it's all her fault really

6

How can he ignore me like this?

i thought tom would be an asshole that id love….but….hes not which is wporse ohhh my god hes just a demon whos trying very hard and is very particular about how things must be done and star didnt even seem mad at him bc she got that and i just  l o v e tom

When will this concept of hating Luke bc of his girlfriend end????

Just This Once

“I’m not a cuddler.” That was the lieutenant’s invariable answer when he tried to hold her once the ecstatic throes of bliss had passed. Oh, she would embrace him for an instant, rest her cheek against his chest, or perhaps even braid his hair with languid hands. But without fail, she would roll away to the very farthest side of the bed and curl into a small, feline-like ball.

Should he try to join her, to envelope her contained form with his body, she would nudge her back against him and declare that she was too hot, that he was too sweaty, that she just needed some space, okay? And so he retreated.

It was not him. He knew that. Sometimes he knew that. Sometimes he believed that. It was simply the lieutenant. He loved her independence, after all. Her willingness to stand alone in the face of tremendous peril. To be resentful of her distance now would be to deny the very thing he cherished her for. And so he did not seek her warmth, but stayed apart and listened to the distant music of her breath.

Yet one night when they fell into bed, both too weary from the day’s battles to shake the sheets, she found her way into the crook of his arm like she belonged there. For a moment, he was too surprised to react. Should he wrap his arm about her as he so longed and hold her close and safe? Or would she flee the perceived trap like a deer in a close thicket? Should he note the rarity of this moment or let jovial silence be his guide?

She did not speak; her eyes were closed, her breathing not yet in slumber, but easing its way down that pleasant slope. And so he too held his tongue. He let his fingers dapple across her shoulder, trace arcane symbols on her breast. He held her, but in the loose way one holds a trembling dove that might take wing at any moment. He expected her to do so; to heave one last sigh, brush lips across his cheek, and retreat.

But then she began to … well, he would never accuse the lieutenant of something so indelicate as snoring. But there were certain nocturnal sounds emitting from her that denoted sleep. And she was still here. With him. Her satin hair wrap tickling his arm, her hand curled over his breast.

His arm began to prickle with pins and needles. The place where her hand lay grew uncomfortably warm and a bit sticky. He recalled to his chagrin the rather large flagon of coffee they’d shared.

But these minor irritants could not compare to the joy of watching her face in repose, open and relaxed as it never was in waking. He let his arm tighten about her and, just this once, held her close.

who else thinks that nicole haught seems lonely?