#I guess maybe sometimes I get stuck in that wanting to belong and fit in feeling

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

hi what is wrong with me

[cherryredcheol]

little guy shelf

tldr: what the hell is a 'little guy'? an: i literally do not know where this came from.

when jihoon hears you huff for the fourth time in just as many minutes, he knows something must be wrong. after pausing the music coming out of his speakers and minimizing the tabs of production software on his monitor, he turns his chair to face you and is not surprised to hear you huff again. 

“bee,” he waits for you to look up at him before he asks, “what's the problem?” 

you huff again, but quickly pull yourself together and explain to him, very calmly, “there’s too many little guys on my shelf.”

jihoon blinks, sure he misheard you he asks again, “what is the problem?” 

you’re starting to get exacerbated, he can see it in the way you take a deep breath before explaining yourself, “my shelf, where i keep my little guys, there’s too many of them and now i can’t fit this one but this one is perfect! it has to go on my shelf.”

“i’m sorry, bee. i’m still confused. what is a ‘little guy’? and why does he have a designated shelf?” you two were still on opposite sides of the universe factory, and although the room was not big, he could not see the self in question from where he was, leaving him even more confused. 

“just come over here and look at my shelf, zi. you’ll get it if you can see it.” you could see the hesitation in his eyes at the thought of taking a break from production, but you were not above guilt-tripping. “come help me, zi. i need you,” you hoped your puppy-dog eyes still worked on him. 

turns out, they do. he got up and shuffled over to where you had squat down next to the second-to-bottom shelf on his wall. he’d never noticed before but the little shelf he’s offhandedly told you could be yours many, many months ago had been filled with little trinkets, or ‘guys’ he guessed. he wasn’t sure why you were so upset about this, though. 

“bee, i’m still confused. what exactly is the problem with your…guys?” he gestured vaguely to your plastic army.

“they’re all you! little tiny versions of you. and i’ve been collecting them but this one,” you lifted your hand to jihoon’s face. a tiny green man, bent over a barbell was staring back at him, his eyes were almost crossed trying to look at it. “this one will not fit! they all keep tipping over and then i stand them back up and then they tip over again! but he belongs here with these other little guys, zi. he belongs.” 

he gently pushed your hand out of his face, “yeah, bee. he totally belongs.” jihoon was still confused, but a little less so and terribly fond, “who else is there? who else represents me?” 

you lit up, clearly excited to explain your thought process to him. you turned, hand gently reaching into the molded infantry and remerging with a…grumpy penguin? 

jihoon was still confused but was ready to listen intently to your enthusiastic explanation, “tell me everything, bee.” he was doing this mostly to humor you, but he was intrigued.  

holding the little penguin out in front of you, you said, “this is badtz-maru. he is a penguin. he’s perpetually stuck in the first grade and wants to be the big boss of everything when he grows up.”

jihoon plucked the little plastic toy from your hand, turning it over to inspect it, “that's nice. but why is he me?” 

“well, he has black spiky hair, like you do,” you paused, looking at his long black hair, “sometimes.” you smiled sheepishly before continuing, “and penguins give rocks to their partners to show love. and you wrote ‘ruby’ and a ruby is technically a rock so…” you trailed off, embarrassed about your ramblings. 

jihoon had never thought you cuter. he reached the hand not holding his penguin self onto the shelf and pulled out a pokémon. “why flareon?” 

“oh! other than the sheer cuteness?” you were really on a tangent now, “‘flareon tends to isolate. and it’s in their nature to be lonely, so–”

jihoon interjected, “i am not lonely. nor do i isolate.” 

“well, that’s not true. you do isolate, don’t lie. and maybe not lonely per se, more of a loner. which again, you kind of are. plus, this little guy is spitting fire, which again, you do, so yeah. flareon, obviously.” 

“obviously.” jihoon was thoroughly amused. he had no idea any of this was in his studio. you’ve been hoarding toys here. toys that reminded you of him, “show me one more, bee.”

you pulled out, “a little baby, with a vegetable hat?” 

“no, zi. this is not any baby with a vegetable hat. this is the cabbage sonny angel. technically it’s the wrong kind of cabbage to make kimchi with but i’m choosing to let it slide because it’s little face looks just like yours!” 

you were very passionate about these so-called ‘little guys’ and although jihoon didn’t really get it, he loved you. and he loved that you thought about him so much that you would collect these little toys in his honor. 

“here,” he grabs the green weightlifting one off the discard pile on the floor and stands up. he rounds the corner to his desk and, “it can live here. since it’s ‘me’ and all.” he places it right next to his monitor, right in his line of vision, but not blocking anything important. 

you got up from the pile, leaving your little guys on the floor to see where this little guy had been placed. 

coming up behind jihoon you siaid, “zi! he looks perfect there!” you leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

he blushed but still said, “you don’t have to keep the little guys just on that one shelf. use the whole wall, bee. my space is your space.”

[blossomverse]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚El Chico del Apartamento 512˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: neighbor!miguel o'hara x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

summary: you've had a crush on miguel for the longest time. he happens to be your very kind, extremely attractive, next-door neighbor. what happens when you end up bonding over smoothies and a broken elevator?

cw & tw: mostly fluff, mildly suggestive dream, catcalling (by strangers), random man grabs reader's wrist without permission, stuck inside an elevator trope, some cursing, minors dni

a/n: i'm currently undergoing a miguel brainrot, that's how i found myself writing this in the middle of the night. the sentences on bold and italic are supposed to be reader’s inner thoughts. the story is heavily inspired by the song "el chico del apartamento 512" by selena. i srsly recommend listening to it as you read

Every day, coming home from work, same routine. Life in Nueva York was like this. The unwanted stares and comments from strange men were a frequent thing you’ve had to deal with. Your response would always be to ignore, continue walking as fast as you possibly could, and show that you were not afraid, nor bothered.

Today was no different, unfortunately. After a stressful shift at work, you had arrived inside your apartment complex and clicked on the elevator’s summoning button. That old thing would always take forever to arrive when called. As you waited patiently, one of the neighbors that always had some unwelcome attention to give, began approaching to make conversation.

Please, not today. I’m tired of rejecting this dude.

“Oh, how lucky I am! I’ve been waiting to see you again, Y/n.” He stood next to you.

“Mhm, I bet.” You answered, uninterested in whatever he had to say.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask–“

“No offense, but you should really go shower…” You blurted the words out, cutting him off before he could ask anything.

The man stood speechless for a hot second, unsure on what to say next. You simply stared blankly at the wall, not even sparing him one pitiful glance. He was about to speak again, when a familiar ding was heard. Finally, that prehistoric device had reached the first floor and opened its doors.

A few people made their way out and as you looked up to see the last one leaving, your heartbeat completely accelerated at the sight. There was he: the image of your dreams, the one your heart belonged to. The guy from apartment 512.

“M- Miguel, hi!” You said, a little bit too loud and enthusiastically for your own good.

You’d bask on the embarrassment later when you had reached the comfort of your home. For now, all you cared about was him.

“Y/n, it’s nice to see you.” He walked fast and made his way to open his mailbox.

“It is– it is always nice to see you, too.” You heard your words become nothing but stammers. Something that happened regularly when you would speak to him.

“Home from work already?” He asked while taking out his correspondence and shuffling through it.

“Oh, yeah… finished early. I’m guessing you’ll probably head to work now, I see you’re umm– you’re wearing your gym clothes.” You subtly admired his muscles, which looked enhanced by his tight fitted shirt.

“I’ll stop to get a smoothie from across the street first. They’re really nice and nutritious, you know. Maybe you’d like to check them out sometime.”

With you?

Your heart ran a mile, just thinking about that possibility. But no, his voice was too nonchalant to be asking you out. He was simply recommending the place. Nothing more, right?

“Sure, I’ll go when I have the time.”

There was an awkward silence growing as you looked down at your feet. You didn’t want to make this situation uncomfortable or to keep bothering him. Everyone that was waiting for the elevator along with you had already disappeared, including the annoying neighbor. You had completely disassociated with the fact that you were evidently trying to go home, ignoring everything just to give him your attention.

Would that make me look like a fool in front of him?

“Well, I– I should probably leave now. Guess we’ll talk another time.”

“Have a nice evening, Y/n.” He stuffed everything he had picked up at the mailbox into his duffle bag.

“Yeah, good luck at work.” You offered a tiny smile and pressed the button again, summoning the elevator.

“Thanks.” He chuckled and simply left.

In a few minutes you were stepping inside your apartment. Which just happened to be right next to his. That’s how you had met when you had just moved in. Both of you quickly became acquainted with each other over the months, although it’d be too extreme to call yourselves friends. You were just… neighbors on friendly terms.

“Ugh, I totally made myself look ridiculous again, didn’t I?” You spoke aloud to yourself as you took off your shoes.

This crush was something you had been harboring for quite a few months. At first, you just noticed he was an attractive man. No one could deny that. But as you continued getting to know little bits and pieces of him, and noticed how respectful and kind he was to you, compared to others, your heart couldn’t help but fall for him.

You went inside your room and opened the window. Looking down at the streets, you noticed how he was walking away from the kiosk with his smoothie in hand and couldn’t help but continue admiring him from afar. He took a small sip from it and continued his steps. Your eyes never left him, convinced that he would not notice you staring his way.

Miguel looked up and glanced at the building where you both lived. His eyes immediately noticed the opened window on the 5th floor, with a certain person leaning her elbows on it. He smiled at you and waved. Your cheeks and ears immediately heated up. He had noticed you.

You waved back reluctantly, then slowly stepped away from the window, closing it a few seconds later. As you sat down on your bed, you fanned your face and ears. Things just couldn’t get more humiliating than this.

You decided to take a cold shower, hoping it would relax your mood. Once the cool water hit your skin, you were able to take a deep breath and release all the tension. At some point you’d need to confess your feelings, right? The worst thing that could happen would be getting rejected. Or maybe he’d be nice enough to accept going on a date, just to try things out, and then end up confessing you’re not exactly compatible.

I could just keep this to myself forever, though.

The evening went on as it usually would. Dinner was made while playing that romantic playlist you had created when thinking of him. Then you watched some tv, not paying too much attention to it, as you wrote the —probably— thousandth love letter you had made for him. That was the only way you knew how to pour out your feedings. At least without stuttering like a fool. But you could never give these to him.

Acting like a schoolgirl in love was definitely not the best way to go about this, you knew it. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from wasting the ink of your pen on a piece of paper that’d remain stored away, along with others like it. A red sharpie adorned the corners of the letter with pretty hearts. Each one was a symbol of your infatuation.

The sky was dark outside, letting you know it was probably time to go to bed. After all, tomorrow you had to wake up early, just to repeat the same, boring routine. You went to the kitchen to grab some water, like you usually would before sleeping. The faint sound of a blender could be heard through the wall. He was already home.

You smiled, knowing that only a wall separated both of you. A wall that felt infinite. With a final sigh, you heard the blender stop, and made your way to your room. The satin bedsheets welcomed you, bringing comfort after a long day of work. The thought of your earlier interactions with him clouded your mind as you waited for sleep to take over.

The next morning, as you were making your way out of your apartment complex, some random old man you had never seen before began trying to talk to you. There weren’t a lot of people around, unlike most mornings. For a moment, you considered going back inside, but you simply couldn’t afford being late for work. The old man spoke in Spanish so you could just act like you didn’t understand that he was talking to you.

“Chica, ven a verme.” [Girl, come to see me.]

You walked away without breaking pace. The old man kept calling behind you, his voice getting closer, until suddenly, his hand was clutching your wrist to turn you around. Your gasp was audible. No one had gone as far as grabbing you without permission before.

You were ready to defend yourself and slap the man away, when you felt the presence of another person, yanking the stranger away from you. When you turned your head around, you saw Miguel. His tall figure was blocking you from the old man’s view.

“No le caen los viejos rabos verdes.” [She doesn’t like dirty old men.]

“Perdón, no sabía que tenía novio.” [Sorry, didn’t know she had a boyfriend.]

You were breathing heavily, trying to process everything that had just happened. The old man walked away. Miguel didn’t move for a few minutes, staring at him menacingly. Once your knight in shining armor had made sure the coast was clear, he turned to you with a soft expression on his face.

“Are you alright? That fucker didn’t hurt you, did he?” He was concerned and his arms wanted to hug you, but he didn’t want to step outside the line, like that other man had done.

“N-no, no, I’m okay… I think.” Your body was shivering just a bit, partially because of the chilly morning air.

“I’m glad to hear that. If anyone ever bothers you again, tell me.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Thank you, for helping me… but, how come you’re outside this early?” You were confused. He had told you about how he only worked from afternoon until nighttime at a gym, and barely ever woke up early.

“I was on my way to the airport.”

“Oh– you’re going to travel… well, I wouldn’t want you to lose your flight because of me. Anyways, I have to get to work–“ You began walking away.

“Wait wait, I’ll go with you. And I’m not traveling.” His words made you slow down your steps.

“I don’t want to be a burden…” You said, reluctantly.

“You’re not, I promise. But it’s completely fine if you don’t want me to accompany you, so don’t feel like you have to agree.” He assured you with a warm smile.

“No, I would really like that– I mean… sure, you can.”

He gave you one of the chuckles you loved so much and you resumed your walk to work. He followed after you silently. It was quiet as you both made your way through the streets, save for the sound of some cars and the other people that walked by. It was a comforting silence. It made you feel safe.

Once you had reached your destination, you turned around to thank him again. You both said your goodbyes as you watched him leave. There was barely any time to process anything. Much less as you both walked together. He always made you so nervous.

Work was slow and tiring. Your mind drifted to the thought of Miguel, as it often did. But today, he seemed to be persistent on staying running through your head for longer. It definitely made you get distracted way too many times during working hours.

Finally, after each agonizing second, it was time to clock out for the day. Once you were a block away from home, you remembered to buy groceries. By the time you had finished, the night had covered the sky with its starry mantle.

As you neared the building of your apartment complex, your eyes drifted to the kiosk across the street. There they found Miguel, and a smile crept up on your face. He was speaking with the other customers, a lively conversation likely taking place by the looks of it. His gym clothes were on, meaning he was back from work.

You considered going there with the pretext of trying the smoothies he had recommended, but desisted upon the idea for the moment. First, you needed to get rid of the grocery bags. Perhaps, by the time you had left them at home, he’d still be there chatting and you’d have time to come down and casually join the fun.

If only the elevator was faster, of course. It seemed to move even slower when you needed it to do its job the most. Miguel and the smoothies would have to happen another time. Or not… for you felt a familiar presence entering the building and joining the long wait for the elevator.

“Hey again.” Miguel’s voice rang across the hall.

“Oh– hi, Miguel.” You totally pretended you hadn’t recognized him by the smell of the Axe body spray he’d use after gym.

“Need help with that?” He pointed at the bags.

“It’s no big deal, honestly. But thanks, you’re always a gentleman.” Soon enough, you realized you’d given him a compliment and cringed internally for some reason.

“Heh, glad to know that.” His voice all smug.

The elevator arrived and you both made your way inside. It creaked loudly as it made its way up to the 5th floor. Miguel shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Remind me to tell the landlord to get this old thing fixed.”

“It’s no use, anyways. You know he’ll just ignore the request.” You sighed and leaned your back against the elevator wall.

“I should still try, at least before it brea–“ The lightbulbs blinked and the elevator stopped.

The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds, realizing what was happening. You were now stuck inside an elevator, and with the man of your dreams no less. But even the fact of being here with him didn’t stop you from slowly panicking.

“Shit… Miguel, what are we going to do?” You asked, exasperatedly.

“Press the button for emergencies, it should alert the nearest fire department. Just don’t panic.”

“How can I not panic? We could run out of air and die here…” You pressed the emergency button repeatedly and checked your phone to find signal, but to no avail.

“Don’t do that, the button could break. And we’re not gonna run out of air. This has air currents here, I think.” He spoke while typing on his phone.

“You seem oddly relaxed…”

“I’m also worried, but I’m trying to text the group chat of the people I train. One of the dudes is an engineer and there’s also a doctor, so they’ll probably know what to do.”

“Shouldn’t you call 911 or something, instead? I have absolutely no signal–“

“Hold on, I’m getting some answers… Miles said ‘don’t run out of air’…” He squinted his eyes as he began reading the replies.

“Ha, I told you we could run out of air!” You began panicking more now, thinking his doctor friend had answered.

“Hobie said ‘lay flat on the floor if it starts falling’…” Miguel continued reading the texts out loud in a confused tone.

“WHAT? Don’t tell me your engineer friend said that.” You were now seated down on the floor.

“No, he’s a musician. Only the younger people are answering right now, but these sound ridiculous.” He almost laughed as he kept reading. Leave it to the teens to joke about a situation like this one.

You leaned your head back in frustration. Miguel ended up sitting down as well and carried on typing. He looked awfully chill in this situation. Your only hope now was that the fire department had been notified through the emergency button. As time passed, you convinced yourself that if you were going to die, at least it’d be with the man you liked.

“Well… thankfully we’ve got some food and water, in case we have to spend the night here.” You pointed to the grocery bags, which were now also laying on the floor as well.

“And good company.” He smiled without looking up from his phone.

You felt your face heat up again, and your heart jumped up and down. His words always managed to fluster you in the worst moments. Now that you were stuck together for so long, it was becoming harder to hide your crush. You thought that this was probably a signal the universe was sending you, to convince you to finally confess before you died and it was too late.

“Umm, Miguel…”

“Yeah?” He looked up, glancing at you now.

“So there’s this thing I’ve been meaning to say– or ask, I guess.” You breathed in before continuing.

“I hear you.”

It was now or never.

“Okay, so–“

The elevator shook slightly and began moving up again. The lights flickered repeatedly, then the doors opened after it had reached your floor. You were not dying there together, after all.

“Oh, I guess grandpa decided to take a nap in the middle of his shift.” Miguel joked as he stood up.

He reached out his hand and helped you stand up. He then took some of the bags and carried them for you until you’d reached your door.

“I’m so glad it started working again.” You commented as you fumbled with the keys.

“Yeah, but anyways, what was it that you wanted to ask me? You never got to finish your sentence.”

You stood there frozen for a second, trying to come up with something to say. Your life was no longer at risk, so you didn’t feel the need of confessing before death any longer.

“Oh, it was nothing important.” You stalled, still thinking about what to say.

“Are you sure? You can tell me anything.”

“I just– I wanted to know if I could start training at the gym you go to.” You said as you opened the door of your apparent.

“That’s it?” He sounded like he didn’t really believe that’s what you meant to say.

“Yep. I’ve just never been to a place like that in my life so I gotta ask the expert, of course.” You smiled innocently, as if to convince not only him, but yourself, that what you had said was the truth.

“Sure, you’re welcome to do so. It’s not exactly a secret society, so you could have joined any gym without asking me.” He spoke sarcastically but your mind focused too much on the last portion of his sentence.

He probably doesn’t want me to join the same gym as him.

“Right… well, it was a long day and you must be tired. See you around, Miguel.”

You took your bags inside and closed the door quickly, leaving him slightly dumbfounded. Leaning against it after locking, you took a deep breath. Your mind felt like a jigsaw puzzle, and overthinking wasn’t helping at all. A shower was all you needed to get rid of all the stress caused by today’s incidents.

Once you had finished freshening up, you grabbed a quick snack before heading to bed. Rest was due. You didn’t feel like thinking about him and confusing your head even more. Now in the comfort of your bed, you allowed sleep to take over.

Thankfully, there was no need to worry about waking up early the next day. The sweet weekend had arrived, meaning you could rest and stay inside all day. The perfect way to avoid Miguel.

However, your dreams had different plans. As if to spite you, your subconscious mind displayed images of how it would be like if you and Miguel were a couple. The dream began by showing how you knocked on his door and confessed to him, he looked happy as he confessed his feelings as well. Then everything shifted, you were both having dinner at a nearby restaurant and he leaned over to kiss you. One last shift of images happened before you woke up. This time, the images presented you both kissing inside the elevator, slowly taking each other’s clothes off. His mouth had moved to your neck, leaving marks as he made his way down your body. It all felt soft and intense… and so real.

The loud honk of a car resonated through the walls, making your eyes open. The memories of your dream flashing rapidly inside your head, making you cover up your face in shame. But you wouldn’t deny how much you were enjoying it, so you screamed into your pillow in frustration.

“Fucking car had to wake me up exactly when it was getting good!” You whined and threw the pillow.

What if this was another sign?

Sitting up on the bed, you reached out for your phone and called your best friend. Sometimes when a girl doesn’t know what to do, she needs professional assistance from someone who knows her better than she knows herself.

“Oh em gee, look who’s calling!” You heard your friend on the other side of the call.

“Hey, bestie… so, I really need help with something– more like, someone.” You admitted nervously.

“And here I thought you wanted to, you know, say hi to me and know how I’m doing, maybe ask me out for brunch but nooo… I’m kidding, of course. How may I be of service?” She joked, making you laugh.

“Well, it’s about my neighbor.” You whispered the word ‘neighbor’, as if it was possible for Miguel to hear you talk about him through the wall.

“Wait, is this the neighbor you spoke to me about like two months ago?”

“Yeah, it’s about him. I’m in dire need of some advice.” You hated how she knew you so well.

“Girl, seriously… I thought by now you had already fucked him.” Her words made you gasp and burst out laughing.

“You did not just say that.” You continued giggling, unable to control yourself.

“Well, did you do it? Or did he break your heart and you need your best friend to cheer you up?” Maybe she didn’t know you that well.

“No, I just have this huge crush on him–“ You began explaining.

“Still?” Your friend cut you off with her comment.

“Yes, still. And I don’t know, but lately a lot of strange things have been occurring. I keep thinking they’re signs saying that I should tell him how I feel, but he keeps giving me mixed signals sometimes. I never know what’s going on inside his head.”

You continued rambling about everything that had happened in the past two days. Your friend listened carefully, her own mind trying to come up with the best answer to your problem. Surely, you couldn’t continue living life like this. Once you had finished the rant, she stayed silent for a few more seconds before finally speaking.

“In my opinion, you should knock on his damn door and confess. What’s he going to do? Bite you? You’d probably like it, anyways.” At least she spoke the truth.

“You make it sound so easy.” You shook your head and sighed.

“Because it is. You knock on his door, confess, I’m sure he likes you so he’ll say yes, then he’ll invite you in and you can fuck. Simple.” She sounded proud of her answer.

“It’s not certain that he likes me, maybe he’s just really nice.” You protested, still denying that possibility.

“Gosh, just get it over with! If he rejects you, just come over to my house for the weekend and I’ll help you deal with the pain. But now I need you to get your ass up and stop being a coward. Or else, I’ll show myself up when you least expect it to tell him everything.”

“You wouldn’t do that…”

“Try me.” You heard her chuckle.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, I’ll do it myself.” You sighed in defeat.

“Today.” She almost threatened.

“Mhm, today, whatever.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

“I’ll be expecting an update of how it went. But if by midnight I don’t receive anything, I’ll know for sure it wasn’t a rejection. Good luck, love ya!” She blew a kiss through the phone and hung up.

This girl…

You armed yourself with the courage your best friend had provided you with. She was right, you needed to get this over with. The next two hours you spent getting ready, making sure you looked and smelled nice. Even going as far as shaving, because you never know.

Once you thought you’d done enough, you checked yourself in the mirror one last time and inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. As you made your way out, your heart was racing like never before. With wobbly legs and fiddled thumbs, you found yourself at his door. Another breath was taken before finally knocking on it.

Each second felt endless, even the door seemed to be opening in slow motion. Goosebumps suddenly appeared on your skin as you timidly looked up. But right there, standing in front of you, wasn’t the guy from apartment 512. Instead, a beautiful blonde woman had answered.

You felt your heart chatter. A million things going through your head as you stared at this woman you had never seen before. She looked a bit confused, waiting for you to speak first. At the moment, you simply couldn’t find any words.

Of course, he has a girlfriend. How could I be so stupid?

You were about to turn around and walk away while apologizing for the interruption. She obviously didn’t recognize you, so you’d just pretend you didn’t live next door and act like you were looking for someone else’s apartment. Then you’d pick up the pieces of your heart and spend the weekend with your best friend. As you took your first step back, the blonde spoke up.

“Were you looking for my brother?”

You froze and blinked twice. The breath you didn’t realize you were holding was released. Now you felt even more confused than her.

“Your brother? Miguel never mentioned he had a sister.” You scratched the back of your head.

“Are you the neighbor he was stuck with inside the elevator last night?” Miguel’s sister chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“My brother went to the kiosk to get us breakfast, even though we should already be having lunch. You can come in and wait for him if you’d like.” She opened the door wider to invite you in.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come by another time.”

“Alright, then I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he comes back.” She gave you a warm smile as she began closing the door.

“Sure, no problem.” You smiled back.

Once the door was finally shut, you remained standing in the hallway. There were now two options: either run back inside the house like a coward, or meet him at the kiosk. You chose the latter.

The elevator was as sluggish as ever, yet this time you didn’t care. You made your way out of the building, feeling like you were in a movie scene as the air hit your face while you walked to the kiosk. You noticed him immediately, leaning against the counter as he waited to receive his order. And in this moment, this was all that mattered. Him, only him.

The guy from apartment 512.

He looked up and your eyes met. There was no turning back now as you approached. He smiled brightly and you returned the smile with a hint of shyness.

“So, you came to try the smoothies I told you about.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Actually, I came to talk to you about something– and I promise it’s not about the gym.” You heard him chuckle.

“Okay, how about we enjoy some smoothies first and then we talk?” You were about to agree to his suggestions and then you remembered…

“But what about your sister?”

“Oh, don’t worry– wait, how do you know about my sister?” He was confused.

“Umm, I knocked at your door earlier.” You nervously admitted.

“Hmm, I see. As I was saying, don’t worry. She won’t die without her overly complicated, banana, pineapple, kiwi, and almond milk smoothie. Or her empanadas, which I seriously recommend, too.” Miguel rolled his eyes playfully as he listed out all the ingredients from his sister’s smoothie.

“If you say so… then I’ll have an uncomplicated guava smoothie with empanadas.” You spoke cheerfully.

“Good choice.” He stepped slightly closer.

“I think today I’m finally making the correct choices, for once.”

Life in Nueva York was like this, same people, same routine. Skyscrapers reaching for the sky, a bustling city scene. Yellow taxis honking loud, streets alive with motion. From dawn till dusk, a vibrant place, a perpetual emotion.

And now you had someone to share it all with. The smoothies from the kiosk across the street. The ancient elevator that would sometimes fall asleep. The unwanted stares and comments. This life and its precious moments.

❀if you made it this far, thank you for reading~ it's been ages since i wrote anything, so i hope i'm not too rusty. let me know if you'd like a part 2❀

[caesarinsalata]

A List of My Headcanons for Edward Elric: Full Throttle Edition!

What I mean by the subtitle, is what I think happened in the parts of the story, between, that weren't shown. Like what happened during their travels and locations they went too or things they did that are NOT in canon

Share your thoughts if you share any Headcanons with me or have any ideas to expand upon these, because I feel these are topics and ideas that are so interesting to ponder!

Onto the List!

(I'm adding a break cause this post is VERY wordy~)

The precursor to the rest to "set the scene":

HC 1 - Ed does NOT have a sexist or elitist bone in his little body!

This is something EVERYONE knows about him. Given the plethora of female role models in his entire life, he grows to respect and/or fear women. He treats everyone equally and bases his opinion on them based on their actions.

As well as despite having a fat pocket full of cash because of his status, it never goes to his head. He happily gives his money to those that help him. He sometimes uses his status to get what he wants, but not always for selfish reasons. It's usually to help his cause or someone else.

HC 2 - Edward wore Winry's clothes when he was hiding out in Resembool waiting for her and Al.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but these boys burned EVERYTHING they owned. Maybe except for what Ed carries with him in his trunk, whereever that thing may be on the regular basis no one knows. But! I'd like to believe that after the incident and the time skip, Ed most likely didn't have ANY of his original belongings, right? I mean yeah, he could go to fabric stores and transmute himself some stuff while passing towns. At the same time, he probably couldnt just walk into a store or town very often for fear of being recognized because of being a fugitive at the time. He could always have his big strong body guards go get him clothes, but they don't understand his style, so he wouldn't ask, right? Besides, what's the fun in that?

I believe, that while he was waiting in Resembool and Pinako told him to go take a shower, because imagine how dirty and stinky they'd be traveling in the forest and by night for days?? I feel she would've given him Winry's clothes, to change into.

And you can very well argue 'His clothes look like they're made for men. They aren't women's clothes. They aren't the same size and Eds grown, they wouldn't fit!' Ah! But what if, he just transmutes them to better fit his shoulder width and leg length?

That's what's fun about this thought, he could very well still have clothes at the Rockbells and just transmutes them bigger when they don't fit by combining fabrics. But if he did in fact burn everything he owned in the fire, he'd have to use something for material for clothes when he's under the radar.

But if he didn't wear Winry's clothes, what do you think he grabbed to transmute himself some clothes while down in Resembool? If he doesn't transmute himself clothes in hiding, then what if he uses Pinako's sons old clothes or old clothes from hohenheim? Pinako's bound to have clothes laying around her house from all the boys running around.

HC 3 - Ed PREFERS his hair up (braided or tied) over down.

Okay, so hear me out....if you put aside the fact that he obviously wears it tied back for convenience purposes because of being very mobile and active. BUT! At the same time when you think about when Ed comes back after the time skip and he reads the note of the description they're looking for: Red coat, blonde w/braid, and short. And he says: "Guess I'm stuck with this look for now..." It makes me think:

Obviously, he cares about his looks, right? Not in a selfish way, but he cares about his appearance and he feels confident in his old red and black attire with his signature braid. But he can't have that right now because he'd be easy to spot.

So, Ed's OKAY with his hair being down, but only if he's not doing anything. As soon as they get caught and he's carried to the car, he puts his hair up. It would just get in the way.

But like I said, I believe, he just prefers it being up, especially when he's doing something. In this instance, since he cant braid it, he just puts it in a ponytail.

Which this preference for his braid makes sense later when he's fighting Pride, cause it's in a braid again. So he obviously feels he looks better with the braid.

But when he changes it to a ponytail when he's older is probably just for mature reasons so he looks older. Plus he's letting it grow, so it's harder for him to braid when it's much longer than his shoulders, so I feel he's just like 'Fuck it, ponytail it is!'

Before this post gets too long, I'll stop here and maybe make continuations as I think of them. Feel free to expand upon these ideas or tell me your ideas! I love delving deeper into character personalities and properties they have.

[hazelthevixen]

[Pokémon Are People Too] Comic 1: A Strange Change

Hey guys it's my birthday today! ^-^ And what better way to celebrate with a comic I just recently finished ^w^ Been working on it since summer so I hope you enjoy :3 It's based on a dream I had! So some of you guys may already know about my new pokesona, especially if you're a discord buddy and/or you've played with me on vrchat. But for those who don't know, I was very indecisive on a pokesona for a very long time, probably several years. had a few mons in mind but I wasn't sure which was gonna be more fitting. So it seems now that this year my dreams have decided a pokesona for me! :3 Surprisingly, I'm not a braixen, or emolga, or shaymin even. I'm not one of the eeveelutions either. It turns out my dreams picked out a very unusual choice of what my pokesona should be, and apparently I'm a gallade for some reason, I don't know why lol XD This whole time I was making the comic I had several songs stuck in my head, but the one that stuck around most was this song and now I find it oddly fitting to what I was making XD melody wise, not lyric wise lol https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gIdS-eoQbiY  So this comic is based on a dream where I was taking a walk and noticed there was alot of people and pokemon, then I seen someone in a strange area of the forest, I'll call him the mysterious guy cos we don't know what he is XD We had a chat but then he brought up that I was about to be a pokemon for some reason.. 0-o Before I was about to respond and react, I was already a gallade! Which doesn't make sense because I'm a girl, but I guess I must've switched gender when I changed forms. A very strange change indeed! I had several dreams of being this new form of mine, almost like my first dream of becoming a gallade had some sequels. What's interesting is that the first dream everything seemed so new to me but then those other dreams I had a different trainer in each one and it seems I was already use to my new life. The humans were able to understand me too so I guess I can talk? It seems my dreams really wanted this to be my pokesona so there we go! :3 Thought I'd go along with it cos why not X3 I do have some funny concepts in mind for Hazel gallade so this wont be the only time I'll make fan comics like this. I might make some more episodes sometime in the future :3 I'm still mainly an oc artist ofcourse, but maybe sometimes I'll include the occasional pokemon fanart now that I have some fcs ^w^ My fox form is still my main form! This new gallade form of mine probably wont be my main form either, you'll more likely see me in this form in pokemon pics, and ofcourse vrchat cos I don't have an avatar of my fox form just yet.. ^w^; This is my first and only sona that is male. No this doesn't mean you can still misgender me, stop being so phobic and sexist and get your facts straight. The rest of my sonas are girls and I'm a girl irl too, my pokesona is the only boy. All my sonas are basically my forms, that's why they're called sonas, because they're different forms of me. Please don't draw my forms/sonas as separate characters, they're all the same person and that's me. There's only one me so don't be creepy. ocs that aren't sonas can be separate characters however, they can be drawn together This comic is not intended to be fetishy whatsoever. It was just someone who got turned into a pokemon but if you think it's "sexual" then that's on you because not everything has to be a fetish. (: Alot of the characters you seen in this comic are fan characters except for Toby, my human self, and the mysterious guy. I do not own pokemon or its designs, this is just a fan comic made by someone who is really fond of pokemon :3

Please do not steal my character(s)! They belong to me, not you. Don't add offensive tags cos ya know, it's just unnecessary.. ­ ╮(╯-╰)╭ And please do not criticise! I refuse to be criticised so please accept that. Oh and don't steal any of my artwork in any sort of way. ‾ʌ‾ Pleease be nice when commenting! Yep, fanart is welcomed as I truly appreciate gifts! ≧◡≦ Feel free to check out my other works too! I work so hard but it's always fun :3 If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all. Thanks for checking out my works! meep meep! ヽ(◕ヮ◕)ﾉ I'm on other places too! ^-^

Posted using PostyBirb

[untilthenextencore]

"Nights To Remember Ch. 5: You Belong To Me~..."

~

~

Jimmy & Dahlia made their exit from the Chuco sometime after that. The smallest thing triggered it. The funniest thing. A song by the Duprees. And a shared look after one last dance.

"See the pyramids along the Nile…

Watch the sun rise on a tropic isle…

Just remember, darling, all the while…

You belong to me…"

The look they shared was laden with understanding. A flicker of a shared shy, sheepish smile. A soft laugh at how fitting the song was then.

They both knew it was time. It was in their nerves. In their blood. A little flicker in their eyes.

Jimmy laced his fingers through hers, hand swallowing hers as he gazed down at her. "Shall we?"

Dahlia nodded simply. "Let's go."

Jimmy slipped out of his jacket, draping it around her shoulders before leading her back out into the now much cooler night. He nodded & smiled in greeting, tossing a few waves to some cheering fans before they were both tucked safely back into the quiet private depths of the backseat of the town car he arrived in.

"Darling, you really shouldn't have run off like that. You really did give me quite a fright. Though I'm glad you left word for me with Peter." He tutted, patting her hand.

"Of course, baby." She reached up to cup his face tenderly & thumbed the swell of his cheek. "Like you already said I didn't want to worry you. I got bored back there but saw you were still having fun. I knew Peter would get the word to you in where I had gone. If you didn't already know or guess. I just got homesick I guess. Missed things. Missed the place. The fun. You know. The old days I guess."

The old days.

Memories danced in Jimmy's mind. Of more dances here. More dances at the Chuco. Inside under the tinted light. Outside on the patio. Under the streetlight. Under the stars. Under the moon.

From the first time she took him there in his Yardbirds days to then. Through all lengths of his hair. Through all lengths of his beard. Both before & after his beard. Pinstriped trousers, jeans, velvet bellbottoms. Silk blouses, lace trim, simple cotton. No matter what he wore he was always welcome. She was always welcome. They were always welcome.

It wasn't hard to see why she loved it.

Why she missed it.

Why she escaped.

The other party was the complete opposite.

Though she stuck out in both like a sore thumb - albeit a stunningly beautiful one - it was clear, she fit this one like a glove.

"I'm sorry if I worried you at all, Jimmy. I thought maybe if I went along with Robert when he offered you'd have less to worry about."

Jimmy stifled a laugh. Stifled a grin. Barely. After all these years. Even after that night. She still had no idea. He was glad in a way. It meant Robert hadn't tried anything. It also meant that certainly Magnet hadn't either. It meant she was still safe. Still his. Still secure.

"Forgive me?"

And thus, so was he.

Cupping her face in his large hands, Jimmy cooed in a dragon's curl of smoke from the cigarette he had just finished. "There's nothing to forgive, my dear. Nothing. As long as you're safe."

Dahlia beamed at him, placing her hands over his cupping her cheeks, starry-eyed as ever. "I had a wonderful time tonight, darling. Hope you did too. Despite the slight fright I gave you."

His smile grew before his lips pressed to her forehead once more. "My dearest. My sweetest. My loveliest. My only. My girl. My lady. My Dahlia."

His heart swelled in his chest at what he saw flickering in her gaze. The light. The devotion. The purity. Purity of gaze. Of heart. Of love. Of feeling. Of emotion. Pure, raw emotion.

All of this led him to make one simple promise. "The night's not over yet, my girl. My lady. It is but still young for us."

"I bless the day I found you…

I wanna stay around you…

Now and forever, let it be me…"

Jimmy's smile brightened at the sound of the Everlys crooning over the radio. "Remember this song, my darling?"

"Don't take this heaven from one…

If you must cling to someone…

Now and forever, let it be me…"

Dahlia's smile quirked in the same way. Instantly, she read his mind. "Palomino, 1969."

They shared a private giggle. A favorite date of theirs. A favorite memory of theirs. Jimmy taking Dahlia to see the Everly Brothers at the Palomino in 1969. Holding hands. Holding her close. Sneaking squeezes of her hand. Sneaking little clinches. Sneaking kisses. As they did before.

"Each time we meet, love…

I find complete love…

Without your sweet love…

What would life be?..."

As they did then.

Jimmy leant in & nuzzled Dahlia. Nuzzled his wife. She nuzzled back. A low growl sounded in his throat. A purr in hers. A chuckle followed from him. A giggle from her.

The partition rose between them & the front seat. Jimmy's arms came around Dahlia's back, hands caressing the skin left bare by her low backed dress. Dahlia shivered & purred again, reclining back as Jimmy leant her back into the seat. Her arms circled his shoulders as their nuzzling intensified & once again their lips met.

She shivered as she felt his silver jeweled pendant cool against her hot skin.

"Gee whiz, look at his eyes…

Gee whiz, how they hypnotize…

He's got everything a girl could want…

Man, oh, man, what a prize…

Oh, oh…"

As the song played Dahlia gazed up at him in the flickering, intermittent light. The dragon's green fire seared her to the core. A private smile was shared. A tandem flicker. The air crackling between the two as it so often did. And suddenly two pairs of curved lips crashed into each other.

"Heaven up above knows how much…

I love that fella's soul…

Angels sing of a love like this…

I hope our love will grow and grow…"

Jimmy's lips burned a trail of heated kisses down her throat as his hand blazed a trail up her skirt. Her legs fell open instantly. As if on command. Under his spell as ever. Open sesame.

"'Cause, gee whiz, I love that guy…

Gee whiz, my, my, oh my…

There are things we could do…

I could say I love you…

But all I can say is…

Gee whiz…"

His lips trailed back up to claim & conquer hers yet again. Dominating her again. Mauling her again. Dahlia nipped his lower lip softly, earning a throaty growl. The growl of course came with more hungry, devouring kisses.

A sudden gasp left Dahlia's lips, thighs tightening around his hand slightly as Jimmy's fingers shifted her panties aside & his middle finger pressed inside.

"Dahlia… My lady…" He panted.

Dahlia let her legs fall open just that bit wider. Jimmy's finger pressed deeper, curving towards those familiar places he knew so well would elicit those deliriously sweet sounds.

"Ah!..."

And little bucks & lifts & rocks of her hips as she was so doing then. Each little buck allowed her skirt to slip higher and higher up her thigh. The slipping slip dress thusly only revealed more and more of her shifted panties & his working fingers.

The sight of the flickering light, intermittent from passing cars & streetlights, flashing on her exposed core stirred him to no end. The sight of her lips parted. Him parting her lips. His fingers parting them & pumping. Curving. Pressing deep. Making her mewl. It stirred him… To action.

"Oh, my angel…

Come back to me…

And I will love you…

Till eternity…

Oh, my angel…

This fire in my heart…

Consumes my happiness…

Since we are apart…"

Jimmy let Dahlia slip from his arms momentarily, only to bring both hands to his belt & undo it.

"Dahlia… Forgive me… I need..."

Dahlia merely allowed herself to sink down onto the sear & giggled. "There's nothing to forgive… As you said, my love…"

Jimmy hurriedly undid & unzipped his trousers, freeing himself & allowing his length to fall free. Dahlia giggled again & softly stroked his length in greeting. Jimmy jolted, grunting, groaning deeply. He stilled himself, allowing her a few more smooth strokes before acting again.

Taking her hand & once more pressing a kiss to the back before draping her arms around his shoulders. Coming close, he gave her panties a tug down her thighs before embracing her once more. And with that, Jimmy rose over her, drawing his hips back & piercing her in one go.

"Ah!" Cane the tandem response.

"You're mine…

And we belong together…

Yes, we belong together…

For eternity…"

The music was the perfect soundtrack as they lay wrapped in each other's arms. Another giggle was shared between the two before Jimmy pressed deeply once more. Another thrust. Another gasp.

"You're mine…

Your lips belong to me…

Yes, they belong to only me…

For eternity…"

Jimmy rolled his hips into hers slowly. Smoothly. Deeply. He drew out moan after moan. Sigh after sigh. Stirring her from deep within.

Dahlia's back arched, allowing Jimmy to slide the spaghetti straps down her shoulders. There he was able to bunch the silken dress at her waist. There he was able to trail kisses down her neck as her head craned back.

His lips trailed a heated path down to her breasts, circling her nipples & sucking them into peaks as his tongue batted & teased them. The sight of her panties, filmy & now sodden, ringing around her ankle led him to remove them, pocketing them secretly. Then, Jimmy's smile widened as Dahlia's legs wrapped around his waist. Her heels grazed the upholstery on the door behind him, her ankles locked behind his back as he drove consistently into her as they were driven around.

"You're my, my baby…

And you'll always be…

I swear by everything I own…

You'll always, always be mine…"

Dahlia watched as his pendants glinted in the light. Dangling & spinning. Hypnotizing her. Each thrust pierced her to her very core. Stealing her breath away. Her hands slipped under his jacket, sliding along the smooth expanse of skin along his back. Her fingers curled. Nails scoring into his shoulders.

His hips stuttered & faltered only momentarily before snapping harder & ever so slightly faster into her.

"You're mine…" The song crooned.

"Jimmy..." Dahlia mewled, arching her back slightly. The way her eyes both glittered & hazed over caught his eye. He recognized that. Recognized the way her nails dragged from his shoulders down his back. He hissed & shuddered & snapped his hips yet again, thrusting deeper still.

Her legs tightened around him. Walls tightened around him. Arms tightened around him. "Ahhh… Jimmy… Jimmy…"

"Are you close, darling?" He asked with a kiss, even though he already knew.

As he expected, he saw her nod slowly, still with that hazed starry-eyed gaze.

Jimmy smiled, sliding one hand down to brace her hip. His thumb swirled gently on her clit as he began to hone his thrusts in a very pointed fashion. Dahlia gasped softly. The gasp was muffled against his lips as he claimed hers in yet another passionate kiss.

"Mmmm… Me too…" He admitted, with a cheeky grin, muffling his subsequent chuckles into her lips just as she had muffled her gasps.

Now their hips rocked in unison. Lifting & rolling into a sweet, smooth grinding meeting. The two of them colliding over & over.

"Jimmy…" Dahlia mewled.

"Mmm-hmm…" He purred, wrapping one arm around her back, the other hand bracing her thigh, keeping it close to him.

"Jimmy… Jimmy…" She nipped his lower lip, causing him to growl. The sound vibrated through her body, making her shiver & clench around him.

She felt him drive into her clenching tightness in a few short quick thrusts, aiming for her spot just so & jolted. Another gasp fell from her lips as her back arched. She clutched into him & with the last of his thrusts as he grunted & groaned, he spilled & she shattered.

Galaxies collided as their bodies had, shattering & spreading stardust across her vision, the stars he had seen in her eyes sealed with a bated breath sigh of his name & kiss.

"Jimmy..."

The same stars she saw alight in his now as his lids fluttered open. Emerald depths twinkling in greeting as their gazes met.

"My lady…"

"Jimmy…"

Her fingers drew their last trails down his back. Another hiss fell from his lips as he stirred deep within her, filling her as he braced her body to his. Large right hand still bracing her thigh to his hip. His left arm still wrapped around her, keeping her stomach flush against his.

"I love you…"

He swore as his lips retook & staked their claim on hers at the same time. Deep, passionate, grateful, sated, yet all the more hungry kisses greeted her on the way down as they both recovered.

"I love you…"

She sighed her pledge in return.

Another purr sounded as despite the eternity their hurried climb & easy float down from their peak seemed to take, they both registered the last words of the song then on the radio. Fitting as ever. As always.

"And we belong together…

Yes, we belong together…

For eternity…"

~

Hope y'all enjoy~!

As ever, this is forever under construction~!

[mariammanjgal]

FIRST POST^^

Hi Hi Hiiii. I just randomly got the urge to start blogging on tumblr in 2023 lol. And the reason for that is that I've always wanted to have a diary but i'm too inconsistent for that plus it takes too much effort and time to write everything by hand. This blog has 0 followers so I'll have no shame about what I write here. Maybe I'll keep it a secret forever. Anyways, life lately has not been good at all. I think I'm really feeling the transition from teens to twenties (I'm 19) and I'm feeling it reeealll heeeavyyy. Daytimes are alr but whenever the night comes... oh boy. I sometimes want to rip my skin off (metaphorically(?)). Some aspects of my life have been really stagnant and they don't correlate with who I am anymore (maybe some people too). Don't think there are many feelings that feel worse than being stuck somewhere or with someone feeling like you don't belong. But at the same time I've changed so many times and so much during my long but short 19 years of life that I've kinda stumbled upon that situation many times. And I think what they say about your outer reality changing along with your inner self is true because I've shed so many versions of myself, I lost count and when I observe someone from a specific time in my life it feels like they're still there. Like they belonged there, so they internally stayed the same and they physically stayed there - idk how to explain it. I also feel like my appearance does not correspond with who I am. I've been feeling like that for a long time now actually. For example, I've been taught to always make safe choices with what i wear and how i match garments with each other, but that way of carrying pieces of clothing has nothing to do with me since I am everything but noncontroversial and safe. But maybe I'm going along with that style because like my clothes, I've been trying to fade out my opinions and the way that i behave and the way that i talk and the way that i voice my opinions, too. So that makes me think about - what if everything else I've been taught in my life is just like what I've been taught about what I should wear? safe and sound, when what i really am is bold and passionate. And if you're wondering why I'm so worried about clothes, well, it's not that I'm materialistic it's just that I never knew who I was, really - many people around me, many opinions, many friends groups but still for some reason no place where I belong - and that's where the shame with my self expression stemmed from (chiron in 1h in rx if u could not guess). I ALWAYS HAD ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA REGARDING WHO I WAS THEREFORE I DID NOT KNOW WHAT I LIKED THEREFORE I WAS ALWAYS STICKING TO SAFE CHOICES THAT WOULD FIT WITH ALL BUT EXPRESS NONE. AND IT MAY NOT BE LIKE THAT FOR EVERYONE, BUT FOR ME FASHION IS A STATEMENT AND ITS A TOOL FOR SELF EXPRESSION AND I USED TO SUPPRESS THE EXPRESSIVE PARTS OF ME FOR MANY MANY YEARS. And the weird thing is that now that I've been spending a loooot of time on my own, I think I'm finding the things that are me - not my family, not my friends, not my experiences, but just plainly me. I've been building my world in my head for the past year in solitude and in piece, so now I'm upholding a lot strongly an idea of who I (think I) am. Eh, anyways. As I said it's 2023 but this year's coming to an end in just 10 days. Here are my 2024 wishes (stole first three from we're not really strangers mail from today lol) - feel less awkward meeting people, have figured out what I'm doing with my life, be in a relationship that's actually going somewhere (but like defeating the need of sabotaging anything that might be good first pls), feeling secure in myself and catching the hollow voices in my head that really are just echoes of my past, and last but not least get few steps closer to self realization - a single thing that actually matters in this weird world.

[countlessrealities]

scrapped ideas meme:

🗑️ ⚖️ 💚

Scrapped / on pause / WIP ideas meme

🗑️ a scrapped element of the blog

When I was developing the backgrounds for my OCs, there was a moment when I debated adding to SR's backstory a tragic / bad element, since he's the only one among them who, all in all, had a decent life without too much drama (for Ricks standards, at least). It would have also been in line with the kind of characters I usually write, because tragic backstories are my guilty pleasure xD

I eventually decided against it both because I wanted to try something different, but also because I wanted a character who could still fit Rick standards when it comes to ruthlessness and asshole-ness, but who also was capable of emotional intelligence underneath. SR is the kind of person who hasn't gone through extreme trauma, but he has enough tact that he can be a support for those who have (see his relationship with AR, for example).

Don't get me wrong, he's not a good guy, he has done terrible things and doesn't feel guilty about them in the least, but he has a loose moral code. And he actively tries to be a decent person with the ones he cares for.

I liked this balance between decency and Rickness, and I knew that it would have been hard to develop it if I had given him some big bad event in his backstory. So, he's the only one of my characters who still has his family, who remained in good terms with his Diane even if they divorced and whose Beth actually has a good family life (also, no Jerry in the picture, so maybe that helped xD).

⚖️ something stuck in limbo

I still haven't properly figured out how I want my Morty to feel about the whole Rick Prime ordeal. In the show, they don't really delve into the consequences of him finding out why Rick chose his original dimension specifically, nor how this changes everything that Rick has chosen to do after.

I'm debating whether Morty would see Rick taking him away after they accidentally Cronenberged his dimension as a sign that Rick had come to care for him or if he would see it as Rick wanting to keep something that of Rick Prime in the hope that he might get an interest. Knowing how forgiving Morty is, especially when it comes to Rick, he would probably pick the first option, but I'm toying with the idea that, deep down, he has doubts. And said doubts come out whenever he has one of his bad moments.

I just love both options, the idea of Weird Rick being something that eventually makes Rick and Morty closer and also more on the same level and the idea that instead it adds to the things that have been creating a rift between them. I'm really torn here!

Tho, knowing me, I'll probably end up figuring out a way to mix them because I can't choose xD

💚 for a coming idea that still needs development

I have this verse for Summer I never got to use, but that I'd love to develop sometimes. Basically, after the whole Space Beth reveal, she decides to ditch Earth and join her space mom's crew. You could call it her Star Wars like adventure verse, I guess xD

In this verse, she still is her sassy, mostly detached self, but she would definitely grow into becoming truly confident, into believing in herself and her skills. And she would do that on her own, not through a reflection of Rick's approval or anyone else's.

It's a version of Summer who has found what she wants to do with her life, what she wants from him and also where she belongs, even while still burdened with everything she has learnt through her experience with Rick and her family.

[sobstoryofaloz3r]

vent/rant 10; detachment core

I feel so detached from everything. Like if I disappeared there wouldn't be a difference. I'm not special anymore. I'm not important. I'm not anyone's best friend, I'm just here. The backup. Some fucking loser. I don't have a place in life. And I've always wanted to grow up to be something big, maybe go to a different universe or star in super cool movies and shows-, but frankly, I don't care if I don't anymore. I'm usually not like this, I know that. But Kirloepys fronting right now, seasonal depression isn't helping, and neither is my current situation/position in life. No one gives a shit about me except like one person, and they're way happier when I'm not around anyway. I'm a misfit. I've never fit in, never have and never will. I've never felt like I've belonged, I've always felt like no matter who I'm with, they're not everything, like something's always missing- like it's just not me. I hate having OSDD, because no matter who I'm with, I'll never fully be satisfied, they'll never match all the expectations of all my alters combined, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for everything. I don't even know if I have OSDD. maybe I'm just weird. Maybe I just have a lot of styles. (I'm in denial). But I hate myself. No one likes me. I've gotten so close to so many people and they just fucking leave me. Just like that. Six years of friendship? Oh well. Seven years of friendship? Down the drain! Do they feel bad about it? No. They fucking don't, I bet if I died they wouldn't even think twice about not going to my funeral. Yet I'm stuck here, attached and mopey over them. No matter how cold I try to act, deep down I'm that stupid kid who loves everyone and can't let go. That stupid kid who does care. And oh how I wish I fucking didn't. I hate everyone. Everyone's annoying. I don't care if that makes me shitty for saying it, they wouldn't feel shitty saying it about me. I know I'm shitty though. That's the difference between me and them. I KNOW I'm a terrible person. But they think their actions are justified, and they're perfectly fine. They're not. They're terrible too. My actions aren't justified, but at least I can fucking acknowledge it. Anyways. Back on topic, no matter where I am or who I'm with I js. Idk. I don't fit in. I feel out of place. Like they'd be better off without me. 'Oh, it's just anxiety!!' it's not. It's really. not. There's a thick line between anxiety and actually disliked. No one would notice if I disappeared. It'd take them at least a week to figure it out, and they'd get over it in like a month. No one would care-, no one does care. I'm the therapist of everyone, I actually help them with their problems and comfort them, that's the only thing I'm good at. I guess it makes me feel good about myself-, maybe it's my way of making up for all the terrible shit I do. Idk. Anyway, I'm the therapist of everyone. Yet I can't be bothered to tell anyone about my problems, and I know it's unhealthy but oh how I love the taste of my pain dripping down my throat, my stupid melancholy depression that will never go away because I hate change, and it's the only thing that won't. It's comforting-, because it's all I've known and who am I without my suffering? Without my depression? I'll be happy, sure, I CAN be happy. But if I'm happy for too long, if I love life for too long--, it'll feel bad. I'll feel guilty. I'll feel ashamed and start wondering if I'm changing, feeling like I'm missing a piece of me. And then I'll resort back to what I'm used to. Depression, pain, suffering, etc. The truth is I don't WANT to get better. But I don't wanna feel like this either, yet at the same time I do. Myself arguing with myself, per usual. I hate it. Anyway, sometimes shit just feels 2d. Like it's unreal, and then sometimes I'll just disassociate myself from everything, yet I'll somehow know what's going on. As if I'm programmed to do it. Don't even have to learn, just know. It's weird. It's odd. I feel as if I'm some robot in a simulation. 1/2

[radium901]

i am ready to take a bath. i have laid in bed long enough, time to get clean, presentable. make my body something to worship. as girls do. there is a spider on my bedroom floor. it speaks. nice room. i like the decor. "i hate you." good first impression. i'm surprised you saw me at all. "i can kill you with my foot. i will. i hate you." do you know me? "no, i don't need to." in one grand swoop i crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

i am ready to take a bath. i have laid in bed long enough, time to get clean, presentable. make my body something to Worship. as girls do. there is a spider on my bedroom floor. it speaks. don't you think you're a little cruel, girl? "don't call me girl." don't you think you're a little cruel, woman? "don't-" why? "well, it's-" it's what you are, isn't it? "well, i guess. but it feels like a burden sometimes." what would you rather be? "alive, maybe. not like you though." in one grand swoop i crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

i am ready to take a bath. i have laid in bed long enough, time to get clean, Presentable. make my body something to Worship. as girls do. there is a spider on my bedroom floor. it speaks. what does it feel like to have a bed? "you know this bed. you've infringed on MY SPACE, placed your stupid scampering legs all over a place not meant for you and you're asking what it feels like to belong? no wonder you don't know." you're very tall. your space doesn't fit me. why would i know. "that's right, i’m very Tall. i—yes—I can kill you with my foot. I will. I hate you." in one grand swoop I crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

I am ready to take a bath. I have laid in bed long enough, time to get Clean, Presentable. make my Body something to Worship. as Girls do. there is a spider on My bedroom floor. it speaks. no, it doesn't. why would it? it’s a spider, for goodness’ sake! What do you think I am, a maniac? I dispose of my clothes in a limp cloth basket and try to, you know. Don't imagine it, creep.

I am ready to take a bath. I have laid in bed long enough, time to get Clean, Presentable. make My Body something to Worship. As Girls do. There is a spider on My Bedroom floor. it speaks. why do you hate me? "Why? Oh, child, there's so many reasons. For one, your legs are gangly and unlikeable." your legs are gangly and unlikeable. "How dare you?! Didn't your mother teach you any manners? Why are you looking at my legs anyways-" i left my mother after about two weeks of her bullshit. "Amen to that, boy." don't call me boy. "Don't you think you're a little cruel, man?" what the fuck. "What The Fuck you too! Good riddance! More ways than one!" In one grand swoop I crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

I am ready to take a bath. I have laid in bed long enough, time to get Clean, Presentable. make My Body something to Worship. As Girls do. There is a spider on My Bedroom floor. it speaks. you’re stuck in the same place. “So?” nothing. In one grand swoop I crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

I am ready to take a bath. I have laid in bed long enough, time to get Clean, Presentable. Make My Body something to Worship. As Girls do. There is a spider on My Bedroom floor. it speaks. have you heard that thing they say about stardust? “Yeah, a thousand times. I’ve read lots more than you, you know. As Girls do.” we’re the same. “No, we’re not. People worship my body. Does anyone worship your body? That’s what I thought.” In one grand swoop I crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

I am ready to take a bath. I have laid in bed long enough, time to get Clean, Presentable. Make My Body something to Worship. As Girls do. There is a spider on My Bedroom floor. it speaks. do you want people to see you? “Of course. I don’t do all this work for nothing.” who’s the most important? “God, duh. I pray every day, like a Good Girl.” not me? “Why you? You’re nothing.” In one grand swoop I crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

I am ready to take a bath. I have laid in bed long enough, time to get Clean, Presentable. Make My Body something to Worship. As Girls do. There is a spider on My Bedroom floor. it speaks. your thoughts are an extension of you. your limbs are an extension of you. “Um, sure.’ In one grand swoop I crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

I am ready to take a bath. I have laid in bed long enough, time to get Clean, Presentable. Make My Body something to Worship. As Girls do. There is a spider on My Bedroom floor. it speaks. how do you expect the gods to offer help if you don't take any action yourself? "Oh, don't go quoting Genshin Impact on me now, you freak!" do you know why you hated that quest? “It was simply a bad quest.” i know. “I don’t even like that game that much! What are you even getting at?” don’t lie to me. you hate being told what's right. and you play that damn game so often, it's a part of you. “Your mouth looks ugly with those big philosophical words coming out of it.” whether you like it or not, it’s a part of you. i'm a part of you. we came from the same place. we’re the same! we are the same, girl! “No, we are not. Don’t call Me That.” we are the same girl! we are the same girl! “No! we are not!” we are the same girl! "Shut up! Shut up! I don't- I’m not! I-" In one grand swoop I crush the spider's stupid limbs and sweep it under the rug.

you could write about the same encounter with the same spider in the same room a thousand times but that’s never going to change you! will it? will it? stay the same and kill me again. you really think i’m so small and helpless, it won’t matter, right? you’ll still be tall, you’ll still be everything. isn’t that what you want? my guts under your carpet and your skin and your legs and underneath your brain and a memory that lasts forever? "Ugh! You’re So Annoying! I’m So Fucking Glad You’re Dead!"

[kinetic-elaboration]

November 19: Miller/Bryan, Defect

Miller/Bryan, Canon-divergent sometime in S3 I guess, ~700 words

Eh. This didn’t flow smoothly for sure, which doesn’t make me feel confident for getting back into writing, but maybe this practice will ultimately help. Just a little writing exercise thing.

*

Divisions grow, until eventually they’re exes living in two different settlements, each surrounded by its own walls. For a long time, the two groups do not speak to each other. An icy silence, a frigid stretch of winter. Bad blood. You'd never think that up in space they were all neighbors. Crammed together and bordered by nothing but blackness, an abyss, whole childhoods saturated in lessons about their humanity as a light for the future, and all that, they had to survive together or not at all. Now they put miles between them, stretches of forest, arcs of rolling hills. Frozen, calcified silence.

In Miller's view, the Farm settlement has stuck itself in the past. They're in Ice Nation still. They've never left. They're buried in snow. He can't entirely blame them because he's seen his friends killed, too; he's fought in wars, too; he has his scars and his bad nights, too. He's never actually forgiven anyone in his life. But damn has he gotten tired of carrying around burdens that only bend his own back. He doesn't understand choosing your own sickening rage over alliance, and peace, and growth.

Last time he tried to explain this, Bryan said he was too trusting—spit it out like an insult—and he wondered if they'd ever known each other at all.

Trusting. The last people to save his life then turned around and tried to kill him. The boyfriend he welcomed home from the dead packed his bags in the middle of the night, left at dawn with his people, absolutely stone-faced when he said it, as if Miller hadn't been his people since they were fourteen years old. Too trusting. It's pure fucking selfishness, his own form of survival, and Bryan, he thinks, should understand that.

Summer eases in after a long, wet, and chilly spring, and they start meeting by the river near the old Dropship site. It's a good cover. He feels like a spy, talking low over the rush of water as it nearly overflows the banks, still swelled with that year's snow, listening for sounds sneaking in underneath it or above. Bryan tells him that Farm had a hard winter, and Pike is losing his grip. The whole situation— Well. There's no satisfaction to it. Miller listens with a grim expression as Bryan talks and talks.

"It helps to have friends," he says once, vaguely, his fingers playing with Bryan's fingers as they hold hands, palms crushed into the dirt.

Bryan snorts. "Sure. Easy for you to say. We're just so used to seeing enemies on both sides."

Miller could tell him, hey, I was dropped into this hostile world all alone too. And it didn't get better. He's been thrown aside again and again, belongs nowhere some days, wears a Guard jacket that doesn't fit him, longs for that time when he had exactly what Bryan thought he wanted: a small band of allies for whom he'd kill or die, the simplicity of knowing you had who you had in your corner and you could trust every single one. This world's too big for people like them. The complexity is dizzying. He doesn't even know what he longs for anymore.

"It's not about politics," he answers instead. "It's about what you think is more important, your alliances, this shit that sounds good on paper, or your... your real human connections." He can't say friends because it sounds too lame, and because it would seem like he is talking about them, and they were never only friends.

"Sounds like the same thing to me. Who you trust."

"It's not. It’s— You can't trust everyone who spouts the stuff you want to hear." He pulls Bryan's hand up, kisses the heel of his palm still dirty with bits of soil, hard so it hurts and his lips taste like earth.

"You mean I should only trust you," Bryan says, voice perfectly level, gaze unflinching.

"I'm saying that the people I'd die for, they're the people I'd abandon everything for. That's loyalty you feel in your gut. You can’t rely on anything else out there, Bry. That’s the only thing I’ve really learned down here.”

[crimsonophelia]

Could I get a fluffy and maybe flirty Childe imagine set during his story quest? Instead of the Traveler and Paimon accompanying him, the reader (who works at the Northland Bank as one of Childe’s subordinates) gets slapped with the duty of babysitting Teucer and covering for Childe and his façade as a toy seller in Liyue.

"I must say that your brother is quite cute, sir."

"...I guess it must run in the family."

"Hm? Did you say something, comrade?"

"Oh. Um. Nothing, sir."

Of course, being the perceptive man he is, Childe heard all of what they said. What he ends up doing or saying to the reader? Seeing the magic you’ve worked when anon previously gave you the liberty of it, I leave it entirely up to you. :)

featuring: childe x gn!reader

warnings: a teeny bit suggestive at the end

published: april 27 2021

form: imagine

a/n: i’m gonna be real with you, i was stuck on ar35 for the longest time because i was too cowardly to level up my world so i finally did it today and i jumped from 35 to 41 T_T and now my enemies are stupidly strong. but anyways i just started the childe quest today so im just gonna stick to the part when they’re still in liyue and there’s no fighting wwww

“teucer, i swear to celestia-” you muttered under your breath, as the little redhead slipped from your grasp yet again, running ahead to go look at some kite vendors. “come back here, kid! otherwise you’re gonna be in a heck of a lot of trouble!” 

earlier in the day, you were out running errands for the bank, under tartaglia’s orders, when you had come across rumors of a ruin guard running amok. figuring you would use your spare time and save some local liyue citizens the trouble of having to deal with the feral robot, you defeated the machine with efficient ease. however, in the vicinity, you discovered a lone child showing great excitement at a deactivated ruin guard, jumping and leaping while calling it “mr. cyclops” with a strange elation. 

you figured the boy was snezhnayan, what with his features and clothing reminiscent of the cold climate of your homeland. but why in the world was he out by a ruin hunter all alone? he kept mentioning his brother, a toy seller in liyue, but you could think of absolutely nobody that fit that description. 

so, out of the goodness of your own heart, you decided to take the little boy-- teucer, he called himself--back to liyue harbor with you, and see if you could find this older brother of his. 

however, once you arrived back in the city, your plans were quickly derailed as the little brat seemed to have the attention span of a fruit fly, and was constantly trying to weasel his way into some other dangerous situation without you knowing. 

“god dammit teucer”, you huffed, trying to keep up with the child. who let children have so much energy? your age must finally be catching up to you, you thought. “how about we go back to northland bank? you might like it there” you thought taking him back to your headquarters would stall the boy for enough time for you to find someone who might know the whereabouts of teucer’s brother. there weren’t too many snezhnayans in liyue--whoever his brother is, he can’t be far.

the little boy looked up at you with his big, blue puppy eyes, but you knew his act by now. “no buts, kid. if you’re lucky, we’ll be able to track down you’re brother there.” he sighed, relenting to your orders and following you back to northland bank.

the two of you climbed up the stairwell leading to the entrance of the bank on the second floor, teucer clearly dejected and pouting like a baby. exhausted, you pushed open the doors that you were so familiar with, and ushered the child inside.

much to your surprise, you see tartaglia talking with ekaterina in the lobby. it had been quite a while since you had seen your superior in person, and the surprise certainly was not unwelcome. sometimes you couldn’t stand the man’s smug attitude, yet there was something in his rogueish charisma that you simple couldnt deny attracted you to him.

teucer also seemed to be excited by this sighting of the red-headed harbinger, the little boy’s eyes lighting up with unbridled excitement.

“brother!”

wait. was tartaglia the older brother teucer had been talking about all along?

childe turned around, distracted by teucer’s voice, and upon seeing the little boy, his eyes lit up—first with surprise, then with confusion.

“teucer? what the heck are you doing here in liyue?”

he left the fatui agent with a befuddled look upon her face, and ran towards the child. teucer jumped up into his brother’s broad arms, and they grasped each other in a tight hug, like they had not seen each other for at least an eternity.

ruffling teucer’s hair, tartaglia softened, with an expression unlike anything you had really seen him wear before. he really must care about his family, you thought to yourself.

“so you’re the older brother this little tyke has been talking nonstop about”, you teased tartaglia, elbowing him in his side. “you know, he’s thrown me for a loop this entire day. i didnt think babysitting was part of the job requirement.”

the red-head chuckled abashedly, scratching his head. “sorry about that, [y/n]. the little guy can’t seem to bear being away from his favorite big brother.”

teucer laughed. he truly looked so happy to be with tartaglia again, which made you wonder what the harbinger was like when not on the job. you had known him to be a ruthless war machine, a hedonistic killer who thrived off of the rush battle and bloodshed gave him. childe could take down a dozen men, twice his size, in a matter of minutes, hardly breaking a sweat. yet seeing him interact with teucer, almost a little mini-sized version of himself, his gentleness and care surprised you. perhaps there was more to the man than you had initially thought.

teucer finally detaching himself from tartaglia, looked up at his brother with those same puppy eyes, now full of admiration. “are you here to sell toys to the liyue children, too?”, the child asked. toys? what toys could he possibly be referring to? you and ekaterina, both, looked at childe with confusion.

tartaglia stuttered for a moment. “oh! uhh— yes! yes i am! i was just talking with the nice lady, ms. ekaterina, on how many toys we can sell to all the children in liyue!” he responded, hardly missing a beat. did teucer not know what childe’s actual occupation was?

“wow! my brother really is the coolest person ever!” teucer leaped up and down, hanging onto tartaglia’s pantlegs. looking at this young, untainted innocence, you begun to understand why childe might try and shield the child from the truth.

childe detached the excitable child from his clothing, and beckoned ekaterina over. “ms. ekaterina, would you do me the grand favor of watching teucer for the rest of the day? i’d hate to burden our friend [y/n] after they have already brought him to liyue from celestia-knows-where.” he turns to teucer, telling him “big brother ajax is going to sell many, many toys now! so you need to behave yourself when i’m gone, okay? miss ekaterina will be watching you, and she’s very nice.” he pinches his brother’s cheek, teasing him lightly, and ushering him away with the fatui agent.

it’s now just you and tartaglia in the bank, as the sun was setting and all the other employees had gone home for the day. you heaved a sigh of relief, glad to be rid of baby-sitting duty, after having to deal with teucer’s antics for several hours now.

“i’m really sorry about all of that. i had no idea he would be coming, as a stowaway, no less.” the man looked at you with genuine gratitude. “i don’t want to imagine what might’ve happened to the little brat if you hadn’t been there.”

you chuckled, not quite used to seeing such sincerity coming from the harbinger. most of the time, you had been accustomed to his charismatic facade that he puts on when he becomes childe, the eleventh and one of the most dangerous members of the fatui harbingers.

“don’t worry, it really was no problem. your brother is certainly a handful, but undeniably adorable”, you said, mindlessly gathering your belongings again as you prepared to head out again. “he takes after his older brother quite a bit, i must say.”

“come again?” childe looked behind him, eyebrow cocked.

“oh— nothing. i didnt say anything”, you muttered. shit. you really need to get better at keeping your mouth shut. you refused to be known as the insolent fool with the puppy-love crush on the goddamn eleventh fatui harbinger.

“oh? that didnt really sound like nothing, my dear [y/n].” he smirked. whenever he called you “my dear”, you knew you were in for major teasing. he was definitely having fun with this. he strode towards you innocently, with that usual swagger of his, that tinted everything he did. his walk, his talk, his appearance all oozed confidence, and it was utterly intoxicating.

tartaglia now looked at you with a glint in his eye, the same look he gave enemies before he was about to utterly obliterate them. it was frightening, yet terribly alluring, and you despised how much you fell for it.

suddenly, you felt your back hit the cold, marble wall. you hadn’t even realized that tartaglia had cornered you against a gold pillar, his mere presence forcing you to unconsciously move away from him as he approached you, calculatedly. a lump growing in your throat, you couldn’t bring yourself to even utter a single word in defense, only feeling your cheeks grow hotter and your legs grow weaker.

tartaglia leaned his arm against the pillar, dangerously close to your head, effectively propping himself up with only you between him. you were far too aware of the space—or rather, the lack thereof—separating the two of you, the man’s hot breath audible in the dead, echoing silence of the golden bank.

tartaglia smirked, bringing his face close to yours. “you flatter me greatly, [y/n].” smirking, his breath grazed against your neck, his stare burning into your flesh. the way your name sounded on his lips made your breath hitched in your throat. too hot, you felt way too hot. it was impossible for a hydro user to make you feel such unbearable heat.

“seems as if your clever words aren’t of any use to you now, hmm?” you could feel the mans lips brushing against your jaw, each touch against you leaving a stinging trail. he brought his free hand to caress your own, fingers clasping yours as if you were made of a delicate porcelain, the finest kind liyue had to offer. slowly, as if dragging out each second as long as he could, tartaglia brought your hand to his lips, and planted a long, slow kiss to the back of your palm.

your eyes widened at the sheer eroticism with which he kissed your hand—an act commonly of etiquette somehow being much more lustful, even debauched when tartaglia did it. all you could feel was where his lips met your hand, the phantom burn it left, the slight string of saliva connecting his lips to your hand as he left it, the dark gaze in his eyes as he looked back up at you, clearly aware of how vulnerable you were in his grasp.

“thank you again, my dear. i hope we can continue to work together in the future.”

a/n: jesus christ this got really horny at the end LMFAO anyways i hope you like it! its kinda long but wtv

[professorspork]

superhell fic prompt: JAUNE RUNS INTO PYRRHA

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

It doesn’t occur to that she’s allowed to talk to them until Torchwick reveals himself to Neo. And even then, well-- Roman Torchwick isn’t exactly a shining paragon when it comes to setting a good example of what’s allowed.

But the idea refuses to stop hounding her footsteps, once it’s come. Once she’s seen it’s possible, without consequences. Still, she waits, and keeps her distance. There’s no sunset, here on the island, no night, but there are shady places beneath the towering roots of the Tree; eventually, they all bed down, and Jaune-- as she’d known he would-- volunteers to take first watch. It’s a heartening display: Yang and Blake twined together like ivy on a wrought iron gate, but each clinging to the hands of their teammates, chained together by grasping fingers. Otters in a stream, unwilling to be separated.

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised to hear her own voice when she approaches.

...I know this can be frustrating, and it can feel like so much effort to progress such a small amount, but I want you to know that I'm proud of you. I've never met someone so determined to better themselves...

“You’ll drain your battery,” she cautions, reaching out with her mind to press the off button on his scroll. His head whips up, expression aghast, and she smiles at him softly. “I’d have thought you’d have it memorized by now anyhow; you haven’t seemed to need it in some time.”

She expects disbelief, perhaps, or shock. Joy would have been nice, but she’d have understood anger. So she’s surprised and---bizarrely proud, actually-- when instead his eyes narrow in suspicion and the first thing he says is, “Your Semblance works.”

“Well, yes.”

“Why does your Semblance work?”

“Because I’m where I’m supposed to be. A soul knows when it’s in the right place. Or the wrong one, as the case may be.”

“Or I’m dreaming.”

“Or you’re dreaming,” she agrees, keeping her voice mild, but feeling it like a punch to the stomach when his shoulders relax at the idea. Does he... not want her here? Goodness, but she’s out of practice. She’d forgotten it was like this; how talking to him had been both the easiest and the hardest thing in the world. “Would you-- prefer that? If I weren’t really here?”

“The real Pyrrha would know better than to ask me that.”

Despite herself, she laughs. “Oh, I wish that were true. I asked myself that every day. Every class, every glance, every study session on the roof. I’m afraid I was never as confident as I should have been.” It’s an embarrassing admission, but an effective one; the walled-up caution behind his eyes dissipates... only for tears to well up in its stead.

“Are you-- can I touch you?”

“I hope so.” (She’d left Torchwick and Neo behind before they’d gotten that far, for obvious reasons.)

“I--” He scrambles to his feet and crosses the distance between them, enveloping her in a crushing hug. It doesn’t feel like she remembers, but then, that’s no surprise-- he’s taller than he used to be, and her body isn’t exactly a body, per se. She’s grateful, even so. Happy just to have the chance to hold him up. She keeps quiet at first, letting him get it all out as he sobs incoherent apologies into her shoulder--

(IloveyouImissyouIloveyouImissyouI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry)

--and contents herself with playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. Eventually, he calms.

“I like the haircut,” she says, when he pulls away. “It’s handsome. You look so grown up.”

“You look so young,” he croaks in response, and-- she supposes she must, to his eyes. It’s strange to think that she’s the same age as Ruby now; that they’ve kept going on without her, and they’ll continue to do so, once she’s led them out. “Are you--? Have you--?” He wipes at his eyes, laughing at himself a little. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to start. I just-- I can't believe you're here with me.”

“I'm always with you,” she assures him, unable to suppress the urge to thumb away a tear he’s missed. She keeps her hand there, at his cheek, as she she speaks: “Even when you can’t sense me, I... oh, Jaune. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

He sighs and steps out of the circle of her arms, hanging his head to stare at Crocea Mors where it rests in its sheath. You’d never know it to be broken, just by looking. The scabbard hides the damage-- giving him the appearance of being armed and ready though all he carries is a shattered hilt. “Yeah, maybe. I-- I thought I had, but...” He swallows, face filled with shame.

She starts to reach for him again, unwilling to waste even a moment of their time not touching him, but forces herself to relax and drop her hands to her sides. It has to be his choice, doesn’t it? “Tell me. You can tell me anything; you know that.”

His voice falters terribly when he finally speaks: 

“I mean, I feel like you already know. For the longest time, I wanted to be this... I dunno. This warrior, or whatever. And it never fit, no matter what I did, or how hard I worked, and I just-- I resented it so much. Being...” He shakes his head. “I just felt useless. But when I unlocked my Semblance, I had to let that go. And it was hard at first, it took time, but for a second there it finally started to feel like... like I knew my place. Where I belonged; what everyone needed from me. I was good at it. But then Penny needed--” He chokes on a sob, and has to stop and take several deep breaths before he can continue. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still useless. The idiot stuck on the wrong side of the glass, out of his league and forced to watch because someone else has to be the Maiden now and there’s nothing he can do about it. Only this time it’s worse, because this time I actually-- I--”

Unable to hold herself back anymore, she reaches for his hands; he squeezes her fingers tight, like a lifeline. “I understand,” she soothes, voice heavy like a vow. “Did you think I wouldn’t? I don’t think I have to remind you that I’m the only other person who knows what that feels like. To have been the one who killed her.”

He lets out an awful, cynical noise; a parody of a laugh. “Depends on who you ask,” he says in explanation, looking askance towards Ruby. Pyrrha sadly follows his gaze. Ruby’s shifted in her sleep, curled under her cape to be as small as possible with her head nestled in the crooks of Yang’s bent knees. Her arms are wrapped around Yang’s shins in a death grip, as though she fears her sister might fly away at any moment. Pyrrha’s heart aches for her; for the responsibility she carries. Weight Pyrrha could have helped shoulder... if only she’d been a little faster, a little more clever.

She shakes off the feeling; now’s not the time for regret. “But things have changed,” she says, bringing Jaune’s hands up to her mouth and kissing the knuckles. It will be a long time, she knows, before he believes there isn’t blood on them; maybe this small act can help. And if it doesn’t... she has other options. Maybe even a little levity, for once. “You’re not useless. You’re amazing. You’re a licensed Huntsman now; you’re accomplishing things you’d only dreamed of. All the mothers of Mantle adore you. You even got to go on a date with Weiss!”

He boggles at her, wrenching his hands away. “What?! That wasn’t a date, we were just hanging out with Oscar, we--” His jaw falls open, suddenly, and his eyes narrow once more. “Wait a minute. Are you teasing me?”

She grins, sheepish and caught. “I figured it was now or never to give it a go; I didn’t want to waste my last chance to try it. Nora always said it would be good for me.”

“To make fun of me?” he squawks, indignant.

She laughs. “To remind myself it’s okay to be a novice sometimes; that there are things I won’t instantly be good at.” She bites her lip, unable to stop her grin. “...And also to make fun of you, yes.”

He surges forward, then-- wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her closer, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to her forehead. Then he does it again; then once more, at the bridge of her nose. And then a final time, against her lips. Quick; intense. Filled with meaning.

She’s got not breath in her, and still she’s breathless.

“I miss you so much,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against hers. His fingers thread themselves into the hair at the back of her skull, tangled into the base of her ponytail. “So much. I think about you all the time. Every day. Wondering how different things would be, if only...”

“I know,” she says, because she does. There’s more that she should say, probably-- that it’s good that he’s started to move on; that none of them can hold onto her forever. But she can’t quite bring herself to voice the words.

“It’s not fair,” he mutters, then sighs at the sound of it. “I mean, none of it is fair, but-- I feel like a jerk, I guess. That I’m the one who gets to see you, of all of us.”

“You’ll tell them I love them, won’t you? Ren and Nora. They...” They’re doing things she never did, is the thing. Maturing in ways she’ll never have the chance to. Learning that responsibility doesn’t mean putting it all on your own shoulders; that love doesn’t mean giving all of yourself away. It’s overwhelming, how proud she is of them for that. “They were on the right path, in Atlas. Don’t let them convince themselves otherwise.”

He nods, the movement of it levering her own head in shared agreement. “Anything else? Anyone else you’d like me to...?”

So many; too many. But one rises above the rest. “Tell my mother to stop leaving flowers,” she murmurs, wishing she had more to offer than that. “Tell her they belong in the garden; that I like to watch them grow. That’s-- the way it should be.”

“Okay,” he says, and relief rushes through her. “Okay. I will.”

Slowly, they both become aware once more of the gaggle of Huntresses sleeping just a few yards off. Pyrrha could leave dozens of messages with Jaune, if she wanted, but the people she most needs to speak to are right here, within arm’s reach. They need her guidance; it’s selfish not to provide it. She’s taken so long already. And yet...

Jaune beats her to voicing the thought: “I know we should probably wake them, but-- can it be just the two of us, for just a little longer? Please?”

She smiles, and brings a hand up to caress his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[lilsocksiswriting]

Osamu(s)

Fandom: Haikyuu

Paring: Osamu X fem!reader X Future!Osamu 

Summary: On a stormy night, your boyfriend shows up at your door with his future self in two.

Warnings: No beta, Post time skip spoilers, minors DNI

Tags: dirty talk, masturbation, thigh fucking, voyeurism, overstimulation, crempires

Word Count: 4366

There was just something about tonight that made things feel amiss. it was smack dab in the middle of midterms week. Everyone was either studying, out at the bats drinking aways their dread, or like you trying to finish midterm papers. This makes the apartment complex you lived in quieter than usual which you don't mind at all. You can hear the heavy downpour of rain more clearly because of it too. You look up from the screen of your laptop to outside the window and at the street lamps below.  the rain dampens the street lights, limiting their reach,  and making them seem more like fairly glowing orbs. They add to the mysterious ambiance of the night.

A ding draws your attention back to your phone's screen has lit up with a banner of Osamu's name surrounded by grey hearts and stars

Osamu: babe?

Y/N: Hey bubs

Osamu: something weird happened

Y/N: Are you ok?

Osamu: yea. I was just getting in my head again.

Y/N: Oh no

Osamu: I know I'm sorry.

Y/N: you don't have to apologize. I'm not mad, it happens. I'm happy that you aren't keeping it to yourself this time.

Osamu: right, well as I was thinking was when the weird thing happened.

Y/N: and what is this weird thing?

Osamu: we're coming over

Y/N: what?

Osamu: is are coming over?

Y/N: what? Osamu what are you trying to say?

since Osamu only lived a floor above you in a studio apartment much like your own it didn't take long after his text for you to hear a knock on your door. When you open it you realize that 'is' wasn't a typo at all. 'is'  was Osamu's attempt at making a plural of I.

Standing in the doorway was the Osamu who knew and loved.  Board look slumped shoulders with hands stuffed in the pocket of the sweats he taken to wearing more often. Beside him was another man, more specifically another him. This Osamu was smirking in the same way Osamu still did from time to time, smug and relaxed, and stood a little straighter. Maybe even a little taller?  He dressed in black sort and jeans, like a uniform of some sort, that is close not his broads body.

"Well, aren't ya goin' to invite in sweetheart?" the other Osamu asks and you move aside.

When the door clicks shut it also clicks for you who exactly this Osamu is. who he has to be. You follow behind the present Osama down the small hallway that opens up into the rest of your apartment.  Older Osamu makes a b-line to your window to close the blinds while the other plops himself down on your couch making himself right at home leaning back and spreading his legs. if this was any other situation would have taken that as an open invitation to crawl onto his lap. Taking notice of the you-sized spot between his legs you also notice how the pair of sweats he wore were looking quite dingy. You wonder if he was heading into one of those weeks again where he barely slept, barely took care of himself, and stressed ate all your snacks. mid-terms week was definitely the kind of week where it would happen.

You give him that soft look but don't ask if he's been taking care of himself instead you ask, "He's for the future isn't he?"

Osamu nods seeming to not catch on the look or choosing to ignore it. "That's the weird thing that happened. He just sort of appeared."

The amazement that time travel existed and proof of that had now walk back over to stand in front of you right in front of you didn't cross your mind at first. What was crossing your mind was a series of questions.  It takes the rest of your body a minute to catch up to these racing questions and actually speak one out.

"We're still together right?"

Older Osamu's  laugh answers your question but he tells you anyway," I wouldn't be here if we weren't."

"And how exactly do we get you to from here back to where you belong, in the future."

"Tryin' to get rid of me already?" he cocks his head to the side teasing you. You look between present and future Osamu and find that neither seems bothered by the timeline consequences the older being here has. but hey guess that's anxiety for you.

"No, but why are you here? How are you here? How do we get you back so we don't fuck up the timeline?" you blurt out one question after the other to older Osamu and he just stands in front of you, thick arms crossing over his broad chest letting you get them all out.

The fact that neither of them seems to fully grasp the gravity of the situation infuriates you. "How are you two not freaking out about this?"

"Because one way or another he goes back after what happens tonight.”

you give the present version a questionable look. They definitely knew something that you didn't and weren't talking about it yet. "you two know something. What happens tonight?"

Instead of the present Osamu explaining, his older self tells you. "I don't really know how I get back but I do because he's still here," he points to himself," and I'm still for the future, a better version because of what happens tonight."

You don't miss the way his voice drops or how you notice him towering over you. You just try to focus on what they aren't telling you.

"What happens tonight?"  you repeat the question.

"I show my past self how much better he can be," The older Osamu explains but it still leaves out the answer you looking for.

The order Osamu goes on," You know I was at a pretty low point at this time in my life. I didn't think that I was ever goin' to amount to anything. I would always be a stick in my twin's shadow, I'd be the less attractive twin, I'd always be dealin' with some bad patch of acne or my clothes were never goin' fit right,  I'd always be sad like this. I never deserve you-"

"Ok," you cut him off. "Ok, I get it."

"He's not wrong ya know," you look over at the couch.

"I know... it's just hard to hear," you admit feeling guilty and ashamed for doing so. You want to be here for Osamu. You knew what he was going through since his twin got scouted for a pro team and you knew that you \ but that didn't make hearing how Osamu thought about himself anymore easy to hear. You were human. You loved Osamu. And sometimes it was hard to hear about problems of his that you didn't know how to make better.

"But that changes tonight. After tonight I get help, start seein’ a therapist.  I start plannin’ for a future instead of being convinced that I don’t have one. I start to rub the amazing relationship I have with you in my twin's face. I start to learn to stop hatin’ my body for changing," The order supplies.

you frown. "But what happens tonight?"

Older Osamu leaned in closer to you, very close. So close that you can feel his breath rolls off your skin as he tells you, "Tonight I show my younger self how good he's gonna  be able to fuck you in the near future ."

Well, damn. You weren’t expecting that. Mabey something a little closer to a heartfelt talk that would help Osamu out at this point of his life. This wasn’t to say that you were opposed to the idea. In fact, taking another look at the older version of your boyfriend, you were very ok with letting him rail you while the other watched. But someone about it felt wrong? More specifically it made you feel like it was something wrong.

The way the idea settles in your gut makes you turn your head slightly to look at the present version who’s still seated at the couch but sitting up a little straighter now.  Anxiously and hopefully waiting for your answer.

“Are you sure?”

He nods then adds, “But only if you want to.”

You very much want to, it’s just….” Would this even count as cheating or like being with someone else?”

The older Osamu chuckles putting his knuckles under your chin and guiding your face back to his. “Darlin’ we’re the same person.”

That seems to settle your nerves and you nod. “Ok then. Show us.”

A smile breaks out across the order’s face. His other arms loops around your waist pulling you fully into his broad frame. “That’s my girl.”

The older Osamu tastes just the same as the present. The only difference is that he’s a lot less shy about using his tongue. Hell, he’s a lot less shy about using his whole body, and you honestly love it. The more that older Osamu explores your mouth with his, the harder you can feel him getting in his pants. Pulled so tightly against him means that you can feel every little twitch his cock gives in reaction to every little noise you’re able to make. Eventually, you two have to pull away for air. Dizzy with lips swollen you rest your cheek against the order’s heaving chest and look at to the younger who is staring at you like he’s start stuck. It’s cute.

“See,” The older tells his younger self. “Look how dizzy you can make her when you aren’t second-guessing everything.”

If the older was going to be bold, then so were you. You smooth a hand down his stomach, past his belt buckle and grip and the budge below it.  All the while not taking your eyes off the present version of your boyfriend. This earns you a sharp intake of air from the older that comes out on a pleased exhale. “And don’t think for a minute that she doesn’t want all of you. Right darlin'? Look at you already tryin' to get at my cock.”

“You’re already hard.”

He nods. “And all for you.  All’ve ya done is be your pretty little self and I’m already achin’ for ya.”

You squeeze your thighs together. You love to be dotted on by Osamu. You had realized early on that you definitely had a praise kink but only when it came to Osamu.  With gentle hands, Osamu turns to the body so that you’re facing the present version.  A firm hold on your arms holds you in place as a hot mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck in just the right spots to keep you feeling light-headed. Those hands eventually move. Snaking up too to grope at your titis through your sweatshirt.  You go to squeeze your thighs together again, but suddenly there’s one less hand on your breast and a hand forcing your thighs apart.

“When she does that, squeeze her thighs together like that,  it means she’s getting riled up,” The older explains while pressing fingers into your clothes clit and rubbing at it causing you to squirm slightly. “Why don’t we show him how wet you are darlin’?”

You simply nod because you want to see too. You can feel how arousal that's collected between your folds, but you've never gotten wet so fast before. Osamu gives you a little kiss on the cheek and helps you slip out of your legging and underwear leaving you bare from the waist down.  You shiver both from your heated skin being exposed to the cool air of your apartment and the way that Osamu is staring from his spot on the couch/ The intensity of that look never fails to go straight to your groin.

One of older Osamu's hands dips between your spread thigh pushing through your folds. His fingers are a little rougher and that small difference feels so good. His fingers rub back and forth a few times, collecting your wetness as they go, before pulling them easy much to your dismay.

The older Osamu holds them up so that both you and his present self can see the strings of slick at connecting one digital to the other.

"Fuck," You both breathe.

Beyond the fingers, you can see Osamu relaxing into the couch and palming the crotch of his sweats

"'Samu, "You wine at both the older for him to touch you more and at the sight of the present touching himself.

"Aww,  you want me to keep touching you down there darlin'?" the older coos into your year.

"Please," You ask nicely not feeling the least bit ashamed since both you and the present Osamu seem to want exactly that.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head darlin',"  you feel warm hands slip up your sweatshirt.  "I'm gonna touch you plenty.  I can barely keep my hands off ya as is, but I wanna give my younger self a good view of how we make your body feel. So come off with the sweatshirt."

You do exactly as you told and strip out of your sweatshirt. You'd do anything to feel his fingers again. Osamu goes back to massaging your tits again, this time playfully rubbing your perk nippled between his fingers. Either Osamu wasn't telling you now you or at some point in the future, he loves playing with your boobs. You're only complaint was that he wasn't paying enough attention to the rest, more needing, parts of your body.

"Osamu, please~" you beg.

"See how easy it is to get her so needy?'

"Yea," the present Osamu nods his head stuffing a hand down his sweats.

"She just loves our touch that much. Right now if you were to ask she'd beg you to touch her, to fuck her, to do anything really, as long as it's us doing it,"  The older Osamu nudged your cheek with his nose making you crane your neck so that your lips are almost touching. " She's such a slutty little girl, " he says lower, "but she's our slutty girl, and we fucking love it."

Osamu's mouth is on yours again and there are fingers that aren't just rubbing your clit but now slipping inside. You moan into the older's mouth and buck your hips grinding against his hands.  You hear a low curse from the present Osamu.

"Well, shit you look like your dick's about to explode there. You're about to cum but you're trying to make it last because you can't last very long  after the first time can't ya."

A frustrated groan escapes the present Osamu's lips. He has the waistband of his sweats pulled down past his hips and his hand gripping the base of his flushed cock.  He looked just about as lost in pleasure as you but had retained some sense of himself to pay attention so that he can learn how to make you feel this good in the future.

"Don't fret though because you're going to be able to go for rounds. Y/N can barely keep up in the future. I usually leave her so fucked out by the end of the night, but I make sure to take good care of her. Treat her to a nice bath and some home-cooked food in bed after I wreck her cunt. "

"O-Osamu," the name tumbles out as your breath quickens, everything that hen man was doing and describing to his younger self was so fucking hot and heavenly sounding.

"Holy fuck."

"Right? See what you can do when you start the impossible is possible? " he then addresses you. "You want more darlin'?"

"Please~"

"holy fuck Y/N," the present Osamu moans slowly stroking  himself, "you sound so fucking good right now darlin'."

"That's what we love to hear," the older Osamu purrs. His hands leave your body but only for a moment to he unbuckles his pants and pull his dick free giving it a few pumps.  Then they're on you again, grabbing your hips and lifting you up just enough that you stand on your tippy-toes.

"Now I'm gonna need to you stay just like that and keep squeezing those pretty thighs together. Can ya do that for us, darlin'?"

when he uses that nickname in that pitch of voice? It was a power that the present Osamu didn't realize he had yet, and god helps you the day that he did because you would do just about anything when he say's 'darlin' like that. you nod your yea with a little 'yes' and you feel the older's hands move to a firm grip on your elbows.

When he roughly pulls you into him your eyes go wild. This was new. The older Osamu's thick cock slips in and out from between your thigh, each thrust making your whole body jolt.  Each time his hips meet the blunt head of his dick slips slang you slit and bumps against your slit making you see stars. All the while the present Osamu watches completely enthralled by the sight of his older self fucking your thighs. The way you titis are bouncing with every thrust, the way his older self is handing you like some treasured fuck toy, and those breathless moans you don't hold back, that's what he wants. He wants to be able to fuck you like that. He wants to be the only one to be able to make you feel the way you feeling right now. He just never thought he could until now. 

"Does it feel good darlin'?  The tip of my fat cock rubbing you like this?"

"y-yes!", answer as he paces quickens.

"Are you gonna cum like this? From me fucking your thighs while my younger self watches?"

you nod vigorously, the feeling of orgasm quickly building in your gut each time the tip of his dick meets your clit. You squeeze your thighs tighter your head lulls back when it finally washes over you.  

"Shit," Osamu curses in your ear as his hips sputter and he spills his cum between your thighs, "Shit, that's it darlin' keep squeezin' round me like that. Don't she look so cute?"

"You haven't even fucked her yet," the present Osamu comments making the older chuckles

"You ready to watch that?”

"God yes," Osamu breaths out looking so desperate to watch you get railed by his older self that it's downright adorable.

The older Osamu chuckles. He handles you like you don't weigh a thing to him lifting you up and laying you back down at the end of the bed. The way the couch is facing the present Osamu has a perfect side view of the two of you. You set yourself up on your elbows when the older steps away. He doesn't bother stripping, he simply pulled his tee-shirt over his head and pushed his jeans down a little more.

"Oh god," You moan because holy fuck you have never wanted Osamu as bad as you wanted him now. He stands to at the foot of your had hands on his hips and a lopsided smirk letting you admire him in what wasn't even his full glory.

This thing that really gets you is how much Osamu hasn't, or in this cane won't change. His body was mostly the same. There's some muscles mass you could see in his forearm, chest, and the way that he manhandles you. His tits are still nice and supple, just begging for you to leave hickies on, and a faint patch of hair grows along his sternum. Your eyes roam across his soft tummy that has the faintest outline of abs the closer you look. Following his thicker trail of hair below his navel leads to his erect cock standing tall and as proud as he is that’s glistening under the soft light in your wetness.

"See," he glances at his younger self and his voice softens. "She really does love us and our body. Every last bit of it. Even on the day when we don't."

He then turns back to you," Now are you ready for me to fuck you darlin'?"

"Yes," you answer and spread your legs that are dangling off the foot of your bed a little wider to accommodate him.

When Osamu pushes into you there's a familiar burn of yourself stretching around him. The older takes things slowly so that you feel every inch of him entering you. Once he's bottom out in you Osamu takes your legs and wraps that around his waist. 

Osamu's pace starts out slow and deep but doesn't stay this way for long. Soon your small apparent is filled with all sorts of lewd sounds. The loudest of which was the dull slaps of skin and squelching every time he thrusts back into you. They barely cover your breathless moans and high pitch whimpers. Both Osamu's are also being quite vocal. The present Osamu is cursing again as he bucks his hip and cums into his closed fist. Meanwhile, the older Osamu is grunting, jacking hammering into you.  You can barely keep up with the brutal pace the older's set. All that you can really do at this point is grab and claw at his shoulders for something to hang on to for dear life too.

"Oh fuck. Oh, fuck Dalrin' you're gonna make me cum. Yer just suckin' me in a like that- shit! cummin'! I'm cummin' Y/N," Osamu moans burying himself as deep as he can inside you and flooding you with his release. 

 Feeling yourself being filled with Osamu's cum pushes you over the edge.  Your walls flutters around his dick and thighs shake around his hips as you cum.

The order barely gives you time to catch your breath before he's calling for his younger self to switch places with him. The present Osamu is on his feet in an instant stripping out of his clothes on his way to you.  The other Osamu moves aside, setting down on the couch and relaxing his arms across the back of it.  He doesn't even bother to tuck his flaccid  cock back into his jeans or fix his shirt. He smiles at the scene before him.

Osamu is hunched over you so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him that much closer to you as he fucks you. Like his older self, the pace is fast and deep. You can try and buck your hips but they aren't in sync with his thrusts. The mess, the disorganized movements of the two of you make things hotter, more intense. You're cumming again with a pleasured sob and Osamu continues to fuck you through it reaching his own high.

And he doesn't stop. Your present boyfriend keeps his feet planted on the floor and keeps fucking into even when his cum is being to seep out of your stuffed hole. He pulls away just enough so that he can see your flushed and sweaty face that he cups in his hands. 

"One more yea"

your jaw trembles and the only words you can get out are incoherent so you nod. 

 A tired smile breaks out across his face. "That's my girl. Gonna make you f-feel so good. I'm going to make sure you always feel this good.  gonna stuff you so full of my cum~"

You cum right along with Osamu, letting out a silent scream to fucked to do anything else. You can feel his whole body shudder as he pulls out of you. You immediately feel a mixture of you, him, and maybe even his future self leak out of your spent cunt.  You feel him move you up the bed so that you can catch your breath while fully laying in your own bed with Osamu cuddled up next to you.

"Darlin'."

"Hmmm?" you hum eyes still closed.

"He's gone."

You peak an eye open and sure enough, the couch was empty now. You were too tired to really think about where the older Osamsua had gone but somewhere in your mind was the assumption that he went back to his own timeline in the future.

"Too tired and icky to care."

You feel fingers thread themself through you and massage your scalp. you lean into Osamu's touch and you're fully content to just lay here in the mess the two of them had made of you for the rest of the night.

"How about I run you a nice bath and we get cleaned up hmm? We can go back to my place and worry about your sheets tomorrow. "

"Will you cook for me?"

"Whatever ya want darlin'." 

 A few years down the road Osamu bursts into the apartment that you two share scaring the living hell out of you. "Fuck! Don't burst in like that."

"Sorry," he apologizes kicking off his shoes. "But it happened It finally happened."

"What happened?"

He strides over to the couch where you had been working on to laptop but set it aside and pulls you into his lap. He nuzzles his face into your neck and you can feel his wide smile on your skin. "That night during Junior year."

"We had lots of nights Junior.  Give me more than that." you request already thinking of your favorite nights spent with Osamu rather it was making an all-night drive just to watch the sunrise, nights where you went out in a group of friends and went home wearing his shoes or being carried on his back,  nights spent in eating his cooking, nights spent with his dick plugged into you...

"I made love to you while I watch."

"Ah that night," you smile, "The details are a little fuzzy, Mabey you can help job my memory after dinner with the team tonight?"

His arms tightened around your waist, "Oh, gladly darlin'."

more  my Haijyuu fics can be found here: Haikyuu collection

[blue-mood-blue]

The Nureyev and Buddy undercover as the loveless snobby couple who can barely stand one another

“Hey new kid, wanna play a game?”

The new kid mutters “I’m not a kid” but he doesn’t brush her off, and that raises him a few notches in Quanyii's good graces. It's so hard to get good help these days, and she'll die if she's stuck behind the counter all night at this stuffy party with nothing to do but get drunk people drunker. She'll die.

“You see that couple over there?” They're hard to miss, because they're both gorgeous. Even by the standards of the event, filled with the kind of people who could afford quality, surgical work and the best fitness routine money could buy, they stand out. The woman is a bombshell with a personality as eye-catching as her hair, and the man is refined in a carelessly elegant way. They don't look like a matched set, or eclectically complimentary; they look like fine china taken from two different styles of dishware and put out on the same table like they belong together.

They don't belong together.

And that, even more than their breathtaking beauty, is what catches Quanyii's eye.

The new kid looks over at the table and then back at Quanyii like he senses a trap. Smart. “What about them?”

“Which one do you think is having an affair?”

“I - what?”

Smart, and easily flustered too - a fun combination. Quanyii leans on the bar and slides a sly smile in his direction. “Which one do you think is sneaking around? Notching the bedpost? Picking a few extra flowers from the bush?” She gives the two another considering look. “Maybe both.” They are certainly attractive enough, and it would be a tragedy to think they're wasted on each other.

“Why do you... why.” New kid looks torn between wanting to run and reluctantly curious, and that's all the opening she needs. Last-minute hires are always such a toss-up; sometimes they're too nervous about the job to give her the time of day, and since she's been exiled and cruelly imprisoned behind the bar (and gotten enough of the other regulars in trouble that they know to steer clear) she depends on them entirely. “How do you know that? Why do you care?”

“Because they hate each other.” Quanyii doesn't have to hear what they're saying to guess all of the little barbs that are passing between them amid sips of cocktails and bites of overpriced sampler plates - but she will when she convinces her new spy to go and pick up juicy bits of gossip for her in a minute. It's obvious even from tables away. The couple is leaning away from each other, sizing each the other up lazily like familiar opponents. Their expressions are casual and cruel. A server has been to their table three times already and left with the same pinched expression. “And I’m bored. Bet you a whole bag of little umbrellas it’s the wife - she’s way too pretty not to get whoever she wants.”

“It’s him.” The new kid looks immediately mortified.

“Oh?” He doesn’t turn to look at her even though Quanyii has gotten obnoxiously close. “What’s your evidence?”

She’s sure he’s about to run. He surprises her. “He keeps spinning his wedding ring. It looks like the kind of habit a guy would have if he’s used to taking it off.”

It’s kind of a small detail to pick up from that distance, but Quanyii watches anyway and… there it is. Not an obvious tell, but an interesting one. She looks at her new best friend for the evening with fresh respect. “There’s two bags of little umbrellas in it for you if you can prove it.” He pretends to ignore her.

But he does prove it, two hours later and completely by accident. She closes the supply closet door with a delighted giggle and drops the promised loot with his personal effects in the back. Some people will do anything to win a bet.

[paterson-blue]

Shadow of the Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: Kylo is used to being alone. It's how he's survived this long, in the cold ocean depths. He can take care of himself. Other creatures--other merfolk--are dangerous; he has the scars to prove it. Humans, however, are the worst of all. But one day, Kylo finds he has no other choice but to turn to one for help. The human he meets is nothing like he expects, and all he knows is he wants more. Is he willing to pay the price?

Word Count: 4,394

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, plot set up, kylo ren needs a hug confirmed, non-graphic descriptions of violence & bodily harm, brief mentions of blood & wounds, very vague medical descriptions lol, minor character death (happens off screen), oh but there's also one that happens on screen but it's brief, big time ocean nostalgia from your dear author— let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thank you @paper-n-ashes for beta reading! Icon behavior tbh.

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

Kylo prided himself on his independence—his ferocity, his ability to fight his way out of every corner. His body was scarred and battle-hardened, but that didn’t matter. It was proof he was a survivor, and it’s not like he had anyone around him to care about his appearance. Most creatures he saw took one look at his massive form and ran.

He was intimidating, all muscle, his fins torn from previous fights. While his skin was pale, his scales were an onyx color; it made blending into the ocean depths easier. He couldn’t understand why merfolk’s standard of beauty was a brightly colored tail; didn’t it make camouflaging more difficult?

He guessed most merfolk didn’t care about that. They lived in large groups, colorful and cheerful and busy amongst other plant and animal life. Not many delved into the cold, murky areas Kylo had made his home. But he’d been there as long as he could remember, and there was no sense in changing things. He wouldn’t be welcome in the warmer waters anyway. They didn’t want him, and he didn’t want them.

So he kept away, and no one dared bother him. Those that did quickly learned not to. He had killed many creatures, and while it was all in defense, his reputation still preceded him. After all, he’d once fought one of the most dangerous predators the ocean knew, and he’d won.

He’d killed a human, after they’d captured him in their net. He’d overpowered them easily, yanked them from their boat into the water; he hadn’t even flinched when their little fishing knife plunged into his side. He’d watched with a furious gaze as the air left their lungs, their pathetic struggling eventually ceasing. Then he’d calmly cut himself loose from the netting. The knife wound had scarred over, but it was just one more to add to his collection.

Yes, Kylo prided himself on his abilities. He had no fear, no weakness; he never ran from a fight.

He was running now.

He’d been foolish. He should have realized why his normal hunting grounds had been so devoid of fish for the past few days—he should have seen the signs, should have been more careful. But hunger makes you desperate; makes you stupid. He hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on the singular fish he’d found.

It seemed to happen all at once. A sudden blow to his head that left him reeling, pain shooting through his skull as he whips himself around in attempts to find his attacker. A searing burn in his side the exact moment he feels a sharp pinch at the back of his neck. His head starts to spin with confusion, the scent of his own blood in the water.

He spots a figure out of the corner of his eye, and his heart leaps into his throat. It was a human, and they had some sort of weapon pointed right at him.

Kylo doesn’t think—he just bolts. They don’t seem to follow him at first, and he doesn’t understand why until he starts to feel the first symptoms of whatever they’ve injected him with. It makes him dizzy, makes his vision start to blur as a sickening metallic taste fills his mouth.

No, he thinks. I won’t let them do this.

He pulls strength from deep within and pushes himself to swim faster, farther. He hears a muffled shout from behind, and oh, they’re pursuing him now.

He swims frantically, skirting around rocks and through kelp forests, desperately trying to lose them even though he thinks he might hear the dull thrum of a boat motor over the thudding of blood in his ears. Kriff, he was so tired. It would be so easy to let the human magic overtake him, to sink to the ocean floor.

Was this death? A dreamless sleep that crept over your senses until you had no choice but to succumb to it? Kylo doesn’t want to die, not like this. Not where they can get to him, at least.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t even know where he is until he catches a quick glimpse of a familiar rock formation. His mind is in shambles, drugged and panicked, lacking oxygen as his gills burn with the strain of his labored breathing.

A cove. Not too far from here. Too shallow for a boat, too rocky for humans. A cave to shelter in. Go, swim, fast, now, now, go.

The voice in his head doesn’t feel like his own—it’s frantic, urgent, thoughtless. Usually he was so composed, controlled. The threat of death had turned him into nothing more than an animal; he’s never felt so small.

He ducks and weaves as he swims towards the hidden cove, trying to convince himself he’s doing it on purpose and not just fading in and out of consciousness. If he can just stay awake a little longer, if he can just make it to that kriffing cave, he can die with dignity. Alone and cold, drugged and bleeding, but away from the humans trying to hurt him.

Kylo nearly loses his speed when he breeches the shallow waters of the cove, his mind wanting to shut down now that he’s made it. He forces himself to keep going despite his nausea and lightheadedness. His lungs are screaming, muscles aching; he scrapes his tail against the rocky outcroppings as he searches frantically for the mouth of the underwater cave.

It’s here, it’s here. I know it’s here, I’ve seen it, I mapped it. Where is it?!

His hands snag against an opening, just barely big enough for him to squeeze through, and he darts into it. It’s a tight fit, and for a brief second Kylo is terrified he’ll get stuck and pass out from whatever the humans hit him with—he’ll die, trapped, never to be found.

But then, quick as a flash, he’s through to the other side. The small tunnel opens up into a larger cavern, protected from the elements and decorated with several pools of varying depths. He’d explored it once, curious, thinking it would be a nice place to hide. It was a little too close to humanity for his comfort, but then again he’d never seen this area very populated. He’d figured he’d keep it in the back of his mind for later.

Turns out later was now.

Kylo pulls himself to the edge of the main and deepest pool, looking around urgently through spotty vision. There was a pool in the corner, half hidden by rocks—it looked shallow, but just deep enough to be submerged. Exhaling fast, he hauls himself up and out of the water, coughing and choking as his body tries to adjust from using his gills to his mouth and nose to breathe. It was never an easy transition, and he hated doing it, but right now it was what he needed.

He growls to himself as he pulls his heavy body along the rough stone cave floor, his normally nimble tail a dead weight. If he wasn’t about to faint, he thinks he’d be a bit more graceful. By the time he rolls unceremoniously into the shallow pool, his palms are all scraped up and bleeding. He doesn’t care; barely feels the sting. He’s not really feeling much of anything at this point, head spinning out of control.

Laying like this on his back, head propped up against the ledge of the pool, Kylo gazes up at the jagged rock ceiling. His lungs crackle as he heaves in breaths, heart still pounding loudly. It’s hard to hear anything else, and he wonders again if his attackers are closing in on him. Does it even matter? His dying mind questions. He doesn’t have an opportunity to think of a retort before his body finally breaks, and he succumbs to the drug induced sleep.

—————————————————————

You wake to the familiar sounds of distant crashing waves, whistling wind, and calls of seagulls. After years on the island, the noise was a comfort.

You’d grown up here, in this same cottage by the sea--been raised fishing, hunting for mussels, searching through tide pools. You and your siblings would bike into town to sell your wares at the local market before heading down to the pier to watch the boats come and go. It was a simple life, sometimes a little isolated, but it was good nonetheless. You loved the island and the ocean, and held great respect for them both. If you honor them, they will honor you--at least, that’s what your mother always said.

Your siblings grew up and moved to the mainland, but still you stayed. Got yourself a little apartment in town above the local grocery, worked at the marina as a clerk, and visited your parents on the weekends. When your mother passed, your father followed just weeks later—a broken heart, everyone said. Suddenly, your beloved little slice of heaven—of home—belonged to you.

So you moved back into the cottage you grew up in, a place haunted by the ghosts of memories and the sounds of the sea. If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, no matter how many times you pretend to entertain your siblings’ urging to rent the place out. Think of all the money you’d make. It’s the perfect vacation spot.

Maybe so, but you don’t care. You don’t want strangers in your home—not those tourists who come to fawn over the village, who eat up the landscape with cameras without really seeing it, who gawk at the fishermen, who laugh at the prices at the market. They would probably call your cottage quaint and cute. You could picture them tittering over your family photos on the mantle, over the door frame where heights had been marked over the years.

Tourists, who both long for and pity an isolated life on the ocean. Oh, they have it so easy here, away from the stress of the city. Oh, could you imagine living this way, barely scraping by?

No, you didn’t want them in your home, a place so sacred. You didn’t care what money you were missing out on—you got by fine with your pay from the marina, and picking up shifts at the local cafe. You loved your cottage—savored every creaky floorboard, every leaky windowsill. The drip of the bathroom faucet, the howl of the sea wind through the chimney—these were the sounds of familiarity, of safety. No one would appreciate them like you did.

Twisting around in bed, you turn your gaze towards the open window that was letting in a fresh, salty breeze. It was early, the light still dim and grey, the air a little chilly. It makes you want to curl back up under your covers, catch a couple more hours of shut-eye. It was your day off, after all; you could afford to sleep in.

Except.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face as you remember what your yesterday brain had planned. You’d told yourself you’d get up in order to gather mussels at low tide. There were plenty of tide pools around, especially in the caved area of the cove. It was your family’s little secret—the hidden grotto was all but invisible from the outside. The only reason you even knew about it was because your brother had been too adventurous for his own good as a child, always getting into places he shouldn’t.

Mussels, clams, seaweed, probably fish in the deeper tide pools—maybe some sea urchin you could sell at the market. Your stomach growls.

Well, that’s that.

Groaning, you haul yourself up and out of bed, wincing at the cold hardwood on your bare feet. You bounce on your toes, shivering, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you pad over to close the window. Despite growing up here, you were always surprised at the temperature. You stubbornly let in the breeze at night, all bundled up under your covers, pretending when you woke it would be nice and warm.

But nope, not here; even in the dead of summer the mornings were chilly. Sometimes you dreamed that you lived on one of those big, luxurious, heated beaches—hot sun and white sand as far as the eye could see, no craggy cliffs or rocky shores. Eh. You probably wouldn’t like it much anyway, too used to your own environment.

Glancing at the clock, you quickly throw on some warm clothes, half-assing your regular morning routine before grabbing your tide-pool hunting essentials: a flashlight, knee-high waders, a large bucket, and your trusty fishing knife. You take a deep breath at the front door, bracing yourself for the chill. Just think of the feast you’ll have later. And you can reward yourself with a hot bath and long nap.

It’s not too long a distance from the cottage to the rocky shoreline, and while the low tide has revealed the tempting sand leading towards the rolling waves, you head towards the jagged outcropping to the left. Years of following the same path means it doesn’t take you long at all to find the hidden entrance and carefully make your way into the cavern.

In the middle of a sunny day, light shone in through various cracks in the ceiling, glinting off the water and creating flickering reflections against the stone walls. Sometimes you came here just to think, or to take a dip in the largest pool. The water was always warmer here, protected from the full power of the currents by the rock face.

Now, however, it was dark—only the dimmest bit of grey morning light trickled in. You flick on the flashlight, humming softly to yourself. The melody echoes off the stone walls, and you set your bucket down at the closest tide pool, readying yourself to hunker down and get to work. The beam of the light scans the various pools as you turn to get your knife from its holder, and something catches your eye. It’s not much, and honestly if you weren’t so familiar with the cave you probably wouldn’t have noticed the dark shape in the far corner pool.

At first, you do a double take, eyes sweeping over the little red-tinged puddles on the floor. Blood. You grip your knife, mind racing with possibilities. Was there someone in here with you? Surely not. No one ever came out here. Swallowing hard, you take a couple steps towards the corner, torch in one hand and knife in the other. As you get closer, your gaze tracks the diluted blood trail into the pool, and at first all you notice is the black scales and fins of a fish. The grip on your knife loosens just a little, the fear of a possible threat fading.

It's a big animal, you can tell that even as you make your way over, and you wonder idly how it got in. You knew, logically, that the cave connected to the ocean somehow, but you can't imagine the tide being so high for a fish as large as this one to find its way into the back corner. You’re focused on this conundrum as you round the ledge that’s been shielding the animal from your full view--so much so that it takes you more than a couple moments for your mind to compute just what it's seeing.

The tail is thick and muscular, decorated in obsidian scales that lead to delicate looking fins at the bottom. There were smaller, fan looking fins on the sides of the tail--they were all ripped up, as if they had been torn in previous fights. Your brain clocks all of this in seconds but doesn’t dwell, because it’s focused on the top half of the animal--creature--merman.

Merman. A fucking merman.

The ebony scales at the waist fade seamlessly into pale skin and lean muscle, revealing a long, firm torso. If you weren’t so aware of the tail, you might--might--think he could pass for human. Well, except for the webbed fingers and razor-sharp nails adorning each of his hands. He’s half submerged in the water of the pool, dark hair covering part of his face so you can’t see it.

You stand there, frozen, staring, not quite knowing what to do. You weren’t… scared; weren’t even very surprised aside from the initial shock of seeing him. You’d grown up hearing stories, traditions, tales—it was more than folklore here on the island. Some of the elders believed in merfolk more than ghosts, more than aliens, more than god.

Mr. Mackenzie told tales of mermaids luring in his shipmates as prey, drowning them. You always thought they were just stories designed to scare children away from dangerous tides—and maybe they were. But other accounts, you weren’t so sure of.

It was the wonder on Ms. Fraser’s face when she recounted the long-ago memory of swimming along sandbars with a girl who could breathe underwater. It was the quiet reverence of Mr. McDougall’s voice when he whispered about removing an old fish hook from a merman’s tail. It was the tears in Mrs. Buchanan’s eyes when she insisted merfolk rescued her husband from a fishing boat wreck.

You believed them. You always had, even if you’d done it silently, bashfully. You knew those who still made offerings to the ocean and to the beings that dwelled within the depths. Your island community believed in things not seen, but passed down through generations of storytelling. It was your history, kept alive despite first hand encounters becoming few and far between.

Except, here it was—your own little slice of history, right in front of you. If you took a couple more steps, you could reach out and touch it.

Is he breathing?

The little voice in your head brings you back down to your body, and a sudden fear overtakes you. You can’t let him die—if he was even still alive to begin with. You glance nervously at the pinkish trail of blood leading to the pool; the sight makes you reach some sort of resolve.

Hyper-aware of the claws on his hands, you kneel down beside him, hesitating only briefly before you settle your hand on his large bicep. He doesn’t stir, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. Your hand slides down to his wrist, and while you can admit you aren’t an expert on merfolk anatomy, surely you’ll be able to feel a pulse from the spidery blue veins under his pale skin.

Relief washes over you in a wave when you do, indeed, find a pulse—slow, but strong. Okay, not dead then. Still, he doesn’t move, so you take it upon yourself to move his damp hair out of his face, curling it behind his prominent ears.

He’s handsome.

You feel yourself flush, immediately chastising yourself for the thought. This was—best case scenario—a complete stranger who was wounded and in possible danger. Worst case scenario… you didn’t want to think about. Needless to say, it was no time to be thinking about his level of attractiveness.

You force yourself back into action, cupping his head as you hold your hand under his nose. His breathing is steady, and you gently lay his head back where it rested on the rock ledge. Your fingertips brush against something, and you frown as you realize he has a lump on the back of his skull—as if he’s been hit. You can only hope it hasn’t done too serious damage; it wasn’t like you could really take him to the hospital.

Your attention moves down his body, and you make yourself bypass the gills in his neck in order to properly gauge his wounds. Minor cuts and scrapes littered his skin; from the number of scars decorating his form, you figure these aren’t a big deal, no matter how nasty they look. Not compared to the gash on his side, at least.

You wince when you see it, the delicate flesh torn open and ragged. The cut makes you think it’s from some man-made weapon, and you shake your head in disbelief. Who would want to harm a merman? Around here, it would be blasphemous to do such a thing.

Blood no longer seeps from the wound; you hope that’s a good sign—and that the salt water has somewhat cleaned the area. You think it may have needed stitches, but you’re no doctor with the ability to do such a procedure. If you're being honest with yourself, it’s probably far too late for stitches anyway. The wound would be another nasty scar, likely similar to the one marring his face, but the area isn’t red with infection. That’s a good sign, right?

You sigh, feeling helpless. You want to do something for the creature. There’s only one thing you can really think of. Chewing on your bottom lip, you study his face again. He still seems unresponsive, and you can only hope he stays that way a little longer.

The short trek back up to your home feels the longest it’s ever been, and your legs and lungs are burning by the time you rush through the front door, having run the entire way. You heave in breaths as you pack some supplies into a bag. It wasn’t much, but you should be able to use the waterproof gauze and antibiotic ointment to dress the nasty-looking scrapes on his hands and chest.

You hesitate for a moment before going into your bathroom and grabbing the waterproof pillow you had in the tub. Maybe it was silly, but you hated thinking about him lying on the hard ground for fuck knows how long. You almost grab some food for him—maybe the fish currently thawing in your fridge—but you decide not to. You weren’t sure what he ate, and there was no telling when he’d wake up anyway.

Your breathing has just settled back to normal by the time you’re jogging back to the cave, careful not to slip on any of the wet grass and rocks. The sun starts to peak out of the morning clouds, letting pale beams of light warm the grey morning. The cavern is illuminated slightly better when you enter; you find you can lay the flashlight at a distance and see just fine.

The merman is still asleep, and you feel a little relieved. You aren’t exactly sure what will happen when he wakes up—for all you know, you’ll return later in the day to find him gone. As it is, you plop down next to the pool he was in and get to work patching him up the best you can.

Taking the towel you brought with you, you dab at his scrapes, trying to dry them a little before applying the ointment and then carefully using the gauze to cover the wounds. His palms are so torn up that you wrap them completely, your brows knitted the entire time. It must hurt, but still, he doesn’t stir.

Finally, you’re left with the gash in his side. You debate with yourself as to whether you should cover it or not—if you even can. The front of his torso was out of the water with the way he was laying, but that could change at any second, and any real pressure on his body would cause him to sink into the pool.

Your urge to help him wins out in the end, and you decide you’ll try to bandage it to protect it from any further irritation, despite knowing water would seep in regardless. You lean forward, extra careful not to lose your balance as you pat at his pale skin with the towel once more. It’s an awkward angle and slow work, you trying your best to be gentle with him.

You add as much ointment as you dare to the bandaging, not wanting to put too much onto an open wound, before fixing the gauze to his torso with some waterproof medical tape. There. Sure, it wasn’t going to work a miracle but at this point you weren’t sure what else to do.

He’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’ll be okay.

You take a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest, reassured by the movement. Your gaze again drifts to his tail in fascination—you hope that, maybe, you’ll come back later and he’ll be awake. Maybe he’ll be friendly, maybe the two of you can talk. It’s illogical, you know. This wasn’t some fairytale, this was real life. You honestly just hoped he didn’t try to rip you to shreds on sight.

It’s with this thought in mind that you shift away from him, telling yourself you can’t sit and watch him all day. You have several other pools to collect mussels from, breakfast to cook, chores to do. You’ve done enough, and you have to trust that his body will do the rest—you refuse to entertain the idea that he might not make it.

Sighing, you pull yourself further away, but then remember the pillow you’d brought along. You grab it quickly before shuffling back towards him. He’s got a large lump of seaweed shoved haphazardly under his head in what you assume was a desperate attempt to soften the rock face underneath.

His damp hair is surprisingly soft when you gently lift his head to clear the ground of debris. You can’t help but run your fingers through it gently, brushing it behind his ears, almost trying to soothe his subconscious. You settle the small foam pillow in place, and slowly let his head and neck rest against it. You hope it makes some sort of difference, though you know it might be a childish thought.

Your task finished, you force yourself away from him once more, even though you suddenly ache to continue touching him. Picking up your things, you continue on your mission of prying mussels from each tidepool. You move slower and quieter than you normally would, shooting the merman furtive glances every few seconds.

By the time you’re finished with the last pool, you can’t find an excuse to linger any longer. He was as safe as he was going to be. The only thing left to do now was wait. You spare your new charge one last lingering look, then grab your things and head back to the house.

______________________________________________________________

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