smirked to yourself, sending him a challenging look.

"i don’t think i care." he finally retaliated, returning your expression.

"no?"

"no."

a beat of silence passed as you studied him, the satisfactory answer making your lips stretch into a wide smile. you finally took note of his deeply narrowed eyebrows, and laughed, flicking his nose. he flicked your forehead back.

"don’t grimace at me, i’m starting to get scared." you snickered, simultaneously letting your arms down.

Mydei only scoffed, straightening his back out, and mouthed something that didn’t quite reach your ears. your head lolled to the side as a certain realization slowly cut through your mind — you liked him. it didn’t wash over you like a sudden plummet of the rain — if you had to describe the feeling, it was akin to the lake’s gentle flow of the water, the cool feeling encompassing one’s body as they stand by the bank, ankles dipped. it was peaceful. you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t grow too attached, but it was midnight, and you were laughing way too hard, lying on the cold floor inside an empty room. something foreign gripped your gut, and at that moment, you knew you were absolutely doomed.

life was treating you well. you had friends, you had a stable job, all of your old habits safely repressed into the back of your mind, as you long forgo the ways of a criminal. everything seemed to fall into place, and you rarely thought of the past. you simply forgot. those four years of comfort coated your mind in a blissful veil, obscuring the dark memories from your eyes. one might say you lost a part of yourself in the process, but you didn’t like the sound of that — it wasn’t true. you just no longer needed her. the cracked claws, and bloody canines lied abandoned, already covered in cobwebs and dust.

each morning, you would wake up not with dread, but with a deep appreciation for the life you once despised. the same existence that felt like a curse now appeared as an eerie sort of beauty. you worked as always — your hands submerging themselves in deception, your mind sharpened by years of perfecting the art of illusion. guilt never crept in, because why would it? you had long convinced yourself that no one could see through your facade.

then, you would open the windows of your cluttered home, letting in the crisp morning air. the scent of lilacs, blooming wild along the roadside mixed with the warm smell of sun rays. everything felt almost disturbingly perfect.

alas, all misery and pain in the human life usually starts with evident happiness.

———

"what do you mean?!" you practically screamed, feeling your knees start to buckle under the weight of your own body. your hands convulsed around nothing, and you felt the need to grab the woman, serving one of your daggers to her throat, even though you stopped carrying them with you a long time ago.

Aglaea sighed deeply, obviously fed up with all your shouting as she massaged her temples. "i said what i said, [name]. i was lenient enough."

just this morning, Aglaea requested a visit from you, and you suspected she might have a problem with your business of a questionable nature. what you didn’t expect is her demand you close it for good. when the announcement first hit you, you began laughing, your brain coming up with a lag. then, when the woman’s expression darkened, you felt a mixture of terror and anger rapidly building up in the pit of your stomach. it was all you had. if she takes that away from you, you’d be left with nothing. the life you built for yourself over the years was now crumbling, bricks falling down from the sky and ruthlessly hitting your head as you stood in the middle of it, your hands tied behind your back.

as you started to furiously question what led to the decision, she slowly explained it was for the bigger good, and it was the high time you stopped scamming the poor citizens of Okhema. you retaliated, saying they were always visiting you out of their own volition, and nobody was forcing them to spend money on your services. in exchange, she started listing all the times your faulty prophecies and divinations turned people to ruin — gambling, physical fights, broken bones and hearts over something that could’ve easily been avoided. you wanted to burst out how it was their fault for being so gullibly stupid, yet you held your tongue back.

"and what if i don’t listen to you, huh?" you seethed, narrowing your eyes at her.

"well," Aglaea began, the look on her face cold, "i’ll be forced to banish you from the city."

you gritted your teeth, knowing there was no way of convincing her — to only add to your dismay, you actually had to control your emotions, else she’d throw you in the jail, which would be way worse than actually suppressing the anger. still, the fact remained — you were officially stripped away from the only source of money.

"anything else?" you murmured grimly, gripping your attire as you tried to stop your fingers from clenching into fists.

"i expect you to close your business immediately. and don’t go to Mydei with that, because i assure you, he won’t be able of convincing me either."

you huffed out a dry, humorless laugh. "i wouldn’t dream of doing so."

Aglaea nodded, turning away from you the second she deemed the conversation over. you turned on your heel, feeling the resentment burst through every fiber of your being, bile gathering in your throat as you tried to calm down your trembling joints. your vision narrowed as you stormed off, practically running outside, thinking that any second longer spent there will make you puke over yourself — from the way your stomach squeezed, and amount of saliva pooling in your mouth, it was likely. you felt sick, stopping outside when the fresh air hit you. it was sunny as always. sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to lean on one of the pillars, else you’d collapse.

everything. everything you worked so hard for. four years of relentless dedication.

perhaps you had it coming, the moment you started to snicker under your breath when people came crying to you, begging for advice. the guillotine was already hanging dangerously close to your neck, and it was only matter of time before someone above you would cut the rope.

you tugged at your hair helplessly as your brain seemed indecisive whether to make you wail in the middle of the street, or yell in frustration as you knocked the trash cans over, kicking their metal surface in until you’d create a cavity, and someone would have to drag you away.

a groan escaped you as you considered your options — you had to do something, otherwise you’d fall to your knees and never get up. you could go home, or you could take another road, leading to Mydei’s place. the answer rang clear, and soon you were quickly rendering the distance, tears welling up in your eyes, however none fell. you blinked them away, gently knocking at the door, fighting the urge to bang at them with all your might — no, actually, you’d much rather just break the window, and invite yourself inside. you nursed your lower lip between your teeth, patiently waiting for the man to open the door, wondering what would you do if he wasn’t there. yeah, you’d definitely break in.

finally, the sound of the lock clicking caught your attention, and you almost breathed in relief when you finally saw the tall silhouette. "[name]?"

"hi." you responded, shoving past him to get inside, immediately reaching the stove as you frantically began to make you both tea. you didn’t know why, you just did it, your shaking hands pouring the mild water over the dried herbs as you tried gathering your thoughts. it wasn’t working.

Mydei stood silently, watching the whole charade with a concerned expression. after a while, he opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted him by taking the cup and drinking the half-made concoction in one go, your face devoid of any grimace, as if it was the best "tea" you’ve ever made, and not disgusting water with leaves. you wiped your mouth, ultimately sitting down, and sending him a slightly unhinged smile.

"are you—"

"Aglaea made me close my business."

Mydei gaped at you, dumbfounded. "what?"

you shrugged. "you heard me right. funny, isn’t it?" you practically forced the words out, feeling your throat clenching. it wasn’t funny. none of it was.

the man sat beside you, his brows furrowing together as he contemplated your erratic behavior, the words dying on his tongue. perhaps if you were crying, or shouting with anger — then, he’d know what to say. but all you did was shrug, your wide eyes fixated on something above his shoulder. "why?" he inquired, tone unsure.

you glanced at your nails, the corners of your lips dragging downwards. "she told me i had a bad effect on people. i was doing them harm, or something… well, it doesn’t matter now. case closed."

tension in the air made the room suffocating, even though all the windows were open. "i told you to be more careful, didn’t i?" Mydei slowly weighted his words, afraid you might explode any moment. looking at the twitch of your eye, it was possible.

you shrugged, picking up the second cup and taking a big swing.

"what will you do now?"

another shrug.

"you really don’t know?”

you shrugged once more, placing down the tea back on the table with your trembling fingers.

"[name], for gods’ sake," he grimaced, gripping the bridge of his nose, "talk to me. i’m trying to help you." he hissed, the slightest of agitation laced through his voice.

"help me how?" you started after a short moment of silence. "Aglaea told me not to bother you about it, because she’s not willing to hear you out either." you scoffed, your eyes flickering over to the tiled floor.

"i guessed that much." Mydei sighed, his hands itching to reach out for your shaky hands, and hold them in place. "do you have any money left?”

"yes.” you nodded, even though the amount was rather meek. after you bought your house, you irresponsibly cast away the concept of saving, rather living from paycheck to paycheck. now you were starting to see how fatal of a move that was.

"what about work?" he urged, searching for any solutions, "do you have something in mind?"

you slowly shook your head, remembering how eagerly you kept searching for any kind of employment the moment your sentence ended. all of them turned you down, either saying you lacked in experience, or you didn’t meet the basic criteria. even the simplest labor seemed too high for your qualifications. "not really, no."

Mydei’s leg started to bounce. "i’m going to help you out until you get back on your feet."

no, please, anything but that. please, don’t make me your burden. please.

"i’ll manage by myself." you chuckled dryly, finally looking at his face. he was already staring at you.

"how?" he instantly retaliated, evoking a wince out of you. you didn’t know.

you leaned back into the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. "maybe i’ll just leave the Okhema, and start somewhere else, or…" you trailed off, the vision of throwing everything away just because of an inconvenience starting to sound absurd, but not out of question.

the man scorned at you, a certain sense of deep-rooted anxiety seeping through his expression. "no, you won’t.”

you’d smile at him, but the rage and hopelessness in your chest made you unable to. "alright, alright. i didn’t come here to ask for your help, i just— well, i thought i should tell you."

(no one else would be so understanding).

"why, though? you know i can give you money, or food. it’s what i’ve been doing those four years ago, and—"

yes, he was supporting you when you were absolutely lost, but the situation was different back then. right now, you’d rather rip out all of your teeth than accept any kind of help. you liked Mydei so much, and he would surely start to perceive you as an unnecessary load on his shoulders. more trouble than you’re worth. a cumbersome deadweight. you suddenly remembered your Pa — you haven’t thought of him in a while. he always instilled the independence in you, saying how relying on people would lead you astray. was Mydei the type of a man to leave you on thin ice? no, he was your best friend, he’d surely…

"please — just stop." you cut off his sentence, getting up from your seat. "i told you i’ll be okay."

he measured you from head to toe, feeling ire starting to bubble up in his chest at your refusal. prolonged silence filled the space of his house, and you wondered whether you should add anything, but no meaningful words found their way onto your tongue. you slowly began to drag your feet to the door, all the intense emotions starting to simmer down, and melt into an engulfing emptiness.

before you could reach for the door handle, Mydei suddenly got up from his place, reducing the distance between you two. you looked up into his eyes, unexpectedly starting to feel the need to curl up on yourself, and fall into the pits of nether.

"[name], i—" he paused, his fingers timidly reaching towards yours, "i’m sorry if you don’t think you can rely on me. i should have been more clear."

a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, even though you were in the need of consolation, not him. "don’t worry. if things get really dire, i’ll tell you." you cringed internally, ashamed by how easily lying straight to his face came to you.

Mydei nodded, and you let go of his palm, quickly walking out the door, not knowing that day would mark the begging of an end.

———

four weeks passed since then. a full month, then.

you swore to yourself you wouldn’t do it, but you relapsed into your old habits. the realization of no other choice crept over your senses progressively throughout the prolonged days of hunger, and absolute despair. your life was still seemingly the same — you kept visiting Mydei, and your other friends, telling them how poorly your search for a new job was going, laughing a bit too hard whenever your stomach rumbled. it was driving you crazy. could a normal person function like that? surely not, you thought to yourself as you finally made your decision, tugging the bag onto your arm, and dropping one pocket knife into your right shoe. it wasn’t supposed to end like that, but your mind bent under the feeling of starvation. your ran out of money three days ago, and your food storage was now reduced to one canned peaches. there was no other way.

you gripped some woman’s pouch in your hand as you swiftly traversed the streets, finally stopping in a shaded alleyway, your fingers rapidly prying it open. you’ve been trying your luck for the past twenty-four hours, and the amount of people who fell a victim to your theft was growing steadily. one watch, three wallets, overall five apples and a piece of cold cut. nothing satisfactory yet, but a good start. you glanced into the contents of the pouch, quickly counting the coins. still too little to even pay the upcoming bills. you scoffed under your breath as you tossed the few dimes into your bag, discarding the pouch behind your back.

the sky was overcast, for a change. you watched the small birds hug into each other, thinking your life would be so much easier if you were one of them. you’d spread your wings and fly into the endless horizon, uncaring of such trivial human-matters like money or proper housing. the wind would billow through your feathers, and once you got tired, you’d stop on some branch, hiding in the comfort of leafy twigs — but you were no bird, and you needed to think.

you pushed yourself forwards, your keen gaze narrowing on some unsuspecting men, now standing around and chattering idly about stuff that held little importance for you — one of them looked somewhat wealthy. you rendered the distance between them, feigning a cordial smile on your lips.

"good day, gentlemen." you chirped, your eyes quickly scanning their clothes for potential belongings. "i don’t want to trouble you, but there’s a thief roaming around somewhere… he stole my wallet just a few minutes ago. you wouldn’t happen to see someone fishy around here, would you?" you asked, forcing the innocent hurt to lace your tone.

they looked at each other with confusion, shaking their heads. "we’re sorry, but unfortunately no. perhaps you should ask the guards for help?"

you sighed with resignation, your keen gaze observing them as they patted their pockets, checking if everything was in its place. got you.

"i will. thanks for your help." you replied, turning on your heel and starting to walk away. you stopped behind some platform, away from the reach of their eyes. now you just needed to wait until they’ll separate, and go after the richest looking one. that’s exactly what was so burdensome about stealing — the constant wait. of course, you could blindly go after some other people, but it was much riskier.

you leaned on the stacked crates, picking out an apple you managed to snatch earlier from your bag. the hunger was starting to get to you again, so you wiped the fruit’s skin on your attire, sinking your teeth into its flesh.

"i think that doesn’t belong to you, [name]."

you practically jolted at the sound of the voice, accidentally biting your own tongue. you dropped the apple, it’s small form rolling away from your feet as you turned to look at Phainon, that ever-present friendly expression painted across his face. you grimaced at him, instinctively gripping the handle of your bag, as if you were certain he wanted to take it away from you too.

"how can you be so sure?"

"[name], you need to stop." he said, his tone calm in contrast to yours.

"i asked — how can you be so sure?" you barked out, taking a step back.

he huffed, shaking his head. "don’t act like a wounded animal. i’m not here to harm you, or anything like that."

"answer my question, damnit!"

(how can you be so unkind to your own friend? why is the spite seeping from your mouth?)

Phainon’s eyebrows tugged together at your defiance. "Aglaea sent me. don’t take offense, but you must be really slow if you thought she wouldn’t notice your wrongdoings."

you scoffed, barely stopping yourself from spitting on the ground. "why did she send you instead of just throwing me in the prison like she did the last time?"

"oh, don’t think she wasn’t planning to." he chuckled humorlessly, "but since you’re close to us, she decided to ask about your well-being first. Mydei and i vouched for you, and so she sent me to knock some reason into your head."

you felt your nerves calm once you understood you weren’t in a critical situation, and you slowly nodded your head in reluctant understanding. perhaps Aglaea wasn’t as ruthless as you deemed her to be, after all. "okay. i— i’ll stop."

with a heavy heart, you took off your bag, handing it to Phainon. his smile returned, but you didn’t have the strength to reciprocate the gesture. "i’ll give it back to you the second we’re done fixing your mess, alright?"

you nodded again, your eyes falling to the ground. the man patted your back with compassion, even though you probably didn’t deserve it. then, he walked away, and you slumped down the wall, reaching for that apple you dropped earlier — it tasted almost rotten.

all hopes for a better tomorrow were staring to simmer away from your body, just like the fog dissipates from above the ground. you tugged your knees close to your chest, resting your weary head, and you shut your eyes tightly, praying — praying for a vision. you felt as if you regressed back in time, the younger version of yourself hiding by some gutter with her eyelids closed, waiting for her mind to grace her with a flash of a future. it didn’t have to be anything great — you just needed the assurance of survival.

the sounds of the environment around you turned into one, disharmonious cacophony, and you felt as if you were separate from every other thing. no visions came. they were rarely useful, never working much in your advantage. however, there was one that made your breath stop — you don’t remember how old you were when you saw it. maybe ten, or eleven. it was clearer, and more vivid than any rest of them — your own premature death.

you remember panicking, and screaming in horror as your Pa held you, wiping the tears away from your eyes, even though he didn’t understand what happened. you never told him.

all you can recall is a view of your own, blurry hands — they were bigger, yet still devoid of any wrinkles, only a rash scar stretching across your thumb. you must have been way older than only eleven, at that time of your passing. perhaps much closer to your current age. you lifted your head, looking at your palms — exactly the same size as from that nightmarish flash, except for the scar. they were covered in absurd quantities of blood; in that vision, you looked down, briefly catching the sight of your own slashed stomach before everything suddenly vanished.

for the past four years of your life, you’ve been searching for any kind of solace, deeply aware of your impending end. Okhema seemed just like the perfect place to spend one’s last few beats of existence, and so you cherished it. the relentless sun, and the flowers, constantly in full bloom. streams, soft grass under your bare feet, friends, money, tasty pastries and the liberation from fear. right now your own sky darkened, and perhaps your current situation was the first harbinger of the inescapable fate.

there was nothing you could do but weep.

———

you sat amidst your empty living room, the space devoid of any kind of ornaments or furniture, except for the small, low table in the middle, a row of tumbled stones you got from Mydei settled on its surface. you dragged your mattress over to there, thinking you’d much rather sleep in this room, for whatever reason. it almost felt like that day when you invited Mydei to see your brand-new place, excitedly showing him every single corner of your house — however, he wasn’t there now. he hasn’t in a long time.

you began selling your belongings three months ago, practically for pennies, as you were in a desperate need for money. you didn’t want to wait until someone would buy your stuff for a reasonable price, even though it was the better route of action. instead, you demanded small amounts of money or food in exchange for your things, happily giving them away, simply satisfied with the knowledge you’d be able to pay the bills on time. your home quickly turned into a soulless building, and so you didn’t invite anyone over.

life was still the same, except for the fact you currently lacked in any things to sell. once it gets really bad, you’ll cash in your mattress along with the table — you didn’t have the heart to get rid of the stones. you have long forgotten about searching for a job, so at least you had enough free time to spend it with Mydei, or any of your friends. however, sometimes you felt as if their gazes turned more… careworn. cautious. not Mydei’s though — he didn’t treat you with any sort of judgement, nor forced pity. at least that’s something.

you have tried to fight through the negative thoughts, making yourself stay positive — it worked, rarely. you’d smile to yourself, forcing your mind to keep being hopeful as you sorted through your cabinet, counting how long you could survive on your food supplies. six days, or so. that was enough. then, you’d open the window, breathing in the sweet lilac as you tried to imagine it was yourself from the past.

truth is, you wanted everything back, the way it once was. you still yearned for that awful champagne, and pancakes coated in pomegranate seeds, but the taste wouldn’t satisfy you as much — you crave the scent of lilacs, and forget-me-nots, but you mean those from two years ago. you keep forgetting all of your needs are never going to be satiated.

you felt the urge to simultaneously curl up on yourself and run, sprint so fast as if you were being chased by a pack of bloodhounds. and as you sat in the dark room, night birds still singing so cheerily, you felt the silly need to cry. why can’t you accept help like a normal human being? why must you struggle, stumbling over the path of your own ruin?

you heaved, tears welling up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, not allowing yourself to shed any. you got up from the floor, quickly putting on your shoes, and you bolted out of your house, a familiar destination clear in your mind. you had to see him. you had to see him, else you’d do something unbelievably stupid. you traversed the streets at a high pace, quickly turning a few times until you finally stood in front of the door. you knocked without thinking, uncaring to explain why you were visiting him so late — perhaps he was already getting ready to bed, or sleeping. you fidgeted nervously, hoping you were wrong, as you couldn’t stomach the vision of dragging your feet back home.

finally, the sound of distinct footsteps made you breathe out in relief. there he was. you smiled genuinely at the sight of Mydei’s surprised face as he opened the door.

"[name]? did something happen?" he inquired, worried as always. you chuckled nervously in response, kicking a small pebble.

"no. i just wanted to see you." you answered, swiftly walking in once he stepped to the side.

Mydei closed the door, and you noticed he was already dressed in his sleeping-attire — maybe the hour of your visit was too late, after all. still, you didn’t want to leave now, so you anxiously shifted your weight from one foot to another, waiting for him to say anything.

he sighed, turning to look at you, his eyebrows knitted together. "are you sure you’re alright? it’s almost midnight. why aren’t you sleeping?"

you shrugged, nonchalantly stepping over to the couch. "i told you, i just got lonely. life’s pretty boring without a job, you know." you plopped down, stretching out your legs. "i hope you don’t mind, though?"

the man shook his head in response, grabbing you a glass of water before handing it over. your first instinct was to refuse, but you were thirsty, so you took it without complaining. you sipped at the liquid, soon placing it down on the table. "so, uh… i reckon you were going to sleep, no?"

"yeah, you could say that." he tapped his fingertips against his arm, as if awaiting some kind of explanation. what was there to explain? you simply felt the hinges of your brain start to loosen, so you did what everyone else would do.

(any second longer in that empty house of yours, and you’d go absolutely crazy).

"well," you began, finding a more comfortable position on the couch, "don't bother yourself with me. you must be tired, so i’ll just sleep there."

Mydei cocked one eyebrow at you, his expression turning bemused, as if what you just said was illogical. "you’re always welcome here, but you could’ve at least told me in advance. now i don’t even have a bed prepared for you."

you dismissed him with a wave of a hand, huffing out a breathy laugh. you didn’t need such accommodations — you’re not some kind of a spoiled girl who throws tantrums once she has to sleep on a couch. "Mydei, i’ll be fine. you go rest in your bedroom."

"no, you won’t. i’ll change my sheets, and you’ll sleep in my bed. i can stay on the couch."

your eyebrows rose at the sound of his decisive tone. why was he so hellbent on it? you were already causing him trouble just by coming in so late at night, and now he was burdening himself with your comfort. "gods, no!"

"gods, yes." he mocked with a straight face, starting to step in the direction of his bedroom.

you rolled your eyes at his attitude, shooting up from your seat as you caught the man’s wrist in your hand. "okay so — if you want to be so stubborn, why don’t we just share your bed?" you offered, thinking your idea was simply brilliant, even though it sounded a bit silly when you spoke it out loud. "it’s big enough to fit us both.”

Mydei blinked at you, his eyes widening. you blinked back, the corners of your lips curling upwards. "i mean…" he started, weighting his words, "if that’s alright with you, then i suppose i see no obstacles."

you clasped your hands in success, starting to skip towards the room, obviously happy with yourself. he followed in your track, wondering if this really was the right decision to make. when he looked at you, what did he feel? the desire to protect, most likely. what if he slips up, and says something he shouldn’t? what if his resolve cracks, and he offers to help you out once more, and you’ll give him that scornful look you’d always grace him with whenever he proposed it? he has tried before, he really did. he pretends not to see the strain in your smile, or how hollow your irises seemed as of late — he knows you don’t like when he points it out, but it’s not like he doesn’t notice. would you get mad, if he tried one last time? would it really be so bad if he ceased your suffering, even if a little bit? would—

"Mydei, i don’t have any clothes to change into." your voice suddenly pulled him out of the reveries, making him stop in the middle of the bedroom.

"i’ll give you my robe. i doubt it will fit, but…" he sighed, opening the wardrobe and pulling out the garment. you accepted it with a grateful smile, gesticulating at him to turn away.

you swiftly changed into your new attire, securing it around your waist before jumping into his bed, feeling at how plush the sheets were in contrast to the hard mattress. you stretched out your legs comfortably, breathing in contentment. the man followed suit, albeit with much less energy than you, slowly sitting down and turning off the lamp. the room instantly got swallowed up in darkness, and so you lied down on your back, sensing your body relax for the first time in forever.

silence fell between you, and you itched to say anything, but no meaningful words found their way onto your tongue. Mydei didn’t seem to be in a need of conversation, so you kept your mouth shut, turning to lie on your side.

minutes stretched into an hour, yet you still couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, accidentally knocking your feet against the man’s legs a few times. you apologized in a quiet voice, and every time he’d respond, saying it was okay — meaning, he wasn’t asleep either. guilt gnawed at your bones, and you couldn’t help but feel bad for interrupting Mydei’s sleep. he didn’t even get mad at you, making your conscience ever so heavier.

your thoughts turned onto a darker rail, knowing that once the morning comes, the shaky veil of tranquility will be swept again, and you’ll leave the place with a heavy heart, having to face your grim reality — whether you wanted, or not.

a huff of frustration escaped your mouth as you kicked the sheets away, starting to feel overly hot for no reason at all. perhaps you weren’t the ideal partner for sharing a bed, because Mydei turned to face you, and you could decipher the slightest frown on his expression through the darkness.

"[name], why can’t you sleep?" he questioned, keeping his tone barely above a whisper, "if you’re uncomfortable, i can go lie down on a couch."

"no, no. i’m alright." you assured, though the waver of your voice definitely betrayed you.

Mydei’s grimace deepened. "are you?"

you nodded, your line of vision moving towards the window as you stared into the blackness of the night. the sky must have been overcast, because you couldn’t spot any of the starts that usually illuminated the inky firmament so brightly. honestly, the lifeless sight made you even more depressed.

another long stretch of silence passed between you before you gathered up the courage to speak.

"if i asked you to run away with me, would you do it?"

the man seemed taken aback by your question, taking a while to respond. "run away? to where?"

you hummed in quiet contemplation. "i don’t know. somewhere far away, maybe."

he turned on his back, and you wished you could fix him into place, gripping his jaw so intensely he wouldn’t dare move his eyes away from yours. "[name], i couldn’t do that, even if i wanted to. i have my people to take care of. they rely on me more than on anything."

you held back a sigh, instead offering a half-forced giggle. "stop being silly Mydei, i was just kidding. you don’t need to be so serious all the time, you know."

"then don’t speak in such a gravely tone when you’re jesting." he retaliated, and you wanted to wince, afraid he caught on to your true intentions. fortunately, he didn’t say anything else.

you tossed on your side, now staring into the wall, and you berated yourself for even suggesting something so utterly ridiculous out loud. of course he wouldn’t agree — throwing one’s life away on a whim could never bring anything good, especially if he were to stick with the likes of you. Mydei was the crown prince of Kremnos. his people needed him. he was important. he mattered.

but you needed him too, did you not?

———

the atmosphere felt unusually light that day. Mydei’s gaze lingered on you as you sat cross-legged atop one of the chairs in his kitchen, absentmindedly eating the sandwich you had prepared for yourself earlier. you had started with small, measured bites, but the relentless hunger gnawing at your stomach quickly dimmed all of your remaining restraint. soon, you were ravenously wolfing down the bread, its jam-smeared surface disappearing far too quickly.

when your meager supplies finally ran out, you had no choice but to swallow your pride and reach out for Mydei’s rescue. the act stung — however, as the discomfort in your guts gradually dissipated, you couldn’t help but quietly smile to yourself, eternally grateful for the man’s unrelenting kindness.

little did you know, if only you asked — he’d give you all of his possessions, all of the food and stupid little tumbled stones you loved collecting, and he wouldn’t bat an eye at the loss. seeing you happy meant way more than those physical objects — he’d bake you all of your favorite pastries, and snap the lilac’s twigs off, gracing you with new bouquets everyday. if only you allowed him. if only you would finally abandon your resolve.

the silence of the space, only interrupted by your meek shuffling, made him remember the conversation he had with Phainon not so long ago. after they were done with sparring, they fell to the ground with satisfied huffs, but as they kept catching their breaths, his face shifted into a grimace (or at least that’s what he thinks his expression looked like), and the man sitting beside him spotted the way his brows narrowed. Phainon asked about you out of the blue — for a second, Mydei wondered whether your spirit possessed him, suddenly making him so perceptive and all-seeing.

"why are you frowning so much? are you thinking about [name]?" he teased, a playful lilt tangible in his tone. it came off as a joke, but it was obvious Phainon genuinely wanted to know. they were worried about you — both to their own extent, of course, as in contrast to his friend, Mydei seemed pushed up the wall, his mind constantly nagging him for not being able to help you.

he scoffed. "wouldn’t you want to know."

Phainon laughed in response. "there’s no shame to it. although… i’m starting to wonder if she really is only your 'best friend'." Mydei glared at him, evoking another snicker. he definitely knew too much.

"she is, so mind your own business." he muttered, sensing the heat of frustration creep up into his chest.

the other man hummed, a short while of silence stretching between them before he came up with a verdict. "so, if there’s really nothing going on with her and you, you wouldn’t mind if i asked [name] out on a date, would you?"

Mydei’s head suddenly snapped in his direction, his scowl only deepening. of course he would mind, what type of question is that?! "[name] deserves someone of higher intellect than you, so don’t you even dare.”

Phainon’s laugh never seemed to cease, only picking up in its intensity as he patted his arm with an almost pitiful expression. "oh, you’re really in love with her!" he announced through salves of giggles, a bit too loudly for Mydei’s liking.

that was absurd. sure, he cherished you, sometimes he thought he wouldn’t be able to imagine a life without you — but love? that was definitely a stretch. there was no place for romance in his heart, and from the look of things, neither was in yours. he’d continue to look out for you, provide if you asked him to, and that’s how it was supposed to be from the start. confessions of any kind would never take place, no, absolutely no. after all, what would he do if you rejected him? how would your expression look? what would you say to him? but, oh, what if you accepted? no, no, what is he thinking about? that’s… ridiculous. yes, it is, he needed to abandon this track of thought before it’d get out of hand, else he’d spiral down into the depths of something he could never crawl out from.

"no, i’m not."

"you’re in denial."

"i am not in denial!"

Phainon sighed, shaking his head with resignation. "doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Mydei, it’s so obvious it’s almost painful to watch. you better take care of your mess, before it’s too late."

he got up from the ground, sending Phainon a scornful glare, finally dragging his feet forwards. he huffed under his nose, mulling over the man’s words — 'before it’s too late'. what a dumb thing to say, he thought as he walked away.

however now, as he looked at you, already finished with your sandwich, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was a profound truth to his friend’s words. he really is in denial — there’s no doubt. the way his heart clenched at anything you did, at every grimace and look of that wicked self-satisfaction you sent in his direction, sly, yet fond smile stretching your lips. sometimes you genuinely drove him mad, and he wished he could bite at your throat to silence you — but what was the difference between the clench of his teeth, and a kiss? they were both touch, equally fatal in their nature.

"thank you for the meal." you breathed out, the tone of your voice content. Mydei’s mind focused back on reality, suddenly pulled out of his reveries. you had smeared your nose with jam.

he quickly pulled out a napkin, reaching forwards. "you got jam on your nose." he announced bluntly, wiping the thing off of your face. an abashed smile found its way onto your mouth as you giggled at his gesture.

"i can clean myself, you know!" you retaliated playfully, gently pushing the man’s hand away. right, you could do that on your own, so why did he…?

Mydei suddenly felt embarrassed by his action, but the blush on your face made it easier to swallow down. you straightened out your legs, getting up from the chair and putting the plate in the sink. "do you want me to make you something to eat too?" you asked before turning on the water, and starting to scrub the ceramic.

he blinked twice, taken aback by your question. "no, thanks. i’m not hungry." he said, leaning forwards on the table, his keen eyes watching your silhouette as you bustled by the countertop.

it was domestic, in a way. you have been residing at his place for the past week, and you never explained exactly why, but he had no problem with it. you were helping out with the chores, washing the dishes, and windows — he told you countless of times you didn’t have to do that, but you seemed hellbent on having your way. whenever he chastised you for doing the things that a guest shouldn’t, you’d only smirk at him, saying you were merely trying to be useful. why were you? you didn’t have to be useful. you didn’t have to do anything. you could as well be lounging on his couch with a magazine, lazily sipping at the lemonade, and he still wouldn’t mind.

you turned off the water, quickly swiveling on your heel. "i’ll go hang up the laundry."

"no, [name]—" he protested, but you were already out of the room, soon carrying the basket filled with clothes on your hip, opening the door outside. he sighed, pulling himself upwards and following after you.

Mydei stepped out, squinting at the relentlessly bright sun rays of the morning. you threw one of the sheets over the string, reaching upwards to clip it in place, then bending down to grab another. he huffed at your efforts, guilt creeping over his conscience as he observed the shadow of your silhouette, it’s blurry outline peeking through the thin material. "you don’t have to do that, you know."

"why not? i love helping you. it’s the least i could do." your head peeked from behind the white sheet, a wide beam stretching your lips as the slightest gust of wind disheveled your hair.

you loved it? Mydei’s eyebrows tugged together as he stood on the patch of soft grass, ever so still. he watched you work, thinking — yes, perhaps he really did love you. the realization washed over him, and he barely registered it, because it wasn’t sudden — it was there for all the years, pushed back into the further corners of his mind, barely obscured by seemingly innocent adjectives such as 'cherished' or 'treasured'.

if he didn’t love you, then certainly he wouldn’t allow you to practically live in his house, rarely coming back to your own. he wouldn’t let you sleep in his own bed, tucked just next to him as you conversed about insignificant things, only to wake up the next day and ask whether you could bake a pie today. and he most certainly wouldn’t feel so lost, yet so fulfilled at the same time, hoping you’d never dare to leave. he already got so used to seeing your sleepy face in the morning, and listening to your singing as you showered, and the way you cursed under your breath when you accidentally spilled the milk, and how vividly your laugh resonated whenever he told you something mildly funny — he can’t imagine you going away.

Mydei stepped forwards, bending down to grab a piece of your attire from the wicker basket. "i’ll help you." he said, securing it on the string oh-so carefully, as if he was afraid it’d turn into dust in his hands.

you send him a grateful nod, feeling the sweat gather on your nape as the sun shone straight onto your form. yes, it is the truth you enjoyed helping the man out — you wished it could stay like this forever, but you knew all the sweetness is always quick to disappear from your life, and you already overstayed your welcome.

there were three reasons why you decided to stay at Mydei’s place for so long — first, you ran out of food, and the hunger made your head swim with indescribable discomfort, crumbling your resolve. second, you hated being alone at your house, the emptiness rendering you mad. third — you simply yearned for the man’s company.

now, as you stood side by side, hanging up the laundry, playfully bickering over something silly, a silent realization settled in — you needed to leave. you were never meant to linger, never meant to grow so accustomed to his generosity, or presence. it wasn’t fair — to him or to yourself. you promised yourself independence, no matter how dreadful, no matter how cold the world might feel without Mydei’s kindness. and yet, even as you resolved to go, a part of you ached at the thought of leaving this ease, this comfort, this fleeting moment of something that almost felt like home.

———

you sat by the familiar stream’s bank, your fingertips gently caressing the small, blue flowers as you tried to distract your mind from all the complex emotions you were forced to go through everyday. lately, you distanced yourself from everyone — even Mydei.

maybe you were really going insane, but you convinced yourself it was for the better. two weeks passed since you had the time of your life, living at his place, and when you decided to return, you sold your mattress along with the small table from your living room. the food you bought with the newly-gained money lasted you up until now — you didn’t even think about the bills, their impending presence now appearing indifferent to you.

you will have to leave Okhema soon. it was as simple as that. you’d sell your house, bid goodbye to everyone, and disappear. you will travel to another city — but you doubted there was a place for you in this world, so you’ll continue traversing from one place to another, watching the life go by, waiting for the moment of your upcoming death. maybe it won’t be so bad, after all? you had fun in the holy city, at least for the majority of your stay — you don’t have to grieve what could’ve been. you were already satisfied with the brief taste of freedom, grateful to the gods who decided to look in your direction, and allow you to truly live instead of surviving. a short moment of blinding pain, and your body will fall onto the ground, earth reclaiming what belonged to her.

that’s why you decided to keep all of your friends at distance. you weren’t sure if you could imagine your disappearance as something worth crying over, but maybe some of them would be a little sad. if they take a certain disliking to you, marred by you ignoring their existence, then surely it will hurt a little less. perhaps it won’t hurt at all. they will eventually forget, because what were you if not a passing glimpse of their lives?

you smiled to yourself, finally plucking a few forget-me-nots from the dense patch, twirling them in your fingers as ease washed over you. the quiet humming of the water, and the melodies of birds lulled your distraught brain into a state of tranquility, as you thought — it’s finally coming to an end. everything will, no matter how hard you try to hold it in place. you glanced up at the setting sun, slowly hiding behind the horizon line. there is a day, and there is a night. that’s the ultimate truth of human life.

suddenly, your peace was interrupted by characteristic footsteps. you’d recognize the sound of them everywhere, and usually your heart jumped up in joy, however now it caused your stomach to squeeze with stress. he was the last person you wanted to see right now, and you weren’t sure whether you could look him in the eyes after fourteen days of ignoring.

"[name]." the slightly harsh tone of the man’s voice urged your head to turn, facing him. Mydei’s expression was of the same nature as his words — unpleasant. he must be mad, the scowl tugging his eyebrows together as he rendered the distance between you.

you forced your face to shift into something similar, although you felt as if you failed in obtaining the same look. "what?" you barked back, getting up on your feet.

he stopped just before you, and you had to crane up your neck to look into his eyes. "i knew i’d find you here." he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "what do you think — pretending i don’t exist? acting as if you can’t hear me knocking at your door everyday?"

you balled your hands into fists, else you’d start to nervously fidget with them. "Mydei, i—"

"do you take some joy in making me wait at your doorstep like a dog?" he cut you off, and for the first time since forever, you felt the need to spit at him. you knew you were in the wrong for treating him like that, but you genuinely had no bad intentions, and it was his fault for acting like a fool!

"no, of course not!" you retaliated, stress merging into one with anger, "but— but who’s saying you have to visit me, or anything? nobody’s forcing you to—"

Mydei interrupted you once again, "do you even hear yourself? maybe all of the incense in your house finally fogged your mind?" he sneered, and you thought there’s no incense in your living room anymore. there’s nothing, except for the stones he let you take from him — tomorrow, you’ll throw them in this stream, watching their colorful forms sink to the bottom, yes, that’s what you’ll do!

"maybe i just don’t want to see you anymore, how’s that?" you snapped at him, but you instantly regretted it, watching his expression involuntarily fall, if only just a bit. you were so unbelievably cruel, you almost wanted to fall to your knees and apologize — but you wouldn’t.

"why?" he asked, "you were so eager to stay at my place not so long ago — and maybe i’m remembering things wrong, but you were happy back then, weren’t you?"

you winced, hearing his tone gradually become more livid. you wanted to take a step back, but you’d tumble into the water, only embarrassing yourself. "yes, yes i was, but times have changed, Mydei, and i don’t know what else to say to you." you seethed, gathering up more resolve.

"then at least tell me what made you change your mind about me!" he bit at you, and you wondered what kind of explanation you could muster up before your argument changes into a screaming match.

your mind worked faster than ever, but you failed to reply in any sort of way, remaining silent. it urged Mydei to continue. "really, who would have thought… you don’t want to see me again, you can’t even respond—" he paused, weighting his words as his eyebrows narrowed even further, "maybe you never were my friend to begin with. i should have seen this coming, looking at the way you—"

"no!" you interrupted, the hardened facade crumbling once you couldn’t bear to listen to him anymore, "i was— i am, still! but Mydei, i just— i just couldn’t handle it anymore, constantly relying on you, acting like some kind of a burden!" you said, trying to control your wavering voice, "i didn’t want to use you, i never could, i never will, so please, try to understand me!"

his scornful gaze finally seemed to ease, and a deep silence fell between the two of you, the only sounds being the chirps of the crickets, and the ever-quiet hum of water. the man closed his eyes, as if mulling over your words. "and is that really the only reason why you distanced yourself from me?" he finally asked, cracking his eyelids open.

no, it wasn’t the only reason, but you’d rather lie than confess to your upcoming plans of departure. “yes. i’m sorry."

he sighed, brushing his fingers through his blonde locks. "[name], sometimes i have a really hard time understanding you. you really don’t see it, so you?"

"i— what?"

"how important you are to me." he confessed, his eyes flickering away from your face for a second. it must have taken a lot of courage to say these words. "i do cherish you. i want you in my life, no matter what you think. if— if you really want me gone, so be it, but i need you to know that you’re precious to me, and i genuinely cannot fathom… cannot fathom to imagine you leaving me over something like that."

your blood pressure arose instantly, and you swear you heard the ground under your feet crack, threatening to devour you whole. your hands trembled, and you blinked twice, feeling your heart pounding so rapidly at your ribs. the inside of your mouth suddenly got so dry, so unbelievably dry, and a fleeting thought passed your mind — perhaps, all of the suffering comes from craving, and attachment — there was no other explanation for the way your stomach squeezed around itself, as if it was silently threatening to kill you. your gaze rapidly flew around in search of anything that could come to your rescue — a rock, dragonflies, the setting’s sun reflection on the water, a lime tree, a bird, the grass — your eyes returned to Mydei’s, and you swallowed.

"are you saying that…?" you asked, your voice unsure.

he nodded. "yes, i’m saying exactly what you’re thinking, [name]. i love you. is it not obvious?"

"i— i mean, i’m not… i don’t know, all the time i thought…"

"it doesn’t matter. if you’ll have me, then i’ll make sure you—" Mydei paused, as if forcing such vulnerable words out loud took a toll on him, "i’ll make sure you won’t suffer alone anymore."

you finally offered him a small smile, reaching out for the man’s palm, and he immediately interwoven your fingers together, clenching them around your hand so tightly it made you think — i’ll stay. i’ll stay here with you, Mydei, and i won’t leave. i’ll fight tooth and nail to bend my fate, i’ll rip the gods beating hearts out if it means i can live by your side. i don’t want to die, no, not when you look at me like that, with so much adoration in your golden irises.

"but i’m tough." you responded, your vision flickering over to his lips, suddenly so inviting.

"i’m aware." he leaned in much closer, as if understanding what you were thinking about, his free hand gently moving to your cheek, securing your head in place. "you are tough. you are. but it doesn’t mean you have to face all the hardships by yourself."

your forehead knocked against Mydei’s, and you hooked your arm around his neck, thinking the tangle of your limbs resembled a rattlesnake’s nest. "if that’s what you think…" you whispered, pressing your body into his, deeper, deeper, praying every single fiber of your muscles would fade into his, and a few days from now on you’ll be waking by his side again, brushing the mischievous strands of hair away from his sleeping face. you’ll push your mouth to his brow, mumbling: 'i know it’s been so long, and i’ve been awful, but now we’re together.'”

finally, Mydei’s lips crashed into yours — it was obvious he was trying to hold back, but all the pent-up emotions and desperation seemed to implode over your senses, and you gripped his locks, causing your teeth to accidentally clash against each other. you’ve never kissed anyone. it was your first time, and you didn’t know what you were doing, but his hand seemed to lead the way, tilting your head at the right angle, serving as the last anchor of control.

you closed your eyes even though you didn’t want to, rather drinking in the sight of the man’s face from up close. as the warmth of his lips embraced you, a sharp shock suddenly ripped through your mind, and you saw the vision — your curse, your blessed gift — an unfamiliar path, your legs taking fast, wide steps forward, a line of trees in the distance — it disappeared, causing you to whine into the kiss, a mixture of dread and elation merging into one noise. you didn’t know what it meant, that flicker of future.

Mydei pulled away, his pupils dilated, and then you couldn’t bring yourself to care. "i’m sorry, did i hurt you?" he asked, and you almost laughed at the way his blushed face twisted with innocent anxiety. you shook your head, finally registering how out of breath you were — you gasped for oxygen, pulling the man back into your arms as you leaned your head on his collarbones. you stood like that for a longer while, taking in his scent, so terribly familiar. the loud rush of blood in your ears dissipated, and you could clearly hear the songs of cicadas, cutting through the overall silence of twilight.

you were the first to let go, finally stepping back. to think your earlier fight would lead to such events, unfolding things you had no knowledge of previously. you felt fulfilled, and happy, and determined anew — so you smiled brightly at Mydei, smoothing out your disheveled hair. "it got late, huh…" you muttered, looking up at the sky, navy and pink melting into one, stars splattered over its surface.

he nodded along to your words. "right. are you coming home?" he asked, and you cocked your head to the side.

"you mean my house?”

"no, mine." his short answer caused your breath to hitch, an encompassing sensation of finally belonging somewhere, being a piece of something bigger, swelling within your chest. his house. our home. how wonderfully did that sound?

you shook your head, sighing. "i’m— i’m okay for now, i guess if you want me to stay at your place, i’ll have to pack a few things."

"don’t you want me to help you with it tomorrow? knowing you, the suitcase will be on the heavier side." that made you snicker, playfully hitting him on the arm — however, you knew your belongings wouldn’t even need a suitcase — all you had to your name was a few necessities such as toothbrush, some clothes, and the tumbled stones you wanted to throw away in the stream earlier on.

"no, i’ll be fine, really."

Mydei hummed, acknowledging your words. his hand reached towards you for the last time, giving it a small squeeze. "everything is going to be alright from now on. understood?"

the corners of your lips curled upwards. "understood."

you affirmed with a tone full of confidence — so why did you feel as if you were still lying?

the man walked you back to your house, and you waved him goodbye, waiting for his silhouette to disappear in the darkness of the streets. you didn’t want to be there, and now that he was gone, the vision you received of your legs treading an unfamiliar road made you genuinely ponder over its nature. a feeling of unease settled deep in your stomach as you pushed yourself off the porch, starting to wander around. you passed through a few familiar points, thinking, thinking way too deeply for your liking. your thoughts swiveled around in your brain, creating scenarios and visages that caused your very marrow to shake with dread, but, for some reason, you couldn’t stop.

you don’t know how long you’ve been walking around. the sky was already black, and there wasn’t many people outside, only a few individuals stumbling back from their bar-hopping escapades, or fighting through the insomnia. you were neither of those, simply traversing through the Okhema like some kind of a ghost, slowly dragging your feet forwards.

your conscience hung heavy over your shoulders, making you sigh every so often. you were happy just a few hours ago. what happened? nothing.

you shoved your hand into the pocket of your attire, starting to become slightly cold — you sensed something inside, feeling at the delicate petals, and you pulled the flowers out. forget-me-nots. when did you put them here? most likely when you were playing with them, and Mydei decided to take you by surprise, sneaking up on you. you must have absentmindedly placed them in your pocket, because there was no other explanation. you kept walking, staring at the now barely-visible blue on your palm, and you suddenly thought — when did you forget?

you gripped the stems in your hands, crushing them under the pressure of your fingers as the now slightly blurred image of your old man’s face appeared before your eyes. it was so long since you really reminisced about him — not just a passing flash, but rather really thinking. allowing yourself to weep as you recalled the memories, something you were never supposed to push back, repressing the man you loved so much deeply in your mind. that’s exactly what you did — repress. you repressed him. through the chase for money, a better life, occupied by your friends, and seemingly endless food — you almost forgot.

did his voice always sound like this? were the wrinkles on your Pa’s face truly so deep? what was the color of the doll’s hair he gave you? what were his last words? what were his last, very last words? your heartbeat seemed to stop as you couldn’t recall them, causing you to hyperventilate. you can’t remember, you can’t, you can’t — what now? what should you do?! tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched the forget-me-nots in your hand harder, feeling their sticky juices seep onto your fingers, and now, you couldn’t stop the warm sensation rolling down your cheeks. you heaved, stumbling forwards as the blue petals fell from your hands, and you tugged at your own hair in frustration.

how dared you forget? you should have been more careful, embedding the words, and his face, and voice, and the rough feeling of his calloused palms on your face as he consoled you, saying how this world was cruel, but at least you had each other. what could have been if Pa didn’t die? would you still live in poverty, or maybe your resolve would harden over the time, and you’d make enough money to run away from that awful town together, finally paying him back for all the kindness he kept offering you throughout your whole life. maybe then, you’d move to Okhema, by some miracle — and you’d meet Mydei as a softer version of yourself, your old man could taste all the delicious pastries, and perhaps then — perhaps then you wouldn’t feel as if you were incomplete from the start.

you laughed through the tears, remembering your Pa’s words: "loss and pain make one stronger, so you have to embrace it." you didn’t understand it back then, and surely you don’t understand it now — how was it supposed to work? it didn’t make you stronger, it only made you more stupid, clinging to whatever comfort the holy city had to offer. it caused you to push back the memories of terror, stripping you away from what you once were. you betrayed yourself, didn’t you? and you betrayed your father, who kept instilling independence and fierce-temper in you for all the time. you threw away his legacy, rather focusing on your own well-being. and wasn’t that selfish? dear gods, wasn’t that so terribly, awfully selfish?

you loved Mydei, and he loved you, but how can you love with such a hell in your head? how can you possibly live? you sniffled, wiping your eyes, and suddenly your lament got interrupted by a hard shove to your arm. your head snapped towards some man, obviously drunk out of his mind, his face twisted in a disgusting grimace.

"hey, watch where you’re going, y-you damned strumpet!" he slurred, stopping in his track to spit on your shoes, a self-satisfied sneer stretching his lips.

you felt a surge of rage run through your body, instantly washing away all the sadness from earlier. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" you seethed, taking a wide step forward, and shoving the man into the wall of an alleyway you were currently in.

it was hard to tell through the way tears still clouded over your vision, but the man’s confident expression seemed to falter. "i— i said— damn you, you—"

he couldn’t finish his sentence, because you swung at him, gritting your teeth when your fist painfully collided with his jaw. you felt it rattle, and he stumbled to the side, still miraculously holding his balance. the man pulled himself up with a groan, obviously stunted, and tried to mimic your move, his staggering arm reaching out to meet with your face. you dodged the pathetic punch, feeling an enormous amount of fury gather up in your gut.

remember, [name], if someone attacks you, your best choice is to run. but… truth be told, i was never a 'runner', if you know what i mean! running, you see, is for cowards. and you aren’t a coward, my girl. you are smart. hmm… yes, wits are important, they definitely are. but, ah, you know how it is in life, even the most reliable things can sometimes fail you, no? once that happens, and you seem out of options, just swing at that fool who decided to fight you — it’ll hurt, you see, so fists aren’t always the best solution. do you know what’s harder, and sturdier than hands? knees and elbows. use them. use your head. use everything i’ve taught you.

you gripped the man’s hair with much more force than necessary, and he flailed his limbs, throwing blind punches at you. "try to say that again, i dare you!" you growled, and all he did in response was scream. you threw your leg up, your knee hitting him in the face, and you heard a crack, probably of his nose. you repeated the action, thudding his head against your bone before you threw him on the ground. it was enough. it was enough, and yet you still crouched next to his whining form, gripping the collar of his shirt.

"apologize." you demanded, but the man wailed in pain, touching his busted nose and lip. "apologize to me right now!"

all you were met with was another whine, so you swung your fist at him again, and again. you don’t know what possessed you. your vision narrowed, deafening out the sickening cracks and snaps, and you heard the bustling of your hometown street. you heard the excited yells and whistling, a multitude of voices cheering you on as you got into your first fight with a boy you particularly didn’t like. you heard the gunshots next to your ear as the drunk shopkeeper tried to stop you from stealing one of his rings. you heard the coughing of your old man as pneumonia drained the life out of him. you heard the screams of terror, and the unbelievably loud hurricane wind as it destroyed everything in its wake, rubble falling around you with thuds. then, you heard the soft sobbing, and realized it was your own voice.

you snapped back to reality, the image before you rendering you frozen. the man’s face was now reduced to a pulp, and his gurgling seemed to finally cease. you slowly got up from your position, the stench of blood making you want to puke all over yourself as you took a step back on your wobbly legs. what have you done?! you killed a man — no, you didn’t kill him, surely not! you practically fell back on your knees, searching for his pulse, neck, wrist, temples, wherever — nothing. there was nothing. you grasped your face in horror, before realizing your hands were all bloody.

you heaved, thinking — i’ve finally gone mad. yes, now you could say it with your whole chest — you were insane. a lunatic. you killed him, and for what? because he said something mean? because you were sad, and angry?

the promise you made to yourself earlier — to prevail your own death, and stay in Okhema, by Mydei’s side — it all seemed so distant now. there is no changing of fate. it’s just a stupid thing to believe in, to make the fear of impending doom a little more bearable. you have to flee. you have to run away from this damned city, but first you needed to see him, you had to, else you’d crawl back here at the most unexpected moment, and become a prisoner for the rest of your life.

you pulled yourself up, sprinting towards the oh-so familiar house. when you got there, you were completely out of breath, banging on the door as tears streamed down your face, washing away the dried blood. he wasn’t opening. you bent down to pull the pocket knife out of your shoe, extending the blade with your trembling hands, and you attempted to shove it into the lock, because you had to break in somehow, and you cherished Mydei too much to shatter one of his windows. you struggled to see what you were doing, tears and the darkness of the night obscuring your vision. your shaky palm accidentally slipped to the side, and you felt the knife rip through the skin on your thumb. you gritted your teeth, fighting back the howl of pain as you finally managed to force the blade into the lock, twisting it open.

you stumbled inside, shutting the door, and you instantly walked into the bathroom, turning on one of the lights. you let the water run in the sink as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, absolutely horrified to see your face. it was smeared with blood, your hair disheveled, and your eyes red from crying. you quickly began scrubbing yourself, tears still falling down as you frantically tried to clean everything away. the traces of your crime gradually dissolved along with water, pinkish stains swirling down in the drain. you finally ceased your efforts, giving up on your nails when the blood didn’t want to disappear.

you dried yourself with a towel, and you turned off the light, practically running to Mydei’s bedroom. you stopped before the door, trying to open them carefully, as you didn’t want to scare him, in case he was still asleep — and he probably was, looking at the way he didn’t come down to check out the commotion you made a few minutes earlier. you stepped inside, watching his resting form, his breaths so quiet it managed to calm you down, if only so slightly.

you leaned over the man, gently trying to lie down next to him. he didn’t have to wake up — maybe it would be better if he didn’t. you settled yourself, observing his face, and you thought it looked more innocent than ever. he’ll be better off without you in his life. someone of such golden heart shouldn’t associate themselves with a criminalist, let alone a murderer — neither should your other friends, but you doubted you’d be able to say goodbye to them too.

your breath trembled a bit too loudly, and Mydei opened his eyes, at first slowly, still dazed by his sleepy state — then, when he recognized you, his eyelids shoot wide, and he gasped in sudden surprise, instinctively jumping back. "[name]? what—"

"i’m sorry if i scared you, Mydei." you tried to smile at him, pretending to be happy as always, but the crack in your voice seemed to betray you. you sniffled, quickly reaching to wipe your eyes.

"[name], in the gods’ name, how—" he forced out, his mind still only half-awake, "how? how did you manage to get inside, and what’re you doing in my bed?" he questioned, lifting himself up on his elbows. "and why are you crying?"

you shook your head, reaching for his golden hair, and lacing your fingers through them. "i’m sorry. i just— i got lonely, you see, and…" you paused, taking a big breath, "i broke in. i swear i didn’t do anything, your lock is still intact, so don’t worry."

"that’s not what i’m worried about!" he retaliated, but your touch seemed to soothe his nerves, coaxing him into lying back down. "you break into my house, you’re crying, it’s the middle of the night — do you see what’s the issue here?”

"i’m sorry." you apologized once again, retracting your hand, afraid he was angry at you. he should be.

he finally sighted with resignation, pulling you closer, and gently wiping the tears away from your downcast eyes. he didn’t know what was going on with you — but from the look of things, i’d be better not to ask now. you held back a sob, wishing you could reverse the time, or everything that happened was just an extremely realistic, intricate nightmare, and soon you’d wake up — but this was your current reality, still.

"what happened to your hand?" he asked, his vision locking on your thumb, constantly bleeding onto the sheets. you shrugged, not wanting to explain how erratically you jabbed your pocket knife at his lock, accidentally stabbing yourself in the process of your struggles. "i’ll go fetch the bandages, you should wait—"

you grabbed his wrist, holding him in place. "no, Mydei. please, stay with me now. we’ll take care of it in the morning, alright?" you almost begged, thinking that if he went away now, he’d never go back. it was your last few moments together — before dawn, you’ll have to flee — and so, you couldn’t imagine being separated from him for even a second.

the man nodded unsurely, his lips pulled into a thin line as he was trying not to frown. there was something wrong, so obviously wrong, yet you refused to elaborate, so he kept silent. Mydei’s hand petted your head, and you kept on wiping your tears, alarm ringing loudly somewhere in the back of your mind, urging you to either hold onto him with your dear life, or bolt through the door and never look back.

after a longer while, he finally spoke. “can you tell me why are you crying, [name]?"

you shuddered, your breath hitching. you could never tell him. "i just got sad all of the sudden," you feigned a giggle, though it didn’t sound like one, "i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i’m sorry."

Mydei seemed to contemplate your words, as if he didn’t believe you at all, but he ultimately didn’t point your lie out. "alright. i just hope you didn’t do anything foolish." he murmured, his palm moving onto your back, resting between the shoulder blades.

you swallowed thickly, feeling the dread gnaw at every fiber of your being. "and… and what if i did? what if i did something so utterly wrong and awful— would you still love me, then?"

he smiled at you, and it reminded you of an unbearably hot and endless summer. his eyes crinkled in the corners, and he pushed you into himself, placing a chaste kiss on your temple. "i’m not sure if you’re aware," he began, a little hesitant, "but you’ve been doing wrong things ever since we met. well — i’m not saying you’re a bad person, but scamming people for four years straight is not the most righteous thing to do."

you huffed, your nerves eased by the amused lilt of his voice. "and?"

"and i’ve never deemed it as a reason to stop loving you. you’re much more than that, [name]."

but mere fraud could never compare to your biggest sin. you sighed, knowing he’ll hate you endlessly.

"that’s… good. thank you." you said, even though the words were barely consoling. "what do you want to do tomorrow?"

"tomorrow?" he mused, his fingers running up and down your spine, "we’ll have to move some of your things over to my house. did you pack already?"

"no, not yet." you replied truthfully.

"that’s fine, i’ll help you. what else shall we do?"

"i want to go buy ingredients, and then we’ll bake a strawberry cake." you decided, lies easily slipping off your tongue, as you imagined the conversation was completely honest, and nothing bad ever happened. in the morning, you’ll go shopping, holding onto the man’s palm, and you will make the best cake of your lives. after you’re done eating, Mydei will help you move your stuff, effortlessly tugging the two heavy suitcases behind, filled with all your trinkets and clothes that you sold so long ago.

"sounds good to me. i’ve been craving strawberries for some time."

"and after that, i want to lie down on the couch and do nothing."

that evoked a quiet chuckle out of him, and you felt the sound reverberate through his chest. "if that’s what you want, then so be it."

you smiled to yourself, your eyelids fluttering shut. yes, it was good to pretend for now. tomorrow, when Mydei wakes up, he will find out about everything, but you’ll be already gone — he won’t lament, nor grieve your loss. he’ll only think to himself that it’s a good thing you left, and eventually, he’ll forget.

but did you want him to?

you felt something terrible squeeze at your throat, and you had to steel your resolve, else you’d start to cry again. you didn’t want him to forget about you nor all the things you both did, ever. you didn’t want to die. you still had so much to see, and to experience, and taste — your relationship with him only began, and it was going so well — why did you have to ruin it? why do you always have to wreak devastation? why did you have to take that route, instead of just staying home? why did your fists met with that man’s face?

you could ask yourself — why do bad things happen to good people? why did Mydei have to meet you? why did he have to fall for someone of your nature? why are you allowing his hands to caress you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world? won’t his fingers become stained with blood, too?

why did your Pa have to die, while you survived?

your breath shuddered, and then you thought that your premature death is a fair punishment for all your deeds. the gods aren’t cruel — they’re simply all-seeing. it’s better to eradicate the problem before it spreads its disease to others.

still, you were alive, and you wanted to strive more. you didn’t want to throw your life away, and yet it happened. it seems that we, humans, truly hold no control over our existences. it’s inevitable.

your gaze flickered over to the clock, its face dimly illuminated by the moon outside. a little after two in the morning. you will have to get up in one hour. if Mydei wakes up, stirred conscious by your movements, what will you say to him? that you’re going to the bathroom — most likely — not to worry, you’ll be back soon.

you sighed morosely, starting to count down the very seconds. one, two, three, four, five. you’ll love him always. time was nothing.

when the clock struck three, a hollow weight settled in your chest, sinking deep into your stomach. you forced yourself upright, your fingers clutching the sheets with desperation, as if holding onto anything could make you stay. you thought you had already cried all of your tears, none falling from your eyes as hollow emptiness filled you.

you leaned over Mydei, letting your gaze trace the contours of his face, memorizing every delicate feature, etching his peaceful expression into the depths of your mind, so that you wouldn’t forget. how long did you linger there? a minute? an eternity? you wouldn’t know. if you could, you’d remain by his side forever, frozen in a picture, unmoving.

at last, you pressed a gentle kiss to his brow, a final act of goodbye. he would go on — the crown prince of Kremnos, destined for great future. you only wished fate had been more merciful, allowing you to be there for him, through every hardship, and every triumph. but time wasn’t working in your favor as it urged you to get up, treading over the floor with utmost care, afraid that if you made any kind of sound, he’d wake up. you looked around his house — the kitchen, living room, halls. you’ll never return here.

all before you would soon turn into a memory, engraved somewhere deep. you’ll leave, and then most likely slip back into crime — mugging, thieving, street fights, the loud gunshots, and the taste of blood residing on your teeth, dripping quickly from your busted lips and gums. you’ll have to soak in the rain, your coat barely obscuring you from the wet weather as your feral eyes of a hunted animal trailed over some unsuspecting people, wondering what their wallets have to offer. you’ll sit by the gutter, counting how much money you have left, praying it’ll last you until the next day. your calves will burn constantly, and you won’t taste pancakes, or eclairs ever again.

but gods, wasn’t that still more merciful than the guards shoving you to the ground, binding your wrists in cuffs, pushing you into the cell, and shutting the grates before you’d manage to get back on your feet? surely, because you’d rather have to suffer, and remain free, instead of looking up at the blue sky from behind the bars. maybe one day, you’ll grow wings and return to Okhema, observing the small silhouettes of people traversing the streets. you’ll see Mydei, and Phainon, and all of your other friends — talking about something trivial, their mouths smiling as they kept on laughing, and their voices wouldn’t reach you. you’ll cease to exist to them.

it was then, as you stepped towards the door, that you thought of writing a letter. you doubted it will be of any use, but perhaps it’ll give others some closure about your whereabouts, assuring them you won’t be returning. you quickly glanced out of the window, checking if anyone was there — nothing. you were safe, for now, so you quietly rummaged through Mydei’s belongings, searching for a piece of paper along with a pen. finally, you leaned over the table, squinting your eyes as you tried to start.

you rarely had anything meaningful on your tongue, and now that your life seemed to lose its point, it was especially tough to come up with anything. you glanced at your hand, holding the pen — the exact same size, wound across the thumb present. you huffed out a humorless laugh, coming to a conclusion that fate was really inescapable. oh, how could you ever think it was in the first place? humans are phenomenally, genuinely stupid creatures. nothing will change that — they are gullible, and cruel, and loving, and they think they can be the blacksmiths of their own destiny, bending the gods’ will to their liking, just like they do with scalding iron. perhaps that’s why they are so fascinating.

you threw the paper on the countertop’s surface as you finished writing, and walked out the door, shutting it loudly behind you.

my dear Mydeimos,

i regret that our parting must happen this way, and even more so that i must say goodbye to you through a letter. i suspect you’ll struggle to make sense of my handwriting, because the clock now indicates half past three, and i cannot see well, as it’s still dark outside. soon, i will leave home, and Okhema — for good.

my house is no longer mine nor should anyone expect my return. i sold my belongings long ago, so you needn’t worry about that.

by the time you read this, you may already know of my crime. if not, you will soon, and for that, too, i am sorry. i will not offer excuses, as there are none to be made, and that is also the reason why i decided to flee. a brief thought urged me to stay — my father always said running is for cowards. and i am a coward — yes, i am. but i would rather perish in some ditch than waste away in a cell for the rest of my days. you know me well enough to understand that, i believe.

still, despite the fact that those few past months were filled with hardships, i cannot say my life here was without joy. for that, i am grateful. it was an honor to live in this place, to know you, to witness the soul of the holy city with my own eyes. i would have stayed forever, if not for what happened.

but what have i left behind, if not disorder and chaos? i constantly deceived others for a living, selling false visions to those desperate enough to believe in them. ironically, i do, truly, possess clairvoyance. the only thing revealed to me, which stuck to my conscience throughout all the years of my life, was my own death. i’ve never told anyone about this. most likely, you’ll be the first and last to know. and so, if it puts your mind at ease, know this — i do not have long.

what a shame, that it had to end like this. if i could turn back time, i would. i would fix my mistakes, undo all the harm i have brought. alas, it simply doesn’t work like that. i pray that maybe, just maybe, there’s a place for us in another life, where you’d meet me, and my body would no longer reek of horror.

i have been a burden to many, but to you most of all. i am endlessly sorry. even so, i will cherish these four years we spent together until my last breath, no matter what you may think of me. but you, Mydei, must not. do not seek me. do not think of me. and if you would grant me one final kindness — forget me.

[name].

[heliosunny]

Hi there! Your yandere reader x mydei was an absolute masterpiece. May I request you to write yandere reader x phainon. Where the reader is a noble lady and phainon was her knight and she was rlly obsessed w him.

Of course, no need to rush. >_<

Yandere!Fem!Reader x Phainon

The grand ballroom sparkled under the glow of a thousand chandeliers, but Phainon barely paid any mind to the festivities. His focus remained on the young lady beside him.

"Phainon~" Your voice rang sweetly in his ears, laced with an affection so open that it drew the attention of nearby courtiers. You reached for his arm, nearly tripping over the hem of your gown in your haste.

Phainon caught you with ease, steadying you with a firm grip. "Careful, my lady." he said, amused. "You’ll ruin your dress if you keep stumbling like this."

You pouted up at him, but Phainon had long since learned to dismiss that. It was simply how you were. Overly attached to him, perhaps, but not in a way that seemed harmful.

"What would I ever do without my dearest knight?"

"Find another knight?" he teased lightly, guiding you toward the dance floor as a nobleman approached to ask for your hand.

But before the man could even complete his bow, you laughed, stepping closer to Phainon as if he were the only one in the room. "Oh, but why would I need anyone else? My knight is the strongest, the most loyal—" Your fingers curled slightly against his sleeve. "and he’s always by my side."

The nobleman chuckled, mistaking your words for a jest. "A lady so fond of her knight. How charming! Sir Phainon, it seems you are irreplaceable."

Phainon offered a polite smile, ignoring the way your grip tightened.

You had always been like this. Possessive in a way that others found endearing, doting in a way that left no room for anyone else. It wasn’t unusual for nobles to be attached to their personal knights, and you had been his charge since your youth. Your affections, no matter how overwhelming at times, were harmless.…Right?

----

The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light through the tall windows of the training grounds. Phainon adjusted his grip on his sword, exhaling slowly as the heat of exertion settled into his muscles. A match had just ended, and the dust had barely begun to settle when he heard your voice.

“Phainon!”

He turned just in time to see you skipping toward him, a cup in hand, your fine silk dress unsuited for the dusty grounds. Despite that, you moved with light steps, your smile unwavering as if this was the most natural place for a noble lady to be.

Phainon wiped his brow, chuckling. “You didn’t have to, my lady.”

“But I wanted to” you hummed, pressing the cup into his hand.

He took it without argument, accustomed to your little gestures by now. You were always like this. Your hands lingered at his wrist, fingers warm against the cool metal of his gauntlet.

And then he saw it. A thin cut along your palm.

His brows furrowed. “You’re hurt.”

“Oh? I suppose I am.” You laughed, brushing it off with a small wave of your hand. “It’s nothing.”

Phainon frowned. It wasn’t unusual for you to be careless with yourself, but the way you disregarded your own wounds always unsettled him. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I might have scraped it on a broken cup earlier.” You tilted your head, smile unwavering. “But it’s already fine, see?”

He barely had time to process before you reached up and pressed the cut hand against his cheek despite the sting it should have carried. He stiffened slightly, not at the touch itself but at the lack of reaction from you.

A wound like that should hurt, shouldn’t it?

But you didn’t even flinch.

Phainon hesitated. The thought lingered only for a moment before he sighed, shaking his head.

Perhaps you just had a high tolerance for pain. Perhaps you truly hadn’t noticed the injury.

“Phainon” you said sweetly, eyes locking onto his. “You’re thinking too much again.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Perhaps I am.”

Your fingers curled against his cheek.

His grip on the cup tightened, but he said nothing.

----

The moon hung high, casting silver light over the quiet estate. Most of the household had long since retired. Yet, as Phainon made his patrol through the gardens, his sharp eyes caught something unusual.

A lone figure, seated by the window of the highest tower.

His steps slowed. Even from afar, he recognized you immediately, the soft glow of candlelight catching the curve of your face, the way your hand rested lightly against the sill. You weren’t reading, nor did you seem lost in thought.

You were looking at him.

A strange feeling stirred in his chest, though he couldn’t name it.

Why were you still awake?

Why were you watching him so intently?

His lips parted, perhaps to call out, but the moment his gaze met yours, you disappeared.

In an instant, you vanished from sight, pulling the curtains closed as if you hadn’t been there at all.

Phainon remained standing in place for a long moment, the cool night air brushing against his skin. A quiet chuckle finally escaped him as he shook his head.

“Strange” he murmured to himself, resuming his patrol.

It was probably nothing. You were just being you.

Phainon completed his patrol as usual, but a lingering sense of curiosity remained. By the time he returned to the inner halls of the estate, the candles were dim, the servants long asleep, and the air carried the distant scent of roses from the gardens.

He shouldn’t dwell on it. It wasn’t the first time you had acted strangely, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Still, something about the way you had disappeared the moment he saw you gnawed at the back of his mind.

Had you simply been embarrassed at being caught? Or…

Before he could entertain the thought further, a voice broke through the silence.

“Phainon.”

He turned swiftly, only to find you standing there, illuminated by the flickering lanterns.

Dressed in a nightgown of soft silk, a shawl barely clinging to your shoulders, you looked as though you had just stepped out of bed. But Phainon knew better. The quickened breath, the faint warmth of your skin despite the cool night air—you hadn’t been asleep at all.

“My lady” he greeted, concern slipping into his tone. “It’s late. You should be resting.”

Instead of answering, you smiled. Bright, affectionate, as if it were the middle of the day rather than the dead of night. “You work so hard” you murmured, taking a step closer. “Even now, you’re still patrolling. Do you ever stop, my dear knight?”

Phainon hesitated, caught between propriety and familiarity. You were always like this. But it was harmless, wasn’t it? You had been like this for years.

So why did it feel as though the weight of your gaze never truly left him? Even when he wasn’t looking?

He offered a small chuckle, pushing the thought aside. “It’s my duty,” he reminded you. “Ensuring your safety comes first.”

You sighed, tilting your head. “You worry for me more than I do for myself.”

His gaze flickered briefly to your hand—the same one that had been cut earlier. Wrapped in silk bandages now, but even that seemed more for appearance than necessity.

“You should rest, my lady” Phainon said gently, shifting the conversation away. “I’ll be here in the morning, as always.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him. Then, ever so slowly, you smiled again, softer this time.

“Yes… you will, won’t you?”

There was something unsettling in the way you said it. Not as a question, nor as a hope—but as an undeniable truth.

And yet, as always, he dismissed it.

Phainon was accustomed to waiting. It was part of his duty, to be ever-present, ever-ready to escort you wherever you wished. But as he stood outside your chambers that morning, he was met with something unexpected.

“The lady?” a maid stammered when he asked. “She… she already left.”

Phainon blinked. “Left?”

The maid nodded hastily, sensing his confusion. “She insisted it was nothing to worry about. Said she would return shortly.”

His grip on his sword hilt tightened. You never left without him. Not once in all these years.

And yet, this morning, you had gone alone.

Without another word, Phainon turned on his heel, stepping out of the estate. His first instinct was to check the market square, but as he watched the morning crowds, he quickly realized that if you had wanted to be seen, you wouldn’t have left without him.

No, you were hiding.

His search led him deeper into the city, away from the refined streets of nobility and into the underbelly where secrets thrived. His instincts sharpened as he observed, unnoticed, from the shadows of an alley.

Then, just as he was beginning to question himself, he saw you.

Dressed in commoner’s garb, a hood drawn over your head, moving through the streets as if you belonged there. If he hadn’t known your every movement, your every habit, he might have missed you entirely.

You were skilled at this.

Phainon’s heart pounded as he trailed behind, watching as you slipped into a small, unassuming building. A guild.

What were you doing here?

Minutes passed before you emerged, and in that moment, Phainon moved.

Before you could disappear again, his hand caught your wrist, firm but careful.

You gasped softly, turning—only to meet his piercing blue gaze.

“My lady” he murmured, his voice calm but laced with something unreadable. “What exactly are you doing here?”

You had been caught.

For the first time in a long while, you hesitated.

Phainon watched you closely, his grip on your wrist gentle, yet firm enough to keep you from slipping away. You were good at hiding things—always had been—but this time, you had been caught.

And now, you had to answer.

“…Phainon” you finally said, your voice softer than usual, as if searching for the right words. “You startled me.”

He didn’t let go. “That doesn’t answer my question, my lady.” His tone was even. “What business do you have in a guild?”

You tilted your head, smile returning, but it was a fraction too slow, a fraction too forced. “Is it so strange for a noble to be curious about the workings of the city?”

His eyes didn’t waver. “Strange? No. But unusual for you, considering you didn’t bring me along.”

You laughed lightly, as if that alone could wash away the tension. “Oh, Phainon, must I report everything to you?”

His fingers flexed slightly around your wrist. “When it concerns your safety? Yes.”

There it was—that unwavering loyalty. The kind that made him yours. But that same loyalty could become an inconvenience if he ever turned it against you.

For now, you needed to placate him.

You exhaled, lowering your gaze just enough to feign guilt. “…I only wanted to know more about you.”

Phainon stiffened, only slightly, but you caught it.

You lifted your free hand to rest against his, the warmth of your fingers pressing against the coolness of his armor. “You’re always protecting me, always by my side. But how much do I really know about my knight?” You sighed, shaking your head. “I asked for stories. About your past, your reputation. Is that truly so terrible?”

Phainon remained silent for a long moment. Then, at last, he sighed.

“…You shouldn’t have come alone.” His grip finally loosened, though he didn’t look pleased. “If you wanted to know, you could have asked me.”

You smiled. “Would you have told me everything?”

His silence was answer enough.

“See? That’s why I had to do it this way.”

Phainon exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. “My lady, you are truly…” He trailed off, shaking his head before offering his arm. “Let’s return before anyone notices your absence.”

You slipped your hand into his without hesitation, allowing him to lead you back through the city.

----

The afternoon sun filtered through the garden, casting soft golden light over the tea party. Laughter rang through the air, delicate and refined, as the ladies spoke in gentle, lilting tones.

Phainon stood a short distance away, ever watchful, ever present. His polished armor gleamed under the sunlight, a silent reminder of his duty. He was used to being ignored in these gatherings, just another knight in the background—until today.

“Sir Phainon, you must tell us” one of the ladies cooed, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Is it true you once took down a dozen bandits alone?”

A few of the women giggled, leaning in with eager eyes.

Phainon only chuckled, his usual warmth never fading. “I assure you, the story is exaggerated. A knight is never truly alone—our duty is to stand together.”

More laughter followed, the ladies clearly enamored with his charm. But as Phainon smiled and answered their questions, something prickled at the back of his mind.

Your gaze.

It wasn’t the usual fondness you showed him. It was something quieter, sharper. Your fingers rested lightly against your cup, poised and delicate as always, but there was a certain stiffness in the way you held yourself.

You weren’t laughing.

You weren’t even looking at the other ladies.

Just him.

Phainon’s lips parted slightly, but before he could say anything, you placed your cup down with a soft clink.

“Well, ladies, this has been delightful” you said with a gentle smile. “But I must take my leave.”

Soft protests arose, but you only laughed, standing with practiced elegance. The moment was fleeting, yet unmistakable—your gaze flicked once more toward Phainon before you turned away.

He watched as you bid farewell, your voice still as sweet as ever. But as you walked back toward the estate, your steps slowed.

Because one of the ladies had latched onto his arm.

A playful gesture, innocent by noble standards. But Phainon saw it.

The way your fingers twitched at your side. The way your eyes darkened for the briefest second before you simply turned and disappeared inside.

For a moment, Phainon considered shaking the lady off.

No, why would I?

The thought was absurd. You had no reason to be upset. And yet…

That night, as he patrolled the gardens, he felt it again.

Your gaze.

This time, when he looked up, you didn’t hide. You sat by the window, watching him as you always did.

Phainon exhaled softly, shaking his head as he continued his rounds. He told himself it was nothing, just another one of your harmless habits.

But this time, you didn’t stay long. Instead, you lay back on your bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

Thinking of her hand on his arm.

Thinking of how to ensure it never happened again.

Hours passed in silence.

Knock. Knock.

A gentle rapping at your door.

You blinked, your lips parting slightly. You hadn’t summoned anyone. The maids would be asleep.

Slowly, you sat up.

“…My lady?”

Phainon’s voice.

Your heart beat a little faster.

You smiled.

“Come in, Phainon.”

The door creaked open, revealing Phainon standing in the dim candlelight. His silver-white hair was slightly tousled, a sign that he had been outside for some time. His blue eyes, ever sharp yet warm, studied you carefully.

You sat on the edge of your bed, one hand resting lightly on the silk sheets. You made no move to hide your amusement as you tilted your head.

“Phainon” you greeted softly, your voice carrying the remnants of sleep despite how long you had been awake. “What brings you here so late?”

Phainon hesitated, his grip tightening slightly at his side. He had been following his instincts for years—protect, guard, serve. But this? This wasn’t something he could fight with a sword.

“…I noticed you weren’t sleeping” he said. “You were watching me again.”

Ah. So he had seen.

Your smile didn’t waver. “Did it bother you?”

“No.” He exhaled, stepping further into the room. “But… my lady.” He hesitated again, his voice quieter. “Were you upset earlier?”

You blinked, feigning innocence. “Upset? About what?”

Phainon didn’t answer immediately. He simply watched you, as if trying to decipher something he couldn’t quite grasp. Then, he shook his head with a sigh.

“It’s nothing” he muttered, though his tone suggested otherwise.

You patted the space beside you, inviting. “Then come sit with me.”

For a brief moment, he seemed reluctant. You rarely made requests, never demanding, never unreasonable—always so understanding. That was why his loyalty to you had only grown deeper.

And yet, something about tonight made him hesitate.

But he obeyed, as he always did.

As Phainon lowered himself beside you, his presence was as steady as ever, strong, reliable. The very things that made you unable to bear the thought of losing him.

You leaned slightly closer, your warmth pressing against his side. “You always come when I need you, don’t you?”

Phainon chuckled lightly. “That’s my duty.”

Your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your gown.

“Then,” you murmured, “stay a little longer.”

He should have said no.

But he didn’t.

“…Alright.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breathing.

Phainon sat still, watching as your head rested lightly against his shoulder. The warmth of your presence, the gentle rise and fall of your chest—it was a rare sight. For all your brightness and grace, you never let yourself appear vulnerable. Yet now, with your breath steady and eyes closed, you looked… at peace.

A sigh left his lips. He had stayed longer than he intended. Carefully, he shifted, easing you onto the bed without waking you.

He stood, adjusting his armor in silence, and turned toward the door.

Then he noticed it.

A drawer, slightly ajar.

Phainon frowned. He had always been meticulous about his surroundings, a habit born from years of training. That drawer had been closed when he entered. Had it shifted when he sat down?

It would only take a second.

But in that moment, something caught his eye.

A flicker of parchment, tucked beneath a velvet lining. More than one. Letters, notes—some bearing his name. And then, at the very bottom, a stack of papers carefully organized, filled with records.

His records.

His breath slowed as he pulled one free, scanning the words under the dim candlelight. Battle reports, background checks, guild transactions—things no noble lady should have access to. Things no one should care to gather about a mere knight.

Yet you had them.

Every detail. Every moment of his life before he had even stepped into your service.

And then, among the papers, something more chilling—locks of white hair, carefully tied with ribbon. His hair.

Phainon barely had time to process before—

Whoosh.

Instinct screamed at him. He moved just in time, ducking as something sharp and fast sliced through the air where his head had been.

He spun around.

You stood there, wide awake. Your usual smile was gone, replaced with something unreadable.

“…You shouldn’t have looked, Phainon.”

He stared at you, his body tense, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs. “My lady” he began, his voice slower now, careful, “what is this?”

You sighed, tilting your head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

His grip tightened. “You’ve been—”

“Watching you?” you finished for him, stepping forward. “Of course.”

Your voice remained light, but there was something dangerous beneath it, something unsettlingly calm. “You’re mine, Phainon,” you whispered. “You always have been.”

Phainon felt something in his chest tighten.

This wasn’t just admiration.

This was—

His vision swayed. A strange dizziness settled over him, creeping into his limbs like a slow, suffocating tide. His fingers twitched at his side, his muscles suddenly heavy.

His eyes snapped back to you.

You were watching him expectantly.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?” you murmured.

Phainon’s breath came quicker, his knees threatening to buckle. “What… did you do?”

You only smiled. “I didn’t do anything, Phainon.” Your fingers brushed against his arm as you leaned in. “You simply breathed.”

A scent. Faint, sweet—one he had noticed before but never thought much of.

His body wasn’t used to it. But yours was.

“Don’t worry” you soothed, guiding him down as his strength drained.

Phainon tried to move, tried to resist, but his body was no longer his to command.

When Phainon’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing he noticed was the cold.

Not the damp chill of stone corridors, nor the familiar night air of the estate gardens—this was different. Heavy, quiet, controlled.

His body felt sluggish, like the weight of sleep hadn’t fully left him. He tried to move, only to find resistance. Chains. Not harsh bindings, but secure enough to limit his movement.

A dim glow flickered from a lantern nearby, casting soft shadows against the polished wood of what looked like an elegant chamber. The air was filled with a familiar scent—your scent.

And then, there you were. Sitting gracefully in a chair beside him, hands folded neatly in your lap. No mask of surprise, no guilt, no hesitation. Just you, watching him with a knowing smile.

Phainon exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. “Where are we?” His voice was hoarse, weaker than he would’ve liked.

“You don't need to know.”

His muscles tensed instinctively. “My lady—”

“My name,” you corrected softly. “Say it, Phainon.”

He swallowed. “…Why?”

You sighed, as if dealing with a stubborn child. “Because I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

He remained silent.

Your expression didn’t waver. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, studying him. “Do you understand now?”

“Understand what?”

You smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “That you belong to me.”

Phainon inhaled. There was no jest in your words. No fleeting obsession, no childish claim. It was a simple, undeniable truth to you.

He should have been furious. Afraid, even.

But instead, all he could feel was a creeping sense of inevitability.

“…Why?” he asked at last, voice quieter.

“Because you’re the only thing in this world I could never stand to lose.”

Phainon should have been searching for an escape, should have been planning his next move. And yet, he found himself staring at you instead, searching for something, anything, that would explain this madness.

But there was no hesitation in your eyes.

Just certainty, as if his fate had been decided long before he had ever realized it.

“…You could have had anyone” he said at last, his voice low.

“I only want you.”

Phainon let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Your smile returned, small and pleased. “From the very beginning.”

His jaw tightened. The strange part wasn’t the revelation itself—it was that, in hindsight, he should have known. The signs had always been there, scattered like breadcrumbs through the days, through the years.

The lingering stares. The way you never showed interest in anyone else. How effortlessly you seemed to know where he was, what he was doing, who he was speaking to.

And yet, it had never felt dangerous.

Phainon’s gaze flickered to the chains around his wrists. They weren’t cruel, weren’t meant to hurt—only to keep him here.

He exhaled. “You think this will make me stay?”

You reached forward then, fingers brushing against his cheek. He flinched slightly, not in fear, but in realization.

The warmth of your touch had never felt unfamiliar.

Had he always let you so close?

“Phainon,” you murmured, your voice unbearably soft. “You’ve never needed chains to stay by my side.”

You were right. You had never demanded his loyalty. Never forced him to kneel, never commanded his devotion. And yet, he had followed you all the same. Even now, bound and betrayed, part of him didn’t hate you for it.

Phainon’s chest rose and fell in measured breaths, his mind working through everything—your obsession, your control, your unwavering belief that he was yours.

He should have been angry. He should have wanted to escape.

But instead, all he could feel was you. Your fingers lingered against his cheek, your warmth so familiar, so natural, as if nothing had changed. As if you weren’t the one who had done this to him.

His blue eyes flickered to yours. “What do you want from me?”

Your smile didn’t falter. “Everything.”

A slow exhale left his lips. “You already have my loyalty.”

“I don’t just want loyalty, Phainon.” You leaned in, voice dropping to something almost tender. “I want you. Your thoughts, your heart, your entire being.”

His fingers curled against the chains. “You can’t force that.”

“I don’t need to.”

There was no arrogance in your voice, just a quiet, absolute confidence.

And that was what unsettled him the most.

Because you truly believed he would stay.

That he belonged to you.

And the worst part?

Somewhere deep down, he wasn’t sure if you were wrong.

Phainon swallowed, forcing his expression to remain neutral. “And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll wait” you murmured. “As long as it takes.”

The weight of your words pressed against him like a vow, a promise carved into the very fabric of his existence.

You weren’t demanding.

You were simply waiting—because you knew that, in the end, he had nowhere else to go. The chains were nothing compared to the weight of your words, the inevitability of it all.

You had already won.

His eyes met yours, searching—perhaps for regret, for cruelty, for some sign that you had done this out of malice. But there was none. Only devotion. Only love, twisted and unshakable. A quiet laugh escaped him, tired yet laced with something else. Something dangerously close to surrender.

“…You won’t let me go, will you?”

You simply smiled. “There is no ‘letting go’ of something that already belongs to me.”

He closed his eyes briefly, when he opened them again, something in them had changed. The fight had dulled, not entirely gone, but no longer a battle he could win.

“Then at least,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “take off these chains.”

Your breath hitched, eyes widening just slightly before your expression melted into something warm. Pleased.

Because you knew. You had him now.

You reached forward, your fingers brushing over the cool metal of his bindings. The lock clicked, and the chains unraveled, falling away with a soft clatter against the polished floor.

Phainon flexed his wrists, rolling his shoulders as he tested his movement. He could fight now. He could leave.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he lifted his gaze to you, watching the way you studied him, waiting, as if daring him to run, knowing full well that he wouldn’t.

And you were right.

His hand lifted before he even thought to stop it, fingers brushing against your wrist, tracing the pulse beneath your skin. His grip was not tight, not forceful, but it lingered.

No words passed between you, yet something unspoken shifted in the air.

Then, he pulled you closer. Your breath hitched, just barely, as his forehead dipped against yours.

"You always knew, didn't you?" His voice was low, steady, but no longer holding that edge of resistance.

Your fingers curled lightly against his chest, as if reveling in the warmth of his presence. "That you would stay?" A soft chuckle. "Of course."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

"Then don't ever make me regret it."

[acerby]

Some Upgrade

So for some time now, I have been wanting to add more articulation and to fix some of her Proportions to my maid robot Acerlin.

Because she is using the 30ms body as a base, she lacks the non-human articulation that most 30mm kits can pull off. And her arms are simply the normal acerby arms plugged into the 30ms shoulder, which makes them look off when bent.

So I added a poly cap and the hip assembly of a normal acerby. Which made it able to plug into the 30ms Torso. This dramatically increases the range of leg motions she can pull off now.

For the arms, I simply trimmed the top part off with a nipper, so I no longer needed the light blue rings. But to have this edit match the legs, I had to cut off the peg to the upper hip and replace it with a 30mm peg extender piece. This also simplified her color scheme, removing a minor color.

Now, look at how she can pose.

She can do a lot now!

[utilitycaster]

I've been a pretty harsh critic of Dr. Friedman and Polygon's general Critical Role coverage in the past, and while I think her latest article for them critiquing Campaign 3 is a fairly good one, it does in many ways cast an even harsher light on her kid-gloves handling of D20 and WBN. However, I want to talk about these two excerpts, because I think she hits on something I've increasingly noticed in Actual Play:

"This is where Critical Role’s strength — that Exandria often feels like a real, complex world — collided with the needs of a D&D campaign (a clear adversary, clear plans of action, forward momentum)."

and

"But the confused way D&D handles religion and divinity — polytheism as imagined by midwestern American Protestants — turned the question of how to handle this particular cosmic horror into a glue trap, paralyzing the players for dozens of hours of circular existential debates. Gods once mechanized (or digestible) become just another power bloc, and for players used to a system where in the end you are “basically gods,” the line gets blurrier still. And as D&D’s messy cosmology added friction to much of the campaign, D&D’s mechanics also don’t have the necessary friction for the interpersonal beats that make Critical Role compelling."

I agree with both these statements, as someone who, to be clear, enjoys D&D 5e. D&D supports a range of narratives, but all are ultimately a story of gaining power and fighting off or through a series of adversaries; if your characters are not doing that, it raises the question of why you picked a system that gives you few other options. (This is also, I should note, an increasingly loud question when it comes to Worlds Beyond Number; I fell behind for personal reasons after the Coven arc, but Brennan's initial statements about D&D as scaffolding were perhaps too true; almost every interesting mechanic, in a game with minimal combat that has thus far felt primarily focused on how the three protagonists have fundamentally different adversaries, has been homebrewed, to the point where the cosmology and baggage of D&D has felt like a liability rather than an asset).

D&D also has, in part due to such programs as D20, developed a reputation for being world-agnostic, and that ultimately isn't true. D&D does struggle to make the lines between "real divinity", an archfey or similarly powerful entity, and a L20 character feel sharply defined on a mechanical level; once you give a god a stat block, it can be killed (and on a metanarrative level, revealing the gods' statblocks in Downfall serves to make them both immense, yet also more fragile. The hit points are many, but still finite.) There are a number of questions most D&D worlds simply fail to address - and to be clear, this is not a flaw provided you have buy in. A level 2 warlock in D&D is, in most societies, an one-person lethal force unless the entire town swarms them at once, knowing that many of them will lose their lives in the effort; a level 2 warlock PC, however, is almost never, in-world, treated this way, and indeed is framed as an underdog in a harsh world despite usually having the ability to destroy the entire tavern.

D&D has also developed a (not undeserved) reputation as being The Dominant TTRPG put out by a massive corporation, and has developed a (not deserved) reputation as being itself uniquely problematic as a power fantasy, particularly by people who conveniently forget where Pathfinder came from. I've previously covered that, for all people demand non-D&D actual play, the viewership drops precipitously whenever a big AP show that made its name with D&D dares to branch out, and, related to that, I've seen an uptick in people who are excited for D&D to subvert itself. They wanted Campaign 3 to subvert these norms of divinity and heroic fantasy, cheered for it...and ultimately it was unable to do so. I don't think it's accurate to say that D&D's lack of interpersonal mechanics was the problem here, given that Campaigns 1 and 2 (and again, D20) have no such issue; but rather that since D&D's lack of interpersonal/RP mechanics require more effort from the players to initiate, the debates on the nature of divinity in a world and system that could not sustain them sapped any energy for the late-night watch conversations D&D can support when you're not fighting against it.

I think one of the many lessons we can learn from Critical Role Campaign 3 is that if you go up against D&D with an attempt to destroy it from within, your story will instead find itself conforming to the shape of its container, often to its detriment.