#why can't i be one of those old plastic chairs

[a-s-levynn]

.

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months. 

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat. 

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist. 

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today. 

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time. 

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like. 

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly. 

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes. 

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process. 

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment. 

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man. 

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand. 

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling. 

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent,  like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it. 

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything. 

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag. 

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile. 

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.” 

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing. 

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice. 

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you. 

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound. 

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly. 

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.” 

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile. 

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you. 

“What brought you back here?” 

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town. 

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time. 

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening. 

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish. 

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again. 

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.  

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

 You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet. 

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper. 

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave. 

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her. 

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting. 

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note. 

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?” 

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer. 

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)

[its-warm-in-here]

Grilled Cheese

In which V and Johnny grill a cheese. 1970 words!

“Grilled cheese.” 

This does not pull V from her feed. She ignores the engram, a practice she was getting pretty good at, and scrolls through the net. Silverhand was getting... a bit too familiar in her skull. Lingering where he wasn’t wanted, interjecting nasty comments about, pretty much, everything. Now, he’s lounged out on her mattress just around the corner, one leg hanging off the bed, fingers tapping to some unheard beat against the plastic frame. V turns the K-Techno song up a notch and clicks to the next page on the feed. Oooh, Panam and Mitch will be in town this weekend, good to know. 

After a moment, he speaks again. “Think you can manage that?” 

Huffing, she pulled away from the net, spinning the chair around, and peered out into the little apartment.  “Manage what?” 

“A grilled cheese,” Johnny asks again, more to the ceiling, than to her. “Even a gonk like you has a hot plate. Bread’s still a thing in NC?”

That makes her short circuit. Who the hell needed a hot plate anymore? She’d just stocked up the vendor in her apartment, there were sandwiches included in her latest package, why the hell would she need a hot plate? And where the hell would she even keep it? The little apartment in Watson wasn’t outfitted with a counter, let alone a kitchen.  “Yeah, it is. But, uh, no. I don’t.” 

Johnny leans around the little wall separating them in disbelief, before glitching in and out of existence to dwell mournfully in the doorway to her computer space. “There’s more use to a hot plate than just cooking V. Its an essential part of any grifter’s apartment. What, next you’ll tell me you don’t have a pan either? Feed me any more of that ‘sashimi’ crap and I’ll puke.” 

Her mouth goes dry. Sure, some folks in Night City knew how to cook. V would kill for a pot of Mama Wells’ pozole, and the jambalaya that River and his sister had served was preem. But cooking was reserved for those in luxury or for those too impoverished to afford the instant foods that Night City had on offer. V was neither. 

Reading her face (and mind), Johnny hung his head, “Sad, V.”

Scowling, she turns back to the screen, “Like you’ve ever cooked a single thing in your fucking life. Probably had your groupies do it. Entitled prick like you probably threw a fit if they got you wheat bread instead of rye.”  V says the words like she knows what they mean. Most of the bread Night City had on offer was the foamy tasting white stuff that either went stale immediately after opening or it lasted wayyy past the expiration date making one wonder if the bread had taken on some form of sentients before it was tossed into the bin. 

“Maybe,” he admits, disappearing from view, then glitching back so he’s partway between V and her screen, “It came with the lifestyle. But even I could handle myself with something this basic. Bread, a smear of butter and slices of pepperjack and sharp cheddar? Cooked over high heat, till the bread’s charred and cheese is molten like a volcano. Hell, mouth’s drooling just thinking about it.” 

And it is. V can't even recall when, if ever, she’d ever had a grilled cheese sandwich, but Johnny sure the hell can. She can almost taste the savory crunch, the stretch of melted cheese on the back of her tongue. Johnny’s mouth turns up at the memory. “You’re not letting this go, are you?” 

He shakes his head, grin taking hold, “It's not like I'm even asking for a smoke this time.” Johnny leans against her desk, getting in close and making her optics fragment. “Come on, V. What do you say?”

---

It's raining in Night City when she finally decides to track this down. The electrically charged sky was grey, blotting out holograms that hung in the air and for once the stench of Dogtown didn't reach her nose. On her way back from a gig from Mr. Hands, V spots a pawn shop sporting a slew of old tech. Most of its junk: tape decks, out of date processing units, instruments that needed to be tuned up, but there's a handful of kitchen gadgets. Finding a glass hot plate with the proper hook up wasn’t too hard and there was even a frying pan for a reasonable price. She hits up Tom’s Diner to bum the rest of the supplies. The ingredients are hardly anything  but he had several types of cheese on hand, so it’ll have to do. 

Shaking the water from her jacket, V shrugs it off, draping it at the entrance of her little apartment, before setting the hot plate up on her coffee table and setting it to medium heat. She then turns to the mirror, stripping off her waterlogged eyeliner before returning to the couch. Johnny was already in his normal spot, one leg crossed over the other, brown eyes hidden behind aviators to hide the judgment in his stare. It didn't work. “Couldn't even spring for the good shit?”

“It's grilled cheese. Not yellowfin tuna,” she fires back, smearing the butter on the almost stale bread. “Now walk me through this.” 

“Never had to cook for yourself?” Johnny muses, leaning forward to observe her amature technique of peeling neon orange cheese from the sleeve of plastic. 

V scowles at him and plops the bread onto the pan with a sizzle. “If I burn this shit, it’ll be your fault.” At that, Johnny scoots closer so he’s leaning over her shoulder. The engram isn't really there, but the hoops her brain jumps through to make sense of another being residing in it certainly makes him feel real. She can feel the air move to make space for the rockerboy, the brush of his chrome shoulder against hers.

“Put three slices on,” he insists, making her unwrap another. “Now the other one.” Following his instructions, she places the other buttered piece atop the cheese.

“Think I'm good to flip it?”

“Don’t rush it,” Johnny says. It shouldn't be this easy to slip into domesticity with the engram, but it feels natural. Like they fit together. He nods at her, she jiggles the pan, freeing the crisped bread from the non-stick surface then uses a wrist flick to knock the sandwich into the air. It hangs there for a moment and for a split second, a burst of panic shoots through her at the thought that it couldn't complete the turn and come crashing back down into a sloppy, burney mess. But the sandwich lands with a satisfying plop. The cooked side is a crispy golden and cheese is starting to melt out the sides. 

“Smells great.” 

There's a swell of pride in her chest at his words. “Don’t say anything till I’m done. Could still burn it.” 

“It’s better burned. Gives it some flavor. Kicks it up a notch.” 

Neither speaks for a moment, she doesn't even bother turning the TV on. Instead opting to observe the bread, just in case it burst into flames. There is a little smoke from the cheese melting but it's not ruined yet. She moved the pan again, making sure it does not stick. V knew very little about cooking, but if this came out alright, maybe it was something she could actually get good at. Using a fork, she lifts to check. 

“Well? Does the curtain match the drapes?” He is always so crass. 

V makes a face. “That does not even make sense. But, yeah, its done.” She slides the bread onto a paper plate before finally relaxing back. The  sandwich is too hot yet and V flicks on the tv. Zoning out. There’s nothing on TV, but it's kind of nice. Just chilling at home, no pressing missions, just waiting on a call from Reed. She curls her legs under her and leans her cheek against the low back of the couch. If Johnny had any real mass to him, she’d be resting against his shoulder. He’s stretched out, one arm slung over the couch, a boot resting on her coffee table as he has a pre-emptive ghost cigarette. There’s no real smoke, but the memory of the nicotine stings her nose. 

After a moment, she slides the paper plate closer, testing the heat with her fingers before biting down into the cheap meal. The bread is crunchy, the char covering any staleness, and the cheese has a salty, funky, melty flavor. Not too bad for her first pass. She hums, satisfied. 

“Any good?” Johnny presses. 

It’ll be a good few minutes before her brain relays the taste to him. She nods, wishing she could just pass him the sandwich. “Not half bad.” She takes another bite, the smell of charred sandwich mixing with the acrid smell of his cigarette. “Ask nicely and maybe I’ll make another some time.” Johnny lets a single laugh resonate in his chest. Damn, she loved that sound. Not that she’d ever tell Johnny that. 

Hell, he probably already knew. 

V is about half way through the meal and Johnny is done with his cigarette, but the smoke smell continues to hang in the air. If anything, it's getting worse. There's a haze. V glances again at the engram, nope, he hadn't lit up another. So where was---?

Above, the holo screens flash red and an alarm blares through the apartment. “FIRE. IMMEDIATELY EXIT THE APARTMENT. FIRE.” The screens show a dramatized version of her little apartment with directions on how to exit with little anime chickens on fire darting around the edges. 

She crushed her palms over her ears, eyes wildly darting around the apartment before landing on the smoldering pan on the still very hot hotplate. The residue of melted cheese and breadcrumbs had transformed into a ball of carbon and smoke, the little plastic fort she’s used in improvised spatula had begun to liquify and seal onto the pan, setting off the oversensitive fire system. “Shit, shit, shit!” Leaping to action, V grabs the pan by the handle, drops it into the bathroom sink and turns on the water. It vaporizes to steam the moment it hits the pan, ruining it, but the water stops it from smoking. If she didn't get this smoke out now, the sprinkler system would trip any second. She punches the button to open the windows and, using the pillow from her bed, she stands on her tiptoes and waves it back and forth, forcing the air to circulate. Johnny’s laughter cuts through the alarms, as he watches her scramble.  Scorn zips through her, but she does not have time to express her contempt. The air is moving through the apartment though, and after minutes of waving her arms like a gonk, the alarm finally turns off and her screens return to their stream of content. She drops back onto the couch, groaning and drapes her forearm over her eyes. V sinks low, catching her breath. 

“Smooth one, V.” 

Before he can add any more to that sentence, she cuts him off with her middle finger. “Not another fucking word, Silverhand.” He keeps his mouth shut and she risks glancing at him. If Johnny didn't look stoic or broody, he was smug. And this is the smuggest she’d ever seen the rockerboy. “What?”

Johnny’s brown eyes go between her and the half eaten grilled cheese on the table. “Gonna finish that?” 

V growles, grabs the sandwich and throws it at him. The bread phases right through, probably making a mess of her couch. He flips her off in turn, laughs then glitches away to some spot at the edge of her brain and out of sight. 

Asshole.  

[the-fiction-witch]

I Know That Look

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Smutty

I did a huge yawn. So big I was convinced for a moment my jaw clicked. I sat on my uncomfortable plastic seat in the middle of the airport watching people go around the shops and information boards all the madness bathed in the fluorescent light that messed with my mind given it was 11:29 pm.

"Ooohh big yawn" Thomas chuckled beside me as he sat with his book in his grey sweatpants, his battered old triumph shirt, and his aviator's jacket with warm fluff on the inside and leather outside.

"I'm tired" I pouted

"I told you to have a nap earlier"

"But if I napped earlier I won't sleep on the plane"

"I will"

"Yes I know you will, you have a strange superpower Thomas you can sleep anywhere. I leave you alone anywhere for five minutes you can nap"

"True"

"I don't know how the hell you do it,"

"It's called being in my thirties. I'm permanently exhausted."

"Didn't you really scare that German hotel?"

"Yeah I'd been doing a lot of traveling I checked into my room and then just slept for like twenty-six hours they got really concerned they thought I died"

"I'm convicted you died and just came back to life the other day"

"I wasn't dead" he rolled his eyes

"You laid back in the leather chair in the living room and didn't move or say anything for six hours. I kept having to go over and check you were still breathing"

"I was tired."

"And I'm tired now"

"I'm not saying you're not I'm merely suggesting you could have napped earlier"

"Can we go wonder around the shops that'll wake me up"

"No, there's a WHSmith and a travel book store. I'm not stupid y/n your on a book-buying ban"

"I can't help that I'm a bookworm"

"You're not a book worm y/n you're a book dragon you just hoard piles of literature"

"Humm" I pouted "but I'm bored"

"Then do something to entertain yourself why do I always have to be the one to entertain you?"

"Because I like you entertaining me" I smiled leaning on his shoulder and nuzzling into his jacket

"Humm mummm" he glared

"What?"

"I know that look"

"What look?"

"That look." He says "Why do you always get horny when you're tired and bored?"

"I don't know,"

"Well drop it, it's not gonna happen"

"Why not?"

"Because I remember what happened last time we tried getting intimate on a plane. So no way"

I pouted "Maybe it wouldn't if someone could keep quiet"

"How the hell was I meant to keep quiet when you pulled your top down leant over the seat and proceeded to suck my dick like it was literally your only oxygen pipe in space,"

"I wanted to cheer you up"

"It was fucking awesome though I have to admit"

"So?"

"No."

"Fine" I sighed I nuzzled closer and tried to find things to do watching people go by, counties the windows, guiding item prices in the shops but I was bored so I moved my hand under his jacket which didn't draw much attention until my hand reached his stomach

"Y/n" he warns not looking away from his book but I ignored him and slipped my hand under his sweats and his boxers and found his soft cock I took it gently in my hand and began to palm and stroke across it immediately feeling him uncontrollably start to slowly get hard "y/n!" He warned but I ignored him until he was completely hard and I began to toy and play with him like my own little stress toy "y/n stop… people might see" he complained

"Then sit still" I whispered fixing his jacket a little to make sure my hand was hidden

"What if someone hears us"

"Then be quiet" I whispered getting nose intense making sure to do all the little things he loves me too it was obvious he was struggling trying his best to stay composted but he slapped my hand away and put his stuff in his bag

"Come on"

"Where are we going?" I giggled getting my stuff too

"We're going to find one of those little privet lockable pod things people use for business and naps"

"Why?"

"You started it you're finishing it" he glared

"Okay" I giggled cuddling his arm

I smiled getting comfy looking at the little place, so cool and luscious given the long flight with the little bed-like seats with pillows and blankets, a little table with drinks and even TV and a window I smiled relaxing on the cosy bed seat and I caught his eye

"No"

"What?"

"I know that look"

"So?" I giggled patting the space beside me

"Later. When I have some energy back"

[namelysane]

Wouldn't it be funny if when hellspawn... well spawned garm/misako called wu and the ninja to try and tell them to come over (and bring baby stuff while their at it) but the situation was so chaotic that the ninja only understood a small part of it and, with the little info they had; concluded that lloyd was turned into a baby?

Takes place sometime before s3.

Don't get him wrong. Cole had always been someone who liked kids.

Just...just not these kids.

"Being a teacher is hard work," Kai complained, plopping down a nearby chair as soon as he could step into the break room. His usually well-gelled hair was beginning to droop miserably. "If my work of art gets another spitball when my back is turned again I swear I'll—"

"Work of art? FSM, who told you that lie?" Nya snorted, only to receive a very nasty glare from her brother at that comment. "That's a mess."

"Those kids are the mess," Kai grumbled, hands reaching up to comb through his hair to find any remaining atrocities. "They're even worse than the baby gremlin version of Lloyd. Can you believe that?"

"You're telling me," Cole rubbed his eyes. "I come in ten minutes late and someone lets Ninjago's most poisonous scorpion walk around the classroom."

"How did they even bring one in, again?" Nya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose wearily. "Enough said. We need stricter rules."

"As if that'll stop them," Kai huffed, chucking his file across the room. "Keep dreaming."

" 'Educating the future of Ninjago' my butt. Wu definitely hates us."

"Bad day too huh, zaptrap?" Cole winched sympathetically, watching Jay's head dip in a depressed nod as he made a beeline for the freezer.

"We went from saving Ninjago to needing to be saved," Jay stressed, eyes scanning through the contents of the refrigerator before then widening. "Hey. Who took my pudding cup?"

"You had a pudding cup?" Cole blinked, his gaze briefly falling on the empty plastic container in front of him on the table. At that, Jay's eyes locked on it as well. "Um...sorry?" He tried, grimacing at once.

"Bullied by my students, and now bullied by my friends," Jay said miserably, slamming the fridge door shut at once. "This is just great."

"Perfect for a villain arc," Kai said helpfully, only to receive incredulous looks from everyone else in the room. "What? Literature is finally growing on me."

"I can't believe I got stuck with history," Jay groaned, sounding as though he was tempted to bang his head against the table. "Zane's the walking textbook. He should be teaching history."

"Unfortunately, that would leave a vacancy for the science teacher position," Zane replied, walking into the room — weirdly percent timing, Cole thought suspiciously. "I believe Wu does not wish to look elsewhere for a replacement."

"Yeah," Kai rolled his eyes. "So he can continue to pay us like—"

"But Nya could teach science," Jay suggested, looking at her pleadingly. "Right, Nya?"

Nya seemed to contemplate that thought. "I guess I could—"

"See?"

"But you're gonna have to take over math," Nya told him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "You have to spend the rest of your life hearing those kids talk about how much they hate you and—"

Jay blinked. "Wait, what—"

"Yeah," Nya shrugged. "And then, they start debates with you asking why the heck do we have to learn this—"

"Well that's normal for me," Jay said, and then frowned. "Anyway, why are we forced to learn math, again?"

"I often wonder that myself," Sensei coughed.

All of them nearly jumped at that, not having seen him enter. The old man merely shook his head.

"You five have become less vigilant," he stated exasperatedly, the bottom of his bamboo staff colliding with the floor as he continued to step forward. "Such carelessness could be your downfall."

Kai just stared at him in disbelief. "So is that why those brats keep scheming against me?"

"Probably," Jay suggested, only to earn a scowl in response. "And by the way Sensei, I kinda have a teeny, tiny little request as a teacher—"

"Oh, I've already heard that," Sensei replied, giving him a brief knowing look. "As long as Nya and Zane are alright with this new arrangement, I don't see any reason to refuse you."

"I have no issue with this," Zane chimed in, and Nya nodded in agreement.

"Oh, those kids don't know what's coming, alright," she grinned mischievously. "I can't wait for the experiments—"

It was then when the sound of ringing cut the air.

Cole's eyes immediately fell on the telephone.

"I will get it," Sensei told them, before any of them could bother getting up. Cole felt his eyebrows knit into a frown. Hang on, hadn't the last time that phone had gotten a call been when—

Jay's face was suddenly as pale as a sheet. "Please tell me they aren't going to enroll in another—"

"Hello. This is Darkley's Boarding School For Great Children how may I — brother?" Sensei blinked, sounding genuinely surprised at the fact the former dark lord was calling him at this point of the day. "Is everything alright?"

Cole watched questioningly as the old man's expression suddenly tightened, before then proceeding to take the deepest dive into confusion in the history of Ninjago.

"What do you mean?" Sensei asked incredulously, both of his eyebrows rising high enough to be concealed by the shadow of his straw hat. "Brother, of all the methods you could use to antagonize me—"

"What the heck is going on?" Jay whispered.

"No idea," Cole mouthed, continuing to listen intently with a deeper frown. Had Garmadon sprouted another pair of arms again or something?

Then, suddenly, the old master stilled, his golden eyes far wider than they had ever seen them. The knuckles of the hand holding the phone were visibly white with how tightly he was gripping it.

It was a while until he managed to bring himself to speak once again.

"A baby, Garmadon — what was he thinking—"

"What?" Nya gasped, and Kai's jaw dropped open at once, the hothead looking as though he was about to faint. Even Zane was no different.

What. On Earth. Was Going On.

"He is more like Father than I thought," Sensei lamented miserably, as though he very much regretted that fact.

He, Cole realized, taking note of that detail immediately. That could only mean Sensei was referring to—

"Alright, alright," Sensei sighed, his grip on the phone faltering slightly. "We'll be there, brother."

Then, he placed the telephone back on its holder, pushing it away immediately.

"What was that about, Sensei?" Nya asked.

The old master met her gaze tiredly, appearing as though he regretted hearing the sound of ringing in the first place.

He heaved out a sigh. "Garmadon has called."

Kai shot him a deadpan stare. "Yeah. We could tell—"

"I'm afraid we will need to leave the academy in the care of Dareth until we return," Sensei said, running a hand over his face wearily. "Garmadon requires our presence. As soon as possible."

"Well care to tell us why?" Jay crossed his arms. "And what was that about a baby?"

"You also used the third person pronoun 'he' at the three minute and thirty one second mark of your conversation," Zane pointed out, sounding genuinely curious. "That would most likely mean—"

"—that this is something related to Lloyd," Cole finished, unsurprised that the others had pieced it together too. "Master," he then asked hesitantly. "is Lloyd okay?"

"What the hell is happening?" Kai yelped.

Sensei closed his eyes, raising his head as though to stare at the ceiling in despair. "Dear First Spinjitzu Master."

"I think we broke him," Jay whispered mournfully. For the first time in his life, Cole was forced to agree.

"I believe this will be easier to explain once you have seen it for yourselves," Wu finally admitted, his voice painfully strained. Cole held back a grimace. "In the meantime, gather as many items that can be used to care for an infant as possible—I'm sure Garmadon will greatly appreciate it," he told them, giving them all a weak smile. "Now excuse me, I must go find Dareth."

Jay looked at them all in bewilderment after the old man had turned around and left. "But we don't even have baby stuff—"

"Exactly, so screw it," Kai hissed, something in his eyes now ablaze. "I'm going to head there now and storm the place until I find out what's going on. Who's with me?"

"Me," chorused four other voices without hesitation. After that, Nya suddenly furrowed her brow in concentration.

"I just really don't understand the baby part," she muttered, her forehead creasing as she continued to ponder on that thought. "You know, at first I was convinced that Sensei G and Misako had welcomed a baby — but then, that thing about Lloyd came along."

"Or maybe Lloyd's the baby?" Jay offered.

Cole's mind went blank.

"What?"

"You're kidding me," Kai said, his tone edged in disbelief. "No. There's no way."

"But what if there is?" Jay begged. "I mean, didn't Sensei mention something about Lloyd and the FSM?"

"He is correct," Zane confirmed with a nod. "There was a moment where Sensei expressed regret at their similarities — thus hinting that the current matter at hand is something the First Spinjitzu Master experienced himself."

"And what does Lloyd have that the FSM did, again? Power," Jay said, flailing his arms for emphasis. "We're not talking about just any power here — the golden shit."

"So you're saying Lloyd turned himself into a baby," Nya actually sounded more amused than scandalized at the suggestion. "Actually now that I think about it, that makes sense."

Cole stared at her like she'd just conjured a dragon. "Sense?"

"Yup," she hummed, and then gestured to Kai as though she was showing all of them an artistic masterpiece. "Just look at who's his mentor."

Kai let out a pained groan as all eyes fell on him. "Why is it always me—"

"I had hoped you would have an explanation for that," Zane said dryly. Kai buried his face into his hands.

"My baby brother, here I come," he mumbled, shaking his head.

Wu to Lloyd later : There is something I haven't told you—

Thanks for the ask!

[bookishbrigitta]

Okay, so I'm making my Wookiee house and using photos from the SW Holiday Special for reference, and honestly? The special does not get enough hate for its shitty home design. Observe:

The Kitchen

I would bet you passage to Alderaan for an old man, a dumb kid, and 2 droids that a man who can't cook designed this kitchen.

Let's set aside the wood paneling as a design choice. It was the 1970s, and they're living in a tree...it's not worth fighting. Moving right along, the everything here is an absolute shit show.

It's a freaking carpeted kitchen. Look at the pink circle in the lower right. It appears the producers covered the green shag carpet in the rest of the house with one of those plastic mats for the kitchen. Better than straight-up carpet, but COME ON! Presumably, that is also why the weird oven has to be jacked up on a weird pedestal, to prevent it from sinking into the shag and/or melting the plastic.

They have no upper cabinets. Or even shelves! Or a hutch! Even I, a certified short person, knows that is a dumb idea. Wookiees are super tall; surely, it's more ergonomic for them to reach up or out to grab a glass than it is to get on their knees and rifle through the lower cabinets?

On that note, the cabinets look to be off-the-rack from a home improvement store and then they slapped space-age-y drawer fronts on (more on that later). Why do I think that? They seem to be standard height...for humans. Wookiees are tall! Look at the red circle. Malla's arm is almost completely extended down and barely reaches the worktop, even with her shoulders already rounded in. That means basically any time she's handling food or knives, she has to bend down. Terrible.

The weird rectangle on the far wall (circled in blue). What is it? Why is it there? Wouldn't, say, shelves be a better use of space? We see another angle in the red circle below. They've got either drying dishes or dish/utensil storage on the countertop. Nothing wrong with that if you need it, but they have room directly above to hang those things up. Clear the work surface, for God's sake!

Where does that massive garbage can live? And why doesn't it have a lid? I know they made them with lids because my grandparents have that same garbage can in their garage.

6. Back to the cabinets (yellow circle). I get it, circles look outer-space-y, but they have no place in cabinets. WTF can you even store in there??

7. Once again, we have more wasted work space with the TV (green circle) sitting on the counter. Sigh.

8. People are going to see this photo and say that the bucket (pot?) and counter looks to be at an okay ergonomic height. Yes, this counter height works for this specific instance, but not for most others. In this case, she could have had taller counters and just used the shorted dining table for the bucket thing. It's what I do when I knead bread. It's not rocket science.

9. Cardinal rule of kitchens with windows is to put the sink by the window. Not only is the sink not there, but it looks like maybe they just don't have a sink. I give this a grade of E for E.Coli.

10. There are no hooks or rails anywhere, so there is no place to hang up a rag or an apron. Malla has a tea towel chilling on the counter in this very photo -- where does it end up afterwards? How do they dry them out so they don't get manky?

The Living Room

Despite the low-res photos, I'm reasonably certain their living room furniture is literally just a dining set, two bookshelves (which I honestly love the look of, TBF), a weird desk, a ginormous coffee table, and two mismatched chairs facing dead-ahead and not towards each other. It's giving "Single Man Plays PS4 From A Folding Chair" vibes.

It looks like there's no comfortable place to have a conversation in that living room. Why is all the furniture just sort of floating in the middle of the room? Someone get Cliff the Feng Shui Guy on this, stat!

[askekksu]

What Are the Odds?

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

Mega Man X, pre-rebellion

Characters: Dr. Cain and X

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

His heavy footfalls came stomping into the room at a rapid pace. The old scientist heard him coming, gently removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Dr. Cain! Dr. Cain! I won!"

His voice was brimming with enthusiasm. Cain swiveled in his chair to watch the world's newest Wonder come rushing into the room. In his hands, he held a small piece of paper. Some kind of ticket.

"Welcome home, X," the human chuckled, rearranging himself in his chair. "What's got you all excited this time?"

He said the last part with soft fondness. Ever since his activation, X had been curious about just about everything, and eager to learn whatever he could. He was so much like a human in that regard that it took Cain by surprise whenever he was reminded that X was, in fact, a being of plastic, silicone and metal.

"Dr. Cain, I won! I can't believe it!" X said again brightly. He waved the small ticket around in the air.

Dr. Cain grinned. X's enthusiasm was infectious. "Yes, you already said that. But -what- did you win?"

X beamed. "The lottery!"

The human scrunched up his nose. "Gambling…? At such a tender age," he scoffed with a teasing glint in his eye, "don't make a habit of that or you'll exhaust your allowance."

X's face blanked momentarily. "But I won… doesn't that mean I get something back?"

Cain smiled. "Well, perhaps. Let me check. Sometimes those things are confusing."

X handed over the ticket and waited. He bounced on his toes as Dr. Cain read his winning ticket.

"Hm," Cain said after a short pause. "You did win! Very nice."

He handed X back his ticket.

"How much? It's worth money, isn't it?" X asked curiously.

"300 zenny," Cain said matter-of-factly.

X paused his bouncing. "…three hundred? Is that all?"

Cain nodded. "Mhm. Not much, but you probably got your money back from the purchase. Right?"

X frowned. "What do you mean?"

Cain folded his hands in his lap. "Well, to figure out your earnings, you must compare the winnings to the purchase price. If your winnings are higher than the purchase price, you subtract the smaller number from the larger number. That is your profit."

"Profit…" X mouthed absently. "That means I didn't make any profit at all…"

"How much did you pay for the ticket?"

"300 zenny."

"Mmm, then you broke even."

X's frown deepened. "But I won…the sign said the lottery was worth 3 billion…"

Cain chuckled. "Lotteries do have one grand prize winner, but they often have smaller prizes to lure in buyers -- prizes that are much, much lower than the grand prize."

X's shoulders slumped. "But why do that? What's the point? People buy tickets to win the grand prize, not 300 zenny here or there…"

Cain nodded. "It's complete malarkey, I know. But if they didn't offer some kind of smaller prizes, people would see the odds were stacked impossibly against them, and they wouldn't buy in. Also, offering multiple prizes keeps the company clear in a legal sense. Somewhat. That gets a bit murky."

X's eyes remained glued to the floor. They had gained a glossy look, almost as if they had misted over… Dr. Cain's eyes widened. Was X…crying? Was he even capable?!

"X? What's the matter?" he asked.

X swallowed thickly and turned his face away. His voice wavered ever so slightly. "300 zenny…is not nearly enough…"

Dr. Cain looked confused. "Did you need something? If there's something you want, I can give you more money, dear boy. It's not a problem."

X's expression turned defiant, but he still refused to meet Dr. Cain's eyes. "It's not that… I wanted to… "

The old man waited silently. The display of emotions he was used to seeing in X typically remained in the range of happy and curious. He had seldom seen X feeling upset.

When X spoke again, his voice was soft. Small. Vulnerable.

"Your research…I wanted to help fund your research." He sighed. "But you need a lot more than 300 zenny…"

Cain's eyes opened wide. "Hm? That's why you bought the lottery ticket?"

And then he burst out laughing. Not out of mockery -- he hoped X didn't take it that way -- but out of endearment. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, my boy," Cain said, slowly rising. He placed his aged hands on X's arms, a warm smile on his face. "My boy, my boy. You are something precious, you know that?"

X's frown softened. He looked up at the old man's eyes, searching for the meaning of his reaction.

"You don't have to worry about that. I've been working on a grant proposal all day; it's almost finished. You came in just as I was about to take a break."

X tilted his head. "Grant proposal? What's that?"

Cain gently released him. "There are a myriad of government agencies that provide money to fools like me. They have an interest in the advancement of science, so they work the complex systems put in place for just that purpose to make sure we have the funding we need to carry on our endeavors."

X looked confused. "But how do you get the money…?"

Cain smiled. "Well, that's why I'm writing the grant proposal! We don't have to combat the randomness of a lottery system. All we have to do is ask."

X's expression still showed uncertainty. It was obvious that he was not yet put at ease. "But if other people are also asking for money, how do you know they'll give it to you?"

Dr. Cain laughed. It was a soft laugh, quiet, just under his breath; it was a laugh that made the crinkles at the corners of his eyes press together as his irises disappeared behind his heavy eyelides.

When he opened his eyes again, that bright color that belied his age was there again. He lifted a fragile hand to gently rub X's helmet. The blue android flinched, closing one eye. He welcomed the touch, though, after a short while. It was…soothing.

"Oh, just a feeling," Cain answered. "Now. I was just about to make some tomato soup and grilled cheese. Do you want one?"

X's eyes lit up. "Yes!"

Dr. Cain chuckled. "I'll start the food. You turn on the TV. It's almost time for the news, and I hear they're interviewing the Maverick Hunters today."

X's cheeks flushed red. He was suddenly very quiet.

Dr. Cain passed him a knowing grin.

"You might want to watch this one."

[reds-corner]

Happy super late birthday M!

Hello everyone! Have I told you how much I love your comments, likes, and reblogs? Seriously, you guys are awesome, you always make my day. Sooo as a thank you for that, I'm preparing a little something for you.

I'll let you know when it's ready but for now… we have another birthday story. It's M's turn.

You may choose to read Max or Megan's version. Enjoy!

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

"Ink" Max's version

A man rolling his eyes is the first thing Max sees when he enters the tattoo studio. It isn't the reaction he would have wanted but… Oh, well, beggars can't be choosers.

"If I have to get your asses out of trouble again I swear to God I'll-,."

"That's not why I'm here," the young man quickly interjects, and it seems to put at ease the man, at least a little bit.

"Well, I'll be damned. What brings you here now, boy?"

The owner is an old friend from his family. His name is Edward. And he is a tall, gruff man with broad shoulders and astute eyes that catch on details more quickly than the average person.

"Ya looking for Noah, Maxi?

Normally that would be the reason to visit the studio, Noah was one of Max's oldest friends. They'd known each other since kindergarten.

"Came to see you, actually."

"I'm flattered", or so he says.

Funny, how he sounds anything but. "What can I do for ya?"

That's a really good question. Max's been debating whether doing anything at this point would make any difference. Is asking for help even an option?

Either way, he came to get something, so that's what he's going to do.

"I want a tattoo", he answers.

Of course, this isn't the first time he asks for that.

And the exasperated expression that his response elicits from the man is to be expected too.

"Not this again. Look, kid, you're sevente-"

But this time is different.

"I turned eighteen last week", he interrupts Edward as he takes a little plastic rectangle from his leather wallet.

And hands it to the big man while declaring: "Here's my ID."

After inspecting the ID card and making sure this wasn't a fake one. Edward finally concedes defeat and gestures toward a comfortable black chair.

"So what's gonna be, a big bad wolf?"

He knows Ed is just teasing him, but he doesn't even crack a smile. He came here unsure about a lot of things. But to this, he knows the answer.

"September fifth."

Those words make the tattoo artist's eyes go wide. Of all the things he could have said, this is the last one he expected. Memories flood back to him as a turbulent wave.

That blasted day. A year ago. That was the day he knew. He lost his best friend. The man he used to play cards with, one who taught him how to talk to girls. His best man and moral support when they were deployed into that horrible place. They both made it back, luckily.

And after that, Edward was smart enough to get out. But his friend wasn't, he had some kind of hero complex. Fool.

Died in action they said. Saved some woman and her child. That's the kind of man he was. A stupid selfless bastard.

Yes, he lost his dear friend that day. But, this young man… he lost a father.

Jonathan Brown.

"Are you sure, boy?", he needs the confirmation. A tattoo is no joke, least of all, one that will remind him of his old man's death.

"On my wrist."

There's a trace of sadness in the eyes of the person in front of him, but he hears no hesitation in his voice.

"…Alright, kiddo."

When there's no response from the black-haired boy Edward lets one snarky comment slips, "Just try not to cry too much."

And a smile appears on Max's lips, relieving some of the seriousness of the moment.

Finally, Edward gets to work...

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

"Ink" Megan's version

When Megan enters the tattoo studio she sees a man she's accustomed to visiting on a regular basis. He's nice to her, most of the time. Sometimes he can be a little cranky, but she knows he means well.

"Oh, Meggy! how are you?"

"I'm fine, how is business going?", the young girl responds.

They always had a close relationship.

"Good enough. What brings you here now, girl?"

The owner is an old friend from his family. His name is Edward. And he is a tall, gruff man with broad shoulders and astute eyes that catch on details more quickly than the average person.

"Ya looking for Noah, Meggy?

Normally that would be the reason to visit the studio, Noah was one of Megan's oldest friends. They'd known each other since kindergarten.

"Came to see you, actually."

"I'm flattered", he says with a smile, "What can I do for ya?"

That's a really good question. Megan's been debating whether doing anything at this point would make any difference. Is asking for help even an option?

But she's already here. She's decided to do something today, so that's what she's going to do.

"I want a tattoo", she answers.

Of course, this isn't the first time she asks for that.

And the exasperated expression that her response elicits from the man is to be expected too.

"Not this again. Look, kid, you're sevente-"

But this time is different.

"I turned eighteen last week", she interrupts Edward as she takes a little plastic rectangle from her jeans' back pocket.

And hands it to the big man while declaring: "Here's my ID."

After inspecting the ID card and making sure this wasn't a fake one. Edward finally concedes defeat and gestures toward a comfortable black chair.

"So what's gonna be, a Unicorn?"

She knows Ed is just teasing her, but this time she doesn't even crack a smile. She came here unsure about a lot of things. But to this, Megan has the right answer.

"September fifth."

Those words make the tattoo artist's eyes go wide. Of all the things she could have said, this is the last one he expected.

Memories flood back to him as a turbulent wave.

That blasted day. A year ago. That was the day he knew. He lost his best friend. The man he used to play cards with, one who taught him how to talk to girls. His best man and moral support when they were deployed into that horrible place. They both made it back, luckily.

And after that, Edward was smart enough to get out. But his friend wasn't, he had some kind of hero complex. Fool.

Died in action they said. Saved some woman and her child. That's the kind of man he was. A stupid selfless bastard.

Yes, he lost his dear friend that day. But, this young woman… she lost a father.

Jonathan Brown.

"Are you sure, Meggy?", he needs the confirmation. A tattoo is no joke, least of all, one that will remind her of her dad's death.

"Yeah. On my wrist."

There's a trace of sadness in the eyes of the person in front of him, but he hears no hesitation in her voice.

"…Alright, kiddo."

When there's no response from the black-haired girl Edward lets one snarky comment slips, "Just try not to cry too much."

And a smile appears on Meg's lips, relieving some of the seriousness of the moment.

Finally, Edward gets to work...

[ashstatic]

You are very confused, why is this happening. "Hey, close the door! I am not sure what's going on but don't let the cat out."

You are pushed past the swat team as you're shoved into an unmarked windowless van. You land on your side. With your arms handcuffed behind you unable to brace for the fall. One of their radio crackles and you think you hear "not-activated." "Good" they reply into the walkie with pure rage staring you down. Do they know what that word means?

Two people in neon yellow hazmat suits join you in the back. The tiny window to the front shuts. "Hey should I be wearing those?" You ask as you point to them with your elbow.

They both laugh. "We're wearing them because of you."

The van starts moving. What is it you're supposed to say? "I require an attorney. Or I mean, I refuse to speak without an attorney present."

The biohazard suits look at each other and laugh again. Your confusion is comedy hour for these two apparently. "You gotta be a person for rights." What does that mean?

The suit on the left pulls out a binder and pen, flipping through some pages. "How long have you lived at 768 Sycamore drive."

"Well I mean, I grew up here but moved in last year after my mom passed. Was planning on selling it, but, I can't. Do you want total time or most recent?"

"Both." Says the person on the right. You can feel them staring at you with intensity even though you can't see through the mask.

"Till I was 17 and then this past year. So 18 total. What does that have to do with why I'm in a van?" The van goes over some bumps and you try to brace yourself as best you can.

Biohazard binder person checks off a few boxes. The other one leans over and points. "Really that one too?" They say. And the other nods.

"What do you like to do for fun?"

Now it's your turn to laugh. More out of stress and panic. "Are you trying to see who I'm compatible with for a date? I'm not sure either of you are my type frankly." You lean back and look to the side at if there was a window and not a metal door to look at. Why did you say that? You're not that cool or fearless. They both stiffen up and more boxes are checked.

One of them bangs on the partition and the driver opens the frame. "What do you want?"

"Go to the bunker. Sample #73 isn't activated now but..." They pause and look your way. "But, by our accounts and what we found at the house, they were recently."

"Shit." The driver says. The panel slams and you feel the trucks speed increase.

"How could I possibly have told you anything about myself. This is ridiculous. I have rights you know." You're now mad. Their body language changes to guarded. You're still cuffed so why are they scared.

Nothing else is spoken. It feels like a good hour has gone by before the van starts slowing down. Another five minutes before you come to a halt.

The driver opens the window. "We're here." The sound of relief from the biohazard suits is audible.

The doors open and you are not outside. You're in a garage or warehouse. The stark overhead lighting hurts. Someone comes running up in a lab coat. You notice, they are wearing a full face mask that obscures all features. In fact , everyone is wearing these masks. "Dr.Ellis." one of the suits says as they hop out of the van.

"Oh get them out of those cuffs" she says. She is wearing thick rubber gloves but helps you out of the van. She takes off your handcuffs. You rub your wrists and stretch your shoulder. You didn't realize how uncomfortable and stiff you got.

"This way." She says and starts walking down the hallway. Why not, you think. At least you're not cuffed. "Let's go to the break room down the hall, I know the vending machine was your favorite."

"I am grateful for you getting me out of those cuffs. Dr. Ellis was it. But I've never been here before. You have me mistaken. "

"Is that so." She says as you both walk into a stuffy room. Tile floor. Plastic table and chairs. The pot of old coffee scents the room. She gestures to a seat and you sit down. She takes a paper cup and fills it from the water cooler as large bubbles go gougg glugg glugg. She pushes the cup towards you as she sits down. "You must be thirsty."

In fact, you are very thirsty. The drive wasn't that long but you feel parched. You chug the cup in one breath and crush the paper cup. Why did you crush the paper cup?

"That's better." She says and takes off her mask and gloves. "I hate wearing these but I can't have you stealing my life. We've missed you 73."

"My name's....My name's not 73, it's..." Why don't you know your own name. "How come you aren't having any water."

"73, that's not water. You know that."

You look at the cup again, but it's not the cup that is interesting. Interesting isn't the right word. You are horrified and panicked. You no longer have fingers, hands or even an arm, but the end of bright red translucent tubes connected to your body. You know it's more than your arms but are afraid to pull up your shirt or demand a mirror to verify.

"We have missed you for ages you know." She says while leaning back in the chair looking you up and down.

"We've never met." You might not know what's going on, but you know...what do you know? Things are slipping from your memory.

Her voice is sympathetic. "It'll come to you. Don't fight it. You have been shifting for years. Lucky for us you shifted into this poor fool named Brian."

She picks up a box with the DNA test you just mailed. As in mailed in an hour ago. "Stealing things from post office boxes is illegal you know." Sure it was a petty thing to say but you were kidnapped by the government and are now red goo. Snark is all you got.

"Brian was people pleasing, small, and meek according to his coworkers and neighbors. 73, don't pretend that's not you." She smiles wide. "I don't even remember the name of the intern, tech, some doey eyed college student that suggested we make these kits. Make a fake company. They were right, some victims would fall for it. It seems your Brian was one of those fools. But that's not what got you. You got sloppy."

She stands up and throws out the box. "You didn't look for stuff to destroy before you shifted to stop you from doing anything stupid? Before you lost yourself in the initial merge? Before you could be 73 and Brian? I bet his body isn't even cold."

Feelings flood through you before memories can make sense of them. Feelings of pride, cheering your daughter on at soccer practice. Nervousness before presenting at your highschool reunion. Frustration from having to run again, you liked being whoever you were before Brian. You are mad. You were careful. You were free. You haven't seen this place since you were a child and you hoped to never see it again.

"We'll take better care not to let you skip away if we let you out for field deployment again." She says it as a fact, a promise, a threat.

You want to make threats. Threats about how you'll escape and move somewhere they will never think to look. Threats about how you will destroy everyone they love once they think they're safe. But you don't make threats. The sooner they think they broke you, the sooner they'll trust you to do their dirty work again. Dirty work which requires you to operate alone. And that's when you'll finally be free.

You tried an online ancestral DNA test just for fun. To your surprise, just after an hour, the FBI broke into your house and arrested you.

[nathank77]

6/9/24

4:25 a.m

I forgot to mention beyond everything i detailed below that I have to do. I have two more things to do.

1) bring the computer chair to the vortex when my body feels normal again... and hopefully it doesn't get ruined..

2) and go through the mouse draw... you can see where it made it's nest. I have a bunch of deodorant unopened and unopened body sprays... tbh I'd just tell my sister to throw it out... BUT the draw also has two wallets in it that I can't just toss out idk whats in them. It could be personal information... and I mean all my swim trunks were in there but in the back. The mouse nested up front and I got those out and washed them a while ago... I know i won't get sick, hantavirus can only stay on stuff for like 3 days or a week or something its been a year or more but I'm vilely disgusted.... I mean ideally I want to get my deodorants and body sprays and wallets and get everything out and clean it and use it.. and just throw away my long no name brand socks under it all.

It's hard for me. Idk how to handle it. If it weren't for those wallets I'd have skye take it to the dump already.... so I'm going to take that day by day. Maybe I can wear dirty clothes and a mask and gloves and clean stuff and throw away the junk. Take off My clothes wash them and take a shower. Idk why taking the swim trunks out wasn't a big deal. I mean it was but I try not to question my ocd when it isn't active. I believe bc they were name brand and expensive and in the back I took them out. Let them sit for months and then washed them.... I wish those wallets weren't there. Not only do I like one of them a lot but it could have old IDs and stuff and I'd hate to throw away like 25$ worth of deodorant and body spray..

I'll figure it out at another time but it's on my mind as well as organizing my room better and organizing the attic although it'll probably be a year before I go back up there I'm still disgusted and depressed by it and without plastic tubs. Where am I going to organize everything anyways?

[auggie-beaniessssss]

Cancelled Episode 15 "Rebirth"

"Yo mama so fat, dad jokes are about her, cos not even yo dad's mouth can escape her ass!"

-yo mama jokes series

"Well, I'm all for killing and getting revenge on this lizard king, so...what exactly are the exact plans for doing so?" I clarified queries on specifications of Lizard King Killing 101.

"Well, first step, decipher and read the inscription, now I haven't been able to understand it yet, but we do have a Dragon Lord Secret Discoverer here, if you would, madam," Erik remarks sarcastically as he once again takes out the inscription for all to see.

Hydrogenium had prepared a table and chairs for us to sit comfortably while we discussed the suicide mission.

I must admit, her apartment-cave looks to be furnished well, like someone could actually stay here for the rest of their lives.

We're all sitting on the nice wooden chairs that I'm confident are normal plastic chairs just painted to look like wooden chairs but whatever.

And while we're all either hands folded, or placed on the table, or cupped together and to cover our faces, the fox and Erik are busy playing together as Erik is cuddling and petting the fox. Did he just forget that that's a living ancestral person way older than him who can definitely perceive what is going on the same way a human does-

Anyway. It's not like the fox is protesting anyway, hell, it looks to be enjoying it, even. Well we're back to the suicide mission discussion.

Erik placed the inscription in front of the fox girl on the table for her to read while we all stood around her, eagerly awaiting news.

"Well, AHEM," she clears her throat loudly, clearly to assert dominance over us, and begins reading off the inscription.

"This glass tells the tale of old yonder, in a land where beasts and gods wander. There was peace in the land for years gone by, until the one came who was not of an ally. A seed of great power, fell from the stars above, it wielded immense strength, most could only dream of. It started a destructive war, of which thus stoleth the great lion's roar. Gods and beasts all across the land, fought for the jewel, or be turned to sand. In the end, as the dust and smoke all cleared, that which had appeared had now disappeared, for all of power had been vanquished, and only the Lord of all Dragons was there to mourn for the languished." She finished her long sentence.

"Wow, this is why I hate poems, what the hell does that even mean?" Nemean let out an exasperated sigh at A SACRED INSCRIPTION THAT DATES BACK THOUSANDS OF YEARS LIKE YOU CAN'T EXPECT THEM NOT TO WRITE IN SOME CRYPTIC MESSAGE POEM, NEMEAN!

"Basically, it just means that thousands of years ago, there was some ancient powerful seed, that caused all the gods and beasts to fight and kill each other over it, and in the end, only the Dragon Lord survived and emerged victorious..." I explain the inscription in order to save his absolute clueless mind.

"But if he really did kill every single one of those gods and beasts...doesn't that make him extremely powerful? Plus, with this..."seed", that supposed to be a supply of power...there's no way we can take him down, even if every single mortal creature rebelled against him right now," Disparage reasoned some unthought logic into our minds. Right...

"Well, there has to be seriously no way he's able to kill all of them himself, maybe he just waited until all of the others killed the others for them?" I tried to find loopholes in his reasoning.

"But then he would have to fight those really powerful gods capable of killing other gods, and if he can win, then..." Hydrogenium came in to the conversation with her own opinions.

"Or maybe he didn't even kill all of them and just sealed them away," Snowball butted in too.

"Also, this line. "Of which thus stoleth the great lion's roar"? What the hell does that mean?" fox girl asked.

"Hah, maybe the great lion is one of the gods that were sealed away because it was too powerful for the Dragon Lord to fight," I dismissively suggested.

"Well, that might actually be true...in the village, I've heard of an old legend, that there was an ancient lion god whose mere roar could kill gods, but then he got sealed away by the Dragon Lord," Hydrogenium brought in her own knowledge to the potluck.

Well, if that's true, then we'd have the power of a god on our side...if we can even find a way to unseal him...

"Alright...I remember he should be...somewhere in these woods, quite close to us, if I'm not mistaken," Hydrogenium finishes her sentence and takes out a map of the entire forest, even complete with the location of the cave we're in right now. Well that would certainly be inconvenient if an enemy were to catch this map and find out where our secret lab is.

She continues the legend as she studies the map. "This god wasn't like the others, he was too powerful to be killed normally, so the Dragon Lord sealed him away and took his roar. It was said he could manipulate the darkness and turn day into night with a snap of his fingers, he could summon monsters of the abyss and use your own shadow to attack you, and even wield deadly dark poisons!"

Well we definitely want him on our side now then.

"Oh yeah, the poison thing is the second-most famous thing about him, the first being the great lion roar, it's the exact reason why he's known as the...

Black Venom King."

[authorssd]

Some things I do to make my cold apartment more tolerable in winter:

-KEEP A BLANKET BY YOUR DESK OR ON YOUR COMPUTER/OFFICE CHAIR: If you're at your desk for long periods of time, keep a blanket close by. Grab it when you're cold. And if your desk arrangement allows it and you have a personal electric heater close by, the blanket will help cover you and keep you warm where the personal heater misses spots. JUST BE MINDFUL AND CAREFUL ABOUT MAKING SURE YOU DON'T START A FIRE. If you put your blanket on your chair, the bigger the better, even if it touches the floor. You can drape it over your chair, then drape the blanket over yourself like a poncho, cape, hoodie or nun's habit (really just depends on how cold you are).

- KEEP A STOCKPILE OF BLANKETS ON/BY YOUR BED: the warmer the better, but if your blankets are thin, just layer as many of them together as possible. Make sure you always have at least 2 stockpiles you can cycle through so of one pile's in the wash, you'll still be covered til it's clean.

> if it's super cold and you happen to have a sleeping bag, you can use that too in closed or spread out form (can even make a good liner to rest on)

> if you sew and have a lot of textiles. You can also make your own quilts out of old clothes, blankets and other fabrics, especially if you have quilting batting, or other insulating batting.

- PUT PLASTIC OR DUCT TAPE ON THE WINDOWS IF YOU CAN: go to your local hardware store, ask for the plastic you put on windows to keep the cold out, follow manufacturer's directions. Alternatively you can use duct tape, covering up gaps where cold can come in. NEVER COVER OR TAPE UP A FIRE ESCAPE WINDOW, YOU COULD BE FINED AND PUT YOURSELF IN DANGER DURING AN ACTUAL EMERGENCY.

> if your fire escape window is a big reason why you're cold, you're better off getting thick curtains and keeping those curtains drawn as much as possible. If putting furniture in front of that window helps make the cold more manageable, it needs to be something you can chuck out of the way in the event you need to use that window to evacuate the residence.

- TAKE YOUR WINDOW AC OUT OF THE WINDOW: for those of us not blessed with central air and heating who have to use window ACs every year, make sure they're out of the window during the colder weather. If you're physically unable to remove it, have someone do it for you. If that fails and you, nor anyone around you can remove it, your best bet is to cover the AC with plastic garbage bags inside the home, and outside (if you can, do not ever put yourself in danger trying to cover the portion of the AC outside your home with plastic). Better to keep it in the window if it can't be removed than risk the AC and YOU falling together - especially if you live several floors/stories up. Keeping the curtains drawn for the window where your AC is set up will also help keep your room warmer.

- IF YOUR PET TENDS TO SLEEP BY THE RADIATOR OR HEATER, KEEP THAT SPACE CLEAN AND MAKE SURE THEY DON'T GET TOO CLOSE: you don't want Fluffy accidentally burning themselves by way of putting their head on a radiator, or setting themselves or their fur on fire by getting to close to an electric heater. Keep the area clean, but try to give them and teach them how to use a designated space close enough to the heat, but far away enough to keep them safe.

> Try to teach them to associate that area ONLY with rest and relaxation if they don't do that already. It'll save you the trouble of fishing toys out from the bottom of the radiator, cleaning food spills and messes, as well as reducing the likelihood of them tipping over an electric heater and starting a fire because they were feeling hyper (especially if your heater doesn't have an auto shut-off)

- PETS ARE LITTLE FUZZY HEATERS: if they like to snuggle, take advantage of it. This goes especially well with the above mentioned "blanket on your computer chair" idea, especially if your pets don't mind being covered by blankets and won't fuss you you drape one around them.

> WEAR HOUSE SLIPPERS WITH SOCKS: if you normally don't wear shoes inside the house, you might want to consider a pair of slippers at the very least. It'll keep your feet/toes warm. You could splurge on a pair of house-only slippers that are furry on the inside, but in a pinch, any pair of slip-on flats will do. You can also try finding thick socks with grips to wear over thinner socks to act as slippers.

Those are the only tips I can think of now, but all those come from personal experience when it comes to surviving the cold.

COLD WEATHER TIPS FROM SOMEONE WHO LIVES WHERE IT’S COLD:

I always see posts about layering clothing, but there are so many more creative ways to help keep you warm if you don’t have a lot of warm clothes. But first, a note on layering clothing:

-Your underlayer is your WICKING layer. That means it is a layer specifically to absorb the moisture your body produces. DO NOT USE COTTON AS A BOTTOM LAYER. Use merino wool if possible, but other good substitutions are nylon, polyester and rayon. 

-Your middle layer is for insulation. You want AIR POCKETS in there, NOT tight fitting clothes. This is where you want to put your fluffy sweaters, your fleece, down, fur, flannel, or vests. If you do not have these, you can substitute with multiple layers of long sleeve shirts.

-Your outer layer is for keeping the cold away from your body. If you do not have a jacket, you can put on your thickest piece of clothing and then a raincoat over it. Windbreaker if you have one. 

ALSO

-Jeans are the absolute worst at holding heat. Use only as a last resort. 

-You can’t really ever have too many layers on your feet. Alternate tucking your layers of pants into your layers of socks to keep your ankles warm!

-Wear a hat OVER a hood if it will fit! This will keep your ears warmest.

TAKE OFF/OUT ANY AND ALL JEWELERY/PIERCINGS

-If you have a medical bracelet, DO NOT REMOVE IT. If you can, tuck a layer of clothes between it and your skin.

NON-CLOTHING TIPS:

-Raid your recycling. Gather all cardboard boxes and break them down so that they are flat. Put them on the floor to add more layers between you and the cooling house. Newspaper will also serve the same purpose.

-In an emergency, you can also layer newspaper between clothing layers. Don’t worry about looking stupid if you’re staying warm.

-If you have a tent, set that sucker up in whatever room you have decided to stay in. Stay in it and keep it zipped shut as much as you can, but do NOT cover the vent at the top. You can put the rain fly up, but make sure there is circulating air for you to breathe.

-You are probably not going to feel very hungry at times. DO NOT STOP EATING OR DRINKING. Digestion produces a lot of body heat and the food will give your body energy to keep itself going.

-The best foods are heavy and full of carbs and proteins. Eat nuts, eggs, pasta, meats, and beans. If you are on a diet, now you’re not. If you’re vegetarian… bulk up on those pastas and nuts.

-Try not to sweat. If you are finding yourself getting damp, take off the outer layer just until you start to cool slightly. Then redress! Your bottom layer should dry quickly, and being wet is dangerous.

-On that note, STAY ACTIVE. You are probably going to want to hunker down and snuggle up, but that will make your muscles cramp. Every 15-20 minutes do something that gets you up and about. Walk circles in the room, do a couple jumping jacks, stretch, whatever. Just enough to move some blood around your body. Don’t get sweaty or out of breath, it’s just a little movement.

-CHAPSTICK. ON YOUR LIPS. ON YOUR NOSE. ON YOUR EARS. ON YOUR KNUCKLES. Don’t let your extremities get dry or cracked.

SIGNS OF HYPOTHERMIA:

-Uncontrollable shivering -Slurred speech -Confusion or memory loss -Dizziness or lack of coordination -Inability to be woken from sleep

CHILDREN AND INFANTS!!!! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH.

-Children WILL get colder before you. Make sure they are properly bundled up.

-If you need to breastfeed, put a blanket over the both of you and wait a few minutes for the air to warm before removing or shifting your clothing.

-DO NOT COVER AN INFANTS FACE. ESPECIALLY WHEN SLEEPING. Keep them tucked inside your own clothes when possible. As close to your heart and stomach as possible. 

-Put chapstick on children’s cheeks and clean their face often if they are crying or wiping at their nose. This will prevent cracked skin and irritation.

-Make sure your children are staying as hydrated as you! They are going to fuss and not want to drink cold things, but they NEED liquids.

SIGNS OF HYPOTHERMIA IN INFANTS AND TODDLERS ARE DIFFERENT:

-Shortness of breath  -Cold, red skin -Lethargy or listlessness

Finally:

CHECK ON YOUR NEIGHBORS. CHECK ON CHILDREN. CHECK ON THE ELDERLY. STAY SNUGGLED. STAY SAFE.

[celestineamelia]

Tucked away on top of the serene hill above the busy town of Daraga lies an old, venerable Spanish colonial church. It has become a culture between me and my friends that every time we visit Daraga church, we must light a candle. At around 7 pm, we started walking the upward street of Sta. Maria that led up to the church but before we got there the raindrops started to make themselves felt. Thinking it won't get stronger, we were wrong. 

We held three candles each when the rain watered the pavements. To top it all, The two altar rails are situated outside with only one having small yero roofing. The rain got stronger, who could light a candle in this weather? Even if we brought our own match, the breeze would only snuffed out the candles and we didn't see any lit candles and if there were any, the candles would only stop burning.

We ran towards one of the nearest church's door canopy and there we met a man sitting on a plastic chair probably in his late 30s, on a night watch. I assumed he is a tanod as he was wearing one of those barangay tanod black sweatshirts and a black bull cap. His congenial personality made us lean our ears while we let the rain pass us by. He started telling stories which my friend has the energy to throw follow-up questions at. His good wishes were long-winded but even if we were talking side by side, I know it was sincere and it comes from somewhere...people actually call it being delusional but I like to call it 'hope' and hope is something you can't kill easily.

I listened to people who think pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps is enough to get them out of this sinkhole but it is also equally hard to find people like him who can still dream despite the harsh reality he is in. Saying if he gets lucky to pass this teacher's exam, he'll possibly get a much greener future for his family. And it sinks to me, WHY DO UNLUCKY PEOPLE BELIEVE IN LUCK MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE? Most people are defeated by our economic system that they think being lucky would get them by. It's hard to hear stories like these. It scratches my heart. Looking at Kuya, he seems to be a man of perseverance. He starts to hug himself from the creeping cold brought by the wind who keeps getting strong. I realized poor people are not poor because they have poor work ethics but because they do not have the advantages most people have. Getting good, quality education. Having secure resources growing up. It is systemic and for me, they are victims of a incompetent government and poor system. So it is hard for me to hear stories that don't need a bad ending to be called tragic.

The rain stops. "Good luck", we said as if that would remove the systemic barrier that burdens him everyday. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Schoolteacher! Steve Rogers

Or Police Officer! Bucky Barnes

As a former teacher, I gotta give my boy Steve some love

Parent-Teacher Meeting

No overt warnings but this is dark in tone. All feedback welcome.

You love your daughter. You repeat that mantra as you pull into the school lot. The third time that week. Yes, you love your daughter, you confirm as you pull in opposite the last car left in the after hour lull of the school day.

You shift into park and your engine sends a final puff into the brisk late autumn air. You take a breath and gather what's left of your patience after an eight hour day of fakely cordial emails. You grab your purse and your phone and get out, your wedged heels hitting the pavement a bit too hard.

The phone call came unexpectedly and yet you can't be surprised. You don't know what's gotten into Josie. Maybe it's teenage angst or maybe general pubescent stupidity. Whatever it is, you need it to stop. These after school talks are not helping either of you.

You cross the lot and enter through the double doors along the east as Mr. Rogers suggested. Those ones don't lock until after eight.

Your soles echo loudly in the eerily empty hallways and you make the steep climb of the staircase to the third floor. The hallways are like a maze and you hardly miss your own high school career. You pass the class photos of years past and the trophy case of intramural accomplishments. That's familiar, at least.

You retrace a wrong turn and find the hallway painted with the image of trees along a river and 'Geography' in large cursive. It leads to the history hall, a much less grandiose experience decorated with portraits of dead bureaucrats.

There's one door left open in the abandoned corridor, the buzz of sports commentary drifting into the hallway. The announcers call an out as you recognise the cadence of the baseball personality. Well, what else is there to do in this place?

You tap with your knuckles on the open door and peek inside. Mr. Rogers sits up in his old creaky chair as he twirls a pencil in his hand and smiles at your arrival. He stands and sets the pencil to roll across the desk.

"Hi again," he greets as he smooths the wrinkles in his button-up shirt.

"Um, hi," you look around the empty classroom as you step inside and he shuts off the ancient radio. Your daughter is notably absent. "Sorry it took me so long, with all these shipping shortages– you know what, you don't care. You have enough problems," you walk up the row of desks, "one being my daughter."

"I wouldn't say she's a problem," he says gently, "I've dealt with worse, trust me."

"Mm hmm," you have a few choice words for Josie already, "I thought she'd be here…"

"She just ran to the bathroom," he leans against his desk and crosses his arms, shoulders straining against his plaid shirt. If you'd had a teacher like him, you'd behave. With arms like those…

"So, she was late again, but it's not just that," he begins as you set down your purse, keeping your phone in your hand as you sit in a rigid plastic chair, "she forged…"

Your phone buzzes and you ignore it. You try to focus on his words and swallow a yawn. You should be home. You should be winding down from the hell you've been through.

"She forged what?" You backtrack as you reign in your wandering mind.

"She failed her last test so–"

Your phone vibrates again. Who the hell is messaging you. You're about to explode if it's work again. You're off the clock and done with that shit.

"Sorry, give me a minute," you apologize and turn your phone over and Josie's name hovers above several texts.

The door clicks and the world drops. You stand and knock your purse over as you turn to face Mr. Rogers.

"No problem," Mr. Rogers stands and paces between the desk as you unlock your phone. Why would Josie be texting if–

"Where's Josie?" You gulp, knowing the answer.

"I don't know, maybe she lied and took off, you know how she is–"

"Mr. Rog–"

"Steve works just fine," he comes back up the aisle, "look, we just need to talk."

"You lied, didn't you?"

"Not about everything," he intones as he nears.

You back up and fumble with the phone. His large hand wraps around yours before you can hit 9. A jolt of panic surges beneath your irritation.

"Look, I mean it. I'm concerned about your daughter and I want to talk about solutions."

"Give me a call then," you try to yank away, "don't make me drive all the way out here–"

"Listen," he grits and rips your phone from your grasp, hurling it to crack against the poster of the Union and Confederacy, "we both know she's going down the wrong path–"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You swat him away and he catches both your wrists.

"I don't know why you're overreacting," he huffs, "I'm tryna help you. A single mother. You don't have much of that, do you?"

"That's none of your business," you grunt and try to twist free. His grip is unbendable, unbreakable. You whine as you struggle against him, "let me go!"

"Come on, just calm down and listen to what I got to say. I'm trying to help. You and your daughter."

"You're scaring me," you snarl.

"Well, honey," his tone changes on the last syllable, "if you weren't so lonely, you'd have someone to keep you safe and you wouldn't be so scared."

You still and your lips part, in shock, in horror. This man who was only ever kind is someone else. How many times had you stepped into this room and sat with him? And your daughter did that daily?

"Get off," you hiss.

"I'm a traditional guy and I know history," he pulls you closer so your wedges scuff the floor, "she needs a father figure."

"You need to get off me–"

He chuckles but doesn't relent. He clings to you as he looks above you at the ticking clock and sighs. He clucks and shakes his head.

"You need me. She does too. I think you should consider it."

He releases you and you stumble back, rubbing your wrists as you keep your distance. He doesn't move, doesn't try anything else, only watches you as you bend to retrieve your overturned purse.

"I'd also hate to have to report your advances on me to the principal," he taunts, "it's really unnecessary for you to come after hours when your daughter didn't do a thing."

He slowly walks along the front row and bends to gather up the pieces of your phone, "I also believe it's an attempted assault to throw something at another person."

He comes back to you and holds out the cracked screen and disjointed shell.

"You think they'll believe you?" You sneer and take the remnants of your cell, quickly eluding his reach.

"They have every reason to believe me," he shrugs, "and almost none to entertain unprecedented allegations from a disgruntled mom with a bratty kid."

You curl your lip in disgust and shove the phone into your purse, spinning and quickly diverting down a line of desks towards the door. He makes no pursuit as you grab the knob.

"Think about it," he says, "I'd hate for Josie to have to repeat my class… it is required for graduation."

Your heart rattles as you haul open the door and stomp through, your ankle bending carelessly and sending you stumbling against the next wall. You shudder as you right yourself and hurry in the wrong direction.

Think about it... You don't expect you'll be able to think of anything else.

[tihgnari]

๑ [ 29 ] could've been a better man

tw: none / wc: 1.7k

xiao doesn't understand where izumi's anger is coming from. he daresay she's trying to act like a victim all over again but xiao doesn't like thinking bad of her so he pushes those thoughts away.

"the first time in weeks that we can spend time together again and this is what you ask me? you're going back to old habits, xiao! i'm not yn! you don't get to doubt me like how you did with her!"

xiao winces. whether it's because of izumi's volume as she spoke or because she just had to mention you, he doesn't know.

"how is me asking where you've been these past few weeks going back to old habits? you've been disappearing on me a lot! you haven't been texting me or checking up on me. you haven't been attending your classes either!"

xiao has a point. he knows he does. izumi won't get away with sweet talking her way out of this. he needs to know where she's been, is that too much to ask?

"fine! i've been… arranging some stuff. remember i mentioned to you about having a brother? well, he landed himself back in jail so i've been visiting him every day. poor guy's going crazy."

xiao was taken aback. 'landed himself back in jail'? izumi is a direct relative of a guy like that? he doesn't know how to react and what to say. now he's all guilty for yelling and pushing her to open up to him. maybe he did, in some part of his head, unconsciously started to doubt izumi.

"i'm… uh, sorry princess. i didn't know you were going through something like that, it must be hard."

izumi had tears in her eyes and xiao was quick to envelope her in a warm hug. "it's okay, my baby. i'm sorry i haven't been the most open about it."

xiao wanted so badly to ask who the brother was and how he landed himself in jail (again) but thought against it. izumi will eventually tell him when she's ready.

"anyway…" she taps him on the shoulder, signaling him to pull away. he obliges and she hops down from the table before gathering her things on the chair. "i have to go, got a lot of homework to do. will you be staying here, love?"

here… aka the editing room inside the film org's office where he'll be meeting yn in exactly 20 minutes.

"yeah, i need to start editing for the video tribute ayaka is making us do for foundation day."

izumi pouts, leaning over to kiss his forehead as she tangles her fingers in his locks. "is no one gonna come over to help you?"

xiao forces a chuckle. "no, not really. it's just me."

well, izumi doesn't need to know, right?

—

as soon as she's out the door of the film org's office, the smile she has on her lips drops to a thin line.

"'just you?'" she repeats what xiao said before letting out a disappointed sigh. "i can't believe you're lying to me now, xiao. this is what i mean when you're going back to old habits. letting that basic bitch's fake ass smile lure you back into her clutches. ha! i don't cling onto you for a few weeks and you crawl right back to her? you gotta be fucking kidding me."

she spins in her heels, shaking her head in disbelief as she calls someone.

"hey, it's me. i think we should speed up on cutting venti out of the group. it might give xiao a reminder why exactly he left yn in the first place. oh! and don't worry, i talked to him about my brother. i'm lucky he didn't bother asking haruki's name or why he's back in jail in the first place."

the person on the other end of the phone lets out an appreciative hum.

"that's good. the sooner we give xiao doubts about venti, the better. that way when venti finally tries to tell xiao about you and haruki, he won't believe a word venti will say."

izumi scoffs in annoyance. "what do you think i've been doing these past few days?"

—

"i see you actually bought take out," you comment as soon as you arrive, spotting the white plastic bags on the small table across the computer. another step inside the room and you were able to sniff out the salivating aroma of sticky honey roast. your favorite.

"i, uh…" xiao doesn't meet your eyes. "bought takeouts from mond because i was craving it."

you roll your eyes. last time you checked, he hated eating food from mond because it requires him to eat with a spoon and fork when all he wants is to use his chopsticks. you don't bother voicing this out to him as you silently make your way across the room, kicking one of the stools towards the foldable table for you to sit on. xiao's already taking out the cardboard boxes of food one by one, making the scent of the honey roast's sauce stronger.

"i'm amazed your darling izumi let you even be in the same room as me."

you don't miss the tensing of his shoulders. should you have said something different? well, what's done is done. you can't take it back. plus, your curiosity simply won you over. honestly speaking, you wouldn't have even agreed to edit with him tonight but you heard from the other officers that they're busy and won't be able to make it. curse your guilt and empty schedule.

xiao clears his throat as he hands you your eating utensils. should he tell you izumi doesn't know? nah, he doesn't think that's a good idea. "oh, well, she's understanding like that." xiao almost dropped to his knees laughing at the absurdity of what he said.

you almost lost your appetite. izumi and the word understanding doesn't even fit in a sentence. but fine, you'll shut your mouth lest you offend the bitch's boyfriend. worse, he'll shove your precious honey roast in the trash can.

"i'm glad you're dating kazuha. he's nice," xiao hopes he looks convincing enough. he made sure not to speak through gritted teeth. "and uhm… i'm sorry about—"

"my ex?" you cut him off. an expression on your face xiao can't quite understand. "yeah, that's what i've been hearing a lot these past few weeks. whoever posted that on the freedom wall is an asshole for invading my privacy."

"yeah, totally," he responds. "i guess what i'm trying to say is i'm glad you're okay and that haruki deserves to rot in that cell for the trauma he caused you."

you meet his eyes. does xiao even know his girlfriend practically helped haruki? no, probably not. and you don't bother telling him. god forbid anyone talks shit about izumi when you're around xiao.

curious of your unreadable stare, he raises a brow. "is there something wrong, yn? why're you looking at me like that?"

you snap out of it. "oh, it's nothing. i just got carried away with my thoughts."

"does kazuha know you're here with me?"

"yes, he does."

"oh, he must be fine with it then."

a memory of kazuha's text appears in your mind. well, technically, he wasn't fine with it. kazuha was all passive aggressive about it but you simply nodded and smiled.

"yeah, kazuha trusts me."

you try to ignore the faint hitch of breath xiao took the moment you uttered your words. of course that would leave an impact on him. trusting you was a challenge xiao never overcame. judging by his reaction, he's aware and you hope he learned his lesson.

well, judging by his oh so happy relationship now with izumi, maybe he did and you hope the bitter feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach will go away soon the more you spend time with kazuha. you hate that it still breaks your heart, thinking about all the promises he made yet never kept. why did he have to learn his lesson after breaking up with you? why is he now a better man for izumi, when he could've been a better man for you?

you're lucky you're done eating, otherwise you've completely lost the appetite.

"i've been thinking…" xiao starts, averting his eyes from you. "i wanted to apologize for everything i did these past few months. i was an asshole—i mean, i am an asshole."

"i'm glad you know." xiao winces even though he's been expecting your reaction.

"does izumi even know you're apologizing to me?" you cross your arm defensively. you just can't help but bring her up. how would you know this isn't another ploy set up for you to get hurt? after all, that's all what this couple loves to do.

"izumi has nothing to do with it. i mean, i shouldn't have to ask her to apologize to you. i'm still my own person."

you fight the urge to raise an eyebrow at the last bit he said but you say nothing about it. "so… this is why you bought takeout and why you were texting me that way? you planned to apologize."

"wait, what way?"

you sighed. "nevermind"

after a moment of silence, you eventually stood up and approached the computer to see his progress as xiao spoke up once again. "i'm serious, yn. i truly am sorry. i have no excuses to give you because my actions are inexcusable."

your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip. why is he like this? it's not fair. why does he always sound so convincing when he's asking for your forgiveness?

as if sensing your thoughts, he says, "you don't need to forgive me, i understand if you won't."

and just like that, the night continued with minimal talk coming from either of you. speaking only when necessary but you can't deny, working in silence with xiao was quite nice.

three days later, you sat on the sofa with hutao, who fell asleep on your lap while watching a k-drama. you reached for your phone on the coffee table, careful not to rouse your best friend. then, you sent a text to xiao containing your response to his apology.

GOOD 4 U » previous : masterlist : next

๑ summary — lesson learned! never challenge hu tao when you're drunk bc you'll just lose and now you have to post a thread of all your exes as songs from olivia rodrigo's hit debut album sour … or: "yn desperate much!" "yn still loves xiao? yikes! doesn't he already have someone new?" "stop ruining my relationship u bitch!"

๑ note — i actually had a chapter already written but i scrapped the whole thing as i wasn't satisfied with it (and thats also why this took longer lolz)

[nelapanela94]

tw: SMUT, modern!AU, Reader and Levi are both seniors in HS, Oral Sex, m!receiving, Virgin Levi, kind of subby Levi, friends to lovers.

wc: ~ 3.6k

"Don't forget to put my name on it, Levi." You rolled on your back, scrolling down on Instagram, waiting for certain someone to reply to your last message.

"I left you out." Levi bluntly said, pushing down the lid of his laptop, and turned around on his chair.

You sat up, glaring at him. "I did my part!" You narrowed the eyes, blowing out your cheeks.

"The introduction and the references." He rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well, then give them back!"

"You owe me a big one, Y/N."

You blew a kiss and threw a smile at him. "I knew you wouldn't let me die. I'll add your name to my diploma."

"Now get off my bed. You're messing it up."

"We can mess it up together." You winked, twirling a lock of hair on your finger.

A huff roamed out of his mouth as he turned around again, delving into the drawer of his desk.

Growling, you rolled onto your tummy and reached out for a pillow, crushing it under your chest. Levi's room didn't seem to belong to an eighteen-year-old. It was neat, not a single speck of dust left in sight. The grayish blue walls added a sober touch, all his books were perfectly organized by size and author, and Maria, Rose and Sina, the three succulents you had given him for his birthday, adorned the shelf where the books to be read were lined up. In all the years you had been visiting him, you had never found clothes scattered around, unlike yours, where it was difficult to discern the wooden floor under half-dirty hoodies and pants. That's why you always met in his room; Levi couldn't bear to set foot in yours.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and a smile tugged on your lips when you read the name in the notifications. But your excitement soon faltered, and you tossed your phone across the bed.

"Zeke is an asshole, a mother fucking asshole." You groaned, sinking your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply that familiar sandalwood scent.

"We finally agree on something," he nonchalantly said, grabbing a book from the drawer and opened it to the page where he had left the mark, before swiveling around to face you again.

You flipped on your back again, your hair sprawled, and your limbs splayed out—arms above your head and feet spread white. "I can't believe he prefers playing baseball with his friends rather that going out with me," you huffed.

"I thought you'd ditched him." Levi pursed his lips. His eyes lingered along your legs and a ticklish sensation seized his cheeks. He cleared his throat and quickly buried himself in the book, but he could not stop stealing glances out of the corner of his eye.

He was sick of your drama. You called him weeping and babbling late at night to vent out all the shit anguish he made you go through, yet you jumped back into his arms when he sent you a cute 'I'm sorry' sticker.

Each time, he swore it'd be the last time he'd answer those calls, though he couldn't help himself, and ended up sweeping the green button on the screen.

A knot tightened in his belly whenever the image of beardy laying his filthy hands on you meandered in his head.

You and Levi had met in kindergarten when you invited him to join your tea party with imaginary drinks and plastic biscuits. You smiled at him and he dragged a chair out, sitting next to your teddy bear, Mr. Butter. "Wear this." Your eyes sparked as you handed him the bowtie. His eyes darted around the table. He reached out for a cup and examined it carefully, then frowned at you. "You have to clean your toys better," he said, wiping it with a handkerchief he drew out from his pocket.

Why kind of five-year-old does that? Levi was an outcast. Other kids feared him and he didn't even try to get along with them. He spent his breaks and lunchtime on his own, reading one of those books with huge letters and colorful drawings.

Suddenly, everything changed when the girl with uneven pigtails asked him to play at the tea table, and ended up spending the break with her and her plush friends.

About a month later, a bully stuck chewing gum in your hair and Levi stood by you, breaking the boy's nose. He didn't mind getting suspended. Levi was your hero, and ever since then, you'd become best friends.

"When is your uncle coming over?"

Levi eyed you and shrugged.

"He's a really cool guy. I enjoy listening to the stories of when you were a kid."

His brows twitched in slight annoyance.

"He showed me a picture of you wearing a bunny costume. Next time, I'll ask if I can keep it."

Levi would make sure to find it and burn it before you laid a hand on it.

You got off the bed and grabbed a cookie from a tray on Levi's nightstand. "Your mom makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the world." You sniffed it and munched on it, wiping your hands with the hem of your skirt before getting back into the bed. Leaving crumbs in his sheets would be a death sentence.

"Why are you so quiet today, Levi?"

"I'm just trying to read."

"You're no fun. With that attitude and that cranky face, I'm sure you'll die a virgin." You taunted.

He glared at you; his jaw clenched tight.

"No way! Don't tell me you're still a virgin." You sat up, looking at him with wide eyes, gaping, then you flumped back onto the sheets.

Levi was ill-mannered and unapproachable, yet he was popular among girls in school. He even dated Petra Ral for a while. Miss. Perfect Grades was no saint of your devotion, and you were relief when they broke up. Levi was reserved on certain topics, thus you never asked; you just assumed.

The skein of jealousy vines untangled.

"Aren't you?"

You bit the inside of your cheek and shook your head, averting the eyes. Levi felt a pang in his chest, as if someone was twisting and squeezing his heart. He hadn't made up his mind yet, but given that obnoxious reaction, he knew that his feelings for you transcended those of friendship.

"Was it…" He gulped.

"No!" The truth wasn't any better, though. "It was some random guy I met at a party." You fiddled with your bracelet. "To be honest, I regret it. He came in seconds and fell asleep. I felt nothing but pain." You made a paused and opened your mouth to continue, but clamped it shut, leaving out the part when you got home and cried all night. Even though you took two showers, the stench of alcohol from his breath didn't wash off. It was a scene you didn't want to reenact in your head.

Levi glanced to the window, nibbling on his lower lip. He didn't want to see you, nor hear anymore.

"I've never slept with him."

An air of relief swaddled him.

"Aren't you curious?" You turned your head to the side towards where he was sitting.

"Curious of what?" He didn't look back at you.

"Sex."

Only with you. "No."

"Don't you want to try?"

Levi slouched in his chair, the book resting open on his lap, and threw an arm over his face, trying to think of something else but you naked on his bed. He felt his cheeks burning, and blood rushing down, his growing erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.

"I'd like to do it with you." You pursed your lips, tapping your fingers on your sternum, staring at the ceiling as you waited for an answer, too embarrassed to look at him.

"Fuck, Y/N." Levi let out an exasperated sigh. "You'd the only girl I'd do it with," he mumbled.

You sat up, glancing with eyes round like plates. Your jaw dropped and your cheeks tingled. Was it some kind of confession? You had a hard crush on him all middle school, but he was too dense. He didn't catch the hints, or pretended not to, and you eventually grew tired of trying and gave up, settling on just being friends. Cupid failed you, thus you wanted to thwart any possibility. That's why you ended up in someone else's bed, thinking of Levi, wishing it was him; at least he would've tried to make you feel good.

"Look at me and say that again," you demanded.

He didn't say a word, and ran his fingers through his silky hair. His lips were quivering, his cheeks flustered.

You leaped out of bed and rushed in front of him, clasping the armrest of his chair so tight your knuckles blanched. Levi startled; a bead of cold sweat trickled down his back. He was stronger, yet he did nothing to push you off.

"Say it!" Your brows knitted, and your jaw tightened, but he clamped his mouth shut. Your eyes darted from his eyes to his lips, to his eyes again.

Levi didn't see it coming. You leaned forward, planted a peck on his lips, and withdrew right away. Levi blinked twice, completely abashed. His cheeks blushed, his heart beating fast.

"You really are an idiot." You pulled him towards you by the collar of his shirt, smacking your lips on his. Levi's eyes went wide, then closed as he gave in to the kiss, and didn't notice the book slipping off his lap, plummeting to the floor.

His fumbling arms draped around your waist. Levi tasted like mint, and you never expected his lips to be so tender. He gasped at your bite, and you shoved your tongue in his mouth, swirling and fighting with his in an insatiable battle.

You pulled back deliberately, and Levi blindly leaned forward, asking for more. He glanced at you through the haze, like a fool addicted to you.

He looked beautiful, all flustered, his flushed cheeks and rosy, dewy lips stood out against his pallor.

With just a kiss, Levi surrendered to your game and allowed the assail. You took his shirt off and your lascivious eyes wandered over his chest and abs, nibbling on your lips as you relished in the bewitching sight. "Holy fuck!"

"You're objectifying me," he huffed, but his grimaced was soon replaced by a smirk. Your mouth crashed on his again and his body's will lost to you.

His mind clouded as your wet kisses scorched his skin, leaving a trail of your sweet saliva on his jawline, neck, and collarbones. He gripped the armchair, air brushing past his parted lips as you continued your way down his chest and abdomen, his taut muscles squirming under your caresses.

You kneeled down between his legs, pulling away, and unzipped his pants, sneaking a hand under his boxers.

"Fuck!" Levi yelped when he felt your fingers wrapped around his hardened length.

"Let me suck your dick." You lifted your chin, staring at his half-lidded eyes. Who said you weren't romantic?

Levi nodded, rising his hips, and you pulled down his pants along with his underwear, slipping them off his legs.

A thin line of dark hair, marched down, down, down from under his belly button to where his pretty dick stood thick and proud. Your pussy was dripping, aching to have him inside, stuffing you to the brim.

You raked your fingers down his hard thighs, keeping his legs spread, and without breaking eye contact, you leaned closer, pressing your lips to the base of his length. Levi flinched.

Shit.

Levi thought he'd come by just looking at you. You grinned and pampered his inner thighs, tracing a ticklish path of kisses and soft nibbles over his soft skin.

You dragged your mouth back to his cock, flicking out your tongue, and a gasp dragged out all the air from his lungs, as you swept it along the throbbing vein underneath his shaft, from the base all the way to the top and planted a suckling kiss on the head. Levi's legs tensed, his toes curled, and the skin stretched across his lower abs as you swirled your tongue on the glistening tip.

"Shit!" He grunted.

You curled your fingers, gripping his length, stroking up and down, and took him into your mouth. Levi hissed and sank into his chair. Color drained from his knuckles. His head tilted backwards, and his eyes squeezed shut.

You sucked furiously, hollowing your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down, slurping his length as far as you could. Levi was mesmerized by how skillful you were in this art. His dick slipped deep in your mouth, and you remained still, gagging as the tip tickled your throat. Grunts and moans past Levi's parted lips, filling the room with his sweet sounds.

His cock slid off your lips with a popping sound. "You feel good?"

"Mm-hmm."

You pumped his shaft in your hand few times before wrapping your lips around the tip, taking all of him again and swirling your tongue all over. You hummed, sending ripples of pleasure through his belly, down to his legs. Levi was about to explode.

"Holy... Fuck!" He dug his fingers in your hair, slamming your head down, until your chin met his balls, and eased your head back to the tip, repeating it all over and over again, until his cock twitched in your mouth. His muscles clenched, and his teeth gritted and with a lewd, loud grunt, he spilled all his load deep into your throat.

You stood up, and kissed him, then pulled away, dragging your lips to his ear. "Get on the bed," you whispered, and walked towards the hanger, rummaging through your bag and fetched a foil sachet. Crawling into the bed, you sat next to him and tore the condom wrapper with your teeth.

His sweaty chest was heaving up and down as he struggled to catch his breath, rubbing his palms down his face. He lowered his head and spotted the bead of cum dripping from the corner of your mouth.

He wanted to carved that image in his head.

"Are you always ready?" asked, his sultry voice gushed down from your ears to your belly. Something in his husky voice made you drip hard for him.

"I always take precautions."

"Good."

You held his engorged length in one hand and placed the condom on the pinkish tip, then lowered your mouth, using your lips to roll the condom down over his shaft. His fingers sank into the quilt as a soft moan escaped from him.

"I want to see you naked."

You tossed your shirt away. The chilly air nipped your perky nipples that were soon warmed with Levi's strokes. He took one bud in his mouth, then seized the other.

"Last I recall, you were as flat as a wood plank."

"Fucking asshole, I still can leave you hanging." You punched him on the shoulder. "Last time I saw you fully naked, when we played in the rain, your balls hadn't descended yet, and..." you curled your pinky finger repeatedly at the level of his eyes.

"Shut up." He hurled your hand and kissed you.

"Levi." You rubbed your nose on his cheek. "Today is all about you. I want to make you feel good."

You jumped off the bed and got rid of your skirt, then your panties, throwing them at his face. Levi grabbed them, bringing the piece of clothing to his nose and took a deep breath, without taking his eyes off of you. The sweet smell of your arousal made him ravenous and had him longing for your pussy. "I want to taste you"

"Next time,"

"Next time?" his brows shot up.

“I mean…” You averted the eyes, scratching the side of your head, cursing inwardly at your yourself.

Levi shook his head, a small smiled flashing across his lips as he offered a hand. You took it. Levi pulled, and you scrambled forwards onto the bed.

You swung a leg over his lap and straddled him. His latex-clad dick glided back and forth along your slick cleft, both relishing in the delightful friction. Your arms draped behind his neck as his hands braced the soft flesh on your hips.

You felt one hand striding down your back. Levi gripped your ass and urged you up. You held his gaze and nodded before lifting your hips, and sank down on him leisurely. In one heavenly slide, Levi's manhood began to disappear within you.

"fu—"

"Sh—"

You groaned in unison; his body trembled as he reveled in the warmth grip that swaddled him. A gasp fell from you at the blissful sensation pulsing through you as your walls stretched to take him all. You went still, swathing in the moment.

You were so tight; Levi wasn't sure if he would last long.

“Fucking hell, you feel so good, Y/N.” His voice was raspy, scraping your ears like sandpaper. He grazed your lips, his hands roaming all over your back. Levi fit perfectly inside you, as if your bodies had been molded for each other. You moved your hips up and down slow, your fluttering walls stroking him tightly, inducing a delightful and intense friction. The tip of his cock nudged the right place, setting your core ablaze with every movement.

Your moans and gasps entangled in a mellifluous melody, and Oh God! You sounded lovely together.

"You… filling me s… good.” Your voice came out so squeaky you couldn't recognize it. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, picking up the pace.

You rode him hard that your hips slammed against him, moans and the nasty meshing sound filled his room. Levi was becoming addicted to the new sensations your body evoked on his: your skin searing his, your beautiful sounds melting his ears, the taste of your juicy lips and your scent consuming his lungs.

"Look at me… I want to see your face when—"

You seized his lips in a hungry sloppy kiss, as if your purpose was to rip his lips apart. Your teeth knocked, but neither of you minded. His hands on your hips squeezed and helped you keep that intense pace that was catapulting you to the pinnacle of pleasure. Your head lolled backwards, your mouth parted, your hair stuck on the glistening skin of your forehead, shoulders and back. In Levi's eyes, you looked divine, painfully sexy.

“What the—” A gasp choked him as he tilted his head backwards, your walls clenching around him desperately, forecasting your imminent peak, sucking him tighter. All his muscles flexed, his collarbones peeping out as if his bones were to break his skin. He was breathing hard, air seeping out his bruised lips.

Levi was close, too. His cock twitched inside you, and he felt his lower limbs strained, the hard-muscle lines peeking on his thighs. He hissed, gritting his teeth, as the fireball within him was about to detonate.

You dug your nails on his shoulders, air being dragged out of your lungs. You were so full of him; your entire body was throbbing in ecstasy. “Levi!” you cried as the waves of pleasure rippled from your core to the rest of your trembling body. Levi thrust his hips upwards, the base of his cock rubbed against your engorged, sensitive clit, stealing a gasp from you, and let out a growl that seemed to be torn somewhere deep in his chest.

You collapsed on him, your forehead pressed on his as your both struggled to regain your breaths. Levi eyed your through the fogginess that clouded his gaze, and the corners of his lips quirked up, before planting a soft kiss on the side of your mouth.

You stared at each other, giggling idiotically as you raked your fingers through his hair, sweeping the messy locks off his face, and Levi twirled a lock of your hair around his finger.

You both startled, turning your heads towards your desperate buzzing phone on his bed. Levi looked down, pursing his lips into a thin line. You pulled out, reaching out for it, but you didn't reply. As soon as you read his name you rolled the eyes and set your phone in Do Not Disturb mode, before putting it on the nightstand.

"There's a new episode of Vanitas no Carte" You turned around, meeting a baffled Levi. Your shrugged, and your mouth curved into a smile. "Screw Zeke, I have something better to do now." Levi shook his head and let out a snort, then cast a smile at you.

"Let's get a shower first," he said, getting off the bed, and took the condom off, tying the open rim into a knot before throwing it to the bin.

"What will your mom think if she sees us with wet hair?" You followed him to the bathroom.

"I'll make sure is completely dry before dinner."

Neither of you dared to talk about what just had happened.

You were afraid to know if any of it had changed your relationship, if you were still friends or if he was willing to become something else. Even though you've known Levi for a lifetime, it was hard to read him, to delve into his head. You feared his answer might break your heart; thus, you remained silent. You thought you had gotten over him, but those buried feelings were scraping back to the surface.

No. You dug the hole in the ground but you could never lift the shovel to cover it up.