You were lying on your boyfriend’s bed, reading on your phone, when you hear the faint sounds of a motorcycle outside come near and stop.
The front door opens, his footsteps sounding heavy and slow. A few moments later, a tired Sylus opens the bedroom door and stops when he sees you looking back at him over the edge of your phone. “Still awake?”
“Hey,” still lying down, you set the phone aside and raise your arms straight up into the air, offering a hug.
Sylus gives a small smile. “Hold that thought,” he asks, as he shuffles to the bathroom to clean up and change.
“Hurry before my arms go numb!” You urge him with a laugh.
“I requested you to hold that thought, not to hold that pose.” Sylus called back with amusement. Still, his pace goes a bit faster. He comes close and kisses your head, your lips, over your heart. He sinks his body on top of yours, resting his head on your chest, then letting out a sigh as he gathers you close by the waist.
You thread your fingers through his hair a few times, admiring how soft they are and how it looks under the dim light. Sylus doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, allowing a calmness to settle around you and dissipate the chaos he’s come back from.
Your hands explore downwards, gliding down his neck, smoothing out his shoulders and biceps, before settling on the space between his shoulders. You form your hands into claws and started scratching his back, raking in unhurried big sweeps, down and up and down again and again in a loop, and—
Rrrrrrr
You stopped, the sound catching you off-guard, as it seemed to come from deep within his chest. “Sylus? Did you just… purr?”
Sylus slightly tilts his head up to peek one eye at you. “If I agree, would the scratching resume?”
“Pfft,” you giggle. “You totally did.” But you continue your ministration on his back.
Sylus scoffs playfully. “For the record, that was not a purr, sweetie. That was a rumble.”
You smile into his hair, your hands still raking around his back slowly. “Suuure, sure. If you say so.” You feel the vibrations on your ribs as he rumbles again to demonstrate.
You hum, pressing your lips together to keep from laughing. “Rest, my rumbling dragon.”
“Mnn.” Sylus holds you a little bit closer. Your hands don’t stop until his breathing has evened out and he’s drifted off to sleep.
———————
Don’t mind me I just wanted Sylus to be my weighted blanket but then he began to purr rumble. I need a purring contented Sylus on top of me pls. Preferably in that black compression shirt heehee or bare-chested will do. :3 Also, I will never ever get over this photo I used above, even though I don’t have this card… *cries in f2p*T_T
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synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.
warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk
notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!
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City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.
Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.
Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…
And then suddenly… another pattern.
A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.
You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.
It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!
But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.
You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?”
“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.
“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”
“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”
The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”
“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile. And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”
“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.
“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.
The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”
“Come on, Daddy…”
“No way.”
“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,
“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”
The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too.
“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”
He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.
He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”
You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.
He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”
It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.
He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”
You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.
(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)
“Thanks, um…” he trails off.
You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.
He nods. “I’m Art.”
He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,
“Nice to meet you, Art.”
He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved.
“So what brings you out here?”
“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”
“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”
He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”
And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”
You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”
“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”
The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an interpreter.”
His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”
“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.
“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”
“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”
“But not today?”
You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”
“Fuck.”
“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.
Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”
You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”
He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”
“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”
Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.
You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”
But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.
Oh.
You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”
Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”
There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.
“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…
“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered.
If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.
“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”
“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”
The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.
Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”
“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.
“Oh! Um…”
And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”
Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter, “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.
“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”
“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.
The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”
You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”
He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.
Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.
“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.
“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.
His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.
“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”
“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”
She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.
EXOSKELETON! My new, visceral sci-fi novel about bugs, mechs, robots, and humanity is out now for free on itch! You may have seen some art of the character's around here, so if they've interested you, check them out in here!
Dark and Bombastic Sci-Fi Pulp Novel about War with Nature
Lots of readers have already given it a chance and got hooked by it, I am very proud of all the work I've put into it this past year and think it's something sci-fi fans will love.
Heads up, the story itself contains lots of graphic violence, messy interpersonal relationship stuff, bugs, and a bit of sex.
[For Microfic May 2026, using the following prompt: Bingo Card 4 - 'Heaven & Hell']
Word Count: 50 words
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire
Other Notes: Thank you immensely to George Blagden!!!
--
If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied…
Grantaire will find himself following Enjolras without much hesitation.
He learns that drinking is no solution to the concealed aching of his heart.
So, he stumbles up to the top of the Musain, takes Enjolras' hand, and falls into nothingness.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
CHAPTER SIXXXXX!!!!!!! it had been a minute since I posted a fic update!!!! but don't worry the drought has ended! Buck and Eddie get closer, then they get pulled even father away! I really enjoyed writing this one and we only have two more chapters left!
Found this drafted in my notes app half finished and decided to finish it
Doesn't have a title or anything but some attention would be appreciated 👍
Word Count: 796
----------------------
Edward had to stifle a yawn as he carried himself out of his lab, eyes heavy with exhaustion. He didn't bother to check the time, he already knew it was very, very late. After spending way too long standing under the flourecent lights, his head ached, and so did his aging bones. He needed to get to bed while it was still dark. Ava would be waiting for him, after all.
As he rounded the corner into the living room, the German had to double take as he saw Ava sitting on the couch, eyes glued to her phone, and the TV on. He could see empty soda cans and a couple snack wrappers surrounding her. Even with the distance between her and himself, Edward saw the way her usually bright eyes were dull, and how dark circles formed a ring under them. The winged girl looked as though her phone was the only thing keeping her awake.
“Ava?” His quiet voice alerted the girl at last, her head snapping to attention as the Doctor approached.
“Oh-" Ava blinked the tiredness out of her eyes. “Hey, Edward..” Edward heard the grogginess in her voice as she finally met his puzzled gaze. “What are you doing up so late, liebchen?" He asked. "It's the middle of the night. You should be in bed."
Ava cocked her head. "That's funny coming from you." She chuckled dryly. "What're YOU doing up, huh?" She questioned, squinting her eyes, then slowly closing them as she bit back a yawn of her own.
A reasonable question, I suppose. The Doctor thought, his icy gaze briefly running over his smaller darling's frame.
"I was just in mein lab. You know a scientist's--" He was cut off by yet another yawn. "--job is never truly done."
“...Yeah, I don't know what answer I was expecting from my workaholic husband...” Ava mused, flopping back on the couch with a dull thump, keeping her eyes on him, her phone now forgotten.
Edward rolled his eyes. “Ja, ja. What a comedian you are, mein liebe." The sarcasm in his tone was unmistakable. "But now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to bed. Und you should be too."
Ava waved him off dismissively. "I'll be in bed whenever...I'ma just..stay out here a little longer.."
Edward didn't move from his spot, crossing his arms. "Darling, it is very late. It isn't good for you to be staying up this long." His voice was laced with worry. "Nor is it good for you to be eating this much at this hour."
His winged wife simply shrugged. "I'll be fine, honey. Just gimme a few more minutes and..." She yawned softly. "I'll be right with you.." Her eyes slowly blinked, sleepy tears forming at their corners.
The German had an unimpressed look despite his tiredness. "Ava." He used his stern voice now. "As both a doctor und your husband, I command you to accompany me to our bedroom. Come willingly or I will have to take you meinself."
Ava's wings twitched irritably. She was growing cranky, but losing her resolve. Edward could tell. "You don't got the strength.." She grunted, the challenge clear in her tone as she shifted on the sofa. And she was right. Her weight versus Edward's bony arms, it was clear who'd win.
But that wouldn't stop him from trying.
"Alright. If you want to play games with the Doktor, liebe, then we shall play." Edward focused his eyes on her, taking less than 4 strides to not only turn off the TV, but push his arms beneath Ava's chubby frame and scoop her up off the couch in one motion.
The winged girl yelped as she was hoisted up, not having enough energy left to do more than squirm in her husband's shaky, but firm grip. Her protests grew wordless, and Edward began to walk to the bedroom, smirking victoriously.
It only took a few staggering footsteps before his grumpy wife began to grow quieter and quieter, until finally.....silence.
As he bedroom door came within reach, the German stole a glance down at his wife, and instantly, his smirk softened into a warm smile. And what did he see, you may ask?
In his arms now laid a snoozing Ava, who had already fallen asleep before Edward had even reached their bedroom door.
With an amused shake of his head, he shouldered the door open, carrying his sleeping dove over to the bed and laying her down as gently as he could. He got into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her sleeping form and pulling her flush against him, his head comfortably nestled into her neck.
And it didn't take long for the German to follow behind his wife as he finally drifted off into his own little dreamland, his arms never letting his love go.
