bitterarcs

[bitterarcs]

Laughter was precisely what was required in dour times, however a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of any kind of spirit, and fresh food all would have been preferable. Even if his fingers were to be severed during an act of torture, Reno would find some humour in the matter and likely it would end with his abrupt demise. When the body ached and the stomach complained, laughter was great enough of a distraction to fill both belly and mouth. Truthfully, he was surprised the newly appointed 2nd Class SOLDIER was not outright offended by such a crash question. Reno licked his lips as he allowed the amusement to bubble out from his mouth while images of Sephiroth's disgust and what really the SOLDIERs got up swirled inside his mind.

(  ❛  Hey, hey, don't be mentioning Sephiroth. He'd strip the flesh from me piece by piece . . and probably just by lookin' at me. ❜  )

That was the one person he didn't fuck with or even was amused thinking he could fuck with. Actually Sephiroth, Heidegger, and Scarlett were the three people he wouldn't dare mess with. All three were just as equal and blood thirsty to strike anyone down for insubordination and have fun doing it. It was a damn shame the SOLDIERs didn't get around to any funny business. Maybe Zack was just bluffing; Reno knew how it was when a bunch of guys were competing for coveted positions while bragging about being brothers. Maybe he wasn't expecting it. Maybe Reno wanted to hear about some dirty deeds going on beneath ShinRa's roof.

The word shame almost slipped out form his mouth, but the redhead caught the word at the last second and swallowed in back into his subconscious. Reno, for one, was disappointed what little shenanigans, sexual or no, happened among the Turks. Reno began drumming his fingertips against his thigh as he rocked his head slowly back and forth. The odd and cool texture against his cranium made for a strangely calming sensation as the storm continued to rage on. What was the point of being a genetically jacked up guy if they didn't get to fuck around? Geez — it was likely uptight Sephiroth's doing. Reno and Rude frequented the HoneyBee Inn as did some of the B division Turks when they were in Midgar.

(  ❛  Sounds laaaame. You get the burgers and I pay for the lap dance at the HoneyBee Inn. What d'ya say? ❜  )

Buying us cheeseburgers. Reno had not expected that. Zack and Reno going out for food was just as likely as the two bachelors going to the HoneyBee Inn. He didn't doubt they would make it out of the desert alive, but a Turk and a SOLDIER playing buddy-buddy was unheard of. Reno shifted more on his hip again to alleviate the pain at the base of his spine, slipped a little, and partially slumped against the wall nearly hitting Zack. He groaned in pain, then in frustration, and propped his upper body with the force of his hands. He chose to ignore that. Smooth going, idiot.

(  ❛  Why did you even join SOLDIER anyway? Sweet country boy lookin' to do something different? . . . Easy to tell you're not from Midgar. ❜  )

Reno went on to switching his position by sliding his legs backwards and slowly dropping his body onto his torso. He wasn't able to look at Zack in his new position, but it was already more comfortable. He folded his arms and tucked his chin while listening to the water dripping into the cave. Maybe it was the new position but it sounded like the storm was calming down outside, just a few degrees. Reno exhaled deeply and dragged the pad of his pointer finger against the ground of the cave to draw swirls into the wet sand present.

Zack blinked through the dim light, half lost in the dripping echo of the cave and half in his own head. Resting forearms on his knees, still buzzing with the storm’s adrenaline in his muscles. His hair was a messy dark spike of wet strands, water still dripping off the ends and trailing along the back of his neck. He shook once, like a mutt trying to dry off.

He didn’t pick up on Reno’s stare. Or maybe he did and didn’t process it, mind too busy with the low hum of exhaustion and the occasional rumble of his stomach. What he did pick up on was the question, and his eyes went wide before a bark of laughter escaped him.

“Wait—what? What kinda initiation do you think we get it?!”

His voice pitched up with boyish disbelief, almost scandalized, almost amused.

“Man, if Sephiroth heard you say that, he'd uh… I dunno, he’d do that look, you know, that look, and then you’d be dust.”

He gestured vaguely, almost knocking his hand against the cave wall, then laughed again, bright and unguarded, echo bouncing off the stone walls.

“Seriously though, nah, no Honey Bee Inn. No… no uh… sucking anybody off.”

He leaned back on his palms, wet boots scraping over the cave floor. His eyes wandered toward the mouth of the cave where lightning flashed in the distance, but there was a fidgety energy in him, like his body still wanted to run, still wanted to do something despite the danger outside. He kicked a pebble idly.

“We just… train. Get tested. Train some more and get tested some more. A lot. Like… a lot a lot.” His nose scrunched, grin still hanging there like he couldn’t help it. “Though… hey, between you and me, if they offered a cheeseburger as part of it, I’d sign up twice.”

His stomach growled again, loud enough to be heard over the wind moaning through the cave entrance, and Zack slapped a hand over it with a sheepish laugh. He tilted his head Reno's way. He shifted closer without really thinking about it, boots scuffing against stone, like a pup eager to be near someone who actually talked back.

“When we get back, I’m buying us cheeseburgers. We just gotta ride this storm out and whatnot.”

[bitterarcs]

If there’s one thing I keep on doing in this world…is getting attached to the antagonist side characters…my love for the Turks in FFvii knows no bounds

No one get me started on Rufus (I love him too much ☝🏻😔)

ANYWAYS I LOVE THIS LOT, AND I KNOW THEIR OFFICE DRAMA WOULD BE AMAZING

And I also think they’d totally commemorate Elena joining the group with a totally professional get together ☝🏻(the lore behind this PhotoBooth thingy)

I miss this cast of characters so much…we gotta chug along to 2027-2028 to see the end of this amazing remake 😼

[bitterarcs]

Rest and Repose

[bitterarcs]

Yeah, Zack was good alright. He was a nice piece of eye candy to distract from the potential fuck storm of a mission which was surrounded by a literal storm. Death was being threatened, but Reno knew he would not die. The storm and the desperate scramble for escape did provide the mentality to allow his eyes to wander with a freedom he would not normally express. The dim lighting inside the cave aided that mentality and wandering eye, as well. He knew wannabe SOLDIERs had to physically fit just to be considered for the program, but he still wondered if all that super juice transformed their cells to make them impressive than they actually were.

A lot of secrecy was cloaked inside the program which was only typical for the kind of work ShinRa conducted. Truthfully, Reno never cared to investigate it himself. He had plenty of encounters and alone time with SOLDIERs. He was curious enough to think about it regularly while not caring enough to bring up any questions; he had always been more concerned with pranking SOLDIERs. Having worked with his fair share of 3rd class grunts, Reno was getting more entertainment out of arguably the most naïve one of them all. Judgmental. Always judgmental. His turquoise eyes did not take themselves away from Zack's body even as he assed the storm and got bitched slapped with sand ( Reno chuckled at that ), and not when the eager pup joined him on the crunchy but cool stone.

(  ❛  A cheeseburger would be nice. One of 'em messy ones you get at from a street cart. Or one of those huge sandwiches with those pickled vegetables, comes with a side of soup with noodles. I . . ❜  )

Luckily he wasn't hungry, not yet at least. Boredom tended to bring out certain hungers.

(  ❛  I'd take a cigarette though. A whole pack. ❜  )

Reno patted the wet pants of his suit set and sighed. This was the part where Rude would interrupt and say ( not ask ) that Reno was quitting. He missed that bald bastard and wondered how he and everyone else was doing at HQ. They wouldn't know Reno was stuck out in hell considering the mission had only started in the morning and there was no anticipation for it last longer than a day. Reno shook his head.

(  ❛  What's even out here to hunt? Desert dogs? Underground worms? ❜  )

The Turk looked at Zack's grumbling abdomen and licked his lips absentmindedly. He was about to start licking the rain droplets off his own body. Fingers pressed his wild red tresses to squeeze out the water and used the droplets to lubricate his lips.

(  ❛  Let me ask you something . . . . when someone gets into the SOLDIERs, is there some sort of initiation? Y'know, getting ass at the Honey Bee Inn or like — sucking off Sephiroth. I won't tell no one. Promise. ❜  )

Zack leaned a shoulder against the uneven cave wall, exhaling through his nose as he scanned their narrow refuge. The air smelled of wet stone and iron-rich soil, the kind of damp that clung to skin and made everything feel heavier. He rolled one shoulder, then the other, easing the stiffness from carrying Reno through a storm that wanted to strip the flesh from their bones.

The shirt—he’d already yanked off. His gauntlets came next, peeled from his hands with a practiced flick and tossed aside somewhere. The cave light was just enough to pick out the trails of water running down his chest, dripping from the carved lines of muscle, winding over old scars and the raw scrapes he hadn’t bothered tending yet. He flexed his fingers once, shaking away the pins and needles of strain, before crouching low to trace a hand over the ground near the entrance.

A rough plan was already forming in his mind—no fire near the inner walls, too much smoke risk, but at the mouth… yeah, there it would draft clean. 

“Didn’t think we’d make it in time… But hey—guess I’m good for more than just swinging a sword around, huh?” 

There was no boast in it, just a spark of humor, a small invitation. Though he is a little shocked when it almost sounds as if Reno was praising him a little or at least a little gratefully, perhaps? He straightened, brushing his palms off on his pants, then glanced over at Reno as he shifted on the cave floor. Zack’s gaze lingered a second longer than it needed to... his eyes traced the line of Reno’s shoulders before flicking away. He moved back to the edge of the cave slightly to peek out, only to just rush back in and cough as sand got in his hair and face.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I just wish we had food.” 

He almost whines and settles down beside Reno again, rubbing his now rumbling stomach.

[bitterarcs]

200 metres. 100 metres. 50. 10. They were so close. So close. Reno could taste it. He didn't know what there was to taste, but some semblance of salvation was right there. It was like day and night in several respects. The cave was void of nearly all light, but it was more comfortable than swirling, abusive sand and warm summer storms. Reno sighed with relief without intending to, and the small sound seemed amplified in the humid cave. Reno's near death grip on Zack and his wet shirt slackened. Only in the silence of the cave did the redhead realize the surge in his adrenaline and how loudly his heart was beating. Between Zack and Reno, it felt like their pulse points were connected and raging.

He released his grip completely and unglued himself from Zack as the SOLDIER position himself to release the Turk. There was no snarky remark prepared; he merely caught his breath as he settled down on the dirty stone floor with weight leaning on his left thigh. His back and spine were still very much tender, but something about the adrenaline and the rain washing the sweat away did make things a bit better. Without a shirt and jacket, Reno could only slump a little and feel the rain roll off his body. His hair, much like Zack's, was flattened with the downpour. He licked the rain from his lips as he watched Zack asses the cave — then the shirt came off. It made sense with the rain.

If not for the pain, Reno would remove his shoes, socks, and pants, but his bright turquoise eyes were glued to the SOLDIER's body as he removed his shirt and set it down. Sheesh. What the hell was he doing, making bedding for the night? With the dim light and there being absolutely nothing else to do, Reno's eyes remained fixated on the rain following the divots and shapes of Zack's extremely shapely arms and torso. How much of it was Zack and much of it was the Mako? Either way, Reno was watching. Admiring. It was hard to tell the intensity of his wounds from afar, but they were definitely there and Reno hadn't noticed before. SOLDIERs could swallow explosions or something like that, regardless it made Reno feel bad that his back had received all the attention. . . not that it was his choice.

Reno ran his fingers through his flattened and heavy red hair in hopes that releasing some of the water would regain the strength of the spikes. Reno tucked his knees to bring his feet closer to his rear and began methodically untying the laces to remove his shoes. He curled his pointer finger beneath the elastic of his socks and peeled those off as well. Socks were leaned against the stone wall to release the water, and socks were slapped down the floor without much care. He sighed as he attempted to relax as much as possible; eyes now just occasionally glancing over the SOLDIER with their new proximity. They touched ground only a few hours ago, but it felt like several days. There was no chance they would reach contact with ShinRa before sundown much less get picked up.

(  ❛  . . . We sure did. Thanks to . . you. ❜  )

It slipped out from his mouth like it was nothing. Light and casual with the faintest twitch of amazement. He unbuckled his belt and removed it with one stretch of the arm, then let the wet leather hit the cave floor. He didn't have the energy to take off his pants, not yet at least. Reno shifted his attention to his hair where hands wrung out his scarlet ponytail before moving upwards to ruffle shorter strands.

(  ❛  When the storm passes, we can start a fire at the mouth of the cave or . . set our clothes to dry in the sun . . . if it passes before sundown. ❜  )

Jenova's tits he hoped it did pass soon.

The wind howled, sand striking Zack’s face and neck in sharp stings that would’ve flayed a normal man raw, but the Mako in his veins turned his body into something relentless. Every stride bit into the soaked earth and kicked back power. Reno’s weight shifted with each leap, and Zack adjusted instinctively, tightening his arms, angling his shoulder so the smaller man was tucked in close, shielded from the worst of the sand slicing through the air. Each impact of his boots sent up gritty splashes of wet sand, the rhythm of his steps unbroken despite the chaos around them. SOLDIER augmentations kept his pulse strong and even; his lungs drew in the stinging air and expelled it without falter, his legs burning but refusing to falter.

The rain hit in earnest halfway there, fat drops striking his bare forearms and soaking into the black of his uniform until it clung like a second skin. It plastered his hair flat and rolled down his face in cold rivulets, dripping from his jaw with every stride. Sand clung everywhere, grinding into his skin, mixing with sweat and the metallic tang of blood. Zack ducked his head and powered on, pushing his body harder, faster, driving forward as though sheer will could outrun the storm itself.

A dark opening appeared through the blur of rain, jagged and uneven but sheltering all the same. Zack’s focus sharpened… he pushed harder, boots tearing through puddles as he leapt a shallow trench, his grip tightening instinctively with each jolt. The incline toward the cave was slick, mud and sand pulling at his boots, but he planted each step with careful precision, muscles coiling and releasing in perfect rhythm as he drove them forward. When the stone finally cut off the wind, the sudden drop in resistance nearly staggered him. He slowed, breath hitching, and dropped to one knee as his body shook from exertion.

He set Reno down carefully, lowering him inch by inch until his back rested against cold rock. Zack ripped off his drenched shirt, shaking out the heavy fabric and spreading it across the ground to make a thin barrier between Reno and the unforgiving stone. He adjusted Reno’s position with steady hands, lifting, shifting, angling him until it looked right—until Zack was sure it was as good as he could manage in the dim light.

Rainwater dripped from Zack’s hair and chin as he tore a strip from his undershirt, crouching low to wipe mud and grit from a pale cheek, from strands of wet hair stuck against skin. His hands moved with practiced steadiness despite their tremble, jaw set tight as he checked over shoulders, ribs, arms, searching for anything that might’ve worsened during the run. Zack stayed close, settling on one knee beside him, scanning the cave’s shadowed edges while water pattered at the entrance in a steady rhythm. The storm raged outside, but here in the dim shelter, Zack finally allowed himself a breath.

“Well…” he panted out, a strained laugh breaking through as he leaned back against the cold stone with a low groan, “we made it.”

His chest rose and fell hard as the adrenaline bled out, but a crooked grin tugged at his mouth despite the ache in every muscle. For the first time since the initial attack, he let his body sag against the wall, shoulders loose, content for just a moment to rest.

[bitterarcs]

Maybe the puppy was learning because just as Reno expected a little bite, there was none to be found. In fact, it was like shit rolling off a loon's feathers. Bullies got their power from being arrogant jerks. It was like a joke falling flat or, y'know, the recipient harassment just ignoring the bully. The wind was out of his sails coincidentally with blustering winds sweeping across the desert. As soon as the sand began kicking up, Reno knew what was coming. A freak storm. Midgar was hit with them from time to time which mainly brought buckets of water onto the city; dust storms were truly worth being frightened of. Reno was not frightened though. He was even more frustrated and relieved. If there were any terrorists alive, the storm would kill them. The storm would also prevent waves of backup from finding them. However Reno was pissed the Planet seemed to have some personal vendetta against him.

He What, because he didn't pray? Because he didn't care about animals? Because he worked for ShinRa? For whatever reason, the mission went from dogshit to truckloads of chocobo shit and cum. Reno slapped his palms onto the boulder and turned around slowly to face the incoming storm. It was more than a speck in the distance but if the wind was to judge, it would come on them fast and hard within minutes. Reno wasn't scared of dying. He doubt he would die ( egotist ), however he did experience dread. Dreamy eyes were a thing of the past even though they were largely unnoticed by Reno. HIs eyes were still on the storm as Zack made the executive decision of taking charge. A smart little quip failed to spark inside his mouth. Mouth was starved of a quick response and hydration. Only when hands were directly on him did it click — Zack was helping him and both of them get the fuck out of the area.

(  ❛  WhAHH- ❜  )

He was in place to complain or throw a fit. Whatever choice things people said about Reno, he wasn't that much of an idiot. If it was between losing a little bit of pride for the sake of being alive, and being an arrogant shithead and dying in the desert — the solution was simple. He grit his teeth and grabbed onto Zack. Fucking SOLDIERs and their genetic enhancements. Even if Reno was in a state to run, Zack was genetically faster than any other Turk. Reno's fingers dug into the cloth of Zack's shirt and watched as the storm became bigger and bigger. Only then did he realize he forgot his shirt and jacket, but it was too late to back to something frivolous. Sand was being whipped around and again, Reno didn't have his god damn goggles. He squinted and almost nuzzled his face between Zack's neck and his shoulder, trying to shield his eyes from the sand as he continued to watch it. The relief of seeing droplets of water darken the sand didn't help when their lives were in danger. Reno ignored the pain in his lower back, ignored the sand sticking to his red lashes, and he looked around vigorously. They couldn't outrun it.

(  ❛  Fuck! ❜  )

His curse was carried away with the whipping wind. The pain along his spine wasn't forgotten but was dimmed in the urgency of the situation. Had there not been a storm biting at their asses, Reno could have marveled at how quick Zack was running. They juiced up the SOLDIERS all right. Reno's eyes widened despite the swirling sand when turquoise eyes landed on the most inviting piece of rock he had ever seen. A cave. An actual fucking cave. He slapped Zack's shoulder repeatedly, then pointed towards what looked like the entrance of a cave situated upon a rocky dune. If the rain was bad enough, it could flood the cave but what other choice did they have? Huge droplets of lukewarm rain began crashing down on them. First a few heavy drops, and before long they were nearly drenched. Reno got the water he was asking for, regretfully. Reno held on tight. Maybe they'd have to fight a sandworm or a bear-cougar for the cave, but it was better than fighting something they could not kill.

Zack stayed crouched a little ways off, watching Reno go through the motions of proving he was fine. The Turk’s glare still burned in his mind—What’s your name again?—a cheap shot, sure, but Zack knew what it was. Reno was pissed, frustrated, bleeding pride, and sand in equal measure. It stung a little, yeah, but Zack let it roll off his shoulders. He’d gotten a glimpse of Reno’s personality at least enough not to let it get to him.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from following Reno as the redhead tore off his jacket and shirt, throwing them onto the ground like a challenge. The heat shimmered off pale skin crosshatched with old scars, muscles tight from strain, a glint of silver where the sunlight caught on a piercing. Zack felt his eyes linger a fraction too long, an unintentional flick of curiosity, a pulse of heat that had nothing to do with the desert sun. Focus, Zack. He dragged his gaze back to Reno’s face, but it was too late—he could feel his heart rate quickening ever so slightly. Watching as Reno stretched his arms, the motion was all bravado and sharp edges, but Zack could see the tension, the way his hands refused to rise higher than his ribs. Zack’s jaw tensed.

Then the sky shifted. A low rumble rolled across the dunes, and Zack’s head snapped toward the horizon. Thick clouds weren’t just clouds but a boiling surge of sand kicked high by merciless wind as well. His throat went dry as the leading edge of the storm shimmered, devouring the blue sky and turning the light a strange, bruised

"Damn it."

Zack was on his feet in an instant, sand sliding under his boots. He felt the sting on his bare arms as the first fingers of the storm licked across the desert. He cast a quick glance back at Reno, still slumped against the boulder, his face pale under all that sunburn and grit. Reno was glaring at the horizon now, but Zack could see it in his posture—he wouldn’t make it far on his own.

“Yeah… we’re not sticking around to find out how bad that gets.”

Zack muttered to himself, already closing the distance. He crouched down again, eyes meeting Reno’s, and for just a heartbeat, he felt that unwanted flicker again—heat and something softer under all that fire. He shoved it down. This wasn’t the time. Before Reno could bark a protest, Zack slid an arm around his waist, testing his weight, and Reno’s body buckled just enough to confirm what Zack already knew.

“C’mon..."

Zack said, quietly but firmly, and in one smooth motion, he hooked an arm under Reno’s knees and hoisted him up against his chest. Sand tore at them like knives now, and Zack held him tighter, adjusting his grip as he started forward, boots digging into shifting dunes. He caught Reno’s glare from the corner of his eye, saw that flash of defiance, yeah, he was probably going to hate him even more for this. He shook it off, focusing on the stormfront devouring the horizon.

“Hang on!”

Zack breathed, lowering his head against the sting of flying sand as he broke into a run. The desert raged around them, but Zack carried Reno like he was the only thing that mattered. He would do this for any of his comrades, so hopefully Reno would forgive him for this, if they even make it out alive!

[bitterarcs]

Pity was coming in, and it was coming in hot. Sand and sweat covered, sticky and stagnant pity. It was getting to Reno. His thoughts coming to terms with the SOLDIER's sense of duty and kindness were quickly being marred by his mounting annoyance. Yeah, yeah, it was better than being left alone in the case of an ambush or a straight forward second wave of enemies, but it was inefficient. It was, obviously, just Zack taking pity. Reno looked worse than it actually was. Straight after being driven to the ground did feel like death was gripping his spine. A few minutes after, Reno still felt like an invalid. Had he basically been pile-driven into the ground when the sun wasn't scorching and the temperature not sweltering, he would have recovered quicker and not been rightfully dramatic with his erratic breathing in the first place. The Turk was going to die out here, wasn't he? Nah, but Zack might if he continued feeling bad. Reno could just curse and pretend the puppy SOLDIER wasn't there occupying the same space, instead he turned his head and met that worried glance with a glare.

(  ❛  Stop looking at me like I'm a puppy missing a fucking leg. What's your name again? ❜  )

The redhead pushed himself back from the warm boulder and marched around in a demonstration of his . . prowess. Asking the SOLDIER for his name was just salt in the wound. Or the nail in his coffin. Good job, Reno, just piss off the only good guy out there. If it wasn't for his skills and lack of conscience, he wouldn't have been accepted to the Turks for the sheer fact Reno rarely played well. He learned quick with his own teammates, but the redhead still had a lot to learn about not being a dick and accepting help. He then proceeded to take off his shirt and jacket, slamming them onto the ground, and stretching his arms as he walked around. It hurt. It fucking hurt, and he couldn't get his hands over his head. Zack didn't need to know that. Tattoos were still covered by his pants, but his smattering of scars and nipple piercing were certainly on display. Who fucking cared. Reno went back to his boulder and leaned against it like previously. He groaned.

(  ❛  Don't deserts have oases? Fuck is the one here? ❜  )

He glared again at Zack, but now his anger and frustration had shifted — he was back angry at nature, the mission, and the fuckers who were STILL out there. Just like that, the bitch Planet heard Reno's cries and decided to do something about it. Distant thunder rumbled so ferociously and out of nowhere, Reno thought a massive amount of forces were on the ground. He couldn't whip his body around or his head too quickly, but there on the horizon dense and grey clouds began surging in their direction.

(  ❛ Fuck was that?! ❜  )

Zack's jaw clenched slightly as he watched Reno press against the boulder, trying to make himself smaller than the pain wracking his spine. The redhead's sarcasm and bravado had thinned, peeled back by heat, injury, and exhaustion. That alone unnerved Zack more than the ambush itself. He hasn’t really known Reno long, but from the small time spent together, the Turk was usually talking, even if it was to insult him. The quiet between his sentences now felt off.

Zack knelt beside him, one hand hovering over Reno’s back. He wanted to help, to do something—but he didn’t want to make him feel worse. Not when the guy was already talking like he was dead weight.

"Hey," Zack said gently, voice low but steady, "You're not slowing us down. You’re hurt. That’s not the same thing."

He looked out toward the distant dunes—pale golden waves rising and falling endlessly beneath the white-hot sun. Somewhere out there were the scattered remains of their attackers, maybe some supplies, maybe some healing materia if they were lucky. Zack had half a mind to sprint for it, but Reno’s earlier words echoed too clearly in his ears.

He couldn’t just leave him here, not even for a few minutes. Not because Reno might die—though that was a risk—but because Zack knew what it was like to be left behind. Zack took a breath, leaned back on his heels, and started pulling what little gear he had from his pack. He could feel Reno watching him, probably expecting him to say something chipper and annoyingly optimistic. But Zack didn't force it. Instead, he looked at him steadily, serious for once.

“We’ll make a little shelter here for now—just a few hours. I’ll go get the materia and supplies—but I’ll set you up first. I’ll be back before the sun shifts."

Before Reno could protest, Zack was already standing and grabbing his pack and wedging it between two jutting rocks to make a small patch of shade more bearable. He worked quickly, muttering occasionally under his breath, sweat running down his temple in thin rivulets. Every so often, he glanced back at Reno, making sure he hadn’t keeled over or worse..

“Look, I hate this as much as you do,” Zack said finally as he anchored the last edge of the makeshift tarp. “I’d carry you on my back if it’d help, but you’d probably bite my ear off or electrocute me."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. Zack stepped back over, kneeling beside Reno again.

“You’ll be okay here. You’re a Turk. You’ve handled worse, yeah? I’ll be fast. Promise."

He placed his hand briefly and gently on Reno’s shoulder. But still he hesitated. Every instinct in him told him to stay, to not leave him even for ten damn minutes. His spine felt tight with tension, maybe the heat was just getting to him, too. It wasn’t like Zack came out unscathed from the earlier battle. Though his wounds were less obvious and not as bad.

"Ah... screw it. I’ll go when it’s cooler. If it gets worse, we move together."

He leaned back against the boulder, arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the sky like it had answers. The sun wouldn’t set for hours, and the heat would only keep baking them both, but Zack could endure it. He turns to glance worriedly at the redhead.

[bitterarcs]

As the saying went, the elite joined the Turks and the fools joined the SOLDIER program. Sure, that wasn't an actual saying outside of Reno's drama filled mind, although it was sort of implied among the Turks. Once again, that was only an implication which lived inside the redhead's mind. If he thought it, didn't it mean his teammates thought it as well? The Turks did not require some special genetic engineering to be the best of the best; intelligence combined with their natural skills made them the kind of men and women who soared above the likes of SOLDIER. Reno thought all of that simply to make the point ( to himself no less ) that he was no fool. He knew precisely what the eager recruit was up to. Shit, was the spiky haired fool trying to save Reno's pride?

Surrounded by thousands upon thousands of kilometres of desert, it was just the two of them on the same side. Despite how much Reno wanted to hate the SOLDIER and how much he seemed to get off on playing the superiority card, he did appreciate the action. Everything Zack did and said appeared more for the sake of the job. Jenova's tits, the kid was too pure of heart to be aligned with ShinRa. What a chump for falling for the propaganda shaped like Sephiroth. A sweet, sweet chump. Had he been less injured but just as spiteful, he would've made a joke out of it. Reno learned upon joining the Turks that the true fools of the world denied help and thus died alone.

He accepted the comradery and friendship of the Turks; he was not below or above accepting help if his life depended on it. The redhead was not on death's door, but they were in hostile and inhospitable land with Reno a little worse for wear. Why did the massive shithouse of a terrorist have to be in his proximity? Although if the enemy had actually managed to gun down the eager SOLDIER, Reno would've felt like shit. Reno's gloved fingers gripped Zack tightly as if it was his efforts alone which kept him on his feet. Spine was tingling unpleasantly, but at the very least he had enough feeling in his limbs for it to hurt. The Turk adjusted his grip to clutch the opposite side of the SOLDIER's shoulder as he blinked away the droplets of sweat falling to red eyelashes.

(  ❛  Let's . . just . . find shade. ❜  )

The water provided to him by Zack eased the movement of words coming out of his mouth, but his pain still made for some difficulty in eloquent speech. He tripped on a fucking rock and embarrassingly found himself flush against Zack; more than that, he was completely at the young man's will. In the shade of giant boulders, the heat was still intense but Reno found his gradual footing. Zack's body was scalding, and Reno released him to steady himself on the boulders which were on the cooler side due to the angle of the sun. He simply sucked it up, hiked up his shirt, and pressed his bare fingertips to what would bruise horrifically. What he wouldn't do for a bathtub full of ice. He wanted to see the extent of the damage not that it would help him any, yet twisting at the waist proved too painful; face scrunched up with a reflection of his tenderness.

(  ❛ I'm slowing us down now. We need to find some healing materia or . . hunker down for a bit. We could steal some of the sniper's supplies, but I don't want to leave you out there. Alone. Not like I'm any help. ❜  )

Being so frustrated and weak made the words pour out of him. It was becoming easier to talk. The shock of having his brain and spine almost shattered stole his breath and patience. Coherent thought was returning, and he wiped the sweat from his brow before focusing orbs at the young SOLDIER. Reno, too, understood being left alone while Zack finished the mission on his own. He did not vocalize the thought, but it was obvious, wasn't it? Reno let his shirt fall in place as he set his forearms against the boulder, the focused on smooth and even inhalations and exhalations. He had faced worse. This was nothing. Even as a child, he had faced worse. Reno needed time, a drink, and ice. In lieu of the last two, he only needed time . . and a helping hand.

Zack tightened his grip around Reno’s waist, muscles tensing as he pulled the Turk upright. Reno was heavier than he looked, not from weight, but from the dead drag of exhaustion and probably the pain from his wounds. His body sagged like someone on the edge of collapse, but he was still standing, barely. Zack felt the heat radiating off him, an unnatural, feverish. Zack shifted his stance, grounding them both. One arm secured around Reno’s back, the other gripping tight beneath his shoulder to keep him steady. The scent of blood and sand clung thick in the air. Zack’s eyes flicked across the area, bodies still, smoke curling, no movement for now.

He adjusted his hold again, more careful this time, easing Reno’s weight onto him without making it obvious. Already knowing Reno wouldn’t ask. Reno wouldn’t be seen as weak. But he’d damn near passed out on the ground a moment ago, and Zack wasn’t about to let that happen again.

“Here.”

He reached for the canteen, clipped to his belt, popped the top, and brought it to Reno’s mouth, supporting the back of his head lightly with one hand. The water spilled a little down his chin, but Zack kept the bottle steady. Slow sips. He watched every swallow, every wince, made sure he didn’t choke on it.

Once Reno had enough, Zack capped the canteen and slid it back in place. His hand lingered for a second, hovering near the center of Reno’s chest… not touching, just watching for the rise and fall of his breathing. Shallow. Strained. But steady. Zack looked forward. The terrain ahead was all scorched rock and shifting sand, the air shimmering from heat. Too open. Too quiet. They had to move.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.”

He bent slightly at the knees, pulling Reno’s arm over his shoulders again, and started walking slow, deliberate steps to match the redhead’s dragging pace. He kept his body angled outward, placing himself between Reno and whatever might come next. Every few paces, he adjusted his grip pulling Reno closer, tightening the hold around his waist, subtly bearing more weight without calling attention to it.

[bitterarcs]

Sweaty. Panting. Crawling like a dog. It was almost like Reno was in the aftermath of terrific sex except he was in a disgusting post-narrowly avoiding death state. That might have been an exaggeration. Reno had faced far greater threats throughout his life and as a Turk, but a brutal fight in the desert added a layer of danger no person could bring. Zack's worried cries were static. Flies buzzing around a carcass. He hardly noticed all was quiet except for the SOLDIER as the thundering of his heart and blood rushing through his ears were tremendously loud. His throat felt parched in a way which was exasperated by the blood caking his lips.

His guts felt as though the enemy had reached deep inside his throat and coiled them himself like a serial killer practicing maniacal art. Worst of all, Reno still wanted to hurt the fallen grunt. He wanted to summon Rude's brute strength and smash his teeth inside his skull. No, worse than that, the eager SOLDIER was present and watching him. Nice of him to join the party. Reno wasn't mad at him. Considering they weren't currently being pummeled meant the SOLDIER boy took care of the rest of the grunts. Still, the Turk disliked working with anyone other than Turks especially when he looked so vulnerable.

Bending down and exuberate with his exclamations, the redhead wanted to smash his face too. Perhaps more of a palm to the face kind of smashing however. Another blob of spit and blood hit the ground. He swore he was paralyzed. He was screwed. Fucked. Of course he wouldn't be able to crawl if he actually were, but his spine was alight with pain. It was always a good idea to bring healing materia, and Reno had brought a single one which must have fallen out of his pocket while dodging bullets. He wanted to rip off his suit and slide into a tub full of ice. Stay strong, dickbreath.

(  ❛  Say . . what . . exactly? I was kicking ass . . ❜  )

And he would never, ever call for help from a SOLDIER. He was Reno. He was a Turk. Even if he was stabbed, he would refuse to call for help like a bitch. Zack was there however, and considering the shit storm they were in more enemies were likely to find them. Reluctantly the redhead slumped against Zack and used him as leverage to stand up. He was thirsty and still dizzy; it took a great effort to rise to his feet. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed back spit as best as he could considering his dry throat. His left hand gripped onto Zack's massive forearm to keep himself upright. Turquoise eyes were hazy as they looked up; three of the SOLDIER's faces blurred in and out of his vision.

(  ❛  Justgivemesomefuckingwater. ❜  )

Zack didn’t have time to think. Not after that radio crackled with bad news and boots thundered into earshot like a storm. They were fast. Too fast. The first guy came over the rubble with his blade already mid-swing. Zack twisted to meet him, steel ringing as the Buster Sword clashed with a screech of metal on metal. Sparks flew. Zack didn’t flinch. His counter came low and brutal, knocking the enemy’s legs out from under him. The follow-through was pure instinct—a clean upward slash that sent the body flying back in a trail of dust. Another set of boots. Another shout. Zack spun, breath sharp in his throat as two more closed in from his flank. There was no room to hesitate, only react. The heavy swing of the Buster Sword moved like it was weightless in his hands, cutting arcs of Mako-blue light through the air. Dust whipped up around him in every direction.

A bullet clipped past his shoulder, close. He dove behind a broken wall, used it for elevation, launched off it, and slammed into the enemy’s chest from above. They let out a gasp before Zack drove him into the ground and twisted his blade free. Still more coming. How many had they sent? He didn’t have time to check. Didn’t have time to look for Reno. The Turks were trained for this kind of mess, weren’t they? Reno would be fine. He had to be.

Zack surged forward again, body low, slicing through the last wave. His boots hit the sand with a steady thump, muscles humming with adrenaline. One final enemy tried to break for the ridge—Zack hurled a chunk of debris after him, heard the satisfying crack of it meeting its mark, and watched the man fall unconscious to the ground. Silence hit like a hammer. Zack stood in the middle of it, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping from his jaw. Dust hung in the air like fog. His sword lowered, the fight was finally over. Then he looked around.

“Reno?”

No answer. His stomach dropped. He turned, scanning—nothing moved. No more enemies, no gunfire. Just a tangle of bodies and cracked earth. And then, A few meters away, collapsed half on his side, was Reno. Zack bolted.

“Reno!”

He nearly tripped over the wreckage between them, heart jackhammering. There was blood…a lot of blood… and Reno was breathing a little hard for some reason; it set off every alarm in Zack’s head. By the time he reached him, the redhead was spitting blood, muttering half-coherent curses, and kicking at the head of some armored brute who looked like he’d been through a warzone. Zack froze.

“…Wait. Did you do that?”

The guy was huge. The kind of enemy that could’ve given Zack trouble—and Reno had taken him down on his own? Holy shit. Zack dropped to his knees beside him to try and help him.

“You’re out of your damn mind,” he said, half-laughing, half-panicked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

[bitterarcs]

what would time matter if it be borrowed from the lives of others? even monsters-made have debts; verona, no different. in the end, she knows she's her own to pay.

her estate, piece by meticulous piece, dissolves. the tyrannical struggle between her and shinra wordlessly, gradually, removed from the equation. and without so much as an acknowledgement. the great matriarch stepped down from her mantle, fading. rather, dying.

no-one knows for sure when it happened.

but one day, rather unbeknownst to anyone, parcels arrive for those she remained in contact with. reno, her reluctant companion, was one of them.

it's a simple affair, given the woman who sent it posthumously. the contents, however, far more sentimental: a photograph, tinted with age ( the two of them posed candidly, amid some debate, grinning the whole while, cigarettes in hand ), an engraved pocketwatch ( the very same which hung from her waistcoat, and finally... a box of fine cigars, the sort that most high society folk would choke for - made less with strains of tobacco and more with verona's personal blend of flora and opium.

a note flutters down.

' reno. for all that happened, thank you. v. '

For all that happened, thank you. Thank you. Thank you?! All Reno could think was — what the fuck. For a man whose entire life was composed of messy endings, doors shut in many faces ( dead and alive ), he didn't like them. Rather, he didn't like when things were beyond his control, and he was left standing feeling like he was nine years old again. Alright, it wasn't that bad, but truthfully he would have preferred a good relationship to end with a gory explosion or a bullet through the skull. What did this mean? Tokens for safe keeping a very brief letter as though she was expecting to depart suddenly.

Or . . or it was all fake. Like when Veld departed and a majority of the Turks departed with him, as if being a Turk had optional departure. Once a Turk, once a ShinRa employee, once a trusted person in Reno's life — they were there to stay. Items, including the aged photograph, were tossed across the room. However the photograph itself simply fluttered back and forth pathetically. Reno didn't know what pissed him off more: that she was gone, that she left something so disgustingly sentimental behind, or that it hadn't been more.

(  ❛  FUCK! ❜  )

What was the point?

What was it all for?

[bitterarcs]

The heat of the battle was all-consuming. Water evaporating into steam in the peak of summer. The red of swishing scarlet hair and blood completely dominating vision. There was fun in it, but there was also rage — the very notion someone thought them self good enough to kill a Turk or any ShinRa employee, but more than that was that some asshole very nearly succeeded. Imagine dying in a fucking dessert, not even with Rude at his side. He wanted to kick the fallen enemy but refrained from doing something so petty. With thoughts running through his mind, he didn't even detect Zack's sudden stealthy move. They were not standing shoulder-to-shoulder (or shoulder to breast bone), but the whispering quality of Zack's voice trickled into his ear. Reno flinched just slightly.

He had worked with 2rd class SOLDIERS . . more like bossed them around; never had he worked at the same level with a SOLDIER. It was like they were co-workers. Well technically they were, but not in the brotherhood type relationship he shared with his Turks. He eyed Zack with almost an angry or offended expression. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Did the SOLDIER puppy think Reno was fragile? Did he not know what the Turks regularly accomplished? Was he . . just considering Reno's chest which was, to his credit, scratched up from his rough landing? Reno looked back and forth between the enemy and his makeshift sniper camp.

(  ❛  Are you? ❜  )

Reno didn't try to be as abrasive as a steel sponge. Okay, that was a lie; he knew when he was being a little shit. The only person he should be biting the head off was their enemy. He was granted the opportunity not long after their awkward exchange. Fuck, he hated the desert. Fuck, he hated guns. Reno was fast as hell but not faster than a bullet. He played it tactical and rushed the armed soldiers before they could draw their weapons properly. He adjusted the electrical output of his mag-rod to its lethal level; he wasn't risking anything. With one blow to the backs of their heads or the exposed region between the leather of their boots and their leg armor, they dropped like flies.

Reno was pouring sweat moving so furiously, performing front flips, splits, and pirouettes to out maneuver his enemies. He never EVER envied the SOLDIERs, but all that genetic goop inside of them must have come in handy. He peeked several looks at Zack when it was safe to do so, then returned his focus when bullet spray hit the hardened earth. A man that could rival Sephiroth himself in size must have been scorching under all his armor, but it didn't seem to halt his convictions as he handled a gun that must have weighed more than Reno. He also didn't seem to mind mowing down two of his own men as he swept the air to try and shoot Zack and Reno down. The bigger they were, the yadda yadda.

The Turk was lithe and used that to his advantage. He ran like his ponytail was on fire and used his average ( short ) height to duck beneath the armored behemoth's line of sight and climb his body like a god damn tree. Reno wrapped his thighs around the giant's neck and squeezed tight, all the while trying to muscle to man's helmet off for a good zap. The massive gun was dropped, and then it was like riding a feral chocobo. Thick hands nearly broke Reno's ankles as both of their bodies thrashed. Reno's thick thighs squeezed tight, but his mag-rod was jolted out of his grasp. A battle between beast and beauty. Reno nearly bit off his bottom lip fighting the goon as he ripped the mask off.

He gouged the man's eyes out, then tried to leap off the crazy ride, but the giant held onto Reno's legs as he crashed down with a loud groan. The breath was knocked clear out of his lungs. More than that, it felt like all of his organs smashed against his rib cage, and that didn't even cover the pain shooting up from his lower back. The red head could handle A LOT of pain, but that crash landing ripped a cry of anguish out of his mouth. His vision went foggy, nearly black. He released the man's neck and acted out of pure instinct. Despite the pain, he twisted and freed himself from beneath the goon.

(  ❛  Fuuuucker . . fuck . . er . . er. ❜  )

He was gasping for air as he crawled away. Not knowing if the giant was after him, Reno kicked his feet wildly like a bucking ungulate. He felt the contact between the sole of his shoes and the man's head repeatedly. The goon was still alive but made no real attempts to grab Reno. Once far away enough, out of arm's reach, the Turk lied face down on the hot, scorching ground and watched Zack fighting through foggy spots in his vision. He didn't know how long he lied there. His vision wasn't quite as black but it was still blurry. By then, he saw the behemoth's body sitting up. Reno grit his teeth, rolled over, and swung his leg to hit the goon's ear with the top of his foot. It hurt. He yelled in anger as he swung his leg back, then back forward, kicking the goon's head again towards his temple. Reno's foot was screaming. The giant fell over on his side. The red head spit out a glob of saliva and blood as his breathing came out rough and feral.

Shit!

The first bullet zinged past his ear like an angry hornet, and Zack flinched purely on instinct, ducking behind a jagged outcrop of rock with a sharp thud of boots and steel. The Buster Sword—way too massive for a fight this cramped—nearly threw him off balance as it hit the ground behind him. Dust puffed up around him. His ears were ringing. His heart was pounding.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to breathe through the chaos, “not the vacation I ordered, but cool, cool…”

He peeked over the rock, eyes catching the shimmer of heatwaves rising from the distant ridge, and—yeah. Definitely a sniper. Somewhere up high, and way too smug with his aim. Another bullet hit the stone near his elbow, and Zack ducked back down with a sharp laugh. He wasn’t scared. He was thrilled. Sure, this wasn’t ideal, but there was something about being pinned down by a highly trained marksman under a sun that felt like it was trying to broil them alive that had his blood pumping. That, and the way Reno looked like this, was all just mildly annoying rather than potentially fatal. Zack grinned a little, despite himself. He wasn’t used to working with Turks. But Reno? Reno had that dangerous spark, like a firecracker. Zack figured maybe it did make sense that they got paired up. Sparks liked company. Then came the plan—Reno’s voice sharp and bright like a match being struck. Zack didn’t even pause. He gave a boyish thumbs-up. 

“On it!”

His legs were already moving. His heart thudded in time with each footfall as he bolted from cover, body low, every sense lit up like neon. The sniper fired again, and Zack felt the bullet cut the air near his face but missed. Close, though. Too close. He yelped instinctively but kept running, a breathless laugh slipping out as he skidded behind another set of rocks.

“Woo! You’re fast, I’ll give you that!” 

He called out to the unseen sniper. Another burst of movement. His boots hit uneven terrain, kicking up dust as he moved. His breath came quickly and excitedly. Not scared—just alive. Very alive. He could feel the heat on his face, the weight of the sword on his back, the tight pull of adrenaline coiled in his limbs like a spring. Zack hit the base of the hill and didn’t stop. He launched himself up the incline with the easy speed that came with Mako-infused muscles, scrambling over roots and dry soil, sunlight glinting off his sword as he reached the crest. That’s when he saw him, the sniper, gun in hand, already locked on to Zack’s chest. Zack’s heart stuttered. His legs shifted to move, but— CLUNK. The sound hit first, then the spray of blood. The sniper dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, weapon clattering uselessly to the ground. Zack blinked. There stood Reno, cool as ever.

“Whoa… That was awesome! Thanks!”

Zack turned his attention to the sniper’s setup: supplies, shade, and a radio that crackled to life with the worst possible timing: "Breach detected. Additional forces inbound." Zack straightened with a little bounce of urgency. The grin dropped from his face. He didn’t like how that sounded.  Zack caught the water bottle in mid-air, twisted the cap off with his teeth, and downed half of it in one go. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, blinking up at the sun like it had just insulted him personally.

They didn’t wait. They moved, fast and in sync, Zack jogging ahead with that natural SOLDIER glide. The ruins below offered cover—a perfect fallback point. Crumbling walls, jagged concrete, rusted beams that looked like giant ribs reaching toward the sky. Zack ducked behind one, adjusting his grip on the sword. The sun still beat down, but at least there was shade. He crouched low, ears straining. His eyes flicked to Reno’s silhouette as the Turk slid into place beside him.

“Hey,” Zack whispered, slightly breathless, “you okay?”

Then—voices. Boots. Real close. Zack’s breath hitched, but not from fear, from focus. He felt the moment tighten, like holding his breath before a plunge. His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of the Buster Sword.

“We’ve got company,” he whispered. “Time to shine.”

He stood in one smooth motion as the first enemy appeared behind the rubble wall, and his smile was all teeth and adrenaline. “Hi there!” Then the sword came down—clean, fast, like a guillotine of steel and glowing fury. Zack charged into the fray with stars in his eyes and excitement in his chest—because honestly? This was way more fun than recon, and maybe he wanted to show the Turk what he was truly capable of.

[bitterarcs]

Even if it had been two days, Reno would have still believed . . no, would have still felt that it had been ages since he got laid. Though in reality, it had been nearly two weeks, and that amount of control was unraveling at the seams. Smelled good. Looked good. Moved well. Nothing short of an STD or small dick would get in Reno's way, so help all of Midgar. The red haired Turk did enjoy playing both mouse and cat; they keyword being play — playing hard to get, even when it meant his pants got awfully cramped. Tonight and right now, he simply wanted to sink his teeth and his nails into something perfect.

The humidity around them, drowning the entire building, was the wrong kind of hot, and precisely what he need was this stranger's heat. The contact of fingers to chest made him lick his bottom lip with anticipation. He chuckled, too, something of a mixture between amusement, excitement, and being driven wild. Reno liked driving other's wild, and he liked being driven to the point of combustion. Tall, dark, and handsome liked what he felt — of course he did. Reno did no coasting through life. Every single detail was methodical from the irrelevant of how he lit his cigarettes to the very relevant of how every piece of clothing was chosen to best compliment his body.

Boldness drove blunt nails into the back of the stranger's neck, disconnecting folded fingers, and leaving his left hand free to travel down the man's chest. Subtly was long dead. He felt the muscle with a strong, wandering hand, then hooked it around to feel up his back. Reno groped his ass, but kept the rest . . pg, simply dragging his nails up and down the stranger's back over his shirt. Reno was predator and prey, yet he almost lovingly nuzzled against the side of the man's face as he broke the silence.

(  ❛  Are we gonna fuck right here and now, or what? ❜  )

Fingers of his right hand cease leaving marks on his neck, instead ran blunt nails up the nape of his neck to further stimulate his partner. Though, in a way, it was like Reno was making his mark; lawing up what was his. At least for the night.

The longer Kunsel studied him, the more that swaying body acted like magnet. Any apprehension he held about what he was planning to find that night vanished as soon as the man in front of him turned and gave Kunsel a very intentional show. He stepped forward until there were only a brief few inches of space, and then he felt one taut ass directly against his lap. A single spark ran its way up through his body as he felt fingers slide over the back of his neck, hand pulling him down. He obliged. Through the flash of erratic strobe, he caught the pleased grin on the stranger's face, and once again Kunsel's attention was captivated by his catlike features. Most of all, those eyes. Though only illuminated for a fraction of a second, they practically glowed with an icy blue-green hue. Kunsel wasted no time meeting the stranger's body language with his own. Taking the other man's willingness to rock into him as invitation, Kunsel's hands found their way over the man's body. His palms smoothed over the man's hips, then ran up over where tight pleather ended and skin began. He could feel the moisture that clung to his skin, the lean muscle working underneath his fingertips as the man swayed, bucked his hips, and ground backwards onto the part of Kunsel he was likely the most interested in. Kunsel let his nails drag lightly on their way up, hands finally framing his ribs, and moved back down again; he bracketed the mans' hips firmly in his hands as he rolled his hips forward in time with the music. Several sparks ignited in this groin and traveled up into his gut, burning brighter. He'd done this enough times to know how to play the game. With the man's hand still on his neck, Kunsel bowed his head until his nose was brushing the back of an ear. He breathed in his scent, letting his lips shift until they were mouthing against his sweaty neck. He smelled of cologne and cigarettes; definitely nicer than the miasma of exertion hanging through the air. One of his hands worked their way back up, praising each divot between muscles, catching each bead of sweat that ran its way down the man's pale skin. Kunsel smoothed his palm over a well defined chest, the mesh rough beneath his fingers, until the crook between his thumb and forefinger was laid against the center of his clavicles; a suggestion of where this embrace could take them.

[bitterarcs]

[bitterarcs]

Reno: "I'm subtle!"

Also Reno:

[bitterarcs]

dont ignore me ?? i despise being ignored ?? i mean im ignoring like 8 ppl right now but still ???

[bitterarcs]

He is my first crush

[bitterarcs]

BITES.

(  ❛  I love it when stray kitties want to play. ❜  )

Actually he didn't, but there were certain strays people he actually enjoyed the pleasure of their sudden company, regardless if they have tendencies to bite. Reno quickly pulled her into a headlock and playfully ruffled the mess of blonde-white hair.