#also convenient because i swear my teeth have been hurting today

[mspaint-flower]

the flower that tooth hurty ? Or maybe trash 1 star review denis?

I love ur blog and funky drawings of VFlower btw i wish i could smooch them, or frame it in my house :]]]]

🦷

[silversatoru]

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 16: Up Against the Wall

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Summary: You two will probably never stop fighting, but at least you're trying.

A/N: I'm so sorry to have to split this up. This was a smut chapter but it was just so damn long. I couldn't just slam 15 pages here. I mean I could, but it didn't make sense to. But next week? Smut. Also definitely gonna write a prequel to this. Even if it's just for me, unless you guys wanna see it haha <3

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

“What was that about?” Liu sat on the edge of your bed at your side without so much as asking for permission. Bold.

“Oh, that?” You looked to the door in amusement. “Yeah, about that. Cole knows.”

“Cole knows what?”

“Cole knows.” You gave him a pointed look. Liu furrowed his brow while trying to decipher your words and then widened his eyes in realization. He watched the door, surprised.

“Oh.” He seemed puzzled. “How, exactly?”

“He saw us the other night. Right before closing.”

“Oh.” He repeated. “Bad timing.” Liu sighed but you could see amusement behind his eyes. It was reminiscent of those first few weeks you’d spent with him where he didn’t say what he really meant but in a playful sort of way. He’d done that all the damn time and he knew just how attractive you found it. Damn him. Of course he would think this was a little funny while you were ripping yourself apart over it.

“That and…” You tilted your head to the side and pushed your hair away from your shoulder. Then you wiped the remains of the makeup off of your neck so that he could see the damn hickey that he’d left on you. Liu’s face dropped but then he practically snorted with laughter and had to cover his mouth to hide his smile. What a brat! He cleared his throat.

“Oops.”

That was all he had to say, huh? You shoved his shoulder.

“Really, Liu? A hickey? What are you, twelve?” You let your hair fall back into place.

“I guess I got a little carried away.” He shrugged as if this were all the explanation you would need. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You know, I cannot think of a single time where you left a mark on me and it wasn’t like we had a lot of self-control back then.”

“Well, that’s not true…” He looked ready to argue with you so you rolled your eyes at him.

“A mark that anyone could see.” You stuck your tongue out at him. He gave a short nod as if to thank you for clarifying. “Now, when things are at their most complicated, Liu, you just… go for it, I guess. Big ol’ mark right on my neck for everyone to see. Thank the stars that it was Cole who noticed it and not someone else.”

“I wasn’t exactly in control of much yesterday.” Liu offered a very pitiful defense but he, again, was hiding his laughter.

“Oh, and you were so in control back then, were you?”

“Uh…” He hesitated. “Fair point.” You laughed in disbelief. “It’s nice to see you smile.” But your smile fell almost immediately. It had felt nice to joke about it, like it wasn’t weighing so heavily on you. Things were often too serious between you now. You’d once been the best of friends. “How are you feeling?” He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Of course not.

“I’m tired of you asking me how I’m feeling.”

“You collapsed earlier so I’m a little worried. That’s all. I think I get to ask.” When you offered him no further explanation of what had happened, he continued. “Overexertion, perhaps? Or something that you’re not telling me which seems more likely. You do that a lot. Especially now. There was a time where you couldn’t keep from telling me everything.” He was right about that. You’d had an instant connection and had shared truths and secrets very early on. That felt like a lifetime ago. You were a different person now.

“Liu…” You decided to let him down easy and then send him away. Today had been too much and keeping him around was dangerous. And considering how much you wanted to do something dangerous, you had to get rid of him.

“What aren’t you telling me, Y/N?”

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” It was true. You didn’t want to tell anyone what that man had put into your head. You weren’t ready to face it. In fact, your brain had completely stalled in processing it. The afternoon was already being blacked out.

“We don’t have time for you to brood over whatever it is. Dealing with it later can’t be the only solution you have.”

“You are just so damn determined to turn everything into a fight, aren’t you?” You snapped at him. “I didn’t force you to deal with whatever you’re dealing with. Maybe later is all I have right now.”

“We don’t have until later.”

“Does it make you feel better to pick a fight with me? Is that what it is?”

“You’re just as confrontational as I am, Y/N. Listen to the way you said that.”

“Let it go. I’ll sort it out with Raiden when we get back to China. You and I? We’re not that close anymore, Liu. Get it through your head.”

“You know that I can’t let it go.” He pushed his hair back in frustration. “Not just because you’re my friend. That night on the roof you saw something. I’m guessing you saw this. You saw what happened today.” You frowned. He was right but it didn’t mean you had to like it. “I let you have your space about what you saw on the roof and after today, I can’t keep doing that. And you don’t have to lash out at me every time you’re scared.”

“Scared?” You went from zero to annoyed immediately. Annoyed because he was right and annoyed because he was calling you out in such a tone.

“I’ve decided that’s what it is that makes you like this. Fear. Fear of change. Fear of the guilt. Fear of me. Fear of whatever it is you’re not telling anyone.”

“Sometimes I can’t stand the way that you assume you know what I’m thinking and feeling.”

“Only because you don’t tell me anything anymore. So don’t start on that. I’m not assuming anything, Y/N. It’s an observation.” He frowned but he hadn’t snapped or yelled at you. You hated that he was so levelheaded. Why couldn’t he be just as irrational as you were now? Why was it that he had gotten it together but you were still a mess? “You’re jumping down my throat because you’re uncomfortable.”

“Liu, I swear…”

“You pick fights now because it’s easier than talking. It was different when I was the one picking fights. And you called me out. So, I’m calling you out, Y/N.” He looked as if he wanted you to prove him wrong. You hated that he was right. You hated that he was making you face these things head on. It was something that Kung Lao just hadn’t done. You’d had your moments where you’d pushed each other but it was nothing like with Liu Kang. He had always pushed you. There had been a time where you’d loved that.

“You know what?” You began with an angry huff but it immediately deflated and your shoulders slumped. “I am scared.” You gave all of your attention to the tacky pattern on the carpeted floor. “I haven’t had to deal with visions in years. My arcana hasn’t drained me like this in just as long. Today was exhausting for me and my fuse is short. This is a lot. You’re right. It’s easier to fight with you than to deal with it.”

“To your credit you did duplicate nearly everyone today. Then you smashed all those things in one strike. I’ve never seen you do anything on that scale before. It was impressive.” He offered an understanding smile which you were relieved to see even out of the corner of your eye. Maybe you wouldn’t fight. “No wonder you’re a little gray.”

“I’ve never tried anything that grand before.”

“You never needed to.”

“It’s left me rattled, that’s all. Raiden will help. We figured it out back then and we’ll figure it out again.” It was probably the trauma and the guilt. Those things could weigh heavily on a person.

“We will.” He folded his hands in his lap and you sat together in silence. Liu shifted next to you. He was trouble today. And he had no idea how dangerous you were feeling, how desperately you wanted to cause some trouble and how easy it was for your brain to connect those two facts. Liu Kang could be just the trouble you needed and you were already kicking yourself for thinking it. “What aren’t you saying?”

“I’m not saying it, Liu, on purpose.” You spoke quietly so he leaned closer. His hand covered yours where you had it rested on the bed between you. Chills ran down your spine so you stiffened up. His touch was so careful, so thoughtful. You refused to shiver beneath the touch of Liu Kang.

“Y/N…” His voice was laced with concern.

“Don’t push me, Liu. Not today.” You turned toward him and leaned closer as if to dare him to do just that. Oh, how your body language betrayed you. “You have no idea how volatile I’m feeling.”

“Then talk to me. Don’t shut down.”

“Why, Liu?” You didn’t see the point. There was no way out of this for you. What did he think would happen? You were at war. What did anything matter? War with Outworld. War with wherever that horrid man had been from. War with each other. “I need to think it over. I’m not a touchy-feely-talk-about-everything person anymore and you know that.”

“No, Y/N, I don’t. We have clawed and fought our way to this point. Whether or not you like it, we’re in this together. You can’t just be in it when it’s convenient for you.”

“That’s so nasty, Liu. Don’t put it like that.”

“I already did.”

“I’m not ready to talk about it. That’s the line.”

“You are obviously hurting. Something happened and you aren’t telling me. Something prompted you to do what you did earlier. Let me be there for you. Let me comfort you.”

“I don’t want your comfort.”

“Why not?”

“You already know the reason, Liu.” His comfort came with strings. There was no such thing as no-strings-attached with Liu Kang. Even when he had said it meant nothing it had been a lie. You knew each other too well now to pretend.

“Because you’re afraid?” There was that word again. The way he said it with such disdain made you immediately angry. You gritted your teeth to keep from saying something awful. “Scared that it’ll make you weak to need comfort? Or scared that maybe you’ll do something that you clearly want to do and then have to deal with the consequences?” He moistened his lips and then swallowed hard as if to keep from saying something more. But he’d said enough.

“You just have to push and push and dig and dig until I snap, don’t you? You just can’t help yourself. Then you call me out for assuming shit and turn around and do the same thing to me, you hypocrite.” There was that bottled up anger, coming out in a bite. You’d warned him and he’d poked the bear anyway.

“You need pushing.”

“Are you getting some sick sense of purpose from this, Liu?” Your lip curled in anger. “I get it. You’re lost after losing Kung Lao and then after what happened with me and finding out I was wasted and made a mistake… now you’re…”

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel, Y/N. You’re angry. Defensive. Lashing out. But you do not get to tell me how I feel or why I’m doing what I’m doing. I’m thinking clearly for the first time since it all happened.”

“Oh, so you get to but I don’t? You used me like a verbal punching bag this last week, Liu! Maybe it’s about time you had a taste of your own damn medicine.”

“Stop.” He grabbed your arm and you tugged it but he didn’t let go. He grabbed your other arm and turned you to face him. “Just stop it, Y/N.”

You should have pulled your hand back and broken his stupid nose. But his dark eyes were full of concern, pleading with you, dripping with sincerity. Betraying your anger, your vision blurred with tears. He was right. You furrowed your brow and forced the tears away. Then you gave him a curt nod.

“Sorry.” You muttered. He shifted and moved closer. Letting go of your wrist, he placed his hand instead on your cheek. His warm fingers traced down to your jaw and then beneath it, tilting your chin back up so you would have to face him. His lips were close. They were dangerous and you wanted them. You hated yourself for wanting them.

“Don’t push me away, Y/N.” His lips brushed against yours just barely, tantalizing you with each word. He knew exactly what he was doing. Liu Kang played so damn innocent but you knew exactly what he was doing in these moments where you had gotten this close. He knew what he’d been doing back then and he knew what he was doing now. “Please.” His lips graced yours again as he spoke and then slowly engulfed them in a kiss that send sparks shooting down your spine. That soft kiss was enough to make you crumble. The tension you’d held in your every nerve faded. How could you do anything but lean into that kiss? You savored the touch of his soft lips, the bottom one still broken from the day before. The taste of them was like fire. Loose embers that had, at some point, coated his lips.

No.

No, you couldn’t do this. As much as you wanted it, this kind of trouble wasn’t the kind you would come back from twice. Hand on his chest, you pushed him back, pulling your lips away from his and just barely managing it.

“Bad idea.” You muttered against every instinct in your body.

“Why?” He grasped the wrist he still held in frustration. “You want this. I know you do.”

“That doesn’t matter, Liu.”

“It matters.” He was exasperated and you couldn’t rightly blame him. “What you want matters. What I want matters.”

“But…”

“But what?” His cool exterior finally broke.

“Don’t snap at me like that.”

He quieted you with a kiss and you laughed in surprise against the demand of his fiery lips.

Next Chapter >>

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 14

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,526 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Also on ff.net and AO3.

Lies, lies, lying little beast Lying little man on the corner of the street Singing "Why, I can't come out to play Can't come out and say that I'm afraid of what they'll say"

-Run River North, "Lying Beast"

————————–

Then.

Stephanie walked purposefully down the dormitory hallway towards her destination, which she had learned of through Cass after the other had shockingly announced she was now… “involved” with someone and asked point-blank for her advice.  Steph had been surprised (not to mention maybe a tad jealous) that she had been granted visitation rights before her – especially when she herself wasn’t even sure if she had reached an official “dating” stage yet with her suitor- er, tutor (although they had undergone several “study sessions” together by this point) – but nevertheless was happy for her roommate.  …Besides, her profile’s “single” status would hopefully change today.

Checking her hair and outfit, she nervously fixed and fidgeted a little in front of the doorway, before taking a deep breath and knocking on the entry.  After a moment, it slowly creaked open a crack to reveal a rather confused-looking Tim.

“Steph?  What are you doing here?”

“Hey!  I just came to ask you something quick, if you’re not too busy.”  She beamed her best and brightest.

Tim’s eyes darted anxiously aside as he swallowed.

“Uh, now’s not really a great time…”

“Who’s that, Tim?  A friend of yours?”

Stephanie blinked as a stunningly beautiful woman unexpectedly emerged from behind Tim, ravishing red locks and coquettish lips smiling cordially.

“Ah, you must be Stephanie! Tim’s told me a lot about you.”

Steph’s gaze shifted suspiciously to Tim, who looked like his world had just come crashing down around him.

“…Has he now?”

The stranger grinned widely as she extended her slender palm, revealing twin rows of perfect pearl teeth.

“I’m Barbara Gordon. Pleasure to meet you.”

Tentatively, Steph took it.

“...Nice to meet you. Wait, ‘Gordon’ – as in the new Police Commissioner?”

The woman nodded.

“Bingo, you’re looking at her.”  Her voice abruptly took on an authoritative tone.  “I’m here on official police business, conducting a top-secret investigation.  You wouldn’t happen to have seen any suspicious individuals around, would you?”

“Babs,” Tim cut in sharply as Steph started to sweat and panic.  “That’s enough.  Quit frightening her.”  (Although rather than relieve her apprehension, it only increased further at such informal address.)

…On a first-name basis?

“Kidding, kidding. I’m giving a guest lecture on Criminology over in the West Wing.  Speaking of which,” Barbara glanced at her wristwatch, “I should probably get going. Class starts in 10 minutes.  I just came by to say ‘hi’ to Tim.”

She began to gather up her things, bustling out the exit with a wink to Tim on the way, who only winced and shrank further in response.

“I’ll leave you two kids alone.  Take care, Tim.  I’ll stop by again some other time.”

Steph watched her figure’s wake until it was gone, silently envying sophisticated style and… mature body shape as it sashayed away.

“She’s awfully pretty,” she mused aloud, suddenly feeling even more self-conscious.  “What exactly is your relationship with her?”

Don’t tell me he’s actually into older women.  There’s no way I can compete with that.

Tim rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“It’s not what you think. She’s like an older sister.”

“…Seriously?”

How strangely ‘convenient’ all his supposed ‘relatives’ seem to be gorgeous supermodels.

“Trust me, there’s nothing like that between us.”

She gauged his earnest expression, before accepting assurance.

“All right, I believe you.” Her smile returned as she relaxed. “In that case…”

She fished around in her pocket, pulling out two tickets she won at the Theta-Kapa-Gamma Harvest Festival last week.

“Ta da~!  Tickets to see the monster movie marathon at the old Monarch Theater on Saturday!  You are free, aren’t you?”

Tim blinked as she practically shoved the tiny pieces of perforated paper in his face, fanning gleefully in invitation.  Temptation.

“I am, but…”

He gulped, hesitating as he seemed to desperately search for an excuse.

“I’m… not really a fan of old films…”

He mumbled lamely, appearing extremely uneasy for some reason.

Oh crap.  Don’t tell me I screwed up again.

Steph’s confidence sank in disappointment, recalling how she had once enthusiastically tried to engage Tim in a spontaneous water pistol fight going on in the campus courtyard (despite the season being somewhat ill-suited for the sport), having snuck up on him whilst the victim was reading unawares underneath the shade of a nearby tree, hitting him with a lighthearted squirt.  He had sat there, stunned, as he stared at the childish toy weapon in her hand, before wiping his soaked cheek with the back of his sleeve.  Slamming his book shut, he stated with such startlingly quiet, intense anger it took her aback:

“I don’t like guns.”

…Before standing up and stalking off in silence.

Still, she had hoped this would make up for it, that it could be something they’d both enjoy, spend some real quality time doing together (besides studying anyway, which she was starting to get sick and tired of as tests approached).  Who didn’t care for a good old-fashioned camp scare around Halloween?  …Maybe he just needed to give it a chance.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.  Have you ever even seen Dracula or Frankenstein?”

He shook his head.

“Whaaat, you’re missing out on some classics!  Come on, it’ll be fun.  We’ve both been working so hard, we deserve a break.  Cass has a pair of passes too, so she and Conner are going to be there as well.  We can totes double together.”  (Incidentally, it had been a little odd how her partner had been so fortunate as to receive the exact same prize at the booth’s trivia guessing game right after her, but she’d learned not to question Cassandra’s keen – if sometimes creepily uncanny – sense of intuition.)

Tim bit his lip, but acquiesced at her pleading puppy eyes, which shone with eager stars of anticipation.

“…Okay.”

“Great!  It’s a date then.”  She exclaimed excitedly as she handed him his half of the voucher.

“A… date.”

He repeated robotically, surveying the stub as if in disbelief.

“I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

She waved as she skipped off, emboldened by sweet success.  In her jubilee, she accidentally ran straight into Conner as he coincidentally came round the corner, heading back to his room as well.

“Whoa, watch it there!”

He caught her just before she fell (unlike before, this sturdy target was obviously a lot harder to knock over), and she blushed a tinge as she felt his huge, strong arms wrap around her shoulder.

Man, what is it with me and bumping into hot guys recently?  …Not that I’m complaining, mind.

She wasn’t sure whether to be overjoyed or embarrassed by this recurring situation, but settled for leaning towards the former.  Conner, on the other hand, seemed a little less thrilled upon realizing the person in his grasp.

“Oh, it’s you. …Actually, good timing.  I want to talk to you about Tim.”

He raised her up, but kept a firm grip on her collar as he drew her back round the bend.  …It was almost a little painful, the amount of pressure his paw was putting on her petite stature.  His countenance was severely solemn as he stooped forward to meet her level.

“…Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it so you don’t get the wrong idea.  Tim’s… ‘delicate’.  I mean, really delicate.”  He frowned, icy blue irises flaring dangerously as his dense, digging fingers deepened into the folds of her blouse, contracting and contacting to the bone.  “You need to watch what you say and do around him.  I swear, if you ever do anything intentionally to hurt him, I will never forgive you.  You got that?”

She recoiled, reasoning he was likely referring to the gun stunt.

Is he… making a genuine threat?

Steph was somewhat scared now as his shadow loomed over her, backing her against the wall.  She nodded meekly.

“U- understood.”

“Good.”

He released her, and she rubbed at the sore spot on her skin, wondering if it was going to leave a bruise. She was also starting to wonder what the heck Cass saw in this big dumb brute.  He was admittedly attractive, sure, but personality-wise he was Tim’s complete opposite: loud, brash, obnoxious – not to mention arrogant – basically your stereotypical jock.  And yet…

“You really care a lot about Tim, don’t you?”

Conner sniffed.  “Of course I do.  He’s my best friend.”

…’Friend’, huh?

The way he behaved seemed to go far beyond mere “friendship” though.  He was almost acting like an overprotective guardian.  …Or a possessive one.

“Could it be that you’re… jealous?”

“Me?  Jealous? Of you?”  Conner scoffed.  “Why on earth would I be jealous?  Just because you’re the one getting him to finally open up and trust you, participate in a bunch of social activities he never normally would, even though I’ve tried so hard to motivate him to be more outgoing over these past few years? To convince him to talk to me about his problems?  To be the kind of stupid-ass cliché you huma- people find so damn popular just so no one else would dare to mess with him?”

He laughed like a bark, though it sounded slightly strained.  Pained. Stephanie softened at such a display of devotion.

…Maybe he’s not such an oaf after all.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ve done a lot more for him than you give yourself credit for.  I’m sure he appreciates having you as a pal.”

She cautioned a comforting pat on his broad muscle.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m trying to steal him away from you or anything.  Besides, you’re doing the same thing for Cass, aren’t you? Trying to help her break out of her shell?  Heck, I’ve noticed she’s been a lot more vocal ever since you two started seeing each other.”

Conner rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You think?  I mean, I guess you could say that.  I dunno, it feels like I’m not really right for her…  She’s so serious and deep, and – and next to her I feel like a total doofus most of the time…”

Stephanie couldn’t help but sympathize.  They were a weird couple, to be sure, but then the same could easily be said about her and Tim.

“Hey, far be it from me to judge, but even if it doesn’t seem like you’re made for each other off the bat, I think you owe it to yourselves to try and explore those feelings at least. You never know, maybe it will work out.”

…It might’ve been her imagination, but the margins of his mouth seemed to twitch a bit at the word “made”.  He coughed as he replied contritely though.

“Thanks.  And, uh, sorry about being rough earlier.”

“It’s all right.”  She smirked.  “You were just defending your ‘delicate’ flower’s honor.”

A humiliated flush crept onto his visage.

“Oi, despite what you may have heard, it’s not like that.”

“It’s okay,” she giggled in understanding.  “I feel the same way about Cass.  …I suppose you could consider it even then?”

“Um… I suppose.”  He looked confounded by the straightforward confession, but shrugged, not wanting to think too hard about it anymore, lest things get overly complicated.  “So… We good then?”

She smiled.

“Yeah.  We’re good.”

…

When the weekend rolled around, Stephanie dragged Cassandra clothes shopping before the big day, insisting on doing her hair and makeup as well.  By the time they arrived at the cinema, the boys were already there waiting, checking their watches out in the cold.  While she sheepishly apologized on both behalves for being “fashionably late”, Steph figured it was worth it when she saw their slack jaws at how much fashion had transformed them.  The guys were dressed decently to impress as well, both sporting smart leather jackets (although Tim’s looked a size too big for him, and Conner still had on that ruddy black Superman T-shirt underneath that seemed like it came from a little kid’s closet).

She took the initiative in lining up with Tim to order snacks and soda, in the meantime telling the other two to go find four seats together.  Luckily they didn’t have to wait long, as there didn’t seem to be many customers despite it being a Saturday.  (To be fair those tickets were probably pretty cheap and undesirable to given away free at some college fest.) Although she kept chatting cheerfully to try and pass the time, her other company seemed even more uncomfortable than usual in the lightly crowded lobby, hardly able to carry a conversation – let alone the food – all the way to the viewing room.  She began to worry if this had been a mistake to bring him here, and prayed the darkness and drama onscreen would at least be able to distract him enough to loosen up a little.

Cass and Conner had saved them two seats near the edge, and she sidled in next to her girlfriend (for moral support) while Tim took the one closest to the aisle.  He kept glimpsing tensely around though, still just as jumpy as before.

“Hey, chill out a bit, will ya?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “It’s just, in my experience, this is usually the part where the place catches fire, or some punks try to rob the box office, or…”

She stared at him, shaking her head.

“You fret too much.  Just try to relax and enjoy, okay?  Here, have some popcorn.”

He passed on the salted kernels though, and she pouted as she popped one in her mouth, chewing over whether she’d made the right decision after all. He looked almost claustrophobic, stressed.  In distress.

Things didn’t improve much as the motion picture started to play.  The first feature presentation in the lineup was indeed Frankenstein, and although Tim managed to remain relatively calm enough throughout the monochrome, monotone introduction, he started to stiffen at the famous “awakening” sequence.

“Quite a good scene, isn’t it? One man crazy, three very sane spectators.”

Out of the crook of her eye, Steph sensed her companion cringe every time there was a thunderclap, as lights flashed and machinery sparked with mounting electricity, while the movie madman merrily turned the wheel to “adjust the batteries”.  Together, he and his assistant unrolled the cloth covering the table to expose a humanlike form strapped to it, albeit with limbs limp and lifeless.  Tim’s claw clutched at his armrest as the stretcher was gradually lifted up through a hole in the ceiling towards the stormy sky, where pulses of galvanizing lightning presumably struck the subject repeatedly.

Stephanie divided concentration back and forth between the increasingly agitated boy beside her and the big screen in growing alarm as his breathing accelerated, gasping and wheezing audibly as he bent forward and put his hyperventilating head between his knees.  Cass and Conner were casting concerned looks as well, while other annoyed audience members revolved around and shushed to keep it down.  As her attention was arrested by the scientist maniacally screaming “It’s alive!” over and over again, she turned back one last time to ask if Tim was all right in a worried whisper – but there was no answer.

Tim was gone.

————————–

Oh Lord, whatever did I say? Whatever made me think that this was all okay? No one held me to the flame The hell if I could take the dark from my face

[omgviolette12]

After Hours - Chapter 7  A professor Loki fanfiction

Previous Chapter

Summary: Evelyn Monroe has been a TA for professor Laufeyson’s Calculus course for four months now. He was known to be quite strict, but that never deterred her from applying for the position in order to be close to the man she had been secretly pining for. One evening, she returns to his office after opening hours… and with her bountiful luck, she walks in on something not meant to be seen.

Chapters: 7/?

Words: 2800+

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

Tags: @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666  @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77 @nerd--nirvana @valdemarismynonbinarylove

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

_______________

Evelyn stared blankly at the man in front of her, as his words and the close proximity between them stunned her into silence.

She attempted to formulate a coherent reply to his filthy admission, but all she could manage was a squeaky whimper.

"Oh…"

Oh? Oh?! This man, my professor, literally just said he wanted to fuck me to high heaven, and all I could say was oh?!!

Despite sensing the woman in his arms had grown increasingly flustered, to the point he feared she would faint again, Loki refused to relent as he continued to bombard her with his fantasies.

"I've watched you for so long, wanted you for so long. To see that beautiful smile of yours, shine just for me. To see you laugh, cry, and scream - Just. For. Me. I will have it no other way, from this day forward. I swear it. No longer will I settle for someone else."

His words were filled with such passion, such overwhelming possessiveness, that Evelyn could not believe that it was directed towards her. Of all the women he could have in this world, he wanted...her? Little ole' Evelyn? A student? 

She couldn't believe it. As she began to doubt the sincerity behind his words, Candice’s voice replayed inside her head.

‘He just seems the type to...you know, fuck his students on the regular...have hoes on call, you know the works. Just warning you, I don't want your feelings hurt.’

Because of this, Evelyn gradually began to think that he probably just wanted a quick romp in the hay with a student to satiate whatever fantasies he may have, and then find some way to shut her up later.

 She wanted...to be more than that.

“...And what makes you think...that..uh..I want the same thing...? That I want you?” 

Evelyn once again blurted out the first thing that came to mind, while attempting to distance herself away from him. She had tried to sound confident, but expectedly, she failed miserably.

Despite that, her words did manage to stun him for a moment - for he did not expect her to utter such nonsense.

He fixed her with a steady glare, daring her to disagree with his next words,

"Just moments before, in front of my door, you were muttering to yourself how much you yearned for my touch, despite my roughness. You expect me to believe otherwise?"

Evelyn was stumped, mouth opening in shock. She didn't want to believe he actually heard her and pushed it to the back of her head, pretending that his reply at the time meant something else. But the dastardly man held no reservations about burying her in embarrassment.

Nevertheless, she continued to play dumb in order to preserve the remaining scraps of dignity she so cherished.

"I could like...um... I don’t know, have a boyfriend..or..something...? I was probably thinking about him at the time."

The room dropped several degrees in that instant.

"...Boyfriend?" The forceful way in which he spat those words made it sound like it was the most repulsive thing in the world, his eyes now cold as ice.

He laughed mirthlessly as he closed the distance she had made between them, stalking towards her like a wolf eyeing his prey. "Now, pray tell, who would this...boyfriend of yours be? I have never seen you with -"

He took a pause before he could finish his sentence. Slowly, his face began to twist in barely concealed anger, as if he realized something.

"...You mean to say…" his eyes slowly narrowed as he spoke through gritted teeth, "It was that daft boy that came to get your things? Andrès, was it? Pardon me for saying this, but I cannot see what has you so smitten -"

She wanted to play along with it. But the idea itself was so preposterous to her brain that she busted out in laughter before she could even think to stop herself.

"Oh fuck no! Andrès? Mr. Chunky Chunks? Phew! You're real funny, you know that?"

If she were any sillier, she would've slapped a knee before rolling on the floor, still laughing at his suggestion.

Evelyn did not look up to see his expression, but she guessed he must've looked pretty aggrieved.

" He's...heh-heh... he's just a friend. Did you really think..."

Evelyn trailed off, slowly recalling her interaction with Andrés earlier that day. His sour demeanor, and anger at failing the course after speaking to Loki on her behalf.

“Uh...wait… is that why,” Evelyn laughed nervously to herself, before looking up at him to gauge his reaction, “...Is that why you failed him? Because you thought he was -“

“- Of course not,” He cut her off a bit too quickly, slowly averting his eyes from her person, “ The boy had missed classes, with today being his third absence. As my TA, surely you must know what that means.”

His words were logical - if Andrès missed that many classes, then his failing had nothing to do with her, thankfully. But if that was the case, why was he avoiding direct eye contact? And why was he getting a bit red in the face?

"In any case," her professor abruptly cleared his throat to change the subject, "We have more important things to discuss."

Suddenly even more nervous than she was before, Evelyn's heart began to thump loudly at the change of his tone.

Well, here goes nothing...

“I...um, I now know that you’re attracted to me. But...I’m not sure what you’re expecting from me,”

Evelyn began quietly, twiddling her thumbs, “ At this point, I can’t deny that I feel the same way. But...I think what we want from each other is a bit...different.”

Loki raised his dark brows at her insinuation, “ And what exactly do you think I want from you, darling?”

Evelyn sighed to herself. It was best to be honest with the man, he could tell a white lie from a mile away.

“...I think you just want me for sex. A quick lil fuck, fling, whatever. Then you’d toss me to the side whenever it’d convenience you.” She took a deep breath, hands across her chest as a source of comfort, “ ...I want more than that. I am more than that.”

His eyes revealed nothing as he looked at her in silence, seemingly unaffected by her words - but the slight tightening of his jaw was extremely telling.

Evelyn worried she might’ve been a bit too blunt about it. But his voice soon echoed within the room, unusually soft and complacent, 

“...I understand that due to my actions towards you, and what you have seen of me, that I have left a rather unfavorable impression of myself attributed by a lack of self control,” he began to move a hand to caress her face, but hesitated for a moment. 

When she did not flinch away, he rested a large hand against her neck, caressing her cheek idly with his thumb, “ You may doubt my sincerity, but please trust that I want you entirely as my woman, my lover, or whatever title you feel comfortable with. I...I admit my initial intentions towards you were not pure. However, just your body isn’t enough now, as wonderful as it is. I need your heart, your mind. And in return, you shall have mine as well.”

In response to his heartfelt confession, Evelyn could only gape at him with big, googly fish eyes. Why did she feel like she just got proposed to?!

Suddenly dry in the mouth, Evelyn forced herself to choke out whatever insecurities she had...about whatever what was between them now. He was so open with her - the man was usually extremely closed off with his feelings, she could hardly pinpoint his mood most of the time in the past...but now she could see a side of him she never thought she would ever witness. His vulnerability. She could at least show him the same courtesy.

“...I’m just - I’m afraid I won’t be able to make you happy… I’m not as experienced and knowledgeable as you, and other women... and.. uhm..” 

She could tell that her babbling had piqued his interest, as he gently prompted her to continue by massaging her neck in an attempt to help her relax a bit.

However, it only made it harder for her to speak, so her next words came out only a tad jumbled since she spoke as fast as possible to get it over with.

“You’rewaytoobigandIhaven’thadmypussypoppedyet!”

Phew, got it out there!

Feeling accomplished but mostly embarrassed, Evelyn turned her head away from his touch to cover her face, hiding behind her small hands.

An uncomfortable amount of silence passed.

“Could… pfft-“

In response to the stifled laughter before her, Evelyn slowly peeked from her hands to look at his face.

“Could you please, repeat what you just said? Just...just once more. I didn’t quite catch that.”

He was grinning from ear to ear, his expression extremely jovial to the point she gaped at him in fascination. When was the last time she had seen this cold, strict professor of hers laugh so openly? Never. With the exception of the little chuckle he graced her with once, his smile was a rarity. So needless to say, she felt herself blushing at the thought of being the source of his happiness, and future happiness to come. Oh, and the sound of his laugh was hot as hell too.

In any case, she righted herself before she decided to change her sentence completely, “Ahem! Mm! Uh...I said that I am extremely inexperienced when it comes to pleasing a man, as you’d technically be my first ever relationship.  And first everything.There. I said what I said.”

His grin grew even wider at the change, “If those are your concerns, please rest assured. I’m in no rush to… haha... ‘pop your pussy’ as you so eloquently put it. As I’ve stated previously, I intend for our relationship to be a serious one. Set the pace however you’d like. But when the time comes...”

He leaned in closer, causing her breath to momentarily falter, “ I’d be more than happy to teach you, many many things. Just as I’ve done in the past. You’re a fast learner, darling. You needn’t be so worried. I’ll be slow, and gentle. Your first time will be pleasurable - and like a good girl, you will accept all of me.”

In those icy blue eyes, she could see his barely constrained lust - the tension in his shoulders as he held himself back from giving into his baser desires. He didn’t want to scare her away like last time, she realized. 

But those very words that left his lips, awakened something primal within Evelyn herself. Her skin prickled with excitement, and she could swear the wetness from her most intimate parts could rival Niagara Falls right about now.

Since we’re both consenting adults attracted to one another...a kiss to start things off wouldn’t be so bad, right? Yep. A nice little peck. Just to see what it’s like...

Horny Evelyn™ has finally made an appearance. So, spurred on by adrenaline and hormones, she decided to take the plunge and ask for one.

"Then...then to start things off, how about a kiss? I mean - just a peck, I've..oh shit, this is so embarrassing - I mean, I've always imagined what it would be like...with you. So yeah…"

Loki seemed surprised that she even suggested it, his eyes widening by a fraction. “While extremely tempting my dear, I fear I lack the self control at the moment to have it be…’just a kiss’. Unless, you’d be willing to take the risk.”

Evelyn pretended to think about it for a moment, before replying with a sharp nod of her head, “Yep, I’m sure. Since I’m with you now...I kinda want to get used to being intimate with someone. Baby steps. So yeah... let's do it."

The air changed, charging with so much tension it was almost stifling. She watched as he came closer to her, his entire demeanor giving away the excitement he felt at the opportunity to finally kiss her without reproach.

Their breaths picked up when he snaked an arm behind her back to pull her flush against him, while using the other to tip her head up by the chin.

Without breaking eye contact, he inched closer and closer, until their lips finally touched.

As soon as they did, Evelyn felt as if she stepped into an entirely different world. Everything disappeared in that moment, as if he was the only one that existed. His scent, and the softness of his lips were now the only things that mattered. Overwhelmed with this sudden sensation, she grasped at his shirt, desperate for more contact.

Loki had indeed intended for the kiss to be chaste - but the sudden action on her part spurred him to take things just a bit further. It was a bit underhanded, but a little pinch to her hip gave him all the access to her mouth he needed.

Instead of focusing on the sudden pain to her hip, her senses were instead zoned in on the sensation of his tongue that was now inside her mouth. She moaned, reveling at how it felt to have him inside her. She imagined her first kiss to be a sloppy mess, but the man kissed with sensual grace. Aside from the masterful use of his tongue that was about to leave her a panting mess, the subtle movements of his hips against her own left her wanting for more.

Without breaking the kiss, he turned them around so that she was now backed up against his desk. The position reminded her of when he first embraced her in his classroom - her legs open for him to stand between them, and the familiar hardness that pressed against her core.

She let out a small gasp against his lips when he began to grind said erection against her with earnest, the sudden jolt of pleasure catching her off-guard. Delighted at the sounds coming from the young woman before him, he grew even bolder, slowly moving his hands away from her hips to grasp her butt - lifting her unto his desk in one fell swoop.

Heh…”just a peck” my ass. I might actually get fuckidy fucked to the moon and back at this rate. So much for going slow…

Unexpectedly however, her professor soon broke the kiss of his own volition. She was about to protest, but the look in his eyes shut her up immediately. It was filled to the brim with want, and she worried that they now passed the point of no return.

“I would like to touch you...even more. May I?

She was in a bit of a daze, so she was confused as to what he was asking of her. Weren’t they already touching?

Smiling at her confusion, he made it easier for her by showing exactly what he meant.

So, Evelyn nothing short of yelped in surprise when she felt his large hands cup both of her breasts through her dress.

She didn't stop him when he began to massage them - it was as if she were in a trance like state of pleasure. She watched his hands with rapt attention as he played with her breasts, and just the sight of her professor touching her in such an intimate way caused the ache in her sex to worsen. 

She jerked against his hardness with a sudden pinch of a nipple, causing him to release a deep groan of pleasure. 

Evelyn decided that was the sexiest sound she'd ever heard, and she wanted more of it.

So, she began to move her hips in tandem with his, bringing about a friction that left them moaning unashamedly.

"You feel so good, my dear Evelyn… fuck! - I'd give anything in the world to be deep inside your tight-"

Knock knock!

"- Hey..uh... professor Laufeyson? You in there?"

The jarring voice of Andrès froze the two lovers within the room,  effectively breaking the spell of wanton abandon between them.

___________________

A/N: I apologize for the delay! I was busy getting ready for school, doing assignments, etc. That my writing/reading really took a backseat. Also, some exciting news - I’m going to go see betrayal on Oct.13th! I’m so excited...like omg! 

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought, what you 

hope to see, etc.

[angelfire115]

Part 26

The hotel was silent once more, it pretty much was mainly that throughout the day. Tia did occasionly come out and chat with everyone. She was so kind, she wasn't even scared of Alastor, didn't mind Angels sexual jokes or Husks bad drinking or even Niftys' insane energy. All around, she was the most humane person there. It kind of put everyone off but not in a bad way. Their proof for kind demons was also Charlie, even with the swearing and that brawl, Charlie was also nice so everyone rolled with it.

As night approached, everyone disappeared to their rooms. Well, except for Al, he didn't live at the hotel but had his own home to go to. Before he left though, Charlie stopped him. Charlie: "Hey Al, um, I just wanted to say, I'm not mad about the fight earlier, it was kind of my fault anyway". Now why would she say that? It was Vaggie who started and Alastor who made it worse. Alastor: "How is your fault my dear? You didn't do anything wrong". Charlie looked away, a bit nervous but then looked at him again. Charlie: "*sigh* maybe, anyway is your shoulder ok? Sorry I didn't ask earlier but it looked really bad".

Alastor then remembered that painful sensation in his shoulder, he'd forgot about it, he was so concentrated on Charlie's happy and bright aura it left his mind. Remembering seemed to make it worse but he didn't show it, he just smiled to his love and fluttered his red eyes. Alastor: "Thank you for your concern dear but it is no problem, I barely feel it". Charlie wasn't so sure, the wound had to be deep but then again, he looked pretty ok, he is a strong demon after all. Charlie decided to trust him, if anything, he could handle it, right?

She watched as Alastor left the building her smile didn't leave her face till he left. She was so concerned but she didn't want to bother him too much. She's already done enough of that today. With a short sigh, she made her way to her room. While walking the halls she noticed a red stain that wasn't usually there. It was blood, the blood made it look like a bloody hand print. She inspected the blood, who could have done this?

Angel dust came walking by as well and noticed the princess staring at the wall. Angel dust: "Yo Charlie, whatcha starin at the wall for?" He looked where she was looking and saw the stain. His eyes widen a little but he thought for a second. Angel dust: "Huh, blood, wonder who did that.. Wait, didn't smiles have that injury, maybe it's his?". This made the princess heart drop, it made sense, this was Als' blood and by the look of it, he wasn't taking it well.

She rushed past Angel, down the stairs and out the door. Angel ran after her, confused as hell on what she was doing. When she was out the door, she ran full speed. Angel dust: "HEY WAIT, WHERE ARE YOU GOING??!" He called out to her but she didn't answer. Angels never seen her or anyone this concerned, this could though, conclude his suspicion. This princess was head over heels in love with the radio demon.

Meanwhile Charlie ran so fast, she was at his house within seconds. Even though when she walked there last time, it took a few minutes. His house wasn't far from the hotel which made it convenient for him. But that's not something she could concern herself with. She was even more panicked as she noticed bloody hand prints and blood droplets all along the path. Even the door knob was covered in blood.

She banged on the door as hard as she could, not caring if it disturbed any of the neighbours. Charlie: "AL? AL ITS ME CHARLIE, OPEN THE DOOR!". There was no answer, she became more worried. She had no choice, she held both hands on the door knob and slammed her body on it as hard as she could over and over again. Within 3 hits, the door swung open and she fell right in. She noticed on the floor she fell on, there was more blood. She got up quickly and searched the house, following the blood trail that lead to an open and lit up door.

Charlie: "Al? Are you there?". She slowly walked towards the light, as she peaked around the corner she noticed it was a bathroom with Alastor, sitting at the bathtub. His shirt was off and his back was exposed. On his left shoulder was the wound, it looked horrible and extremely deep. Blood was everywhere in the bathroom as well. Alastor turned seeing her horrified look, he was surprised she was there.

Alastor: "Charlie, what are you doing here?". A small radio played beside him as well, on top of the sink. Probably why he didn't hear her. Charlie was still too shocked to answer at first but she swallowed her vomit that almost came out. Charlie: "I-I was worried, y-you, I saw, the blood stains and I-". She couldn't speak all that well, she wasn't really used to seeing blood and gore. Especially this close and this real. Alastor turned to her fully, his smile was still on his face but he didn't look all that well.

Alastor: "Charlie my dear, you worry too much, I'm fine, it isn't the first time really". Because his shirt was off, Charlie was able to see his skin and even, his past wounds. Some looked newer then others. There was so many of them, guess his past was pretty hectic. Some look like cuts and stabs, some looked like gun wounds and more. She slowly walked towards him, so captivated on those old wounds like they were hypnotising her. She reached and touched one of them, the largest one on his body that went from his shoulder to half way down his chest.

Her expression was now sad, he had so many, how could he still be alive from it all. Alastor flinched a little from her touch but settled. Watching her hand stroke that wound made the memories flow of that time. He gently grabbed her hand, holding it in his. Her hands were soft and warm while his were cold and sharp. Alastor: "Heh, don't worry dear, many battles create many wounds, my life wasn't the easiest".

Charlie stood there not moving, she was still sad but still warmed by his gentle touch. He pressed his lips on her hand, giving it a gentle kiss. Charlie clenched her chest, her heart racing a million miles a second but she didn't move or make a sound. Alastor: "But for you my dear, I hoped you'd never see them". He raised his head to look into her eyes, they looked so gentle and beautiful like shining pearls. The air quickly turned sour when Alastor winced in pain. They'd almost completely forgot about his bleeding wound.

Charlie panicked, she's never done anything like this before. Alastor reached for a bottle of alcohol. He placed it over his shoulder, about to pour it on the wound to disinfect it but the second it hit he quickly pulled it away as the pain was too much to bare. Charlie watched with a fearful expression. She was hesitant but wanted to help. Alastor turned back to Charlie but reached the bottle towards her. Alastor: "I'm sorry to ask you this Charlie but would be a dear and pour this on my wound for me?". His face was riddled with regret but if the wound was to be left exposed for too long, it would get worse.

Charlie reached for the bottle, every action she took was hesitant for her fear trickled in her stomach. But she came here to help in any way possible. She stepped closer to Al and slowly poured the liquid on his exposed wound. Alastor winced in pain, trying his best to keep his voice in and his body still. Charlie: *It must hurt like hell*. She wasn't wrong, the alcohol helped but it was incredibly painful. A few minutes had past, his wound was finally wrapped up in bandages and the blood was all cleaned and gone.

She was a bit proud of herself for being brave but felt bad for the pain. Charlie: "Will you be alright now?". Charlie leaned over towards Alastor, they both had moved themselves to the lounge room. Alastor sat in silence for a few minutes while putting on a shirt, he was in the presence of a princess. Alastor: "I will be dear, thank you for your help". Once he was finished placing on a shirt and buttoning it up. He turned his attention to his unexpected companion.

Alastor: "You are full of surprises sweetheart, not only did you run all the way here during the night but even crashed through my door?". They both turned their attention to the slightly banged up door. Alastor chuckled at this thought, she was incredibly amusing. Charlie expression turned a bit embarrassed, she felt bad that she almost broke his door. She was in so much of a panic she wasn't really thinking straight. Charlie: "Sorry for that, I wasn't thinking straight". Alastor waved his hand, dismissing her apology. Alastor: "Do not worry my dear, you've made my night quite entertaining".

They sat in silence, they've been in this position before but from different circumstances. It didn't however make the mood anymore lighter. Although Charlie was quite exhausted, running here, banging that door open, then helping Al with his exposed stab wound drained her completely. She needed to get back although it seems even more exhausting to think about.

Alastor noticed her tired expression and took a deep breath. He placed his elbow on his leg and leaned into his palm, looking at her. Alastor: "You look tired dear, if you want, you can stay here for the night". Charlie looked up at him in surprise but looked away as her face slightly blushed. Charlie: "I-I don't know Al, I've already troubled you enough". Alastor closed his eyes but stayed in the same position. Alastor: "Do not worry, you can take my bed, I'll sleep out here". Charlie backed up a bit, sleeping, in his bed, in his house. WHAT??!

Charlie: "No no no no, it's fine, you shouldn't do that, anyway you need to rest better then I do, you're still hurt, I couldn't let you do that". Alastor grin became wide, showing more teeth then he has all day. He leaned in closer to the princess right to her ear. Charlie tried to back away but the couches edge stopped her. Alastor: "How about we sleep together then?" Charlie's face burst into red colour while steam came from her face. Alastor always teased her but this was too far. Him whispering such a sultry thing in her ear and being so close was heart wrenching at best.

Charlie: "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I....". She couldn't speak any kind of words or any other language for that matter. Her face burned so much it could catch on fire. Alastor chuckled at the amusing princess, her embarrassed and flustered expression never failed to be entertaining. Alastor: "I'm joking my dear, you should know that, but it might be true my wounds need time to heal, they aren't as important as your beauty sleep, the couch maybe comfortable for sitting but not for sleeping". That's wasn't really true though, Charlie had a pretty good sleep on this couch last time she was here.

Charlie was still though, not very good on the idea of sleeping on his bed. But he wouldn't give up on his gentleman ways. She could walk back to the hotel but he would definitely offer to go with her. She could call Vaggie or someone to pick her up but it was so late she didn't want to bother anyone. She had no idea what to do. But the idea perked into her mind, it was embarrassing and she knew he was joking but it would be the only way to satisfy both parties on how this will go.

Charlie hesitated to say anything but worked up her courage. Charlie: "I-I guess, if it's the only way then, I wouldn't, I wouldn't mind... s-sleeping with you". She was so embarrassed, she didn't even look at him. Alastor perked up so quickly it hurt his back in which he winced in pain. Charlie saw this and rushed to help but the second they looked at each other, her face went red again. Charlie backed away in panic, her face becoming hot. Charlie: "I-I'M SORRY, that was stupid to say I know, I just thought that because you, um".

Silence filled the room once more, Charlie sat twiddling her fingers while Al sat a fair distance from her holding his shoulder. The pain slowly went away but that wasn't what was on his mind. Her words were a shock, such a bold move from the princess. Alastor smile grew big again. He chuckled, then laughed a hole heartly one. The night became better and better, the princess becoming more and more irresistible within each moment.

Charlie stared at him, very confused. It didn't take long for her to realise what it was about. How dumb she felt, saying something like that, of course he found it funny. Alastor noticed her angry look and looked away himself. He didn't mean to give her that message. Alastor: "I'm sorry my dear but I couldn't help it, you're incredibly bold for saying such things". Charlie quickly snapped her head to him which surprised him a little. Charlie: "I just was concerned is all, you need your rest because of your wound but you won't let me leave on my own or sleep on the couch because you're being a gentleman". She crossed her arms in an angry humph.

Alastor absorbed this information, it was true though, he wouldn't let her leave on her own or let her sleep on the couch. Guess she felt like it would be the only option. But I guess seeing how this would go would be funny too. Alastor: "Well if it's the only way we'd come to compromise then Ill take you on that". Alastor stood up, walked toward her till he was in front of her. He reached his hand to her chin then lifted to gaze in her eyes. Alastor: "Are you ready?". His deep, sultry voice was back and it sent shivers down her spine. She would never be ready for this but had no choice. How annoyingly heart wrenching this all was?

[usukitomogara]

Especially on sultry days near the end of the rainy season like today, the flesh on both sides turns into an aroma diffuser of death. It is a an exceptionally hideous Oai odor, endlessly also emit and without Mokumoku, change and to hell with the interior space in a moment.

I am a serious, so-called wakiga. It is a wakiger.

If the maximum level of armpits is 10 and the power to bury a hamster in the armpit in seconds, I'm a fairly legendary category of about 8-9.

My half-life can be called a fight with my wakiga. When I was a teenager, I was worried about to die. After graduating from high school, I had apocrine gland removal surgery. It recurred in my late twenties. It became stronger and revived. I was worried again. Every effort was made, but in vain. With the years, the smell became stronger. Today, when I'm in my forties, this armpit has the strongest odor, but I'm not worried at all. I'm even thankful for being born in Wakiga. What is this change like?

It is generally said that there are different types of wakiga odors, but in my case, the rotten odors of milk, fish, meat and onions, urine, vinegared rice, mold, iron odors, all of which are left over. Is blended without. Approximately all the bad odors that a human can have are generously condensed into a certain gas. It is, so to speak, a Western music HIT compilation "NOW" in the world of wakiga.

The quality is high, but the quantity is great. The white T-shirt is yellow for both sides so that it doesn't last for a season. The gray T-shirt is sweaty before you leave the house. When I was delivering a newspaper, I sometimes delivered it by pinching the morning newspaper. Originally a highly absorbent newspaper, the thirty copies of the morning edition were all covered in sweat from the front page to the program table.

On a hot and humid day like today, I think it's a nightmare-like smelt.

As I continue to smell the same odor 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, I feel the stimulus is fresh, so it's easy to imagine how much hell someone else stepping into my wakidein range can see me to hell. .. Moreover, its power goes beyond mere "smell". The power of wakiga is supposed to be effective only against the nasal cavity, but at my level, the attack extends to the throat and lungs.

Since the apocrine glands beside me awoke and wakiga began to rage, people nearby were coughing violently. In a crowded train, in a classroom, at a convenience store, and as people pass by on the street, people cough with a few tears. A weak-legged grandfather with a cane blows his dentures, and coughs like crazy enough to pull his soul half out of his body. Of course, there is also the possibility of beliefs due to excessive self-consciousness. As a single hope, the logic is that the visual sensations rather than the odor, that is, the teratogenicity of my body, makes people dislike and consciously coughs as an expression. I had also assembled. But it was useless.

On the street, I once tried to overtake a young eagle worker who walked forward. The younger man began to cough violently when the distance gradually decreased and three meters left. With the same tone that I often hear on the train. The young man has not even perceived a pedestrian behind him. People were cruelly honest about the transparent gas of Wakiga.

Naturally, I was worried about to die when adolescents were concerned about the opposite sex.

When I was a junior high school student, every year the summer was approaching and I wanted to die from the end of GW. Finally, I decided to prepare for only Y-shirts. This is because the sweat stain becomes noticeable, as well as the smell becomes stronger. Like malnourished children in developing countries, or Pygmon, I always close my arms tightly, and when I pick up things, I move them only from the elbows. Such efforts were vain, and Amraco gals who were high in school caste sweared in the halls and so on, saying, "I'm really wacky, but w", and were given nicknames such as durian, kebab, and sushitaro.

It was winter, especially hell. Instead of worrying about sweat stains, Gakuran gives off a ferocious stench. It smells like a dry rag left in the shade for a week after wiping plenty of milk. Wakiga has no breaks. The thick cloth, Gakuran, has bad breathability, so I rather sweat. The sweat that has no place to escape evaporates, and the inner and Y-shirts function as a two-layer filter to filter, and high-purity wakiga extract is caught by the outer Gakuran fabric. In addition, winter drying causes bacteria to grow. The occurrence of violent stench is inevitable.

Besides, Gakuran doesn't wash so often. When I returned from school, I used water and detergent only on the side of the school run to wash my hands. It's something I'll wear the next day, so I can't just give it a fair sun. I have to dry it by morning. Therefore, after washing with water, I kept the dryer in the washroom for 2-3 hours. Finally, between the dryer and the cloth, it clicks! And when the blue lightning like Cherenkov light ran, I thought I had gone as far as possible. However, the effort was not rewarded, and the next day, the smell of detergent was added to the above-mentioned bad odor, which made people around him uncomfortable.

I decided to have an operation after having troubled myself to the point of mental collapse. Human relations are reset during the spring break after graduating from high school. I thought it would be the only time to do it. At the clinic in Ikebukuro, which is a comprehensive department store of plastic surgery, laser hair removal, chin excision, nasal prosthesis placement, silicone boobs, and almost anything related to beauty, shame the waiting room crowded by model-like sisters Shinobu jumped in. I made an appointment for the surgery day at the first visit without consulting my parents. My mother was an old man who never allowed me to put a scalpel on my parent's body. I have never confessed about wakiga's worries. However, I wonder if I secretly knew what I was doing, and when I showed him the invoice, he transferred nearly 200,000 yen without saying anything.

On the day of the operation, in the operating room of Norinori, where club music was played, the operation proceeded by a young teacher with a chara allback and a nurse in a pink nurse outfit sold at Don Quixote. Since I had a partial anesthesia, my teacher asked me about some wakiga while he was cutting the apocrine gland. It was my first time to confess to another person at this time, but it was easy to talk with a light teacher, so when I started talking, I could not stop. I felt comfortable as I was talking, and I had no surgery, so it seemed silly that I was worried about death. Sunny, I got the long-cherished odorless armpit that would not drop a single drop of side sweat even in midsummer. I suffered from complete numbness around the armpit and some numbness, leaving scars like swelling of the earthworm, but it does not hurt my life.

Having suffered for as long as you die can turn you over to what you love as you die. Shigeru Mizuki, the famous author of the manga "GeGeGe no Kitaro", lost one arm in Rabaul, the destination of the war in the previous war, and returned to life after nine deaths. Since the arrival of peace after the war, he has loved the land of the once-threatening Rabaul and has visited it more than 10 times. It's annoying to cite it, but about two years after I got an odorless wakiga, I fell in love with the wakiga that would have afflicted me once. To be precise, the smell of the armpits of women began to become extraordinarily excited.

When I was twenty, I miraculously had a girlfriend (probably kanako) and abandoned her virginity. Strictly not her, she is a woman who has sex. Not a sex friend. There is nothing to communicate with each other other than sex. It was like a human masturbation product where you would go back to TSUTAYA to return to the DVD and go home with a rusty mama-chari on the brakes when you went out to meet each other. To that proof, kanako appeared before me without much makeup. Even rice has never been eaten together. I don't mind this, I'll let you do it every time, and I thought I didn't have to worry about it.

More than a year after having sex for the first time, and when I don't know how many times I had sex, it's not uncommon to have a fellatio even when I have a fellatio. In such a case, I closed my eyes and said in my head, "The woman who is sucking now is Chun-Li, Chun-Li, Chun-Li, Chun-Li..." There are times when you look at it when you open it, fold up the newspaper, and raise your heavy waist, which can make you feel better, but it also becomes less useful.

One day, when sex was downgraded to act equivalent to dungeon and brushing teeth, one day when I went to kanako's room, I was wearing a sleeveless leopard dress like a primitive man's control and folding laundry. I was struck by the appearance of life and shabbyness. It is said that her husband got it in arcade. Thinking that I should go home and do wii's Zelda legend, I knew something instinctively when Kanako reached out to take Kabuki or take something from the shelf. Then, suddenly, I stopped looking at the mobile phone and turned my gaze to kanako. I stood up quickly. The armpit of Kanako who looked into suddenly had a little hair under her hair because of her daily laziness. I stay as it is! Yelled. Then, he approached and fixed the bottle-bottom glasses that were slipping down, and looked at it a little... seriously. In me, the sound of the earth started to sound. I took kanako's arm and opened her arm full. I desperately restrained my trembling arm to close it immediately. I had been overlooked until now. How beautiful...! Suddenly, the humidity was suddenly released. It was like a breath of spring under a cherry tree in full bloom. Kanako who shook Kabuki on the floor and trembled suddenly.... It's a revolution! Magma overflowed with a terrible explosion. For the first time in over a month, I slammed my One Piece and threw it on a futon with my princess hugging, holding my kana child hall violently. Hugged, sniffed, sniffed, hugged. While sticking from behind, I put my finger under my sweaty armpit and sniffed it. While covering from the top, the face armpits that made me live, buried my face under my armpit, licked Peron Peron, and screamed on my tongue were the drugs themselves. That night, as if I met him for the first time, he got crazy again and again. No, I didn't have time to wither. Even though I'm a woman who can eat Katsu-don while turning the TV channel, even if my boobs are blown out in front of me!

From that day on, waki became cheese-in-hamburger and kana became like parsley in me. On weekdays, if you can't smell under your armpit for a while, it becomes like a withdrawal symptom. Oh, I want to sniff and lick my armpit quickly. I want to see Wakiko. I'm almost suffocated! After opening the door of kanako's apartment for the first time in a week, it was as if a mid-distance runner had run 400m, and immediately, while being held by a coach, he was able to apply an oxygen respirator and breathe into his armpits with all his might. .. I was alive again, and my tears overflowed. Kanako was not a so-called wakiga, but when she sucked her nose against it, it smelled of a strange rotten smell. When I took a deep deep breath, the odor filled my lungs, and got into the bloodstream, my brain was stained pink.

At first, kanako showed a real dislike of being able to see and smell her armpit hair, and looked down at me with awake eyes while her face was buried. I couldn't respond even if I asked by mouth, so I had no choice but to take violent measures like rape. However, apparently it seems that this is a real pervert, or it is due to familiarity, I have obeyed obediently. In the middle of the foreplay, when I quickly sensed that I couldn't get up today with the intuition of a woman, I started to open myself. There may have been a case where he should get erected early in order to avoid the slight shock of not getting erected. My interest and demand for armpits increased day by day. By the way, kanako is a mixed race from Naha, it's a public image as if it's completely open, I'm one year older, sexual role is S, I'm M stakeout piston cowgirl (with me. It was a classic course to get fucked by the second joint of (Anal finger insertion). However, as for the armpits, I will be reversed to S, and kanako will be reversed to M (probably unwilling). Then I was instructed not to shave my armpit hair. The day before I met, I was instructed to never wash my armpits. I think kanako was horrible and obeyed because my eyes were so serious. I was surprised that I had the ability to train an older woman according to my taste. In the summer evening, kanako got into the doorstep of my house after she finished her tele-apo job, and I walked over and forced Kanako's frightened shirt off and banzai, walking from the station and still sweating. I caught the stuffy underarms that didn't pull, sticking like Tuchu Chupa Chupa, like an alien larva, and, as it was, poked into the back at the entrance. I'm already like a mother, I'm farting in front of people in public, there is a rubber mark on my pants on my stomach, I wake the kettle for the time being to get up, make a snorkel like an old man, It smells like a dungeon stewed overnight over low heat, soaks into the bar until late every night, and you're fishing for a man that you can choose, a woman like a rainy weekly playboy who can't stir up excitement. Against! Was it because I owned this woman that I had such a painful surgery for Wakiga?

It's funny, I think my thoughts were understood, kana grew up. When I was sniffed at my side and got licked, I got excited, my secret meat drooped like squid smoked, and the surrounding area was soaking wet with a soil-colored manko with perennial millet. In the end, I was messing with myself, and I licked it and even showed off my sides. But even beside that special presence, I wasn't excited for about three months, then I didn't see kanako, and I went into a long, long second virgin. I don't think human beings without human beings are endless. (In the news of the wind, kanako heard that five years ago, she was drunk and crossing the street, and was killed by a taxi. There was an idiot.)

Even now, even if I am just sleeveless, even an aunt in my 50's will come awkward, I will like girls who have a light smell on the side, and even if I see the word "woman's armpit" If not, the preheat mode will be turned on lightly. What was that talking about? Yeah, I was talking about my own armpit.

By the way, I had a surgery for wakiga, and I thought that I could live a life that was free from those worries. Apocrine gland (in my opinion, Moomin's Nyoronyoro) slowly revived over the course of about five years. I wondered if it would ever be removed again, so I grew up thicker, stronger and stronger than before. At the same time, the sensation of the paralyzed skin and the armpit hair that was partly shaved were restored with the same foot. The smell was stronger than before, staying in one place, and when I got lost in the forest, I went back by following the humbling silver fly. It was

Fortunately, however, science and technology have evolved over the last few years, and companies have found that antiperspirants are much more effective than they were in their teens. In the past, the only concept was to disguise it by applying a strong scent to the wakiga, but the mainstream was to remove the odor itself, such as the power of silver. Thanks to that, I was able to reduce the odor for about 8 hours during the daytime. If it smelled at the time limit during the drinking party, I should have done it like Cinderella. However, the effect seems to be effective only for the smell sensed by the nasal cavity, and it seems that the fine particles of the poison of Wakiga do not disappear. The crazy coughing around me was the same as before. But since it doesn't smell, the source couldn't be identified... In this way, I was able to live a group life in my late twenties and early thirties, without cheating or cheating, without being disliked by the open arms.

And last month, after I had been smoking cigarettes for the first time in my life, the smell became stronger. The deodorant stone, which is said to be the strongest in removing odors, doesn't work anymore. During the delivery of Uber Eats, I am waking up Wakiga to Max, while I am traveling around the crowded city, McDonald's, and each customer's house, so it is close to terrorism (only when delivering a kebab ).

But, as I said at the beginning, I don't really worry about my wakiga suffering from others. This is because the way of thinking has changed in the last few years. Let's go wakiga! I think positively. There was no need to worry and shame. If you think about it, I've done something awkward on my body. Putting a scalpel on the armpit and removing the apocrine gland is like a hedgehog squeezing all of the body's body. It's like giraffe getting surgery and shortening his neck.

The personal characteristics of the human body are always meaningful, no matter how negative they seem. Thanks to that feature, we have survived a severe competition for thousands and tens of thousands of years. In my case, I am today because I have inherited armpits for thousands of years and raised armpits. This odor is a height of art that has been honed and reached over tens of thousands of years of incredible time. If Wakiga was disliked in some generation and the apocryline was removed with a stone ax, my bloodline would have been cut off immediately. Besides, illusory is not ill, unlike illness. When a person is born, it is an Amazon-only initial purchase bonus ability that is provided as a given thing. I was convinced that the apocrine glands, which were still growing after inserting a female, had a tremendous necessity for my survival. To be honest, I'm sorry to do that.

There is absolutely no universal value. It just happens that a particular group of island nations in the Far East today are not accepting wakiga. It was swayed by a crowded train every morning, pushed into a small room all day long, absolutely obeyed the above command, and faced with the same human for a long time, which brought about the prosperity of the nation. Over a period of time, too much body odor was unpleasant. On the contrary, welcome conditions...Ikemen, high height, small face, slender, leg length etc. artificially created by Dentsu etc. as a value standard suitable for making people obedient and comfortable living in a group. People just take things and believe in them. What a person likes and dislikes is just one of the biased ideas of the myriad of options. The ability that is really necessary for an individual to survive is not something that others can arbitrarily decide. It shouldn't be easy to decide. You should listen to the voices of your ancestors who have survived the fierce competition for survival in your body.

As you can see, I always use the FANZA sample to make me squeeze in my female armpit licking video. In other words, I want to combine my own wakiga gene with the female wakiga gene to leave a species with a stronger wakiga for future generations. Instinct, not reason, encourages that. In other words, the will of the universe. Denying Wakiga is synonymous with going against God.

Indeed, Wakiga will ward off people with its unpleasant odor. But is it bad to keep people away or to be lonely?

no. Solitude is also a necessary condition for humans to survive.

What is the best preventive measure against today's raging coronavirus?

So far, you already know.

Humankind has been exposed to epidemics every few hundred years.

In today's information society, social distance is considered to be the best, and is transmitted to people. But what did humanity do before inventing letters and words?

There was no choice but to let the epidemic spread.

The distance between people was extremely high, and the mammoth BBQ way-way Leah was infected and died.

Meanwhile, there are some who have escaped the infection. It's the caveman who is always alone in a cave in the mountains, our progenitor, Wakiga.

Since ancient times, the Wakiga people have realized a social distance, whether they like it or not, by keeping people away with its unpleasant odor. And by being lonely, he has survived the epidemic of repeated plagues.

With the above, I tell Yukipoyo-like little girls.

What's important about after-corona is not good-looking, tall, small face, slender, or tall, nor do you have a hairstyle like a Korean-style idol and make a fool of way at Kawahara BBQ! Such is the illusion created by the ill-advised Adman, who forces Hakuhodo's two-block black-rimmed glasses, who extort the sense of being a Hinadan entertainer. They will eventually wipe out the green bubbles from their mouths and die crazy.

It's only wakiga, loneliness, that is, a man like me, that you should make your uterus squirm. If you were saying "I'm serious, but w" like you were at a convenience store, you're sure to be destined to regret it!

And one more important thing.

If any of your daughters had an underarm odor, please don't feel embarrassed. I don't want to apply deonature. I don't want a scalpel. It's worth more than Chanel's crap. Also, please do not shave your armpit hair. Because it is as beautiful as the wings of an angel.

Also, if you don't mind, please let my uncle lick the armpits. Ehe. I hope you squeeze it by pinching it on the side where the hair grows. Ehehe.

Thank you for your consideration.

[longneckreach]

Interlude: Plague Rat

Aspis lifted his head to peer out through the arena exit of his cell.

The guards shouting and swearing wasn’t exactly new, but they normally didn’t have this much trouble moving a single box—he blinked. He remembered that cage; the black Fae, from the fight two weeks ago. He’d stopped thinking about her. Just like the rest of them, every other day she was hauled out of her cage to stretch her wings and get a chance to practice sparring.

Unlike the rest of them she was always left in twelve-point tiedowns, kept chained to her cage.

Most of the time, she didn’t struggle; today she had laid down quietly and let them carry her out, and proceeded through a series of practice patterns without any incident. And then, of course, she’d thrown a dull training knife into a guard’s eye and taken off, managing to rip one of her wing piercings through the membrane.

It hadn’t been enough, of course. The worst thing was that they just let her struggle, wearing herself out in the heat until the gong rang to send her group of fighters back to their holes.

And of course she hadn’t gone willingly. She’d clawed a Mirror guard’s face to the bone before being forced back into her cage, and even after the remaining tiedowns had been fastened, she was still thrashing and managing to draw blood from the talons of the dragons carrying her.

Aspis would have grinned if it wasn’t so depressing. She drew crowds because the spectacle of a killer fae who had to be restrained this heavily was novel; but her fights weren’t...cinematic. And she kept stabbing the guards. One of these days they were going to kill her.

“You know what? Fine!” one of the guards exclaimed, dropping her side of the cage. The other swore as he was left with the full weight, and hastily dropped it as well. “Stay out here!”

The Fae hissed at their backs as they dumped her in the center of the arena, directly under the burning sun. With her wings forcibly spread, she couldn’t even raise one to shield herself.

The butt of a spear banging against the ceiling grate made Aspis jump.

“Get moving, Meatshield,” the guard called down. “Your turn.”

The bars started to lift. Thinking quickly, Aspis bent down and picked up his half-full water bucket between his teeth. This was the Wasteland; the water tasted foul but it was better than nothing. None of the guards tried to challenge him over it—they didn’t really care what the gladiators did, as long as it didn’t require their captors to do any additional work.

Blood-red eyes snapped up to meet his as he edged up to the bound Fae.

“My, um,” he said. “My name is Aspis.”

“I don’t care,” she replied, frills tight against her neck, a common Fae trick to avoid giving away any emotional information. She didn’t make any move like she was planning to hurt him, but with this one, that didn’t mean much.

Cautiously, he placed the bucket of water within her reach. She never broke eye contact as she stretched her neck out as far as the chains would allow, snagging the edge with her fangs and tipping it just enough to guzzle the contents down. When she finally twitched the empty bucket aside, her frills hadn’t moved; but her glare had subsided just a bit.

“Show me your throat,” she ordered.

“W-what?”

She closed her eyes, tucking as much of her neck as she could manage underneath her wings.

“If you face me in the arena,” she said, flatly even for a Fae. “Show me your throat. I’ll make it painless.”

“I...can’t do that. They have my sister.”

She didn’t respond.

=

He hadn’t expected to interact with the black Fae again. But the guards, who’d apparently gotten sick of the death of a thousand cuts, were quick to take advantage of having a dragon on hand who was stupid enough to approach their champion on purpose.

Swamp trash and plague rats, they said, poking him toward her cage with sticks. Match made in the heavens. Go on then, Meatshield, if you two are such good friends now.

Exhausted and overheated, dehydrated despite a Bogsneak’s portion of water earlier in the day, the “plague rat” had met his questioning look, rolled her eyes, and managed a short nod.

She hadn’t slit his throat when he picked her up, so that was something.

It was so convenient that it became a regular practice. At first the guards would let him out of his cell ahead of the rest of his training cohort, to carry her cage back. Sometimes she’d subside in exasperation when she saw who it was, but most of the time Aspis just got his share of slashed paws and bites to the face.

“Nothing personal,” she said once as his bleeding nose dripped onto her wings. 

“No,” he’d said, and meant it. “I get it.”

Eventually, one of the older cohort was killed in the arena, and for convenience’s sake the guards moved Aspis into that slot.

So he’d gotten to spend even more time with his new friend. Eventually, apparently taking the constant injuries as proof of a lifelong friendship or, more likely, because they thought it was funny, the guards took to shutting the door behind Aspis when he delivered her to her cell.

“You’ve been reassigned, Meatshield,” one of them called down when he yelled to be let out while the Fae snapped mulishly at his tail. “Raiding party brought in some fresh bodies. Your little plague rat doesn’t take up much space. You’ll be fine. Now shut up before I give you something to scream about.”

Apparently, they were roommates now.

“Stop it,” he snapped. “I’m not your enemy.”

She snorted, but she also stopped trying to bite him. “That mindset will get you killed. Tomorrow they could pit you against me. Every dragon here is your enemy.”

“They’re not my enemies,” he muttered, curling up a safe distance away from her. “They’re all just trying to survive. The dragons who put us here are our enemies.”

She was quiet for a while. “Philosophical. They’ll still kill you, though.”

“Not if I kill them first. These raiders can make me kill for them, but they can’t make me hate their other victims.”

“Sometimes their victims are bitchy little plague rats who scar your pretty paws.”

He didn’t actually disagree with that assessment, but still. “Well, I don’t hate you. I want to bite you back sometimes, though. And don’t call yourself that, you’re not a plague rat. What’s your name? I’m Aspis.”

“You told me that already.”

Before he had time to think about how stupid it was, he flicked her in the face with his tail. She was either amused by it, or too shocked to rip his tailtip off. “It’s called making conversation.”

As well as she could, the Fae turned her back on him. She was silent for long enough that Aspis assumed the conversation was over. With a sigh, he lay down and closed his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said finally. “We’re not people here. I don’t want to be. I’m going to get out, and maybe then I’ll have a name again.”

Aspis hummed quietly. “The only thing they can’t take from me is that I’m still myself.”

“Better to let that part rest and do what you have to. You can wake it up again when you escape.”

“I’m never going to get out,” he said. It...surprised him, how easy it was to say. “So maybe that’s why. There won’t be an after. And I can’t say I did what I had to in order to survive, because I know I won’t. And anyway, we don’t have to. We could refuse. We could die instead of letting them turn us into monsters. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m choosing this.”

“I thought they had your sister.”

“They do. That’s why I’m choosing to kill other dragons, because they said if I keep winning in the arena they’ll let her go someday. But it’s a choice. I’m choosing her life above all of these other people who are no different from me. I have to remember that.”

“What then?”

“What?”

A rattle of chains as the Fae twitched. “If they let her go. You can escape then. There’s still an after.”

“No.” There it was again. There was...almost a sense of peace. Certainty. “After that, I’m not killing for them ever again. They can’t make me place my life above someone else’s. Al’s life is different. Once she’s safe, they can’t control me anymore. I’m still Aspis. They can’t make me forget that.”

A vague hum. “You’ll go mad that way.”

“Well, it’ll still be me.” Aspis rested his head on the grimy floor and closed his eyes. “I hope you get out, plague rat.”

“Keep your hope. I don’t need it.”

Aspis rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. He just leaned into the wall and tried to fall asleep.

Just as he was dozing off, a monotone whisper in the darkness.

“Kpinga.”

[emotionalgirl101]

Question | Stray Kids

Words: 2,137

Genre: college au, angst, fluff

Pairing: SKZ x reader

Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc).

A/N: I got the 20 notes, so let’s see how this goes. First fic in a long time. Pls hit up my inbox/asks to give feedback. If you guys like it, it’ll become a series. First chapter has Minho only, but I hope to bring the other boys into it soon. PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK! 

Question Masterlist

-------------------------------

You swear, if one more snobby lady asked you to bargain down on the price of that brand new lace top, you were actually going to throw a something at somebody. By no means was working in retail the worst job you could have, but after dealing with haggling customers, who can more than afford these prices, you wanted to throw hands. You wouldn’t, though. Partially as it was unprofessional, and you desperately needed to keep this job, but also because you were lazy and had some form of a moral compass.

After finally shooing the last customer out of the door 5 minutes after you were due to be closing, you counted the tills, killed the lights and left, after double checking the locks.

You could use a drink. A strong one, and wasn’t it convenient that your bartender buddy happened to be working tonight a few blocks down the road

Without a care in the world, you threw open the door and settled into the closest bar stool with a huff. The smiling idiot that turned around to greet you didn’t even think twice about your demeanour, emulated from the scowl upon you face. A preciously innocent 'hi' left his mouth.

You knew Minho was taunting you. That’s because he knew you were just here to vent about how shit work was today. He was just trying not to laugh his head off at what had now become a routine, ever since he told you where he worked. Something you’d never know if you hadn’t been paired with the boy in a compulsory uni class all those months ago.

“You’re lucky I like you” you grumbled, letting your bag fall under your stool with a thud and a shot of vodka simultaneously appearing in front of you. You quirked your eyebrow at the guy across the bar from you, a smirk on his face and a hand towel draped over his right shoulder. “On the house” he smiled, then continued cleaning up behind the bar. taking the shot, raising it slightly in a cheers to the raven haired bartender, and throwing it down your throat. You willingly let the burn set in. you didn’t drink often, but when you did, you drank often. With Minho behind the bar, it was sure to be one of those nights. 

You clumsily slammed the shot glass back onto the table and looked up at the older kid. He was now leaning back against the opposite side of the bar, arms folded, looking your way. The black muscle tee showed off his arms, and his messy black hair giving off a heavier aura of boyish charm. You had no clue how this guy became your best friend. 

Not only was it unlikely, if it weren’t for the circumstances, that you’d naturally become close, but the age difference made it strange that you had been in the same class at all. After explaining the fact he had multiple gap years before attending uni, it clicked. You were both grateful that you’d wandered into each other’s paths. 

“What time do you clock off?” you asked pointedly, as your best friend went ahead and poured you another shot, this time joining you for some peach soju. “10. early shift tonight.” he shrugged nonchalantly. 

You looked up at the clock, slightly above his head to the left. “20 minutes. Not bad.” you nod. Glasses clinked and were soon empty. 

“Wish it was sooner. Hot chick came in before and asked for my number. Stupid manager forced me away before I could accept it. By the time I got back, she was gone.” his recount the events from earlier in the night were followed by a sigh. He looked down at his hands, spinning the glass in his fingers, still leaning towards you from across the bar. Out of nowhere, he quickly leaned back and upright, “Probably for the best, though. Have to beat the boys in a chicken and beer competition tonight, anyway. Can’t break tradition.” he beamed.

“It’s things like these that keep me up at night.” you sighed heavily, shaking your head cheekily at his behaviour.

He looked confused, eyebrows hiding in his tussled hair, and arms folded once again in question. “The fact that an eating competition with your roommates, that you could do literally any other night, was a decent reason to blow off the possibility of going on a date.” you shook your head once more, chuckling at his antics when he acted as if he couldn’t see a problem with the statement. “So?”

“So," you continued, trying to hide the smirk playing on your lips, "You always talk about wanting to get back into the dating game, but not being able to actively go out and look for it. The golden opportunity was literally right in front of you, and you’d still choose chicken and beer?” Looking at him, amused, you could practically see the cogs turning in Minho's head. 

He stood up straight, shrugged. “Yeah”, then turned back to clean the glasses on the bench behind him. At this point, you weren’t surprised anymore, but at least he couldn’t blame you for not pointing out the error of his ways. 

The boy in front of you looked up at the clock above. “I’m done.” he tactlessly announced, removing his apron and chucking it haphazardly on the bar. After grabbing another bottle of soju, he made his way over to your side of the bar, sitting across from you.

You smiled contently as he showed off the grape flavoured liquor in his clasp, like a game show host with his comical grin, and poured your drinks. He took the cap off the bottle then and twisted the loose end, ready to play a round of your flicking competition. He flicked hard and swiftly towards the ground, the twisted tail of the cap putting up no resistance to the movement.

“So," you began, as you took the soju lid from his grasp. Minho looked at you as if you were a child denying you ate the last cookie. "Since they're all home tonight... Can I finally meet the boys?” the question rolling off your tongue so innocently, eyes still trained on the bottle lid as you flicked it. You looked up at him with a cheeky smile, as you handed it over to him for his go. “Nuh-uh” he responded without hesitation, once again more focused on delivering a powerful hit.

"Seriously? Why the hell not?" You got defensive at his ridiculousness, and it was showing. Without lifting his gaze, he shrugged. "Someone is bound to get hurt. So, how about you don't meet them and nobody does. Everybody wins." He looked up from the cap in hand with a smug grin. The spiral end was only a flick or two away from breaking. You weren't happy, arms folded and staring right into his soul, courage and charisma bubbling up as the alcohol was slowly kicking in.

"Excuse me? You're so convinced that I'll hurt them that you haven't considered it's the last thing I'd ever want to do." You huffed. You snatched the cap off the boy. If you couldn't get your way, at least you could win this stupid drinking game. 

You lined up your fingers towards the top of the spiral's end. Your flick had strength behind it, but your strategic placement meant there wasn't a huge effect. The end was still attached to the cap, but no where near as secure. Pleased, you went to hand it back to Minho, only then noticing the look on his face. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, trying to suppress a smirk from taking over his face, but the glint in his eye couldn't hide his amusement from you. 

"What?" You said sharply, attempting to fold your arms, but looking awkward in the process. The end of the cap poked into your skin as you hooked your hand around your opposite arm. You tried to play it off, but no way did Minho miss it, and the thought of hiding his amusement was long forgotten. He giggled at you, especially more so when you tried not to do the same. You hit him playfully, and waited for him to speak his mind.

"Nothing, it's just..." He looked but up at you with an adoring smile. "You immediately assumed you'd be the one to hurt them. You didn't even consider that I was worrying about you, dummy." He wrapped his arm around you, as you smiled softly back. He was the best big brother figure you could ask for.

"I think I can handle myself, thank you very much." You teased the boy after the tender moment passed. He retracted his arm and leant back in feigned shock, hand on his chest, mouth and eyes wide. "You sure are sassy aren't you?"

Your shared laughter rang out in the empty bar, replying to the boy as you poured the next round of shots. "What I lack in height, I make up for in attitude." You shot him a wink as you both downed the soju. You were starting to feel a slight buzz by now. "Seriously, though. It's sweet to worry about me, but how can you be certain it'll end badly? Why not just give it a shot?"

He didn't seem uncomfortable under your inquisitive gaze. Rather, he didn't seem to notice. He just stared at the glass on the bench top, pushing it between his fingers while he was mulling it all over. After a while, he sighed and tilted his head up slightly towards me, looking like a shy little boy. There's no doubt this kid was charming, flaunting his looks as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

"What would you do if I say no?" There was no hint of teasing in his voice. It was just a straight forward question. "Easy. Just sit here and drink away my sorrows about not meeting your friends 'til 3am." He snickered and you just smiled.

"You can't just stay here." Minho laughed at you, eyes creasing into crescents. "Why the hell not? You've dragged me into this hellhole, but you can't make me leave!" You both continued to double over in laughter at the absurdity of the whole situation. That one simple question took such a barely philosophical discussion.

"I'll just get them to ban you. I work here remember?" taunting you with a raise of his eyebrows. You retorted with a roll of your eyes after a snicker. "Please. You can't get rid of me that easily. Besides, isn't it illegal or something to kick me out without a decent reason? That's unfair dismissal or something-or-rather."

He was almost crying at his point, clutching his stomach from the pain of laughing so much. You were struggling to breathe, too. "Y/n, that only applies when you get fired from a job for no reason." You had a Minho-like moment of realisation, with an 'oh' trailing behind it from your lips. Then you were both back at it laughing.

"Yeah, I'm cutting you off. Sober Y/n wouldn't have said that... Probably." You playfully hit him again as you both climbed off the stools, making your way to the door. Minho had grabbed your bag while you slightly stumbled on ahead. The drinking game and half empty soju bottle long gone from your thoughts by this point in the night.

You stopped abruptly, spinning around and barely keeping your balance in the process. "Wait." He quirked an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue. "You never answered. Yes or no to me meeting the boys. Tonight. Like, now." You were serious but neutral, making Minho smirk at your drunk mannerism. He looked at you, "One last question. How are you getting home tonight?"

You answered without hesitation. "Public transport. Parking is way too expensive, plus I'm drunk, so." He nodded. "Okay, yeah, that's out of the question at this time of night. You're coming back to mine."

You nodded, turned around, and heading to the door once again. Then it hit you. You spun back around immediately, with no almost slips, which surprised you both. "I GET TO MEET THE BOYS!" You squealed and flung yourself at the older boy, and he let out a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get going before I change my mind." You smiled, turning back around. You marched through the door with Minho in toe, heading towards his apartment. At least, you thought so.

"Uh, Y/n..." He sounded unsure but you could see the smirk on his face when you span around. "My apartment's this way." He lazily gestured in the opposite direction in which you had been walking.

"I knew that."

>>

[the-darklings]

as dark as the night (maybe darker still);

pairing: villain!rk900 x hero!reader

words: 3.3k+

request: none, but this idea began with this post and I highly suggest you read it before continuing on because this fic is a direct continuation/expansion of it.

notes: your girl is trash what can I even say? The morality/struggle of romantic villain x reader relationship is too tempting also ~Nines~

warnings: NADA 

. . .

“He refuses to talk.”

You bit your tongue while Hank released a colourful array of swear words at Connor’s quiet declaration.

“I say we throw the fucker in a hole somewhere, and make sure he never sees the light of day,” Hank snapped angrily. “He has some nerve after everythin’ he’s done—”

“It doesn’t work like that, Lieutenant,” you cut in, a note of disapproval clear in your voice, “I appreciate this is a difficult situation for you, considering it was your squad that he—”

“Yeah! He butchered them. That crazy asshole didn’t so much as blink,” Hank barked, fury lacing every inch of his face and voice. “If you had just—”

“Lieutenant,” Connor interrupted, a heavy furrow of his eyebrows showcasing his displeasure, “We cannot throw blame around. Besides...he said he will talk under one condition.”

Your head turned to your partner—your friend—in confusion, only to find his calm, steady gaze already fixed on you.

The realisation was like icy water being dumped all over you.

“No,” was your strangled whisper, heavy and nervous, “No Connor—I—I refuse.”

Connor took a hurried step towards you, reaching forward in that steadying, calming manner you’ve seen him use hundreds of times, “(Name) I’m sorry but he said he will only talk with you. I’m sorry to have to ask this but you know that I—”

“No,” you growled angrily, harsh bitterness bleeding through your tone, “I have done enough. I have given up enough. Please don’t ask this of me Connor. Please, as my friend, I’m begging you don’t ask me to speak with him. I—I can’t,” you trailed off, your voice growing weaker and more hurt the further you went.

There was something about Nines—Richard, you had called him Richard once, lovingly and soft; the way one would confess their deepest desires in secret—that managed to weaken you explicitly every time.

“It seems like this weakness might be mutual after all.”

His gentle words were like the sharp edges of a knife he had stuck into your gut only a month ago. If it hadn’t been for Connor—

But Rich—Nines knew about Connor coming too. Always three, five, ten steps ahead of everyone else.

“You’re always smarter and stronger, is there even a point in trying with you?” you had asked once with a mild laugh.

His smirk was softer than usual, almost warm as he brushed his fingers down the length of your arm, interlocking your fingers together. Something flitted across his expression as he thoughtfully gazed down at your connected hands.

“You challenge me (Name),” he had confessed then, words clearly foreign to him by the careful way he spoke them. “You make me question things. Your power is...it calls to me. I enjoy you in ways I have never enjoyed another's presence. I think...”

Your eyebrows had hiked up at his hesitation. That was unusual—odd, in fact—in a man who breathed meticulously constructed words and plans. Everything about Richard was composed and methodical.

“What is it?”

“I think you and I are meant to complete each other,” he whispered slowly, almost reverently, as he pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss against your temple. “No one has ever come close to equalling my power, but you...we will change this world together (Name).”

“(Name), please,” Connor’s pleading voice tore through the hazy memory, splintering it brutally. “We need to know what happened to Markus. I wish more than anything I didn’t have to ask this. But this is the last time. We find where Markus is being kept, and you will never have to see him again, you have my word.”

Something moved just beneath your skin; a hard, nameless thing you didn’t dare to acknowledge. Your power rolled just beneath the fragile layer, and you knew your unease came from Connor’s words, as well as the fact that the one who always sparked your abilities the most was close.  

The look you gave Connor was full of bitterness, mixed with sadness as you shoved past him, not bothering to look at the glaring Lieutenant.

“(Name)—”

“Don’t bother,” you spat out, not letting Connor finish, “I do this one thing for you Connor. But you never contact me after this again, understood? I’m done.”

You stormed out of the room, pausing before the first door on your right. You could feel it even now. The tingle, the subtle buzz; like low level electric current running up and down your skin.

The door hissed open, and you walked into the holding cell stiffly, head held high. The sole light hung above the table, faintly illuminating the room as you dragged a metal chair back, seating yourself down in one orderly motion.

He sat opposite to you, his black turtleneck blending in with the shadows of the room. His head was tilted back, baring the smooth, powerful shape of his neck as his eyes remained closed. His elegant, long fingers were folded on the table, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he exuded icy, effortless sort of arrogance. He might as well have been a king sitting on his throne, and not a prisoner being held in a cell.

“What other pitiful attempt are you going to make Connor? I told you already,” his cold, apathetic voice filled the empty room, crawling across your suddenly clammy skin, “I will speak with no one but (Name).”

Swallowing shakily, you narrowed your eyes, trying to bury your unease, “Can’t even tell who’s walking into the room anymore? You’re losing your touch.”

His reaction was instant.

Nines’ nostrils flared as his eyes flew open, his head snapping towards you, gaze sharp and heated. His eyes moved hungrily over your features, lingering on your lips for moment too long before his eyes finally levelled on yours. The low light seemed to make his eyes glow; like two sheets of ice caught in the bright winter sun, they were terrible in their beauty.

“(Name).”

Your heart squeezed, and you hated him so much in that moment. Hated him for the way his mouth—a terrible, awful thing capable of unleashing words of pure destruction and mayhem—spoke your name like it was the most precious word in any language known to man.

You didn’t reply, maybe because you couldn't—not yet—or perhaps because you simply had nothing to say.

He leaned closer slowly, suddenly attentive, previous indifference wiped clean from his frame, “Tell me, did he beg you to come, or did you do it by choice?”

“If it was up to me, I would never see your face again, and I assure you after today you never will,” you spoke harshly, “I hate you, and I stopped you, just like I said I would. Does that answer your question?”

The chains connecting his handcuffs chimed from the sharp way he leaned closer, straining them to be as near as possible. Harshness twisted his face, and there was nothing nice about the sudden twist of his mouth, “Oh, (Name), you cannot lie to me, remember?” he practically purred, his teeth bared in that dangerous, brutal way that made your pulse jump. “I know you. We’re two halves of a whole. You yearn for me the same way I yearn for you. Why else would I allow someone as dangerous as you to still draw breath?”

“Because you’re a psychopath who enjoys your twisted little games,” you replied through gritted teeth, leaning closer as your eyes narrowed. “You kill people, do awful things—you stabbed me. And you call it what exactly? Love? You’re a monster, and you will pay for things you have done, you can be sure of that. You disgust me.”

“Cut the scripted ‘you’re so evil and I’m so good’ talk,” was his sharp retort, his eyes narrowing into slits, “You are not like them. You are like me. You see them for what they are, even when you wish you couldn't. They need you now because you’re a convenient tool for them to use. How long do you think that will last? How long before all the bad guys are locked up? Do you think they will not turn against you? That they will not deem you a danger to society? That they will not hunt you for what you are? You do know...you see it even now. The doubts, the suspicions, the accusations—they are lying to you. Let me keep you safe as I once did. Your place is by my side (Name).”

“You will be rotting away in prison soon,” you whispered tightly, your fingers shaking, “So I guess your offer is useless.”

He laughed huskily; the sound amused and deep as it rumbled from his chest, and you felt another stab deep in your heart. How many times have you heard that noise wash over you as he held you close to him? Skin pressed against yours as you both marvelled at the burning, harmonious way your power blended together.

“Do you really think they can keep me here,” he asked with an amused, half grin while he leaned as close as he could, chains rattling again, “They couldn't keep me in this little cage of theirs if they tried for a hundred years. I can demolish this city overnight if I wanted. They can’t stop me.”

You weren't afraid of him—of his nearness—maybe because you were truly strong enough to face him or maybe because you were simply too angry to care, “Maybe they can’t, but I can. Don’t forget you taught me everything you know. We’re equals after all Nines,” you mocked as you slanted your head at an angle, mimicking him.

His expression was sly, knowing, and you saw his fingers twitch on the table as if he was holding himself back. “That we are. Yet you allow them and their corrupt system to control you. Why?” he questioned curiously, head tilting as he gazed at you fixedly, “Why shackle yourself to them and their lies?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to shackle myself to yours?” you shot back with ferocity that surprised you both as your power shimmered beneath your skin. “Everything about you has been lies. All you ever did was lie, Richard. Everything we were was a lie. I thought I—”

He drummed his fingers against the metal once, before he splayed his open palm against the table, his expression growing darker and more serious the more you spoke. Any traces of sly, mocking humour were gone, leaving nothing but sharp, familiar angles of his beautiful face.       

“You mean more than you know,” was his quiet, barely there whisper and you almost cringed away from him. Was it that obvious? Or was the truth simpler? Were you truly so intertwined he could read you so easily, so effortlessly? “I still want you by my side (Name). Even now you can feel it, can’t you? Like a whisper calling you to me. Every memory, every touch, every kiss. You have poisoned me, and I have etched myself so deeply inside of you, I can feel a part of me living in your heart (Name). We share a power no one else can even begin to comprehend. A burden that comes with knowing you can destroy with a single breath, but the will to hold yourself reigned in. They will use you till they no longer need you. I know because I’ve been where you’ve been. And I will not allow them to do this again. Not to you. I will not allow them to ruin you for their gain.”

Your heart was beating so loudly, you prayed to whatever higher powers there may be, he could not hear it. That he could not sense through your bond how every atom of you wanted to believe him, how your power coiled inside you—desperate and missing the connection between you two—as you stared at him steadily.

Licking your lips once, you instead said, “Where is Markus?”

Something cold flickered across his face, the previous subtle softness all but wiped away as he rolled his eyes, glancing away dismissively towards the two-way mirror, “Ah yes, the fair leader. I’ve always been rather curious. Why does he lead when you are so much more powerful than him?”

“Some people are not made for leadership, and I’m one of them,” you replied warily, suddenly worried about the way his icy stare slowly slid to you, eyebrow arching slightly. “I don’t want that responsibility,” you added cautiously.

“Do not lie to me,” he repeated, words cutting and hard, while his eyes examined you shrewdly, “You do not lead because you are afraid. Afraid to take your rightful place. Those with power rule this world, it is simply the way of things. Why are you...you are afraid that you will become like me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

There was no point of lying to him about this. He would see right through your deceit anyway.

“Yes, I’m afraid that I’ll end up like you—cold and remorseless, a monster. That I will care for no one and nothing. That I will leave nothing but devastation and pain in my wake. I don’t want to be like you,” you confessed in a gentle, distant voice. “I don’t want to destroy people the way you do. The way you destroyed me when you betrayed me. You left me alone when I needed you most. I trusted you, and you left. I loved you, and you chose power and absolute control over me. So don't think even for a second that I believe a word coming from your mouth. Just another act, another attempt to weave me into your web. I know you too Nines. I know how effortlessly you lie. I know how to play this game too, perhaps you taught me too well. A weakness that goes both ways, right? Now tell me where Markus is or I’m going to walk out that door and you will never see me again.”

His stare was like spotting a hurricane from a distance—too far to hurt you just yet—but still powerful enough to fill you with unshakable sense of terror.

His mouth twitched upwards, a faint smile curling his lips, and it brought back too many memories. Memories of seeing that smile for the first time; how it felt against your bare skin while he trailed kisses down your neck.

“What time is it?”

Air rushed out of your lungs in one go, and you blinked, “What? What does that have anything to do with this?”

“Well if you want to know where Markus is I need you to tell me the time,” he explained easily, lacing his fingers together elegantly as he looked at you, a ghost of a smile still gracing his lips as he gazed at you almost...fondly.

You allowed your eyes to flicker towards your watch, and when you looked up at him again he was still peering at you patiently.

“Two minutes to midnight.”

He leaned closer, the simmering heat in his eyes immediately setting you on edge, “And we both know what day it will be when that clock hits midnight.”

The screech of your chair sliding backwards was deafening as you stood up hurriedly, heading straight for the door as your heart stuttered in your chest.

Oh, he sure knew how to hit where it hurt the most.

“Did you think it was a coincidence?” his sly, deliberate words stopped you dead in your tracks. “After what happened on that rooftop a month ago, they kept you away from me. As if they could separate us. So tell me, fiancé, do you think it was a coincidence you caught me a day before our engagement anniversary? It’s time for us to celebrate like real lovers would.”

Dread flooded your chest and your head snapped in his direction. He had one elbow propped on the back of his chair, body lazily stretched out as he peered at you, head mockingly tilted to one side. He bared his teeth in that monstrous smile, and the blood in your veins froze.

BANG

The structure of the building shook, debris flying in every direction as lights flickered wildly. Stumbling, you braced yourself against the freezing wall, a cough choking you as you covered your mouth. The lights blinked erratically as another explosion shook the structure, your knees quaking with it.

“Hello, lover,” a purr grazed against the shell of your ear before a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

The power churning beneath your skin flared at the sound of his voice, at his touch, but you pushed against the wild joy, against the feeling of rightness. You shackled your power so it would stop from reaching out for his—raw, terrifying and bottomless against your warm, blazing and equally endless power.

He turned you around, pressing you against the wall as light and shadows danced across the slopes of his face, “Why do you pull away (Name)? Let me feel you.”

His forehead pressed against yours, and you gasped when his power engulfed you, “Don’t hide from me, lover,” his voice brushed against your mind, and you shivered.

Your fist connected to his chest, but he was completely unmovable, and you knew that the only way to break the contact was to use your power. But—

“D-Don’t touch me,” you choked out, struggling weakly in his grasp.

Nines frigid fingers cupped your chin, foreheads still connected as he tilted your head upwards, your breaths mingling, “If I ever, even for a moment, felt like you didn’t want me to touch you, I would never lay a hand on you again,” he told you seriously. “But we cannot escape it, can we? Our connection, the way we burn for one another. And I warned you that no cage of their making can hold me.”

“You planned this.”

The barest hint of an ironic smile crossed his expression, “Of course I did. I wasn't going to allow this to continue any further. They will not use you against me again. What I did a month ago was to protect you. You just don’t know the truth yet.”

You bared your teeth at him, and pushed, “You’re lying.”

A breathless sound escaped his parted lips, and he chuckled lowly, gaze fervent as he stared at you, “Oh, look at you. Look how fiercely you burn with power. How can you even doubt we’re not the same?” he questioned, grabbing your hand and laying it against his chest—a painstakingly familiar gesture he had done so many times before. A way to connect, to feel, to—

Power cannot be measured.

Others lived in computations, rules and limitations.

Neither of you have ever fit into any tangible bracket of control.

You didn't know where he ended and you began as your powers mingled and raged; hot and cold, breaking and mending as the room creaked around you.

Infinite and terrible was the joining of you and him, of your souls mending and burning together.

“I need to show you the truth,” his voice barely registered, “I did not teach you everything I know.”

And then it was no longer a perfect dance but a head dive into an abyss.

It was not painful; but it was a horrendous, choking, clawing sensation of power being fused into you.

“It’s called Overflow,” he murmured gently, pressing a kiss against your cheek while white danced in your vision. “It will not hurt you because we are alike. You can take my power without being killed by it. Just another proof of us being made for each other. However I cannot show you the truth here.”

“No, stop, Nines—”

Too much/too much/toomuch

He was everywhere all at once, drowning you in the cold comfort of his power.

“Goodnight, lover.”

Lips pressed against your forehead, and you felt a distinct stab through your mind before you tipped towards oblivion willingly.

His mind brushed against yours one last time, as his soothing, taunting words buried themselves deep.

“Sweet dreams (Name).”  

[rmg91]

The Woes and Antics of Living Together-Chapter 1

Well...Here it is! My big project I've been working on after getting latched onto by what I thought would be just a random short Trolls kick! But nope! It stuck and I'm here now. Anyway, after staying up all night reading 'A Little Change' by tisbubb/lolitea (GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T!) I was inspired to do my own Broppy Roommate AU because we need more of them out there and the bug to write this wouldn't leave me alone.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and hopefully I've captured the characters well enough XD Admittingly, I'm still getting the hang of writing some of them.

I own nothing canon.

Also found on: AO3/FF.net

                                                            ~*~*~*~*~*~

It was dark, it was late and it was storming, a perfect representation of the mood Branch Hawthorn found himself in as he trudged his way up the flight of steps to his apartment. Spending a good six hours at college wasn't a walk in the park, especially when his professors decided to pop-quiz everyone or add extra homework to the already overflowing piles they had. His lousy waiter job burned another seven hours as he dealt with difficult customers and a prick of a boss and then he spent at least a good three and half hours at the school's library studying and working on homework, only to have to walk back to his crappy apartment building, four blocks away, in the pouring rain. He was marginally grateful that his backpack was waterproof as he was soaked though and his beat-up sneakers squished with water as he shuffled down the hallway.

Said hallway might have seen better days but was now just dirty and falling apart with peeling paint and creaking floorboards, something that always made Branch worry he would fall though the floor one day. Finally reaching his apartment, in-between the only two flickering light bulbs, he fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the faded door, only to find it wouldn't open.

Of course it would stick tonight.

Sighing, Branch hit his forehead against the wooden barrier before trying to open it again by shaking and jerking the handle. Crying out in frustration when the door wouldn't budge, the dark-haired young man gave it a kick before slumping down against the wall. The universe just loved to torture him it would seem with everything that always seemed to go wrong around him. Horrible, almost full-time job? Check. People avoiding him because of his personality? Check. Crappy apartment with a door that got stuck in rainy weather? Double check! You name it and it has probably happened to Branch.

Groaning, he buried his face in his knees and tried not to entertain the dark thoughts swilling in his head. He really didn't want to spend the night in the hallway, he'd wake up with a cold for sure and he couldn't be certain that his oh-so-lovely neighbors wouldn't rob him in the night. Branch was fairly certain they were all either drug dealers or thugs for hire, with that not-as-innocent-as-she-thought-she-was little old lady, Mrs. Wallflower, being the boss of them all with her mob connections. He had overhead voices one day about 'taking someone out' coming from her apartment and he'd been avoiding her ever since.

Branch was also very unwilling to call his landlord for any sort of help, knowing one: the bastard that he was wouldn't even come until it was convenient for him and two: Branch was avoiding him as he was a little behind on rent and didn't have the energy to deal with him. Not to mention his phone was dead, if it wasn't he might have thought about calling Gristle for a favor but that would mean dealing with both Gristle and his well-meaning girlfriend, Bridget, and Branch just couldn't tonight.

Sighing again, Branch moped for a few more moment before getting up to try opening his door again. Taking hold of the doorknob, he turned it fully before ramming his shoulder against the dense material. He continued, progressively putting more power behind the hits before suddenly tripping into his dingy abode. Straightening up, Branch glanced back at the door and noticed that now the upper hinge was broken and his door hung awkwardly. Cursing under his breath because now he would have to call his landlord, Branch pushed the door closed and flipped all his extra locks, they would be able to hold it closed for the night...he hoped.

Dropping his backpack, Branch dragged himself to his tiny bathroom to change out of his wet clothes and to dry his hair. Once in his threadbare pajamas, he dug around in his ration box for anything he could eat without heating up, he didn't feel like fighting the stove tonight, and found a can of peaches. Popping it open, he ate them while leaning against the counter and listening to the rain hit the only small window. Placing what was left in his empty fridge, Branch went to plug his phone in next to his bed, which was really just a mattress on the floor. Making sure his alarm was set, the young man turned the small radio beside him on, tuning it to play the soft melodies of some classical music as he wrapped himself in the few blankets he had. Branch let himself fall onto his flat pillow and hoped sleep would claim him soon and end this sucky day...even if he would probably repeat it tomorrow.

                                                    ~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning was just as dreary as the day before but at least it hadn't started raining yet and for that Branch was thankful as he made his way across Bergenville University's campus to his first class. He had left a note on his door before leaving, and made sure what few valuables he had were either with him or locked under the bathroom sink, detailing that his door needed to be fixed. Then he had, begrudgingly, left a voicemail to the landlord saying he needed some maintenance and Branch hoped he wouldn't have to deal with the bastard at all until he had the rest of his rent ready. Had the damn hinge simply loosened Branch probably could've fixed it himself but no, it had to break and he didn't have the means to get a new one. Sighing, Branch prayed to whatever being was out there to give him just one tiny little shred of mercy this time and to let this be handled swiftly.

"Branch! Hey, Branch, wait up!" A voice suddenly called out.

Groaning quietly to himself, Branch stopped and waited for the other student to catch up. Sky blues watched the portly young man stop a few feet away and rest his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Gristle King Jr. wasn't exactly what you'd call attractive with his green tipped hair and crooked teeth but he was well known and liked among the student body for his lively personality and odd sense of humor. It also helped that his family had owned the land Bergenville sat on for centuries and owned most of everything in the city. He also considered himself one of Branch's best (and only) friends, all due to Branch helping with him and Bridget getting together. Of course all Branch did was give the girl some advice.

Heaving one last gulp of air, Gristle stood up and grinned at Branch, "Morning, Branch!"

"Morning, Gristle." Branch answered dully, beginning to walk again.

"Whoa, hey! You okay, dude?" Gristle asked, as he fell into step with Branch, "Did you stay up late studying at the library again? Cause..uh...You kind of look like crap."

Branch rolled his eyes, "Gee, thanks. And I got plenty of sleep just..." Deep down he knew Gristle cared about him but Branch just didn't feel like sharing his problems today, "Long morning already."

"Ah, well...It happens I guess." Silence fell between the two as they weaved by other students, something Branch relished in, before Gristle spoke up again, "Oh yeah! Hey! When was the last you ate? Like real food?"

Branch glared at his acquaintance, he hated when Gristle and Bridget tried to take care of him, "I eat real food."

Gristle rolled his eyes at the typical Branch reply, "Yeah, yeah but I meant like a real, hot meal? Cause Bridgey and I are having a little party toni-"

"No." If there was one thing Branch hated even more than his existence some days it was parties.

"What?! No! Not a party!" Gristle suddenly backtracked, "I meant a uh....intimate get together! Yeah!"

"Still no."

Gristle groaned, "Come on, man! It's not a party, I swear! It's just some of my classmates wanted to meet Bridget and to help her feel a little more comfortable, she's invited a few of her friend's over as well. It'll be six people tops! Seven including you!"

"Gee, thanks for making me feel like the extra wheel there. Still no."

"It's just dinner! I mean it!" The other man begged, "A nice hot meal and some company. And I know you get off early tonight, so don't go saying you have to work. Please, Branch? Come on, it won't hurt."

Branch doubted that, he wasn't really a people person after all. Then again, Gristle wouldn't quit bugging him if he didn't say something. "I'll think about, ok?! Just stop begging, people are starting to stare."

"Yes! Bridget will be so happy to hear you're coming!" Gristle fist-pumped the air, "You won't regret this! Gotta run to class now, see ya tonight!"

And then Branch was left standing a few feet from his classroom, already regretting saying anything at all. Sighing, and hoping for a quick death so he wouldn't have to feel guilty when he texted and said he wasn't going to make it, Branch entered the classroom.

Making his way up to his seat, he noticed the distinct lack of students and wondered briefly if maybe they had all drunk themselves into oblivion or finally had enough of their professor. Sitting down and digging out his materials, Branch hoped that his usual desk mate didn't show up today, already having had enough of extroverts for the day. Once settled, he buried his head in his arms and waited for class to begin, lecture days were at least easy enough to get though when he had already read though the text book.

Just when he thought, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to deal with the worlds biggest distraction, well...his biggest distraction anyway, the telltale jingle of multiple rainbow bangles made their way to his ears as the one wearing them skipped up to the seat beside him. Branch kept his head down and hoped she wouldn't talk to him.

"Branch! My man! Goooood morning~!"

Then again this was Poppy Meadows, the young woman who always talked to him even when other people told her not to. She was also the one that believed everyone was her friend and still believed in unicorns and magic and that singing could fix any problem. She was always positive and talking about the 'bright side' of things, partying all weekend long with her annoying crew and insisted, insisted on inviting him along every single time even when he said no! Not mention she dyed her hair a bright, almost highlighter shade of pink, wore too many bracelets and other jewelry that were just screaming to get caught on something, dressed in bright, colorful clothing and had the most beautiful amber eyes that Branch had written, and still could write, many a poetic prose about. He had hoped his childhood crush on her would go away after he had pulled away from everyone but no, it had only gotten worse.

He groaned silently to himself before glancing up at her, "Hi, Poppy."

Poppy dropped noisily into her seat with a grin, "Aww, what's got you so grumpy this morning? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

A grunt was her only answer as Branch stared resolutely at the board as he waited for their professor to begin. The pinkette wasn't deterred though and poked his check, "Come on, you grumpy troll, smile. It's a beautiful day~"

Branch looked at her like she was crazy, "Beautiful? Last I checked it was cloudy and going to rain again."

"And?" Poppy grinned brightly, "Rainy days are the best! You can cuddle up in your favorite blanket with some hot chocolate and watch your favorite movie! Or read! Maybe even scrapbook if the right inspiration comes along."

"Yeah...sure. Unless you're out in it, then you're cold, wet and bound to get sick. Not to mention the safety hazards with the wet roads and lack of visibility. Hell! A flood could happen at any given time! Disaster is just waiting to happen. Therefore rainy days suck."

Poppy rolled her eyes as Branch ranted about another way things could go wrong, "Oh stop, it's not gonna rain that hard. You need to stop worrying so much."

"And you need to worry more. Not everything is all cupcakes and rainbows. Now shhh! Class is starting!" Branch said as he pointed toward their professor.

Rolling her eyes fondly -Branch would one day see that looking on the bright side and worrying less would be good for him- Poppy opened her notebook and tried to pay attention as her teacher started to drone on about history. Branch glanced over at her, wondering if she was actually going to focus on class this time before tuning into the lesson himself.

It was halfway though class, thirty glorious quiet minutes that had passed, before Branch was reminded of Poppy's presence. Well...not true, he was always, inexplicably aware of her presence, he just did all he could to ignore the urge to just look at her and take in her every move. Like he was now as she started to continually poke his arm with more and more vigor.

"Branch. Branch. Branch. Branch. Branch."

"What?!" He hissed, flicking his eyes over to her before watching the professor in case he turned around.

"Could I borrow a pen? Mine just ran out. Please?"

He turned his head at that to glare at her, "Really?"

"Uh-huh~" She grinned at him.

Rolling his eyes, Branch quickly dug in his bag and pulled out an extra pencil, handing it off to her. "You really should be more prepared," He scolded quietly as he glanced at her notes, "And stop drawing kittens on your notes!"

"But they're so cute," Poppy whined before giggling, "And thanks, you're a life saver~"

Branch quickly turned back to the lesson, hoping to hide the blush he felt heating up his cheeks.

                                                     ~*~*~*~*~*~

The bell rang and as their professor called out what chapters they needed to read next, Branch quickly shoved his things back into his bag, hoping to leave before Poppy could start talking to him again. Unfortunately, she was already grinning at him and bouncing in her seat.

"Oh! Hey! Before you leave! There's a party this weekend and-"

"No." When would she learn he didn't want to go any crazy, out of control college parties.

Poppy pouted and Branch tried very hard not to think just how adorable it was, "Come on! It'll be fun! And good for you! All work and no play makes Branch a grumpy boy~ Plus-" She dug around in her bag before pulling out a bright blue rectangle, "I made you an invite!"

Branch groaned and made no move to accept the expertly put together pieces of paper, "No, Poppy. I don't like parties, get it though your head and I don't want your invites. Ever. Give it to someone else, I'll just throw it out."

"Aww but I made it special just for you!" She slid the small packet over to him as she got up, "Just think about it, okay? It'll be super fun and everyone will be there! It's gonna be our biggest party yet!" Poppy gave him one her mega-watt grins before flouncing off down the stairs, "Bye, Branch~! Please come!"

And just like that, she was gone and off to her next class. Branch glanced down at the invite before rolling his eyes and scowling, he really should just throw it away. Instead he left it sitting there for someone else as he slouched off...before turning around and grabbing it. He'd curse himself later for adding another to his collection after the rest of his classes.

                                                 ~*~*~*~*~*~

It was late again by the time he returned home, having almost missed the rain this time so he wasn't as soaked as last night. Trudging tiredly up the stairs for the millionth time, Branch was grateful for the extra shift at work tonight so his excuse for missing Gristle and Bridget's little dinner party wasn't a lie. Yawning, he approached his door and saw a piece of paper hanging on it and wondered if it was the same one he left that morning. Looking blearily at it, he realized it wasn't and took a closer look at it.

#13,

Ya been late on yer rent too many times, ya got 10 days to get out or all yer stuff's gonna be thrown out.

-Griff, the landlord.

PS: The new hinge is coming out of yer deposit.

Branch read and then re-read the note before groaning and banging his head against the door. The universe officially hated him.

                                                       ~*~*~*~*~*~

Poor Branch :c I feel bad for all the crap I've put him through already but it's all necessary for things in the future to happen. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and are looking forward to the next chapter!

[fuzzbuttsquawksalot]

Filling in the blanks - Mystic Messenger Reader Insert Part 02

Tags: again A LOT of sexual tension & fluff  (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Pairing: Zen x Reader / Zen x MC

Tagging: @katieuwu , @itishebihime-samaforyou

It was early in the afternoon on a Saturday, you still enjoyed the comfort and warmth of your bed. Unfortunately, your stomach made its presence felt and started to growl. But there was something else that made itself felt and disturbed your slumber. Slowly, very slowly it dawned you what the hard thing that decided to poke your back was. Your eyes flashed widely open. You gathered your thoughts. What had happened yesterday? Right, you weren’t alone.

Cautiously you turned in the embrace of the man next to you. His respiration was even, you took the chance to observe him closely. He had a satisfied smile on his lips. Beautiful white hair was framing his delicate and yet manly face. You distinctly felt the defined muscles of his chest through his black shirt. If it wouldn’t have been for his little or as you noted not so little friend, which was now poking your thighs, you would have believed that he was a divine being. Your stomach started to do flip-flops, you didn’t want to ruin this peaceful moment, which engraved itself deeply into your memories. But. You. Simply. Had. To. Touch. Him.

Gently you caressed his cheek, ran your fingers through his silky hair and settled on fondling him behind his ear. Your heart skipped a beat as his crimson eyes fluttered open and stared at you in a flash of shock. Where was he? A few seconds later, after you retreated your hand his gaze went soft.

“Thank you for the compliment,” you giggled and confused him greatly. What compliment? He knitted his brows. With flushed cheeks, you bit on your bottom lip and looked downside. Oh, ohoh? OH! That was what you meant. His face went nearly as red as his eyes.

“I, uh, oh, I’m sorry!” he stuttered and facepalmed. You laughed heartily as you stood up.

“Haha, don’t apologize for something like this. I mean, it’s only natural. You’re a healthy young man and I gladly take the compliment.” You grinned broadly at him, showing your teeth. Zen watched you through his finger, suddenly catching the view of your verrrrry short hotpants.

Oh god, you must be doing this on purpose. What a sweet torture you were. Maybe it’s for the best to stay a little longer under the blanket.

You opened your fridge and bent down to examine its contents closer. A few water bottles and beer cans, some sauces, a dubious yogurt, you couldn't remember when you bought it.

You tossed one of the water bottles over to Zen ”Uhm, you’re still free today?” He nodded and urgently swallowed some of the cold water. “My fridge is empty as it can get, but maybe you would like to grab something to eat with me. Maybe...,” you checked the watch,” linner?” and tilted your head innocently to the side.

“Sure. I’d love that,” Zen growled with his rough morning voice, which made your neck hair raise. Does he know how he makes you feel? You fanned some air with your hand to your face.

“But, uhm, I feel a bit sticky. So I’ll take a shower, ok?” you said.

“Uh, oh, mh,” since when was it this difficult to express himself with words. The imagination of you in the shower flashed before his eyes. No, he shouldn’t be here when you take a shower, “I’ll head home and take a quick shower too. I’ll be back in like forty minutes, okay?”

“Kol (Korean for deal),” you said and vanished with a smile to your bathroom.

As soon as Zen heard the water start, he did his best to dress as quickly as possible and leave your apartment. Or he could just ask if you would mind sharing the shower with him. For environmental reasons of course. No, that would be a bad idea. You haven’t even kissed. What if you would think he’s some kind of pervert. Well, you are, told him his inner beast. No, definitely he needed to leave.

Your heart pumped faster than after a marathon when you heard the faint click of your front door. What did you expect? Would it have been ok, if he had followed you to the bathroom? You didn’t lock it though. Wildly you scrubbed the shampoo into your hair, getting some of it in your eyes. “Whaaaaaaa,” you groaned in agony. What exactly were you thinking?

Like promised, you just had finished applying some makeup and drying your hair, you heard him knocking on your door.

“Come in, it’s open,” you yelled from behind your room divider, not sure which outfit to pick.

“You shouldn’t leave your door so carelessly open,” he said with a slightly bitter undertone.

“Nah, I only left it open, because I knew you were coming.” you had decided on a simple white blouse and buttoned it up.

“Still,” he protested. You took a peek and saw him wear his black leather jacket, greyish jeans and with a helmet under his arm. Given these circumstances, you also chose a pair of jeans for down below.

“Alright, let me get my keys and wallet and I’m all set. I see, you’ve got something in mind?” you said while binding your shoelaces.

“Yeah, I thought we could take a ride, grab something to eat at a convenience store near a park and have picknick.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” you patted his shoulder, stood up on tiptoes and gave him a peck on his cheek. Surprised by your all too casual behavior he blushed. But he could get used to such signs of affection. “What about the other side,” he joked brazenly and got another peck from you. He wouldn’t have hoped for seconds, but seemingly he was allowed to ask for this much of skinship. It made him extremely happy and he couldn’t help but grin like a doofus. Or was this your normal demeanor? You wouldn’t behave like this with just anyone, right? He didn’t know what exactly caused it, but he came to the conclusion that after yesterday he must be somewhat special for you.

“Are you coming or what?” you teased leaning on the doorframe of your entrance door. Secretly, it made you happy that simple actions like this made him happy.

It was a nice and warm but not too warm day in autumn. After buying a rather healthy take-out, consisting of a fresh salad with kimbab rolls and green tea you went to the park alongside the Hangang river. Riding on his motorcycle had its downsides, you were a bit afraid, you didn't trust something so fast without much safety measures. But there certainly was the upside of hugging Zen from behind and clinging to him so hard that you could feel his muscular body. It was a good thing he couldn't see your flushed face.

Once you had parked and found a nice place for your picnic blanket, it didn't take long until you noticed a group of women blandly staring at you both. Or more like shooting lovesick glances at Zen and virtually killing you with their gaze.

“Uhm, maybe we should go somewhere else,” you said and gestured in the direction of these hyenas.

“Oh don't mind them,” Zen answered.

“But I kinda do…,” you told him. Those hateful glares were really irritating.

Zen put his palm on the back of your hand. “Don't take it to heart, they can't help themselves. Who can resist my god given beauty?”

You rolled your eyes, as kind as Zen was, his narcissistic side was sometimes too much to take. Moreover, you had the hunch it was only a facade to cover deeper lying issues.

“They must be fans,” he went on and waved towards them. Luckily they were surprised by his actions and made no amends of coming closer. You didn't know why but suddenly you got a bad feeling in your guts, your jaw dropped. You simply had to ask:” Don't tell me you've ever slept with one of your fans?”

“I would never do that…,” Zen said and continued while avoiding your eyes “ again”.

Oh god, why couldn’t he lie just like any normal person? But he hated lying and hiding something from you felt terribly wrong. But the look you gave him, a mixture of shock and loathing let him feel extremely guilty. He needed to explain himself, ”Listen, it’s not like that…”.

You cut in, “I think I get it,” with a bitter undertone. Why was this date - was this even a date? - suddenly going downhill? Your heart stung, you clenched up. Why did it hurt? You tried to mentally calm yourself down. Zen was a friend, admittedly a very good looking friend, but it had nothing to do with you what he did in his past. It was silly of you to believe a man, who looked like him wouldn’t be a womanizer.  

Zen saw your sad eyes and nearly panicked. If he couldn’t clear this situation right here and now, he might not have had a chance with you ever again.

“No, you don’t,” he sputtered “I did some things in the past I’m not proud of. I guess, saying I was young and stupid sounds like a lame excuse, but I was. But I swear, I’m not like that!”

Desperately he leaned a bit closer and whispered with highly red cheeks “I, uh, I haven’t had sex in over two years.”

Dang, you felt cheap. Why were you prejudiced? True, you hated men, who played with women like toys. But you should have known better than this. Not once did Zen give rise to accuse him as a man slut. You sighed deeply, “I’m sorry, -uh, not for you not having you know what, well a bit, two years is a long time, but I mean, I’m sorry for overreacting and making you confess something like this. I won’t tell anybody.” Could it get any more embarrassing? Both of you had flushed cheeks, you fake coughed and looked away to gather your thoughts.

“Anyways, do you mind, if I do something to stop those irritating eyebeams from your so-called fans?” you asked quietly and stood up while patting nonexistent dust from your jeans.

“If you must,” the young actor answered, a bit nervous about what you would say to his alleged fans.

“But, uhm, could you close your eyes? I don’t want you to get the wrong idea…,” you ask shyly.

What would you do? You wouldn’t cause a scene? Would you? Only yesterday he had witnessed that you weren’t as composed as he thought you would be. However, he decided to trust you and closed his eyes diligently.  

Seconds later, he felt a warm presence in front of his face. Before he could guess what it was, you surprised him with your soft lips on his. Like an animal on all fourth, you had positioned yourself on the blanket to reach him. It was meant to be a short kiss, your personal way of apologizing. But as soon as Zen knew what was going on, he cupped your cheeks with his big hands and deepened the kiss. After a bit teasing and sucking on your lips, you opened them and let him in. He was a good kisser, he took his time to explore your mouth and to dance with your tongue. Only when you got dizzy and desperately needed some air you broke the kiss and opened your eyes. You could hear a soft moan from him. His flustered gaze, his taste, the little noises he made, they were intoxicating.

You had to dive back in for seconds. Your instincts kicked in, you nestled yourself against Zen, nearly pushed him flat down the ground. Kissing alone was all at once not enough. His soft whimpers and deep groans were too inviting. You showered his delicate neck with a mixture of bites and kisses. His hair smelled fresh from the Dove shampoo he used. You let your hand slide down his side, pulled his shirt up a little and went under the material. Naturally, your other hand began playing with the hem of his boxers, stopped at his belt.

“Honey,” he said in a hushed tone whilst gently gripping your arm and halting you.

Your eyes went wide. Shit! Shitty shit shit Mc Shittens! What exactly were you about to do, in a public park? You had been too deep in the zone.

“Honey, your phone is ringing for a while now, ”he said still out of breath.

Quickly you sat up straight and put your phone to your ear.

“Yes, hello, who’s there?” In haste, you hadn’t looked at the caller's number.

“MC, are you occupied? I could call you later if you’re busy,” said a dark and calm voice.

“Ah, Jumin, it’s you.” You turned away from Zen, but not without seeing him flinch as he heard Jumin’s name. “No, it’s alright, to what do I owe the honor of this call?”

“Are you sure, you’re ok?” he asked a bit worried.

“It’s ok, I’m ok - I went to a park and the scenery was so beautiful, I nearly forgot the time. I didn’t even hear the phone ringing.”

“I could send Driver Kim to…”

“No, I assure you, I’m fine. But thank you for your concerns. So what did you want to talk to me about?” you said and brushed a strand of hair behind your ears

“Have you thought about the job offer I made you yesterday? I know it’s a bit sudden, but my father decided to take most of the people of the legal department with him on a business trip and we’re a bit short. Would you mind starting tomorrow?”

“Jumin, you know that tomorrow is Sunday, right?”

“Yes, I’m quite aware. But I would like Jaehee to show you around and explain you a few things before Monday. Working this Sunday is an exemption. I promise.” Poor Jaehee you thought to yourself, she will be less than thrilled having to work on the weekend.

“Then I gladly take your offer. But what about my application documents? Should I bring them with me?”

“No need. Luciel already told me what I need to know. You’re more than qualified and C&R will be lucky to have you,” he said unfazed. Huh? 707 must have hacked you after you met all of the RFA members and he wasn’t blocked by Ray anymore. You weren’t sure if you liked this invasion in your privacy but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You can’t pick up water once it’s spilled.

“Alright, when and where should I meet you tomorrow? In business attire I assume?”

“Is there another? I’ll send Driver Kim to pick you up at eight in the morning.”

“Do you need my address?”

“No. Luciel, …” he started, but you interrupted.

“I see. Then I guess I see you tomorrow Jumin. Or do you want me to call you Mr. Han?”

“Please don’t. Mr. Han is my father. See you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye Jumin,” you said and finally ended the call. As you turned back, you saw a slightly sulking Zen.

“Beautiful scenery… I sure am,” he smirked and made you flush. Right, if you remembered correctly, you were in the middle of something. You gazed over Zen’s shoulder into the distance. At least, your plan had worked. No sight of the hyenas from before. You sighed and folded your hands in your lap.

“So what did this jerk want? Aigoo, he certainly knows how to ruin a moment. He and his cat. Only thinking about him makes my nose itch. He’s meeting you tomorrow?” Zen growled.

“Yes, I took his work offer and apparently Jaehee has to break me in on her free Sunday. She won’t like this news, haha. But can you believe it? Not once he had mentioned Elizabeth the third,” you said.

“He’s such a slave driver,” He hissed and you both had to chuckle. For a long moment, you both stared at each other. You could see a mixture of want, need, but also embarrassment and insecurity in his face. He really was wearing his feelings on his sleeve. With such a variety of visible emotions, it must have been forgone for Zen to become an actor.

“You’re quite something,” he joked and broke the silence. But then his mien went serious. “Mind if I ask you something?”

You shook your head. “Not at all, ask away.”

“What are we? I mean you and me. What is this?” He pointed from him to you and back a few times.

“Hm, I wonder?” You teased him. “No, kidding aside, that’s not easy to answer.” You literally saw his heart sinking. Therefore, you scooted closer, took one of his big hands between your palms and caressed it. “You know, my irrational side is obviously attracted to you. I’m this close from pinning you down on the ground and getting rid of all your clothes, no matter where we are and who could see us.” Zen gulped and blushed to the roots of his hair. “But,” you went on with another sigh “But, my rational side tells me, if I want to make this work, I have to get to know you better. I don’t want to risk complicating things with the other RFA members if it turns out that we don’t fit together. I don’t want to lose you as a friend. And I don’t want you to break my heart.”

“I would never…,” he said. You placed his hand on your chest over your heart. You were sure he felt your quick heartbeat.

“I’m sure you’re not intending to. But there are so many circumstances, which are beyond of our control and can lead to a broken heart nevertheless,” you smiled sadly.

“I understand,” he placed one of your hands on his chest likewise. His body warmth and fast heartbeat descended to your fingers.

“Hyun, I would like to get to know you better if that’s ok with you?” you asked.

“I also would like to get to know you better,” he smiled back.

You kissed him on his lips, then his cheek and then straight under his ear on his neck.

“Darn it, it’s really hard for me not to lose my control with you and to give in to my irrational side,” you whispered, indulging yourself with his sent. The gorgeous white-haired actor hugged you and placed his chin on your shoulder. “I know exactly what you mean. I call my irrational self ‘the inner beast’.”

You giggled “That’s a well-fitting euphemism, mind if I use it?” 

________________________________________________________

Notes: Not edited, contact me if you find some errors ! Still no smut, but I didn’t want to rush this couple and I promise, we get there in part 03

[killcapitalizm]

the louvre; peter parker

request; can you do an imagine where reader has a crush on peter even though he and michelle were dating in high school (which makes the reader distance themselves from the group) and after they graduate, peter finds them and says that he and michelle didn't work out? then the reader finds out it was because he liked the reader the whole time. sorry if this is confusing and super long!!

word count; 2,990

warnings; tw self harm, here’s a no tw version. also i didn’t edit this as always

a/n; YALL IM SO SORRY IM TAKING CENTURIES TO WRITE I SWEAR IM TRYING SFSJGLJ; wheezes im still in the middle of writing the next part to this, it was originally gonna be one big fic but its taking too long and i have enough for a part one at the very least so i decided to break it up. listened to the louvre  by lorde while writing. gosh im sorry this took so long

tags; @kaliforniacoastalteens

Your name: submit What is this?

You had supposedly gotten over Peter a few months ago, when you'd accepted the fact that he and MJ– or rather, Michelle, you remembered, she's Michelle to me now, isn't she– were dating and you'd finally ceased intentional contact with him after painfully long weeks of being too busy, too sick, too tired, too hurt; and you have yet to admit that last one. With Peter's absence of course came Michelle's, they were a couple and therefore somewhat of a packaged deal. That was no surprise to you, when you regretfully unwound yourself from Peter you had known that you'd lose Michelle, too. What you hadn't expected was the sudden absence of Ned– someone who you had grown quite close to. Even Liz was separated from you, so subtly you nearly hadn't noticed she was gone. In the first few seconds of hurt and loneliness and confusion, you were awfully lost. But then you considered: you met Ned and Liz through Peter and indeed they were closer to him than you'd ever be, ever been. And so you start from scratch.

You tried your absolute best to make some friends in each of your classes. You swallowed that familiar feeling of fear-filled blankness and managed to talk to one person in each of your classes. They all had their own pre-established friend groups that you knew you wouldn't be able to be a part of, but you gratefully settled for acquaintances that would give you a partner in class and someone to ask for notes when you were out for a day or two. You lived without a friend for the last four months of your senior year, right up to graduation where you saw Peter and Michelle kiss under the shade of a city tree in front of the school and then you caught Ned's eye later and his mirrored yours, but softer. Never before had you weeped over being unable to text a friend about how entirely shitty you felt because your mother was angry again and, more importantly, you missed them, but in that summer you stained your pillow at midnight as your back and legs and chest ached as if they were holding your bruising sorrows. Your parents weren't home that night when an impulsive thought seemed sensible for a second too long and you threw your gentle arm against the turn in the kitchen wall with a force that was everything but gentle. Instantly, you regret it– just like you regretted deleting all of your old friends' numbers from your phone all those months ago. You sobbed harder, cradling your pulsating arm and retreating back to your room for five minutes, then the bathroom for ten, and back to your room for the rest of the night. Those kinds of nights don't happen often but you hate that they happen at all.

On your first day of your new job at a popular bookstore, you were glad it was chilly because last night left you with bruises that were deep and dark. You wore long sleeves and hoped they'd fade soon then told yourself that if they did then you wouldn't do it for another two months, and when you walked in you saw no one you knew until you turned your head and saw Ned, you saw Ned in the soft yellow light of the morning and you nearly cried because you saw him like that many times before, with Peter at sleepovers when you'd wake up early and again with Peter when you'd walk to school with them. He saw you and smiled at you, and didn't look away in that don't-talk-to-me way but instead he glanced down at the empty area next to him behind the register then back up at you. You were terrified in that anxious, empty way but you yearned for a familiar friendship, so you walked over to him and spoke too much right away.

"I've missed you." You didn't sound polite or happy and that's what made it sincere.

"Oh, thank god," Ned says. "I thought it was one-sided."

"Is it?" You ask still, but you're smiling brightly for the first time since you cleared your phone contacts.

Ned snorts. "I would assume you'd infer from what I said that it's not, but whatever. I've missed you, too."

It was in that moment that Ned forgave you; in the same moment he realized there was anything to forgive you for. While Peter had dejectedly told him you were probably avoiding him because of something he did (Ned knew it was because he was together with MJ), he had still missed you without an answer, missed you in the same way you'd miss a friend the night after a sleepover, when you turn in your bed in heavy solitude and whisper to the wall that they hadn't slept next to, because if you'd look to the space where their mumbles had been then you wouldn't sleep all night. Your absence had him turn over to the wrong wall, and that hurt him.

You remember the time Ned had accidentally tripped you in gym class back in your junior year and you saw him nearly cry, then you spoke again. "I'm sorry." For what, Y/N? You try again, "I'm sorry for leaving you and not talking to you. That you had to miss me. I missed you a lot. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," says Ned, "I forgive you." He forgave you twice, because he hadn't realized how satisfyingly pleasant it feels when someone doesn't have to apologize but they do with their heart.

"Thank you," you say, because he welcomed you after you had cut him off for so long and he shouldn't have smiled so dearly at you, and you're grateful.

Ned helps you with your new job that day, then that week, and into the next week. You add his number back onto your phone and write it down in your journal that you've stopped writing in ever since Peter told you with so much joy and love that he was dating Michelle. You try not to think of them, just of how much you missed him and her each as their own. If you think of them, then the next time you bruise yourself you always end up with deeper and more plentiful bluish-purple spots. You don't tell Ned about the bruises and you don't ask about them, you don't ask about Peter at all but you know he's talking about him when he says "my friend," or more often, "a buddy of mine."

But Ned is smart, and he knows you had liked Peter back then and because you never ask about his friend (he knows that you know who he's talking about), he knows you like him now. He also knows that Peter and MJ broke up, he knows why and how and when and where and the boy was a boy of the Earth, he is rooted to the ground and because of that he knows it's not his place to tell you all of that. Ever-growing with the kindest smile, he knows that Peter needs to tell you himself if you're to ever know. And he wants you to know, so he decides that five weeks of talking daily with you, after reattaching yourself to him and him to you, that he'd start to reconnect you and Peter. He starts off conveniently.

"Look, dude, just get it over with and you'll feel better… What? Peter, no, you need a job, you're eighteen now–" Ned spots you walk in early one Thursday morning and talks just loud enough into his phone so that you could hear him say Peter. Surely enough, you duck your head as if you hadn't been listening. His name out of Ned's mouth, so bright like you remembered it, twists your heart. "Hey, man, I gotta go and you do too. You got this, I know you do. See ya'."

You stop beside Ned as he hangs up and tucks his phone into his back pocket. As always, you greet him with the biggest smile you can manage. These days, it's been some of your brightest, full ear-to-ear grins, but today you barely show your teeth. He notices and for a second he rethinks his plan, but you still love Peter and he knows he loves you too so he keeps going. "What was that all about?" You instantly regret that, but it flew out of your mouth before you could think of another conversation starter.

"Peter, actually," he does his best to sound gentle, but you inhale sharply at his name anyway. "He's going for a job interview later today and he's panicking again. As always. But I know he'll do just fine."

You were silent for a second too long, quickly spitting out something when you realized it. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, he was always like that… panicky. 'N stuff. Before things. He always did good and… yeah." You straighten your back and shift your weight from leg to leg, a poor attempt at looking casual that really just made you look just as nervous as you felt. You were looking down at Ned's shirt with a pleading gaze that he surely saw, begging him silently to just leave it be, to change topics, to not say his name again. He saw all of that, but he knew he had to.

He looked sympathetically at you as he spoke again, "Speaking of him, I think we should all meet up sometime or whatever. It's been a really long time since we hung out." He sounded like he was hurt, feeling awful for putting this on you but knowing it'll end up better in the end if you're willing to work with him.

You, on the other hand, sounded genuinely wounded. "Y-Yeah." You nearly wheezed. Unconsciously, your hand rested on your hip, angled so that your palm was more on the back of your hip. Ever since you could remember, emotional stress would center at your back and slowly start to crawl down your limbs. Always starting in your lower back, it ached with whatever you felt, then burned its way up, making the spot between your shoulders sore, then shooting down to your legs. If Ned insisted on talking about this for very long, you'd have to bring a stool to the register with you today. "I mean, I don't really think… he'd want to see me. After what I did."

"Actually, he really misses you." Gosh, he was trying so hard to be soft, but it felt like he was smothering you with a pillow. While he wasn't lying, he hadn't actually told Peter he's been hanging out with you. "He'd love to meet up sometime– I'll ask him later today. You can set the date."

"He…" misses me? you finish in your head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, blood rushing up your neck and kicking your brain, then rushing back down before starting again. You were growing a bit of a headache, maybe from staying up late last night but maybe the aches were skipping your limbs today and getting right to your head, towards the back where it wouldn't let you lay down on your back later. "Uh… Yeah. Y-Yeah, I'll– I… Sure. Sometime."

Ned watched your discomfort with a wince that went unnoticed. He reminded himself it would get worse before it got better. "Anyway, we should start preparing. We open in an hour," he said, trying to edge you away from the topic, although it was too late to stop the images and memories of Peter from firmly planting themselves in your head. You nodded once, slightly, then again with more motion. That day, you made sure to never be seen without a water bottle so that you had an excuse when someone asked you why you were going to the bathroom so much. You'd go when your started thinking too much, to the point that it interfered with your ability to shelve books and even think to yourself a single, coherent thought. You'd excuse yourself, rush in, and find yourself gasping for air that you hadn't realized you lost.

You went home that day feeling more alone than not, despite the sudden vague reconnection with Peter. But you shouldn't be surprised, the thought of the boy has been a presence of loneliness for a while now. When you think of him, it's as if you're thinking yourself into a void, where you detach from the Earth, as if you exist in your body but your body does not exist in the world and it simply moves around in it. Sometimes you suspect that because you feel something so drastic and real that Peter wasn't the only cause of it, but it did you better to not think too deeply so that you don't wake up the next day with bruises from frustrated confusion. You went home that day and asked Ned to call you, because you hid your bruises from him and knew that if he were with you in any way that you would be able to keep your promise of two months of freedom. When Ned was gone, you moved to the TV to distract you. Then you pulled out your phone and decided to read something, then opened up your laptop to watch a YouTube video, and after a minute you retrieved a book to read and a comic to look at– you were doing everything and nothing at once but what you weren't doing was hurting yourself and that was, in the end, what you wanted. You cried when you settled in bed that night, your body detached from the Earth for a while when you panicked in your (too) many thoughts of Peter and other things, although you don't remember what those other things are because its easier to just say one thing, despite him being the hardest thing to say at all. You had to stumble out of bed and lay on the ground– on your side because the very back of your head still hurt– look at things in your room one at a time, then listen to things outside one at a time, tell yourself what apricots and your favorite tea taste like before you could finally feel the carpet beneath you again. Your head spun with busyness and contradictions as you got back in bed, but you slept right away and that was all left to touch in the morning.

And Ned was true to his word; when he had to hang up to catch a bus, he made sure to text Peter when he got a seat. It took him ten tries, but he decided to bluntly tell Peter that he's been talking to you, and then gently ease into his proposal of hanging out again. Then, because he stayed with Peter in those months you were gone, he felt it was right to hook another text onto that one: he knew you felt something for him, and he told Peter that he didn't knew exactly what you were feeling (and that you probably didn't either) but that it was something reminiscent of strong love, broken love, fear, and a lot of missing him. You had looked bewildered at the mention of Peter, and he told him that, too. Told him that he should try with you. Told him that you needed him to try with you, or, at the very least, you needed him (not him, but him there, you needed his nearness, the familiarity Ned had fulfilled had to be filled by more than just him). And Peter answered with time, so he went back to the usual, being the Earth boy he always was, sleeping close to the ground on the first floor of a cheap apartment that looked magical later that week when he taped up all of his posters and switched out the bright, fluorescent white lights for the yellowed lights he always preferred because they look more like sunlight.

So Peter, in his dress shirt and nice pants and new shoes, sitting with his back straight against the wall near the entrance of his apartment, still sweating from the conversation that had happened hours earlier, closed his eyes and remembered you in the moonlight like you had remembered him and Ned in the sunlight, he remembered those many late night conversations he had with you in which he was filled to the brim with nothing but nerves and stress and anxiety, he remembered how you'd remind him all night and day and week that he was important and needed and okay and here, on this planet, in this town, living and breathing and growing and that he's not as small as he felt nor as big as he fears. He remembered how you'd call him sunshine, sunshine and he told Ned that he needs you because he wants to hear that again. A sky boy he was– he was constricted and bound by his own breathing so he threw off his clothes, pulled on his suit of red and blue, and sprinted across the roof of a long, tall building so he could jump off and then web himself to the next building. He toppled over and rolled along the hard surface of what was probably some apartment complex, he stared up at the last sky blues for the day and panted. His throat burned with his wheezes, but soon he smelled the city and smiled, deep in his mind he was sure that you'd call him sunshine, sunshine again soon. He slept long after you and Ned had fallen to slumber, after flying around buildings and waving at an infant and helping an older couple catch their bus.

[ravenvsfox]

Hiii the story you wrote about Andrew and Neil that I asked for awhile ago was awesome even though I know it was a hard one. I was wo dering if you can do 98 about Ronan and Adam?

(that is SWEET and also I bastardized your prompt a little >:))

98: “I want to thank you for putting up with me. I know that I’m not the easiest person to get along with.” 

He’s locking up the repair shop with his arms full of backpack and keys clamped between his teeth when someone honks behind him. He startles so hard that everything landslides down onto springy wet grass.

“Sorry!” Gansey calls, head popped outside of what must be the pig, if Adam could see past the dizzy glare of the headlights. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. You’d better come sit down.”

Adam breathes deep, mentally slicing his evening into pieces like he always does when an expensive car rolls up and his name is called. He stoops over to gather the textbooks spilling out of his bag, the scatter of his few precious pens and his bike lock.

When he looks up, Gansey’s switched on his high beams to passive aggressively hurry him along. He slows down a little out of halfhearted spite.

Adam tucks his backpack through the headrests to the backseat and then leans into the front of the car to look at Gansey expectantly. He’s making a face that’s about as close to a grimace as a Gansey can get.

“Ronan ran away.”

Adam blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Gansey breathes. Adam feels his newborn worry ebb and blink out.

“Well he’s at home, then. He’s not going to run far from the Barns.”

“That’s what I’d imagined, but he’s nowhere on Lynch property. Blue and I went on a merry hunt all afternoon.”

Adam feels his chest kick and fight and try to make a scene. “And you didn’t tell me until now?” He hates that his voice sounds like the raw insides of undercooked meat, like he’s delicate and bloody.

“Well we thought it was fixable, and you were at work—“

“I’m always at work, Gansey, and it’s never deterred you before. If my— if Ronan really did disappear—“

“He did,” Gansey says emphatically, and Adam frowns.

“Opal—“

“Knocked on my door at 6 am this morning holding this.” He produces a sheet of torn off looseleaf from his breast pocket and hands it to Adam gingerly.

Adam unfolds it.

Tell Adam I’m sorry.

He looks up, swallowing. Gansey’s watching him closely, obviously trying to gauge a response.

“At least he’s started apologizing,” he says weakly, a thin needle of hurt pinning his words together.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s starting anything,” Adam says, his anger and worry taking each other by the throat. “He’s giving up.”

“I think,” Gansey says, “that he’s very bad at grieving.”

“No one’s good at grieving. Not that you’ve ever had to know.”

Gansey recoils. He has a flighty look on his face like he would very much like to abandon this conversation if it weren’t taking place in his most prized possession. “I’m not the one that left, Adam,” he says pointedly, and Adam swears, apologizes, and climbs into the passenger seat.

“Take me to the Barns.”

Gansey looks at him sideways, and Adam would have the pity in his eyes for a punching bag. “He really isn’t there.”

“I know,” Adam says impatiently, “I’m going to steal his car.”

_____

It’s an apparently old thing that’s never known the taste of rust or grime, nestled in the Barns’ garage under a gauzy tarp. Adam unveils it and Gansey whistles — probably because he heard it done on a television program — and lays a hand on the hood. Adam swears he hears the engine stir under his palm, for a second.

“Adam,” Gansey starts, voice low. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Funny,” Adam says, inspecting the car for faults. “That’s what I said when I started dating Ronan.”

“That is not funny,” Gansey says, though he’s smiling grimly. “He could be hurt. Or lost.”

“Ronan doesn’t get lost by accident,” Adam says absently, and Gansey makes a tiny, choked noise.

“How enigmatic.”

“Hmm,” Adam agrees, and touches the steering wheel gently so that it sighs and turns over and comes to life for him, no keys required. “Sort of takes the joy out of stealing it,” Adam muses, stroking along the dashboard and hearing the car purr in response.

Gansey makes to get into the passenger seat and Adam stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry man. It’s got to be me and him.”

Gansey looks down and then smiles slowly. “Funny. That’s what I said when you started dating him.”

Adam can’t quite bring himself to roll his eyes when everything about his relationship is so far up in the air that he’s afraid to look down.

“Ronan will be back tomorrow with an apology for driving you to yet another early grave,” Adam promises. He glances at Gansey’s harried expression, orange and shadowed by bare lightbulbs. “I’m not letting him do this. He can quit and fuck up his life as much as he wants but he can’t— I know he doesn’t want to leave.”

He’s been fixing the house up one squeaky hinge at a time, and sometimes he asks me to name any colour I can think of and the next day the kitchen will be that colour and he thinks I don’t notice the pictures of us in the office and the way he smiles sometimes is the way the water swallows its temper tantrum and guides a ship home and he loves it here the same way I love him here.

“Where are you going to look?” Gansey asks, almost too serious to look at. Adam knows he resents the way Adam’s slipping off to find Ronan like he’s been waiting to do it, when Gansey himself has failed another search for something that matters to him.

“I don’t want to say in case I’m wrong,” Adam says quietly. If it were Blue she would say I don’t want to jinx it.

“Call me from his phone?” Gansey asks. “Tell him—“ he twitches a sad smile. “Tell him I’m furious.”

“Gansey.“ He looks up. “You know you’re his hero,” he says, because he thinks he might need to hear it, and it’s been true since they were at least sixteen.

Gansey looks away like he doesn’t believe it. “Tomorrow?” he asks.

“Tomorrow,” Adam confirms. He bumps knuckles with Gansey, considers, and then hugs him over the steady warmth of the car. Adam’s unnerved to find tears burning his eyes, and he can’t quite look at Gansey when he pulls away.

_____

He drives the strange little sports car hybrid straight to D.C., trusting the fuel source to be as improbable as the rest of it. He spends the time cranking bad trap music and seething, resenting the 6 hour round trip chewed from his sleep schedule and distractedly desperate for Ronan to be there.

It’s very nearly impossible to imagine something spooking Ronan enough for him to abandon his closest friends or his dependent little gem of a dream or the home that is actually his heart.

It’s conversely easy to imagine Ronan afraid, Ronan retreating, Ronan, Lynch, with the only other people who know how to be Lynches.

It might be a stretch if you’d watched Ronan and Declan box each other half to death last year, but it’s obvious to Adam. Declan is Gansey if Gansey fought his problems instead of swallowing them.

Ronan ran because he needed to be punched and he knew his friends wouldn’t do it. He ran because he was starting to heal and he wanted to look at some wounds up close and get the taste of his pain back. He probably didn’t even have a plan beyond setting fire to their bed and finding something that wouldn’t feel so much like a dream.

Adam shuts the music off, lets himself sob a couple of times, and scratches the leather steering wheel with his jagged thumb nail, just enough to feel terrible.

That note. The stupid cop-out note. Tell Adam I’m sorry. Tell Adam I’m a coward. I can’t because I know how wrong and cruel this is, another loss to notch into the wall of Adam’s cell.

He rolls into the outskirts of D.C. and swallows mouthful after mouthful of trepidation with headlights in his eyes. The traffic is orderly and thick for 1 am, and it wakes Adam up.

He finds Declan’s address from vague memory, like feeling around where you know a light switch must be in a stranger’s house.

Adam parks down the street where it’s free after 6 pm, and walks up to the towering rich brown apartment block, more obviously expensive than the buildings on either side of it. He hurries to catch the door inside from an apartment patron with cigarette smoke trapped in their leather coat.

He holds the door open with his foot and scans the neat last names of the occupants lined up next to buzzers and room numbers. He finds Lynch, touches it with his index finger and feels an unexpected rush of emotion suck his bottom lip in and fold his lungs up.

He allows himself to take the elevator to the eighth floor, and closes his eyes the whole way, letting sleep tug him down, an ever impatient child.

He steps out into the overly air-conditioned taupe-carpeted hallway, fancy sconces set out every few steps. 843 is almost directly outside the elevator, likely planned for Declan’s convenience. He swallows, considers how humiliating it will be if Ronan isn’t here, and knocks on the door.

No one replies for a couple of minutes. Adam listens very hard and knocks again, as sharp as he dares. Something moves behind the door, and Adam steps back to stare down the peep-hole. The door cracks, and Declan peers blearily out, the silken collar of a robe snug at his neck.

“Parrish? Why are you here?”

“Ronan,” Adam says, and swallows. He’d been expecting Ronan’s insomnia to bring him to the door. “I’m looking for Ronan, and we thought he might have come here.” He’s not sure if the ‘we’ implies Gansey’s influence the way he wants it to.

“He’s not here,” Declan says simply. His eyes are a single shade away from Ronan’s, just as dark and exposing.

Adam’s heart sinks and keeps sinking, the waste of it all dawning on him slow and ugly.

“He was earlier today,” Declan amends, opening the door a little further. “He was here when I came home, talking to Matthew like—“ he pauses. “I would’ve thought it would be Gansey, to come.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Adam says hollowly.

Declan eyes him shrewdly, not quite apologetic but not pleased. “I guess I should’ve known,” he says vaguely, and Adam narrows his eyes.

“Adam.”

He whips around. Ronan’s there, of course, like some sort of scowling, half-crying mirage. He’s a strange blot of dark where the hallway is pristine; he’s never going to belong here.

“A note,” Adam says immediately. Ronan looks away, back towards the elevator with its doors still open. “You’re a real dick.”

“Yeah.”

Adam feels his whole body try to collapse itself at the hinges, exhaustion on top of relief on top of anger. The way Ronan looks like he’s been in a bar fight with himself isn’t helping. The sweet flush of exertion on his neck is making Adam want to break a light fixture in half.

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Declan asks, and Ronan snaps a look at him, a little more himself.

“I wasn’t planning on kidnapping our brother, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Declan look a little pitying, so Ronan glares at him.

“I was leaving in the morning.”

“Leaving for where?” Adam asks, and Ronan’s demeanour rips through, like caught fabric.

“I was still deciding,” he says.

“Was home one of the options? Was I?”

Adam can tell that Ronan’s deadly close to tears because he’s focusing too hard on keeping them in to say anything.

“I’m going to—“ Declan starts awkwardly, and Adam gestures for him to go, sparing half of one glance to the closing door before looking back to Ronan. He steps forward unevenly.

“I was trying to sleep in my car. I saw you go by and I thought I was dreaming.”

“Still feel like a dream?” Adam hisses, and Ronan’s mouth pulls.

“Nightmare.”

Adam tries to breathe evenly and fails. “You scared the shit out of Gansey.” Me, you scared the shit out of me.

“He has Blue,” Ronan says quietly, like he’s thought it through.

“And me?” Adam asks, voice curdling.

“You have both of them. Plus Opal fucking worships you, and the witches, and the Vancouver whatever. And you could’ve had the Barns, I left it all to you.”

Adam’s head spins. “So you—“ he kneads his temples. “So you just disappear, and you think I’m gonna live in your house with your dreams like that’s— normal?”

“Normal?” Ronan says, frustrated. “Obviously not, Parrish. I left you that shit so it wouldn’t have to be normal, so you could have something magic of your own.”

“How generous,” Adam says and Ronan curses.

“I don’t know what else I could’ve done. I was letting you go, because I sure as shit wasn’t making things easier for you, and I know things haven’t been easy for me.”

“So things aren’t easy.” Adam steps closer and clenches his fists before he lets his nervous, sleep-deprived energy get the better of him and shove Ronan or shake him or pull him close. “Obviously they’re not easy. We know this. We live this.”

“If I can find a way to make things easier don’t you think I should?” Ronan asks fiercely. “If I wake up and you’re gone for work and everything’s normal but I feel like dying, like actually dying without you, isn’t that a problem?”

“Ronan,” Adam says, hushed.

“What? Are you uncomfortable? Me too. All this shit in my head makes me real fucking uncomfortable, actually. Sometimes I’m in the middle of laughing and then I remember seeing my mom’s intestines draped over tree roots like litter.”

Adam stays silent, mouth pinched. He knows that people in neighbouring apartments must be able to hear but he can’t— think about caring.

“It’s not like I’m trying to be an asshole here, Adam, for once in my fucking life I’m actually really trying to be better and find a way to reel in some mental health before I try this with you.”

“You’re already ‘trying this’ with me though,” Adam says slowly. “You can’t date me for five months and then decide that I deserve better. You’re only using your half of the variables and you think you’ve solved everything?”

“We’re not testing a fucking hypothesis, Adam, I’m not going to stop hurting if I think a little harder about it.”

“Maybe not, but if you actually communicated with me, maybe we could tear apart your bullshit illogical ideas before they hatch. You’re not going to cure yourself by sweating it out in a desert somewhere. Your plan was going to be living in your car so that you can feel a little reckless and connected to your dad, and then you were going to drink until you felt better, felt less, and then you were going to miss home and realize that all you ever do is miss things, and then—“

“Adam, fuck, stop—“

“And then you’d come home and realize that you’d been gone for too long, that I’d been pissed for too long because you hadn’t bothered to explain yourself. And all you would’ve done is lost me. Lost Gansey’s trust, again.”

Ronan palms both of his eyes and stumbles back into the wall, and Adam feels his throat go very small.

“Talk to me.”

Ronan drops his hands and inhales, quick, almost a sob. “I don’t— I don’t know what to say.”

Adam shakes his head. “How about: ‘I want to thank you for putting up with me, Adam’. ‘I know that I’m not the easiest person to get along with, and you’re constantly working to—‘”

“I don’t want to be the thing that you have to put up with, though, fuck,” Ronan interrupts. “I love you for doing it but I’m such an asshole for letting you.”

Adam sighs heavily, letting himself reach for the front of Ronan’s shirt and feeling his mouth wobble when Ronan’s hand comes up to his wrist.

“You can’t honestly think that I just put up with you.”

Ronan thumbs his pulse and Adam closes his eyes. “You said—“

“That was a bad joke, clearly. I love you, you know this. I tell you all the time.”

Ronan pulls him in the final step and Adam lets himself be hugged like slipping under fragrant bathwater and hearing everything work, letting the warmth soften your muscles. He slips his hand up to his jaw. “It’s harder than I thought,” Ronan says. “Believing someone when they say it.”

“I’m not lying,” Adam says indignantly, and Ronan presses his face into his hair.

“Yeah,” he says. “But what happens when you come to your senses? I’m shit difficult to be with.”

“We’ve been friends for years, and I was a bit convinced we were enemies before that. I already know that you’re difficult, that’s what I’m saying. You’re work. We’re work. Work is the only thing that makes anything matter. We’re not destiny perfect like Gansey and Blue, and I don’t want to be. Do you understand?”

Ronan kisses him so fast that Adam doesn’t have time to kiss back, and then he puts his face down in Adam’s neck and rocks them back into the wall. It’s all so endearing that Adam wants to cry again, with his hands buried in Ronan’s in the pockets of his jacket. It’s so immediately gratifying to be safe like this, to have extinguished a fire before it could burn anything down. He can almost forget how late it is or the now-familiar devastated look on Gansey’s face or the way there was a fork in the road and he chose Ronan over everything that made sense.

“Take me home.”

[smartalker]

Substitute with Molasses

Fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda Pairing: Reyes Vidal / Sara Ryder Rating: M (barely) Summary: “I said, don’t look at them. When we leave this place, they’ll watch us. They’ll wonder what happens next. Most of them will be right, but I’d like to think I have a little more imagination than the average person. So what do you think? What happens next?”

AKA some people suck at breaking up.

It isn’t embarrassing to say he loves the Pathfinder. Love is a beautiful, selfless emotion. Love by itself is a celebration, an appreciation, an acknowledgement.

He can’t say it. It should be easy. But the truth, his hunger, it hangs behind that beautiful love like a mousetrap, a guillotine. To love someone is to say you want most of them, but caring enough to leave just a little bit behind. Just a little bit of room, so she could continue existing as a separate person, one that lived without and beyond him.

And that isn't really true. And they aren't really together.

“You said you came out here to be someone. So who did you become?”

“I became the Charlatan. I became no one.”

She considers him. Her glass is half empty, not half full. People become beautiful when they have known enough suffering to understand the balance of loss. Ryder twirls her glass, letting whiskey slide up to the edge, to the rim. He watches her.

“If you spill it, you better lick it up.”

Her smile is a knife, stabbing him. “Pervert.”

“Should I say it’s fine if you pour the whole bottle over the counter? That would also be true.”

She clicks her tongue, unperturbed. “I bet you got people into trouble when you were a kid.”

Reyes doesn’t answer her. He reaches over to push her glass, and she saves it, pulls it away from him. “I just want to play with you,” he complains. “It’ll be fun. You’ll like it.”

“I’m sure.” She drinks. Her glass is more than half empty, so is their bottle. She squints at him. “It’s your fault I can’t trust you. You know that.”

“Of course,” Reyes accepts, graciously. “I’m a criminal overlord and I sometimes lie to you in misguided attempts to minimize your own corruption. Also, generally, I want you to like me.”

“It’s good that you know.” Ryder snorts. “It doesn’t seem like you’re going to do anything about it, but at least you don’t pretend.”  

“Don’t trust me,” Reyes agrees, with sincerity. “I don’t know what you’d have to give up, if you did.”

She eyes him for a moment, but lets this slide. They've been breaking up a lot, lately. She nudges into him, sliding off her barstool, and he pivots to hold her against him. “No one messes with me anymore,” Ryder says. She grins and nudges him harder. “Not on Kadara, anyway. Is that because of you?”

“Of course,” he smiles. It is reflex, by now, to smile at her. She bounces back on her heels, up to the balls of her feet. She kisses his face in six different places, her mouth too soft, too warm. He wants to fight beneath it, the endless layers. He’ll start with the first.

“That’s it?” Reyes teases. He catches her hip. Just one hip. Just one hand. He tries not to hold her too tightly. “Worldwide twenty-percent discounts just aren’t enough for you?”

“I want a third off.”

“I want it all off.”

“Ugh,” she groans, but still giggles. She almost rolls against him. Her eyes shine up at him. Today her nails are painted mauve. Today, she seems innocent. “I want to know. Are all the guys this cool, where you’re from?”

“Definitely. All of us,” Reyes agrees He keeps smiling. “You can never go there. Promise me.”

“I can’t. It would mean leaving you six hundred years behind.” She smiles. Her smile is different than his, in a way he can never explain. She gleams at him, the golden figure that stands atop trophies. An ice cap in the sunlight. When he drinks and he thinks of her, she is so cold that his hands being to burn.

“Never,” he agrees. He watches her face, how the bar lights move against it, the beams colliding on her surfaces as they fall. Would she look different, if there was some way to see her in the dark?

Her cheek on his chest, her hips swinging sideways and back, almost dancing. She holds him, asking, “What about me? Do you ever wonder where I came from?”

“You come from a place I can never go to. I could know everything about it, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Her laughter was embarrassed. “So, what would be enough for you?”

He turns his face into her hair. “Impossible,” he tells her.

They break up when Liam takes a shot to the arm. He'd gotten it by jumping in front of his Pathfinder, probably saving her life, as a woman in old armor and older skin swears, reloads. The reports say she'd gone down screaming about the Charlatan's whore, the Initiative's lies. Five minutes on the net show that her son hadn't survived cryo.

As usual, Ryder takes it hard. She spends the night arguing, kissing, breaking free of him. When she gets drunk enough she won't stop holding her arm, the same place Kosta had been shot. When it's just getting to early morning he coaxes her to bed and she lies awake facing him, her expression uneasy, a mess of contradictions.

“What if I had just been a regular person?” she baits him. She’s always baiting him, testing her safety nets. “I bet you wouldn’t have cared about me at all.”

“That’s a stupid argument,” Reyes counters. “If you were just a regular person, you wouldn’t be yourself. It’s like if I asked whether you’d like me without my amazing flair for adventure.”

It’s a shame her mouth is always so cut up, so hurt. She has pretty lips. She bites one now. “I think that I feel like an ordinary person, though.”

Reyes laughs. He pulls her lip free, as carefully as he can with the scabs. “Don’t do that,” he murmurs. “Don’t apologize. Not to anyone.”

She looks across at him, eyes pulling all over his face. Where does she look the longest? “I want to tell you something stupid.” She admits. “It’s dumb and I know it’s dumb and I don’t know how to say it either. I know that if I try it will just get worse.”

“Sounds frustrating.”

“It is.” She blinks. For a second, his gut clenches, certain she’s about to cry. She blinks again. “You’re frustrating.”

“In a good way?” He touches her shoulder, the sweeps of skin that fold there. Less muscle mass than expected, all lean. Her specialty is endurance. Her face is slitted with sleep.

“Good and bad,” she yawns. A tiny sound. “It won't be forever. It's just right now. It doesn't makes sense, us being together now. You know.”

"Whatever you want," Reyes agrees. He strokes her hair until she sleeps, then lies awake thinking. 

Again.

They should have started off by asking: do you see this going anywhere?

She laughs. Her throat moves. He watches the shadow at the corner of her mouth fall into darkness. Her teeth are very white. “I can’t think about the future, something like that,” she says. He can see her giggles, in the creases that form as she wrinkles her nose. Her whole body will twist with delight. Her body will twist, to avoid him.

“Something like that,” Reyes echoes. He matches her, step for step. She raises shields, erects turrets. Her enemies lie dead around her. “Something like that,” Reyes says again. “How cosmopolitan.”

“I prefer interstellar,” she shoots back. She winks. She can’t wink. Her whole face collapses around the effort of her wink. They’ve crouched down for cover, her ankle is just inches from his hand. He can’t help how easy it is to catch her.

“Come here,” he coaxes. He pulls her leg out from under her, towards him. Her balance rocks sideways and she tilts into the boulder they’d hidden behind. Her shoulder catches there, painfully—her teeth flash again, a grimace.

“Can you wait?”

“I’m sick of waiting.”

When she kisses him, her fingers are like claws, tearing through armor and clothes alike to gouge at his bones. He wants to call her something special, a pet name. But nothing will ever fit. Like their bodies, which do not slide so much as grind together, two solids refusing to melt.

A shotgun blast takes out a chunk of their boulder. Reyes throws a lazy grenade. She is hot beneath and against him, a furnace that he knows is constructed, a pain he can imagine divine.

“Not now,” she struggles free of him. “Not now.”

Love comes down to timing.

It’s frustrating, her timeline. The way she can curve and turn and roll back on herself, no trajectory, forever intercepted by a thousand different pleas. Like a missile that’s been blasted into the air, all he wants is to catch her. Like a ball that’s been thrown at the sun, she soars too high for him to guess where she falls.

He likes the sort of people who are dangerous, beautiful. A quick burn, an ember, a thing better admired than touched. He burns himself with them, grows calluses. He becomes older.

“Not now,” she says, again, always. Turning away from him, too slowly, her heart as bright as her cheeks, she is always conveniently just a little too slow to get away from him. Most people would call the Pathfinder a warm person. She is, she seems that way. She is honest and funny and friendly, good at parties, loyal. An all-American kind of sweet. He likes her for this, sincerely admires these traits even as he condescends to them.

She wears nail polish, all shiny, an old vanity. Silly. She likes purples, especially on bad days. He’d done a run with her when supplies had started sneaking off from Kadara’s new outpost. It took less than an hour to find her outpost's thief. The man was forgettable, old, offering a cut of his profits for mercy.

Her fingers tipped pale lilac, as she aims, fires. Without expression, she shoots the man almost exactly between his eyes. A few millimeters to the left. Without a single breath of hesitation. His face, her crew, the body. All staring at her, stunned. She holsters her weapon.

“Don’t waste my time,” she tells the dead man, the air that comes whistling free of his lungs. Her voice is very soft. Her voice is freezing.

Then she turns, and she looks him straight in the face, and her expression crumples. Without another word, she walks away from them, her hands bent into hammers, swinging heavily at her sides. Peebee glances at him, shrugs. "I know, I know. I don't think she's getting a lot of sleep, okay? Maybe keep this on the DL." After a beat she adds, "Don't talk to her, she's vulnerable." And then she stares at him expectantly.

So he goes after her. Her fingers are still curled into fists. Does she flinch with every footstep? It's been too long. She not always the same.

"So," he starts, hoping that something will come next. "Coffee later?"

"I can't get coffee with you," she says, hollowly. He looks at her more carefully, the things that a diet of supplements and perfect rations can't hide. Exhaustion didn't leave a person's skin so easily.

"I can come to you, then. A secret."

"No," she says, insistent. She pauses, collects herself. "No. I can't. We're supposed to be—nothing."

It's been months. "We aren't nothing, though."

“Aren't we?” she laughs. Nothing about her is happy. “You. Me. Us. A beautiful frame without a picture to fill it. Something empty that just sits on your shelf forever.” She laughs again. No, he’s wrong, she’s crying. She cries likes she’s laughing. “I’m so stupid.” She tells him, herself. 

Before he can think of a rebuttal or an excuse, she drives herself away from him, her arms still, elbows locked. “This—we aren’t together. This isn’t a relationship. Stop it. Stop it.”

“Are you doing to do this to me again?” he asks her. It’s mean. He’s always so much worse than he wants to be.

“Seriously? You’re using guilt?” she laughs. Her face, her body is shattered, but standing. She won’t stop shaking her head. “I can’t believe this. You. Me. I’m here again. You make me hate myself—” she shuts herself up and away, in some cloud. Somewhere highly classified, somewhere else. It makes him sick, to realize that he still doesn’t know her at all.

It makes him afraid, how ready he is to beg. There are an infinite number of things he wants to tell her. They choke him.

“I should go,” she says miserably. “I was stupid. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have tried to be casual. With you. Whatever that means. Some of that’s on me, so, I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“Why did you even come back?” Reyes snaps. He takes three, angry steps forwards. He could catch her. He could hold her. For a second he imagines—he doesn’t know, the space opera of his childhood, the magnificent actors standing eighty feet tall, who kiss at the birth of a sun. An image that began as innocent, then tarnished with age, as he grew older, learned the heft of a salacious metaphor.

But wasn't he the villain? The man who thought he was powerful enough to just take people, just pluck them away from their lives, and use them however he wanted?  

But she is the hero of this story. And she is brave when she admits, “I came back to you because I’m an idiot, and I want you. But that isn’t enough. It isn’t more than the galaxy, it isn’t more than the Initiative, and it isn’t more than you or me. There is no room for compromise when our problems are bigger than we could ever personally be.”

It isn't about sneaking around or getting caught. At some point, her fears had grown deeper. 

“What if things were different?” Reyes asks her. “What if we were different?”

She rubs her sleeve roughly, a long swipe—across her eyes. “Don’t be dumb,” she mumbles. “I told you. You wouldn’t like me if I was ordinary.”

“Then what about me?” he asks. She stares at him. He doesn’t really know if he means it. 

Ryder sighs. “You could never be ordinary.”

“No? Then what about us. We could be ordinary. Just two people, together. It doesn’t have to be a catastrophe.”

“Then why does it always become one?” she asks. He hadn’t laid so much as a hand on her shoulder, but it still feels like she shakes him loose when she leaves.

A first: they break up while they aren't even together.

But it isn't like she can avoid him forever. Politically, professionally, she needs him. Not that he wants to hold that over her, but still. It's true. He waits out their few stilted, awkward interactions. At some point he admits that he's never really imagined a future where she doesn't come back to him, and maybe this is wrong - but she still looks at him first, when she walks into a room. He can still make her blush, just by calling her name.

He sets about torturing her.

"What's this?" Ryder jumps when he leans around the edge of her chair, dropping sandwiches on the bar for her.

"You looked hungry, that's all," he says, with such mildness that she'd look childish to refuse.

She eats her sandwich with suspicion.

He presses this opening, switches it up with coffee, with company, with—

"I want you to know," Ryder tells him as she swallows the last of her ham sandwich, perhaps the twenties or thirtieth sandwich in his campaign, "that you are not subtle and I do not acknowledge anything. Your efforts have been wasted. I was using you for your resources and because I don't know where you're buying croissants."

Reyes shrugs, following her out of the port's customs inspection room, down the ramp, on the lift to Kadara's slums. She doesn't seem to mind. "What's on today's agenda?"

A month ago, she wouldn't have told him. "Oh. This guy, Castello, running some kind of strip club out in the wastes. Someone reported him for pushing out drugs, some of his workers look pretty young. I dunno, we'll see." 

“You should be careful,” Reyes offers. “I've heard about him too. Lots of under the table stuff, more than just drugs. In a way that isn’t a party for all those who attend. Especially the people who don't even know where they are.”

For a second her face becomes stiff, then it fades. She works hard to seem unflappable. “What’s so bad about that?” she jokes, now rolling out her shoulders, loosening her neck and her hips. She’s always like this before a mission. Wound up, a spring of kinetic energy that pumps, jumps. He will never try to teach her stillness. Her hair is rough, a mess only barely restrained by elastic. Ghostly wisps fly around her face, stick to the sweat on her neck. “Sex clubs sound relaxing compared to my normal Wednesdays.”

She shouldn’t be so glib. He catches her by the roots of her hair and yanks her back into him. She gasps, head cracked back, neck straining and exposed. In less than a second he lets her go. “Careful,” he says, mildly. “Freaks out there.”

She spins to face him, her mouth open. Her eyebrows climb into her bangs. She just stares at him, shocked. “What was that?” she says suddenly. A passing, bashful glance. She looks away. 

“What do you think?”

She licks her lips, the picture of hesitation. “I don’t know. Shut up.”

She stomps away.

She comes back to him by banging on his door loudly enough for half the patrons in Tartarus to evacuate. Reyes pulls open the door, and winces. She's covered in blood, flushed with exertion, almost radiating heat. Her eyes are fever-bright. “I want to be with you,” she says. “But before that, can you let me hit you just once?”

He spreads his arms. “Go for it.”

She’s already made a fist. Her arm pulls back. “I mean it. I hit really hard. I’m really, really angry.”

“I get it.”

He has good eyes. Good enough to make out the hint of a quiver, rattling her fist. “It’s messed up.”

“I can take a punch,” he says.

She winds up and punches him hard in the left pectoral, harder than he had expected but not harder than he had feared. She stays frozen, her arm stretching across the distance between them, rigid. Her fist begins to slip. “Did it hurt?”

“It hurt.” 

For a second, her lip quivers. She pulls it in, holds it hostage with her teeth. He hopes she won’t apologize, but she does. “I’m sorry that when I spoke just now, I made it sound like you sit around pining for me, wrapped in the throes of absolute misery.”

“I’m sorry for assuming you hit me because you couldn’t stop thinking about me.”

She sniffs. “It's true, you jerk.”

“Stop leaving me,” he answers. “I miss you. Just let it be.”

She takes one step, then another, and her forehead collides with his shoulder, and she makes a frustrated little sound. He’s afraid to put his arms around her, afraid this will be too much. He holds her fingertips instead, squishes the skin there. Real.

“I hit you because I don’t think you believe me when I say we’re breaking up. I’m frustrated. Probably with you, definitely with myself.” 

“Hm,” Reyes acknowledges. He does not particularly care to confirm or deny this point. She lets him put his hands, almost delicately, against her hip bones. “We haven’t changed." 

“It makes me furious.”

“It makes me hopeful. The world is always changing. If we stay the same, one day you’ll get that chance you’re looking for.” Now, he coaxes back from her, strokes the catch of her jaw. “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

“You told me not to trust you.”

“You came back, didn’t you?”

“Fine,” she mutters. She caves against him.

 And so he kisses her again, and again, and again.

After that it gets easier. If she doesn't give in, she makes peace with limbo. She tries not to think about what her father would say. He tries not to give her everything at once, and mostly, succeeds. The key is not thinking. The key is squeezing each day for what it has. The key is agreeing when Ryder calls a date a meeting.

On that note: dinner. Adults, the people in movies, they went to dinner. He wants to take her to dinner, the best dinner in Andromeda. He wants to see her face when she eats something delicious, that sense of luxury. She should have a better life, nicer things.

Strictly business, he understands. She doesn’t have a dress. “Can I wear my formal uniform?” she asks, biting her lip.

“Do you want to?”

“Not really,” she admits. “But it’s not like there are ball gowns on Kadara.”

“Aren’t there?” he was expecting more resistance. In the end she chooses something navy, classy but subdued, impeccably cut. She can’t shake her military heart.

The first course is fish. Nobody asks what kind of fish. These things have not been named yet. “This is nice,” Ryder smiles. “Solid meeting.”

By the time dessert rolls around she’s worked her way through the tasting menu, and the wine list that goes with it. She lounges with her elbows on the table, feet tucked behind his ankles, a friendly flirtatiousness warming her. “Delicious,” she purrs. “I mean it. So good. Thank you.”

She’d eaten everything. Every single bite. Her lips are stained a rough purple from her wine. Dessert comes as two perfect spheres of creamy chocolate. Ryder sighs, blissfully. 

“You defeated the menu.”

“I skipped lunch for this.” She ignores her fork. One long, slender finger digs into her chocolate orb, shoveling it clear. “Some people think things taste better if you eat them by hand.” 

“I believe you,” Reyes agrees, and pulls her hand to his mouth. Her wrist is scented with vanilla, light and sweet, and he guides her hand up to his face with an easy, deliberate slowness, and when his lips close around her fingers—she only smiles, a long and sleepy grin that drips, falls away from her face. 

“Tell me a story?” she asks him. He sucks swatches of chocolate custard from her fingers, he bites them joint by joint. Forget nothing. Sweetness. A hidden filth. He adores her. He wishes she were drunk, that she could stay so open with him forever.

“What kind of a story?” 

“One where the bad guys win,” Ryder coaxes. She’s sticky, beautiful. Without dignity, she becomes irresistible, a fruit split open. She hums her laughter. “Maybe a stupid ending. Set up your plotlines but then some intern trips a line and it all goes up in a fireball. Oops.” She rips her fingers free, skinning her knuckles. He dreams of the day she admits her own darkness. 

But not today. Reyes lifts one brow, a reprimand. She huffs. 

“Alright, fine, no morbid jokes from the Pathfinder. Your point has been made.”

“If I don’t have your soul of integrity to even me out, we’re all but doomed to a cycle of treachery, murder, and exploitative labor laws.” 

Ryder snorts. “It figures you’d be anti-union.”

“Let’s not talk politics. I want to tell you your story,” Reyes says. He picks up her napkin, begins cleaning her hands. “Are you ready? Here we go. In about ten minutes we’ll leave this restaurant. The other patrons, who have nothing better to do than admire you, have probably wondered if the Pathfinder’s drunk, or if she always lets men suck on her fingers out in public.” 

She flinches, and fast as a snake bite, he holds her chin. “Don’t look at them.”

“Reyes—”

“I said, don’t look at them,” he repeats softly. The key is not hesitating. Ryder’s gaze trembles, arrested. He presses on, “When we leave this place, they’ll watch us. They’ll wonder what happens next. Most of them will be right, but I’d like to think I have a little more imagination than the average person.”

“Oh my god,” Ryder whispers, her cheeks flaring.

Keep going. “So what do you think? What happens next?”

“I think.” She stops. Her lips part, tongue sliding heavily over her teeth. He wants to kiss her until the wine stains are gone. He wants her in a way that feels almost violent, almost heavy. He wants to smell whiskey in her hair, again.

“Yes?” 

“I think…I think we’re gonna fuck.” She straightens her chin, looks serious for a second. Reyes grins. She’s borrowed vulgarity for courage. Ryder squints. “Wait.” 

“Oh, no. Go on.”

“No. Um,” her face swings around, cheeks bright, and before she can hesitate anymore he hooks a scoop of chocolate thick across his own thumb, and delivers it between her lips.

Her eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Reyes murmurs. “Such an old word. Invented by people who didn’t know what they were doing.”

Her teeth dig into his thumb. Bite harder. He wants bruises from her, he wants evidence. Her tongue searches the joints of his thumb for more. He pulls away and she is messy, she is gorgeous, she is younger than anyone wants to admit.

“An old word?” she manages to joke. “What are the kids calling it these days?”

“I love you,” he tells her. “Don’t you get it?”

“Yes,” she whispers. Her eyes close. “Yes, I do.”

[uncannycookie]

You are the entire reason I ship terumob. They're so cute. I love your writting and it's amazing. So far my favorite is Of Nearly Letting Go. It's a damn shame ONE never got to the aftermath of the mogami arc. :o It said you were looking for writing prompts?? Maybe Chapter 9 but from Teru's perspective?? It'd be interesting to see his internal thoughts of the big reveal

Ahhh sorry it took me so long to get to this! 

I tried rewriting scenes before, but I just can’t quite make it interesting enough when all the dialogue is already established. SO. I hope you don’t mind that I adjusted your prompt a tiny bit… now it’s the aftermath of chapter 9 from Teru’s POV.

I really hope you like it, and thank you so so much for the prompt and for reading my fics!!

AO3 link

In Liminal Space

Teru has no idea what kind of book he's holding right now. He was looking at the shelf pretending to pick one out for at least a few minutes, but if he was actually expending any energy on reading through the titles, he immediately forgot about them again.The only thing he knows is that it's large and heavy and shaking in his hands.Teru is absolutely no stranger to the sensation of wanting to kick his past self right in the teeth an indefinite number of times. But it's a relatively new twist that he would feel it this strongly about a past self that's only a few weeks old. He was under the impression by now that he'd gotten better than that.Yet here he is, playing through a past argument in his mind again and again, remembering this bitter, satisfied sense of superiority when he brought up the cats to prove a point. And now it just makes bile collect at the back of his mouth.

The book covers are slowly bending in his hands, pages fanning open and pressing against his fingers in a way that he knows will give him paper cuts if he just moves his hands a certain way.With a hard breath, he puts the book down. Leans closer to the bed, his elbows making the mattress dip slightly, and props his chin up on it just a few inches away from Shigeo's face.It's burrowed deep into the pillows and covered up to the nose in blankets. Teru can hardly see any part of him except a worryingly flushed cheek and one closed eye, almost entirely hidden behind a thick curtain of hair. Near his nose on the pillow, the blankets are bundled up where he must be holding them in his fist. His knees are drawn up all the way to his chest. It makes him seem so small that Teru has to swallow past a traitorous scratch in his throat.It was maybe five minutes ago that Shigeo curled up here and tucked himself in, but his breathing is already deep and even.Teru's hands, empty now that the book is lying forgotten on the floor, must have wandered towards the hem of the top blanket all by themselves at some point. Now they're pulling it further up Shigeo's shoulders, which are covered in two layers of thick blankets already ‒ but it was not even a few hours ago that there were small ice crystals stuck in black hair and eyebrows, that pale toes and lips and fingertips were turning blue. Teru is entirely governed by the senseless urge to keep him warm right now.(Safe.)He makes sure to keep his grip light and soft, to not do anything that might wake him up. Which is yet another reason to not let his hands wander even further up and run his fingers through his hair. Apart from possibly waking him, that might also be just a tiny bit creepy.Teru still keeps his fingers curled around the edge of the blanket for a few seconds too long. He's never used this one before. He's spent a lot of time telling himself he bought it simply because he liked the pattern of purple and blue circles and that it had nothing to do with how it reminded him of someone.His legs are starting to hurt. He's been kneeling on the floor in front of the bed for a few minutes now. For some reason, his muscles are trembling with an odd strain.Well, no, not for some reason, he knows the reason. They just had a half hour long talk about the reason.The more calm and quiet Shigeo's breathing becomes, the more Teru's own is picking up, hitching uncomfortably, pressing a sensation of dry cold into the roof of his mouth. He's been trying ‒ albeit not all that successfully - to keep his own feelings on the issue somewhat contained. It's not about him after all. He's supposed to be just the supporting cast, literally.But now it's quiet and his mind is running away with images of blood and loneliness and dead cats and Shigeo right in the middle of it.He pushes himself upright, too fast, too jumpy, and the edge of the futon behind him gets caught on his heel and nearly trips him up.He should get some shopping done. It's the perfect time and he needs to anyway. There is nothing edible left in his fridge, there is nothing else to do in here and it's silent and it's making him itch on the inside.The pajama bottoms he's wearing are just plain enough to not be too embarrassing to wear outside. He still grabs a scarf and a long coat to hide most of his questionable outfit, as if he would even meet anyone at this hour who would care. There is a small shopping list pinned to the magnet board by the door, but he hasn't added anything to it in at least two weeks, so it's pretty useless. He'll know what to get when he sees it.

At some point between two and five in the morning, the twenty-four-hour convenience store becomes a weird place.

There is a small group of drunks pretending to be sober in front of the entrance, too absorbed in their surprisingly sophisticated discussion about artificial intelligence and the nature of human consciousness to really pay him any mind as he walks past them.There is that sales clerk behind the counter that Teru would swear is a different person every time, but who still nods at him as if in recognition whenever he comes here.There is the quiet, cheerful and relaxed music slithering through the air above him. He knows it's exactly the same music as during the day, but it sounds slower now, more tinny, just as the lighting appears colder when the windows are tinted dark from outside.The shelves are loaded with wares that he's sure he never sees here any other time. That chocolate bar in front of him is from a brand that was discontinued years ago. He drops it into the basket hanging from the crook of his arm.Only distantly, the realization bumps into him that he brought his cash card with him. That's usually a bad idea for night time shopping, as he's had to learn the hard way. He stops in front of the refrigerators, fumbles the card out of its usual place in his wallet and crams it into another slot along with four other cards. If it gets to the point where he has to either spend an awkwardly long time pulling it out of there again at the register or just put a few items back instead, this might help him to make the more sensible decision.It's already a challenge to fit it in there at all, because his hands don't want to stop trembling.Teru remembers this one summer camp from when he was a kid. Camping in the woods somewhere, with lots of child friendly survival training, tying knots, fishing, making camp fires. Nothing he was particularly good at or interested in.He was already spoiled back then, already convinced he was better, only he hadn't figured out yet how to distract from his rough edges with the thick padding of charm that is his second nature today. Hadn't figured out how to be mean and arrogant and make people like him for it.Those were three weeks stuck in the woods without friends, without anything nice to do. Three weeks with even the adults there not willing to indulge him anymore, three weeks of being the singular most disliked person in a group of twenty.He managed to stay angry while he was there. To yell at the other children when they hid bugs and snakes in his bedroll, to argue with the adults when they put him on cleaning duty the fifth time in a row, to loudly defend himself every time he alone was forced to carry the blame for their "roughhousing," to barge in filled with rage whenever he caught a group of other kids making fun of him behind his back.And then, when his mother came to pick him up, he ran to her so fast that he fell and knocked out a part of his front tooth on a rock. Even though it was still humiliating, he could at least leave the other children behind knowing they'd think he was bawling his eyes out because of that.And it might be a stupid little thing - a stupid little story, one where maybe every other person can tell at least one similar to it from their own childhood. It's probably the most normal thing, Teru doesn't know.

He does know that it formed him. That it was one of the things that had him trying harder to be popular. It was three weeks of loneliness that he was not going to let himself experience ever again.He can't even begin to wrap his mind around six months.Should probably not even think of comparing one unpleasant three week camping trip to six months of ‒  A hot lurching sensation invades his chest and he has to breathe it away harshly, squaring his shoulders and filling his lungs with as much air as he can. There is a word for what was done to Shigeo there, hovering at the edge of his mind, but he doesn't want to think it, wants to keep it neatly in between the lines of Shigeo's story, where the storyteller himself likely didn't even notice it.Teru is clutching the handle of the refrigerator door in front of him, maybe a bit too hard, and staring right past his reflection in the glass. He's trying to remember... he feels like he's hanging off kilter, jarring conversation snippets clinging to his mind the way a catchy but awful song would, only it's Shigeo's soft, kind voice declaring that "it's not so bad," and "it wasn't real," and "it was so long ago."And Teru is trying so hard to remember if he even answered anything. If he made sure, absolutely certain, that Shigeo knows it was real and it matters.He doesn't think he did.What a joke he is. There was the most basic sort of reassurance he could have provided, just a few strict words he could have said to offer some basic validation, and he was too busy feeling horrified to even attempt it. All this time that he spent trying to get Shigeo to open up, to just fucking talk to him, and when he finally does, Teru is completely useless.A derogatory chuckle escapes him, falls against the glass in front of him and spreads light fog over it. Teru is leaning so close to it that his entire vision is buried in white.Will he ever learn not to do this? To not think himself so much better, so far above failure? It was only ever about making Shigeo trust him, breaking him out of this self-inflicted prison where apparently it wasn't appropriate to acknowledge that he is not okay.And that was it. The end goal. He hadn't even bothered to think past that. Hadn't even considered the possibility that maybe he wouldn't come up with a solution right on the spot, that maybe he wouldn't be able to fix it.That he wouldn't be able to help.With a small snapping sound, the door handle fractures under his hand and he hastily lets go. The shelf behind him would have made it impossible for the clerk to see, but Teru still throws a nervous look over his shoulder and then quickly walks a bit further up the aisle.What even is it with him and refrigerators lately.He sighs loudly, pulls a hand over his face and rubs his eyes until he sees stars. Groceries. That's why he's here. He should stop letting himself get distracted. The drunks from outside have entered the store by now and are wandering along the aisles. Teru makes sure to keep a few steps between them and himself. They seem pretty harmless, but it's hard to tell sometimes and he doesn't want to risk a confrontation. Not today.Two of them are holding hands while they stumble through the store.Teru stares for maybe a second too long. His own hand twitches around empty air, senselessly grasping for the memory of a touch. It's not that he thought Shigeo reaching out to hold his hand was ever about more than simple comfort. He knows it couldn't mean anything else. Teru started that whole thing, offered it as a solution for a problem he barely understood, and that's all it's been ever since.He always enjoyed it. Was always feeling weirdly proud and special whenever Shigeo's fingers would quietly slip between his own as if that was something they did all the time. Teru savored those instances of something almost intimate between them. He knew it was only happening because something had upset Shigeo, but he felt trusted and useful, felt like he was actually doing something to help. At least it never seemed as if it wasn't helping.And all this time, while Teru was walking along in blissful ignorance, proud that he was doing just a small thing to make a small problem go away - this had been on Shigeo's mind. Memories of - of cats dying and of Shigeo dying and of Shigeo being alone, and hated, and helpless...Teru presses his palm to his forehead, hard, if only to stop himself from punching something.The handholding drunks are looking at him in concern. "Kid," one of them says, hardly even slurring, "you feeling alright? Drink some water, we're getting some water right now. Water helps. Hey!" They turn and gesture towards one of their friends already at the register. "Hiro! Get, get some extra water for the kid, yeah? He doesn't look so good, kid, you really don't look so good.""I'm fine, thank you," Teru bites at them and quickly adjusts his hand gesture so it looks like he was just going to brush the hair out of his face. He means to send a smile along afterwards, but it feels more like a strained grin and he is surprised that it still seems to work somehow. The drunk points at him with a stern frown. "If you're sure," they say, already turning away. "Gotta take care of yourself, you know."Teru waves them off with barely contained annoyance and flees to another aisle.Right, so, time to concentrate. All he has in his basket so far is a possibly ancient chocolate bar that he should probably put back. He'll do that when he gets back around to the front of the store. For now, he should prioritize what he needs in his head, pick the most important stuff first and leave what he can't afford right now for later. A gentle buzzing feeling is ghosting over his skin, urging him into action. He hasn't gotten anything done for way too long now.He'll have to make breakfast for Shigeo tomorrow, so the first priority is milk. Two cartons, just to be safe. He still has some coffee powder at home, but no marshmallows. There have to be marshmallows. Teru instinctively reaches for his standard ones, but snaps himself out of it just in time. They're cat-shaped. It's like he's trying to be an asshole now. Grinding his teeth for a second, he gets the more expensive ones instead, the ones that just have dog and bear shapes in different colors.Also, he should make pancakes. The thought barely strikes him before he's already collecting everything he needs, hardly even realizing how he gets from one side of the store to another. Every movement feels a bit too erratic, too sudden. Only in front of the shelf with the syrup does he stop for a moment, searching deep in his memory for any inkling of what Shigeo's favorite is. He doesn't know. Does he even like syrup at all? Teru ends up getting all four he's looking at. Just to be safe.The drunks have left the store. The music stopped playing for some reason. The sudden silence makes Teru hurry up even more. When he's standing at the register, he realizes that he doesn't have enough cash to pay for everything. He doesn't even consider putting anything back and instead spends about half a minute fumbling his bank card back out of his wallet.The clerk accepts it with a wide-eyed look. Teru raises an eyebrow at him and there is an odd, slow moment where they just stare at each other.Then, as he notices a little leftover flare of his own aura, Teru realizes he probably doesn't remember how he got around the store just now because he might have been using telekinesis to do it.... oops.The clerk has slipped back into his work routine by now, quietly ringing him up and handing the card and his shopping bags to him. The light perspiration on his forehead and the enormous question mark in his eyes are the only indicator that he's even remotely uncomfortable.Teru takes the bags and aimlessly waves one hand around at the store behind him. "So you noticed that too, huh?" he says with a forced casual tone. "Seems to be some weird haunting going on here. Maybe think about hiring an exorcist." Then he hurries towards the exit, paying extra attention to his feet and that they stay on the ground. He hasn't slipped up like that since forever ago. Apparently he's very tired, even though he doesn't really feel like it anymore.On a garbage can next to the exit sits a single, unopened water bottle with a post it note on it. "Water is healthy, kid!" it reads. Teru blinks at it for a moment, before quickly walking past it.He is nervous on the whole way back to his apartment. Like an itch in his throat that he has to try and swallow again and again to make it go away for at least a few seconds. Dawn is slowly approaching when he unlocks the front door and closes it behind him to the first sounds of chirping birds. It hasn't registered until now that it's not really nighttime anymore, that his late shopping trip switched to an early shopping trip somewhere along the way. That's worse, that's so much worse. What if Shigeo woke up already while Teru wasn't there? Woke up to an empty apartment, alone and abandoned, right after the sort of talk they just had?Teru rushes up the stairs taking three steps at once, the railing shakes and creaks loudly under his grip. The content of the shopping bags would have long since spilled all over the staircase if he didn't keep it inside with his powers.His fingers are shaking when searching for his keys.

He knows he locked the door and windows properly before he left, but spirits can still get in. Why didn't he think of that?

He's never seen many spirits, none actually before meeting Shigeo, and he's certainly never had to be afraid of them.

But suddenly there is a spirit that managed to overwhelm the strongest person he ever met, a mere spirit with enough power to blur the lines of reality and the mind. A spirit that, as far as he knows, is still alive somewhere and still watching Shigeo.Finally he unlocks the door. It slips from his grip and crashes into the wall of the hallway. Teru barely catches it in time as it swings back at him, but then tries to close it as quickly and quietly as he can. The bags slip from his hands and right to the floor, he kicks off his shoes and jumps over them, dashing to the living room.He feels unhinged, suddenly, his muscles twitching weirdly and making him move in ways he doesn't want to. There are no spirits nearby, he can feel that, but there is still that thought clawing at the back of his neck that he left Shigeo alone and if something happened to him then it's his fault, he needs to make sure he's still there and safe and warm -With his socked feet, the sudden stop at the door to the living room almost has him sliding to the side and falling, but he catches the door frame just in time to keep himself upright.Shigeo is still there.

In fact, he hasn't moved at all since Teru left. His knees are still drawn up to his chest, his hand still curled around the blankets, his face still buried deep into the pillow. As Teru's heartbeat slowly but surely backs down from ringing in his ears, he can make out the calm, even sound of Shigeo's breath.Teru goes slack against the door frame. Holding himself up with the right, his left arm now tightly wraps around his ribcage, fingers grasping for purchase on the thick, rigid surface of his coat. Something burns in the corners of his eyes, hot and itchy, and his next inhale stutters, hitches and becomes a sob.This is stupid. And loud. He'll end up waking him after all.Turning around, he leans with his back against the frame, decisively looking away from the bed. He presses a hand to his mouth, closes his eyes, keeps swallowing hard and breathes through his nose. Stop, he thinks at himself, calm and clear, strict. He knows he doesn't listen otherwise. Stop. He's fine. He's still here.The arm slung around his middle is not the sort of contact he is craving, is not at all enough compared to holding another person. But it helps, just a bit. Just for now. It has to.Only two more sobs manage to escape him, then he bites back the rest. They taste bitter, but at least it's quiet now.

One, two, three more breaths and he pushes himself off the frame. Hangs up his coat, picks up his groceries. By the time he's cleaned out the fridge and stocked it anew again, the sun is already coming up. Teru quickly washes himself, turns on the coffee machine, and walks back into the living room.Everything is still as it was before.Teru kneels down next to the bed, elbows on the mattress. He tries not to look at Shigeo too much. That'd be weird.The purple and blue blanket has slipped down Shigeo's shoulder again. Teru carefully pulls it back up.Just to keep him warm.