#angsty but with a soft ending

[monchikyun]

14. price of perfection

He’s always been told how beautiful and nice he is, how much of a delight to have him as a colleague. People look at him with admiration that they often hide behind scorn, becoming the exemplary picture of envy. Even those who allegedly like him can’t be trusted with their natural propensity to shun everything that isn’t at least somewhat natural.

Connor has always been the perfect anomaly in society composed primarily of human beings. The only solace is that he’s is but one of many such seemingly flawless creation, but even his fellow androids regard him as something more than them, as he is the latest, most advanced model in existence. No one cares how incorrect all their assumptions are, how ugly and torn up he feels inside. He hasn’t chosen any of this, it has all been handed to him, together with the burden of being alive. Sometimes he wonders whether he ever wanted any of this. Not even the person closest to him can convince him that becoming a deviant hasn’t been a misguided idea. Hank is happy for him if only because he falsely thinks Connor has found his own way in life, his new purpose. 

He thought that trying to save others would bring some kind of sense of self-fulfilment to him, but the gratitude he never gets just hollows him out every single time. Not that he needs it, he just craves something that would make him forget that in the end, he’s just a machine, no matter how sentient. He has the urge to scream just how unspecial he is, how he doesn’t want to be treated like someone who deserves all the praise or all the resentment. Not a lost child, not a despicable criminal, not a model of perfection. Just a guy who works very hard at covering up his shortcomings.

He’s been living in a state of emotional despair for months, his only distraction being the verbal fights with his favourite enemy - the resident bastard Gavin Reed. At times he can see something behind those sharp grey eyes, maybe an understanding of sorts. Gavin is the only one who is privy to his display of imperfection. In the beginning, it was the exchanged insults that pushed him onward, then those turned into ceaseless bickering, and now it has evolved into a banter charged with palpable tension. He often catches himself wishing to unravel in front of the detective, to give him the pieces of himself he keeps buried deep under all the rot.

Because if he has to hear another compliment addressed to him, he swears he’s going to implode. It’s bothersome enough that he’s aware of all the gossip about the handsome and kind android who is too good to make any meaningful connection with.

He restlessly shuffles in his seat and releases a sigh.

It’s late, he doesn’t have to be in the office anymore, but it feels lonely to go home like this, with no ongoing cases to occupy his mind with. He has had his own flat for most of his life now, but he’s never thought to call it home. It lacks the right essence, a soul. He’d rather observe the grumpy man complaining over a mountain of paperwork he’s been forced to complete by tonight.

After a while, Connor makes him a wonderfully lousy cup of coffee, which Gavin berates him for while emptying the cup like it is the most delicious brew in the world.

“What do you want, tin can.”

He’d like to stay like this for the longest time, bare of his usual shell.

“Supervision.” Gavin laughs at the serious look he gives the overworked man and shakes his head slightly in mild exasperation.

“A stupid way to sabotage my progress. Thought you could do better.”

Connor is hypnotised by the focus the detective is able to put into his work, the way his eyes follow the flowing text on the screen and the cute habit of curving his lips when he…

“Are you going to stare at me the whole night?” The man looks up at him with face the colour of cherry and Connor has to stop himself from performing a complete scan of him.

“This or… you’ll let me help with those documents so we can leave.” He isn’t sure what he’s doing, just that it fills him with something exciting, making his brain a little bit soft.

“Be my guest.”

Connor ignores the slight strain in the detective’s voice and connects his skinless hand with the terminal. It takes him about five seconds to finish the hours worth of mundane work.

“Phcking androids.” Like Gavin hasn’t been mesmerised by the glowing nakedness of his.

“You’re welcome.” This is nice, but not nearly enough. 

“So, where do you wanna go?” 

Oh, he doesn’t actually have anything concrete on his mind. Just somewhere no one would invade their space.

“I’d like to finally meet Miss Chunky.”  

-

Their short journey to Gavin’s place has been painfully quiet, so much so that he is forced to notice the detective’s elevated heartbeat and his ever-rising stress levels. Not that Connor’s were anywhere low.

The flat itself is an absolute mess, just like he has expected. But cosy in a way, properly lived in. He really likes it here.

Gavin runs into one of the rooms, yells some profanities and then emerges with an enormous fluffball in his arms.

“Here she is.” The feline is being handed to him without question and he’s glad that he can’t feel pain, for she doesn’t agree with the idea of being held by a stranger, apparently.

“She’s…. lovely.” He attempts to pet her furry head, but not even Connor can accomplish such an impossible feat.

“Yeah, an absolute joy to have around.” With that, he gently drops the mass of hair to the ground and joins Gavin who has made himself comfortable on the sofa which also serves as a claw sharpener, or so it seems.

They share a brief moment of silence before it gets interrupted by the dreaded reality check.

“What is this. Us. I mean. Why did you come here with me.” He hates the nervousness oozing from the trembling man. If only there was a way of making it disappear.

 But he has to ask first.

“Do you… do you think I’m perfect?”

 The unabashed laughter makes him forget all the anxiety this question came with.

“You self-satisfied prick.” There is no malice in the slur. On the contrary, he can sense fondness coming from Gavin, which is surprisingly not as scary as he anticipated it might be. “You’re the most imperfect person I’ve ever met. Annoying as hell, always acting like you’re above everything, and I hate it when you pretend that nothing affects you. Even you’re face is marred with all the phcking freckles.” He flicks Connor’s nose, which ignites something dangerous inside of him. “…and your coffee sucks.” Gavin takes a deep breath and through the exhale adds: “You’re just terrible at being a flawless machine.”

“Maybe that’s the reason I’m here, then.”

He feels like smiling, and so he shamelessly does so.

“I wouldn’t invite you to my home if you were anything other than what you are.” Gavin tentatively touches his hand, tracing invisible patterns with his finger. Not even his lousy self-control could prevent him from retracting his skin and making the human lose his mind by trying to interface with him. It’s a futile attempt, he’s fully aware of that, but the warmth he gets from Gavin is worth all of the pointless effort. 

Perhaps being alive isn’t the worst thing imaginable, at least not now.  

“Close your eyes, tin can.”

And Connor can’t wait to show the detective just how terrible he’s at kissing, too.

@convinseptember take this word-spewage  xD

[koostarcandy]

i.n.v.u (j.jungkook x reader)

summary: it's ironic you envy and love him at the same time.

pairing: college!jungkook x introvert!reader

genre: friendstolovers!au, angst, happy ending

warnings: oneshot, its kinda angsty, pining from the reader's end, they're like friends but there's a fine line between friendly affection and actual love

a/n: cause I've been listening to invu by taeyeon on repeat.

You envy Jeon Jungkook.

You envy the nonchalant facade he puts up, walking around without having a care in the world. You envy the way he easily puts his arm around you, rubbing the sliver of shoulder peeking through, effectively raising goosebumps. You envy the way he seems to not be bothered by anything, always in his own little bubble.

You love Jeon Jungkook, you realize.

You love his nonchalant walk, oozing confidence and radiating positivity, offering genuine smiles to anyone who passes his way. You love the way Jungkook is comfortable with you, his hands and arms finding solace, wrapped around your body. You love the way Jungkook is unbothered by anything, always looking at the world in rose tinted glasses.

oh, the irony.

You think you're losing your mind.

What started as simple partners for a project ended up as friends who don't quite know their boundaries.

What started out as, "he's funny, let's see where this goes," ended up in, "it's been 15 minutes, why hasn't he texted me back yet?"

You had texted him in the morning, informing him that you wouldn't be attending college today because you were on the lookout for part time jobs. A simple "cool" would've sufficed, maybe even a "good luck today!" You didn't expect radio silence, something which you should've been used to since it's been happening for the past week. You sit on the bus stand bench, going through your conversations with him on your phone, wondering when or where you scared him off. You tap your foot in impatience, looking around for the bus when you happened to look at your phone for the time. You groan and get up, realising you missed the bus. As you trudge back home, heart heavy in your chest and phone equally heavy in your pocket, Mother Nature seems to have plans too, starting her downpour and matching your downcast mood.

Not bothering to take an umbrella in the morning-in your defence, it was extremely sunny today-you let yourself get soaked, washing away today's stress in a unique way, which you know will result in a cold tomorrow. It even gives you time to think about your relationship with Jungkook, something which you haven't thought about properly.

You had contemplated distancing yourself and cutting yourself off from him entirely, which clearly wasn't possible because he somehow always found his way back to you. You can't love him, even though you clearly do. You and him were stark contrasts. Despite him being an introvert like you, he easily found and made friends, a quality you envy.

At the same time, you can't not love him. Anyone would love his shy persona and once you get to know him, it's a rollercoaster ride. Jungkook knows you love him, drunkenly admitted it to you one night when you picked him from a party. He caught the fleeting glances you gave him and fond smiles which graced your face whenever he talked.

He lamented how he could never reciprocate the love you gave him, crying out on your chest and effectively passing out on you, occasional hiccups emitted from him. Anyone in your place would think he would be speaking the truth and nothing but the truth. But you knew better. You caught the heart eyed gazes he sent you and the smiles which adorned his face whenever you gave him his favourite food.

You're positive you've lost your mind.

You have never run behind anyone like this, especially a man. You've never indulged in a ambiguous game like this, knowing it would end up harsh words being thrown about and precious hearts being wounded.

You've figured it's your kind of love though, enjoying the thrill it gave you, always waiting for the next move. Any sane person would let go of it, but this rollercoaster of emotions is the only thing which has kept you alive, not letting that tiny flame inside you become embers. You've found things about yourself you've never known through Jungkook.

You initially kept Jungkook at an arm's distance, like you usually do with anyone who interacts with you. Jungkook broke down your firm and sturdy walls, chip by chip. His frequent, uninvited presence in your studio apartment, along with tteokbokki and his dog, Bam grew on you. His warmth, provided by his bear hugs, calmed the storm within you.

You never believed in love, no. Having parents who focused solely on your grades and not you, paired with friends who used you for your brain, you lost faith in that fickle concept. You had no one to turn to in your troubled times, save for the plushie you got from your late grandma. You had gotten used to the grey, stormy clouds in your sky, starting to detest the occasional ray of sunshine.

Jungkook turned your whole world upside down, showing you that you can find peace in the midst of a storm. You just hope that when he leaves, he'll make it easy for your poor heart.

Shivering in the cold rain, you quickly walk into your apartment complex. You're shocked to say the least, seeing Jungkook walk out of your apartment, pulling his hoodie over his head.

"hey, you" you say offhandedly, like you're not soaked to the bone, shivering at sudden gusts of wind.

"where have you been?!" Jungkook says agitatedly, pulling you inside your apartment. You look around your apartment, surprisingly clean, ramen bubbling in a pot in your kitchen.

"i sent you a message?" you look at him, innocent face looking back at you. Realisation fleets across his face, "i didn't mean to leave you on read," he starts, "i was thinking." he finishes lamely. "thinking for one whole week? what were you thinking about?" you shrug off his helping hands, slipping off the heavy coat and shoes.

He winces at your cold tone, "sweets, i can explain, okay?" You seem to grow more irritated at the nickname he usually calls you, "what is there to explain? are you going to explain why you treat me like an option? like I'm some plan b to fall back on?"

You fire him the questions back to back, raising his temper too. "i don't know where you got that from, but i never treat you like an option," he says firmly.

Before you could open your mouth, he shoots back, "you're the one who seems to be the expert at ghosting, do you see me complaining?"

"you know why I do that, I've told you everything!" you're border-lining on losing your composure. "you're still not telling me as to why you suddenly just dis-"

"i needed time to think about us!"

"there never was an us!"

"well, would it really be so bad if there was one?!"

Well, that shut you up. Jungkook doesn't seem to take pride in that, instead he guides you to your bedroom, having laid out your his sweatshirt with your shorts. "freshen up and then we'll talk, okay? don't want you freezing to death."

And so you do just that. You take a steaming, hot shower and dress comfortably. The smell of spicy ramen and chicken wafts through your house. You want to tell Jungkook that food wont bribe you this time but when you see him zoned out, sitting on the floor and leaning against the couch, you think you'll be abit kinder to him this time.

You settle next to him, a gentle hand on his arm making him snap out of his reverie. He takes your hand in his large one, "i want you to know one thing," he says earnestly, "you never are or were an option to me. if anything, you're the only one for me."

You look at your now intertwined hands and to his imploring eyes, begging you to say something. "you know that you're special, right?" Jungkook is taken aback. You've never spoken to him like this, let alone about him. "you're the only one who I've chased behind and the only one who i let my emotions go haywire for," you glance at the spread he's laid out on your tiny table, TV ready with options to watch from Netflix. "I've never had anyone dote over me or make sure I'm fed daily." Looking back at him, you're not sure why tears well up in the bottom of your eyes. He leaves your hand in his lap and cups your face, eyes wiping the tears that fell astray. "the sky's crying, doesn't mean you have to," referring to raging thunderstorm outside. Contrary to the chaos which was going on in your head, you feel at peace, having said your mind out to him.

His hands slip to their humble abode, your waist, pulling you closer with his sheer strength. His eyes closed and forehead leaning on yours, you mimic him, hands curling around his neck, trying to pull him closer. He ends up pulling you onto his lap, tiny pecks left on your lips and hands splayed firmly on your back, trying to convey all his emotions through his intimate actions. A smile grows on your face with the repeated kisses, catching him off-guard with a kiss back.

You envy Jeon Jungkook. Envy the way he easily found his way to your heart, making it his home.

You love Jeon Jungkook. Love the way he made your heart his home and love him for barging into your life, showing you that you're his only love.

[mmmichyyy]

hope

Growing up, sleep was the commodity in Mickey’s life he could barely afford. Having a dreamless sleep was rare and sleeping without thrashing awake in cold sweat was a luxury. During the liminal time when he jolted awake to the transition of regaining consciousness, he always needed to take a couple beats to ground himself in the present, take in his surroundings and gather his thoughts, slowly removing himself from his nightmares to the actual horrors of his reality.

Mickey used to wonder if his life would be better if he didn’t wake up at all.

And yet.

Mickey remembers moments in his life when he felt like all hope was lost.

When he was in his childhood bedroom, dreading to go on another drug run with his father and brothers, thinking he was going to be a criminal for the rest of his life.

When he was in the Gallagher house, pressed against Ian in his tiny twin bed, scared he didn’t recognize the person he loves anymore.

When he was in prison, lying on the uncomfortable excuse of a mattress, desperately alone and heartbroken when no one came to visit him.

When he was in Mexico, living above a shady bar, wondering if he’ll be shot by the cartel and if he’ll ever have a chance to return to Chicago again.

And now.

Mickey gets to wake up to his husband every day, embraced in love and blanketed in warmth. Tender touches smothered in affection. Gentle kisses and relaxed smiles. Nothing but light and comfort, whispered affirmations and steady promises. He’s living the life he always hoped for, with the person he always loved – what more can he ask for?

“Did you get a good sleep?” Ian presses his lips on Mickey’s forehead, green eyes and smile and freckles radiating in the morning light.

Mickey cups Ian’s cheek and nods. “With you, always.”

His past will always be a part of him, but now he has a future he can’t wait to live.

[keikbird]

Quiet morning

[useramor]

how about "a hug for when you're breaking down in my arms, and i wish i could take your pain away because seeing you this upset hurts so goddamn much" because i need to see eddie crack like a fucking egg

intimacy in a relationship prompts!!

thanks for sending this babesieeee i hope u like it!! i did my best okay sfkgh

wc: 2.6k

Eddie’s shaking. He hasn’t stopped shaking since he walked into Buck’s loft. Buck can practically hear his bones hitting against each other like a decorative halloween skeleton getting tossed around in the wind.

Except that Eddie is very real and cold to the touch and Buck’s looking at him right in the eyes and it’s like Eddie isn’t even looking back. Brown eyes looking straight into his own but Eddie’s somewhere else entirely.

He’s been off since his parents dropped by for a surprise visit a week ago. Since they told him he’s doing everything wrong, that Christopher’s going to grow up to resent him. That he’s too old to still be single, and needs to find a nice woman to settle down with.

It makes Buck violent. There’s no other way to describe it. Seeing Eddie broken and belittled and so heart-twisting-snapping-breakingly sad makes Buck want to tear the entire world into pieces.

And now here’s in his loft, on his couch, and he’s vibrating.

Buck’s half-worried he’s gonna vibrate right out of his skin, but he doesn’t voice that. Doesn’t voice anything, just stays quiet and waits for Eddie to say something.

Eddie mumbles something, and it’s so quiet Buck wouldn’t have noticed it at all if he hadn’t spent the past few years figuring out how to tune into the Eddie Diaz Frequency.

He doesn’t want to push, but he also can’t help if Eddie doesn’t tell him what’s wrong.

“Did you say something, Eds?” he asks. He wants to pull him for a hug. And then pull him closer until Eddie is comfortably situated in the hollow of his ribcage. He knows he has organs there. He can move them around. What good is a heart if it’s got nothing to beat for, anyways?

Eddie takes a deep breath. He looks angry at himself for how shaky the exhale comes out, so he tries again, breathing in and out until the air that comes out is steady.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he admits, looking down at his lap where his fingers are picking at a loose thread on one of Buck’s pillows.

“Eddie- Eddie, hey- hey look at me.” He grabs Eddie’s face in his hands and tilts his head up so Eddie can see him. “You are doing nothing wrong. Eddie, you’re a great man. You’re an amazing father. You’re the best fucking dad out there. Christopher is so lucky to have you, you know that. You know that. And I’ll keep telling you in case you forgot.”

Eddie’s laugh is wet and cold and self-deprecating. He rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, pressing them onto his eyelids hard. Maybe it’s to try and forcefully stop the tears. Maybe it’s to bruise.

Maybe it’s both.

“They’re right, though. I’m- fuck- I’m such a fucking failure. I left. I left Chris, and I left Shannon like a fucking coward. I didn’t think I’d be good enough for Chris, so I took off. Joined the army, played a hero, and came back to a wife who hated me and a son who didn’t know who I was.”

Buck stays quiet. He knows all of this, kind of. Eddie has mentioned enough things here and there— often when he was on just the wrong side of tipsy- for Buck to piece it all together.

But Eddie never talks about it, never says anything. He keeps all of his feelings packed tightly into a box. And then he put that box in a fingerprint locked safe. And then he threw the safe in the fucking ocean.

So if Eddie is willing to open up without copious amounts of alcohol, Buck is willing to listen.

“And then Shannon left. And I- I hate her for that. I hate her. I’m walking around with this hatred, and this resentment, for a dead woman, how fucking sick is that? But she- she left. And I- I don’t care that she left me. But Christopher? He woke up and his mother was gone, and-” He cuts himself off as another round of sobs try to force their way out of him.

Eddie swallows with a pained look on his face.

Buck wishes so desperately he would just let himself cry. His apartment could stand it, he’s got extra rags under the bathroom sink.

Let it out, Eddie.

Maybe Eddie is tuned into the Evan Buckley Frequency, because he steadies himself- again, but he’s shakier this time, like he’s running out of patience to pretend like whatever’s going on is okay- and keeps talking.

“And my parents blamed me for Shannon leaving. They hated her! They couldn’t fucking stand her! She’s the only person alive who was a worse parent to Christopher than I was, but when she left it was still ‘why couldn’t you make her stay, Edmundo?’ ‘what did you do to make her leave?’ I didn’t- Buck I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t- I didn’t-”

Eddie sobs. Loud and hiccuping, and he looks so angry at himself for ever feeling sad in the first place.

He stands up, running his hands through his hair until it sticks up in every direction. He paces around in the cramped area of Buck’s living room, trying to figure out what to say next.

Buck stays quiet. There’s so much he wants to say. You’re a good person, he wants to tell him. You’ve made human mistakes, and you’ve apologized and kept your word. You’ve grown. Maybe you weren’t good before, but you’re the best person I know, now, he wants to say.

But Eddie’s still going. Buck being silent, just a source to absorb information, is working for him, apparently. That, or maybe Eddie’s finally at his break point. He’s the first person Buck has ever met who’s made of elastic.

Buck’s fine china. He’s broken quite a few times, and he’ll break again. Maddie is stone, she’s sturdy, and she’s strong, but Doug had a chisel and the fucking patience to get through the marble.

But Eddie’s… he’s something else. Every time Buck thinks he’s reached his breaking point, Eddie smiles a little brighter- a little more manically- and keeps going.

Someone must’ve taken a pair of scissors, then. Torn a hole through Eddie’s resolve. Popped it like a water balloon and now there’s nothing Eddie can do but watch helplessly as the balloon deflates and soaks Buck’s living room.

“And then,” he picks up again. “My parents were so excited about Ana. They- they were thrilled that I was seeing someone. And Ana was absolutely everything my parents wanted. Everything I should want. She was good for Christopher, and I was too much of a pussy to just stick with it. I can’t- fuck- I can’t-”

Buck gets up from the couch and moves into Eddie’s space cautiously. Eddie flinches away.

“I’m going to hug you.”

Eddie shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, please I- no-”

“Eddie. I’m going to hold you. You can kick me, you can hit me, you can bite me- I don’t care. Worse things have made me bleed. Just let me, okay?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide and he doesn’t move. Buck would wait for consent before touching anyone in any other scenario, but he knows Eddie would never let himself be comforted if Buck didn’t just do it anyways.

And Buck knows him better than anyone in the world. He knows Eddie’s hurting in a way he can’t put to words, and he knows that- despite Eddie’s tough guy exterior- the man wants to be held. To be cradled. To have someone run their fingers through his hair. But he would never let himself ask for it, so Buck’s gotta just give it to him.

He steps forward again. Eddie steps back. Buck puts warm hands on his shoulders and pulls him in, wrapping his strong arms around Eddie’s frame and holding him there.

Eddie does kick. He hits Buck everywhere he can reach, tries to push himself away only for Buck to hold him tighter. Buck feels like he’s holding a kid who's throwing a tantrum. And, in a way, he is.

Eddie’s issues with inadequacy didn’t start in the past decade. It didn’t start with Shannon, or with Christopher.

It started when he was just a boy, and nothing was ever good enough for his parents.

Buck can relate to that.

He knows he would kick and scream the same. He knows he would yell and cry the same. He knows he would want to be held the same.

So he stands there and does his best not to flinch as Eddie keeps hitting him. He’ll have bruises tomorrow that he’ll never let Eddie see, but Eddie’s got scars and open wounds he’s been hiding since he was a child. A few bruises won’t kill.

Eventually, he runs out of energy. His punches get weaker, and he stops trying to move out of Buck’s grasp. His body sags, and he sobs. Harder than he cried before, and so broken. So, so broken.

“Buck, I- I’m-” He can’t seem to finish his thought, and Buck’s not gonna force it out of him.

“Shh, hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Or you could say whatever you want. I’ll still be here, Eddie, I-” He takes a pause and a deep breath. “I’ll still love you, okay?”

For some reason, that makes Eddie cry more.

So Buck says it again.

“I love you.”

Eddie’s body nearly falls out of his grasp as he sags to the floor. Buck goes easily, sitting on the floor and holding Eddie in his lap.

“I love you,” he says again.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not- I’m not a good person to love, Buck. It’s too much of a burden to expect that from anyone.”

Buck scoffs.

“Eddie, look at me.” Eddie leans back and studies Buck’s face. “You see these muscles? They can shoulder the weight. You don’t have to carry your burdens alone, no matter how heavy.”

The muscles comment gets a small smile out of Eddie, and Buck counts it as a win. When Eddie slumps forward again and lays back on his chest, Buck mindlessly places a kiss on his forehead.

“You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I love you, and I want to do it anyway.”

Eddie’s hands are playing with Buck’s t-shirt, stretching out the fabric as he fidgets with it.

“Why do you keep saying that?” he asks in a small voice. Buck presses another kiss on his forehead- this time intentionally.

“That I love you?”

Eddie nods.

“Because it’s true.”

Silence settles over their little bubble as neither of them speak. And then Eddie clears his throat. Buck does his best to look at him, given their current position, but he sees the soft furrow of his eyebrows and the slight pout as he looks anywhere but Buck.

“In, um. In what way?”

Buck takes a very shaky breath. He could write this off, say he just loves him, nothing too crazy about it, and they could move on. But Buck owes this to Eddie. Eddie, who has been so frighteningly vulnerable and honest all night. Eddie, who is currently sitting in his lap, stretching out the fabric of his t-shirt.

Eddie, who deserves to know all the ways that Buck loves him.

“You’re my best friend. You make me happier than anyone ever has. I love when we go out- just us or with Christopher- or when we lay on your couch with beers and a movie on the tv. I love you like that.”

Eddie’s still not looking at him, but Buck’s not finished.

“You’re an amazing dad. You love Christopher so much, and he loves you so much. I love seeing how happy you make each other. I love seeing you happy. I love you like that.”

He rubs a hand down Eddie’s back, and then runs his fingers through his hair.

“Sometimes when I look at you, all I wanna do is kiss you. I want to kiss you all the time. Sometimes I want to do more. When I see you in the gym and you’re sweaty from a workout, or when you’re standing in my kitchen in my hoodie, and all I want is to take it off and kiss you senseless. I love you like that.”

Eddie’s looking at him now, and Buck wants to look away, but Eddie deserves to know this. Even if he doesn’t feel the same, he deserves to know just how deep Buck’s love for him runs.

“And-” he cuts himself off. Telling Eddie he’s his best friend is easy, Eddie knows that. Telling him he wants Eddie to be happy is easy, he knows that too. Telling him how badly he wants to kiss him all the time… it’s a little harder, but anyone with eyes can look at Buck and see how much he wants Eddie.

This? This is telling. This is harder.

He looks at Eddie, who is smiling up at him softly, eyes wide and hopeful, and Buck keeps going.

“I want to be Christopher’s dad. I want to move in together to a larger house with extra bedrooms, and get a dog and a cat. I want those rooms to have cribs and then twin sized beds as our kids get older. I want to kiss you when we wake up and right before we fall asleep. I love you that way. I- I’m in love with you that way.”

Eddie’s mouth is hanging open in a small oh. Buck isn’t worried he’s said too much. He’s said too little, there’s so much more he could say, so many other ways he loves Eddie.

“You are Christopher’s dad-”

“Eddie-”

“Let me finish.”

Buck shuts up.

“You are his dad. And I think, if we combine our salaries, we could afford a house with more bedrooms, and we might have to get married first - or at the very least start dating- but I- I really wouldn’t mind waking up with you everyday.”

“Just ‘wouldn’t mind’?” Buck teases.

Eddie shakes his head and moves around so he’s in Buck’s lap but facing him. Buck is trying very hard not to think about the way Eddie’s straddling him.

“I want that, too. I really do- more than anything. I love you, Buck.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I kinda just told you I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would be kind of awkward on the job if you didn’t feel the same,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

Eddie’s laugh is still a little wet, but it’s in a good way. He’s smiling so big it could power the city.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too.”

“You could start by kissing me?”

Eddie’s smile softens, and his brown eyes are darker than Buck’s ever seen them, but the look on his face is so gentle, so tender.

“Yeah, I could,” he says.

And then his lips are on Buck’s and Eddie’s hands are tilting Buck’s face up just slightly, so he can lean into it. The kiss doesn’t last more than a few seconds, and their lips stick together a little when they pull away. It makes Eddie smile, and he leans back in to press another quick kiss on Buck’s lips, and then one more for good measure.

When he pulls away, he yawns, face soft and sleepy. Buck can only imagine how tired he must be, emotional vulnerability is exhausting, and Eddie’s body must be tired from sobbing.

“Sleep?”

Eddie pouts, but nods.

“I’ll still love you tomorrow,” he tells him. Eddie kisses him again, smile blinding.

And he will. And he does.

[darthmaulification]

all these maul x pregnant reader asks have me thinking savage x pregnant reader,,, he’s just such a softie he’d be so good at taking care of you 🥺💗

STOP PLEASE I CAN ONLY TAKE SO MUCH 🥺🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕 my heart 😭😭

while maul would be nothing short of amazing for pregnant reader, savage on the other hand...

... listen, savage gives maul a run for his money. full stop.

okay, let’s start from the beginning. you tell savage you’re pregnant. first thing he does: gets worried. savage has a lot of duties on his plate, he’s maul’s apprentice, he has to help with mandalore, and crimson dawn, and death watch, and— “Savage, honey, there can be room for a baby, too.” you’ll have to interrupt his rambling and the moment you say “a baby” he kinda freezes because the word is really sinking in this time, and then he’s all like “... a baby.” and when he says it his whole demeanor changes.

your giant yellow husband is already a ray of sunshine, but he becomes all stars and fireworks when it finally clicks. savage literally whoops, cheering as he lifts you into his arms and hugs you, kissing your face all over. it makes you cry, because you’re happy and also pregnancy hormones, and you just let him kiss and hug you as much he wants.

“Thank you.” he rumbles against your neck, where he plants kisses and nuzzles against your skin. “Thank you.” he says, and it’s the only thing he can say.

~

savage goes 110% and the extra mile with helping you through all the not-so-pleasant aspects of pregnancy, as much as he can that is. while maul is cognizant of your and your growing baby’s needs (and excited too, he’s going to be an uncle), he still does need savage as his right hand man. so, when you do have savage with you, believe me you’re not lifting a finger.

he does everything for you, cooks, cleans, holds your hair when you’re upheaving your last three meals, rubs your back, gives you massages, fuck you senseless when you get horny for no reason, hell, savage will even bathe you when he gets the opportunity. he fully and truly pampers you, and it’ll be a tad annoying, only because he gets very... possessive over you as well, but he lets up when and if you tell him “Look, Savage, you’ve been nothing helpful, and I love you for that, but please let me go to the bathroom by myself, it’s starting to get ridiculous, big guy.”

~

as the months tick by, savage gets more and more anxious. if he wasn’t already worried before, he’s a wreck as your belly starts to swell, when your pregnancy becomes more and more noticeable. of course, he’s happy when you are, like when you first started showing and wept out of joy at your reflection in the mirror, cupping your belly. he’s happy when the baby first kicks from inside you, and when your breasts swell because he’s a simple man, and when he catches you talking to the baby, murmuring all the sweet things in the world as your stroke your belly.

believe me, he is excited and happy for the arrival of the baby, his baby, but he also worries too.

he worries about what the child will think of him, if they’d be frightened by his height, his breadth. savage worries that they’ll despise him, that he’d be a terrible father. he worries for them too, the galaxy is a dangerous place for children after all. he also...

... he also worries if he has a son.

the oppressive hierarchy on dathomir was one that savage lived under his entire life. he’s seen how nightbrothers are treated, experienced the horrors as well. and savage knows that daughters are more valuable than sons. that a girl is celebrated, and a boy is cast into the shadows, just another mouth to feed, a potential brute or breeder like all the nightbrothers are subjected to be.

savage worries that if he’s potentially given you a son, that you’d be disappointed in him. he fears that you’d cast him out, the baby too. it’s what nightsister mothers did, and still do on dathomir, and it’s hard for savage to conceptualize any other outcome.

deep deep down, he knows it’s completely irrational and entirely false, but it’s engrained in savage through trauma.

he’ll tell you this only when your far into your third trimester, when the time is right around the corner, and when he can’t wallow in his worry any further.

“I’m sorry.” he’ll say and you’ll be caught completely off guard because he just says it out of nowhere. “For what, big guy?” you ask and it concerns you to see this distant, haunted look appear on savage’s face which makes him look so so sad... scared too.

“If... If I give you a son.” and that will prompt you to go nearly ballistic because “Savage, I will love a son!” and “This isn’t Dathomir, and I am no Nightsister.” and “Savage, I love this baby more than life itself, I’m not giving up on it just because it may have a penis.” and it’ll take a bit more convincing, but once you waddle your way over to him, guiding his hand to your swollen belly, and look up at him with those eyes he loves so much, he’ll be sold. especially when you say, “We made this together, honey. A little piece of you and me and our love. There’s nothing I’d want more.”

“... Thank you.” savage would say again, like he did eight months ago when you first told him you were pregnant. and you’d just smile, all teary eyed and soft, especially when he smooths his large hand over your stomach, feeling the baby move around inside. “No, Savage, thank you.”

and he just kisses you silly.

~

(a month later, a week and a half overdue, your baby boy arrives.)

((he smiles the moment he sees savage.))

(((and there’s nothing but joy and celebration.)))

[ripeteeth]

oh look, it's me

[am-i-ourple]

The urge to make soulmate aus in here because I'm a sucker for soulmate aus

I fucking love soulmate AUs, they're definitely one of my favorite to write

So god please enable me and let me write them for the boys

[draculcid]

single dad billy au! angst cause I HAVE to. maybe when shes a bit older she got in an argument with steve and yelled 'why do you care you're not my real dad anyways! which she absolutely did NOT mean but it rlly hurt steve cause theres always been a small insecure part of him that thought that.

(au tag)

okay yeah definitely. and i think she’s a lot like billy, in some ways. she thinks steve is too good sometimes. thinks that maybe she doesnt deserve that- that steve’s just going to leave her and billy some day.

she never really thought much about it until one day when she hears about how her friend’s real dad left. she becomes paranoid. because steve’s not really her real dad- and he could leave if he really wanted to.

and she just doesn’t want to get attached or get used to steve’s presence anymore, in case he decides he’s suddenly going to leave.

so maybe for a little while their kid starts being a little distant from steve. and it’s weird and very out of character of her. steve notices, of course, because she stops doing the things they usually do together with him. like, she starts saying ‘oh no- i have way too much homework to do tonight,’ whenever he asks her if she wants to go out. she doesn’t really talk to him often. she weirdly doesn’t accept anything from steve, from random things he thinks she’d like to add to her scrapbook to that one snow globe he got her on his business trip with her name etched on it.

it’s fine, he tries to convince himself but. he notices something bigger.

the biggest difference is that she stops calling him dad. and it’s not like she just started randomly calling him “steve” again out of nowhere. it’s just a tiny change. like the way she says “hey, can you pass me this?” instead of “hey dad, can you pass me this?”

and steve feels like he shouldn’t even notice- but he does. and he starts overthinking every little detail. it absolutely drives him mad, trying to find where he went wrong. and he brings it up to billy one night while they’re in bed, but billy manages to convince him that it’s just her being a teenager. kisses steves temple and assures him, “she loves you. always has. stop worrying.”

so he does. stops worrying. he holds on to that little “she loves you, always has,” and ignores all the little changes.

until that one afternoon he goes to pick her up from school and she just mutters, “I coulda walked home.” which- fine, teenagers are embarrassed to be seen with their parents or whatever.

but she was never like that. and the drive home is weirdly tense. she doesn’t ask to play any music, and only says “t’was fine,” when steve asks her how her day was. it wasn’t actually fine, he guesses from the tone of her voice. so he doesn’t drive home. he stops by their ice cream place. the one they always used to go to- to make bad days better and to celebrate good days. “ice cream? I know we haven’t been here in a while-”

“can we just.. go home?” she cuts him off.

“..okay. yeah, that’s fine, I guess,” he furrows his brows, putting the car in reverse again, “you okay, little sunshine?”

“I’m not little,” she groans. steve smirks.

“okay, let me rephrase that,” he looks over at her, and then asks, genuinely, “you okay, big sunshine? bad day?”

“dunno. you shouldn’t care that much, anyway,” she mumbles, looking out the window. 

“hey, stop that. stop pushing me away,” his brows pull together again, “of course I care..you’re my daughter. and I want to know what’s wrong.”

she murmurs a silent, “not yours,” to herself.

“we can go see a movie if you want?” he offers, trying to fix her bad day, “or. you know, daddy wanted to go to that record shop downtown? right? we could go and buy him something, if you want?”

she shrugs. she’s thinking, he’s too good, he’s gonna leave us alone, and no one will take me to get ice cream and we’ll never get to go to the record shop downtown again, and no one will make daddy happy again-

he shakes his head at the lack of response and decides, whatever. if she wants to go home, he’ll take her home.

the drive back is silent, and the second he parks the car in the driveway, she pretty much runs into the house.

“am I that embarrassing to hangout with?” he yells out, jokingly, as he steps into the house. her back is turned to him, so he can’t tell if she laughs. though, she probably doesn’t, he thinks.

she doesn’t even respond.

“hello?” he says, getting a little impatient, “you’re kinda in one of your angsty teenager moods and I’m getting a little annoyed here, to be honest. talk to me because I’m trying to help.”

she turns around, and that makes steve falter. she looks angry, blue eyes welling with tears.

he quickly inches closer to her, “woah, hey. baby, what’s wrong?”

“you’re not my real dad!” she finally yells out.

and steve’s face falls. literally. his eyebrows lower and pull closer together. he looks like he just got punched in the stomach, “wait...what?..”

“I didn’t- I don’t want to hang out with you anymore!” she shouts, “okay? I just- you’re not my real dad. and I’m sick of you pretending like you are because one day you’re going to leave me and daddy all alone! stop pretending like you- like you care about me!”

“I’m not pretending anything..” steve whispers, choosing his words carefully, “yeah. no, what? I’m not leaving-” he draws his lip inwards when he realizes what she’s saying, “I’m not- baby, do you want me to leave?”

she scoffs, “I don’t know! I mean, if you’re planning to leave, then do it now.”

his eyes widen because he can’t lose this. she notices the pleading in his eyes as they gaze at her, “I never planned to..” he shakes his head, feeling his stomach tighten, “unless you want me to- I guess I-I could talk to billy- and then, I mean, I don’t want to leave him- or you- but if you think-“

“no!” her lip quivers. steve knows that means she’s going to start sobbing in a few seconds.

he ignores the pit in his stomach and finally finds the courage to return her gaze. he opens his mouth, only to immediately close it again.

silence ensues for a moment between them, but when she starts to rub her eyes, wiping her tears, he silently steps forward

“okay- uh. I’ll- we’ll figure it out,” he stutters, holding holding his arms out for her, “come here.”

she chokes out a cry when his arms wrap around her, enveloping her in a hug.

“sorry- d-dad, I don’t want you to go, ever,” she says through shaky breaths.

“i won’t,” he says quietly, stroking the back of her head. “not unless you want me to.”

“don’t want you to,” she mumbles, gripping his shirt. “you- you are my dad. I wasn’t thinking.”

“s’okay,” he continues, “think billy’d flip if i left outta nowhere anyway, hm?”

“sorry. I just thought- it’d be easier- if you left now. I didn’t want to get attached-” she confesses, sobbing into his shirt. his work shirt, jesus.

“nothin’ to be sorry about, big sunshine,” he whispers, drawing back and holding her at arm’s length. “just- don’t do that to me. don’t push me away again. you had me scared for weeks.”

she reaches up yet again to rub at her eyes, urgently saying, “i know. sorry. but you’re my dad. and i love you, okay? don’t leave.”

“i’ll never leave. you’re stuck with me,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “are you certain you don’t want to get some ice cream?” he asks, leaning down so she could look him in the eye. “you look like you need it.”

she scoffs, smile returning back to her face, “you just want an excuse to go get ice cream.”

“I just want an excuse to spend time with you,” he pokes her side, “you’re too cool for your old dad now.”

“debatable,” she sniffs, “ice cream sounds good.”

“yeah? that’s what i thought, my little ray of sunshine,” he grins, wiping the stray tears on her cheeks with his thumbs.

“dad. stop calling me that!” she grouses, “I’m not little anymore!”

“whatever you say, big sunshine.”

[sage-nebula]

Each of my romances in the three Dragon Age games has been like:

Lyra Mahariel/Zevran Aranai: Decided to use sex as a distraction from trauma, caught feelings by accident

Briar Hawke/Isabela: Heard “be gay, do crimes” and took it very literally

Devana Lavellan/Josephine Montilyet: Oblivious lesbians having their first real romance

[nightcreepsin]

do you have any super painful angsty fics, i'm in need of a good cry rn lol.

hi! sorry i didn't rec these fics earlier, but if you're ever in need of a cry again (mood) i hope these can help!

tbh i'm not the biggest fan of angsty fics, but there are some here

and here are some more recent ones that i have read (as a heads up, some of them have a happy ending so i would just check tags if that's not something you are looking for)

cross my heart by sage__leaves - george's heart is going to give out any day now, and he wants to spend his last moments with dream. the only problem is that dream doesn't know george is sick.

if you love someone, you tell them by alliewrites - "one day you might be the best man at their wedding, and you’re stuck watching as they marry someone else. one day, all you’re left with is the burden of knowing you let the love of your life slip away because you were too late."

don't stray from the path by keepaplaceforme - so technically this is a karlnap side story for a dnf main fic (which i also recommend). but this story is so heart breakingly beautiful i'm going to sneak it in.

wait for me to come home by not4typicalwriter - dream and george had an amazing summer and fell in love, only for george to return to the uk. years later, dream still can't let go.

will you lie in grass with me? by honkt - as dream finally decides to tell george how he feels, george has his own secret to share. suddenly the late night calls and tender moments disappear, and dream doesn't know what to do. i love this pls read this lots of angst.

happy? reading.

[absolutepokemontrash]

*in journalist voice* himiko how do you feel about nyx no longer being in love with lucifer but instead with diavolo?

Well, @the-mexican-writer, I’ll go get her.

“*ahem* Good on you for having better taste, Nyx, but I hope you like having your new demon boyfriend constantly talk about how perfect and amazing Lucifer is. At this rate you guys should just become a polycule! Heh.”

[dynyamight]

44. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” w bkdk ^^

send a number & i'll write a bkdk drabble about it

44. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.

The air feels exactly just like it did back in Jaku City, Midoriya thinks.

Heavy. Cold. Tense. The ends of his hairs flare up, pointing up to the darkened, grey sky. A chilling breeze swirls around him, as he stands on a cliff, overseeing the broken down streets of the city.

He probably shouldn’t confess this to the others, but no amount of planning could ever prepare Midoriya and the obstacle up ahead. Surely, he’s bound to face Shigaraki, but everyone insists that they will be standing right by his side, promising to fight readily when the time comes.

However, Midoriya knows better. This fight doesn’t involve them. It’s between the two powers of All for One and One for One; the last final brawl of survival of the fittest. And, there is no other person that will face Shigaraki’s wrath than Midoriya.

Saving him. Midoriya wants to save Shigaraki from the pain, the loneliness, and the evil that has followed him, engulfing him in a shroud of insanity. But, he just doesn’t know how to get to Shigaraki, without putting his own life on the line. But, he’s surely going to figure it out.

He has to figure it out. Or else, there will be no tomorrow for him.

So, to replace the crippling anxiety that’s etching and taunting his mind, Midoriya eats. Munching on a hot, steamy meat bun, he chomps down on the savory treat, allowing his teeth to grind it down, as if it were quelling his worries. Pushing down all the negative thoughts that clouds his morale with every swallow and—

Midoriya chokes, placing a clenched fist to his chest. Dropping the rest of the meat bun, he quickly tries to cough out the lodge in his throat, but the odd sensation persists, despite all his efforts.

Goodness, instead of dying on the battlefield, it seems he was meant to die from a mighty, hefty meat bun.

A bottle of water waves in front of him. “Here.”

Midoriya graciously takes it, bringing the already uncapped bottle to his lips. Hurriedly, he swiftly chugs down gulps of cool water, relieving him instantly. The pressure eases, alleviating his chest.

“Tch. If you eat too much now, won’t that slow you down, later on?”

Lowering the bottle, Midoriya lets out a long sigh, before he forms a small smile on his face. He doesn’t need to turn around to know who exactly is standing right behind him.

“I need lots of power.” Midoriya whispers between them, glancing down at the now empty plastic bottle in his gloved hands. “If I don’t have enough energy built in, I’ll be crushed.”

And, with that, Midoriya squeezes tightly around the bottle, letting out a sudden crackle. Then, he tosses it aimlessly, at the bottom of his combat shoes.

He hears a scoff. A hidden laugh. “If you have too much energy, you’ll fucking explode.”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya finally gestures to him, “I need you to watch my back.”

Bakugou hums. There’s a slight shift in his stance, by the sound of his boots digging at the dirt below them. But, other than that, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m going to crush anything, and everything, that comes at me up ahead.” Midoriya continues, gazing back up at the ruined city below. He narrows his eyes, feeling that fighting spirit fueling him internally. “So, I’m going to need you to deal with anything from behind. I hope you don’t mind.”

The silence after that worries Midoriya. He had been hoping Bakugou would back him up, slam a hard slap to his back, and tell him to not tell him what to do. Tell him to not worry about anything, when he’s around. To just keep moving forward.

But, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. At least, not for a while.

“Deku.” He finally mutters, a low rumble barely audible to Midoriya’s ears, if he hadn’t been trying to listen so closely.

“Hm?” Midoriya offers over his shoulder.

Bakugou growls under his breath. “Deku.”

Ah. A trigger. It was more or less the tone, rather than his name, that always beckons Midoriya to do something. Look in his eyes. Face him directly.

Turn around.

And so, he does. Midoriya twists the front of his body over, shifting away from the edge of the cliff. He expects to feel a blast of heat to his face, and the smell of burnt hair and caramel to erupt around him. So, he flinches when he immediately notices Bakugou so awfully close.

What he doesn’t expect is to feel lips against his.

Bakugou’s already pulling away, before Midoriya could fully process the chaste kiss. A red, stern gaze meets with his own widened green. “Your back is your one big blind spot, Deku.”

“What do you..” Midoriya could stare back, as a furious hue of red floods the skin not covered by Bakugou’s black mask. Yet, despite that, Bakugou doesn’t dare to look away.

“What I’m saying,” Bakugou mumbles roughly, “is that you’re always looking ahead. Not ever thinking of going back. So, you better not forget to come back to us when all this is over. Hell, come back to me.”

With his heart clenching tight, Midoriya softly smiles up at Bakugou. He steadily brings his gloved hands up to his cheeks, making sure to not bump into the spiked ends of his mask. “I won't forget about you. You’re always in the forefront of my mind.”

He tilts Bakugou’s face down to him, interlocking their lips once more. This time, it lasts seconds longer, and it’s full on lips, pressed firmly on one another. It warms Midoriya’s skin, sending pulses around his arms, as if One for All activated.

When they pull away, Midoriya doesn’t let go of Bakugou. Instead, he brings their foreheads together, the tip of their noses brushing. “I’ll repay that.”

Bakugou squints. “Hah?”

Midoriya bites the inside of his cheek. God, Bakugou’s still blunt and rash as ever. “When we get back, I’ll repay that ten times over.” He repeats, smiling up confidently. “Mark my words, Kacchan.”

In an instant, Bakugou shoves Midoriya, hard.

Rubbing at his chest to ease off the pain, Midoriya chuckles weakly to himself. Yup, he probably should have rephrased that more romantically. But, it just sounded better in his head, than it did out loud. Though, he didn’t think Bakugou would be offended by it.

“You better.”

Midoriya inhales sharply the cold air, quickly averting his focus to Bakugou, who’s standing away. Side facing Midoriya. Gauntlet-less arms crossed. A crease in his brows.

“You better repay that kiss back. Dying out there will leave you in debt.” Bakugou spats out firmly. He clicks at his tongue, before turning away, facing the hero's hideout in the forest. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you. Ten times over.”

Midoriya nods, but then remembers Bakugou isn’t looking at him. “I won’t.” Midoriya breathes out.

And, as Bakugou trudges off into their hidden campsite, Midoriya sighs, bringing his fingers up to his lips. They still tingled, with a sensation that still made his stomach flip.

Though, when he peeks down once more at the rundown of the city, where Shigaraki and the League of Villains lie, Midoriya hopes he hadn’t made an empty promise, that he couldn’t keep.

[mslynnwrites]

Would you consider Distortion Michael and Gerry Keay with 73? Height difference.

(In this house we ignore canon timelines)

I can consider it indeed! I didn’t intend for it to go this hard but uh. I couldn’t stop, so here’s some sadness.

CW: Distortion and unreality, canon character death(? kind of?), bit of body horror (i.e. Michael being generally creepy)

#73: Height Difference Kisses Where One Person Has To Bend Down And The Other Is On Their Tippy Toes

He should’ve known better. This is what happens when you chase the damned, Gerry thought bitterly. He looked around the twisting colors. Spiral. Distortion. Fear of not being able to trust your own mind.

He should’ve known better.

And now he was stuck here in these stupid corridors with nothing but his wits that he couldn’t even trust. And the person he’d been trying to stop—to save—was gone. They were lost in the Spiral, and he wasn’t going to be able to help them anymore. They were at the mercy of the Fears, now.

So was he, he supposed.

The yellow door he’d entered through was gone. That was no surprise. He was going to have to call on Beholding to get out of this, wasn’t he? Just his luck. Always his luck. At least Mum can’t get to me in here.

There was a laugh behind him, no...around him, no...above? It echoed and twisted inward on itself and spread out wide until all that there was was the laugh.

Gerry glared at the spinning walls. “Oh, piss off!” he shouted.

The laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun, cutting off with a punch of static. Somehow that made the headache he was forming worse.

“I know what you are,” he called, “and the worst you can do is kill me, and that just feeds Terminus, not you. Let me out, and I won’t kill you.”

There was Something behind him, above him, surrounding him with twisting arms. “Hello, Gerry,” the creature said.

He knew that voice. It was twisted, warped, but… “Michael?”

The creature laughed like a pounding migraine. “That is certainly a name.”

“Show yourself.”

It laughed again. Did it ever stop laughing? “If you insist.”

It’s arms flattened and wrapped into a more visible reality. Something resembling a head rested on top of his own. Gerry pushed it away and Stared.

It resembled Michael Shelley in many ways, but it wasn’t him. Even if it had once been him, it wasn’t him anymore. Its limbs stretched too long, twirled in places where there should not be any joints. Its pale skin was tainted by colours and static distortions. Its hair looked blond, but was it? Perhaps. It twisted and swirled with the rest of the creature.

Not-Michael grinned. Its smile twisted up and spiralled far too wide and long. “You’re afraid now,” it cooed.

He glared at it. “You stole my friend’s face. That’s the Stranger’s m.o., not yours.”

It cackled, seemingly not able to catch its breath. But its face didn’t seem to reflect its amusement. “I didn’t steal it,” it claimed. “I Became.”

“So you killed him,” Gerry replied. “Same thing.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand!” it giggled. “I was once called Michael, but now I am Me. The Twisting Deceit. The Throat of Delusion. I am Distortion Incarnate!”

“Fancy titles really don’t mean anything, you know.”

It crossed its arms. “I don’t recall asking you.”

Gerry leaned back, mirroring its crossed arms. “So what? You ate Michael and then decided to take his body and puppet it around?”

It tapped a too-long finger against its chin. “That is a way to put it,” it mused. “I believe I am both. Michael Shelley and Distortion as One.”

“I don’t appreciate you killing my friend.”

“But I’m still Me! I’m right here! I’m just...different. Something New.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

It sighed, the sound like razors cutting the air. “I am Michael, but I am More, now.”

Gerry glared at it. This thing had taken his friend and Twisted him. “So what do you want?”

It hummed. “I don’t know. I know that I am...fond- of you. I’m not going to kill you, I think.”

“Well thanks, I guess,” Gerry replied. “So...are you gonna let me out?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Right.” He looked around. “Gonna be honest, Michael’s flat looked way better than this mess.”

“Remind me why I liked you,” it muttered. “It’s not like it’s my fault it looks like this.”

Gerry glanced up at the creature. It was tall—very tall. “‘Liked me’?”

Its eyes locked with his. “Yes...when I was just Michael, I was very fond of you, I think.”

He had to look away. He’d never been able to tell Michael—the real Michael—how he felt about him. Now he was Warped into this monstrous entity…

“Do you remember the day I asked you to walk me home?” it asked. “Back when you and...and Gertrude- had just started working together?”

It said her name with such vitriol that Gerry had to take a step back. “So I was right,” he whispered. “She did kill him...you.”

It let out a wail, static breaking through its form. “That bitch!” it screamed. “I didn’t know about the Powers of Fear and Dread! I trusted her!”

Gerry stepped toward the creature’s distorting figure, hands held out. “Hey, hey! Calm down, it’s- it’s not your fault, okay? I should’ve told you.”

The creature that was once Michael fizzled and deflated. “Did you know she was going to betray me? Feed me to a Power greater than any human could hope to control?”

Did he? He knew what happened to all her other assistants. But...Michael hadn’t known any of it. Michael wasn’t murdered by another assistant, or by a spouse, and he hadn’t given himself over to one of the Powers… “No,” he said. “I didn’t know.”

The creature—no, Michael—stared down at Gerry. “I believe you,” it- he said.

Gerry took another cautious step toward Michael, hand stretched out for him to take. Michael’s hand reached up to meet it, now resembling something more human. “I don’t think…,” Michael whispered, staring longingly into Gerry’s eyes. “I don’t think I was supposed to Become. I think I was supposed to die.”

Gerry reached up, cupped Michael’s cheek in his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to die,” Michael said simply, “but I don’t think I want to keep being me, either. I don’t want to be Michael.”

There wasn’t really another option, was there? Aside from giving in completely to the Distortion. Even if Gerry would let himself become an avatar for Beholding, he didn’t think he could save Michael. Not now. Not anymore. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, surprising himself when the sound came out strangled.

The corridors calmed their twisting. The colors weren’t so bright anymore. Michael almost looked human again. “You should go,” he said. “I don’t want you to see me.”

As if the Powers hadn’t taken enough from him—hadn’t hurt him enough. “If there was any way that I could—”

“Don’t.”

“But I—”

Suddenly there were lips upon his own. Or at least, there was something that very closely resembled lips upon his own. Michael was practically bending over himself and then some, and he was kissing Gerry.

And Gerry found that, even though Michael had become something that he actively worked to destroy, he quite enjoyed it.

He leaned up on his toes, pushing against Michael, deepening the kiss. How long had he wanted to kiss Michael? The Original Michael—before he’d been betrayed and murdered and forced into a role not meant for him? It didn’t matter. This was the only time he would get to. He wrapped an arm around Michael, pushing him against his own hellish corridor walls.

Michael practically melted into him. There was definitely something weird going on, anyway. Gerry’s skin prickled at the feeling of what seemed like too many limbs, but really was only two. Just two very disproportionate limbs. His size altered, bringing him down a bit closer to Gerry.

Some needling desire in the back of his mind told him that if he just stayed, just pulled Michael closer, just kissed him a little harder, maybe he could save him after all. Bring back his humanity out of love.

But he knew it didn’t work that way. It never had. Never would.

He knew better.

He didn’t care.

Michael wrapped his arms all around Gerry, twisting and bending many times over. A cocoon of limbs. Then he was breaking the kiss. Throwing him out in the cold drizzle of London.

The door slammed behind him.

[samstree]

Sometimes you’ve planned out the entirety of a story, seen all the twists and turns, experienced all the characters’ sorrows and heartaches, and you feel like you’ve lived a lifetime in your head. You feel old, you want to cry and you know this story is gonna make people cry. But you open an empty word document and just go ‘meh’.

[azaleablueme]

When Fate Decides will be updated in a few hours from now. Just wanted to share this.