#and kaleidoscope feels like it's pushing me to accept myself more...

[sapphic-woes]

Hey I'm not over Chapell please listen to these and cry with me :)

[worldbuildingwanderlust]

Confessions of an Astral Assassin (part 2)

Her favorite time to take a shower was 10:30a.m, when the morning sun pierced through the obscured glass at just the right angle. It always danced upon and between the water, prismatic and gleaming. Each drop a diamond of purification, blessed by the giver of life, to bathe and baptise the flesh of yesterday in preparation for its rebirth today. It became her ritual, and so it became mine.

    This is a place I often return, my consciousness a passenger to her's. I believe she senses me, in those moments her lips cut slight, involuntary smiles with each merge of consciousness. When I can see through her eyes. Feel with her hands. Bask in the healing water of jewels, and smell the scents she infuses with her hair. Relish the majestic stillness of the moment, removed from space and time. It was heaven. She was its Goddess. A Goddess named, Olivia.

     I never pressed too far, nor too deep. I never wanted to. Not from lack of interest, but from a place of respect. Her thoughts are her own, and if she can indeed sense me, and wanted me to leave, I would. Without question. She knows my heart, and intentions. I...feel it. Even now, as we rinse our hair and trace the tingle of rivers down the curves of our back, I feel her open her mind to me. Like she wants me to see more. Feel more. She exhales a laugh that kills my hesitation.

     I tentatively push my consciousness deeper, but only enough to feel the energy of her thoughts without being able to read them precisely. In my line of work, despite the grotesqueness of it, I try to hold myself to a higher standard of decency. Even the targets Im assigned to eliminate are given this measure of grace. Nobody should have the security of their soul's inner sanctum violated. Everyone deserves that privacy.

     Like standing at the base of ruptured reservoir, I am completely engulfed in a deluge of emotions. Joy. Sadness. Pleasure. Pain. Certainty and uncertainty alike. She is a wellspring of all the things I've grown numb to in my own physical form, and I want nothing more than to marinate in the unbridled beauty of it all. I dilate the moment as long as I can, savoring the dance between sensation and emotion. The intermingling of material and immaterial bliss. Even in the present sadness, there is beauty and understanding. There is fluidity in emotions and none exist independently. Each has a relation to, and role among, the rest. A kaleidoscope of conscious and unconscious energy painting a perfect portrait of what it means to be human. Nowhere in the Conflux have I ever felt such divine beauty...

     I feel a smile widen across her face and...is that a tear rolling down her cheek? Or just a drop from the stream? Does she feel my impassioned awe? My grand appreciation of her transcendental complexity?

     Our hands trace down the curve of our breasts, and I see a flash of memories recalled by similar sensations and their associations from her past. The serenity of a lover's sensual touch, married with the ache of its loss twisting a taught tension in her chest.

     Celine. The name manifests with the vision of a bright and vibrant face, before it dims into a pale, dressed-up painting on a corpse in a coffin. I feel the pressure in Olivia's heart seize, and she lets her arms fall to her sides with balled fists. All I want in that moment is to help ease her pain. I let my consciousness take control, just this once, and I coax her arms up, wrapping them around her form like a shawl. She chokes out an accepting whimper and tightens her grip. Streams of tears flow in the shower's rain and ripple in the small pool of standing water below. Sobbing begins to shake her body.

     I extend my mind to her's, and show her some of what I have learned of death in my travels; omitting the role I have played in it. I convey to her, death's illusory permanance and the interconnected beauty of the Astral Conflux. I paint her an ever changing picture of the collective unconscious, and highlight the space she and Celine still share; even though her lover's body has long since left the material plane. I unlock those locked recesses of her mind so she can see that Celine has never left her. That the visions and memories that spring forth without warning are her attempts to tell Olivia this truth. To remind her of her presence, and communicate her love from beyond the mortal grave. They find each other again, and I am pushed back to my outer level of observation as their energies collide and enfold.

   A familiar buzzing vibration snaps at my attention, and I feel my handlers' summons in the back of my mind. An implanted shock collar on the base of my cerebellum, stinging my every muscle like a furious hornet. I feel the distant memory of my muscles tense violently. They want me back. It's as if they could sense me experiencing one of life's many beauties. Like they can sense me using my gift of astral travel to spread awareness and rekindle love, instead of perpetuating their endless agenda of death. I stubbornly resist the call as long as I possibly can, cementing this wonderful reunion of two souls in my memory. May I never forget this sensation and the connection they share....

     The cerebral quakes grow louder. More violent. Until I am snatched away, and snapped back to my reality...

[empteacupbags]

I hope this finds you well

A letter to something that would never happen

Not even in a million years

My message to a White Hyacinth, alive and well.

Yet I’m still waiting for you.

Sincerely, from the deepest depths of my heart, I hope you’re happy. I hope your family loves you, and is proud of your accomplishments. I hope your life is going smoothly. I hope she treats you well. I wish you nothing but the best for you, truly.

It’s funny, right? I was the one who ignored you - Who pushed you away, who left you on your own with your own body to piece together. But, then why are you the one who lives off happy, with a life so extremely promising?

How I keep on thinking about just what if I hadn’t sabotaged myself and continued on living with you. What if I had answered your text that day? What if I had chosen to return the everlasting gaze you kept on giving me that day? Oh, you were my first, tragically. I keep on thinking about the things we could’ve done, and what we could’ve had. 

Maybe our messages would’ve lasted longer. Maybe I’d introduce you to my parents, or you’d introduce me to yours. Maybe we could’ve played a few games together, maybe we could’ve walked home together, or even worked on a school project together. Maybe I could’ve been more bolder, being alone with you.

I hated those ideas. It’s something I’ve never, ever known. Indulging into another unknown hole, another seemingly troublesome outcome with no use to my life. Maybe that’s why I left you - Even though things were so perfect, even if things were so aligned to what you and I wanted. 

Of course I had to ruin it, right? But then I realised, we were bound to be so doomed. You’ve never known my Father, and I don’t know yours. Whether I had left you or not, we’d never last. 

And maybe, this path was for the better. For you, and for me.

You’ve grown. You’ve become a rare flower - White Hyacinth, who’s petals who were once torn apart by a frustrated gardener now have leaves that shine so beautifully under the evening sky. I have not.

Really, my stomach has not ached at all since you. Those times where even just the mention of your name could shudder my bones and break my body.

I had loved you, truthfully. But you were so rare it felt so wrong for someone like me to be the one you were in love with. To keep entertaining this sad idea of ours, even though we knew exactly what could happen, I had to separate it. 

It’s funny to me, how - Let me explain just a million more times; How lovely your life has been. You’ve found someone new, someone better, someone who knows your Father, someone who would treat you like you actually exist. 

The contrast of a change, of your growth and mine. This year, I’ve loved you again. I’m greedy and I hate myself for falling into another hopeless hole again. This year, you won’t even look me in the eyes. I know you hate me, I know what I’ve done. 

But I know my place, surprisingly. I won’t delve into anything of yours. I never had - Really. I just accepted and received what was given to me. 

So, deep into this psychedelic hole of mine, and no one else’s, stuck into the depths of my own, kaleidoscope of mind I will rest only to your shadow. Only to your silhouette I will cling like it is an oath. I will not let go of my hand, from purposeless possibilities and dead feelings. 

Maybe I’ll succumb to this hole in due time, or maybe I’ll cling into another’s shadow, and another, eventually so fixated on vain outcomes and die, from my own faults and my incapability to keep a heart that’s not mine.

Still. I wait for you.

[juicyjuiceofficial]

i am..... insecure . like horrendously so . im insecure about who i am as a person , my lack of substance and intrigue and general experiences . i wanted a life painted with vivid color and texture but what ive created is lifeless , flat , and derivative .

honestly i dont know why i dont just accept that as who i am , return to who i used to be and withdraw from the world . take off the kaleidoscopic façade made of scraps stolen from everyone around me and trudge through life as the insignificant creature i was born to be .

would i still be loved then ? would i still be worthy of the few good things life has given me ? if people saw what lies beneath , this shivering sniveling thing at the core of this husk , how quickly would they choose the better option and walk away ?

it keeps me up at night . at what point will she see im the worst choice she couldve made ? at what point will the boredom set in and ill be left to rot once more ? how soon will my incessant sadness and wailing push everyone away and how will i live with myself when it does ?

why am i like this ?

is it just me ? or do the others who live in my head feel the same ? does talia have these thoughts ? does arya ache when she remembers who we are ? is it only my closest mental neighbors ? who else in here is forever sinking into the ground and breathing in the dirt ? who else in here is terrified of losing the one pedometer who truly sees us . who else is grappling with their ignorance and triviality ?

triviality...

thats it isnt it ? the word to describe what im feeling ? i meet and know so many people with depth and subatance and storied existences and ive conviced them im one of them . or at least ive tried to . surely some of them see through the carefully curated persona and see the banal troglodyte lying beneath , terrified of the day shes found out and shoved back in her cave .

someone whos convinced herself that vocabulary is intellect .

i wish i could run away , i wish i could disappear and re-emerge exactly wher i am now but with the worldly experiences to raise my caliber to that of "human being."

[miyagihawk]

for hawk

lover of mine - 5sos

it's a selfship anthem, bby!

the lyrics make so much sense

i love 5sos!!!! ty for the request :)

lover of mine | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

warnings: cursing, i think that’s it?

summary: based on lover of mine by 5sos <3

Lover of mine

Maybe we'll take some time

Kaleidoscope mind

Gets in the way

Your relationship with Hawk was more complicated than most.

You had to be patient with him. His mind was like a kaleidoscope; his thoughts were in intricate patterns that you could never comprehend. It amazed you, but it also frustrated you when you couldn’t understand him.

And when it seemed like you finally did understand, he would shift into new colors and you’d have to start all over again.

“I just- I don’t get you, Hawk! Why are you always lying to me?” you said loudly, already feeling exhausted from the argument.

“I’m not! You just never believe me!” he turned it on you. Like always.

You looked at him with a hard stare and crossed your arms. “Did you or did you not break Demetri’s arm?” you asked in a calmer, but still threatening tone.

You already knew the answer; everyone was talking about what happened in the laser tag room. But here Hawk was, denying it. You just couldn’t grasp why he hid so much from you.

When he stayed silent with his gaze not meeting yours, you sat on your bed with an exasperated sigh.“We should take a break,” you interrupted the quiet atmosphere, looking up at where your boyfriend stood in front of you.

“What?” Hawk finally met your eyes with a hurt expression.

You patted the spot on the bed next to you, and he sat reluctantly. “I’m just tired. We need a break Hawk.”

“We don’t need a break,” he protested quietly, and the subtle sadness in his voice was enough to make your heart pang with hurt.

Hope and I pray

Darling, that you will stay

Butterfly lies

Chase them away

He was scared. Even through all the countless arguments and lies, you never left. Now you were suggesting a break, and Hawk knows from seeing other relationships that they always just end in an actual break up.

In a weird way, you did want to scare him. Because he would never change if you didn’t. You hated the idea of a break, but maybe Hawk would finally stop lying to you if you showed him you were serious.

“It’s not a breakup,” you assured, because you knew what he was thinking. For once. “We just need time apart for a little bit. To think.”

“About what?” he asked defensively, starting to raise his voice again.

“You and I. We’re quite toxic, you know?” you contrasted his volume in a lighter tone, making his face relax and his lips turn up a bit.

His small smile dropped suddenly, replaced by an anxious expression. “Don’t leave me Y/N.”

Your heart dropped at his words, and you wanted to wrap your arms around him. To tell him you’d never leave and that it was all okay. But it wasn’t all okay.

You grabbed his hand instead, “You’re my best friend. I love you. But I need this, okay? We both do. Just some time to figure out how we can fix... us.”

“I can fix it now, we don’t need to take a break. Please. I’ll never lie to you again. I just- I hate disappointing you,” he pleaded, tightening his hand around yours, and you wanted to give in.

But you knew that letting this go on, this never ending cycle, would only end with the both of you in a huge crash and burn.

“You said that last time,” you gave him a sad smile. “Let’s just figure our shit out, and then come back better for each other. We need this Hawk.”

-

6 months later

Things didn’t end so well after your break with Hawk. After spending some time apart, you two were just never close again.

None of you planned for it to happen; you just drifted away from each other. And neither of you exactly established when the “break” would be over.

So for the next few months, you passed each other in the halls without any acknowledgment of the other’s existence. Of course you missed him, but not being with him just became the new normal. And you accepted it and pushed your feelings aside.

“So you’ll meet us there? You sure you don’t want the limo to pick you up?” your friend Cara asked from across the lunch table.

“Yeah don’t worry about me, Jesse’s picking me up,” you replied, making the rest of your friends wiggle their eyebrows teasingly.

“What happened to prom with the girls, Y/N? I thought we established no boyfriends during prom season,” Cara pouted playfully, and you elbowed her in the ribs.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He just asked me to prom and that’s it,” you corrected.

Your other friend jumped in, “And why not? Jesse is so cute.”

As she asked, your eyes trailed away from your friends and towards a certain someone with loud red hair, sitting across the room with his karate posse.

Your group noticed your lack of attention and turned to see what you were looking at. They sighed in unison, making you bring your focus back to them.

“He’s why, isn’t he?” Cara gave you an understanding smile and rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay. Just have fun tonight.”

You only nodded, giving your kind friends a soft smile of appreciation.

As much as you tried to convince yourself that you’ve moved on fully, the boy with a kaleidoscope mind would always have a place in your heart.

-

Where is he?

You paced around your living room anxiously, checking your phone for what seemed like the millionth time in the past hour.

You scrolled through the numerous texts you’ve sent, contemplating if you should send another one. Calling him wasn’t even an option; it went straight to voicemail everytime.

After an hour and a half, you gave up waiting and hoping that your prom date would show up. You flopped down onto the couch despairingly, replying to worried texts from your friends.

‘I’m not going to make it, just don’t worry about me. Have fun my loves.’ you typed, throwing your phone onto the floor right after.

You didn’t want to ask them to pick you up and ruin their night, and you were honestly too drained from being stood up to call an Uber.

So prom night ended up with you spread out on the couch with your outfit that you’ve planned out months ago, eating out of a carton of rocky road ice cream.

Honestly, it could’ve been worse. You could’ve been spending the night with an absolute jerk named Jesse. (a/n: so sorry if ur name is jesse lmao)

In the middle of your rom com movie marathon, an abrupt knock at the front door made you sit up from your pathetic, ice cream eating position on the sofa.

Immediately, you turned off the TV and tiptoed towards the door. You silently grabbed the baseball bat next to it, while squinting to see through the peephole.

Your stomach immediately dropped when you saw him.

Clad in a black suit, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

Shifting on his feet and chewing on his lip nervously, as he waited for you to open the door.

The boy you didn’t know you needed to see until now.

What is he doing here?

You covered your mouth in shock as you ran to the mirror to check if you had chocolate stains around your mouth. You smoothed down your hair and straightened out your dress in a frenzy, before unlocking the door with a deep breath in.

“Hawk?” you tried to act surprised, which wasn’t hard because your heart was racing.

He took a second to look at you in your wasted prom attire, and he was locked in a trance for a second before he snapped out of it. “Oh... uh, these are for you,” he held out the flowers to you and you took them with a smile.

“Wow, I love them. Thank you,” you brought them up to your nose for a whiff of your favorite floral scent. “So, what are you doing here?” you asked awkwardly.

“Oh crap, sorry, do you want to come in?” you said before he would answer, and you opened the door wider so he could step inside.

Hawk looked around the room where he’s been countless times, and he frowned at the sight of 13 Going On 30 paused on the screen with half melted ice cream on the coffee table. That movie plus the sweet dessert was your absolute comfort pairing, and it made him sad that you needed it.

“Cara texted me, and I was worried,” he finally spoke, answering your earlier question. You suddenly felt embarrassed as you placed the bouquet in a vase. You didn’t want to be pitied. Especially by your ex-boyfriend.

“I’m fine,” you said bluntly, busying yourself with the flowers so that you wouldn’t have to face him. You hadn’t talked to him since the night you suggested the break, and you already felt too exhausted from tonight’s events to even talk about it with him. “It’s better that I didn’t go to prom with that dick.”

Hawk chuckled at your remark, and you felt more at ease. The tension between you was thicker than an iceberg, and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

“So did you leave? Or are you just dressed up like that for me?” you smiled, sitting down on the couch where he followed.

He laughed again, lightening the mood even more. “I was there, but you know, Cara told me about what happened and... I just felt like I needed to come. It was lame though. The whole thing is just dancing. And I don’t dance,” Hawk explained, and you found yourself smiling at the thought of him caring about you. “But I know how excited you were about prom, so I thought I’d bring it to you. Some romantic shit like that.”

Your eyebrows raised at “romantic shit”, but you decided not to say anything about it. Although, it did make your cheeks heat up and you hoped he didn’t notice. “That’s really sweet Hawk. Thank you. Really,” you placed your hand on top of his, but you recoiled awkwardly because it felt too intimate, given the circumstances.

You cleared your throat, “So... since you’re bringing prom to me, does that mean I get a dance?” you got up and stood in front of him with your arms playfully crossed.

Hawk squinted his blue eyes at you, crossing his arms as well, “I don’t dance, remember?”

“For me you will, right? Or I could just, you know, dance by myself. It’s already been such a great night for me,” you teased, walking away from him towards a clear space in the living room.

He groaned from behind you and got up to follow, making you cheer happily. “For you I will,” he stated under his breath, releasing dozens of butterflies in your stomach.

Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

You turned on your Dad’s old record player, where a slow, jazzy, 60s vinyl was spinning. You almost wanted to change it because it felt too romantic, but Hawk was already waiting behind you and you were scared he would change his mind.

The rush his presence gave you made you boldly put your hands on his shoulders, and he stiffly placed his own on the curve of your waist. Your hands were locked at the nape of his neck; his hold on you was light as if you were fragile china.

You forgot how intoxicating it felt to be this close to him, and you wondered how you went so long without that feeling.

The both of you swayed to the smooth melodies of Nina Simone with interlocked eyes, and with every second his hands on your hips became more relaxed. You rested your head on his chest, pulling him closer.

For a song or two, none of you said anything; there was just an unspoken appreciation of each other’s presence. After 6 months without him, you needed this.

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

“I should’ve never let you go,” Hawk whispered close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I was the one who wanted the break. It’s my fault,” you opposed, lifting your head up from his chest to look up at him.

He raised one of his hands to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and it brought a warm smile to your face. “But I didn’t chase after you,” his lips turned down into a frown.

You put your hands on the sides of his face while you two continued to sway to the staticky vinyl. “Maybe it’s both of our faults,” you laughed lightly, touching his soft skin.

“It’s me Y/N. I’m the one who lied to you throughout the whole relationship. I’m so sorry,” Hawk looked down at you with glossy eyes. “I’ve done so much fucked up shit. But you’re the only thing I got right. I hate myself for ruining it too.”

Your felt yourself melt at his confession. “It’s not ruined,” you disputed. “You aren’t perfect and I’m not either. I shouldn’t have given up on us. I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes in peace as your hands ran through his bright hair. It was down from its usual style, giving him a softer look.

“Maybe we both messed up. But I’m never giving you away again Y/N. I won’t make that mistake. I love you,” the boy you’ve missed for months admitted, saying everything you wanted to hear.

You kissed him in reply.

a/n: ah idk if i like this but i hope u do, i feel like my writings are getting repetitive im having bad writers block (as u can tell by how slow im doing requests)

[pandoraimperatrix]

DickKory please

Aaaahhhh I don’t know which one though... Peony... Camellia... Chrysanthemum... Daisy... Violet....

Uuuuummmmm i kinda want some smut so maybe Peony.

Anon, you asked for a smut Peony and you shall have it!

---------------------

“I know I should care about the reason why you’re naked in my bed, but I will just enjoy it for a moment.”

He sighed, his shoulder blades rippling as his torso expanded, and Kory saw his smile rising from the exposed half of his face, although his eyes remained closed.

“Our bed” he breathed, Kory walked further into the room, sitting on the bed, her hand touching the small of his back, sliding upwards, accenting the stark contrast of her smooth dark skin against his dotted by the San Francisco’s sun as she caressed him languidly. “Too tired for clothes…,” he added after a while.

She let out a weak chuckle and leaned over to kiss his shoulder, marvelling over the visible goosebumps that her delicate move provoked on him.

Dick fixed his position slightly after that, opening one already darkened eye to her who smiled innocently, fanning her long eyelashes at him as if she had no intention at all as her caress changed direction and was now reaching the end of the curve of his back.

“Only for clothes?” she asked, her hand finally cupping one of his cheeks and giving it a nice squeeze.

He lowered his head again, now using his arms to hide his face.

“Why, Miss Kory Anders?” and now his voice was free from all the sleepiness. “Do you have anything interesting in mind?”

She bit the lobe of his ear, and smiled when he wasn’t able to conceal a low moan.

“What if I do?”

Dick moved at once, making Kory squeal at the sudden change. His strong arms let go of the pillow and went to her waist, hoisting her body over his as he turned around, lying on his back.

“Hello,” she said smiling down at him, her hands now on his shoulders, legs around his hips, her thumbs rubbing his skin.

“Hi,” he answered, also smiling, and hands leaving her waist to undo the knot of her dressing gown.

Kory rose one of her hands to his face, cupping his jaw, her eyes warm with affection.

“Are you sure if you want this? I was just teasing, if you are too tired we can just sleep.”

His hands stopped, her dressing gown now parted to reveal her body, also bare and still a little moist from the shower. Dick gave her a lopsided smile and took one of the spring of her curls, stretching it to kiss her hair.

“No…” he said, and when she frowned in confusion, he rose up from the bed, supporting her weight with his arms when his hips rolled to allow their new position. “I want you.”

She leaned into him for a slow, sensual kiss, her body arching against his, seeking more skin against skin contact, her fingers slid from his neck, threading trough his hair, massaging his scalp. Dick parted the kiss to look up at her, he always resented when people would regard him as a lucky person. As if being adopted by a billionaire was some golden Band-Aid stamped over the silly boo-boo of losing both of his parents in just one awful night. But when he looked at Kory, and was reminded of the chain of causalities that brought her to his life, the absurdity of the miracle that made her love him… What could it be other than luck?   

“Always nice to hear,” she breathed, her voice a whisper when he started kissing down her throat, her eyes shutting and her fingers closing tighter around his hair as his lips made a path of fire, crossing her collarbones and reaching her sternum.

Dick lost his concentration for a moment when she started moving her hips and he bit the top of her breast.

“Sorry,” he said alarmed and kissed the distressed skin to sooth it.

“Do it again,” she said.

“What?” He swallowed, confused, but there was no doubt in Kory’s eyes.

“I liked it,” she said simply, and pushed a piece of dark hair from his eyes.

“Really?” his eyebrows rose.

“Since I told you about of my past you have been so…” she sighed, choosing her words, “careful.”

“Oh…” the corners of his mouth lowered, “I didn’t mean-”

“And I appreciate it” she interrupted him, noticing that his face was flushed and he was turning softer underneath her thighs. Dick Grayson, her emotionally stunted Dick Grayson, she loved him, so much, but goodness he could be touchy. “I do,” she reassured him. “But… I haven’t changed… Neither what I like…” She punctuated that last argument by taking his hand and rising it to her bitten breast, and pressing. “You can’t hurt me like that, Dick Grayson,” she noticed her point coming across that thick brain of his when his eyebrows lowered and she kissed him, biting and pulling his lower lip in the end. “And I know you wouldn’t, even if you could. So… I know you like it a little bit rougher too. No need to hold back.”

 He didn’t need to hear twice.

Before Kory could get her bearings, he had lifted her from his lap and slammed her on the bed, standing on his knees over her body with hungry eyes and a promising smile. She let out a nervous laugh, feeling an exciting kaleidoscope of butterflies fill her belly waiting for his next move. But instead of kissing her, or caressing her in some way, Dick grabbed one side of her hips and turned her, so she would be with her back to him. Every time he manhandled her like that, as if she weighted nothing for him, she felt a new wave of heat radiate from her core. Then, he peeled her dressing gown over her body, and Kory shivered. Anticipation was killing her when she felt him pulling her hips up, until she was in her knees too.

“Grayson what ah-!” her question was swallowed by an exclamation of pleasure when his tongue invaded her vulva making shut her eyes strongly, stars sparkling in the darkness. He pumped a few times before slowing down, making his tongue flat so he could lick around her opening too. And then, he started lapping, flicking her clit with the point of his talented tongue, once, twice, and another time, finding a rhythm.

Kory grabbed the sheets where her lover had been lying just minutes ago, letting out a loud moan as he kept his onslaught, using his firm hands to expose her to his kisses and keep her in place when her knees started to give. He pulled away with a sound of suction, but before Kory found enough coherence to complain, he inserted a finger inside.

“X-x-x’Hal!” she screamed.

“My name, Kory,” he demanded.

She chuckled and turned her face around, trying to look at him.

“You have to ah… deserve it.”

“Oh yeah?” he inserted another finger and bended over to suck her clit at the same time as he fucked her with his hand. He kept a consistent rhythm and in no time she was trashing under him. Dick smiled when he noticed that she had tried to say his name, but when the climax hit her, all she managed were a few nonsense that barely counted as words.

Even so, it wouldn’t do it, not for him, so, before Kory was fully back from her high, Dick pulled her back in position, rubbed his hard member on her soaking, still pulsating pussy and entered her with a grunt. He didn’t wait before start giving all he had, but Kory, ever his perfect partner, wouldn’t let him do all the work himself. She pushed her upper body up, and reached behind for him inviting for a kiss that couldn’t last on her lips a lot, to allow their frenetic rhythm, and turned into a wet path through her neck, shoulders and back. Kory turned one arm behind, placing it like a handler for him to get better leverage, which Dick accepted while his other hand went to her clit rubbing it the way he knew she liked until Kory was screaming again.

When she was finished, he pulled out, she fell on the bed, spent, one hand pumping himself, Dick, used the other to roll Kory’s body so she’d be facing him.

“So noisy,” he said positioning his hips between her thighs. “I’m glad for the acoustic proofing,” and he bended over to kiss her belly, “but I haven’t heard my name yet.”

Kory smirked.

“Better luck next time.”

Dick rose his eyebrows to that, and rested his free hand on the bed beside Kory’s head, bringing their faces close.

“You are lucky one, aren’t you? Getting yourself someone who make you come over” he kissed her throat “and over” he kissed her jaw “again.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “But fine, third time is the charm.” And he entered her again. Kory’s legs hugged his hips, pulling him closer until there was no space between them.

“On second thought,” she said cheekily, “I think you are already full of yourself and I shouldn’t enable it.”

Dick snorted.

“I’m the one full of myself? Really?” He made his point by accelerating his thrusts.

Kory laughed and the contractions of her already impossibly tight muscles were too much for him.

Terror mixed with the pleasure of release spread through his face and her laughing fit worsened, milking him who afterwards fell beside her pouting.

“I’m so sorry,” she said kissing his shoulder, amusement still thick in her voice.

“You are so not.”

“I am!”

He turned his face away from her childishly.

“I don’t believe in you.”

Kory giggled and threw a leg over his and sucked his earlobe.

“Ohh, poor baby, but I am sorry, or don’t you think I didn’t want a third one?”

He looked at her through the corner of his eyes.

“You are a greedy one, Princess Koriand’r.”

“Why can I say? I’m used to premium Dick service.”

He tried to press his lips together to hold his pout, but when an alien princess fell from the sky and stole his heart to her was given the power of stealing his laughter too.

[infjammin]

Mexico

This is my first published work! A Spencer Reid x Reader oneshot. The team travels to Mexico for a mush needed vacation from the bureau. Will profiling skills be enough to keep an agent safe? 

The music reached the ears of those outside the club. Loud and drunken shouts accompanied the upbeat club music as the two girls entered.

Prentiss found Morgan as soon as she walked in. Offering her a drink, she downed it in under a minute, no doubt it’d be the first of many for them that night.

Walking to the bar, I ordered a virgin Shirley temple, I had already been drunk that day and had decided long ago to play it safe. I smiled at Emily and Morgan, watching them line up the salt and limes on the table. Drinking the sweet and syrupy drink, I felt a hand slowly creep around the small of my back. Goosebumps lined my arms as I immediately turned around to see who violated my personal space. A sly grin dripping with underlying intentions rested on the face of Rick. His unwelcome attention had been directed towards Prentiss and I all weekend, and his lingering hand was just one of the many attempts. A vacation can only last so long, I guess.

“Hey baby, I didn’t see you at the pool earlier today. Where were you?” A smile protruded, slowly creeping up his face as he took me in.

“I didn’t feel so well, I had a few too many drinks,” I laughed uncomfortably hoping he would sense my tone and leave. Emily looked up from a shot and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, here’s another one, maybe this will loosen you up a bit, huh?”

His breath reeked of Fireball and was hot on my face. I backed against the seat of my chair as I gave Emily a reassuring nod while she walked with Morgan to dance.

“No thanks, I’ve gotta find my friend.”

I slid out of my barstool and made my way through the crowd to meet Prentiss on the dancefloor.

The lights and the music overwhelmed my senses, but I absorbed it all. This was the only time I would get to be in Mexico and I wasn’t going to waste it. The unit had been overwhelmed with cases the past few months and this two-week vacation couldn’t have come at a better time. With the Reaper going MIA, the bureau thought it best to take some time away from the case.  

I instinctively looked around and saw Spencer at the bar. I froze and couldn’t help but admire

the way in which he held himself- slight hesitancy behind the charming demeanor he bore.  His easy eyes and soft smile could make any girl speechless and giddy.

He turned just in time to see me staring, lifting his hand to wave. I caught myself smiling and forced myself to wave back before I did anything stupid. I threw myself back into the rhythm laughing carelessly with Emily.

Time flew by as the music began to blend together in the seamless rhythm of motion. A tap on my shoulder from a bartender told me the boy at the bar sent a Shirley Temple over. I glanced back to see Spencer as he scanned the crowd locking eyes with me. He quickly looked down and turned around. I accepted the drink happily as Emily hit my arm.

“Looks like pretty boy is more upfront than we thought huh?”

We giggled as I kept dancing with my drink in hand.

The room began to melt into a kaleidoscope of color as the music seemed to pound the sides of my skull. I stopped for a moment to clear my head, hoping to shake off whatever vertigo I might have gotten from the ocean that day. Walking over to the bar in hopes of ordering a water, Spencer came over and gently placed his hand right below my shoulder.

“Are you okay? You seem a little woozy”, his eyes flooded with concern, “here, come sit down for a minute okay?”

Leading me to a chair on the outskirts of the dance floor, he sat me down, bracing my shoulders while he crouched down to make eye contact with me. Even though the whole room was spinning, it didn’t take much to keep focus on him.

“I’m gonna get you a water okay?”

“Okay”

I smiled as he walked away but couldn’t shake the feeling that was starting to creep up on me and swallow my consciousness. Everything blurred into shapeless forms while my body felt as though it was made out of bricks and weights.

“Here, come on and we can get you in something more comfortable”

I felt a hand grab my arm and lead me to the exit of the club. Stumbling over my feet, I turned and saw Spencer leaving the bar with a water in hand. Confusion visible on my face as I tried to piece together who the man with such a strong hold on my arm was.

Who is taking me away from the bar? And who is taking me away from Spencer?

I noticed the arm had moved around me and clutched me close to their body, hard and with no room to escape. The abrasive cloth of a jacket met my skin as the metal zipper dug into my side.  I looked up at the face, a complexion shrouded by shadows and street lamps.

“Let’s get you somewhere comfy baby”

My head swirled, thinking back to the drink from who I thought was Spence.

Rick never left the bar. I could feel his eyes boring into my back while Emily and I laughed and danced. He was there when I ordered my original Shirley temple and not Spencer. Oh my God, it wasn’t Spencer.

It wasn’t Spencer.

Panic flooded me as I tried to push myself away but found to have little to no strength against him. My hits held no power against his determined frame. I could barely speak without a weird slur obstructing anything I tried to say.

“Please let me go back to my friends”, I whimpered out.

His grip grew tighter as I tried to turn around to get someone, anyone’s attention.

I tried to dig my feet into the ground but wobbled over them instead. He was practically dragging me further and further away from the team, and closer and closer to who knows

what.

Panic and fear overtook my whole body; heavy breathing and frantic looking to find some way to break away from his hold.

“Please, please let me go back to my friends. I can give you money instead if you just let me go back.”

I knew money meant nothing to this man, I knew what his goal was back at the bar. I almost wished my skills as a profiler were that of when I first joined. It’d be better to not know who he was as he tore me away from my friends.

Tears dared to prick my eyes as I imagined what he was going to do to me, my mind filling with the horror stories of girls in clubs and foreign countries that other units in the bureau had dealt with.

I rolled my head to turn back to the bar. My head hung over my shoulder, hair blocking my view of what lay behind me. Figures emerged from the bar, doors slamming open into the warm breeze that drifted through the resort. I could hear them scream my name in panicked and frightful voices.

Were they real? Had I hoped so hard for some kind of miracle that it had somehow manifested behind me?

I tried so hard to break free of his grasp. I squirmed and wiggled with all the strength I had, yet still he held me firm against him. As Rick picked up his stride, my vision blurred to the point of muted colors as I faintly heard running towards Rick and me. My feet dragged behind me and I struggled to stay upright.

“Get off of her!”

I felt myself being pulled into someone’s arms as I fell to the ground. Familiar smells engulfed my senses, immediately providing me with some form of comfort.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

“Why were you dragging her out of the club?”

“Sure looks like you care about this whore-”

The black spots that had dotted my vision finally overtook it as the heavy darkness overwhelmed my body. The last thing I heard was a loud crack and a thud against the pavement.

My eyes fluttered open as bright light burned and blinded my vision. My head throbbed from the sudden sensory overload. Memories flooded back to me as my eyes widened with panic. I tried to sit up but was immediately met with hands pushing me back down. The blinding light obstructed those who held me down, resulting in a view of faceless figures.

“Get off of me!”

I felt my leg connect with what felt like ribs as I scratched my face.

“It’s okay! Please don’t hurt yourself. You’re safe, you’re okay.”

My eyes slowly adjusted to the room as I began to make out the faces of my team. Concern and worry all too apparent on their faces. Tears brimmed my eyes as I began to remember more from last night. Tears threatened to surface as I struggled to keep composure.

“What did he do to me? Oh my god what’d he do to me?”

“You’re okay, we caught him leaving with you before he could do anything to you”

Morgan gave me a smile and put a hand on my shoulder, “you’re going to feel a bit weird for a while, but we got a doctor in here to help you. He put you on an IV and some minor pain meds.”

I looked down as my fingers traced the unnoticed IV going into my arm. I noticed the bruises on my arm in the shape of fingers. The deep red and purple marks brought more tears to my eyes.

“He roofied me, didn’t he?”

“He did but we don’t know how, Hotch and Emily say they only saw you drinking one drink at the bar you ordered and the drink Reid sent over”

Reid turned towards Morgan confused, “I never sent her a drink.”

“But we both saw you-,” Emily retorted.

“No, I thought Spencer had sent me a drink, but I realized Rick did when he was dragging me

out.”

I paused for a moment, “What happened after I blacked out?”

Morgan spoke up saying, “Rossi found him dragging you out and we all ran after you. Reid and Hotch got you away from him while Emily tried to pick you up off the ground.”

I looked into Spencer’s face, the only one I really wanted to see, and thanked God for him. Concern clouded his face but a small hint of relief sparked in his eyes as he gave me a small reassuring smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Emily leaned over me to my ear and whispered. “Reid left Rick with a broken nose and a swollen lip before Morgan had to pull him off.”

The door swung open, everyone’s heads turning to see who barged in with no warning.

“OH MY-what happened to my beautiful treasure?! Who did this to her?”

Garcia ran to the hospital bed, grabbing my cheeks as she inspected my face for any damage.

Plenty of damage here, babe.

Morgan grabbed Garcia’s arms, looking up at everyone.

“Why don’t we give her some time to rest? We’ll be right next door okay?”

Everyone stood up to exit before Spencer spoke up.

“Can we talk for a bit by ourselves?”

Hotch glanced at Morgan with a questioning look, which he met with a nod of approval.

“Sure, but make it quick okay?”

Reid nodded in understanding as he got up to sit on the bed next to me. The water in my hand rocked in waves in the cup as I tried to subside my shaking hands. I put it back down in defeat.

Not meeting Spencer’s eyes, I asked, “Can you hold it for me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He slowly tipped the water up so I could take a small sip. It stung at first, but the water provided some relief and calm. He put the cup back down and lifted his eyes to meet mine. He might be an FBI agent, but there was nothing subtle about the way he scooted closer to me on the bed.

“How do you feel?”

“Well, a little nauseous and I have a really weird headache. My whole body feels heavy too…is your hand okay?”

He glanced down at his hand which had begun to bruise as well, quickly covering it up.

“My hand’s fine. I’m sorry I didn’t keep a better eye on you.”

“No Reid, it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong last night. I promise. Besides, it’s not your job to watch over me.”

I grabbed his hands as I gave a reassuring laugh and gave them a squeeze.

“Why did you think the drink was from me?”

I looked down at my hands, mortified at the natural blush giving away my reasoning from last night.

“When I had looked over to the bar when I got the drink, you looked at me at the exact same time. And I thought that you were trying to flirt.”, I looked up in embarrassment to see his reaction. He met my gaze.

“Well to be honest, that’s not how I’d flirt with you.”

“I’m just glad y’all got me before he did anything. I thought I saw you as we walked out the door but I couldn’t yell to get you. I didn’t know whether I was imagining the help I wanted so badly.”

I cast my eyes down and clutched the sheets with such ferocity my knuckles turned white.

Violent sobs escaped me and my body shook as I tried to control my tears. I never showed this kind of emotion at work, my intensity helped me get through our cases.

I can’t break.

“Hey, don’t cry, okay?”, he shushed me as he crawled closer to me and held me. He rocked me as his hands ran gently through my hair. I buried myself into his chest as far as I could and tightened my fists around his shirt, trying to pull him closer than he already was. I found comfort in his warmth and heartbeat. I drew my legs into my body and tried as hard as I could to wrap myself up into a ball inside of his embrace.

Disappear. Just close it up and disappear like you know how.

Spencer pulled my face away from his tear ridden shirt to meet my eyes.

“I know you’re going to wall yourself away, I’ve seen you do it at work. You can’t shut down on us when you’re the one being hurt. You can’t do that okay? We are here as a team, and we’re leaving as a team. Don’t think for one second we’re going to let you isolate yourself.”

I hiccupped trying to hold back my tears. Spencer placed his hand on my face, using a thumb to wipe away my tears. He rubbed my cheek with his thumb and gave me a comforting smile.

“I’m here okay? I’m right here for you.”

I smiled through my mist of tears and rested my forehead on his. He clutched the hair on the back of my head as he moved to kiss my forehead.

We never had this kind of connection at work. Nothing this…intimate. We silently acknowledged our mutual admiration for each other, but never let it develop past that. We were both young in the bureau, we couldn’t compromise our reputations. But, as we held each other’s stare, I couldn’t help but wonder whether we couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

His eyes flicked briefly down to my lips and back up to my eyes searching for a response. We moved closer to each other, moving both his hands to my face and me balling his shirt in a fist.

The air hung around us in a silent curtain, shielding us from the worries that would be of concern when we left the room. But nothing seemed to matter as I held his intense gaze. Was it a moment of weakness or strength that finally pushed us to meet in the middle?

Our lips met, a connection born from built up tension and desire. As we deepened our kiss, I moved my hand to cup his face, entwining my fingers with his hair. His hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me closer into the heated embrace.

We pulled away, a sharp intake of breath calling us back into reality. But as we both ran through the multitudes of possibilities, I took his hand in mine and squeezed, giving him a small smile.

I can’t worry about what the future might hold when I have him right in front of me.

[goatpaste]

shroom story? :0

 oh my god this sdgjkh sat in my inbox for days because i didnt have the energy to awnser it right away and then forgot. i think this was prompted because of this ask which still makes me laugh to think about 

anyways shroom story, its sdjkgh a favorite story in my server and new friends

but like ough i was in the summer between middle and highschool so like ?? 14 i think maybe 15, i forget what age most people are round then

but probably 15, old enough that my parents could question me doing any sorta drug in a normal way. like not a concerning way but in a genuine way.

and my parents smoke weed, SO much fucking weed all the fucking time their a nightmare. and i was in the room next to them and often could smell it in my room at night.

but myself, i dont do any sorta drug, just not something iv been able to do or had a desire for ig sorta.

also more context, my mom stopped smoking and this was about the time she started her road to being a crazy vegan person and it started when she watched some video about how refined sugars and salts will give you cancer. so out went all sugar and refined salts in our house for the rest of the time i lived with them.

but once in awhile when i had a few bucks i still went out and got soda and a snack at the gas station, or we’de have sweets like graham crackers or dfjkgh like literally whatever was sweet like some caramel on bread. shit like that. and on weekends id scrounge the cabinets for snacks and hole up in my room and watch shows on my computer in my room.

and so one night i was doing that and idk, as some of you can probably guess, i found two little chocolates wrapped in tin foil. and ME fucking absolute DUMBASS didn’t think anything of it and went mmm choncholate for sammi! and promptly took it to my room along with some other things.

was watching my show, snacking fine until the chocolates. 

let me reiterate, i am a fucking MORON.

i bit into the first one and went, yuck! gross!....... maybe the other one taste better? bit into that one, didnt taste good. went, hmm theres something in there maybe i need to eat around it. not realizing it was like THE WHOLE CHOCOLAte i tried to eat around the center to find it still gross, gave up and threw the chocolates away.

and see i didnt think anything of it because one, im a fucking idiot. and two, my date was terribly lactose intolerant and kept dark chocolate in the house and its very bitter and i didnt like it, and at the time had assumed it was just dark chocolate.

went back to my shows for awhile

annnd then the shrooms kicked in.

and to be clear, im a dumbass and had NO idea what i had just done.

and i start to feel sometHING is wrong with me and like i cant describe how it made me feel except that when it started my brain decided “oh god im being punished for not exercising enough. i dont do enough cardio and im dying RIGHT NOW for it.”

so i went outside to the backyard where my parents work blowing glass and making weed pipes. and im like... mother.. i have to go outside right now i need to run around the block right now

NOT RELIZING HOW INSANE I SOUNDED

and my mom straight up is like... are you on drugs???

and i ofc, somehow still dont click it together and go, “nononinon no no i dont do drugs!”

and return to my room to calm down and watch my show some more before i accept i MAY be high fjkghg

returning to the backyard both my parents are there and i tell them about the chocolate, they honestly think its a lil funny and my dad and is kinda like “ :O!! my fuckin shroom chocolate we were saving that!”

and they start like trying help me, asking me if i wanted to watch a movie in the living room until i come down and everything. and im telling them i want to be alone and go to sleep until  its over because i was miserable and a little stressed because OFC this didnt happen on my terms.

so i return to my room and try to lay down, but i remember like trying to close my eyes and just seeing fucking colors very much like a kaleidoscope. Annoyed i tried to push that from my vision

but when i would attempt to push away colors and find a dark patch in my like brain? there was a small puppet of me just like, doing the jig. And it was shaped like mister smarty pants from between the lions

so i give up on sleeping and grab my blanket and pillow and go to the living room, leaning against the wall singing “im just a kid” on the way.

i asked my parents to put on some disney movie, they told me no because it fuck me up too bad. and then they turned on the lorax.

i remember that movie being SO blurry and i remember looking at my mom and going “this movie is too fucking orange >:(”

the rest of it was mostly fine, i went outside with my mom and ask if she could hear my poop through the window to the bathroom that was connected to the patio. she told me no

my father tried to get me to drink nyquil, i said no and layed on the floor and rolled away from him because i just remembered i really didnt like how it tasted.

then my parents told me i texted my friends “i ate something weird and im starting to feel weird???” sdjkgh and they told me i needed to clear everything up and make sure my friends didnt think i was high. the next day i went to my friends house and told them this exact story, and iv been telling this story since.

[cultureisdarkbeer]

In Season 8, Mulder returned to a world turned upside down. This is the story of how he worked his way back into Scully's arms.

*NEW* Chapter 4 - Does Scully want to be more than friends with Mulder? Does Mulder have the courage to ask? *Reader Discretion Advised* 

Read Full Chapter Here

“Thank you for driving me home,” Scully said, as they pulled onto the street and towards her apartment.

Mulder twisted his hand around the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Thank you for attending my therapy session. What did you two talk about in there?” He tried to sound cool, but his eagerness was not lost on Scully.  

“Reviewed different techniques, how I could be more supportive.”

Mulder tilted his head. “Sometimes, the flashbacks, nightmares, and anxiety attacks seemed to be subsiding. Almost as if my mental trauma is healing with my physical wounds. Then others, it is like I just got off the ship.” 

“No one should expect you to heal at any pace, Mulder. He said it should take at least three months before you might begin to feel progress..  but Mulder, however long it takes, or even if you always have certain anxieties, depression, that’s okay. There is no right and wrong.”

Mulder didn’t know how to respond so he simply nodded. If only it was as simple as time passing or even the acceptance that time couldn’t be rewound, but there was more. A lot more.

The rest of the drive was met with a comfortable silence. It was so quiet he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. A quick glance in her direction revealed her eyes were closed, then, as if feeling his gaze, she opened them and a small smile curved her lips. She reached out and grasped his hand before once again closing her eyes. Did he just hear her sigh? Mulder considered how Scully seemed more willing than ever to follow him. Now, she seemed invested, even with her interest in helping him work through his trauma. It couldn’t be that her interest in helping him was only in relation to their shared past, their friendship. So many weeks had passed for her and so much of her life he had missed. Did he have a right to demand she make a choice? Did he have it in him to take that leap of faith and put himself out there? Was he just going to sit there and let another night go by without even asking? Just let her walk into that apartment without saying anything? 

When they pulled up to Scully’s apartment, Mulder gathered up some courage and asked, “Do you still have my files on your laptop? When I was searching through the archives today I didn’t see them and I had some on my hard drive that left with my computer.”

“Actually, they took my laptop as well�� buuuuut, I did have a backup hard drive and I was able to reload it into my new laptop.” Scully gave him a smile that sent a cascading warmth through his insides. “Come on up and get what you need.”

Don’t tempt me Scully.

Once inside, Scully took off her coat and headed to the bathroom. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to use my laptop. You already know the password.”

Pushing the image of Scully standing under a hot steaming shower naked and wet out of his mind, Mulder headed straight to her desk and sat down on the hard backed wood chair. A couple swipes at the keyboard and a quick search and Mulder was faced with two folders with his name on it. He considered doing a round of eenie meenie, but in the end just clicked on the top folder. The file names were all dates. In fact there was a file for every day going as far back as a week after his abduction. It had his name on it, so he picked one at random and opened it. 

 Mulder, 

I have to believe you’re out there, alive. That belief is what keeps me moving, keeps me taking those leaps to solve the next X-File. I miss you with every breath, and I refuse to give up hope. We will be together. 

Today’s case led us to Indiana, you’re going to laugh when you hear what I told Doggett….   

 He closed that file and opened another. He didn’t want to know about her and Doggett. There were more, lots more, covering cases, days off, shopping, hospital visits. Mulder couldn’t read fast enough and couldn’t stop either. He opened one dated during the time he was buried in the ground. It read:

 Mulder,

Some days I question why I continue writing to you. In the beginning I believe it was because I didn’t want to let go. Other days it felt like you were closer when I did, like  somehow, you could still hear me. Now maybe I write them so my baby may one day read them and know what you meant to me, what our relationship was like so one day they might be blessed to find the same. I prayed daily for your return and lately, I pray even harder.

I was going through my old answering machine tapes, my voicemails from my cell. I decided to take all the ones I have and put them on a cassette tape so the baby can hear your voice, know what you sounded like when I tell them about you. Tell them of the love of my life, my perfect other, and how I found him and how he gave his life for us, so that we may live. 

I spoke in the past about driving in our endless straight line and now that I can look back on it with a clear mind, I understand that night in Oregon when you said it had to end sometime, in essence, you were throwing me out of the car. 

I became pregnant with the full intent to raise this child on my own, to take on the full responsibility. Marriage was nothing I ever strived for even if the possibility of being married never strayed. I put myself, my career, the work, before those things. It was something that might or could, but nothing I truly needed. Now, when I look in the mirror, I know, you were the only one I would have ever considered that kind of commitment with. Now, that chapter of my life is forever closed without ever being written. You were my partner Mulder, in work, in love, in life.

 “Did you find what you were searching for?” Scully said, and Mulder practically jumped right out of his skin. He spun in the chair and stood to face her. His fears turned to joy. She was beautiful, radiant, standing there in her robe, casually drying her crimson locks with a towel. And those legs, those little legs, and how they felt wrapped around him… Scully in love.. with him . His heart swelled, lighting him from head to toe, spreading warmth in its wake. A kaleidoscope of emotions ran over every part of him like a raging river, healing the cracks, filling and overflowing the voids.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice low as he barely got the sound out. He had found exactly what he was searching for. He cupped her face as she searched his eyes. He watched the desire that raged in him ignite inside her. Losing that last thread of restraint, he tilted her head up towards him and his lips crashed on top of hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth, his jaw rocking in time with hers, their kisses desperate, almost frantic.

Despite the insatiable hunger he felt, he pulled back to judge her reaction. Her eyes were soft in their gaze, but then her lids lowered and her eyes transformed to blue steel. Before he was able to speak, her fingers were in his hair, pulling him back down, kissing him hard, deep, unleashing unrestrained need and a passion that sent the crown of his cock swelling and brushing the seam of his boxers. 

Mulder groaned and gently pushed her away before it went any further. “Is it safe to..”

“The doctor has me on no restrictions,” she answered back hastily. “I just don’t want to move too fast for you. I want you to be ready.”

Mulder laced his hands through her amber locks, knocking her towel to the floor, kissing her again as his pent up feelings burst inside his chest, exploring her mouth, entwining their tongues, caressing her face.

He felt her fingers at his waistband, undoing his button and fly..

“Scully,” he whispered against her mouth and her hand cupped his bare erection. Skin on skin. Pleasure surged in his nerve endings and throbbed in his veins. “There’s not a part of me that didn’t miss this.”

Fuck . Scully closed her grip around his cock and stroked the sleek hot steel up and down. Mulder breathed hard and Scully moaned.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said in a heady rush of impatience. 

They kissed their way down the hall, Mulder almost tripping as he had to slouch as they walked to keep them from separating, Pulling off his shirt, hopping on one leg as he stripped off his pants. 

The way Scully’s eyes widened when he took off his boxers and freed his cock made him feel ten feet tall. She gave out a warning when he removed her robe that “her body had changed,” and he replied as honestly as he could. “Scully, I’m harder than a male porn star on his first day of work. Yes, it’s because it’s you, but it’s also because you’re more beautiful than the last time I laid eyes on you.”

Scully’s cheeks blushed and her pupils dilated. He matched her smile, both of them recognizing how much was at stake, and how much they both needed this. She turned away from him and he helped her remove her robe. He combed the soft strands of her hair to expose her exquisite neck, trailing soft kisses up the sensitive skin, leaving a wake of raised flesh.  

His hands traveled down her body, reacquainting with her new curves: her breasts, her waist, her ass. Soft noises released from the back of Scully’s throat as his fingers brushed over the inside of her thighs. Lust surged through him at the sound, and his length nuzzled the small of her back. Scully gripped the footboard of the bed. 

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Mulder, please, I want you inside me.”

Her insistence only made him grow harder, but he knew it wasn’t a sprint. “H-how.. What would be most comfortable for you?”

“I think on the bed, on my knees. I can hold onto the footboard, the headboard is a little too high, and if I lean forward… What?”

“Nothing,” Mulder said, but he couldn’t prevent the upturn of his lips. “It’s.. well, you’ve given this some thought.”

Scully lifted a brow. “During that second trimester, you have no idea.”

He helped her onto the bed and followed close behind, holding his hands at her waist. Scully spread her legs and his tip grazed her. Scully looked back at him. “Easy, Mulder.” 

On her knees, and hunched forward, her ass in full glorious view, Mulder gripped his length, lined them up, and hesitantly pushed in. 

“Oh God, Mulder,” he heard Scully moan. 

Sharp pleasure bolted through him. “I know. You’re incredible.”

Easing back, slowly he pushed in again, a couple more inches before easing back again. 

“More, Mulder,” Scully gasped, reaching back, her fingers finding his hair, tugging and twisting. “Faster.”  

He was so worried about hurting her, but his excitement built and her tight, wet warmth around him only hastened it. He groaned and flexed his hips as another wave of pleasure hit him. She felt so good. The sight of them joining almost too much. This was Scully. They were finally together. 

Soon they found a languid pace, her hips doing most of the work, him aiding her movement, pulling it out and letting her push back on him to the depth she craved.  Until her knuckles whitened against the footboard. “God, Mulder. I really missed you.” Her walls pulsed and squeezed him tight and he groaned. 

With a few light thrusts her body heated and swelled snug around his cock. It made them slide easier, faster. Scully’s jaw went slack as her eyes closed, tightening as she pushed back against him. Her breath was ragged and he could see her concentrating on her movements. It was intense and exquisite and the feelings produced inside him made Mulder moan louder.

He closed his eyes and tightened his fingers on her hips, losing himself in the feeling. Again and again, more and more. He missed everything about this. Her legs tensed and he felt her sucking him further inside. He remembered that feeling. She was close. A few determined thrusts and she cried out, her muscles pulsing hard and rhythmically around him. Mulder’s forehead leaned into her shoulder and he reached for the footboard, covering her hand with his as he shouted, pouring his soul, his love, into her. 

“Scully, Scully.” He kept coming, for what seemed like an eternity. It left him spent and shaky. He had to catch himself for a moment, relishing in the feel, and calming his heart.  “Everything okay?” As he asked her he could hear the deep octaves in his own voice.

“Mulder,” she breathed out and her blue eyes sparkled at him. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sated look on her face as she made her way to the bathroom. When she returned, he helped her back onto the bed. 

They stared into each other’s eyes as they laid on their sides face to face. Scully softly caressed his cheek and he mellowed into the feeling of her fingertips across his stubble. He pressed his face into her touch, drowning in it. Mulder leaned over, his lips a breath away from hers, and he stopped to feel their familiar pull. An attraction like no other. Scully raised her face to his, brushing his lips lightly, coaxing him. He kissed her even softer in return, teasing her like she did him until her mouth opened and he could taste her. Scully moaned quietly at the contact. Not knowing exactly what to do with his hand, he used it to prop up his head, the other he ran gently into her hair, stroking it softly.  

Without words she tucked her head under his chin, her nose nuzzling his Adam's apple. Scully curled into his torso while he rubbed her back, pulling her carefully towards him until the bump of her belly rested against his tight rippled abs. From through the window he could see the last vestiges of light, painting the sky in orange and reds. White contrails highlighting the color in soft wisps. 

He was the only one she would ever consider marrying. 

Elation washed over his body. I would marry you, Scully. And raise that baby as mine, no matter how it started its life. 

As if he had said it aloud she stirred and opened her eyes. He kissed her forehead once more and returned her drowsy smile. Tugging the comforter over her, they snuggled into their cocoon. Scully’s eyes closed and she mumbled right before her breathing evened out, “Don’t go, Mulder.”

I don’t plan on it, Scully. Not ever.

Continue Reading

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[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 18

Chapters: 18/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

They cook, they feed him, they chat away about inane things. Their presence soothes Martin and their voices fill him with the warmth sucked away by his unexpected encounter.

Gerry helps him make tea after dinner, and they all sit at the table together, even the cats sleeping nearby, cuddled up into one big, grey and black fluff ball.

"I think," Martin begins, voice croaky, "That I would like to tell you now."

"We're ready to listen if you're ready to tell us." Jon offers softly. Gerry reaches over to take one of his hands, turning it over to kiss the palm sweetly.

Martin talks, voice quiet and even.

"In the beginning, it was just a normal relationship. Except for the fact that he was almost twenty years older than me, and about a million times richer. I didn't know that at first, of course. He was just a middle-aged man I met in a gay bar, who didn't seem to mind that I was trans. I felt secure in our relationship, if not exactly nurtured or adored. I had never felt very secure before, and it seemed like enough, you know?

"He took me out, brought me a few things in the beginning. He was very dominant, sexually, but I was a lot less sure of my own preferences back then and I thought it was fine. He never even blinked at my trashy flat or cheap clothes, and I didn't even realise just how much money he had for a long time. Maybe I just can't really comprehend that much money, even now.

"When I was twenty-two, my mother died, and…" He huffs out a shaky, emotional laugh. "Well, I was a real mess. I lost my job, and almost my flat. Peter started paying for things, my rent, clothes, meals. He said that I needed somewhere to live and had to eat and look presentable, and it was his pleasure to provide those things for me. It made me feel a bit gross, but I struggled to find another job, and so I accepted it."

Martin hesitates here, before continuing. "The problem started when I wasn't interested in sex one night."

"He forced you?" Gerry interrupts to ask dangerously, threat explicit in his quiet words. His eyes seem to glow faintly in the growing dark of the room, as the sun sets. He wishes, more than ever, that he had helped Jon kick the shit out of Peter Lukas, instead of stopping him.

Martin sighs, eyes pressed tight closed for a second. "Not exactly. He simply pointed out that he paid for me to exist. So I made myself interested."

Gerry's hands tighten into fists and he moves them under the table where Martin can't see them anymore. Jon suddenly looks very pale. They share a look, neither able to see much difference between 'forcing' and what sounds a lot like financial abuse to them.

Martin pulls his legs up to his chest, curling around them as he goes on. "Our relationship became a lot more transactional after that night. I disengaged whatever feelings I had left for him and simply drew all my emotions down deep into myself. I wasn't ashamed to be getting paid for sex, but I felt like I had lost my own consent in the matter. Peter honestly seemed like he had gotten exactly what he wanted. Money was nothing to him, and he had someone to take out on his arm or shag whenever he wanted, without the work of a real relationship, or the complications of unfortunate attachments.

"So, if I needed something, I told him. He set a date, took me out, fucked me. He gave me however much I needed."

Martin shrugs, looking down at his hands. "I honestly hated it. Not because of the prostitution itself, sex has always been very nurturing for me, and I sometimes caught the idea that it was only another way to care for people, and being paid for that is perfectly fine, if you're doing it for the right reasons. The real issue was Peter himself. He had this way of making me feel… bereft and hollow, even before the money came into it."

A few tears track down his face, although his face remains rather blank, in a numb way. It's only as he admits the next words that his voice breaks and the heartbreak works its way out again.

"I was very foolish. Looking back, I can see that I was still a child in a lot of ways. I put myself into a situation that damaged me, but I accept the consequences of those actions, both then and now. I- I-"

"Martin," Jon whispers, warm love clear in his voice. It's nothing but an offer of support, one that he desperately needs right now.

He presses his eyes shut, forcing away the stutter and the lump of tears. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to get out of it, even if I got a crap, minimum wage job that I was qualified for. So I started applying for any work that was available. I made every application exactly what they wanted, and I hoped for the best. When Elias offered me the job at Magnus, I took it happily. Since then I found out that Peter knows him, and probably arranged the job for me, but at the time I had no idea. Looking back, I know that it's a miracle that I got out of it at all. Peter could have chosen to make my life a living hell. Instead, he accepted the several firm rejections I offered him.

"He promised me that we weren't done, that I would be back, but he left me alone. I was done. I moved on with my life, even if I had to lie to do it." Martin sighs, shakes out his shoulders, the most difficult part over now.

"I had always planned to be open about it with my next relationships, but they were so fleeting that it never even came up. By the time I fell for Jon, it had become a secret, one I was loathed to dig up for a relationship I was convinced wouldn't last. I thought to myself, 'Why ruin something that makes me happy?' I assumed it would fall apart anyway, and it was easier to allow it to be in the past.

"But I am sorry. I'm sorry that I never told you. I'm sorry you had to find out from him. I'm sorry that we've been together for more than a year and we basically live together, and I've put you in this position. I love you both, very very much."

"When did you eventually decide that our relationship was going to last?" Jon queries, genuine curiosity in his voice.

There's a beat of hazy silence at the abrupt change in tone and topic.

"Oh, ah-" Martin stumbles over his words, unsure how blatantly honest to be. He chooses the real truth, no matter how unfortunate. "The day that I got Luna was the first time I really accepted that you both loved me."

Jon simply raises an eyebrow, completely unconcerned. "What about you, Gerry?"

"With you," Gerry responds easily, "at the hospital in Morden, when I was so panicked that I couldn't decide if I wanted to kill you or handcuff us together for the rest of our lives. With Martin-"

He breaks off with a laugh, colouring slightly. "It was the day we dyed my hair purple."

"The first time we had sex?" Martin asks, surprised at such a hedonistic answer.

He laughs again, more confidently this time. "No, actually, although that was spectacular. It was afterwards, when you braided my hair for the first time. That was the first time anyone had ever braided my hair. It made me feel so… So honoured. Like I was the most precious thing to you."

"Gerry, you are the most precious thing to me. You both are." Martin whispers, tears creeping back into his voice.

"Good, because the feeling is mutual, and we desperately need you around to keep us in line," Jon tells him, voice unusually firm and confident.

"What about you?" Martin remembers to ask him, at risk of floating away in his post confession haze. "When did you know?"

"With Gerry, it was when we were teenagers. I kissed him for the first time, and he laughed at me. I just knew he was my soulmate." Jon rolls his eyes at this, but his voice is full of blatant affection. "With you, Martin, it was- Well, to be quite honest with you, there was no one special moment. It was a million tiny moments, all of them special and perfect to me. Every cup of tea, every frown while you were writing poetry, glasses pushed haphazardly up into your lovely hair. The easy, glorious look on your face the day you met Gerry for the first time, as if you weren't even capable of not falling in love with him, just as I hadn't been. It was especially the days that I would come out of the library and find you waiting for me after work. This weight of total surety would fill my chest and leave me gasping, needing you."

Jon sighs, his own eyes a little bright. "I suppose it was really the night you kissed me in the rain, and every soft moment since then has only affirmed the way I knew you were it for me."

Jon smiles at Martin so beatifically that he forgets to breathe for a moment.

"We love you too, Martin," Gerry tells him, reaching out to grasp a hand. Jon takes the other. "And we wouldn't want you any other way."

***

The next morning, Martin wakes to find Jon eyeing his phone intently. Gerry is asleep on his other side, and he feels warmly cocooned between them. Gentle cloudy light fills the space, encouraging the comfortable cozy atmosphere of their bed.

"What's wrong, love?" Martin asks sleepily, snuggling into his side.

"I got-" Jon pauses, utterly flummoxed. "I got paid a bonus."

"What?" Equally perplexed, Martin takes his phone, squinting as he tries to read the screen.

The banking app is open, and there is indeed a deposit there, Jon's normal salary amount, but on completely the wrong date.

In the purpose box, it simply reads 'Entertainment Value'.

"You don't think," Jon starts, hesitant, "that Elias paid me…"

"For hitting Peter Lukas?" Martin finishes, "His own husband."

They blink at each other, bewildered.

"Does that seem… slightly cursed, to you?" Jon whispers as if Elias might hear him. Even worse if Elias could hear them, and would probably enjoy being accused of having a cursed relationship.

"Yes, completely cursed. What is up with those two?" Martin looks as if he's smelled something bad.

"We absolutely cannot spend this money, right?" Jon asks. "Lest we are cursed with their relationship dysfunction."

"Correct," Martin responds firmly, shuddering. "Can we donate it to the animal shelter?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Jon's relief at this resolution is palpable.

He does it straight away, as if even having the money in his bank account might ruin their lives.

They let out a simultaneous sigh as the transfer goes through.

"That is wild," Martin mutters as he snuggles back down.

Jon tosses his phone away, no longer interested in it. Instead, he wraps his arms around Martin, burying his nose in his lover's hair. It smells of bergamot and tea leaves and the ocean in winter, just like Martin himself, and Jon luxuriates in the moment.

"I love you, Martin K. Blackwood." He whispers into the soft air.

"Even if I don't actually have a middle name?" Martin whispers back.

"Especially because of that." Jon chuckles.

They lay together, the gentle moments of the morning flowing around them. Later, they get up and shower together. They drink tea in front of the big windows in the living space. Martin reads a book from Gerry's shelves, his own books still packed, and Jon wanders off to play his piano where it is randomly set up, right in the middle of Gerry's typical painting area.

Gerry himself appears downstairs, still sleepy and bleary-eyed. He curls up with his head in Martin's lap, listening to Jon fill the flat with gentle music.

It's the soft sort of moment that each of them had been wishing for all their lives, full of love, and family, and a home of their very own.

[ly-canthropewrites]

Love Languages; Henry Cavill Drabble

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count: 1214

A/N: For my darling @yespolkadotkitty. Please excuse formatting/errors as it was quickly written on my phone. As well as, any translation errors.

Henry loves coming home. It’s the mixed combination of finally resting and recovering after months of strict working, of having some privacy and a space of his own, and also, because he gets to come home to you.

You are a piece of his life that he keeps quiet and hidden, a selfish slice of paradise that he greedily indulges in when he is not working. It is easier to keep you out of the spotlight, away from the harassment and gossip, and it makes him, and you, truly appreciate the sanctuary that your relationship has built.

He had been gone four long months filming for The Witcher, a storyline that he adores and has been engrossed in long before his casting. You had supported him when he pushed for the part, lovingly smiling from a distance as he got accepted to live out his fantasy dream. You had been with Henry long enough to know the woes of an actor and the distance was just a small compromise you had to make. He had kept in contact during his months away; calling you nightly, unable to go more than a day without hearing your voice or seeing your face on a fuzzy FaceTime. Although, you were apart, you weren’t forgotten.

~

It’s late when Henry arrives in Wales, time ticking closer to midnight when his hand meets the front door of your flat and he tries to remain silent as he enters. It’s near impossible when he is wrestling his luggage and a big bear of a dog that is called Kal, and the silent approach is not needed because you are still up anyway. At least, it seems that you are. The television in the lounge room fills the apartment with background noise and the corner lamp casts a warm light around the room. It’s cozy, homely, and just what Henry has been yearning for.

However, there are some changes from his last time at home. Brightly coloured post-it notes are attached to most items that he can see and he is amused as he ventures further into the living space, thick fingers flicking the one on the television.

Fernsehen, it reads.

The yellow note on your favourite framed print that hangs proudly on the wall, is noted as, Kunstwerk.

The words are unfamiliar to him and they dot most of the belongings and decor in the room, and Henry smiles. It looks like you’ve been busy.

It is Kal that finds you first, wet nose picking up your scent and he trots past Henry and into the kitchen, nails clipping across the floorboards.

“Wie geht es dir? es ist eine weile her, seit ich dich gesehen habe - oh!” You get startled out of your recite by a mass of black and white, an unexpected visitor nosing his way into your lap.

“Kal!” you exclaim, a mix of confusion and excitement evident as you exchange the shock for happiness.

You look up to the doorway of the kitchen to see Henry leaning against it, ruffled curls sitting on top of his pretty face and you beam.

“This is a pleasant surprise, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” you say, eyes never leaving your fiancee’s whilst your hands scratch at Kal’s favourite spots, appeasing the large dog who is just as happy to see you.

“I didn’t want to stay away any longer than I had to,” he states simply, ocean eyes drinking up your appearance. It has been far too long since he has seen you mere metres from him.

You share the sentiment, suddenly pushing away Kal and abandoning your book on the table, and in quick strides, you walk into his outstretched arms. The feeling of his body against yours is heaven and you melt in his embrace, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as you hold onto him tightly. Strong arms wrap around your body, cradling you close and Henry rests his chin on top of your head.

“I’ve missed you dearly,” you confess.

“I’ve missed you more,” Henry bites back, quickly pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before a hand tilts your face up.

He kisses you slowly. Gentle lips mould against yours, the faintest touch of his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, and you sigh, curling your fingers into the fabric of his sweater as you attempt you hold onto the last of your sanity. Henry’s kisses have always made you feel weak, the blend of his taste and touch your biggest weakness and something he loves to exploit. A large hand brushes lightly along the sharpness of your jaw before cupping the nape of your neck, holding you prisoner as he takes what he has missed. He kisses you until you are breathless and panting against his lips, mouth red and swollen, eyes sparkling and dancing.

“Hey baby,” he greets you properly now, love glowing in his eyes as he gazes at you adoringly.

You chuckle, taking in a deep breath to sate the burning in your lungs, before smiling up at him.

“Hey handsome,”.

He is still holding you in his grasp, one thick arm around your waist whilst the other thumbs lightly along the juncture of your shoulders and neck.

“It looks like you’ve been preoccupied while I’ve been away,” Henry comments, a single eyebrow raised and you know that he is referring to the plethora of sticky notes littering the house. You have the audacity to blush bashfully, gnawing down on your lip as your cheeks glow red, although for reasons unknown.

“I’ve been bored whilst you have been gone, so I have started to teach myself German. I’m trying to immerse myself,” you say simply, meeting his eyes again to find pride and admiration shining.

“You are too smart for your own good, woman,” he teases, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as he savours the feeling of having you back in his arms. “I am one lucky man. I get to marry a beautiful and intelligent woman,” he praises.

“And you, Mr Cavill, are too smooth for your own good,” you retort, placing a kiss of your own to the hollow of his throat before stepping out of his embrace.

He doesn’t let you go far, his hand encircling your wrist and you glance up at him, unspoken question written across your face.

“Say something to me. In German,” Henry asks.

“Ich liebe dich,”.

Henry guesses what those words mean by the expression on your face and the way you speak the words tenderly, but he asks you to repeat it in English nonetheless.

“I love you” you recite softly, lifting his hand from your wrist and guiding it to your face and you kiss his palm, your eyes never leaving his.

He swallows thickly and Henry swears he was given an angel to love, almost in disbelief at how he gets to love such a strong and amazing woman like you.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, voice wavering with a sudden kaleidoscope of emotions. Fuck, he loves you. More than words will ever be able to describe.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #24)

(cw: 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT, drug use) ------------

01/10/88  9:46 PM

Hey.

Looking back on all this, I noticed something.

Ever since you’d left, I had been stuck in perpetual fight-or-flight mode. My first instinct was, as always, to fight. I fought to find you, to disprove the lies everyone had been spinning about you and about me, and emerge a winner over this false reality I was supposed to submit to. All my strength, my resolve, my conviction, was tied to the idea that you were still alive. After Tapper’s, I just couldn’t lie to myself anymore. 

You were gone. My brush powers were gone. Whatever shred of acceptance I’d garnered in the arcade over the years was gone. What was there to fight for anymore?

Flight was the only option left.

The morning after that night, I knew it was time to be on my own again. I didn’t need company anymore. I’d stopped being afraid of murderous sprites sneaking in. I’d like to say the reason for that was I’d stopped being an idiot and really clued in that I can’t be deleted in my own game. I’d like to say that. I think the cold truth of it was that my newfound guilt dwarfed any reason I had to be afraid.

I packed up my things. I said goodbye to Wreck-it, thanked him for my stay (which threw him off again), and brought my things back to my den. Coming back to it should have felt right in some way, but it didn’t. It’s true that my den has never fully felt like home, but it’s at least been a place to be surrounded by things that belong to me. I looked at all my junk strewn everywhere, my well-guarded stolen treasures accrued over the years, and wondered why the hell I kept any of it. It almost made me angry, in a way. A small part of me wanted to just burn it all.

I spent the whole day in that junk heap, antsy as hell, just trying to keep occupied until closing. Once I’d decided to try GC, it was all I could think about. I just ran the actions through my head over and over -- the arcade would close, I would venture out alone, track down one of the few dealers willing to do business with me, buy a block of GC, come back to my pile of junk, and take it.

That’s exactly what happened.

Now, I know what you’d say right about now, and yes, it was a risky move, taking GC in my own game, especially for someone with a code deficiency. For all I knew, one hit of the stuff could have thrown my code in a blender and splattered it all over the trees. No one knew I was doing this, either, so no one would know if I corrupted, not until Fix-it inevitably found my mangled sprite. I was fully aware of the risks, but somehow, I didn’t care. There was danger, but it felt so far away. Like it just wouldn’t happen to me. Why not? I don’t know. That’s just how it felt. Risks were inconsequential.

All that mattered to me was escaping life.

And GC? Oh, GC. It was my escape.

Buffs I’d been taking up to that point had been child’s play. They took whatever warmth or pleasure that existed inside me and tried to stretch it as far as it would go. They lit a fire under my moxie and gave me a fighting edge against everything thrown my way. They blurred reality. They weakened it. But they never made it go away.

GC does. Game Changers live up to their name. They grasp you tight and yank you out of reality so hard, you almost forget it was ever there at all. I guess you could call it dreaming while awake, only ten times more vivid, twenty times more intense, thirty times more satisfying.

But, like dreams, experiences with it seem to be hard to remember and even harder to describe. I took four hits of GC over the course of about a week, and the further along we go, the more I remember of the visions, and the less I remember of the reality in between. It’s gonna be a challenge to write. If you were able to read this, you would complain about it being hard to follow and full of gaps. Well, it’s no clearer for me than it is for you, so suck it up.

Okay. That first night, that first hit. 

I punched open the block, took the buff inside, and immediately thought I was corrupting.

My skin went cold with sweat, my heart punched my ribs, my brain clenched and my stomach twisted. I fell back. I felt what I would describe as each individual digit of my binary being turned backwards all at once. It was unreal.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

And the release of that pain was… let’s say I felt it in places that had otherwise been dormant for a long time. 

It made me inconsolably horny, is what I’m saying. Painfully so.

At first, that appeared to be it. No hallucinations, no mental roadtrips, just extremely urgent arousal. I was a little underwhelmed, but I took what I could get. The last thing on my mind since you’d left had been sex, or anything related to it, which I trust needs no explanation. So, whatever, I figured. I’m a big girl with two hands and a brush, I can take care of myself.

Only, I couldn’t.

When I went to grab my belt, I couldn’t move either of my arms. They were glued to the ground, along with my back. While I was sitting there wondering why nothing was happening, the trees had started profusely bleeding a sticky red sap that smelled amazing, but held me down tight. My entire den began to flood with it, and the leaves above reddened and swelled into tender fist-sized cherries that sloughed into the syrup below. The bare trees stretched tall, curved over my den, and locked branches like dozens of twisting fingers weaving together. Within a minute, the trees closed all gaps, trapping me in complete darkness with a slowly growing bath of cherry pie filling.

I wasn’t scared. Not even a little. I was pissed. I was absolutely dying for any kind of contact, any relief, but of course, I had to be denied by something so unforgivingly weird as a spontaneous pie flood. As I squirmed around, trying to find some kind of pressure, I felt the goop around me start to heat up. Slowly, the entire chamber became like a sauna. Thicker sap melted into runny syrup that dripped on me from the ceiling. I could feel steam on my face mixing with beading sweat. It was around that point that I started panting. Around that point, the game changed.

In the burning, viscous syrup around me, giant cherries dragged slowly down my body like wandering hands. Some even split open, exposing positively obscene warm, soft, wet flesh that I could feel sliding directly across my skin, as if my clothes weren’t even there. I leaned into the shapes and groped around where I could in the sugary slime, and let my fingers sink deep into the velvety smooth bits of cherry heat, which somehow made me shudder right down to my bones. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t helping. It was just working me up even more. Every touch and smell and sound of my own desperate, frustrated breathing shot rippling euphoric waves through my very code. I’d never been so needy for touch in all my life, and the closest I could get to it was a bath of cherries.

After an agonizingly long time, the syrup had reached dangerous levels. It would have been over my head if I wasn’t already propped up on… what I can only assume entered the dream as a pillow. For a moment, the thought crossed my mind that I might actually drown there, but that’s when I heard rumbling. The entire structure around me began to shake. There was a great, rocky crack, and the roof above me split open like an egg, revealing a night sky unlike any other. 

It was a kaleidoscope. The sky curved with rows of millions of tiny LED lights with colors that travelled seamlessly with one another like a scrolling electric sign. Bright and brilliant as it was, its light just barely illuminated my surroundings, like rainbow moonlight. That glimpse alone would have left me awestruck, but there was so much more. 

In an instant, the cherry room crumbled and fell away. The ground around me cracked and broke off to leave me suspended on a floating patch of earth, and the bath of syrup drained thickly over the edges. I could see it all, now -- I was in a ball. I was floating directly in the center of a ball made up of nothing but the kaleidoscope lights. Gravity sort of sank in my stomach for a second, just at the sheer vastness of it, but that’s why it was freakin’ spectacular. It made me want to fly so badly, but in this dream, I still knew I couldn’t.

The next thing I saw were mirrors around me. Big, uneven shards of mirror floated in a still circle, spread maybe twenty feet out from my little chunk of land. In them, I could see myself stuck there, lying prone as my clothes dissolved into sugary slime, slowly melting off to expose my skin. I looked into my own eyes, and even in the dream, they shone a binary blue. There was a fire in them that matched the one inside me. They said to me, “What are you doing? Fight, dumbass.”

They were right. Of course they were. I may have been stuck, but how could I lie back and accept that? Have I ever been known to be passive?

So, I squeezed my eyes shut and struggled. I pushed, pulled, and thrashed against my glued-down arms and back, but it was not coming easily. In fact, it seemed like all I managed to do was make it worse. When I tried to push up off the ground with my feet, they stuck firmly to the spot. Seconds later, when I gave up and let my hips drop back down and my legs fold back into place, my calves stuck to my thighs. Even my eyes wouldn’t open. I was so frustrated I could have screamed, but just as I took a breath to do so, I was muffled.

There was a distinctly familiar, piping-hot, cherry-flavored mouth smothering mine. I made some muffled protests for my pride’s sake, but, of course, I returned the gesture. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been kissed, and it felt like a cold drink of water I didn’t know I needed. I couldn’t open my eyes to see who it was, nor could I feel any actual code at all, but I didn’t have to. He had burning-hot skin. He smelled like smoke clinging to old leather. His kiss felt like he was quite literally breathing binary right into me, pouring strength into the holes in my code until they spilled over. There’s no one else he could have been. And, at the time, I didn’t question it. Everything seemed right. 

The kiss broke, and I remember the air suddenly feeling so cold on my skin. But there was heat radiating from the body looming over mine, and his touch seemed to throw fire in me. For a second, his mouth lingered at my neck and his hands squeezed my shoulders, but before long, he made his way slowly down my body. Fingers traced lightly at every rise, palms pushed deeply under every slope, all slipping in the sugary glaze that his mouth lapped up and savored in a contented, indulgent sort of way. Needless to say, I was positively aching by this point. It was teetering on the edge of painful. I remember shaking, trying and failing to suppress whimpers, and, for a minute, giving up completely on my attempts to get free. I was right where I wanted to be. Honestly, being blind and immobilized and helpless to refuse? In this context, it was hot as hell.

Makes me wish we’d dabbled in that concept a bit more while you were still around.

There came a point where things were just short of where I needed them to be. At my innermost thigh, his mouth licked and nipped lazily, as if he were settling in for a long stay. His hands just squeezed at the meat of my hips, running his thumbs over the bone. The nerve of it all.

I struggled harder than ever, and with my partner having licked off so much of the sugary glue, my feet broke free, then my legs, then my arms, one right after the other. My back peeled harshly off the ground as I threw myself upright, and I opened my eyes to stare down a glowing blue gaze looking at me from between my knees. 

I froze. Where I expected to see you, there was nothing but a you-shaped figure, seemingly made of nothing but shadow. Save for his eyes, he was just an empty black shape. A void, I guess. The edges of his body were a little hard to focus on, and seemed to warp the air around him the tiniest bit, like heat off the hood of a car. 

He was supposed to be you. But he… wasn’t. Not exactly. This is really hard to put into words, but I think he was just… all that was left in the you-shaped hole in my life. Take your scarf, for example. It’s a piss poor substitute for actually having you here, but it’s all I have now, so I take it. The tiny bit of you that’s still in my life? The part that I’d like to believe I still carry around with me? That’s what he was.

He was the last of your physical presence in my life.

I think that’s why I didn’t question it when I felt him kissing me. I knew who he was, and I knew I could trust him, but he wasn’t really you. He had been with me the whole time. I felt like he had been with me for a really long time.

But, still, when I saw him… something in me changed. Even though there were so many things I wanted to say, I could not find my voice. There was something about the air he gave off, about the way he looked at me, and I looked at him. Like we both knew exactly why we had come together, and there was no need for words anymore. My heart just pounded heavily and my blood began to simmer, and somehow, I knew he could sense that.

So, rather than scold him for teasing, I reached out a shaky hand and pushed my fingers through his hair. His bright eyes closed at the touch, and he leaned into my hand a bit as it curved down to hold his jaw. We lingered for just a moment. I’m not sure if we were savoring the anticipation, or what, but… I got the weird feeling that we were having a conversation. Exactly what it was about, I couldn’t say. But I know that by the time we were done, I was about ready to abandon all thought, all reason, and surrender fully to feeling.

He knew. He agreed. His eyes opened, and I remember the way their blue distinctly strayed from binary to low burning flames. 

His hands curled around my thighs, and he finally ducked his head down between them and went in for the kill.

Devs, I don’t think I could come close to explaining how it felt, finally feeling something, some kind of spectacular contact, after holding that ache for what felt like forever. I fell onto my back, closed my eyes against the twisting colors in the sky, and let it all out in a sigh deeper than my lungs could hold. My memory seemed to recreate exactly what you would do, right down to every movement, but -- not to discredit you -- this was just otherworldly. The heat was intense, the syrup was slick, and my head whirled over itself. It was, in a word, sublime.

As amazing as it felt, and as perfectly as it was working me up, I really just wanted more. The motion really was a relief at first; it sated the initial ache. But the longer he drew it out, the more a deeper ache set in, one stronger than I’ve ever felt in my life. Maybe it seems like I’m being dramatic, or that I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. Not in the slightest. Before I knew what I was doing, I was mentally lamenting over how he didn’t show up sooner. I thought about how I’d been losing my mind, that I’d been in near agony over want of relief, and hoped that he would hear it. By the way he moved, I’d say that he did. 

It seemed like he was being tormented by an ache of his own. He had been digging a sharp grip into my hips and yanking me hard against his mouth any time my squirming slipped me away from him, now and then pushing his hands up over my ribs to rake his nails back down. He wanted it real bad. And before too long, his patience ran out. The shadow demon raised his head and crawled over my body, radiating heat. I stared into those burning blue eyes that were really beginning to come alive with lust, and I was deeply distracted by how cold and naked I felt without the warm blanket of his tongue. Again, it wasn’t that I’d never felt that before. It’s just that I’d never been so desperately, painfully sensitive. I couldn’t stand to not be touched for a second longer.

So, when I locked my arms under his shoulders, looked into his eyes and pointedly thought about just how he had no idea how badly I needed it, I saw those eyes narrow with an obvious smirk. I got the clear impression that he did know.

Then finally, finally, he clutched painfully onto one of my hips and slipped inside me, giving me what we both so badly needed. When I tried to cry out, the kaleidoscope lights flared twice as bright, like they were standing in for my voice in its absence. 

I could feel and hear the shadow shudder breathlessly, the same way you did. I could hear in it every bit of the same maddening desire that I felt myself. It was so hot, I could barely stand it. 

I don’t know if the very real pleasure messed with my head or what, but things really took a turn for the strange at this point.

I tried talking. I know I did. I just couldn’t hear a word of it -- I could only see the swirling lights waxing and waning with my volume. I don’t even know what I was trying to say. Whatever it was, it felt like I needed to say it. Every word literally made me feel lighter and cleaner, like emptying out the extra junk in your bag you’d been carrying for ages. I think he liked it, too. As he moved quicker and deeper, he seemed to be encouraging me. He grabbed my hand and pinned it by my head, and he squeezed hard in response to whatever the hell I was saying.

As it got harder to catch enough breath to “speak”, I looked to the mirrors, expecting to see me and the shadow tangled up together. I didn’t see a reflection at all anymore. The mirrors had started slowly rotating around us, and each of them may as well have been windows into places I recognized. A lot of them were from your game: Behind the bleachers, your garage, the showers. Others were all over the arcade. My den, Tapper’s supply closet, among the trees in Jungle Hunt, backstage at Qix, behind the Burger Time dumpsters, inside one of the Paperboy houses, an alley in Rampage, an empty Niceland apartment, the penthouse bar, Gene’s freakin’ walk-in closet -- and then the images in the mirrors began to move, and sound began to bubble out, as if playing recorded videos. When I heard them, I realized what all these places had in common.

Breathing hard, gasping, muttering, dripping with lust, was my own voice. Doing the very same, was yours. 

The kaleidoscope ball echoed with the sounds of us going at it, from over a dozen encounters at once. Through the mirrors that were gradually spinning faster, I saw footage of it all, too. I saw us. Well, what should have been us. In each of them, the shadow figure took your place. But it was close enough for me, in the heat of the moment. It sent my head spinning. The chorus of whimpering and moaning drowned out almost every coherent thought I had. I could have sworn I was reliving all of those memories at once, right down to each sensation, on top of the fiery drum already beating inside me.

I tried to tell him that. I knew he’d eat it right up. But whether I had a voice again or not, it was drowned out completely. I could hear nothing from him either, no labored breathing, even though I could feel his chest heaving. In his eyes, I could see his composure breaking. He was still squinting in a smirk, but his smile was wavering. It was too hot to handle. His eyes fell heavy-lidded, and he dropped to bite and suck at my neck. As I held him there, I got a heaping eyeful of the kaleidoscope sky twisting above us. 

In an instant, I was mesmerized. Nearly hypnotized. The colors were so astoundingly bright, it should have strained my eyes to look at, but it didn’t. In fact, it felt refreshing, even healthy to drink in -- something I say near literally, because I felt the sea of color pour into me and fill me up. I could feel color inside me, far beyond what I feel using my brush. It danced and twisted on a million different axes, starting between my thighs and rolling outward in waves, bouncing off the edges of my body like ripples, even right through my fingers and toes. By some magic or trick of code, I became the kaleidoscope. Above, below, all around, the brilliant, dazzling light, was just an extension of my body.

I swear to the Devs, I became color itself.

A creature made of color, and a creature devoid of all light, rutting like filthy beasts. Oddly poetic, now that I think about it.

As I yanked his head up to kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue, the lights around us once again flared. They flashed, flickered unevenly, and only grew brighter by the second. Combined with the noisy memories growing louder and louder, the spectrum in my body, and my shadow friend’s growing aggression, my senses were mercilessly assaulted. The overload kept building, the lights turned blinding, and I was pushed right to that heart-pounding, white-hot edge…

And freakin’ sat there. Perched firmly.

At that moment, all the lights fell dark with a great hum, like a switch was flipped. The recordings cut out completely, and only then was I aware of how much noise we were making. We may not have had voices, but panting alone can get pretty damn loud. My throat was getting dry and hoarse by that point. He let out short, quivering huffs and worked against me so desperately, I was sure that he was right at the edge, too. We were stuck together, stranded just inches from the finish line.

Just then, a single cluster of lights flickered to life, casting a ghostly white light over a single mirror shard, probably the smallest of them all. I had to squint to see it, and almost couldn’t focus with how much my body shook, but once I saw it, I knew what it was immediately.

Another memory. This time, in your trailer, sitting fixed like a camera beside your bed. 

This time, it was really you.

It was us. Just us, fumbling, pausing, sort of laughing. Enthusiastic, stupid, inexperienced, thrilled, enraptured by how exciting it was to finally get it right. I encouraged you, assured you I could handle it this time, urged you to give me more, let you know just how good it felt. You were so genuinely vocal, the way I was crazy for. You rasped out your approval, bits of praise, and all the things you wanted to do to me. We blew each other’s minds.

It was our first time. 

I couldn’t believe I was seeing it again. I wished it had picked a bigger, louder mirror to show up on -- I loosened my grip on my shadowy partner, trying to keep as still as I could, so as to hear and see it better. The memory was pristine, with hardly a blur or gap, distorted only by the fact that it was a third-person view, when I did, in fact, experience it through my own eyes. Still, watching it sort of felt like hearing an old song you haven’t heard in forever, and finding you still remember all the lyrics. It was a good feeling. It was a good memory.

I wished it wasn’t just a memory. I don’t know if I was drawn to it purely from the fact that I could see you when I thought I never would again, or... other things that probably don’t really need to be named. Regardless of why, I wanted nothing more than to crawl right through that mirror and do it all again.

But it dissipated. It returned to being just a plain mirror. And when it did, the entirety of them began to spin around us again, rapidly picking up speed.

I felt a jolt as every light in the sphere flashed at once. My body was still in tune with them, it seemed. They flashed again in a binary blue so bright, it was almost white. Again and again they flashed, until they turned into the most intense strobe lights ever, whipping pulse after pulse of static through my code. I couldn’t contain myself. It was unreal.

I sent endless, wild, completely silent praise pouring from my mouth and raked my nails mercilessly over the shadow’s back. He quivered against the pain, but only slipped an arm under my lower back to crush me up against him. I didn’t know which way was up. I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore. I was just overcome with the need to be closer to him. He was already pressing down so hard on my body, but it just wasn’t enough. I wanted our very pixels to fuse. I wanted to feel him in every digit of my code. Everywhere.

And then, well…

I heard something strange beneath us -- rapid creaking of old mattress springs. Against my skin, I felt sheets damp with sweat. Behind my head, the very distinct sound of your bed knocking against the wall. And, through my choppy split-second frames of vision, I could see the void above me filling with life. The swelteringly hot creature, with its harsh, labored breathing, rocking against me with ravenous need, suddenly looked at me through one cracked-open, yellow eye.

You looked at me. I looked at you.

And you audibly rasped my name.

That did it.

That tackled me straight over the maddening edge I’d been teetering on -- but hell if I was going down alone. I kissed you hard, locked you in, and took you with me. We fell from a fatal height for longer than seemed possible, and the resounding SMASH when we hit the ground, well…

You know? Words couldn’t do the feeling justice.

The lights were still in-tune with my body, so they might give you some idea.

Every color in the kaleidoscope jumped to life again, whirling in a dizzying, neon blur, flickering, flashing, flaring brighter than a burning star until they all merged into blinding, humming, all-encompassing white, and then -- POW! Clusters of bulbs exploded into rainbows of sparks that flowed like sudsy champagne, again, and again, and again, popping like firecrackers. The spectacle went on for so long, you’d have thought it was a freakin’ festival, until finally, the bursts were fewer and far between. The empty sockets sparked here and there, and the remaining bulbs buzzed tiredly. It just looked like a normal starry sky, at the end.

And my partner just looked like a void again.

We both heaved like we’d just run a marathon. The shadow pulled back to look at me, a satisfied look in his eyes. I breathed a faint, voiceless laugh and smiled at him. I tried to say something, but I was interrupted by something falling on my face.

A huge dollop of syrup had splattered onto my face out of nowhere. The shadow’s body shook with silent, delighted cackles. As I tapped my fingers against the stickiness running from my mouth down my jaw, I could see leaves start to form out of the darkness above me. Very slowly, as if trying to sneak up on me, the forest settled back into place, and most of the mirrors broke, save for one, which sat right back where my real mirror is supposed to be. I was back in my den again. I was too high to decide how I felt about that.

I was observing the syrup still dripping from the leaves like water a few hours after rain, but I was rudely interrupted by the shadow straight up licking the sugar from my mouth. In a very deliberately non-sexy way.

Just then, my voice returned.

I yelped and spat and swatted him away with both my arms and legs. “Get off me! What game do you think this is, you mangy mutt? Duck Hunt?”

He leaned back from my swings, miming a smug laugh, before roughing my hair and standing up. To my surprise, he turned to push back a sheet and leave. 

“Hey, hey, wait,” I said, sitting up. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and made a zipper motion over where his mouth should have been, his eyes still touched by a sly smirk. He flicked a two-finger salute, and, just like that, threw the curtain aside to disappear behind it.

“Hey!” I stood with some difficulty and crossed to the curtain. “Don’t walk away when I’m talkin’ to you!”

When I pulled it back to look, he was already gone, dissolved into the darkness of the forest. I had hoped he would hang out longer. It seemed like we were having a good time. 

But I knew he’d be back. He can’t leave. Not this one.

I spat in frustration into the grass and tasted the syrup on my lips, still. I wiped it off with my right hand, startled to find I was no longer completely naked -- I was wearing a glove. When I looked at it, I saw the syrup stained across my palm, red in stark contrast to white.

The sight struck a weird chord in me. Something about it seemed familiar, almost. But hell if I could remember.

From there, I very slowly came down from my high. My legs had turned to complete jelly and shook like crazy. My clothes gradually reappeared on my body, except for, not surprisingly, my pants and my left glove. The handle of my brush also looked pretty wet and well-loved. So, there was really no question as to what my body had been doing the whole time. And I’ll admit that I resumed immediately. 

Hey, I had to ride anything that felt good for as long as I could. I had color pulsing through my veins, and I was going to enjoy it, Devs be damned.

You know, maybe I wouldn’t be half-bad at erotic literature. It was kinda fun trying to describe all that. It was nice to think about it again, too. To remember how much fun it was, and all that. I just kind of wish it could do anything for me now. I know it’s hot, it’s super hot, but, like… only my brain knows that. It has to send those thoughts down south for me to get anything out of it, and, nowadays, those thoughts don’t even get as far as my heart before deciding it’s not worth it and turning back.

I just don’t have it in me anymore.

That’s what she said.

[nootgi]

Spotlight

MLQC Victor

MC deals with the drag of life and tries to face her emotions. Will she accept the hand that reaches out to her or push them away like she always does.

A/N: HHH victor is my biggest comfort character so it feels right to get back into writing with him. Also one of my favourite fic tags hurt/comfort! I hope you enjoy it ^-^ 

Word count: 4478

There was a white light shining above me and the brightness pried my eyes open. When my eyes finally adjusted I was standing, surrounded by darkness. All there was, was a bright spotlight. 

I tried moving my body but it felt like lead, stuck in its place no matter how much I struggled. My mouth was too dry to cry out, the only thing that seemed to respond was my eyes. They bounced around, trying their best to understand but there was nothing in the dark abyss. A small whimper slipped out of my throat and suddenly the shadows began to move. 

One by one, eyes started to appear, all so familiar yet so cold. All the warmth was taken from them but the piercing one of them all were those ruthless purple eyes. They were so sharp as if cutting into my soul and laying my faults out to bare, so calculating as they judged me. Desperately I tried to defend myself but nothing came out except pathetic sobs, my face stung in the cold void from the downpour of tears. 

In the middle of a sea of darkness, eyes judged me as I lost myself. 

My eyes snapped open and I found myself in my apartment. My body shivered from the cold sweat mixed the draft from the open window beside my desk. It seems I fell asleep whilst working on Victor's proposal…

Victor… What was that dream? My brows furrowed as I tried to remember the dream but the more I tried, the more it broke apart. All I remember was the cold. My deep thoughts were disrupted by my phone alarm ringing, when I turned off it's obnoxious beeping, it set in that it was Monday. The start of a new week, the bright beginning! To shed the dead weight of last week and get to it!! The sheer thought of putting on that mask made me groan. The past week has been draining to say the least, Kiro's behind the scenes set was swarmed with fans, leading to extra security detail to be reviewed and approved. Then Reek messed up a sponsorship deal which meant the whole episode had to be re-filmed but since it was such short notice some guests couldn't attend. That in turn caused some public backlash which caused many late nights of apology to passionate fans. With so much on my plate, I couldn't help but look eagerly towards the weekend already. Just 5 days, that's just 120 hours. 

I put on my shiba slippers and walked towards the bathroom, able to take it slow this morning since it was a late start. When my light flickered on, I glanced up into the mirror to catch my reflection for a second before looking away. If you look too closely every flaw will bloom. I brush my teeth, staring at the tap like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Probably was in this apartment honestly. Once my bathroom routine was finished, I started to prepare breakfast when my phone rang again for the second time. 

"Anna? What's up?" I answered with a yawn, looking at the calendar hung on the wall. 

"Have you forgotten!? Today's presentation day!!" I gasped as I saw the red circle and arrows all point to this day. 

"It slipped my mind! I'm coming as fast as possible so please hold them off!!" My words tumbled out as I stopped all my breakfast preparations, throwing on my clothes and heels. Anna gave me a 30 minute window as a maximum. Once I got my files together, I sprinted out of the apartment. Mowing over my landlady who grumbled about running in hallways. I couldn't stop, this was too important. 

'You can't even remember something so important as this? You really are pathetic.' 

No time to address my thoughts, I reach the LFG building in record time. In front Anna stood there with a coffee and a grim smile. I took the coffee out of her hand, chugging it down, not knowing when my next break was. We walked quickly across the lobby as Anna filled me in on who was attending this talk. Ever since the company took off, more and more investors have begun to take an interest. If this talk goes well, we can begin to take on bigger and better productions… create a company dad would be proud of. Just the thought of it made my heart leap. 

When we stopped in front of the boardroom, Anna turned to me with a frown. She began to fuss over my hair, my skirt and the messily tucked shirt. I try to bat her hands away, not wanting to keep them waiting when a dark shadow looms over the two of us. I turn around quickly, getting immediately absorbed by sharp purple orbs. Victor. Just as I was about to speak, a sharp pricked my heart and cut my words short. There was something building up in my chest, like a string being wound up so tightly. 

"You're late." He says bluntly, it feels like he's speaking down at me…

"Sorry, just slipped my mind." My words left me before I could stop them, Anna looked over at me with her eyes wide. 

"If this kind of talk 'slips your mind' maybe you shouldn't be here at all." He doesn't pull any punches, huh? Brushing past the two of us to enter the room. Anna reaches out to pat my shoulder but I turn around with a practiced smile. 

"Let's do our best!" She nods reluctantly and enters the room. I take a few moments to relax my clenched fists and push down the emotion blooming in my chest. This is business, nothing more. Once again that mask slips on and the talks begin. 

After a long 5 hours, the end is finally called allowing me and Anna to collapse into our desk chairs. Both groaning at the ache in our feet and relief that the end is in sight. All that's left is the investors to speak amongst themselves and begin preparations should they choose to back us. 

"I need to go pee!" Anna blurts out weirdly, standing up instantly. I look at her questioningly, watching her back as she sprints off to the toilet. Guess she really needed to pee..? Thinking I was alone I let myself sink back into my thoughts. In my mind the talk replayed over and over, every little mistake stuck out. The long pauses between a question and answer, words and numbers blending into one and worst of all my voice cracking. Slowly the small regrets spiral into a kaleidoscope of my worst moments. All the shame and embarrassment caused the red in my cheeks to burn and my eyes glaze over. 

'How could someone like you ever make him proud?' Those words slip venom into my thoughts as the bright office lights are dimmed by the shadows growing. Suddenly the space around me changes and again I feel piercing eyes surround me. They're judging me. Who wouldn't? My skirt is short, my shirt is wrinkled and my hair is hardly in the ponytail anymore. The chances of getting the investment seemed bleaker, the tension in my chest grew more insistent. I tried to ground myself, digging my nails into my palms and looked around to distract myself. 

Just a few more hours and the fragile mask can be put to rest for today. 

"Earth to dummy?" Fingers snap in front of my face and I'm dragged back into the bright office light. Victor was standing beside me, a frown etched into his usual poker face. 

"Yes? Sorry." I look back down instantly, trying to avoid his eyes. My hands began to fidget causing me to hide them under my thighs. 

"Are you okay? You don't seem… like your usual self." He pauses, thinking of a way to phrase his sentence. When my mouth opens to respond my mind is conflicted between two responses. The truth or the usual lie… what good would come from the truth? 

"Nothing, just monday blues." I shoot him a tired smile, as his mouth opens to press on further Goldman returns to call us back to the room. Anna arrives at the same time and immediately we're swept back into the business talk. 

… In the end… WE GOT THE FUNDING! Me and Anna screamed at each other as soon as we stepped outside of LFG. Passerbys looked at us oddly but we couldn't bring ourselves to care. This was definitely the push our company needed to grow. We rush back to the office to tell the team the great news. Willow, Kiki and Minor upon hearing the great news suggest a night out. A round of drinks to toast to our future. Feeling the adrenaline from this morning leave my body, I pass on the celebration but promise to treat them all to lunch one day. The company closed early, the spirits bright, warm and lifted. You couldn't tell it was monday. 

So why is it that I feel so hollow? 

As I leave the building with the gang, Anna pulls me aside. 

"Just know I'm here for you." Those simple words gave a prick of warmth, my smile is just a ghost by this point. I just nod, fearing if I speak that knot in my throat would snap. I waved them all off and began my walk home. The crisp autumn wind kept my lonely self company, dancing around my body and trying to enter the warmth of my clothes. 

There was nothing to occupy my thoughts other than the crunch of the leaves under my boots. Anna's words and Anna's warm smile replayed in my mind, chipping away at my resolve built out of ice. I want to reach out, I want to talk but every time I cry out I'm silenced. Why should my darkness taint their light? Why must I burden them with nothing? There was swell of emotions that caused my footsteps to increase till I began full sprinting down the street. My lungs and legs burned as I collapsed inside my apartment. 

The mask finally shattered and the ugly emotions bubbled out of my chest. Sobs wracked my body and my arms wrapped around myself. 

On my cold apartment floor, I cried myself to sleep. 

There was a knock at my door, breaking my sleep at the very first rasp. My body was stiff from the floor and my eyes felt puffy. Rubbing my eyes a little aggressively, I open the door and see a delivery driver. I tilt my head confused as he leaves a bag in my hand, leaving without payment. I locked up my door once again, putting the bag down in the kitchen to retrieve my phone. It was 11pm. There were a few drunken texts from Minor and pictures from the girls updating on their night out. I laughed fondly at the picture of Minor with his ass stuck in a bush when Victor's face flashes on the screen. He's calling me. My mind blanks as I let the phone ring, once the call drops I let out a sigh of relief. 

With that the days blended into one repetitive cycle, each moment becoming more taxing than the next. It was always paperwork, meetings, filming and then home. My only relief is the click of my front door locking. I settled down at my desk with some cup ramen and began my work again. This is the quarterly report for Victor, it had to be perfect. Otherwise- I don't think I could handle his critique. If you could even call it that… more like an emperor looking a gladiator in the eyes as he puts his thumb down, sentencing the poor soul to death. I laugh slightly at the thought of Emperor Victor, he is a good leader, confident and smart. Yet compassionate and looks out for the little guys. I don't think there is a thing in the world that can shake Victor. He's so perfect, you forget that he is only human. 'Stupid perfect Victor and his perfectly perfect hair and his handsome face.' I grumbled to myself, finishing my dinner and getting back to work. 

When I put my empty cup ramen down, the heavy weight of the fork inside knocks it down onto the floor. The clattering sound echoes around the apartment, serving as a reminder that I'm alone. I groan and get up to clean when I finally take notice of my room. Clothes, fresh or used, thrown across the room, my snacking habits revealed from the countless chip packets, cup ramen and chocolate wrappers. When did my room get like this? When I turn to my desk I see the building pile of used dishes from weeks ago, there was even dust beginning to collect on them. I should clean… 

Finding no motivation to clean, my productive flow was cut off for today. No matter where I looked, there was some sort of reminder of my failures. That feeling in my chest had started to build again so I climbed into bed. Surrounding myself in the only warmth I could accept, I laid there tracing patterns onto the duvet mindlessly. Time ticked away as the warm glow of the evening diminished into darkness. I didn't even move from the bed to turn the light on, the darkness far more comforting. In all that time the only thought through my head was: I'm lonely. 

It was my own fault really, I push everyone away the second I feel bad. I'm too busy drowning in my own pity that I can't help people that need help more. I'm disgusting. Pathetic even. Crying over something I caused myself, over something that could be so easily solved! Even when that painfully obvious truth was there my heart remained shut, not letting in the people most dear to me. 

Another memory began to play in my mind. Stood in my teacher's office. My head was bowed, my eyes focused on the fidgeting of my fingers, as he scolded me over crying about his harsh feed. 'This is life!' and 'Stop being so fragile!' played in my mind. You shouldn't be here. Victor! My gasp slips out as I realise that I'm sobbing, my pillow drenched. I sat up, trying to supress my loud sobs and held my hand against my heart that felt like it was beating out my chest. Stop- Stop, Stop! I begged myself to calm down, feeling that I was losing control on the emotions I reigned in so tightly. 

That night, I cried alone in the darkness of my apartment. Begging for anyone to save me.

After that night I decided to take a sick day, feeling unready to feel the world's cold embrace. Anna had offered to present the report to Victor but I rejected it saying that I could still do it. I picked up my phone, opening my contacts and almost dropped it at the amount of missed calls from Victor. Had I been avoiding him that much? I clicked on his chat to see his messages, all seemingly concerned but who wouldn't worry over their 'investments'? If to borrow a few words from Victor. I was about to click off till Victor's face popped up as a call. Out of habit I picked up instantly, my body responding slowly to my mind screaming no. As I scolded myself mentally, I heard from the CEO after almost 2 weeks. 

"Hello? Are you there?" There was some traffic in the background, he must have been just walking into the office. 

"...Yes-! Hello Sir!" Great response said no-one.

"Sir? I thought I told you to call me Victor. Anyway I decided to call since I've been notified that a certain little idiot is sick." He heard already? I only told Anna… 

"Y-yeah, really sick- You shouldn't worry though!! Only a small hiccup, should be back on my feet tomorrow." I wave my hands around even though he can't see me. There was a pause only hearing the ding of an elevator. 

"I hope it is, business doesn't stop for anyone but… If you need anything at all, just- call me." The way he spoke so tenderly at the end caused my knees to shake and my eyes to well up again. It's there! The hand that I could reach out to…

"Thank you Victor, goodbye." My voice threatened to break as the knot started to tighten again. I couldn't possibly drag him into this mess, drag him into me. The well of tears remained on the edge, threatening to spill as Victor bid his farewell too. I knew there was more he wanted to say but he also knew I didn't want to hear more. When the phone call ended, I dropped back down into my bed and stared up towards the ceiling. What shall I do today? 

The apartment felt too stuffy for me so I decided to take a walk, my legs carried me to the park. Despite it being autumn there were still children running around, jumping into piles of orange leaves or the old man that fed the bird by the fountain. I walked towards the fountain, taking a seat a few spaces away from the man. I had accidentally spooked some of the birds but they settled back down. I had apologised to the man but he laughed and shook his head. 

"You were more cautious of these birds than any busy body in this city." He says gesturing to the few people that sprinted through the park, holding briefcases or speaking rapidly into their phones. That would've been me too… 

"I would've been them on any other day." I force a sad laugh and look up to the sky.

"That's the problem with you young uns, always pushing yerselves too hard. Though I cannot pass judgement, I was the same back in my hay days!" When I finally look back at him, he keeps his eyes trained on the birds he feeds. 

"How did you… escape it?" Was there a way to get out without hurting anyone around me, without burdening them?

"The answer is so simple my dear, find your warm place." My warm place? Where could that be? My eyes catch a scene of a father holding his daughter tightly in his arms as she cries over her scratched knee. My eyes widen as I watch him tickle her, raising her high above his head to bring back the smile on his daughter's face. The man watches with me, his eyes holding the same nostalgia that rings in my heart. 

"And… If your warm space is gone? Then what?" 

"They never leave you. Just as a river never flows the same forever, you can find comfort from elsewhere but that doesn't change the memories of the past. The path it has carved remains." It was true that my father was the only one I could confide in with my emotions. He read me like an open book at times. I used to think it was because dad had a superpower but he always told me 'If I didn't know what my princess was thinking what kind of papa would I be!' Is there anybody that I could trust like that? 

"If you don't mind my asking, what is your warm space?" I turn to the old man and see he's already gone, the birds around still remain undisturbed. I guess that's my time at the park, done. I got up, deciding to stop by convenience store to get some more snacks. What could my space be?

Just like that another month flashes by and the final contracts have been signed. Miracle Finder has gained another 2 investors through LFG. In order to celebrate, Victor had arranged a party to be held. I say party- it was more of a formal ball! When I asked Victor about it he just said his typical response 'This is a networking event, whilst it might be to celebrate the company I hope you don't grow complacent.' UGH! Stupid Victor!! I screamed in my head as I entered the main hall and was instantly submerged into the high class society. The long night of fake smiles had just begun and my mood was just not there. However it felt nice to see my late night studying of the guestlist was paying off. The whole time at the party I felt his eyes on me but he never once approached me. Every time I couldn't look back at them. 

The night was going well but my feeling of dread continued to grow and grow. Not being able to shake it off, my discomfort was apparent enough for Mr Kim to point it out. 

"Are the old men scaring you Miss." He laughs, the group joining in on the laughter. I try to force a laugh, sounding more like a cry for help, I shake my hand. 

"No no! It's not like tha-" I get cut off as the group bursted into laughter and just like that my dream flashes in front of my eyes. The chandelier that hung above us feeling like the spotlight, the men's loud laughter attracting the prying eyes of everyone around. People began to whisper and hiding their smiles behind their hands. They're laughing at me. I bow trying to excuse myself but Mr Kim reaches for my hands. In panic I slapped them away and ran off and I failed to notice the pair of sharp violet filling with rage. 

Cold winter air bit at my cheeks as they glowed red and cooled the warm tears staining them. My mind conjuring up the worst scenarios, adding more straws to the camel's back. I need to regain control- I can't show weakness! If I can't handle this, I'm not worthy for the company. What would dad say? Would he wipe away your tears or try to fight those men. My laughter escapes me when I think of my Dad. 

"Laughing and crying? If anyone saw you they'd think you're insane." That deep voice rang out from the balcony door. I turn around and see Victor walk towards me, his suit jacket hung in his arms. Those words had a teasing tone but his face was tense, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. Without thinking I meet Victor half way, reaching up to soothe his eyebrows. Despite his shock he leaned into my touch, face slowly relaxing into the usual poker face. Even this close I couldn't look him in the eyes. I could feel his search my eyes but I kept mine trained on his tie. With a sigh he takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe my eyes softly, the soft material soothing the rough skin. 

"Dummy." Those words caused my dam to burst as I fell into Victor's embrace, crying. He said nothing, holding me tightly till I tired myself out. 

That night I cried in his warm embrace, that protected me from the cold winter's night. 

When my eyes opened I was still on the balcony, laying on the bench covered by Victor's suit jacket. My head was resting on his lap as he looked out at the night view. Still in a tired daze I stare up at his face. The city lights created an orange glow that caressed his face and defined every single one of his perfect features. My eyes trail up his face from his lips to his nose and when they finally reach his eyes, he's looking back. With a gasp I sit up.

"Finally awake? I wasn't expecting you to snore so much." He says, a slight quirk to his lips. 

"I do not snore!" I gasped and hit his shoulder lightly till I realized what I did. When I was going to apologise he rubs where I hit him and frowns. 

"Someone's getting bold lately." His tone was serious but his eyes were nothing but playful. It caused a genuine laugh to bubble out and my cheeks puffed as my smile was pulled widely. When my laughter died down, I realised I was looking Victor in his eyes. Were they his eyes? Instead of the sharp purple blades they were like a soft vortex, swirling with stars and emotion. My words were stolen as I got lost in his galaxy.

"Looking into eyes now?" His voice was soft, practically a whisper but it was the only sound in the frozen night. 

"I- I was so scared." I admit to him. Victor reaches to tuck my hair behind my ears, the simple gesture causing my heart to race. 

"You don't need to fear me. I'm here for you." Those words again, the hand is there again. Tentatively I stretch my arm, placing my hand in his warm palms. In his hands I place my trust. A river never flows the same forever. 

There was a white light shining above me and the brightness pried my eyes open. When my eyes finally adjusted I was standing, surrounded by darkness. But this time was different. In darkness shined a pair of purple eyes, they drew closer to me. My eyes tightened shut as he entered the spotlight. I was terrified, I didn't want to fall again. He wiped the tears that poured down my face and whispered into my ears. 

"Open your eyes." I trusted him. I opened my eyes and the eyes that were cold were illuminated with light. The eyes turned into familiar faces, filled with warmth. 

Anna stood there with a supportive smile. Willow, Kiki and Minor were grinning from ear to ear. It was like a fog being lifted from my mind, I saw everything with new clarity. There was still darkness but never once was I alone. He was always by my side. My eyes snapped open as my phone began to ring. 

Ah! I must've fallen asleep whilst watching TV! I picked up my phone and it was a call from Anna.

"Boss! I sure hope you're ready for the storm coming…" In the background I heard Kiki whine at the comment and Minor cheer excitedly.

"I'm more than ready." I laugh, looking at my cleaned up apartment, not a stray sock or wrapper in sight. Food was cooking in the oven for the home party. The sun shone through the open curtains, its rays falling onto a photo of my father. Beside that was the matching shiba cups I had gotten with Victor.

Everyone faces their own demons, but that doesn't mean you should do it alone. I learnt that the hand wasn't to drag me out of the abyss but to connect our lights and face the dark together. 

[a-perfectly-screwed-up-heart]

three years clean.

Today officially marks 3 years since I've touched a razor blade to my skin; a feat most people never have to think about, because that very idea is foreign to them. For me, however, it was a lived reality that I dealt with. Some people have asked me if talking about this part of my past is triggering, because talking about it means thinking about it. In all honesty, there are days when dwelling on it for too long is triggering, but I believe talking about it is important because if something can be talked about, that means it can come out of its usually dark space and be understood. If it can be understood, it's less scary to think about. If it’s less scary to think about, that makes it easier to help someone who is also going through it.

So, no… thinking about my past today isn't triggering. Some days, if I dwell on the feeling of cutting myself for too long, it can be triggering, but today isn't one of those days. Besides, today doesn't remind me that I used to cut myself—like that's something I can even forget; it reminds me of the fact that I no longer depend on it. I no longer crave something that is so unhealthy for me, but I do respect the period of life I was in when I felt like I didn't deserve any better. Today is not about sighing in relief because I've made it another year without a slip-up; it's about celebrating because, this year, it was so much easier to say no. Today isn't about remembering pain and suffering; it's about the joy that follows, in the recovery.

I won't lie, this is something that sticks with you. The hard days can be really debilitating, and the urges can sweep you off your feet and set up camp underneath your skin, if you’re not prepared… but it’s also something you grow comfortable with. I still have my razor blade and I don’t plan on getting rid of it any time soon; it's been with me for longer than most of my other friends have been. For the longest time, it was setting inside of a locket, hiding in the bottom of my makeup box. Now, it's setting in a coffee mug on my shelf, that says, in bold letters, "Love Yourself."

It's funny, I didn't even realize what I was doing when I swapped its location. I needed the locket (for a Halloween costume, of all things) and needed a place to put it, where I wouldn't lose it—because, again, it’s been with me for too long for me to go misplacing it now. How fitting, to realize this today, on my 3rd anniversary, because this past year has been about the journey I've taken to a place where I could Love Myself.

I won’t lie; on bad days, I do still think about it, and the idea of it is tempting… but what's even better than giving in is the power I now possess by being able to say no. Being in a frame of mind where I can acknowledge why the feeling is there and consciously decide to do better is a new kind of power, one that came with this new territory. For so long, I wouldn't give in to the temptations because I thought, “It’s already been so long… my friends know how well I’m doing. What would happen if I slipped? What would I tell them?” The shame in and of itself kept me on this path, for far too long. This year, though, it became something bigger than shame. This year, I realized that I loved myself too much to listen to the voice in the back of my head, whispering that tempting idea, like a siren call. I didn't fully realize it until recently, but it's true; I do love myself too much to drag a razor blade across my skin. Besides, I'm a different person than I was, and I know it wouldn't serve me in the same way it used to. When I came to that realization, it was bittersweet. I know that sounds odd, but it was. It was like losing an old friend or finding out your favorite ice cream has been discontinued—or that the owner of your favorite ice cream shop is racist, so you can no longer eat there (and if that sounds a little too specific to be hypothetical you’re right, and it sucks and I miss my monkey bread ice cream). Anyway, my crutch was gone.

This year has been all about losing my crutches and comfort zones. Over the last year, I left a church I had basically been born into because it was no longer serving me in a healthy way. I had to find security outside of the approval of my family and close friends. I dealt with tough situations with a classmate at school. I had my first big girl job with a boss who made me cry in the bathroom on my lunch breaks (which wasn’t entirely on her--I am pretty sensitive and find it difficult to communicate with authority figures without crying after or during the conversation). I had my first car wreck and concussion, all in the same day (somehow, unrelated). My great grandfather died the week before school started in the fall, and his funeral was the day before classes started. I pushed myself in school and I made the president's list every semester. I got into the university I wanted to get into, and then I found out I had to postpone going to that school. I finally made it to a place where I could stop taking my antidepressants, and, later that month, I found myself at a Lizzo concert with three of my best friends. I faced a guy who shattered my heart and shared a few laughs with him, and it didn't break me. I became an aunt but, instead of waiting in a hospital waiting room, I had to wait to meet my niece until she was two months old, because of the pandemic. I've had financial struggles, mental health struggles, familial struggles, and multiple clumsy accidents, and I’m still here, showing up for all of it. As I'm writing this, I've been pretty much totally quarantined for about three months.

This year has been a kaleidoscope of messes and triumphs and failures and fear-facing and hope and community and love. This year has been a year of clarity and sacrifice and grief and acceptance.

Some people might read this and judge me and wonder how in the world someone can be so stupid and reckless and wonder how someone could possibly rely on something so obviously harmful… and that's okay. Think whatever you want, because today's not about you. Today is about the past 3 years and the journey I've taken to become the woman I am. Today is about finding the freedom to take a different path—in more than one area of my life—one that might hurt and be scary and lonely, but is, ultimately, more rewarding. Today is about joyful moments and faded scars and beautiful friends who have become family. Today is about God giving me the strength and resilience to get here, to a place of clarity.

Today, I'm proud because I'm here and I'm living and I'm choosing to choose better for myself, in all areas of my life. I'm choosing to keep my razorblade in the mug on my shelf. I'm choosing to keep hope in the heart that's beating inside my chest and to keep my feet moving down this path, towards even more hardships and blessings.

Here's to today.

Here's to my journey.

Here's to yours, whatever it may be.

[ill-skillsgard]

Play The Victim - Henry Deaver X Mistress

Warning: 18+ mentions of sex/cheating/mature themes. *this part contains heavy spousal conflict/themes of an abusive nature/masturbation and mentions of pornography* Please read at your own discretion.

Note: Hey, so I wanted to write a piece from Henry’s POV because I feel like it’s important to know where he’s coming from. I feel like male domestic verbal abuse doesn’t get enough spotlight, especially when it comes in a more subtle form than physical abuse. This takes place before Henry ever meets Mistress and it’s a longer piece. I hope you enjoy it! Kisses. 

Read more Henry x Mistress imagines here > Masterpost

She placed a single piece of popcorn on her tongue and let it melt a little before chewing. Her eyes fixated on the TV, and mine were on her. I shuffled closer and laid my arm around the back of the couch. For a split second, her eyes darted to me, and she gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement.

Tonight was my night. I was coasting on the high of landing another huge client, and my superiors were treating me as an equal. Our house was clean, polished and dusted. Our stomachs settled from dinner, and I stretched my legs out in front of me, relaxing into the sofa until my head met her shoulder. 

At first, she didn’t move, but after a while, she squirmed. I let my arm fall to her shoulders. They were tense and drawn together, her neck stiff as a pole. I kneaded her skin with my thumb until she pulled away.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

I smiled. “Rubbing your shoulders, silly.”

“Why?”

“You’re all tense,” I replied. She shrugged my arm off, and I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

She sighed. “Yes, Henry.” 

“Why do you feel like you’re made of wood then?” I poked at her, hoping it might cause a smile.

“I’m fine,” she dismissed.

“All right,” I said with a sigh and laid my temple on her shoulder again.

“Don’t you have your own space?” Her question had no playful inflection.

I chuckled. “This is my space. You are my space.”

When I tried to cull her in, she resisted and pushed me away with her palm on my chest. “You’re bugging me. I’m trying to watch our show.”

“I’m bugging you?”

“Yes!”

“Wanting to cuddle bugs you?”

Mary let out another sigh rimmed with impatience. “Henry, I already told you. I’m trying to watch the show.”

I didn’t push her any longer. Instead, I scooted a foot away from her and dropped my hands into my lap. It was the fourth time in two weeks that she had spurned me from getting close to her. I could blame it on naivety, but I assumed her resistance was hormonal at first. After more than a week, I figured it couldn’t be that. Mary had been acting strange and distant, cold to me over the phone, unreceptive to my advances and displeased whenever I complimented her. 

Until that point, our dry spell hadn’t bothered me. All couples go through it, or so they told me. Our marriage hadn’t always been the best of them, but I could count on taking Mary out on a date at least once a month. A date that ended with sex at least three out of every five times. But it had been long since my odds were that good. It had been long since she wanted to go out with me at all.

I asked myself what could cause her overall disinterest. It wasn’t only me. She hadn’t kept up with her friends either. She was only enthusiastic about work. It comforted me to know she found pleasure in something, but in the back of my mind, I resented that it wasn’t us.

Mary was going away on a business trip tomorrow. She would be gone for a week, and I longed for some kind of affection before I was wifeless. I had settled too many times for masturbation now, and I felt justified in my worry that there was something wrong. Something deeper than lethargy or mild depression, something that had to do with me.

That night, while we lied in bed, Mary pretended to fall asleep as soon as she touched the pillow, but I was onto her. It was a classic move. I shuffled close to her and hooked my arm around her ribs, kissing the back of her head.

“I’ll miss you when you go away,” I whispered.

She chuckled. “It’s only for a week.”

“I know, but you haven’t gone away from me for that long since...”

“Since last month, when you left on a week and a half long business trip?”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t count. Our bed will feel so empty without you, honey. At least when I sleep in a hotel room, it doesn’t feel like something is missing.”

“It’s the same thing,” she forced an unconvincing yawn.

“What? You won’t miss me?” I touched the curve of her hip tentatively, then slid my palm lower, kissing her bare shoulder.

“I won’t be gone long enough to miss you.”

I scoffed and shook my head. “What are you saying? I miss you every day when we’re not together, babe.”

“You’re such a sap, Henry.”

“So what? You married me.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Now, will you hush up? I have to be up early.”

Hush up was her polite way of telling someone to shut up to their faces. But it wouldn’t impede me. I had to persist. I couldn’t remember the last time we had sex, if it was good, or if she just let me have it because she finally tired of me asking. And as much as I hated flat out begging, it looked like my only resort.

“Henry, I said stop.”

“Mary,” I whined. “Come on. You haven’t given me any in weeks. Months, even. I’m dying over here.”

“Well, die quietly.” She shifted away and pulled the covers with her.

“Are you serious?” My tone came out harsher than I intended, but once it was out in the air, it encouraged me. “Mary. What is wrong? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague. What did I do?”

Another drawn-out groan rolled from her throat. “Oh my God, Henry. Nothing is wrong. I told you I have to go to sleep! I have to be up at five AM.”

“No. This isn’t about right now. It’s about the last, oh, I don’t know, three, maybe four months of no sex.”

“It has not been that long,” she spoke to the other side of the bed.

“Yeah, it has.”

“Oh, have you been keeping track?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “A month is understandable. We’ve been busy, but not busy enough to never have the energy. Two months is concerning, but now it’s been even longer, and I’m thinking of things I really don’t want to be thinking about.”

Mary shot up, turned on her bedside lamp and whipped a look at me. The strap of her nightie fell down her shoulder, and it was the most erotic thing I had seen in a long while. “Oh, you’ve been thinking, have you? What have you been thinking about?”

“I don’t know! Lots of things!”

Mary scoffed, her smile composed only for berating me. No hint of warmth filtered through. “Lots of things? Tell me if you think of anything specific. Until then, goodnight.”

“Are you cheating on me?” The question fell from my tongue before I weighed its gravity.

She jumped out of bed, grabbed her pillow and yanked the entire duvet in one motion, rolling it into a ball to take with her. “You’re ridiculous if you think I would ever cheat. Even thinking that is insensitive and rude! You know I have strong feelings against that kind of thing!”

“I have strong feelings about you not wanting to fuck your husband.” I couldn’t stop myself. Mary recoiled in disgust as though I had just vomited on myself. The horror in her eyes grew when I sat up. “You say that I’m insensitive, but you won’t even let me touch you. It grosses you out when I want to be close to you. How do you expect me just to sit back and accept that my own wife wants nothing to do with me?”

“This is silly—”

“No, it’s not silly, Mary. It’s serious. What is the matter? Are you sick? Is there something going on that you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t have to put up with this,” she claimed before leaving the room.

I wanted to cry out and demand she come back and face me, but I was already reeling from my blow-up. She stomped down the stairs, and I was alone. I lay back down with my arms and legs spread out, taking in deep breaths until my heart stopped pounding. I had never raised my voice at a woman before, and I feared that whatever was going on inside of Mary’s head was made twice as bad by my outburst.

When I woke up the next morning, Mary was already gone. She hadn’t come to say goodbye, and it left me with a sinking feeling in my chest. That morning, I called in sick. I couldn’t bring myself to leave bed until I was so hungry I could hear my stomach gurgling.

I moved about in misery, skipping my morning shower and deciding not to shave. It didn’t matter because there was nobody to tell me otherwise. Even if Mary saw my five o’clock shadow, she couldn’t use the excuse that it hurt when she kissed me to make me shave it off. She didn’t kiss me anymore.

A raw and sour dread burrowed into my stomach. No matter what I did to distract myself, I couldn’t push the thought out of my head. I pictured her meeting up with a man—may be one of the jackasses from her office—and sneaking off for a secret affair. No, I shook my head. Mary wouldn’t do that. She grouped cheating in with murder and assault. But the thought cemented itself into my head, weighing me down all day. 

I even called her office to confirm her schedule. The secretary told me they were already on their morning flight. It was reassuring for a little while, like putting a bandaid on a wound that needed stitches.

My reflection in the mirror mocked me. I combed my hair and tried to think of things about myself that were good. All my life, they had told me I had a pleasant face and a killer smile, but I didn’t feel the least bit attractive. My hair was plenteous and shiny, my jawline strong and masculine. When I grinned, I showed dimples and my resting expression was calm. The colours of my eyes swirled like a funhouse kaleidoscope, and I had a solid body, broad shoulders, large hands and long legs. By most standards, I was a handsome man. But when I looked at myself for too long, I didn’t feel that way.

Maybe she noticed the beginnings of my crow’s feet or turned off by my body hair. When I flashed my teeth, they were still white. I lifted one arm and sniffed myself, then blew hot air into my cupped hand. It couldn’t have been my hygiene, for I kept up my appearance with diligence. So what was it about me she disliked?

I could only stare at myself for so long before it seemed I was looking at a stranger. 

After a few hours of moping, I sat in the living room and turned on the TV. There was nothing interesting playing this time of day, but I surfed through the channels, hoping to find background noise. A questionable talk show piqued my interest, and I put it on, only to see a skinny blonde girl swinging around a pole, censored breasts flashing to earn her a beaded necklace. With a scoff, I changed the channel. Commercial. I changed it again. Infomercial.

The question arose of why we paid money for thousands of channels when nothing good ever played. I settled on an old Western for a few minutes until it cut to another commercial. Impatient and tired of watching the same ad for toothpaste, I flicked through several more channels until I passed something that caught my attention. 

A brunette on the screen wearing a poor excuse for a school uniform, hair tousled in pigtails, mounted on a desk hooked me. She beckoned the camera with a manicured finger, and I grimaced. I had found the porn channels.

It felt wrong even to observe the preview advertisements. There was no sex happening, but for 12.99 a month, I could have unlimited access to a catalogue of thousands of adult movies. My feet began to tingle. Then I thought about Mary laid out on a desk like that, wearing a tiny skirt, breasts falling out of a too-small top. A shiver flew up my spine. Yeah, right. She would never entertain the idea of dressing like that for me.

But it didn’t stop me from imagining it.

The next channel showed two girls sitting together in a hot tub; fake breasts barely contained in matching bikini tops. This channel boasted a collection of the most hardcore films available in crystal clear HD for only ten dollars a month, a bargain compared to the last. I scoffed and meant to change the channel until the women began kissing each other. The shiver came back as a hot wash of sensation crackling through my body.

Busty MILF Takes Two at Once. Tiny Teen Newcomer Strips for the Camera. Casting Couch Cumshots. Monster Cock White Boy VS Carmen Chavez. Anal Beauties #7. Slutty Neighbor Comes Over For Some Sugar. Cougars on Spring Break. Freaky Tattooed Whores Swallow it All. Piss On My Face. Cock-Hungry Nympho Squirts On Command.

I felt dirty just reading the titles of some movies, yet I still chose one at random. The heat of shame loomed over my shoulders at once, but I couldn’t look away. I hadn’t seen a naked woman in a while. I almost forgot how exquisite all the curves and dips were, how satisfying a pleasured moan could sound. 

The movie I chose was brash and not in line with what normally turned me on. The woman howled as her partner thrust into her ruthlessly, slapped her, pulled her hair and spit on her cheeks. It was worse than a horror movie, and my erection felt like a betrayal. She smiled and asked for more. I couldn’t believe it.

Soon, my pants dropped around my ankles, my underwear binding my knees, and I was touching myself to the thought of taking Mary like that. She would never allow me to arrange her body in such a position. She would never look up at me with her teeth clenched, giddy from the feeling of me inside her. 

I suppose that’s why fantasies existed.

The woman scooped up her breast and licked one puffy nipple, and I groaned from the sight. Her pussy was so bald it looked as though she had never grown pubic hair before. That was something entirely new for me. Mary kept herself natural between her legs, which never bothered me, but seeing how pristine and glossy one looked with nothing to hide it was one of the most amazing things I had ever seen. I felt like a young boy discovering women for the first time.

Before I knew it, I was stroking my cock in time with the couple’s thrusts. I closed my eyes and imagined my wife’s lips wrapped around the head as I tugged and massaged and squeezed myself. When I looked down, a clear drop of pre-cum coasted down my slit. The woman in the film got on her knees, took her partner’s balls in her mouth, and I lost control. 

To say I made up for months of no sex with several self-inflicted orgasms would be a minimal claim. I cranked out a few intense orgasms, impressed by the amount of cum I had stored inside me. The last one was hardly a dribble, but it still felt good to feel that hot wave of arousal burning through my groin.

Then the shame set in as I anchored to the couch, sweaty and panting. I had used half the tissues from the box next to the sofa, and the sounds of pained moaning continued to echo through the living room. “Shit,” I whispered, grabbing for the remote control to change the channel to something more virtuous.

Disgraced by my lack of self-control, I cleaned up and disposed of the mountain of cum-hardened tissues, showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes. I shaved, adjusted the ring on my finger and looked at myself in the mirror once again. My cheeks scorched red, and I felt like I didn’t know the man looking back at me.

The next day at work, the remorse followed close at my heels. Every woman that gave me the barest flash of a smile turned into the star of a mental porn-flick on a loop in my head. I shook the thoughts away, but my assistant came in wearing a low-cut blouse. Her chest looked fuller, and her skin was smooth and enticing, perfect for stroking and rubbing and... Shit. 

“You feeling all right, Henry?” She asked.

Her cherry red lips around my cock.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Still a little out of it, but I’m okay.”

Those nylons ripped open at the crotch.

She giggled. Oh, Lord. “What are you wanting for lunch today?”

Your pussy spread out on my desk like a meat platter.  

“Probably something light,” I replied, avoiding her eyes.

Sit on my face and let me tongue-fuck your—what the hell is wrong with me?

“There’s a new Mexican place down the block. Just opened up. I’m craving taco salad.”

I’m craving taco salad, too.

“That sounds good. I’m not picky.”

She’s smiling at me. Oh, my god. She knows. Everyone knows what I did. 

“Sounds good, Mr. Deaver. After lunch, we should go over those reports...”

The words came out of her mouth, but I stopped listening. When she paused and gave me a queer look, my heart stumbled. 

“You sure you’re okay? You know, if you’re still sick, you should go home. Get some rest. You look like you haven’t slept a wink.”

I laughed nervously. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Cassie. Some lunch will do me good.”

She smiled again. She wants me. No, she doesn’t, what the hell? She has a husband. You have a wife. A wife that... Loves you? A wife who thinks to put your cock in her mouth is the most revolting thing imaginable. Missionary sex for the rest of your life if she ever lets you put it in her again. You’re pathetic.

Tortured by the voices of my guilt, I vowed never to watch another second of porn again. 

A few days passed by, and my inner monologue quit raking at my back. I forgot about what I did, having gotten my lust mostly under control. I still thought about the possibility of Mary cheating on me until I picked her up from the airport. 

Her colleagues were with her, and when she saw me waiting for her, she gasped, smiled and approached me. She threw her arms around me and tilted her face up for a kiss. I clamped my hands against her cheeks and kissed her for the first time in weeks. When she pulled away, she tossed a look back at her associates. Half of them I knew, and I gave them a genteel wave.

It didn’t take me long to realize her affection was for show. When we got home, she ignored me again, gave tired answers to my questions and asked for some quiet time. I respected her wishes.

A week later, while in bed, I couldn’t close my eyes. The question racketing in my brain would not let me be. I had to say something.

“Will you ever want to have sex with me again?”

Mary turned over and stared at me the way one might when given terrible news. This was how she liked to make me feel bad. Wide eyes bore into me as her lips thinned out into a bare grimace. She shook her head.

“That’s a very lewd question.”

“Is it, though? I mean, you’re my wife. Shouldn’t I be able to talk to you about sex?”

She had no answer to fire back at me. There must have been a voice telling her I had a valid point. It’s not as though we were two teens waiting for marriage. I was allowed to talk about it, and she was allowed to ignore me.

“I’m not feeling up for it tonight. Maybe tomorrow,” she offered.

Tomorrow came and went, and my dick remained dry.

Then another day dragged by, then another week, and another missed date night. I was losing the minuscule amount of hope I had. Bringing it up stung. I would rather fire an employee than skirt the subject of sex with my wife. I began going through a tiring parade of emotions. Guilt gave way to anger, then anger to shame for feeling impassioned about my plight. I should be thankful that I had a wife. Some men couldn’t get a date to save their mother’s life. Although what was a marriage without affection? Then I felt bad for wanting sex in the first place. Why was I not happy with what I had? There were people worse off than me. I had money in the bank, nice clothes, new cars, two homes and a stable job. How could I possibly feel sorry for myself?

There was an explosion. Not in the literal sense, but one that burned just as hot and caused an enormous amount of destruction. Enough that I feared I could never rescue the pieces of my smouldering marriage, and even if I could, they would never fit back together.

Mary summoned me into the kitchen. She stared at her phone screen, ignoring me as though she hadn’t just called my name. 

“Yes, honey?” I greeted her, leaning over to kiss her cheek but got pushed away.

“What were you doing on Monday, the thirteenth of this month?”

The question stumped me. “Uh, working?”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I work Monday to Friday, same as you.”

Mary glared at me. Then I noticed her hands shaking. Something was wrong. My mind scrambled to find the answer.

“You see... I thought that, too. Until I called Cassie and asked where you were, and she informed me you took a sick day.”

My complexion must have blanched, for she gave me a wicked grin she reserved for when she won an argument. I faltered and stumbled over my tongue, looking for any way out before the tick of her inner clock reached zero, and she erupted.

“Oh,” I said. “Right. Yeah, I was sick that day.”

“Sick? Sick in the head, maybe! I’d say you were downright disgusting!”

“Mary—”

“Tell me, Henry, did you thoroughly enjoy watching Schoolhouse Sluts? Did you enjoy getting off to watching another woman getting... Getting ploughed senseless?” She screamed this at me.

“Mary, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to press it!”

“Liar!”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

“Honey, please, will you just listen to me?”

“No! I will never listen to you defend your disgusting behaviour! This is downright sinful of you! Is this your way of getting back at me? Is this what you do when we’re not together? You porn-freak!”

“No, it’s not! I swear to you, I don’t watch... Porn,” my nerve faded as her eyes flashed hot.

“Apparently, you do! And you spend money on it!”

“Good God, Mary. What do you want me to say?”

“Admit it! Stop trying to deny what’s showed up on our cable bill!”

I rubbed at my eyes, lost for what to say. My cheeks were aflame, my feet buzzing like they had fallen asleep. The shame I had immediately after ordering the movie was nothing compared to this.

“Did you not stop to think, ‘oh, my wife pays the cable bill. Perhaps I shouldn’t ORDER PORNOGRAPHY’!”

The shrillness of her voice grated my nerves. Maybe she was right, but there was still a part of me that stamped its foot and told me I deserved sexual expression.

“Maybe if you fucked me once in a while, I wouldn’t be jonesing for release! And what I do in my own private time is none of your goddamn business!”

Mary looked as though I’d backhanded her, and I was certain that’s how she took my exclamation. 

“You are the most selfish man I have ever met. And if you think I will even so much as consider letting your filthy hands touch me again, you’re wrong. Dead. Wrong.”

“Great! Shouldn’t be much of a stretch for you, anyway, considering you haven’t slept with me in, oh, I don’t know, three months now? Four? A quarter of a year. I don’t remember making a celibacy pact with you!”

“You’re always working! Always busy! And when you’re not, I’m always busy!”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed at the ceiling. “We sleep in the same bed every night, Mary. You can’t be bothered even to kiss me anymore. What am I supposed to make of that, huh? And then you act all happy to see me in front of your friends. You’re so fake. There’s something wrong with you. This is borderline abusive!”

“Don’t you dare try to play the victim, Henry!”

“I am a victim!” I thumped my chest. “You won’t tell me what is wrong! If it’s not me, it’s you, and if it’s not you, then what? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Do you find me repulsive?”

“Right now, I do, yes.”

“Fantastic! That’s great for us. So how much longer will it be, hm? At this point, it’s not just about sex. It’s about your general aversion to me. Do you want to stay married to a man you’re not interested in for the rest of your life? Do you want to hold me down with a boot to my throat and get mad at me when I need to get off because you haven’t touched me since the Spring? You owe me an explanation!”

“I don’t owe you shit, Henry,” she spat, then turned around and left.

The worst part was not the days of silence that proceeded. It wasn’t her staying at the house while I stayed at the condo. It wasn’t her pretending like I didn’t exist or the feigned pleasantry whenever our paths crossed in a professional setting. It wasn’t having to answer questions about my wife nearly every day by people that did not understand my suffering. No, I managed that. What hurt me the most was considering a divorce from the woman to whom I had pledged my life. The person I wanted to love simply did not return the sentiment.

The real hurt came when I walked down the hallway to our bedroom and passed the pictures of our wedding day when we signed the marriage license using my grandfather’s pen. It was somehow failing to keep her in love with me. It was unrequited love and defeat.

And there is only so long you can spend wanting somebody that doesn’t want you back before you wonder why you ever wanted them at all.

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Nineteen

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Adamus was a really scrawny kid. He wasn’t the fastest, or strongest, or even the smartest. He wasn’t really an introvert, but he was the quietest. Adamus knew what he was. He knew his limits. But instead of accepting himself as he was, it only motivated him. The boy became ambitious, almost to a fault, and knew he had to prove himself. But Adamus didn’t want to prove that he was just as good as his peers. Adamus wanted to prove that he was better than them. He wanted to prove that he was better than all of them.

Adamus grew into himself over the years. He was a little bit of a late bloomer, but that was made up for and forgotten about very quickly.

The scrawniness melted away, revealing a stocky body. He was naturally muscular under all that skin and bone. He got taller and taller, until he was finally slightly above the average man. His hair reached his neck, curling at the ends with natural waves. Except for his padawan braid, which he hated because it was so long and constantly hitting his shoulder. His eyelashes got longer, jawline sharper, and brain more aware.

Adamus had few friends in his Jedi years. One was a boy, Argos, who was clumsy and far more extroverted than Adamus would ever be. There was also Knox, a boy who was killed during the Clone Wars, and Ethin Edin, who was actually a distant relation of mine that I’d never learn about.

Adamus was close to his master, which was somewhat of a problem within the order. Attachments are frowned upon. Something I disapprove of. Adamus will deny that he looked up Fir Aro if you ever ask him, but I know the truth.  

Adamus tried saving him. Then he watched him die in a pool of blood, and not all of it was his own. Adamus blames himself.

Today, I wake up free of nightmares. For the past few nights, they haven’t bothered me at all. I guess my thoughts before bed have been so focused on Adamus and analyzing him that my brain hasn’t had time to cook up any new terrors for me. But I’m not so sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.  

No matter where the last thing I can remember takes place, I always wake up in my little nook. I usually assume that I either fell asleep at the table with my chin in my hand, or eventually drifted off while leaning against my door frame. Waking up in my nook would mean that Adamus puts me to bed, which honestly makes me feel quite guilty. I’ve already fallen asleep listening to him tell me about his deep rooted anguish, now he’s taking me to bed without even taking credit. I would thank him, but then something would change between us. Something already changed when he began to cry that night in my room, but actually admitting that one of us did the other a service is… different. I’m already pushing my luck by making eye contact with him during the day, why acknowledge the possibility that we’ve seen each other at our most vulnerable?

I rebraid my hair a little sloppily and shrug on a thin black  jacket over my outfit. I have to use the bathroom, so I do. I even flush. But I still refuse to shower.

The door slides open as I exit, and I stalk out in my usual demeanor. No smiles, head down, eyes apathetic as my weapon hits against my hip. People still stop and stare at me as I walk by, but their conversations still flurry through the air. The people don’t trust me. I don’t trust them either.  

I pass the control room, and take one of the hallways. Stretching my arms, rolling my shoulders back as I keep my eyes to the floor. It’s dark silver, and clangs under the weight of my boots. Even as I walk by, civilians of the Harbinger eye me with distaste. I let them. I don’t bother to let myself eye them right back because I know nothing can change the person I am. I’ve accepted that I’ll always be a threat wherever I go. That’s how I know I have to get away from these people.

The cafeteria is the same size as the medbay, I’m told. It’s lined with rows of tables with built in benches and counters. Volunteers serve slops of what’s usually nearly stale portion bread and ration bars. Sometimes there’s caf, but not usually. I wouldn’t take it anyway. Too bitter.

Adamus and Aheka are almost always sitting together in the mornings. At first I wondered about the exact nature of their relationship, though now I see it for what it is. They’re companions, close comrades, friends. Almost sibling like. Nothing close to romantic.

I pull my hood over my head as I walk by them, just missing Adamus’s kaleidoscope eyes of judgment by a single step. To the left side of the room is a long counter that serves as a buffet. Volunteers hand out the food, and today a yellow Twi’Lek gives me a slop of mush gray stuff on a silver tray with a distrustful scowl. I don’t bother saying a word about how I asked for the portion bread instead of whatever he just gave me. I know how to pick my battles, and this is one I won’t win. I don’t have the social skills for it.

When I turn to face the rest of the cafeteria, I gage out the seats I can take. There’s one at the opposite end of where Aheka and Adamus are, so definitely not there.

There’s another table at the very end of the hall, that’s almost completely empty except for one person who has his back to me. That will do.

Having my hood up makes me feel better. It’s not perfect, but it gives me the feeling of having walls around me, so I can feel more alone. I think that’s something I need. The world feels safer, more closed off. Like a room with three walls and then whatever’s in front of me. Like I’m a glitch in the simulation. Yeah… a glitch.

I set my tray down and slide onto the bench. The other person at the table- a man- is at the other end, on the other side. There’s no way we could be affiliated with each other.

With a cheap fork, I poke at the mush. It’s warmer than I expected- not hot, but not cold. I’ve eaten worse. I’ve purified my own piss and swallowed it down. This is not the time to get picky.

But I’m not hungry.

I look back up, glancing around to observe the surroundings of the room. There’s the counters where I got my tray to the right, the rows of tables ahead. Aheka and Adamus are about five tables up. There are some foot soldiers, one man I saw in Adamus’s meeting reading over some papers, a green woman carrying a crate. One of the lights over head is flickering so quickly, you wouldn’t even notice the sputter if you weren’t hardwired to notice everything.

And as for the man sitting at the table with me… well, it takes me a second to notice him.

I eye him for a few seconds, not for any particular reason, simply because I can. And then he tilts his head up and to the side, catching my orbs, which began to dilate with the beat of my heart.

Sharp jawline, heavily angular features. The slim eyes like a hawk, golden brown. Nose turned down at the bridge, arched brows, thin and chapped lips. And that hairstyle… I know it.

My lips part in realization. I can feel my heart stop.

“So-”

A tray slams down in front of me with a clang, startling me with a jump.

“Were you really going to try eating alone?”

I stare up at Aheka from under my hood. Her pale green eyes are staring into my own with that twinkle of compassion, but the corners of her lips are upturned with charisma.

Before I can respond or think of a response, Aheka slides her tray forward until it bumps against mine and seats herself in the slot ahead of me.

“I hope you slept okay,” she frowns. “You look sick.”

I catch her glance at my missing finger, causing me to jerk my hand back in embarrassment and anger. “Why are you eating alone?”

Under the table, my right hand twitches. “Didn’t want to disturb you and shit for brains,” I lie, watching Adamus’s back tense from behind him.

“You wouldn’t disturb us,” Aheka assures. “Here. This tastes better than that.” She nudges her tray against mine again.

“I can’t take your food,” I swallow. It feels like the inside of my chest is sweating.

“Come on. I’m not going to eat it, and I know how that slush tastes. This is the better option.”

Her plate has steaming golden chunks on it. It does smell better than the warm gray thing in front of me. “Thanks,” I mutter, staring down.

“So,” the Togruta begins. “I’ve got an offer for you.”          

I raise my eyes from under my hood to watch her face, which has a small, excited smile on it. It fits her pretty features.

“Okay.”

“You’re sleeping in the side medbay, right? I know that thing is small and well… I was thinking you could start to bunk with me. We’d have to talk to Adamus probably, but I have the space. I just figured it’s better than that tiny little thing. Warmer too.”

She adds the last part with a smile as if it were a cute little joke. I, on the other hand, can’t stop myself from inwardly cringing. My eyes flicker between her own, searching for the answer to my confusion.

“Why?” I question.  

Aheka crinkles her eyebrows. “Why? Well it’s… it’s the right thing to do isn’t it?”

…The right thing to do?

“Besides,” she continues. “It’s either me or bunking with Blitz, right?” She nudges her thumb at the man at the end of the table, and my heart attack starts all over again.

"Have you met?”

I stand up suddenly, my fists balled so tight my knuckles pale over.

“Keres?”

How could they… how could they let it in here? Don’t they know what it is?

The man at the end of the table turns to look at me slowly. His golden eyes meet mine.

A hand clasps on my right shoulder.

“Keres,” speaks Adamus. His tone is low, though not threatening or dangerous. In my core, it feels understanding. It feels… I don’t know. It feels like something I should listen to. Like the little voice of reason in the very back of my brain I so often try to mute.

It’s enough to snap me out of my daze somewhat. I turn my head over my shoulder to meet his eyes, which are steeled compared to usual. Usually, they’re a flowing billow of blue and green and grey, but now they are like steel, nothing but turquoise. Not even a circle of light appears inside of them to give a sense of security.

"I know,” he says. But no matter what he would’ve told me, I wouldn’t have felt like he knew.          

“Are you okay?” Aheka asks, slowly standing, eyebrows creased with concern.

No.

“Yes,” I decide. “I’m okay.” And then I push myself back into my seat, struggling to tear my eyes away from my newest problem.

“His name is Blitz,” Adamus tells me as he removes his hand. “He’s a soldier.”

“Where did you find him?” I mutter hoarsely.

“A cantina in the outer rim. He’s trustworthy.”        

I want to snap ‘no, he’s not’, but I decide to stay quiet.

“I know what happened to you,” Adamus says lowly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

I turn my head back to face him. “How could you do this?”

“Keres,” Aheka breaks. “What’s going on?”

I don’t get a chance to explain or lie. Adamus answers for me. “I’m ‘gonna take her to the meeting with me today. She can help in the vote.”

“Adamus…”

"It’ll be fine. She’ll see Blitz and we can use her.”

Now I’m the one out of the loop. How did it change from Aheka to me so quickly?

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she says with knitted brows.

Adamus looks between her light green eyes with a still face. After a moment, he pushes himself up out of his seat. “Come on, Keres.”

I watch him, not moving for a second. Then Aheka looks at me and nudges her head after the boy. “You should go with him.”

I breathe out through my nose before standing up myself. Aheka shrinks away behind me, sitting alone at the table with only the monster and a gray tray.

I push my hood off my head, keeping Adamus’s back in front of me. I think about killing him- sinking my blade through his flesh and muscles until he’s crumpled on the ground. I could. There’s no one down our current hallway but us. The lights are down low, if Circe is on the security camera’s, he’s not going to tell anyone what I did.

Murder. The very thought makes the blood rush through my veins faster and tighter, coursing and getting hotter and hotter. I wonder, if I kill him, will I get some of his power? He can do things that I can’t do. I don’t know what those things are exactly yet, but I know he can.

But if I kill him, then I’ll always remember the way that he cried in my room.

Do it.

Don’t.

My hand creeps down to my waist, trailing down my belt and to cool metal of the saber. Around us, the world closes in. The lights grow even dimmer. Adamus is directly ahead of me, walking straight with his fists at his sides. I can see the muscles in his back tensing under his shirt.

Kill him. Kill him, and then kill the Clone.

“Before we go in,” Adamus turns around to face me. For a second, I’m completely blown away. I lean back to avoid the flash of gold that overtakes his hair, and the shadows over his face that make him look just like Garreth. My eyes widen, but the boy in front of me doesn’t say a word about it.

“I need something from you.”

I blink, folding my arms over each other. “The General needs something from me? I’m honored.”

Adamus inhales. “I proposed something and I need you to vote it down.”

“What did you propose?” I question.

“I just didn’t… I didn’t think the whole thing through.”

I furrow my eyebrows in seriousness. “What was the original plan?”

“I-”

“General Adamus, Vagor,” a drawl voice takes me from my thoughts. One of the Admirals- a Chiss named Sirsal- walks toward us from the other side of the hallway. He’s been distrustful of me from the beginning- not that I blame him- and he’s been more than open about it. I’ve never talked to him one on one, but he doesn’t actually seem so bad. He’s just doing his job. It’s nothing personal, and if it was, I’m in no position to tell him off. “How lovely to see you. Are you ready to vote on the proposal?”

“Of course,” Adamus replies coolly. Always a talent of his, I’ve noticed. “I was just going over the plan with our lieutenant.”

Sirsal’s eyes look at me up and down in distaste. His top lip curls in disgust when he seems the mud on top of my black boots, the rip of my leggings on my right thigh, the beaten gauze acting as gloves around my arms. “Yes, of course,” he says slowly. He changes his gaze back to Adamus, his expression softening as he sees the boy is far more cleaned up than myself. “I wasn’t aware you had appointed her as Lieutenant.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

I can feel the annoyance radiating off the Chiss man. His mind burns with a single question: Why not me?

“I see,” he says instead. “Well, let us hope this newcomer is capable of leading us to victory.” His eyes linger on me once more to get his distaste across.

Sirsal disappears through the metal door with a hiss.

"I like him,” I say.

“That was your take away from that interaction?” Adamus questions, amusement shadowing his tone.

“He’s funny.”

Adamus’s face returns to stone. “Voting down my plan is the right thing to do. Do I have your word on this?”

I stare into his eyes for a moment. For just a split second, I think they’re blue. Then they return to a swirl of pale greens and greys and teals and I know I’m far off. Adamus hasn’t really… asked me for anything before. But this, this is a favor. A personal favor at that.

“Alright,” I shrug.

The door opens up. “I’ll owe you one,” he whispers in my ear as the uniformed men turn to greet us. His words send shivers down my spine, but not in a bad way. In a way that I only feel when something excites me- like a prank or some cruel joke I’ve thought of. It makes my stomach explode with butterflies and my… no. Never mind.

“General Adamus,” one of the men greets. “Hello.”

“The topic of today’s meeting is to vote on the proposed offensive plan,” Adamus says, ignoring him in his leader voice. He crosses to the center of the room, pushes a button on the holotable and watches as the men gather to look at the blue hologram. Three Imperial Star Destroyers, and a planet that seems strangely familiar but unrecognizable. I cross my arms and lean against the wall to stay out of their way. I can still see alright, and they don’t have to worry I’m close enough to stab them in the backs.

“There are three Imperial Ships around the planet Mustafar. I believe this one, Maker’s Thrall, is in control of the Imperial shield generator on Endor, and possibly another on Ryloth. I proposed that we engage the other two Destroyers in battle as a distraction, while a smaller force infiltrates and takes out the Thrall.”

A hum of approval and nods fall over the men. Honestly, it’s not such a bad plan. It might need some refining, more detailing, but it’s a good start. Decent.  

“However, I have obtained some new information.”

“Information from her?” one of the men jabs his thumb in my direction while the one next to him tries not to roll his eyes.

“No, Admiral Raincork, and I advise you keep your thumb to yourself. I came to this realization through my own conscious.” Adamus takes a pause. I can feel his heart beat in nervousness from across the room. “If the Thrall is to be destroyed, someone will have to stay behind and…”

A roar explodes through the men now. Adamus’s voice is drowned out in the gasps. “I know, I know. This would mean suicide for whomever does this, and we can’t ask that of our people. Nor should we.”

“Why don’t we just destroy it from the outside? Or plant bombs? O-or take out the shields?” a pink skinned man asks.

Adamus shakes his head slowly. “Destroying it from the outside is impossible. A mother ship like that has more shield power than you would imagine. Taking it out would give little to no time for the group to escape and bombs would be the same.”

A few of the men nod in understanding. I try to analyze each of them. The Chiss is unswayed by Adamus’s admittance and feels that loss of life is necessary. The Twi-lek thinks it would be wrong to ask anyone onboard to do such a thing. Aheka would more than likely agree, Circe would take the side of the Chiss.

And… honestly… I would too.

“What about the people acting as distractions? Won’t they be at risk of death too?”

“No,” Adamus says. “I won’t allow that. The mission will be kept short enough that no lives can be lost. They will not be at risk.”

Adamus… it was a good plan. You knew what had to be done. You always have. That’s what being a good person means.

“So, I call for a vote,” Adamus says lowly. “Those against the original proposed plan?”

Adamus raises his hand, more slowly following. The Twi-lek raises his and so does the one next to him. I count exactly half of the men calling for this to be stopped.

“Those in favor?”

Adamus drops his hand and Sirsal raises his. Admiral Raincork follows his lead, along with the other half of the men. Adamus counts them silently, eyes widening as they drop to mine. He sees what I’m about to do. His heart is pumping, mouth dry. Don’t, he begs me. Please don’t. You said you wouldn’t.

I raise my right hand in the air, earning some of the men whipping around and gasping. Sirsal raises his eyebrow as if he’s impressed I was capable of making such a decision.

Adamus’s eyes narrow. I watch his jaw clench in anger, his hand curling into a tight fist. His eyes are darkening like a cloudy sky. He’s pissed. He’s so pissed.

“That settles it,” he says, eyes not daring to leave mine. His enraged gaze goes straight to my heart and to the pit of my stomach, swirling up emotions I couldn’t name at blaster point.     “The plan will continue on at a later date. If you have any further questions, I will answer them tomorrow at the next meeting. Any more topics? Alright, meeting concluded.”  

The men begin to shuffle out of the room, talking to each other. Half of them gives me looks of respect and the other half is anger mixed with disappointment. I don’t care about any of them. I find that the only face I really care about right now is Adamus’s. He follows the men closely, not even looking at me as he passes.

I watch his back muscles contort through his outfit as he leaves me alone in the room. The door slides shut much louder than usual, even though it’s not possible to slam it. I want so badly to talk to him. I want so badly to reach out to him.

I find that the second thing Acer Adamus gave me is guilt about other people- guilt over the living.