#i also cant do quads because i cant fucking walk

[ghost-of-you]

we just danced backwards into each other - ch - part 7

Paring: Calum Hood x Original Female Character.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of an er visit and vague descriptions of an injury and how it happened, also Lena's team sucks.

Word Count: 9.4k

Authors note: okay, this took a long time to post, sorry about that, i cant even say i hit a writer's block patch because i have been writing a lot about them, i just hit a bit where i could only write flashbacks, i even briefly considered to post a part that was just flashbacks, but that didn't fit the plan, but here we are, hopefully, the next part wont take this long, i already have a solid chunk written. That being said the flashbacks are getting more elaborate, and theres quite a bit of them in this part. As usual, italics are flashbacks.

Read it on AO3

Part 6 Part 8

Masterlist

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Lena wasn't exactly sure what to expect from the meeting she was called in for, she thought it would be about the conversations surrounding her and Calum and when she would be allowed to start putting songs out, but she sure as hell didn’t expect to find herself in the situation she is in.

“What do you mean, supporting act?” Lena asks as calmly as she possibly can.

“You’ll get your own tour next year, but they need an opener and it makes sense-” Her manager sounds calm and slightly condescending and that makes her cut her off. 

“No, it doesn’t,” she shakes her head, and Sylvia sighs.

“Lena, you can’t do arenas alone, it will be good for you."

“No, I’m not doing it,” she says, crossing her arms but the look she gets in response makes her shoulders tense.

“You already agreed,” she says and Lena frowns in confusion.

“No, I didn't." She sounds a bit childish. Probably looks it too, arms crossed, hands clenching the ends of her sleeves, a pout she can't really fight on her lips.

“Yes, you did," Sylvia says and the look on her face it's what finally makes the situation make sense.

“The ‘a few concerts’ part of the deal is a whole tour?" She air-quotes, feeling exasperated, "are you fucking kidding me?”

“Lena,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose and Lena rolls her eyes.

“Fine, great, I’m going on tour with my fake boyfriend, yeehoo," she says, making a dramatic motion with her hands, "does that mean I’ll get to release something?”

“Yes." The word sounds too careful and it makes Lena groan.

“But the first thing will have to be the duet, right?”

“Yes.” The word rings in her ears and it makes her blood boil. It makes her want to start a fight. But she just takes a deep breath, pressing her lips together.

“Okay, can I go now? I have a song to finish and a deadline now."

“Sure."

“Thank you,” she says, pushing her chair back loudly and making her way out the door. She wants to slam it. She wants to slam something. But she ends up slamming into someone. The last person she wants to see at that particular moment.

Lena was slowly walking through the schoolyard, dragging her feet, wishing she didn't have to go to the quad and stay there for another period. She wanted to leave. She wanted to hide. Actually, she wanted to cry and she felt stupid for it, so she wanted to run. But not literally, and if she went to PE, Coach would make her run laps or something and the thought made her want to scream. 

To be fair, all her thoughts were making her want to scream. She wanted to scream at herself for failing that test. She wanted to scream at herself for caring so much about one stupid grade she could easily make up for. She wanted to scream for wanting to scream. It was all very frustrating. 

It was why she ended up hiding in the corner beside the bleachers where she would sit when she didn't want Coach to force her to participate. Or where she would hide to watch the football team practice sometimes. The second occasion had happened more times than she would want to admit, but she liked understanding when Calum went on about the games and the team, so she started watching it more. It was just about being a good friend. It definitely had nothing to do with the way he would smile at her, a smile that would light up his whole face and he'd even get dimples on his cheeks, when she had an input that made sense. And she was growing to enjoy the sport, even if just because of his sheer enthusiasm. 

She wasn't watching the field that day though, too busy feeling sorry for herself to do anything other than stare at the floor, twisting a pebble between her fingers, waiting for the hour to be over. It was why she didn't hear the footsteps approaching her until they were too close for her to run. So she settled to furiously wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hands, letting out a frustrated huff as the tears wouldn't stop, trying to come up with an excuse to give Coach as she turned to look up at whoever it was when they stopped.

But it wasn't Coach, and she watched as Calum, dressed in the school team's uniform, sat down beside her, leaving about a foot of space between them, making her frown. Why wasn't he playing? Coach might not miss Lena, but he would definitely notice that Calum wasn't there. 

She was looking at him trying to figure out what to say. Maybe tell him she didn't want to talk. That he should go back. That she wanted to be alone. But before she could say anything he offered her his water bottle, raising his brow in a silent question: do you want me to go? And Lena surprised herself by shaking her head while taking the bottle from his hand. 

He didn't say anything, just nodded and looked forward, at the field. And Lena watched him, stunned for a few seconds while taking a big gulp of the water while feeling a rush of affection for him she couldn't quite understand, before shaking her head and scooting closer to him.

They sat there in silence until the bell rang when Calum scrambled to his feet and offered her a hand to help her up too, giving it a comforting squeeze before running back to get his stuff from the locker room, leaving Lena unsure of why she felt like she could follow him anywhere.

“Woah there, love,” Calum chuckles, holding her up, but frowning when he notices the look on her face, “you okay?” He asks, and she groans, closing her eyes, and exhaling sharply before stepping back from him.

“Fine, I gotta go,” she mumbles, stepping around him and moving toward the break room at the end of the hall. She doesn't know exactly what she wants there as she moves to get a glass and stops by the water fountain, hand clutching at the cool metal edge and watching as the water slowly fills the cup. Too slowly.

"Lena," Calum's voice is careful as it comes from somewhere behind her and she groans, staring at the wall.

"Calum, I mean this in the nicest way possible but get out," she says, as calmly as she possibly can, closing her eyes as she takes a sip.

"Lena," he tries again and she sighs.

"Look, really wanna do something self-destructive, picking a fight with you right now would definitely do that and I don't wanna say something I can't take back, so please leave me alone, I promise I'll talk to you once I stop feeling like wanna smash something," she says, clutching the cup with both hands, still staring at the wall.

"Okay, just call me if you need me," he says and she nods.

"Yeah." She is actually surprised when she hears him walking away, but she stays there, slowly counting her breaths as she sips on her water, trying to get a grip on her feelings when she hears footsteps behind her again.

"Calum, I said please," she groans, putting the cup down, but the voice that comes from behind her makes her head snap back.

"Not Calum," Andy says, and she finds him leaning against the doorway, "he did send me, though, he said he didn't think you should be alone," he explains and she stares at him for a few seconds before crossing the room straight into his chest, making him huff out a laugh as he wraps his arms around her, "what happened?" 

"We're going on tour," she says, stepping back so she can look at him.

"And you're upset why exactly?" He frowns at her and she purses her lips.

"With 5sos," she says and understanding floods his face.

"We're opening?" He asks and she nods slowly, "so you're not sad, you're pissed."

"Yes."

"Got it, wanna go find something for us to break?" 

"Yes, please."

The wait was agonizing. And it was throwing him off. It wasn't like this was the first time Calum and Lena had gone for days without hearing from each other. It wasn't the first time they had a fight that ended with one of them storming off. Granted, this was the first time Lena was the one that initiated the divide between them and stuck with it. But he thought she would come back. She always came back.

Their silly arguments used to end fairly quickly and when he was the one storming out after tearing them apart in one swoop, he felt like he didn't have the right to miss her. He regretted walking out on her the second the door had closed behind him but some part of him still thought it was for the best. 

But this time, there wasn't a piece of him that didn't desperately want to fix this. He needed to fix it somehow. 

But Lena was gone, no one exactly sure where and it was agonizing because he was terrified he had lost her for good. He was terrified of what she would do. 

Most of all he was terrified of how much he missed her. 

Their relationship had been about distance for long enough for Calum to be able to compartmentalize the feeling. It came with the job. He was always missing someone.

But this time it felt different. Maybe because he couldn't just call and have the ache softened by the sound of her voice. Maybe it was because there was no escaping it when even looking at a picture of them just made him feel worse.

Someone else might've seen the irony in the way Lena was out, somewhere in the world, convinced he didn't love her while Calum was finally understanding how much he actually did. 

Not that he wasn't aware of how non-platonic his feelings for her were. How non-platonic they had always been. But letting himself admit it had him seeing how deep those feelings ran and he couldn't believe how stupid he had been. 

She loved him. He knew that for years. He loved her. He also knew that for years. So why had he fought so hard to keep her out? And how had he left himself make her believe he didn't love her?

Granted, he thought she was over him. He thought he had lost his chance. That his time to do something had passed. That a somewhat mended friendship was all he could have after what he did. So he convinced himself that it was what she wanted. That it was what he wanted. And because of that, he had no reaction to give her when she made her feelings known. Again. 

The worst part is that he couldn't even blame her for leaving. He sure as fuck would've too if the roles were reversed. He would've done more damage as he left too. It wouldn't be as graceful. 

The calm in which she had taken his hand and done the exact same thing he had all those years before, just leaving the piece of them she held onto when he didn't deserve it, all while looking him dead in the eyes, daring him to stop her, was not something he could have achieved.

She walked away and he had to let her do it. He couldn't offer what she wanted. But then again, all he wanted was to get her to stay. 

It was how he ran into Andy. The roommate who most definitely hated him. Not that Calum blamed him. 

"She's flying back," Andy told him after an awkward greeting, turning back to Calum, “tomorrow if she gets on the plane,” he added before Calum could ask, sliding to the booth across from him.

“You talked to her?” Calum asked and he nodded, "is she safe?" 

"She said she is."

"Do you believe her?" 

"I don't know," he said, rubbing his forehead.

“How is she?”

“How do you think?” Andy huffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m still asking,” he said simply and Andy studied him for a few seconds before answering. 

“Well, she sounded a lot like she did last time,” he finally said and Calum frowned.

“I don’t know what that means." Those words frustrated him. He used to think there wasn't a part of Lena he didn't know and he didn't like to be confronted with the fact that he didn't know her as well as he thought. 

“She sounded numb, dude, avoidance is something she mastered, it was like she couldn’t handle all she was feeling, I’m relieved she’s coming back, the numb stage was a bad one,” he ran a hand through his hair and for a second Calum wondered if he really wanted to know, but he couldn't stop himself from asking.

“Why?”

“She cried for like a whole week and one day she just stopped, it was like she decided she didn't want to feel it anymore, but she wasn't feeling anything else either, she was moving on auto-pilot, burying herself into distractions, she landed herself in the hospital once."

“I didn’t know that."

“She passed out on campus, it sounds worse than it was," Andy's voice was dismissive as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back on his seat.

“What happened?” 

“She was dehydrated, pushed herself too hard, she was actually at the campus health center when it happened, not that anyone thought to tell me that when they called me, it was all ‘Lena is in the hospital, you gotta get here now’," he breathed out a puff of air and Calum considered his words. He really couldn't blame the guy for the way he reacted whenever he was around Lena.

"That sounds like a lot."

"I've spent the whole week waiting for that call again," Andy said, voice low, sounding as if he didn't want to admit what he'd been thinking but also as if he needed Calum to know how bad it could get. 

"I know what you think of me, but I'm not trying to hurt her," he defended himself but the other man shook his head.

"You wanting to do it or not doesn't change how it's always happening," he challenged and Calum felt stunned for a second.

"Did you talk to her about-"

"Your situation and why she ran? Yes," he nodded and Calum looked expectantly at him.

"And?" 

"She's hiding, she does that, hide until she can handle what she’s feeling," he said and Calum nodded. That he knew. He used to have a list of places she usually hid back home for the days she would run without telling him where she was going. Under the bleachers at their old school, the lookout not far from her mum's house, the park a few blocks from his place, the old playground by Michael's. He used find her and just sit with her until she was ready to talk. "I remember at the beginning of our second year she disappeared for a few days and then came back like nothing happened, I still don’t know where she went,” Andy added with a frustrated huff, and Calum frowned at him. He knew what happened.

“She came to see me," he said and got a puzzled look in return, "We were doing promo back home and she just showed up and followed us around, I think we were telling people she was our hairstylist or something like that.” 

Lena had called him one day, saying she was at his hotel lobby. He had not believed her at first but went down anyway, grinning when he saw her, clutching the straps of her backpack while she bounced on the balls of her feet waiting for him. It took until he saw the anxious look on her face as she turned to him for him to start to question why she was there, it was a nine-hour drive after all, but she just hugged him and shrugged the question off. He knew she needed a distraction and he was happy to provide it. Their manager had been annoyed about it, but still made the necessary arrangements for her to be able to stay with him. She went to interviews, and a photoshoot, standing in a corner laughing as she fluffed Michael’s hair with a comb sticking out of her back pocket, saying Calum needed more hair gel, and sat next to him in the back of the van as if she belonged there. The night before they left she curled up on his bed and cried telling him about the fight she had with her mother, and how she just got in her car and drove. The same car he closed the door to in the hotel parking lot because she needed to go back to uni and he had another plane to catch.

“She stayed with us until I had to leave."

“She went to you?” He asked, sounding skeptical and Calum nodded.

“She used to do that a lot, come to me when she wanted to run, I always tried to be there if I could." 

"It's just been a while since she ran without telling me." He was back to looking frustrated and Calum narrowed his eyes at him.

"You really care about her, don't you?"

“She’s my family, and honestly, I’m sick of hearing her cry over you, I can’t say I understand why she loves you."

“We had good years before things got too complicated."

“Complicated,” he huffed out a chuckle and Calum frowned.

“What?”

“When she was angry she would pace around, going on about how you kept saying it’s complicated, and calling you very creative names," the blonde explained with a chuckle and Calum narrowed his eyes at him.

"How much did she tell you?"  He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"Enough. I think she downplays some of the parts that hurt her the most, but I'm not sure if she's trying to get me not to hate you or if she's just sparing herself." 

"It's probably both."

"Definitely both."

"I've been thinking about what you said," Calum said after a beat of silence and Andy looked confused. 

"Me?" 

"About being someone who deserves how much she loves me," He explained and Andy narrowed his eyes at him. It was unsettling to see how much they looked like Lena's when he stared at him like that.

"Right," he said, sounding skeptical.

"I can't change the shit that already happened, I would if I could, go back and smack some sense into myself, but if she lets me I'll try for as long as it takes to fix it," he paused, but Andy looked unconvinced, "you think she'll talk to me?" 

"Honestly? No. Not right now at least," he added after a beat, "but maybe, if you are serious about this, she'll come around."

"I am serious," Calum said and Andy studied him carefully, before seemingly deciding he was being sincere by giving him a small nod. 

"Then maybe you still have a chance."

Lena lost track of how long she had been sitting in her car, phone in her hand trying to decide what to do. Calum said to call him if she needed him, so she could call even if she didn’t necessarily need him at the moment. She just feels bad for the way she reacted. And she always hated fighting the urge to talk to him. 

The decision shouldn’t be this hard. She should just call him if she wants to talk to him. At least that’s what she’s been telling herself for at least the last thirty minutes, music blaring through the car while clicking in and out of Calum’s contact. 

“Just do it,” she tells herself, pausing the music, leaning back against the seat, and closing her eyes as she clicks the call button.

"Hi, L," Luke's voice comes through the phone when she thought the call was about to go to voicemail and Lena frowns slightly, pulling the phone off her ear and checking the screen to see if she dialed the right number, finding Calum's name on it.

"Luke?" She asks, sounding confused and he giggles.

"Cal is occupied, but I didn't want to leave you hanging." 

"Oh, you didn't have to, I can call back later," she says, scratching her neck as she hears Calum's voice at a distance.

"Is that my phone?" Calum asks and Luke must've agreed because he adds, "why are you on my phone?" sounding a lot closer.

"It's L, you've been checking it compulsively," Luke says and there's a commotion where she assumes the phone is being passed around because she stops understanding what they are saying.

"Lena? Is everything okay?” He asks, sounding concerned, making her chuckle.

"You said to call if I needed you." 

"I did." 

"But you're busy, we can talk later, it's fine," she says, scratching her neck but he's quick to stop her dismissal.

"We're pretty much done, I'll be off, in like ten, twenty minutes?" 

"Can you meet me then?"

"Yeah, you want me to stop by your place? You wanna come over? You wanna go somewhere? I don't have my car so I would have to go get it but-" He sounds eager and that makes her giggle, looking around herself before interrupting him.

"I can pick you up,” she offers, adjusting in the seat.

“I’ll wait for you then."

“You got your license?” Calum said, sounding skeptical and mildly jealous as he leaned against the open window, making Lena pout, as she gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Just get in, some of us still have a curfew," she complained and he opened the door, sliding into the passenger side.

“You didn’t answer,” he said while she watched him.

“Seatbelt,” she said and he rolled his eyes, buckling in, “of course I got it, you think mum would let me get the car if I didn’t have a license?” 

“When did this happen?”

“About a month ago,” she shrugged, carefully making the car move again and she didn't have to look at him to know he looked offended as he shifted in the seat.

“A month? And you didn’t tell me?"

“And miss the look on your face when I rolled up? No chance," she teased, glancing at him.

“I can’t believe you got your license before me,” he complained, pushing the seat back so he could sit more comfortably and she rolled her eyes.

“No, you’re not allowed to complain, you were just on a world tour, who cares about cars?”

“Says the one with a car."

“It’s not like it's my car.”

“You’re driving it."

“It's not that exciting, but sometimes mum lets me drive myself to school, so that’s cool.'

"So, where are we going?"

"I have no idea, I didn't think that far," she laughed, tapping on the steering wheel. 

"We can drive around until we find someplace to stop," he offered and she considered it while he leaned forward to mess with the radio.

“Wait, wanna go to the lookout?” She said, suddenly, looking at him and he grinned at her as he finally got the radio to work.

Lena parked the car, still far from the edge, but close enough for them to be able to look at the lights of the city below, before getting out, moving to the front of the car, Calum following her, looking amused as she moved so she could sit on the hood, patting the space beside her as she leaned against the windshield. 

"You've been coming here alone?" He asked once he was settled beside her, and she shrugged, glancing at him.

"Nah, it's weird being here now," she pressed her lips together while he watched her. Everything they used to do together felt lacking when he wasn't there. It just made the constant ache of missing him that much more intense, "and mum doesn't like me being out here by myself so…"

"It's probably not a good idea," he chuckled, eyes still on her making her slide closer to him and drop her head on his shoulder, holding on to his arm. She couldn't quite believe he was really there. Not just a voice on her phone or a face on a screen but within her reach. It made her want to hold on and never let him leave again. And that was stupid all things considered. It was never going to happen. She knew she needed to get over her feelings for him. But that was a problem for future Lena. At that moment the only thing that mattered was that Calum really was there.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," she said, looking forward and she felt him moving beside her.

"What?" He asked and she chewed on her bottom lip.

"It's okay if you're gonna be too busy, I didn't think you'd be here, but you are and well, I can't not invite you but really is okay if you can't go-" she was rambling and she knew she should just say it but the words wouldn't come out until Calum interrupted her.

"Go where?" He chuckled, and she pulled away so she could look at him.

"I booked a gig," she blurted out, pressing her lips together and anxiously watching him. But as his face lit up with a smile she felt stupid for being anxious about telling him. Of course he would be happy for her. 

"Really?" 

"It's not, you know, one direction, stadium world tour, but they told me they sold like few hundred tickets and I'm just opening and no one is gonna be there to see me and it's okay if you can't go," she was babbling and he looked amused.

"I'm going," he told her and she pressed her lips together.

"Really?"

"You think I'd miss it?" 

"I didn’t think you’d be here," she chuckled and he rolled his eyes.

"But I am, so… When is it?"

"The day before you're set to leave."

"I'll be there," he said, sounding determined and that just made her smile at him.

Lena’s about to reach for her phone to let Calum know she’s there when she hears a tap on the passenger window, and she’s startled for a second before unlocking the door.

“How did you know I was here?” She laughs, watching as Calum gets in.

“I didn’t,” he says, making her frown at him, “I saw the car,” he explains, adjusting the seat and buckling in and she nods.

"Right."

"Where are we going?" He asks when they start moving and she laughs.

"I didn't think that far." 

"So we're just driving around then?" He asks and she shrugs, "what happened that got you that upset?" He adds and she can feel him watching her.

"You don't know?" She asks, glancing at him and he frowns at her, "I'm your opening act," she adds and she can see he's fighting to keep his expression neutral.

"You are?" He asks, failing to mask the excitement in his voice. She thinks she'll be excited about it soon enough, she liked performing too much to be upset for long. And she knows he's excited about the thought of having her around while on the road again. But she's unsure how she feels about being on tour with him. It's just hard not to think about how badly the last tour they did together ended for the both of them. And they went in with a relationship that was a lot more stable than whatever's happening between them at the moment. 

"Yep," she nods and he's still watching her carefully.

"Okay," he says, sounding unsure and she sighs. 

"You know the agreement for the relationship?" She starts, looking at him at a red light and he nods, "I didn't know that I was agreeing to the tour too. I'm not mad I'm going on tour with you guys because of you guys, it just felt like a step back you know? And I know I ain't selling out arenas and that this is a good opportunity but I am annoyed." Most of all she's annoyed about the way she keeps getting tricked into doing things, but there's a part of her that doesn't want to do the tour simply because she feels like her career moved so much since the last time she opened for them. Two albums out, a third on the way. Was it crazy for her to not want to do the thing that started it all again?

“Why?” Calum asks and she chews on her bottom lip trying to figure out the right thing to say to get him to understand the issue she has with the situation.

“How would you feel if I told you you need to tour with one direction again?” She asks in return, stealing a glance at him and seeing the emotions on his face as he processes her words: confusion being replaced with understanding being replaced with uneasiness.

“Got it."

“I am sorry about earlier though, so you can stop with the monosyllabic answers-" she chuckles, feeling restless over the way his reactions feel too careful.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says before she can finish her thought.

"-and you're allowed to be happy I'm going on the road with you again," she continues and he laughs.

"I am?" He sounds equal parts unsure and excited and it's a bit disarming.

"Yeah."

"Are you? All things considered?" He asks, genuine concern in his voice, and she considers the question.

"Well, it’s fun, so I'm sure I'll be excited about it soon, but if I'm being honest the idea of spending months seeing you on a semi-daily basis again it's a bit unsettling," she admits, fighting the urge to look at him because she doesn't want to know what she would see in his face if she did. 

"Unsettling?" 

"I don't know, okay? It's just, I'm trying not to shut you out, but it's weird." 

“What?”

“Not fighting the urge to talk to you, I got used to it,” she says, tapping her thumbs against the steering wheel, “we need to finish the song, though,” she chuckles, glancing at him, wanting to change the subject.

“I like the way it is now," he says, simply. She does too. That version may only exist as a voice note recorded with Calum's phone but there's something about it. She really hopes they can capture that in the studio.

“Yeah, me too, but you really think it's gonna work with just the piano?" It's definitely not her usual style and she's worried about how it would sound. 

"We could try it out,"

"We can work on it."

“Whenever you want."

“Not now though, now we’re doing something stupid,” she giggles, finally realizing where she wants to go. 

“How stupid are we talking here? ‘Cause you have really high standards for stupid,” he jokes and she pouts.

“Hey!” She complains, sounding offended and he laughs.

“I’m just saying, are you just planning on driving until we run out of gas, or are you skipping that and just going straight to the airport? I'm down if you wanna flee the country again, you just need to tell me first,” he tells her and she can't help the way her heart flutters. 

“So you would run away with me?”

“Always,” he says, making her have to press her lips together to control the smile threatening to take over her face. It feels unfair, the way he keeps getting these reactions out of her without even trying.

"Do I need a plane ticket and a shiny ring with your name on it?" She jokes, more in an attempt to keep the conversation lighthearted than anything else, but she starts laughing when he groans, rolling his eyes. 

"I take it back," he says, and she glances at him, trying to determine how much he means it, but he seems to be fighting to keep a straight face.

"Too late, you're already in the car," she shrugs and he fakes outrage.

"That's kidnapping." 

"Hey, you got in willingly," she laughs, looking at him when he laughs too, the sound making her heart beat faster. "I just want ice cream though," she adds, and he nods.

"Of course you do, but why is that stupid?"

"Because we are gonna go out into the world, I don't wanna sit in the car."

"The stupid part here is the risk of getting recognized then, got it."

"For all intents and purposes, we're selling the idea you're my boyfriend now so who the fuck cares if we get spotted together?"

"That's the spirit."

For some reason, Lena hadn't thought about what the batch of promo she would be doing between the legs of the tour meant for her and Calum until she had all her stuff taken down and was about to be ushered into the van to catch a plane to somewhere she wasn't sure where it was. They had three weeks off, at least the band had, she would only get a few days before having to meet the boys for the first show of the North America leg, she was in full promo mode and her team was driving her crazy. 

But as she thought about how Calum had said goodbye, too quickly for her to fully process it, she couldn't help but feel anxious. This would be the longest they would be apart since whatever was happening between them had started. And she didn't know what to expect. Things between them had been easy enough she didn't think she had anything to worry about until she was standing in an empty hotel room, looking around to see if she had forgotten something only to find one of Calum's flannels on the couch in the corner. 

And suddenly worrying was all she could do, even though she knew she couldn't make any demands. What would they do when the tour started again? Go back to just being friends? Stay in the routine of sneaking into each other's hotel rooms and hooking up in what sometimes felt like any space where they could get alone long enough for sex to happen?

Sure, it wasn't just sex. No matter what Calum said about not giving her a relationship, something more was going on between them. They talked more, they laughed more and Lena couldn't remember the last time they were in a hotel and she fell asleep alone. It was as if removing that line between them that they had danced around for years had them settling into a level of comfort with each other she never had with anyone else. But sometimes she did worry if it was all about proximity. So she was worried about whether the distance between them would change things again. She knew how quickly their relationship could shift. Had things been permanently altered or would this put them back the way they were before they acted on the attraction between them? Could she ever go back if he wanted to, knowing what it was like to have him, all of him? She wasn't sure.

But standing there wasn't going to change anything. She had to leave. There was a plane she needed to be on and she would have plenty of time to wonder if that morning before Calum left had been her last chance to kiss him and just pretend he was hers for a while. 

She had just finished checking the front pocket of her backpack to make sure she had her passport and was clutching the fabric of Calum's flannel as she glanced around one more time when the door opened. 

"Hey," Calum said, walking in, looking a little breathless under the carefree expression he was wearing as he closed the door behind him.

"Hi," Lena answered, eyeing him suspiciously, "you forgot this," she added, offering him the flannel and he nodded, taking it and putting it on over his t-shirt so he wouldn't have to carry it, "I was about to go find you." 

"I thought I should walk you down," he said, stepping closer to her. He was staying there another day, doing some exploring, like Ashton liked to say, so there was no rush for him to leave. 

"Okay," she giggled, "let's go then, 'cause I don't need Sylvia yelling at me," she added, adjusting the straps of her backpack on her shoulders and moving to walk around him. She knew not to wait for anything other than him just walking next to her, there was no telling who could see them, so she was surprised when he grabbed her hand.

"Wait," he told her, pulling her to him and she barely had time to react before he was kissing her. And there was nothing calm about it, the way he was kissing her made her head spin as she held on to him.

"Okay, now we can go," he said, pulling away from her, leaving her chasing his lips before she grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him back to her. She wanted more. She wanted to map out the way kissing him felt like in case she didn't have the chance to do it again and that was what she did. She focused on the feeling of his lips on hers and his hands on her body and the feelings coursing through her.

"Now we can go," she laughed, a little breathless, pulling away from him and moving to the door. She knew he would follow her. And they walked down to the parking lot, after giving the key cards to her manager, Lena rambling about how excited she was for this round of interviews while Calum watched her with a grin on his face that made her heart beat faster. 

He pulled her in for a hug, after checking to see if the parking lot was in fact empty, and she breathed him in before pulling away.

"I'll see you in a few weeks," she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before going into the van, putting the backpack on the seat before sitting closer to the open door to wait, leaning into the frame.

"Yeah." 

Lena half expected him to turn around and leave, but he surprised her again by looking around, hoisting himself into the van, kissing her one more time, way too fast for her liking, before going back out, at the same time her manager showed up with the rest of her team.

"Bye, love," Calum said, winking at her, making her laugh, "call me when you land." 

“Did you ever think about how fucked up it is that we spend so much of our lives moving?” Lena asks, slamming the car door closed as Calum stops next to her.

“Are you getting philosophical on me?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at her and she shakes her head.

“No, I mean literally,” she explains, and they start moving to the ice cream shop.

“That somehow makes even less sense,” he chuckles and she looks up at him.

“We are always on vehicles, you know? Cars, vans, buses, planes,” she lists, counting her finger and his eyebrow furrow as he studies her.

“Why are you thinking about that?”

“You mentioned running, I started thinking about planes, got into a little existential crisis,” she shrugs, pressing her lips together. 

“And decided to drag me with you?" Calum teases, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“It’s because you have a headstart on me, I was wondering if you ever had that moment, so, you know, thought I’d do some dragging, ask if you ever wanted to just stop moving." Lena sounds more frustrated than she expects and she chews on the inside of her cheek as she waits for him to say something.

"So you are getting philosophical on me." He looks so understanding, it's disarming.

"I guess," she sighs, scratching her neck and he cooks his head looking at her before reaching around her to open the door. 

"Yeah, I have," he says, holding the door open for her to walk into the shop and she murmurs a thank you as she walks in. 

"What do you do about it? How do I make the feeling go away?" She asks, stopping suddenly, looking at him and he has to hold out his hands, landing them on her waist so he wouldn't hit her.

"What makes you think I'm any better at it than you?" He laughs, guiding her to the line and she doesn't miss the way his hand stays on the small of her back.

"I mean, everyone seems better at this than me right now, so," she shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant but he can clearly see through it. 

Calum seems to be trying to find the right words to say but before he could it's their turn to order and it's not until they are sitting on opposite sides of one of the booths that he speaks again. 

"I know that's the worst possible answer, and I sound like a bad self-help book, but you gotta find what works for you."

"Running really works for me," she says, digging into her sundae and he laughs.

"Maybe try calling it a vacation the next time."

"But that's boring," she fake-complains, pouting a little too hard.

"You can always lean into the chaos," he chuckles and she sighs.

"But then I have to deal with the consequences and I'm tired of the consequences," she says, looking down and swirling the spoon around the glass dish.

"Love," Calum's voice is careful and she looks up at him, not letting him continue.

"There's gotta be a better way than imploding my life, that's all I'm saying," she shrugs, shoving ice cream in her mouth in an act that doesn't seem nearly as carefree as she would hope. 

"Well, you can find different outlets, but knowing you that would just distract you from the problem, maybe try therapy? That helped me."

"Oh, I am," she tells him, and he laughs at the look on her face.

"Not as instantaneous as you thought it would be, right?" 

"Why can't she just fix me?" She complains with a laugh, moving her arms dramatically around her and getting a pressed-lip smile as an answer. Calum's watching her and the look in his eyes makes her feel uneasy. She can't tell what he's seeing in her face but she can't tell he doesn't like seeing it. 

"I'm sorry," he says after a beat. So that's what the look was. Guilt. 

"What I did is not on you, you know."

"Yeah, but what I did to you is, and I am sorry for my part in it."

"And I forgave you already so, if we want this to work, I need you to stop apologizing."

At first, Lena thought she was imagining the taps on her window. She was still feeling loopy and she was exhausted after the day she had but she couldn't get comfortable. She didn't know if it really was the stitches and the bandage or if it was just how she was extremely aware of them. But the sound happened again and she could swear she heard her name, so she got up, moving to the window. She frowned as she opened it, feeling confused. Were the painkillers enough to get her hallucinating?

"Why are you on my window?" She whispered, carefully leaning forward so she could talk to Calum.

"You weren't answering and your mum won't let me in." He looked anxious, trying his best to scan her through the window as he moved closer to her. 

"Because you're an idiot who told her it was your fault," she rolled her eyes because her mum was driving her crazy over what happened, but she regretted the action when he flinched, guilt twisting his features.

"It was my fault." His voice was small even for the rushed whisper conversation they were having and it twisted her heart.

"I fell, it was not your fault," she assured him, but his eyes were still filled with guilt.

"How are you?" He asked, studying her as best he could through the window.

"I'm fine," she assured him but he gave her an unimpressed look. 

"Lena."

"I got some stitches, there's some bruising, nothing to worry about." She was downplaying it and they both knew it. She knew it because she had nine stitches under her ribs on her left side towards her back on top of the bruising that came with landing too hard which made it hard for her to even move her arm. He knew it because he saw it as it happened. She didn't see the cut, it was out of her line of sight and she wasn't tempted to try, but the panicked look on Calum's face as Coach ran to her was not something she would forget any time soon.

"I'm sorry."

"It was an accident."

"But-" he tried and she knew he would continue to try and take the blame if she let him talk.

"Calum, were you trying to hurt me?" 

"Of course not!" He exclaimed, loud enough for her to worry her mum may have heard it, but she didn't really care.

"Then accept it wasn't your fault, and that I'm fine," she said, but he was still looking anxiously at her. "Just get in," she said, sounding exasperated and moving back so he could climb through the window. "See? I'm fine," she joked, motioning to herself once he was in and he stopped, looking at her. 

Calum seemed to determine she was fine because, after a few seconds, she was being pulled into him. The hug would've been tight enough to leave her breathless on a good day, and it felt good after the day she had, but she couldn't stop the pained whimper that escaped her when his arm hit the stitches.

"Shit, sorry," he reacted by letting go of her, taking a few steps back, guilt back to twisting his features when she winced as she touched her side, "are you okay?" 

"We already established that I'm fine," she said, closing the distance between them again and wrapping her arms around his middle, "but you won't be if you don't hug me back in the next second," she threatened, hiding her face on the crook of his neck when he didn't move, "I know you got scared but I was the one that was stuck in the ER, so can you just fucking hug me?" She complained, grabbing his arms and placing them around her shoulders and he laughed, tightening his arms around her.

"Are you sure you're fine?" He asked, his face hidden in her hair and she chuckled.

"They let me out of the hospital so how bad could it be?" She mumbled into his skin, before stepping away from him. 

"I'm so fucking sorry," he said and she cocked her head, looking at him.

"Hey, all you did was kick a ball," she said, fighting the urge to reach for his hand or caress his cheek given the way he was looking at her.

"I shouldn't have-" 

"Oh sure, the footballer shouldn't have kicked a ball,” she interrupted him, rolling her eyes and giving him an unimpressed look, “it was a streak of bad luck, Cal, you had no way of knowing I wasn't gonna be able to catch that, no one in the school had any idea that nail had been dislodged and it sure as fuck was bad luck that I managed to miss the step and land in a way that made that nail drag across my-" she stopped talking when he flinched, and they stared at each other for a beat before his expression softened.

"You're not usually this logical," he pointed out and she shrugged.

"I've been trying to convince mum it wasn't your fault all afternoon," she complained, letting out a dramatic groan and he shook his head.

"Why?"

"She took my phone because you wouldn't stop texting, I needed to do something.”

"So that's why you haven't been answering?"

“Obviously, when did I not answer you?” She said, giving him an annoyed look and he chuckled, “also I had a feeling I might have to convince you you didn't do anything wrong."

“I’m still unconvinced,” he said and she frowned at him. 

"If you need me to say it, I forgive you for forgetting I have no athletic inclination," she joked, playfully hitting his chest and he nodded. 

"Yeah, what was I thinking believing you could catch a ball without landing yourself in the ER," he deadpanned, and something about it had her breaking down laughing before feeling the stitches and stopping, touching her side.

"Don't make me laugh, it hurts," she complained with a pained chuckle and his face went serious again. 

"Did they tell you how long?" Calum asked, scratching his neck.

"I have to go back next week to get the stitches out, but the doctor said the bruising from the way I landed may last longer.” 

"This sucks."

"Maybe it will leave a cool scar," she shrugged, pressing her lips together, and he sighed.

"I should go before your mum catches me in here," he said, pointing back to the window and she nodded.

"Okay."

"I'll see you in school tomorrow?" He asked and she shook her head.

"I have a doctor's note, so probably not."

"Right,” he agreed, thinking for a second before adding, “I'll stop by after practice then, bring your homework, maybe your mum will let me in then."

"I'll continue to try and convince her it wasn't your fault."

"Thanks," he kissed the side of her head, moving back to the window, but he stopped before he reached it, "Lena?" He said, turning back, and she scratched her neck.

"Yeah?" 

"I love you," he said, stepping back closer to her and she blinked at him a couple of times.

"I know, I don't need to hear it just because I got hurt," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. It was not like they had never said that to each other before, hell, Calum would end every call with a cheerful “love ya” when he was in Brazil a few months back, but the look on his face felt too serious.

"But I need to say it, you're my best friend, and today sucked, so I need to say it,” he explained, his face intense and Lena wasn’t sure how to react.

“Sweetheart,” she breathed, but she wasn't sure what she wanted to say, so she just moved to wrap her arms around his waist again, "I love you too," she said, head on his chest when he wrapped his arms around her, "you're, like, my favorite person in the planet."

"So can we not go all deep and emotional? At least not right now," she asks, crossing her arms on the table and leaning her chin on top of it, looking at him with pleading eyes, making him laugh and lean back in his seat.

"I'm all for following your lead, remember?"

"Right," she nods, feeling her cheeks heating up as she watches him.

She's not really thinking when she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of him, the spoon in his mouth and chocolate on his cheek making her act before she processes what she's doing.

"What was that?" Calum asks with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at her and she shrugs, putting the phone facing down on the table before she can stare at the picture for too long.

"You have chocolate on your cheek."

"So you just took a picture?"

"Yeah," she nods, smiling when it takes him a few tries to clean his cheek. 

"Why?"

"Because you're cute," she blurts out, her eyes widening when she notices she said it out loud and he laughs.

"Thanks?" 

"Yeah," she drops her forehead to her arms for a second, before looking back at him, letting out a "hey" and sitting up straight when he takes a picture of her too.

"Gotta keep things fair," he teases and she can't help but laugh.

"Idiot," she complains, focusing on her almost-finished ice cream.

"You started it," he shrugs, smiling at her. It's not until that moment that it occurs to her that this feels like a date. And she doesn't know how to feel about it. "Love?" He frowns at her, maybe she's wearing her feelings on her face, and she shakes her head.

"Sorry, I got-" she starts but her phone buzzes in a familiar pattern that lately makes her skin crawl. And she stares at it as it does it again. And a third time that makes her grimace at it like it's radioactive.

"What's wrong?" Calum asks, eyebrows furrowed as he studies her and she sighs.

"Sylvia," she explains, picking the phone up and unlocking it, it would be worse if she ignored it, clicking the notification to find an inquiry as to what she's doing and if she was with Calum and a link. To fucking Twitter. With a picture of them.

"Fuck that was fast," Lena mumbles, sliding in the seat so she could get closer to him to show him the texts.

"Still don't care?" He asks when he finishes reading it and she shakes her head.

"Nah, we look cute," she says, pulling the tweet her manager had linked her to and showing it to him. The picture really is cute, the wilder angle getting the whole booth, her arms crossed on the table, her chin leaning into them as she looks at him, and he's smiling at her, leaning back against the seat. But it does have her looking at the window from where she thinks it was taken.

"What do you think would happen if I liked this?" Calum asks, snapping her out of her thoughts and making her giggle.

"Chaos?"

"And if I retweeted and tagged you?" He has a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes her raise an eyebrow at him.

"I thought I was the one doing stupid shit?" 

"Why is it stupid?" He challenges and she presses her lips together.

"I don't know."

"Wait, I have a better idea," he says, pulling out his phone and she laughs when she realizes what he's planning.

"You do remember I don't have access to my official accounts anymore, right?"

"Good thing you're not the only one in this then," he teases, bopping her nose, making her laugh.

"Can I at least see the picture before you do whatever you're about to do?" 

"Nah."

"But-" 

"Relax, it's a good picture," he says, posting it to his story and she shakes her head, feeling resigned. 

"Okay then, give me your phone." 

"Why?"

"We might as well go all out," she says, sending the picture she took earlier to him and putting her phone down while taking the phone from his hand and sliding closer to him. 

"No soft-launching then, huh?" She laughs, after hitting post, clicking on the bubble with his picture to see the picture he posted of her. And it's a bit weird for her to see the fond look in her eyes as she looks at a point slightly above the camera, so she leans back in the seat. Only realizing Calum had his arm on the seat behind her when she hit it, and suddenly she's extremely aware that she's pressed against his side. Even more when he drapes his arm around her shoulders.

"It's not like I never posted anything with you before," he says, accepting the phone she's handing back. 

"You haven't in a while, though, or me posting you for that matter," she says, relaxing into him, even if just unconsciously, her head dropping to his shoulder. "Should we get out of here before someone finds out where we are and decides to come check?" She adds after a beat and he nods.

"I think yes," he says, sliding out and offering her his hand, she takes it and lets him hold it on the way back to her car. 

"I don't wanna drive, though," she tells him, crinkling her nose while offering him her car keys. And the laugh she gets in response is enough to keep her smiling all the way home. 

_____

I don't have a taglist but hit me up if you want to be tagged.

[lunaacity]

you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your favourite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs then tag ten people — no skipping!

thanks for tagging me @gothmoneyswag! i’d love to share

i decided to use last.fm because my biggest playlist right now is only like 150 songs and i dont think thats large enough

i wanted to leave a comment with each song too but thats optional if you want to do this too

1) Hackle - 1 Trillion Bars

my favorite drill song at the moment. hackle is the only HM member whose music i can say i love, i don’t hate turnagoat but hackle just has a vibe i cant really explain. recommended to sosa enjoyers and people who kinda like HM but haven’t really gotten into it.

2) chase plato - SET YOU FREE

found out a funny guy on tiktok made music and gave him a shot and it was really good. i love the final fantasy sample and chase’s vocals are really good. also follow him on tiktok @ chaseplato he is very funny

3) Oli XL feat. Ecco2k - Hesitate

song makes me feel like i’m the coolest mf to walk this earth. if my life was a movie, this would definitely make the soundtrack

4) Alex G - Bobby

a heartwarming and very bisexual love song. i have listened to this song only once or twice before making this list and i’m happy to come across it again. 

5) BCNR - Good Will Hunting

this song is amazing. objectively fucking brilliant. but i (thankfully) very rarely get in the mood to listen to BCNR.

6) Parannoul - Imagination

i wish i fucking understood korean i feel like i’m missing out because sonically this is really cool. everyone should try this album. i like the new slowthai album better but it’s second for my album of the year right now.

7) Bladee - D-925

it has a few classic bladee lines, but overall it’s one of bladee’s weaker songs. maybe there’ll be another bladee song on this list, but i’ll be disappointed if this is the only one i get to talk about.

8) yeule - Reverle

i fucking love everything about yeule. love love love love love yeule. listen to serotonin 2 and glitch princess or i will kill you.

9) Ecco2k - Peroxide

i mean....... e is a perfect album and this is the most popular song off it. it’s not my favorite, but it is the most accessible, and got me into ecco. this is the first song i recommend to most people who ask for music recs and arent drainers. if you discover 1 new song through this list, let it be this one.

10) MELO - Varovasti

i’m so happy a finnish song popped up here!!! it’s kinda like if brakence was good at making music. it would be pretty basic if it was in english, but very few people are actually making music that sounds like this in finnish, so he’s kind of doing a new thing here. if you don’t know how finnish sounds, i would recommend this just based on that. it’s a pretty language.

i’m supposed to stop here, but i hate rules and i like having fun so i’m gonna keep going

11) Manu Chao - Me gustas tú

another non-english song, and another song i discovered on tiktok. takes me to my happy place. love the song. i feel like it’s set in a post capitalist world where a person is truly free to do what they want and it’s beautiful to be there for a moment.

12) Varg2TM feat. Bladee - SHINIE

a quintessential bladee song in my opinion. Varg is the most underrated DG collaborator. the beat is fantastic, although far from varg’s best work. bladee pops off for a minute straight and the chorus is fantastic. it’s a travesty that there are no more varg + dg songs out there. they exist, varg has played them at shows but these fuckers just wont drop them.

13) Whitearmor and Gud - Frutta E Verdura

this shit makes me cry and it doesn’t even have lyrics. i cant describe it you just have to listen

14) Quadeca - Tell Me A Joke

as a hivemind enjoyer (subscibe on youtube), i’ve known for a while that there is more to quad than rapper impressions and disstracks. i couldn’t have imagined this album in my wildest dreams though. also fucking crazy that he said “what’s the deal with airline food” in the intro to a song about haunting his own childhood home and it doesn’t feel out of place

15) Varg2TM feat. Bladee - Perfect Violation

i swear to god i randomized this, but somehow the last song i’m doing is my favorite song of all time. I could straight up write an essay about it, and i will!

this is the most emotionally loaded song bladee has ever made. yes, more than deletee, more than destroy me. more than every single fucking song he has ever made. the beat is beauty in it’s purest form. every single word is painful. no one will ever capture the pain that stems from love like bladee did here. in a very drainy fashion, every line is nonsense at face value, but i still perfectly understood what the song was about from the first listen. the self hatred bladee feels because he can’t be good enough for the one he loves is so fucking visceral. i have cried to this song countless times. i’ve listened to this song seven hundred times since i first fell in love with it in october. i’ve listened to it around 5 times every day for 5 months and i’m not even close to bored. the best song i’ve ever heard.

There is also a remix that goes fucking stupid. google perfect violation empire line remix.

i’m still really new to this website so i straight up don’t know 10 people to tag so @honeyypunk @akajazy if you’re interested lmao

[write-orflight]

No Sympathy From The Devil

**Gif Not Mine**

Read Part 2: The Devil in the details here

Pairings: Matt Murdock X f!Reader (Enemies to lovers enemies that fuck

Rating: M

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, Sexual content, penetration, oral sex, choking kink, degradation. some other stuff i cant remember.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary:  College AU!! Matt Murdock finds himself in the dilemma of helping the rich girl study

A/N: This summary is ass and Idk how to describe what I wrote. plus its 5 AM and I’m dying. this is unedited because I’m tired. but it’s just porn. there will be a part 2 so reply and inbox if you wanna be tagged. 

Columbia wasn’t your first choice in school. Hell, it wasn’t even your second choice. In fact if you had a choice, you wouldn’t be in school at all. It wasn’t like you needed to go anyway. Your destiny was to be a housewife and you knew the only way to get an Ivy League husband was to go to an Ivy League school yourself. 

At least, that’s what Matt thought about you. Every time he heard you in classes, or walking around the quad or laughing with friends in the dining hall, he couldn’t help but think ‘why were you there?’ as far as he knew, you were not particularly smart. You made everything into a joke, which was a trait his best friend and roommate, Foggy, had in common with you. But at least Foggy knew when to be serious, you did not have that trait. You were only wasting Daddy’s money being in here, you didn’t have to take it seriously. It was enough to make any self-respecting man who worked hard for his position hate you. 

And that self-respecting man was Matt. 

What he hated most though was how he was able to pick you out of any lineup. Even in his distaste for you, he could pick your heartbeat out of anyone’s, could smell the expensive french perfume on your neck all the way across the quad, could pick out her laugh in her large penthouse apartment that stood above Foggy and his small crappy one. 

Matt was just about to enter the small bar where he was meeting Foggy when he overheard the conversation. 

“Fog, come on, I’m dying here. I swear Mr. Cornwell just hates me, and I’m going to flunk this class if I don’t do something.” 

“Y/N I’m your TA! I’m not supposed to help you.” 

“Come on, Fog, who am I gonna tell?” Matt couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the seductive low register your voice entered and the uptick in Foggy’s heartbeat. You were playing him and obviously succeeding. “I’m not even asking to cheat, I just need a little help.”   

That’s when Matt decided to enter the bar and make his way over to his friend to save him from the siren in front of him. 

“You know I can’t, Y/N.” Foggy says, calling out when he sees Matt entering the bar. “But you know who can? My buddy, Matt, here who took Civics last semester and aced it.” 

You tried to remain neutral but if you asked Matt, the uptick in your heart as he sat down gave you away. He knew you didn’t particularly like him but he also knew that you wanted him. 

“Murdock.” You said, folding your arms. 

“L/N.” 

You go to pick up your bag. “Thanks for trying to help me, Fog. But I’d rather just figure it out myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She says putting down a bill that was probably way too large for her tab and walking out of the bar. 

Though Matt can’t see he can tell Foggy is mad at him. “Matt…” He says exasperated. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You were rude.” 

“I said one word!” Matt argued. 

“You know, I don’t know why you and Y/N hate each other but she really needs the help and you’re the one always talking about us needing to help people.”   

Matt would argue that he helps people, not princesses. But Foggy was right, it was a bit hypocritical. “Fine, give me her number.”  He says, exasperated. 

Foggy claps him on the shoulder. “Good man.” He says. Matt sighs, as he orders himself a drink, knowing he’ll need one. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------

You knew your life was easy. Didn’t mean you had to enjoy it. 

Your mother had died at a young age, your father was rich but aloof so you were mainly raised by money, gifts and the occasional bilingual nanny. You knew that when people looked at you they saw the snooty, socialite whose last name was on the newly renovated library but you also knew that wasn’t who you were. You were the girl who was alone on a friday night, elbow deep in ben and jerry’s, while subsequently avoiding your Civics homework. You were half-way into an episode of 90-Day fiance when you got a phone call from a strange number. 

“Hello?” You questioned. 

“It’s Matt. Don’t hang up.” You don’t know how he knew your finger was on the hang up button but you removed it for the sake of hearing him out. 

“What do you want, Murdock?” 

“Foggy told me you were struggling with Civics. So, if you want it, I could help you.” 

“You? Want to help me?” You ask, confused. You knew you weren’t the smartest but you knew when someone didn’t like you and Matt was one of those people. 

“Not really, but Foggy asked me to. Do you want the help or not?”   

You sigh. “Your place or mine?” 

After a short elevator trip, you find yourself in front of Matt and Foggy’s small apartment. Matt seems to open the door the second you knock, which was weird but you decided against saying anything. You brush past him and look around the quaint apartment. 

“It’s smaller than mine.” You say, mainly passively and to yourself but you don’t miss Matt’s annoyed tone. 

“Yea, this building’s not as nice as you thought it was. They even let low-lives like me live here.” He says, walking past you. You follow him into what seems to be his bedroom. 

“We’re studying in your room?” You ask. 

Matt nods. “Will that be an issue for you?” 

You shake your head before remembering he can’t see you. “No.” You say out loud but Matt doesn’t miss the uptick in your heartbeat. 

You take a moment to look around the room. It's quaint with black sheets, an organized desk with printed Braille pages scattered around, and a crucifix hanging above it all. 

“Religious?” You ask. 

“Catholic.” 

You hum, thinking. “I’m not really religious, wasn’t brought up in it I guess.” 

“Do you want to get started or not?” 

You sigh. “Forgot you’re not one for personal talk. Alright, let’s do this.” 

Matt proceeds to talk your ear off for 45 minutes about procedures and methods and all that good stuff that made you fall asleep in class. You try to keep up and take notes but somewhere around the 30 minute mark you start to slack and yawn. It’s about 40 minutes in when Matt stops hearing the faint scratching of your pen all together. 

“Do you even want to pass?” Matt asks, fuming. He doesn’t even know why he was doing this. Clearly you don’t care, you never cared. 

“What are you even talking about? Of course I want to pass, I need to pass this class.” You say, defensively.   

“What? Daddy threaten to take your allowance?” 

You are furious when you enter Matt’s personal space, finger inches from his face. “You don’t know shit about me, Murdock.” 

Matt snatches your hand from in front of his face, how he knew exactly where you were, you didn’t know but he held your wrist in a searing grip. “I know enough.” He says, the two of you are mere inches from each other now. “Prissy debutante who paid their way into a school that’s way above their merits suddenly realize for once they actually have to try at something. You’re a fucking spoiled brat!” Matt can hear your heart pounding angrily in your chest but that’s not the only thing he notices. He hears your tongue dart out to wet your lips, your thighs squeeze together slightly. God, he can even smell it. The want coming off you was almost palpable. 

You yank your hand out of Matt’s grasp. “This was a waste of my time. I’m leaving.” 

“Sit. Down.” Matt says, authoritatively. For some reason, you listen, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. Matt’s hand reaches up for your face. When he finds it, you feel his fingers slip down until he’s encasing your throat in his grasp. Not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to keep you stationary. When you walked in that night, you weren’t expecting this. You really came to study. But you knew as much as you disliked the man in front of you, you wanted him badly. You can’t help the whimper that falls out of your mouth when he squeezes around the base of your throat. Matt couldn’t focus on much else but the way your breath caught in your throat, the uptick of your heart, the smell of panties getting wetter. “You wanna act like a brat, I have no problems treating you like one.” 

“I-I, uh, I should go.” You say, Matt releases your throat in that moment, moving his hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“If you want to go, you can go. But I think we both know what you really want.” Matt says, only paying attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t reading this wrong, that you actually wanted this, wanted him. So far he had been right. His hand finds that spot around your throat again before slightly tugging you towards him. Your lips meet in a frenzied fight for dominance that you were quickly losing. It wasn’t long until your back was hitting the mattress, your hands pinned by your sides. “I want you to take your clothes off, do you also want that?” Matt says, looking down at you in a husky voice. You nod, before remembering he can’t see and decide actions speak louder than words, moving to unbutton your top. 

Matt’s hands meet your waist before tugging harshly at the buttons of your designer jeans. You lift your hips to assist the man on top of you. Matt tugs your pants and underwear down in a fell swoop. You feel small, biting kisses up your legs until he reaches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You moaned at the feeling, rolling your eyes when you looked down and saw Matt’s cocky expression. The attitude you had suddenly melted when you felt the deep lick to your clit. Your hand goes flying up to rest in Matt’s messy hair, trying to squirm away from the attack. Matt tugs on your thighs with an almost bruising grip, making it clear you were not getting away from him. Matt licks into you like you are the last drop of water in the desert. You choke on as moan as you feel digits pressing into your entrance as his lips circled around your clit, suckling gently. You hear a faint groan from the man under you. You lean up slightly to see Matt pressing his lower half into the mattress as he consumes your heat. The combination of his actions plus the obvious indication that he was enjoying the act just as much as you were was pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. 

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna cum.” You say, as you feel the knot in your stomach start to unravel, Matt pulls away. 

“No.” Matt says, sternly. 

“What the fuck, Murdock!” You exclaim, leaning to look at the man who was now kneeled in between your legs. 

“What? Never been told no before?” Matt said. You groaned, frustratedly, sighing and pouting slightly. “Don’t pout, I know you’d rather cum with me inside you.” 

You don’t know how he knew you were pouting but you were immediately distracted by the man’s, now naked, lower half pressing into your center. 

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” Matt groans. 

“I’m clean.” You add. “And on birth control.” 

Matt looks skeptical at you. “Clean?” 

“Come on, I’ve seen you watching me on campus–” 

“I can’t really watch anything.” Matt says, nonchalantly.

“You know what I mean. As much as you’d like to think so, I’m not fucking stupid.” You say, reaching a hand up to touch the man’s cheek above you. “I know when someones paying attention to me. So tell me, have you seen me with anyone?” 

Matt knew she was right, as much as he kept track of you on campus, he knew at the end of the day, you entered your apartment alone, every time. 

You felt Matt starting to lift your hips to align with his. He pauses, to make sure that you wanted this. You leaned your hips up more and that was all the confirmation Matt needed to slide into your center. The two of you groan as you feel him slide inside of you, hand gripping around the base of your throat. Matt finds himself drunk off you. The fast pace of your heart, the gasps leaving your body as you tried to calm yourself to hold back your orgasm, the smell of your pussy getting wetter as he pumped into you faster. 

“You know, I can’t see you right now but I know how desperate you must look.” Matt says, as he begins to pump faster into you. It starts to become too much, you try to focus on something else. The ceiling above you, the clock on the nightstand, anything that would halt your impending orgasm as tears streamed down your face. For some reason, you didn’t want to disappoint him by cumming without permission. Though you didn’t know this, Matt knew what you were feeling. “I know you’re trying, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me.” 

That was all you needed to fall over the edge, eyes screwing tightly shut so you couldn’t see the smug look that crossed Matt’s face. You knew two could play that game so you tighten your legs around him. You relish in the wide-eyed look he has as his thrusts begin to falter. 

“Come inside me, Matty.” You whisper in his ear. You hear the man groan as he empties inside you. 

The two of you stay like that for a minute, neither of you daring to speak because you know you’d ruin the moment. Matt rolls off you, both of you looking up at the ceiling and not each other. 

“Don’t call me Matty again.” He says, after a moment of silence. 

You hum. “You seemed to like it.” 

Matt groans annoyed. “All of that and your still a fucking brat.” 

You shrug, even though you know he can’t see. After another moment of silence you decided to say something. 

“Social work.” You say. 

“Hm?” Matt hums. 

“That’s my major, Social work. Minor in Law. And you're right,  I didn’t want to come to Columbia but my dad refused to pay for it unless I went. Everyone in our family went to CU so I couldn’t refuse.” You say. “So, yea I don’t deserve to be here but if I’m going to help people. I’ve gotta stay here, so I’ve gotta pass.” You stand up to get dressed, throwing your clothes on haphazardly, you were just going upstairs anyway. You grab your books. “Thanks for trying to help me.” 

You start to walk out, when you hear Matt speak up. “Y/N.” 

You turn, looking at the man still on the bed. “Yes?” 

“I’ll help you, if you still want it. Do you want to come back Friday, and actually study?” 

“I’d like that.” You say, going to open the door. “Goodnight, Murdock.” 

Matt smirks at you. “Goodnight, L/N.” 

          Support my writing!!

Taglist: @anothersworld @babymango-writes @astronomiesd @whoreformattmurdock @cheeseman @happymangospot @slashersluttt

@the-newfistofhydra

[nightowlfandom]

Ayato Sakamaki- My Only Human

HEY HEY!!

ANON ASKS

Can I make a request from your x -rated prompts. 36, 40, 57 , With Ayato Sakamaki. >.< if you can.

Idea: Maybe the reader, catches a student at the night school flirting and touching him, but when she thought he would shove her off, he doesn't. She gets super mad at him and doesnt talk to him the rest of the day until he comes in her room after school demanding to the what the readers problem is, and it leads to some rough sexy time??

If you cant thats fine >.<

If YoU CaN’t ThAt’s FiNe, PSSSSHH I GOT THIS 

36- That’s it, grab my hair. Yank it, pull me back into your pussy.

40- How do you ride me so good? God damn, you’re gonna break me!

57- Fuck! You’re mine. You’re fucking mine and I’m fucking yours.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!!

Leggo!!

...

“Yui, question.” you walked through the halls with your favorite adoptive-cousin. 

“Y/N, Answer!” she giggled in reply. “What’s up?”

“I needed help! Me and this math thing is not a thing.” you glared down at your folder.

“18, 42, 6.9 and X=17.” she instantly filled in the blanks to the questions you hadn’t answered.

“Have I ever told you I loved you?” you faked crying.

“Only always.” she shrugged. “I see the boys beat us here.” she mused, noticing the Sakamaki AND the Mukami brothers in the respective groups by the lockers, right across from each-other.

“Always beating us here, but never offering to drop us off...assholes.”

“Aren’t you the one insisting on Ayato and you arriving at different times?” she raised a brow as you two slowed down in pace.

“I told it it would be better if I arrived a little bit after him after his gaggling fans dispersed.” you half-shrugged. “The last thing I need are his fangirls trying me.” you rolled your eyes.

“Like that girl flirting with Ayato?”

“Exactly...Wait WHAT?” 

Yui pointed in the direction of the Sakamaki brothers. A girl was standing in front of him. Holding her books to her chest with one hand while twirling strands of her hair in another. 

“Julia.” you growled. “She always does this!” you motioned to how ridiculous it was that she always flirted with one of the Sakamaki brothers. Especially the one that was TAKEN!

“Ayato won’t let her even touch him!” Yui tried to console you. 

“You know what, you’re right.” you smiled a little. Everyone knew you two were an item. She wouldn’t dare.

“He loves you and he wouldn’t let her-”

You two watched as Ayato put on a flirtatious smile, crossing his arms in amusement as he leaned against the lockers.

“Maybe he won’t even entertain-”

Julia trailed a finger up his arm, laughing like a hyena.

“Maybe he’ll embarrass her?”

You watched as he took her hand, raised it to his mouth and gave her knuckles a short peck.

“Maybe-”

“Yui I love you, but I’ma need you to stop talking.” your voice kinda cracked. 

You had transferred from day school to night school for him. You had transferred SCHOOLS for him. You dealt with the burden of having to take care of a human girl who was allergic to her own skin (you loved Yui to bits, but damnit if she didn’t get you into trouble all the time) on some days along with dealing with a bunch of perverted, self-important, assholes for him...so why..WHY was he responding to Julia....like he was single.

“I’m going class.” you grumbled. “See you later.”

“Y/N WAIT!” 

...(Meanwhile)

Ayato needed to pass his English Lit. Class project, so of course when that Julia girl offered to type his report for him, he couldn’t say no. He had to pretend he wasn’t disgusted by her if he was going to remain in the top 5% of people with an actual brain. Fuck being like the other students.

“Y/N WAIT!” 

“That sounded like Yui.” Reiji commented. They were surprised to see you bolted down the hallway at full speed with Yui on your tail. She skid to a stop to glare at Ayato.

“You’ve really done it this time.” was all she said before she ran off. “Y/N!! COME BACK!”

“Smooth move, moron.” Yuma called from the other side. “Looks like I get to play knight in shining armor.” he winked.

“Ayato~” Julia got his attention, “make sure to meet me in the library so I can give you your essay.”

“Yeah, sure whatever.” Ayato watched at Yui chased you down the hall.

... (Lunchtime/Free Period)

You sat in the courtyard, sadly staring at a sketchbook page You liked to paint or draw school life in the quad. You had started with a sketch of the Sakamaki brothers, but it didn’t feel right.

You’d probably get in trouble, but you just had to draw Yuma Mukami who was sitting by the fountain. You looked up every so often, hoping he didn’t see you. 

“Y/N!” You heard. You turned your head to the side to see Ayato sitting with his brothers. “COME OVER HERE.”

Wordlessly, you grabbed your sketchbook...only to walk to the other side of the quad. You sat at another table, focusing back on your artwork.

“Hey...”A shadow was cast over your work.

“Do you mind?” you grumbled. “You’re blocking my light source.”

“Hm, I was just thinking you’d wanna see the reference up close.”

Your head darted up to see Yuma, standing in front of you. “May I sit.”

“Do whatever you want.” you grumbled. “I don’t care.”

Ayato watched from the other side of the court yard as that smug playful bastard took your sketchbook from in front of you and began flipping through it. Why hadn’t you sat with him today?? That Mukami dickwad had better not touch you.

He watched as Yuma flirted with you, and thankfully you didn’t seem to fall for his charms. Though that half smile you gave when he gave you a flower that had been growing nearby was enough to make him angry. 

“AYATOOOO~” Julia practically threw herself into the spot where you usually sat when you sat with him. “I finished your report!”

“Great. Sure, whatever.” he glared potholes at Yuma.

“So...do you wanna eat lunch together?”

“That’s nice, Maria.”

“It’s Julia...”

“Sure whatever.”

(Meanwhile)

“There’s that smile.” he winked as you looked at the flower. 

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Also, next time you draw me...let’s have it be a nude painting huh?” He winked, getting up.

“Gross.” you scoffed, standing up yourself. “See you in Biology.” you cringed.

“Y/N!” you heard Ayato’s voice call again. Just ignore him...(Read more below the break)

... (Smut warning)

When you got home, you locked yourself in your room. You had told Yui to not bother trying to make you feel better, because it wouldn’t work. You had just finished your homework when-

“Y/N! LET ME IN!” Ayato angrily knocked at the door. When he didn’t hear anything back, he decided that the window would have to suffice. “FINE! YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE.”

“Oh shit!” you began to run towards the window, hoping to shut it when Ayato practically appeared out of nowhere with a frown on his face.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” he glowered. When you didn’t answer, he grew more agitated. “Y/N, Don’t make me ask again.” Still nothing. “Y/N, You have three seconds to tell me-”

“Why don’t you ask Julia!” you finally snapped. “You sure seem to like flirting with HER.”

“What? I’d never flirt with that disgusting-”

“SO KISSING HER HAND THIS MORNING WASN’T FLIRTING! Yui and I saw you! She touched your arm and you didn’t even move!” you accused. 

“Y/N, let me explain!”

“YOU DON’T NEED TO! You don’t love me anymore!” you pointed. “So go be with her! Go flirt with her! Go and spend time with her because that all you seemed to be interested in doing today!”

Ayato gasped, he finally realized what Yui had been talking about when she said ‘You really done it this time.’ He hadn’t even realized it, but he had been busy with Julia all day that by the time he got free time. He thought-

“You gonna let me talk now, Human?” he used the pet-name he coined for you. “I don’t love Julia. And I wasn’t flirting with her because I don’t love you.”

“Huh?”

“She was doing my English Lit. paper and I had to make her think she was worth my time.” he explained. “She had to think I was actually interested in her or else she’d make a scene. She knew what this exchange was. A litle bit of attention and that A+ was as good as mine. I passed by the way.” he winked.

“S-so, you don’t love her?” you wiped your eyes.

“Of course not! How many times have I told you that my heart only belongs to you?” He asked. “Idiot.” he shook his head with an amused smile. “As if that plain, lowly human could ever compare to my own personal descendant of the goddeses that made this wicked world.” he bit his lip. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was running out of time. I would have told you, had you sat with me at lunch today.” he rolled his eyes. “...Y/N, please accept my deepest apology. I wouldn’t hurt you...unless you asked.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the last part. “Now come here.”

He grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him, taking you in a long drawn out kiss. He purposefully moaned in your mouth, laughing maniacally through each peck.

“Me, and that disgusting excuse- how laughable.” he began kissing down your neck. “I guess I’ll have to show you that you’re mine and will only ever be mine.” 

“Ayato~” you whimpered. 

“Shush.” he kissed you again. “ Fuck! “ he kept kissing your lips “You’re mine. You’re fucking mine and I’m fucking yours. .” He backed you up towards the bed. “Usually I’d ask you to suck my dick first, but I want everything to be about you.” he made you sit down. “Aww, you didn’t take off your uniform, so I can take your panties off right now.” he smirked.

Had he lost his mind?!?

“Have you lost your mind?!?” your legs shook as your panties were discarded who knew where. 

“I’ve always wanted to defile you while you were wearing it, so you can think of me every single time you put it on. Mmmmff-” he buried his head between your legs, exploring your depths with his tongue.

You took in a sharp breath, instantly arching your back in his favor. Good, that was his invitation to go forward. “Y/N, you taste so fucking good-” he laughed gleefully. “I wanna bite your clit and taste the blood right from your naughty place.” he moaned, lashing his tongue against your heat. 

“Ayato, It feels so-” you mewled. “M-more, please?”

Hearing this, he went feral. He dug his nails into your thighs, sucking harshly at your slit. You had to hold the back of his head to stay vertical, your hands tangled through his lush hair.

“ That’s it, grab my hair. Yank it, pull me back into your pussy-mmm. “ he couldn’t even finish his sentence. He was so hungry that not even a snide comment could leave his lips while he tasted you. He’d never do this with anyone else, love anyone else. He was having too much fun worshipping his beautiful human. 

“Ayato- I’m gonna c-cu-”

“Cum. Let me taste you. Let me feel it against me, let me drive my fangs into your thighs while you cum so you can feel what true ecstasy feels like.” 

You felt yourself unravel, only to feel those fangs dig into your left thigh. “Ungh! Ayato!!” you cried. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” he lapped up your blood. “It tastes even better when you’re cumming.” he bit his lip. “I wanna feel you wrap around me.” he crawled over you, capturing your mouth in a long, messy kiss.

You were surprised when he moved you two so you were straddling him. “Undo my jeans, take what’s yours, Y/N.” he bit his lips. 

You shyly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled then down along with his boxers. You were welcomed by a very obvious hardon. 

His cock slapped against his stomach as it was set free. 

“C-can I, touch?”

“It’s yours.” he winked. “Do whatever you want to me.”

You began stroking him, coaxing a low satisfied moan from your lover. You wanted to be mean and leave him but who were you kidding, you both needed it.

“Is it too forward to ask you to ride my cock?” he asked, biting his lip. “Please?”

He caressed your thighs, coaxing you to slip his dick along the perimeter of your slit. You met his eyes, but could only shyly look away.

“Oh Goooodd-” he sucked in air as his dick slipped inside. You shy rocked your hips, coaxing another moan out of him. His hands rested on your thighs. “Shit, Y/N, Why are you so fucking- Ungh...Shit I can’t take much more.” he thrusted his hips upwards. 

A small gasp hitched in your throat, followed by many as he thrust himself in and out of you. You wanted some sort of control too, so you rolled your hips even more against him. “Shit. Ayato~” you moaned. “Fuuuh-”

“Why would I want anyone else when you’re here with me.” he spoke. “Why would I NEED anyone else!” he growled. “You’re mine! I’m Yours, that’s how to fuck it should be!” he seethed. “Fuck your pussy feels so good.”

He was absolutely right, you didn’t think even washing this uniform would get his essence out of it.

“Shit!!” Ayato threw his head back, moaning like you had never seen him moan before. You didn’t even think he could even make such a face. “Y/N!!! “ he cried. “I fucking love you so much, Fuck, S-shit!! Fuck say it back, please.”

“Ayato,” you felt his cock twitch inside. “I love you-haah-aah!”

“ How do you ride me so good? God damn, you’re gonna break me! “ he cried, digging his nails into your thighs. “Fuck Y/N this is what you to do me!!”

You both were loud, sensitive, and on the brinK of breaking.

“I’m gonna CU---AAAHH FUUCCK!” you felt his warmth spill inside you. You were taken aback by him wrapped a hand around your neck and pulling you down to kiss you abruptly. He moaned loudly into your mouth, crying in euphoria as he bottomed out inside your wetness.

“Y/N!” he cried once more. “Fuck I love you.” his face twisted in pleasure, those usually stern eyebrows going soft. “I fucking love you. My human, My only human~.” he hugged you close.

“Ayato~” you replied just as wantonly. “I love you.” you whimpered.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook for ignoring me today, now it’s my turn to get revenge.” you heard his breathless laugh. “Shall we continue?”

(I.....AM SO SORRY FOR THIS)

[basically-i-write-shit]

wow, just read that ice skating AU with Tsukki being Yams coach. I love it. It was also sad in the end, since his little sister said that not many are nice to her older brother. I had an idea. what if one day Yama shows up with a bruised eye right before a competition. Hotarou is upset since her bro doesn't tell her anything and Tsukki is upset becuse Yama cant compete looking like that but also worried. Yama tries to hold it together but breaks down during practice on the ice (1)

(2) and Yama tells him that just some boys in his class decided to give it to him since he is an ice skater & calls him slurs becuse of it. Tsukki can’t really do anything, but he is upset about the whole situation. And Yama cries more bc Tsukki is kind of like his only friend despite their age difference. They talk for a while and Tsukki buys him french fries and hamburger since that is his fave food and Yama is in fucking tears. its okay since he isn't going to compete :) Hotarou approves!!!  

I forgoooot about this god bless u anon 

Tadashi is late. Again. Unlike last time he was late, Kei is on time, and waiting impatiently. He takes the liberty to skate laps while he waits, thinking of a suitable punishment for showing up late a week before a competition. Seriously, there’s only so many competitions Tadashi can compete in that aren’t national competitions, and Kei still hasn’t convinced him on that yet. 

He’s making his third leisurely lap around the rink when Tadashi stumbles in, holding a crying Hotarou. Kei can’t see Tadashi’s face, but he assumes he’s fine-- he’s more focused on Hotarou. He rushes over to the door and climbs rinkside, kneeling at Hotarou’s side as Tadashi sets her on the bench and rushes into the bathroom. 

“Hotarou-chan, are you okay Did you trip and fall outside?” He checks her over for scrapes, but can’t find one. Hotarou keeps crying, her little hands pressed over her eyes. Kei helplessly fumbles, searching for something to do. He’s no good with crying, kids, or crying kids. God, why did Tadashi rush off? “Hotarou-chan, I need you to tell me what’s wrong, okay?” 

“S- Someone h- hu-- hurt Tada-nii!..” 

“Wha--” Kei frowns, brows furrowing. “Someone hurt Tadashi?” 

“I-- It was so scar- y!..” Hotrou throws herself at Kei, clinging to his shirt, and Kei wraps his arms around her, rubbing his back. 

“Shh, it’s okay, Hotarou. It’s okay. Hey-- can I leave you right here while I go check on Tadashi? I’ll be right back.” Hotarou nods, sniffling, and Kei grabs a blanket and wraps it around her. He ruffles her hair and goes to the bathroom, steaming with anger. “Alright, who did it?” 

Tadashi is locked in a stall, sniffling. “I- I don’t-- kno- kn- know what you mean.” 

“Yamaguchi, don’t lie. Hotarou-chan said someone hurt you. Now open up.” 

A moment later, the stall door opens and Tadashi steps out. There’s blood on his school shirt. That’s-- not good. Tadashi’s holding a hand to a bloody nose, and Kei thinks that’s the extent of that. Thank god. He lifts Tadashi with ease and sits him on the counter, wetting a cloth and wiping the sweat from his face. There’s a bruise forming on left eye, and that...that won’t be good for competition. He combs Tadashi’s hair from his face. 

“They jumped me on my way to pick up Hotarou...She scared them away by screaming when she came out of the rec center.” Tadashi whispers.

“Tell me you had someone chase after them. That’s-- That’s assault..!” 

Tadashi looks down, ashamed. Kei sighs before he tilts his head back. 

“Hotarou was crying, and I was bleeding. No one saw-- I just wanted to get here. Please, let’s just ignore it and get to work. My routine needs to be perfect for next week.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re looking at the wall, not at me, Tadashi.” Kei sighs. This just isn’t good. “I’m gonna call your mom and take you to the clinic. You have a concussion.” 

“Wh- Wha-- No, I can’t! I’m fine, Tsukki. Really.” 

“I don’t think so. We’re taking you to the clinic.” Kei pulls Tadashi off the counter, holding him as he walks him out. “Hotarou, will you help carry Tadashi’s skate bag please?” 

“Y- Yes, Kei-Sensei! Is-- Is Tada-nii gonna be okay?..” 

Kei pats Hotarou’s head, smiling. “We’re gonna take him to the doctor, and he’ll be just fine, Hotarou-chan.” 

And he is. Well-- mostly. He has a mild concussion and he’s not able to get on the ice for a couple of days. He isn’t able to compete because of the practice he missed due to the concussion; a week later, on his first day back, he comes back to the rink on time, though he’s a bit jumpy and paranoid. Hotarou is looking a lot happier than the last time Kei saw her. 

“Okay, Yamaguchi, we’re going to work on your routine so we can get you ready for a competition in Tokyo in a month.” 

“Right.” Tadashi’s been distracted. He sighs, closing his eyes. “I kinda lost a lot of practice time, didn’t I, Tsukki?” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to have you practicing on a concussion. A fall could make it worse.” Kei hops up on the side of the rink and presses play on his phone, the speakers playing the song Tadashi arranged for the competition. About halfway through practice, Kei shuts off the music. Tadashi just can’t focus, and he’s falling more than usual. Kei can tell there’s something on his mind. “Yamaguchi, are you feeling alright?” 

Tadashi startles, nodding vigorously. “I- I’m fine, Tsukki. Just a bit frustrated. I’m not landing that last triple!” 

Kei nods, humming. There’s an awkward silence, before Tadashi clears his throat. 

“I- I...don’t think I wanna go to competition, Tsukki.”

Kei blinks. “...What? Why?” 

“I dunno. I just-- I start uni in in a month, I don’t wanna be known as the ‘figure skater’ in college.” 

“Yamaguchi...You love skating. Why would you quit?” 

“I won’t quit, I’ll just keep renting private ice.” 

“You promised me you’d compete until your second year of university.” Kei says. He runs a hand through his hair, looking away. He wouldn’t admit it, but he feels...betrayed. “Yamaguchi, you promised.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like getting beat up in the streets and called a fag in front of my baby sister again, okay?!” 

Tadashi’s words echo through the rink, and Kei is glad he sent Hotarou to the other rink down the hall with Kuroo and the other fun-time skaters. 

“...What?” 

Tadashi’s knees wobble and he collapses on the ice, sobbing. “They called me a fag, Tsukki. While they were beating me to a pulp, they called me every slur in the book, and spit at me. B- Because some of the guys found out I figure skate and thought that was good enough reason to beat me up..!” 

Kei kneels at Tadashi’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Tadashi, that’s...horrible.” 

“Yeah, well I know that, Tsukki. Thanks!” Tadashi’s head falls into his hands with a whimper, and Kei carefully pulls him into a hug, sitting on the ice despite how cold it is. They’d both regret it later, but Tadashi needs Kei right now. 

“Do you know who did this?” 

“S- Some guys from my class...” 

He nods. “And they got in some big trouble for this, right?” 

“No--” Tadashi shakes his head. “No, I can’t tell on them, they’ll get even more mad. I don’t-- I don’t wanna-- know what they’d do to me.” 

“Tadashi you need to tell someone so this never happens again.” 

“B- But--” Tadashi whimpers. “Tsukki, what if they’re right?..What if-- What would you do if I...was...gay?" 

The rink is dead silent for a few seconds.

“Well I wouldn’t beat the hell out of you and give you a concussion, that’s for sure. I’d support you. Just like I’ll support you quitting skating if that’s what you really want, and not because some assholes think it’s funny to pick on people for things they can’t change about themselves.” 

Tadashi sniffles, turning his head to look at Kei. “R- Really?..” 

Kei smiles. “Really.” 

“If I go make a police report...will you come with me?” Tadashi asks weakly. “I don’t wanna bother or scare mom, and I-- well, I don’t have anyone else to go with...” 

Kei nods. He know how bad Tadashi’s school life is. It feels nice to be needed-- because, well, as much as Kei pretended he was this big bad guy who doesn’t need friends, but he does get lonely. And he knows Tadashi does too. 

“I will, Tadashi.” He pats his shoulder. “I promise. But will you please, please keep skating? Finish this competition, and then tell me how you feel.” 

Tadashi nods, sniffling. “I will.” 

Kei smiles, ruffling his hair, and climbs up. He offers a hand and helps Tadashi onto his skates again. “Let’s practice for another hour, get that police report done, and...well, you have a competition in a month, but I suppose I can let you have McDonalds tonight just for tonight-- since you’re being so brave and going through with this. My treat.” 

Tadashi beams happily. “Large fry?” 

“You’re pushing it, Yamaguchi-kun.” 

“Aw, I’m Yamaguchi-kun again? So mean, Tsukishima-sensei~” 

“Just get back to practice before I make you do laps.” Kei says, skating to the edge of the rink and hops up on the side again, pressing play on the speaker. Tadashi laughs, getting into position, and though he teases Kei for yelling at him (”your step sequence is sloppy!” “Slow down on that quad until you can land it without stumbling.”), he makes sure to listen to his criticism seriously and adjust what he needs. 

After the crying, he’s a lot better. Both emotionally and in practice. It’s reassuring to Kei, at least. He’s happy, for at least a moment. 

When practice is over, they leave Hotarou with Kuroo for another half an hour while they go a block over to the police station and file a report about the incident, but there’s not a lot they can do since it was a week ago and he doesn’t remember much because of the concussion. But it makes him feel better, at least. 

When they finally make it back to the rink, Hotarou bounces up to them with a bright grin. 

“Kei-sensei, Tada-nii-chan, how was practice?!” 

“Great, Tarou-chan! My routine is going great.” He pinches her cheek with a smile, grabbing his skate bag with one hand and her hand with the other. Kei grabs her other hand, smiling at the happy squeal she gives when he tells her he’ll buy her a happy meal. 

Tadashi catches his eyes, smiling, and mouths a silent “thank you” to him-- not just for volunteering to get Hotarou food so he didn’t have to use the rest of his allowance buying her a happy meal.

When Kei comes to the rink the next morning, well-- he’s relieved to see Tadashi come back. And he's going to make sure Tadashi wins his next competition, so he can see him skate even more. 

[elliot-orion]

3 OC Fact Game

@albatris tagged me in this (thanks babe) and it seems to me that somewhere along the way all the rules for this game got lost because you are the second person ive seen do this that is just *wishy washy hand motion*-ing the rules, so... i’ll wing it. I’ll do 3 facts for 3 ocs, and im doing it for the new thingie im doing for the DHU because i need to learn more about these babes, and why the fuck not, haven’t even introduced it yet so here is where you are getting the intro congrats. **a side note ive changed everyones names like 5 times in under 5,000 words so if the names change later that’s why.

Charlie: (1) Has a deep love of cats but is also very allergic and cannot own a cat. Oscar 100% brings him a hairless cat home from one of his trips one day and Charlie is absolutely in love with the fucker. Charlie names him Bambino, Oscar calls him Dumbass because he always licks his butt in front of him. (2) He’s an epic boss at trivia games. He will beat you. Always. (3) He has an old gramophone, like one of the big standing ones, that he found in a thrift shop and got repaired. All his partners bring him records, Oscar’s are from foreign countries, Nora’s are usually high value collectibles, and Hollis’ tend to be found in thrift stores. he loves them all equally. 

Nora: (1) Her Super name is the Succubus but she’s gray-asexual. Her powers mean anyone who hears her “special voice” as Charlie calls it has to obey basically, but “the Siren” was taken, and she likes really fancy clothes that show off a bunch so that’s how she got her name. (2) She grew up really poor, her parents were both Super refugees and no one trusts Super immigrants because they assume they will be Villains, and they couldn’t get jobs easily. When she came into her power, the first thing she did with it was to get her family and all the others in her community jobs and now they are doing a lot better. (3) She loves doing people’s hair. Loves it so much. Charlie and Oscar have too short hair to do much with, but Hollis has a small ponytail so they let her play with theirs. 

Hollis: (1) The quad has about 7 brain cells to share and Hollis has 4 at all times. Charlie usually has the other three but will lend them out as needed. They have definitely stopped Nora from walking into a Heroes ball and would get along great with Hall. (2) They are still recovering from an eating disorder that was started because, surprise surprise, the SA people who trained them constantly said they were still too big to be a good Hero as a kid. It really got super dangerous though with also being a Hero and fighting all the time and their powers using a lot of energy, powers they used all the time as a Hero.They got put in the hospital for a while because they kept passing out while training. Charlie, Nora, and Oscar help as best they can now, and Hollis is doing better, but still struggles. (3) You’d think they are the mom friend, but nope, that’s Charlie. they are the friend that gets dragged along going “i FUCKING TOLD YOU THIS WAS A BAD IDEA now i’ve got to save your ass AGAIN but did you listen to me NO!” and being really pissed about it but also, hell no are you touching them these are my dumbasses go away. 

BONUS ROUND UNDER CUT because its a quad and i’ve got to have all of them duh:

 Oscar: (1) He only comes home every once in a while because he’s restless as fuck and needs to keep moving all the time, but he always makes sure to send postcards saying he’s safe from every place he goes to and always collects fun stuff for the others. He also makes sure he’s home for every birthday and holiday bc he’s a good boyfriend gd it. The others are frustrated he’s never home, but they don’t try to stop him because he’s miserable staying in one place for too long and they just cant do that to him. (2) I haven’t actually figured out his powers yet, ngl. It has something to do with why he’s so restless, though. I’m thinking it’s air based and he needs to move with the air currents sort of thing, but i’m not fully sure. I’ll keep you posted. (3) He’s wanted in at least 5 different countries and can’t step foot in 3 others or else he’ll probably be shot. There are at least 40 bars or something that he if he enters, everyone gets pissed, kicks him out, or hides the cash and the good beer. Sometimes all of the above. So that should tell you a bit about the shit he gets up to when he roams.

 Tagging... @simplesamples​ @ghostsmooches​ and @cogesque​ ! no pressure, have fun, anyone else can do it, yadda yadda. make up your own rules bc clearly no one has any clue for this one either.  

[vaporwave-trolls]

🖊

#sad gorl hours x 2

mimoris past is fucked so trigger warning on all aspects,if anyone wants to try and ship with her i do recommend reading the last bit 

lets do  mimori for this one cus i have so much rps going on with her and some are heading onto some personal stuff for her ,ive also actually been asked about her past cus i constantly say shes fucked with 0 explanation so here it is folks,why exactly is mimori so angsty and violent

so before this  i should mention mimori is actually one of my first trolls that have been around for eons and gone through so many revamps and was trashed for 3 years only really being brought back recently so most trolls mentioned in this belong to other people that just no longer have blogs or they left the f.t community . that aside lets get into this bitches traumatic past

so currently mimori is a partner dance teacher,so she teaches classes  and does performances/compositions, that is the most calm you will ever see her because outside of that she is actually pretty violent, can and will fight anyone for any little reason and had committed murder a few times its no longer a big deal,shes just depressed and bored with living cus everythings a routine 

so breaking it down shes had 3 mates 1 forced mate 1 morail and 2 kismesis, keep in mind ive had her for like what 7-8 years which is why shes had so much

so mim was actually extremely sweet she wouldnt hurt a fly the lady wouldnt even swear, her life was fine and dandy up until her first mate meilin,a teal blooded lady in the mafia. meilin pretty much told her she was too weak and needed to actually do stuff besides sit around and look pretty much started the ball rolling,mim started to practice fighting she learned to use a gun she wanted to help her girlfriend but in the end she was just to small and easily over powered by others so what did her mate do, her mate sold her into slavery because mim is a lavender mutant and albino which got meilin a pretty penny so off mim went into the hands of a high blood

she was forced into red with levric, a indigo/fuchia cup sea dweller, dude was jacked on money and liked exotic shit so mim was like a jack pot especially since at the time mim didnt speak alternian or English (she was used before i even moved so everything was still Japanese including her and her lusus) and she was albino the guy was enthralled with her, but it wasnt a real relationship so there was a lot of abuse and demands,she was a slave after all,after awhile of this her luses  (a haradashi that took a monster women form) came to pretty much break her out of slavery but harda mom was caught and mim was forced to watch her mom pretty much be tortured and gutted in front of her which flicked a switch and she rampaged, she tore the place down killing anything she set her eyes on like full berserker mode that took her 2 days to come out of 

a sweep after that she met her morial beibei,a lime mutant who was an assassin,they where beyond close but mims past caught up quick and someone has put a bounty out for killing the large sum of highbloods a sweep prier when she escaped, ultimately beibei was hired by someone and tried to betray mim,the fight was pretty narly but in the end mim had killed beibei, this fight left her with a scare on her back that follows her spine

after that having been betrayed but her first mate,abused in slavery,witnessed her moms death and betrayed a second time killing a friend she was pretty done and became a hardcore alcoholic playing around with drugs too,she just became really depressed and no longer cared, 

few more sweeps of abusing her liver and systems she met exavir, an ex clown who soon became her mate, this guy helped her kick the drug use and  slow down on the drinking and hurting herself but this guy also had his own demons,a clown cant leave the church  trolls wanted him and he couldnt control his violent out bursts so she ended up in another abusive relationship but this time around since he helped her with her addiction she saw nothing wrong and started thinking the abuse was just a form of loving someone,one day he lost it and was loosing control of his chuckle voodoo and asked mim to kill him.she couldnt kill him so she watched her mate sink into insanity and go on a violent outbreak ,he tried to kill her but she finally had no choice and killed her mate    

fast forward some more sweeps she had a kismises retton, a red blooded lady who worked as a bar tender, turned out they where a violent drinker  and once again mim was abused but she didnt register it as abuse,it went on for a while till retton killed herself and mim found her dead in their hive so once again mim was alone

then finally we come to her 3rd and final mate, delrio, a blue blooded lady who worked in some shady business she never knew about, delrio ended cheating on her constantly fighting,the 2 just werent working out and by this time mim had grown tired of loving people in the end she killed delrio just cus and left them for dead 

her very last relationship and her most resent was her last kismesis ,jakeel, an off fuchsia fish boy, he kept trying for mims red but mim was emotionally unavailable she was too scarred and broken from her last few mates she was sure it was a curse and didnt want another mate in fear of repeating the past so he settled for black instead but it got to  point where he no longer wanted black he wanted red and if he couldnt have it with her then no one could in which he decided to kill her, which once again clearly didnt work cus shes still around and she ended up fighting him and killing him and that was all 

so thats that, mimori no longer believes in quads or love in any form be it black or red,she believes love is just a fake thing people use to make themselves feels better and she doesnt think she deserves it so the closes thing she gets to it is to read romance novels which she thoroughly enjoys. she has so much mistrust and anger left in her which is why shes so violent,it got so ingrained in her head that she has to fight and be strong or else she’ll die and her past mate was right that it flipped a switch to the whole other side to the point violence is just part of her and murder is just a hobby. the thought of falling in love or trusting someone again terrifies her and shes blocked out those feelings for sweeps now. like if someone where to just reach over to pat her shoulder or hold her hand she’ll flinch and punch them away,the only way to touch her is if your dancing,shes fighting you,shes plastered or she herself invites it

she mentally dead pretty much she sees herself as a walking corpse but she wont let anyone know how fucked she is becuse she thinks its a weakness and hates it,she hates anyone thats weak

[activatingaggro]

scared to let your guard down

INKTOBER #4: DEFIANCE | 9686 WORDS

RICCIN KAYATA | ~9 SWEEPS / 20 YEARS OLD

PHERES DYSSEU | ~9 SWEEPS / 19 YEARS OLD

cw: discussion of age gaps and resulting consent issues, abuse, use of smoking sopor for anxiety in last chunk

"You lookin' for a pale? Don't worry about it," Cu Chul had told you. "I've got it fucking covered."

This is not what you'd thought she'd meant.

The apartment you're lounging around is in set up - well, not like a pale bordello. You've been plenty of places, but you've never been in one of those, no matter how many insinuations Dysseu makes. Nah, it just looks like a plain ol' fucking apartment, really. It's the same as half the buildings in Lang Kheh. The ceilings are low and wooden, with rafters exposed and cobwebs plagueing the corners. The room's smokey with the scent of roasting fish, and the stink of the docks from down below keeps wafting in through the cracked windows. The furniture's faded in the way that everything is, here: it doesn't matter how many doors you have, or shutters, or clothes. The salt always seems to find a way to bleach it.

It looks perfectly normal, save for the fucking floor. And that's only on account of the fact...

"Cu," you hiss, doing your best to keep your ears aloft. Your heart is in your throat, racing away like a rabbit on a track. You can practically feel each jump of your pulse. "Cu!"

She looks back at you from where she's chattering with the host, some green-eyed sprat who scarcely reaches your shoulder. He's got the sort of face that'd make your eyes linger, usually - the kind of horns that're made to take a grip - but you've got bigger issues. The room’s cute. Even you can admit that. The folks are cute, too.

Significantly less cute is the way some of ‘em are flat-out piling.

At first glance, it just looked like your regular sort of party. But nah. The two tealbloods snuggling on the couch aren’t necking, for all that one’s got her face pressed in close to his cheek. They’re whispering, their fingers laced together, and it was only when her shoulders hitched that you’d caught those were tears on her face, not fucking highlights.

Cu gestures at you sharply to wait.

“Cu!”  you yowl, louder this time. There’s an indigo and a rust braiding hair on the countertop. Every third strand, her hand goes skirting across the nape of his neck. When you jerk your chin towards ‘em for Cu to see, he actually fucking chirrs, harsh enough you can feel the vibrations through your feet, and he leans into it.

Your face’s as orange as the sun itself. You look away like you’ve been slapped, ears pulling back, and Cu -

- all she does is fucking laugh at you, lip curling like you’re being fucking silly. “I told you I’d get you piled,” she says, all full of scorn. “Cousin, you wicked nonbeliever, did you motherfucking doubt?”

“This ain’t a pile, girl!” You have to cant your voice low. The olive’s eyebrows have raised so high, they might as well be hidden in his hair, and he’s stepped back neatly into the crowd. When Cu realises he’s moving, she actually shifts to watch him go, her mouth twisting down into a mouie, and it takes you clearing your throat for her gaze to turn back to you. “This’s a fucking - fucking -”

She sighs. Then she steps in close, reaching up to grasp your braid and tug your face towards her. “Cousin,” she drawls, soft and warm, even as her cool breath puffs against your cheek. It’s honey-sweet, in a way that speaks to fucking pre-gaming that she didn’t have the grace to share. “Chillax. ‘course it ain’t one pile. How the fuck you gonna find somebody if it’s one pile? You think I’m haulin’ you out here, dragging your candy-ass all the way across the region, for one pile? You think I’m lookin’ to bend your knees and haul you into mine?”

“Nah, cuz. You wanted a pile, and I did you a good one. I gave you half a fucking dozen of ‘em.” She gives your braid a tug. “Now,” she says, “it’s up to you what you do with ‘em.”

Then she turns. “Stygia!” she calls out. “Stygia, babe, where’d you wander off to?”

What you want to do with them, as it turns out, is one hell of a question.

It’s not a pale orgy. Fuck all if it doesn’t feel like one, though. There’s folks curled around each other on every other inch of the floor, sometimes with soft shit under ‘em, more oft not. Someone’s brought out snacks, and stacked the table full of ‘em - but when you take a sniff, they’re straight all the way through, without even so much as a drop of nectar to their name. And it’s hard to be willing to linger, when there’s two fools feeding each other crackers right off of it, fangs brushing fingertips in a way that makes your throat fill with bile.

Nah, it’s just a fucking cuddlefest, is all. It’s more’n a dozen goddamn strangers, linking hands and rubbing cheeks like they’ve got no need to pay mind to all the eyes watching. Once you’re past the disquiet of it all, you can see why Cu hauled you here, and how she’d figure things would go. When you drift over to an empty bagchair, one with just enough sopor to let your breath hang free from your chest when you lay down in it, it chills you out enough that you can actually watch.

And there’s plenty of strangers like you here, trolls with eyes wide enough to see the blood-hue curling the exteriors. They roam like wayward notes across the chorus line, trying to find any place they might fucking fit in. And for the most part, it works. Is there anything more pathetic than a lost soul? You’ve always fallen for the wrong end of the square, for that. Some of the drifters are handsome enough, but there’s nothing about these sorry fucks that makes you want to lay palm on their faces, of all places.

Plenty disagree, though. And there’s something roughly satisfying about the way folks look as they start up conversations and split off into their piles. But you don’t get it. You’ve never gotten pale, when it comes down to it. What lure is there in the cup of a palm? What reprieve can be found in something so fucking mild as another fuckers words? When you’ve been upset, the only thing that’s ever soothed you is distraction. You bury yourself in work, or in song, or in chasing down Kindra’s ferrety ass, burying your body in his couch and your face in his videos. Talking’s always just dragged for you, like sandpaper across your very soul. Even with Vide, even in ash, where every words sharp with contempt, and every question you ask is done with an eye towards the solution --

-- well. You can do ash. It’s just harder to let folks do you, you guess.

But even trolls that look like they’re having that problem are getting past it. Oh, you’ve watched pale vids. Who the fuck hasn’t? You and Sipara watched Raphae’s entire catalogue, once, shrieking and shoving every time he’d come onto the screen, just so you’d fucking know. But this’s different. In the videos, everything’s always so fucking fake. You don’t need to have ever touched a pile to know when shit’s too theatrical, too expressed, too fucking genuine to ever be real.

Folks here are hesitant. It’s not just about touch: it’s about asking questions, and your gaze’s especially caught on a little teal and jade, sitting across from each other in the corner. Their legs are folded. Their hands are prim. There’s no room for their knees to so much as fucking brush, or their hands to touch, and every move is deliberate. You read the twitch of the jades lips as she asks if she can touch the other’s hand.

And when the teal murmurs no, she slides into the next question, as seamlessly as if the rejection never even struck her as a bother. They’re talking lusii. They’re talking family, the jades crechemate down in the caverns that ain’t clade nor quad, and it feels almost like you shouldn’t be watchin’ this. There’s something intimate about it, more, even, then the teals curled around each other like they’ll die if separate. But you can’t bring yourself to look away.

Not until someone nudges your boot sharp, and someone says, amused: “- like what you’re seeing?”

The troll standing in front of you is short, and round, and rust, from head to toe. Her skin’s so pale that it’s flushed in places with the colour, mottled hydrant bright at the tip of her ears, and her eyes are  almost a perfect match to Sipara’s. So’s her face, and her hips, and --

-- her bust isn’t. Blessed fucking Messiahs, her bust ain’t, and thank every saint in history for that. But then you rip your eyes right the fuck back up, because goddamn if it isn’t that kind of a party, no matter how impressive it is. “Just taking in the views, sister,” you drawl, lolling your head back, just to ensure that your gaze stays where it ought. “Tryin’ to get a feel for this shit. Wicked crazy, yeah?”

“I don’t know. I like it.” She shrugs, clasping her hands in front of her and rolling them to stretch, palms-out. She’s got tiny-ass hands. Soft as shit, from the looks of it: she ain’t the type of troll to work, you take it, at anything worth workin’. “They’re fun. Is this your first time?”

“Yeah.” You pause. It seems like you ought to say more, from the way she’s looking at you, so you add: “- boss said I ought to come, so I did.”

She blinks at you. “.. your boss took you to a pale party? Really? That’s, uh -” With a snort, she rolls her shoulders up, glancing away. “That’s kind of weird, sorry,” she admits, amused. “And, like, kinky? Wow. My boss just asks if we want, like, lunch, but I guess this is, like, also kind of like work place bonding --”

“It’s not like that,” you snap, jolting up hard enough that the bag nearly spills behind you. The idea of you and Cu in a pile - you’d be lying if that horrifying thought hadn’t struck you, when you’d first walked in, but no. Absolutely fucking not. The thought of piles strike you as nasty at the best of times. Piling with one of the priests -

Chiloa had said that voodoos aren’t there for fucking therapy. They’re a punishment. They’re a way of keeping the population under control, and for correcting bad behaviours, and that’s the reason they had no call to work on indigoes. You’d scoffed at him then, still fresh off the high of Raphae fixing your shit, but - you can almost see what he means when you think of crawling into a pile with one of the clowns. Of the risk that they might just reach past your cheek, and straight into your goddamn mind.

Cu would do that. Cu wouldn’t even hesitate, anymore than Raphae ever did with Ico, or with Iphige, or shit, probably even with you.

The rustblood was laughing, at first, but her mirth dies in her throat as she takes in your expression. It must be doing something queer, because her expression softens. “Aw, man. Wait, I’m sorry, that came out wrong. Are you -”

She pauses, wets her lips. “Do you actually, like, want to be here?” she asks, gentle, and she watches you for your response.

It’s a good question, really, because you don’t quite know the answer.

The silence sits. She’s content to just watch you, for all that there’s unease building in her shoulders, the lines of her neck. If you said no, would she go and fight Cu on your account? This little slip of a troll, with her flat orange eyes and her frame that’s more fat than muscle?

“.. I didn’t get hogrustled,” you say, and it’s close enough to a lie that it sits sour on your tongue. So you pat the bag next to you instead. “But shit’s a story, if you want to talk about it.”

As far as solicitations go, you haven’t said shit that stilted since you were four fucking sweeps and still tongue-tied over Sipara goddamn Nzinga. It’s a marvel that she doesn’t turn her back and walk the fuck away. You would’ve! What sort of an image do you make right now, sprawled the fuck out on this bag, your limbs askew and your face every shade of discomfort? It’s not the sort of sight you’d go for. There’s being pitiable, and then there’s being pathetic, and you’ve never swung towards the latter. There’s nothing to make your nook wither shut like a goddamn pityparty.

But this ain’t about bulges, or nooks, or anything close to the either of ‘em. And this girl’s better at remembering that shit than you, because she cocks her head to the side, eyes considering, before she takes a seat next to you on the bag. She’s small enough that she fits perfect against the crook of your arm, her hip a dead ringer for the curve of your ribs. And she’s warm enough that you actually lean in.

“You’re cold,” she says, surprised, shifting in nearer. “What caste are you? And what’s your name, not-hogrustled?”

“Riccin Kayata,” you say, and that earns you another laugh afore you can continue.

“I said your name! Not your age, chrome, and ID. I’m Harley. Harley Boston, if we want to be formal. And, for the record, I’m ten. You’re..” She pauses, tilts her head to the side. Her hair’s long, thick, and heavy enough that it’s pulling what ought to be tight curls loose. The cascade of it on your shoulder ought to be a little much. There ain’t a fucking purpose to this. You’re not getting laid.

But it’s nostalgic. The scent of coconut and shea’s familiar as heartache to you, and you don’t bother to try not breathing it in. “You’re nine,” she tries, squinting. Then she reaches out, presses her hand to your neck, slow enough that it’s a question.

Her thumb brushes the steady pulse of your neck, gentle as a kiss. “And teal?” she hazards. “I don’t think you’re jade, sorry.” Her fingers trail the line of your throat. “You’re a little big to be a jade.”

“Nine’s right. And castes as good a guess as any, sister,” you say, because ain’t it true? It’s hard to say you’re yellow. What is yellow, save the chrome in your veins and the spark in your eyes, when you don’t have the colour, you don’t have the size, you don’t even have the heat of your goddamn peers?

You don’t have the fucking life of a yellow. You’ve spent the last nine sweeps swathed in blue, and there’s barely been a night you haven’t played the part of one. You’ve tried playing yellow. You’ve tried wearing your chrome, and flashing your symbol, and it’d felt like a lie, all the way until you’d re-dabbed your paints.

Ain’t saying 

“We’ll call you a cusp, and be done with it,” she decides. “I’m a cusp, too, y’know? Brown and maroon, right dab in the center. The cavern couldn’t decide what I was properly, so they just said -”

“Might as well round up?”

“Exactly!” Her smile’s full of fangs, and - oh. The sight of ‘em makes you pause, because you thought they’d be sharp, but nah. They’re small and nubby, uneven in their spacing, not near as flat as Pheres’s, but coming awful near. “How’d you guess?”

.. of course they’d be nubby. The fuck were you thinking? (You know what you were thinking - of who - and you could hate her for it.) “Just a guess,” you lie, because apparently, it’s just becoming a goddamn habit.

Harley doesn’t seem to notice. She doesn’t seem to know, and that’s for the best, really, ‘cause you’re sick enough with the knowledge of it. Is this what a pile is? Flub after flub comin’ out of your mouth, ‘cause you’ve got the wrong kind of girl stuck in your fucking head? This ain’t Sipara, no matter how close she looks, or how familiar she smells. This’s Harley, angling for a different kind of quadrant already, and it’s the rankest sort of disrespect you’d ever mix up the two.

To her, and to yourself. You’re better than quadrant smearing. You’re better than a whole lot of things, and weren’t you raised to always keep that shit in mind?

“Tell me about yourself,” you tell her, half an order, and at least she’s happy enough to oblige.

She tells you about her lusus, and her quadrants, and her problems back hive as she traces the lines in your throat. The girl can’t hold the fuck still, but you can’t complain, not when the warmth of her blood is seeping into you like moonlight. “And that’s how we met! Unfortunately, like.. my kismesis still hates my matesprit, even though it’s been perigees,” she admits, “because I think they used to pail? But they won’t tell me. I think, like, they’re worried I’ll get jealous. Why would I get jealous? That’d be stupid..”

And at least, this sort of thing, you know how to respond to. It’s like creche natter. Folks know you’re always in and out of relationships. You’re a fucking expert on the ways trolls work, and it’s easy to dredge up the sort of responses she’s after. What you’re sure she’s after, because she’s collapsing more ‘n more bonelessly against your side, and she’s letting you wind your fronds into her hair, playing with the oil-sleek curls and tugging at the strands. Between the warmth of her, and the smell, and the steady, breathy thrum of her purr once your claws hit her hornbed..

It’s relaxing. Oh, you’re still stiff, but it’s not as bad as you figured it ought to be. It’s downright pleasant, in a sleepy sort of way, which’s why you’re surprised when she lifts her head and says, all at once: “- oh, but we’re not talking about you.”

You blink at her. She was tucked into your side. But now she sits up in a waft of jojoba, shrugging her hair over her shoulders as she leans forward, braces her hands on her knees. “I want to hear about you, too, Riccin,” she says, earnest. Her ears flick up. They’re long, angular things, rounded to your points, just as familiar as the rest of her. “If you want to talk about yourself.”

You know how a pile works. It ain’t like you’ve got much to talk about, but you know how one works. And sitting here - relaxed, almost, listening to her purr - it almost feels like it could work. “Alright,” you say. Isn’t the point of this that you’re supposed to try? Ain’t this why Cu’d hauled you out here? You’re not some rustcushion, to handle her business and refuse to let her at your own.“Alright, girl. Where the fuck do I start?”

A moment later, she’s climbing on top of you.

Harley tucks herself into your lap, neat as any meowbeast. Sitting like this, her shoulder fits neatly into the slope of your ribs. Her chin settles into your collarbone, her cheek cushioned against the hollow of your throat. When you swallow, she’s near enough that it’s fucking hard - and maybe this is serendipidity, the perfect way her body fits against yours, and the way you can’t seem to ignore that. “Start at the beginning,” she demands. “I want to hear about your pupahood! Your adolescense. Like, your awful, weird pre-molt sweeps. Your darkest secrets! Oh, don’t choke, I’m just, like, joking, I’m - ah -”

You spit out a chunk of her hair, clearing your throat, and then you push her head down, gentle, so the masses farther from her face. She shrieks, jolting back when she realises, then pivots to face you. Her face’s gone as bricky as a stop sign, practically shining in the dark. “Oh no,” she wails. “I’m so sorry, holy shit.” She’s going redder and redder, moment by moment. If anymore blood comes flooding to her face, you think, it’ll just up and explode.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You reach up and rest your palm on her cheek, gentle as you can. “Shoosh,” you say, a little rough, but maybe it works anyway, because she stills, staring at you.

You haven’t really stopped to appreciate Harley’s face before. It’s all freckles and pigment, skin pale enough to set all of that to stark relief. Her eyes, even wet, are bright as a sign outside. She’s adorable, is the thing, from the tip of that button nose to the soft jab of her chin. It’s striking you that she might be one of the cutest trolls you’ve ever fucking laid eyes upon, and she’s soft, too. In her features, to her neck, to the hands she presses on your shoulders, to the body she’s got curled against yours.

She leans in close, dropping her forehead against yours. This close, you can’t stop thinking of all the ways she’s pressed against you. That bust, you have to admit, remains fucking amazing. “You’re so nice,” she says, voice hitching in a laugh. “Even if I did just make you eat hair. Especially when! Thanks, dude. And, like, despite the choking attempt, I wasn’t lying! I do want you to tell me everything.”

“Girl,” you say, “I’ll tell you anything.”

Because you would. Shit, you will. Pressed up against you like this, you can’t think of a single way you’d ever fucking deny her. You’ve always liked softer trolls! You can see the beauty in all sorts - you have, you’ve never been real picky in your partners. But Sipara was your first quadrant. She’s always been your most distinctive one, and some nights, when you see a troll shaped just right, it feels like she ruined you on everything else.

On everyone else, because Harley looks close enough that -

- that -

Oh, fuck.

You don’t mean to be rough when you push her off! She yelps all the same, her ears yanking down like she’s been shot. “Um!” she says, loud, but your face’s heating up to match the chrome in hers. Oh, fuck. You’re not - but nah, you apparently are. Mind over matter, when push comes to shove, apparently means jack and goddamn shit. “Hey! Riccin! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” When your voice cracks, you wish you could rip it out and strangle yourself with it. In lieu of that, your face just darkens all at once, flooding with the ugliest shade of goddamn gold this side of the spectrum as you turn on your heel, away from her. Oh, god, you’re a quadrant smearer. You’re a fucking deviant. Leave some room for the Messiahs, Chiloa’d always said, but you never -

“I’m fine! I just - I - I need to go,” you blurt out, and you flee.

There’s three bathrooms, and the first you find, you bolt inside and slam the door shut.

You wash your face with the coldest water you can manage, like that’ll do anything to still the blood flooding it. You catch the back of your neck, too, and then, upon consideration, you splash water on the rest of you too.

And then you splash colder water on the rest of you, just to make sure. You don’t know how the fuck your bulge got so interested in a goddamn pile, no matter how warm the girl crawling on you was, but you’re not dealing with it right now. It can just join the list of things that you ain’t dealing with, like the fact you can’t stop thinking of Sipara’s fucking face.

You hate this. You hate this entire fucking quadrant. It ain’t like you need Cu to leave: you could just go, right now, and nobody would ever be the wiser. Nobody’d ever care. Go try pale, everyone’d told you, and you did! You’d tried it, and you’d proven you’re not anything more than a fucking quadrant smearing fuck, too stupid for quadrants, too stupid to remember that there’s a difference between paling and pailing.

You don’t see why anybody would ever want to do this shit. It’s stupid, and it’s complicated, and you just -

When someone knocks on the door twice, you don’t bother to give more than a snarl. It cracks open all the same, and when you don’t sound off again, it pushes all the way, because of course you forgot to lock it. ‘course you did!

The fellow in the doorway’s just scarcely smaller than you, just big enough that he has to turn his chin up to see you, but not so huge it feels like a threat. His eyes are soft and heavily lidded, with lashes dank with ink. Under them, the colour’s purple, and his face’s bare.

‘course he’s a faithless wretch. Have you ever met a fellow you liked that wasn’t? And you do like him, you think, just from the way he’s looking at you. He’s soft-lipped as a kitten, his ears tilted back in the most wretched kind of acquiescence. Ain’t ever done anything for you, motherfuckers scrapping for your attention, but there’s something to be said, isn’t there, in this sort of wordless request? “Hey, dude,” he says, and his ears tilt, apologetic enough to match his words. “Um. Sorry to interrupt, but, like.. you okay? Couldn’t help but see, like, you seem kind of stressed.”

“Kind of stressed,” you repeat back, and his lip quirks up.

“Maybe stress’s an understatement? I’ve been to a few of these, but..” He’s all lean-limbed and sharp-edged, gentleness wrapped up in a bag full of knives. It’s a queer combination, but something about it feels comfortable in a way you don’t quite grok. When the light catches his horns, thin and high in the fluorescent light, part of you balks --

-- but the warmth in your chest ain’t got nothing to do with that kind of fondness, this time around, and there’s nothing in the planes of his face that sets you to thinking of Dysseu. Nah. Motherfucker’s gray-eyed and young, with cheeks just round enough to leave a name unspoken at the tip of your tongue. “II don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody straight up bolt before,” he says, gentle.

If life was a pale porno, you think, this would be the defining moment: him, standing in the doorframe of the bathroom, sun-bright against the dim of the room behind him. You, half-lounging over the sink, water still dripping down off your nose, watching him through the mirror. There’s a sort of distance to be found in the abstract of him watching you, ‘n you watching him, all distorted through the heavy lense of the glass. You don’t want ‘em touching you. But maybe you could talk, him leaning against the far wall and you sticking to this one, keeping to the mirror.

Keeping facing the mirror. You fucking hate bodies sometimes.

His face’s soft. His voice is easy. His hands are long-fingered and soft. When he lifts one up, palm bare, and places it ever so carefully to the back of his neck, the gesture’s so calculated to draw the eye that you have to fucking admire it.

Maybe you could almost stand a pacifying touch, if it came from hands like those - but his claws are short and blunt. Kindra always takes care of his claws. They’re meticulously filed and polished. They look fucking refined, with no rough edges, and no cuticles running astray. This brother looks sloppy in comparison.

If some motherfucker can’t even take care of himself, how the fuck do they expect you to let them try to take care of you?

“I’m fine,” you say, clipped, and that easy smile falters just a touch.

“Alright! Well, if you want to talk, let me know.” He pauses. “I hope you feel better,” he says, earnest enough that it just misses pointed, and he pulls the trap door shut behind him as he goes.

This time, you lock it.

Twenty minutes later, you decide you can’t call Kindra.

You just can’t. What the fuck would he think of you? Brother practically fainted when you’d pulled out the auricular pale videos, and that’d all been sound: some girl shooshing in your ear, someone rustling a bag of chips, someone pretending they’re brushing out your hair or scraping you off the concrete. When you and Sipara had watched Raphae’s filmography, he’d only lasted until the first piling scene, and then he’d shrieked like he’d been fucking shot. He hadn’t been able to look your clademate in the eye for perigees, never mind fucking Shepherd.

If you told him you were at a party, he’d want to know what sort. If you told him that you were at a fucking cuddle party, there’d be questions. And if he found out why you just fled the goddamn pile he’s been pushing you towards --

You groan, burying your face in your hands.

There’s only one other person you can call.

Pheres’s muggy when he answers the phone, five calls in a row. “You been drinkin’?” you bark, and you can practically hear him startle.

“No!” Messiahs fucking above, a brother gets so defensive. He should, the little lush. “Why would I be doing that?” he says, waspish. “Honestly! I have hobbies, Riccin. And I was on a date.”

You’ve seen the sort of trolls he goes after. You roll your eyes towards the ceiling, mouthing a curse as you slouch back against the sink. If you close your eyes, with the phone against your ear, the din in your soundflaps almost makes him sound like he’s in the room with you. “What, a good date?”

“.. no,” he admits. “They’re a bit of a bore. And they’re old. I don’t know how I used to do it! Or - no, that’s not fair. They’re only fifteen sweeps..”

“Then they can hit sixteen. I gotta steal you for a bit, little rust.” He makes a noise like he’s going to protest, so you drop your voice, add in that plainative kind of purr that’s always snatched his attention right to you: “- it’s an emergency.”

Sure enough, it works.

Two minutes later, you almost wish it fucking hadn’t.

Pheres has to be the most expressive fucker you know. You don’t need pictures to know what he’s up to: you can hear his eyebrows raise, in a queer sort of way, as he leans forward. Is there a cord twining around his finger? Nah, you decide. It’s like as not his hair. “You’re at a pale orgy,” he says, marveling like this is the best gift you’ve ever fucking given him. “And you’re telling me, Riccin? Really? Heavens! I know you’re a little, ah - mm - adventurous, but isn’t this.. a little much? Even for you?”

“Like you ain’t done worse,” you sniff. There’s some regret in your pan! But not much. Pheres’s contempt is an easy sort of comfort. Poor brother: it’s hard being that small, you think, and you know there’s never been naught personal in his constant fucking teething. “Twice over, fucker.”

“I have not!”

“Really?” You laugh. “Really? You gonna play that on me, little rust? ‘cause, shit. Last I checked, you were still dressing up as a heiress, brother, and playing out all sorts of fucked up -”

His breath catches. Then the phone clatters. There’s a clap of air right over the speaker, like he dropped it, and - yeah, motherfucker did, because there’s the clatter. Claws scrabbling on plastic. Then:

“We’re not talking about that!” he shrills, several octaves higher than you like to deal with.

There goes the regret. There’s something so satisfying about getting him riled like this. You could’ve gone flush for this boy, you think, if he’d ever been willing to fucking commit. “No shit, Dysseu,” you purr. “I’m talking about it. You’re shrieking.”

“I will hang up --”

“Shoosh,” you mock, and this time around, the sound comes almost natural. And the spluttering he makes in response soothes all the feathers you didn’t even know were fucking lifted. “Little rust, I am at a goddamn party, getting up to all sorts of sin. You tryin’ to hedge in on this? Get a little pacification? Because my, oh my, I just don’t know if I’m ready for that sort of goddamn commitment 'tween the two of us --”

The hollow ring of the dial tone really, in hindsight, shouldn’t have surprised you at all.

At least he picks up when you call back. “If you try and get - get - raunchy with me,” he snaps, all ruined dignity dressed up in a wet cat’s sulk, “then I will hang up again! See if I don’t!”

“Nobody’s gonna get raunchy, brother.” Soothing Pheres’s easy. All it takes is the right tone, really. You’ve never met a troll long for serenity the way he does. “And I’ll set aside the teasin’. I just..”

He longs for serenity, and he’s good at bringing it. You’ve seen the way he’s hauled that feral of his under his thumb, and Dauths, and Nzinga, and every other scoundrel he’s ever encountered. He puts on his faces, and he says whatever folks need to hear, and then he cleans up the pieces afterwards. It’s the sort of thing that ought’ve netted him more than dates.

It’s the thing that has, but it’s no wonder Dysseu can’t keep a quadrant. Motherfucker’s like a caterpillar: if you want to get to the soft bits, you got to reach between all the thorns. It’s the sort of personality that only appeals ‘til the first time somebody gets stabbed.

But your skin’s always been too rough for his thorns. “It is an emergency,” you say, letting your voice drop towards a chirr. “Can you help?”

He only hesitates for a moment. “.. I was getting tired of them, anyway,” he decides. “Give me a moment.”

Ten minutes later, there’s wind in the phone and he’s walking. “So you wanted to get piled?”

“Maybe.” You’re fumbling in your pocket. You’d packed a cigarette and lighter, just in case things turned out wretched, and - there! Dried sopor’s never been your thing, but it’ll do in a pinch, and while the familiarity of Pheres’s nipping has been soothing most of your nerves, the first drag is what really lets you ease back against the wall, and all the way to the floor. You pull your knees up against your chest, and you breathe deep. “I don’t know what the fuck I want, Pheres. Thought shit was going well, and then it was just -”

“Sproing?” he says, helpfully, and then dissolves into titters a few seconds later. Going by his fucking hysteria, you can imagine the hand gesture he just made, for all that you wish you couldn’t. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, that was - ah - mmm. Unhelpful. That was deeply unhelpful, wasn’t it? Heavens. Don’t be so - it - well, it doesn’t mean you’re a deviant, Riccin, it just.. happens, sometimes. You didn’t follow it up by pailing her, right? I mean, you’re on the phone with me. I should you aren’t. Please tell me you’re not, actually.”

You should’ve brought something stronger than a cigarette. “I don’t quadrant smear,” you snap.

“Oh! Oh, of course you don’t. What was I thinking? Just because - well. That doesn’t mean you’re smearing. That’s what I was saying.” He pauses to take a breath. There’s still laughter chasing the ends of his words, but he’s recovering, now, and when he speaks, it’s evened out. “All you need is practice,” he says, brisk. “That’s all! So we can practice. Platonically, of course.”

“.. practice piling,” you say.

“Yes! It’s like - oh, don’t give me that tone, Riccin. And put your ears down! You look like an exclamation mark when you do that.” Begrudgingly, you drop your ears, and take another drag of your cigarette. “It’s like - oh - practicing pailing, or kissing, or anything else. It’s perfectly normal. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just.. two trolls, helping each other out.”

“Platonically,” you say.

“Platonically,” he says, cheerful. “I’ve slept with you entirely too many times for me to want to actually pap you, don’t worry.”

That’s fair enough, you decide. When has Dysseu ever fucking quadblurred? Sure, he bites, but brother bites at everyone. He’d never swung properly pitchways on you, all the times the two of you were together. And he’s got a point. You’ve fucked around with plenty of trolls without it ever actually meaning nothing. There’s been a lot of folks that you’ve tried checking serendipity against, but it’s not like it’s always been about that.

Sometimes, it’s just been about stress relief. A lot of the times, really, even if you hadn’t quite realised it at the time. “.. alright,” you say, and then he says, prompt: “- alright! So tell me about yourself. That’s how piles start, you know, typically. One of the participants has a problem, and the other solves it.”

He waits.

“.. are you going to say something, Riccin?” he prompts, and you blow your next exhale of smoke straight into the speaker. “That - whatever that was - is not an answer. Or are you saying you’re just, ah - full of hot air? That’s remarkably plausible, but that’s not really something I can solve, you know.”

“I don’t got anything personal to say,” you huff. That’s a lie. You’re batting a hundred tonight on immoral fucking behaviour, and Orpheo’d disown you in a heartbeat if he knew. Good thing you’re not plannin’ on tellin’ him. And that’s - Messiahs fucking above, that’s another goddamn lie. So you correct yourself: “I ain’t got nothing I feel like saying.”

You can practically picture Pheres’s reaction. There’s that poignant pause, like he’s hoping it’ll bait you out an answer, then he huffs. There’s a crack of static that’s probably him tossing his hair. The rustle of cloth that must be him bouncing up on his toes. Then he hits the ground, heels cracking neatly onto - is that pavement? Must be. “Fine,” he says, “then I’ll start. Did I.. well.” He pauses. For a moment, you think the phone’s gone dead.

Then he says, so casual that your ears prick: “- did I ever tell you why I hate Iconic?”

You’d caught on. The name’d come up a few times, and each time, Pheres’s been.. well. He wears his masks, but it’s easy enough to see the cracks in ‘em, if you know what you’re lookin’ for. He’s always gotten stiffer when the name came up, when he’d seen something that shade of yellow in your hive. And you knew he’d known him, back in the day.

Sipara had always refused to let you near her moirail. But she’d never taken the same precautions with Ico, and you’d heard snips and pieces of him over the sweeps, just enough to paint a picture that turned out not quite accurate. Ico’d called him a frail slip of a troll, the sort of fucker always one day from a culling. He’d said he was the sort of fickle, insipid fool that didn’t deserve more’n being paint, and he’d said he’d chased after pails like he didn’t realise he belonged in them.

But Ico’s always been nothing but a mean streak, and you’d known it even then.

“Nah,” you say, and he exhales.

“Right! Well. I hate him, because -” Another pause. His breath rasps. “Well! We slept together. Back before he -- well. Before he -”

“- wnet on his murder spree?”

“- yes. That.”

Ico and Pheres is.. you don’t know how to turn over that thought. Something about it sticks. But when you think of his cavern-brooding matesprit from back in the night, with his long hair and the halberd covered in blood.. “Flush,” you say, taking a drag.

“Ah - no. Pitch,” he murmurs, and you choke on your cigarette.

He waits patiently while you splutter, your coughs echoing through the bathroom and his receiver. It takes longer to recover than you’d like. Your stomach’s curling in on itself, and there’s bile rising in your throat, more than just the burn of the sopor going down your windpipe. You were never a proper auspistice, the way that Sipara was. You couldn’t handle Ico, the way she did, and so you never really tried.

He’d never hurt you. He’d never have hurt Sipara, either - up until the fall of Wisdom, that was the only fucking thing you’d ever been certain of towards him. But it’d only ever been you. He was cruel to Raphae with the same ease that he breathed, and he and Iphige treated each other like their presence only opened up old wounds.

And his pitches..

Sipara’d always stopped him from culling them, at least.

“Pitch,” you rasp. “Pheres, what the fuck?”

“And I was seven,” he says, all in a rush. “And I didn’t think - well! I thought he was attractive, and we could be quadrants, maybe, and he’d be less - him, if we were. All the things pupas think, really, because I was seven and seven eighths, and he was ten, and - everyone was older, but they were nicer, usually, after. If I provided a service. The right sort of service. So why wouldn’t he be? And -”

He inhales, a little unsteadily. “It didn’t change anything. He just - took advantage, and told me I was still cullbait, after,” he says, brittle bright. “Just to make sure I didn’t get any ideas! Isn’t that something? And now he works with me, and I have to see his face every night I’m on that campus. I wish he’d died in Wisdom. I’ve told you before - but - I’m sorry he injured your face.”

You don’t know what to do with this information.

“So!” There’s a rustle of movement. Him pushing back his hair, probably, and you can picture it in your head: him bright-eyed at some psibuggy stop, lips thin, his face pulled taut like he’s got Andora’s box clasped in his jaws. “That’s something from me, Riccin. That’s how piles go, usually. One person goes and makes a positive fool of themselves, admitting something vulnerable, and the other one says something comforting.”

“If I could split ‘em open, brother, I would,” you say, and - it’s not right, that your voice is the one going ragged. “That’s - shit, Pheres, that’s fucked up. You don’t go pailing seven sweeps.”

“Technically speaking,” he admits, “Meukit’s scarcely older than I was --”

“You’re half a sweep older’n London’s ass.” You really, really should have brought something stronger than a cigarette. You hug your knees, burrowing your face between them as best as you can. It was easy enough to go about solving problems when it was just Harley’s relationships. You don’t - how the fuck is anyone supposed to solve a problem like this?

How the fuck can anyone solve this?

But you’re not supposed to solve it. He’s opening himself up wide, baring out his soul, so you can go and practice, and he even had the grace to give you a fucking script. “Shit’s fucked up,” you rasp. “No two ways about it. He shouldn’t have fuckin’ touched you, brother. Shouldn’t have touched you, and shouldn’t have gone rattlin’ at you in the first place - not even ‘cause you were clade. Shit’s just -” Your rattlereeds are trying to kick off, blur right into your words and run ‘em ragged. “I wish I could cull ‘em for you.”

But at least Pheres sounds a little less sharp, when he answers. “.. I appreciate the thought. Ah. Sincerely.”

“Where was your ‘rail? I mean, what the fuck - Sipa didn’t know?” You’d seen Sipara at seven sweeps. She’s looked the same at seven as she does now, all rounded cheeks and pale scars, but you’ve seen pictures of Pheres, too. You’d known Ico, but..

“She didn’t know,” he says, brisk, “and you aren’t to tell her. It’s none of her business.”

“Don’t you -”

“It’s none of her business, Riccin. This isn’t a discussion.” His voice’s edging up in pitch again, bordering on something shrill, and you don’t know why. But you chirr at him all the same, ears dropping for all that he can’t see them, trying for something apologetic instead of just fucking wretched. And that’s all it takes to deflate him, same as always. “.. I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “That was. A bit brisk of me. But please don’t.”

“.. it’s your life, brother.” She didn’t know. That’s a relief, at least. Your girl’s always been a mess. But she’s never been callous, not towards her moirail, for all that she’s been cruel to the rest of you. (But Ico’d never been callous to the two of you, either, until he’d gone and let your face get gashed open.)  “.. you two still talking?”

“No,” he says, steady. “Not for a perigee, now.”

Say something vulnerable and make a fool of himself, he’d said. So you open your eyes. You let your body ooze forward, slow, until you’re laying spread straight on the bathroom floor. The tiles are cold under your back. The smoke trails sopor-green up towards the ceiling, drifting in sticky strands all the way into the vents. “You know why we broke up?” you ask, setting the phone on your chest.

At that distance, his voice’s tinny. “No.”

You can count the cracks in the ceiling. They’ve got stucco in here, unlike the exposed rafters of the rest of the place. It’s old, you think. Older’n anything else about this building. “Found out one of her ex’s was in the culling pits,” you say, slow. “I was seven. So you were six ‘n a half, just ‘bout. And Sipa’d taken to ignoring me, yeah? You probably remember that. Shit, we were on the outs all the time back then, but - that was when it got real, and I thought, fuck, she’s gonna leave the program, and she ain’t ever gonna look back.”

“And I didn’t want her to go. And she said she wasn’t, but - shit, brother, you know Sipara. Better’n anybody else. You know how she is.”

“She lies like she breathes,” he admits.

“Yeah. Y’know what the church rats do? We do everything the jugs ain’t willin’ to waste their times on. We wash, ‘n we clean, ‘n we sing, ‘n we man the culling pits,” you say, and he’s gone quiet.

You watch the smoke. You listen to Pheres breath, and the sound of your own slow exhales, echoed through the phone. It’d be easy to leave it there, you think.

But pale’s about vulnerabilities. Pale’s about saying what needs to be said,  not what you want, and so you say: “- so I took on culling duties for the girl, ‘n I gave Nzinga the footage, after. And she came over, and she tore just about every fucking port out of my back.”

Pheres has gone very quiet.

“It was a little fucked up,” you tell him, and you take a drag.

“I’m sorry she did that,” he finally says. “She’s always - part of it is that -” His voice’s gone strange on you. The sopor’s keeping your anxiety low, and for a moment, you think it’s that.. but nah. His voice pitches up, and then you realise he’s just laughing. “I’m starting to think - we’re all very bad at pitch.”

“Gliese ‘n me are fucking serendipitous,” you huff, but he’s laughing, each one tinged just short of hysteria, and - fuck it, you’re laughing too, too drained for much more than hysteria. The sopor’s leaving you feeling boneless, and the laughter feels like it’s reeling out the tension that’s laced itself like wires through your body, one inch at a time. “Messiahs fucking above, we’re all goddamn messes.”

“We are. Take a deep breath, Riccin. You sound like you’re choking.” He inhales, slow and deep, and you shift your breathing to match. “There,” he says. “That’s a little better. Sipara.. never mentioned that. She just said you’re dangerous.” A beat. “And you are.”

“I am,” you agree, mild. “But I’m less than she is, little rust, and we both fucking know it.”

“.. you are,” he admits. “You do know.. the important bits of pale, don’t you? Even if you’ve never had one before?” When you don’t answer, he continues. “You’re supposed to be kind. That’s the most important thing, I think. Kind, but.. to the point. You don’t enable them. You aren’t cruel, and you don’t hurt them.. but you make sure they know, when they’re doing something hurtful to themselves or others, and you let them know they can do better, and you will support them in doing better.”

“Wait, brother -”

“Please don’t interrupt me,” he says, firmer than you’ve heard him in perigees, and surprise, more than anything else, quiets you down. “Sipara.. didn’t manage that. I’m not surprised she - mauled you - because. She’s always done that, I think. I stopped her from doing it very much, physically, when I could, but.. you can’t really stop someone, if they really want to do something. She’s only.. well.” He pauses. “She’s only learned better since she met Hadean. I suppose he’s a better moirail than me, in that.”

“And you can’t be unkind, because -” All of the cracks on the ceiling keep joining up into little pits. They’re dark holes in the white of the stucco, big enough for a pinkie or a nail to slide clear on through. It looks ugly. But that’s what happens, you guess. Enough fractures, and bits of a motherfucker are just apt to fall out.

In a ceiling, or in a troll. “Ah. You know my scar?” Pheres’s brisk, matter-of-fact, despite all the shit he’s saying. “She left that back when we were five. She’d just lost her arm, and we were arguing, and.. she wanted to make a point.” You wish this wasn’t over the phone. You wish you could see his face right now, because for the first time, you don’t know what he’s thinking. His voice’s so bland and even, like -

- the first time you’d met him, when he’d thought you might cull him to make a point.

You said you were dangerous. It’s a fact. But you don’t think you’ve ever managed cruel, not for just for the goddamn sake of it, not the way Nzinga does.

“I’d provoked her,” he says, mild, like every word out of his mouth isn’t vile. “And she was hurt, and she was afraid, and she’d just lost everything for me, and she felt as if I didn’t appreciate it. So she wanted to make sure I didn’t do it again. It was unwise of me. I understood it, even then, but - you can’t do that, in pale. It doesn’t matter if you’re only five. You can’t slip, and make that sort of mistake, and.. leave someone afraid of you, or it ruins them worse than some mark on their face. It doesn’t heal.”

“You have to be kind. I think that’s the most important part of the quadrant. If you’re going to try it.. if you remember that, you should do fine. You’re not a bad troll. You can be better, but..” He laughs again, but there’s no hysteria, this time. He just sounds as tired as you do.

“Can’t we all?”

Your cigarette burns out.

It’s an unceremonious end to your high. You stub the last embers out on the edge of the sink and toss it into the disposal unit, letting the dregs of smoke trail out of your nostrils. “Folks shouldn’t hurt their moirails, Pheres,” you tell him, closing your eyes. You’re tired of staring at cracks, suddenly. “Ain’t gotta lecture me on that shit. Everybody ought to know that. Yours - are just all shit folks, that’s all. And you shouldn’t be dating a fucking fifteen sweep old, either.”

“Did you come for advice,” he sniffs, “or did you come to lecture me?”

“Welcome to the goddamn pile, brother. What can I say? Motherfucker, I pick shit up fast.”  You can’t say that you wish he’d been hatched in the program like Kindra. It’s starting to settle in for you that there’s no protection there. Would Chiloa have stepped in between him and Ico, if he’d been a churchrat? Would anybody have stepped ‘tween him and Sipara? Or would it have just been a different set of indignities? “That’s all fucked up. I wish - well, shit, if fishes were wishes, we’d all have slits up to our ears. But wish it hadn’t happened.”

“It’s fine,” he lies, his voice easy, and you guess those really are just part of the pile.

You push yourself up from the floor, all too aware, suddenly, of how filthy it’s likely to be. At this rate, you’re going to have to go hive and wash your fucking scalp. How long’ve you even been down here? “So here’s my lesson plan, prof,” you drawl, scrubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Since you were so kindly as to drag me through a fucking pile. Pale’s all about.. shit. You’re supposedta fucking care about them. What they’re doing, what they’re going through. And you’re supposed to keep ‘em on the right track, and support the motherfuckers all the way through that, not because you have to, or because someone’s got to, but because -”

“- because you want to. Because you love ‘em, and you want the best for ‘em, and you don’t want ‘em getting hurt. Not by anybody else. Not by fucking you,” you bite off, thinking of the groves on his face. A moirail mark, he’d told you, that first night you’d asked, and he’d let you trace the pattern along his skin. “You’re supposed to protect ‘em. And they do the same for you. It balances out. You balance each other out.”

You’ve always disliked the quadrant. But when you think of it like this.. it almost makes a sort of sense, in a way it never did before.

“And you’re not supposed to engage in conjugal affairs with them, either,” Pheres chimes up. “Or, ah, non-affairs, I suppose. Activities..? I mean! Sometimes things just happen. Physical contact is very nice, and it’s quite easy to get wires crossed, you know, if you’re not careful. Someone just, oh, hops on your hips, or you slip and fall, and maybe parts become unzipped, and. Well!” He clicks his teeth, all faux-sympathy. “Well! Maybe it’s understandable if, mm, bits of you start getting the wrong idea, and, ah.. how d’you say.. start.. adventuring out from their phantom zones, but..”

“Did you just call your fucking junk a phantom zone?”

“We’re not discussing that,” he say, prim as if he hadn’t brought it up himself. But isn’t that always the fucking case? “It is a perfectly accurate euphemism, and I am not discussing it further. You understand what I’m saying here, Riccin. Try not to let people accost you in personal regions, or whatever mishaps you were getting up to, and things ought to go just well. Pale romance does not usually, by the way, involve that sort of positioning. I find a nice over the shoulder cuddle is about as intimate as one really should get! Or just, I don’t know - maybe don’t pale people you’d rather pail…?”

“Present company excluded, of course,” he bites off, amused. “Now! Ah. As cathartic as this was.. I do have to go, now.“ A beat. “And I won’t,” he says abruptly. “Go on another date with this troll. I think - well! You might be right. They are.. maybe. A little old. For me, at least. Ah. Good light!”

By the time you open your mouth, the phone’s sounding off its dial tone.

You put it in your pocket and, standing up, you stretch. If this is what a pile feels like, you.. can see the appeal, almost. It feels like someone dragged you through the ringer. It feels like someone’s stripped a weight off of your shoulders. It’s a strange combination, all together, and one you’ll have to contemplate later, but --

-- it’s not a bad one, all things considered.

It gives you things to think about, at least.

But that’s for later. For now, you ought to go and find Cu, and think of how the fuck you’ll explain this to Kindra.

[summerbodystruggles-blog]

'Have you gained weight?' FEEL THE BURN!!! 13th july 19:54

Today i decided to post while im still at the gym. No im not being one of those fuck nuggets that hog machines and not actually using it but rather using the seat to sit messing on my phone. I've finished my weight training session and now im just cooling down my legs with a little 30min steady state cardio just for good measure. Today has been an average day. Nothing extraordinary. Went to work , didnt eat copious amounts of crap stuck to plan go me! 😊 went shopping and thats when it happened, the thing noone trying to get in shape wants to ever experience. Im minding my business, getting my bits and i hear 'oi bitch what are you doing here' now most people upon being called a bitch would be up in arms but for me its not a thing because it signals that one of a handful of my good pals is about. When i turn i realise my bestest bitch is there , whoop whoop!! We make idle chit chat as you do.. then she drops the bomb. 'HAVE YOU GAINED WEIGHT?' 😐😑😣 Bitch no you didnt!!! I felt like someone had pissed in my potnoodle, i know i had slipped off the wagon slightly but surely not to a noticable amount?! I tried to make excuses in my head you've had carbs today, its female bloat, its all that water you've been drinking.. but the reality was i knew i probably had. I can't lie it knocked my confidence abit but it also fed this inner motivation that has been hibernating. I went home and got on the ball. Dinner prepped so i could just shovel it in my face after gym. Fat burner/pre-workout popped for that extra push in the gym and i was off. As i made my way to the gym i got that tingling in my face id had before... gym cracks kicking in.. i felt buzzed. Lets fucking do this. Its leg day and i love leg day. Don't ask me why, i always have probably always will. First exercise squats . I found myself smashing each rep, going deeper and deeper in the squat till i was arse to grass. Set after set destroying every one. Then the sweats came. Good lord i was sweating like i never have before. Now im not one for sweating. Infact i hate sweating. The trickling down your skin. The flush face gahh ffs but that wasnt going to stop me 'have you gained weight...HAVE YOU GAINED WEIGHT'. These words radiated in my brain. Feeding the beast. I dont know why i took as abit of a knockdown. Im not particularly big anyways so a few pounds wouldnt make a significant difference, but still i want to maintain what ive already achieved, to go forward not backwards. I moved on to leg press my poor quads began screaming at me 'why? Why? WHHHHHHY?' But i wasnt listening on and on i pushed them. Narrow stance, wide stance i was truely out to feel the burn and that i did. As i turnt to get off the machine i felt that all so familiar jelly legs. 'Oooo ive missed you' i thought with a sense of achievement kicking in. Then it was downstairs for my deadlifts.. not so sure my legs are gonna be my friends tomorrow lol. I forgot my gloves so it was hard going on my sore paws. But a little palm burn werent gonna stop me! Rep after rep oooousssh FUCK YEAH. Then i look in the mirror and this cofin dodger was there staring at my backside like there was a massive mirror opposite us both making it obvious he was. Sore hands werent gonna stop me but pervy pete did!! With that i finished my set and made a B line for the exercise bikes. Im not a prude or anything like that but when matey is kicking 65+ thats when i feel abit uncomfortable. Hes old enough to be my dad!!! So here i am cooling these tired hams, glutes and quads. Steady state cardio to ease the tightness and the extra calorie burn is always welcomed. I know the doms is coming i can always tell by how 'swole' my legs get after a workout if its gonna be a i can't sit on the toilet situation lol and this is gonna be one of tthem situations. Come saturday ill be sliding down the wall to sit on the toilet. Flopping onto the sofa because bending at the knee makes my legs feel tight like overstuffed sausages dying to tear through the skin. But its gonna be worth it, that bootiful booty will be worth it. Its gonna be golorious and round and large and BOOOOTY. so now i leave it at that because I've now got to figure out how im going to walk down the stairs to get out the gym when i cant feel my legs!!!

[raitrolling]

wtf the fuck is everyone doing on quads night: rai edition 

(but in this instance ‘everyone’ means ‘anyone who is actually doing something of worth’)

pratap: makes cute quads day themed coffees with heart and spade latte art designs. still no one turns up to his cafe.

lanthi: skips around the city using her voodoos on couples and being all ‘hey there friend remember me? also remember when you told me you caught your matesprit sleeping with a mutant’. skips away after chaos ensues.

viltau: CAKE HELL: QUADRANTS DAY EDITION. everyone orders cakes for quadrants night so he cant throw his own party. doesnt leave the kitchen for over 48 hours. makes over a thousand heart shaped chocolate cupcakes instead of five hundred because the tyrian who ordered them insisted that every single one has to look identical and we cant all be perfectionists belamy fuck off. eichio walks past the kitchen at one point and hes pretty sure he heard vil crying.

aiolos: the half-sweeply ‘deliver quads day gifts to everyone but oops it looks like all the chocolates went missing oh no’ tradition. throws a half eaten box of chocolates at someone because their matesprit was an asshole and gave them chilli chocolate. who the FUCK likes chilli.

velour: drowns in chocolates and other gifts sent by fans. makes and uploads a vlog thanking everyone for their support. gives some of the chocolates to aio cuz hes saddened by the lack of gifts he can steal from the post this half-sweep.

rosato: forgets about half the red wine orders he was supposed to send out that night. spends the next night wondering why theres so much wine everywhere and why hes getting heaps of angry trollian messages.

callan: attends quads night parties to steal fancy gifts from the guests. takes as many of vil’s cupcakes as his shitty little greenblood hands can carry.

aegiel: cute date with badger, which probably equated to her hanging out at his hive and they get fancy take-out.

benrii: makes fancy bombs with pink and red smoke to try and gain notoriety as the Quadrants Night Bomber. people think its just some random being very, very festive.

zotick: approaching randoms on the street like ‘yo did you get that fancy necklace from your matesprit thats so sweet can i touch it- HAHA ITS SNAKES NOW’

eichio: >implying ei does anything other than work.

aislin: shoujo anime marathon. livetweets everything. thinks about sending campir a message to see what hes doing but hOLY SHIT ITS QUADS NIGHT YOU CANT MESSAGE ANYONE AT THAT TIME WHAT IF HE GETS THE WRONG IDEA

dismas: still Couchsurfing(tm). spends the night at daimon’s hive, witnesses him somehow manage to almost burn down his entire kitchen while attempting to make cereal.

nancor: sets up a fortune telling booth for couples to see if theyre gonna die within the next perigee. keeps having to sadly turn away lonely single trolls asking for love-related fortunes because hes not that kind of fortune teller.

katrin: Boozy Tuesday: Now With 200% More Booze.