#Not sure why you look like Daria

[the-bastard-of-the-universe]

@strange-aeons The my immortal video - effervescent.

#sketched this while watching the video #strange aeons #long furby #the vibes #immaculate #my immortal #procreate #what you don’t know is that his real name is strange aeons #love the vibes #amazing video #Father strange #Mr. Strange #Not sure why you look like Daria #boy porridge #Thursday

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes

Please comment and/or reblog your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

A/N: This is a standalone sequel to “Everybody Hates Neyo,” (NSFW) by @dystopicjumpsuit​ (that’s me), and “The Blacklist,” by the brilliant @blueink-bluesoul​, who also generously let me borrow the character of Daria Trace (THANK YOU!). You don’t need to read those fics to understand this one, but you should because they’re great and they provide more background. I converted the Reader-insert into an OC because to be frank, she’s a piece of work, and I didn’t want to project that onto my readers. That said, as always, feel free to insert yourself into the story if you prefer; I haven’t described the OC beyond being a woman with hair long enough to pull.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x the Admiral (formerly Fem!Reader)

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

Warnings and tags: toxic, obsessive behavior; SO MUCH SMUT; hatefucking; rough sex; oral sex; PIV; hair pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol; Neyo and the Admiral being absolute menaces to society

Disclaimer: Let me just put on my Auntie DJ hat for a second. *ahem* This is a work of fiction intended for entertainment only. Please do not take this as a guide to romance or a healthy relationship. Neyo and the Bad-miral are flawed characters in a wildly problematic relationship with more red flags than the Fire Nation. Enjoy!

Matchmaker extraordinaire Daria Trace was not accustomed to failure. When she applied her considerable intellect to a problem, she did not stop until she formulated a solution. Which was why her now-99% matchmaking success rate galled her so intensely. In all her years of matchmaking, she had never encountered a client so stubbornly determined to thwart her efforts as Marshal Commander Neyo. After twelve failed matches—one of which involved a call from an infuriated woman demanding to know “why the kriff you thought I was a good match for that sociopath”—she had reluctantly conceded defeat.

The blacklisting of Commander Neyo from the Right to Love Matchmaking Service spread like wildfire through the GAR gossip channels. Most of the troopers thought it was hilarious; others insisted that he’d finally gotten what he deserved. In fact, the only people who seemed to have any sympathy for Neyo were Commanders Bacara (to be expected) and Fox (somewhat less expected). And when Fox reached out directly to Daria and asked her, as a personal favor, to give Neyo one more chance, she agreed. One more chance, and ONLY to give her an opportunity to get that track record back up to a perfect 100%.

She glared irritably at Neyo’s file and clicked her stylus three times, twirling it between her fingers. The man was impossible. It was no wonder he’d turned to RTL for help finding a partner; any woman in her right mind would run in the opposite direction the minute she looked into those blank, frigid eyes. She shuddered involuntarily. Shark’s eyes. Daria had made a few discreet inquiries after he’d first signed up for the service, just to make sure she wasn’t about to set up some unsuspecting match with a serial murderer. Without fail, every single answer said the same thing: he was an ice-cold sonofabitch, but he had a strict code of honor, and no, he wasn’t a serial murderer. Probably.

She sighed and tossed his file to the side, to be revisited some other day. He was her most difficult client, but by no means was he the only problematic match candidate, and she had a small stack of what Blizzard liked to call The Hopeless Casefiles waiting for her to review. Just thinking about Neyo’s case had given her the beginnings of a spectacular tension headache, and she flipped through the folders quickly, looking for one that was a little less challenging. As she skimmed the stacks of flimsi, her eyes came to rest on one name: Reeda Wai’yen.

Now there’s a thought.

Daria was sure that Reeda was a lovely woman, despite all evidence to the contrary. She was just very… intense. Like Neyo, she had chewed through several potential matches, and the most frequent word that appeared in her failed matches’ post-date surveys was “intimidating,” followed closely by “terrifying.” Daria had sniffed disdainfully that those particular matches simply couldn’t handle a strong woman; however, she had to admit that after several months of trying, she had not been able to find a perfect match for Reeda. She pulled Neyo’s file and laid it out next to Reeda’s. As she compared their backgrounds and preferences, she became more and more convinced. This could work. Given their personalities, it might well be the best possible outcome for society at large if they were both removed from the dating pool. And if it happened to close out her two most annoying files, well. That would just be the cherry on top of her perfect-track-record sundae.

A timid knock sounded on Reeda’s office door.

“Come,” she called shortly.

Her assistant, Lissi, poked her head into the room. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you’ve received a comm from RTL Matchmaking.”

Reeda cursed. She was up to her ass in flimsiwork, and she was meeting with the Senate Task Force on Galactic Security in ten minutes. She did not have time for this now. 

“Take care of it,” she ordered.

“Sir?” Lissi asked, her wide, startled eyes giving her a distinct resemblance to a terrified ash-rabbit. 

“Just take care of it,” Reeda repeated, tamping down her irritation at being questioned. “You know my schedule better than I do. Set it up. Somewhere nice—somewhere in the Federal district. I don’t have time to deal with traffic.”

Lissi blinked, nonplussed. “Don’t you want to see who you matched with?”

“No time,” Reeda said, rising to gather her materials for the meeting. “Just put it on my calendar, and I’ll be there.”

Three nights later, Reeda sat in the restaurant at the top of the tower where her penthouse was located, waiting for her mystery date to arrive. She had to commend Lissi’s efficiency in choosing the venue; the only traffic she’d had to endure was at the lift. And it was a lovely restaurant, she had to admit, with stunning views of the Coruscant cityscape. She had only eaten here once since she’d bought the flat, usually opting to have food delivered to her office at the Republic Center for Military Operations as she worked late into the night.

She had resisted the urge to bring her datapad with her to the restaurant, knowing that if she did, she would inevitably get sucked into work, but now she wished she’d taken a moment to review the file from RTL. It wasn’t that she thought all clone troopers were interchangeable; far from it. She had worked closely with them during the war, had fought by their sides, and she had found them to be brave, competent, and loyal. They were also notoriously attractive, but she was a professional, and she was their superior officer, and she had never allowed that line to become blurred—except on one memorable and highly regrettable occasion.

She had had no time for a personal life during the war, but now that it was over—well, to be honest, she still had no time for a personal life. Which was exactly why she had reached out to RTL; it was the perfect solution. She didn’t enjoy solitude. She wanted companionship, and maybe even something more. But she needed a partner who would understand the demands of her career, and nobody understood the burden of duty better than the clones. Now that she had separated from the GAR and returned to her post in her home planet’s military defense force, the rules regarding fraternization no longer applied to her.

She hadn’t bothered to review the file because she’d learned from the previous several failed dates that a promising file was no indicator of compatibility. Still, as she waited for her date, who was now seven minutes late, she wished she’d at least checked to see if he had any identifying marks or tattoos that would make him easier to spot. To be fair, though, the few clones present in the restaurant were already paired up with other diners.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t intended to skip lunch, but she’d had back-to-back meetings with the joint chiefs of the Core Worlds Defense Alliance and the senate appropriations committee, and one thing led to another. The service droid had delivered a basket of fresh, hot bread rolls, which she had heroically resisted for the first six minutes past the scheduled start of the date, but now her resolve began to crumble. If her mystery date didn’t have the basic courtesy to be on time, by the Force, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if she ate all the bread before he arrived.

She buttered a roll and took a small bite. She couldn’t suppress the groan of relief at the buttery, yeasty goodness, and she quickly polished it off, then picked up another. She had just begun to butter her third role when the unmistakable voice of a clone spoke next to her.

“Admiral.”

She turned automatically, a smile just beginning to form on her lips, when she caught sight of a familiar set of numbers tattooed on a handsome, arrogant face.

“Oh, no,” she said with disgust. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Marshal Commander Neyo replied contemptuously. “I have as much right to be here as you do.”

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

He looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her. “Looks like your date has a strong sense of self-preservation. Probably took one look at you and ran for their life.”

“He’s just a little late,” she said, tilting her jaw at a haughty angle to hide the flash of hurt at his words.

“That must kill you,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I remember the time you made a Jedi padawan cry for being three minutes behind schedule.”

“There were barely tears. Do. Not. Sit,” she gritted out as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. He picked up one of the remaining bread rolls and took a large bite, and she sighed. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“It just so happens, I am also on a date,” he said, mumbling around the bite of bread.

“Oh?” she wrinkled her nose at his table manners. “And who’s the unlucky lady?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some civvie named Reeda.”

Her hand tightened dangerously around her butter knife. Neyo’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he smirked.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, grinding her jaw. “I’m Reeda.”

He choked on his bite of bread and wheezed a bit, pounding his chest to clear his airway. Alas, he survived.

“What?” he sputtered.

“You didn’t even bother to find out my first name after you were inside me?” she demanded. Her sharp tone attracted attention from the surrounding diners, and she heard a few quiet titters from the tables around her, but she was too irate to care.

“You didn’t even bother to find out who’d be eating dinner with you?” he retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t just as surprised as I am,” she snapped. “Didn’t you read the file?”

“I didn’t get a file, just a call.” He grunted. “Apparently, ‘beggars can’t be choosers,’ and I was lucky to get a match at all.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she mocked.

“Careful, Admiral. Don’t forget they matched you with me.”

“I would be insulted if it weren’t so obviously a mistake. I can’t say I’m impressed with their performance thus far.”

“For once, I agree with you,” he said. “You’d have to be a special kind of incompetent to think we were a good match.”

The service droid approached the table and asked, “May I take your order?”

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

“I’ll have the bantha filet,” Neyo replied, ignoring her. “Bloody.”

He turned to her and arched his brows. The droid waited expectantly.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” she lied.

Neyo’s mouth twisted, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “The admiral will have the roast porg. And a bottle of Alderaanian red.”

The droid nodded and ambled away. Reeda glared at Neyo.

“I don’t eat meat, you presumptuous ass,” she said.

“Liar,” he said. “Unfortunately, the souls of the innocent weren’t on the menu, so I had to settle for your second-favorite meal.”

“At least you’re safe, since you obviously have no soul and you’re definitely not innocent,” she said in a pleasant tone.

Damn him for being right about the porg, though. How did he know?

The wine arrived, and he poured a generous glass for each of them. She didn’t toast; just downed half of it in a single swallow. Neyo sipped his and leaned back in his chair to observe her. His sleek, severe hair and the large tattoo on his cheek made him look menacing as hell, but it was his eyes that made brave men take a step back. She didn’t know how it was possible for his eyes to be that unnerving. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? What a waste of perfectly good Fett genes to have a personality like that.

“Did you stay just to torment me?” she asked when the silence stretched beyond the limits of her endurance.

“And because I heard the filet was good,” he said affably. “What are you even doing on Coruscant? I thought you’d scuttled back to whatever hellhole spawned you.”

“Kuat,” she bit out from between clenched teeth. “I was assigned to work as our military liaison on Coruscant.”

“Couldn’t stand having you back on the planet?” he derided. “I don’t blame them.”

“I need to use the fresher,” she said, flinging her napkin down on the table with excessive force. “Feel free to die while I’m gone.”

She strode purposefully through the restaurant, her face set in a steely mask. She knew she was drawing attention from other patrons, but if she sat at that table and listened to Neyo needle her for one more second, she was either going to stab him or burst into tears. She pushed through the refresher doors and went to the sink, washing her hands just to give herself something to do. The face that stared back at her from the mirror was Admiral Wai’yen, not Reeda. Stern. Unyielding. Unaffected.

She swallowed, and her face crumpled. Tears of rage stung her eyes, and she ruthlessly wiped them away with her clenched fist. A soft noise at the door startled her, and she whirled to face the intruder. Horror flooded her. It was Neyo, and he’d caught her crying in the ladies’ room.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing in here?” she demanded icily. “Get out.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then he locked the door. Stalking across the room, he cupped her jaw in his hands and tilted her face to get a closer look. She tried to pull away, to put her Admiral Wai’yen mask back in place, but then his thumb stroked softly next to her eye, wiping away the tear that had breached containment. She gasped involuntarily, and his lips collided with hers.

Reeda was so shocked that for a moment she went perfectly still, but then Neyo flicked his tongue across her lower lip, and her body remembered how to move. She thrust him away and stood back, glaring at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, and those cold eyes blazed with a dark and covetous fire. She raised a hand to her lips and felt the slickness left by his tongue. Something snapped inside her. She took two hasty steps forward, and she was in his arms again, his hands rough and dominating on her body as they consumed each other with a kiss that teetered on the edge of violence. 

Lips, tongues, teeth crashed together. He clasped her tightly against his hard, unyielding body, and unbidden, the memory of him deep inside her came flooding back. He gripped her ass and ground his rapidly stiffening cock against her. Her reaction was electric. She rolled her hips, nearly climbing him in desperation. He dropped his mouth to her neck and kissed her once, roughly, and then to her breast, yanking aside her dress as he closed his teeth on her soft skin. He picked her up by the waist and set her on the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees between her thighs, rucking up her dress around her hips, and then his mouth was on her.

He didn’t even bother removing her underwear, as though he couldn’t wait another millisecond to taste her. He licked and sucked on her through the fabric, his mouth working frantically. Her body jolted and trembled at the effort of staying upright, and then his tongue snaked past the lace and dipped into her, smooth and hot and wet. He let out a vicious growl and grabbed her hips, settling her thighs over his shoulders, and then he pulled her off the sink and thrust her against his face as his tongue speared over and over into her cunt. She yelped and scrambled to brace herself with her hands, her arms shaking with exertion.

She couldn’t come like this, but kriff, it was hot to feel Neyo throw her around with such ease, like she was his own personal toy. How many nights had she fucked herself to sleep to the memory of their first encounter? The way he’d lifted her bodily off the ground and thrust into her, supporting them both with those powerful thighs—it played on a loop in her head for months, long after the bite marks and bruises had faded.

His tongue slid out of her cunt and swirled around her clit, and her legs spasmed around his head. She couldn’t come like this. Could she? All the muscles in her body began to tense, and her pelvis began to rock rhythmically against his face. Shit, I’m going to come. No sooner had the thought formed than Neyo dropped her back onto the sink and pulled away from her.

“No!” she wailed. “You bastard, I was right there!”

He shot to his feet. “Shut. Up,” he bit out, and kissed her punishingly hard. “Do you want the whole Federal District to know what we’re doing?”

He pulled her head back to expose her throat, and he scraped his teeth across her delicate skin. She felt his other hand fumbling in between them. Within seconds, his cock was free and thrusting against the scrap of lace that still covered her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him against her, determined to find the stimulation that she needed to reach completion.

“Get inside me,” she hissed.

“You aren’t calling the shots any more, Admiral,” he growled. “You don’t get to give commands.”

“I hate you,” she breathed. 

“And yet here you are, begging for my cock,” he said coldly. 

“I do not beg,” she said. “Ever.”

He released her hair and pried her legs away from himself, then took a step back. “You get nothing until you admit that you want me. I’ve waited a long time for this. I can keep waiting.”

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, sliding off the sink to stand in front of him.

“It means you give me what I want, or I walk out that door right now and you can figure your own shit out.”

Was this his twisted kriffing way of asking for consent? Because she was pretty sure she’d covered that when she all but ordered him to fuck her.

“Fine,” she said in a low voice. “I…” She nearly choked on the words, and Neyo’s intent gaze pinned her in place. “I want you.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a bruising kiss, then spun her around and bent her over the sink. He pulled up her dress, yanked down her panties, and thrust into her. She muffled a whimper at the intrusion and squeezed her eyes shut as she adjusted to the stretch. He wrapped his hands around her hair and jerked her head up.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch,” he ordered.

She complied, shocked when she saw her own ravaged face in the mirror as Neyo pounded into her from behind. Her makeup was smeared, her hair was a wreck, her eyes were dilated with lust, and a sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. She flicked her gaze to stare at Neyo. His face was twisted into a scowl, and if she had any sense at all, she would have been frightened, but she was in too deep to care. His hard eyes met hers in the mirror, and his jaw tightened.

He released her hair and slid his arm around her body, between her breasts, to wrap around her throat, and he lifted her upright so he could whisper in her ear.

“Do you know what you did to me?” His voice was hoarse and anguished. “Every time I kissed someone, all I could taste was you. Every time I hooked up, all I could remember was this perfect fucking pussy.”

He pounded into her with bruising intensity, furiously working her clit with his free hand. Her head began to throb. This was so wrong. He couldn’t be saying what she thought she was hearing. She was confused from the lack of blood flowing to her brain.

“I got matched twelve different times, and not one of them was right, because not one of them was you,” he snarled. “You cursed me. You haunt me.”

The world began to darken around the edges as her eyes drifted closed, and he released her throat and forced her head to the side so she faced him.

“Look at me when you fucking come,” he ordered.

She gasped, and he clamped his hand down over her mouth to muffle her scream as he wrenched an orgasm from her body. He didn’t let up, chasing after her at a frenzied pace that rocked her entire body as she sobbed into his hand.

“Inside?” he asked roughly.

She nodded and whimpered as tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks. He came with two brutal thrusts, and she felt the hot rush of his release deep inside. He shuddered against her hair as his cock softened and slipped out of her. At last, he loosened his grip and turned her to face him as he leaned against the wall for support. He wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair as she rested her head against him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she sighed as she licked his neck, unable to resist the temptation of tasting his skin.

“I’m sure there’s an official list in my GAR file,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Reeda cleaned up quickly while Neyo went back to their table so they wouldn’t be spotted leaving the refresher together. Her hairstyle was destroyed, so she hastily repinned it as well as she could, and then wiped off the mascara that smudged heavily beneath her eyes. A quick reapplication of lipstick, and she almost looked presentable—with the minor exception of her missing panties, which Neyo had silently retrieved from the refresher floor and tucked into his pocket while maintaining strong eye contact.

When she returned to the dining room, Neyo waylaid her with a ferocious expression. Force, what is he scugged about now?

“We’re leaving,” he said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her toward the exit. A few quiet murmurs whispered around the room as he dragged her behind him.

“What?” she asked, tugging her wrist to no avail. “Why?”

“The karking droid gave away our table,” he said.

“My deepest apologies, Admiral,” the droid said. “We can locate another table if you would care to wait.”

Reeda assessed the room quickly. Every table was occupied, and none of the diners were anywhere close to being ready to leave. Moreover, at least half of the customers were eyeing her and Neyo with expressions ranging from amusement to overt curiosity.

“No,” she said. “Have the food delivered to my flat.”

“Right away, sir,” the droid replied, waddling off to relay the order to the kitchen.

Neyo looked at her inquisitively. “Your flat?”

“I live in this building,” she said. “Come with me.”

She was keenly aware of the many sets of eyes that tracked their hasty exit, but before long, she led Neyo into the private, secure lift that opened directly into her penthouse. He stood silently next to her on the trip up, watching her with an inscrutable gaze. She tried not to give herself an opportunity to second-guess her decision to let him into her home. Strange, she thought, how this seemed more intimate than allowing him inside her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed another person into her home. 

The lift doors opened, and he followed her into the flat, pausing long enough to remove their shoes, then looking around curiously.

“Lived here long?”

“A few months,” she said. “I bought it when I found out I’d be stationed on Coruscant long-term.”

“It’s nice,” he said. “Very… clean.”

She laughed. “You mean sterile. I haven’t had time to do much decorating. I’m hardly here except to sleep, anyway.”

He nodded. “I thought I’d have more time for hobbies after the war ended, but now it’s just nonstop—”

“Red tape and committees,” she finished with a sympathetic grimace. He shot her a wry grin. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile before, and it did uncomfortable things to her brain. She tried not to think about it, instead asking, “What kind of hobbies? Aside from plotting my slow death, obviously.”

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely. “Torturing small, adorable creatures; sharpening my vibroblade collection; collecting stamps; that sort of thing.”

She blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

He regarded her steadily for a moment, eyes unreadable as ever. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you?”

She was taken aback. “I—”

Her reply was cut off by the chime of the door. The food had arrived, thank the Force, which gave her a moment to stop herself from blurting out her immediate thought: You’ve never given me any reason to think anything else.

Neyo was a competent soldier—brilliant, in fact. There was no question that he had one of the finest tactical and strategic minds in the GAR. But as a person? From the moment they’d met, he’d been antagonistic, sardonic, cold. He’d challenged her authority and provoked her in meetings. He’d only treated her with the barest semblance of civility in public, and in private—Well. They both knew how things went when they were alone.

The service droid rolled a cart into the dining room and began setting up the meal.

“Can I get you a drink?” she offered Neyo. “I don’t have any Alderaanian red, but I do have Cheedoan whiskey.”

“The good stuff,” he replied. “I’ll have a glass. Thanks.”

The droid finished setting up and shuffled out the front door as Reeda poured two generous glasses of whiskey at the wet bar.

“Ice?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, and when she turned around, she nearly dropped the glasses in surprise to find him standing close behind her. He locked his eyes on hers and never looked away as he took one of the glasses and drained it in a single swallow, then set it down with a decisive click on the counter. Her heart began to pound as he loomed over her. He traced his fingers from her elbow up to her wrist, and then he wrapped his hand around hers and raised her glass to her lips. 

The whiskey burned a fiery path across her tongue and down her throat. A few droplets escaped and splashed coldly on her chest. Neyo didn’t let up until she emptied the glass, and when she was done, he leaned down and sucked the liquor off her skin. His hands dropped to her hips and slid up her back as he located the zipper of her dress and dragged it down excruciatingly slowly, and all the while, his mouth moved across her skin. He slipped the straps down over her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor, and then he kissed a path along the lacy edge of her bra.

“Thanks for the matched set,” he said, unhooking it and pulling it off.

“Those were expensive, asshole,” she said unsteadily.

He didn’t reply, but she knew she was never going to see that bra again. He kissed his way down her breast and captured her nipple in his mouth, abrading it lightly with his teeth. She jolted, and the empty glass slipped from her hand and smashed against the hard tiles of the floor. 

Neyo barely responded to the sound of shattering crystal. Reeda froze, keenly aware that the smallest movement could result in a bloody footful of glass. She stood utterly, helplessly still as he continued to explore her body with his teeth and lips and hands and tongue. He was thorough in his attentions, and something about being entirely at his mercy was wildly arousing. Her head spun as the whiskey began to work its insidious way through her bloodstream.

“I missed this perfume. What is it?” he murmured against the soft skin of her abdomen.

“I don’t wear any,” she said.

He nuzzled against her as though he could transfer her scent to his own skin. Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her out of the room, completely disregarding the risk to himself. But instead of dropping her as soon as they were clear of the broken glass as she expected, he asked, “Bedroom?”

“Left,” she said, and he strode across the flat and kicked open the door, to her intense irritation. “You gonna pay for the broken doorknob?”

He didn’t reply, just tossed her onto the bed and pounced on her as soon as she landed. He slid in between her thighs and gripped her hard as his mouth descended on hers, kissing her as though he were trying to devour her soul. He was still fully clothed, and she scrambled to pull off his shirt. He was completely unhelpful, too engrossed in her taste. She raked her nails across his skin as she yanked his shirt over his head, and he seized her lip in his teeth in revenge.

At last, the barrier of his shirt was gone, and she writhed against him, desperate to feel as much of his warm, smooth skin against her as possible. They clashed together, sinking nails and teeth into each other. At some point, Neyo got his trousers down enough to free his cock, and he shoved into her. His belt chafed harshly on her delicate skin as she wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster. The sounds they made were unholy, primal: growls and grunts and screams of pain and ecstasy as they tore into each other with all the aggression that they had built over the years. 

She pulled his hair; he clawed her back. She slapped his face; he bit her shoulder. She snarled that she loathed him; he interlaced his fingers with hers and whispered how beautiful she was when she came apart beneath him. She thrust him away and kicked him across the bed; he pinned her down and fucked her until she sobbed and begged for more. At some point, she tasted blood, and she didn’t know or care whose it was. And when at last she lost count of how many times he’d brought her to orgasm, he curled his body around hers and traced his thumb softly over her features as she drifted to sleep.

“If I die while I’m inside you, it’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven,” he whispered.

“Force, you say some kriffed up shit,” she grumbled.

Reeda awakened slowly, aware of something blissfully warm and soothing moving across her skin. She cracked her eyes open. Neyo was lying on top of her, dragging his tongue lazily over her body. He roamed along her curves, and it wasn’t until he paused at her bruised wrist that she realized what he was doing.

“Are you licking my wounds?” she breathed.

He didn’t answer, but his eyes met hers with an intensity that bordered on madness. Gods, everything about this was so fucked up, and she didn’t dare examine too closely why she found it so incredibly arousing. He moved slowly, meticulously, his tongue gliding softly over every centimeter of her body, until she felt like a bomb, ready to detonate at the slightest spark. She came before he ever reached her cunt, and again as he rocked gently inside her, his lips soft against her mouth, silent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes to course down her temples.

After, he guided her into the shower, and when her legs gave out, he held her upright as the hot water washed over them. Once he’d massaged her entire body with his strong, soapy hands, he dried her off and laid her back on the bed while he spread bacta across the damage he’d inflicted. It was disorienting to be cared for so thoroughly by the man who’d spent the better part of four years making her life hell. He didn’t speak, and she didn’t know what to say, so in the end, she simply watched him in silence.

When he finished with the bacta, he retrieved their dinner from the dining room. The food had long since gone cold, but after hours of intense physical activity, they were famished, and they ate it anyway, sharing bites and sipping whiskey straight from the decanter. Neyo sat with his back against the headboard, his long, strong legs bracketing Reeda as she leaned back against his broad chest.

“How did you know porg was my favorite?” she asked.

He shrugged. “They’re tiny, cute, and innocent. I just assumed you would enjoy extinguishing the life from them and consuming their remains.”

She laughed and snuggled closer to him. “Is that why you order your meat rare? Because it’s the next best thing to drinking straight from the source?”

“Finally, someone who understands,” he smirked. “Truthfully, I overheard you tell Admiral Coburn that porg was your favorite during a banquet at the strategy conference at Valor.”

She turned to stare up at him. “Neyo, that was two years ago. That was before we ever…”

“I know,” he said, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

“Stalker,” she murmured.

He dropped his mouth to her neck, and she tilted her head back against his shoulder as his lips glided across her skin. 

“What does it say about you that you like it?” he whispered when he reached her ear.

He pulled her close, positioning himself between her and the bedroom door. From the proprietary way he held her, she knew it was a deliberate choice; any threat that came through that door would have to go through him before it got to her, and she had a feeling that there weren’t many beings in the galaxy that were brave or foolish enough to try.

Reeda jerked awake to a furious pounding at the front door. Neyo was already halfway out of the bedroom, stark naked and armed with a steak knife from their midnight dinner.

“Wait here,” he ordered, his voice hard and flat.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled on a bathrobe and grabbed a blaster from her nightstand. Neyo glared at her when she joined him, but didn’t bother yelling at her.

“Coruscant guard! Open up,” a modulated voice shouted harshly from outside the door.

Neyo glanced questioningly at her, and she shrugged, hiding the blaster behind her robe. He stepped out of view of the door, and she opened it to find none other than Marshal Commander Fox, flanked by two Corrie ARC troopers.

“Commander,” she greeted him, not bothering to conceal the surprise in her voice.

“Good to see you’re in one piece, Admiral,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, baffled.

“We received multiple calls about a disturbance at your address. Are you alone?”

Reeda felt a hot rush of blood wash over her face and neck. “I fail to see how that is any business of yours, Commander.”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s my duty to—” He stopped abruptly, and his visor shifted to a point behind her. 

“Isn’t this a little below your pay grade, Fox?” Neyo drawled close behind Reeda.

Fox’s visor turned back to Reeda, then to Neyo, and then back to Reeda again. The two ARC troopers appeared to be fascinated by the walls on either side of the front door. 

At last, Fox spoke. “I don’t send shinies to wake up admirals.”

Neyo’s hand slid possessively around the front of Reeda’s abdomen, and he pulled her against his nude body. Something large and solid prodded against her backside. Dank farrik, is he turned on right now? Sick bastard.

“Thank you for your concern,” she told Fox, “but everything is under control.”

“So I see,” Fox replied. “Still, you’ll need to keep the noise level down, or I’ll have no choice but to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

Neyo reached forward silently and shut the door in Fox’s face, then he spun Reeda around, picked her up over his shoulder, and carried her back to the bedroom. The last thing Fox heard was the unmistakable sound of Neyo’s hand slapping her ass as Reeda shrieked with indignant laughter.

Republic Military HQ buzzed quietly with speculation the next morning when not one, but two of the most senior command staff called in sick for the first time in either of their careers. Rumors swirled: some were convinced a secret bioweapon had been released by Separatist holdouts; others maintained that the stress of dealing with politicians was beginning to take a toll; still others claimed that it was a coverup and that the marshal commander and the admiral had been taken hostage by pirates. It was whispered that Commander Fox had a particularly haunted expression that morning, and two of the Coruscant Guard ARC Troopers had contacted the legal department to update their wills. In the midst of all this, the beleaguered Lissi received a brusque order to inform RTL Matchmaking that the admiral no longer required their services.

Daria drained her third iced caf of the morning as she flicked through her holomessages. Buried amidst the intake forms and meeting invitations was an abrupt-bordering-on-rude note from Marshal Commander Neyo ordering her to close his file.

“Why do you look like the tooka that got the blue milk?” her fellow matchmaker Tarsi Renda asked as she passed Daria in the corridor.

“Oh, no reason,” Daria smiled. “The galaxy is back to normal, that’s all—and my track record is once again perfect.”

---

DJ’s masterlist | Join my tag list here

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps #commander neyo #neyo x the admiral #commander neyo x ofc #neyo x ofc #neyo x the bad-miral

[beomcoups]

Now that’s 90′s- A Seventeen Collab

Hosted by @beomcoups​ and @mingsolo​​

Drive in theaters... mall hopping on the weekends... confessing your watching TRL and Daria on MTV. The 90s were all about being fresh, nostalgic and keeping it real. Who better to star in this 90′s collab other than SVT?  Below are the authors that are going to be taking us through the decade, one Seventeen boy at a time. 

S. Coups

→ Cry-Baby by @duhnova

→ pairing: biker!choi seungcheol x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, angst, opposites attract, drama, kind of college au, smut

→ summary: decked out in leather and riding a harley davidson like he’s got business with the devil, choi seungcheol was the talk of your small town. everyone looked down on him and when you come home for the first time since starting uni you find it hard to believe that the pouty lipped kid you tossed off the merry-go-round when you were six was some slick haired delinquent. → rating: 18+

Jeonghan

→ [he Emperor and I] by @flurrys-creativity

→ pairing: emperor!Jeonghan x Reader

→ genre:  royal au, the king and I 1999 animation au, s2l, romance, fluff, humour, angst, eventual smut

→ summary: You travel as a teacher to Caratland on the request of emperor Jeonghan. Though the emperor wasn't what you expected, neither was your stay in the foreign land. Especially with Jeonghan using every chance he got to tease you. 

→ rating: 18+

Joshua

→ [Stop, Kiss] by @hobeemin

→ pairing: joshua hong x poc!(f) reader

→ genre: romance, angst, drama, fluff, college au, 90s au (based on Can’t Hardly Wait)

→ summary: joshua wasn’t what you called popular back in high school, in fact, he was practically invisible. what happens when he runs into his childhood crush in college after growing into his looks? awhole lot of shenanigans ensue.

→ rating: 18+

Jun

→ Ugh! As If!  by @ wongyuseokie ​ → pairing: College Student Junhui x Female Reader

→ genre: established relationship, pwp, fluff, smut

→ summary: Your boyfriend decided to take you into a drive-in movie for date night, only problem? He looks scrumptious, and now your task is to make sure he knows just how good he looks, without the others knowing.

→ rating: 18+ 

Hoshi

→ [Caller #17] by @beomcoups​​

→ pairing: jock!Hoshi x college radio dj!reader (femme)

→ genre: 90’s au. strangers to lovers au, fluff, angst,

→ summary: You could name 10 things that you hate about him easily. But when you bond together over music, those things slowly turn into love instead.

→ rating: 18+

Wonwoo

→ [PAUSE + PLAY] by @mingsolo​​

→ pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

→ genre: 90s au, fluff, humor

→ summary: Your new job at the VHS store starts to get interesting when a handsome young man comes to the counter with a bunch of interesting picks.

→ rating: nc17

Woozi

→ You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) by @wooahaeproductions​

→ pairing: Lee Jihoon x Female Reader

→ genre: angst, fluff, smut

→ summary: You and your neighbor, Jihoon used to be best friends as kids. As time passed, unfortunate events and the cliques of junior high tore the two of you apart. Several years later, you find yourselves in the same college but the two of you actively avoid each other and some people would even say you were enemies. As fate would have it, breakups lead you both to wonder if there's ever a chance to rekindle the friendship.

→ rating: 18+ read here

DK

→ 60 Billion by @onlyseokmins pt. 1 pt. 2​

→ pairing: Lee Seokmin x Female Reader

→ genre: smut, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, enemies to comrades to lovers!au, angst, fluff

→ summary:  How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

→ rating: 18+

Mingyu

→ Agent K by @milfgyuu​

→ pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

→ genre: Men In Black!AU, 90’s!AU, Humor, Action, Romance (smut?)

→ summary: You’re the agency's top recruit five years running and your reward? Getting stuck with a rookie as your new partner. Not only is he a walking disaster but he’s also the director’s grandson. You’re tasked with both keeping him alive and in line when he tries to sweet talk his way into melting your icy professional exterior. 

→ rating: 18+

Minghao

→ BREAK AND RETURN by @cheolism

→ pairing: brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader

→ genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend 

→ summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires.

→ rating: 18+

Seungkwan

→ once upon a summer by @the-boy-meets-evil​

→ pairing: Seungkwan x fem!reader

→ genre: 90s!au, summer love | fluff and some angst

→ summary: Every summer kind of goes the same. The population of your usually sleepy beach town doubles and you bust your ass to make enough money to last through the slow season. But a new face blows into town like a whirlwind and he’s determined to catch your eye. Only one problem: he’s here for the summer and you’re married to this town. 

→ rating:18+

Vernon

→ Natsukashii by @flurrys-creativity​

→ pairing: Vernon x Reader (probably fem)

→ genre: Jurassic Park AU, 90s AU, acquaintances to lovers/distant friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst

→ summary: It should have been a fun weekend trip but after the boat got caught by a storm and crashed on one of the dinosaur islands, you got separated from the group. You nearly despaired until Vernon found you.

→ rating: sfw and 15+

Dino

→ Four Page Letter by @shuadotcom​​

→ pairing: Lee Chan x Fem!Reader

→ genre: Fluff, smut, mild angst

→ summary:  Chan has always been just one of your step-brother’s best friends. He’s also been in love with you for as long as everyone remembers, but you never paid him much mind - that is until you decide to return home after many years away and you see the man he’s become. He goes from being your little brother’s best friend to being the perfect man for you in a matter of months. Now the questions are who wants who more and will either of you do anything about your feelings?

→ rating: 18+

#that's so 90s #Seventeen collab #svt collab #svt fanfic #seventeen fics #k-vanity #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #my collabs

[sirianasims]

Chapter 36

Out Of The Woods

“Daddy, did you see how fast I was? Did you see me?”

“I saw you, you did so well! Ivy and I were cheering for you all the time.”

Hailey had placed second in her first track run. I worked as a coach for the track & field teams now, so Samuel had been sitting with Ivy as they watched Hailey run.

We went to the pier, all four of us together for once, and got ice cream. Hailey was excitedly telling Samuel all about her track times.

It made my heart swell, not so much because she seemed to have a talent for running, but because I hadn’t seen her so proud of herself before, and I was happy that Samuel was here to experience it too. I didn’t want him to miss too many of the girls’ milestones just because we were no longer together.

The girls ran off to try the ferris wheel and we were alone. Samuel awkwardly scooted over to where Hailey had been sitting. We never spent any time together these days. Ever since that uncomfortable Winterfest a year and a half ago, we had mostly kept it to administrative texts and taking turns picking up the girls from kindergarten.

Finally, Samuel cleared his throat.

“So, uh. You look… well.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I was sweaty and Ivy had wiped some ice cream on my sleeve, but I did feel better than I had in a long time.

“Thanks. You too. The beard suits you.”

We talked for a while, carefully sticking to safe subjects. I told him about Jessica getting into fashion design, how she was planning to move to Del Sol Valley with her boyfriend. Samuel updated me on Daria and Griffin who just found out they were expecting a baby.

Then, his expression turned serious.

“Do you ever… have you talked to Charlie?”

I realised that it was the first time either of us had spoken his name for almost two years.

“No. I wouldn’t pick up if he called, but he hasn’t tried.”

“He actually called me when he heard about the divorce. But we didn’t speak for long. I may have said that I would personally castrate him without anaesthesia if he ever contacted you again.”

“Samuel -”

“With a dull scalpel. I was pretty angry at the time, and he said some really cruel things, and… I just don’t know who he is anymore. I haven’t heard from him since.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to give him a hug, but I couldn’t imagine Samuel would ever want me to touch him again.

“Samuel, I’m really sorry that I screwed things up for everyone. Not just us, but you and Charlie too.”

Samuel sighed and attempted to smile.

“Hey, he wasn’t exactly blameless. He was supposed to be my brother. He should never have... anyways, you said you wanted to discuss the girls’ living arrangement? Are you not happy with the split?”

I was grateful for the change of subject.

“I am, but I’ve been asked to coach the track & field team for seniors as well. And I would like to accept, but it’s in the evenings and I’d need you to have the girls a bit more often. I know your schedule can be difficult, so I only want to do it if you can find the time.”

He looked relieved.

“Sure, we can figure something out. For a moment I wondered if you, you know… Found someone.”

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. I just figured I should be doing something worthwhile with my time now that the girls are getting older, instead of being stuck in the house all the time.”

“You do know that was always an option, right?”

“Sorry, Samuel, I don’t mean to sound like I was a prisoner. It was my own choice to stay at home, I know. And you did try to talk me out of it.”

“Maybe I should have tried harder.”

“Samuel, don’t. I doubt you could have convinced me back then. I was pretty out of reach, I think. You were right, there was nothing you could have said that would have made me listen.”

We were both quiet.

I wanted to ask him if he was seeing someone, ask why he cared if I was. But suddenly the girls were back and begged for more ice cream and the moment had passed.

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen4 #freya duchelli #samuel ward #hailey duchelli #ivy duchelli

[borderlinenocturnal]

GUYS I AM CONNECTING ALL THE FUCKING DOTS ALRIGHT

TMAGP LINKS: alchemy

Right so it's safe to assume TMAGP will have something to do with alchemy, because of the alchemy symbols in the TMAGP logo.

Originally, my theory was that the fears WOULD be body mind and spirit related, but this became less likely as the episodes went on.

We also know that there were 'symbols' in The Magnus Institute. There were also symbols on ink5oul's tattoo, as well as the paintbrush tattoo. I think it's possible these are all alchemy symbols.

So I googled if fear has any significance in alchemy, and YOU GUYS.

So what if The Magnus Institute is all about doing that, and that's why redcanary found those symbols? We know the Institute were collecting artifacts.

And ink5oul? We already know they have alchemy significance, because of this:

This is an actual instagram profile made assumedly by rustyquill. The circle with a line symbol represents the body in alchemy, or purity and perfection. This links to Daria's desire to be "perfect". Also, ink5oul's tattoo is a serpent, which represents wholeness in alchemy. And their whole deal could also link to using one's fear to empower them.

Back in episode 3, I made a less developed version of this post because I went looking for the significance of nature in alchemy and basically:

And you know how the guy transforms into a tree: becoming more "powerful", one could say.

Anyway anyway the thing that really drove me insane is "fear takes many forms." You know, the TAGLINE FOR THIS SHOW?? Different forms - transformation????

Very unorganised thoughts right now but I'm gonna keep an eye on things. Not sure how the OIAR fits into this at the moment.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #my posts #tmagp predictions

[somnambulic-thing]

"Hi, this is, um, Betty. Betty from Seattle. This might sound creepy as hell, but I heard about you on the recent Gutterballs episode. Not sure if Eddie ever mentioned me? Probably not, it was a long time ago, haha, but I got in touch with him for the first in maybe 18 years after that episode. Long story short, I'm going to be in your neck of the woods in a few months, and he thought the two of us would hit it off. I told him it was nuts to just call you out of the blue like this, but he seemed sure that you'd be cool with it. He wasn't even certain this was still your number, so I took a shot. He told me a story about one of your adventures, I can tell you meant a lot to him. That you still mean a lot to him. Anyway, I'm rambling, but I'll leave my number just in case? My Instagram too, but I'm rarely ever on there. If you ever wanna chat, or whatever, I mean, okay well that's all I guess, haha, bye."

this has been sitting in my inbox since the 17th of February? shit

I love you, Betty. Here's a little love note to prove it.

Another thread of the Gutterballs universe by the wonderful @dr-aculaaa who deserves the world. Thank you for your friendship. <3

Eddie Munson x enby!artist!reader - written from the perspective of Daria.

Words: ~1k

---

Oslo was cold today. Armed with sharp winds that nipped on sensitive skin, made eyes water and all joints slow and stiff no matter how thickly wrapped they were. All you could think of, all that you desired in this very moment as you mounted the steps to your small rental after a long day at the gallery was to drown yourself in steaming hot tea and a bone-melting bath before crawling between heavy sheets and passing out for the next ten hours.

You turned the kettle on before you unwrapped yourself from several layers of knitted garments and shoved your mittens into your coat pocket before you lost another pair to the hungry nooks and crannies of this place when something under your icy fingertips buzzed.

Gonna throw that fucking phone out of the window, you thought and pulled it out with the intent to really just turn it off without looking at whatever notification was waiting to spoil your evening but handling a screen with frozen fingers was harder than it might sound and… oh… an unknown number.

Country code +1. An unknown American number. And they had left a message.

‘A haunted castle, for Daria,’ his voice echoed through your mind for the hundredth time in the past forty-something hours since you’d heard those very words the first time. You knew of Eddie’s podcast but out of all his various endeavors - for reasons you hadn't been willing to investigate yet - you’d stayed away from Gutterballs. Until, that was, your assistant had made you aware of the episode through a voice message full of sighs and sobs and excited ramblings.

“I don’t want to spoil too much— haha, spoil, I mean, you know what happened, you lived it but— fuck, you know what I’m about to say: those drawings? Will forever be changed for me now. Now I really get why you won’t sell any of them, despite the gracious offers… Anyway, drop your pencil and. Go. Listen…”

And so you did.

After, you had spent more than an hour in the large armchair in the studio that was yours for the time of your Oslo residency, sipped cold tea and watched those memories unfold on the darkening ceiling of the room like an 8mm film.

‘Maybe my dear Strigoi is still out there.’

He’d held his hand out for you, in a way, and there was no doubt that you wanted to take it. But… you needed… a little longer. Wanted a little more time to spend with that Eddie from the past, to laugh and cry, to yearn and mourn before you were ready to reconnect with who he had become.

But, fuck. The curiosity.

You put the phone on the counter, put it on speaker and turned to pour your tea and—

"Hi, this is, um, Betty. Betty from Seattle…”

Oh.

“This might sound creepy as hell…”

No. Not at all creepy, you thought, not noticing that you were spilling hot water over the countertop while taking your eyes off your cup to stare at your phone as if you could miss Betty crawling out your screen.

Could be her style, for all you knew.

You had thought about— had planned on asking Eddie for her number yourself.

“Not sure if Eddie ever mentioned me? Probably not—“

“Oh, I heard a lot about you,” you said softly right over a nervous laugh that had an adorable ring to it, even through your subpar phone speakers. You placed the kettle next to the half-empty cup, leaned against the counter and listened.

“I told him it was nuts to just call you out of the blue like this, but he seemed sure that you'd be cool with it…”

“I bet he did,” you snort a laugh, instantly transported back to the early days of your - Eddie had been right about that - symbiosis and into a leaky tent, anchored in the woods far too close to the town where you grew up in. Rain drizzled lazily onto the taped canvas above you while you ran your fingertips lazily over Eddie’s skin in gentle exploration as the sun vanished into the thicket. Until they caught on two squiggly lines of ink.

“You into astrology?”

“Hm?” Stirred from his weed and caress induced trance he cracked one eye open. “Uhm, yeah, kind of.”

This had been the first time you heard about Betty. The first of many times.

The better he got to know you, the more he was convinced you and Betty would get along brilliantly and by what he told you about their time together, you started to like her without ever having met her. Sometimes it was almost like, through Eddie’s carefully curated memories, Betty was giving you recommendations for books, music or movies. Like little notes shared through time and space.

“He told me a story about one of your adventures.”

Betty brought you back to the here and now and for the umpteenth time in the past days, you felt some kind of nostalgic jet lag.

“I can tell you meant a lot to him. That you still mean a lot to him.”

You smiled around a heavy weight in your throat and pressed your slightly warmed-up palms to your still frozen face, wondering if you were to cry now, would your tear ducts just produce icicles?

“If you ever wanna chat, or whatever, I mean, okay well that's all I guess, haha, bye."

“Betty from Seattle,” you muttered into the sudden silence and tapped your phone screen to replay the message for the second of what would eventually be four times. “Nice to finally meet you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic

[lilydoeswrite]

THE MERCILESS SIREN | CHAPTER THIRTEEN

wattpad link previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

summary: It is the 66th Hunger Games when Oceana Fontaine is reaped as tribute, and at just thirteen years old, the odds are certainly not in her favour. As much as it is seen as an honour for Oceana to represent her district in the games, it is also practically a death sentence. But Oceana knows she needs to go home and is determined to, no matter how low her chances are and with the help of her mentors, she might just do that. But if she is to win, she will have to learn where her biggest strengths start to turn into her biggest flaws and weigh her options carefully as she starts making choices that pushes her morality and the lengths she will go to for love.

tags: slow burn (finnick x oc), violence, death, canon typical violence the usual stuff when it comes to the hunger games, weapons, not sure what else

“What?” I ask. I’m confused. Is Gill genuinely trying to protect me? Is he watching out for me? But what would he benefit from it other than putting himself in more danger in one way or another? As he said, we’re all fighting for ourselves here in the games, so why is he looking out for me? 

“Oceana,” Gill sighs, “you remind me too much of my little sister for me to not look out for you.”

Silence falls again as the soft crackle of the fire becomes louder. I’m unsure of what to say. Maybe I should’ve gotten to know Gill better before the games and I regret not getting to know him better. I should’ve at least tried to make conversation with him from time to time, to know him as a person and not just as my partner in the games. Maybe I had been too quick to judge his motives and perhaps it was wrong of me to do so. There's no point in having regrets and not doing anything about them so I say something. “Tell me about her,” I say, breaking the awfully loud silence. 

“She’s twelve,” Gill says after taking in a deep breath. “Her name is Daria and she loves to snorkel. Her favourite colour is blue and she wants to be a professional diver one day. Her favourite colour is pink– a soft pastel pink, not a bright pink– she loves to go jet skiing with me. She’s just like you in many ways, I guess. She’s brave and smart and kind.”

“Well, she sounds like an amazing girl,” I comment. So that’s her name, Daria. She’s also only one year younger than me. I can’t imagine how terrified, or proud, she must’ve felt seeing her older brother get reaped. I let out a sigh, “I’m guessing you would do everything to see them again?”

“I guess,” he shrugs, “how about you? Any siblings?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I have a sister. Her name’s Aurelia, she’s nineteen. She’s studying to become a marine biologist or oceanographer right now. We would go out every weekend to the Centre or wake up early to see the sunrise on the beach. She’d take me out on our boat and then we’d go diving...She’s the best older sister I could ask for, despite all the ups and downs.” I dare not go to the part where she’s everyone’s favourite and how I’ll always be in her shadow, I decide not to and choose to ignore it, I don’t want my last words of hers to be bad ones.

“I’m guessing you miss her?”

“More than anything,” I chuckle. “It’s hard to imagine that if not for the games we would’ve spent the day together…” In District 4, the first day of the games is always a big event. Everything is put on hold and it’s more or less a celebration as we gather in the square to watch the beginning of it, cheering on our tributes. It’s celebrated just as widely as any other holiday. On any other year, Aurelia and I would spend our mornings on the boat, diving into the water and splashing around before having to head to the square. I doubt she is having as much fun though, she’s probably too busy getting prepared to look at least presentable to be on stage. The family’s of the tributes are always invited to watch the beginning on the stage in front of everyone in a grand manner with everyone congratulating them on the honour although they must be worried sick.

“What would you be doing today if not for, y’know,” Gill looks at me as the warm glow of the fire makes him at least visible. His blue eyes reflect the orange flames and his blonde hair is ruffled and messy. 

“Probably diving in the morning with Aurelia before heading to the square,” I try recounting last year’s events. “Then we’d probably meet up with all of our friends and watch the beginning of the games before going to one of the restaurants in the Centre to eat. That’s what we did last year, anyways. After, we’d probably spend the day hanging around on the beach.”

Gill nods, “sounds fun.”

“How about you?” I ask.

“Me? Well, I’d probably sleep in till as late as possible then go watch it with my friends. After that we’d probably be hanging around by the Rocks, jumping into the sea and stuff like that.” He’s smiling as he talks about it. “I hope they’re doing fine and that they’ve done something extra this year. Hopefully they’ve found someone to cover my shifts.”

“You have a job?” I’m curious and for some reason I’m surprised. 

“Yeah, I’m a part-time lifeguard at the beach by the Tides,” Gill chuckles. “It’s honestly quite a rewarding job, I really like it. Saving people, it’s a little terrifying sometimes, but it’s worth it. Although, I mean, I did plan on becoming a marine engineer. What about you? Any dream jobs?”

“Well, I mean, a marine biologist, I guess. I mean, I’ve always liked the idea of it and that’s what Aurelia does, so it only makes sense to do it as well. Although, I’d probably like to be a professional diver as well.” I reply and Gill simply nods. I’m thinking about what I can say next when I hear a rustle behind me. Turning my head towards the direction of the sound, I heave a sigh of relief when I see Briar coming out of her tent as she drags a groggy Alvise with her. “Hi Briar, hi Alvise,” I greet them.

“Hi guys,” she smiles, “we’ll take over from here, you two can go back to sleep,” Briar says and Gill and I nod, heading back into our tent. 

I lie down in my sleeping bag which I’m grateful for as it keeps me somewhat warm in the chilly night and before I know it, my eyes are shut and my body is relaxed. I’m awakened by Briar who is telling me to quickly get up and that we would spend the next few hours hunting before the sun comes up. I’m still a little groggy but wake up nonetheless, folding up the tent and roll up the sleeping bag to strap onto my bag once again. “Where to?” I ask.

Giselle uses her sword which reflects the moon light and draws a path using it. “Just straight ahead and up the hill, see if there’s any tributes.” I nod as I watch Alvise put out the fire before motioning for us to follow his lead. 

We hike up the hilly mountain in silence, not daring to say anything but also not knowing what to say. I’m not sure how long it’s been since we’ve started hiking but I know that my feet are starting to feel slightly heavy. If the Gamemakers were looking for a show, they would not be getting one, as so far, we’ve come across no tributes and little to no animals which could possibly see us as victims. I’ve started to zone out– thinking about Aurelia, mother and father and how they’d probably spend the night unable to sleep and unable to watch this and then I think about Cordelia and Pearl who’d be receiving live updates at lunch in school, I sincerely hope that they’re not too affected by me being in the games although it’s impossible that they aren’t. How about Finnick and Coral? I wonder if they’ve already planned out when to send me the gifts and have, hopefully, acquired some sponsors for me. I’m brought back into the present when we hear something fall from the trees not too far away. Gill nudges me and we run behind the others who are more than excited as they follow the sound of the noise.

“Look what we have here!” Briar squeals, pinning down the tired tribute with her spear before looking at us. She’s smiling almost sinisterly as she gazes at each of us, “who wants to do the honours?” I glance at Briar and then down at the tribute. She looks absolutely terrified, her eyes widened in fear and shock upon Briar’s words as she tries to shout for help only for Briar to press her hand against the tribute’s mouth. “Shut up will you? You make too much noise.” The girl nods, staying quiet as tears fall down from her eyes as she shuts them. 

I’m horrified, but refuse to let it show. I can’t have the others thinking I’m weak. I watch as Briar and Alvise argue over whoever gets to have the honours of finishing the poor girl off. I watch as more tears run down her face, her jet black hair sprawled across the ground and her body which is frozen in fear. I’ve always known the stereotypes of Career tributes– overly vicious, arrogant, better trained and better fed– but never in a million years would I imagine having to witness what is going on right now. 

“I’ll just do it,” Briar ultimately sighs before turning to the girl who has now opened her eyes. “Any last words?” 

The next thing I know, Briar has plunged her spear into the chest of the girl, blood spilling out from her chest and drenching her clothes. The canon goes off and it’s only then that Briar pulls the spear out. The tribute’s face is so pale it’s almost white and I take in a sharp breath as I watch her lie on the ground, motionless and still. To say that I’m shocked is an understatement. 

I don’t understand it, how could you kill someone so mercilessly without any guilt whatsoever? Much less be so joyful while doing so? It seems to me that for Briar, the games are nothing but fun. She’s in this for fun and that’s something beyond my comprehension. Did she understand the consequences of being in these games? That her family and friends would never see her again? Or did they know it as well and welcomed it openly all for the means of bringing glory to their district. Were they content with the fact that she might not see them again? I didn’t know how District 1 saw the Hunger Games but from what I’ve gathered, it’s vastly different. She was in this out of choice, to have the honour of representing her district, for fun and for the apparent giggles. 

The next thing I know, we’re moving on from her dead body and continue trekking up the hill, looking for any sign of other tributes. The sun is starting to come up now, which meant we had been hiking for at least a couple hours before we had found the girl. The sky is painted a soft orange with hues of pink, and if not for the situation I’m in, I would’ve sat down somewhere to watch as the sun rises and the sky turns blue. 

By the rate things are going, Gill and I will be going off on our own in no time. 

“Did you see how scared she was?” Giselle laughs as Briar skips gleefully through the trees. “She really thought shouting was going to help her!” 

Alvise, Chase and Gill laugh in synchronisation as they try to mock her cries for help. I so badly want to assume that Gill is only joining in for the sake of wanting to fit in with the others but I can’t be sure of anything whilst I’m still in the arena. 

“Everyone is going down in no time!” Alvise laughs as we continue to go through the woods. “And as long as we stick to the plan–”

“Screw the plan, Al!” Briar laughs as she makes the small jump off the rock we’re on, crunching a pile of leaves underneath her foot. “Loosen up! Have fun!”

“Exactly,” Chase is smiling as he helps Giselle down, “let’s have fun while we can! Come on, we already know we’ll take down the tributes in no time, they’re weaklings anyway.”

I keep quiet and force a smile when Briar looks my way. I hope I can keep this act up.

author's note: and chapter thirteen is up! sorry for the long wait, but it's finally out :) took me a while to write chapter sixteen so i'm sorry for the longer wait than usual. i hope you like this chapter and if you do, please consider reblogging and/or commenting, it would mean the world to me! thank you, and as always constructive crticism is always always welcomed!

#finnick odair #the hunger games #hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair smut #the merciless siren #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg series #thg #the hunger games fic #hunger games fan fic #hunger games imagine #hunger games fic #finnick odair fanfic #hunger games fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #finnick odair x oc #catching fire #mockingjay #thg finnick #hunger games finnick #finnick imagine #finnick fanfic #sam claflin x reader #mags flanagan

[cecilebutcher]

Using my bb Sephie for this ask <3

"Ms. Olympia... I'm quite curious if you would be interested in having tea with me and chat? Are you fond of tea? I have all sorts of different tea bags here... Let's see Chamomile, Rose, Iris, Pomegranate-that's my favourite... But I'm getting ahead of myself. I just wonder if it is alright with you if we have a talk about your family, and especially a certain... Blue flamed gentlemen. I must say it must be interesting to have a lot of family members..."

!!Likes do nothing, Reblog instead!!

Word count: 583

Warning⚠️: none

For: @catboiie16

Daria was out on a weekend buying some stuff that her and her brothers were running low on. Usually Nester would be sent for these types of errands, but today he was resting so Daria took it upon herself the eldest of the bunch to go do it. While in a small store that sells teas and coffee’s she was tapped on the shoulder. When she turned her head she was greeted by a raven haired girl, much shorter than her, and honestly a bit adorable.

“Excuse me, are you Daria Olympia?” The girl asked looking up at her “yes, may I know who you are and why you’re asking?” She said as she placed a bag of French coffee into her basket “yes of course. My name is Sephie. I go to school with your Cousins, Idia and Ortho. I was wondering if you’d like to have some tea with me and chat if you are free?” The girl, Sephie, said with a soft voice. Daria noted the small blush as she mentioned her cousins but decided not to mention it. “I’d like that, Idia told me a bit about you. Let me just buy these items and we’ll be on our way”

After a bit the two were on their way to nrc to have the tea Sephie had promised. Thankfully Daria was in a simple button up shirt alongside some dress pants so it was appropriate for this occasion. “Are you fond of tea Ms. Olympia?” “Quite a bit yes, though I usually drink coffee. But on a day like this tea is best” she replied as the two walked through the large gate of the school “what type do you like. I have chamomile, Iris, Rose, Pomegranate- that one is personally my favorite. But if you like more normal stuff like black or green I’m sure I have some somewhere.” Sephie listed as she read them of a small notebook “I’ve never had pomegranate tea, let’s try that one shall we?”

Soon the two sat down at a garden that was in the pomefiore dorm. “So Sephie, what exactly did you want to talk about?” Daria asked as she stirred her tea before taking a sip out of it, the taste was a bit sweet but other then that she liked it quite a bit, she’ll have to ask Sephie where she got it from. “Oh yes. I just wonder if it is alright with you if we have a talk about your family, and especially a certain... Blue flamed gentlemen. I must say it must be interesting to have a lot of family members..." She finished, a small blush forming on her face. Daria smiled at her “of course. Ask whatever you want. And yes, my family is… interesting as you, said it” Sephie returned the smile and the two started talking.

Soon the sun was setting and the two ladies started heading towards the gates of the school. “This was lovely Sephie, I enjoyed it very much” Daria told the younger girl as she stepped outside the gate “as did I. Let’s do this again” Sephie replied with a smile “thank you again for agreeing to meet me and chat Ms. Olimplya” “please, call me Daria” the Raven haired nodded before the two bid farewell and started walking away.

As Daria walked away she took out her phone from her pocket and started dialing a number. “Idia! you will never guess who I just had tea with”

comments are more than appreciated. but reblogs help the content reach more people so please reblog if you want to like<3 likes do nothing. Seriously, don’t like, reblog.

!!New years event. Ends January 31!!

I put extra care and love in this just for you cat love ya hope you liked it<3

#❦moots<3❦ #twisted wonderland #twst #❦cece #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #new years event

[burning--heart]

the inside of my brain is quite literally just caramelldansen and dea wigs rn. come on this journey with me

bristol: short length effectively shows that she prioritizes comfort over style without also implying that she can't take care of herself (unlike some of the styles on this list. cough). sensory friendly and low maintenance. i've had more or less this exact style before so i know she's chilling. it's cute. it looks like hair. love it. no notes.

london 1: WHAT HAPPENED. WHO DID THIS TO YOU. what's with the random braids. i can't even parse everything that's happening here. it looks really uncomfortable to have on her head. i feel neutrally about the fabric strips. i'll be honest, i don't know what the story behind the two different wigs is, but most of the photos of the london performance have her wearing this one so i imagine that this one came first and they changed it at some point after the press photos. its bad!

london 2: an improvement over the last one, but that's a low, LOW bar. my main gripe with this one is that it just really looks like a wig and i think that short hair suits her better. passable.

moscow (Vilena Sokolova): this production had a split cast, therefore two deas. this does not read as a wig to me, which is a win, and i don't mind this one being longer because they re-bookified dea (according to a post by mjrdm). having said that, I DO MIND THAT THEY RE-BOOKIFIED HER. THAT PART SUCKS. I DON'T LIKE IT. IT WAS A SHITTY CHOICE. but best practice imo is to design based on the character (even if they fucked the character). all things considered works well for her character in this version.

moscow (Daria Yanvarina): the texture of this one baffles me. why would she crimp her hair? what's with the random curled strands? there's even a couple of little braids for good measure. what is going on here? i wish i knew. the other one was fine, the difference between the two perplexes me. still better than the first london one but barely.

(bonus) london cast album/script cover: this one is a bonus because i'm pretty sure it's just Sanne Den Besten's actual hair? i find this an interesting choice. joke answer is that the original london wig was so bad they couldn't use it in promo material. more serious answer is that despite them committing to dea having albinism in both bristol and london, there's no reference to it in the script. i'm not equipped to comment on the morality of this one way or the other: all i can do is tell you that the choice to give her white hair was likely based in aesthetics (anything white reflects light really well, which suits her name, plus it contrasts with grinpayne's dark hair), and by not including it in the published version they chose to leave it open to other aesthetic choices (brown to match the book, red like her mother, etc). make of this what you will.

#the grinning man #dea #burning thoughts #version differences #i thought this was gonna be a quick post to write (it was not)

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter VII

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

4 Helona

Through the skylights of the vaulted ceilings, Eluca’s three moons painted the main level in a sea of blue. Streaks of gray and blue-white danced along the walls like friendly spirits, playing across the clones seated at the kitchen table. 

Kazi wasn’t staring at the clones, though. Her attention was drawn to the opposite mezzanine above the sunroom. To the little girl surreptitiously spying. 

Lying on her stomach while peering through the wooden spokes of the banisters, Neyti scrutinized the clones’ nighttime card game. The concentrated stitch in her eyebrows heightened her intrigue. 

Only three clones sat at the kitchen table—Commanders Cody and Fox, and trooper Nova. Too focused on their game—a game that had already resulted in an argument between the two commanders—they didn’t notice their spy. 

“She’s similar to you.”

The voice surprised her so much she jumped. Kazi blinked at her sister, resting a palm against the wall to steady herself. The ends of Daria’s mouth twitched but she didn’t smile. Her gaze rested on Neyti, who was so focused on the clones she remained oblivious to their watching.

“She’s curious about the men,” Daria said. “She watches them the way you do.”

Kazi sniffed. “I don’t watch them.”

“You do.” 

Dressed in a black, nearly sheer nightgown, her green eyes alit with a knowing gleam, Daria looked like a shadow. A shadow that observed all around and traded in secrets. 

Kazi shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like the idea of anyone watching her, much less studying her.

“You watch them because you don’t trust them.” Daria hefted something behind her back. “You’ve been amassing a list of problematic behaviors, biding your time until they’re sure to mess up, and when they do, you’ll be ready to condemn every single one of their flaws.”

Disconcerted by her sister’s assessment, Kazi tugged on the end of her braid. “You don’t know me.”

“Not anymore. But I did, once,” Daria said quietly. “You used to do it with Mama. You would wait months, and when you couldn’t hold it all in anymore, you would burst.”

“That was years ago,” she muttered. 

Daria shrugged and returned her attention to a now-yawning Neyti. “I stand by what I said: you’re both similar.”

“We’re not.” Kazi folded her arms over her chest. “Neyti is sweet and kind and forgiving. She’s curious about the clones because they’re unknowns. Not because she’s mistrustful.”

“She’s curious about the men because you are. Have you wondered why she maintains her distance? Why she looks to you whenever a decision must be made where the men are concerned?” Daria breathed a wry chuckle. “She sees how wary you are of them and she mimics you. You’re so unaware of the effect you have on her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daria gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you seriously so surprised to learn that a little girl looks up to you?”

“Neyti doesn’t look up to me.” Kazi scoffed. “There’s nothing inspirational or encouraging about me.”

“I used to look up to you.”

The honesty in Daria’s tone—the wistful hurt quieting her voice—made Kazi wince. 

It was bizarre to remember those early years. The time when they were little girls who played together, who laughed together, who cried together, who dreamt together. 

There was a time when they were inseparable, their two-year age difference a nonexistent barrier. 

There was a time Kazi promised to always protect her sister. A time when she promised they would always be friends. 

Their father’s death changed everything.

Kazi sought comfort in solitude; as the seasons changed and the dead bitterness of winter gave way to the aromatic blooms of spring, the bond with her sister shriveled and died. 

The thing about being sisters was: Kazi loved Daria. She always would. And she knew Daria would always love her. 

So this broken bond between them, a bond amassed from memories of warmth and security and unconditional love, hurt worse than any physical pain. Because it was a hurt borne from the possibilities that could have been, and the silent weeping of two little girls who lost their anchors.

Most nights she yearned for the years when her sister looked at her with awe and love.

Now, Daria’s face only ever held disappointment. 

The disappointment of a little sister whose older sister abandoned her. 

“I didn’t know you kept this,” Daria said, drawing Kazi from her thoughts. She flipped open a page of the leather-bound book in her hands.

Kazi stiffened. A spike of anger singed her blood. 

Carefully preserved in Daria’s hands was her adventure book, an old, worn thing her mother gifted her when she was a toddler as a means to store memories. The first forty pages housed printed photos from her early childhood. From the years before her father died. The last sixty pages were blank. 

The adventure book had sat in the closet of her old home. Collecting dust and forgotten by all except Kazi, she tried to throw it away. But she couldn’t. The photos were too evocative and the memories too visceral. 

She couldn’t throw it away because she was sentimental, and she was desperate to cling to a time when life was innocent and she was hopeful. 

Kazi gritted her teeth. “What were you doing in my room?” 

“I saw your knitting stitches on your desk,” Daria said calmly, unrepentantly. “I didn’t know you still knitted—”

“I don’t.” Daria gave her a disbelieving look, and Kazi clenched her fists. “I wanted to see if I could still do it.”

For a long moment Daria studied her, and she knew, from whatever her sister saw in her face, that she didn’t believe her. 

“I saw this tucked away,” Daria said, returning her attention to the book. “Almost like you’re ashamed of it.”

“It’s a silly book,” Kazi muttered. 

“And yet you kept it.” More pages flipped; photos of a happy family flickered. “It was important enough for you to take from Ceaia.”

Ignoring the emotion clogging the back of her throat, Kazi eyed her sister. “What do you want?”

“Do you remember when we would visit the harbor and steal the fishermen’s best catches?” Daria ran a finger down a faded photo—a photo of the two sisters, smiles wide and teeth missing, as they posed at a festival. “Do you remember the woman who almost caught us?”

She remembered. She remembered all of it.

They would hide among the ships’ containers, listening to the fishermen boast their catches of the day. Usually larger fish.  

Some occasions a fisherman would come across a star succulent, or a turtle, or an anemone: creatures that could survive outside the water. The fishermen would place bets on the price of their rare catches. When they were distracted, Kazi and Daria would sneak aboard their ships, find the creatures, and free them.

One afternoon a female sailor caught them throwing a turtle overboard. The two sisters managed to dodge the sailor’s attempt to wrangle them, and they sprinted away. Days later, the sailor was still grousing about the miscreants. Kazi and Daria didn’t return to the harbor for three weeks.

They were never caught. 

“I was so scared,” Daria said. “I thought we would get in trouble, but you always convinced me to go. I could never refuse you.”

The urge to look at her adventure book was too hard to resist and Kazi caved. A new page of photos displayed the old lighthouse. Their lighthouse.

“I remember the time we were stuck here.” Tracing the lighthouse’s exterior, Daria quietly laughed. “The lightning was awful and I thought we were going to be struck. I was so scared and you kept telling me it was going to be okay, but I wouldn’t calm down.” Green eyes lifted to hers, searching. “Do you remember what you did then?”

“I told you a story,” Kazi said hoarsely. “The legend of the Sea Dragon.”

“The Sea Dragon.” The moonlight cast Daria’s countenance in a grayish darkness similar to that stormy night so long ago. “You told me he was watching over us. That he was with us so we didn’t need to be afraid.”

Kazi thought back to that day. 

The sight of a tear-stained, six-year-old Daria cowering in the corner of the lighthouse’s watch tower. The water slowly rising. The sheer terror of not knowing how to protect and comfort her little sister. So she started to tell Daria a story, like her father used to do when she was scared, and the first story that came to mind was the legend of Sea. 

By the end of the story, Daria had quieted. She was no longer shivering.

A crackle of lightning had split the air and eight-year-old Kazi squeezed her sister’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Daria squeezed back, smiling wetly. “I’m not scared, Kazi. Not when you’re with me.”

“When we got home, Mama and Papa were livid. You took the blame. You told them you forced me to go with you.” Daria stared at her, confusing wrinkling her features. “I never understood why you did that.”

Kazi looked away. 

“You kept this, and your dragon,” Daria mused. A soft snap of leather and then Daria pushed the adventure book into her hands. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I know.” 

Shaking her head, Daria appraised her with a bemusement that bordered frustration. “I thought you didn’t care about us—about our culture. Our traditions. You went to the capital and I thought for sure you would adopt the Culturalist way of life.”

The Ceaian people were split into three groups—Traditionalists, Reformists, and Culturalists. 

Long ago, two sects of Ceaians coexisted, both revering the dragons and upholding traditions. But as centuries passed, and the last of the dragons perished, one group of people broke away. They were the Reformists. 

The Reformists turned the legends of old into dogmatic opinions of society and the world. No longer were the legends to be stories admired and awed; instead, interpretation of the legends enforced societal expectations of gender roles, marriage, and wealth. 

It was the Reformists who determined Higher and Lower Society—the refined versus the rugged. Similar to Traditionalists, they scorned technological reliance, but believed the cultural practices of the Traditionalists were too “common.”

Kazi’s mother came from a Reformist family.

The Traditionalists, on the other hand, lived among the ocean’s shores—sailors at heart. They maintained their culture and legends; they worshipped the natural process of life and respected all living things. 

Most Traditionalists refused the advent of technology that swept across the galaxy. Droids were uncommon and typically frowned upon. Traditionalists valued humanity first and foremost. Their cultural practices relied on a connection to the earth, a reverence for folklore, and a humble lifestyle built upon the legends of their people. 

Kazi’s father was a Traditionalist. 

Over the millennia, the Reformists built Ceaia’s major cities and established its central government. But then, a new sect emerged: the Culturalists. A people who sneered the Reformists’ hierarchy and scorned the Traditionalists’ “common” way of life.

The Culturalists respected technological advancements, belittled old legends and traditional values, and practiced the ways of the galaxy. Eventually they opened Ceaia’s spaceports to interplanetary travel. They learned new cultures and political ideologies. 

Their name—Culturalist—was originally coined by the Reformists. To sneer upon those who deemed tradition a nuisance. However, the Culturalists adopted the title, declaring their superiority based on their relations with other planetary systems, and their understanding of the galaxy at large. 

Most Culturalists looked down on the Traditionalists. Only the Reformists were taken seriously, thanks to their self-righteous view of advancement that permeated the Culturalist’s mindset today. Even then, the Culturalists emphasized choice rather than societal expectations.

Over time, and enraged by the Culturalists’ view of life, the Reformists returned to Ceaia’s mountain ranges and harbors, abandoning the cities they had built. They reclaimed localities and smaller cities, maintaining their doctrines on society. The Culturalists took control of the central government. But Ceaia’s central government lacked true, authoritative power. Today, the sole power exercised was relations with other planetary systems.

“You’re right,” Daria said, exhaling a bitter breath. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what ideologies you subscribe to. I don’t know why you have your dragon when it’s not in your room. I don’t even know if you still believe the legends. Or if they’re simply myths to be ridiculed and forgotten.”

No matter how cynical she became, Kazi would always believe in the dragons. They were stories that inspired. The stories that gave her meaning. 

“Some days I wish we were out on the boat with Papa,” Kazi said quietly. “I wish we were sitting out there. Just us and the waves and the gray sky.” She closed her eyes and pictured their old sailboat, the waves tossing them about, and the wind whipping her hair, and the ache in her cheeks from grinning and laughing too much. Too hard. “Everything was so simple back then.”

It was a time when loneliness, familial duty, and fears of disappointment were nonexistent. It was a time when she felt alive.

“What boat?” The question snapped Kazi from her memories and she found Daria frowning at her. “What boat are you talking about?”

The anger lining her sister’s tone caught Kazi by surprise. “The boat, Daria. We spent hours every weekend on it. Sometimes we went out after a long school day.”

Daria clenched her hands at her sides. Her knuckles were white; her fists were trembling. “There was never a boat.” 

Beads of sweat silvered her forehead. Daria brushed them away. 

Nonplussed, Kazi took a step forward but her sister retreated, blinking wildly. 

“There was never a boat. I don’t remember a boat.” A scowl marred Daria’s features. The whites of her eyes were enlarging. “You’re wrong. There was never a boat. What are you talking about? A boat? What fucking boat?”

“You’re right,” Kazi said hastily. She rested a firm but unthreatening hand on her sister’s shoulder, aware of Daria’s increased shivering. “I was wrong. There was never a boat.” 

Goosebumps dotted her arms and Daria eyed Kazi doubtfully. Confusion and anger hunched her shoulders inwards. She looked small. Frail.

“It’s late,” Kazi said gently. “Why don’t we get you into bed, okay?”

Indecipherable mumbles followed them down the hallway and into Daria’s room. As Kazi helped her sister into bed, each symptom tallied in her mind—a mental report for Healer Natasha. 

Memory loss was expected twenty months into the disease’s progression. Ultimately, it would steal all of Daria’s memories. She would exist in a world where she no longer knew her own name.

A world where she would forget their childhood, their parents.

A world where she would be alone. 

Bile rose in the back of Kazi’s throat. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. 

She blamed the lack of sleep, the number of arguments the past few days, and the stress from last night and this morning.

But blame truly rested in this moment. In the knowledge that her sister had forgotten the boat. Forgotten years spent at sea. And soon, she would forget more than just a silly boat.

Her little sister, the one person she had loved more in this galaxy than anyone else, would no longer remember her. 

“Kazi?” Tucked into her bed, Daria fiddled with her light purple sheets, tracing a white flower embroidered along the hem. “Do you know why Papa stopped loving me?”

Kazi blinked her bemusement. “He never stopped loving you. Why would you say that?”

“He doesn’t take me out on the boat anymore.”

Daria’s train of thought both bewildered and exhausted her. The way her sister forgot the boat and then remembered it, but only seemed to remember a specific memory associated with it, left her feeling behind and twisted inside out. 

Kazi didn’t know if Daria’s feelings were an accurate representation of her current thoughts. She didn’t know if her sister ever questioned whether their father loved her.

Even in childhood it was obvious that Daria was their mother’s favorite and Kazi was their father’s. The unspoken favoritism was more overt the older she got. But Kazi had always thought her father was fair in his treatment of Daria. He wasn’t her mother—he never taunted Daria until her emotions overflowed.

Now that she thought about it, he had been harder on Daria.

Though both sisters were opinionated and stubborn, Kazi kept her opinions to herself, and her stubbornness never stopped her from disobeying her parents. Daria, on the other hand, made her anger known. And she never shied from obstinately refusing orders she didn’t like.  

Disagreements led to raised voices, and many tears, and moments when Kazi hid in her room, finding it difficult to breathe while she listened to angered shouts. She hid for hours, waiting for the anger to turn on her. Expecting it, because it always happened. She was always blamed.

She always held some resentment against Daria for those moments. For some reason, she never blamed her father. 

Squeezing Daria’s shoulder, Kazi managed a tired smile. “Papa always loved you.”

“Promise?”

Daria stared at her with such blatant hope it hurt. Buried itself into her chest, like a fishing hook, and yanked. Hard. 

“I promise.”

5 Helona

Avoidance was a skill Kazi had honed over the years.

Too nervous to make a final decision out of fear of making the wrong decision, she learned to avoid her problems. Ignore them until they forced her one way and the decision was made for her. 

But avoidance tendencies didn’t pair well with her level-headed mindset. She was self-reliant. To a point bordering hyper-independence. Responsible and disciplined, she had to be in control. 

And yet the fear—the fear of mistakes and being wrong—was crippling. 

Her mind was constantly at war: avoidance versus control; fear versus independence.

Kazi had managed to avoid Commander Wolffe for nearly two days. An incredible feat, if she was being honest, considering they cohabitated. 

Her conversation with Commander Cody had left her reeling. Like she’d stepped off a cliff and was plunging toward the ocean below, except the water was much farther than she originally thought. She was caught in the in-between and she didn’t know how to move forward. 

So she avoided the commander and ignored any issue related to him. 

Sitting on the uneven porch steps, Kazi laced her boots, eyeing the sky. Gray clouds were amassing, cloud swells ebbing, expanding from horizon to horizon. The weather gauge claimed it wouldn’t rain for another three hours. 

Maybe it was arrogant of her, but she decided the ten-kilometer walk to Neyti’s school was doable. A small part of her thought Neyti would appreciate the change in scenery. 

Anyway, she needed the fresh air. Needed the movement of a long walk to ease her tension, from the arguments the last few evenings and the unsettling sight of Daria this afternoon. She had found her sister smiling absentmindedly at an empty corner in the sunroom. The sight had unnerved her enough, she refused to dwell on it.  

Dressed in loose trousers and a black tank top—her early return from work allowed her to change into comfortable clothes—she pushed herself to her feet and started along the dirt path. 

With the sun curtained behind the clouds, the jungle’s temperature was cooler and tolerable. Kazi tilted her head to the sky. She made it a handful of meters before movement from the trees caught her attention. 

A frisson of alarm pricked the nape of her neck. Her heart lurched and her stomach fell.

Sweating and breathing heavily, Commander Wolffe emerged from the entangled trees of the dense jungle. He was slowing to a walk. His hands were on his hips. He looked like he’d just finished a hard run. 

Kazi froze. Desperation encouraged her to hide in the nearby trees; however, pride kept her feet glued to her spot. 

The commander seemed lost to his thoughts. Unaware and unobservant. Odd for someone like him. He lifted his black shirt to wipe at his face. That was, until his gaze landed on her.

An array of emotions played across his face, like one of those old toys she had as a youngling. A click of a button displayed an image, and if you clicked it fast enough, the images turned into a holofilm. 

Distraction blinked into surprise, furrowed into reservation, and then settled into apathy. 

Disconcerted, Kazi started to turn away, content to pretend she hadn’t seen him. 

The commander had other plans. Plans that resulted in him taking a step towards her. And then another. 

Kazi was too caught in her head—unable to decide between walking away and holding her ground. It didn’t matter. Commander Wolffe approached her. A healthy meter separated them. 

Maybe she should apologize, but she didn’t want him to think it was a false apology brought forth by proximity—

“I thought you worked.”

The hoarseness of his voice mixed with his non-question made her spine straighten. She tried to force her shoulders to relax. They didn’t.

“I do.” 

Vines thicker than her legs looped between the trees. Kazi could have stared at them for another hour to avoid his gaze, but she didn’t want to be a coward. So she met his eyes, remembering the hostility from two nights ago. The accusation and disdain and antipathy.

“I took off early,” she said, glancing at the graying clouds under the pretense of assessing the weather. When she looked back, he was observing her in a way that was familiar yet still set her on edge. “To pick up Neyti from school,” she added.

The commander nodded. 

For a moment it seemed the silence would expand indefinitely.

Commander Wolffe looked toward the house and then back at her. A hand slid through his hair. His jaw flexed; his posture was unnaturally stiff, agitated.

“May I join you?”

Her immediate answer was a resounding ‘No,’ but her chin dipped. In acceptance. 

Swallowing her discomfort, Kazi walked away, gaze set firmly on the dirt path ahead and the wild jungle enveloping the horizon. The commander appeared at her side. 

Kazi slipped her hands into her pockets. Not to hide their slight trembling. Never that. Merely for the aesthetic.

“I spoke with Cody,” the commander said. He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze set on the path as well. “He said you talked.”

“We did.” A bird trilled, the sudden noise making her tense. “We spent some time in the garden.”

“You sound surprised.” The statement bordered accusation, his tone sharper than a dragon’s claws.

“I was. But not because he’s a clone.” She pursed her lips. “I was surprised he wanted to talk to me. I thought that after…”

“My brother likes to play diplomat and interfere where he’s not wanted.” Commander Wolffe rolled his shoulders back. “He told me to apologize—”

Kazi stopped, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not interested in forced apologies. If you’re only here because of your brother, you can go back to the house and tell him you apologized, but I’m not in the mood—”

“I agree with Cody. On some parts.” Commander Wolffe crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down, hesitating. “I overheard you. Last week. At the warehouse.”

Frowning, Kazi thought back to the day at the warehouse. It was the meeting with Fehr, Bash, and Carinthia. The meeting the three commanders interrupted. The meeting where Commander Wolffe first asked her to analyze his intel. 

“You told her you’re analyzing patterns of deserted clones. For the magistrate.”

“I am,” Kazi said slowly. 

She assessed the wariness darkening his features, the ticked muscle in his jaw. Everything—the abrupt change in his offer and the severity of his mistrust—suddenly made sense. 

“The magistrate asked me and I couldn’t refuse,” she said. “But I’m not going to do anything that endangers your missions. If it comes to it, I’ll scrub the data. I’ll correct the reports. Anyway, being on this project gives me an opportunity to warn you if something comes up.”

Disbelief flickered across his face and she tried not to feel offended. “Why would you do that?”

“What? Help you?” At his guarded scowl, she rolled her eyes. “Because, if you’re discovered, you lead a trail straight to my house. To my family. Because, I may not know you, and we may have our disagreements, but I would never turn someone over to the Empire.” 

His apathetic expression miffed her and she looked away, shaking her head. “You may not trust me, and that’s fine, but I’m not a traitor.”

“And you think I am,” he said lowly. 

“No.” The intensity of his gaze was hotter than Eluca’s sun at the height of summer. Kazi squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry for what I said.” 

The commander winced at her apology, either from shock or doubt, she didn’t know. 

“I had no right to accuse you of being culpable in the rise of the Empire,” she said. “And I had no right to call you a traitor.”

Commander Wolffe didn’t seem to know how to react. He was stuck somewhere between skepticism and perplexity. 

Discomfited by the awkward silence, Kazi drew her hands from her trousers’ pockets, turned on her heel, and continued along her original path. Only a few seconds passed before the crunch of dried soil alerted her to the commander’s presence. 

They walked together in silence. For a long time.

The scent of soil and coming rain surrounded Kazi. A low roll of thunder sounded far away. Beneath the dense confines of the jungle, she felt small. A pollinator lost in a field of wildflowers. Content for the moment yet unreasonably lonely. 

A throat cleared. Hands clasped behind his back, Commander Wolffe walked with an air of command, authoritative and intimidating. Kazi forced herself to walk straight, to not create more distance between their bodies. 

“My brothers…” He paused. “They mean everything to me.”

The corners of her lips twitched. “I know.”

He hesitated. “I had no right to question your credibility and skillset.”

Remorse underscored his tone, and Kazi nodded at his apology.

At the edge of the jungle, they halted. Above, the darkening clouds cast the commander in a somber light, emphasizing his haggardness. Stress lines wearied his features; unspoken duty hardened his posture. 

“I’ve seen how the Empire operates,” Commander Wolffe said. “Anyone will betray another for more power. Or money. I won’t allow my brothers to be in a similar position again.”

The emptiness in his eyes was both hollow and guarded, and yet the firm resolve in his tone spoke of his protectiveness. 

“My mission with Cody didn’t go as planned.” Annoyance lined his tone, underscored by a twinge of regret. “We infiltrated a military outpost and were caught by a handful of soldiers. We thought we could convince them to join us. To desert.” He released a bitter chuckle. “They said we were traitors and then killed the men we had come to rescue.”

Kazi felt the blood in her face drain.

“I thought you were running rescue missions, Commander. Where are your rescued soldiers?”

“I thought, if given the opportunity, those men would desert,” Wolffe said. Even though his eyes were on hers, they were distant. Like he was replaying the mission. “They looked at me like I was the worst scum in the galaxy. I was pissed at myself. And I took my anger out on you. I apologize for it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kazi whispered hoarsely. “I shouldn’t have said those things, and I’m so—”

“I said things I regret, too.” He cleared his throat. “This work with the magistrate—”

Instinctively, Kazi tensed, prepared for accusation or disdain or complaint. Wolffe noticed the change in her demeanor and scowled.

“I’m not questioning you.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m only asking if it’s safe.”

“Safe?” Her eyebrows scrunched together and she shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re intentionally misleading the magistrate by interfering with collected data,” he deadpanned. “If you’re caught—”

“I know how to handle data like this.” The doubt in his expression was offensive. Kazi dusted an imaginary spot from her arm. “I’m used to this. It was my job for years.”

Wolffe arched a brow. “Spying?”

“Analyzing intel and determining if it was credible and reliable.”

“That’s not the same as scrubbing—”

“We were feeding intel to the Empire: intentionally scrubbed and misaligned data that would interfere with their analytics without raising alarms.” Kazi played with the end of a braid. “I studied military weapons’ sales, numbers, storage. I split time between there and analyzing Imperial weapons’ construction.”

A hint of intrigue flashed across his face. “There were rumors some military technology was missing in the Outer Rim. It was kept quiet.”

Kazi smiled wryly. “Ceaia was unimportant in the Clone War. We were overlooked by the Empire. And from what I know, our allies were preparing for a coordinated rebellion.” Her voice faltered and she looked away. “We were gearing up for the long-term. We weren’t prepared for the Empire’s attack.”

Embarrassment warmed her cheeks and she shrugged, rubbing at her chest. 

It was stupid to share that information with the commander. He wasn’t interested in her past, and even if he was, it didn’t concern him. They were nothing more than random people cohabiting. 

Kazi glanced at her chrono. “I need to pick up Neyti. Alone. She’s still not entirely comfortable around you and I don’t want to force her—”

“I understand.” Wolffe surveyed the neighborhood bordering the jungle’s edge and then levelled a hard look on her. “You are aware you’re safe with us.”

She managed a tight smile. “Okay.”

“Ennari.” He said her last name quietly, seriously. She opened her mouth—to demand an explanation as to how he knew it when not even the rebel network knew her real last name—but he cut her off. “We won’t hurt any of you.”

“I know—”

“If a threat presents itself, we will protect you.” 

The promise in his tone was both genuine and lethal, and as Wolffe held her gaze, she knew she could trust him to keep his promise. 

Whatever he saw in her face seemed to satisfy him because he turned around and left. 

Soon the shadows claimed him. 

And still Kazi didn’t move, staring after him. 

Masterlist | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

A/N: Next chapter release – February 22nd

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #star wars fanfiction #star wars fan fiction #commander wolffe fan fiction #commander wolffe fanfiction

[sirianasims]

I was near my due date when Griffin called a house meeting.

“Listen guys, as much as I love living here with y’all, I’ll be moving out in a few months. Daria and I are getting married, can you believe it? So we’re moving in together, probably buying a house in the suburbs where we can pretend that we’re real, functional adults.”

Jessica squealed with excitement.

“Whaaat? You proposed to Daria?”

“Of course not. She proposed to me.”

I was stunned. I mean, it wasn’t like it was against the law or anything, but I didn’t know any other girls who had done that.

“Freya, stop looking like you’ve seen a ghost. Daria is a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to get it. Why should she wait around for me to stop slacking? It’s one of the things I love most about her. She takes charge. Everywhere.”

He winked.

Jessica punched him in the shoulder.

“Too much information, Griffster. It’s more than enough that we can hear you guys sometimes.”

“Sorry, I’d ask her to keep it down, but the gag makes it hard for me to speak, you see.”

“Griffin!”

“And the handcuffs make it impossible to remove the gag!”

We all laughed, but I couldn’t quite let the mental picture of Griffin and Daria go.

We had all been unfortunate enough to walk in on them by accident. It was definitely something you only did once before you learned to always knock, even if the door was ajar.

Samuel and I were quite the opposite. He was so careful with me, like I was something fragile, or an easily spooked animal. And not just because I was heavily pregnant, it had been like that since the first time.

And he wasn’t just controlled in bed. Sometimes, if he was frustrated about something, he felt like a tightly wound spring that could go off at any time, but he never did. Samuel was always measured, composed, and polite.

I wanted to make him lose that control, just a little. The sex wasn’t bad, not that I had much to compare with, but we had definitely never been at risk of disturbing the neighbours the way Griffin and Daria did.

That night, I was awakened by a dull ache in my back, much stronger than the small twinges of pain I’d been feeling for a few days now. I woke Samuel up.

“I think it’s time.”

“Is she asleep?”

“Yeah, seems like it.”

Samuel came over and put his arms around me. For a moment, we just looked at her.

Hailey. Our daughter. We’d made her and now she was here. Even though it had been almost a month, the thought still blew my mind. And scared me.

When I learned to drive, someone told me what to do and what not to do, and gave me a license afterwards to prove that I knew what I was doing. There were no licenses for babies. They just let you take them home from the hospital by yourself, expecting you to figure it out.

It was terrifying. And amazing.

“Samuel, I want another one.”

He let out a quiet laugh.

“Another baby? Freya, we just had Hailey. Not only would your body benefit from at least a full year to recover, we also need to figure out what we’re doing when Griffin moves out.”

“I know. But I want more, I want at least two or three. And I don’t want them to be ten years apart like me and my sister. I want them to be friends.”

“I get that, but still. And don’t you want some time back at work before we have more kids?”

I looked at Hailey. She was so tiny, so fragile. She depended on us for everything. Back to work meant endless training, weekends and evenings spent on matches. And Samuel would work long hours when he became a resident doctor. We’d be leaving Hailey with strangers for most of the day.

“No. Samuel, I don’t want to go back. Could we… could I maybe stay at home for a while? I don’t want to get a nanny or send her to daycare. I want to be there for her. And you’re going to be so busy when you start your residency, she’d never see either of us.”

“Freya, are you sure? If you skip out on your contract, you risk never getting signed again. What if you can’t go back? And how long would you stay home? Have you thought this through?”

“Samuel, this is really important to me. I don’t care about the contract. I want to stay home until we’re done having kids, maybe until the youngest gets ready for kindergarten. And if that takes ten years, then I’ll figure out what to do then. I just – I don’t want to abandon our baby.”

“Daycare is hardly abandonment. I know you have some issues, but I promise she’d be perfectly fine. But listen, this is your decision, your career, and I’m not going to argue. If you feel this strongly about it, we’ll make it work.”

“I do. Thank you.”

He put his arms around me again, pressing his cheek against mine.

“I guess I better look for residency somewhere affordable, then.”

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen4 #freya duchelli #jessica clemons #samuel ward #griffin hart #daria moon #hailey duchelli

[lizardperson]

ockiss 24 - day 2! aka That Damn Dress

using ockissweek as a reason to post more of my sappy bullshit, but this time longer, and more sad.

content warning: much much self hate, and some alcohol

"But you look so hot! You HAVE to buy it, come oooonnnn! Also I bet Daria will just LOVE seeing you in this…" "You're terrible. Ugh fine, I'll buy it. But Daria won't care, that's totally not her taste…"

'If you're not super busy can you come over for a sec? Not gonna take long'

Daria raised an eyebrow at that text message and got up from her desk. She had assumed July was already on the way to her evening out dancing with Mika, but apparently not. She still wasn't sure anyway why July had agreed to that outing - something about getting out of her comfort zone, and Mika helping with that, but to Daria it just seemed like her friend getting talked into various activities that she didn't actually enjoy. Oh well, she was old enough to make her own decisions, and all Daria could do was occasionally remind her that she didn't have to do every single thing Mika asked her to.

She crossed the hallway of their apartment building and knocked on July's door, who promptly opened and pulled her in by her arm, startling her.

"Hey, thanks for coming. I just really need your opinion real quick, please be honest - how fucking ridiculous do I look?"

Daria swallowed when she finally took in the view. July, her July, in a very short, very revealing dress. She had never seen her like this before. The way the black silky fabric hugged her curves, accentuate exactly the right spots… This wasn't even the type of clothing she usually cared for on another woman, and yet all she could do was stare for a few very long seconds, taking in the sight. It wasn't like she hadn't seen July in various states of undress before, at this point they were basically living together, so relatively speaking the total amount of visible skin wasn't even that scandalous - and yet. And yet.

"That bad, huh?" July remarked at Daria's silence and sighed, turning away. "Mika talked me into buying this and said I should wear it, but I look like some kind of weird goth scarecrow or something, it's stupid, I --"

"July," Daria interrupted her, "you look amazing."

Slightly startled July looked at her. "What?"

"I think you look great," she confirmed, having to once again keeping herself from not staring too long. "But if you are feeling uncomfortable because it is showing too much skin, then you should change into something else. I am sure Mika will understand."

July hesitated for a moment, still looking a bit doubtful. "You really think I look good."

"I do."

"Not ridiculous."

"Not ridiculous at all. Quite the opposite."

They looked at each other silent for a few moments, then July nodded. "Okay. I guess I'm not getting changed then." She hesitated for a moment, mustering a weak smile. "Thank you. For the honest opinion. And the moral support."

Daria smiled. "You are as always very welcome." Now if only she could stop staring… Almost forcefully she pulled her eyes away and cleared her throat. Enough about that damn dress. "Are you sure you don't want me to pick you up later? I really don't mind."

July waved it off. "Nah, it's fine, I'll take a Uber."

Daria suppressed the urge to ask if she was really sure, and the even bigger urge to stare some more at all the deliciously framed naked skin. "Okay. Then I hope you have a fun night." She hesitated for a moment. "And don't let Mika get you into trouble." Did she just sound like her own mother?

July laughed. "We're just going to a club, how much trouble could there be."

"I'm sure she will think of something," Daria remarked dryly, being once again met by a laugh.

"You still haven't forgiven her for the weed incident, hm?"

"No comment," she chuckled. "Anyway, have fun. I will see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

July pulled her into a hug, and Daria almost winced when she touched her soft and warm skin, part of her hoped this skin contact would not end anytime soon. But of course it did. Something told her this was going to be a very long night.

~~~

The first thing Daria did when she was back in her own apartment was splash her face with cold water. Maybe a really cold shower was in order… She stared at herself in the mirror, the familiar feeling of disgust creeping up inside her. "What is wrong with you, you stupid old cow…" she murmured at herself and sighed. Pathetic.

Scotch. Scotch might solve all her problems. She just had to drink enough of it.

Bottle in one hand and glass in the other she dropped down on the couch. The scene from earlier replayed in her head over and over, and she scolded herself. Did she have to be such a creep, staring at her best friend like that? If she was lucky then July had been in her own head too much to notice that - hopefully. Or maybe she had caught her, and was now laughing about her with Mika, mocking her miserable being. No, July would never. She was too much of a kind person for that. If she had noticed, she would just feel sorry for Daria, pitying her. And somehow, that was even worse.

She sighed, emptying her glass and refilling it again in the next motion. How beautiful July had looked in that damn dress. Seductive. Enticing. How much she had wanted to just touch her, feel her skin, discover every inch of her body. Slowly pushing the straps of the dress over her bare shoulders, dropping that piece of clothing to the ground, revealing her in all her glory…

Stop it.

Great. Fantasizing about undressing her. That was a new low. What a worthless creature she was.

~~~

The next hours went by somehow, with the bottle slowly emptying, and Daria's thoughts drifting back again and again to July, no matter how hard she tried to drag herself away from that. July, smiling at her. July, falling asleep on her shoulder while they were watching a movie. July in that damn dress.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts. Daria frowned, contemplating for a moment if she had imagined that. It was late -- she had no idea how late, she just knew she had been drinking for a while, considering the almost empty bottle -- and there was only one person who would show up here at this hour. She should just ignore it, pretend to be already asleep. That would be the smart and sensible choice of action.

Unfortunately she felt neither smart nor sensible in this moment, and got up to open the door. What a bad idea this was.

How radiant she looked. Daria reminded herself that breathing probably was a good idea, and mustered a smile.

"Hey."

"Hey. Was wondering if you're still up." July grinned at her, leaning on the door frame. "Can I come in?"

She didn't even wait for a response, just pushed herself past Daria and went in. Her wobbly walk and the slightly slurred speech told her that she had been drinking, so they had that in common. The difference being, July just had a fun evening out with friends, while Daria had tried to drown herself - normal people activity versus pathetic self hate activity.

July threw her coat on the couch, made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, with Daria following behind. Then she hopped onto the counter like she always did, but apparently the alcohol had given her some balance troubles. Daria was close enough to prevent her from falling down, lightly putting a hand on her hip to keep her steady.

"Careful," she murmured, getting distracted by her being so close suddenly. Maybe she should move her hand that was still resting on July's hip… or maybe she shouldn't. That fabric felt really nice. Her skin below it would probably feel even nicer. God, how much she wanted her.

"Sorry, I think I had a drink too much," July remarked, giggling. Something fruity, Daria guessed from the smell on her breath, and she wondered if she would still taste it on her lips. She should really move back a step or two. Eventually.

With no idea how long she had been staring at her again, Daria tried to disrupt the silence. "Did you have a nice night?"

July nodded vaguely. "Yeah, it was fun. But loud. And too many people. Don't think I'll do that again very soon. But now I can at least say I've 'been to the club' or whatever…"

"Glad to hear."

They both were silent again for a few moments, just looking into each other's eyes. Did she imagine it or did the space between their faces get smaller by the second? She still had not moved her hand away, which would be the smart thing to do. But just this once in her life, doing the dumb thing sounded so very, very inviting.

"You really think I look good in this?" July finally asked, still in doubt about her appearance.

"That dress looks great on you." Her voice felt hoarse, as if she was slowly losing the ability to form coherent speech. She really needed to bring some distance between them, this was getting dangerous. She really should. She just really did not want to.

"Would look even better on your bedroom floor," July jokingly replied in fake deep voice, then lauged about that terrible pickup line, and it came so unexpected that Daria couldn't help but laugh too.

And then her heart stopped when she suddenly felt July's lips on her own.

It was a soft kiss, gentle. Questioning. How amazing her lips felt, how long Daria had dreamed about this. How long she had wanted this. This was such a bad idea. But it felt so so good.

Her body took over, leaning into the kiss and pulling July closer, who took that as an invitation to wrap her arms around Daria's neck. She buried one hand in July's hair, still somehow trying to deepen the kiss, and was rewarded with a small moan. God, she wanted her so bad.

No. Stop.

The rational voice in her head somehow resurfaced again, and she was suddenly painfully aware again of what was happening here. Bad idea. Terrible, bad idea.

She forced herself to pull away, at least trying to bring some space between their faces.

"July, I'm sorry, I-- we need to stop. I'm sorry," she heard herself ramble, still barely able to form a coherent thought. "We can't." The urge to apologize even more grew with every second.

"Why not?" July looked at her concerned.

Daria pulled out of her embrace and stepped back, rubbing her face for a moment.

"Because we are both drunk and this is a terrible idea, and we really shouldn't. We can't," she heard herself repeating, feeling like she had lost control entirely. "I am so sorry."

July remained silent for a few moments, seemingly also entirely overwhelmed by the whole situation, and they just stared at each other, until she then suddenly hopped off the counter.

"I'm sorry," Daria repeated once again, but July just shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, I'm… I don't even know what I was thinking, I'm so sorry, I'm just gonna-" She sounded so embarrassed. Hurt. Rejected. Daria hated herself so much in this moment. This was all so wrong.

"July, I'm…" she pleaded, not even sure what she wanted to say. Forgive me please.

"Sorry for showing up here so late," July muttered, on her way to grab her coat. "Goodnight, Daria."

And with that she had rushed out of the door, her scent still lingering in the room like a ghost. How had this all gone so wrong…

#ockiss24 #july tag #duncan tag #otp: bury your heart #poor dummies x_x #lizardwriting

[midnightmah07]

I’m back again! Exams have been ok so far so that’s fun. 2 done 6 to go!

Anyways to the main subject of my ask: what’s your oc’s first impression to Daria and they’re current thoughts on her.

Also I decided for the sake of me adoring your oc’s, that Cyrus doesn’t despise Neige and just doesn’t really care for him. Is he civil and nice with him? Yes. Would he inconvenience himself for him? No.

(Btw saw your pfp and just, how we feeling about the new animation cause I wanna hold them in my hands they look so good😭)

IM CRYING I ACTUALLY LET OUT A GOOD CHUCKLE WHEN U SAID U CHANGED HOW CYRUS FEELS ABOUT NEIGE BC OF MY OCS RELATIONSHIPS WITH HIM HELP SKSKSJSKS

Also so happy for your exams!! Hope they keep going well!!<33

Hmmm ok I have only the info you posted about Daria, I think her strongest relationship out of my OCs would be with Isabelle bc that's her housewarden lmao. Because you said so much about Daria's slight arrogance (I think that's what's written there, I might have to double check later tho bc it's been a while since I read Daria's character info) and other very negative traits that she has Isabelle would probably get a headache with her rather often when she acted like this, in fact I think sometimes she would have to remember she's dealing with a dear student (she holds all her dorm members very dear and near her heart) and not Leona since they share some traits, but overall I think they would have a positive relationship outside of these headaches; Daria is inspired by Athena and you yourself said she's plenty smart, so that's something her and Isa have in common, I feel like they could get along pretty well!

Daisy's surrounded by screwed up people at NRC so this isn't news to her, + she always aspires to see the best in everyone because of what her parents taught her, so I feel like even if her relationship with Daria wasn't that deep, I feel like she would be intrigued and want to assume the best out of her

Jeanne............ Yeah she looks a Daria and gives her a thumbs up. Like idk why but my gut feeling is to say that even if Daria and Jeanne probably aren't close, Jeanne probably finds her interesting and admires how smart she is-- not as smart as her captain Leona tho sorry😋 jokes aside, she would low-key push Jamil to talk to her and stuff just so she could get Jamil off of her and Kalim's dates

Perse and her are...... Surprisingly similar? I mean they're both incredibly attractive women who are extremely smart and (if I'm not mistaken ofc) keep it to themselves. But exactly because of that I don't feel like Perse would have a strong opinion about her, maybe she could see her as a rival because Perse is rivaling Idia in Ignihyde and in the Island of Woe as the smartest people there; other than that, Perse is very closed off and puts walls around herself all the time so good luck getting those two to get closer than a simple "hi." "hey."

Also I'm pretty sure u weren't thinking about Jasper and Angus but I wanted to include them still :] I think they'd be both very wary of her, as they are with most strangers, but seeing how Daisy is supposedly only talking good things about Daria would lower their guard... Only by a little bit, if Daria ever does something to Daisy those two little mice are gonna make her pay lmaoo

#💙! mah's answers #💙! ceci<3

[wanderingchaos]

The worst part about writing in your own world, with your own characters (and not being a very good artist) is when you write a novella of Christmas stories, you don’t really have a place to put it. Like, I could set it up for self publishing, but it’s not a romance or an established world or a thing that has a place, and I have some other options, but none of them are great if I want to do much with the whole thing.

But it’s good. And the piece as a whole is a ‘4 times Christmas was terrible, and one time it wasn’t’ but with people you don’t have reason to know yet.

However, this year has been terrible and I wanted to finished a larger chapter on ‘We’re in a Room Without a Door’ but life got in the way, and I finished other things I can’t share, but then I was talking with some friends about how weird white elephant is and I thought I’d put this snippet out there. This is the first little bit of this section of this chapter of the novella. Feel free to let me know what you think. Maybe this is my Christmas gift to me. Posting this in a spirit of something unnamed.

—

Arvid walked across the courtyard, not for the first time cursing how god damn cold it was. Thank god classes were just about over, and he could hide in a warm room for a couple of days and defrost.

He was going to have to find said warm room, since the janitors had found his last bolt-hole, but there were worse things. Almost everyone was going home for a couple of weeks, so it should be easy to find a room to crash in. Hell, someone might even pay him for it, if they are looking for a ‘house sitter.’ No one really thinks about why he’d be happy to stay at their place and let his stay empty, but he’s happy to let them be comforted.

One person did try and break into an apartment while he was there, too. Bad luck for that guy all around. But seeing as the other guy had been armed for killing and not stealing, Arvid hadn’t felt too bad about putting him in the ground. You don’t bring serial killer kit to a break in unless you’re trying to send a message, and sometimes that message is ‘I’ve made my final mistake.’

“Arvid!”

From down the sidewalk, a shock of red hair came peeking out from a dark hat. Alexandr Petrovich Kalshnakov, better known to everyone but Arvid’s mental filing system as Sasha, came bouncing down the way, his smile like a ray of sunshine behind a dark cloud. Arvid couldn’t help but find himself smiling in return, a little core of warmth in his cold core heating up.

“I’m so glad I caught you!” Sasha grabbed Arvid in a big hug, burying his face in Arvid’s long, white hair. He broke apart, holding Arvid’s hands with soft, besotted eyes.

“Daria and her roommates are having a party tonight, before everyone escapes for break, and I wanted to make sure you came!”

“Oh, am I invited? I wasn’t sure I would know a lot of people there.” Arvid made a half-hearted attempt to break away from Sasha holding his hands, but it was nice, weirdly, to have Sasha holding them. Warm if nothing else.

“You know me, silly! You can just stick with me all night, I’ll make sure you have a good time.”

“Ok, fine.” Arvid felt his face flush with Sasha’s smile focused on him so long. “Is there anything I need to bring?”

“Just yourself.” Sasha thought for a moment, then lightly hit his forehead with the base of his hand. “Oh! And a white elephant gift!”

“What’s a white elephant gift?”

#my writing #Aelif #the larger story is a non chronological story about how aelif does not really understand christmas #and it jumps from horsemen time #to this story which is his college days #to just post horsemen when he’s dating Tobias and things are strained #and then when he’s a young child and things are very strange but also very bad #and then the last story far in the future when things are better and soft but still recovering from being shot #and sasha does show up in another story later #but in this he is his pure kind self