#but the thing is. i WAS trying. i was trying so hard and i wasn't rewarded for it while everyone else got a's

[juniusgirl]

I had this giant golden when i was young that could open the sliding glass door. He'd get up on his hind legs, grab the door handle with his mouth (how...it was one of these:)

And then he'd push off the frame with his front paws. He was a clever dog, but a bit inconsiderate, as he never closed the door after himself. Still, the other dogs at the very least seemed to love it.

He would even try to do it when it was locked, and as anyone who has ever had a sliding glass door probably knows, the locks are pretty shit, and sometimes he could get it open just by trying hard enough. Eventually, of course, it broke entirely, and like in the video, or rather like anyone who has had a sliding glass door more than a year old, we put a piece of wood in the frame to keep it closed.

Of course, the stick method was far more effective, which meant our clever golden couldn't brute force it open if it were "locked" anymore. Which wasn't usually a problem, except for situations like this.

I more than once had been locked out of the house, sometimes on accident. Usually we had a spare key outside but in this particular incident it wasn't available for whatever reason. Naturally i tried to do this very thing with him. Like i said he was a very clever dog. He knew i wanted in! He tried the handle! But it just wouldn't budge.

I was reviewing my options, i couldn't get to a window i knew was unlocked without a ladder and we didn't have one. I had learned to pick one of my locks recently but i didn't have anything i could use for that on me. No one would be home for hours. My closest friends at the time, whose houses i'd just walked home from, lived 3 miles away. Looked like i might be stuck.

Then our other golden came to the door. She was also a smart dog, but more passive--a therapy dog actually--and she had some medical problems that meant standing up on her hind legs was difficult. But you know what she loved more than anything (besides disgustingly dirty scraps of old toys)? Sticks.

So i essentially started doing this, encouraging her to grab the stick, to show me her stick, get me the stick!

There was a lot of barking. A lot of tail-wagging. A lot of me getting more and more frustrated and desperate in the hot summer sun. But in the end....

She never figured it out. Luckily we had a big tree in our front yard so i climbed back over our fence and hung out in the shade until my mom came home. But i recognize sound effort, so we did play tug with a rank piece of what might have been a toy pheasant after dinner. She won.

This dog unlocked the door for his human

[artificial-transmutations]

Grunt Force Gamer

Friday evening, finally. After a rather stressful week at the office, Finn was looking forward to his favorite past-time activity, which was blasting through the missions of *Duty Force Alpha* with his buddies. He was a bit surprised though when he logged into the voice server to find only one of his teammates there, even though he was the one who was late.

"Hey Beck! Sorry I'm late. Where is everyone?" he asked.

Beck was the newest addition to the team and had only joined a few weeks ago, bringing them up to five guys, or a whole squad.

"Let's see..." the other guy answered.

"Joey has to help a friend to move, so he is out for tonight. Alex has to prepare a presentation for his work on Monday. And I haven't heard from Dave at all."

Finn groaned.

"So, probably girl trouble again." Dave had a history of disappearing without any trace for a couple of days, only to emerge again a few days later and explaining that he was on a date. It never seemed to work out in the long term, though.

"Anyway. What about you?"

"I'm game. Looks it's just the two of us tonight." said Beck, and Finn could vividly imagine the cocky grin of the other guy, even though their cams were off right now. Finn agreed and started up the game but couldn't stop his heart from beating faster. The thing about Beck was that he wasn't just the newest member of their team or a cool guy to hang out with. Beck was *also* rather hot, especially for a gamer, and every time he spoke, his voice alone was enough to send a chill down Finn's spine. In short, Finn had a hard crush on the other man, and the prospect of spending the evening alone with him - even though it was just digital proximity - was both exciting and frightening to him.

The trouble was: Finn knew borderline nothing about Beck at all. He knew they lived in the same city and his first name, but that was about it. He had no idea if Beck was into guys or if he was single - which Finn could hardly imagine either way - or what his type was. And, of course, he was way too shy to actually ask him.

Just as Finn logged onto the game server, Beck spoke up again.

"Ah fuck, I've got to go AFK for a few minutes again, sorry."

"Sure, no problem. I'll go get a snack as well."

Finn muted his microphone, but instead of going to the kitchen, he was quickly distracted by a message from the game, announcing a change in skill trees. As he was reading the patch notes, however, after some moments, he heard a strange noise from his headset. It sounded a bit like a quiet slapping sound, and while he was still trying to identify what it was, a faint moan reached his ears.

Oh. *Oh*! Finn froze as his brain connected the dots. Beck hadn't gone AFK in a broader sense. Well, his hands probably were off the keyboard, but...

His mind was racing, and his own cock was twitching. Beck was *jerking off* right now, and he had forgotten to mute his microphone. What now? He couldn't just sit here and listen to his teammate beat his meat, right? Perhaps he should give him some privacy and go get that snack.

On the other hand,... imagining the lean Beck stroking himself, probably watching some porn in his gaming chair was pretty hot, and Finn felt his own cock strain against his pants. He double checked his own microphone. Muted. Good. Finn felt his heart beating in his throat as he slowly fondled himself, not quite masturbating but listening to the increasingly labored breaths of his crush on the voice channel. He wondered what he was watching...

Suddenly, a coarse whisper joined the jerking noises and the moans.

"Oh yeah. Show me those big guns, Sarge. I bet your sexy biceps are so much bigger than your brain... Well, I wouldn't mind..."

No way! Beck wasn't just rubbing one out to a random porn video, but instead he was drooling over one of the game characters, Sarge, the meathead heavy type of the game.

But that meant...

Disappointment set in shortly after euphoria. Yes, that meant Beck was gay. But it also meant he preferred the more or less exact opposite of what Finn had to offer. He was a smart guy with a rather unimpressive physique - quite the contrast to Sarge, who was basically a meat mountain. In fact, Finn's character in *Duty Force Alpha* was the exact opposite of Sarge. It was a character class called 'Engineer', whose main feature was to build turrets to shoot down enemies.

But these were just game characters, right? A fantasy. Perhaps Beck didn't have those expectations in real life? Well, there was no way he would be able to ask him, not without giving away that he listened in on his masturbation session.

As if on cue, Beck was moaning loudly now, and with an almost grunting noise, the slapping stopped. He had finished, and Finn was hard. It took only a few seconds until the sound of his breath was gone, replaced by his normal voice.

"Hey, Finn. Did you get that snack?"

Finn decided to wait for two more minutes before unmuting his own microphone to keep up the charade.

"I'm back. Are you there, Beck?"

"Yeah, sorry man, I had to take care of something first. Anyway, let's get going!"

Taking care of something. You could say that. Beck chose his usual sniper character as if nothing had happened and Finn's mouse hovered over the engineer, but he hesitated. He knew Beck's fantasies rather well now. Perhaps if he tried to act a bit simpler... He clicked.

"No way! You're playing Sarge? What happened to your engi?" Beck's voice was surprised.

"Well, I..."

Finn cleared his throat, remembering that Beck apparently had the hots for the simple men.

"Heh, yeah, figured I'd mix things up a bit. These guys seem pretty... capable. And we need a bit of meat shield if it's just the two of us."

Adjusting his pattern of speech to what he thought was simple and cool was harder than expected. He found himself tripping over words more often than not, but if that had any effect on the other guy, he didn't show it immediately. He didn't ask further questions about his choice of character and the two of them went on their way, starting the first mission.

At first, Finn tried to play tactically, as he was used to by his engineer, but after half a mission, he reconsidered. Not only was Sarge simply not built for this playstyle, but he figured Beck would be more into another approach. So, he changed strategies completely and just charged into the enemies head-first and with blazing guns. This worked out remarkably well, and soon, Finn was having actual fun behaving like the meathead he was pretending to be. He even threw in a few grunts and battle cries for good measure that seemed to amuse Beck a lot.

"Sounds like someone is having fun with his new class!" he laughed after a particularly successful attack.

"Yeah. I'm just here to shoot and look pretty. No need to think of anything. Leave that to the smart guys. Like you. All I need is my guns."

The bit of boldness probably came from all the adrenalin, but it was getting easier to get into character now. In any case, Beck didn't seem to mind.

"Awesome man! So, what do you do when you're not gaming? Hit the gym much?"

Finn froze and almost got hit by an enemy assault as a consequence. Fuck! This was the first time Beck showed any interest in his personal life. But the honest answer to that would be 'no, never', clearly not what Beck wanted to hear. Against better judgment he had to lie.

"Uh... yeah, sometimes. Gotta stay in shape, y'know?", hoping that Beck would buy it.

"Nice! Hey, why don't you turn on your cam, show me those gains."

Crap. They sometimes played with their webcams on, that's how Finn knew how Beck looked like. However, since he had been sick and didn't want to turn on his own camera last time, Beck had not seen him before. And that was the only reason his bluff earlier could have worked.

"I don't know, I didn't clean my place..." he tried to evade, but it was no use.

"Aww, come on, man."

Beck had already turned on his camera and smiled into the lens, and Finn could see the handsome face he often dreamed of at night. That was, of course, too much for Finn to resist, and he turned on his camera, too, with a beating heart, expecting Beck to call him out on his lie.

But instead, Beck nodded approvingly.

"Yeah, nice. I can see your progress. You're looking pretty fit, man."

Finn just stared at the monitor for a moment. Given, the lighting wasn't all that good, but how on earth would Beck think he was looking *fit*? He inspected his own miniature image on the screen. Okay, yes, the shadows of the badly lit battle station worked in his favor here. With some fantasy, you could probably make out definition that Finn knew very well wasn't there in reality. Perhaps, Beck was just being polite.

"Uh, thanks." he said, before quickly adding "... bro." for the effect.

He felt a rush of excitement. Perhaps he would be really able to pull this off!

With the cams still on, he charged into the next pack of enemies, and watched Beck lean back into his gaming chair, giving Finn a good view of his own somewhat toned chest under his t-shirt.

"So, you got a girlfriend, Finn? Or are you more of a player?"

Fuck, more questions. His first impulse was to lie again, but no! If he wanted to have a shot with the other guy, he *had* to be honest here. He swallowed hard and answered with his eyes still lingering on Beck, trying to read his body language.

"N-no girlfriend. I'm... uh... not really into chicks."

That came out a lot less confident than he hoped. There was no sign of animosity in Beck, and even though thinking was somehow getting harder, rationally, Finn knew it was a good opportunity to ask him the same, exposing Becks own orientation. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it, so he chickened out and tried to change the subject.

"Anyway, did I tell you about this thing that happened at work the other day? I totally saved our asses by-"

He stopped again, suddenly remembering that he's supposed to play dumb.

"Uh, I mean, I dunno, it was pretty boring office stuff. Who cares about that shit, right?"

At least the lingo came a lot more naturally by now, and sometimes, Finn had to remind himself that it was a role he was playing. It was, right?

Beck raised an eyebrow, looking curious.

"Office stuff? Didn't know you worked in an office, Finn. Thought you were more of a hands-on kind of guy."

Shit! what a slip-up.

"Uh... yeah, uh... I actually am. I'm..."

Fuck, thinking was *hard*. He had to come up with something here, but his mind drew a blank until he looked back at the screen.

"... a soldier. Yeah, I'm in the army."

"Wait, you're a soldier? For real?"

Beck sounded impressed but Finn's heart was racing as he realized what he just said. But he couldn't back down now.

"Uh, yeah, that's right," he replied, trying to sound casual. "Been in the army for a couple years now."

Beck looked impressed. "No shit? That's awesome, man! But what were you doing in an office then?"

Shit, lying was *hard*. Now he had to come up with another one, and fast.

"I... uhm... Oh, right. I was actually applying for a new job, at a private security firm. Y'know, with all the political bullshit goin' on, a lot of us are lookin' to get out and find somethin' else."

That was believable. A lot of people didn't want to stay in the army with a president like that. Heck, that's why *he* was looking for another job, right?

Wait, but wasn't that part of the lie? Finn's confusion grew and he barely registered Beck's answer:

"Yeah, I hear ya."

Finn scratched his head, trying to clear his mind. Thinking had never been his strong point - or has it? However, he was quickly distracted again by a weird feeling. As he had raised his arm, his shirt felt... tight. Constricting even. Hardly believing what he felt, he looked down at his own body and felt his solid pecs through his t-shirt. No, they weren't just solid. They were *large*. Large enough to stretch the fabric of his clothing and to limit his movements. Suddenly, he was aware of his other muscles, too. His arms were far bigger than they should be. Or was that right? Wasn't that why he went to the gym every day?

"Damn Finn, I never realized how built you are." Beck’s voice interrupted his slow train of thoughts and Finn could see Beck subconsciously licking his lips at the sight.

Something was wrong here, somehow.

"I... uh... I need to piss." he declared, the crude language coming all natural now.

He almost forgot to take off his headset and stumbled to the bathroom, splashing his face with water. The man who was staring back at him from the mirror was... not him. There was a certain similarity, of course, but *this* Finn was looking all different. He stripped down to his underwear to see better and was greeted by a much more massive body than before: a six-pack, bulging biceps, pecs, and all. His hair was also shorter than it used to be, and his features overall looked more rugged and less nerdy. He was a whole new, hot and handsome version of his former self. Even his face had squared up, and his jawline was much stronger. And his underwear... It looked positively *stuffed*, like he had pushed a sock in there. But he knew that wasn't the case. No, this was *his* package, the outline of his own cock pressing against the fabric, and it was a lot more than he remembered.

Finn stared at his reflection, and the reflection stared back. Something was wrong, but the fog around his brain was only getting denser.

Right, that was it. His big fingers brushed against his stubbly beard. He didn't shave, that's what was wrong here. Without a second thought, he grabbed the razor and started working on his upper lip, his chin and even his chest, until he was presentable again. It was only a few swipes, and once he was finished, he was satisfied with his work. Better.

He grabbed his clothes from the ground and didn't realize they, too, had changed into a pair of large olive cargo shorts and a white tank top.

"Yo, I'm back. Did I miss any action?"

He grinned for the camera and Beck shook his head.

"Cool!"

He readjusted his crotch and got back to playing, occasionally exchanging a joke with Beck. The game was getting really fun. Finn was blasting through enemy ranks without any consideration for strategy anymore. He was a simple guy now, and simple guys didn't need that kind of thing.

After an especially hard boss fight, he yanked his fist up in the air in triumph.

"Hell yeah! Did you see that?"

Beck laughed. "Yeah, I did, Finn. You were a beast out there."

Beck's praise gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

"Thanks man. One sec."

Without a second thought he pulled off his headset, followed by his tank top, leaving him bare-chested in front of his PC.

"Better. It's getting hot in here."

"Wow, you can say that... Holy shit!"

Beck’s eyes looked like they are about to pop out of his head. "You been hidin' that bod all this time? Damn, you look amazing!" The lust in his voice is clearly audible by now.

"Thanks, man. Just thought I'd get comfortable, y'know?" Finn grinned and ran a hand over his chiseled chest, feeling powerful and sexy. Suddenly, he remembered something.

"Right, wanted to ask ya, since we're bein' honest and all... you got a girl? Or maybe you're into dudes like me?" He didn't get why he couldn't have asked that earlier, it really wasn't that hard, was it? Heh, hard.

Beck's cheeks flush slightly but he grins. "Yeah, I swing for the other team too, Finn. Never found a chick who could handle all this."

He gestured to his own, rather toned body, which wasn't quite as impressive as the one Finn was sporting now, bringing Finn to smirk in acknowledgement.

"Well, if you wanna get more comfortable too, feel free to lose the shirt, man. Unless you're scared to show me up."

Beck chuckled, reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Scared? Please, I'll put your buff ass to shame!"

The two of them continue to play, now with their shirts off, and their banter becomes increasingly flirty. Finn was enjoying the attention, and it was obvious that Beck was enjoying the view as well. However, after two more missions, Beck noticed a sudden drop in his teammate’s performance.

"Dude, what's up? You're playin' like shit all of a sudden." he teased, while his eyes remained glued to the difficult situation.

However, after hearing the grunted answer from Finn, he immediately looked up to the video stream again.

"It's... hard to play with one hand, y'know?"

Beck's mouth fell open as he saw Finn, grinning, with one hand still on the controller and the other tightly wrapped around the massive hard cock he had fished out of his underwear and was stroking slowly, all while maintaining eye contact with Beck.

"Woah, dude. You're... You're jackin' off right now? While we're gaming?"

Finn just grinned broader before his hazy mind produced an idea. Instead of the controller, he took his phone in his hand and typed a bit, all while slowly continuing to work his cock. Beck didn't have to wait long for the mystery to resolve itself, though, as his own phone buzzed.

"That's my address," Finn growled, his voice deep and commanding. "Get your fine ass over here and I'll show you what this soldier can really do."

"I... I'll be there in 10 minutes." Beck promises, his own voice coarse with arousal.

The last thing he saw before his webcam switched off was a lewd grin on Finn's new face.

Hey, sorry for the long silence! I've had some stressful time at work, but now I'm back writing!

[mononijikayu]

new kid! fushiguro megumi who....

new kid! fushiguro megumi who knew that he wasn’t sure what to make of this place yet, wasn't truly sure about his new life that was begnning for him as he leaves the old one behind. that was just too honest of him.

the new house was bigger than their last one, lived-in but unfamiliar. his new room smelled like fresh paint, and his small stash of belongings were still packed away in unopened boxes. this was his new life now. this new arrangement.

his elder sister tsumiki had reassured him before she left for college. told him gojo satoru would watch over him. told him he wouldn’t be alone. that there were great kids in the neighborhood, people he could get along with.

at least, that’s what gojo said. but megumi wasn’t sure he wanted to meet them, or get to know them just yet. he was still on the fence about it, just as with everything in his life. just as with everything else that could ever come. but perhaps, he’d just have to wait and see.

new kid! fushiguro megumi wasn’t sure how the story of it all even started. somehow, he was certain that there was that quiet pull, the subtle gravity that drew him toward the space just beyond the creaky wooden fence separating his world from yours.

somehow, it was a cosmic demand. it was somehow a certain destiny being aligned by the stars. something that megumi had thought maybe only possible in movies.

and yet, as much as it was destiny, it was also his own choice. he sat there, enjoying the sun in the solitude and made that choice, that move to turn his head, and find the world beyond him grow into the words that make up the word, 'you'.

new kid! fushiguro megumi found himself watching you from afar, all of a sudden. but of course, in a proper way. in a respectful way. definitely not in a way that felt intrusive, but as if trying to understand something just beyond his reach.

he knew better than that. he knew better than to cause someone to feel uncomfortable. he didn’t want to make people around him feel rough about it. and so he was trying, he was trying to look away. he gulped. he couldn’t do it. he couldn’t look away from you.

new kid! fushiguro megumi thinks that maybe it’s the way you carried yourself with a serene grace, one that he’d never seen from anyone in his entire life before. one that he found himself admiring every little dawn of day he could see you from afar.

megumi didn’t expect you to notice him first. but you did, you happily did. but he thinks that it was easy, especially with those heavy rumbling footsteps against the mossy grass. it was loud enough, he supposed. and you noticed, you found him, like destiny wanted.

“you’re staring at me.” you said one afternoon, voice gentle but teasing. you weren’t facing him, but somehow, you still knew.

megumi stiffened, ears burning. “i—i’m not.”

you tilted your head slightly, as if listening. “you are.”

megumi suddenly felt very, very out of his depth. “sorry.” he muttered, turning away. but then he heard you laugh—soft, light, like wind chimes in the breeze.

“it’s okay, don't worry.” you said, voice carrying over the fence. “i stare too, sometimes. well, even if it's just dark. it's still something that exists in this world.”

megumi blinked, confused. you lifted a hand, fingers brushing over the petals of a flower beside you. “i like to feel things. it helps me see them.”

oh. he thinks to himself as his throat tightens.

new kid! fushiguro megumi felt something in his chest shift in that moment. before he could think too hard about it, he reached over the fence, plucking a small blossom from a low-hanging branch. he hesitated only for a second before extending it toward you.

“here.” megumi says to you in response.

you took it without hesitation, fingertips grazing his knuckles as you traced the delicate petals. “this one feels nice.”

fushiguro megumi swallowed. “yeah?”

you nodded, smiling softly. “you have a good eye. for things like this, huh?"

".....yeah, i guess so."

you hummed, almost to happily. "you're already so interesting, new kid. i look forward to you in the future too."

new kid! fushiguro megumi, who never considered himself particularly thoughtful, started noticing things. and it had made him just as bitter, just as angry. and just as eager, to do more for you.

he noticed how the world wasn’t always built for you. how uneven pavement made you slow your steps, how certain things were placed just out of reach, how people spoke to you like you were delicate, like you might break if they weren’t careful.

and he hated it. he could feel it burning in his chest, that anguish. almost like a fever that could just as easily burn everything in its path as he looked at you, still smiling.

how can you smile like that? he asks himself in the quiet. how can you still be so good to the world, when it makes you feel so alone?

new kid! fushiguro megumi clenched his fists so tightly, it turned brutishly red. he couldn't let this pass. he won't. this is isn't what you deserved. you deserved so much more. you deserved the very best. no, no. you deserved the world. you deserved to have it at the palm of your hands.

megumi wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him. but it did. it mattered to him that you were comfortable. it mattered to him that you had all that could make your life as normal as possible. so you could live with a smile in your face, a true one.

he started small, he started from where he could. when he noticed a branch hanging too low on your usual path, he snapped it off without a word. when the neighborhood kids left their bikes scattered across the sidewalk, he quietly moved them aside before you walked by.

when the bakery down the street rearranged their display cases, he mumbled a quiet, awkward explanation so you wouldn’t have to fumble around. or when he found books, he worked hard to try and make sure he reads it for you, every little word, even if his voice was hoarse from it.

new kid! fushiguro megumi thinks that there was nothing special about it. he was only doing what he should. moving things out of your way, describing things when it seemed like you wanted to know, standing beside you when the world got too loud. it wasn’t extraordinary. it wasn’t something to be praised.

it was just normal. just expected. that’s why he never said anything about it. never drew attention to it. never expected you to notice. but you did. it was ever so easy to notice. you were blind, that’s certain. but you were no fool.

you noticed how the world seemed a little easier when he was around. how the things that once stood in your way disappeared before you could even reach them. how he always stood just close enough, just within reach, but never too close—never forcing, never assuming, just there.

you noticed how his voice, though often hesitant, carried a quiet kind of care when he spoke to you. how his words, though awkward and sometimes clumsy, were always meant to bring you closer to the world he saw.

“you move things, don't you?” you said that sunny afternoon, your tone unreadable. "i can feel it, you know."

megumi froze. “i don’t—”

you smiled knowingly. “you do.”

"you take care of things, don't you?" you murmured, fingers trailing over the petals of a flower he had left for you on the fence. "quietly. carefully."

megumi, who had been standing on the other side, stiffened. "i don’t—"

you smiled, tilting your head slightly. "you do."

new kid! fushiguro megumi, who had never been good at taking credit, looked away, scowling. he found his face as red as the scarlet sunset behind you both. he purses his lips in a flat line.

megumi thinks about how much of his life had been spent making himself feel so insignificantly small in that quiet, unobtrusive prison he had made for himself, a prison he shouldn't even be in.

almost all the sudden, megumi thinks that he felt seen in a way that made his heart stumble. in a way he doesn't think he ever thought he could ever deserve in this life. he doesn't think he's a good person.

and yet, here you were, smiling at him and telling him that he was a good person. that he was someone you appreciated. that he was someone you were thankful for, someone you cherished.

"you don’t have to....and yet....." you paused for a moment. "somehow, you do anyway."

his fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie. he didn’t know what to say to that. so he just mumbled, "don't think too much of it."

but you reached out, fingertips brushing over the rough wood of the fence, stopping just short of his. you shake your head at him. "it is too much. it is everything, megumi-chan."

“it’s not a big deal.” he grumbles under his breath. "anyone could have done that. you know that."

but you reached out, fingers brushing against his wrist before he could tuck his hands into his pockets. he felt his breath hitch as he found himself closer to you. it was as though this moment was the first time he'd ever found himself understanding what the word spring truly means when your touch was against his own.

“it is to me.” you whispered back to him. a small smile sweeping your tender lips. "it is a big deal. because it's you.....so thank you, megumi-chan. thank you for being good to me."

he grew even redder, flustered at your tenderness. he rubs the back of his head, feeling his heart pound. "you give people too much credit! you're too nice. how are you this nice?"

you giggled at him. "but arent't you nice too?"

"am not!" he murmured under his breath, still ever so red.

"ah, you're pretty red, aren't you?"

"shut up!"

new kid! fushiguro megumi, who never cared for praise, found that your words sat warm in his chest long after you’d gone. there was that thought that maybe spring could last forever, whenever you smiled at him.

there was a thought that his day would feel complete because you were there to tell him that you were thankful that he came into your life to help him through it all, even the little things.

he never thought that your words would pull at his heartstrings in this way, playing his heart into a symphony that could only be built in the benevolent heart of someone like you. and so, he found himself addicted to the sound of his heart beating, leaping over and over again.

perhaps that is what it was, some sort of calling. this new kid on the block without purpose, found one. that was to stay by your side no matter come what may. because nothing was more addictive to him, than this feeling.

these overwhelming feelings that drown him in this eternal sea, each and every single time. he knew that, almost too certainly. and there was no escape. and he knew deep down, he didn't want to escape it. not when you smile like that. not when you smile at him, smile because of him.

new kid! fushiguro megumi started describing things more, in his own awkward way. with great detail. he knew he wasn't as good as most people in describing things. or being passionate about it out loud. but you seemed to enjoy it very much. you were smiling through it all.

“the sky looks kinda weird today. all gray, like someone smudged the clouds.” he’d say a bit dryly. or, in some rare warm whispers, “the cherry blossoms are blooming. they look like—uh, you know, pink and fluffy.”

"is it really?" you gasped, almsot too excitedly at some points. "oh, megumi-chan! what's the shape of the clouds? oh, oh! how about the birds in the sky? are they as graceful as how the documentaries say?"

he knew that wasn’t great with words, but you never seemed to mind. if anything, it made you seem contented in the warmth of spending time together, even if the words don't echo them exactly.

because if one was asking the correct things, this would be the question: what is the right words, the perfect words, when every action already blossomed the warm kindness the sun could never gift you? that's what you asked him.

and he wasn't sure at all, if he had any answer for you. instead, he lets his hand brush carefully against your own, his green-blues not leaving your misty ones. you found your lips curving into the brightest of smiles, teeth and all. megumi thinks that these smiles are the very best. these were the ones he cherishes most when you were together.

"you're good to me, megumi-chan. thank you."

"you're good to me too." he whispers under his breath, red appearing agianst his cheeks. ".....i hope you know that."

you giggled. "hm, hm. i know."

new kid! fushiguro megumi wasn’t sure when it started. when did it turly start; these feelings that were too loud for him to ignore. these rhythmic symphonies his heart composes when he sees your face, at peace under a willow tree.

maybe it was the first time you held his hand without hesitation, trusting him without question. or maybe it was the way you always seemed to know when he was nearby, even when he hadn’t said a word. he doesn't know how it all begun.

but all he knew was that he had these feelings. he had these smiles on his lips. he had these red cheeks blossoming hot. he had you, by his side letting them repeat over and over again.

new kid! fushiguro megumi who had spent almost all of his life keeping the world, the people, life itself at arm’s length slowly finds himself realizing that he was letting you in those impenetrable walls without even a single cost. he has let go without a fight.

but how could he do such a thing, when he has too much desire to keep you by his side like this? how could he find himself hidden away from you in these strong holds when he wanted for you to feel the warmth in his tone, the kindness in his touch?

it was easy to notice it in the small things, how he had utterly surrendered to you. how he started looking for you first whenever he stepped outside. how he’d listen for your voice over the hum of the neighborhood. how the air around you always felt a little lighter, a little warmer.

new kid! fushiguro megumi, who had always been good at avoiding emotions, was starting to realize—he was falling in love. so utterly, miserably, happily, undoubtly, ever so certainly in love and it was with you. always you. it was never going to stop being you.

that spring afternoon, that youthful spring that belonged only to the two of you. it was ever so beautiful. he couldn't explain it. was the tree beautiful because you were under it, or were you beautiful because you were the apple of his eyes?

when he found you sitting in your blossoming garden, your fingers lightly skimming over the open pages of the book. your fingers gently brushed itself against the tactile echoes all across the pages, the words forming through those elegant bridges of braille recognizable from where he stood.

“you don’t have to read in braille, you know.” he said, standing just beyond the fence. “i could read to you.”

you tilted your head toward him, smiling softly. “you would?”

he shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “yeah. if you wanted.”

“hmm, i guess.” you hummed, considering. “but do you even like reading out loud?”

he looked away. “not really. not stuff like this, at least."

you laughed, quiet and knowing. “but you’d do it anyway?”

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “...yeah.”

new kid! fushiguro megumi, who wasn’t good at saying things outright, suddenly felt very obvious. he felt like he didn't know who this person was, being so bold as to stand before you and be so ever brave.

he could see that well hidden mirth in your glassy eyes, ever so happy to just be there with him this way. even if you couldn't see everything, you were so good at knowing the wondrous picture forming before you. you could read him, even if you couldn't see him. and he knew that too well.

you grinned at him. soon enough, you only patted the empty space beside you. “then come sit with me.”

and just like that, he did.

he always will, you know that.

that's how he perhaps, loves you.

new kid! fushiguro megumi, who never cared for the thought of happy ever after, or whatever those fairy tales say, found himself reading them to you with such uncharted passion anyway.

new kid! fushiguro megumi, who never needed the warmth of many people, found himself wanting to stay by your side. hoping for the immortality of that joy that comes from being together.

new kid! fushiguro megumi, who wasn’t sure when it started, knew one thing for certain now— he was already yours. and he doesn't care for how it ends, or how it becomes. his dream, his truest dream, was to remain by your side, smiling under the beckoning sunrise.

[theweewooshow]

the truth is i can't say goodbye

@bucktommywinterfest prompt: accidental texts | rated: M

God I know I'm a broken fucking record, but I'm baking again so I don’t text him. I’ll bring by some more scones later.

Buck shoots the text off to Eddie because he’s feeling pathetic and lonely and he’s been wallowing and baking all day again instead of doing his laundry like he’s supposed to and everything feels overwhelming even though it shouldn't.

Eddie doesn't text back and his phone doesn't vibrate for a long while so Buck just closes his eyes and grits his teeth.

It really shouldn't be this hard, right?

He’s gotten over people before.

He held onto Abby even when she was gone, but that was so murky and he was still living at her place, thinking they were still going to be together when she got back. But when he realized it was over, he moved on. He left her place and tried to leave most of the baggage and emotion he felt for her there.

And yeah, he didn't get real closure for a while, but he was over her probably before he ever left that note for her in her apartment. He didn't think about her much after he left her place because there wasn't anything to think about. He’d done his mourning of that relationship while he was waiting for her. So when he was out of her place, there wasn't anything left to think about.

That’s the most comparable relationship he has to Tommy so he doesn't know why he can't get his brain to catch up with the facts. It's over. It's done. So he should move on and Tommy should stop taking up so much real estate in his mind.

But it's easier said than done. Because he thinks about Tommy all the time. He wants to talk to him all the time.

There’s so much of him everywhere he looks.

He sees the blanket Tommy used to wrap himself up when he slept on his uncomfortable couch so he could be steps away in case Buck needed him when he dislocated his shoulder.

His ghost is in Buck’s kitchen, puttering around, trying to find a spoon to taste the sauce he cooked the first time he made Buck dinner.

Tommy’s side of the bed is empty when he gets into bed every night. The pillow on that side of the bed has lost the scent of Tommy’s shampoo.

There’s a memory of him in Buck’s shower—on his knees, hands and mouth worshiping him—that Buck can't get out of his head when he showers, his dick stubbornly hard even though he refuses to jerk himself off to the memory of Tommy.

The second coffee mug Buck pulled out before his brain woke up the morning after he was dumped that he hasn't been able to bring himself to put away sits empty on his counter, mocking him, every single morning.

Beyond that, Tommy’s ghost is at Eddie’s house and at the station and in his Jeep and at the fucking grocery store, so everywhere Buck goes, he can’t help but think about him, can't help but want to text him every little thing like he did when they were still together.

And when he thinks about him, he pines, according to Eddie. And when he thinks about texting him or calling him, he bakes just to give himself something to do with his hands that isn't scrolling through their text thread and pouting.

No matter what he does, he can't get him out of his head though.

He unlocks his phone to call Eddie to complain out loud since he won't validate him over text, but when he sees the name at the top of the screen, his heart stops.

Because he didn't send that text about Tommy to Eddie.

He sent it to Tommy, whose text thread he was looking at earlier before he sent off that embarrassing text.

He swallows, but it feels like his heart is stuck in his throat because Tommy’s bubbling him again. Tommy’s seen the text and he’s bubbling him.

Buck looks at the screen in abject horror as he watches the bubble disappear and reappear, wondering what Tommy’s thinking right now, if he’s thinking that Buck is kind of pathetic to still be thinking about him over a month after he broke up with him.

He sets his phone down and drops his head into his hands because he can't believe this is his life.

He’s contemplating how difficult it would be to just mysteriously disappear when his phone pings with a message and his heart stops again.

He already knows whose name he’s going to see when he looks down at his phone, but he still feels oddly taken aback seeing the message notification that says he has a text from Tommy ❤️.

He unlocks his phone and the message reads: I know this text was meant for someone else, but can I still have a scone?

Buck jumps up and rushes over to his fridge to take a picture of the loaves he baked over the weekend. He sends the picture along with the message You can have whatever you want.

Maybe it’s a little on the nose, a little too close to how he feels about everything with him, but it somehow works because Tommy texts him back right away.

I wouldn't say no to banana bread or some scones

Before Buck can even think of responding, the bubble is popping up again, letting him know Tommy’s typing again. He holds his breath as he waits for the text to appear. Tommy doesn't make him wait long.

If you wanted to drop it off at my place, I’d let you in so you can tell me all about what you’ve been wanting to text me.

With his heart pounding in his chest for an entirely different reason from when he first realized he accidentally texted Tommy, Buck’s fingers clumsily type out his message.

When are you free?

drop a kudos or comment on ao3

[star-cats]

I was gonna put this in the tags but it was too long. There were several Incidents. I was mostly a good quiet kid but I got in trouble for the weirdest things. Mostly in elementary school.

It was the last day of first grade. My 2 friends and I were pretending to be cats which we did a lot for some reason. Friend 1 said her and I should pretend to get in a cat fight. Ok sure. So we were hissing at each other and flailing our hands around. (Friend 2 was just kinda standing there watching us.) I accidentally hit Friend 1 with my hand and left a small scratch on her skin. Friend 1 immediately started crying and went to the teacher. She said "[Birthname] scratched me on purpose!" and my heart sank. The teacher started yelling at me and I kept saying it was an accident and that I was sorry. But the teacher just kept yelling at me. She said if it wasn't the last day of school she would have suspended me. Then Friend 2 told the teacher that she saw the whole thing happen and it really was an accident. The teacher believed Friend 2 and thanked her for telling the truth. The teacher never apologized to me though. The situation was really odd because I never got in trouble with that teacher before and she was acting like I was horrible. "Friend" 1 hated me for the rest of elementary school. Ironically we were in the same class in 2nd grade and she bullied me that year. I tried to tell my 2nd grade teacher who didn't do anything to stop it. "Friend" 1 found out and called me a tattletale.

2nd grade: There were a couple of things actually. My 2nd grade teacher seemed to hate me because I was bad at math, so she got mad at me a lot. She was having us memorize our times tables and would give us multiplication worksheets that we had to finish in like 5 minutes. I wrote really slowly so I kept failing even though I knew the answers. I got into many arguments about this with the teacher, who concluded I just wasn't trying hard enough. She punished me by not letting me read in class, even during reading time. We were supposed to read like 2 books a week I think and the teacher was somehow shocked when I couldn't do that.

Later, this teacher thought I wasn't paying attention in class so she sat this girl next to me who was bullying me and told the bully to help me pay attention. The bully did this by hitting me with pencils and saying "pay attention!" I told the teacher about this but she didn't believe me.

I was sitting in the playground one day and was bored. There was a pile of small pebbles near me. I went to this empty dirt patch and tossed the pebbles into the dirt one at a time. The bully saw this and told the teacher I was "throwing boulders" and I got in trouble for this. My mom had to write a long letter to the teacher saying she explained that I shouldn't throw things and that I wouldn't do it again, and we both signed it.

Middle School: We had to wear uniforms and were supposed to tuck in our shirts. I got yelled at a few times for forgetting to tuck in my shirt.

I didn't personally get in trouble for this but some colors weren't allowed to be worn because they were "gang colors". A girl's backpack was confiscated because it was orange. My older sister wasn't allowed to wear a pink dress to a school dance. My mom asked the school how pink was a gang color and they said it was a shade of red, a common gang color.

High School: I was late to first period a lot because my school had a strict policy about it. The teachers were told to lock the door at exactly 7:35 am and if you were even a minute late you had to go to the cafeteria for in school detention. We had to sit there in silence for 15 minutes before going back to class. One time the staff member supervising this made us write a paragraph about why were were late. She looked at mine and said "That’s not a vaild reason to be late." and I just looked at her confused. I wrote why I was late, I'm not sure what she was expecting. I got detention after school once for being late too many times even though I was never more than 5 minutes late.

what's the most demented thing you guys got in trouble for in school mine was when an english boy in my class made fun of my name and called my mum a (derogatory word for irish travellers) so i told him my ira uncle was in town and was coming to blow him up after school

[psychotic-nonsense]

It's happening again.

With Max, it's attempting new tricks on her skateboard. With Dustin, he takes apart and reassembles basic little trinkets. With Nancy, she rewrites old news articles. With Mike, he reorganizes the D&D dice box he's been carrying everywhere since Will left (and even after he came back). With the Sinclairs, it's spinning something - a basketball or pen or keychain or hair tie.

The loud music isn't uncommon, nor where it's coming from. But where the source is, and what kind of music it is, feels like something reserved for times like this.

Steve wasn't supposed to be out here, technically. He's on his lunch break, and he wanted a change of pace from the Family Video parking lot. He drove out to the edge of town - Keith doesn't give much of a damn how long their breaks are anymore - to find that cliff only he really knows how to get to. Helps that his Beemer is like a second heartbeat.

But on his way out, he hears the music.

How the hell Eddie got his van out this far into the woods, Steve's never gonna figure out. But there's loud ass music coming from it that's different to Eddie's usual type. More replicable, mainly, something that sounds like an actual song yet still has Eddie's whole screamy vibe. As Steve gets closer - having parked by the road just outside the woods - he can hear another voice singing along with their full chest.

That's when he realized what it is.

It's that violent restlessness. The buzzing feeling in, under, becoming every inch of your skin. Paralyzes you from doing anything substantial, yet everything else you try to do doesn't make the feeling fade. So you're stuck in a repetitive motion while stuck in place and it feels like exploding from the inside with nothing bursting out.

Most of The Party gets it bad nowadays, since the Upside Down was sealed away. Years of living on the brink of death to suddenly being plopped back into the mundane. Steve especially got it from the lack of sports, which worsened the Upside Down buzz.

Steve knocks on the van's back door, hoping it drowns out the music to not startle his friend too badly. He tries the door, which opens easily, and floods the woods with guitars and drums and voices.

Eddie doesn't startle, but neither does he move. He's laying down on the floor of the back, the precautionary blankets there all twisted up and scattered about in evidence of motion. One hand is tugging hard at the roots of his hair, the other snapping hard along with the music. One leg is bent up and bouncing, and his chest heaves in an attempt to keep up with Eddie's shout-along singing.

It irks Steve in just the wrong way, seeing Eddie frozen like this. Gets him to leave the door open, walk around to the stereo sitting in the passenger seat, and hit the thing silent.

"What?" Eddie snaps immediately. The van rocks as he sits up.

Steve ignores him, just walking back around to the back to smack the side of the van. Noise will keep Eddie stable in this state. Eddie, who's staring at Steve with that adrenaline-fueled glare, jaw tense, sharp where he doesn't mean to be. Steve makes his words stern, to cut through the buzz no doubt rushing through Eddie's ears. "Up. I'm getting you out of here."

"'M fine," Eddie bites back, flopping straight back down with a bang he doesn't feel. One of his hands goes back to his hair.

Steve just reaches down to grab the end of one of those blankets, tugging hard. Eddie just moves an inch, but he flails like the bat tails are back around his ankle. He sits back up, eyeing Steve with a malice he can't mean. It's Eddie and he never does, not even when he's high on fight or flight.

Steve just nods to the outside world, repeating, "I mean it. Come on."

Eddie's jaw tenses just a bit more, before he rolls his eyes and scoots to hop out. Steve backs up, lets Eddie jump out of the van with too much motion, slam the doors shut and pat them in a goodbye both too hard, lets Eddie grip his leather jacket too tightly as he leads the two of them back to the Beemer. The snapping comes back a few minutes in, but Steve leaves it be.

Doesn't pick on Eddie not wiping his shoes, nor for slamming these doors shut or not buckling. The police has had more to worry about them than some unsafe driving. Steve just turns the radio up a bit too loud, leaves the snapping alone, and drives them along the edge of town.

He stops when they get to the junkyard. Doesn't say anything, just gets out and goes straight to the trunk. He hears Eddie follow him outside as Steve gets the not-nailed bat from the back, then slamming the trunk shut to keep Eddie's attention (no matter how much it and the slam prior hurt his soul).

Steve walks past Eddie into the heart of the junkyard. He spins the bat, scanning the ground, and finding an old can-looking thing. He picks it up, tossing it into the air a few times.

Then he tosses it once more, rears back, and hits the shit out of it.

The loud crinkling of metal and crack of wood creates an echo that slices through the residual buzz forming in Steve. He watches it fly haphazardly in the air, spinning randomly before landing on an old car, another echo to cut the buzz.

Eddie doesn't react verbally, but that's fine. Steve just finds something else - a piece of tire - and hits it too. Does the same to a crumpled sheet of metal, then another can-shaped thing. Feels the buzz get torn to pieces with every satisfying echo and vibration of conflicting action coursing through his veins on each hit.

When Steve finally turns to see Eddie's reaction, it's just the snapping fingers to really get his attention. Everything else about Eddie's body language says confused, curious, hungry.

His body still screams, and here it sees something that will listen.

So Steve holds the bat out by the barrel, handle to Eddie, and waves it at the junkyard around them. "Go ahead," he urges.

Eddie eyes it confused for a moment, but he eventually pushes off the side of the Beemer he was leaning against. Makes it to Steve with steps that still feel too hard, but takes the bat. Stares at it, spins it once to get the feel, but still hesitant.

Steve walks past him to retake that place on the Beemer. Eddie watches him go, still confused.

As Steve settles in, he motions again to the open empty junkyard. "Who's going to hear you?" he says.

'Only who you want to hear you,' goes unsaid.

Eddie blinks at Steve a few times more, then down at the bat. Spins it again, looks around. He spots something, stomps over to it, picks it up. A can. Tosses it up once, nearly doesn't catch it.

He looks around again, goes to a car beside him. Sits the can on the hood, steps back. Gets into a stance that feels at once natural and amateur, but Steve doesn't dare.

Because Eddie hits the can and it goes flying, with a crunch that gets Eddie to laugh a little.

Now he's really moving, looking around for something more. More metal, plastic, rubber, anything he can feasibly hit and some things he can't. It gets heavier, harder, doesn't go as far but that means the impact is in rather than out. Cuts through the buzz like nothing.

Soon Eddie takes off his leather jacket and really gets going. He's looking for glass and throwing it far and hard, feeling every shatter in his own insides. Grabs the bat again, starts hitting the vehicles, smashing the windows in further. Drops the bat again, finding unbreakable things and throwing them on the ground, on cars, against other smaller things. Looks like he's going ballistic but it's just the energy finally finding freedom and release in something.

Steve watches it all with prideful satisfaction.

Eddie digs through a pile of rubble, grabbing something evidently interesting. It's stuck, it's difficult, but that manic energy is nothing but insistent. Eddie eventually pulls it out, a rusted old metal chair far heavier than it seems. But Eddie just laughs at the challenge.

He picks up one end, and starts fucking spinning. One heel barely keeping him balanced, he spins and spins and spins. The chair gets lighter, his arms rise with the momentum. And finally, with a growl as cathartic as the destruction, Eddie throws the chair into a car, watching it shatter the glass and dent the metal in a loud bash of sound and noise and release.

This, it seems, is what finally curbs the buzzing. Eddie slumps over with the action, panting and laughing a little. He stumbles to the side, barely losing his footing in time to catch the side of that infamous bus and flop to the dirt beside it. He's panting and breathless and red in the face, but ultimately... satisfied.

Steve resigns himself to the bucket beside Eddie. Leans back against the rusted metal that saved his kids' lives, handing Eddie a water bottle from the storage in his trunk. Eddie takes it with an especially rough huff. Steve takes it as the thank you he knows it is.

Eddie gulps down a quarter of the bottle, spills another quarter on himself on accident. He leans his head back to stare at the sky, panting in relief.

"How... the hell did you know...?" he eventually gets out, still not looking at Steve.

Steve just stares at the patch of grass in the center of their little courtyard, forever greener from the cutlets that rotted there. Shrugs. "Just a hunch."

[damnfeelings09]

Animals AU- Shadow's version

A.N: Sorry, got lost in crimson eyes! RED for stalker thoughts, GREEN for yours Please check your surroundings, someone is coming.

Shadow stopped his motorcycle just in front of your house. You got off, still on shaky legs, feeling dizzy. “Thanks... for the ride, for saving me.”

“Now you owe me a bunny”  he said with a wink. “Why did you show up out of nowhere? Be thankful I have good reflexes or you'd be a stain on the floor by now.”

“Ah...” you quickly thought of an excuse, because telling him that you had been chased by a madman was not an option “I missed the bus and the only way out is to walk 5km to the next stop, so I was running to catch it.”

Lies.

“Really? I thought you looked scared, are you afraid of the dark bunny?” he asked getting close to your ear. His hot breath hitting your neck. The memory of what you had done in the afternoon and even more the why came back to your mind blushing you instantly. Shadow had the power to make you furious and now, it seemed, he also had the power to make you blush and he was enjoying it. “Would you like me to walk you to your bed? You won't be afraid of the dark if you’re with me.”

“Asshole” you said coming back to reality. You threw the helmet back at him, but Shadow had good reflexes, catching it in mid-air. You frowned and turned around raising your middle finger at him.

What you trying to do to me

It's like we can't stop, we're enemies

“Love it when you play hard to get”. - He said putting on his helmet “You turn me on” And with that Shadow disappeared again among golden sparks.

The next morning you were at the bus station, Mailo had been apologizing for leaving you alone for 10 minutes straight and excusing himself that he had to go for his sister and you were nowhere to be seen. Mailo and you were best friends since you were in high school, you were both in the same class and his house was 2 blocks away from yours, you used to spend a lot of time at his house because your parents were too busy working for GUN. However, when you turned 15 something changed, both of them became paranoid, locking you at home with them, you were not allowed any electronic devices, you could only talk to your friends when your parents were asleep. Little by little, the stress was consuming you, nobody knew what was going on, a mobian virus the doctors said, it was slowly eating your parents brain and there was nothing to do. You went through many studies but fortunately you had not been infected.

That was the reason for you to study medicine, you would find a cure for that virus, for the Mobian diseases. When you enrolled in medicine Mailo was surprised, he had no idea that you liked sick people, he cared so much about you, saying it was his job to protect you at all costs, that he ended up enrolling with you in the faculty, however his other interests did not allow him to have a clear conscience and he changed some of his classes to biology.

“Forgive me, honey,” he said, pleading with his blue eyes. He’d always been like this, you knew he had feelings for you, heck you even tried to feel the same but in your eyes Mailo was like your brother “I promise I will never leave you alone again.”

“It's okay. Besides, the bus ride wasn't so bad.” You lied. If Mailo knew what was going on he would surely get upset and go straight to his father Commander Clarke, they would start an investigation and have you watched 24/7 or worse, locked up in a safe house. You wouldn't let either of those things happen. You would never be locked up again.

“It is my duty to protect you,” he said with a peculiar smile, ”I will never leave you alone… again.”

When you arrived at the university Mailo said goodbye to you, gave you a kiss on the cheek and assured you that this time he would wait for you. You smiled at him and waved goodbye. You turned around and bumped into a hairball. You blew it away from your face before it made you sneeze, when you opened your eyes white fur was in front of you, shiny and tempting, inviting you to run your fingers through it and check its softness.

“Wow, are we getting along like this bunny? It's my turn to touch” it was his stupid teasing voice again. You were beginning to miss the Shadow who only teased you or hid your stuff. You walked around him and continued on your way to Psych class. “Hey, no good morning kiss for the one who saved your pretty little ass last night?”

“I said thank you.” you reminded him, hurrying your pace.

“You still owe me one bunny,” Shadow walked at your pace, wearing a black sports outfit, which camouflaged perfectly with his fur except for his chest. White fur peeked through the V-neck of his shirt; the same one you had bumped into minutes ago. On his wrists and ankles, he wore golden rings, imprisoning him as if he was something dangerous, he also wore his typical aero shoes.

You're like a drug that's killing me

You rolled your eyes at his words. You might be a good person, but you would never, ever do that hedgehog a favor. “Consider it a truce between us.” You smiled mockingly at him.

Shadow tugged on your wrist, pulling you into the hallway between the buildings. He placed you back against the wall and positioned himself in front of you, one hand resting on the wall close to your neck and the other resting on your waist with a firm grip, a mixture of the warmth of his hand and the coldness of his ring against your bare skin.

“Wha- Shadow let go of me.” You brought your fists to his chest striking him but only managed to get laughter from your opponent. You could feel the vibration under your hands.

“Somone's got fire inside,” he said looking you up and down with his eyes. “Careful  you might get burn bunny.” He withdrew his grip on your waist, your body yearning to feel the touch again.

“Maybe I want to” you whispered, holding his gaze. Shadow smiled, the glow in his crimson eyes turning dark, as if warning you of danger. Seeing that you were not frightened, he looked away.

“I need you to repay me for last night's favor,” he turned his attention back to you, that darkness gone from his eyes.

“What?, Mr. I do everything better than you, Mr. Perfection, Mr. The Ultimate Lifeform is asking for the help of a mere mortal?”

“You're so funny bunny, are you sure you didn't take the wrong career path? You should be a comedian,” he said sarcastically with an annoyed grimace. Seeing Shadow annoyed was not something that happened easily, but when you did it your whole being enjoyed it. You enjoyed making him feel a hint of what he provoked in you.

“I don't think so, sombrita.” you teased, a smirk perfectly drawn on your face, however, your moment of satisfaction didn't last long. Shadow closed the distance between you, his face only inches from you, his breath crashing against yours and his grip again on your waist, this time, gently caressing you with his thumb. The heat rising to your cheeks, almost as red as his eyes. Shadow inhaled deeply, allowing the strawberry scent of your perfume to flood his lungs causing him to shiver, his spikes standing on end.

You can start over you can run free

You can find other fish in the sea

“You're going to help me” it was more of a command than a plea. Your mind focused on his touch, his pads were rough against your skin but the contact didn't bother you, it felt... good.

“Wh-what for?” you hesitated to speak.

“Something simple bunny. There's a girl who doesn't understand that I'm not interested, I just want you to get her off my back.” he said as he played with the strap of your bra, very close to the curve of your breasts.

“Ho-how?”

“Go out with me.” he smiled. “It'll only be a few weeks.”

“No fucking way” You refused, but the blush on your face and your body's reaction to his touch gave away what you felt.

“Pleeeeeease,” he pleaded softly, ”I'll be good to you and help you pass your self-defense class.”

Danger alarms were ringing loudly in your head, but the way Shadow was looking at you had you trapped, you couldn't pay attention to anything else but him. His commanding presence over you and his deep voice, unsettled your senses. And his eyes, fuck those crimson eyes hid behind them an indomitable fire and you a simple match waiting to burn. You were at his mercy, whatever he asked for at this moment you would give it to him.

“Okay” You replied, almost inaudibly, but Shadow had excellent hearing.

“That's my girl.” he smiled, releasing you from his grip “Later bunny.”

But you can't stay away from me

Stupid, sensual hedgehog you thought. How could he look so carefree and disappear just like that after all the wave of emotions he had caused in you.

[from-the-owls-nest]

mhm. what if you're too broken, in too tiny pieces, even the base too shattered to rebuild from. what if there's too little good left.

*swallow* that... that probably wasn't the most helpful answer. but I know what you mean. and I don't really have a fix or anything.

*drily, like, ironically* should probably clarify that the you in that first sentence meant me and just me. so. before you get any more ideas. because of course for Me that's Different! At least for my chaos brain tangles.

[ooc: Philosophy Below. idk brain ran away with thoughts call me if u find it /silly]

*silence, thinking over the words again* I don't know. All I can hope is that - that sentence from the movie Aria likes. When we can see no future, all we can do is the next right thing. the next little ray of sunlight. the next little moment of peace.

And if none of that is possible... Wait, and hold on, and look for them, and hope they come back soon. This is just my thoughts - my little agreement with myself. I gotta try the best I can, even if the best I can is a break from trying to recover. And then I'll know that Past Me did their best for me now and that I owe it to Future me to do my best for what they might become. Even if they weren't very successful. Like deciding that however I am right now is me too, and so I am all these things and parts, the good and the rough ones, and they all together make the full me. It's these nice little shortcut across the self blaming and infighting that take a long time to work out but help wherever they hold.

But like. I think I owe it my future self to hold on, and to get through the storms. Our past selves have come such a long way, and who knows where we'll go next, what our future selves and lives might be like. So like. I do think that new paths open up all the time, possibilities. Even if the ones now are all bad, who knows where we can still go. And the only way to find out is to try, and to do our best.

*they pull out their diary, and from the front a little calendar page* Look. I... It's one of these pages I'll keep forever and ever because I need the reminder, and give to others when they might need it. I don't know if it's right. I hope so. and I think the only way to find out is to try and hold on.

For me that's enough. That, little hopes, little good moments, even just the memory of warmth and hope and the knowledge that all that was once can come again - in different forms, maybe, but it can. *turning to lay it next to Will's sneaker*

*more silence* But. Well. That's really big thoughts, and hard to see when everything is so dark. Hm. okay just to throw some thoughts out. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to think about it, just... some ideas. Little windows into that maybe, whenever you're able to look.

what do the voices say? can they maybe be talked to, or be both a little right?

is there anything you wish wouldn't stop? or come back? any little thing. ignore realism and context all that. if you were playing make-believe, your own little world, what would it look like? if you want to we can take turns. I play that game regularly cause, well, bad memory, and i probably should start again.

and... does it have to be a *bad* hurt? like. yes. you're different. stuff happened, and it changed you, and that really really hurt. you might not be the same person as before. is that a bad thing? or, you said nasty. sure. right now it's raw and painful and doesnt fit yet. but... could all these little shards grow back together and become something scarred and mended, and different?

I hope they could. I'd really miss you - not you from before, you however you are right now and however you want to be. Idk doesn't make much sense but - people if they change are still that person, right? just... changed, by a situation or because they got to know themselves better or whatever. Like Butterflies. I'd like to see the next chapter, with you if you want or just knowing there was one for you.

Image Credit @thelatestkate and her website

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[ang3ltine]

𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - ft Se mi x freader

an: just a small scenario of you admiring Se mi while you're both cuddling in bed ♡

You two would usually cuddle in the morning or late at night depending on whether you were tired or not.

Today wasn't any different. You two both took a day off work and decided to sleep in for once.

Sometimes, when you're having a hard time falling asleep , she'd soothe you with her husky voice right in your ear. You can feel her hot breath on the side of your face while she whispers sweet nothings to you.

I know she's a dream to wake up to, her hair sprawled out all over the pillow and the sunlight outside making her glow.

Last night was a bit surreal to you since you two hadn't made love in a while due to the heavy work schedules you both had. Here you were, legs and arms entangled with each other with just your shirt on. Se mi had on her tank top and boxers.

You were leaning in to peck every one of her moles, one on her cheek, chin, and another on her the nape of her neck.

Se mi was in fact still awake but slightly drowsy as she cracked her eyes open slowly. Her voice low and raspy.

"Do you like my face that much?" trying to bite back a smirk when she sees you're caught off guard.

"Oh please, you're clearly imagining things". You scoffed while still playing with the cold metal piercing on her bottom lip.

Se mi pulled you ever so close and reached down to life your shirt up a bit to rub small circles into your hip. Her large hands were burning into your skin , making you squirm under her touch.

Her gaze flickered back up to meet with yours, silently asking you for permission. You hastily nodded and let her hands explore every curve with careful reverence.

Your hands were still placed on her face, gently caressing her cheeks and smiling softly at her which made her smile back. Love apparent in her dark eyes. Despite the dim lighting in the room, you could see her features perfectly and thought to yourself that you were super lucky to have someone like her as your partner.

Since you were wearing her shirt, just know that you aren't going anywhere for the next few hours.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | twelve.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, lotsa talk goin around, mostly focused on namjoon lol, i'ma tell yall rn - cant trust nobody!!, everyone is just onto san x oc but for the wrong asssss reasons, joon loves his 'yes or no' questions lmao, again - i promise you there is no ill intentions behind namjoon's actions - he is trying to see both sides but he has to do what he needs to do as a department chair first & foremost!! pls understand my guy.. he had to think quick!

Today, it feels like everyone is staring at you.

Today, it feels like everyone knows, and everyone is projecting their assumptions about you and San out into the world.

"You okay?" Eunchae looks down at you as you walk and avoid contact, keeping your eyes down on your feet below or your phone. "You're awfully quiet today." Maybe word hasn't gotten to Eunchae, Jurin or Felix yet, but you know it'll eventually make its way over.

Or, maybe they have heard and they're just waiting for you.

All you know is that you wanna hide under your blankets to prevent all this overthinking, this anxiety from feeling like everyone is watching you.

"Yeah. Just tired."

"You sure? I'm all ears, you know."

"Mhm." You give her a small reassuring smile as you tug on your bag. "Thank you."

"Course."

"Have you heard from Jiung today?" You ask. You haven't really talked to Jiung since your fight at the happy hour event, and he hasn't done much to talk to you either. It's a bit awkward, but whenever you and your friends are all together, you try to keep the peace and act like nothing is wrong. You do hope he's okay, and you do hope to have your bestfriend back— but you're still upset at the fact that he jumped to conclusions about San and accused him of forcing you into this.

"No. But, he did say he probably wasn't gonna grab lunch cause he needs to take care of some things."

"I see."

"I'll see you for lunch though, right?" You nod, just as the Biology building comes into view. "Goodluck with class today." 

"Thanks." You squeeze her hand before heading inside for class. Luckily, Yunho said he wouldn't be able to join class today. You weren't really in the mood to deal with him, and you're more so worried about getting through class in one piece before your mind tears you apart with all this overthinking. 

"Morning Y/N!" A student already sitting in the classroom says. You're instantly comforted as you greet them back and start getting set up at the front of the classroom. But, that instantly goes down the drain when two more students walk in together— eyeing you as they pass the front table before talking amongst each other.

Fuck.

You haven't heard from San either.

The world truly felt like it was swallowing you whole.

—FLASHBACK

"Hey! I'm back." You smile at Sunwoo as you place your things down at your desk. It instantly fades when you get a chance to look around the basement office, a few of your lab members talking amongst themselves while looking in your direction. You slightly furrow your brows, wondering what exactly they were talking about or why they felt the need to be doing all of that in your face.

Was everyone in on you and San?

Is this what everything has come to?

"Hey you!" Sunwoo looks up, noticing the shift in your mood. He turns to look at everyone, shaking his head before returning his attention towards you. At this point, everyone has returned to their desks or left the room to head into the behavior or wet lab rooms. "You good?"

"Hm." You hum. "I guess."

"You guess? How was the conference?"

"Good! It was chill. Jotted down a few presentations I wanted to share with you and Belle. Is she around?" He shakes his head.

"Haven't seen her."

"Hm, okay."

"You can tell me, I'm all ears." You look at your watch.

"I gotta run behavior soon."

"So, let's grab something quick to eat before you run behavior?"

"I'm down. Kinda starving anyway."

"Yeah, let's get something in you. You won't be able to focus otherwise." He stands and stretches before nodding towards the door. "So, what was the most interesting?" You follow behind him with your wallet clutched in hand, lingering eyes watching as you leave with Sunwoo.

"Maybe she's trying to get around the lab?" You overhear one of the guys say just as you walk out of the room with Sunwoo, pausing in your steps.

"Sunwoo."

"Huh?"

"Actually, you know what. I think I can hang on until dinner. I should get started on behavior. We can talk about this another time."

"Huh? No, let's get something really quick."

"You can go ahead without me. Sorry. I just realized I'm more strapped on time than I thought I was."

"Okay? But, I'm grabbing you a snack and you better eat it." He slowly starts walking backwards down the basement hallway, glaring at you.

"Thank you." Sunwoo watches as your head falls when you walk back into the basement office. Truth be told, he's been hearing the talk go around, but he's not one to meddle— especially if it has something to do with his good friends. He'll always be on your side, regardless of what people say or think.

And he feels awful it's starting to be more obvious around you. The talk. The looks.

He wishes he could do more as your friend to help keep it away from you.

—END

Namjoon is already having a rough start to his day despite it being one of the lighter days meeting-wise. He was woken up to an urgent, sensitive email from the dean about an anonymous tip that came in overnight about San:

Namjoon— Please get to the bottom of this; we received this tip last night about San and his student.  'Hi. I'm not sure who to direct this concern to anonymously, but I believe Y/N Y/L/N and Professor Choi (San) are in an inappropriate relationship. I think she might be using it to her advantage to move forward in the program and secure her spot in his lab.' I'd like to resolve this before the end of the week. This should not be taken lightly if this is true...

And the thing is— he's just frustrated that this has been taking up this time lately. He hasn't even gotten his own time to think properly. He could only sigh in disappointment as he got ready for his day, unsure of what else it could bring him. 

He should've known the storm was coming.

Iseul tugs on her jacket as she heads over to the Panama Building, the wind cooling her cheeks as she made sure to clear her hour for this particular meeting. Most students are in class right now, so the halls are quiet, still. Iseul takes the elevator up to the second floor and steps out, rushing down towards the left end of the hall.

"Namjoon." Namjoon turns over his shoulder to see Iseul. His door is wide open since he doesn't have any important meetings for awhile, and he always tries to foster a welcoming environment by letting students [and faculty] know they're always welcome to pop in if they need him.

He did not mean her though, especially today.

"Iseul."

"Can we talk?" Namjoon quickly sizes her, realizing she's already inside his office. He doesn't necessarily have a choice, but he knows this talk was gonna happen sooner or later.

He knows Iseul always has something to say.

"You're already in my office so I don't think there's necessarily a choice." He says it in a slightly playful manner just so he doesn't come off entirely rude. "What's on your mind?" Iseul shuts the door and crosses her arms before looking at him. Namjoon sits on the edge of his desk, hands loosely clasped together.

"I think you might already know." He shrugs.

"Enlighten me."

"San."

"What about him?"

"Can you let him know how dangerous it is to be dating his rotation student? He's being stupid."

"He's a grown man."

"And you're the chair."

"Thanks for the reminder." He furrows his brows. "Respectfully Iseul, this is not a discussion for you, that's why I'm not trying to indulge."

"How is this not? He's putting his reputation on the line, along with the school's. Including yours—"

"I don't see where you're involved. You don't have anything to do with him directly or the bioengineering department." He crosses his arms and stands. "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, but this wasn't your place to do so. I'll handle it and I'll take care of it, so you don't need to worry." Namjoon glares at her a bit. 

"You're being so casual about something pretty severe." Namjoon pauses as he maintains his eye contact with her. She wants him to shrink and fold, but he won't.

"I think we both know that's not the reason why you're bringing this up." Her brows are knit tightly as they sit in an awkward, tense pause. "Aren't you tired of treating San this way? Why exactly do you feel so strongly about calling him out?"

"I'm not even doing anything to him—"

"You're right, you're not. You don't respect him, you don't acknowledge him, you don't know how to be civil with him. Yet, you don't see me calling you out on your behavior towards your ex-husband who has done nothing but try and keep the peace. I only ever hear San's name come out of your mouth when you've got something bad to say about him." She glares at him. As much as Namjoon equally tries to be there for all of the faculty and to not choose sides, one thing that can surely piss him off is when people act this way unwarranted.

So no, he won't sit back if he feels the hostility. He understands the severity of the situation and he has yet to gather his thoughts and his information, but he won't take this.

"So, you're gonna let this go? Do you even actually understand the situation, Namjoon? If you won't take care of it, I'll have no choice but to escalate this to the dean."

"I do, plenty. You don't have to tell me twice or how to do my job, Iseul." He walks over to the door. "I already said I'll take care of it. On my own terms and in my own way. Not the way you want me to." He places a hand on his hip. "And what makes you think we haven't already discussed this?"

"Fine. If that girl ruins everything for the school—"

"She won't." Namjoon cuts her off just as he swings the door open. "This will be taken care of, end of story. Is there anything else I can help you with that doesn't involve San and his personal matters?"

"No." She huffs a bit before walking out of the room. At this point, Jiung is cutting the corner and almost running into Iseul as he makes his way to Namjoon's office. Jiung does a curt bow to Iseul as she storms by, heels clicking away on the linoleum floor. Her feet are heavy, Jiung feels every step even as she gets further and further away.

"Oh, Jiung. Nice to see a friendly face." Namjoon lets out a breath and gives him a toothless smile. 

"Professor Kim." Jiung gives him a bow. "Are you free right now?"

"Mhm." He steps aside. "Just finished with Professor Lee. Come on in." He welcomes him inside, a bit relieved to see his face and to be welcomed by his gentle aura. It's nothing like Iseul and he's grateful; although, it does make him a little nervous to see Jiung in his office when he doesn't necessarily belong to the department. 

And just like Iseul, the buzz around campus, everything that's been going down— Namjoon already feels like he knows what this is about.

The only thing he can do is confront it and take care of it just like he told Iseul he'd do. But, how? He's not sure. He's gonna have to take the time today to sit San down and poke at his brain because he's just not understanding how all of this went down and why his name and your name are being tossed around together.

Maybe he just didn't wanna believe it was true; not with San, no. He couldn't. Both as his friend and colleague.

"What can I help with? I'm a little surprised you're popping into my office since you're in the electrical engineering department."

"Ah, cause.." Jiung slowly sits in the chair and sets his bag down. "It doesn't necessarily have anything to do with me." Namjoon cocks his head to the side.

"Okay, no worries. I'm all ears."

"I-I don't really know how to say this, but I'm mainly concerned about a friend. She's in the bioengineering department."

"I think I might know what you're talking about." Namjoon says, giving Jiung a nod to proceed with his explanation.

"Yeah, it's that. I feel like Professor Choi might have forced her into it, though. It just seems really out of character for Y/N, and I don't know. I guess it just feels like he might have said something or tried to take advantage of her."

"I understand your concern for your friend, but can you let me know why you think Professor Choi is taking advantage of her or forcing her into this?"

"I just.. it just seems off, is all."

"But, what if this is also Y/N's choice?"

"It's not like her."

"I'm not saying you don't know your friend, Jiung. But, there are things people are fully capable of doing that can come off as unexpected from your point of view."

"I talked to her after the whole happy hour thing went down and I found Professor Choi kinda cornering her against the wall. She didn't look scared or anything, but she did get defensive while I was talking to her and asking her about it."

"I see." Is all Namjoon says because one, he just doesn't know. Just like he told Jiung, there are probably things he doesn't know San is capable of doing. He needs to talk to him and that's the only way he'll get the proper story. The only way to get to the bottom of it is finally confronting San about the issue at hand. 

Face to face.

To be honest, he's been putting off the conversation because it's not a conversation he wants to have. It's not easy, nor will the decision at the end be something he wants to do— but he has to.

"I'm sorry, Professor Kim. I don't mean to add to your plate, but I got worried."

"Is Y/N doing okay otherwise?" He nods.

"Think so. She hasn't been saying much. We got into a fight after I confronted her so we haven't been talking."

"Sorry to hear that. I'm sure things will smooth over sooner or later." Namjoon says. "Is there anything else you'd like to let me know?"

"No, that's all. I'm sorry I don't have much details, I'm just worried about her."

"All good, I understand. I'm sure she appreciates it, too. She's lucky to have a friend like you by her side."

"Thanks, Professor Kim. For hearing me out."

"Sure. I'll take care of it and see what I can do, okay?" Jiung nods and stands, slipping his bag strap over his shoulder.

"Can we keep this between us? Please don't mention that I stopped by."

"Of course." Namjoon says softly as he stands to walk him to the dior. "Of course." He repeats.

"Thanks."

"I just can't promise you I'll have any updates cause it'll be pretty confidential moving forward."

"It's fine. I get it." Jiung stops right before he steps out the door. "Thank you again."

"No problem. You know how to reach me if you have any other concerns." Jiung nods before slipping through the door and taking his exit. Namjoon exhales heavily before pulling out his phone to text the person he needs—

namjoon: can we talk in my office? i'd rather much do this today, not later. 

namjoon: i'm free for the next hour and half.

san: yeah. i'll be there in 15 minutes.

namjoon: thanks.

He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to gather his thoughts. It's the hardest thing to approach this as a colleague rather than a friend because as a friend, Namjoon would let this go. He knows San deserves to be happy, and it sounds like he is. That's all he's ever wanted for him especially after all the hurt and pain he had gone through with Iseul and Yunho. But as a colleague, his 'higher-up' even, it's wrong. San's happiness is wrong because it's with his student. A student who is a grown adult who can make decisions for themselves. It's wrong.

So, what does he do?

He feels a migraine coming on, so he tries to busy himself with some emails, making sure deadlines and reports have been submitted. Luckily, the dean is giving him some time and isn't pressing him for answers right this second even though he knows it's on his mind. If he was, Namjoon wasn't sure what he'd say.

He's not sure how he'll get San out of this.

"Yo." San appears in his office, softly shutting the door behind him. 

"Take a seat." San immediately picks up on the vibe in the room and how stressed Namjoon looks. He knows they still need to talk about things, but something tells San it's become much deeper than that and he's not prepared for it whatsoever. No matter how hard he tried to prepare, there's no proper way to be fully prepared.

"You okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know." He sits back a bit, hands clasped on the surface of the table. "But, I'm just gonna get right to it because I think this is way overdue."

"Okay." San manages to respond softly.

"We need to talk about what happened at the happy hour event the other day, plus that whole thing with Iseul and Yunho." Namjoon pauses before he cuts to the chase. "San, why do I keep getting wind of you being in a relationship with your rotation student?" Silence. "Y/N, to be exact." He looks at him. "Is that what the whole happy hour thing was about? Is that what you three were discussing in the conference room yesterday?" He sighs. "I was try to push this off a little longer until I could figure out how to get you out of this, but word keeps going around and it definitely didn't help that you three had a screaming match about it." San sighs heavily as he sinks into the chair.

"Well, as far as I know, I wasn't planning on discussing my personal matters with Yunho and Iseul. They trapped me into the fucking—"

"San." Namjoon stops him. "Is it a yes or no?" Pause. San just looks at Namjoon and it's enough for him to put the final piece together. Everything had been about you from the get-go, but San still won't say it. He's doing everything to protect you, but this might be it; there's no way he can lie to Namjoon about this, or hide this from him any longer.

It's far too late for that.

"San." He repeats. "This is not the time to try and lie to me. I had two people talk to me about it and an anonymous tip came in that was sent my way."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter." Namjoon furrows his brows and lets out a heavy exhale. "I need the truth from you. Now." The exasperated sigh that leaves San's lips is full of emotions; fear, anxiety, protectiveness, even.

"I'm sorry." Is all San can respond with. It comes out low, barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Namjoon cocks his head to the side, hands on his hips. "Why? I just wanna know why!" His voice is harsh, but he keeps his tone low. "A student, your student? It's damn near everywhere, you know that, right? I don't know how I'm gonna fix this for you, but you know they'll take action against her and probably you—"

"Namjoon, please." San pleads. "Please don't do this to her. Don't take her out of the program. Do whatever you need to me, but don't take it out on her."

"San." Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose before letting out an exasperated sigh. "You should've known better." He looks at him, but San can't even respond. All he can do is shrug and shake his head because he did know better, he just didn't wanna do better and chose to be selfish. "I need to figure this out before end of the day and report back to the dean. I can't force you to act a certain way or do things you don't wanna do. But, for this reason in particular, I'm gonna need you two to stop. You're not interacting with her on campus, you're not going to be involved in anything having to do with her moving forward." Namjoon shakes his head. "You both couldn't wait until graduation or something? I know it's years ahead but you know how this looks—"

"I— no. Things just happened. That's really the only way I can explain it. I'm sorry. The hell am I supposed to do? I can't help but feel how I feel for her." Namjoon sighs heavily, feeling torn between wanting his friend to be happy, but concerned and disappointed for his colleague.

"That isn't gonna fly. You knew better than to get involved with a student in your lab. You can't just risk everything you've built for yourself, San. You have no idea how much trouble you could get into if the school finds out just exactly how deep your relationship has gotten with her— let alone, your own rotation student!" His tone slight rises, but it falls when he sees San visibly shrink and lose eye contact with him. He paces around for a bit, hands still on his hips as he tries to figure out a way to brush this over before it gets way too messy and complicated. "I get you. I do. You deserve to be happy, and who the hell am I to police your actions? But, I can't have you do this to yourself or her. The both of you are grown so I expected you to do better."

"So, what's gonna happen?"

"Well, I'll need to let them know this isn't true and that you two aren't in a relationship. I'll have to remove her from your lab and I'll need to figure out where I can place her or what I can do for her." 

"They won't kick her out, right?"

"Honestly, I can't even be sure. I don't think so, but you two will definitely not be allowed to be near or around each other." Namjoon looks at him. "Are you not even worried about yourself?"

"No, I'm not."

"She's worth it to you?"

"More than anything." San says softly. "Look, it's cliché but you really don't understand." Namjoon shrugs.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I don't wanna take your happiness away, San. Believe me. That's the last thing I wanna do and this is already difficult as is. But, it just had to be her?"

"It did, yeah. And there's nothing I regret about it." Another small silence falls between them before Joon speaks up again.

"Do you get where people are taking this?"

"No, quite frankly, I don't."

"Favoritism, like you two are taking advantage of each other for benefits. It's becoming so noticeable that people are talking."

"You and I both know how great of a student she is. If she's received opportunities, it's because she earned them herself, not because of me."

"That's not how it looks. And perception matters. You know this. Relationships like this are literally a ticking time bomb for your career, the bioengineering department." He's gonna use the excuse that Iseul pulled because for him, as department chair, as someone who needs to keep the glue together for this department, it's true. 

"I don't even see how we're doing anything wrong when we're both adults. She and I both know what this is—"

"That doesn't matter in this situation. There's a power dynamic here you can't ignore. Even if this is real, you hold her future in your hands. Do you understand?" Joon exhales, brows tightly knit together. "What about her fate in this whole situation? Do you care about that?"

"Of course I do. I care about her more than anything." San responds almost exasperatedly.

"Do you love her?"

"If I say yes?"

"Then, tell me. If you had to choose between your relationship or keeping her here, then what?" San sighs and runs his hand down his face. "Think about it. You deserve to be happy, but that girl also deserves a chance to keep going."

"Why can't we just keep it on the low, why do I have to choose? W-we can be more careful—"

"San, don't be stupid. I'm sure 'being careful' is how this all started, right?" Silence. "You know people are going to find out one way or another. It won't matter how real this is to you, to the both of you. She'll be branded as the professor's pet. Is that what you want for her? And you'll lose everything—your job, your reputation, ability to work at other institutions. Plus, the dean is still thinking about your program with Jongho and the real estate. This is going to trickle onto Jongho, too."

"No, of course not. And I don't want Jongho to take a fall because of me. But.." San sighs, his heart breaking the more this conversation goes on. He wasn't prepared to be here today, no. And he wasn't prepared for his mind to start thinking otherwise about your relationship, you. He was always sure of you, but now he's starting to feel like he's been too selfish;

Neglected you and your future plans. Your dreams, your goals.

"You're asking me to break this off. To break off my relationship with someone I truly care about and someone that genuinely makes me happy. Something I haven't felt in a long time."

"I'm sorry, San. I already told you how difficult this is, and it's not my intention to take your happiness away. I just need to protect you two from everyone, especially the dean. Please understand me and hear me. I'm asking you to protect her this way. If anything happens, it'll be the both of you going down and you know she doesn't deserve that either. "

"And If I don't do this?" San asks just to put the question out there.

"Then, can you call it love? Or is it just you being selfish?" San leans onto his knees, head falling into his hands. "I'm trying to come from a good place. Help me help you." He feels a headache coming on, thoughts running at a thousand miles per hour. He hates the thought of losing you; it makes him sick to his stomach. But, he can't even lie and say there isn't a piece of truth behind Namjoon's words. 

Can San really say he loves you if he isn't doing the right thing for you? Is he being too selfish, assuming he could keep this on the low? Assuming he could be 'more' careful with you?

Is he selfish for wanting you by his side no matter what? Is he selfish for saying fuck it?

Is he selfish?

The last thing he wants to do is ruin your career, ruin you. Even if this will hurt like hell, he understands where Namjoon is coming from and knows he needs to put you first.

He's so conflicted. He has no idea what to do or how to move forward. Because as much as he knows he needs to do this for you and the sake of Namjoon, he doesn't want to.

He is scared.

"I need to head back to my office." San sighs and stands, but Namjoon follows closely.

"I don't have much time. I need to let them know that something is gonna be done and I need to prove it to them. You do hear me, right?"

"I do. I just.. give me a little bit of time to think, Joon. Please." Namjoon just nods, meeting San's expression. He feels bad, he really does. And as his friend, this isn't something he wants to do— but he has to. He could easily tell San to keep this on the low, to keep this a secret until things blow over but at some point, he doesn't trust himself to continue along with the story had anyone asked about it out of the blue.

Namjoon watches as San sadly walks off back to his office, eyes trained on the phone in his hand. San sees your texts, and usually, that'll be enough to put a smile on his face. He'll text back right away so you know he's been thinking about you; but today, he's thinking about you in a different light and he's not sure how to stomach it.

When he gets back to his office, he sees a few people from the lab lingering around— even you. You meet his eyes and his eyes meet yours, but he doesn't give you a smile.

His eyes don't glow like they used to.

His cheeks aren't threatening to glow that cute, rosy tint they do when you're around.

He just steps in without doing anything to acknowledge your presence and that already feels way off.

you: 😞 you didn't even look my way when you walked back into the office and i haven't heard from you all day.

you: i hate how all my papers and presentations are due this week. plus ppl have been weird, idk. i just wanna cuddle 😭

san: i'm sorry. it's just been a day.

you: that's never stopped you before... ☹️ what's wrong, san?

san: we should talk, baby.

—read 12.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[ziminy]

Coming back to you

How to get back with your ex

Tags: smut, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, f!reader, normal au (because we suffered enough), my bbg Caleb the manipulative king he is (break me in half and all I'll say is thank you), implied stalking (if you squint), creampie, oral (f! receiving), fingering, marking, dirty talk, praising, size difference, little bit of crying, not proofread

Author's note: almost lvl 60 affinity with him, it was hard work and a lot of dedication. Trust me when I say I won't be able to recover financially from this any time soon.

Masterlist

Life was good when you were together, and somehow it even better after breaking up. It's not like your split up was messy, because you two parted ways on mutual accord, deciding that this isn't going to work since both of you were so busy lately. Why dragging the other down when you have your futures set?

In fact, the break up wasn't even supposed to be a break up, you were supposed to take a little break from each other that turned into a break up some time later. You said that you'd still be friends, that it's alright to talk and greet each other if you somehow managed to meet again.

But it was all lies. Both of you knew that. Because you never texted each other after that, and somehow you tried to avoid all the places he might be at. You don't really know why you're doing that, if just.. you feel a little uncomfortable looking back at what you two used to have.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at you, how he leaned down to talk to you, or that dumb smile that made your heart skip a beat.

He was caring, attentive, maybe a bit obsessive, perhaps a bit insane too. And maybe that what scared you, kept you away from dating again. Finding another one like him. God, what if you had the misfortune to wake up with another one like him at your door? You'd rather jump out the window than have the luck of getting another Caleb.

But he was good, in his own ways.

Well.. you can't really name any of his good traits at the moment, but he was a great guy. If you put aside his manipulative side, that he doesn't even try to hide to begin with.

You promised yourself to not fall for another guy like him, that empty words mean nothing to you. Threats had no effect, and you don't feel guilty anymore over things that you shouldn't be to begin with.

So, why was he here? You were supposed to meet with the old friend group, to reconnect and talk about the old days and how college used to be. I mean, he was part of the group, but why exactly was he here? And why did nobody told you he was coming?

"It's so good to see you guys!" one of your friends said, instantly jumping from person to person to hug.

"I feel like we're young again." someone else said, making you shake your head and let out a soft laugh. You can't show that you're affected, you're all grown now, you matured. He had no effect on you anymore. Even if it only been a year, you're still a different person that you were a few months ago.

"We aren't old to begin with." you said with a smile on your face. "How haves everyone been?" you sounded so calm, like you forgot how much stress was put on you back then. Everybody looks in much better shape after graduation, perhaps that place was rough for everyone.

"Let's just skip greetings and drink." of course there was that one person. "Caleb, you pay." everybody's eyes were on the tall man.

"You brought your wallet, no? Why should I pay." your eyes made contact for a moment, and you felt your face getting hotter. This night better go quick, because you don't know for how much longer you can handle this.

Everything was how it was back then, the way you sit in groups at the bar. How you found yourself next to the same girls you used to, deciding that you don't want to be loud and take it easy, just like before.

"So, how have life been for you? Haven't heard anything from you after we graduate." one of the girls looked at you, reminding you of how you chose to go no contact with everybody after your breakup.

"You and Caleb broke up? I thought you'd last a life time." is there nothing better to talk about?

"I'm a career woman now." you decided to change the subject, rather chosing to talk about work that your failed relationship.

"Oh?" why everybody looked so surprised was a mystery. But somehow you understood their reactions, you're also surprised you went this path.

"Got any boyfriends?" they still want to get info on your personal life, huh? Well, guess you won't be able to dodge that question any time soon.

"Nothing at the moment. Just focusing on work."

"I guess it's hard to date again. Normal guys must be so bland, not comparing to that piece of meat over there." you looked displeased with your friends choice of words. Yes, your ex might look good, but looks isn't what matters right now. Your well being was your top priority, and you enjoyed the freedom you had way too much.

"I'd be like that too if I had your ex. Imagine recovering from that." you don't even have to imagine.

"Is it even humanly possible to find somebody who's better than him?" their questions doesn't affect you, because you already know that you're the best you'd find. You understand and give yourself more than enough space that it's needed. So the right questions was if he will be able to find someone as good as you, because he won't.

"He's looking in this direction." the girls started giggling, and somehow, this was nostalgic.

Didn't this happened already? Before you started dating, right before you two confessed your feelings. Because somehow, you managed to do that at the same time. It was funny, if you're thinking about it. How you two were so in sync, you had no idea.

"Go talk to him." the girl next to you tried to push you, to make you get up and walk to the dark haired man.

"Don't want to." you kept avoiding any eye contact ever since you got in that bar. If you don't acknowledge him then he doesn't even exist to you.

"But he's looking at you." you grabbed the drink in front of you and gulped everything down your throat, trying to ignore him.

"Are you shy?" the girls started giggling again.

It was annoying. Why can't they understand that it's over? He understands this, so why can't they do it as well?

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"But he seems to want to?" it doesn't matter even if they point it out. It's been a long time already, you both moved on.

"Isn't there anything you want to tell him? Like things you didn't got the chance to while you were together?"

"This is the time to clear any bad blood between the two of you." but that wasn't necessary.

Frustrated, you looked in his direction. Eyebrows furrowed and biting on your lip so you wouldn't let out any curses you wanted to say at the moment. That classical expression, looking like he's good, even if there was no smile on his face, but he kept nodding to what his friends were saying. His eyes were betraying him however, those sleepy eyes, looking at you like you were more interesting, like he had to or else you'd evaporate from there or who knows what worse. It wasn't often when you'd see him like that, so you can't even answer your own questions on why he seemed like that.

No, if you payed attention to his surroundings, his friends might be annoying him. Saying something that he doesn't like, or.. they were talking about you. Just the way your friends were talking about him.

Was he feeling like that because he didn't want to talk to you either? No, you doubt that. It's probably because you refuse to give him any attention.

You turned to face the girls around you, who still seemed to push you to him. Maybe you should in fact go for it?

But, was there really anything that needed to be said? You don't have any regrets, you can't think of anything you want to say. And he's the same, even if he looked like he was holding back from time to time. You doubt he ever did something he's regretting. After all, you matched each other's freaks. You managed to stay together for that long just because you completed the other, understood yourselfs on a level no one else around you could.

Was this why you were pushed to him? Because everyone knew how well you fit each other?

You looked at your friends one more time, sighing as you finally gave up. You're still afraid to approach him, because he was still intimidating in a way you can't explain.

Or you can, because whenever you look at him you feel a chill down your spine. Your head was filled with stuff you said to him in the past, memories coming back to embarrass you, to make you forget what you want to do so you'd fuck up in front of him.

You stopped in front of him, staring at him as he looked at you. He still had that expression on his face, like you're still his softest spot, his weakness that makes him weak in the knees when he's around you. You opened your mouth, trying to say something but then forgetting everything once you looked into his purple eyes.

You can't be like this forever, you had to step up your game. You really had to move on, and maybe that's what you have to talk with him. Because he seems to be stuck in the past too. "You have time?" you noticed the way he almost raised his hand, to grab onto you and drag you closer like he always did. But he held back, because he knew this wasn't the time.

"Yeah." he tried to keep it nonchalantly, but you could see past his poorly executed facade. Should you feel happy with how you still affect him? You feel like you could laugh.

"Wanna talk outside?" you don't even know why you said outside of all places. You wanted to stay inside, where everybody else was. You wanted to have a reason to keep it cool, to not lose yourself in your emotions, because you know you'll fuck up if you're alone with him.

He got up, standing much taller than you as he followed you quietly. Seriously, this was like a deja vu. You still remember how you used to follow him just the way he's doing now. Not questioning a thing, and trusting him a bit too much. But you also had no idea where you're going. All you know is that you want to go outside, take some fresh air, say a few words and then go back to your friends.

For a moment, he got in front of you, opening the door and letting you walk out first. He used to do this all the time, didn't he? You almost forgot about it.

You walked a little further from the bar, resting your back against a building's wall as you looked at the sunset. No one said a thing, and the distance between the two of you was colder than the night's breeze.

"So.." a few words and then go back, that's all. You can go to your friends after this and rest. "How have you been." avoid eye contact, because you don't know when you'll fuck up, look forward, don't let yourself be distracted.

"Busy." his voice still makes something in your head ring, like a little bell that seems to not calm down until he said so. "You?"

"Busy." you couldn't even think of what to say, just biting your lip in frustration.

It was quiet again, like both of you forgot how to communicate.

For a moment, you looked to your left, at where the bar was, and then at him, catching him staring at you with a expression you can't quite explain. Sadness? No, it was a mixture of sad and frustration. And you understood him. He had you this close, next to him, and yet he couldn't do anything.

"You're bigger than I remember." you don't even know why you said that. It's just.. he looks different and you can't exactly say what it was.

"I stopped growing a long time ago." he kept looking at you, at the way you were scanning him for anything that it might have changed. "Maybe you're the one who shrinked." he extended his hand, he doesn't really know why, but it seemed alright in that moment. Like he knew you wouldn't run anymore. "My hands are still the same."

You looked at his palm, at his long fingers and at the way he looks so familiar, yet new. Like you forgot how his body looked for a moment, like you were back in the past before you two started dating. Because you did this back then too, you were in this situation before.

How he was trying to tame you, let you touch him just the way you want, explore and discover more. All just to show you how inoffensive he is, that he's not a threat.

And you bite the bait every single time. Taking his hand in yours, slowly touching it just to see if it was indeed like what you remember.

You should put more effort if you don't want him back in your life. Just look at you, you look like you've missed him so so much. You shouldn't be this sweet or else you might not be able to break up again this time.

He tried his luck, interlocking his fingers with yours, and showing you more of that size difference you haven't seen in a while.

You don't reject him, his actions only made you be more curious. What else was he hiding? You looked up at him, only to see that expression again. You really didn't understand how his eyes can be just this dark, like there was absolutely no life in them, only a purple abyss that seems to drag you in towards him.

"It's getting dark." he said in a low voice, forgetting that he was supposed not to scare you for a moment. "Let me drive you home." he's the same as ever. Getting ahead of himself just because he was able to feel your perfume for once, the same scent that you had since back then. It suited you, and he missed it.

"Alright." he always knew how to calm you, let down your guard so he can get more under your skin. Or perhaps you were doing that voluntarily, because he doubts you'd be like this just for anybody.

The ride back to your place was quiet, only the radio on, playing some mainstream songs over and over again.

The silence was loud, but not uncomfortable. It was better this way because you had nothing to say. And he will not talk until you talk.

But once you got to your house, you somehow didn't wanted to get out the car just yet. It's just.. can't he stay? You don't know why you want him there, and you don't want answers to that.

"You're.." you played with your fingers. "You're not busy, right?" you avoided his eyes, or to look in his direction at all. This was all his doing, wearing that one fragrance that made your head spin, and the shirt that he knew was your favorite. "Want to come inside?" you're doing this on your own accord. Because he wouldn't push you over your limits like this, especially when you just met again after a long time.

You came to him, you talked to him, and you dragged him into your home on your own. He didn't do anything, this was all your doing.

You were brave enough to make the first move, so he might as well reward you for it, no?

You didn't looked surprised when you started kissing the moment the front door closed behind you, you also looked unfazed when he started taking off your clothes, now going towards your bedroom, looking for a bed so he could place you on it.

How could you forget this feeling? Or the way he used to take care of you. Always stopping you from lifting a single finger, not letting you do anything until you start begging him, or worse, do things without even warning him first.

"Tell me if it hurts." he placed a kiss on your cheek before going down, biting softly on your skin and leaving kisses all over the places he touched. He was going to mark all of your body, so people would see a part of him on you even if you're not together.

He stopped when he got to your pussy, leaving a kiss on your inner thigh, before placing his lips over your heat. He was going to scream, he missed this so much that he just couldn't help but let out a lustful moan deep from the bottom of his heart.

How could you left him? Take this away from him, leave him all alone to suffer. If he didn't craved so much for you he would have punished you for it.

"You're so tight." he said as he got two of his fingers inside.

"It's been a while since I did it." he looked up at you from between your legs, placing a kiss on your clit.

"Have you done it with someone else?" he was asking as if he didn't knew everything you did while he was gone. And yet, hes jealous.

"No." you shook your head. "What about you?" are you questioning his loyalty?

"Did you touched yourself?" if this was his way of changing the subject, then it wasn't working. Because it only made you want to ask the same thing, embarras him just the way he did to you.

"Did you?" he should feel embarrassed, ashamed or anything between those two, but no, it was just you who feeling that way.

"Every time I missed you." seriously, can he calm down for a moment. You can't take it. "You didn't do a good job." he said, licking on your clit as his fingers curled up. "But I guess you can't do much with those fingers of yours." you couldn't face him when he was saying such dirty words. "Did you had a hard time stuffing yourself? Don't worry, I'll do it for you from now on." you placed a hand over his face, to cover his eyes so he would stop looking at you.

"Don't look at me." you whimper. "It's embarrassing." you were always so easy to tease.

"Alright." he moved your hand away. "I'm sorry." he was in fact not, but if that's what you want to hear then he'll lie again and again, as long as you're happy.

Your pleasure was more important to him. So he focused on that, paying attention to the places that made you melt, on your soft voice and your touch. You're still so hesitant, like you don't really trust him, like you're still testing the waters.

What more do you want from him? What can he possible give that he haven't gave you already? You have his heart, you have his mind and soul, his well being is all yours, his body and everything he owns. So give him attention, touch him more and tell him that he's doing good because he's about to burst.

For a moment he looked up at you, just to see how you're doing, to check on you and make sure you're alright.

How did he lived for so long without looking at you was a mystery. Why he accepted you leaving him and trying to move on. Who else is going to make you feel like this? You need him, you needed his cock and his touch.

But he's not going to fuck up, since it's been a while since you last did it, he shouldn't push you. So, he placed a last kiss on your clit before taking his fingers out of you, leaving you panting and waiting for more. He didn't even let you cum, how mean of him.

Still, how dumb of him, to come here with nothing on him, not even a single condom. I mean, it wasn't really his fault because he never knew he'll end up like this.

"Take it off, your clothes." you were all naked while he was still fully dressed. He also looked like he wasn't planning on getting undressed any time soon and it was annoying you.

"I don't have any condoms." that was the problem?

"It don't matter." you took him by surprise. "Come here." you knew how rail him up. And you better not regret your decision later.

You looked at him taking off his shirt, his defined muscles jumping right into your face. You were right when you said he looked bigger, he must be working out a lot more lately. He took his pants off after, your eyes on his hard cock as he came back next to you.

"Relax." he said when he got between your legs. "Look at me." it would only be harder for you if you keep overthinking. Yeah, he was big, so what. He's going to give you all the time in the world until you adjust yourself to take him. It's gonna be hard at first, but it's going to be so much easier once he models your insides into the shape of his cock. And that's a promise, believe him.

He slowly pushed the head of his dick inside your wet core, making you move a little from how it was feeling, trying to find a better position. He lowered himself, now his chest pressed against yours, placing kisses all over your face as he kept pushing more of him inside your warm pussy. It's alright, take your time. He's not going anywhere, he'll wait until you're ready for him to move.

"You're doing good." he whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I'm all the way inside, see? It doesn't hurt." it hurts a little, maybe more than just a little. But wasn't it normal when he was stretching you like that? But just as much as it hurts, it also felt good, in a way that left your mouth watering. He was going to be the end of you, really.

"Move." you ordered him, wanting to feel more. Just being stuffed to the brim wasn't enough, you needed much more than that.

He followed your orders, moving his hips slowly, paying attention to your next move.

You were so cute when you're sticking to him like that, holding onto his shoulders and trembling every time he touched that spot deep inside that he wasn't trying to touch to begin with, to not overwhelm yourself.

He's going to give you everything you want, there's no need to rush. If this was how much you can handle then that's how much he's going to give you. So why were you grabbing him like that, and asking for more? "Deeper." but you couldn't take it? You're going to say that he bullied you later, and he doesn't want to take the blame for something you made him do.

"You're sure?" you nodded, looking at him through your eyelashes with a pout on your face. Alright then, if that's what you want. How could he refuse you?

So he got deeper, hitting that spongy spot with long slow strokes that seems to work wanders on you.

He kissed you, again and again, to mark everything that missed his touch. To make sure you feel him, more than just inside.

"Is it good?" he asked as if he doesn't know your body like the back of his hand.

"Mm." you nodded, leaning in to feel more of his warmth.

"Then say my name. Let me know how good I make you feel." how could you forget he was like this. He always had to mark his territory as if you're not already his. But unfortunately for him, you're not in the mood to fulfill his desires. Screaming his name seemed nice, but at the moment all you wanted was to feel him, have him to yourself and let nobody know about your business.

Maybe his greedy side rubbed on you, or maybe it's the other way around. Or not, because at the end of the day you both knew that your unsolved issues can't be fixed that easy, and it can't be passed into the other when both of you are insane.

That's why you're trying to consume each other in other ways.

Kisses that seemed way too loving for someone who just got reunited after a long time. Touches that linger on the other's body even after moving away. Whispers and words that really makes it seems like you two were just a day apart, talking about moving with him, how you don't need anyone else but him. And at the moment you're too drunk on him to even realize that you're nodding, agreeing to every little degrading thing he's saying.

You want him, don't you? You missed him, you were such a mess without him. Right? Why did you permited him to leave when he's made for you. "I love you." that's the most normal thing he said tonight. "I love you, you heard me?" you heard him, but if you're giving him an answer that satisfies him, you'll never make him pay for the pain he caused you.

"You do?" you didn't sounded loving at all, even if your arms were wrapped around his neck, looking at him in the eyes with something only he saw before, your lust and obsession.

"I love you." he'll say it until you finally give up. Placing a kiss right next to your eye, he caged you in his arms, a hand under your ass and lifting up so he could go even deeper than before. Move in even more, since you said you wanted deeper. He'll show you places you didn't even know existed if you're asking for it.

He can't say that he's a brat tamer, because he's not. He likes everything about you, your sweet side, your mean and angry side. He likes it when you punish him, it shows him that you care. And if you believe that he's not doing enough to deserve your love just yet, then he'll do more.

He liked trying after all. And he'd be damed if he said that he doesn't want to show you just how far he can go. Because trust him, you can't handle it.

He's going to eat you, or even better, sacrifice him as you see fit. He wants to be inside you forever, be part of you. Because he feels like he's finally at home only when he's with you, in your arms. And when he's balls deep inside you? He's in heaven.

"Does it hurts?" he licked your tears away, wanting to taste them and claim them as his.

You nodded, feeling his cock twitching before moving in a way that got you throwing your head back. This fucker. He thinks that he can just do this to you and not pay a price? And perhaps sometimes he forgets how you can be so cruel, mean, and play with his feelings in a way only you could.

All he needs is a look from you, fluttering those eyelashes in a pretty way, and a sad expression that he can't resist.

You win, if you wanted him to fumble, then you win. He's all yours, do whatever you want with him because he doesn't have the ability to think anymore. "Cum with me?" what gives you the right to ask such a dumb question when you knew that's the only thing he wants. If you're not, the he's not doing it either. He knows he's asking for too much, but let the man dream.

"I'll fill you up nice and pretty, alright?" he made it sounded like a question, but you both knew he was just letting you know.

"Mm." you nodded, your lips smashing together the next moment. Eating each other out as you were both so so close. Touches becoming more and more desperate, his grip on so tight you won't be surprised if it leaves a bruise. But it's alright, because you feel like that's not quite enough.

More, you both needed more. And some heated sex after fucks knows how long won't be enough to satisfy the empty holes in you. You needed so much more.

Will you even be able to get out the bed tomorrow? Both of you. Because from the way you drag each other back, refusing to give up just yet was more than enough proof to show you won't step back any time soon.

But who knows, maybe you'll finally be happy by the time you both dry your energy out.

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 Beautiful Destruction . • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- Some addictions aren't found in powder form. Sometimes they're found in the way he says your name between midnight fights and morning regrets. A toxic love story.

warnings -- 18+-mdni, allusions to smut, mature/dark themes, mentions of blood, substance use, domestic abuse (from both parties), jealousy, toxic relationships, angst, no happy ending...

disclaimer -- with having read said warnings please note that this is a work of fiction, and as a writer, I do not condone or romanticize toxic relationships, substance abuse, or any form of physical/emotional abuse. This story explores dark themes for fictional purposes only. Please proceed with caution if these themes might be triggering.

main masterlist(s) | taglist | wc: 1.4k

The moonlight catches in his hair as Rafe Cameron stares at you across his bedroom, and you hate how beautiful he looks in this light—all sharp edges and barely contained rage. Your lip is still bleeding from where he kissed you too hard, punishment for the marks you left on his neck, visible enough that everyone will know. That was the point, after all.

The residual high from the lines you both did earlier is wearing off, leaving that familiar hollow feeling in your chest. It started as just a party thing, but now neither of you can seem to face these conversations sober anymore. The powder traces on his credit card mock you from the nightstand.

"Stay," he demands more than whispers, and there's that dangerous edge to his voice that should make you run. Instead, it makes you want to push harder, see how far you can take this before something breaks. "Just fucking stay this time."

You don't turn around as you pull your torn shirt back on, trying not to remember last month when you ripped his favorite button-down to shreds after finding texts from another girl on his phone. The fight that followed left a scar on your shoulder from where you hit the corner of his desk, and a matching one on his forearm from your keys. You both swore it would never happen again, but that's what you always say.

"Why? So we can pretend this is something it's not?"

"Don't do that," he says, and you hear him stand up, the sheets rustling. "Don't act like this is just sex when you're the one who showed up at my door at three AM last week, drunk and crying about seeing me with that girl at the Wreck."

"I wasn't crying," you snap, but your hands shake as you button your jeans. "And I don't care who you fuck."

He laughs, that hollow sound that means you've hurt him. Good. That's what you do best. "Right. That's why you made sure to let the whole party hear us tonight? Why you kept saying my name loud enough for everyone downstairs to hear through the walls?"

You finally turn, a cruel smile playing on your lips. "Maybe I just really enjoyed myself."

"You're such a liar," he growls, crossing the room in three quick strides. His hand finds your throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a reminder of how he held you earlier. "You're so scared of actually feeling something that you'd rather destroy us both."

"There is no 'us,'" you say, but your pulse races under his palm. "There never was."

His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling just hard enough to hurt. "Then why do you keep coming back?"

"Because you're convenient," you lie, watching the words land like punches. "Because you're always so desperate for it, aren't you? Poor little rich boy, so starved for love he'll take whatever scraps I throw him."

You expect him to push you away, to finally give up. Instead, he kisses you, hard and brutal, tasting of bourbon and blood. When he pulls back, his eyes are darker than you've ever seen them.

"You want to talk about desperate?" His voice is dangerously soft. "You're the one who begged me not to stop last night. Who cries my name when you come. Who shows up at my door every time you're lonely because you know I'll let you in. Because you know I love you, even though you don't deserve it."

The truth of his words feels like drowning. You shove him hard, needing space, needing air. "I never asked you to love me."

"No," he agrees, letting you go but not backing away. "You just made sure no one else could. How many people have you scared away from me? How many times have you shown up just when I was starting to move on?"

Your hand cracks across his face before you can stop yourself. The sound echoes in the quiet room. It reminds you of that night three months ago—the one you both pretend never happened. When the coke and jealousy and rage all exploded at once, leaving you both with bruises you had to explain away to concerned friends. He'd grabbed your wrists too hard; you'd thrown a bottle that shattered inches from his head. You both ended up on the floor, somewhere between fighting and fucking, leaving trails of blood from the broken glass neither of you had bothered to avoid.

"Fuck you," you spit, but there are tears in your eyes now.

"You already did," he says coldly. "Multiple times. Loud enough for the whole fucking house to hear. Was it worth it? Did it make you feel better about the fact that you're in love with me too?"

His smile is all teeth. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"I don't love you," you say, the words scraping your throat raw. "I don't even like you."

"Keep telling yourself that." He grabs your wrist as you reach for the door. "But we both know you'll be back. You always come back."

You jerk away from him. "Not this time."

"Right," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair—the same nervous gesture he made the morning you found him passed out in his bathroom, nose bleeding, pulse too fast. You'd stayed then, nursed him through the comedown, only to steal what was left of his stash before leaving. "Give it a week. You'll get drunk, see me with someone else, and show up at my door pretending you just want sex. And I'll let you in, because I'm stupid enough to keep loving you even though you're destroying me piece by piece."

"Then stop letting me in," you challenge, even as your chest constricts at the thought.

His laugh is bitter. "Maybe I will. Maybe next time I'll have someone else in my bed. Someone who isn't afraid to stay until morning. Would that finally make you feel something?"

The image hits you like a physical blow—Rafe with someone else, someone who deserves him. Someone better than you. The jealousy rises like bile in your throat.

"Do whatever you want," you say, proud that your voice doesn't shake. "I don't care."

"Prove it," he dares you. "Walk out that door and don't come back. For real this time."

Your hand finds the doorknob, and for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself imagine turning around, confessing everything. How you've been in love with him since that first night. How you push him away because you know you'll only break him in the end. How you'd rather hurt him on your terms than wait for him to realize you're not worth staying for.

Instead, you say, "Goodbye, Rafe," and step out into the night, leaving behind the only person who's ever seen through every lie you've told yourself.

Through the door, you hear glass shatter against the wall. Then another. And another.

You make it to your car before the sobs tear free from your chest. Your phone buzzes—a text from him.

I hate that I still love you.

You type back through blurred vision: I hate that I let you.

You drive away, your hands shaking as you resist the urge to dip into the baggie in your purse—the one you bought with money stolen from his wallet while he was sleeping last week. He probably knew; he always knows. Just like you know about the times he's followed you to parties, watched you flirt with other guys just to hurt him, waited for you to break down and come crawling back.

Next week, or next month, one of you will break. You'll end up back in his bed, adding new scars to your collection, both physical and emotional. You'll share lines and lies and bruising kisses, pretending the chemicals in your blood are the only reason your heart races when he touches you. Because that's what you do—you break each other apart and call it love.

Maybe one day, one of you will be strong enough to end this for good. Maybe it'll be when one of you finally goes too far, pushes too hard, breaks something that can't be fixed with apologetic kisses and promises you never mean to keep.

But not tonight. Tonight, you're already calculating how long to wait before texting him about the coke you just bought, knowing he'll let you in even though you both swore last time was the last time.

It's never the last time.

a/n -- Thanks to anyone who made it to the end of this fic! As always, all likes, comments, and reblogs keep me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore @madzig @thatdesigirl17 @drewstarkeysrightarm @seqhyvnz @romantasyreader2024 @luizaelias @rafe-cameronswife @emmavzlsblog @aileenunfiltered @swe3theart-succubus @511rkive @morrrrphin @xcinnamonmalfoyx @obxrafeandjj @rafegf-real @theeternaloptimistt @iluvvmeeee @ecliptide @mrsdrewstarkeyy @blaustappen @disaster-rose @neslayuh @justdamnpeachy @rafecamlovr @lhhlver @upsidedownjill @niyalovests @cl4uus

[yumeka-sxf]

A very short new chapter this week but...wow, the preview mentioned that it's about a dream Anya had, but I wasn't expecting baby Anya right off the bat 😭

A couple things we can infer about this short scene with her mother is that 1) they're both wearing what appears to be hospital or another kind of medical facility gowns, which indicates that they were perhaps both at the lab together. Likely her mother was there first for who knows how long, and Anya was born there?

And 2) the emphasis on being able to fly like a butterfly makes me think that they're trapped there. Anya is too young at this point to understand what's happening, but her mother desires that at least Anya is able to "fly away" to a better life someday.

It's hard to tell if Anya has her mind reading ability yet, or if her mother can read minds too. We don't see any of the "sparkles" that are used as a visual cue for when Anya is mind-reading...I feel like we would have seen that in the scene below when she's looking up at her mother before hugging her. But it could just be too short of a scene to say for sure.

Some notes about the Japanese version, @spencer-is-someone and others were wondering if she calls her ママ ("mama") here as opposed to what she calls Yor, はは ("haha"), and yes, she does call her biological mother the actual word "Mama." This is consistent with the Eden interview scene too.

The first panel of the Japanese version also has this extra text on the left that reads "a precious memory from some other time..."

Something that I mentioned in my review of chapter 102 is how Endo hides the faces of certain characters in other characters' flashbacks, such as how Loid's parents' faces are hidden, as is the face of Henry's wife in Martha's flashback. In the same vein, Anya's mother's face is obscured as well.

I interpret this as the characters' suppressing the memory of the character whose face is hidden due to the emotional trauma that character elicits, a trauma that the character having the flashback is trying to overcome, whether they realize it or not. In Anya's case, it could simply be that she doesn't remember her mother's face since she was so young, but regardless, I like that Endo is being consistent with this.

Side note, it seems like the design for Anya's mother is based on Ashe, a character from one of Endo's previous works. Anya's design was based on Ashe as well, so makes sense that her mother would have a stronger resemblance.

Before the chapter ends, we're treated to "soft" Loid with the little sigh he has (the "phew" cloud in the lower right) whenever he's genuinely relaxing around the family 😊

It's interesting how the mind-reading thing from the previous chapters with Melinda is brought up...when Anya asks if Yor can read her mind, Loid looks concerned, but when Yor tells him she only knew about the potato gratin because Anya saw it on TV, he relaxed.

I kinda hope that the Melinda story continues in the next chapter, but it could be paused for now. Likely we'll be moving onto something else next time. Maybe we'll go back to the "Anya reveals her secret to Damian" thing, since school is resuming according to Loid. I am a bit surprised though that this chapter was so short despite not being called a "Short Mission" chapter. Endo could still be trying to catch up after the recent long hiatus he had due to illness. But it's fine, I'm happy with crumbs of Anya's backstory not matter how small! 😅

[milliesfishes]

Hiiii Millie!!!! I literally fell in love with your new teddy bear!reader annnnnddd i was thinking some thoughts about maybe coryo or billy saying something harsh or maybe in a certain tone while they were in a mood and it odvi upset reader!

I know it’s super vague and I’m not really good at this whole request thing, so if for whatever reason you wanna go past this ask I completely understand!! Anywho, lots of love!!!

tysm for the ask lovey you did it perfectly! I'm so glad you love teddybear too <3

౨ৎ꣑ৎteddybear!reader getting snapped at౨ৎ꣑ৎ feat: Billy the Kid and Coriolanus Snow meet teddybear!reader

Billy:

On a day like today, when teddybear!reader had been waiting so impatiently for her boy to get home, it was hard for her to understand why he was so quiet, his mood undoubtedly sour. She greeted him with a big smile as always, pressing a kiss to his cheek, but he was quiet, only offering a pat to her waist in return.

Her heart began to race as she tried to think of a way to fix it. "I made cookies!" she exclaimed, tugging on his shirt sleeve. Billy only nodded, removing his hat and setting it on the hook by the door. She bit the inside of her cheek, watching him stride into the house, taking a seat at the table and smoothing his fingers over his face.

She was confused, taking cautious steps toward him and setting her soft hands on his shoulders. "Billy are you-?"

"'m fine," he snapped, body tensing under her touch. "Leave it be."

A breath of silence. Her hands lifted from his shoulders, wrapping around her waist instead. She pinched her sides, willing herself not to cry and silently cursing when the familiar feeling of tears biting her lids became present. She didn't want to cry, she knew Billy wasn't mad at her, but the reaction was instant. Before she could suppress it, she sniffled, turning her back to him in case he looked at her.

"Oh, baby-" Footsteps, and then the feeling of his hands on her arms were present. She shook her head, ashamed at her tears, but he smoothed her hair back behind her shoulders, straightening a shoulder of her cute dress, one of her favorites. Billy was always sweet on her, saving up to get her pretty things that she never failed to love.

His touch only caused more tears to fall, and she whimpered, trembling with the effort of holding back. Billy gently wound his arm around her waist, pulling her back into his chest and kissing the top of her head. "'m sorry, sweet girl, 'm sorry." He rubbed her side, touch gentle and light, and she could hear the guilt in his voice.

The way her boy was speaking to her, she couldn't help relaxing, the tossed-away thought she'd had in her head confirmed. He wasn't mad at her. He'd just had a bad day.

"Shh, angel baby, it's okay, I've got you," Billy soothed, rubbing her back gently. "That's my girl." When she gave a particularly loud hiccup, he started to rock her back and forth. "I know. Oh, I know, sweetie."

Sniffling, she reached up for him, and he hoisted her up under her arms, so her legs wrapped around his waist. Knowing she just needed some love, he sat back down, letting her bury herself into his chest as he kept his hand on her back.

"You made cookies, huh?" Billy murmured, kissing her head again, soaking in her vanilla scented hair. "Real sweet of ya."

"Mhm," she sniffled, wiping her eyes. Billy lifted the sleeve of his shirt, wiping her nose.

"'m sorry, sweetie," he repeated, voice soft. "I shouldn't be talkin' that way to my baby."

She took in a shaky breath, nodding and hiding back into him, getting cozy where she knew it was safe.

Coriolanus:

teddybear!reader loves baking, and she always makes the prettiest cakes with frosting flowers and smoothed edges. The only problem is, sometimes she gets distracted while they're in the oven, and then before she knows it, there's smoke clouding the kitchen and she's blindly trying to make her way to the source of the problem.

This is one of those times, and she's already half crying as she stumbles towards the oven, the fire alarm hurting her ears. It was for Coryo, since he'd been working so hard lately. She wanted to do something nice for him, and he always loved her cakes.

"Darling?" She could hear his voice even over all the noise, and his footsteps quickened suddenly.

Coughing, she stumbled to the window and flung it open, the smoke filtering out as quickly as it had been conjured. She turned around to flee to the oven, but tripped over herself in her rush, knees smacking the ground with a loud crack. When she looked up, Coriolanus was right there, throwing the oven door shut and tossing the blackened cake onto the counter with a clatter.

She'd been crying ever since she realized the smoke, but now, seeing her infuriated boy stalking towards her, sleeves rolled up, hair a mess, she was an utter mess. Coriolanus reached down, yanking her up under her arms to stand in front of him. With her fluffy pink cardigan falling off one shoulder (along with the strap of her dress), her hair messy from the commotion, and the continuous tear tracks on her rosy cheeks, she knew she looked a mess.

"What have we talked about when you're baking?" His voice was sharp, eyes narrow.

Her lower lip trembled. "W-watching the o-oven."

"Watching the oven," he said sternly, eyes still hardened. "You could have hurt yourself. You could have started a fire and burned the house down."

"'m sorry," she blubbered, shivering between his arms. "I w-was trying to be n-nice."

He softened, just a tad. "Honey, you need to pay attention when you put something in the oven. I know you love baking but you can't keep burning things."

Nodding, she tried to stop her wobbling chin, but Coriolanus brought her into his arms, his hold steady. She relaxed, still sniffling, but calming as he began to guide her out of the room. His voice was muffled to her, but she could make out him alerting someone to the mess in the kitchen.

She was still crying when he sat her down on their bed, kneeling in front of her and cupping her wet cheeks, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Hey. It's okay. You're okay."

"I b-burned it," she wailed, fisting the covers. "I w-wanted it to be pretty for youuu."

"I know, sweetheart," he muttered, his demeanor much gentler than before. "I know. I'm sorry I got upset. I just want you to be more careful."

Nodding, she closed her eyes, cuddling into him when he came to sit on the bed with her, positioning her head in his lap. He rang up for one of her favorite sweet drinks, pulling her favorite white fuzzy blanket over both of their legs so she could cuddle close. He knew how much his girl loved being comfy.

"Do you think we can save the cake?" she mumbled after awhile.

Coriolanus kissed the top of her head. "We'll make a new one later. Together."

[maryellencarter]

(via @barbieliberationarmy )

I'm going to speak to this one because it really does feel like such a basic concept -- how blind did Those People have to be? Here on Tumblr we've spent the last eight years being very aware of all the crap that's gone on, of how bad things can get and will get.

99% of people don't get their news from Tumblr radicals. I mean, intellectually we know that, but it's hard to actually register that the vast, vast majority of people just get their news from... the news. And in this election cycle, remember, it wasn't just the people who watch Fox News; *every* major news source was talking like Trump would deliver on his promises to improve the economy and so forth. They were all aggressively attacking Biden and Harris, and not attacking Trump really at all.

So anybody who wasn't already solidly anti-Trump -- especially anybody who was trying to seek out balanced reporting and form their own opinions, which is a good thing for voters to do -- unless they happened to stumble into a far-left enclave, they were going to get pushed rightward. Even if they sought out traditionally left-leaning news media.

"We told you" -- we told maybe a few dozen people who weren't already convinced, out of thousands or millions. "You have eyes" -- what good are eyes if the view is blocked with a wall and disguised to look like a different view?

There are evil people out there. People who've built their lives around hatred and cruelty. But there are a lot of people right now who simply weren't radicalized before, either way -- people who used to be sheltered or privileged enough not to pay attention to politics, whose circumstances changed or who grew up or immigrated since 2020 -- people who just haven't been part of the right communities to know who to blame.

Right now is when we want to radicalize those people onto our side. There are conversations to be had: hey, those guys have sent leopards to eat your face, that sucks, wanna team up against them? But it can't happen if we're busy shunning them and calling them blind.

I don't think most of my followers actually need to be told, but: y'all gotta let people switch sides.

I'm seeing a lot of "if you voted for Trump you're not welcome here" floating around. A lot of "haha the leopards are eating your face how does it feel". A lot of talk about the irredeemability of Nazis, with the strong implication that everyone who had any hand in bringing the current administration to power is a full-on Nazi and should be shot without trial.

People were fooled. People were lied to. People who genuinely tried to do their research were lied to by sources that had been reliable for decades. People who didn't have the time or the education to do their own research because they're fucking poor in America are finding out they were lied to.

If someone is trying to get out of a cult, you don't fucking lock them back in. You give them a place to run to. And if someone is trying to join your side in a battle that, at least hypothetically, is supposed to be settled by future democratic elections and therefore by strength of numbers, you fucking let them.

People are scared. People are finding out they were wrong. We are nowhere near the point yet where the wrong side is composed entirely of Bad Guys, if we ever will be. (Hell, eleven years after Hitler took power, some of his own generals tried to assassinate him with an exploding briefcase. It failed, but every time I see that stupid Tarantino gifset go by about "everyone in a Nazi uniform is irredeemably evil", that's what I think of. People are complicated, and everyone has their own breaking point.)

Where we *are* at is a point where people who don't want to be the bad guys are finding out what they were tricked into and trying to stop doing it. If you have any remaining faith in the democratic process at all, you should be helping those people join us and understand what the sides actually stand for, how they can actually fight for lower egg prices or whatever they were falsely promised. Even if you don't think democracy will help anymore, having a bigger group to fight alongside you is generally a good thing.

Or you could just take your hatred out on the most convenient targets, instead of on those who exploited them. Seems popular.

[azrielmasterlist]

His Shadows & Their Starlight

Storyline:-(Ver.2.0) Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You've been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You're a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Word count:- 1.2k

Warnings:- Insecurity, Lonliness, Jealousy, Angst.

Series:- Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Chapter 7: A Glimpse of Truth

Isla's POV

The night air was cool against my skin as I stood on the balcony, arms crossed over my chest. Velaris stretched out before me, glittering like a sky turned upside down. The view, breathtaking as ever, offered little comfort tonight. My mind was a tangled mess of questions and doubts, most of them circling back to Azriel.

Azriel.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Every interaction left me feeling more confused, more drawn to him despite the walls he constantly erected between us. And his shadows—they were always there, lingering around me like a silent promise, even when he wasn't.

I turned, my gaze falling on the shadows curling near my feet. They danced slowly, as though sensing my turmoil. They weren't threatening or cold. No, they felt... familiar. Safe.

"Why do you always follow me?" I whispered, half to myself, half to the shadows.

They didn't respond, of course. They never did in words. But the way they shifted, brushing gently against my wrist, felt like an answer. They were there because they chose to be. Because they wanted to.

A soft rustle of wings broke the quiet, and I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Azriel had a way of entering spaces without making a sound, but I always knew when he was near.

I kept my eyes on the city below. "You don't have to keep doing this."

"I wasn't planning to." His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it as if he was tired of having this conversation.

I turned to face him, unable to stop myself. He stood a few feet away, his shadows swirling restlessly around him as if they couldn't decide whether to stay with him or come to me. I'd never seen them behave this way before—like they were torn between us.

"You always say that," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "You always act like it's something you can't help. But if that's true, then tell me—why are your shadows always with me? Why do they act differently around me than they do with anyone else?"

He flinched, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. For once, he didn't have a ready answer.

"I don't know," he said after a long pause. "I've never seen them behave this way either."

I stepped closer, my heart pounding. "They're a part of you, Azriel. They don't do anything without reason. So what reason do they have for being with me?"

His gaze met mine, dark and unreadable. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then he spoke, his voice quieter than before, as if admitting it was painful.

"They reflect my emotions," he said. "My shadows—they react to what I feel. They always have."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy and charged with meaning. I swallowed hard, trying to process what he was telling me. His shadows reacted to his emotions. Which meant...

"They come to me because of how you feel about me," I said aloud, needing to hear the words, to make sure I wasn't imagining things.

Azriel's jaw tightened. "It's not that simple, Isla."

"Why not?" I demanded. "You care about me. You don't have to say it—I can feel it. Your shadows make it clear enough. So why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Because it doesn't matter," he said, his voice rough with something I couldn't quite name. "I can't... I can't give you what you want, what you deserve. It's Elain—"

"Elain," I cut in, bitterness creeping into my tone. "You keep using her as an excuse. You say she's something special to you, but she's with Lucien. She made her choice, Azriel. Why can't you make yours?"

He looked away, his shadows flickering uneasily. "You don't understand."

"No, I don't," I said, my voice trembling. "I don't understand how you can feel something for me, how your shadows can be drawn to me, and yet you still act like I'm nothing more than a replacement for someone you can't have."

That got his attention. His gaze snapped back to mine, and for a moment, I saw something raw in his eyes—something that made my chest ache.

"You're not a replacement," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Don't ever think that."

"Then what am I?" I whispered, hating how vulnerable I sounded. "Because right now, I feel like I'm stuck in this limbo where you want me close, but not too close. Where your shadows comfort me, but you won't."

He didn't answer.

The silence stretched between us, too loud, too painful. I shook my head, stepping back.

"I can't do this, Azriel. I can't keep waiting for you to figure out what you want. I deserve more than that."

His shadows flickered around me, hesitant, as if they didn't want me to leave. But I ignored them, turning away before he could see the tears gathering in my eyes.

I left the balcony without another word, my heart aching in a way I hadn't expected. I didn't know what hurt more—his reluctance to let me in, or the fact that his shadows still followed me, even when he didn't.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I spent the next few days avoiding him. It wasn't hard—Azriel was a master at keeping to himself, and I knew how to disappear when I wanted to. But no matter where I went, his shadows were always there, a constant reminder of what I was trying to forget.

It should have been comforting. Instead, it only made the ache worse.

"Isla, are you all right?" Mor asked one afternoon as we sat in the sitting room.

I forced a smile. "I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the issue. Still, I could feel her watching me, as if she knew exactly what—or rather, who—was bothering me.

Later that night, when I found myself once again standing on the balcony, I wondered if I'd ever truly be able to move on. If Azriel's shadows would ever stop haunting me.

"I told them to stay away."

The voice startled me, but I didn't turn around. I knew who it was.

"They don't seem to listen to you," I said quietly.

Azriel stepped beside me, his expression unreadable as he looked out over the city. "They don't. Not when it comes to you."

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to ask what that meant. I didn't want to have this conversation again, didn't want to open old wounds that hadn't even begun to heal.

"I'm sorry," he said after a long moment.

I glanced at him, surprised. "For what?"

"For hurting you. For making you feel like you weren't enough."

His words were quiet, but they cut through me like a blade. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"I don't know what this is," he continued. "I don't know what it means, or why it's happening. But I know one thing—I care about you, Isla. More than I should."

I turned back to him, my heart pounding. "Then why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Because I'm afraid," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what it means. Afraid of what I'll lose if I let myself care too much."

I didn't know what to say to that. So instead, I took a step closer, reaching out to brush my fingers against the shadows still lingering between us.

"You don't have to be afraid," I said softly. "You don't have to do this alone."

For a moment, I thought he might pull away again. But then his shadows wrapped around my hand, warm and familiar, and I knew that maybe—just maybe—there was hope for us after all.

Taglist:- @donnadiddadog@onebadassunicorn-blog@wintersquirrel@rcarbo1