#because I'm in too much pain to concentrate on anything for longer than two minutes

[maybedeadbutstillpretty]

life update: I somehow managed to throw my back out yesterday and I am now awaiting the sweet embrace of death

[v3x-y0urs3lf]

Our life N&F Soft moments with Step 3 Tamarack and Qiu

For anyone wondering before they read, There's:

one (1) Tamarack headcanons

one (1) Tamarack (short) scenario

one (1) Qiu headcanons

one (1) Qiu (short) scenario

one (1) headcanon with BOTH Qiu and Tamarack

one (1) SHORT scenario with BOTH Qiu and Tamarack.

This is me trying to makeup for the fact I haven't posted in a while and I STILL don't have my boundaries/request list uploaded and ready yet (I SWEAR I ACCEPT REQUESTS.)

This is before step 3 has been published so I'm just going off my own headcanons and theories on the characters.

Also, Qiu uses They/Them in this post BECAUSE both them (and reader) are painting nails.

You should be able to read this as either platonic or romantic, I didn’t mention ‘dates’ or any genuine romance - So knock yourselves out while reading this.

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Braiding hair!!

Whether you're a friend or a lover, I think she'd allow those close with her to braid her hair or at least use her hair as an example when braiding it. No matter how hard you accidentally pull it or if you stuff up and end up having to do it again, she just chuckles and reminds you that patience is key and that 'slow and steady win the race'.

With Miss Tamarack Baumann, time almost stops. Whether you're deep in thought and trying to keep total concentration whilst braiding her orange strands of hair or if there's light chatter amongst the two of you, Tamarack doesn't mind. It's just like how her Omi always says, "Sometimes everyone needs 5 minutes."

Maybe you have long-ish hair too? Great! Tamarack (With your permission) will braid your hair after you finish with hers! She doesn't mind French Braids, Box braids, Dutch, Micro, Cornrow, She may need a bit of assistance to learn, but better late than never!

No matter how short your hair is or what texture your hair is, her fingers work her magic and it genuinely feels like a fairytale when Tamarack is able to produce some of the best braids you’ve ever SEEN.

Miss Tamarack is just so, so sweet and gentle about it all. The moment feels so tender, with her hands gently running through your hair, complete silence for a moment before she speaks in that soft and comforting tone you've practically memorized by this point.

"Ah, Sorry." You wince as you accidentally tug a little to harshly on Tamaracks hair, gently rubbing her scalp as to (hopefully) relieve some of the pain you may have accidentally caused. The only response you get is a soft chuckle being elicited from the girl in front of you. "Good lord, MC, I'm fine. You didn't pull that hard..." Tamarack smiled, barely looking over her shoulder to look at you as you unraveled her strands of hair and started again. The two of you had been at this for a bit now, about 15 minutes or so. You both had made plans to go to the knew crepe shop opened in town and offered to help Tamarack get ready.

Tamarack tilted her head slightly and made eye contact with you from the mirror at her vanity. "I'm not fragile, y'know?" Whilst Tamarack was soft, nurturing, soft-spoken, She was anything BUT fragile.

Tamarack Baumann? The same Tamarack Baumann who used to run around and hide in piles of leaves in the woods? The SAME Tamarack Baumann who didn't mind when batter or such got on her clothes when she was baking? The same Tamarack Baumann who would just say 'they're just clothes.' when doing arts and crafts? THAT Tamarack Baumann?

"I know." You could only whisper in a quiet tone as her soft eyes met yours. She gently turned around, taking your hands into hers with a sweet smile. She no longer had her braces from when she was 14, no longer had her overwhelming insecurities or big anxieties about the world. Tamarack was content and this was enough for her to be able to live her days without too much stress.

“I’m not made of glass. I don’t need you to treat me like I’m my Omi’s fine China.” Tamarack snickered. She couldn’t help but tease you over this. Tamarack was no longer the small child or young teen with terrible insecurities. She had grown into a fine young woman and was ready to live her own life.

Whether her relationship with you was romantic or platonic, she knew she’d want you to be with her every step of the way. After all, You were her first friend in Golden Grove, She’d hate for you to not be there until the end.

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Painting nails!!

I've just had this idea in my head for so long - Painting nails with each other.

Even if you aren't trans or don't follow Qiu's whole thing with 'Pronouns correspond with nail polish', Either you can paint their nails or they'll paint your nails- Or you can do your own nails while they do their nails. It's up to you!

For anyone who doesn’t have much experience with painting nails, Qiu might give you some tips or show an example or two, but after that? They’re just going to make you eye ball it. You may not have very good hand-eye coordination, You may have shaky hands or struggle to keep attention- That doesn’t matter to Qiu!

They might tease a bit, but if you’re truly bothered or embarrassed with it all then they’ll stop. Qiu just wants to spend some time with each other, a soft moment for the two of you to bond. They don’t want to lose you because of some insensitive comment.

If you really want as well, Qiu offers to paint your nails as well. (I’m pretty sure In-game Qiu always has black nail polish… but that’s okay.) They’ll let you choose the colour and they’ll begin with what looks like innate expertise.

Genuinely. Qiu looks like a BOSS with how focused they are for this entire moment.

“And the award for best nail-painter goes to…” Qiu starts, a smile on their face as you look up from their nails to see them. They had taken off their green coat, but left everything else on, their white jumper, navy pants, and had left their bag just beside them. “Not you.” Qiu ends with a Cheshire smirk.

You can’t help but groan and sigh softly at that, taking a break to let Qiu’s nails dry for a moment. You aren’t able to tell if you groaned because you were annoyed by Qiu’s comment.. or if you secretly knew that they were right. After barely a moment of looking down at their hands again, You easily could tell that they were right.

“I know.. I’m sorry.” You sigh again, putting the brush back into the nail polish and looking at the remnants of black nail polish on the edges of Qiu’s fingertips.

Always the observant one, Qiu looks at you and immediately notices your disappointment. The habits you made when you were upset or frustrated were crystal clear to them, even if anyone else couldn’t tell. “Hey, Hey. It’s alright. I was kidding.” They immediately backpedal, trying to avoid a total meltdown.

Qiu’s eyes scan the table for something they could do, looking at the bottle of nail polish again before taking the brush and painting one of your nails. Due to the quick reaction and lack of concentration, some of the polish got onto the edges of your skin as well.

By the looks of things, they hadn’t truly thought that through and just looked at you with a softer, genuine grin. “I’m not perfect either.. So let’s just be imperfect together, okay?”

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Having a picnic!!

After talking it over, the three of you had decided a picnic would be a great idea to spend your time before summer break ended and school started up again.

Tamarack had agreed to make some food, Qiu brought some drinks and a few games for you all to play, You just had to bring the blanket and pick a spot in the park.

Luckily for you all, the weather was great. The sun was shining, a few kids were playing around in the playground, there weren’t a few clouds in the sky but they just provided some nice shade, and it was surprisingly warm for an autumn’s day, not too cold but not scolding hot either. In Tamaracks words, ‘it’s just right.’

The day didn’t seem like it could get better by this point. Tamarack had made some delicious desserts in an adorable picnic basket and Qiu had brought some delicious tea and board games for you all to play. What could possibly go wrong?

You all had been sitting there, resting on the checkered picnic blanket you and your mom had in the closet for years now. She was glad the old thing was finally getting some use.

Tamarack had her braid you had been kind enough to help her do just a few hours ago, and Qiu still had the splotchy nail polish on their fingers you had helped with a few days ago.

The sun was shining, laughter and joy shared amongst the three of you, the food Tamarack had kindly decided to bake was absolutely delicious, Qiu’s tea being a perfect mix of sweet and bitter. It felt like nothin could go wrong in this situation.

.

..

…

Well, apparently the small clouds in the sky has deceived you all and decided at that very moment, the clouds had decided to rain down on the three of you and cause you all to practically sprint to the all-familiar restaurant, The Diner Table.

Yusuf had graciously let you three in, despite the fact you all were practically soaked from the rain. You were given a seat at the usual booth you all used to get throughout your childhoods of coming down here together either after school or after your after-school curriculums. Even after 8 years, The Diner Table still held that ‘comfortable’ feel you had gotten when you came in as a kid.

By now, most of the food had been rained on and the tea had metaphorically and literally been spilt before the three of you had arrived at the diner.

Tamarack and Qiu were sitting in the same row, all of you glancing at each other awkwardly to just silently communicate that that was all a total fail. Though, in reality, Tamarack was the one to speak up first.

“So… Uh, good thing we’re warm now, right?” Tamarack smiled optimistically, trying to find a ‘bright side’ to look at here.

“Sure, yeah. Getting rained on, food ruined and drink gone— Oh, but at least we’re warm!” Qiu said sarcastically, it had meant to be a joke to lighten the mood.. but it seemed to have just been a bit too soon for the three of you to joke about.

Was there really a bright side to look at here? The entire day felt ruined now just because no one managed to check the weather forecast! Nothing could possibly fix this situation—

“Could I get anything started for you three?” Yusuf’s calming and gentle voice cut through the jelly-thick atmosphere, causing you all to jump slightly at the suddenness.

You all shared a glance before coming to a collective realisation. It was never about having a ‘perfect picnic’— It wasn’t about having a picnic in general! You three had just wanted to have a good time with each other, and what better place for familiarity and fun times than The Diner Table?

With a collective smile and a silent nod, you three agreed this was no better place to have a good time. You turned to Yusuf, ready to order a meal and some food. The board games were just a little damp, but they were still playable if you all were gentle enough.

Maybe this wasn’t the picnic you three had in mind.

Maybe you were all a bit silly to not check the weather forecast before going out.

.. Or maybe you were all just destined to inevitably end up in the all-familiar diner one more time.

[mitigatingacademics]

{11.06.23}

This past week has been absolutely insane.

Fav coworker started her new regular which has us working 3 nights a week together.

Unfortunately, for every single one of the past FIVE nights that I've worked, another co-worker has been assigned as extra coverage.

I never get anything done when he's around.

To be fair to him, I'm not always mad about it.

Two of the nights that were Fav, other co-worker and I resulted in laughing so hard it caused physical pain.

Night before last other co-worker decided we were going to discuss politics.

I am always game for this. If you disagree with me, all the better. I play fair, too, but if you ask for it, you're gonna get it, so you better be able to hold your own. 🤣

Fav and I, unsurprisingly, have more in common with each other than we do with other co-worker.

Other co-worker brought up Issue 1...and I'm fairly certain he regretted it, though no one's position changed.

He tried to explain to us what 'religious conservatives' are trying to accomplish by voting the way that they do.

We're aware, thanks.

He never did come up with answer to the several times I inquired why said 'religious conservative' voters felt it was alright to attempt to enforce their values on the rest of us.

At some point, thank you time change, it became 2:00 that was 1:00 again and we re-lived an hour.

Co-worker pointed out that the Founding Fathers were Christians.

I pointed out that said Christians made a very clear point of including protections against a national religion in the Constitution.

It went back and forth like that for awhile.

Fav and I explained how abortion is HEALTH CARE, using the example of another fellow employee who almost died from a wanted pregnancy that turned out to be ectopic.

I used that opportunity to remind everyone that there are actual members of the Ohio Legislature that believe that pregnancy could have been viable if it had just 'been transferred to the uterus'...and that these men have displayed a level of confidence in their wrongness that should preclude them from making laws about ANYTHING, EVER.

Co-worker concluded, much to Fav's dismay, that the issue 'just should have been written better' so that it, somehow, encompassed answers to all of the concerns we were able to raise about a 6 week heart beat law.

THEN he said 'this should have been settled a long time ago.'

I asked how, exactly, it 'should have been settled' and he said he had more important things to think about...like the lithium shortage.

So...

Last night I didn't even start out with a goal of accomplishing anything meaningful. I was hoping, however, not to end up down that same rabbit hole again.

Alas...

Co-worker shows me a magazine produced by our union and asked me if I get it/read it.

I do not in both cases.

I'm trying to read my book and he starts telling me about why he enjoys it. I can't concentrate while he's talking so I take a closer look and the magazine happens to have Magic Kingdom on the cover.

I made a comment about how I might have picked that one up had I seen it somewhere due to a passing interest in Disney. ...this was a miscalculation.

The next thing I know, he's telling me that he won't use his money to support Disney because of their harmful attitude towards children.

I'll be honest, this one took me a minute.

59 seconds longer than it should have.

I'm like 'in what world is DISNEY being anti-child a positive move for their business model?'

Co-worker is big into business. 'Capitalism with a cap' is what he keeps coming back to. There's absolutely no reason Jeff Bezos needs all the money he has, he says, but also, new last night, he can't wait to sign up for Elon's first colonizing trip to Mars 🤦🏻‍♀️ - at this point I'll help him pack.

He keeps tap dancing, not committing, but as it begins to click for me I make a comment about how the only real controversial stance I've heard about Disney taking anytime lately was actually just pro-worker.

Meaning, of course, their respect of the right of their LGBT employees to exist.

And that did it.

The gays are a threat to the children.

They don't need to see that.

It doesn't need to be shoved down their throats.

'My brother went to college, lived in a dorm and they brain washed him into thinking he's a woman. I treasure the old pictures I have of him.'

Did I mention that co-worker's Dad is a former coworker...currently in a relationship with another man?

When I pointed out that your sexuality is not something that you choose through conscious effort ('Did you choose to be straight?' 'How do the pious evangelicals that 'protect' their children from the influence of the gays...end up with gay offspring?' I am, without objection, 100% in love with the wrong Cheney daughter) he responded by saying he doesn't think his Dad is really gay...he's really straight though, because he managed to father children with a woman.

Y'all...

Several times throughout this exchange and not for the first time during this kind of discussion, co-worker points at a poster on the wall about work place safety (physical, see something say something safety, mind you) and comments that we really shouldn't be talking about these things at work. Someone might consider it harassment.

...and he might have an actual point there. A different, regular co-worker is a religious man of convenience who probably, even jokingly, takes things too far.

I actually enjoy my conversations with him, but I could do without the time he came to me 'looking for the baby killer perspective.' It's not like I'm going to report him, though, I wasn't actually offended and I give him a hard time, too. We've worked together a lot and I feel like we've developed a fairly good natured disrespect of each other's politics. 🤣

This co-worker did call THAT co-worker a 'Commie,' however. More than once. And that co-worker is reactionary plus not at all a fan of the other guy's. That seems a little dangerous.

As far as I'm concerned, however, I stayed in the accounting office trying to read during our downtime and co-worker kept showing up at the door for the next round. ...I was happy to oblige him, but if he was offended when I tried, early on, to summarize with "Oh, so you're homophobic"...he wasn't offended enough to let it go.

When I pointed out that our company has a similar take to Disney on LGBT acknowledgement and support he went off about how our company shouldn't have been able to require vaccination and he thinks that's what caused his cataract.

I've been off work for almost 5 hours at this point and I still have the headache.

I didn't go away mad, though.

He actually thinks starting a new society on Mars and governing with a 'city council' will move humanity beyond social issues.

It was later clarified that he fully intends to take his Christianity to Mars and that others will be welcome to bring and practice their religious as well, but it won't cause any problems because they won't be 'tied to Earth.'

This is not a serious person. 🤣

Despite all of this, an effort HAS been made to be somewhat responsible.

I got a 5 mile walk in at the park Friday morning. I didn't get nearly enough face time with fall this year.

I've almost made my way through the entire LSAT Trainer, completing a lesson every night save for last night.

I've got one chapter left in How to be Sort of Happy in Law School.

I finished one audio book and started another.

I think I would have liked the first book better if I had read it rather than listened to it...and, determining that the second book is both short and has a lot of potential, I'm probably just going to buy it (the library only has the audio version).

It's ironic, I think of myself as a audio learner. I've always gotten a lot out of lectures. With audio books, though, there's just too much opportunity for my mind to wander...and if I'm really into it I'm going to want to notate as well.

I started Adam Kinzinger's book Renegade.

Five chapters in and, while I feel like I might have had disproportionate expectations due to how much I loved Cassidy's book, literal war stories, outrageous ego, and doubling down on hot takes that indicate we've learned nothing at all from our experiences wasn't exactly what I was hoping for.

...I have started responding to his wild tweets about Israel with direct quotes from his book about his opinions on Iraq. Which is fun.

Speaking of, I finally finished the notes for the first Israel book (and took a star off my Goodreads review in the process 🤣) and started a second.

Early in, the second book is already more satisfying in an interpreting the situation realistically kind of way.

Now, unfortunately, I also feel compelled to educate myself on Iran and Turkey.

...who has time for all of that?!

[admiringlove]

doubt

+pairing: tsukishima kei x reader

+synopsis:  tsukki, the boy you’re desperately in love with. the boy who holds your hand softly as the two of you walk home together from school. the only question is, does the boy love you back just as much as you love him?

+genre: angst; fluff.

+word count: 1.6k

+warnings: none.

+author’s notes: this is an older fic, please note that my writing style has gotten better and i am producing newer fics that are better than this one. not that this fic is necessarily bad(it’s good i hope) but just my style has improved much more.

— request.

HIYA! I saw the request were open so I just wanted a full angsty Tsukki imagine. Do anything you want, I want that ANGST :DD

You and Tsukki had been dating for the past few months. Yamaguchi, being the neutral friend of the group, would always come to the rescue if the two of you had a fight or need help in talking to one another.

However, tonight was different. The dusk comes as a promise of starlight, of those eminent pearls of the twilight that sit as if cushioned upon pure black velvet. The heat of the day has ebbed to a soothing warmth. The sunshine has lost its luster, and the colors of the atmosphere are softened.

You, a teenager who had just gotten a 76-percent in Physics, was itching to find some comfort. You had pulled countless all-nighters for these exams. You had stayed up so many nights studying the reflecting rays and the incident rays and the formulas that you were just disappointed in yourself. You were in a bad mood already; expecting some calming words from Tadashi or Kei, you walk towards the volleyball gymnasium to find Tsukki, who looked so concentrated on the practice match being played.

The boys were practicing in so much perspiration and purpose, that you felt like simply watching them excel from afar. You sighed as Sugawara and Daichi greeted you before ending practice ten minutes earlier than usual, as everyone seemed drained. You waited patiently as the boys went to get changed, Hinata giving you a high-five and complimenting you before leaving.

"I'll walk you home after changing, will you wait for me?" Kei says as he picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. You nod, "Sure thing, Kei."

The blond walks over to the club room with everyone else, and you notice that Kei had left a shirt in the gym.

You headed to pick up Tsukishima's shirt that he had left behind. And as you headed up the stairs of the club room, you could overhear Tsukishima and Yamaguchi talking.

Talking about... you?

"Tsukki, shush. They're your [S/O]," Yamaguchi mumbles with paranoia evident in his tone. Tsukishima scoffs halfheartedly, looking away. He rolls his amber eyes in ignorance and continues, "They lied saying they studied for the Physics exam. Why would they want to lie about studying? It's them that got the lowest grade of the class, not me."

You hide next to the half-open door—heart breaking into pieces as you hear Tsukki say those words—and Yamaguchi gasps slightly when he sees you. You gesture him to keep quiet as you wanted to hear what Kei had to say about you. Truth is, you felt as if he was slowly falling out of love with you. He never gave you any song recommendations anymore, he never walked home with you, he never even bothered to talk to you, which was what pained you even more.

“Tsukishima, why would you say that about your own partner?” Suga asked to lighten the mood a little, but Tsukishima only replied, “I don’t like it when people lie to me.”

And then, the boy continued. 

"It's annoying to even be with them, at this point. They're clingy, and—"

You clutch the shirt in your palm tightly, walking away. You didn't want to hear anymore. Rapidly blinking to stop the tears brimming at the corner of your eyes, you sped up your pace. Your shoulders dropped in resignation as you tightened your chapped lips in a straight line. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, as you grabbed your backpack and began the walk towards your home. What could you do, anyway? Beg him to stay with you a little longer? Obviously not, that would make you look desperate.

But what could you do, anyway? You didn't want to admit it, but you were desperate. You were desperately in love with the sarcastic remarks, the signature smirk, the teasing eyes, the nonchalant "good morning, [Y/N]-chan", the recommendations of songs that would blow your mind, the sweet midnight trips to your house just because he was bored, the small lingering kisses that would make you want more, and what else? There was so much about Tsukishima Kei that you were in love with. You couldn't put it into words even if you tried. You imagined a future with him even though the two of you were high-school freshmen.

You were alone, walking the empty streets as tears welled up from deep inside your heart and coursed down your cheeks. Like a warm waterfall in the middle of autumn. You were being killed by your own unruly thoughts that were getting the best of you. How was he going to break up with you? Was this it? Was he simply never going to talk to you again?

You finally got home, shrugging your mother off saying that you weren't in the mood for dinner as you wiped your tears and ran up the stairs.

You avoided Tsukishima for the whole week. After all, what good does a clingy [S/O] do other than annoying their partner?

"[Y/N]!" you hear Tadashi's voice echo through the corridor just as you're about to leave. You stayed behind for a couple of extra minutes because you liked the soothing silence your school provided. The bell ringing, the leaves of the trees rustling, the smell of books and chalk, the nostalgic feeling overwhelming you of memories buried deep.

The school was a safe place without anyone around.

"Ah, Tadashi!" you grinned, you grabbed your belongings and rushed over to the boy, greeting him once again. He rubs the back of his neck nervously as he asks, "You haven't talked to Tsukki all week, have you?"

"Oh, I haven't? I didn't notice," you chuckle nervously, obviously knowing that Yamaguchi was concerned about you since the day he had seen you overhear his conversation.

What you didn't know, was that Tsukishima was standing merely five feet away, hidden inside a classroom. He was quizzically standing there, not moving an inch so he could hear what you had to say. Did you want to break up with him? Was that why you hadn't initiated a single conversation with him? Was that why you would leave your home earlier than usual so you could walk without him? Was that why you wouldn't even bother to look at his message(even though he had only tried to contact you twice—one text, and one call)?

"[Y/N], I know you heard when Tsukki complained about your grade in the Physics exam," Tadashi grimaced, gritting his teeth as he tried to look away from you. You widened your eyes as you tried to find a suitable explanation that would fix the problem in front of you.

Tsukishima, on the other hand, was shocked. He didn’t know you were there that day. His hands were in his hair as he slowly sunk to his knees. His breathing becoming more rigid, more uneven as his mind went frantic. You had heard him call you clingy. You had heard him openly criticize you in front of the whole team. You had heard him say such mean things about you.

He couldn't fathom what you were feeling.

"It's not like I care about Physics anyway," you giggle, trying to lighten the mood, "Even if I got a low score, I still passed."

"Can you not joke around?" Yamaguchi asked in a deadpan tone that made you get goosebumps. You sighed, looking at him right in the eye, and claimed, "The other option is I cry and face my overwhelming sadness that my own boyfriend called me clingy and dumb even though I try so hard to be a person he deserves, so no."

To say that Tadashi was taken aback, was an understatement. You smiled as you let out a dry chuckle, and walked away.

That night, Tsukishima Kei was the one crying himself to sleep.

"Good morning, [Y/N]-chan," you heard an all-too-familiar voice behind you as you walked out to buy groceries. You stopped in your tracks, [E/C] eyes widening as you let out an unintentional hum.

"Can we talk?" he asked. You turned around hesitantly to see that his features no longer displayed the desultory expression he used to display. His forbearance was dying by the passing minute—he was worried as he stepped toward you, but stopped as he witnessed you take a step back.

His amber eyes searched for some comfort in yours, but he couldn't find himself to look at your face—as if your hurt expression would break him down even more. He never meant to hurt you with his snarky laid-back words. He didn't even mean most of them.

"I'm sorry if I have been a clingy or annoying [S/O], Tsukishima," you mumble, kicking a pebble lightly. It doesn't even pain you to say it anymore—your voice is calm and emollient as if you didn't mind saying these words. He grimaced at the fact that you didn’t call him “Kei” as his guilt uproared even more. 

Your tone caused him to wince as he looked up at your face. There was no sign of apathy, like your tone. Instead, your eyes were shut tightly, as if you were trying to stop yourself from having a breakdown right there. He stepped closer to you, hoping that you wouldn't walk away this time, as he placed a palm on your head—gently fiddling with the strands of your [H/C] hair. His touch is like embrocation; the sudden relief of all pain cast inside has been let out along with a single tear taking its course on your cheek.

Your furtive façade breaking down slowly as he held you in his long, yet firm arms. You were like a gossamer—so delicate, that Kei was scared he'd break you.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I shouldn’t have ignored you," he mumbled into your hair as he embraced you tightly. You shook your head in disagreement as you muffled out a reply, "I was the one that didn't do well. It's my fault."

"You did your best," he mused. You hummed indulgently, as he held your hand in his, "I'm walking you to wherever you're headed."

"You don't even know where I'm going," you chuckled out, as the boy smiled down at you, "So? I meant it when I said I’d follow you anywhere when we began dating.”

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[gisachi]

Okay I LOVE YOU TO DEATH ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡ but I think you already know that. I'm hereby requesting for #2 or #15 for the ShinRan kisses bc omfgahd you the b e s t ❤❤❤

This is for the dearest Tru because guurl your dcmk fandom misses you but I know you’re enjoying yourself over in HQ fandom and that’s great too ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) if you feel like coming back, let this be your ShinRan welcoming gift ok~ 💝😘

2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss. 15. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick. (1,659 words)

.

.

.

Shinichi is a biter. It’s a fact not even he was aware of until Ran pointed it out. She discovered this weird trait of his back in middle school when in the dead silence of their study session, Shinichi unlookingly reached for Ran’s dormant hand and gave a light bite on the side of her palm.

Utterly aghast, Ran gave his head a good whack, questioning where the hell that came from,  only for him to respond with a clueless (and pained) ‘Huh, what did I do?’

Ran believed that Shinichi did know but merely played pretend to avoid her flying fist of death. Yet, it happened more than once, all done randomly and without any hint of hesitancy nor perversity in his end. That was when she started to consider that maybe, Shinichi was indeed blissfully unaware of his habit— of his fondness?— of biting her.

She isn’t going to lie, it’s very weird at first. It isn’t simply some information she can share so casually because even Agasa-hakase would find it hard to believe. Shinichi? Bites? Dogs bite. Not people. Moreso not him. He who cowers like a kitten when he senses the Ran Rage. Not that his bites hurt, but still. Weird.

Though after noting the pattern, Ran concludes that Shinichi mechanically does it only when three conditions are met: when he isn’t stressed, when they are beside each other, and when they are alone. If absorbed in a case, he doesn’t so much as flinch from his chair, sitting upright in a foetal position, and Ran beside him is reduced to an invisible post. But when his mind is free of cases, leisurely reading his mystery novels next to her, the hand grabbing and hand biting occur.

One instance, they were walking home, and although they were beside each other, fingers grazing fingers, Ran sensed his hesitancy to snatch her hand for a usual bite. Side glancing at him, she teased, “So you’re finally becoming conscious of your weird habit?”

“Conscious enough to understand that I must stop myself from doing that in public… give me credit, Ran,” he scoffed.

They weren’t even dating then, but the blush on her face was akin to the blush of a woman receiving a declaration of love from her man. He realized he was weird. And he wanted to be weird, comfortably weird, only around her.

The affectionate bites have continued without issue until high school, even beyond. She’s allowed to call it affectionate, right? Yes, it grew on her, and though it’s questionably odd, the act of imprinting innocent, visible teeth marks somewhere on another’s body is something that does not just happen if both parties aren’t comfortable with it. Letting him bite her is a sign that she returns his affection too.

And then they started dating.

The only thing that’s changed apart from their relationship status is that the biting doesn’t only happen on the hand. Sometimes, he treats her forearm like a roasted chicken leg and Ran tickles him on the rib as punishment. Her arm and shoulder are his favorite body parts to nibble on. Fortunately, teeth marks don’t take long to disappear, unless they blotch which is a different story. That hasn’t happened. Yet.

“You’re doing it again,” Ran complained during another private study session when the nibble on her unsleeved shoulder felt deeper than usual.

“Crap, sorry.” And he soothed with a kiss. Ran blushed.

That was a first.

She moved a tiny inch away from him, formidable pink growing in her cheeks. “Sorry for the bite, or for biting too hard?” she snipped. Shinichi simply laughed.

Pensively, he observed the embedded mark on her skin as she moved, eyebrows scrunching in contemplation. Suddenly his mood shifted.

“Do you think I ought to stop this?” he spoke up.

Ran blinked, a little surprised. “And you’re asking that question now?”

“Better than not asking and making you feel uncomfortable for the rest of your life, yeah.”

“What makes you say I’m uncomfortable?”

“ ‘Cause I never hear you say you’re okay with it?”

Ran blinked a few more times.

“Shinichi, I don’t have to say I’m okay with it for you to know I’m okay with it. You of all people should know that.”

“That’s not it,” Shinichi argued, “it’s precisely because I know you that I need to hear you say it. Your silence can mean a lot of things... I still can’t read you one hundred percent, you know...”

Stopping a growing smile, Ran rolled her eyes and sighed thickly through her mouth. She was so tempted to humor him but he looked so sincere with that sad apologetic face.

“It’s just odd. But I don’t...I don’t hate it,” she answered.

“So you like it?” His face brightened, voice upping mirthfully as he leaned closer. “C’mon! Say it.”

“M-Mah,” flustered, she lifted her nose in the air and looked the other way, “You’re just making fun of me now!”  

He laughed, then kissed her shoulder again. “Fine. I’ll take that answer.”

And so he never stops.

In the most random moments alone together, he'll grab the opportunity to steal a bite. When she’s brushing her hair, when she’s zoning out during a movie, while she takes a call from her mom, or even while she’s cooking. Especially while she’s cooking. He’ll stand behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, making everything more intimate than it already is.

One fine night, he drops by Ran’s after solving yet another case that has earned him another column in the next morning paper. In a very good mood, he bites her shoulder, after he has taken his bath, and Ran is cooking his favorite food for dinner. His lips - not his teeth - linger longer on her skin, longer than how he often soothes her, and Ran notices that the warmth is zipping north, onto the slope of her neck and shoulder, and then on her neck.

Suddenly, the heat that emanates isn’t just from the steam from the pot; it’s in her body, everywhere.

“You smell so nice…” She can hear his relaxed smile as his hands caress her waist, and Ran releases a quivering exhale. She knows he’s saying that more out of admiration than anything else, but his voice is raspy and it makes her knees weak. It doesn’t help that he just finished his bath and his bare chest touches her back, and he smells like her lavender shampoo and soap, and he is very far from stressed, and they’re alone in the apartment.

That fine night, the intimacy in the air feels tantalizingly different from usual.

“Did… Did you already heat the teapot as I told you?” Her question is not at all suggestive, but her tone seems to indicate otherwise.

“Mm,” lazily, he parts her long hair to the other side and nibs on the silky skin of her neck, “seven minutes ‘til it boils.”

And then the following seconds are quiet, body language speaking for itself. Her head craning, breathing short; his relaxing nibbles softer and deeper, hands on her waist playful. His alternating kisses and bites electrify her, and she wants to fuel this spark into something greater, something that will make both of them combust.

So she sets the stove to low heat, and turns around.

On that fine night, she seizes the opportunity to kiss him where she prefers.

Chaste and gentle, but eager all the same. Instances like these are when Shinichi need not ask if she likes what he’s doing because the answer is crystal clear in her eyes.

Still, with a shell-shocked expression, he stares back, unmoving. Heart beating fast and head spinning crazy. That is a first.

The next second, he’s kissing her back.

“Doing it...again,” Ran breathes, breaking their connection every two seconds to let him punctuate each kiss with a tender bite on her lip.

“ ‘M sorry,” he airs, smiling, kissing deep, drinking the moan that trembles out her throat. “Force of habit... Didn’t notice.”

She feels the swirling heat change the color of her cheeks; she’s probably burning red now. “You always don’t,” she chuckles over his lips as her back hits the edge of the kitchen island.

They are no expert at this, but it feels like they’ve been doing this for so long with the way their lips move and glide and dance with each other, already done testing the waters, encouraging for more. As if his skin kisses are but the foreplay leading to this special moment. Soon, she feels herself being lifted from the floor, thighs laid to rest flat on the countertop, his body slotted between her legs. Ran feels her soul leave her body. This intimacy has easily transcended into another level.

In the middle of concentration, Shinichi’s eyes blow wide like dinner plates and he separates, touching the corner of his lower lip.

He tastes iron on his tongue. He looks at his girlfriend, realizing what she’s done. “...Whoa.”

Smiling coyly, Ran leans close, pausing a breath away, before soothing his swollen lip with a soft bite and gentle lick, and Shinichi groans a little. “I think...I see the appeal now.”

Shinichi’s smirk is smug and thrilled, loving his girl’s newest discovery. “And I see why you aren’t stopping me before…” he kisses her again, “Do it more.”

And on that night, more she does. Her first kisses, her first nibbles, her first tongue action she offers while taking all of his in turn. Perhaps she might have taken more, if not for the kettle whistling and dinner boiling out of the pot.

As for his weird biting habit, safe to say it’s best she gets even for the hundred times he’s done before. And apart from his lips, she’s willing to discover where he likes to receive it most and how he likes it given.

That won’t take long. He’s a willing teacher anyway.

.

.

.

[agustdiv1ne]

candy hearts — TEASER

♡ READ HERE ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader

genre: childhood best friends to lovers au, fluff, angst

wc: tbd (projected to be 10k+)

summary: spending valentine's day with your best friend had become a sort of tradition for ever since you were seven years old. despite the twists and turns in your friendship as both of you grew up, the one thing that never changed was the box of candy hearts that he placed in your hands every year.

warnings: tbd, none in this snippet

TEASER

tuesday, february 14th; age 12

you leaned your head against your palm as you zoned out in your last period class. science had never been your favorite subject, even less so given that your teacher had been informally dubbed the school's wack job. 

as the day had dragged on, you realized that the holiday wasn't as widely celebrated in middle school. the so-called 'special' day was reserved solely for the few couples on campus, most of which had been dating for only a couple weeks. you bet most would be broken up by next month, the typical cycle for immature, hormone-riddled relationships. 

but back to your science class.

you felt your eyes nearly roll into your skull as your teacher excitedly explained the concept of genetics and punnet squares. what a riveting topic to listen to for an hour on valentine's day. however, you couldn't focus on his boisterous ramblings when your mind was chock-full of bitter thoughts of how your best friend had decided that he couldn't be seen with you at school. 

okay, maybe not back to your science class. you were too distracted, too bothered, to concentrate.

because while yeonjun had promised to not leave you behind in middle school, it grew exceedingly obvious, as the year went on, that he had lied straight to your face. this holiday was only a painful reminder of that fact.

you couldn't entirely blame him, though, the vast sea of middle school causing you to slowly drift apart from each other as you both tried to find where you fit in. he had made new friends easily, the shy boy you once knew emerged from his shell, countless peers recognizing him for his impressive talents in baseball, in dance, in singing, the list could go on. he was good at everything that he tried his hand at, and by the middle of seventh grade, he had become the campus' golden boy. even the eighth graders knew him!

this came with a cost, however, and that was leaving you, his best friend of five years, behind (for the most part, at least).

you had found your own friends, of course. you had to, or else you would have been deemed a loner, and no one wants to be a loner in middle school. it was uncomfortable, having to talk to people you had never interacted with beforehand. despite this, you had found yourself a little group through your art class: yeri, chaeyoung, and yuqi. they had welcomed you into their trio easily. though it felt weird to have friends other than yeonjun for the first time, you were happy. well, uh, besides the whole yeonjun thing.

with only one class with him, it was easy to not speak to each other during school. your hangouts were now confined to after school, when he wasn't surrounded by his new friends and could make time for you. you never tried to talk to him about it, scared that he'd twist your words and it would destroy what semblance of friendship that remained between you. honestly, you wished that you could go back to elementary school, when things were easier, when you could talk to him at school without worrying about the consequences of doing so. 

yet you knew it wasn't that easy. this wasn't elementary school anymore.

your eyes subconsciously trailed over to the boy in question. you were supposed to hang out with him after school, but there was always that one insecurity that rattled around your mind:

what if this was the year that he finally blew you off? for good? 

you shook your head, going back to the worksheet your teacher had passed out as you were distracted by your thoughts. punnet squares, okay. one parent with a dominant and recessive gene, one parent with two recessive genes. now fill in the squares…

"hey, y/n."

your head shot up from at the sound of his voice. eyes wide at the fact that he was speaking to you at school. it had been months since he had last done so.

"oh, hi yeonjun. what did you need?" you sent him a tight smile, not that he noticed. twelve year-old boys were never most observant.

he placed a box of candy hearts, the same thing he gifted you every year, on top of your desk. it was blank, no message or name in sight.

"i wanted to give you this before i forgot and it got crushed in my backpack." his voice quietened, almost as if he didn't want anyone to hear what he had to say next, "we're still hanging out after school, right? like we always do?"

you nodded, and he shot you a small smile, "great, thanks."

he walked away. as soon as he sat back down in his seat, his friends were punching at his shoulder, teasing him, asking him if he was dating you. you could hear it all from where you were sitting, but you wished you couldn't after what he said next.

"me? with her? no way, we're just friends. i could never see her like that."

you never truly realized how much he truly meant to you until you no longer hung out until after school, but this? this hurt. it made your chest ache when you saw his borderline disgusted face at the insinuation that you were dating each other. what was so bad about you for him to have that reaction? was it your hair, your face, your acne? you found yourself mentally paging through every possible flaw you saw in yourself until the bell rang, signalling the end of school. 

yuqi walked up to you at the front of campus, immediately spotting the forlorn look on your face, "hey, you good?"

"uh, yeah, i guess. listen, i have to go meet up with yeonjun. catch you later?" you asked.

"yeonjun, huh? are you sure you're not dating him?" she smirked, and you rolled your eyes, your mood worsening even more.

"we're just friends," you spat, turning away from her, "he'd never like me like that, anyway. i have no chance with him. i'll see you later, yuqi."

the further you walked, the worse you felt about how you spoke to yuqi. she didn't deserve to deal with the brunt of your wrath, it was uncalled for. you wanted to run back to school and apologize, but you were sure she had already been picked up.

you'd have to make it up to her tomorrow.

as you neared the supermarket a few blocks down the street from school, you could see yeonjun waiting near the entrance, his foot tapping against the sidewalk impatiently. his bike sat next to him, which explained how he arrived much earlier than you.

"took you long enough," he teased as you approached, but you didn't answer, only sending him a half-hearted smile in return. his grin fell, eyebrows now furrowed. oh, now he noticed how you were feeling? typical. "you okay?"

that was the second time you had been asked that now. you wanted to say no, you definitely were not okay, that it hurt to hear him say those words earlier, that it hurt that you couldn't even talk to him during school. you wanted to tell him that you felt abandoned, you wanted to tell him that he broke the promise he made a year ago, that ever since the first day of seventh grade you felt left behind. you wanted to ask him why he even bothered hanging out with you when he couldn't bother even speaking to you at school.

but you didn't.

instead, you plastered an artificial smile on your face, trying to make your voice sound a little more energetic than you felt, "yeah! i guess i'm just tired. science wasn't exactly fun today, y'know?"

"tell me about it," he laughed as he walked beside you, easily accepting your excuse without prying. you wished that he would have pried. "he's the weirdest teacher i've ever had, i can't believe he hasn't been fired yet."

"right?" you replied as you walked down the aisle full of candy. you picked out one of the overpriced boxes of heart-shaped chocolates before walking up to the register. you tried to hand some of your money to the lady helping you, but yeonjun swatted your hand away.

"nuh-uh, you're not paying for this," he argued.

"but-"

"no."

you visibly deflated, scrunching your nose at him in distaste. he simply grinned at you in response.

"ah, young love," the cashier sighed as she took yeonjun's money. your heart clenched, thanking her before you two walked outside again, the air cool against your skin, the sun glaring into your eyes, the weather the complete opposite of your mood. you glanced over at yeonjun. you wondered why he hadn't protested when she said that. you didn't ask.

his hand found yours, dragging you around the corner behind the building. your heart raced, skin heating up slightly at the contact. your reaction couldn't have meant anything. no, you couldn't like him like that. you were friends, nothing more, nothing less.

as you sat next to each other behind the supermarket, unwrapping and eating the chocolate that he had bought you just a few minutes ago, you realized that you really couldn't deny it anymore: you were in love with choi yeonjun, your best friend, and you couldn't do anything about it.

hope y'all are excited :) if you would like to be tagged when the full fic is posted, please send me an ask!

→ © to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

word count : 1.8k

there shouldn’t be any harm in checking on tooru and his injured knee.

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀everyday was like going in circles and yet never knowing what the destination is supposed to be. each day seemed to be nothing more than a loophole chains of events, only to restart back at square one tomorrow. this investigation of yours was getting nowhere, and your hope of remembering anything was becoming more of a fever dream than an actual possibility.

⠀demanding hajime to tell you everything wouldn't work, he could out-stubborn you at any given time. makki and mattsun were no longer willing to tell you a thing, for fear they'd get the iron fisted beatdown of a century from their third year peer. oikawa didn't seem like much of an option either, especially with hajime's strange request to stay away from him at all times.

⠀with nothing else to think about, your new subject of thought was that fateful conversation in the gym not so long ago. not really a conversation; truly, more like a one sided rant to someone you hardly even knew. as far as you knew, you were probably strangers with tooru oikawa before the accident. iwa still had yet to explain the conflict between him and his fellow volleyball player, and you were honestly believing that he was never planning to.

⠀you had seen him walk in with crutches the following day, absolutely distraught that his injury was that bad. you had seen the brace on his knee as he practiced serving in the gym, but you never knew how bad his knee was until you broke his line of concentration. you couldn't even go and check on him, with iwaizumi sitting right there. no one knew how or why he walked in with crutches, and he never explained why, either. you wanted to stand up on stage and tell everyone yourself to hold yourself accountable for being the cause behind his unfortunate incident.

⠀"i'm staying after school today, hajime." a more spontaneous decision was made minutes before the last bell of the day rang, causing your friend to look at you strangely. he didn't seem suspicious of you, but he certainly had questions.

⠀"do you want me to stay behind with you?" he asked, his lips pursed as you looked at the clock. there was a hope in the back of your mind, a silent plea that he would be there today as well. the odds were low with the circumstances that you had caused yesterday, but there was no harm in trying. if not in the gym, he could possibly spend his time somewhere else?

⠀"no, you can go home." you shook your head as you turned back to him, keeping a straight face as to not sound strange. "you can walk me tomorrow, and we can even go out to eat. my favorite place, of course." you grinned, lightening the mood with a playful punch to his shoulder. "how's that sound?"

⠀chuckling to himself with a shrug, he soon nodded his head. "alright, deal. i'll pay." your eyes widened at his reaction, opening your mouth to retaliate but he shushed you. "i won't take no for an answer, you know how i am."

⠀"yeah, i know." rolling your eyes with a smile of your own, you breathed a sigh of relief. even if things have been strange, hajime was still your friend. you were thankful of how eager he was to help you and stand at your side at the drop of a hat. he was a handful at times, but you were thankful for him. "i'm surprised you're not broke because of me at this point."

⠀"nah. you're pretty satisfied with easy things anyway." you scoffed and turned away, earning a bigger laugh from iwaizumi. "i'm kidding. but i'm still paying tomorrow."

⠀"fine." just as you replied, the bell rang throughout the school, indicating the students that their last class of the day had come to a close. your heart leaped as you stood up, picking up your books and supplies almost too excitedly. you stopped yourself and secretly hoped that he would stay around the school.

⠀"y/n." you felt a hand around your wrist as you left the classroom, turning around to see iwaizumi hesitating to speak further, yet his grip unwavering.

⠀"hajime?"

⠀"i'm sorry." you creased your eyebrows in confusion, watching intently as his eyes refused to look into yours. "i know... i've been a pain your ass. this whole car incident, i can't imagine how frustrating it must be for you." you weren't sure where this was going, so you chose to stay silent. "i just want you to know that i haven't been able to make your life easier, but i promise from now on, it won't be that way."

⠀your jaw clenched. the only thing you wanted to accompany such an apology is an explanation and full story of what you've been wanting since you gathered your senses. "i see," you muttered, nodding your head slowly. "thank you, hajime."

⠀"i'll treat you right, okay? i swear on my life." once he loosened his hold, you pulled your wrist away and nodded again steely, pressing your lips upwards into a soft, half-hearted smile. even with such sincere, sweet words, he still refused to tell you anything. "you can trust me."

⠀"i know, hajime. i trust you." you nodded your head, waving goodbye to him before turning the corner, beginning your search around aoba johsai for the one person you want to talk to. why did you want to talk to him? he looked so uncomfortable with you around, you almost felt guilty for even stepping near him. did you bully him in the past? did you two hate each other in the past?

⠀trying your luck, you braved a deep breath and made your way back into the gym, no plan in mind as you closed your eyes upon reaching the doorway that made way into the large gym, disappointed that you heard no sounds while you blocked your own vision.

⠀you were expecting to be met with a wave of more disappointment, until a startled voice broke the silence. "y/n?"

⠀your eyes shot open in surprise. you almost revealed your relief with a smile. right in front of you stood oikawa, leaning on a crutch supporting his injured knee. he was surprised as you were that you were entering the gym, but expressed it in a different way. "what are you doing here?" he followed up, his arm stiffening to support his weight to stand up straighter.

⠀you didn't realize how awkward this meeting would be until you stood face to face with him right here. there was no point in sugar coating it, you were already there, and he was right in front of you. "i was looking for you," you replied, standing up a little straighter yourself. "i wanted to know how you've been doing. seeing your crutches, you must've been hurt pretty bad." you bowed. "i'm sorry."

⠀"this? it's nothing. i'm on crutches at least once a month." looking back up at him, oikawa shook his head and looked away, using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. "my knee has been pretty messed up for quite sometime now, it's no big deal. don't blame yourself over it. i was bound to hurt myself again, anyway."

⠀"then why don't you take a break?" it seemed quite obvious to you that the only remedy for these types of injuries was a hiatus and a time period to recuperate to not only heal your injuries, but to give some time to relax as well. "you should prioritize your well being."

⠀you watched the third year tense, his breath caught in his throat as he shook his head immediately, his eyes now going to the ground instead of at you. "i wish it were that easy," he mumbled. "maybe if i had the natural talent to take a breather, i would give myself a break. but i'm not naturally talented. i'm a setback, if anything."

⠀"nonsense!” you shook your head quickly, the words coming out of his mouth sounding like nothing but complete lies. "you're amazing! from what i witnessed yesterday, you're an amazing volleyball player." you paused for a second. "you played with hajime, right? what was your position?"

⠀"setter." the brunet's voice lowered. "actually, i was the captain of the team."

⠀"no way!" your eyes were practically sparkling at this point. "and you dare say you're not naturally gifted?" you placed your hands on your hips in disbelief. "i refuse to believe it."

⠀"oh, you should believe it, alright..." tooru began clenching his jaw, but you were too marveled to notice.

⠀"and i was the manager, so we must've definitely known each other before my accident!" you nodded matter-of-factly to answer your own question. "to think i can't remember anything you did as captain for the team... your teammates were definitely in great hands, i can just feel it! you - "

⠀"for the love of god, could you please get out of the way?" you stopped speaking the moment oikawa raised his voice, taking a step back instinctively. "y/n, i'm trying to get out of the gym, but i can't with you in the way. could you please move?"

⠀your pulse spiked in your system, the humiliation rushing to your cheeks faster than the blink of an eye. your legs moved mechanically to the side, your breathing uneasy as you locked your eyes to the floor, rendered speechless. this feeling was... all too familiar. you didn't like it. just thinking about it made your chest constrict a little bit. was this deja vu?

⠀it couldn't be, not when it was this effective.

⠀you heard oikawa curse under his breath, but you made no effort to look back up as the panic rose in his voice. "shit, y/n, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to snap at you like that. it's just that i get annoyed when i can't practice, i get impatient. but by no means do i blame you for my knee! you're right, i shouldn't push myself, i should take a breather. i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry."

⠀by the time you looked up, oikawa looked like he was about to gush waterfalls out of his eyes at any given moment; the atmosphere between the two of you flipped completely, and your energy had long depleted. "no, i should be the one to apologize. i got ahead of myself, i didn't let you talk... again." moving your arms to cross awkwardly, the world seemed to mock your stupidity before backing up more from him. "i actually should probably get going now. again, i'm sorry about your knee. i'll probably be apologizing for it until you're off the crutches. see you around."

⠀you gave oikawa no time to reply as you hastily power walked your way out of seijoh, feeling suffocated as you made your way home, the deja vu eating you up as you continued to tread quickly. it couldn't be deja vu, there was no way.

⠀something in his tone of voice triggered something deeper than what your amnesia could cover. you had felt this way before. out of anything you could've recalled first, it was just your luck it had to be this.

⠀what was your relationship to oikawa before the accident, anyway?

a/n : honestly i have nothing to say, so look out for part 13 soon!

taglist ( closed ) — @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-alot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @cirtruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @karaseijoh @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddlesslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch @readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy @kukiisan @catyuyuyuu @sillykittt @dolan-mendes @kiritokunuwu @the-third-wall @yammerss @monviemoo

[hopelessromantic727]

Calum Hood- Consequences

Author's Note: This imagine was inspired by Camila Cabello's song "Consequences"

Word Count: 1458

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Angst

- - - - -

He has never felt this way before. He’s never felt so much hurt in his heart. His desire to not leave his home was strong at this time of heartache. His phone was long dead. He didn't bother getting up to charge it. The phone was the only connection he had to the outside world, something Calum didn't want to know about.

"Loving her was dumb..." he thought for the millionth time that day.

He felt a few tears slide down his cheeks, not bothering to wipe them when there was plenty more to come. His mind, once again, playing flashbacks of their times together. When everything was sunshine until it poured.

He remembered the first time they both said, "I love you." Both of them sixteen, saying it because it felt right, and they knew that what they had was true love. They thought their love would last forever, but things didn’t go as planned.

His mind went back to a day he remembers too well. How couldn't he? It was the day he knew what real heartbreak was.

He remembers the makeup running down her face as she cried. He had quickly thought of ways to make her smile, anything to stop her crying and see her happy, but before he could try, he saw that the promise ring he had given her on her nineteenth birthday was no longer on her ring finger, instead, it was in her pocket, ready to be given back to him.

Calum started sobbing, recalling what she had told him that day.

“I’m sorry Calum, but I don’t think we should be together anymore.” She said, turning to look at him, getting teary-eyed.

“W-what do you mean?” He asked, looking at her confused, “do you not love me anymore?”

“Of course I do Cal, it’s just,” she looked away, shaking her head, “I think it’s better if we go our separate ways...” she said after a moment.

Calum stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. Sensing his confusion, she stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand.

“Listen, Cal,” she paused for a moment, “I think you’re better off without me.”

Calum started shaking his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Y/N beat him to it. “Listen to me please,” she said, cupping his jaw making him look at her. She saw him tearing up, “it’s for the better love,” she said, smiling softly at him. She leaned her forehead against his, both of them closing their eyes.

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” She said quietly, tears leaving her eyes. She took out the ring from her back pocket, grabbing his hand and putting the ring in the palm of his hand, closing it. She put her hand on top of his closed one and stepped away from him, heading towards the door.

Calum stood there as he watched the love of his life walk out the door. He heard her car leave his driveway, and he fell to his knees and started crying uncontrollably, staring at the closed door.

Calum sobbed harder at the memory, holding the ring to his chest. He was planning on getting her an actual ring, but those plans got ruined. Her departure felt recent even though it’s already been a month and a half since she left him. She had managed to leave an imprint on his heart.

Her smile and laugh haunted his mind, everything about her did. He thought only good things about her because that’s how Y/N was, good. Too good for him. He remembers the night he had confessed his feelings of insecurity to her.

They were both laying in each other’s arms in his bed, enjoying each other’s presence.

“I have to tell you something,” Calum mumbled into her hair, laying his chin on top of her head.

She hummed in response, letting him know she was listening.

“You’re too good for me… and I… I’m afraid that once you realize that, you’ll leave me for someone who does deserve you.” He said, holding back tears as his voice broke towards the end of his confession.

She looked up at him, placing her hand on his cheek, “I’ll never leave you, Cal. I love you, and I want you. Only you.”

He smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her, feeling nothing but contentment.

Ever since then, she would always reassure him that he did deserve her.

He put his arm over his eyes as he kept remembering the times he spent with her.

The way she would annoy him by playing “Heartbreak Girl” and singing it loudly as he playfully rolled his eyes at her, secretly loving it.

The way she furrowed her eyebrows when she was reading, concentrating on the words printed on the page.

The way she smiled at him and laughed at the stupid jokes he made.

And most importantly, he remembered the way she looked at him, her eyes full of love and adoration for the man standing in front of her. Her eyes always had a special spark in them that was there just for him. He always felt butterflies when she looked at him like that.

He knew that she was the love of his life.

He never believed in soulmates, but that changed when he met her. He knew that because of the love they had, how much she loved him, and how much he loved her.

Loving her was everything he’s ever wanted and dreamed of; wild, free, cool, and sweet. Full of sunshine and happiness. A safe place for him. A place he could let his guard and defenses down. A place where he could be vulnerable and not be afraid to be judged for it. She had encouraged him, telling him that he was safe with her, and ever since, he would go to her when life was taking a toll on him.

He swore he had never felt that much love before, and right now, he swore that he has never felt this much pain before.

* * * * * * * * *

A few hours went by as Calum’s crying got softer and quieter until it stopped. After a few moments, Calum decided to get up. Going to the bathroom, he saw his reflection in the mirror. His eyes bloodshot, and his cheeks flushed with stained tears. He turned away from the mirror, not wanting to look at the mess he was.

He slid the shower glass door and turned on the water. He got undressed as he waited for the water to get warm. After 45 minutes of showering, he turned off the water and slid the door open. He stepped out of the shower, and reached for a towel, drying himself. Going into his room, he went to his closet and started grabbing clothes to wear.

As he was getting dressed, he decided that it was time to move on. There was nothing to gain by just slouching around with a broken heart. He had to work, keep himself busy, anything to not let his mind wander back to her.

He grabbed his phone from the floor and plugged in his charger, setting his phone on the nightstand. As he waited for it to charge, he started cleaning his room.

He went to the laundry room, getting a basket to put his dirty clothes in and a trash bag. Once he returned to his room, he started picking up all his dirty clothes and empty bottles of alcohol off the ground.

Twenty minutes passed by, and he grabbed his phone, turning it on. He saw all his messages, missed calls, and voicemails from his bandmates and family members. He slid his thumb across the screen repeatedly, erasing all his notifications.

He sent a message to the band’s group chat, letting them know that he was coming to the studio today to join them. He unplugged his phone from the charger when he noticed that it was at 60%. He checked the time, 6:08pm.

He walked out of his room and walked downstairs, heading towards the door. He grabbed his green empathy hoodie and opened the door. He closed it and walked towards his car while putting his hoodie on. He got in his car and put his keys in the engine, turning them to the side, starting the car. He started driving towards the studio. As he was driving, Calum made a promise to himself. One that he would keep for two years without fail.

"I'm never gonna fall in love again..."

~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading this, let me know what you think of my first imagine :') <3

[mimisempai]

Come close, show me your scars, let us heal together

Summary

You might think it's another version of Sam comforting Bucky, but I promise it's not.

When the nightmare is a common memory where one is the executioner and the other the victim, how to support each other? Is it possible to heal together?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31571318

Words 2540 - Rating G

The Winter Soldier pulled on the wire with all his might to tear off one of Sam's wings.

Then with a powerful kick he pushed Sam off the top of the Helicarrier.

Buckyyyyy!

Saaaaam! Sam!

"Sam!"

Bucky woke up with a start, Sam's name on the lips.

He reached behind him, and fumbled until he encountered Sam's body.

Gradually the wave of relief replaced the wave of horror into which his nightmare had plunged him.

But could he really call a nightmare a vivid memory?

He must have been screaming loudly only in his mind, because Sam hadn't moved a muscle and was still asleep judging by the regularity of his breathing.

Bucky got up slowly so as not to wake him. He went into the kitchen, made himself a cup of tea, walked through the living room, grabbed a blanket as he passed and went to sit on the boardwalk.

Night terrors were not something unusual for him and Sam.

At the beginning of their life together, they were used to overcoming their nightmares alone, to waking up alone, and they didn't talk about it. They did everything not to wake the other, until one night during a nightmare more traumatic than others, Sam had woken Bucky by screaming.

As they talked that night, they realized the comfort they could give each other, that they no longer had to struggle alone.

And just like that, they established a kind of pattern, a way to overcome their trauma. In a rather well-oiled mechanism, one waking up the other, they prepared a cup of tea, a return to reality through domestic gestures, before going to sit on the boardwalk, the contemplation of the immutable lake helping them to regain their serenity. It was not uncommon for the rising sun to find them asleep against each other.

But tonight Bucky had not woken Sam.

He couldn't. Not when this nightmare was Sam's. Not when he was Sam's tormentor in this nightmare. How could he ask Sam to help him overcome this nightmare?

This nightmare that had actually happened.

Bucky looked down at his hands, it was those hands that had pushed Sam off the helicarrier.

He looked down at his hands, at his cursed arm, and felt as if he couldn't catch enough air, no matter how hard he breathed in, his lungs didn't seem to want to fill. His heart was beating wildly. He brought his hands to his chest in pain.

"Bucky..."

He opened his eyes, Sam was kneeling before him.

"Bucky, may I touch you?"

Bucky could do nothing but nod his head.

Sam simply placed his hands on his knees and said, "Concentrate on your breathing. Stay in the present Bucky."

"That's it, slowly, with me, inhale, two three, four, exhale, two, three, four." Sam repeated slowly, over and over, until Bucky found a steady breathing pattern.

"Are you with me Bucky?"

Bucky, still unable to answer out loud, nodded again.

"Can I let go for a second?"

Another nod.

Sam moved to sit behind Bucky, so that Bucky's back was resting on his chest. He covered them both with the blanket Bucky had brought with him and wrapped his arms around him.

"Lean against me and keep breathing with me, okay?"

Gradually he felt Bucky relax against him, and they stayed for long minutes like that.

Sam whispered after a moment, "Do you feel like talking about it?"

Bucky replied with a hoarse voice, "How? How can you hold me like that and be like that with me after what I did to you?"

"Bucky?"

"You almost died several times at my hands Sam, when I was the winter soldier, how can you stand my presence, how can you love me?"

Sam tightened his arms around Bucky and rested his forehead on his shoulder.

He took the time to think before answering.

To say he had no trauma from his fall from the helicarrier would be a lie, but this wasn't his first near death experience. His nightmares were more often due to his experience as a soldier and Riley's death.

This is what he said to Bucky before continuing, "Bucky, it's easy for me to love you because it wasn't you. Yes, I know at first I told Steve that you were one of those people that can't be saved. But I'm glad I was wrong. You're nothing like the one who was fighting me. You could grow your hair back, wear your mask, the same outfit, you wouldn't be him. You ask me how I can stand your presence Bucky. It's enough that I watch you live here, that I watch you play with the kids, help Sarah on the boat, chat with Carlos and especially the way you look at me Bucky, the way you look at me when you think I can't see you. In all of this I see you Bucky, not the winter soldier, not the man who pushed me from the helicarrier, or shot me, I see just you. The man I love."

He pressed a kiss to Bucky's hair. He let out a long sigh, and Sam felt him relax a little more against him.

"In my dream it was horrible, because I could see myself pushing you into the void and there was nothing I could do to stop myself."

"See, even your mind is telling you that it wasn't you. Yes, he is part of you. He left you with the memories of what he did, but it's not you. That's not who you are Bucky. I wouldn't have spent two years on the run for the Winter Soldier, but for Bucky Barnes I have."

Bucky turned his head and kissed him softly before resuming his position, leaning even further if it was possible into Sam's embrace.

"I love you Sam Wilson."

Sam tightened his arms around him just a little more and buried his face in Bucky's neck breathing in his scent, then asked, "Do you want to go back to bed?"

Bucky shook his head, "No, I want to stay here a little longer. Talk to me."

"Talk to you about what?"

"No wait, I have a better idea."

Bucky stood up and said to Sam with a wave of his hand, "Move along a little."

"Bucky... what are you..."

"Please Sam do as I ask."

Sam, having no idea of Bucky's intentions, did as he asked. Bucky took the position that Sam had with him. Sam sat between his legs, Bucky covered them with the blanket and hugged him the same way Sam had before.

Then he whispered in Sam's ear, "I want Sam Wilson to tell me something he has never told me before. You know everything about me, all my weaknesses, all my mistakes, all my pain, but there's a lot I don't know about Sam Wilson. What he's afraid of, what makes him sad, what makes him angry. So tell me something, tip the scales a little, you took care of me, let me show you that I can do the same for you too. That you can lean on me as much as I can lean on you. Anything, I won't judge you."

As Bucky spoke, Sam, feeling safe in his arms, was surprised himself at wanting to let go.

But the word, the name that swirled in his head, the one that haunted some of his nightmares, refused to pass his lips.

Bucky waited patiently, aware of Sam's inner struggle.

His years as a Winter Soldier or just because he was watching Sam since a long time, he had noticed the veil of sadness that passed over Sam's face when he mentioned his soldier past and specifically when he mentioned Riley.

Bucky figured it wasn't his place to ask. That Sam would talk when he needed to.

But tonight, when Sam once again had been supportive and proved how deep his feelings for Bucky were, Bucky had felt that this might be the perfect time.

When living with Sam, it was not hard to see how selfless he was.

Often to the detriment of his own needs.

But Bucky was there for that now. Bucky was ready to be the vessel for his anger, his struggles, his disappointments, his flaws, for all that the world could not see.

All he had to do was convince the man in question.

So he waited, patiently, tightening his hold every time he felt Sam hesitate.

Until Sam began to speak, his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Riley and I were pararescuemen working in the 58th Rescue Squadron. We were also both test pilots for the Falcon EXO-7. Our unit was on a mission to apprehend Khalid Khandil, a notable target in Afghanistan."

Bucky just put his hands on Sam's which were slightly trembling.

"Khandil was hiding in an area protected by soldiers using RPGs, preventing the U.S. Air Force from sending helicopters into the area. We had to infiltrate the area using EXO-7 Falcons, which allowed us much more movement than the helicopters. Riley was hit and killed by one of the RPGs, and there was nothing I could do to help him, I just watched him die. I don't think I've ever so much in my life experienced a sense of helplessness."

Sam made another pause, knowing that what he was about to confide in Bucky would not be easy for either of them.

"I didn't want to tell you about this just before, but I have to now, and I hope this won't make you feel any guiltier, but before you pushed me off the helicarrier, you threw Steve off before. And seeing him fall like that, in that moment I felt for a split second as helpless as the day I lost Riley."

For a moment Bucky wondered how many more times he would have to face the consequences of his actions when he was the Winter Soldier. But he soon collected himself because it wasn't about him now, it was about Sam.

"Oh Sam, I'm so sorry." he tightened his embrace.

"I didn't say that to make you apologize, I just want you to know that the worst nightmare I have of this moment is not my fall but Steve's. Steve was able to make it, but Riley... Riley wasn't a super soldier, we didn't have super powers, just our wings, and he fell just like that. It should have been me, I..."

Sam couldn't go on. His throat was tight, he could no longer speak.

Bucky simply said, "Let it go, Sam."

Sam muttered something, his voice so low that Bucky was not able to understand.

"Hm?"

"I don't know how... I'm fighting so hard to be strong that I don't know how to let go."

"Wait..." Bucky turned Sam around, who complied, so that he was facing him, then put the blanket around them. He cradled Sam's head under his chin and tightened his arms around him, then whispered into Sam's hair.

"Sam, you don't have to be strong all the time. And especially not here, with me, in my arms. I'm right here. Let me be strong for you. I promise I won't let you down. Let go, I've got you."

Sam closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to calm himself against everything that threatened to overwhelm him. He was so ready to give in and Bucky's words were potentially the thing that could push him over the edge. He let out a shaky breath and let himself be engulfed by the sensations, in the safety of the strong arms that were wrapped around him, solid and secure, not remembering if since his father, he had felt such a strong sense of security in someone's arms.

There was nothing to stop the tears now, and he tried as hard as he could to hold them back, unable to stop them. He buried his face in Bucky's chest, the tears now uncontrollable. Bucky hugged him even tighter and gently stroked his back, whispering words of encouragement and comfort into his hair. They stayed like that for a long time and as morning approached, Sam loosened up a bit from Bucky, took a breath and wrapped his arms around himself, looking at Bucky, whose expression was nothing but understanding and acceptance.

"I... I didn't think I still had all this pain in me, or rather I did, but I didn't know I needed to express it. I thought moving on would be enough. You know, Riley was exceptional, I think I even had a crush on him, he had this optimism and hope in people. I don't know if that's why he became a rescuer, but he believed that everyone had a chance. He saw the good in everyone. So I thought it would be okay if I continued, behaving in a way that honored his memory, that it would help me grieve."

"But that didn't help you, did it? Not until you faced it. It still affects you, you know that. I've seen it." Bucky said softly.

"I'm not denying it, but I didn't think taking the time to think about it, sharing it with someone would help me. It's just... I've been dealing with it on my own for so long, buried it for so long that to suddenly be confronted with it is...unsettling."

Bucky brushed a hand across his cheek, wiping a tear that lingered in the corner of Sam's eye with the tip of his thumb.

"I know Sam. Believe me I know."

"Just because you know, it makes it a little easier," Sam said quickly, grabbing Bucky's hand and intertwining his fingers with his. "It's so hard and painful, but you help me. You of all people know what it's like to feel guilty when rationally you know you're not."

Bucky continued to hold Sam's hand tightly, scrutinizing his face, torn between overwhelming elation that Sam had been able to trust him so much, and bitter sadness that he needed to. His need to protect Sam was stronger than ever and it broke his heart to think of the pain Sam must have carried inside him without being able to express it.

Because words were not enough to describe the emotion that was overwhelming him, he lifted Sam's chin and chose to express everything he felt in another way. He took Sam's face in his hands and pressed soft kisses to his cheeks before putting his lips to Sam's and kissing him gently and slowly. Sam put his arms around Bucky and responded to the kiss with the same gentleness until Bucky broke the kiss and said his mouth against Sam's.

"I love you."

Sam didn't answer, he just hugged Bucky tighter and put his head in his neck. They stayed in that embrace until the sun came up. They let its warm rays erase the last shadows of that night before returning to their home.

They were to face another day, together, their hearts happy to know that they would no longer face this life alone. That they would protect this life, together, with all the power, love and hope they possessed. ______

I'm still exploring their relationship, I know my writing is simple and wonky, but I'm learning.

Thank you for reading.

[acciocriativity]

Spark of Happiness ||Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You already went through a lot in your life, but while dating Draco the world you knew has changed dramatically and it seems like it couldn’t get any worse...

Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: Thanks for the request @loxbbg and sorry for tagging you, I just thought that you would like to, since I took a longer time than I promised. That’s my first time writing for Draco, so I don’t know if it’s what you wanted. Hope you’ll enjoy it!

Part II

Like in all relationships, difficult moments always come up to test the couple, their trust, their love, and their future together.

It wasn't easy to get through the first two but we were still together at a nebulous time in the Wizarding World and in Draco's life.

I always knew about everything, the return of you-know-who, the nightmares and I thought that eventually, when this all came to an end, we could live a quiet life somewhere, preferably as far away as possible.

Draco agreed with me when we talked about it the other day but things were not going well, besides the daily stress at Hogwarts, the anticipation of the weight of the black mark on his forearm was taking him down bit by bit.

He was drowning, losing what little light I could see inside him, and even if I insisted to know more, he still had to keep too much inside himself. Partly because no one else could know and partly because he had trouble expressing himself. It was always like this, although I like to think that we were slowly getting better at it.

"Draco, can you come sit with me for a little while?", I said watching the blond try to concentrate on the book in front of him only to fail, for the 3rd time in a row. "I promise that page can wait about 10 minutes, it's a weekend". My heart sank in my chest as soon as he turned to look at me, the dark circles under his eyes even deeper than the day before. Another sleepless night.

I heard his defeated sigh and soon after felt the warmth of his body close to mine and his natural scent fill my lungs.

"Why are you up so early, love?", his arms passed around my waist and his head lay on my right shoulder. "More than anyone, you should rest, even if it is during the day."

"I just couldn't sleep anymore", his voice husky and faltered and automatically my hands went to his messy blond hair, stroking the strands carefully.

"You know I'm here to listen to you and I know these nightmares are getting worse, I won't say anything after listening if you prefer but I can't watch you like this anymore, not without doing something about it”.

We were silent for a few minutes, all that could be heard was our breathing and his tired sighs. I continued in that position, I tried to pass on as much reassurance as possible, because there was nothing else I could do if he wouldn't allow me.

"My mother sent me a letter, when I go back to Malfoy Manor, I will get the black mark", he didn't look me in the eye and I tried not to take it to heart.

"And when did you intend to tell me this? It's not more than two weeks until Christmas, is that why the nightmares are worse?", I felt my head spin and I had to close my eyes to concentrate again.

He nodded and again silence fell over the room, each lost in his own thoughts until I decided to speak again.

"You want to tell me about the nightmares? You don't have to go through this alone", my hands came out of his hair and went around his shoulder.

And he told me everything this time. The meeting room where the death eaters gathered, the place most of the dreams usually took place. While he felt the worst pain he had ever experienced, his father was standing with a proud expression beside his mother, who was paralyzed and you-know-who looked pleased, basking in the fear evident on his face.

The worst part was left for the end, where the reason for his entrance was revealed, which changed every day. In some he was supposed to be just a spy, in others he was supposed to kill someone or be killed, and it didn't stop there. He was supposed to prove his loyalty by killing a muggle in front of everyone there, who would serve as dinner for the snake named Nagini. He had no choice, he could have no compassion or he would be there with that woman.

"They were laughing like it was the most fun situation, they were all there, the Carrows, Lestrange, Avery…”, I felt a few tears wetting my blouse but he pretended he was fine and I preferred to pretend I believed him.

He kept talking more names with a tone of anger and disgust but I stopped paying attention to Avery, which was the last name on my old birth certificate before it changed to both my parents when I was adopted.

"Love? Y/N???", his grayish blue eyes were reddened, I could clearly see where the tears had run down his face. "Sorry love, I was just thinking...keep talking, it's good to get it all out at once."

After I heard everything, I kept my word and didn't say anything so instead, I let him finally relax in my arms.

"What were you thinking about earlier?", his eyes were already closed, exhaustion was winning the battle.

"I was thinking it would be a much better idea if we got some more sleep now, don't you agree?", he couldn't see my smile but I could see his and there was nothing in the world I wanted to see more often.

"Sounds like an excellent idea...", he wriggled a little until we were both comfortable in a position to sleep.

Later after lunch I began to notice the change in Draco's mood, he seemed equally tired as the few hours of sleep were not enough but somehow, he was glowing and I was loving it.

The next few days followed the same path until he decided to tell me why.

"Meet me at the Astronomy Tower in 10 minutes - D.M."

That was all it said on the note his owl came to hand me and I couldn't help but smile.It's not easy to be dating at Hogwarts, where there are students everywhere so we usually meet during the night in my dormitory or somewhere empty in the castle.

I waited a few minutes to make sure there was no one else in the Slytherin common hall and then started my way to the tower with the utmost care not to run into Filch or his cat and I was really close to being caught on the 7th floor.

"I thought you got lost along the way", he said without the humor I expected to find in his voice.

"I had an accident with Filch but I'm here now, so did something happen? You're so serious", I said approaching him by the window and leaning on the window sill by his side.

"Yeah, sort of, I've been thinking a lot the last few days about what's going to happen", he took a deep breath before continuing. "And this time is different, this time I might have a choice".

I opened my mouth but nothing came out, he didn't want to be like his parents, it's not a new thing but to really stand up to them?

"I'm putting together a plan, well I was. I need to know if you want to be in it with me", I could see my own reflection in his eyes.

"Of course, as long as we end up alive at the end. What's the plan?", he grinned and explained to me the little bit that was already right in his plan.

He wouldn't go to Malfoy Manor for Christmas, instead he would have to sell something to get enough money to rent a room, which isn't hard considering his shoes are worth more than all the Hogwarts school supplies tripled. I didn't have to check to know it's true.

"That's a good start but I don't think it will be necessary, what do you think about coming back with me for Christmas? My parents won't mind. They want to meet you and it would be harder to find you there", he was staring at me intensely but not saying anything, I started to think I had said something stupid. "Draco? It was just a suggestion...you don't have to come with me if you're not comfortable and...", he gave me a quick kiss and smiled at me.

"I'd love to go spend Christmas with your family, and then we can think about what to do after that", he said moving closer to me to the point where our lips touched.

I agreed with a small nod and we kissed again, this time for much longer. The weather was perfect, the cold wind contrasting with my warm skin from the blond's touches, for me we could stay there forever.

A week later, another letter arrived for Draco during our breakfast in the Great Hall and his expression changed as soon as he picked up the paper.

"Draco?", he didn't answer me and continued reading and rereading non-stop with the most grim expression I have ever seen on his face. "Draco, can you talk to me?", I whispered and even with him beside me, I couldn't read a whole sentence.

He simply got up and left in a hurry, I wasn't going to stay and pretend that everything was fine. I didn't bother to make an excuse, since most of the table stopped to pay attention to what was going on, I walked out a little behind him and it wasn't hard to catch up.

"Draco! What the hell are you doing? We were going to work it out together, you don't have to run from me like you do the others", I said approaching in the middle of the empty hallway. "You're still not going to talk to me?", I said with my arms crossed zero percent intimidated by his angry expression.

"And for what? You can't do anything for me now. The plan has failed, they're going to ask the principal to send me home tomorrow", he started pacing back and forth, his hands clenched tightly, fear and despair formed a powerful alliance inside him

I had no idea what to say, what could be said to make this better? His steps became harder against the ground and I was sure that at some point something would be broken if we continued there.

"Come on love, let's skip class today. Let's think of another plan, you won't become one of them, I promise", I held his tense arm and guided him quickly into the dungeon.

"You can't promise that, how can you be so sure?", I could see a glimmer of hope that I wasn't going to let go."Because I will do whatever it takes to make sure it doesn't happen, okay?", I slid my hand down his arm until I found his.

It was a long day, we barely slept that night as we were both unsure if our idea would work out or not.

The next morning I awoke to an unusual movement downstairs, the clock I had been given by my parents showed a little over five in the morning. My friends didn't even move in their beds as I walked closer to the door to hear what was being said and I didn't recognize those voices.

"I will call him Mr. Malfoy, please settle down", was Professor Snape's voice and after that silence came.

Damn it, there wouldn't be time to escape as we had planned. I took a deep breath and started to think, I wouldn't stay here, I had to do something, I had to think but the sound of my own heart was getting in the way. I hadn't noticed that I was shaking until I took a step back to my bed, my legs had almost gone weak.

A few nerve-wracking minutes later, as if I had drawn it to me from thinking about him so much, I heard Draco's voice in my hallway moving closer to my room.

"She won't mind, I'm sure", I could hear clearly through the door and I was sure that if it had been any other student, not only would he not have made it upstairs but he would also have gotten the scolding of the century.

The door was opened and the first thing Draco did was to quickly push me back near the bed before Snape appeared inside the room as well.

"Miss Lewis, you may also go with Mr. Malfoy, your Christmas break will also be early. Your parents will be waiting in the Great Hall Mr. Malfoy", and he stood there until Draco left the room but he didn't leave before giving me a quick hug.

"Wait for me in the common hall", he left unaware that his voice had made me shakier than I already was.

"They let you leave early because the Malfoys asked? That's so unfair", the girls were all awake. "Will you two be quiet? I still want to get some sleep before breakfast time", the second one said, still covered up.

After that complaint, they went to sleep while I took a shower and tried to process what had just happened and what was going to happen. I got dressed in one of my warmest clothing, I grabbed my suitcase that was already packed and went downstairs, it wasn't even past six in the morning, no one but my boyfriend was there and I barely set foot on the floor when he ran up to me.

"We don't have much time, we'll have to go with them but I'll make sure we get out before the meeting starts. It won't take more than 5 minutes", he hugged me tightly and I smiled as soon as the strong smell of his cologne hit me, I rested my chin on his shoulder and we stood like that for a few minutes.

"We'll be fine, the end of our plan still works", I spoke softly and I could notice the skin on his neck got goosebumps."I'm just going to let it go because it's not the time for that sir”, I said with a grin across my face.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, miss. We better go soon, the faster we go, the faster this is over", he kissed me before we walked hand in hand down the halls.

“Draco, why didn't you let us know your girlfriend was coming to visit us for Christmas earlier?”, his mother was the first to speak as soon as we approached them, her tone was nice but her smile trembled.

As soon as we started our relationship we talked it over and thought it would be best not to mention to his parents that I came from a muggle foster family. We knew it would be impossible to keep this secret since his parents are quite "protective", so he only mentioned me when he had no other choice.

I already knew that there would be one reason for them to be polite to me, I had not been judged on whether I was appropriate or not yet. They weren't giving me the benefit of the doubt, they were giving it to Draco's choices.

"I must have forgotten but it doesn't make that much difference, does it?", he said calmly and I pretended I hadn't seen his father's expression harden.

"We shall be going, I can't waste any more time here”, the disgusted tone in his voice left me more surprised than anything else.

Since no one can apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts, we walked to Hogsmeade in awkward silence. His parents walked imposingly in front of us and we were right behind them holding hands, only communicating by glances. Once we got far enough, we stopped on the dusty road at the entrance to the small village.

"Alright you two, Draco you know how it works, dear, have you ever apparated before?", she was kind enough to ask me. "No Mrs. Malfoy, I have never apparated".

"The first time is complicated but you'll be fine”, she held her husband's arm and in one second we were standing in the middle of the road and the next we weren't.

Harry Potter Masterlist

[alysmarylin]

The fic you've been waiting for

Crowley avenging his beloved angel - Sandalphon got what he deserved (don't thank me, reblog instead)!!!!!!!!

Crowley and Aziraphale were unpacking the stuff they bought on a big shopping Sunday, and to this very day Crowley can't remember why and how they ended up talking about Aziraphale's, well... Ex-kin.

"I kinda enjoyed Michael", Crowley laughed. "Rather good-looking. Uriel, on the other hand..."

"Don't get me started on Uriel and Sandalphon", Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "I hate their guts"

"Sandalphon was a tough prick, I remember. And uglier than Belzebub", Crowley sneered.

"You don't say. He works in my place now, homophobic son of a... They couldn't have picked a worse candidate", Aziraphale said in a somewhat hurt voice. 

"Don't worry, angel. Soon enough, he will receive some beating from locals, I tell you"

"Yeah, I should've definitely punched that bastard back", Aziraphale muttered under his nose quietly, angrily. 

" Yeah, you bet...", Crowley laughed and then stopped abruptly. "W-w-wait, wait-wait-wait. Back? What do you mean, back?". Crowley stood up from the floor and stepped up to Aziraphale. 

" Nothing, really"

"No, not nothing". Crowley's eyes were widened in shock. " Do you mean, that, that piece of shit HIT you?!"

Aziraphale lowered his eyes. It looked like the memory wasn't pleasant. Crowley was gasping.

"When? When did it happen? How come I didn't know?", Crowley was not yet angry but more frightened. " Angel, look at me. Talk to me. Someone battered you and I know nothing of it?!"

"No one battered me. I was walking back to my bookshop and Michael, Uriel and... And he approached me, I was questioned..."

"Where the Hell was I?" - Crowley asked, astonished.

"You drove home", Aziraphale said quietly and sadly.

Crowley tilted his head backward and sighed with despair. "I should've known... ". He lowered his head and looked at Aziraphale with sadness and pain. Aziraphale looked confused and lost.

" What did he do? Tell me, angel", Crowley stepped closer, putting his hand on Aziraphale's arm, leaning closer. "Tell me. He's dead"

"Don't you dare, Crowley, we got away and I won't..."

"What did he do to you? What? Why didn't you tell me? I was up there, I saw him, I could've..."

"Because I didn't want you to", Aziraphale answered bitterly. " I needed you to be concentrated and cool-headed. You freed me from them, same as I did for you. That's all that matters"

"No, it's not. You look sad, you look hurt", Crowley said, cupping Aziraphale's cheek. " Otherwise you would've forgotten".

"He punched me in the stomach, alright?", Aziraphale said with a lump in his throat. His lower lip trmbled a bit. "It wasn't as painful physically as it was humiliating".

Crowley looked down on his angel's belly - soft, beautiful, beloved and precious - and everything before his eyes suddenly became red as blood.

"I told you because I trust you, but if you dare approach him or pull out something stupid like that, I will leave you, Crowley", he heard Aziraphale's voice from some distance.

"Do you hear me? Answer me, Crowley"

Crowley felt his head filling with lead from within.

"I will not approach him. I swear it"

"Good", he hears Aziraphale say. " I'll finish unpacking"

Crowley stopped Aziraphale, holding him by the arm. He embraced him from behind, wrapping one of his arms around his chest and putting his hand gently on the angel's belly. He buried his nose in his soft blonde curls and muttered: "I love you".

"I love you too", Aziraphale answered softly, "Now let me finish".

Crowley looked at him, picking up paper bags and arranging the stuff around the room, looking small and soft and lovely. Somehow it made his silent rage all the more burning and red became crimson in his eyes. He swore he wouldn't approach that sick fuck who laid his dirty hands - no, he couldn't bear to think of it - on Aziraphale

... But he said nothing of his friends.

***

Crowley pulled his hood further on his forehead

"Pleasure to see you, Jay. You look like a heroin addict in that hoody", said Phil. 

"I have to hide my hair somehow. Rare color"

Crowley was nervous and feeling restless.

"Yep. You're drop-dead gorgeous lad, we get it. To what I owe the pleasure?"

"I need to track someone down. Name's Saldanphon but he changes his IDs every now and then. You'll have to check for anything similar. Don't have a picture, but I draw him", Crowley laid a piece of paper on a table. The drawing looked fairly accurate. " Looks middle-aged, a bit fat, bald, ugly, has a golden tooth. A homophobe might be hanging around gay bars and the likes to preach or intimidate or whatever he does. That's all I have as of now".

"Well", Phil sighed " It's doable. But it will take a while. Any family?"

"No, none at all"

"I see. The golden tooth is indeed something". Phil looked at Crowley's hand. "You got married?"

"Ugh, yeah", Crowley answered looking around. " You know how to, ehm, tell me of the progress?"

"I've been around longer than you", Phil said wearily, and Crowley had to keep his mouth shut on that remark, " You'll know when I find something. Just one more thing. This, ehm, funny-named morality apostle. What exactly are you planning? He's gonna go?"

"No, not go", Crowley said with sheer disappointment "Plainly be taught a lesson. He put his shitty hands where he shouldn't have".

"Are you gonna call our mutual friend?", Phil raised his eyebrows. " If you want to make it clean, it's the best way. They'll never track his men down. Just food for thought, Jay. A piece of advice from the old man"

"That sounds reasonable", Crowley nodded, as if he had had any idea what to do next when he came to Phil, " I'll think about it. Thank you. Wanna count?". He put a book - a fake book, of course - on a table.

"Here? Oh, please. Trust me, if I don't find what I intend to find here, you'll know", Phil put a book in his bag and stood up. " Have a nice day, kid. Next time, wear something else"

Crowley waited for ten more minutes before leaving the diner. It was only when he was in a crowdy underground station when he put the hood off. He had to be cautious. For everyone's sake.

 

***

 

"Do you really think it's a good place, Jay?", said a tall and broad bald man in a leather jacket, trying to sit comfortably on a bench by a pond.

"The best one, in terms of privacy", said Crowley, looking grimly from his hood. " So. You said you owe me a favor all the way back from 1999. I didn't need anything for a long time, but now..."

"How do you manage to look so young, you sick bastard?", the man asked, chuckling, trying to look at Crowley's face. " You look just like my son, and that sad excuse of an heir is 27 now, not something you could tell by the way he speaks, though, I'd give him 10  in that department, still... How old are you, anyway?"

"I use a strong sunscreen. And I have good genes. Good, hardworking Irish people, my entire family. Will you listen or not, Patsy?"

A bald man stopped laughing and sighed.

"Of course. What seems to be the problem?"

"Our mutual buddy, Phil, tracked down a guy I need you to deal with. Here's what I've got on him", Crowley took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to a man without so much as looking at his side. " I want your people to teach him a lesson. He's gotta stay alive. I can't be seen. But I need to watch it from a distance. I know you're ready to do this, but still" - Crowley took out something that looked like a book and put it on Patsy's lap still without looking at him - "this is some additional motivation for you, or a token of a good will, if you wish to call it that way".

Patsy put down an apparently-book-thing in his suitcase and opened a piece of paper. He looked at Crowley, frowning.

" What kind of a lesson do you want him to be taught, exactly?"

"If your boys will do it properly, he'll need new teeth", Crowley said, finally turning his head to his counterpart, looking him in the eyes from beneath his shaded. "The whole damn package. And the old ones, I want to have them. Every single one. Especially the golden one. No internal bleeding, no injuries to any organs. You can break a couple of ribs, but carefully. As you wish. But I need his teeth"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jay", the Patsy man said, looking flabbergasted. " What did this son of a bitch did to you so you became such a butcher"

"He laid his shitty hands where he shouldn't have", Crowley hissed, grinding his teeth. His hands clenched in fists.

" You didn't tell me you were married. Was this your wife?", Patsy asked warily.

"I have no wife, but I am indeed married", Crowley answered. " I know you're one of the few people of your occupation who don't look down on things like that. I love him. But I swore I won't touch this bastard myself. I don't have much choice, Pat"

"I'm sorry it happened to your, well, spouse", Patsy said carefully. " But the guys that I have in my crew are not as open-minded as I wish they were. You know it yourself. Ours is not the most prestigious job. I'll do this favor, but when you're sitting in a car with them, better keep the personal personal". 

They shook hands.

"I'll be waiting for your call. You know which number to call, and which not to", Crowley said, standing up. "I'm looking forward to seeing your team at work".

 

***

 

Crowley was staring into the field glasses, trying looking at two tall men in leather jackets dragging a bald man resembling Sandalphon, gagged and tied up, to a torch on the abandoned parking lot. The jeep where Crowley and his associates were sitting was right in its darkest corner.

It was Christmas Eve, the 24th of December. The snow was falling gloriously, but the place was too grim and damp for the fairy-tale-like spirit.

“You see them, Cap?”, a young driver, sitting by Crowley’s side asked.

“It looks like him, but I need insurance. I remember his voice. Call them”

One of the guys on the backseat dialed a number and one of the bouncers took the phone.

“Our cap wants so be sure it’s the guy. Let him speak”

He turned on the speakerphone. Soon enough Crowley heard Sandalphon screaming something like:

“I’ll give you anything you want, please, untie me, I need my hands, I…”, before Crowley nodded and Sandalphon became silent again. The phone was turned off and Sandalphon was dragged to a small staircase, and Crowley had to pay very close attention, looking into field glasses again, to recognize what was going on.

“Are you sure your people can do ALL the teeth in one go?”, he asked a bit unsurely.

“You insult us, Mr. Jay. It is our signature. One strike, all teeth. Leaves a strong message”, murmured a young man behind him.

“Well, then…”, Crowley started, but then he saw something rather outstanding, that made him make a certain sound: “Oi, woah… That was surprising… Alright, gentlemen, pardon me for my previous skepticism. I take that back. On second thought, I even refuse to take, the, ehm, the evidence”

He then heard his phone ring. It had to be Aziraphale. He had to answer. He quickly took the phone and blurted:

“Angel, honey, I can’t talk, I’m very busy, buying you a surprise, I’ll call you back in ten, love you”, without letting him even say a word. He figured out it would be more secure.

“Wife?”, asked a second young man, with a smile.

“Yeah. Sort of. Listen, I think I’d rather be going, are they done with the teeth? At the end of the day, I’ll think I’m more than happy without them. I don’t wanna take ‘em. I saw what you did, it was amazing. Drop me at the underground station, please… Else my, ehm, spouse, will be suspecting something, which I don’t fancy, like, at all”.

 

Crowley was very relieved when they drove away.

 

***

 

Crowley thought he had never had such a lovely Christmas morning. Angel was by his side, in his lovely tartan pajamas, they were tucked under the blanket, sipping tea and lazily switching the channels on telly.

“I thought I hated Christmas”, Crowley said quietly, as he lowered his head to Aziraphale’s, planting a soft kiss on his temple. “Now you made me love it. What next, angel?”

“You’ll stop wearing all black?”, Aziraphale answered, with a sarcastic smile.

“Naah, not in this life and not in the next”, Crowley said leisurely, switching the channels. Then he saw the news.

“… The victim of this horrific Christmas assault is alive, but severely traumatized – his teeth were…”

That was something Crowley didn’t account for – the bloody news.

“Ugh, what is it with these people”, he said with a trembling voice, trying desperately to sound casual, turning the telly off. “It’s only violence on this television, I’ll better put on some music. And make you some tea”, Crowley said, standing up.

“Dear boy”, Aziraphale said softly. “I’d like some tangerines. Would you be so kind as to bring your husband a plateful of those?”, he smiled. Crowley looked like he was melting from the inside.

“Every time you say the h-word I can’t say no to anything, angel. I’ll be in 15, a’right”

Crowley sighed with relief as he stepped into the kitchen. He was off the hook now, but some time from now, the angel might still learn about what happened. Will he be able to understand?

“All I did, I did for you”, Crowley thought in pain. “I love you so much I couldn’t stop it. He had to pay, my love, he had to”. Crowley felt tears fill his eyes, as he was putting tangerines in a bowl, but he was able to will them away. “I’d kill for you, I’d die for you, Aziraphale”, he thought with anguish. “I hope you know that whatever comes. I hope you will forgive me for what I had to do”.

 ***

 

With Crowley gone, Aziraphale was finally able to read the newspaper.

 

“Broken teeth, that’s a good take”, he thought smugly, as he read the weekly crime report. “See, Sandalphon. What goes around, comes around, next time you want to apply brutal force to your… arguments, better remember this, no? Though I doubt there will be the next time”

Aziraphale smirked. What his husband lacked in logic and cautiousness, he made up in loyalty and protectiveness. Blind loyalty and fierce protectiveness.

“You’re such an idiot, Crowley”, Aziraphale thought tenderly. “Really, A-J? To think I wouldn’t know? Me, famous Mr. Fell of Soho?”

That very evening, when he received a phone call from Phil and heard of some “heroin junkie looking” guy calling himself “Tony Jay” or “A J”, or, God have mercy, “Jay”, of all things, he knew it has to be Crowley.

“Wearing a black hoodie on top of his shades, really. It’s a miracle he didn’t get busted for drug possession”. Maybe it was indeed a miracle.

Truth be told, he wasn’t angry. He couldn’t approve openly, but there was a certain warmness in knowing that a homophobic golden-toothed prick who assaulted him now got what was coming for him.

“But I can’t encourage this sort of behavior in Crowley”, he thought, hiding his smile. “Now, dear boy, you need to control your impulses. At least, most of the time”.

Still, Aziraphale knew that he was one of the luckiest men – well, not really men, but… - alive, for his partner would stop at nothing to protect him.

“If only he would’ve acted a bit cleverer… Well, I suppose you can’t have it all. He’s beautiful, caring, kind, sweet, fiercely loyal and sexy as Hell, in the most literal sense of this word. It’s only natural he has to be a complete idiot to not let me forget myself. Oh, he brought me the cannoli the other day… This boy watched The Godfather too many times”.

 

“Angel!”, Crowley said, entering the room with a bowl full of tangerines. “What are you smiling at?”

“I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have you, dear boy”, Aziraphale answered with a loving smile.

[rawresparza]

I'm just itching for some fluffy Barisi. Do you have any (wait, that sounded weird, but I hope you know what I mean!), or can you magic some out of thin air with your amazing writing? :D

Mm, I went into this intending fluff and it immediately turned into angst. But there’s ultimately fluff underneath at all?? Just something I got into my head and had to get down, I hope it came out okay because I haven’t written anything in what feels like forever.

WARNING: mentions of past abuse

–

It’s funny how drastically three words can change everything.

It can change a dynamic, a relationship, a life.

“I love you.”

Perhaps it’s arrogant in a way to think of it but Sonny has never said it to anyone who hasn’t said it back. Then again, he’d never meant it as earnestly as he does now but maybe that should have been his first red flag. Maybe he should have taken it as a sign to be more cautious. Instead, he’d let himself be blindsided. He’d opened himself up to the risk of Rafael not being able to say it, too. He’d just never once even considered it would turn out that way.

And yet, here they lie in frightening silence, shoulder to shoulder in Rafael’s bed. Rafael still hasn’t said a word, his reading glasses perched low on his nose as he fixes his gaze on the case file he’s no longer reviewing. Sonny had protested when he’d brought the file with him to the bedroom but Rafael has court tomorrow and he’d wanted to make sure he was as prepared as possible. Rafael had batted those long lashes over those pretty green eyes and Sonny had folded much faster than he’d like to admit.

Sonny can’t take his eyes off Rafael. Every so often, he realizes he’s holding his breath, waiting for a response he isn’t sure is coming. He breathes in deeply through his nostrils then back out, chest rising and falling in a way that doesn’t betray how erratically his heart seems to be beating.

Is this how it ends? No. No, it can’t be. It doesn’t have to, anyway. Sonny can wait, right? It’s a little soon, in all fairness, they’ve only been dating for ten months; but ten months is almost a year and a year is a good amount of time to allow for two people to know whether they’re in love or not, isn’t it? He’s said it to exes sooner than that.

And look where it got you, a little voice in the back of his head whispers. His voice, the one he prefers to keep buried because when it rises, it tends to hand out uglier truths. He doesn’t love you. Hell, he can’t even bear to look you.

Sonny fights against that train of thought. Whatever is going through Rafael’s mind right now, it’s far from disgust. Sonny can at least be confident of that.

“I—”

“You—”

They both cringe, offering each other weak smiles.

“You first,” Rafael urges gently.

He still doesn’t quite make eye contact. Somehow that’s more hurtful than anything else right now. Somehow, Sonny has come to the conclusion that if Rafael would just look at him, they can fix this. They can come to an understanding. Rafael can get back to his case file, Sonny can get back to catching up on Game of Thrones (because Amanda has threatened to spoil the ending if he doesn’t finish it soon) and everything will be as if there hadn’t been a disturbance in the first place.

Because you are a disturbance. A weight on his shoulders, one he doesn’t want to carry anymore.

Sonny clears his too dry throat. “It’s okay if you don’t. No pressure. I just— I looked over at you and you had those little lines between your brows you get when you’re concentrating or you’re— yeah, those, you’re doing it. Your tongue was sticking out a little, too, you know I love catching you do that.” Rafael blinks but he remains patient, waiting for Sonny to reach the point. “Anyway, I do. I love you. You don’t have to say it back or anything, I guess it just seemed like a good time to let you know.” He pauses, unable to help himself before adding, not quite unbitterly, “I’m sorry I was wrong.”

Another long stretch of silence passes between them and Sonny very nearly volunteers to simply go home but then finally, finally, Rafael lifts his head. Sonny doesn’t expect to see Rafael’s eyes welling with tears.

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out raspy, like Rafael had been screaming even though he’s barely managed to string together a complete sentence for a solid five minutes now, and Sonny notes the way he has to force a swallow and the slight tremble to his bottom lip. It makes Sonny sit up straight, attention rapt now because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go, this isn’t how Rafael is supposed to react.

“Hey.” He shifts a little closer, prepared to reach out to take Rafael’s hands but freezing when Rafael flinches. Sonny feels like the rejection like a slap to the face, he’s borderline certain he’ll find the remnants of a handprint on his cheek in the morning and realize he hadn’t just imagined it. His mind races with his options, with failed ideas of what he can do to understand what’s going on, to make this better.

You shouldn’t have opened your damn mouth. You could have avoided all this in the first place.

“Please talk to me, Rafael,” Sonny says. His hands settle on gripping a pillow so he can hold it in front of himself like a protective shield, hugging it close to his chest, as if it might repel whatever undoubtedly horrible thing Rafael is going to say next. “Is it me? Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Rafael says quickly, shaking his head. At least there’s that. “No. I want to say it, Sonny, I do.”

Sonny blinks back the hot tears forming in his own eyes now, lifting his gaze to the ceiling as he blinks hard to avoid letting the tears fall. “So why don’t you? It’s okay, I won’t be upset. If you don’t feel that way yet, I’ll understand.”

You’re a liar. You’re a liar and you’re not dating a fool. Weren’t dating, anyway.

“It’s complicated,” Rafael murmurs, “and it’s not fair to you.”

“You’ve always been complicated.” Sonny tries to say it lightly, his effort to inject a little bit of lightness into the conversation even though he can sense the dark clouds falling into place above them. “I have time, Rafael. If you want to tell me, you know I’ll listen.”

Sucking in a breath, Rafael sets his case file and glasses down on the nightstand beside him. It takes him a moment to collect himself and Sonny can’t see his face now but he can see Rafael’s jaw working, can see the attempt to square those shoulders, to effort to keep it together. If there’s distinct reasoning behind all this, maybe that means they’ll be okay after all. So he stays quiet, lets Rafael work his way up to speaking again on his own time.

“It’s what he used to say.”

Sonny narrows his eyes when Rafael doesn’t expand, not quite understanding what he’s supposed to gather from that statement. “What who used to say?”

Rafael continues on as if he hadn’t heard the question. Maybe he really hadn’t. “He said it every time it happened, without fail. I get it now, I get what it really meant, how empty it was but at the time, I wanted to believe it so badly. I let myself believe it all those years.”

Very nearly, Sonny almost asks for clarification again but then his eyes find the stray cigarette burn on the curve of Rafael’s shoulder then the half-square scar toward Rafael’s tailbone and it clicks. “You’re talking about your dad.”

Rafael barely nods his confirmation. “He loved me so he had to teach me. He loved me so he had to make sure I knew better. He loved me so he knew I’d understand why I couldn’t tell anyone why I had a limp at school the next day. He loved me so I got to choose which belt he’d be using.”

Sonny’s eyes flutter shut, his fists tightening over the sheets as he tries not to audibly react. That’s not what Rafael needs right now. It isn’t often Rafael talks so openly about his childhood, Sonny doesn’t want to risk making him close off again. Still, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could travel back in time just to beat the ever-loving hell out of Rafael’s father then travel back a second time to do it all over again.

“My mom tried to stop him once. He broke her nose. I told her if she loved me, she’d never interfere again and it worked. She never did. My father was really good at showing how much he loved me, he just did it with his fists.”

“Rafael…”

He trails off. What is there to say? There’s nothing you can say. You’re useless, you can’t do anything to fix this.

“I’m telling you this because I want you to understand that for a part of me, love is always going to be associated with that pain. Those memories. When you say you love me, it’s like I can hear him, too. It’s just… hard sometimes.”

“You never have to say it back,” Sonny rushes to say, not entirely sure that’s what he’d actually meant to say or whether it would be even remotely helpful. “If you want me to stop saying it, that’s okay, I’ll find another way.”

Rafael shifts his body so he can face Sonny again, his whole expression softening now. The lines between his brows are gone, there’s just affection and a little bit of regret in his eyes, though Sonny isn’t sure what that means.

“I don’t want you stop, that’s the thing,” Rafael tells him. He hesitates just slightly then reaches out to gently unfold Sonny’s fingers from the sheets until he can link them with his own. “I want you to say it because coming from you, it’s so different. I know you’ll never hurt me, I know that. The thing about abuse is, it’s forever, no matter the source. It stays with you for life. It’s not something you can switch off when the memory of it becomes overwhelming. Forty years. Forty years and I can still remember the first time he hit me as clearly as if it’d happened this morning. But I carry on, I suck it up, because that’s what’s expected of me. That’s what I need to do if I want to live my life. And I need you to understand that just because you can’t fix it doesn’t mean you aren’t still the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Sonny snivels, bringing Rafael’s knuckles to his lips and gently pressing his lips against each one. “I get it. Whatever you need to do, I get it, I’m glad you told me.”

“I do, by the way,” Rafael says, tilting his head with a faint smile. “I really do. I want you to know that. You are the reason I believe the good in love again. It might just take me a little while before I can actually say it.”

“I can wait,” Sonny promises. “It’ll be worth it.”

He listens for the voice in the back of his head to sabotage the moment, to try to convince him Rafael would rather fabricate a complex lie than spare him the nasty truth, but there’s nothing. The voice has quieted for now. All that’s left is the comfort of knowing Rafael loves him, too. That’s all he needs, really, words are just words.

Some things, sometimes the least obvious things, are simply better left unsaid.

[squid--inc--writes]

Inktober 2019 day 2: mindless. Art + story.

Update: Masterlist

Warning for gore, tell me if there's anything else to tag. Also, message me, or reblog this and and say tag me, if you want to be able to read my Inktober stories, and see my art.

The day they came, the strange folk, was the day everything changed. Of course, cliche as that is, and, frankly, obvious in that anything new will make change happen. But that doesn't matter.

It started with a family of five, all seemed normal enough, a nuclear family model, really. They made friends, had parties, all that suburban crap. 

However, they always seemed off. Maybe it was the way how, when asked a question, or presented with a decision, it was always a blink, then an answer. Never more, never less. I brought it up to other people, my parents, my friends, anyone. No one seemed to think anything of it. Which is fair, I guess. It's inconsequential, right?

However, one day, that family of five turned into a family of four. I asked what happened to their baby. I know my friend Cami would babysit for them when they were away, and she'd gush about how they were. They said they only had their two sweet babies here, and gestured to their kids playing in the pool with some other kids.

I knew Cami was upset the first time she came back home, wondering what could have possibly happened. But after a party two days later, she didn't even seem to remember the third kid. Like it never happened.

About four days after, I could tell something was wrong. See, a few of the neighbours started acting like them. They'd wait a blink to answer, always cheerful, but never unique. People stopped mowing their lawn, too. Stopped caring.

Only three families left not falling into the trap. The klines two houses down, the Smiths across the street, and us. 

I couldn't parse what we had in common. The Smiths and my family were having plumbing issues, so we couldn't use water. I thought, maybe that's it. But the Klines always have perfect plumbing, so that couldn't be it.

It wasn't until we started seeing the state of the street that my family believed me. Among grass, and litter, there were clumps of hair on the ground. Hair and… other debris. And the smell, God the smell. Something smelled rotten, and fermented. I could barely go outside anymore. When I did, I'd have to cover my face with a cloth doused in my mother's perfume.

Luckily, we didn't go outside much anymore. No one threw parties anymore. In fact, I don't think most people came outside anymore.

When our pipes finally got fixed, that was when I knew we fucked up. I got up in the middle of the night, woken up by loud noises. I followed them down to the basement, hiding at the top of the stairs, behind the door. I opened the door just a little, and looked through. There was mom, holding my unconscious sister. Dad was holding a tool I didn't recognize. It became quickly apparent what it was, as it sliced through her skin, expertly flaying it from the muscle below. It peeled away, like an orange. Hair falling out in clumps. She didn't even wake up. I don't know if that's good or bad. I hope she wasn't awake at least.

Dad set down the… the thing. And he walked to the sink next to the laundry machine. That's when the stench hit me. Once he turned on the tap, something disgusting, the same as outside, only ten times more concentrated came out. The water looked fine, though. He took a long swig of water, then turned, and handed to my mother.

 She stood, and said, "I'll go get Joanna."

With that, I didn't bother shutting the door. I just slunk away, as fast as possible, far away from the stairs. I know she hesitated, noticing the door was slightly open. They had to know. So I got out the back door, didn't bother closing it, and ran. Didn't go around front, I risked walking through the backyard behind us. Brandy Jefferson lived there. Or she used to. 

I snuck through, trying not to trip anything, when I wound up kicking something sticky, and soft. It blew up around my foot, I slid, slamming my back on the ground, and lay there in silent pain.

I looked at the mess, now staining me. Dark, viscous, and mushy below me. I thanked whoever I could when I looked, and saw that it was a very old pumpkin. Very, very old. And, hilariously, smelled better than the air around me.

I crawled my way up to my feet, and once again thanked whatever entity saw it fit to make my escape a little easier. The grass, which grew unnaturally tall, over my head, and the fence between our yards, his my escape, from my mother, who was now calling out for me.

I moved as silently as possible, making my way around the yard, and coming it to the side of the street. My decision to stay in the grass was probably the only thing that kept me from getting grabbed.

Walking before me, I saw the street filled to bursting with disgusting, pale, almost translucent skinned beings. They all also had thick dark lines around their eyes, almost like veins, but like a new system was trying to work its way through the body, rather than accept the old routes. The smell was more pungent here, than before.

I have to cover my mouth and nose, and I feel my eyes watering.

Making my way past the parade of sickness, I weave my way through yards until I wind up across from the Klines. I glance down to where the Smiths should be, and notice that their lawn has been overgrown, despite it being nice and neat only a few days earlier. I peak around and see, despite having been immaculate not ten minutes ago, my home is overgrown as well. The only clean yard is the Klines. However, in order to make it there, I'd have to get across the street, then their yard, and pray that they would let me in. And that they were fine too. All without being seen. 

I can still hear my name being called, but it's getting further, and further away. Hopefully. So, I brace myself, take in as much air as I can without gagging, and I bolt across the street.

Someone had to have seen me in the house, because the door opens, and I sprinted in, not stopping, and slam in the wall a short distance from the entrance. The door slams shut behind me, and I feel a large, sharp object pointed at me. Mrs. Kline is staring down at me, eyeing me.

She says, "You alright?"

I stare at her, eyes wide, before I start just sobbing. I'm not really sure if it was from terror, exhaustion, or what, but I just sob.

I distantly hear a lock, and Mrs. Kline yells "Bill, get some blankets and the first aid kit."

Sitting up, I look and see the Kline kids. I never actually learned their names, cause they were homeschooled and only went outside on rare occasions. I feel bad about never saying hi.

Once they look me over, I learn their names. Bill Kline, the father, Angela Kline, the mother, and their, turns out three kids, are Betty and Beatrice, identical twins, and Carlisle, the eldest daughter.

I wind up moving in with them, discovering that they have an underground farm, essentially. It's a good thing the HOA isn't around anymore. The amount of readjusted pipes, or purification system thrown in. Even their own electric supply. It seems almost too good to be true.

Which is why I, stupidly, stopped trusting them. Which is why I, in the dead of night, left the house, and, with no key, did not lock it.

Which is why I was the death of the Klines. They could have been evil, they could have been good, but I never gave them a chance to prove it. Although, they already did so much for me.

So, on that night, I checked the street, closed the door, and snuck into another yard, having stolen a good amount of water and food. I thought I would be in the clear, but I should have known better.

I tried to leave the neighborhood, but it seemed to go on. Endless. What I finally realized was that, while it wasn't endless, it was being made to be. 

Buildings torn down to be made into houses. It got to a point where, although there were plenty of similarities, it was eerily different. Just enough, in just the right ways, that it was concerning.

I finally gave up on reaching the end. I knew I wouldn't be able to get past whoever was building it. How could I? Instead, I climbed a roof, in the dead of night, after days of walking, and tried to see anything.

At the center of the strange design being built with the houses, I saw it. The water processing plant. I could feel a bad idea rising.

Making my way there, sleeping in the grass during the day, and walking, walking, walking during the night. I still saw them, but none of them veered off course.

They would flood the streets after sunrise, and be gone before the afternoon. They would then return before sunset, and stay in their homes. the lawns weren't as safe as I'd like, but they'd have to do.

However, as time progressed, and I ran out of food, I could have sworn the sky was changing. While the time of day would be easily clear to see, there was a rolling smog that began to fill the sky. It made everything darker, easier to hide, but harder to breathe.

When I finally got to the center, that smell that I had gotten so used to, increased tenfold; so thick that I could bite a chunk out of the air, if I wanted to puke.

Fueled by the thought that, perhaps, there will be a section where maybe I can get clean water. Maybe I didn't ruin my chance.

That thought changed however, when I saw the hanging bodies of the Klines. Not flayed like everyone else, no.

Solid, bloody. I couldn't tell how they were hung there, but I could see stretched skin behind each of them. Not wanting to look any longer, I shifted my gaze. There, in the center of the pool, was a small bundle of sludge, pulsating, and whining.

I stepped forward, pulled by an unseen force, and crouch by the side of the water. Well, it looked like it once was.once close enough, it screamed out, the sound of a baby having a temper tantrum, but louder. Always more than what it should be, I couldn't stand it.

Covering my ears, and clenching my eyes shut, I didn't feel the push, but I certainly felt the fall. Then I didn't feel anything. I didn't think anything. My mind uploaded somewhere else, as a freak experiment, and my body…

My body left mindless.

[jimin-and-things]

Home

Pairing: Yoongi×Reader

Warnings: there's nothing too bad, just a mention of bullying

Note: This is just based off a dream I had the other night, and in the dream so much happened sooo there may be a part 2, but I don't know yet.

A/n: Alrighty! This is my first time writing something like this, so it's pretty garbage. But I am kinda proud of it and it's kinda good for being just a little introduction to the next few parts, I still don't know if there will be other parts but yeah I really hope you guys like it! 💜

"I really hope you like it here"

Your brother says to you with a reassuring smile, he pats your shoulder then lifts up a box labeled 'fragile'. You sigh "me too" you mumble underneath your breath and with that he walks away. You follow behind him with another box. Your dad got offered a job and he had to be relocated. This meant that your whole family had to go, and honestly, you didn't hate the idea of moving.

It's fall at the moment and all the leaves are turning different shades of red and yellow. The neighborhood has bunches of oak trees towering the houses. Many of the houses were made from brick and had groups of flowers bunching up around the yards and you watched as the groups of kids rode their bikes along the streets. The neighborhood was tranquil and quite pretty to say the least.

"Sooo, what do you guys think?" Your dad walks into the living room and leans against the door frame while smiling widely at you and your brother. You two are unpacking the boxes of random items that you forgot even existed.

"I don't know, it seems kinda boring here" you scoff at him "you've barely been here for 3 hours, give it some time" he rolls his eyes and then mumbles something that is inaudible to you. You walk past your dad to pick up another box thats labeled, "y/n's things" you glance at your dad then take the box into your arms, "well if it makes you feel any better, I think I'm gonna like it here" and with that you walked up the stairs while carrying the box.

You lay out all the items from the box across the floor of your empty new room. You take out a year book from the box and you knew you shouldn't open it, knowing that it would bring back too many memories that you didn't need at the moment. But instead, you open the yearbook and your eyes begin scanning the notes that people wrote. Every word you read hit you deeper and deeper. 'Bitch' 'Everybody hates you' 'Go rot' you came across these words too often as you were reading and before you knew it, you felt a tear fall across your cheek. That single tear turned into a whole stream of tears that you couldn't stop. You throw the yearbook across your room and pull your legs up to your chest and let the tears fall, sniffling every so often.

You stand up after your done crying and wipe your red, puffy eyes. You walk over to the window and see the trees swaying gently in the wind as the leaves dance around on the ground. You huff, I need to clear my head. And with that you grab your black jacket and you go down the stairs and just as you're about to open the front door you hear your mom,

"Where are you going sweety??" She strides towards you but you look down so she doesn't see your puffy eyes from crying, "I just want to go for a walk and have a better look at the neighborhood, is that okay" You still don't look at her and she tilts her head then smiles at you, "Of course y/n, go ahead, just be back by dinner okay?" You nod and with that, you're out the door, ready to get your mind off of everything.

The neighborhood is a good distraction for you. With each step you take, you can hear the crunch of the leaves under your shoes. When you glance up from the leaves you see chipmunks scurrying around, chasing eachother through the yards of the houses. You continue walking, happier than before you left your house and you may even have a bit of pep in your step. As you're walking you come upon a house that has someone sitting on the steps on the front porch. He's not looking at you but from what you can see from his profile, he is very handsome. And must've been too distracted by him because before you know it, you are on the ground. You tripped over a rock on the sidewalk and you groan as you slowly sit up while rubbing your hand. Ouch, why are you so clumsy?? You were about to get up and painfully run away in embarrassment when you hear him, "Wow, are you okay?" You look up to see where the voice is coming from and the face that greets you is gorgeous. Your mouth hangs open and you say nothing. When you still stay silent he squats down so he can come face to face with you, he has worry on his face, "hellooo??" When he says that you snap out of it and your face turns crimson red and you look down, "I...I'm fine" you try to get up and you hiss in pain and you look down at your knee, "you're bleeding, come on let me get you cleaned up" he holds his hand out to you but when you don't take it he tilts his head at you.

"I don't even know your name and you expect me just to walk into your house?" You gawk your head at him and he pulls his hand away and scratches his neck awkwardly, "Right, my bad, you're smart though, I could've just been a serial killer and dragged you into my house to kill you" you look at him with wide eyes, trying to make out if he was joking or not.

He notices your shocked facial expression and he chuckles, "oh come on, I'm joking! I wouldn't even think of killing you" he laughs lightly before looking down at your now ripped jean that shows your scraped up knee, "My names Yoongi, if that helps you, now can I please help clean that up?" he says while pointing to all the scratches on your hands and knees. You smile up at him Yoongi, what a nice name. You let a bit of your guard down to him and then nod at him, "My names y/n, if that helps you" a gummy smile lights up on his face when he hears your name and man oh man, it was the cutest smile you've ever seen you suddenly feel your face going red once again and you look down as he leads you into his house.

Yoongi's house was alittle messy, but it felt homey. The front door opened into the living room, he had pieces of music equipment scattered throughout, "this way" he takes your hand in his and you smile at the feeling of your hand in his, he leads you into the kitchen and pulls a chair out for you to sit down, he walks out of the kitchen and you replay the image of him in your head, his gummy smile stays in your mind. You snap out of your thoughts when he walks back into his kitchen with a small first-aid kit, he pulls out another chair and sits in front of you while taking out the items he needs from the kit. You watch as his hands work through the kit, pulling out items such as neosporin and bandages.

He glances up at you for a minute but then goes back to working on opening the cap to the neosporin, "So you must be part of the family that moved in down the street"

You nod then he takes your hand in his and places it palm up and begins applying the cream and you watch him work on your hand with concentration on his face, "So do you like it here so far?" His eyes flick up to yours for a split second and then he gets back to work, "I really like it so far, do you know how adorable this neighborhood is? it seems so calm here" He hums in agreement, "you're right, it is pretty calm here, its peaceful, thats one of the main reasons I decided to move here" his hands work their way to your leg, they linger on your thigh a bit longer until you notice and then he moves them down to your knee and he begins to work on patching up your knee, its silent for a minute until you break the silence, "You have a nice smile ya know" stupid, you just had to blurt that out, you blush profusely, you hear him chuckle, "why thank you very much" he eyes your blushing face and he smiles warmly at you then he finishes and puts a band-aid on your knee

"Alrighty, you're good to go" He helps you stand up from your chair then he looks around trying to break the silence, "So uhh...do you need anything else? Do you want something to drink?" He goes toward his fridge and grabs a water bottle, "I have water if you want one" you shake your head, "No thanks, I should really get going, my mom wants me back for dinner" he's alittle disappointed but he doesn't let it show.

He smiles at you and sets the water bottle on the counter and walks over to you, he looks into your eyes and glances down at your lips for a split second, "Well, hopefully I'll see you around y/n" you grin at him, "you'll definitely see me again, don't worry" you step closer to him, daring to look back up into his gorgeous eyes, "and thank you for helping patch me up today, I swear I'm not usually that clumsy" your voice is full of sincerity and he smirks at you, "Well please just be careful, I really don't need to be patching you up whenever you walk by me" you both laugh in unison and he opens the front door for you and watches as you step out of his house, and you begin to walk away, he smiles contently as he watches you walk away from him. He sighs then shuts the front door, he sits on his couch and smiles, he's alittle happier now that he's met you.

You step into your house, "I'm home!" Your mom comes walking over to you as your taking off your shoes and jacket, "oh there you are! I was beginning to get worried, where did you go?" You grin slightly while thinking of the charming man that you felt an instant connection to, "oh nowhere, I just got alittle distracted" she gives you an odd look but shrugs it off and you follow her into the kitchen thats beginning to come together, now that theres no more boxes piling into the kitchen. And when you all sit down to eat, you smile, you're alittle happier now that you met him

[aintnouseofpretending]

And I'll run in the rain till I'm breathless. (Roger Taylor x Reader)

» Kinda impossible for me to stop writing @_@.There are two exams, this month and next month, so I have been studying non-stop and jfc I’m burning the hell out. I really wanna write something, so here it is!

Summary: Y/n is part of the underground rock community in London. One day Brian introduces her to Roger and they quickly became a friend. But that doesn't last long; after giving Roger space supposedly reserved for her best friend—y/n get to finally see Roger's true face behind his cool looks.

Pairing: Mr T (Roger Taylor) x Reader.

Warning: Fluff at the end. Maybe a wee bit of angst? Profanity; a lot of profanity (cursing too much ain’t cool, peeps). Smoking (it’s bad for ya).

Word count: 4917.

Inspired by: Fool in the Rain by Led Zeppelin.

Dedicated to and perma-tag: @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark, my new friend that’s instantly clicked with me. <4 <4

Another note: This means what happened currently. Italic means memories in the past. Roger can be either actual Roger from any era the readers like or Ben Hardy’s Roger.

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

It’s foolish to think anything is going to work out with another man when your heart lies elsewhere. You wish to cry for him, but you can’t. There’s no reason for it. You don’t feel anything. Despite being his best friend for years, you see Loui as nothing more than a brother. A brother that doesn’t mine slapping you for being honest with him. After you’re accused to almost stood him up when you simply get the address wrong, he stopped you mid dumping him with a slap so true you feel like you’re still dreaming down in the rain. You finally snapped from the mind-bending action you thought he will never do, and quickly take shelter under the bus stop.

“Well. It’s going on three years.” You whispered to yourself. “If he was to do that to me, maybe I would do the same with what Loui did to me.”

Or maybe not. The only one time you hit someone was because you’re already so damn mad, and you’re too drunk to think straight. And it was an accident too, you only try to get him off; because he’s helping you to get up even after you say you can stand on your own. At least that time your feelings for him is still atom level it almost didn’t exist. Perhaps your old self when you start seeing his bad side would never think you’d be like now. Missing him. Somehow. You’ll do the dishes for him, but only two times before you start yelling at him. Like always.

You chuckled in silent as you wipe the water running down your hair. You wonder where he is now. Ever since you date Loui, you had a big fight and you moved out. You heard a couple of things from Brian, but they’re not so important, seeing the nature of the man. That makes you laugh again. He probably already exceed thousandths girlfriend. Maybe he’ll laugh too when his housemate told him to put a sock on the door.

“What’s so funny?”

You looked at a guy sheltering next to you. He’s also drenched. You shrugged.

“I don’t really know, mate. You got housemate still? Do they tell you to raise the flag when you’re shagging a gal? I used to be that housemate. I don’t know why I even bother to tell him. Good times...”

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

"I should've not introduced you to him." The man sighed deeply. You could only stare sharply. So bloody sharply that the brunette refuses to look at you until you stopped.

"What makes you think that? I have been painfully average in college anyways." It hurts to say that to the tall Astrophysics boy you have been crushing for so long. But sass is like honey in your blood. You can't help but get addicted.

"Cut your fucking sarcasm for once. It never helps your situation."

"Correct. But it makes it better." Now it's Brian's turn trying to kill you with his eyes. "What am I supposed to do then, Bri? Tried to fucking evict him? Emphasis on "tried"! That arsehole have me kicked out and shunned by my ex-bandmates! I fucking know I sucked at bass and guitar! But they're—."

"Breath..."

You didn't realize you almost throw your coffee cup at him. It still got half of hot coffee in it, and it makes Brian looks perfectly petrified with both of his hands up as if he ask you not to shoot.

"Sorry..."

"I'll talk to Roger. Again..."

The two of you knows it. It'll make no bloody difference; you can't even remember how many times you almost get Roger kicked by the landlady. But Mrs Marianne eventually falls victim to Roger's seduction and as he turned her against you. The last time you could convince her how horribly low maintenance her blonde tenant was, Roger played, hope-fucking-fully, his last trump card and get you voted by your own bandmates, from the band you fucking founded. His sugary victory has you wish you were bald so there'll be no hair you can pull out of frustration. Although the incident this time was that not only he ate your food and didn’t even try to do the dishes, he also blasts his music when you have clearly stated you’re going to study.

At least the silver lining to all this was that every time Roger KO'd you, Brian will give you his time—most likely out of guilt—disguise it as helping you to study. But, 1) his teaching and tips actually help you, and 2) the two of you did studies in the end. So you're not sure whether the lanky guitarist was just so bloody kind, or there could be something else that can be of use for you. That's why you can't really blame him for Roger's case; were you not taking interest with the man with his curly hair, perhaps it'll be long enough for you to secure the space at the house for your best friend—as you originally planned and supposed to do, instead of giving it to the satan-spawn.

A sound of a phone vibrating makes the two of you jumped out of your concentration. Lucky it was Brian's phone. If it was yours, the two of you would've been dead from the damn loud rock music ringtone.

"Your mum?"

"Ha, ha..." He mocked whilst he checked the caller. "Oh, my girlfriend. I'll be back in a minute."

As the man stands up and goes outside to answer the call, and you simply sat there. Your world suddenly destroyed. Almost feels like the café starts crumbling before your eyes, but you can do nothing to stop it. Only to witness and stunned like a helpless heroine in her love story. The warm rustic atmosphere from the café-around-the-corner. A romantic scene, perfect for a date and be with your love. Not so many people around so you can enjoy, now apparently, your heartbroken. You’re not going back here anytime soon, that’s for sure.

"Hey, sorry about that. Chrissie just found out about your fight with Roger and she's very worried about you. She told me to tell you this; you can bunk with us in case Roger is being Roger again."

Brian's sudden presence as he sits down finally snaps you out of your post-apocalyptic perception of the world.

"Chrissie? Chrissie Mullen? She's your girlfriend?"

"Ah, that reminds me, I always forgot to tell you, Loui is her friend."

"I know that! We are friends too for quite a while—."

So that's why Brian always feels so fucking guilty. It's the one-thing-lead-to-another bullshit; Loui talked about how you're quick to eye him to be your housemate. Being Chrissie's friend—Brian's future girlfriend,—he's around Roger when he showed off your loyalty as his best friend, only to have the lights of hope immediately extinguished by the bastard of a drummer on exactly the next fucking week. Brian bloody knew. But he's not a god to see the impending doom.

"Ha. That's funny." Your eyes stare blankly at him for a solid three seconds before your hands start packing your things in your backpack as fast as lightning. But it's no longer the fact that Brian was already taken by none other than your friend, funny enough, you used to crush on too, but the pang of pain in the bottom of your stomach was now caused by his lack of reaction seeing you bursting out of the café. That's the only reason left you needed to change the reason to go to the music club. Now it's to drink.

...

You wish to laugh at the situation like you always do the almost fifty times it happens. But this time, the girl’s scream can’t even faze you as your mind trying to make what is going on. It is clear as day what is going on. The currently naked woman trying to get her clothes whilst Roger looked frustrated but not helping his date.

“Sock on the door, ya cunt.” It’s hard to hide your slur, but currently, nothing can make you care enough. “At least tell me ya be shagging a gal. How many times was this fucking thing have to—.”

When you run to the bathroom to throw up, his girl ran out of the house. An impossible scenario for two young and wild girls to leave him behind in a hurry just like that. Even more impossible to see you getting so drunk you throw up. Not after he almost get you to bed him the one time you’re drunk when he’s also in the house; which makes you swear to Brian or Loui or your close friends to never let go you go home when you drunk.

“You... Alright?”

“Do I look alright, young boy?” You didn’t even try to cover your face knowing full well Roger always throws his briefs at you when you call him that. So you’re not surprised when Roger is too shocked to find you in that state.

“Just leave me the fuck alone and wreck this house like you always do.”

You don’t expect him to care. At least you wish he didn’t, or he might prank the shit out of you, and you might be too shitfaced to not restrain yourself from murdering him on spot this time. Hell, you’re too fucking drunk to see that he already did the wrecking the house part; one thing you’ll thank him for instead, because being too angry at him whilst cleaning the house will surely make you forget tomorrow.

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

“Ha. Annoying housemates after another. Just fucking avert your eyes, my sex life is none of yer’ business.” The man starts smoking, he offered you one, but you shake your head. “That one gal is the only one that lasts longer living with me. She’s still the champion in many different things too.”

“I bet she also hates you smoking near her.” You stated quite sharply. He inhaled deeply and exhale it away before he throws the cig on the pavement as he stepped on it.

“Miss that about her too.”

“No, you didn’t. You still smoked.”

“Just like her, you don’t know me quite well.”

“Well, you’re not helping much.”

“Because you only see what you want to see. You ignore everything else.”

Maybe that’s true. In the beginning, you hate your blonde housemate so much for many different reasons. Perhaps way too much that you can’t see him changing his attitudes towards you? But you have to be completely honest, if he does that when he’s not bringing home his bassist friend—that makes your housemate actually looks like the Satan himself, you’ll absolutely notice it much faster and sooner.

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

Something is happening with Roger. Ever since that day, he’s less of a bitch than he used to. He still doesn’t do dishes, or clean the fucking bathroom, or still refusing to throw trash away along with himself. He doesn’t pull a prank on you or insults you as much. He doesn’t blast his stereo, he even turning it down when you kick at his door when you need to study. He hardly brings some shag home anymore. Instead, that cute brunette is the frequent guest. And of course, you’re not complaining at all. The nostalgic peacefulness almost makes you so fucking drunk, Roger will take pity on you and left you a half-opened snack like when you discover the daddy long leg of your crush is already taken.

“Huh, y/n, did you see my lunch set? You eat them?”

Roger’s yell doesn’t make you jump despite it successfully breaks your concentration.

“You ate yours this morning.” You reminded him as you continue looking for riffs. “You can eat mine. I have toasts for lunch.”

“Thanks—?”

“Yeah, piss off.”

And he did leave you alone. Quietly heating and eating the lunch set and boil some water. Except, he can’t stop staring at you as he does all that.

“You’re very good.” Roger’s friend that you just learn the name as John, commented. He sat right in front of you as he put a mug of hot coffee on your side of the table.

“Oh, I know. But apparently not good enough.” You stare at the mug to which he nodded. “Thanks so much about the coffee.”

“Roger made that, not me. And no. It is very good. How long have you played?”

“Since fifteen. And tell that to Jukebox, maybe they’ll listen to you.”

“You used to be in Jukebox?”

“You’re still salty about them?” Roger joins the two of you. But as he sits right next to you, you immediately grab your amp, your music sheets, and goes to your room for some privacy. As expected; Roger found it offensive.

“What the hell did I do?”

“Everything. And Jukebox. You give out bad vibe my muse fucked off. By the way, John, I still got some cheese on toast in the fridge if you want.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

“What about me? I just made you that coffee.” He whines mockingly, almost makes you throw your music sheets at him. But instead, you slammed your bedroom door. “Wait, I’m serious. I’m still hungry.”

“You have fucking legs, Roger! Get them yourself! And whilst you’re at that, why don’t you drink the coffee and all our fucking foods?”

You hear a muted conversation as you write some notes down a bit later. It sounded more like an argument, but there’s a loud; “Fine! You don’t even have to thank me!” followed by the sound of plates and glass clunking. If it is indeed Roger that does the dishes, you promised yourself to listen to him and not thanking him. That’s his responsibility, you have done yours, and it’s not even that much. But the harder you try to ignore that, the more you can’t help that maybe Roger is turning to the better, and not because John is getting on his nerve as much as you did, but the drummer can’t do much about it.

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

“You’re right. But you have to understand it from my point of view. Ever since my housemate starts to live with me, he has done nothing but annoys me. And at that point, after plenty of fights, I want nothing but for either of us to move out.”

“Yeah, alright. I realised that a bit late. But still, ouch?” He laughs, hands automatically reach for a new cig before he notices what he’s doing. Your stare makes him put the smoke pack back inside his trousers. “Eventually the gal and I stop trying to murder each other.”

It’s still pouring out there with a zero sign it’ll stop anytime soon. Even though you wear layers of clothes, London is still a merciless place when it comes to weather. Despite that, recalling your sweet memories helps you warm up from the inside.

“Calm before the storm.” You break the silence, in which he quietly appreciate. “But maybe the most important part. After that, there’s no more filter on how we feel about each other.”

“I have to argue that my housemate and I are too much of childish bastards.”

This time it’s you that’s laughing. He’s right. Roger is growing softer and actually act like how a normal person should, especially to their housemate that give him a chance to live there in the first place. That’s when you can finally see he’s not just an arsehole rockstar wanna-be that’s a twat backstage. He is a twat backstage in a literal sense, but that’s something else entirely.

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

It’s hard to convince Loui who gets jealous easily that Roger was just a housemate. Much harder to hide the fact that you and Loui are dating, whilst he tries to convince his fellow Jukebox bandmates that you’re framed by the blonde from Queen. Undoing the childish plan that successfully kills your motivation to ever join or create a new band. When Loui is to get you involved again in the band because of his utter distaste towards the new bassist—who prefers to play over contributing in the creation of new albums, you’re too busy juggling your relationship, college, and Roger.

What’s with Roger? It’s clear he doesn’t know you’re already with someone else. Not that it'll stop him. But he doesn’t stop treating you like someone not only he wants to shag, but also date long-term. That’s how he hooked Dominique. Their bad breakup—that later you find—was the necessary fuel for him to chose and have you kicked out from Jukebox because you pissed him off at the wrong time. If Loui knows, there might be a fist fight between the two. You don’t hate Roger that much anymore to be able to see him lose miserably against the former boxer.

“Here to see us, love?” There he is. Approaching you like a snake ready to eat its prey.

“Jukebox actually. Don’t call me that.”

“Why? They kicked you out.”

“Because of you. But let me elaborate; I’m here for Loui.”

“Ah. Your gay best friend.” He nodded almost jokingly. “Still, please do enjoy our performance. I’ll even dedicate a song for you.”

“Don’t.”

“Can’t stop me. Just you see, you’ll finally fall in love with me.”

You really wish that was only a joke. That it’s just a simple word. But it didn’t. You don’t know what happened to you. When Queen is the first one to perform at the music festival in London, they bewitched you. Roger didn’t even lie about dedicating a song to you. As he stated it; “This is for my girl and housemate. Sorry to get you kicked out of Jukebox; you deserve a better chance in a better band. We’ll be waiting for your application, love.”

All three of his bandmates knows who that message was directed, but they simply laugh it off, thinking no one would believe that. Although what you feel right now is bloody far from the cheery and cheeky mood that Queen radiates. You feel like your heart stopped. A storm is about to ensue and you try to run towards Jukebox’s dressing room, only to bump with the right man half-way through.

“What the fuck was that?! You say he’s just your housemate!”

“Let’s talk somewhere else, dear.”

“No! I need a word with that man if what you say is true!”

“Do you want to get Jukebox’s approval or not?! Knocking Roger’s down his drummer set will have Jukebox kill you!”

The man with light-brown curly hair finally controls his breath as he stares at you. When his emotion subsides, he drags you to the storage room.

“Move out.”

“I’ll tell Roger that you and I are dating.”

“No, you can’t. Jukebox still despises you, and that son of a bitch will leak our fucking secret like it was his own sex tape, just to bring us down and to get you. He fucking admits it in front of the audience he got you dropped out the band! You’re my fucking girlfriend! You think I’ll let him near you after all he has done to you?!”

You’re trying to rack your brain and defend Roger. What is it to defend? He is the arsehole that makes you hates him the day he set foot in that house. He did get you kicked out the band you fucking found with Loui, how, you don’t know—maybe because of Elise, Dorian’s girlfriend, that he shag that day. He almost gets you evicted too many times because Mrs Marrianne believed in his lies more than your truths. But that’s not what makes you speechless. It’s the fact that you think to defend him at all. He has been much kinder than he was before, and he has been flirting with you non-stop. How come that’s enough to get you chose him over Loui, your best friend and now boyfriend?

“Move out. I’ll find a place to live far from London for us. Alright? I will not wreak havoc. But him saying that he gets you kicked out from the band will help me change our bandmates mind about you. Things will get better once you’re away from that bastard.”

"You're right. I'll get myself ready and start packing. I don't know what"s got into me."

Loui hugged you tight as he kisses your hair. Despite hugging him back, you still can't get Roger out of your mind. More specifically, why you can't and why he's still ticking you off even though he's no longer act like an arsehole to you. The man is handsome, but you have long grown immune to his antics. Maybe because he has been getting on your nerve so much all this time that he left a mark? Would that mark matters, though? You'll move out and eventually forgets about him right?

That's how it's supposed to go. For everything to finally be right and normal. And it is, at first; the band finally listen to Loui defending you and decide to reconcile after the concert. It was all fine and dandy until one of the crew knock on Jukebox's dressing room door to reveal that Roger is looking for you.

"Hey, arsehole. Get something to say to y/n after what you did to her? Apologies?" Dorian start first, most likely because he has been personally involved without his knowledge and consent by Roger in his plan getting you voted out.

"Oh absolutely. But I'm here for more than that. That lady is booked by us, and she's expected to join us... Hmm, preferably in twenty minutes?"

"My girlfriend is not going anywhere, Taylor." You quickly stepped in between Loui and Roger. "Kindly piss off and never show your face again."

"Girlfriend? I think you're mistaken, mate—."

"No, he's not." You cut him off. The atmosphere grows heavier by the minute. The tension makes everyone suffocates. And Roger silence, even just for a couple seconds, is escalating everyone's heartbeat.

"What? Isn't the answer is obvious? Just breaks up with him."

"Yeah, mate. Stop embarrassing yourself and date the boy that makes your life miserable." Jake's adding fuel to the fire, clearly amused by the hostile situation. "Lose all your senses. Get dumped once he's bored, you know, like Dom."

The drummer's blue eyes instantly catch the figure that has spoken the name he knew well.

"What's your problem, mate?"

"No. What's your problem?" You stopped Loui for moving towards Roger. "Y/n, let go."

"Fight, fight, fight."

"Shut the fuck up, Jake." You commanded whilst you push Loui away. "Don't start anything that'll cause trouble to all of us, Rog."

Roger squint at you before turned around and walked away. Foolish to think the confrontation was the finish line. It's simply the beginning of the end. Roger confronts you again at your house which almost turned into a fist fight with Loui that's insisting to go home with you. If not for the house party Roger throws without your permission, you might rethink your decision to move out and to continue your rather toxic relationship with Loui. The bad move from Roger is enough reason for you to side with Loui instead and declare that you'll move out.

Unfortunately, the war doesn't end there. You can't simply pack your things and move out when neither you nor Loui has found a place to live yet. And the process that took longer than what you anticipated was the chance Roger's practically abuse to persuade you to change your mind. And you might if he stopped his routine bringing home new girls to bang. Although the waves are getting calmer, sign for the battle to finally end, he finally shows his human side that melts your cold attitude towards him; getting you close enough to him and finally see the seriousness of his intention on making you his.

But it's too late, you think. You've committed from the start that you have chosen Loui. Last month you moved your things was when Roger is getting desperate. He refuses to give up, to the point that he plead guilty over his shit attitude and how much he regretted it. You wish it was a lie until John told you that Roger is getting too blue and how it affects their band activities.

"I can't. I'm already with Loui."

"Okay. Then make it clear to him that you're not changing your mind."

"John, I have tried saying turning him down many times. Emphasis on tried. Rog says he's not giving up. And to be honest, it's getting harder for me."

"Then I'll talk to him. Again..."

It's finally time for you to leave. Roger is there at home, still not letting go. It's so fucking cliché it left a bad taste in your mouth on how the situation was set up; Loui waiting for you at his car, looking grumpy, whilst Roger was by the front door, pleading. It’s like a goddamn romance film tropes you hated with a passion, and you got no fucking clue what to do.

"Things still could change. There's no such thing as too late." Roger says, almost whispering.

"Give it up, Taylor. You're a bloody rockstar, plenty of shags are lining backstage." Loui snarled as he reaches for your hand. "Let's go, dear."

"Y/n?" The blonde ignored your boyfriend.

The way he called your name almost breaks you. But you still believed whatever you're feeling for him was nothing. That it'll simply pass. There are no words. The wordless goodbye where you can't even look at him without contemplating the hell you've been through and whether you're making the right choice.

From then on, you only see him from afar. Queen is growing in popularity and continue showing up in the local music channels. Jukebox eventually breaks up without your contribution even get the chance to be published. You and Loui moved a couple more times before settling back in London, already past the incident with Roger. And eventually, your last date with Loui after three years of on and off.

+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+—-—+

"I wonder how my housemate is doing." You continue. But more because you're fed up that the rain refuses to bloody end than breaking the awkward silence. “Would he forgive me if I apologize to him? That I regretted the day I stepped out of that house? That I can’t stop thinking about him and how much I miss that wanker? That I lie to both him and myself about my feelings? Do you think he will forgive me?”

There was a long silence, and Roger is trying hard to not take a side glance at you. But you see it, a pink growing on both of his cheeks. It’s obvious that he wants to be considered thinking about whether he should forgive you, but you know he will, and is finding a way to reap as many benefits as he can when you’re on the palm of his hand.

“Well? As the said housemate, what do you think?”

“Hmm? What are you thinking?” Cheeky smile growing on his lips as he finally returns your stare. “These three years I changed, you know. Harder to impress me now. You see, I’m a rockstar.”

You aren’t going to give him any chance at all. You just go for it and kiss him. You can tell he’s half-expecting it, but it still caught him off guard. He cupped your cheeks and deepen the kiss as you grab his hips. It’s a bit impossible to execute what you’re planning to do when he drowns you and showing off his kissing skill. And being the greedy man that he is, it’s too clear he also misses you as his hands roam your body like he owns it. Too bad for the both of you, you have made up your mind as you push him out the shelter and get him drenched again.

“You bitch!”

“I know you like chasing more than being chased, Rog. Catch me if and I’ll allow you to do whatever you want!” You yell as you run in the rain. His wide naughty smile as he’s getting ready to sprint makes your heart jump. You feel like screaming from the excitement, but you will not give him a challenge with that big of a prize. Except you have to stumble at something and almost fall.

“Whoa there, you alright?” He grabs your hand and waist. “Even the world will not let you run away from me anymore, y/n. Just give it up.”

You try to struggle your way out, but he won’t let you and instead, he hugs you so tightly whilst he kisses your neck and shoulder.

“Alright, alright! You won!” You laughed, he still refuses to loosen his hug. “I love you, Rog.”

The F-bomb finally does it. He turned you to face him, the two of your eyes locked that you wish lasts forever. His blue eyes’ dilated. His warm breath despite the cold weather calmed you. He grabs your cheeks, his smile grows no matter how hard he tries to hold it back.

“I love you more, y/n. You have no fucking idea.”

“Hmm, maybe a couple of ideas.”

He finally let his grin shows before he kisses you again. This time, a bit more intimately, the one that makes your heart and body ablaze. Even if he might drift away, it’ll be you that’ll refuse to let him go that easily.

End.

[tarisilmarwen]

Splinters: Insulated

(I hate shots and having bloodwork done so I gotta inflict those feelings on Ezra too because shut up it totally works for the story anyway.

TW: Needles.)

---

Ezra fidgeted on the examination table, hearing the med droids shuffle around behind him, as Leslynn poked and prodded at his shoulders and arms, glancing down every so often at her scanner.

Apparently he'd strained himself a little too much cleaning off the Ghost. There was a soreness in his shoulders that refused to go away. Leslynn was checking him for pulled muscles now.

She examined him silently, eyes focused on her work, and Ezra's fidgeting grew more and more agitated the longer she refused to follow the script that had been playing persistently in his head, didn't speak the words that he'd been waiting for and dreading ever since Hera had noticed him wincing in pain and ordered him to go see the medic.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Aren't you going to say it?" he asked, blurting out the words.

Absently, she replied, "Say what, Ezra?"

"'I told you so.'"

She pinched along his left bicep. "What would be the point in that?" she said. "I'm sure you're already beating yourself up for it plenty."

Ezra sighed, even as a quiet relief trickled down through his throat. "Well... you're not wrong about that," he told her.

Leslynn stepped back, rubbing a hand across her face. "Right, well, good news is that it doesn't look like you've pulled anything, but you have overstrained both deltoids and trapeziuses. You'll be fine in a day or two but you're going to need—"

"Let me guess..." Ezra interrupted, a groan in his voice. "Rest."

The doctor smiled faintly. "Just avoiding strenuous labor should do." She handed her scanner off to one of the med droids. "Can't do anything about your massive guilt-complex though, I'm afraid," she added as a joke.

That made Ezra chuckle. "Let me worry about that, Doc. I don't think that's exactly your area of expertise," he teased back.

"That's the Ezra Bridger I know," smiled Leslynn, demeanor brightening.

Ezra swung his feet, hopping down off the table. "Am I done?" he asked.

"Not quite." Leslynn hesitated, looking suddenly uncomfortable. She coughed into her fist. "There's been an infection going around in the ranks. I'm sure you've heard."

Ezra nodded. "Yeah. Wedge caught it yesterday, was a snot-covered bundle of blankets last I saw him." He squinted, staring off, trying to recall what Wedge had called it. "Balma-something flu?"

"Balmorra flu," Leslynn corrected. "I don't suppose you've ever been inoculated against it? Or had it previously?" she asked, tone slightly hopeful.

He shook his head. "Not likely."

Leslynn's expression dimmed. "Rebel Command wants me to immunize anyone who hasn't caught it yet," she explained. "To keep the spread down."

That hung in the air a moment.

"...Oh," Ezra said, realizing the implications. He tried to ignore the winch tightening in his throat, the nervous way his pulse pricked up. "Are—are you sure you have to—? I can't—" He reorganized his thoughts. "Can I just catch it and suffer through it and get it over with that way?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes skeptically. "Do you really want to?"

Ezra thought back to Wedge's greenish, sweat-covered face and slumped his shoulders.

"No," he admitted, dropping his eyes to the floor.

A silence stretched out. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, uncomfortably loud.

He felt Leslynn stepping closer.

"Would you... like someone else to be here in the room with you?" she offered.

He inhaled slowly, his breath shaking, vibrating like his hands were now. "No," he started to say. "I—I think I'm—I can handle—"

He stopped, squeezing his eyes closed.

Don't be stubborn, you idiot, he chided himself.

He opened his eyes again, looking up at Dr. Leslynn. "Can... can you call Kanan?" he said timidly.

She nodded, stepping back and looking for her comlink.

Ezra moved back towards the examination table, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself while he waited.

***

Kanan walked through the door only a few minutes later, soft smile on his face.

"Hey kid," he called, coming forward. "I'm glad you called for me."

Ezra was staring down at the table, his teeth pressing together. "This is stupid," he muttered. "It's just a shot. Just a litle nee—needle," he said, his voice stumbling and hitching over the word. "I should be able to handle this." His hands crept up towards his head, fingers scratching through his hair.

"Easy," Kanan told him, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands, pulling it firmly away from digging into his scalp. "Let's just focus on what we need to do for now. Don't think about what you should be able to handle. Trust me," he said, squeezing Ezra's hand. "It doesn't help."

Kanan was right. Of course he was. But that nagging little negative voice in his head—sounded like Pryce most days—kept whispering to him.

He clenched his jaw tighter, forcing himself to tune it out.

Leslynn had her tray next to her, just out of Ezra's line of sight, and stepped in front of it as she turned to face the two Jedi.

Kanan alerted to her movement. "You're ready?" he guessed.

Leslynn nodded, then, remembering with a wince that Kanan couldn't see it, added verbally, "I am. Go ahead and do your..." She trailed off, making wide gestures with her hands. "...Force... thing..."

Kanan's other hand came around Ezra's, clasping the boy's palm tightly with both of his. "All right," he said. "Just like we did on the Ghost. Focus."

Ezra let his eyes fall closed, prying his jaws apart and taking in a slow breath.

He reached out, the Force coming into focus like a warm pocket of air around him.

Emotion, yet peace, he recited inside his head.

He felt Leslynn pushing up his sleeve, and his skin prickled with goosebumps.

Passion, yet serenity.

He wondered idly why the mantra Kanan had taught him was slightly different than the one he'd heard studying the Jedi holocron.

Maybe Kanan had learned a different version.

He risked peeking an eye open and regretted it when he saw the syringe. It was much thinner than the ones they'd used on him on the Chimaera, but that didn't stop the flickers of panic that started to creep through the warm edges of the Force.

Leslynn stepped over to the table, her face grimacing apologetically.

"It'll be quick," she promised.

Ezra nodded, closing his eyes again and bracing himself, his throat dry.

Echoes sounded dully outside the circle of calm surrounding him and Kanan. Ezra concentrated on his own breathing, keeping to a quiet corner of his mind. Nervous trickles pulsed through his veins.

There was a small pinprick.

Ezra gasped sharply, his hand mashing Kanan's. His face screwed tightly. Fragments of Pryce's voice pounded in his head.

"Ezra?" Kanan called, tone laced with worry.

Ezra let out the breath he was holding, letting his memories and emotions disappear into the Force. "I'm okay!" he wheezed. "I'm... I'm okay."

Leslynn was dabbing at his arm with an antiseptic swab. Ezra blinked. Was it already over?

His breathing steadied, the pings of anxiety in his head fading away.

"All done!" Leslynn chirped brightly. She sealed a bacta patch onto the injection site and stepped back with a smile. "You handled that very well, Ezra."

Ezra felt the corners of his mouth twitching up, mingled relief and pride vibrating through him.

"Not bad, kid," Kanan complimented warmly, patting his hand. He stood, pulling Ezra to his feet. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see if Hera's back from her mission."

He followed after Kanan, pulling down his sleeve, frowning slightly as he noticed the scars still left from all the other injections.

He put it out of mind.

---

The ever-customary Chapter Notes!

1. Still no therapists, but at least Kanan's around! And has calming Force techniques.

2. Leslynn is not quite over being dragged into Kanan and Ezra's Battle Meditation back in "Cracks In The Mirror" and would prefer they do their weird Jedi magic without her this time thank you very much.

3. A slightly altered version of the Jedi Code appears in the Kanan: The Last Padawan comic, as taught to him by Depa Bilaba.  And I always found it fascinating in the way it was altered and how fitting it was for Depa--AKA Miss Trained By "I'll Just Invent A New Lightsaber Form That Lets Me Safely Channel Dark Side Energy Without Falling" Mace Windu--to have learned it that way.  So the unconventional Jedi teachings continue to get passed down.

4. And now we see Ezra starting to make a bit of progress in his recovery, namely, not avoiding offered help and finding healthier coping mechanisms than being a workaholic. (For now at least.)

Next chapter's probably also gonna be a bit on the short side before I hit you with a couple longer ones. Thanks for sticking with me, readers!