#<- in my defense purple hearts sure was a movie and i sure felt psychological damage watching it/hj

[mofsblog]

Me in 2022 making jokes that Nicholas Galitzine wouldn't have chemistry with Taylor Zakhar Perez in the RWARB:

[beelsnack]

Obey Me! Boys and an Insecure MC

Alternate Title: Coping mechanisms? In my demonic dating sim? It’s more likely than you think.

I honestly didn’t mean for this to be so long, but hey.

CW: Depression, self hatred, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Lucifer: It was subtle, but nothing escaped the notice of the Eldest. He saw them fidgeting with their tie before heading to class, watched the frown tug at their lips when all they managed to produce was a rumpled tangle of silk. Caught them poking ruefully at their acne scars in the reflection of their D.D.D. Heard the frustrated sigh as they tried to sit in a way that hid the meat on their abdomen. But, above all, he paid close attention to those comments.

“Wow, I can’t do anything right, can I?”

“You would have to be a professional makeup artist to fix this mess, haha!”

“It’s alright, you can say I’m ugly.”

That was it. Lucifer stood from his seat at his desk, an errant paper fluttering to the ground in his wake. The Firstborn made his way over to where they were sitting, working away diligently on their laptop. Their breath caught in their throat when they turned to face him, and Lucifer fought back a sadistic grin when he felt them shudder at the feeling of his gloved hand sliding beneath their chin. He would file that away for later.

“That’s quite enough.” his voice was low as he lifted their face. They averted their eyes, clearly uncomfortable, but he kept his hand where it was. “Self-deprecation is unbecoming on anyone, but I certainly will not have it marring that beautiful face of yours.”

Nothing escaped the notice of the Eldest. Especially not the shy smile they wore as they bade him goodnight.

Mammon: Call him an idiot all you like, but if there was one thing that a solid gambling career had taught Mammon, it was how to read a person’s tells. The way they stood with their arms folded and body turned inward said they were trying to hide. Their habit of avoiding mirrors told him they hated the way they looked. The twinge of resigned sadness on their face when they carefully deflected Asmo’s blatant flirting made it obvious that they thought they didn’t deserve it.

It must have been particularly bad one night. The two of them had made themselves comfortable on the bed in preparation for movie night, but instead of cuddling up next to him like they normally did, they sat far enough away that Mammon had to actually scoot forward to jab them in the shoulder.

“Hey, what gives, human? Why’re you all the way over there?”

“I’m just feeling a little warm.” they shrugged, pulling their knees to their chest. They were trying to pull some reverse psychology bullshit by purposefully staring him in the eye while they lied to him. Mammon snorted.

“You really think you’re going to fool me like that? You’ve got at least a millennia until you can even think of lying to The Great Mammon!” he opened his arms and his voice softened when he spoke. “Come here.”

They hesitated - eyes flicking back and forth between him and a knot in the branches that made up their bed frame, nervous - before they tucked themselves into his waiting arms.

He leaned his cheek against the top of their head, inhaling the sweet smell of their freshly-washed hair and internally purring (maybe externally, but you wouldn’t be able to get him to admit it) when he felt them snuggle in a little deeper and release a pent up sigh.

Mammon stayed silent, absently stroking the back of their neck. Words had probably done the damage, and they definitely weren’t going to fix it. He knew that from experience. But shielding his human from their own poisonous thoughts for a few moments was a good place to start.

Levi: Self-deprecating comments were one of Levi’s main forms of communication. It was a defense mechanism, a low-level shield someone would cast when the enemy was ridiculously OP but the game didn’t give you a retreat option. He knew this mechanic.

But when he heard them use it, it made him angry.

How could someone as amazing as them - smart, pretty, brave, loved gaming, made sure to feed Henry 2.0 when Levi was at a Sucre Frenzy concert - think they were anything less then perfect? No, more importantly, who hurt them so badly that they started thinking that way?

He felt like he did that one time Mammon had dropped one of his limited-edition Ruri-chan figures from a balcony. Someone damaged something precious to him, and he wanted blood.

Of course, that would involve talking about feelings and other mushy, normie stuff, and he just wasn’t ready for that. So, he did the only thing he could think of.

Leviachan: Hey, you down for a raid? There’s this new set of armor - it’s suuuuuuper rare, and you’re the only one good enough to get through the dungeon with me!! Pleeeeaaaassseee?

Satan: These little reading dates had started without him really noticing. One day, the human had came into the library seeking a quiet place to study and finish up their homework. Then, they came in with a human world book that Satan had never heard of tucked under their arm and were more than willing to talk about it. This lead to the two of them huddled on the sofa with their noses buried in the same book, and the human surprising Satan by being able to keep up with his reading speed. And here they were.

Satan had chosen a detective novel that he was positive they would like, and the both of them had taken advantage of a quiet Sunday morning to let themselves get absorbed into the story. Satan had his long arms wrapped around them holding the book, and they were leaning against his chest as they flipped the pages. An easy routine that the two of them had fallen into.

He felt them sigh heavily against him and he quirked an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I just...” they trailed off, gazing out the window at the dusty purple sky before snapping back to the present. “The love interest in this book is amazing. I’m a little jealous of them.”

“Jealous?” Satan echoed, looking down at the small frame curled up in his arms. “Why would you be jealous?”

“They were able to do so much with their life. They’re so young, yet they’ve got their life sorted out, they’re smart, beautiful, charismatic, and they’re confident in themselves despite all the shit people put them through...” they sighed again, and this time Satan heard the note of self-hatred on the exhale. “I can’t do anything like that.”

“Now where did you get that idea?” Satan said incredulously. “In the few months you’ve been here, you have excelled in every class you’ve taken, stood up against all of us in our true forms at least twice each, solved a murder, and convinced me to stop plotting to rip Lucifer’s throat out. All while adjusting to life in a world where most of the citizens could kill you by poking you a bit too hard. I would say that goes above and beyond ‘having your life sorted out.’“

The blush that bloomed across their face was so hot that Satan was able to feel it through his shirt, right next to his heart. He chuckled softly as he bent down to kiss their hair. 

“I could write for eons about how amazing you are and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Asmo: Emotions fell right into his area of expertise, and even if they were immune to his charm, Asmo still could smell their emotions like a perfume. And their low self-confidence reeked like rotten fruit. A beautiful arrangement that had been abandoned and left to decay.

The Avatar of Lust was an inquisitive soul (Lucifer would call it being nosy, but whatever.) He was also a firm believer in the theory that you can tell everything you need to know about a person by their skincare routine. So that’s what led to him sneaking into their bathroom while Mammon had dragged them out on one of his stupid get-rich-quick schemes.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” Asmo cried in alarm as he picked up the bottle of human world acne treatment. “They might as well be washing their face with snake venom!”

With a scoff, Asmo kicked the waste basket out from beneath their counter and tossed the face wash in. Bottle after bottle followed it, and Asmo was just about to dump the last bottle of what he assumed was straight rubbing alcohol when he heard the door open.

“Asmo, what the fuck.”

“Darling, we need to have a very serious discussion about your choice in skincare products.” Asmo grimaced as he glanced at the label on the bottle before unceremoniously dropping it into the bottle graveyard. “Can you even pronounce some of these?”

Ah, there it was. The sickeningly sweet smell of self-hatred. Asmo fought the urge to recoil as they practically dove for the trash can.

“Asmo, come on, I have gross skin as it is, don’t take away the only things keeping me from looking like a slice of pizza.”

The sound of glass breaking echoed somewhere in the back of Asmo’s head. That rotten smell was rolling off of them in waves, but he fought off his aversion and knelt down next to them.

They nearly hit the ceiling when Asmo clasped their hands between his own. “Now, now, none of that.”

“None of what?”

Asmo giggled. “You know I wouldn’t bother associating myself with someone unsightly.” one of his hands moved to gently cup their jaw. “You poor thing, you’ve been ruining that lovely face of yours.”

“I didn’t think I could make it any worse.” they muttered, looking away as Asmo stroked a thumb over their cheekbone.

Asmo’s heart clenched, and he leaned forward to kiss them gently on the forehead. “Oh, I can’t stand hearing that kind of talk, especially coming from you. That settles it, then.” he stood with an air of finality.

“Settles what?” they tilt their head in a manner that reminded Asmo of a very adorable puppy.

“We’re going to get you some proper skincare products, and I’m going to spend the rest of the night making you feel like the divine beauty you actually are.”

It was only for a second, but Asmo swore that overpowering smell of rotten fruit was replaced with something just a little fresher.

Beelzebub: Normally, the Avatar of Gluttony wouldn’t complain about someone not eating. More for him. But he didn’t like the way the human was pushing food around their plate without actually eating any of it. They usually loved fried bat wing, too.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, keeping his voice low so his brothers wouldn’t butt in. “Aren’t you hungry?”

They laughed sheepishly, pushing their plate towards him. “Nah, not really. I was snacking all day. Here, you can have it.”

“But I just heard your stomach growl.”

Shame flashed across their face before they looked up at him with a grin that didn’t quite make it to their eyes. “I guess, haha. Just trying to watch my figure, you know?”

Before Beel could swallow down the mouthful of bat wing - when did he even pick it up? They had stood from the table and excused themselves, saying something about having a lot of homework.

It was a few hours before they got back to their room. What had started as them doing their homework in the living room had turned into Mammon begging them to help him study, which then somehow turned to Mammon challenging Satan to a pillow fight. Finally, they had decided to give up and do their homework in their room.

Something delicious wafted out of their room when they opened the door. The source was an overly full plate of food - with extra bat wing, they noticed - sitting on their desk. Blinking in confusion, they shut the door behind them and approached the plate. When they got closer, the note tucked underneath the plate came into view.

Please eat properly. I don’t want you to starve.

-Beel

Belphegor: He never would have called himself needy or touch-starved before. But after spending so long stuck in that attic room with his only interaction being with Lucifer, Belphegor couldn’t seem to get enough physical contact. Especially with the human.

He knew he didn’t deserve their affection, not with how he took advantage of them, manipulated them, murdered them. But the human had enough room in their heart to forgive him, and he would take any ounce of affection they were willing to give.

But it still stung when they flinched.

It was only for an instant, but Belphegor could feel the instinctual tightening of muscles when he draped himself over their shoulder. Feel them jump when he bumped shoulders with them in the hall. Feel their heartbeat speed up when he decided to use them as a body pillow.

“You know you can tell me no, right?” he murmured sleepily as the moment passed and the human settled down.

“Would you stop if I did?”

“Hm...” he hummed, cracking open one amethyst eye to peer at them. “If you don’t like me touching you, why do you let me do it?”

The human sighed, scooting down from their position against their headboard so they were face to face with Belphegor, who still had his hands around their waist like they were a giant teddy bear.

“It’s more like...I can’t believe you want to touch me.”

Now that woke Belphie up - well, as up as he could be while still doing his best impersonation of a koala. “What?”

They laughed, but it sounded strained. “Come on, Belphie, look at me. I’m all...jiggly.”

“So?”

Silence. They looked at him like they were trying to solve a puzzle, and he met their gaze like he was trying to figure out why they couldn’t figure it out.

“It’s not like it matters,” he shrugged, snuggling down into the soft blankets and holding the human a little bit tighter. “I like touching you because you’re you. You being soft and warm is a side benefit.”

“Belphie - “

He yawned, and they genuinely couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. “Shh, I’m going to sleep. You’re my pillow, so don’t talk. Especially if it’s negative stuff like that.”

Honestly, that was the best nap they’d had in a while.

[rhapsodosu]

Psychotherapy, Chapter 1

[x] Hi, so this is a fanfic that I've actually stopped writing a long time ago because my heart was broken. But! I figured I owe the IR fandom a thing because most people back then were an excellent support group, that's why I decided to continue.

This is also in FF and AO3.

Summary: "After a long day of hearing my patients' issues, I wake up and find a half-naked woman on my bed, staring at me like she had known me forever. Who is she? I don't know. All I know is she changed my life in many ways." Pairing: Ichiruki, T/M, AU

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Time is such a cruel thing,

But love is even crueler.

I may have known her for only a few days,

But she turned me to another person.

A better me.

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Hi, I am Kurosaki Ichigo, 27 years old, a psychiatrist at my own clinic. Actually, it also serves as my home—I live in this three-story structure without any other living soul but me.

Why, you think?

I also think about that sometimes. Why do I live alone? Because I want to be alone. I need to be alone. But why? You may be thinking about that again.

Let's go to my family.

First and foremost, my dad, Kurosaki Isshin, is a doctor at Karakura General Hospital. Don't get me wrong by saying this though—he's a good provider, and my childhood was good because he was goofy and (excessively) happy most of the time. I have two sisters—twins—named Yuzu and Karin, which are both living under my dad's custody as of the moment. The last thing I heard is that Yuzu's taking off with her culinary career, and Karin, in her soccer team. We were all happy together. Well, our house is always noisy and stuff (you get the picture), but we were happy.

Except that my mom had to die.

Kurosaki Masaki is the sweetest woman I have ever known. She always put us first even though it hurts her, and maybe that is the reason why we only knew she had ovarian cancer when it was already on its last stage. She kept it a secret, even from dad, just for the purpose of not being an inconvenience to any of us.

Her death wasn't an easy thing for us. Yuzu didn't stop crying for months, Karin didn't want to talk, and I didn't know what to do in order to forget that rainy night when my mom breathed her last in the hospital. Dad, although he was the most hurt, kept smiling at us and encouraged us like nothing ever happened—and that is why I hated him. Back then I cannot understand how he could still smile even though mom was gone, and I really despised him.

I even got to the point where I lost my faith in him and blamed him for everything. I promised to myself that when I graduate college, I'll live away from him, which exactly brings us back to the fact that I am living alone in this building.

Most of the time, during the days, my patients go in and out of the first floor in order to share their psychological and emotional problems with me. I am not an expert, though. I can only give some tips for improvement, but it still depends on my patients if they will follow me. Anyway, the second and third floors are my refuge.

No one has ever stepped inside of this except me, my friends, and my sisters.

The truth is, I never had a girlfriend, so it's just me here. It's by choice, though. I want to enjoy my life first before rushing into things like 'love', or 'commitment'. It's just not my kind of thing.

And then came this day, November 2, 2008, Sunday—a day I cannot seem to tear away from my mind.

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Session 1: Pwned

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After a long day of hearing my patients' issues, I fell on my bed and buried my face on my pillows. It's like this every day. Like you're carrying your own burdens, and then my patients share their problems and place more stones on my backpack.

I fall asleep really fast but when my throat itched, my eyes automatically flew open—I looked at the clock and it was already 2 a.m. Still groggy, I aimed to get up to get a swig of water downstairs, but something restrained my movements.

I blinked in the darkness and sat up.

An arm was wrapped around my waist and it trailed to the other side of the bed. I blinked again thinking that I was dreaming lucidly, but the image didn't disappear. I followed where the mystery limb lead to and instead, I was brought face-to-face with a pale face whose eyes were very much open and were gawking at me.

A scream unwillingly escaped my throat in defense. "WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK-?!"

Before I knew it, I was on my footing, clinging to the baseball bat which was always resting on my bedside. I tapped frantically on my lampshade to reveal the trespasser-but what welcomed me was a half-naked, raven-haired woman, lying on my bed and smiling expectantly as if she had known me for years.

Well… I can say I didn't see only her face. I mean, she was wearing a blue button-down with half of the top buttons open, revealing her, ah… black, lacy,sexy—undergarment. Her bottoms weren't bad either, they were matching the top, but for a second I thought they were much thinner.

Not that I was staring intently, but she didn't have any pants on. I held on my bat even tighter.

"Hey," she said coolly and waved her hand. "I didn't mean to cause a ruckus."

"Wha-Who are you? Why are you on my bed?" Acid was quickly rising in my voice. Maybe she was sent by Renji as a joke? I remember him always telling me to screw around. "If you're sent my any of my friends, just get outta here."

She chuckled and threw me a glance that annoyed me even more. "Friends? No. And why are you staring at my legs?"

The statement caught me off-guard. Heat crept up my face and my head automatically jerked on my left. I swear I specifically intended to look angry.

"Shut up! Just get off of my bed! Take some money if you wish and go, or I'll call the cops."

She shook her head. "Sheeesh. I am not a thief, bakamono. I was just borrowing your clothes."

And that explains why the blue button-down she was wearing looks highly familiar to me. Because they were mine. Damn this woman.

"And who told you to wear my clothes!"

"You were asleep, duh. I was respectful enough not to wake you." She stretched her legs on the bed, but her eyes were slightly glaring. "And be thankful that I didn't wear your pants, because I don't like pants in general."

"Ah! So it's me to blame now! You're trespassing on my home, stealing my clothes, and then complain about my fashion sense! Really, now. I should call the police!"

I went to the drawer where my phone was and started punching in the hotline when I heard her chuckle. I threw my glare upon her direction, but the unashamed woman was wearing a rather smug look on her face. I double-took her expression. Dammit, what's with that face?

"You don't have to call the police. I mean no harm."

"And why should I believe you?"

She smiled again, but a lot softer this time. Not seductively, but warm. It felt really sincere. "Just trust me. I just badly need a place to stay." She raised her hands up like in a double pledge, the purple in her eyes easily attempting to convince me further. I wasn't aware when or why it happened, but I found myself letting go of the tension in my shoulders as well as the makeshift weapon that I was holding. Something in her attitude calmed me down without even trying-and admittedly, it was half-annoying.

I sighed exasperatedly as I rubbed the bridge of my nose-she sat on the mattress and titled her head in what appeared to be curiosity and relief, maybe. "You haven't answered any of my questions properly. Or at least thank me for not whacking you in the head, you woman."

"What if I refuse to answer? I told you to trust me."

"Well you know, nobody trusts a random stranger barging in their homes, the kind that steals clothes and shares the bed."

The woman laughed yet again, and this time, she slid down to sit on the edge of the bed with her creamy, luscious legs crossed. I noticed that they were fairly long-and creamy-but at the same time she was also kinda tiny.

Is she a… whore? I thought.

"Hey, I'm not promiscuous. Not a whore." The oddly placed bang in her forehead swung left and right as she did the same motion with her head. "As I said, I just need a temporary place. I had an emergency-"

"-And what is that emergency?"

"It's a secret." A secret of course. If she wasn't a thief then probably she was a spy from the government, I thought. Who knows? They get pretty Big Brother-ish these days. I had to press on.

"Hn. And how did you get here?"

She rolled her eyes and pointed at my balcony. "Duh, I climbed. And your windows were open."

"Whoa, whoa, that's-" I blurted out of amazement. How many women could climb up three stories high, not to mention in her undies!

"Yeah, I know. I am amazing, right? I'm the first woman you know that climbs up three stories high."

"How are you sure you're the first?" She was, in fact the first, if I'm not gonna count the characters in the movies that I've been watching.

"…You're pretty transparent." She said, her eyes meeting mine. At that moment, I felt nothing but frustration. I was a psychiatrist and I should be the one studying her, but it was the other way 'round. There's this realization that no matter how much I look straight in her eyes, or how I try to simulate her gestures, I cannot fathom what she'll do and say next.

This was new to me—usually, I could tell whatever my patients are thinking in just a glance. But she was… different.

At that precise moment, I knew I was being drawn unconsciously towards this woman I barely know. In a way, it was frightening and impressive at the same time.

"Give me back my clothes."

There was a moment of silence of just staring, and that's when her hand went to my shirt and started unbuttoning the remaining buttons, showing off more of her skin.

"Alright then."

My palms slapped on my eyes in panic. "Matte-matte! Why are you stripping in front of me? Are you crazy?!"

"You're not the type to do anything nasty." I could hear her nonchalance.

Of course I could only assume what her expression, but I knew she had got rid of my shirt completely because I heard a thud and a soft thing landed at my feet.

"Hey, why are you so uptight? It's not like I am naked."

"Shut up! Put it back on!"

"Ah?How d'you know I got rid of it? You're peeking on the spaces between your fingers."

I felt steam coming out of my ears. "I am not!"

"Then you should remove those. I am telling you, I am not naked. I have my underwear inta—"

"-Just! Put it back on—"

"No, listen to me, you dummy. I am not naked." Then I heard her footsteps approaching me, and cold hands gripping mine and yanked them away from my face.

"Stop it you—what are you trying to do-" I paused to look at her, and I saw what she meant by not naked. Of course. She had my sheets covering her body. Why didn't I think of that?

"See." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I am not naked. Blankets have other uses, idiot."

My knees buckled for a moment, a thousand thoughts running through my head. Yes, I admit. I have never seen a woman in a highly provocative outfit, and the mere thought of seeing one straight in her undies is so…

Wrong?

Sexy?

Only hormones and you're imagining things?

My head suggested me. I actually picked the third one, because it's the most logical. I mean, as a psychiatrist, I know what sexual tensions mean. But that's only because this I haven't been stuck in this kind of situation after 27 long, careful years.

"Uh-huh…" I just ran out of words as I sat on the other side of the bed. I had both hands on my head, trying to figure out what was really happening. Maybe I just needed to take care of it as soon as possible. Maybe my hormones were driving me crazy.

I mean no woman wearing undies would climb up three stories high, borrow your clothes, and take your interest. No way. This stuff happened only in porn movies.

Not that I watched one.

"Gods, I never knew I am this tension-ed inside."

My eyes darted back to her direction to check if she was just a figment of my imagination. Nope. She was still there. I had the impression that she was expecting me to offer her the bed, but I was so tired to actually do anything else. The bed adjusted well under me when I collapsed on top of it, I closed my eyes and attempted to block out any other thought. I was thinking that if I ignored her, she would just go. A few moments later and the light went off and the bed slightly creaked on the other side.

"Thanks," I heard her murmur. And then something soft pressed on my forehead before I completely dozed off.

I woke up from the loud beeping noise coming from my phone. I didn't have any problems with waking up and being disoriented though—in my childhood I had to learn how to be alert once I opened my eyes because every day my pops would bust in my room and try to kill me with his butterfly kicks. Luckily I had learned something from my taekwondo classes and I had a counterattack to whatever the mad man would do to me.

After several failed attempts, I was finally able to grab my phone to turn the alarm off. In the process, I caught sight of my blankets cast down on the floor. Then it hit me.

Oh yeah, I told myself. Was it a strange dream? Sexual tension?

The blanket was back on my bed after throwing it distractedly. Thinking of a way to ease the tight feeling in my gut, I went straight to my bathroom and… well… I stripped down and turned on the tub faucet.

Good baths in the morning. I thought, slipping to my bathtub. Actually, I was thinking of a more effective way a release, but what the heck. Baths are good no matter what.

"After that, you might want to get breakfast?" A low feminine voice came from the door.

"Ah, yeah. I think that's good." I answered without thinking, before realizing what really was happening.

I jerked my head towards the door and found a raven-haired woman leaning on its post and a squeak involuntarily found its way out of my throat.

Oh shit. It wasn't a freaking dream after all. She was still in my flat.

"Y-you! H-how did you—" My hands automatically covered my crotch. "What are you doing here!"

"You're quite forgetful." She grinned and placed a hand on her hips. "And don't cover anything, I can't see it even without your hands." Then she turned her back on me and left the bathroom.

"H-hey! You fool! Where are you going?" Too late. The stranger was gone and I hear her light footsteps on the wooden staircases.

I swear I almost had my first major heart attack back there.

I found her in the kitchen (she was still wearing my shirt, and a pair of my favorite boxers to my grimace), her back leant against the marble counter. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes were focused to me as I descended the stairs, and there was an expression on her face like she won some contest.

"Hey." She simply said, gesturing over the table. I was taken aback.

"Woah." My feet carried me faster than usual, the scent of maple and bacon overpowering and taking control of them. This was definitely what a guy wants early in the morning.

"Gotta admit, this is good."

"I know, I made them." She went forward and sat on a chair on the table side across me, eyes still persistent on my face. "I'm good at cooking."

And she was right. In my mouth were the most delicious bites of strawberry-maple pancakes I have ever tasted. That plus the crunchy bacon. Plus the crisp black coffee.

I nodded, but I raised a brow at her. "This doesn't change things. You still trespassed."

"I can't say I'm sorry, your place is nice. But, I just needed this for an emergency, Ichigo."

"What is your emergency, anyway?" Then I remembered another important thing that I missed on the first question. "And who are you? How d'you know my name?"

"Sheesh. I saw it on the certificates on the first floor."

"You went on my clinic?"

"Yeah. I just peeked. But I didn't steal anything." She bit on the pancake pierced by her fork, her face contorting on a thoughtful look. "Ichigo. Your name's nice. It means strawberry."

"Yeah, I mean no!" I snapped at her, dropping the bacon I was about to bite. "Why do you roam around my house without my permission. And my name, it means the one who protects!"

She rolled her eyes. "Like I said, sorry. And. I like strawberry more. Or I can call you carrot-top if you want to—"

"HELL NO! JUST ICHIGO!"

"Fine, fine, I-chi-go." She sighed and became silent for a while as we ate our breakfast.

My mind was never at peace though. She was like a big jigsaw in front of me that I have to solve without the original pattern. The only thing I know about her is that she cooks well and she looks good on my clothes. Not to mention she wasn't a bad egg to begin with.

I cleared my throat to speak. "So, for the nth time, who are you? You seem to avoid the question."

She stared at me for a moment before grinning. "I am nobody."

"Be serious."

"Geez. You're so uptight—"

"Answer me. I want to help you on whatever your emergency is."

My stomach churned when she tilted her head and leaned forward. It was the first time I was seeing her up close. Despite the paleness of her skin and the stray bang on her face… she was more than gorgeous by any standard.

"My name is Rukia." It was a half whishper. "I need a place to stay for a few days. That's all I can tell you."

I pressed on. "Why? Don't you have any relatives?"

"No." She bit her lip, slightly hesitant. "I am an orphan." She looked away and chose to look down on her hands. That gesture meant she wouldn't answer anything personal again.

"Why did you choose me though?" I found myself leaning closer to her across the table instead. "Pretty sure there are many opened windows elsewhere."

Rukia shrugged. "I don't know, I just picked this. It was a clinic to begin with. Maybe someone was charitable enough."

"And what if I was an opportunist?"

"I know you're not. Besides, I know how to fight."

I grinned at her coincidentally at the thought of someone so tiny throwing kicks and punches. "What if I am an offender and I happened to know taekwondo and aikido?"

"Well…" She started slow with an expression that I can't read, and the next thing I knew was my back was pressed against the cold hardwood floor and Rukia was pinning my body with her legs. Her hands were on the opposite sides of my head, holding my arms in restrain.

"…I know Judo." Then she leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I am the best on the mat."

Blood rushed up to my cheeks, not to mention in other parts of my body, but before I could say anything, she was up again and a few feet away from me. How did she do that so fast?

"You can't offend me."

I got up, dusting off my PJs with a scowl on my face. "Shut up. It was just a scenario."

"No, you shut up. You are so uptight. That's why you don't have a girlfriend."

I glared at her even more for being so freaking instinctive. "How do you know?"

"You always blush when I am near. You get roused when I am near."

"That's not true! I do not blush—" But warmth is creeping on my cheeks again.

"Really? Look at you."

"I am not!"

"Oh gods." She titled her head and narrowed her amethyst eyes at me like she was accusing me of something horrible. "If you're not so stuck up then come upstairs with me Ichigo and let's have some good se—"

"FINE! FINE!" I literally growled at the petite woman, but she didn't seem fazed. I sighed as I sank back to my seat.

"Fine. I do not have any girlfriend." There were a few teenage flings, but."None since birth. Can't afford it."

"Yeah, I know." There was an unashamed pat on my hand in a feigned sympathy. "Do you want me to get you one?"

"What! Get me one! Are you a pimp, Rukia?"

"No, of course not. Let's just think of it this way." She raised a finger and pressed it on her chin like she was lecturing a child. "I teach you how to get a girl in exchange of letting me stay here for a couple of days. How's that?"

"You gotta be kidding, I don't need that."

"Oh, I know you do. You need it—"

"I do not!"

"—and you know I don't have money to pay you—"

"Then get a job!"

"—and it's the only way I could repay you for letting me stay here—"

"Who said you could stay here!" I slammed a hand on the table. "I don't know you, Rukia. Why am I going to let you stay here? Give me a reason."

She became still for a while, and what I could hear is only my puff of breaths for being so pissed off. I forgot what I was angry about the next second when she touched my cheek.

"Because you are kind. That's the type of man you are, Ichigo."

Rukia then rose from her seat and proceeded to the stairs without glancing back at me. My feet were kept grounded while my eyes watching as her figure disappeared into the hallway, and my hand grazing the warm spot where her fingers were moments ago.

It was an epiphany-I realized I had been defeated.

For not being to react nor object when her skin touched mine, albeit for the shortest time.

For staring at her retreating figure with a funny feeling in my gut.

Rukia was really something.

Something I never knew I wanted, or needed.

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A/N: So, how was it? I tweaked some minor things in the story that I thought were just funky when I first wrote it. Tell me how it went? : ) By the way, my mainblog is at ogenkiyuki if you guys wanna drop by. :)