#but with guitar after the first lesson I could already do more than after weeks of piano!

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 26: Second Chances and/or Fake Dating

Tags: Past Steddie, Second Chances, Christmas Angst, Happy Ending Guaranteed, Hurt/Comfort, Christmas Presents

wc: 2361 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

It’s mocking him.

The stupid watch in its stupid box is mocking him.

He just had to open the drawer in search of a new guitar pick and stumble upon the stupid gift.

It should have stayed there forever.

Shoved into a dark corner and pushed out of his mind.

Just like Steve did to him a few months ago.

But no, there it is.

Mocking him.

Eddie’s not even sure why he bought the thing in the first place. It’s not like Steve’s lacking in the watch department. The guy regularly wears a Hamilton and he swears he spotted a Rolex tucked away in his nightstand one night a few months back. There’s no way Steve would even consider swapping one of his watches out for the cheap thing sitting in the box on Eddie’s nightstand.

At least, that’s what Eddie is going to keep telling himself until the gnawing feeling in his gut pisses off.

Honestly, he wants to kick past Eddie in the balls for the splurge. Three whole paychecks went into this damn watch and now it's going to sit in a box and haunt his drawer for the rest of his life because it was a final sale item.

“You know,” Max says, startling him from his reprove. “You could just give him the watch instead of trying to blow it up with your eyes.”

She’s leaning against the door frame of his bedroom. Arms crossed tight across her chest, pigtail braids thrown behind her. Her eyes gleam with disinterest that Eddie knows is just part of her act. He appreciates her commitment to the bit, even when she’s willingly over at his house for the guitar lessons she asked for.

Eddie feels like he’s been caught red-handed because he has been. It’s no secret that he and Steve called it quits a few months ago, but they’ve both kept the kids mostly out of it. Sure, they ask a million and one questions when they get the chance, but Eddie hasn’t caved and from the amount of nagging still going on, neither has Steve.

At least they’re on the same page about that.

Still, Max is a perceptive kid, maybe even worse than Dustin and that’s saying a lot.

Besides it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who a semi-expansive watch would be for.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Red.”

“Yeah, okay,” she snorts.

Pushing off from the door frame, she saunters into the room and straight for the box. She’s faster than Eddie is, snatching it before he has time to process that she’s even after it. There’s no use in trying to pry it out of her hands, a fact she is firmly aware of since she plops down next to him on the mattress without even bothering to keep the box out of reach.

It takes a bit of shimmying for her to get the lid off but when she does she lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Eddie. This is gorgeous.”

“I guess,” he shrugs, pulling a strand of hair to his lips. “But what do we know about watches? It could be shit!”

“Maybe I’m a watch connoisseur. You don’t know me.”

“I think a watch connoisseur would own at least one working watch and judging by how late you’re always running despite that thing on your wrist I don’t think you do.”

“You know Steve’s been running late a lot lately?”

Christ this kid needs to work on making her transition more subtle, he thinks. There’s no way he can let her turn into another Dustin. Erica already has that title on lock and Eddie can’t put up with three of them. He just can’t.

“Nice try, Red. Steve has never been late a day in his life now that he’s a certified babysitter extraordinaire.”

“He has! Dustin, Lucas, and I were waiting outside Palace Arcade for ten minutes last week and yesterday we were stuck at the Wheelers for an entire hour before he finally showed up.”

“I’m sure he was just working. Picking up holiday hours.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought, but Robin said he’s been late picking her up too.”

“Well that— that just doesn’t sound like Steve.”

“Yeah, well, it’s like you said. It’s hard to be on time without a working watch and Steve hasn’t been wearing his for weeks now.”

Eddie didn’t become the best DM Hellfire has ever seen without knowing how to craft a good trap or two and this smells entirely too fishy for his liking. Steve just so happens to be watch-less the minute Max spots the watch box on his nightstand? No way. Not a chance in hell.

The alarm bells are blaring in his head and he’s not going to fall for it.

Absolutely not.

Besides, if Steve did lose or break his watch, Eddie knows he has an entire drawer of them to choose from. And even if they all happened to be stolen in some brazen home robbery (which would have been all over the Hawkins Post and local news so he knows that hasn’t happened), Steve could stroll into any store that sells watches and get a replacement without batting an eye.

So, no.

Eddie is not going to hand deliver the watch to Steve like some rejected knight in shining armor.

He’d rather stare at the stupid box for the rest of his life than have to stare into those stupid hazel eyes and pretend he’s still not in love with him, even though he tore his heart out and crushed it into a million pieces.

⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚

Eddie wakes up on Christmas morning to the quiet pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof and Wayne’s horrendous snoring. There’s a chill in the air and he rolls over to yank the extra blanket he keeps thrown over one of his amps in the winter when his eyes land on the offending white watch box.

The same stupid box that refuses to get shoved back in the drawer it came out if two weeks ago.

Jesus H. Christ.

He can’t keep living like this. Waking up every morning to that stupid box takes him back to the first few days of their break up. When Eddie would stir awake hoping it was all a bad dream only to open his eyes to an empty, cold, bed and an ache deep in his chest not even his best-rolled joint could soothe.

Waking up to Steve’s absence was one thing, but waking up to a constant reminder of it in the shape of a stupid Christmas present Eddie bought specifically for him is a whole new level of hell.

One he refuses to spend another minute suffering in.

Jesus, fuck if only the thing didn’t cost so damn much he’d throw it in the garbage. But he can’t in good conscience through a $75 watch in the dumpster so he hastily gets dressed instead.

He leaves Wayne a note, promising he’ll be back soon, and yanks his keys from their spot in their junk bowl. Tossing the box onto the passenger seat, he shifts the van into gear and heads in a direction he hasn’t visited in over a month.

⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚ ⌚

“This is stupid. This is stupid. So, fucking stupid,” he mutters to himself as he stomps his way up the Harrington’s puddle-ridden driveway. If he catches pneumonia because of this little stunt he’s going to be so pissed.

He has two options once he finally reaches the front door. He can knock, face Steve and hand him the gift himself and maybe, if he’s lucky, make Steve feel as shitty as he made Eddie feel when he unexpectedly called it quits. Or, he could leave the watch on his doorstep and hope that Steve stumbles upon it before it gets stolen by a potential Christmas thief.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to decide because the red door opens revealing a disheveled Steve.

He looks like complete shit. Eyes bloodshot and puffy, skin pale and lacking that gorgeous sun-kissed look Eddie fell in love with. His hair is flat where it should be swoopy and there are a handful of strands sticking straight up at the crown of his head.

Clearly still in his pajamas judging by the ratty Hawkins High shirt and the oversized gray sweatpants, Eddie lets his eyes drift to Steve’s left wrist. He expects to find the same Hamilton perched there like always. Proof that Max was pulling his leg two weeks ago with her little scheme.

His wrist is empty though, aside from the strap of a gift bag that dangles from it.

“Oh,” Steve says. “S’you.”

“Yeah, it’s uh, me.”

His breath is rancid, too. So much worse than the morning breath Eddie is intimately familiar with since they made a habit of fooling around the minute they woke up. It smells like stale air, Peach schnapps, and eggnog. A fucking tragic combination as far as Eddie’s concerned. Judging by Steve’s greening face, he’d agree too.

“If you’re going to hurl please do it in the push and not on me,” he grimaces, watching as Steve whips his body to the side to do just that. “Christ.”

“M’sorry,” Steve says, resurfacing a moment later with pink flooding his pale face. “I, uh, made some bad choices last night.”

“You could say that again,” Eddie mumbles. His right hand twitches in the air desperately wanting to reach out and run down the length of Steve’s back like he knows he likes when he’s hungover. But the weight in his left hand is the reminder he needs to keep away.

He’s not here to offer him comfort.

He’s here to offer a final parting gift and that’s it.

“M’glad you’re here.”

“You are?” Eddie asks, already cursing himself as his heart skips a beat.

Steve nods. “Was coming to see you actually. To give you this.” Fidgeting with the string of the bag, Steve finally gets it off his wrist and into his hand before extending it out for Eddie to take.

“Oh,” Eddie says, hesitantly reaching for the bag before raising the box in his own hand. “I, uh, sorry it’s not wrapped, but I got you something too.”

“Really?”

Eddie shouldn’t look, but he’s never been one for listening to rules. Even his own. So he steals a glance and feels all the air leave his body. Gone is the dissolved man from moments ago. In his wake is the Steve he fell in love with. Soft smile and shining eyes. Sunlight cast a halo around his head. Those full lips are pulled apart and rounded in that stupid confused look of his that always manages to destroy Eddie in the best way.

Even in this state, he’s beautiful.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t expect you to buy me something after what happened.”

“Yeah, well, lucky for you I did my Christmas shopping in October before you broke up with me so…”

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, reaching a tentative hand out. “I—“

“Don’t,” Eddie says, pulling away. “Whatever you’re going to say, just don’t, okay? It’s hard enough being here right now. Can we please just open our gifts and go on our way.”

“Is that what you want?” Steve asks, voice bitter.

“Don’t put this on me,” Eddie scoffs. “This is what you wanted.”

“No!” Steve shouts. “It’s not. I didn’t want any of this. I just—“

“I have to go,” Eddie snaps before racing to his van.

He can’t do this. Not on Christmas when Wayne is waiting for him and not ever. Steve’s never going to love him the way Eddie needs to be loved and he is tired of compromising what he needs for others.

But there’s something keeping here. Something beyond his shaking hands from inserting the key into the ignition and driving away for good. Something that looks an awful lot like Steve Harrington running after him, an open box discarded behind him, and the watched help closely to his chest.

Dammit.

“Eddie! Eddie wait!” He yells, loud enough that he’s going to wake the whole goddamn neighborhood if Eddie doesn’t shut him up.

Despite all the alarm bells in his head, he swings the car door open and hops out of the van.

“Steve. I really don’t have time to—“

“I love it,” Steve shouts before colliding into Eddie’s chest, sending them both stumbling backward. “S’perfect.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Eddie mumbles, trying his best to free himself from Steve’s embrace. “I know it’s not as fancy as your other watches. S’just trash like me.”

“It’s not trash and neither are you,” he says, holding him firmly. “I owe you an apology. A massive apology.

“I let my past relationship drama convince me that you were going to wake up one day and realize you were wasting your time with me and I knew I wouldn’t be able to survive you walking out on me so I did it first.

“And it was wrong of me. So fucking wrong. I regret it every second of every day. And I understand if you really want this to be the end of us, I do. But if you’d give me another chance I promise to spend every second of every day making it up to you.”

Eddie doesn’t believe in Christmas miracles, but if he did, he’s pretty sure the universe is granting him one right now. That or he’s dreaming. A quick pinch to his thigh confirms the latter isn’t happening though which can only mean one thing… Steve wants him back. He wants him back and he regrets leaving him in the first place.

“Every second of every day?” Eddie asks eventually breaking the unbearable silence.

“Every second of every day,” Steve breathes. “And I’ll never forget because I’ll have this watch to remind me.”

Eddie groans shaking his head. “You just had to make it cheesy, didn’t you?”

“You know you missed it.”

“I did, Stevie. I really did.”

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 2

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Masterlist

Before to start... please remember English is not my first language, so please be kind.

If you like or you want to reblog and/or leave a comment I'd appreciate 🥹

If you don't like my story, don't be rude and go away ✌🏻

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

There are two ways this story could have gone-if it was a story heard in the bar-either the protagonist turns her back on the mysterious and charming man or she gives him a chance, even though she feels she shouldn't.

You decide to look into his face and see a strange light in his eyes, very reminiscent of that magnetic, mysterious light that Tommy emanates. That light you've never been able to understand.

Who knows with the second Miller maybe?

What are you talking about, you don't have to understand anything at all! Tommy Miller is just your music teacher and this one in front of you is just his brother, a strange, somewhat know-it-all, cocky and unfortunately charming brother.

You don't know him.

You have only seen him for two minutes, but you already have mixed feelings.

On the one hand you want to run away, on the other you absolutely cannot avoid his gaze.

"So what have you figured out about me in less than a minute?" he challenges you with an amused air.

"You're older than Tommy, you're very confident, you're convinced you can do and say anything you want. No one will ever punish you, will they?"

You're not usually like this, you're definitely more resigned, reserved, but not with Joel Miller.

He smiles as he lowers his head and shakes it slowly, then looks back up at you.

"I like you, little girl. Tommy told me about you, but I thought you were a pretty little thing who just stood there and listened and obeyed."

Is that Tommy's idea of you?

Wait a minute, is that everyone's idea of you?

You are too focused on those words and pay no attention to the fact that he just called you, or perhaps his brother, pretty.

"Who is he now judging without even knowing me?" you chuckle at him with your chin out and crossing your arms.

He laughs, it's a warm laugh that sweeps over you, sweeps over you like a wave, like a warm gust of wind, like a ray of sunshine after weeks of rain.

Your heart loses a beat.

"I'd better go now," you say, hoping to get out of the situation that is taking on less and less clear tones.

"In a hurry to get back to your bubble?" he asks causing your heart to lose another beat.

"What bubble? What are you talking about?"

You know what he means, but what could he possibly know? You have never told Tommy anything about yourself.

Your music lessons were conducted in a specific order: you would come in, he would offer you a cup of coffee, which you promptly refused-your mother instilled too many negative thoughts in you-then Tommy would invite you to take the sheet music and finally he would take the guitar and make you strum a few chords, nothing complicated.

There was no room for any confidence either from you or from him. In fact, you had no idea whatsoever that he had a brother.

"You looked pretty sad to me when you got out of your mother's car," he replies for the first time without a trace of mockery or irony in his voice.

Your heart is pounding in your chest.

But how...?

You lower your gaze, losing that unfamiliar resourcefulness that had accompanied you until moments before.

"It's the same sadness I see in your eyes right now," he says again in a soft, calm tone.

"Let it go." you say in a whisper, lowering your gaze.

You don't want to talk about it, not with a man you barely know, you've never talked about it all the way with your friends, why should you talk about it with him? With a man much older than you who until that moment before has teased you by making you feel like a child?

He doesn't insist, thankfully, but the silence becomes harder and harder to break, and you have even more difficulty backtracking and going back to where you came from.

To that life that-even though you stubbornly deny it-becomes more limiting and narrower with each passing day.

"Do you want to come in?" he asks you in the same tone as before.

You look up and feel for the first time naked before that man; no one has ever really made you feel so helpless.

You have to run away.

"No." you reply, looking up and noticing in your tone of voice almost a trace of fright.

Before he can add anything else, you turn your back and leave. You run for the stairs, your heart in your throat.

You almost can't think.

When you are outside the building, you realize you have been holding your breath. You linger with your eyes on what to do for the remaining hour you were supposed to spend playing.

You cross the street, risking slipping on the thin layer of ice, and then head into the small bar across the street. It is a bar and you sit down in front of the counter.

"What can I get you, honey?" asks the young man. He is good-looking, with green eyes and dark hair, quite muscular.

He smiles at you.

"Um, a coffee." you reply, drumming your fingers on the counter and looking toward the doorway of the building you just came out of.

"Right away." he says, "This is not the first time I've seen you around here."

You look at him and notice that he is watching you intensely.

You remain with your mouth open.

You don't know what to say or whether to actually say anything.

You just nod.

"I don't want to look like a maniac," he clarifies, smiling at you. He has a bright smile.

"You don't look like one." you say smiling at him a little more relaxed, but not too much.

"Jack." he says holding out his hand to you. This is the second time someone has introduced himself today.

This time, unlike before, you shake the young man's hand by introducing yourself. He smiles, repeating your name.

You are not sure why you introduced yourself with him and not Joel. Not certainly because Joel is a man and Jack a young man. Age has nothing to do with it. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you are in a public place now, whereas before you were not.

You start talking about a lot of things, you find out that he is a sophomore in college, studying psychology, working there, and in his spare time volunteering. He seems to be a very interesting person.

You tell him about yourself, part of your life, the things you find most interesting about yourself, your love of writing, your passion for classical music, books, movies.

You talk about so many aspects of your life, you talk almost freewheeling. You should go back in, but maybe it is precisely because your mother is not home tonight because she is in the hospital that you don't mind being a little later and especially being with someone you think is nice and interesting.

It is almost eleven o'clock at night and Jack closes the shutter. You are both outside the club. It's cold. It looks like it's going to snow.

You shiver, clutching your shoulders, and he, with a smile, pulls off his jacket and hands you his.

"Is that better?" he asks you thoughtfully, you nod.

"Can I walk you home?" he asks you again.

Perhaps you might dare, but part of you decides it's better not to.

Jack seems to understand your intention from your gaze, he nods, gently caressing your left cheek.

"Forgive me, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself," he says, squeezing into your shoulders.

"No, no. Um, forgive me, just maybe another time."

His eyes light up "So would you like to meet again in the next few days? Maybe after you finish your music lessons?" he proposes, and you find yourself nodding with a small smile.

Jack seems like a very sweet guy, you like the way he thinks, the way he talks, you decide to give him a chance.

"See you next time, then," he says, giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

He is leaving, but you call him over and return his jacket, which Jack takes back with a smile, then leaves.

You have a smile on your face, see him leave, and then slowly walk home.

It's really cold.

There is a very strong wind, you huddle in your shoulders.

At some point you hear a honk not too far from you, you turn around, and at that moment the window of a dark SUV rolls down.

"Juliet, are you left alone?"

It's Joel Miller.

"Romeo's gone?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask him, crossing your arms and approaching his car.

"Nothing. I just asked you a question," he replies with a shrug.

You roll your eyes and resume walking, hearing the car walk slowly beside you.

"Was it a pleasant afternoon?" he asks you.

"Definitely better than how the evening is ending," you reply annoyed.

"Are you going to walk in the snow?"

"It's not snowing, it's just windy," you reply in an obvious tone.

"It's going to snow soon."

"Now you're in charge of the weather too? You know how to do everything!" you exclaim "Your wife will be satisfied!" you add, visibly shivering.

"Get in before you freeze to death!" he blurts out seeing you clutching yourself in your coat, you stop and look toward him "Come, I promise not to bite." he adds.

You look at the road, at the sky and then at Joel, who looks at you indecipherably, then you make up your mind: you open the door and get in.

"Here." he says slipping off his windbreaker and laying it on your shoulders in a sweet gesture of great care for you.

"Thank you." you say slipping on his jacket that is definitely big for you, then you see him turn on the hot air.

"I'll drive you home. Tell me what your address is."

You tell him your home address and he nods and puts the car in gear and drives off.

He looks at you briefly.

He does this a lot.

You don't know what to say.

"We're here." he informs you.

You make to get down immediately and launch into the house, but then you reconsider and make to return his jacket.

He shakes his head.

"Keep it. You give it back to me next time in class," he says.

"In class?" you ask still trembling.

"Don't tell me you've already forgotten your guitar lessons!" he exclaims "You really have a short memory!" he adds in what should be a serious tone, but the upturned corners of his mouth betray what was perhaps meant to be a reproach or who knows what else.

"Witty." you say "All right, then I'll see you in two days." you add in an exasperated tone as you get out of his SUV.

You are about to close the door, but then you reconsider "Thank you, you didn't have to."

"You're right, maybe I could have done like your Romeo and left you out in the cold, but I didn't have the courage."

"Whatever the reason was," you say, "thank you, obnoxious." you add, closing the door, as you close the door to your building an asshole escapes your lips.

It will be hard to have a teacher like him.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

New in Town

ok one last thing for the midwest emo ghouls since i was on a work trip last week and apparently wrote almost 1300 words on Phantom's arrival in town when i was bored in seminars (i don't think anyone's told that story so far?). one day i'll learn my lesson on handwriting in a notebook bc writing it up was a struggle

Rating: general words: ~1300 cw:

Phantom stumbled into town on a Wednesday. As he stepped off the bus and landed in a puddle he wondered, not for the first time, if moving here had been a mistake. First of all, it was raining. He didn’t know why this surprised him, as it was approaching the Yuletide season in the sleepy Midwestern town he was hoping to call home. Secondly, he was cold. There was a biting wind blowing the rain straight into his face, and within seconds of stepping off the bus he was shivering and soaked to his skin. He hoisted his lone duffle bag onto his shoulder, and gripped his guitar case tightly. He could do this.

Squinting through the downpour and tossing his hair out of his eyes, he tried to get his bearings. He was supposed to be meeting someone in a Waffle House to collect the keys for the cheap and dingy bedsit he’d seen advertised online, that definitely wasn’t haunted (the irony of Phantom moving in wasn’t lost on him). He spotted the glowing lights a block down and across the road, and stepped out into the street.

When Phantom regained consciousness, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gone and died already. That would be just his luck, on his first day of his new life. Although if he was dead, he wasn’t sure why he was met by a golden haired angel staring down at him. He was quite sure the door to that afterlife closed to him long ago.

Taking stock of the rest of his senses, he tried to make sense of where he was now. Still cold, still wet, and now also sore. On the ground. That felt more like what he should expect from the check-in desk in purgatory. His ears were ringing, the whoosh of static simultaneously deafening and silent.

The Angel had a panicked look on their face, slowly dissolving into one of anguish. Tears on their elegant cheekbones now mixing with the rain still falling. Raining, still? Phantom thought to himself. He guessed there were worse eternal punishments than a perpetual downpour though.

The static in his ears grew louder, and he started to pick out the sounds of someone crying out for help. The… Angel? … screaming? That seemed wrong. So did the way their golden halo of hair was staring to stick to their face in limp, wet clumps. Their voice sounded coarse, rasping, nothing like the pealing bells of a heavenly choir, unless said choir was in the habit of chain-smoking.

And the plaid. Phantom was pretty sure no angel wore flannel, in any century.

His brain gradually coming back online, Phantom began to suspect he was still alive after all. In fact, he had the distinct impression that he was both alive, and barely a foot away from where he had been walking before. Although he was horizontal now, prostrate on the wet asphalt in the shadow of a beat-up sedan.

Phantom was jolted out of his thoughts by the Possibly-Not-Angel, their sodden hair whipping around their face as they turned to yell towards the car, the source of the rumbling still echoing in his head.

“Rain!”

No shit. Thought Phantom. He was still coming to terms with not being dead, but even he could tell it was still pouring.

A second face loomed over Phantom. This one he was sure wasn’t an angel, despite their beauty and the intensity of the stare in their unblinking blue eyes. Angels didn’t wear beanies.

“What do we do Rain? Is he dead?”

“No, look at his eyes, he’s waking up.”

Phantom blinked up at the increasingly bedraggled pair, and tried to move his limbs. He was bruised, but pretty sure nothing was broken. The second voice spoke again, the sound smooth and melodic like a flowing river.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you until you were right in front of us. Are you alright?”

Despite how level their voice was, it was clear from the rapid rise and fall of their chest they were no less distraught than their now clearly human counterpart.

“Hi?” croaked Phantom, making to sit up. Two pairs of hands reached out immediately to support him, as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Now he was feeling more lucid, he realised the pooled rain on the ground had seeped uncomfortably through his jeans, and he was colder than ever. Phantom clutched at the hand offered in front of him, the warmth making him gasp, before grasping it tighter as his frigid fingers absorbed the heat and he felt sensation returning to them. Cooler hands supported him from behind as he staggered shakily to his feet.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of the road”, the warm-handed stranger gently started steering him towards the kerb. The other bent down to grab Phantom’s bag and guitar, and together they herded him out of the road and into the relative shelter of the bus stop.

“Where are you hurt? Should we take you to the ER?”

“I- I’m alright I think.” Phantom smiled weakly, siting down on the bench and trying not to wince at the feel of the bruises forming across his side. Luckily ghouls healed quickly, he was sure he would be fine again after a day or so.

“Can we give you a lift somewhere?” asked the taller of the pair, gesturing towards the car still idling at the roadside with the doors flung open.

“I don’t really have anywhere to go yet, I’m new here. I just got off the bus.” Phantom waved a hand in the direction of the Waffle House in the distance “I’m supposed to be meeting someone to get an apartment key”.

“You have friends here?”

Phantom shook his head, looking up nervously through his eyelashes. “Looking for a fresh start.”

“Oh! Rain was in your position a few years ago!” interjects the other, “I’m Dewdrop.” He shook the hand Phantom was still gripping like a lifeline in a facsimile of a handshake. “I preach at the chapel out the west side of town. If you’re looking to get to know people here I promise we’re very welcoming.”

As he speaks, Phantom spots the upside down cross hanging from a rosary around Dewdrop’s neck and smiles shyly at him “I’d like that.”

Juggling Phantom’s bag and guitar to extend a hand to him, while snaking an arm around Dewdrop’s waist, the taller stranger still standing over Phantom waits for him to drop Dewdrop’s hand before introducing themself.

“Rain. Dew’s husband. I hope you settle in well, there’s a strong community here, particularly through the church.” He offers with a carefully measured smile back at Phantom. “You're sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Phantom could already feel the acute sting of his injuries dissipating. He hoists himself back to his feet, and reached to take his guitar and duffle bag from Rain. He sent a silent prayer below that he had worn his bag on his left shoulder; both he and his guitar had somehow escaped mostly unscathed.

“Will we see you on Sunday?” asked Dewdrop, as he and Rain began heading back to their car.

“I’ll be there” Phantom nodded, Dewdrop’s answering grin making him more sure of this than any other decision he’d made in his move here so far.

“See you there then.” Just before getting into the vehicle, Dew leaned over to gently tap Phantom on the horns, which must have fallen unglamoured while he was unconscious. He smirked up at Phantom, with a conspiratorial look on his face.

“Might want to put these away in the meantime though.”

[dimplesandfierceeyes]

Silly 'First PatPran Sleepover' Fic

On Pat's 13th birthday, Pran ignores him. He may have saved Pa's life a few months ago, but that doesn't mean they are friends now. Even if they aren't exactly enemies either. Still, they've got appearances to keep up so Pran can't just be turning around and saying nice stuff like "happy birthday Pat" all of a sudden. So he ignores him. Which, at least, gives Pat a day off from having to fight him about something. Pran thinks that's a reasonable present for a not-enemy to give.

He's planning to ignore him all evening too, deliberately avoiding his bedroom window as he does his homework, but then he hears Pat saying his dad is taking him and his friends to a gaming arcade. Pran has never been to a gaming arcade. He's never been interested in them, but hearing Pat brag about his prowess on the shooting games makes Pran's interest instantly piqued.

How come Pat has never challenged him to an arcade game competition if he's so good at them? Pat would usually use any excuse to show off that he was better at Pran in something. Sure, it would be tricky to do without their parents, friends or anyone else seeing them, but Pran's irritated that Pat hasn't even tried.

Pran makes sure to ignore Pat extra hard for the rest of the day. He closes his curtains that evening so he doesn't have to see Pat's dark, empty room and get even more annoyed.

The next day is a Saturday, so Pran figures he's not going to have to look at Pat's frustratingly older face (by one week!) until Monday. He's wrong. To his horror, Pat crosses the rooftop straight after dinner to moan about the fact Pran didn't wish him happy birthday.

"And where's my gift?"

"Is your sister's life not good enough for you?"

"Hey!... Low blow..." Pat pouts and Pran tells himself he doesn't feel bad about it. He almost succeeds.

"We've never bought each other birthday gifts. Why would I start now?"

"Because we weren't in a truce before! Besides, it's not just any birthday. I'm THIRTEEN. I'm a teenager now."

Pran gives him an unimpressed expression, but Pat ignores it.

He flops down on Pran's bed.

"So what were you doing before I came?"

"Watching guitar lesson videos."

"You're learning guitar?"

"Yeah... well, hopefully. I told my dad that's what I want for my birthday but he said he and my mum would think about it."

"Why didn't you tell me?? I could have asked for a guitar too and we could have competed to see who learnt it first!"

"You're already learning drums, why do you need guitar as well?"

"Why not? Besides, guitar isn't hard. It's just..." He plays an air guitar aggressively.

Pran tuts. "Guitar isn't just the strumming part. You've got to learn the chords, too, you know."

Pat frowns, mouth twisting slightly. "It's still pretty simple. I could still pick it up faster than you."

"Watch a few videos first, then tell me you think it's simple."

"Go on then. Let's watch them."

"Wa-what?" Pran stares at him in surprise.

"Your videos, let's watch them. Then I'll tell you it's simple."

"You're ridiculous." Pran pulls a face but still goes to pick up his laptop. There's not anywhere for Pran to prop his laptop except on his lap so they arrange themselves lying down because the laptop screen doesn't bend far enough for them both to get a good view of the screen whilst sitting up without it inverting the image for one of them.

Pran expects Pat to get bored fairly quickly, but what he doesn't expect is for him to apparently get so bored that he falls asleep barely ten minutes in. Pran snickers, staring down at him. He could wake him up but surely it would be more embarrassing for Pat if he doesn't? How humiliating, to be snuggling into your not-rival's blankets, face mortifyingly soft and peaceful as your hand clutches endearingly at your not-foe's pillow.

Yes, definitely more distressing for Pat if Pran lets him sleep there a while longer. He puts his laptop on the floor by his bed and picks up a manga he's been reading so it'll be quieter - to extend Pat's embarrassment, of course.

He follows Pat into sleep barely half an hour later.

(He wakes up at dawn with his mouth just a few inches from Pat's. He is horrified to discover that he is not disgusted by the prospect of kissing it)

[danielle-dna]

19 - Great Expectations

Despite barely scraping enough UCAS points to get me to university and having the honor of being the first person in my family to go to university, I still felt like an absolute faliure.

It dawned on me that I will never be a doctor. I will never be anything I wanted as a kid. A rock star, fashion designer, actress... all of those were young girls wishes. Sometimes life happens and things don't go according to plan. Sometimes we lose people close to us but sometimes we meet people who change us for the better.

Still, I couldn't help but notice that my inner child often cried and mourned the person I could've been. If only I had both parents. Maybe then my mum wouldn't be so overworked and she could actually afford to send me to guitar lessons when I was younger. If only I had more money and an easier job. Maybe then I could afford to spend more time studying and actually get to the prestige course I wanted. If only I was pretty. Maybe then I wouldn't get bullied as a kid and I wouldn't carry all this emotional baggage with me.

This was hard for me to process. But I knew I couldn't share any of this with Simon. The man has seen horrors and death. What do I have that is worth mentioning?

My mum and I finally moved to our new, smaller and cheaper flat. It was modern and fairly spacious, but nonetheless it was a studio, meaning I wouldn't have my own room anymore. And I would have to share the bed with my mum. Again.

After unpacking what seemed like a bloody warehouse, I finally, FINALLY managed to decently organise everything. Despite knowing that mum WILL re organise everything when she returns from her two week placement, I was satisfied with my progress.

I looked at some of my empty sketchbooks and art supplies that I haven't touched in months, maybe over a year. Why did I stop?

I guess I got too exhausted and depressed about everything, that way didn't have any inspiration, let alone willpower to draw anything. Looking at the empty room that has become my habitat, I picked up my phone and invited Simon to a little "housewarming party".

-

An hour and a half later, Simon and I were already doing my favourite kind of yoga position: masked man bridge pose. Well, I was doing the bridge, he was doing the rest. Honestly, I had no idea how could he still have so much stamina.

"Simon, fucks sake, take it easy, this is a new bed." Replying with nothing but a smirk, he grabbed my butt and picked up the pace.

This went on for another hour, during which, I also took the lead sometimes and demonstrated what kind of fanfictions I have been reading as a teen.

After we were both kind of tired, we just laid on the bed, naked, embracing each other. Simon was kissing my cheeks and caressing my back. "You hungry, love?"

I couldn't help but smile at him. "A little, maybe. Just had the dessert." Giving me another kiss, he stood up, butt naked, and started going through my fridge. "Bloody hell, you ever have any food?"

"Sometimes, check the freezer, there may be a frozen pizza."

Thank fuck there was, or else we would have to go out and actually TALK to people.

It is my firm belief that frozen food, especially pizza is humanity's greatest achievement. After dinner, we both laid in the bed, touching each other and talking about our lives. Simon even told me a few funny stories from deployment. I was happy to see both sides of him. He was so much more than just a stoic lieutenant.

And then his very large friend demanded attention again. I was more than happy to give it. Whilst I was in the middle of a very passionate blowjob, I head EDM bass coming from the upstairs flat. I was surprised, since most of my neighbours were very quiet, reserved and peaceful. "You are so good at this, love. You wanna keep going?"

I nodded with my very full mouth and kept going. Then I had enough and pushed Simon back to the bed, took his mask and put it on me. This seemed to turn him on even more. Throwing him a condom, I waited patiently so he could put it on. When he was finished, I pounced on him and rode him like it was a competition.

But there was just one...tiny...tiny...problem. The fucking music wouldn't let me concentrate. In sheer frustration I took off his mask, got off of his hips and silently yelled in the pillow.

"I'm sorry, Simon, I can't focus. I fucking can't." With that he stood up and banged on the ceiling a few times. Nothing.

"You can report them to the landlord tomorrow. Wanna keep going'?"

With a facefull of sheer annoyance I nodded and spread my legs.

[enterpris]

An Education in Attraction, Chapter 5

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: It's spring when you start your Master's degree. As the flowers and leaves unfold, so too do your feeling for Gojo

Warnings: Light swearing (1x)

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

After class on Wednesday, you walk with Kuzume and Saito across the campus.

“I think we should try the Gyudon Restaurant this weekend,” you say. It had just opened and one of the other teachers at the Eikaiwa school had raved about it to you last week.

“Ooo and then we can go out for drinks after!” You’ve learned that Kuzume subscribes to a ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality about the trials of grad school. 

“Could you make it after your lesson?” Saito asks as the three of you cross the street.

Instead of another session in the library, your group wanders into the botanic gardens and settles near some hydrangea shrubs just putting their buds out. The spot is further in, where you can just barely see the path and pond through the greenery. The May sun is a gentle caress, warm and sweet on your face, and a soft breeze leaves ripples in its wake on the surface of the pond.

“I can make it for dinner, as long as we don’t stay out too late,” you say. “I haven’t started next week’s reading yet.”

"The next chapter is so long," Kuzume huffs, "and it's being assigned with two other sections! They could at least schedule them one by one."

"And there's more in Learning Theories," Saito adds. 

“Shit, I almost forgot about that. There’s so much to do.” 

You sigh. You're still getting back into the rhythm of being a student again, and even with your days planned out, it’s easy to get worn out. Between the sheer volume of reading assigned and planning lessons for your own students, each day is a little overwhelming. 

Kuzume leans back on her elbows and looks up at the foliage. “Maybe I should have stuck with just playing the guitar. I am not looking forward to all the music theory assignments I’ll have to grade.”

“All subjects have tons of grading,” Saito waves her hand. “At least you’ll have some practical learning to break things up. I’ll be scoring essays forever.”

“I think lesson planning takes way longer than grading. But at least you can recycle some lessons,” you say.

“That’s true.” Saito runs her fingers through the soft grass in front of her. "At least there's no group work in Learning Theories. I can’t believe the professors assign such a large Curriculum project in our first term-"

Kuzume gasps. "I haven't even asked you yet!" She faces you and stares at you intently. "How are things going with Gojo?"

“Um,” You're not entirely sure how to answer that question. Both of the times you’d worked together outside of class Gojo had acted rudely, but you’re hesitant to say so. Even though he was the one acting poorly, it would be embarrassing to admit how he’d treated you. In class on Monday and Tuesday you’d resolutely ignored him, and you had resolved to work solo as much as possible to avoid any further insult. You look down at the grass to buy yourself a couple seconds to think.

 "He hasn’t really wanted to talk much. It hasn’t been going as well as I’d hoped." 

Saito's eyebrows raise. "Really?"

“Yea, he was honestly pretty rude the last time we met. He went out of his way to question my abilities and to tell me he’s finished two Master's already.”

"That’s awful! You wouldn’t think he’d need to show off with all he’s done.” 

"What else has he done?" You ask. 

“Maybe he just has a big head. I mean, if I was that gorgeous and smart too, I would be unstoppable,” Kuzume cuts in and laughs as the dappled sun falls on her face.

Saito answers your question. “He’s published a few papers and scientific studies. Gojo’s work is supposed to be pretty experimental and exciting, at least that’s what my father says. He’s a professor in the Physics department of the University and raves about Gojo’s work.”

Both girls are looking at you curiously now, and Kuzume's eyes shine as she leans towards you. They both seem to know a lot about him, and you feel behind. 

“His whole family are famous doctors and scientists. They’ve won awards and some have studied here. I think the University has a hall or something named in their honor.” Kuzume says. 

"Oh." You had no idea he'd done so much. You stare out through the branches at the water and reflect on what you know about him- admittedly it’s not a lot. He’s been aloof in your meetings and you haven’t really talked to him about anything outside academics.

“I didn’t know any of that,” you finish lamely. 

Kuzume and Saito look at each other. You are behind. The sun suddenly feels too warm on your face. A bird caws in the background and you hear another group of students walking past on the path- everything is grating on your nerves. 

“He’s just got a big reputation. He’s spoken on campus and at some of the other nearby universities in the past.” Saito says.

This is a lot to take in. You’d honestly figured Gojo just didn’t want to be paired with you, but if his academic prowess is common knowledge on campus, perhaps he wouldn’t want to be paired with anyone. Maybe he thinks I’m going to make him do all the work. You remember all of the fuss the first day of classes and things click.

“Wait, just how well known is he? Is that why people acted so wild on the first day?” If he’s getting hounded all the time or receives whispers every time he enters a room, you can see why he wouldn’t want to spend much time socializing. 

“Umm, well he’s pretty well known on campus. He completed one of his prior graduate programs here, so a lot of the professors are familiar with him.” Saito says. 

“And you’ve seen how handsome he is, so a lot of students know him too. He’s got kind of a reputation for being standoffish, but I was hoping you’d be able to get close to him with the project.” Kuzume frowns down at the grass.  

“God.” You lay back on the grass. At least you know more about your partner now- it should make working with him the rest of the term easier.

“No wonder he acts so weird.”

Kuzume and Saito laugh at that and the conversation drifts back to schoolwork. The workload of this particular program is more than any of you were really expecting, but the two girls beside you have made planning and studying bearable. You’re listening to your friends' complaints, but Gojo sits in the back of your mind like an itch you can’t quite reach. 

~*~

By the end of the week you are very ready for a break. 

You wake and go over your mental checklist for the weekend as you change and get ready. You’ve got to: finish another paper for Curriculum Design, read two more chapters in your Learning Theories class, and do an afternoon shift at the Eikaiwa school on Saturday. Sunday you've intentionally left unscheduled, hoping to catch some tv and let your brain rest. 

You trudge to class and gingerly slide into your usual seat next to Kuzume. Outside of the trip to the botanic gardens, you had reviewed course notes with her and Saito twice in the last week to keep abreast of all the assignments. She offers you a weak smile and you nod. You’re not the only one feeling drained from the weight of grad school responsibilities. 

Your professor enters and starts the lecture- today you’ll have a class discussion on workload expectations during the summer. It feels like an enormous topic to tackle on a Friday, and you hold in a sigh. 

Although there is a palpable tiredness in the room that wasn’t there at the beginning of the term, as you survey the room your classmates appear to be fully engaged in the professor’s description as she sets up the discussion. Gojo always seems to stand out. Besides his striking black outfits and ever-present shades, you've noticed he doesn't participate in class like your peers. He only shares if it's required, and neither lectures nor discussions seem to engage him. Not that you've been paying him any special attention.

You have noticed that he misses class a lot though. Besides being absent from half the first week, he's been gone from at least a class period the past two weeks as well. You're curious about how it will affect your project, even if you’re not writing with Gojo regularly. Usually schools don't allow this many absences. 

The professor concludes her introduction and gestures for the students of the class to share their experiences with summer homework. 

While extensive projects and assignments are commonplace during the short summer break in the Japanese school year, you rarely had anything to do over the summer except explore the neighborhood with your friends and wake up at 11am. Maybe you had a reading assignment due over the summer in high school, but it wasn’t really comparable to the in-depth learning common in the Japanese education system.

You’re likely the only one in the room who didn’t complete their high school in Japan.

Thankfully, your professor started on the opposite side of the classroom, so you have time to think. You comb your mind, trying to recall if there was ever a big, time intensive project you had to complete between grades. You're coming up blank. 

The first class you taught when you moved to Japan was during the summer. It's been years since you worked with that group, but you try to remember what students had said about their homework assignments. There had been complaints about book reports and worksheets. 

The man to your right just finished sharing his experience. You didn’t hear a word that he said and worse, you don’t have anything prepared for what you should say. The attention of the room has shifted to you already, so you’ll have to give it your best go. 

“Um, I don’t have personal experience with summer assignments. They aren’t very common in the United States between grades. Some parents do homeschooling, but most American students kind of take the summer off. It’s more play time than academic.”

Heat floods your cheeks. You can’t help but feel you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of the whole class. You swallow and turn to give your attention to Kuzume. She meets your eyes and gives you a small smile. It feels more like a lifeline. Her answer is an elegant recollection about a research project she completed in her third year of high school. 

The other students in the room finish sharing and your professor dives into details of the different kinds of assignments. You take some notes and resolve to ask Kuzume or Saito more about their experiences. The three of you had gotten close in these last few weeks.

Your mind is working, thinking about how else you can learn more about traditional summer assignments. You don’t even notice that Gojo’s gaze is stuck intently on you.

[shippingfangirl013]

Completely off topic but…

I want a Byler College AU where Will is a hunt seat horse boy/baseball player and Mike is taking a Western Wellness riding class because “screw it, I need a quarter credit to graduate”.

Mike is the playing his guitar/being a musician, and doing physics homework at 2 am because he couldn’t sleep kind of person. He’s the “I’m going to play my guitar because it’s 4 am and I have insomnia”, up at 8 am barely 15 minutes before he needs to rush out the door for a 9 am class, doesn’t grab breakfast, his friends always ask if he’s eaten, and is somehow running off of monster energy drinks and has yet to have a caffeine & sugar crash, probably studied for hours for the exam and didn’t need to because he’s always miraculously getting good grades person. The “I’ll just add an English major on because I’ve already taken 3 classes of literature already” and “always hiding out in the theatre department” person.

Will is the up at 4 am because I have to workout, get to the barn by 6 am, grab a granola bar and a coffee for breakfast, go ride my danger bicycle with a brain over some 4-5 ft jumps, then go to class, maybe squeeze lunch in, go to baseball practice by 4 pm, grab dinner, then go back to the barn at 7:30 pm to ride some more. Then he has a meeting once a week at 9 pm for his fraternity, and then, maybe he stays up until 11 pm doing history homework, portfolio work, and painting in the art dept. building before leaving and going to bed at 11:30 pm person. He’s the “I’m going to the barn. Be back in an hour” *takes 4 hours instead of 1 hour* person, he meticulously cares for his horse and refuses to have anything less than the best for the one animal he’s loved more than any other person, since he was 12. He’s the “Look! I found a barn cat!” *proceeds to stay cuddling with the barn cat for an hour* person. And he’s always willing to help out anyone he knows is new at the barn.

Mike is tacking up for a lesson and isn’t quite getting it. Will is in the other wash rack with his 17-18 hand bay gelding (bc he’d be a bay kind of person), and he stops to help.

Will: “Do you need help saddling?”

Mike: “Oh, yeah. Well, kind of.” *awkwardly fiddling with saddle pad & saddle*

Will: “Here,” *grooms horse, tacks Mike’s horse up & bridles it* “Monica’s a good horse, she’ll take care of you. I’m a bit surprised she’s being used for a beginner lesson, it’s a little daunting to ride 16 hands at first,”

Mike: *stammering in his confusion bc he finds Will attractive* “Why would I be riding 16 hands?”

Will: “oh, no. I uh, I meant Monica,” *rubs horse’s neck* “she’s 16 hands tall. It’s how we measure the height of a horse.”

*ducks his head sheepishly* “Sorry, I sometimes forget not everyone has been around these guys for half their life,”

———

El is a western riding queen and she and her brother constantly get into bickering arguments after practice.

Chrissy is a hunt seat rider that dragged Will into it after learning he had been taking lessons prior to college.

Mike is asked to join the Western team, so now every other weekend, he has to go to shows and watch as his crush - with very nice riding form- absolutely kills it in the arena.

Max is a supportive best friend and just likes to show up to see El absolutely killing it.

Lucas is on the baseball team with Will, and constantly jokes that Will just picked the two sports that make him look good in tight fitting pants.

Mike defending Will’s decision to play baseball and ride horses because his boyfriend looks fantastic in his baseball uniform and in his breeches.

I’m well aware this is a very niche genre of fanfiction, but I just can’t stop thinking about it. And I’m probably going to write it at some point, because Byler as equestrians… and all of the jokes I could make 👀

[bakurapika]

cannot recommend highly enough as a grown-up to learn new little hobbies and come back to things you could do as a kid

i'm learning how to play go (yes, because of manga) - i had tried as a kid, and I remember the desperate searching through local stores to find anything related - back when even buying something on eBay was still sketchy enough for a credit-card-owning parent to be hesitant. i'm bad! but the absolute rush from beating the AI on the easiest setting - the glee when watching beginner guides and realizing that i already knew that term - i was able to solve that problem

when i was 11, i got a clarinet - i went for one year to a fancy school (expensive tuition but discounted because my mom worked for them) where you were required to buy and play an instrument for music class. I liked the saxophone, but clarinets were much cheaper and money was tight.

I'd had to take music lessons of various types through my childhood, and now as an adult i realize that the reason i struggled so much was that grown-up instruments are made for grown-up hands! playing chords on the piano or guitar made my fingers hurt, and I was told I would get over it if I practiced enough - but I didn't mean "callouses," I meant "my fingers can't stretch that far without pain and discomfort." (as an adult, if I play guitar, I play my 7/8th size cordoba, and even that isn't as easy as it could be.)

all that to say, i grew to dislike any musical instrument that played chords. reeds are a whole other beast, and i don't know what I learned as a kid (embouchure??), but I've always been able to pull that clarinet out and at the very least make some musical sounds come out of it. which i got the urge to do recently. I'm still not living alone but I've been sneaking time to play. and i bought new reeds for the first time since 2005.

i was squeaky as hell of course! even with the new reeds, still embarrassingly so! but i've been playing just for the fun of it when I feel like it. and I realized yesterday when I squeaked that it was the first time I'd done it that day after a half hour or so of fiddling around, where even 2 weeks ago, i was squeaking every minute at least. And I can comfortably reach lower notes because I'm adjusting my breath the right way to do so, without having been intentionally practicing.

I know this is getting long. my point is just

a reminder to myself as much as anything else. going back to being bad at something seems embarrassing. you don't need to be able to perform it (while being allowed to show off if you want to, in a space that you think will get positivity)

and somehow that being-bad allows for some really cool surges of excitement and surprise when you are already so much better!

when i briefly was actually in the habit of exercising and found i was much stronger than i had been, had more muscles than before, even though I was barely working a sweat, my friend told me those are called "noob gains" by the bodybuilding community. i'm stealing that. i want noob gains in everything. to put in that little bit of effort to learn the ropes and get better!

it doesn't matter if i don't ever play go again in my life, if I get bored with it tomorrow. I still had fun, genuine pride, feeling like I learned something new. and we never leave these things behind, not really. my mouth still knows how to put noise into clarinet. if in 20 years i want to join an orchestra, i can start intensive training then. and i'll be able to do that because for a week or two, every once in a long while, I picked it up and had fun with it

[foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland]

long ranty post ahead abt my own experiences w learning instruments and playinf sports

dude yknow what i miss but also dont. playing sports n playing instruments. bc ive done quite a few different of each just in the past. like i was actually a Big football kid when i was around 5 but hated the club i went 2 bc i was the only girl and basically couldnt play bc even at fucking 5 i wasnt treated as an equal player. but also i didnt rlly mind that it was more so how aggressive it was and i didnt like being pushed around n kicked n shit. and i also played cricket which i liked i just timed it badly bc it was around a year where my immune system just fuckin gave up on me and i was sick like every other week and it out me off cricket bc i always felt so guilty for not being able 2 play it that often. n i also played tag rugby which i loved i just hated my coach she was an asshole she made these like 9 yr old kids do some baddd shit. like one time we played a match against another school and it was a cold wet rainy muddy day and i had played a couple times only and was already in so much pain and i went to her fucking in tears bc i had so many scrapes and i could barely feel my hands from the cold and every time i was passed the ball it literally hurt so fucking much and she ucking LAUGHED at me and told me 2 shut up and deal w it bc i agreed 2 play tag rugby so i was gonna do it under any conditions. like i wanted 2 kill her in that moment and i fucking shouldve i remember that moment so fucking clearly bc it was the absolute worst for me i could barely fucking do school work for ages after that bc my hands hurt so fucking much from not being allowed a goddam break when i was 9 years old. anyways yea sports is fun tho its just unfortunate situations. and i rlly wanna do cricket again or atleast like rounders or smt. man americans r actually right w this one tho baseball sounds so much better than rounders rounders sounds like a baby sports baseball sounds like. cool. anyways also w instruments it was a similar sorta thing. i played piano 4 likeee 3 or 4 years and basically picked up nothing lol other than basic music theory but thats expected bc i was like 7 or 8 on average . i also played the flute for another like 2 or 3 years which i was better at and actually played at concerts n shit but i quit that too bc i hated the stress i got from it bc i hated practicing and i hated the structure of my lessons and i hated my schools wind band i was forced 2 join and fucking guilt tripped not to leave bc i was the best player or w/e even tho i fucking hated that bc it put so much pressure on me at like 10 yrs old bc i did all the loud melody bits so if i made a mistake everyone would notice and i hated it. i also tried the cello and the guitar 4 like a month each which i also hated. now im explaining all this i kinda sound like a rich snob. well my initial point was gonna b how sports and music didnt feel 2 different. like ill use tag rugby and the flute 4 my example bc i did those things at around the same time and they were the ones i cared abt the most. but like. it felt like there was a sorta path drawn out for me in both cases. sometimes w the sheet music and sometimes w the playing field. altho i didnt know how 2 sight read and i am also not very observant so u might think oh ok i followed the path drawn out 4 me. but in both cases it felt like i was winging it int he same way. 4 the flute i always wrote the note names (and had many meltdowns over being forced 2 play w sight reading even tho i didnt wanna learn 2 sight read bc i could always just write the note names) but id write it out and instead of like. reading ahead. i just played what was in front of me. and it felt like each time i played it was like. a match or smth and i was just holding out and holding out and skipping over mistakes until i got to the end. and id never plan out the route id take first it was always just my reaction time i relied on which to be fair was not a good idea bc i have dogshit reaction time. but in tag rugby id do essentially the same. when i was on the offensive team, id usually be in front since i was good at avoiding being touched which i realise now is probably a result of my parents bc i was like constantly ready 2 avoid bein hit n shit. but i was always in front but i could never just see the whole playing field so i focused on like. exactly what was directly around me and just depended on my reaction time to avoid being tagged out. and idk i was just thinking. the exhaustion i felt after playing the flute for so long and never being taught how to breathe properly only that i should and the exhaustion i felt after playing sports for so long and never being told how to improve and only what i did wrong and the exhaustion i always felt after being in my house 4 so long and never being told what i was supposed to do and only how everything i was doing was wrong and. yea. connections between childhood trauma and playing music and playing sports.

[shoutlikethewolf]

🎸 lessons update: me being my usual perfectionist self thought I’d be a bit behind because I felt like I hadn’t practiced enough, only to be proven wrong by my teacher being impressed at how fast I’m learning. 🤘

[faeprincefelix]

Teacher’s Pet

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.6K

Modern!AU

Warnings: smut, swearing, professor x student pairing (both above legal age), degradation, spanking, use of vibrator, slight bdsm.

Professor Munson teaches you a lesson about not paying attention in his lectures

You could barely focus on this lecture, something you knew you'd regret later but your mind was consumed with thoughts of what was to come after. Memories of what had happened that last time you were in this room. Eddie pushing you up against the podium, bending you over it slightly and spreading your legs. He fucked you so hard that it brought tears to your eyes. Just reliving it started the ache between your legs. You were drawn out of your thoughts by his voice.

"Did you hear anything I just said?" He looked at you impatiently. The faint glimmer of lust in his eyes.

"Sorry, professor" you mumbled, hiding from his heavy gaze.

"Hmm" you looked up, his gaze hadn't left you "Come see me in my office after class- this is the third time in a week we've had this conversation"

"Yes, of course" to the rest of the class, this probably seemed like a normal conversation, except you and Professor Munson had already planned to meet in his office today. Though learning was not in the plan. There was the odd whisper amongst the room but you knew they didn't suspect anything. More likely they were imagining themselves in his office. Eddie was popular amongst both the staff and students. He was hot as hell, there was no denying that, with that long hair up in a bun- a few curls always escaping and cascading down his face. The eyeliner he wore more often than not. His eccentric style, the boyish charm and the fact that he sang in a rock band in his spare time. Eddie had a lot of people wrapped around his finger and he knew it.

The rest of the lecture dragged on and you were paying even less attention than you had been before. Playing through all the possibilities of your meeting in the office. You had only been seeing Eddie for around a month, but lord was it the best sex you'd ever had in your life. He could get you wet with just a word, and fuck when he played guitar, he had you soaking in minutes. Of course, you'd had to keep things quiet- whilst you'd recently turned twenty one and Eddie was a young professor in his early twenties, he was still your professor. At least for the rest of the college year. After that you would be graduating and you wouldn't have to keep it a secret anymore. Finally the bell rang and you gathered up your stuff making sure to delay enough for Eddie to reach his office first. You knocked on his door, keeping up appearances.

“Come in y/n” his voice was authoritative. He certainly wasn’t one of the stricter teachers but still you didn’t want to get on his bad side either. You’d seen the way he dealt with students who didn’t give him any respect. In fact, seeing him when he got like that was really hot. It was how you’d gotten into this position in the first place. You walked into the office, locking the door behind you and sitting down on the chair in front of his desk, dropping your bag. He relaxed a little as you did.

“Did you bring what I asked?” the smirk on his face was devilish and you knew he’d been thinking about this just as much as you had.

“Of course” you fished around in your bag, grabbing the vibrater and putting it down in the middle of his desk. You gaze locked on him as if to question what he planned to do next.

“And the other thing?” his eyebrow raised. You’d only shown him one of the things that he’d asked for so far.

“Yes” you stated, purposely not giving him anything more.

“Show me” his tone was more dominant once again. The way he always got when you were together like this and lord was it fun. You walked around to his side of the desk, sliding yourself up onto the desk in front of him. You spread your legs and lent back a little, giving him a full view of the crotchless lingerie he’d asked you to wear. His hands roamed up your thighs.

“Very good” he stood up, so that he was positioned between your legs, arms on the desk on either side of you. “Before we get started though, I think we have something to address.” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Don’t think I haven’t caught how much you’ve been daydreaming in my lectures- so easily distracted by me aren’t you” his other hand squeezed hard at your thigh. “As flattering as that is, we can’t be having that- I’m going to have to test you, see just how much you’ve been paying attention- can’t have you failing because you’re so desperate for my cock.”

“Okay” your voice cracked, a little nervous. He was correct, you had been finding it hard to focus on his lessons. You hoped you still managed to take enough information in though. You had been studying Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo and Juliet for the past two weeks. Film Studies had always been your favourite class, even before Eddie stepped in for your old professor. You also didn’t want to fail because you were hot for teacher.

“Now, what did I tell you” he chastised you, landing a hard slap to the inside of the thigh he’d been holding.

“I mean- yes, sir” you corrected. It felt kind of cheesy using that phrase but the effect it always had on Eddie was worth it. He reached round you, grabbing the vibrator off of the desk, pressing it against your clit on a low setting.

“Question one” Eddie jumped right into the pop quiz, not giving you any time to gather your thoughts. The pop quiz would've been hard enough, but now it would be almost impossible “What is Tybalt’s nickname?” Eddie turned up the intensity of the vibrator, making you moan and fight to stay sitting up.

“Fuck- I” there was no way you could remember that right now, surely. How were you even supposed to focus under the waves of pleasure? An answer came to your mind but you had no idea if it was right “prince of tides?”. Eddie didn’t give you any indication if you were correct or not. “Are you not going to tell me if I got it right?”

“Oh no, didn’t I mention - you’ll have to wait til the end to find out your score” he teased, hand running up your side slowly. “Only then will you get your reward– or your punishment, depending on how good of a student you’ve been for me.” You wanted to sigh, to argue with him, but you knew there was no point. “Question two- where does the film take place?”

This one was easier, it also helped that you had read a little of the play in high school. Though you weren’t one hundred percent sure you were correct, the film could’ve made adjustments “Verona Beach”.

Once again, Eddie gave nothing away. He shifted the hand that held the vibrator, making you whimper loudly.  “You don’t get to come until after we’ve finished this quiz so I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you” he smirked down at you “question three- at the start of the film, the Montagues and Capulets have disturbed Verona how many times?”

You could swear he was being extra mean with the questions just to prove his point. “Three times” you guessed.

“Question four- what does Paris dress up as for the Capulet party?” Eddie was quicker with the questions now, hopefully growing as impatient as you were, the toy against your clit bringing you closer to your climax bit by bit.

“A fairy?” it was a complete guess, you hardly cared about failing the quiz now, you needed a release.

“Question five - what colour is the poison that Juliet drinks?” Eddie noticed your state and turned the vibrator back down to the lowest setting, making sure you couldn’t finish before he allowed it.

“Red” fuck, you could hardly concentrate. The vibrator being turned down just made you desperately want more and it was all you could think about.

“Question six” Eddie paused to press a soft kiss at the nape of your neck “complete the quote: where civil blood makes civil hands-"

“Unclean” it was barely more than a mumble. “Eddie please” you tried to grab for him but he swatted you away. Pushing you down flush against the desk. Grasping your wrists between his spare hand.

“We’ve not finished yet, y/n- besides you’re supposed to be proving to me that you’re not just a desperate whore for me.” His grip on your wrists was tight and you were totally at his mercy “Question seven- the first and last image of the film is of what?”

There was no room to think now, if you didn’t instinctively know the answer you were going to be screwed. “Blood- fuck Eddie i don’t know.”

He still gave you no response. Not even a reaction to your outburst. “Question eight- what does Mercutio consider the children of an idle brain?”

“Dreams” you were sure of this one. You remember the scene, scoffing at it in your mind. As a film studies and english student, you loved dreams and imagination. It was what made the world bearable.

“Question nine- where is Romeo banished to?” Eddie shifted his position, turning the vibrator back up one setting, not as intense as it had been originally but still making you breath out small moans.

“Mandria? Something like that, i think” if Eddie took the quiz above ten questions, you might actually lose your goddamn mind.

“Last question- what is the first part of Juliet that we see on screen?” the smug look on his face confirmed he was definitely being mean with this one. How the hell were you supposed to remember that, even if you had been paying full attention.

“Her face?” you breathed out, just glad this whole thing was over and done with. Nerves setting in now about your score and what Eddie planned to do to you.

“Tsk tsk, you only got four right- such a bad girl” his tone chided you, but the expression on his face was one of pure pleasure “going to have to teach you a lesson.” Eddie released your wrists, grabbing your waist, sliding you off the desk before quickly spinning you round, and pushing you back over the desk. One of his hands in your hair, pressing your face down against the wood. “Six answers wrong so-” he trailed off, his hand hitting your arse harshly, making you cry out.  He counted down the rest of the hits, each one getting progressively harder and you were sure he was going to leave marks. You were so aroused by now you knew that you would be soaking wet. You weren’t expecting the seventh hit and you gasped loudly, your arse cheek felt like it was on fire. “Now what have we learnt?” Eddie demanded.

“That I must pay better attention in class, professor” you answered easily, wanting to at least score some brownie points with him today.

“And?”

“And that i should stop daydreaming in lectures about all the things I want you to do to me” You wriggled a little under his grasp.

“Good girl” his fingertips ran up your inner thigh. Coasting upwards, running slowly through your folds and gathering up your juices "so wet for me already- how pathetic." You couldn’t see Eddie putting his fingers in his mouth but you heard the satisfied groan “always taste so fucking delicious.” He pulled you back up by your hair, bringing your body flush against his. His erection pressing against your arse. Eddie's hands snaked round to your front, squeezing your breasts before literally ripping you shirt open, a few buttons landing on the floor. You couldn't stop the gasp that left you, blush filling your cheeks- you hadn't brought a backup so you had no idea how you were going to get out of here without flashing everyone your underwear. Eddie hands grazed over the lace of the bodysuit you'd bought especially for him. His movements were slow, brief touches that ghosted over your skin, giving you goosebumps. He turned you around to face him.

"Take your skirt off" he commanded. You followed his orders, chucking it out of view. Eddie was silent for a few seconds, eyes exploring every available inch of your body. He rang his tongue across his bottom lip before swallowing hard. "I still don't think you've fully learnt your lesson- going to have to make it up to me." Eddie reached into one of his desk drawers retrieving a tie, you were surprised he even kept one here, he'd never worn one in class. "Hold out your hands" you offered them to him, wrists pressed together. He wrapped the tie round them, tying it tightly. He looked at you, you knew it was to check it wasn't uncomfortable for you. You nodded at him. Eddie's hands were suddenly on your shoulders, pushing you down onto your knees. You watched as he unclipped his belt, unzipping his trousers to pull out his cock. He stroked himself a few times, his gaze locked with yours. He groaned as he ran his thumb over the head of his cock.

Eddie grabbed hold of your chin, keeping you still as he pushed the tip of his cock into your mouth. Pausing to give you a second to adjust. His hand moved to the back of your head, tangling into your hair as he thrust in further with a moan. "Fuck" he muttered, making you take all of him. He didn't go easy of you, he fucked your throat brutally. Tears streamed down your face each time you almost choked on him. "Jesus christ y/n" Eddie's eyes were full of lust "you really are such a good little slut for me." His thrusts got even faster somehow, and you really wished you could use your hands right now. You wanted your hands all over him, squeezing his arse, digging your nails into him. “You’re mine, you understand” Eddie practically growled “all mine.” His thrusts were growing sloppier and you knew he was close. “Wanna come on those beautiful tits of yours” he grunted, pulling out of you and stroking himself over you, until his cum was running down your chest. He seemed captivated by the image for a minute, before helping back up, sitting you back down the desk. He cleaned you up softly and untied your hands, placing kisses on your wrists. He stepped out of his trousers, in his way now that they had dropped half way down his legs. Slipping his shirt off afterwards.

“Lay back for me baby” you paused, you wanted to do something first. You reached up, tugging his hair out from the bobble so his curls fell round his face. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face at the sight. He really was beautiful. You finally laid back down, shifting to get comfy. Eddie lent over you, hands tracing the edge of your bodysuit, pushing back the fabric so that he could play with your nipple. Rolling it between his fingers slowly before bringing your breast into his mouth, his other hand sliding under the lace to squeeze your left breast. You whimpered already.  He focused on your breasts for a while, nipping, biting and sucking, covering you in hickeys. His hand trailed down your body slowly, making your breath hitch. His fingers ran up your thigh, teasing you as he leaned in for a kiss. His fingers brushed through your folds, making you moan a little. He bit down on your lip and slid one of his fingers inside you. Groaning in satisfaction at how wet you were for him. He was slow with you at first, his other hand finding the vibrator, holding it against your clit, and turning up the intensity every few minutes. Eddie adding a second finger on top had you coursing towards your orgasm and you dug your nails into his arm. All at once he removed both the vibrator and his fingers. You whimpered in desperation and he simply laughed at you.

“It’s so much fun to watch you squirm” he was smirking so hard. You gripped his arms trying to bring him closer to you and he almost stumbled forward. “That desperate for me hmm” he chided “haven’t you ever heard the phrase good things come to those who wait?” This time he bent down, tongue exploring you hungrily and his fingers circled your clit. You grabbed hold of his hair, pulling it harshly. You loved having your hands tangled in his curls like this. Eddie once again took you right up to the edge before stopping. He did it three times more, alternating between using his fingers and his mouth. At this point you were nearly sobbing from the need to finish.

“Please Eddie” you begged

“Please what?” he smirked again “tell what it is you want me to do y/n.” You whimpered, too far gone to answer his question, but knowing it was the only option.

“I need you to let me come Eddie, please, need your mouth on me- fingers inside me- need it so badly” you clawed at his arms again, trying to bring him in closer.

“Seems you asked so nicely” he winked at you. Eddie’s fingers were inside you again immediately, vibrator pressed back against your clit. This time he didn’t stop, letting your orgasm hit at full force. He turned the vibrator off, chucking it across his desk, he worked you through your orgasm and kept going. Adding a third finger, his pace was brutal and it wasn’t long before he got a second orgasm out of you. He pulled his fingers out, sucking off the juices. You tried to catch your breath but before you knew it he was on his knees again, his mouth on you in an instant. Every single part of you felt overly sensitive and the moans you made were half cries. “Eddie” his name left your lips like a prayer. He dragged another orgasm out of you, and still he didn’t stop. Eddie was talking you through it all. Praising you constantly. Tears ran down your cheeks from the overstimulation and at this point you weren’t sure why you’d even bothered to put on mascara this morning. After your fourth orgasm Eddie finally let you rest. “So good for me” he whispered against your skin, peppering soft kisses up your arm.

Eddie’s hand fell to his erection, stroking slowly, Eyes fixed on you. “Think you’ve got another one in you baby?” he asked softly and though your body felt wrecked you nodded. Eddie wasted no time, slamming inside you. You were so wet from his actions that he slid almost all the way in. He still gave you time to adjust though before moving.  His pace was fast, forceful thrusts. Groans leaving him every few seconds, as your own moans nearly caused you to run out of breath. “Feel so fucking perfect” Eddie practically purred “so tight around me.” His hand ran up your body to your neck, squeezing lightly. Not enough to choke you, just applying a little pressure. He adjusted his angle hitting your sweet spot and your back arched off the desk as you cried out his name. He had you almost at the edge already. His other hand clamped over your mouth, silencing your loud moans. “Quiet” he told you.

“Eddie” you breathed his name into his hand.

“I know baby I know” his voice soft, reassuring “i got you.” He thrust into you even harder, pushing you over that heavenly edge for the fifth time that afternoon. Eddie’s thrusts lost their rhythm and he spilled into you with a groan of your name. He cleaned you both up, dragging his trousers back on, pulling you into his lap on his chair. Caressing your hair as you recovered from what he’d put you through. He held you for a few moments before placing you back on his desk whilst he went to get you some water. Bringing an energy bar with him.  “Sorry it’s all the food I have” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed not to be taking care of you properly “I’d go get you something but I don’t wanna risk someone seeing you in here- especially looking as gorgeously sinful as you do right now.”

“It’s okay Eddie- I can grab something at home- it’s not that far of a walk” you reached up, stroking your hand across his cheek, taking a large sip of the water. When you were ready to leave, Eddie fetched you one of his spare shirts from the cupboard in the corner.

“Yeah, i’m gonna need you to wear that next time- you look so hot in my clothes” Eddie’s gaze was hot and intense once again but when he lent down to kiss you, it was full of tenderness. “I hope you know though, this isn’t just about sex for me” his words were quiet, a nervous admission “never has been”

“It’s not just about sex for me either” you reassured him “though the sex is very very good.” Your comment made him laugh, a wonderful sound. You tiptoed up to kiss him, before unlocking the door and wandering out into the hall. You glanced back to see him still looking at you, and you threw him a large smile.

“Don’t forget to rewatch the movie” he shouted at you and you had to stifle a laugh. God, you couldn’t wait until you didn’t have to hide the relationship anymore.

[jasontoddiefor]

A gift for @thenegoteator :D

It took a Temple to raise a child, and Mace Windu was very much aware of this. However, it did not explain what Ahsoka Tano was doing at his door in the middle of the night. Ahsoka had deep bags under her eyes, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering the current living arrangements of her lineage. While little Luke and Leia were relatively well-behaved newborns, they were still only a few weeks old. If their human caretakers didn’t wake up at every single little whimper, then the togruta with the superior hearing certainly would.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mace asked, not letting his confusion show. He was used to people coming to his door at the oddest hours.

“If—if I can?” Ahsoka replied as if only now becoming aware of her actions. In this, she reminded Mace of her Grandmaster and the many nights Mace had found Obi-Wan coming to his doorstep during the first months of Anakin’s stay at the Temple.

“My door is always open, Padawan,” Mace said – and watched her wince.

Ah.

So there was the problem.

“Caleb is currently sleeping in my bed as Depa is away,” Mace explained. “So please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily.”

The boy had already had a hellish enough month behind him, he needed all the rest he could get. Even though the war was officially over, enough planets refused to surrender, drawing out the battles until they had nothing but children left to sacrifice. It weighed on Mace’s shoulders, making him wonder whether he wasn’t too old to carry such burdens still.

Ahsoka nodded and followed Mace inside. He couldn’t recall whether Ahsoka had been in his room before, but from the way she eagerly looked around his quarters, taking in the sight of old instruments, books, and holos, he guessed she hadn’t. Well, at one point in their life, every Jedi had set a foot inside Mace’s quarters, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Ahsoka tore herself away from the sight and looked at him with surprise. “I—yes? That would be nice.”

“Then I will make a cup. Do you have any preferences? I believe I even have Obi-Wan’s favorite blend here.”

Mace had no idea whether he had bought it or if Obi-Wan had just left it here from himself when he came over. Knowing the other man, it was likely that the latter was the case. For a man claiming to be so very polite, Obi-Wan could be a right brat.

Mace’s kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and one shelf, two cooking tiles, and an oven. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and preferred to eat in the cafeteria with everyone, frequently taste-tasting what the Initiates had prepared. He selected two uneven cups Depa had made for him when she’d been young from the shelf. Why she had decided to pick up pottery of all hobbies was beside him, but he supposed that she found the motion soothing. Devan did enjoy parkouring through the lower levels and Echuu was quite content playing the guitar to calm himself.

Perhaps Mace should focus less on why all three of his Padawans had decided they wouldn’t follow him into theatre so they could continue to make fun of him. Setting the water to boil, Mace searched through his cabinets until he found Obi-Wan’s favorite blend. The fruity tea was far from the blend he preferred, but Mace prided himself on being a good host. While he waited for the tea to finish steeping, Mace enjoyed the quiet of the night. For all that there were few sounds as dear to him as that of people walking, or in the case of some younglings and few selected Knights, running, down their large hallways, Mace could appreciate the quiet when the world came to rest.

With two finished cups in hand, he returned to the living room, where he found Ahsoka curled up on the sofa, no longer studying his quarters for any hidden secrets.

“Thank you,” she said when she accepted the cup from him. She held it in her hands as if to warm them, letting the steam hit her face. She breathed in once, twice, finding her rhythm again. Mace waited until she’d calmed enough to speak up.

“What brings you to my door, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka flinched and appeared to make herself even smaller as if attempting to vanish. When it became apparent that it didn’t work, that silence hadn’t been what she had sought him out for, she let out a sigh. “You keep calling that.”

“Calling you what?” Mace asked, his brow raised, playing oblivious.

“… Padawan.”

“Are you not? I was under the impression that you had returned to the Temple.”

“I did, but I still left,” Ahsoka replied. “I left and I was convinced that I had to leave and that it was good that I did. I still think I had to leave the Temple behind.”

“Then why are you torn?”

Ahsoka’s hold on her cup tightened and so, perhaps in wise anticipation, she set it on the table and buried her hands in her robes instead, hiding their twitching from view. Mace could trace all her mannerisms to her teachers and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to purposefully rip all those pieces from yourself when they had become so ingrained in your very being. Even Dooku, who’d fallen so far from their beliefs, had been unable to fully rid himself of Yoda’s lessons. Maybe it was for the best. Hope had become a scarce commodity during the war, yet Mace considered the possibility that in a decade, they wouldn’t be imprisoning a Sith anymore.

“But am I still a Padawan? A member of this Order?” Ahsoka asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she shook like the leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

“Has your Master told you anything different?”

Ahsoka paused. “…. No.”

Seeing that realization was settling within her, Mace nodded. “Then you should not doubt him. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and you will remain one as long as you live by our tenets.”

That teased a startled laugh from her. “Compassion for all except people who cheat at push-n-pull?”

As if transported back ten years, hearing Anakin say the same, Mace snorted. “The similarities between you and your Master astonish me every time. Yes, Padawan Tano, compassion for all.”

This seemed to calm the youth as she reached for her cup again and emptied it slowly. “It’s good.”

Mace smiled into his own cup. “I’d be insulted if it wasn’t. Obi-Wan forced me to memorize all the steps for making it.”

The then young Knight had been frazzled, and Mace honestly couldn’t tell what it had been about and had forced Mace to learn how to make this tea until he’d more or less collapsed on Mace’s sofa, completely knocked out until morning when Anakin had picked him up.

“He does do that,” Ahsoka agreed. “I think this is the only thing anyone can make reliably now.”

“Sleep-deprived much?” Mace inquired.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I love Luke and Leia dearly, but they are demanding and need a lot of attention.”

That was honestly kinder than Mace would have described newborns at her age.

“There is a reason why we usually don’t have children this young in the Temple,” Mace said. “They are very handful. Do you get enlisted to help very often?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, Obi-Wan, Skyguy, and Padmé got it covered, and I’m mostly just helping out somewhere else.”

She trailed off a little. This, perhaps, was another issue, but one that could be equally easily dealt with.

“Thank you then for going where you are needed,” Mace told her.

Ahsoka blinked. “Huh?”

“You will grow into a specific role someday, Ahsoka, and that needs time. Do not feel as if you need to earn back your place in the Temple. You don’t need to earn yourself a home you have always had. For now, trust me when I say that everyone you’ve helped is glad that you were there. It is an admirable quality to have a sense of where you are needed. Do not see it as being the odd one out.”

This was the hardest lesson to teach and learn, the fact that there was a path out there for you, but that it took time to see where it would lead. Too many of their Padawans now felt utterly lost without the structure the war had provided them with.

“Oh. I guess if you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so,” Mace agreed. Then, eyeing Ahsoka’s empty cup, he added on, “do you want another?”

“No.” Ahsoka yawned. “I think I might best head back.”

“You can also sleep here if you want, and don’t mind Caleb hogging the blanket. I won’t go to bed tonight anyway.”

Ahsoka squinted at him as if attempting to discern whether he was lying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really—”

“Ahsoka, go to bed.”

Clearly feeling better already, she saluted and, after Mace showed her his bedroom, made herself comfortable in it. She took off her shoes and tossed her robe over a chair before climbing into the bed. Ahsoka had barely laid down when Caleb already turned around to curl around her, clinging like a little monkey. After a moment’s apprehension, she relaxed and was fast asleep. Stealing one last glance at the two Padawan, Mace returned to his living room, looking through the incoming reports.

Hectic as the aftermath of the war was, as much effort as caring for their children was, Mace wouldn’t trade it for a single thing in the world.

[reikeip]

Crossroad ♱ Crowd 5

Location: Underground Livehouse

Rei: “♪~♪~♪”

“Fuhahaha! Tremble, ya fuckin’ idiots![1] Every single one of ya looks tired of livin’—do ya not get the point of bein’ born~?”

“The war is over, and from it we rose! What do you desire in this time of peace? Scream it loud!”

“If ya keep your mouth shut, nobody’ll know~ Don’t ya dare be a buncha obedient babies~!”

“Guess I’ll have to say it for ya. You wanna take this wishy-washy, laid back world and fuckin’ destroy it—right?”

“Well then, shout! Bare your fangs an’ bite! Roar ‘till it comes echoin’ back to ya! Shout! Shout! Shout!”

“Vomit up your love, your curses, an’ pray! Bathe in blood an’ guts—go through the birth canal a second time, an’ be reborn!

“Give me your first cries—let me hear the sound of humankind! Rock’n’roll…☆”

♪~♪~♪

Koga: (Yeah! Wow, Sakuma-senpai’s sending shivers down my spine! I feel like I’m gonna die from this euphoria!)

(The crowd’s going wild, and I’m really standing on the same stage as Sakuma-senpai right now…!)

(It’s like I’m dreaming! Oh, don’t ever let it end! Even if my voice goes hoarse and I start throwin’ up blood, even if I start suffocating from a lack of oxygen, I want to keep singing with you…☆)

(Just look at me, Sakuma-senpai! I admire you!)

(I’ve been strumming at my guitar day after day, and I’ll keep going until it gets so worn out it disappears!)

(So recognize me for it! If only you would face me, and look at me with those crimson eyes that belong to hell’s king!)

(At that very moment, I could die…!)

“♪~♪~♪”

Rei: (Hey~... It’s great you’re havin’ fun and all, but ya should be facin’ the audience—not me.)

(These people are takin’ precious time outta their lives to gather here with us. If they feel like they wasted it, you’re dishonorin’ us idols.)

Koga: (Oh! Got it, Sakuma-senpai! This god will raise your stage, makin’ it more and more lively! Kyahahahaha…☆)

Keito: “♪~♪~♪”

(...Those two, they’re communicating through eye contact. Well, I have no clue if they’re really holding a proper conversation or not.)

(Though, I’m rather surprised. I caught a glimpse of it when we were doing lessons, but Oogami is more than just talk.)

(He has talent, the potential to blossom beautifully—but he’s still unripe, and far too wild.)

(When Sakuma-san is close by he becomes shockingly steady, as if he’s following after his example.)

(He must really like Sakuma-san, huh… Love, it makes one stronger.)

(That is a constant in all stories, a universal truth.)

(I was right to choose rock as the theme for this stage. It’s a genre Oogami likes, and something Sakuma-san has experience with.)

(When you compare the two, rock is actually more prevalent in culture overseas than our concept of idols.)

(What’s more, Sakuma-san really got a read on the underground livehouse’s clientele.)

(So, he’s making an impression by talking in extremes. Like, good grief, what’s with the whole “tremble, ya fuckin’ idiots” thing?)

(I’m the only one who’s been slacking in my studies here, but I put in enough hard work in the past week to at least match their rhythm.)

(I can see it. I can feel it in my bones—right now, we are strong.)

(We’d be able to stand toe to toe with Valkyrie, who are already well renowned and respected by the entertainment industry—no, we could even compete to stand beside professionals.)

(Aah, this is fun. I’m being involved in something greater—being melted down to the marrow of my bones and fusing with it.)

(My silhouette has disappeared, and I’ve become a part of something glorious.)

(With a passion I cannot produce on my own, I can venture into a story I’d struggle to ever reach on my own.)

(I love this feeling. I have a similar—or even stronger—feeling of omnipotence to that I get when I’m drawing manga.)

(In this moment, for just a short period of time, we are gods—the rulers of this world. That’s the illusion I get.)

(In this world, this reality, it feels like I’ve become one of the vital characters to the story.)

(I’m so happy, so blessed, to the point I can’t believe it. Ah, this is why I wanted to become an idol.)

(Writing manga allows you to become a god-like figure to that story. But, I’d prefer to do that in this world, where I live and breathe—)

(I don’t have to be the main character, I’m not cut out for it. But, I’d still like to take on the role of a character in a wonderful story.)

(A character who everyone cheers for, recognizes, and loves.)

(Even that unreasonable childhood friend of mine, Eichi, fell captive to the charming concept of idols…)

(And I, too, wanted to be one of them.)

(Idols, they’re the kind people who live in all the novels, manga, and stories I eat up. They’re fascinating.)

(They don’t live deep in the mountains, cut off from earthly life—they live mixed in with the world, with chaotic worldviews.)

(I admired them. That’s why I descended from the mountains, stepped into the world of the living, and that’s how I came to sing on this stage.)

(I am a novice who’s slacking on my Sadhana—It would be justified to lecture me, for I am such a vulgar person, so far from attaining enlightenment.)

(I want to have faith that this dream—this prayer—is not some wrongdoing.)

(Eichi. Your dream and mine, they aren’t really the same.)

(It could be that your goal of becoming a better idol aligning with mine is a coincidence… that is a possibility.)

(Even as someone who’s met you long ago, I can’t understand the corrupt, murky, pitch-black hatred that seems to burden your soul.)

(A darkness that, no matter how many sutras I recite, I cannot exorcise.)

(But still, I want to recuse you. You’ve always been the one person on the same page as me.)

(Like two halves of the same soul, we are no strangers—you are my best friend.)

(What’s more, I am the son of a Buddhist temple. To embrace, love, and rescue even a strange, unloved creature—that is the role of a monk.)

(You’re just like me, so by rescuing you, I feel like I can reach salvation myself.)

(Making your dream come true, that’d be the same as making mine come true.)

(...Isn’t that right, Eichi. My first, and only, reader.)

(Together, let’s weave a story. Let’s enjoy ourselves, just like we did as little kids.)

(O Buddha, please guide me; May the path I walk on be that of righteousness.)

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This is actually Koga's signature, “震撼しやがれ愚民ども”, which is often translated to “shake to your very core, ignorant fools” and the likes. It's found in melody in the dark as well as various stories.

[marycecilyy]

Hey could you do headcanons for the mcl guys (or if not all of them castiel, armin, and kentin) when their S/O is a famous singer? Thank you❤

Oh god this turned out so longer than I expected huahahushaushu

First of all, these are too long to be headcanons, all three of them have more than 1k words each. Also, I changed a bit the prompt. It's more like "Candy has the dream of becoming a famous singer". The rest you'll see... I'll only say that I'm very proud of this one ;)

Castiel, Armin and Kentin with a Candy that wishes to be a famous singer

Castiel

Castiel wasn’t one to be friendly to new students, but he knew you weren’t like any other when you came to him and asked if Winged Skull was one of his favorite bands too. He was shocked to know that there was another person at Sweet Amoris who enjoyed the same bands as him. Yes, bands (in plural). After he answered that, yes, Winged Skull was his favorite band of all times, you started talking about your common interests and discovered that there were many.

He was a very closed off guy, but somehow you managed to break into his skull in a short time and, in a few months, you turned into best friends.

When Debrah came back and that whole situation happened, your fight with Castiel had a lot of impact over you. In your head, you had just lost your best friend forever. Fortunately. Lysander not only helped you recover from the blow and gave you energy to gather your friends and expose Debrah, but also helped you admit to yourself that, you did have feelings for Castiel.

Once she was unmasked and ran away like a coward, things quickly came back to normal. In less than one week, you had restored your reputation, your friends apologized for misjudging you, Castiel and you were once again friends. The only difference was that you knew that you were in love with him.

You didn’t tell him about your feelings right away, you decided to keep your friendship and focus a bit on your lifelong goal: become a music star. You started learning how to sing properly and doubled the days of your guitar lessons. Castiel even helped you get into the music club (they were full when you got into Sweet Amoris, but he found a way to enroll you).

You knew that your chances of actually becoming famous were pretty low, the market was difficult and depended a lot on having the right contacts. That was why, while you tried putting your name out there, your plan was to get a degree in music as soon as you finished high school. Antheros Academy offered a good education and was close, it was your best option.

As you channeled your energies towards your goal, Castiel started to acknowledge his own sentiment towards you. He liked to watch your focused face as you tuned your guitar and your singing voice earned a sweet accent all of the sudden. He always considered you a special girl, but, to his surprise, feelings were starting to develop inside his closed off chest.

That was why, as soon as he won those concert tickets on a raffle, he knew he’d take you there as your first date. Luckily for him, you accepted right away. Castiel had a feeling that night would be something else.

And it really was, as he kissed you, without even thinking it through, when the vocalist sung what he knew was your favorite tune. When you kissed him back, he wrapped his hands over your waist and lifted you up, feeling your warm lips open up for him.

The months that followed were full of bliss. With you and Castiel officially dating, the school had a lot to talk about. Amber pestered you quite a bunch of times, but that didn’t mess with your relationship at all. Everything was perfect, as it was supposed to be.

But that didn’t last long. Right after you finished high school, your dad had to move to another town because of his job and you had no choice but to go too. You were sure that your relationship would survive the distance, after all, you were in love. This situation would be worked out.

Castiel came to your new house a couple of times and you two called frequently, but in the end distance started to grow between the both of you… and it hurt. Knowing that Castiel was sad made you miserable and you decided to break up before it became unbearable.

You lost your count of how many nights you cried thinking about him.

4 years later.

You were zipping your jeans up when you heard a knock on your dressing room’s door. Who could it be? Your parents had already congratulated you over the phone, there was no one supposed to come that night. Did your manager schedule a press interview for after the show?

You put on your shirt and told whoever was on the other side to wait. When you finally opened the door, your jaw almost fell. You couldn’t believe he was there.

He looked exactly like in the magazines, (a bit less photoshopped, but that was to expect. You went through that as well and it sucked). His hair was shoulder-length and he wore a black shirt that showed off the tattoos up to the middle of his arm. He wore some light makeup, most on his skin, which you deduced his manager made him put on. Castiel looked like you expected him to after all those years, but one thing about him surprised you.

His eyes, although more mature and serious, had the same brightness as before.

"Are ya going to keep staring like that?” He asked and you noticed you had just been looking at him for a solid minute.

“Sorry. Come in.” You said and made space for him to enter the room. For your luck, there was nothing private to be seen, you had the habit of leaving your clothes and personal belongings messy and only cleaning up the second you had to go.

Castiel cleared his throat. An awkward silence hung between you. You hadn’t been alone with each other ever since the breakup. You two were two of the biggest stars of nowadays rock music, but you barely had any opportunity to talk. Not that you haven’t tried, it was the opposite. You avoided contact. Your fans knew you had dated in high school (you used to have pictures on your personal instagrams and fans were quick to dig over old accounts to find information about their idols), so they never expected a feat or any kind of collab. Everyone knew that you weren’t on best terms.

You remembered just a couple of days ago, when you were interviewed for one of those talk shows. The host made a lot of personal questions about Castiel and even asked if you would get back with him if you had the chance. You tried to avoid answering, but the public instantly read your unconscious signs: yes, you would.

That was why, you assumed, he was there. To make things clear. After all, because of you yours and his fans started shipping you two and got you on twitter’s trending topics. He probably was pissed. There was also a possibility of him wanting to take advantage of the situation, maybe propose a fake relationship? No, that wasn’t like him. Or was it? You barely knew him anymore.

“So… you probably guessed why I’m here. I saw your interview” You were right, then. “And I want to make things clear.” Ouch. You should prepare for the blow. “Look, we both know time has passed and we’re not the same as before. You broke up to avoid more suffering, and I get that. I really do.”

Castiel crossed his arms and glared at you. You looked back at him with fear, fear of knowing what his next words would be. “But...?” You asked.

“Tsk.” He huffed. This would be more difficult than he thought. “Look, little girl…” You felt a shiver run through your spine at the sound of the old nickname he gave you. You had always loved it, even though you didn’t say it out loud. After what felt like hours, he continued. “I don’t want to be cheesy, that’s not like me. So I’ll just say that if what all of the fans are theorizing is true.... If you do want to try again....”

Castiel took your hand and you jumped in surprise. He turned your palm to him and grabbed a pen from his back pocket. He wrote down a phone number on your hand and let go of it, capped the pen and turned around to go.

"That's my personal number. It’s pretty useful if you wanna call me without having to schedule an appointment with my manager.” You managed to laugh. You knew exactly how these things were annoying.

Inside, you were bursting with excitement. However, you answered playfully “Hm…. I’ll think about it, mr. Rockstar” Castiel chuckled and excused himself, saying that his manager would get pissed at him if he took too long. You smiled.

Maybe it was not over, after all.

Armin

When you told Armin, very early on your friendship, that your dream was to become a famous singer, he got so excited for you. He already knew that you played the guitar and was good at singing, but he had no idea that you wanted to make this your career path.

You couldn’t have chosen a better partner. Being the tech nerd that Armin was, he helped you a lot in recording your covers with the best quality possible considering the amateur camera and microphone you had.

However, the times that his presence most comforted you was when you showed him your new songs. He was always eager to see your composing progress and gave you pure honesty in his feedback, keeping in mind that he was no expert but still wanted to help you.

You always asked him for a way to return his favors, but he always said that it was his duty as your best friend to support you and that it was more than enough having you to talk about all his geek interests.

As time passed, you started to notice that you liked him way more as a friend. Without an idea of what to do, you asked Rosa and Alexy for advice. They were your closest friends apart from your crush (and you couldn’t run to him in that situation, duh)

After a dozen pro tips and date ideas from them, you decided to take Armin to the movies (basic, you knew, but couldn’t go wrong).

When you asked him if he was available Saturday night, you didn’t say properly “Hey, we’re going on a date”. Actually, you didn’t mention the word “date” at all, hoping that he would read between the lines.

And he did, because as soon as you sat and the film started, Armin grabbed your hand that was resting in the armrest and entwined your fingers. You couldn’t pay attention to what was going on screen at all and your attention was completely drawn from the movie when the boy grabbed your chin and brought your lips to his.

You only stopped kissing when the lights went on and the credits started scrolling.

“Hey…” You asked as soon as you two left the place, holding hands with him. “What was the movie about again?”

Armin laughed out loud. He teased you about it a lot before you made him confess that he didn’t know either.

A few days later, it was him who asked you out. You kept going on dates for the next week, all of them simple but interesting at the same time. However, you two weren’t dating. The whole school knew there was something going on between you two by the chuckles and timid kisses when you thought nobody saw them, but you didn’t make things official… yet. But that was about to change.

It was friday and you invited Armin over to “study” (he was sure that the afternoon would be spent between videogames and kisses, but if you wanted to call it a study session, it was okay for him).

As he comfortably sat on your bed as if it were his own, you told him to wait as you brought him some juice. When you came back, he was already grabbing his nintendo switch from his bag.

“What makes you think that we’re here to game?” You teased, handing him the glass.

“Come on, Candy, we both know that none of us are interested in learning orbital hybridization…”

“Maybe I am. I really need a good grade on those tests.” You approached him and held his jaw up so your foreheads touched. With a trailed voice, you continued. “Unless you have something more interesting to do in mind...”

Armin opened up that playful smile of his. “Oh, I do, actually.” In a quick movement that caught you off guard, he threw you in bed and started pampering you with kisses all over your face. You couldn’t stop laughing from how his hands tickled your belly, but you managed to stop him. “W-Wait, Armin!”

He looked at you, confused. “What?”

As you caught your breath, you explained that there was something you wanted to show him first. You got off the bed and went to grab your guitar that was hung up on the free wall of your bedroom.

“Did you compose a new song?” Armin deducted as you sat in front of him again, this time with your guitar in hands.

“You’ll see.” You tuned your instrument under his curious gaze. When you felt satisfied with the sound, you looked back at him. Armin didn’t miss the blush that coloured your cheeks. “I know you’d never do it, but I have to ask even so: promise you won’t laugh.”

You started playing the first chords of the song you had finished composing just a few days before. Usually, you composed simple songs that anyone could identify with, songs about friendship, inspiration, changing the world. You never wrote about your personal feelings. The notes never made you cry.

This song was special, though, because it was about him.

The day it hit you that you had feelings for him, you had the idea of writing random verses that could one day fit into a new song. After your first date, you felt so overwhelmed that, looking at the words, you decided to turn them into a song. You didn’t think it would turn into something so personal and emotional. Every note, every word, everything was clearly about him, that dorky geek you had fallen in love with.

Falling deeper every time

I can’t help but think, oh my

I’m through, but I don’t mind

Would you trade you 2D girls

For this hopeless lover

That just wants your heart?

I’ll just say that he got the message very clearly and, as soon as you finished playing, he practically jumped on you, kissing your lips with such tenderness that you almost teared up.

Of course, he asked you to be his girlfriend XD

Kentin

The first time he heard about your dream, he was still little Ken. It was one of your first days at Sweet Amoris and you two were eating cookies in the staircase. You were ranting about how sad you were that the music club was already full and you couldn’t join. Ken asked you the reason why you were so upset.

“Well… There weren’t those kind of classes in our old school. Learning how to play an instrument and sing, even during extra classes would be so cool! If I went well, maybe I’d be able to convince my dad to pay me for some private classes and then I’d be one step closer to my dream!”

“Your dream?” Ken muttered.

“Yeah! I want to become a famous singer in the future! I know that it’s impossible and even kinda silly, but-”

“No, Candy! It’s not silly at all!” Ken said. Learning more about you made him happy and he didn’t want you to think for even a second that your dream was worthless. “You shouldn't be ashamed of dreaming big. You’ll have a long, difficult path to walk through, but when you get there - and you have my word on that - I’ll be cheering for you!”

“Ken... “ You flashed your best smile at him. It meant a lot to you to have his support, he was a kind person and a very good friend (he did cross a few limits with his adoration for you, but you weren’t bothered by it). You liked being around him a lot.

-x-

“Kentin!” You threw yourself in his arms and gave him a tender kiss. “Good morning.”

Your boyfriend chuckled and held your hand, walking with you through the hallway. You talked about how your weekend had been and, between light smiles and sweet kisses, you thought of how quickly things changed between you two.

When he came back from military school, a lot of things had changed in him, including his nickname. You were facing a new person and it had been a challenge discovering Kentin and building a new relationship with him.

Even though he was a different person from before, one thing didn’t change at all and you noticed it clearly: he still liked you. Obviously he was no longer that guy who professed his feelings to everyone and followed you everywhere, he had found new ways to show you his love. You enjoyed that more mature version of him, but wished he had the opportunity to grow into a man without all the trauma he went through. You knew that most of his growth had been through suffering, and that upset you.

You didn’t know when, but somewhere into your friendship you started to grow feelings for him too. After some coaxing from Rosa and Alexy, you managed to ask him out on an official date.

The whole school already knew that Kentin was head over heels for you, but everyone was shocked to know that you loved him back as your relationship became official.

“Hey, love.”

“What?” You asked your boyfriend back as soon as you got in front of your lockers. You started looking for your books, checking that day’s classes.

“I really liked that video you posted on youtube yesterday. I never heard that song before, did you compose it yourself?”

The book you held in your hand fell to the ground. “What video?” You whispered, eyes wide.

“What do you mean, babe? That video of you singing and playing the guitar. You uploaded it yesterday night. I saw right away, you know I have my notifications turned on to all your videos. I got surprised that you decided to finally show your face and sing something of your own and- Candy? Is everything okay?”

Kentin noticed your face and got worried for you. You looked absolutely terrified.

“That video… How did you see it? I posted it as private”

“No, you didn't. It was public.” Kentin was starting to understand why you were so surprised. He put one hand on your back as you blushed and hid your face on his chest in embarrassment.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I did that! I’m so stupid! The first time I record something like that, I accidentally post it for everyone to see! Dumb, dumb Candy! Dang, now everyone’s gonna know I’m bad!”

“First of all.” Your boyfriend frowned, bringing you close to him. “You’re not dumb, you just made a mistake. And it’s okay, probably just a few people saw it. Last time I checked was before I went to sleep and it only had 20 views. But why are you so upset, Candy? Didn’t you tell me a few days ago that you were finally ready to show your face along with the covers. Did something happen to change your mind?”

“Well, I was not ready to show right away, especially not in a video that I looked terrible in. And it’s not just that. It was my first original song. I never showed it to anyone, what if it sucks?”

Kentin held your chin up and looked you in the eyes. “Candy, it doesn’t suck and you look great in the video!” You closed your eyes and snuggled close to him. “But I understand your concerns. Luckily, that can be solved if you delete the video. You’ll have other opportunities to get famous, and with better videos.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You reached for your phone and went to your youtube page. “Fu... No way…!”

Your hands trembled. Kentin was right, the video had few views (which was good). Only 50 people had seen it, but the problem wasn’t that. For your bad luck, one of those people had been Amber. You knew that because she had left three comments on your video.

AmberOfficial: lmaooooo

AmberOfficial: Thank you for the laughs. That’s hilarious

AmberOfficial: Just give up already, looser

“That girl....” Kentin grunted, looking at your phone screen. “I swear to you, Candy, I’ll make her regret this. I’ll-”

“You don’t need to, I’m fine.”

You untangled your arms from his torso and started walking away, trying your best to hide how upset you really were. Amber was right, your music sucked. You should give up on your dream of becoming a famous singer, not only because you were bad, but also because you could barely show your face to a few people without feeling like shit. You wouldn’t be able to deal with fame.

Kentin tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. He figured you needed some time alone. He could use that time to think of something to support you and get back at Amber.

-x-

You walked out of the bathroom, your eyes red and swollen from crying. You had already deleted the video, but you couldn’t stop feeling stupid for getting so upset by a few bad comments. And feeling stupid made you even more upset.

When you got to the hallway, it was empty due to classes having already started. You probably spent half an hour locked up, but at least no one would mess with you.

You went to the garden to get some fresh air and wait until the next class started. You sat at the bench, breathed in and finally calmed down a bit.

“Candy.”

You turned around, surprised to see your boyfriend. “Kentin! What are you doing here? Classes have already started.”

He just waved his hand in a “don’t worry about that” way and sat beside you. He kissed your cheek and took your hand, checking how you were. Seeing that you seemed to be more calm, he smiled lightly at you. “So… I talked to Armin. He already found out Amber’s password and he’ll hack into Amber’s youtube account. He’ll just mess with it for a bit, delete some videos and upload some random stuff. Nothing too bad, I promise, just some memes and rickrolls.”

“Hmm…” You muttered, thinking about what he said. It wasn’t right, for sure, but you didn’t feel like stopping them. You were still hurt. “Okay. Just promise you two won’t do something serious, okay?”

He agreed. You felt a bit better, but that wasn’t enough to lift your mood and Kentin knew that. That was why he also had something else prepared. "That 's not all. I did some quick search for places where you could record that music of yours with its deserved quality. You are a good composer, Candy, believe it. Your talent doesn’t have to stay hidden in a dark room with only you, a guitar and your cellphone recording it.”

“Kentin…”

“If you want to, I’ll help you rent a studio and record your song. That would be very useful for your portfolio. I know that’s expensive, but we can find ways to-” You cut him off with a kiss. He cared about you so much, to the point of skipping classes to think of ways to make you feel better. You loved your boyfriend so much…

Lucky. You felt lucky to have him.

“I love you. Thank you for taking care of me... “ You kissed his cheek, happy to have his support. That was more than enough at that moment, Amber’s words were far behind you. All that mattered was that you could go through this.

You had Kentin, and when you had him, you had your whole world holding you so you wouldn’t fall.

[helliontherapscallion]

Phantasmagoria (Adrenaline Junkie Part 16)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries, death, depersonalization, grief

REMINDER: you are real. the topics discussed in this is fiction and not reality. you are loved and valid, hydrate and eat 3 meals a day <3

Word count: 2,645

You were in and out of it for the next few days. Whenever your eyes would crack open and you would even slightly move your arm, you would be in immense pain before you would pass out again. You could sometimes hear the voices of your family talking to you, but never Arthur. Good, he definitely shouldn’t see you like this. 

Whenever you heard Philza, he would be talking to you about all the journeys he’s been on in his hundreds of years of living. Oh yeah, you found out that he was an immortal being that can’t die. Your brain was too tired and clouded to contemplate it. 

Whenever you heard Technoblade, his monotone and deep voice always eased your worries. It gave you something to focus on; if anything, his voice was the one that cut through the fog the most. He would always recite Greek myths to you, often telling you that you reminded him of a few characters. 

Whenever you heard Wilbur, all you heard was him asking you questions such as ‘how was your day’ or ‘what do you think of someone-so’. He would talk to you as if you were conscious, often having one sided conversations with you. Sometimes he would bring his guitar and compose new songs, asking you if he should keep a lyric or if he should throw it away. 

Whenever you heard Tommy, it broke your weak heart. It was like your little brother was a completely different person; his usually loud and upbeat tone was reduced to a quiet and broken one. He was the one that wouldn’t talk much, instead he would sit with you and eventually after a day or two (you think) of silence he would play his jukebox. But whenever he did talk (which was rare) he would tell you how scared he was seeing you like that on the table. 

As time passed, you could feel yourself slipping deeper and deeper into your subconscious. It was like you were fading away, but you couldn’t fight against it. You wouldn’t fight against it; you could feel your pain fading and it was a great relief. You only wished you could hear your family’s voices before you completely left them, they were fading as well. Eventually, everything slipped into nothingness and you felt… euphoric. 

When you opened your eyes, everything was black. You were sure that you had your eyes open, so why was everything so dark? Was this the afterlife? You expected it to be more… heavenly. However, you weren’t complaining; your entire body felt light and you felt waves of peace waft over you. This was nice. You didn’t have much time to relax while you were living. 

After a while of staring into nothingness and just peacefully floating in one place, you became restless. Sure this was nice, but your hands itched to tinker with something. You’ve never done well with sitting in one place for too long, that’s always been your weakness. You tried to push your body off from anything so you could at least float around, but that proved useless when there was nothing to push off from. When you tried flapping your wings- well, wing- you only succeeded in spinning in circles. At least you thought you were spinning in circles, the inky abyss was unchanging and it was starting to mess with your perception. Your senses felt like they were deprived, but the worst thing about it was the overwhelming silence. 

So, you talked to yourself to fill the ringing silence. You were merely voicing your thoughts, repeating your lessons you’ve taught Arthur over the last few weeks. After a while, you were running out of things to talk to yourself about. So, you sighed and crossed your arms. They were very pale, you were actually dead this time, huh? You could only wait to see your brothers and Arthur when it was their time, hoping that they wouldn’t come to you too soon. It pained you to remember that you would probably never see Philza again, but who knows; the universe has a strange way of working. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, (y/n).” You screamed at the soft voice that cut through the overwhelming silence and whipped your head around. There stood a woman that looked to be in her early thirties with long black hair and tanned skin. You could not see the upper half of her face as it was covered by a crow mask, however her eyes glowed a bright white. She was smiling at you with melancholy and bittersweet happiness. The two giant white feathered wings sprouted from her back were glowing slightly. The powerful and intense aura that loomed around her was the complete antithesis of the gentle smile she was giving you. 

“Calm down,” she flew over to you and wove her hand in the air. You immediately felt a wave of calm ease over you. “That’s better. You’ve been through so much, my little fledgling.” Her little fledgling? That was something you’ve recently started to call Arthur. 

“Who are you?”

“Oh where are my manners? I’m Kristin, the Goddess of Death. I wish I didn’t have to do this, but I’m here for your life.” You hummed, “that makes sense.” She tilted her head slightly and somehow the eyeholes of the mask morphed into an eyebrow raise. Was that her actual face? “You’re not scared of death?” 

“No, I’ve already died twice- no, three times already. But this is- it’s different. Is that because I’ve lost my last life?”

“You’ll find out in due time. Ender, you’re everything Phil described you as and then some.”

You perked up slightly, “you know my Dad?” Her airy chuckle brought you even more at ease, “of course I do, he’s my husband.”

You gaped at her, “so does that- does that make you my mom?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it, I wouldn’t want to push you into something you didn’t want.”

“I’ve always wanted a mom. D-don’t get me wrong, Dad’s done more than enough for me he’s an amazing parent-”

“I understand and I’d love to be the mother of someone so smart. You’re destined to do great things one day, my little fledgling.” You tilted your head slightly, “greater than being an inventor?”

She nodded, her black locks swaying with the movement, “greater than being an inventor. Our time together is coming to a close.” She flew over gracefully and pulled you into a hug. You reciprocated it. Her hug felt warm and welcoming. It was hard to believe that she was the Goddess of Death, you always thought Kristin would be ruthless and cruel. 

“You will face many trials and tribulations and you must persevere through them. This is indeed your reality, but you share it. Do not be afraid to ask for help. The world can be a lonely place, but remember that you are never truly alone.” 

She pulled away from you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, the beak of her mask poking you. Suddenly, the weightlessness feeling disappeared and you felt a tugging sensation from deep within your chest. Your body was sent flying through the abyss, the gripping sensation you felt in your inner chest felt very intimate somehow. After a bit of screaming, you were still flying through the void. You had no idea how long you were flying for, but eventually you just crossed your arms and went limp in the mysterious embrace. Aaaanny time now. 

Eventually you saw a pinprick of light far off into the distance and it was rapidly approaching you. You sighed out a drawn out “finally.” And watched as it came at you at mach speed. After you crashed into it, everything went white. 

You jolted up with wide eyes and looked around panting. You saw the walls of your childhood room? So you didn’t die? Then what the hell were you doing in the void? You were so sure that you died permanently. That you lost your last life. When you glanced out the window, everything was dark. When you sat up, you felt the familiar tugging sensation of the scar tissue around the base of your wing, except it was less intense and you had less mobility in your right shoulder. You glanced at the hearts on your wrist expecting to see three empty outlines. Instead, two ruby red hearts stared at you.

Impossible. Impossible. You were in your last life so even if you didn’t die, you should still only be in your last life. Your second life was taken from you in an explosion. It should not show up on your wrist. Furrowing your eyebrows, you ignored the sound of the door opening and footsteps rushing towards you. You ignored hands appearing in your vision and hovering unsure above your hand. 

You only looked up when the hand grabbed your wrist and blocked the two perplexing ruby red hearts. You saw Philza with a look of immense relief on his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“I don’t know.” You looked back at your covered wrist and took it out of Philza’s grasp, staring at the two red hearts again in confusion. “I-I should only have one life. Where’s Arthur? Ender, he’s probably so scared. Did you leave my prosthetic in the cave?” Your rapid fire questioning was stopped by a hand on your shoulder. 

“Slow down, you only just respawned.” You threw your hands up in frustration (well, you tried with your right arm, it only moved to about two thirds of your full range of movement before you felt a slight pain and a stretching sensation), “how the hell do I respawn when I was on my last life?” 

“You aren’t-”

“Yes I am! Fuck man, how do you forget that?! First time: Warden. Second time: explosion! I know I just died for the last time, so how am I still here?!” You glared up at him. It astonished you that he just forgot about the first two times you died. Who forgets their own kids’ deaths? It takes a real monster to forget things like that. 

“(Y/n), you’ve only died once and that was because the infection you got was too severe,” he put a gentle hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a hug. You pushed him away and seethed, “How do you not remember! Ender, did the last two and a half years just escape you? You’re fucking immortal, almost three years is nothing to you!” 

“Two and a half- (y/n). Two and a half years ago you were fourteen and you were barely just learning how to do tricks midair.”

“No, I’m twenty years old! How the fuck do you forget your own kid’s age?” 

“You turned seventeen six months ago, (y/n).” 

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair and laughed sardonically, “I’m not dealing with your bullshit right now. Where’s Arthur?” You stood up with shaky legs and swatted his hands away. “I don’t know an Arthur. Please lay back down, you’re-”

“First you forget my deaths, next my age, and now Arthur?! What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Where is he?” You gritted the last sentence out through clenched teeth.

“Who-”

“Curly red hair, freckles, always smiling, about yay high,” you flailed your hand from side to side rapidly at your mid torso, “your grandson. That ring a bell?”

“No because I don’t have a grandson. Sit down, I think I know what’s happening.”

“No. Not until I see Arthur.” You brushed his shoulder as you walked by him and out of the room. You could hear him following behind you, but you ignored him. After you ripped Arthur’s door open, you paused in the doorway. 

The entire room was decorated with Wilbur’s belongings. Instead of random bags of redstone dust and small contraptions that Arthur was too proud of to throw away, piles of sheet music and the occasional book was strewn about. Instead of the poster of you Arthur had hung up on the wall (you had laughed at it at first, he still geeked out over you even though you were his parent), a picture of the family was there. Despite it being a sweet picture (it was one of the very few ones of the family where everybody was smiling at the artist and not moving around), it shook you to your core. “A-Arthur?” You whispered in a broken voice. What was going on, where was he? 

You faintly felt someone put a hand on your shoulder. You however stood frozen clutching the door handle in your hand until you walked over to the nightstand. It was completely barren except for the glasses case sitting near the lamp. This isn’t right, this isn’t right at all. Arthur’s things should be there, not Wilbur’s. 

“No, no, no, no this isn’t right.” You broke off into mumbling while staring at Arthur’s (or Wilbur’s?) nightstand desperately trying to find the feather hidden somewhere. Once again, you felt a hand on your upper arm. “Everything’s right, (y/n).” You said nothing as you stared at the glasses case on the nightstand. “C’mon, let’s go sit down.” You barely registered him leading you gently back to your room and handing you a glass of water. “(Y/n)?” 

“Why is his stuff just- just gone? Everything was there before I left.”

Philza was silent for a moment, his feathers ruffling and brushing against your arm. “...Sometimes when a person’s been through something traumatic and they’re about to die, they sort of… make up their own reality without knowing that they’re doing it. It’s the brain’s way of coping. 

“This reality could last anywhere from a few days to years for them with the events seeming real, but in actuality only a few minutes have passed and nothing that the person thinks happened actually happened. It’s just the person’s subconscious mind playing out scenarios that they think would happen or wished had happened.”

You felt like you were previously walking on a stable sheet of ice before you were plunged into the icy abyss of unknowing. You felt several emotions coursing through your veins ranging from anxiety and frustration to grief and disbelief. The cup of water in your hands became incredibly blurry before you were pulled into his chest. He wrapped his arms and wings around you tightly and held your face securely against his shoulder. He started rocking you back and forth as you felt the tears silently leave your eyes and your breathing shudder. You felt yourself start to sob when a barrage of thoughts came and the reality of the situation hit you.

None of your inventions actually existed.

L’manberg doesn’t exist. 

Your name was unknown.

The last two and a half years were pointless.

Arthur doesn’t exist. 

Your precious Artie, the little boy that idolized you, begged for you to teach him everything you knew, followed you around like a little duckling, held your feather against his chest as he slept, enthusiastically asked you if you could take him flying, your little fledgling, your pride and joy, your son, didn’t fucking exist. You were never going to see his smile again. You were never going to laugh with him as you took him into the clouds. You were never going to cook breakfast with him again. He was never going to give you magnets again. He was never going to ask you to teach him something or ask you to help him with his own inventions. He was gone and there was nothing you could do to get him back. 

“I- I prom-mised him that I’d never leave him.” You sobbed into his shoulder, clutching onto his shirt. “I fucking promised him and I’m never gonna see him again.”

(A/N): ok so a little explanation, chapters 4-mid 15 didn’t actually happen. It was in the reader’s mind as after they passed out in chapter 3. There was foreshadowing (esp in chapter 4, I consider chapter 4 to be the chapter where the brain is getting used to the illusion it set up (hence the title “what is real”)). It explains why the reader couldn’t remember their own death. The line “You were probably still in the cave bleeding out as your delirious mind turned stone into the comforting walls of your home. You were probably imagining hearing your dad’s voice in a last chance to comfort yourself as you neared your impending doom” was pretty self explanatory. In the last chapter, the souls saying “wake up, we need to get you out of here” and “don’t leave me” were Philza’s voice cutting through (”The voices ranged from... familiar to unfamiliar”)

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[ncssian]

A Favor: Bonus Scene Two (Gwynriel)

Masterlist

a/n: this picks up right after nesta leaves gwyn’s apartment in Part 24. warning for discussions of sex, obviously.

***

As soon as the apartment door shuts after Nesta, Gwyn releases a breath and turns to Azriel with a wide gaze. “Do I really have to teach you guitar?” she says.

“Of course not.” He rolls his eyes. It was a throwaway line meant to get Nesta off his back, and even she didn’t entirely believe it. He moves toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, still shaken from Nesta storming into Gwyn’s bedroom like that. Not that she interrupted much. Gwyn still has a long way to go before she can handle anyone touching her between her legs, Azriel thinks.

He never asked Gwyn what a twenty-seven year old woman was so afraid of sex for when she first suggested her proposal to him. She looked so scared that he would question her that he couldn’t bring himself to poke even a little bit. Not that he needs to poke. He’s not a fucking idiot, and Gwyn’s thighs had been trembling in involuntary fear under his hands earlier. She’s been hurt.

For her sake, he pretends to remain ignorant and incurious, but right now his grip on the glass in his hand is so tight it might shatter. His face remains cool as he pours himself water.

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Gwyn hops up onto the kitchen counter and swings her freakishly long legs. “About what you get out of our deal?”

“I don’t expect you to teach me sex for free, obviously,” Gwyn blabbered the day after they got back from the ski lodge. “You can ask for something from me, too. Even money, if that’s your thing.”

Prostitution was not Azriel’s thing, though he wouldn’t knock it. The truth was that his brain had started turning as soon as Gwyn told him about her idea, and now it couldn’t stop. Oddly enough, this opportunity was perfect.

“Tell Nesta that I’m using you as a rebound?” Azriel nearly snorts on his water. “Did you miss the part where she almost cut my dick off and choked me with it?”

Gwyn hums noncommittally. “Being a distraction from your ex is better for me than it is for you. It’s insurance that you won’t get any funny ideas.” She narrows her teal eyes at him. “If you find yourself moving on from Nesta’s hot sister, you better tell me right away. I’ll end this whole thing quickly and cleanly.”

“Why?” He thought moving on from Elain was the goal, one he was unlikely to achieve.

“You know.” She crosses her arms in an X over her chest like she’s warding him off. “You might catch—feelings for me.”

This time Azriel really does snort on his water, hard. His laughter turns into coughing when it slips down the wrong pipe, and liquid dribbles onto his shirt. Gwyn just sits there and stares at him in vague disgust.

When he’s done choking, he wipes his mouth with the hem of his tee and gasps, “Even without Elain, you wouldn’t need to worry about that. Trust me.”

Gwyn wrinkles her freckled nose in distaste. “I would be offended if I wasn’t so relieved.”

He’s still chuckling when Gwyn says cautiously, “By the way…” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Did you really ghost Elain?”

Azriel is no longer amused.

“When you said you broke up with her, I thought you actually broke up with her,” Gwyn continues. “I didn’t know you were one of those guys.”

Shame tinged with embarrassment floods Azriel, and he doesn’t have the slightest idea why. Why does it matter what Gwyn of all people thinks of him, especially when she doesn’t have all the details?

He thought he was making things easier for Elain by leaving without a word. He thought she would let him slip out of her mind after a couple of weeks just like he slipped out of her life, and that it would be better than having to hear him dump his insecurities on her.

He knows now that he was only making things easier for himself. Knows that if he had stayed and talked things out with Elain, she would have convinced him to stay. If he had called her at all in the past two months, he would have gone running back to Velaris like a sailor answering a siren’s song.

She’s always been a siren—which is why he can’t regret doing what would have happened eventually anyway. Even without that Vanserra bastard or some other man, Elain could never have been a permanent fixture in Azriel’s life. Little details sprinkled throughout their time together confirm that for him now.

That doesn’t mean Elain deserved it, or deserves it now. Azriel knows that.

But all he can think of to say to Gwyn is, “Yeah, maybe I am one of those guys.” He puts his glass in the sink. “You still want me as your teacher?”

Gwyn shrugs, looking away. “It’s not like I’ve got any other choice.”

Azriel would disagree. He says what he’s been thinking since they got back from Cassian’s birthday trip. “Wouldn’t you rather do this with someone you love and trust?”

“God no,” Gwyn snorts, providing no further explanation.

Azriel can understand being hesitant to admit sexual inexperience to a crush, but it doesn’t stop him from judging Gwyn’s new man. If this coworker of hers is so great, wouldn’t she be able to trust him unabashedly with her insecurities? Wouldn’t he readily accept her for all that she is?

Ugh, he’s been dipping into Nesta’s reading collection too much lately. “Alright, then.” He leans against the counter opposite Gwyn. “Let’s talk about learning. You clammed up in bed back there after ignoring my suggestions and shoving my head between your legs.”

“I clammed up because of my best friend barging into my room and catching us together,” Gwyn defends.

“Your pussy was dry as bread before that,” he retorts. Ooh, now he wants toast.

Gwyn turns a furious shade of red while Azriel starts looking around for bread. He finds it sitting by the toaster. “Can you not say that?” she hisses at him.

“What?” He looks up from dropping bread into the toaster.

“You know…” She glances around cautiously as if someone might overhear. “Pussy.”

“Pussy,” he says again, just to be annoying. Gwyn’s shoulders turn inward in embarrassment, and he has to hold back a grin. Yeah, she’s definitely not ready for oral.

He finds a butter knife and some peanut butter. “I told you to start easy and you ignored me. You tried jumping into the deep end without learning how to tread water.”

Gwyn scoffs. “And what does ‘treading water’ entail again?”

Azriel shrugs, plucking up his finished toast. “Making out, heavy petting, freshman-year-of-high-school kind of stuff.”

“I’ve done that before,” she mutters indignantly. “Maybe not in my freshman year, but I’ve done it.”

He wonders how long ago that was, or if it was before she was—hurt.

“Besides,” Gwyn goes on before he can push the matter further, “I’m not budging on kissing. I want to save that for the man I actually like.”

“You don’t like me?” Azriel raises a brow, slathering peanut butter over his toast. “You definitely don’t act the same with me as you do with other men.” Or at least that’s what he assumes. Up until a short while ago, he never would’ve been able to imagine timid Gwyn having the guts to ask anyone for sex ed. That’s got to make him special, right?

But then Gwyn waves him off and says, “That’s ‘cause you’re not a real man. I knew you before puberty.”

Azriel nearly drops his toast. “Wow, the nerve of this woman,” he mutters with wide eyes. If she keeps this up, he’s going to start regretting ever going to the same school as her. “That’s not what you said when you were going on about how attracted you are to me.”

“I said you were attractive, not that I was attracted.” Gwyn’s blush is more from irritation than shyness now. “You do the job, but you’re no Max.” She giggles at saying his name. Actually giggles. “I’ll only kiss Max.”

“What kind of stupid ass name is Max?” Azriel grumbles through a mouthful of peanut butter.

“It’s short for Maximillian.”

He chokes. “Jesus, that’s even worse.” He’s doing all this work for some guy named Maximillian. Maybe he should just go home and let Nesta give him the beating he deserves.

Except thinking about Nesta only reminds Azriel of what a coward he is, because he fears facing her again almost as much as he fears facing Elain. “By the way, could I…” he starts hesitantly.

Gwyn gives him a judgmental sneer. “You don’t want to go back to the cabin, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“You can’t stay here,” she responds, crushing his hopes. “I have plans tonight, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you be such a wimp.” She hops off the counter and comes over to him, surprising him by grabbing both of his shoulders. “Azriel,” she says somberly.

He swallows his toast roughly.

“You have to grow some balls,” she continues. “Not just for your sake, but for the sake of every poor woman in your life. Also, all this drama is personally a turn-off for me, which is detrimental to my sex education.” She wrinkles her nose. “Do better and all that, you know?”

Damn, okay.

Instead of standing there like an idiot, Azriel manages to say, “Fine, I’ll go.” He shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth and dusts off his hands, heading for the living room.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave right now—” Gwyn follows after him. Azriel is already on the couch, pulling a stray notepad and pen on the coffee table closer to himself.

He clicks the pen. “When’s that library guy planning to take you out?” he asks, starting to write.

Gwyn hovers near him, watching the notepad over his shoulder in confusion. “Um, this Saturday. Just a casual coffee shop thing.”

“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” He scribbles down some bullet points and labels the page LESSON PLAN. “Until then, think about a way to enjoy foreplay without kissing. Here are some suggestions so you can practice.” He tears the lined paper out of the notepad and hands it to Gwyn.

Her eyes skim over the page, brows rising with each point she reads. “Is all this really necessary?”

Azriel remembers how he barely brushed his lips against Gwyn’s core before having to pull away and kiss her quivering thigh instead. He can’t have sex with an unaroused woman, and he definitely can’t do it with a terrified woman. “Foreplay is absolutely necessary,” he says, getting up from the couch and stretching to his full height. Where Elain used to only reach his chest, Gwyn’s head almost reaches his nose. It amuses him for some reason.

“Do you like movies?” he adds. “I’ll take you to the movies on Friday.” Preferably something boring and played out, so the theater will be empty and she won’t be paying attention.

Gwyn’s eyes widen. “Is going on dates also part of foreplay?”

“It can be,” Azriel shrugs. It will be when he does it. He drops a hand onto Gwyn’s head and ruffles her hair. “I’d love to stay and help you study, but I have to go and grow some balls.” He mock-frowns at her as he heads for his shoes and keys. “See you later, Gwyneth.”

***

a/n: wait why do i wanna write the movie theater scene now… pls help me im just trying to finish this damn fic im getting too old for this

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