#when i tell yall my anxiety has been worse this month i really really mean it i feel physically ill w all the anxiety i have

[actualbird]

im having an anxiety spiral on my priv twt bcuz of vague ails and im sharing it here because the tail end made me laugh (and also because sharing my woes is like my number 1 hobby)

EDIT: ADDING POLL TO CROWDSOURCE REASSURANCE FOR ANXIETY

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.  

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.  

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.  

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?  

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.  

[villainscomplex]

this, at least.

hey so anyway yall know how there was that big boom of angsty ship fics right

,,,,,i wanted to write one too and I have no other excuse

!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH !!!

Also on: 

AO3

Wattpad

FFNet

Quotev

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In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

And he does.

Asahi jerks awake violently, legs tangled in his blankets and hair plastered to the back of his neck, cold with sweat. He still feels like there’s — what? He doesn’t know the source of the pain, only that it is sheer pain, radiating through the core of his very being. It’d be easy to think it’s something simple, a bullet wound or head trauma, but the way it nestles into his chest and takes root there begs to differ.

In his dreams — nightmares, they prefer — Asahi is made of fear and desperation, of please, no, and the unnerving feeling that he’s forgetting something. There’s always someone with him, always whispering his name, fingers cold on his face.

It’s always the same scene.

He steps into a doorway and panic swells in his chest, but he’s never sure what triggers it. There’s nothing in the room but darkness, and then his feet come out from under him, and he is falling. The ground is far, and he falls forever and ever, until time stops short. He crashes into it in one graceless dive, shatters apart, and reforms at the seams with the sweet familiarity of agony.

He’s sure, with every fiber of his being, that something is missing. He doesn’t know what, or who, only that it is missing and the absence feels like a hole in his chest, a hollow place where the pain doesn’t reach.

Asahi leans forward in his bed, struggling to catch his breath. His hair falls like a curtain around his face. He can’t remember why he keeps it long, only that the idea of cutting it feels wrong, and so he lets it grow.

Suddenly, his bed feels unappealing and cold, and he staggers out of it into the quiet of his apartment.

If his life was a story, the narrator would say something like this — Azumane Asahi is a twenty-six year old man with severe amnesia and a wedding ring on a necklace, to which he doesn’t know the location of the missing pair. And that’s it, they’d say, just a detective with no memory and a lot of anxiety. He doesn’t think he’s important enough of a character to warrant any sort of life story.

His phone is where he left it when he’d arrived home the night prior, tossed onto his side table in a fit of weariness. The screen blinks dimly back at him, still miraculously alive, but only with about six percent to spare and at least three new messages to speak of. They’re all from one of the few people he actually texts, and even without looking at the contact name, Suga’s typing style is distinctive from Daichi or Shimizu’s.

He checks the time in the corner of his screen. It’s nearly five-thirty in the morning, which isn’t a bad time, but it’s still earlier than he normally gets up. Going back to sleep is about the most unappealing thing he can think of right now, so even if he isn’t a morning person, he plugs his phone up, clicks on the shabby TV, and goes to make a pot of coffee, listening to the steady drone of the early weather report.

The ring around his neck is a cold weight against his bare skin, small and heavy against the hollow where his throat meets his clavicle. It rolls and clinks softly against its chain as he moves, a quiet, ever-present reminder of a past he doesn’t remember.

It’s easy to make assumptions. He doesn’t know who has the pair to this ring, only that it feels too important to get rid of, so he keeps it around his neck. For all he knows, he was married once. Someone else had — maybe still has — the pair to this ring. He doesn’t remember being married or who his partner is, but he’s sure they must exist.

Maybe they’d left because he’d forgotten.

Asahi tucks the assumption away before his anxiety can take it and run. He’s got a life now and he can’t go ruining what he has by overthinking whatever he used to have. Lacking the vast majority of his memories hadn’t stopped him from rebuilding his life these past few months, bit by bit.

It’s only been a few months since the accident and even though he doesn’t remember it personally, that’s all everyone keeps referring to it as. The accident, like he’d gone and suffered a massive memory loss by total coincidence.

Asahi kind of hates it. He tries not to think too hard about it.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been an easy recovery. He supposes nobody ever really thinks about what would happen if they lost a chunk of their adult memories and nobody would tell them why. He’d had friends to support him through it, even if he had taken a while to remember the three of them, and because of their support he’d been able to get back on his feet.

He’s still a rookie at this detective work, but sitting down and poring over the facts and figures of the cases he’s investigating is oddly comforting.

Light peeks out from over the horizon as the morning settles in, blanketing the world outside and the living room within in a sheet of pale light. Asahi’s eyes ache from his lack of sleep. The bags beneath them have gotten worse, and he’s sure he’ll inevitably get scolded about them when he sees his friends again.

By the time Asahi arrives at his workplace, the city around him has come to life. It’s never quiet here by any means, but once the sun is up, it seems everyone takes to the streets at once. He leaves early to avoid the rush, but always inevitably catches the start of it and makes it just in time, stumbling into the doorway of the detective agency’s office.

“Hey, Azumane,” the receptionist greets with an easy smile, leaning over the desk to be seen, “just in time. Still relearning the trains?” Asahi isn’t too familiar with Narita, but the man is calm and rarely bothered by high stress situations, and he appreciates the cool head and easy attitude first thing in the morning. He’d been one of the first to make sure Asahi had felt welcomed here, and Asahi is eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes, “it’s a lot to get used to all over again. I keep hoping I’ll just jog my memory somehow and miraculously remember.”

Narita laughs. “I’m sure it’s somewhere in that head of yours.”

Asahi doesn’t stick around to chat much longer, heading up to the main office. There’s only two others inside, both at their desks doing very different things. Akaashi, ever studious, is hunched over a case file from a recent completion of his, scribbling away. Kozume, on the other hand, their resident cyber specialist, reclines back in his chair, tapping away at his phone and looking like he’s half asleep. “Azumane,” Kozume yawns, “there’s some files on your desk.” There are in fact — Asahi turns to confirm — files on his desk.

There’s also a boy there.

His back is to Asahi, but he can see the slicked black hair, wild and dark, sharp against the evident paleness of the boy’s skin. The boy visibly straightens when Asahi turns to look, whipping around in his chair.

Okay, no, a man. A grown man.

Asahi feels a little like deer in headlights, caught in the sharp stare of the man’s golden eyes, interrupted only by the equal shock of bleached blond hair in the forefront of his bangs. Asahi feels pinned in place by that unblinking stare, and it takes him a moment to remember to move.

He circles to his desk a little hesitantly, starkly aware of the other man’s stare following him the entire way around. It’s still on him when Asahi seats himself on the opposite side of the desk, and Asahi steels himself to meet it, smiling nervously.

“Hello,” he greets, “I’m Azumane. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting any clients today.” “I’m Noya!” The man declares, gives no further context, and slaps a file down in front of Asahi. “I need you to look into this.”

The words CASE CLOSED stands out in stark red lettering on the front. Asahi resists the urge to frown. It isn’t uncommon for them to receive requests to look into closed cases, but generally speaking, they’re a waste of money and time.

“Listen,” he starts hesitantly, “honestly, I’m still very new at this. Could I recommend you to one of our more experienced investigators?”

Noya shakes his head adamantly, looking appalled at the mere suggestion. “No!” He says, loud enough that Asahi flinches. “This is important to me! You have to do it!”

“I-”

Noya stares at him, lips turned down, eyes wide in a silent plea. Asahi takes the file.

There’s no photo inside, but it's very clearly labeled as involuntary manslaughter. The victim had only been twenty-five, but the details are absolutely minimal. There really won’t be a lot he can do with this, even if he does accept it. He’s sure the case is closed for a reason.

“Look,” he starts, raising his eyes.

Noya is gone.

Asahi leaps out of his seat, file in hand. Noya had just been there. He’s not surprised the man is fast, but Asahi hadn’t even accepted the case yet, and Noya hadn’t even stuck around to answer questions. Asahi races out of the office and into the entry lobby, head swinging from side to side in search of the shorter man.

“Narita,” he asks, leaning over the side of the receptionist’s counter, “did you see where that man went?”

Narita frowns at him. “What man? I haven’t seen anyone pass by.”

“I-” Asahi sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair hard enough to yank it out of his half bun and just resigns himself, tucking the file under his arm. “Nevermind. Thanks anyway.” Narita gives him another odd look as he turns away, returning to the main office. When he enters, Akaashi and Kozume both glance up strangely, matching the look Narita had previously given him, but Kozume loses interest much quicker than he’s gained it, as if this is a perfectly normal, everyday incident. Akaashi’s gaze tracks him all the way back to his desk, and only then does it fall away, leaving Asahi to his own devices. For a long time, Asahi just stares at the file. Case closed stares back at him, bold and red and final.

It isn’t to say that it’s quite uncommon for them to get a closed case to investigate. Generally speaking, it’s recommended to avoid closed cases. More often than not, they lead to dead ends and more broken hearts than when they began. The police may not investigate as much as private detectives, but they weren’t always wrong by any means. But Noya hadn’t given him too much of a choice in the matter, so against his better judgment, Asahi opens the file.

It’s almost pathetically small, three pages at most. There’s no photos, but from what Asahi can gather, it’s a twenty-five year old man who fell victim to an armed robbery incident, whose death was ultimately ruled involuntary manslaughter as a result. The culprit had never been caught, but the man’s partner had suffered some sort of collateral damage. There’s no further information on any of the three; the partner is unnamed and there are no photos of the man or the partner.

There’s nothing here that points to the case being anything other than what the file says, much less any sort of connection. He considers, briefly, that maybe Noya is the partner and wants the man brought to justice, but he doesn’t have any confirmation to this theory. It just seems like a home robbery turned homicide.

It’s essentially a dead end. There’s no address to begin the investigation and no family on the file to contact in regards. If Noya is the partner, Asahi could start there, but if he’d suffered some sort of trauma related to the incident, then Asahi has to take his testimony with a grain of salt. And this is all based on assumption — he doesn’t even know the extent of Noya’s personal involvement with this entire situation.

Noya hadn’t left him any contact details.

The thought strikes him abruptly, and Asahi sighs. This isn’t going to go anywhere without Noya’s cooperation. Asahi hadn’t agreed to investigate it in the first place. Resigned, he closes the file again and slides it underneath a few others on his desk, where it’s quickly forgotten in the wake of the rest of his work.

When he leaves that evening, files tucked away in his bag, the sun hangs low over the horizon, lethargic orange rays reclined across the darkening sky. It’s as beautiful as it is ominous, and Asahi ducks his head to avoid wandering eyes as he hurries to the train station, long coat swishing behind him.

The temperature sinks as it grows late, and despite his scarf, Asahi’s face burns with chill by the time he gets to the stairs leading down into the train station. People swarm around him, talking and huddling, faces as red as his own and stark with the relief of getting somewhere decently warmer.

Close enough to the rails to actually get on the train, but not close enough to get trampled by those trying to get good seating, Asahi tucks his chin into his scarf and takes a steadying breath.

He wonders if he was always an anxious person like this; had too much noise always been overwhelming to him? Had he ever walked with his head up, unconcerned about the opinions of those around him? Was this ever present bundle of nerves set deep in the square of his chest just a side effect of a tragic accident that nobody will tell him about?

He slides his thumb over the crest of the wedding ring on his necklace, a motion that feels like nothing but pure instinct, and then nearly yanks it clean off his neck when a hand grips his elbow, hard, and he flinches.

Asahi looks down.

Staring back up at him indignantly, lips fixed into a frown and golden eyes wide, looking as if he’s entirely unbothered by the cold despite being in nothing but a t-shirt and basketball shorts, is Noya.

“Azumane-san!”

Asahi is unbelievably shaken right now. After all, the odds that Noya would show up at the same train station as him were slim, even for this side of the city, but here he is, grip hard on Asahi’s elbow. If Asahi had gears in his head, they’d be stalling right now, and the little embodiment of his consciousness would be trying to restart it to no avail.

When the wires finally reconnect, Asahi gasps. “Why don’t you have a jacket?”

The words come out more demanding than he intended, but it’s too late to apologize, so instead, Asahi strips off his overcoat, and then the coat beneath it. Goosebumps prickle over the nape of his neck where it’s exposed to the cold, and he hurriedly yanks the long coat back on, handing the other off to Noya. Noya, who has since let go, looks a little surprised as he accepts it.

“I’m fine!” Noya huffs, but he pulls the jacket on regardless.

The sleeves slip past his fingertips, effectively dwarfing him. Asahi thinks it would be rather comical if he wasn’t so upset at this precise moment, but even swallowed up by Asahi’s undercoat, Noya feels like a force to be reckoned with, a storm lying in wait.

Asahi can’t put his finger on it, but Noya’s brash personality seems familiar, somehow. Mentally, he goes through his limited list of friends. Sugawara fits the bill closest, but even his chaos is of a different sort.

The train whistle breaks him out of his thoughts. He spots the lights as it barrels down the tunnel.

“Have you solved the case yet?” Noya asks, gaze still fixed on Asahi, unwavering.

Asahi frowns at him. “Listen,” he begins, turning his gaze back to Noya.

His words die in his throat. Noya stares back at him, eyes glittering in the faint light of the underground station, wild hair stirred around his face by the gust of cold air the train brings with it. The doors hiss open, but Asahi doesn’t move to get on yet. People stream by them on their way on or off the platform.

He can’t say no. He doesn’t know what it is, but Asahi is suddenly resigned to seeing this through. Noya’s eyes are intense and focused, hard with determination and a type of fire that Asahi can’t remember ever seeing before. He can’t say no.

“I haven’t,” he says, “but I’m going to investigate it as best I can.”

Noya’s grin makes him think that perhaps this is the right decision after all.

The train whistles again. Asahi starts, whirling back around to the platform. Oh no, the train’s going to leave.

“Are you-” He begins, glancing back to Noya, intending to ask if he’s getting on the same train.

Noya is gone. Asahi stares incredulously at the spot where the man had been, dwarfed in Asahi’s coat. He turns, glancing a full circle around himself, trying to spot that shock of blond in the crowd, but no, Noya is gone.

Maybe he got on the train.

Asahi follows suit, tucking his overcoat a little tighter around him as the doors slide shut. The people on the platform all blur together in a mass of color as the train pulls away, but Asahi swears he catches the piercing stare of golden eyes. It’s gone before he can think too hard about it, and Asahi spends the train ride and subsequent walk home staring into space. He hadn’t gotten Noya’s contact info.

“I’m home,” he says to no one as he opens his door and steps in, taking his shoes off.

Maybe he should get a dog.

Sighing heavily, Asahi drops his bag onto the floor by the door, where it tips to the side and lets a few papers and files slide halfway out. He pays it little mind, figuring he can think about it later, and makes his way down the narrow corridor into the bedroom at the back.

It’s sheer muscle memory that gets him through his nightly routine, and by the time he lets his hair down and flops into bed, he’s too exhausted to think. The somber tendrils of heavy sleep drag him deep into the sheets.

He dreams. (He has nightmares.)

Wake up, wake up, wake up, the voice is saying. Asahi, please wake up. Please don’t leave me. Please, no. Please, no.

This time, when Asahi jerks awake, the sun is still low below the horizon and his phone reads 4:36 A.M, but there’s no chance of him going back to sleep so he dons a hoodie and decides to do something with himself. In the end, Asahi goes for a run. It’s been a while since he’s just gone out like this, so he takes the short route that loops through the backside of a local park. Asahi jogs what he can, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t nearly as in shape as he clearly had been once. He can tell he used to be muscular and healthy prior to the accident, but he’s hardly been focused on maintaining that post memory loss. Still, running feels natural, so he tries to keep it up.

He runs into Noya again. Asahi rounds the bend, huffs of breath forming white clouds in the chilly morning air. There’s only a handful of other souls up and about this early, and from what Asahi can tell, they’re all out running too. It’s a nice change of pace to get his mind off of everything, but it’s clear the universe has other plans. As he nears the park’s massive lake, he spots a figure sitting right at the bank of it, leaning precariously over the water.

Even from this distance and without his glasses, he recognizes Noya’s wild hair paired with the white t-shirt and black shorts combo. Noya’s back is to him, but he visibly straightens as the sound of Asahi’s footsteps approach, head twisting around to fix those ever startling eyes on the taller man. “Azumane,” his eyebrows pinch, “what are you doing here?” There’s this nagging feeling in his chest. It strikes him as odd again; something about Noya is so unnervingly familiar to him, but he can’t put his finger on it. He’s sure if they had known each other prior to his memory loss then someone as headstrong as Noya seems to be would have said something about it by now, but Noya doesn’t seem bothered like Asahi is. He shakes it off.

Something seems off. Noya is quieter, more pensive. His gaze has returned to the surface of the lake immediately after confirming that he knows the person approaching him. It’s a strange change from the loud, fierce boy Asahi has started to know him as. “Noya,” he greets softly, joining him carefully by the water. “I was out for a run. Are you okay? Aren’t you cold?” “Oh,” Noya seems to remember something, “I forgot your jacket. Sorry.” Asahi shakes his head. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known I was going to come running. It isn’t like I’ve done this in a while.” Noya is staring at him again, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He’s frowning — it’s only a faint, downward quirk of the lips, but it seems so out of place on Noya’s features that it catches Asahi off guard. A matching frown slips onto his face.

“Have you made any progress?” Noya asks suddenly, peering up at Asahi intently. “With the case, I mean.” “Noya, it’s only been a night,” Asahi reminds him gently. “I’ll look into it more later, but nothing’s changed from when you asked me yesterday.” “Yesterday?” Noya echoes, as if confused. “Oh… Right. When you gave me the jacket. Okay.” “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asahi persists. “I’m fine! Listen, I’ve gotta go, ‘kay? I’ll catch you again sometime soon.” Noya takes off before Asahi can so much as consider asking about contact information. At this rate, he’s going to be stuck only contacting Noya whenever they happen to run into each other in town. Belatedly, near the tail end of his run, he realizes that Noya must live nearby, to have been at the park.

So why had he been all the way across town yesterday? Asahi glances back, as if the answer will appear behind him. The cold wind replies, whispering through the bare branches of the trees. He just can’t shake the feeling that something is too familiar about Noya to forget. Maybe it’s just the man’s strange tendencies or the way he seems so desperate for the case to be solved as soon as possible, but Asahi just can’t get rid of this feeling. He doesn’t know what it is yet, only that it feels too important to completely dismiss a third time.

So this time, he tucks it away in the back of his mind for safekeeping.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“Oi, Azumane,” Kozume leans around his laptop, “what was that new file you got? An investigation?”

Asahi starts at the sound of his voice. After the two loudest members of their agency had gone off on lunch, the room had finally become quiet enough for Asahi to focus on his research. His desk is in clutters, public records scattered across the surface, laptop balanced precariously on the corner and held in place only by half of a large, opened book. Asahi is in the middle of rereading the case file when Kozume speaks up. He's so focused that, in his surprise, he nearly takes out his laptop himself. Kozume just lifts one disinterested brow, strands of dark hair slipping back into their usual place over his face. “Uh,” Asahi begins, eloquently, “something like that. Client wants me to look into a closed case. I think he’s probably got some pretty personal roots in it, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him it isn’t a good idea to reopen old wounds.” “You’re too nice, Azumane-san.” Akaashi remarks from his desk without looking up. “Sometimes, it’s best to put a stop to it before it can start.” “Then again,” Kozume muses, “I guess we are getting paid for this, huh?”

They lapse into a mutual silence again.

Asahi feels like there are still eyes on him, but Akaashi is still looking at the paperwork on his desk and Kozume has returned to his laptop screen. The rest of the employees aren’t here, and Narita is presumably still at the front desk. With a faint frown, Asahi shakes the feeling away and returns his attention to the files.

His information is severely limited. That’s the biggest issue. If there had been an address on the file he could have started his investigation there, but Noya would be the easier source. The only issue with that is that Asahi still hasn’t gotten Noya’s contact information to ask him about it. That being said, he’s not even sure if Noya actually knows anything or if this just happens to be a personal investment of his. Asahi isn’t in the habit of prying about people’s personal connections to a case. As long as he can get their information and go on about his business, he’s content, but Noya is so forthright and intense that Asahi can’t help but be curious.

It bothers him, but he doesn’t know why.

“Oh,” says Kozume, voice breaking into Asahi’s thought process abruptly again, “another robbery. I wonder if it’s a chain?”

When Asahi looks back up, Kozume is still looking at his laptop, but now he’s leaning closer to the screen, visibly reading something. He turns away and wheels his swivel chair over to the side table by the door to retrieve the remote.

“Last I heard, there wasn’t any correlation between the places that were being hit.” Akaashi replies, gaze lifting from his papers. “They’re thinking it’s separate cases, but who knows. The police don’t read too into situations if the evidence is obvious.” “Lazy asses,” Kozume scoffs, clicking through channels on the overhead TV.

“Robberies?” Asahi speaks up, confused.

He hasn’t been actively keeping up with the news outside of early weather reports recently, a little more concerned with his own issues and his work. It’s more than enough to balance work and the whole memory loss thing, and while he definitely should be better about keeping up with the rest of the world, it hasn’t been his main concern as of late.

Kozume settles on a news channel. The news anchor is in the middle of reporting on the subject at hand — another local robbery. It’s the third in the past two weeks, but there’s no evidence to connect it to the other two. This one had targeted a tiny, one bedroom home on the city outskirts. Asahi frowns at the news coverage. He doesn’t understand why anyone would target a place where there was unlikely to be anything to be gained, but he feels bad for the homeowner. The newscast says they came out undamaged since they weren’t home at the time, but nonetheless, he understands the feeling of having your life uprooted suddenly.

Asahi shakes his head and returns his attention to the files before him, scribbling notes down on things to look into further and potential leads. He’ll have to remember to find Noya again and get his contact information this time. Noya is the best lead he has at this point, and hopefully he can get something out of the other man to get him somewhere in this seemingly dead end case.

In the background, the television drones on.

When evening gives way to the end of his work day, Asahi finds himself searching the rush hour crowd for the tuft of electric blond that he’s becoming so familiar with. He can’t figure out why he’s trying to find Noya here; after all, he’d come to the conclusion that he lives on the other side of town, so he doubts he’ll see him here. On the other hand, it’s possible Noya works over here too. It’d be a strange coincidence for him to be in the same working and living situation as Asahi himself, but it’d make sense as to why Noya had come to their agency in particular. It's possible that it's also the opposite way around, with Noya living here and working on the other side of town. All of the facts Asahi knows check out with one of those theories; it’d explain why Noya was at the train station, too.

But by the time he gets to the station, he hasn’t spotted Noya anywhere. Even amongst the people waiting on the platform, he can’t see the wild, dark hair, and there’s a pang of disappointment in his chest. He tries to ignore it, but it’s a persistent feeling, and more surprisingly, one that doesn’t feel new. He can’t imagine forgetting someone like Noya, but he’d forgotten someone like Suga already, so his memory loss isn’t discriminating.

The train whistles a warning. Asahi startles, hurrying on instinctively. He hadn’t even realized the train had pulled up. He looks for Noya one more time, but upon confirming that the other man is nowhere to be seen, averts his gaze to his feet. The train doors hiss shut around him, before it lurches into motion, pulling away from the platform.

It’s strange, he thinks, how lonely the platform looks disappearing behind them.

When the train comes to a hissing stop at his destination platform, Asahi’s phone begins to vibrate aggressively against his thigh. He waits until he’s clear of all the people to check it, unlocking the screen to several tests and a missed call from Suga. Just as he’s going to check the texts, Suga’s name lights up his screen again. Asahi nearly drops his phone in his haste to answer the call.

“Asahi!” Sugawara practically yells. “Have you been keeping up with the news?”

Asahi slowly brings the phone back to his ear as he walks, having held it away in his haste to avoid having his eardrums blown out.

“The news?” He echoes. “Like the robberies?”

“Yeah! Apparently, there was another one! I guess the person tried to fight back and get this - they ended up in the hospital with multiple gunshot wounds.”

Asahi grimaces. If all of these robberies are connected, then it could be a problem. Generally speaking, most robbers would flee if they were caught or met with resistance, but if this one had no qualms with hurting people, it could get dirty. Asahi is hoping they aren’t connected, but it’s starting to look doubtful. He’ll have to catch up on the situation when he gets home.

“That’s-”

Asahi cut off, turning his head to follow the abrupt streak of color that had caught his eye. He’s a few blocks from his apartment, at best, but now he turns around entirely, gaze searching. He spots it again just in time to watch it vanish through the door of a tiny coffee shop. Asahi hesitates.

“Asahi?” Sugawara calls from his phone. “Hellooo? Earth to Asahi! What happened?” “S-Sorry, Suga,” Asahi says quickly, feet already guiding him towards the building, “I have to go. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Huh? Hold on, wh-”

The line goes dead as Asahi jabs the end call button, shoving his phone unceremoniously back into his pocket as he enters the cafe. The bell chimes gently overhead as he pushes the door open, and someone at the front calls out a greeting that he only half hears. He’s busy thinking about how Suga will be upset with him later for hanging up so abruptly; he’s thinking that maybe he should feel a little worse about that than he does, and it has him wondering if he’s less of a friend for it. He’s busy thinking about how he’s sure to get an earful later, but his body is moving across the cafe, toward a booth in the corner where he can see the backside of dark, wild hair, and the small flick of a tag sticking up from the inside of a white t-shirt.

The man in the booth lifts his head when Asahi rounds the table, piercing gaze fixing onto the detective. It’s as if he comes back to earth all at once, awareness lighting his eyes and his expression picking up in something vaguely resembling surprise. “Asahi!” He half yells, slamming his palms into the table and standing in one motion.

Asahi flinches at the abrupt shout and one of the employees glances their way. Ducking his head bashfully, Asahi makes himself as small as possible as he slides into the booth across from Noya, reaching out to gesture Noya back into his own seat. Preferably, he thinks, as quietly as possible.

Luckily, Noya drops unceremoniously back into his seat, staring intensely at Asahi.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“I…” Asahi grimaces, knowing how strange this is going to sound, “I saw you coming in. You never gave me any sort of contact, so I haven’t been able to reach you for anything regarding the case.”

Noya visibly straightens. “Have you figured out something new?”

“Well, not exactly, but-”

“Oh,” Noya continues, cutting him off, “I don’t have a phone.”

Well, that certainly threw a wrench in things, didn’t it? It’s just Asahi’s luck, he supposes. Still, he’s got to figure out some way to keep up contact with Noya, since he’s Asahi’s only sure link to the case.

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket.

“Okay, then take mine,” Asahi grabs a napkin from the table, fishing a pen from the front breast pocket of his jacket. “And if you can, just let me know if you come across anything new. Can we meet again sometime here to sit down and talk? Like Friday?” Noya takes the napkin and with surprising tenderness, folds it, and tucks it into the pocket of his black basketball shorts. He’s staring at Asahi still, but Asahi can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

“Okay,” Noya says, “Friday.”

And there it is again; Asahi meets his gaze and he feels like he’s missing something, like there’s a piece here that he should be aware of. He can’t shake it, that feeling that he just knows Noya from somewhere, from before all this.

“Noya,” he breathes, “have we met before? Before you came in with the case?”

Noya scrutinizes him for a long moment, almost unresponsive, as if the question hadn’t even registered to him. There’s something off about the entire moment, the motionless state of someone who feels like he should always be moving. Slowly, his lips pinch into a frown, just a little downward tilt that looks so off on his features. His expression darkens, hooded over like a shadow fell across him.

He looks unsure. He looks scared.

It’s only for a moment, so quick that Asahi is sure it must have been his imagination because then Noya is laughing, loud and rambunctious and more like the one that seems familiar to Asahi.

“No way!” He decides. “You must be imagining things, Azumane-san! There’s no way you’d forget someone as cool as me!”

Asahi feels like his veins have frozen over. He’s cold down to the bone.

“Of course,” he agrees, smiling shakily, “that’s true.”

There’s a seed of doubt rooting itself in his chest, and Asahi is too scared to try to figure out the root of it.

He stands again, bidding Noya a good night, and hurries out the door before the other man gets another word in edgewise, but he feels Noya’s gaze follow him out the door. His phone vibrates in his pocket again, and he takes it out, preparing himself for the earful he’s going to get.

Something is reassuring about Suga’s ranting on the other end. It gets him home.

When he looks over the case again that night, he writes details about the recent robberies down on a notebook next to it. He gathers what he can from the news and more from the internet. Tomorrow, he’ll get more info on it from Kozume, and Friday, he’ll get what he can from Noya. He doesn’t know yet if he’s making progress here, but he’s hoping for the best.

At this point, it’s all he can do.

It isn’t until he’s getting ready for bed, braiding his hair back out of his face, that the thought strikes him. He’s thinking about the tiny coffee shop, about the bell over the door, about the way Noya had called him Asahi. He has the distinctive memory of introducing himself only as Azumane.

So where had Noya gotten his given name?

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“You look different,” Noya remarks.

Asahi feels like he’s having deja vu. He hardly knows where the week has gone, and now he’s back at the tiny coffee shop with Noya. They’re seated in the same booth as before. Noya’s shirt tag is sticking out. Asahi has his hair loose.

“It’s the hair,” they say, in sync, and Noya grins when Asahi cracks a smile.

“Finally!” He laughs. “I was starting to think you couldn’t smile properly! You’re so nervous all the time that I was starting to wonder how you’d ended up in this line of work.”

Asahi tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Well, I’m sure it probably wasn’t my dream career, but I don’t remember enough about my old life to know how true that is. I guess it seems like a pretty unpredictable career, but it’s routine enough to be comforting.”

Noya frowns at him. “Whaddya mean you don’t remember?” Asahi winces. Outside of the fact that nobody else wants to discuss the accident, Asahi tries not to talk about it too much. Trying to remember gives him an intense migraine, and he hates the pitying looks he gets from it. He hates feeling helpless, and there’s this part of him that wouldn’t be able to handle it if Noya looked at him like that.

“I had an accident a while back,” Asahi replies vaguely, waving one hand dismissively, “nothing important.”

Noya’s watching him like he doesn’t believe him. Asahi avoids his gaze; he has the distinct feeling that Noya will see right through him otherwise.

“Okay,” Noya finally says, “then what about that necklace you’re always playing with? The ring. Are you married or something?”

Asahi doesn’t even realize he’s messing with it until Noya points it out. He’s busted, caught like a deer in headlights under Noya’s drilling questions. His words die in his throat, lips parted but nothing coming out.

I don’t know, he thinks, clenching his fist around the ring. He shoves it back into his shirt and grips the edge of the table, focusing on keeping his hands there. “No,” he manages, smile tight again, “but it doesn’t matter. We’re here to talk about the case, remember?”

Noya’s gaze flicks down, but he doesn’t push it.

“Right.”

Noya talks. It’s not all connected, more stream of thought and dropping details as they come to him, but Asahi listens. He takes notes, putting things that he knows already on one page and things he’s hearing for the first time on another. Some of Noya’s tales have nothing to do with the case, but Asahi lets them slide, and then he realizes that Noya hasn’t been talking about the case for a while.

But here’s Asahi, pen down and still listening. There’s something about Noya’s energy that’s so easy to get wrapped up in, and Asahi hadn’t even realized he was in it until it was too late. Maybe it’s the way Noya feels familiar to him, like second nature, or the way he’s sure he must know Noya from before, but the sensation is contagious, quick like electricity and quiet like a thief.

“Azumane-san?”

Noya’s voice breaks into his thoughts again. Asahi starts, focusing back on the task at hand. He doesn’t know when he’d stopped writing, or when the case discussion had ended and the casual talk had begun, but he does realize, belatedly, that they never got their coffee. The baristas bring them out here, he’d noticed, so it strikes him as a little strange.

“Sorry,” Asahi tells him, “I just realized we don’t have our drinks.”

As if on cue, Noya’s gaze moves from Asahi to the woman approaching their table. Asahi tears his gaze away from the man in front of him to focus on her as well, putting on his most polite smile as she sets the coffee down in front of him.

“Here you go,” she says, “sorry about the wait.”

She turns to leave, and Asahi realizes that she’s only brought his drink.

“Sorry, ma’am?” He calls quickly. “What about my fri-”

He turns to gesture at Noya and falters. The seat across from him is empty; Noya is gone. The employee gives him a strange look, glancing between him and the empty booth across from him. Asahi swallows his sentence back down, where it feels like a thick lump in his throat.

“Nevermind,” he says instead, “thank you.”

She glances at the booth opposite of him again and then seems to simply accept it as strange, for she turns and heads back to the front, leaving Asahi alone with the ghost of Noya’s electric presence.

He ends up getting a to-go cup for his coffee.

Asahi doesn’t know how he got back to his apartment, only that he gets there and he comes back to awareness when he’s unlocking his front door. He falters, hand on his doorknob, gaze fixed on the crook between his thumb and his forefinger. Everything comes back all at once. Is this the right thing to do? Should he have just followed the advice and refused the case upfront? He doesn’t even know when Noya had slipped out. Had it been the brief moment he’d turned his attention to the girl at the shop? Asahi hadn't even heard the bell.

Why hadn’t Noya said anything?

Asahi is starting to think he’s getting too ahead of himself, thinking one normal conversation and a borrowed jacket makes them friends or something. But there’s the thought he’s been hesitant to admit to himself; he wants to be friends with Noya. Something about the other man makes him feel comfortable, regardless of his eccentric nature, and he’s starting to think that maybe Noya was right about his career choice being the wrong one for him.

He can’t afford to get attached to every other person he meets in this line of work. Noya is the first, but Asahi can’t say for sure if he’ll be the last, and Asahi doesn’t even know when the line in the sand got washed away. He doesn’t know if it happened halfway through their conversation or the first time he’d realized something about Noya was too familiar to ignore. Still, Noya had been right about one thing: there’s no way Asahi could have forgotten someone like him.

It’s the only reason Asahi is hesitant to let the feeling of familiarity go.

He realizes with a start that he’s still standing outside, so he pushes the door open and ducks into his apartment. Whatever he ends up deciding to do here, he’s got all the information he thinks he’s going to get from Noya. For now, he needs to crack down on the case. The longer he drags this on, the worse it will get for the both of them. He wants to give Noya the best chance he has of moving on from this, and the only way to do that is to solve it as soon as possible.

Asahi takes his shoes off at the entryway and heads into the living room, setting his bag down next to the low table in front of his couch. He yanks his hair up into a half-hearted bun and collects his notes and files, adding them to the growing pile on the table. Clicking the television on for background noise, he gets to work sorting. The details are still minimal, and the progress looks minimal, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, there’s still that robber at large, and while Asahi has no surefire proof to connect the two outside of a gut feeling, he’s learned very quickly to trust his gut.

He glances up at the TV just in time to catch a glimpse of a reporter standing in front of a house, door caved in and front yard taped off by obnoxious yellow crime scene signs. It catches his attention immediately, so he glances down at the caption.

Armed robbery. Voluntary manslaughter.

Asahi’s heart jumps to his throat. His eyes dart down to the file. What were the odds?

What if it hadn’t been involuntary? The file states that the person had been found dead at the scene, a victim of multiple gunshot wounds from a robbery gone wrong. Robbery. Check. Armed suspect. Check. Had they considered a lack of qualms against hurting people? Asahi flips his notebook to a fresh page and begins charting all the locations the robber had hit thus far. Maybe there’s some sort of pattern they’re overlooking, a rhyme or reason to the places the robber is targeting.

His facts are minimal but sure.

The robber only targets houses, never businesses. The types of houses vary. No known pattern thus far.

The robber is armed and dangerous. Generally, there’s minimal damage to any people they happen to rob, but when those people get in the way or fight back, it’s a different story. There have been people both hospitalized and killed.

The robber has no qualms about killing people who got in the way.

Asahi stares at the page. Finally, at the bottom, he writes Noya? beneath his list of facts. He doesn’t know what the precise connection is with Noya’s case in all of this, but if he can predict where the robber is going to strike next, maybe there’s something to be found there. That’s only if the police themselves don’t beat him there first. Either way, hopefully, some sort of confession would come out and Asahi could call this closed properly. If this is unrelated, then he’s going to have to think of something else fast.

It’s nearly four in the morning when he finally talks himself into going to sleep, but it’s restless at best, and he rises early. He’s off on weekends, so they’re his only opportunity to go get things done if he doesn’t want to go right after work. The case weighs heavily on his thoughts for the entirety of his morning run. When he passes the lake he’d run into Noya at that time, he pauses, only for a moment, to glance around, but Noya isn’t there.

Asahi keeps running, but he’s starting to feel less like he’s keeping active and more like he’s trying to get away from something. He feels like he’s running away from a lot of things, as of late. It can’t be helped.

Azumane Asahi is a coward, he tells himself, and this time he doesn’t think it’s a lie at all.

The next time he sees Noya, it’s on the same route and nearly a week later. Asahi finds himself searching the route consistently without even knowing if Noya even lives in the area, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse of the other man. He hasn’t heard anything from Noya since the day at the coffee shop, and he’s starting to grow a little concerned.

His traitorous heart says something else, but Asahi tries not to listen too hard to things made of glass.

There’s rustling overhead when Asahi passes beneath a tree. It’s followed by a loud yowl, and it’s this that makes Asahi falter in his steps. He pauses, turning his head up to squint into the branches. The early morning sun is bright, near blinding, but the shadow that covers Asahi blocks it out.

He sees the little tag sticking out of the collar of the white shirt first, and then the outstretched arm, pale and skinny, reaching out to a higher branch. Asahi can mostly only see the person’s silhouette, but he knows that figure anywhere.

“Noya?” He calls up hesitantly.

Golden eyes fix on him immediately. Noya looks vaguely surprised, arm still outstretched, lips parted into a perfect little circle. There’s a cat a few branches up from his perch, a skinny little tabby with all of its fur puffed out. Its teeth are bared at the other man, a low growl rising in his throat.

Asahi hasn’t ever seen a cat react like that to someone. Usually, the strays around this area are calm, used to the joggers and families who come through the park trails all the time. He frowns a little at the sight, putting one hand on his hip and using the other to shield his eyes as he peers up.

“Oh,” says Noya, “Hey, Azumane. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I run here every morning now,” Asahi frowns, “you already knew that. What are you doing up there?”

Noya gestures to the cat, who swings at his moving hand. “I came up to save him, but he won’t let me anywhere near him. I think I’m just gonna grab him and deal with the consequences later.”

“What.” Asahi intones.

Noya reaches for the cat.

“What?” Asahi repeats. “Wait, no-”

Noya stretches out of his crouch and snatches the cat in one quick motion. The tabby immediately begins yelling, claws sinking wherever they can reach. Noya yelps, and then takes a surprised step back into mid-air. Asahi shouts. All at once, Noya and the cat come crashing down through the branches, and Asahi slides down on his knees beneath them, breath leaving his body as they collide.

Asahi groans softly from his place on the ground. Noya scrambles off of him, eyes wide. He’s still holding the cat, who looks shaken, but overall unharmed.

“Asahi!” Noya gasps. “Are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry!”

Asahi waves him off with one hand, sitting up slowly. His torso aches where he’d ungracefully caught them, but at least they seem unharmed. His hair falls loose around his shoulders, and he looks around for the tie, only to find it snapped on the ground. It’d been fraying, so he isn’t surprised, but it’s still a little inconvenient.

“It’s okay,” he manages, when he finally catches his breath, “are you two okay?”

Noya beams, holding the cat up victoriously. “We’re totally fine!”

The cat bites Noya’s hand. Noya drops the tabby, and he bolts without so much as a glance back. The short man sulks as he stares after the vanishing animal, crossing his arms over his chest. There are claw marks down the length of his forearms and branches still stuck in his black basketball shorts.

“Rude,” Noya says, getting up.

He offers a hand to Asahi, but Asahi, a little doubtful that Noya can lift him, stands on his own.

“You should be more careful,” he says, frowning.

“I had it handled!”

“You fell out of a tree.”

Noya purses his lips. “You know. Fair.” He sticks his index finger out as if to agree that Asahi has a point. “You got me there.”

“How did you even get up there?” Asahi asks, gazing up at the tree.

There aren’t any visible branches that Noya could have used to climb, and Asahi has to admit that even with his height, he would have been hard-pressed to reach the lowest ones. There’s no way to get a handhold on the trunk, either, so he’s not sure how Noya got up there to begin with.

Noya shrugs. “I climbed? The cat couldn’t get down so I went up to help him.”

Asahi sighs. “Okay, Noya. My apartment isn’t far from here, so let me at least treat the scratches. It’d be bad if you got something.”

Noya hesitates, but then he looks down, inspects his arms, and grimaces a little.

“Okay, lead the way.”

Asahi tucks his hair behind his ears and turns, starting at a steady pace back up the pathway. Noya keeps at his heels, carefree and cheerful as he turns his arms over, inspecting his new battle scars. It’s almost endearing, Asahi dares to think, but he’s still not over how the cat had acted with Noya. Asahi is sure Noya isn’t a bad person, but he’s never seen a reaction like that in the months he’s been running here.

He frowns back as if the tree itself will give him answers, but it stands tall and silent, shadowed against the pale blue sky.

When they climb the steps to Asahi’s apartment, the realization hits him like a bullet. He’s bringing Noya into his apartment. How had they gotten here? Is his apartment even clean? It’s so plain that he doesn’t know what Noya is going to think about it. Had he done the dishes already or were they still sitting in the sink?

Anxiety settles in like a second skin, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. They’re already at the door and Noya is looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to unlock it. Asahi tries to hide the way his hands shake as he puts the key in the lock and opens it, letting Noya into the dark entryway.

Noya kicks off his shoes at the entrance, and Asahi follows suit, stepping in ahead of the other man. The sink is clean. The living room has a few books on the table and stray papers from his brainstorming session the other night, but otherwise it isn’t unacceptable. He flicks the light on and crosses to the table, shoving the papers messily together.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, “make yourself at home and I’ll grab my first aid kit.”

Noya plops onto the couch, looking around like a curious child. Asahi feels strange having someone over like this. He seldom has company, especially new company, and he feels like he’s being assessed for some sort of test. Clutching the papers to his chest, Asahi hurries into his room for the first aid kit in his bathroom.

Noya is still sitting on the couch when Asahi returns. His gaze is fixed on a photo hanging on the wall. It’s of Asahi, fresh out of the hospital, Suga and Daichi standing just behind him in the frame. Shimizu had been the one to take it, and it’s one of the earliest things he still remembers. Noya frowns at it a little, like he’s struggling to think about something, and Asahi just figures he must have zoned out.

“Noya?” He says as he nears.

Noya straightens, almost imperceptibly, turning his gaze to Asahi as the other man crouches in front of him, opening the first aid kit and setting it aside on the table. Noya gets the hint and offers out his arms while Asahi prepares a cotton pad for cleaning the scratches.

“Ouch,” Noya hisses once Asahi starts dabbing over them.

Asahi shakes his head, holding Noya by the wrist to keep his arm steady.

“Are those your friends?” Noya asks suddenly.

Asahi glances up at him, and then back at the photo. “Yeah,” he says, turning his gaze back onto his task. “The one with the silver hair is Suga. The dark-haired one is Daichi. Our other friend, Shimizu, took the photo, but she’s not very fond of being in them. They were there with me when I was in the hospital for a while.”

“What were you there for?”

Asahi grimaces, remembering why he’d avoided the subject the last time he’d talked to Noya. “Uh,” he starts hesitantly.

He can feel Noya’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. Asahi gets the feeling that he’ll spill everything if he does, so he stubbornly keeps his focus on treating Noya’s scratches.

“It’s okay, Azumane-san,” Noya laughs, “you don’t have to tell me. I was just being nosy.”

Asahi exhales, a little relieved. He wraps up Noya’s first arm, having finished treating the scratches there. Moving onto the second one, Asahi grabs a fresh cotton pad. He frowns as he sets back to work.

“Noya,” he starts, “where did you go, the other day? At the cafe, I mean?”

Noya stiffens a little under his grip.

“Sorry about that,” the other man mumbles, “I had an emergency I had to handle, so…”

“Oh,” says Asahi, unconvinced, “okay. I was just worried… You just up and vanished without saying anything.”

Noya doesn’t go into any more detail, and Asahi doesn’t push it. He gets the feeling Noya isn’t telling the whole truth, but he’s not going to try to force it out. He has his own secrets, and he’s sure Noya has plenty himself. Despite seeming like a very open person, he’s come to notice that Noya is strange, like he’s never quite there most of the time, and the times that he is, he seems so full of life that he’s ready to burst with it.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Noya’s voice is painfully soft.

Asahi’s heart aches. He doesn’t know why that gentle voice hurts, only that it does something strange to him. He catches himself holding his breath, as if even that will break this moment. He knows better. He knows better. He doesn’t know Noya, and Noya doesn’t know him. They’re client and employee, nothing more.

Asahi doesn’t even know himself. How could he even hope to let someone else know him?

“It’s okay,” Asahi gets out, but his voice sounds foreign to himself like it’s coming from someone else speaking in his place instead of him.

Something about the intimacy of the moment makes Asahi feel like he’s an outsider, watching his own hands and fingers tenderly take care of Noya’s newly acquired scratches. He knows there’s more on the man’s face, but he’s scared to raise his gaze. He’s scared that whatever is happening is going to shatter the moment they make eye contact. Asahi is going to realize it’s all in his head, or Noya is going to realize it’s strange for him to be in what is essentially a stranger’s house.

He feels like he knows Noya. The feeling won’t go away, but Noya has told him that he’s sure they’ve never met. Asahi couldn’t forget someone like him, and Asahi is inclined to agree. He’s stalling now, and he knows it, and he’s sure Noya knows it, but neither of them say anything about it as Asahi cleans over the scars a second, and then a third time.

Finally, he bandages the second arm. Noya’s skin is cold beneath his grip, freezing like the other man has been standing in negative temperatures for hours. Asahi knows this isn’t the case, so he assumes Noya must just run cold in comparison to Asahi himself. Noya seems unbothered, either way.

“Thanks,” Noya finally breaks the silence.

Asahi dares to raise his gaze. Noya’s eyes are trained on him, sharp and focused with such intense clarity that Asahi is momentarily taken aback. Noya looks as if he’s a page ahead of Asahi, waiting for him to catch up. Asahi isn’t sure if he should, much less if he wants to.

“Well,” he replies, averting his gaze to get another cotton pad, “I wasn’t just going to leave you after I watched it happen. I don’t mean to be rude, but you seem like you’d neglect taking care of them.”

Noya grins crookedly in the corner of his vision. “You’re right,” he says, “I would. But that’s not all I was thanking you for.”

Asahi pauses, mid-turn, pad raised to start in on the scratches on Noya’s face. He blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“That was for everything,” Noya continues. “I know this case isn’t easy on you. I’m sorry I dumped it on you, but something told me you’re the only one who can handle it, and I always listen to my instinct. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet. So I was saying thank you for putting up with all of this.”

Oh, Asahi thinks, and then says, “Oh.”

Noya laughs. “Oh?”

“Sorry. No, wait. I mean… You don’t need to thank me.” Asahi reaches out, carefully starting to clean the scratches across Noya’s cheek.

“Ow,” Noya says, again.

“Sorry,” Asahi frowns, knowing there isn’t much he can do about the pain.

“It’s okay. I got myself into this, so I’ll tough it out!” The golden-eyed boy declares.

Asahi smiles to himself. Noya’s energy is near contagious, and he’s just about forgotten about his previous anxiety of having the other man in his house. Noya seems nonchalant and uncaring, like he doesn’t care to judge how Asahi lives either way.

“There,” Asahi says, putting bandages over the last few scratches. “Done.”

Noya gives him a double thumbs-up, grinning so widely it looks painful. “Cool! Thanks, Asahi! You’re the best!”

Asahi holds both hands up placatingly. “I wouldn’t go that far…”

“No!” A fire lights in Noya’s eyes, and he reaches out, grabbing both of Asahi’s hands so abruptly that the brunet squeaks. “It’s true! Don’t go selling yourself short, okay?”

Asahi’s voice catches in his throat. He wants to protest again, but Noya’s gaze is so intense that he physically can’t bring himself to do anything more than nod in agreement. It seems to satisfy Noya, so he releases Asahi’s hands and hops up from the couch.

“Alright! I’m gonna head out now, but I’ll see you soon, yeah? We’ll get this done!”

Noya reaches out, bumping Asahi’s shoulder with his fist. The little tap startles Asahi back into reality, and he scrambles to his feet, following Noya to the door and watching him put his shoes on. At the door, they both hesitate. Asahi looks down at his feet, but he can feel Noya’s gaze on him.

“Be safe,” Asahi says, finally.

Noya stares at him for a long moment. Finally, he reaches out, squeezes Asahi’s arm, and then turns away and bolts down the stairs. Asahi watches him jog down the road, and then vanish over the crest of the hill, out of sight, but never out of mind.

Maybe, he considers, he should have tried to make him stay.

Asahi stares at the hill Noya had vanished over for a long moment longer. He stares as if he’s waiting for the other man to turn around and come back, citing that it’s too late to head home, and the trains aren’t running anyway, so it’d take a while on foot. Asahi still doesn’t know if Noya lives nearby or closer to the agency, but either way, he could have thought of something.

He stares on, but Noya doesn’t come back. Finally, Asahi closes the door behind him and flicks the lock.

“You’ve been busy lately,” Kozume remarks, the following Monday, without looking up from his Switch screen.

Asahi doesn’t know how he gets away with playing video games at work so often, but he supposes as long as Kozume is efficient at his job, their boss doesn’t really care. He’s starting to give Asahi some eyes about the case he’s on, so he knows it’s time to hurry up and wrap it up.

Narita comes in, bearing coffee. He hands them out to each of the others in the room, setting Kozume’s next to him and handing Akaashi’s off. Crossing to Asahi, he offers out the coffee.

“Same as usual? How’s it going?” He asks.

Asahi accepts the warm drink from the receptionist. “It’s going,” he sighs, “I haven’t made too much progress outside of some guessed predictions. My sole witness has this habit of up and vanishing and apparently doesn’t have a phone to contact.”

Narita nods sympathetically. “Client isn’t making it easy, huh? This is probably your first one of those, but I see them come through all the time. It’ll work out, so don’t stress too much.”

“He can do with a little stress,” Akaashi comments, taking a sip of his coffee.

Narita turns to give him a withering look and then turns back to Asahi. “Anyway, drink up while it’s warm and then go back into this thing with a fresh mind, yeah? Good luck, Azumane.”

Asahi watches the receptionist go, and takes a long drink of his coffee. It burns his tongue, but he doesn’t flinch away. The moment of pain, however brief, does its part to make everything come into sharper focus. Three days from now, he’ll have been slugging through this case for a month. That’s the time limit he’s going to give himself; if he hasn’t figured this out or made any significant progress in the next few days, he’s going to tell Noya he can’t do it.

Resolution set in his mind, Asahi dives back into his work with renewed vigor.

“Don’t stay too late,” Akaashi says, later that night.

Kozume is already long gone, and Akaashi had finished his work, so he’s getting ready to leave too. It’s just Asahi now, with everyone else out. The black-haired man puts his jacket over his arm and strolls out. Only a moment later, Narita peers in.

“Azumane? Someone is waiting outside for you.”

Asahi glances up, confused. He hadn’t been expecting anybody, but it’s as good a reason as any to change location. He nods in acknowledgment to Narita and hurries to pack his things, pulling his bag over his shoulder and heading out.

Outside, he glances around in search of the person. It takes him a minute to spot them, but when his gaze shifts down, it catches on the streak of blond in Noya’s hair. The other man looks up when Asahi emerges from the building, and then stands immediately when he realizes who it is.

“Noya?” Asahi questions, surprised.

“Hey,” Noya smiles crookedly, “sorry for showing up out of nowhere. I was out and I just ended up here. Are you getting ready to head home?”

Asahi readjusts his bag. “Yeah, I just finished for the night. How did you end up way out here again?”

Noya opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again, frowning in confusion. Finally, he just shrugs a little, as if he isn’t sure himself.

“I just did,” he says. “Can I walk with you?”

Asahi hesitates, but finally nods in concession. Noya falls into step beside him as he heads out towards the train station. It’s later than Asahi usually leaves, and the streets are nearly empty now. The sun is starting to set beneath the taller buildings in the distance, and Asahi gets the feeling it will be well past dark by the time he gets home.

“Do you live around here, Noya?” Asahi asks, glancing down at the other man.

He recalls seeing Noya back near where he lives, as well, but maybe the shorter man just gets around a lot. This is his chance to finally figure it out, so Asahi seizes it.

Noya hesitates a little, lips parting like he’s going to speak, then closing again. “Uh,” he starts, glancing around, “well-”

Noya cuts off, gaze catching on movement nearby. There’s a girl, no older than seven or eight, stumbling down the sidewalk. Even from this distance, Asahi can see the scrapes on her knees. She’s bawling, rubbing her face with the back of her hands, but steadily making her way down the sidewalk nonetheless, like she’s on a mission.

Asahi exchanges a look with Noya, and they both hurry toward her. Noya reaches her first, crouching in front of her and starting to talk. Asahi is a short pace behind him, catching up just in time to hear the child speak through her tears and sniffling.

“A bad man came into our house,” she sniffles, stuttering around her hiccups, “and Mama told me to run away and get help, but she’s stuck there with him!”

Asahi’s blood goes cold. This is it. The one time he hadn’t been trying to find the man and it practically fell into his lap. Noya is clearly thinking the same thing, expression hard and eyebrows downturned. He meets Asahi’s eyes and nods.

“Hi,” Asahi says, crouching down, “I’m a detective. I can go help your mama, but I need you to tell me which house is yours. Can you do that for me?”

The girl sniffs, looking up at him. “T-The one with the flower mailbox Mama and I painted…”

Noya is already running. Asahi squeezes the girl’s shoulders, getting back to his feet.

“Listen carefully. We’re going to go help your mama, so I need you to be brave for me, okay? Find someone and ask them to call the police for you. We’ll make sure your mom is safe.”

The little girl’s gaze follows him as he runs after Noya. He has no chance of catching up with the spitfire of a man, but Noya waits at the door for him, clearly trying to find a good way in. Asahi glances into the shattered window. The coast seems clear. He gestures to Noya and creeps around to the front door, opening it slowly.

It doesn’t creak, and Asahi thanks any god that exists as he and Noya sneak into the quiet house. Asahi puts a finger to his lips, signaling for Noya to follow him. Together, they quietly round the corner and immediately come face to face with the robber.

They catch the man by surprise. Asahi sees it in the glance he gets of the man’s expression before he’s forced to leap out of the way, bullets riddling the wall where he’d just been standing. To his right, Noya hisses from his spot on the ground, and Asahi has to suppress the nausea that rises in his chest at the sight of red blossoming across Noya’s shoulder.

“Noya,” he gasps, scrambling over, “I’m so sorry. I should have reacted faster. You’re going to need medical attention-” “Asahi,” Noya’s grin edges on pained, but he’s pushing through, nudging Asahi away. “I’m fine. I'm tough, remember? So don’t worry about me. I’ll live, so worry about that kid’s mom first. You bust that guy for the both of us, okay?”

His fingers brush Asahi’s cheek, cold against the skin there, and Asahi’s everything zeroes in on just that sensation. He focuses on the way that Noya’s hand feels against his cheek, electricity at his fingertips. He focuses on the way that regardless of whether he’d known Noya before or not, he knows him now, and he wouldn’t ask for it any other way.

Kissing Noya feels like second nature. He’s careful of the other man’s shoulder, even if it’s nothing more than a brief press of lips, but when he pulls away, Noya exhales like it’s the first breath he’s taken in years.

“Stay safe,” he tells Asahi, “‘cause if you die on me, I’ll summon you back and annoy you as a ghost.”

Asahi laughs. “I won’t. Get somewhere safe, Noya.”

He squeezes Noya’s hand and then hurries into the hallway, keeping low and staying alert. He doesn’t know where the robber is, but the robber doesn’t know his location either. But only one of them has a gun, and it isn’t Asahi, so he’s at a disadvantage here. His priority is getting the woman out safely, but he hasn’t seen her yet, so he’s hoping she’s already hiding somewhere safe. His and Noya’s arrival had distracted the robber for a moment, and he just has to hope the moment is enough if he can’t find her first.

Asahi ducks behind the couch just in time to avoid being seen by the man who creeps in through the next hall. He drops to his hands and knees, sneaking around the side to watch the man’s slow progression towards the kitchen, where he assumes there’s a side door. The man’s gaze sweeps the room once, twice. Asahi creeps forward when his back is turned, and the moment he takes a step to move away, Asahi lunges.

He’s scared. God, he’s terrified. He shouldn’t have made any promises to Noya. He isn’t immortal. If this man gets the upper hand, Asahi knows he has no chance.

But he can’t think about that. Right now, he can only focus on survival, on grappling with the man before him for control over the single gun. The robber’s eyes are wide, wild with disbelief. Asahi can’t figure out what he’s so surprised about; surely, he’d expected someone to come after him eventually for all of this? Asahi pulls and the man resists, They shove and turn and twist, brute strength against brute strength, fighting for control of the situation. A stray shot shatters a vase, and there’s a muffled whimper from the closet next to it.

The woman.

Asahi has the upper hand. It’s only for a moment, but the sound distracts him, and the moment is more than enough. The robber twists around and slams his elbow into Asahi’s face hard enough to send him pinwheeling back into the coffee table, head slamming into the wood hard enough to make his vision go black, and then blurry. The aftermath leaves Asahi feeling like there’s an army in his skull waging war against the bones, pounding relentlessly against his forehead.

It hurts. It hurts. He can’t think. He can barely see straight.

He’s been in this situation before.

When he manages to get his vision to focus, only a little, he is staring down the barrel of the gun. The man’s chest heaves, expression twisted in fury, all bared teeth and vicious stance. And this is it — Asahi has no chance here. This is the end, and his promise to Noya will go unfulfilled after all. He thinks about Noya, laughing loud and free, holding his hand to the sunlight so the golden band on his finger glitters. Except Asahi doesn’t know where he picked up that memory. His head is pounding, a steady thump, thump, thump against his skull. His head is pounding and he is thinking and Azumane Asahi is going to die here and now, just like the man in the case he’d been trying so hard to solve. He can’t even close his eyes, watching the man’s finger on the trigger as if in slow motion.

But it never comes.

Instead, there is Noya, howling bloody murder, all feral motions and vengeful anger, streaking out of the hallway and barreling into the man. They both hit the ground and the gun skids away from them. Asahi’s shaken, but he still notices the lack of red staining Noya’s white t-shirt. Asahi trembles, but he realizes right away that Noya’s wound looks as if it had never existed to begin with. Noya looms over the man like a wraith, teeth bared, golden eyes glittering with a promise, a threat, and Asahi thinks to grab the gun before the man recovers from Noya’s winding attack. The would-be thief writhes beneath the other man, but Noya is unyielding and less hesitant than Asahi.

He takes the flower pot off the table and breaks it over the man’s head, knocking him out cold. Asahi is left in stunned silence, clutching the gun, staring at Noya as he hunches over the unconscious man, shoulders heaving with every breath. Asahi is still concerned; he can’t see Noya’s wound, or any sign of it, but for all he knows, Noya had just managed to find an extra shirt. It’s doubtful and farfetched, but it’s the only possible explanation, isn’t it?

“Asahi,” Noya gasps, “Asahi, are you okay? Did he hurt you? You’re bleeding.” He hadn’t noticed, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Asahi touches his head and his hand comes away red. He stares at his fingertips, dizzy, and finally sinks to his knees. Noya scrambles off of the man and barrels right into Asahi, straddling his waist to lean over and inspect Asahi’s head. Outside, sirens wail as their backup arrives, and Asahi sighs, relieved that the little girl had found somewhere safe. The officers come flooding in. Asahi feels like hell, but he’s more worried about making sure everything gets taken care of, so he directs them to the woman hiding, and then to the unconscious robber on the ground. It’s over.

Reaching out to touch Noya’s face, Asahi feels like sobbing. “I’m okay,” he rasps out, “I’m okay. You got shot, though, didn’t you? You shouldn’t do reckless things with a wound like that.”

Noya scrambles back off of him and out of Asahi’s reach before the detective can inspect his previously injured shoulder. He takes a little step aside, gaze averted, frown fixed on his features. Asahi’s eyes follow him as he moves away a little.

“Noya?” He frowns, moving to stand.

One of the officers shouts. Asahi’s attention catches on the shout and his gaze follows, catching sight of the previously unconscious man thrashing on the ground. He’s on his stomach facing Asahi, and one of the officers is straddling his back to cuff him. It’s his expression that catches Asahi’s notice, the sheer rage, face twisted up in hatred. His eyes glitter furiously, lips pulled back to bare his teeth in a snarl.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” He shouts. “You both died! I know I killed you, so why the fuck are you still alive?!”

Asahi’s heart falters in his chest. His head hurts. God, it hurts.

“I robbed you months ago! I shot that boy to death! You were dead! You’re supposed to be dead!”

He keeps shouting it. Asahi is cold to the bone, dropped into an endlessly deep pile of fresh snow with no way out. All he sees is the man’s face, and all he hears is dead and his head hurts so much. He’s supposed to be dead? He’s alive, though. He’s alive, but he doesn’t have memories, and he’s supposed to be dead. What boy had he meant? Noya? Did that mean Asahi had known him before after all? Had they both lost their memories?

Something is screaming in the back of his mind to come out. Asahi clutches his head in his hands, feeling panic swell heavily in his throat, suffocating him. His vision is dark at the edges and the gun is on the floor beside him, just within his gaze.

“Asahi,” Noya croaks behind him, voice soft and pained.

Asahi, it echoes and echoes and echoes, and all at once, everything slams back down. He remembers, and he doesn’t know how he could ever forget. The wedding band burns against the hollow of his throat like a brand. He watches, dumbstruck and breathless, as the robber is hauled out. He remembers who he is. He remembers who Noya is.

“Yuu,” he gasps, whirling around.

But the other man is gone.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

Asahi hates the smell of hospitals.

The nurse tells him he’s fine to leave, but he needs to come back for another check-up in a week to make sure there isn’t further head or brain damage. The doctors know his memory has returned, so they’re hopeful, but Asahi can’t share their joy. He goes home, empty-handed and desolate. He’s thinking about everything, about Yuu, about the wedding band around his throat. He doesn’t know where the other man had vanished to this time, but he hopes he’d at least had the sense to get medical attention.

And a week goes by.

In the seven days that Nishinoya Yuu is gone, Asahi dreams.

In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

Except this time, he doesn’t. This time, the pieces reconnect themselves. He is not the one in pain, nor is he the one being called out to. In his dreams, Asahi comes home to their shared home and finds Yuu on the floor, riddled with gunshot wounds and already bleeding out. In his dreams, Yuu is unconscious, and Asahi is sobbing, his voice cracking as he tries desperately to call the police.

“Yuu,” he’s begging, “Yuu, please wake up.”

In his dreams, Azumane Asahi does not make it home in time to stop his husband from fighting a robber. Azumane Yuu had fought alone and lost, and by the time Asahi had gotten back, he’d already been half-dead. Asahi hunches over him, pleading with any god that might listen.

He doesn’t know when he got up, only that he’s standing. He doesn’t know when the man appeared around the corner, only that he’s surprised by his appearance, and when they fight, Asahi does not win. He sees the table come into his line of vision.

There’s pain, and then there’s nothing.

Asahi wakes slowly from the darkness as the pieces slide together in his mind. Suddenly, everything makes sense. He hadn’t given the theory any thought before; it’d simply been the most unbelievable thing, but now he’s sure. It all makes too much sense. The name, the vanishing acts, the same outfit all the time, the strange looks Asahi would get when he would bring Yuu up with others, the missing bullet wound in his shoulder.

Yuu is already dead.

Asahi thinks the cold chill of resignation is the hardest part.

When he sits up, Yuu is sitting on the end of his bed. Asahi can see the door through his blood-stained shirt. The sight makes his heart ache anew. How cruel, he thinks, to make him fall in love with this man all over again, only to lose him once more. Had he really ever had Yuu to begin with?

Yuu looks like he had the last night Asahi had seen him as Azumane Yuu, and not Noya. His face is pale and hollow, golden eyes set into his features, a shade duller than Asahi is used to seeing them. His shirt, previously white, is riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood. Asahi is scared to even breathe for the fear of Yuu leaving once and for all.

Yuu doesn’t look at him when he speaks.

“I’m dead.” It’s not a question. Yuu knows this is a fact. “Right?”

“I’m sorry,” Asahi chokes out.

It isn’t enough. This isn’t enough. He has so much more he wants to say to Yuu. He wants to tell him how sorry he is. He wants to tell him that it should have been Asahi who’d died that day. Yuu had so much to live for, and Asahi barely knows how to live for himself. He wants to tell him how much he loves him, how they were supposed to have a whole life ahead of them. Their adventure had only just begun and it had been torn out from beneath them before they could take the first step.

Asahi chokes on his breath. It isn’t fair. It still isn’t fair.

He wants to say, please, don’t leave me again.

Yuu’s form flickers. Asahi covers his mouth to stifle the sob there. Yuu is in front of him now, gaze soft with acceptance. Even in death, he is the stronger of the two of them. Even now, his unwavering dependability makes Asahi feel safe.

“Asahi,” he says, ghostly fingers brushing past the strands of hair by Asahi’s ears, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Asahi manages. “Why are you sorry? Yuu, I’m the one who should be apologizing. If I hadn’t gotten held up that day-”

“Then you would have died too.” Noya cuts him off.

Yuu stares him down, golden eyes piercing, and Asahi falters beneath that gaze.

“Asahi, I’m saying sorry because I promised you forever, but I have to go now. I love you so much, you stupid crybaby. I love you more than anything, and even if we were reborn, I’d find you again in ten thousand lifetimes. It’s always going to be you. You’re the kindest, bravest person I’ve ever known, and I’d do everything the same if it meant I had the chance to love you.” Asahi feels like he’s suffocating in his own words. He wants to grab Yuu and hold him close, but his hands pass right through the other man’s shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he sobs, “Yuu, I don’t want to go without you. I don’t know how to socialize properly, and nobody else reminds me to take my meds. I can’t ground myself alone when I have an anxiety attack, and you always know what to say when I have a nightmare. I’m not brave. I let people walk over me when you aren’t there to tell them to lay off. You can’t leave because I don’t know what to do without you. I’m brave when you’re around because you make me feel like I can be.”

Yuu laughs. It’s a strangled half sob.

“Someone as cool as you shouldn’t be such a crybaby. You’re your own person, Asahi. You don’t need me or anyone else, even if you think you do. I’m not the one who makes you brave. You do that. And I need you to be extra brave for me now, okay?” His smile wobbles as he reaches out, hand hovering over Asahi’s cheek. “I need you to be brave enough to live the rest of your life, even if I’m not there to live it with you. I wish I could stay and make you as happy as you made me. I wish we could travel the world and have kids and grow old together. But I’ll always be with you.” And this time, when he reaches to touch Asahi, his palm settles over the ring strung around Asahi’s neck and stays there. The point of contact is warm, pulsing out into Asahi’s chest. He feels like he can breathe again. Asahi is so tired of being scared.

He manages a shaky laugh. “You still have my jacket.” Yuu smiles, something soft that touches the edges of his eyes. “Yeah,” he huffs, “sorry about that.” Asahi covers the hand Yuu has over his chest with his own. “Yuu,” he says, “I love you. I love you so much and I always have, and I’m sorry I never said that enough. I’m sorry that we couldn’t have the life we deserved. But I’ll keep living for you, as long as you promise to wait for me. Find me again in the next life, and the one after that, and the one after that. Please let me fall in love with you again.” A single tear slides down Yuu’s face.

“Always,” he says.

Asahi does not get his coat back, but he feels it like a pit of warmth in his chest when Yuu is gone. He sinks slowly forward, gathering the blanket up in his arms and pressing it to his face in a futile attempt to gather the last bits of Yuu’s presence from the fabric. But he’s gone, and Asahi is alone again, with nothing but the ghost of his memory and a promise. His room is empty and the pit of warmth in his chest is a sorry excuse for Yuu’s presence. He’s alone for now, but he’s going to be brave, and he’s going to find Yuu again in the next life. He may not have him now, but he’s never going to let him go again. He has that.

His fingers close slowly over the ring dangling from his neck, pressing the memories there deep into his chest where they’ll make a home.

(And this, at least.)

[xxrat--punkxx]

JUMPING ON THIS BAND WAGGON

Ok here’s my 2020, tw//mentions of suicide and abuse

(Strong start lmao) 2020 sucked ass lemmi tell ya. This year was a fucking train wreck from the start, ur hay I got character development so who cares. Well let’s start with a review, bad things first.

Yall remember when everyone was scared shields of COVID?. Lol. But that’s stating the obvious. When we went into lockdown I was first like fuck yeah summer lol, but then the threat of ‘staying home for the rest of the year’ set in, bing in my first year of sixth form I really understand the stakes of exams next year. So having to stay home for the rest of the year freaked me the fuck out. I literally couldent cope, having to do all classes online was fucking hell, they were never zoom classes either, just ‘lmao do the work and hand it in’ which was near impossible for me. I was also in the constant ‘oh no I’m so stressed but I will do NOTHING about this lmao~’. As the days turned to weeks and inevitably MONTHS, my mental health said buckle up bitches. Days were spent sitting in my room on my phone doing NOTHING, meanwhile this perpetual notion of stress played in my head yet there I sat not having the will or motion to move.

Then my parents got involved. Now THATS when shit went from pretty crummy to awful, now I was living with them constantly I was able to see who they really were with no real filter. And oh god do I have issues, I didn’t even fucking know. Every day was an argument, my mom was the worst, the MANIPULATION, the constant ‘you're tearing this family apart’ or ‘so I’m the problem?’ Or the fucking indecent playing the victim. And I all only just realised, that they have been doing this ALL MY LIFE. Dad got involved but he was just physically violent, only twice tho. The worst part was my work, admittedly yes, I didn’t do everything I was given, but I tried, I really did with what little motivation I had. But with just one ‘oh your daughter hasn’t handed in this work’ I was a ‘lazy, good for nothing failure’ to quote ‘who will never go anywhere in life’ so I’d spend the rest of the day crying while they play the victim bury saupying I was abusing their love and just using them for money. But the next day be like ‘oh I’m so proud of you you're doing so well’ having that statement being completely unrelated to the previous events. This was constant. So that’s that story. I won’t talk much about Black Lives Matter because we all know about how that went. But it really affected me, I found myself crying over the victims multiple times. And the lack of support for the movement my peers or family showed made it fucking worse. Crying was a common occurrence for me now, mental health really taking a nosedive, being too scared to call myself ‘depressed’ or ‘mentally ill’ to any extent because I know I’m faking it and just want validation. That was also constant. Fun times huh.

BUT IT GETS WORSE 🥲, then I had to go back to school, awful to fucking abhorrent now. Year two of sixth form fun right? Sure, if u take away the ‘no free time period’ or the wanting to kill mystery for literally a whole 3 weeks. That was my lowest peak. Ever. I’ve never wanted to kill myself before then, don’t like that feeling. Shocker huh. That mixed with the constant anxiety of nothing is right anymore and also needing to succeed at school all made one healthy dose of ‘.exe has stopped working’ juice. Yet I played the fool, acting happy as if nothing had happened, or was happening at least, and venting by imagining scenes in my head with fictional characters lmao. Telling myself ’u can’t kill yourself because u don’t deserve too and ur just asking for attraction’. Then midterms happened blah blah blah, stress but I’m numb to it now that whole story.

But that’s not to say there wasn’t a silver lining.

Onto the good things finally, yes the year was probably one of the worst years I’ve been through in my life it did not go without its positives. For example early this year I got into borderlands properly, I finally explored the fandom and had a look at what it was like. Albeit a slow process considering I was still predominantly on Instagram at the time, and finding a community of a fandom on there is impossible. I started browsing Pinterest or the Internet for images that would link to my favourite characters, Who were to no ones surprise is the calypso twins. Pinterest led me to artworks and artworks led me to the infamous Lazulizard. Who I cherish all my being. Three weeks later after looking at her entire tumblr blog and stalking her of pretty much all her content (sorry for that by the way) I found border-spam. By this point I didn’t have tumblr and I had no intention of getting it seeing as an ongoing war I’ve had with myself since 2012, declaring I will be the bigger man and never get tumblr, which in hindsight was an awful mindset. Seeing as tumblr is probably one of my favourite places on Earth right now. But after also stalking border spams account, again sorry, and starving her of any content she’d ever posted. I was happy that this fandom although as niche as it is was actually getting content. At the time spam and lazu were absolute gods to me. Being the sole producer of a fandom I probably wasn’t even in properly, having both impeccable writing and impeccable art like good God. I would often think ‘wow wouldn’t it be incredible if I actually got to talk to them one day’, now look at me I’m doing commissions for both of them good God. And to be short joining tumblr felt like a fever dream and it’s probably the greatest thing I could’ve done this year, my parents are wrong, talking to strangers is amazing.

Something notable of mention this year as I actually got to figure out who I am as a person, I was able to find my own style and to find my interests, specifically in what I liked in terms of clothing. I thought I was LOL 2012 goth hipster but no apparently I’m manic Pixie dream girl. Going from pink is the ugliest colour in the world to having it be the only colour I will ever wear. I made some pretty big choices this year like cutting pretty much all of my hair off and dying it for the first time. Thanks strict parents for only letting me do that one now. But like I said I went to a character Ark and you know what I like it. I also played BioShock fallout and horizon zero dawn for the first time this year starting to really feel like a proper epic gamer, good lord kill me, and falling in love with all of them almost immediately. I also figured out on a plant mum and I’m into vulture culture although my parents have to disagree with that one. Asking to buy an Horse and fox skull somehow scared them a little bit can’t seem to figure out why lmao.

So a conclusion, Fuck you 2020 you made me miss two comic cons and I will never forgive you for that shit I am SO mad. But I will give you the benefit of the doubt you did make me meet some absolutely incredible people who I consider my friends, despite going against every single Internet safety law I was ever taught as a child. But you know what who gives a flying shit I love you guys. So that’s what I wanted to say. I want to say thank you to everyone on here and everyone is following me or even interacted me with on that matter. You mean the world to me and I really fucking mean it. Are you going to be nothing but amazing ever since I walked onto this fucking hell hole. And what I go through all of this bullshit again if it means I ended up here? You know what I think I just might. So again I thank you and I hope your year didn’t go as badly as mine, and fuck it bring on whatever the fucks next!

Honourable mention of this year was The time Elisa actually complimented me and I cried a little bit and had a panic attack but you know that’s for another day

🥺💕

[thethirdwheel404]

Med Series Rewatch (#12)

S3 E12: Born This Way.

Episode description: Dr. Manning and Dr. Choi are faced with a tough decision.

Literally when are they not.

Okay, last episode ended with the first Ava/Connor kiss, so this episode should be a rollercoaster of emotions.

let’s get into it.

- okay, already we’re starting in connor’s apartment, so cue ava walking in bc they slept together?

- i think its hilarious that her casual clothing is.. a flannel. like lmao idk

- it is so unbelievably funny and stupid to have a one night stand with someone you work closely with. i mean come on

- never forget that dr. ava bekker has a fish tank

- this is exhausting. the tentative back and forth is so fucking exhausting

- another bit of evidence. ava is never not confident, and especially not to this extent, and she never follows connor’s lead. so, the fact that she is standing back and waiting for him to make the decision? stupid.

- it screams that she is having a moment of anxiety, which is why she isn’t up to make the decisions in the exchange.

-to be clear: what i’m claiming here is that the only reason ava actually got with connor was bc she was having a moment of anxiety because he was the only person she had built a relationship with after living in this city for six months.

- when connor says that he has plans you can see her fold in on herself. this stems from a place of anxiety

- remember when they did surgery on the panda? that’s when the show peaked

- ava in her lab coat will never not get me. especially with the gloves, running towards a patient (very hot)

- connor still looks kinda looks like a mess but ava is immaculate here like what dude out of your league

- ava asking the family questions (ik this is standard doctor stuff but showing worry, interest, all that jazz)

- okay, see here! here! ava calls connor out, saying that his procedure is too invasive. before, ava’s procedures where invasive, which everyone used as evidence to her being super cold, but now, we see that she purely does what she deems best for the patient at hand

- also, once again, the concern ava feels. you can hear it in her voice. we forget this part of her way too often

- the smile on ava’s face when she gives the family good news. god wept

- and then more concern when connor tells her they need to put him on ecmo

- the reason that ava is frustrated that connor didn’t go with her decision for their patient care is because she truly believes that if they don’t go with her treatment, he will die. don’t make it anything different. don’t argue she’s frustrated because he’s not listening to her. don’t make it anything about their relationship. she puts their patients care first and foremost

- there’s a stark shift in her demeanor when in the room with the parents vs. her alone with connor. in the room, you can see she’s stewing. she’s sucking on her teeth, she’s holding her emotions. she has control, she’s a professional. out of the room, she has full reign to be as mad with connor as she wants, which she does.

-AVA RAN INTO THE ROOM AGAIN WITH THE LAB COAT AND GLOVES AND IDK IT JUST HAS ME FEELING SOME KINDA WAY

- the way ava acknowledges everyone in the room (the nurse just informed them that the drug was running, ava nodded. just a little thing but yk)

- ava shaking her head at this sad, sad man (connor, who is floundering for a solution and misplacing his anger)

- their entire relationship is misplaced anger

- the fact that the last shot of the scene has connor in the foreground looking over the bed and ava watching from the door but ava is the one in focus - some cool cinematography points

- IS THIS THE EPISODE WHERE MAGGIE GOES TO JAIL

- med really went all over the place

- JUST THE AMOUNT OF CONCERN ON AVA’S FACE. im gonna say it again. look me in the eyes and tell this women is a psychopath. the med writers are fucking insane

- and when the parents ask ava if she disagreed with connor’s treatment decision, she has every opportunity (and right, frankly) to throw him under the bus and undermine him. but still, she says “it’s a complicated situation.” like. she never ever makes it personal, or loses her head. especially not to a patient. and she doesn’t have to defend connor. he’s made a lot of mistakes, and taken it out on her a bunch of times. yet she’s still nice to him, when he’s not even in the room

- it’s insane

- this is also the legendary scene where she comforts the family. there’s not a lot that i haven’t already said. this is the scene that most exemplifies ava’s humanity, the way she seems to feel, at least residually, what these parents are going through (since she obviously hasn’t gone through anything like this herself [unless.]). the way she kneels down, and gets on the family’s personal level.

- I... okay listen. I absolutely HATE the parallel they pull her between the line “I believe whenever you do something out of love, it can never really be wrong” and connor. especially because they show him when she says that line. and yeah, there’s obviously a connection that can be drawn between the meaning of that line and her sociopathic behavior in s4 and s5.

- it honestly feels like when writing s4, the writers hit so much of a wall they just googled the most ‘iconic’ ava moments and thought ‘how can i use these in the worst way possible?’ That’s honestly probably what they did (ava’s first interaction with connor - ‘you better watch yourself,’ this moment). There is no nuance to her character in s4. it is astoundingly terrible.

- lets move on

- THE WAY CONNOR LOOKS AT AVA HER MAKES ME FUCKING SCARED. HE HAS NO EMOTION ON HIS FACE. I know that we’ve been screen capping ava throughout this series but can someone find pictures of connor looking at ava bc, i need yall to remember how weird he looks

- like, no shade to connor, but just the emotion is undecipherable, but it is in no way a good one

- ava getting concerned (and looking slightly embarrassed) when she sees connor watching her by the door. obviously yeah she’s gonna feel weird you just caught her in a very uncharacteristic moment, outwardly expressing comfort. fucking back off

- i am so fucking protective of her and i demand he no longer look at her. it’s banned

- sam abrams looking at sarah’s dad’s head ct and asking if he’s a criminal. oh boy 

- from a writer’s perspective, the storyline with sarah’s dad is actually pretty good

- ava ran into the room with gloves and lab coat again, if anybody wanted to know

- for the record, want it to be noted, ava was the one who realized that it was an issue with the machine again, so you could say she fixed connor’s mistake, again. so.

- connor making a big deal about handing the reins over to ava (if he really was selfless he wouldn’t have made a whole big thing, he still has an enormous hero complex)

- handing off control was very hard for him. boo hoo get some fucking humility I think they sell it at walgreens

- sarah fucking walking across the ed like she’s going to war. dramatic

- med really said pedophiles deserve rights with this ep huh

- anyway

- the way ava smiles

- the way she smiles when she turns him down. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT? SHE TURNED HIM DOWN. in the aspect of the story i cannot remember why she turned him down, but hey, i’m happy

- and it only further proves my story that the hook up came from a place of anxiety, and this is her realizing how silly that decision was. and her smiling was her laughing at herself for making such a stupid decision

- ALSO. LET’S TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT THIS DECISION, THE DECISION TO TURN HIM DOWN, HAPPENED IN THE SAME EPISODE WHERE SHE SAID ‘IF YOU DO SOMETHING FOR LOVE, IT’S NEVER REALLY WRONG’

- like she literally says ‘last night was a mistake.’

- honestly, it’s fucking hilarious. connor deserves nothing

- and the confusion on his face when she walks away. hilarious

- if you wanted to take this the reesker route you could argue that the idea of ‘a decision of love’ was ava coming to terms with her slight little crush, though i don’t know how clean it would be if you argue that she panicked and told herself those were feelings meant for connor. idk, i’ll have to think about it further

- watching sarah let herself be betrayed by both herself and the people around in the story surrounding her dad will never not be hard to watch

This was a very good episode, character wise, for all the reasons stated above. It just hammers home the point of how strong a character Ava was. Key word, of course, being ‘was’. My conclusion over the last two episodes is that this specific sexual encounter with Connor was born out of a moment of anxiety from Ava. I suggest that over that last few weeks or days she has been experiencing some amount of anxiety out of having been living in Chicago for six months and only having one interpersonal relationship. So, that idea kind of built where she told herself the reason she only had one relationship was because she was in love with him. Then. after going through the story with this kid and comforting his parents, she realizes that she never actually loved Connor and maybe has a thing for someone else. I’m glad that I keep coming up with more ideas for this character, I was afraid the initial theory was somewhat of a one-off, but this only proves the idea of the complexity to Ava’s character.

I’m sure it’ll get worse from here, though.

as always, thanks for sticking through

-

read the rest here:

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Extra

[jewpacabruhs]

hi guys! so this post is gonna be a rambly mess but fuck it, here ya go. if u dont wanna read all of it, u dont have to; skip down to underneath the tl;dr in bold text for the important bits :)

(there’s a brief & non-graphic mention of a triggering topic in the next paragraph. please be sure to skip this next paragraph if the thought of suicide is going to upset you.)

alright. so i didn't share this originally, but i spent some time in a psychiatric unit this month. suicidality related. 1000% unrelated from anything online, i've just struggled with depression for a very long time & shit happens. i didn't intend to share that at all & i certainly don't want pity; i'm telling u guys bc my time in the unit was extremely eye-opening, and i have some insight to share. since i've gotten out, with the help of my newest anti-depressant (fourth time’s a charm lol), i'm seeing the world in a better light & i finally have the energy to and the interest in exploring what it has to offer, which frankly i've never had before.

with that has come the realization that i’ve come to do something very unhealthy, and i want to break out of it. and that’s how much i’ve come to rely on my fandom life. i don’t want to get too candid publicly, but mental illness took a lot from me, and i lost most of my life, my future, and my options in the last few years. next year will involve a lot of working on rebuilding things. but in the time that i let things fall to pieces around me & i absolutely couldn’t get out of bed, i had a phone and i had a laptop. so when i couldn’t get up and physically face the world, i built up a new world online.

and i don’t think that’s a completely uncommon experience. most people are able to better manage things, and evenly juggle real life with an internet life (like i did back in middle school), because most people can’t abandon their real lives entirely like i managed to; but i do think a lot of people nowadays rely on their fandom life and their fandom friends when their irl situation isn’t ideal. and that’s an excellent coping mechanism in theory, but i think it’s debilitating in the long run.

forgive me for sounding like an old person, but i’m a heavy nostalgist and a bit of an anarcho-primitivist in that i resent modern technology's influence on society - but that hasn't stopped me from letting it be a big part of my life out of accessibility. the internet kept me occupied during my low points, and i became dependent, but i've realized i don't wanna live like that anymore. i’m vaguely grateful that it usually kept me busy enough that i wasn’t thinking the bad thoughts as frequently, but more than anything, i’m resentful that my grasp on reality got lost somewhere along the way, and i let time get away from me, too. because, again, an internet life should be a fun hobby, but when it’s a lifestyle and it becomes an excuse to avoid dealing with our real lives, bc our real lives aren’t as rewarding or as exciting, then it’s unhealthy.

everything’s at our fingertips these days, but i deeply believe human interaction, fun, and fulfillment shouldn't be spoon-fed to us through a screen. it's easy access, sure, but at the end of the day, is it any way to live? compared with how much world there is to see, i’m no longer satisfied with the thought of sitting behind a screen for another five years. i used to be, when i had no hope and no drive, but not anymore. i’m not gonna let myself settle for staying busy with the thing that takes the least amount of work & movement. not only because i’m a whole ass adult who needs to start sorting my shit out for the long run, but also because i deserve better.

and it’s fucking hard! especially for those of us who are neurodivergent. i dropped out of school three fucking times due to crippling social anxiety and utter lack of ambition and energy. i lost all my friends through that (making friends post-school is hard af); the thought of having to go out and remake friends makes me wanna fucking cry. i have a hard enough time making friends online, i’ve even come to struggle with correspondence thru text & email. phone calls? outta the question. but that’s therapy shit, and i know i’ll get there. i just have to stop putting life off by staying in a comfort zone.

and it’s interesting; depression and anxiety really took everything from me, and while i was dwelling in my own misery, my adhd worsened and decided to make my entire brain revolve around my fixations, so i didn’t have to deal with my own life. can’t think about how much you wanna die and how much you can’t function in society if you’re busy thinking about a ship you like or a character you find interesting. so i latched onto the safety of that. aggressively. problem with that is that once you let your “happiness” (as much of it as you can feel in the midst of your depressive episode, anyway) revolve around an interest, that’s all you have. so you become dependent and reliant, and that’s never good, especially if you’re someone like me who feels pathetic & ridiculous when you realize it’s all you can bring yourself to care about. 

and i think that’s what i realized in the psych ward (where there’s legitimately nothing to do; i did soooo much more thinking than usual, and i already think too much haha); mental illness will try to fuck up your lifestyle, so you have to eradicate the things that’ll let that happen in the first place. for example, like i said, my adhd tries to counteract my depression by making me hyperfixate and/or hyperfocus on something else to protect me from bad personal thoughts, and that’s good in theory (doing something you enjoy when you feel bad, to distract urself, is the number one most basic coping skill you learn), but i can’t do it in moderation, i let it run my life, and that’s made me worse in the long run. so i have to force myself out of that completely and not let myself fixate on things that make me happy in the short term, but don’t ultimately further me as a person. having fixations helped me through some awful times, but now i need to force myself to grow up, you know?

and while tumblr and other social media is an excellent way to indulge those fixations, it’s an aggressive enabler, in more ways than one. what i mean by that... okay, so while i’m the type of person who self-destructs while unhealthy, i do occasionally lash out. and i know some people completely explode rather than implode when they’re not doing well. and that’s how you get discourse, i think. because when mental illness makes us care much more about our interests than we ought to, and someone has a differing opinion about that interest, the instinct is of course to attack, if you’re that kind of person. i don’t think i am, but depression and boredom go hand in hand, and i might be inclined to care more about discourse than i would if i were healthy, purely because it’s entertaining and something to do. 

that’s a long winded way of saying, while i stand wholeheartedly by my past positions, i do regret starting shit in the first place. i’m not the kind of person who genuinely cares about much and i have little to no sense of morality (im a chaotic neutral bastard), so the fact i was bored enough to start shit really goes against my character and says a lot about how bad i’ve been. so i apologize for all that. but, again, i think that's just what happens when something is truly your everything. and i think the chronic negativity of modern fandom is a result of how damn seriously we all take it, because we care so much and we’re so dependent. fandom’s supposed to be fun, but it’s just too damn stressful this way.

idk my point in sharing all this, but i do think it'd be cool if this kinda got yall thinking. even if you don't engage in discourse, if fandom is just one of your only consistent sources of happiness, that's not healthy either. we all gotta break out & exist more & louder & more positively. and unfortunately i think tumblr fandom (and maybe all modern fandom) is no longer a place that encourages positivity and health.

but for all my criticism, i do just wanna say how eternally grateful i am that i was fortunate enough to meet the people i call my best friends through tumblr. they're my family, truly, and all the bullshit in this fandom has been worth it simply because it brought them to me. i love them to death and i always will, even if interests change, even if we grow apart, even if we quit speaking entirely in the next few years, i love them with my whole heart in a way that transcends a simple fandom friendship and i'm so glad we bonded over sp in the first place. that’ll never change.

i will also always love south park itself. now that the cat's outta the bag about my hospital visit, i can brag about my most pathetic and obsessive accomplishment; the fact that i've never let circumstance stop me from watching a new south park as it airs, and i've now watched sp on 1) an airplane, and 2) in a psych ward. i win for most dedicated fan tbfh. dsjkf & i'll keep that tradition, and i'll still watch this stupid show til it ends! it'll always hold a special place in my heart, & kyman's still my most meaningful & long-term ship. i'll never stop loving it. 

tl;dr

so, to recap; for 2020 i'm making myself step back from fandom (not just sp fandom, but fandom in general) and quit letting my world revolve around my fixations so i can enjoy the outside world a little more, mental illness be damned, and the first step is gonna be quitting tumblr. this blog won't be deleted and i may occasionally post (maybe when next season airs) but you're absolutely free to unfollow bc this'll be a mostly inactive blog. i’m also unfollowing everyone, so mutuals, please don’t take that personally. 

i will, however, try to write more prolifically, bc fic writing is something i'm able to do in moderation & enjoy, and i hope to get back into it. so if you'd like, you can keep an eye out for any upcoming fanfic i may post - my ao3 is leere. i also have snapchat, instagram, & twitter my mutuals can ask for asap (bc ill be logging out for good by the afternoon of the 31st, which is tomorrow) - though i'm not very active on any of them. still, if you wanna have access to me, i’ll be there.

i want some connection to the fandom still, albeit without letting my life revolve around it, so i'll be starting a new open-to-the-public kyman discord server! the post with the invite for that will go up soon. nvm im too anxious  

thank you for reading, thank you for the good times (thnks fr th mmrs), and i hope everyone has a good 2020! 

[flightless-icarus]

may 20, 2020

so, since this is for my therapist, i wont be doing much introductions. yall will just have to get to know me as this goes if anyone else besides her is reading this.

today wasn't very eventful, or productive. i mean, it was a little productive, i got some of my panels done for my comic! i think about 3 or 4? i want to do a few more before i go to bed since i need to be doing 10ish a day to meet my quota. or im not gonna meet my deadline. i worry about not meeting that deadling a lot, im scared i wont be able to meet it. and i really feel like i shouldn't and cant miss this opportunity.

so as of right now, im a bit upset. it's 11pm and my mom went to take a shower, and, i know i said last time that i shouldnt be snooping but i keep getting super paranoid about them talking about me and what they're planning because, like everyone else ive ever lived with, is pretty quick to kick me out without even mentioning anything.

so i read her texts between her and my dad, and they were pretty hurtful?? i keep worrying, especially now, that i am the problem. like my dad mentioned in texts to my mom that "she hasn't talked to me in 10 days, why is she even here? is this still supposed to be part of her growth?"

1. ive been here for 2 months, who expected any growth in 2 months? especially when im still in the process of trying to solve problems and work through problems,  and 2. WHY would i want to talk to him? plus he hasnt talked to me!!! why does he think he can complain about me not talking to him when he hasn't done the same thing with me in 10 days!!

but, idk. anyway, i feel like im the problem. shitty situations follow me around and i feel like i just can't click with people anymore. i feel like im the toxic one, especially after reading those messages about my mom telling my dad she things im just full of myself, and him saying im this ungrateful, wasteful, disrespectful human being and how i trigger him so much and he's so scared i'll use shit against him, but he doesn't care to think about my feelings either?

i dont think im ungrateful, im grateful im being given a place to stay, but im not a fan of having to live with him again considering how much bullshit he put me through growing up. if i had somewhere else to go, and money to do it, i'd probably spit in his face and tell him to never speak to me again.

id love to get away from him again. despite the paranoia of him showing up at my door when i lived in oregon,  it still felt so amazing to be away from him. i know my mom isn't great but i dont know i still like her. i probably shouldnt, since she thinks im just as insufferable as he thinks.

i feel like im reverting back to how i was when i lived here the first time. i feel like theyre erasing all the progress ive made over the years with my ability to speak out when i feel likeim not being treated right. i dont even feel like i agree with the things theyre saying about me in text?? im not a bad person?? im not full of myself, or acting aggressively (unless provoked), and im not being ungrateful. im a little wasteful but that has a lot to do with my food anxiety. i wont eat anything if its been in the fridge for longer than a couple days, so i throw a lot of stuff out. and i feel bad, but if i eat it, even if its good, the anxiety of eating it will make me sick. and that just feeds the "see i shouldn't have eaten that, it made me sick"

i feel like i dont belong, i feel like im not welcome anywhere. i just want to move out and live alone and just die alone. i feel like thats the route im heading anyway.

i still find myself forcing myself not to cry, even right now.

im sad, im hurt. i feel like im the problem. i feel unwanted everywhere i go, i even feel like my own best friend only talks to me out of pity. i always worry she doesn't actually want to speak to me, she just does because she feels bad and doesn't want to take away the only friend i have. she knows shes my only friend. and has been for like 3 years now.

ive been feeling a lot of either nothing or sadness lately too, but tonights just worse that normal. part of it is from the Joker movie and part of it is from reading those texts. i want to say theyre gaslighting or theyre just saying that shit to get in my head, but those are private conversations, those are genuine, private thoughts theyre having. i mean... maybe theyre having those thoughts because they feel like im some awful person so their view of me is bad?? i dont know. i really dont. i always kinda thought my mom was at least sorta on my side, especially when she complains so much about how badly he talks about me and how she hates that he hates me.

i thought she was at least with me on this but i dont know. i dont know, and i dont like that i dont know. i dont know who to trust, or how to feel. i just feel like i should start keeping my mouth shut again because thats when the peace was being kept the best.

"dont speak unless spoken to".

right now, im: sad, anxious, a little nauseous, even sadder now that my cat has gotten off my lap, i have a headahce, and im tired but i dont think ill be able to sleep. i want to cry, i have the lump in my throat, but i don (i ended it here)

[viva-la-fangirl]

It’s Late

I was listening to ‘It’s Late’ by Queen and got this idea in my head. Hope yall enjoy :)

Warnings: grammar errors, angst

Words: 1.3

It’s late.

Two in the morning you guessed. It was well past midnight that’s all you knew. But yet there you were, running in the light rain, the streetlights illuminating your path.

Why were you doing this? You hadn’t seen or even talked to Roger in six painful months. Yet you were running to his apartment, your heart buzzing with too many emotions to sort out.

You loved him. God you loved every part of him. Despite all of the shit that had happened leading up to the breakup- you still loved him.

What if he doesn’t he love me anymore? What if he’s moved on? What if it’s too late?

Questions ran through your head faster than your legs were carrying you. You tried to push the wicked thoughts out of your mind. You had hope. It was Roger. Too much had happened in your relationship not to keep fighting for it.

You heard some late-night onlookers yell in your direction as you scurried past them. They didn’t know what was riding on this impulsive late night run. Your future, your happiness, the love of your life were all riding on this one (possibly last) meeting with Roger.

You wouldn’t know how he would react. Would he be angry? Would he slam the door in your face? What if he had another girl over?

He isn’t yours anymore. You reminded yourself. The breakup had been painful and somewhat ugly. Roger wasn’t yours anymore, he didn’t belong to anyone.

Who cares? You yelled at yourself. If you didn’t do this you knew you’d spend the rest of your life regretting it.

The streets were starting to feel slick under your worn tennis shoes. How would he react when you showed up, wet, wearing a pair of shorts and one of his old shirts you never gave back?

The rain was cold and felt good on your skin. You still had the way to his house memorized and navigated it perfectly even in the dark.

Your mind wondered to the earlier conversation that started this all.

“You know I can’t do that Bri,” you said firmly, crossing your arms while pacing around the room.

You and Brian were sitting in your apartment with John and Freddie. They had all come over, under the guise of wanting to catch up but really they wanted to talk to you about Roger.

“Why the bloody hell not (Y/N)?” Bri’s voice grew to an unusual aggressive tone. Bri never got mad.

“We broke up.” You huffed. “I broke up with him,” the pain of that night was still as fresh as a wound.

“That doesn’t mean you still don’t love him,” Freddie chipped in.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” you admitted. You had let Roger go. You had hurt him in a way that was unimaginable. “You guys weren’t there, you didn’t see that look on his face.” You shuttered at it. It was a look that Roger had never given you before. The mix of anger, despair, confusion and reverse what was happening. It shattered your heart even more.

“Don’t you want to be happy?” John asked. Even John, notorious for barely saying anything, was even giving you a little pushback.

“Yes but…” you stopped yourself. You wanted Roger. Every atom inside of you was craving his presence, his cheeky remarks and his laugh. You knew what you wanted, but you were terrified that he didn’t want you anymore. You couldn’t handle knowing that.

“What?” Bri asked, his voice being back to its soft tone.

“What if he doesn’t want me?” you whispered. The boys went quiet. You weren’t surprised that Roger didn’t talk a lot about you after the breakup. Roger, while being an explosive anger kind of guy, was also one who didn’t talk about his problems. It took you at least a year to get him to open up to you, revealing things you would have never guessed he was feeling.

“I promise you he does love,” Freddie encouraged you.

“What has he said about me?” you asked desperately.

“Not much,” John disclosed.

“We’ve barely seen him. He’ll show up to practice, play subpar and then leave,” Bri added on. “He’s not the same without you (Y/N).”

“Has he had another girl?” you questioned, not knowing if you wanted the answer.

“(Y/N),” Bri protested.

“Just- tell me,” you pushed.

The boys all looked at each other, confirming your answer. Your chest started to hurt like your ribs were breaking under pressure.

“A couple.” Freddie finally broke the silence. “He brought them around but didn’t seem to really like either,”

Your legs started to shake and you fell down into a lone chair across from the boys. Why did it hurt so badly? You let him go. You said you didn’t want him. He was free to sleep with anyone he pleased. It wasn’t like he was cheating.

“He still loves you, (Y/N)” it was John trying to cheer you up.

“How can you be so sure?” your voice was broken.

“Remember when I called you last month?” Bri asked. You nodded. It was the one of the few times you talked to the boys during the break up. The break up with Roger felt like you were breaking up with them too. You had barely talked to them over the six months and it was almost as worse as not talking to Roger.

“Well, he saw me… he heard you laughing.” Bri looked at you with a melancholy look. “You should have seen his face. He was trying to hide it but, for a second he seemed to be brought out by whatever funk he is in.”

Your heart fluttered. You remember the call. Bri had made some lame joke but it made you laugh harder than you had in month having no idea that Roger had heard. Did your laugh really still have that effect even after what you did to him?

Your laugh is my favorite sound. Roger had told you once. He wasn’t always romantic but when he was, he was a master at it.

“I have to see him,” you suddenly shot up to your feet, filled with an unexpected burst of adrenaline and a want to see Roger’s face. You needed to know if you still made his face light up like he made yours.

“It’s late, (Y/N)” Bri protested. “You can see him tomorrow,”

“No,” your voice came out louder than you had anticipated. “If I don’t do it right this second I won’t ever work up enough nerve to every again,” You ran and grabbed some ratty old shoes.

“It’s raining!” John tried and stopped you.

“I don’t care,” you grabbed a pair of your keys. “I have to see him.”

Now you were running the mile or so to his apartment. Your nerve hadn’t left you yet and you prayed it would hold on just a minute more. You turned the corner and looked at the building Roger lived in. Apartment 502- that was his.

You ran through the lobby not caring what strange looks you got. You jumped in an elevator and rode the thirty or so seconds it took to get to his floor.

Those thirty second allowed you to catch your breath and gather your manic thoughts. You thought of the years you spent loving Roger, the months leading up to the breakup knowing something was amiss. The night you two broke up, the crying and begging.

Now the elevator dinged and opened to a floor you’d never thought you’d see again.

Slowly, you walked down the hall to Roger’s door. Your heart was tight. Your body shook, you weren’t sure if it was from the running or the anxiety coursing through your blood.

You came to his door and stared at it. What if he was asleep and didn’t even open it up? Before you thought of more reason this was a horrible idea you knocked three times loudly, hopefully waking up a sleeping Roger.

Seven seconds. That’s all it took for Roger to open the door but it felt like seven hours.

The look on his face caused you to stop breathing.

Just updated and here’s a PART 2 for you sluts

[darlingpetuniapoison]

I honestly really hate myself lately. I have gained a considerable amount of weight. A year ago I was maybe 150-160 and now i am 190. I have been gaining weight like crazy and it its all fuckin fat. Its probably bc I started binge eating at night since thanksgiving and probably before that. and not to mention I wont get off my fat ass and exercise. A year ago i was in great fucking shape!! Now I feel like a blob again. I barely have any self-control any.ore and i sleep the day away while staying up all night bc of my sleep anxiety and then im just exhausted all the time. Ive talked to my therapist and we've found ways that could help but for some fuckin reason I WONT do anything and im starting to think my psychiatrist thinks I'm joking half the time I say shit and still my brain tells me it doesn't know what to do. Do i need a fuckin bootcamp instructer to follow me around and yell at me till i fuckin get out of bed, take a shower, and take care of myself??? Cause apparently i can't do it anymore. Oh and I have barely even worked on my online school for months anyway so what the fuck is my point of living? I mean it would break my brothers heart for sure but i scare him when i have my meltdowns anyway and I'm like whats better? What does it matter? I have no excuse for not doing my schoolwork. I just fucking ignore it and procrastinate until the next day and repeat. First thing i do is sit on my chair in the living room and thats the last thing i do as well CAUSE I DONT GET UP. I am a joke. I need a reality check. Even my tarot cards are telling me that I'm greedy and am taking things for granted lately. My entire life growing up i could take care of myself and now im almost 18 and i cant?? What the fuck???? How did i lose my capabilities over these years?? I sometimes think its the meds fault. I could do tjis shit before i started taking meds. Now I'm an exhausted drained mess all the time. And thats the most common fuckin answer i give my doctors but no its not the meds they say, just give it time. It has been years. I have gotten worse. Nope yall fuckers are killing me w this shit. Lithium has probably been the worst. I don't want to take this shit anymore it doesnt even fu kin help me and all i get is nasty side effects like neurontin givin me fu kin urinal incontinence. That shit is awful! But unless i can give the doctor physical side effects in front of them they just tell me I made it up or i researched it too much. Apparently i sound like a book. Like i wouldve taken that as a compliment if it wasn't to tell me im lying just to get off these meds. Don't ppl lie to get more meds????? Like why tf would i lie to you I want to fucjin get better i am sick of this shit i dont want to be on meds anymore

[swayinghummingbirds]

i feel like i need to blog more stuff out of me to research my own thoughts ignore me or help me either is welcomed. 

so like i was diagnosed with mdd , panic/anxiety disorder so i know how it goes and how it feels and all that jazz. used to be on medication and not for almost two years. i can usually cope well since while i was on medication ifound many ways to do so. but now ive come across season affective disorder and i gotta say i am not a fucking fan. i cant bring myself to do the coping mechanisms because im fucking cold and there is no sun ever.  

this time last year i felt the exact same way and almost moved back to fl but didnt want to give up on tn yet. but im wondering is it maybe time to give up on it? i have no family here. and my family is expanding and growing without me. which makes it worse. 

ive been where i am for almost a year now and its been good. but there are no sidewalks like anywhere? im so tired of sharing walls. sure, its a townhouse and its pretty big and two floors and fire place but my neighbors are so annoying and for some reason in tennessee so many people think its absolutely okay to let their dogs out with leashes? 

knoxville is a really cool city and ive loved living here but idk if i can stand the winter. and its just a mild winter, idk how yall in the north handle it. i see now why when i moved abck to pa for 8 months my mom had it by the time march came around and we moved back to fl. 

a part of me feels like i might even just get bored with where i am after a certain amount of time considering how i was brought up. i have moved 17 times, which is wild for a child. probably why i have a hard time making friends too. 

tried leaving work yesterday after i got my list done (usually isnt a problem for my manager but the ass. manager always fights me with it). i told him three times i already had 2 1/2 hours of overtime and ill be leaving when im finished but bitch never listens to me and acts like he didnt hear me say it to his damn face.Usually i ask just to be polite and make sure but this time im telling him. kind of snapped on him because the day before i just cried all fucking day and had that feeling in my stomach and felt the same way when i woke up. old me would have called out, one because the position i was in was easily fillable but now im actually needed so i go to do my job and if i get done early that means im working my ass off and sweating like a pig to get done three hours early. (and the girl who does the work on the two days im off never gets the shit down or sets the room or anything up in order to have a good morning because the whole thing is very time sensitive and its very frustrating. also she called out like three times this week and made my week shittier than it needed to be.) like bitch no that doesnt mean i want to stay and help with other things after exerting so much energy that i dont even have in myself to begin with. so anyways i cried and then the manager came and talked to me and was understanding because he is aware of my mental health issues and i forgot steve- the ass manager (assistant manager , but also ass because he can be an ass) was not aware. so all in all i talked to my manager and told him and he was very supportive and then i went to apologize to steve and he reassured me i was valued and adored here which was nice. and i had to basically tell him if im trying to leave early it usually means because im feeling like a crazy bitch whos on the break of a mental breakdown so. quit fighting me. 

so anyways. 

even if i did move back fl ive finally gotten myself where i wanted to be in my job but i guess if it was meant to be the universe will take care of it just like it did when we moved here. 

a week before almost moving back to fl my grandparents came to visit and we were in crossville, which is the half way point from here to where we were living at the time and i was like hey lets try knoxville and the next day we went to look at apartments and as we were looking this place went up for rent almost as if the universe here, ask and you shall receive. because i was only looking at places that was in between the three stores that we could have possibly transferred to because i had no idea which one it was going to be i just new it was going to happen. and then when trying to transfer we my fiancees assistant manager knew the manager at this store here and said that he would take both of us and needed help in the area i wanted to be in and i was like wow amazing its all working out. and it did and it was great and then it got cold. and then holidays came. and birthdays came. and i ive learned so much about myself and i feel like yes i needed this part of my life. and now im not sure if istill need it. 

we have a vision of owning a little home a nice big plot of land near the mountains with a spring and creek on site with woods around. if we kept it up and really searched when the time came yeah im feel like we could find it. but what if i still feel this way when were there? then weve bought a home and it would be harder to get rid of. i have a vision of my own business with yoga. i find myself in capable of moving between the months of decemeber and march. then what. even when i get on to the mat i cant get into the flow. 

and what if we move back to fl. would he resent me for giving up on our dreams? will i be tired of people demanding my time and energy? will i bitch about the heat all the time and the fact that neighbros are every where? probably, yes, yes, and yes. 

but will i resent him for not moving back to spend our lives with our families? will i resent myself for not listening to the feeling in my stomach? or would i resent myself if i did listen to that feeling and gave up on the mountainous dreams. 

i know we would welcomed back with opened arms and i know not many would miss us here. 

the mountains are beautiful and so mystical when there. i wonder how it would be to live there. i always end up feeling so creeped out at some point of hikes because i feel like something is watching us, and i know there is, there is always is whether its and animal or a spirit. but sometimes those spirits, or beings, are just so strong of a force. what if we bought a property with one of those that wouldnt be able to make peace with us? i always imagined if we ended up with a property with strong entities then we would make peace and ring singing bowls and plant luscious plants for them. but what if they hate it all. and what if our neighbors down the street end up being cannabilistic cult people? what if some animal tried to maul my dog (which already happens frequently, shes a chihuahua everything is out to get her). what if something happens at oak ridge? i had no idea i was living next to a giant nuclear power plant thing. 

but then its like okay what if theres a giant hurricane that tears my house down (i had a tree fall on my house during matthew which is one reason why we left) or the storm sturge sweeps my house away. trey is scared of tsunamis, not that one has happened there probably ever, idk but it is a weird fear of his. surprisingly tornados do happen in tn too. 

and a day like today, where trey is working all day and i have the day off. there isnt much to do. its cold out so i cant sit on my patio for a few hours like i would in the summer. i dont like to go shopping. i dont have a friend to hang out with, which is my own fault people im really not a big people person. i have hung out with a couple a few tiems, and idk ij ust would rather not. but if i were in fl i could go hang out with my brother, or treys sister, or the few friends i have there. or go to the beach and sit on my own, because its not fucking weird to sit alone there and usually you dont have to worry about getting mugged. i cant go to the parks here on my own. i cant take my dog for walks around here because there are no side walks and people just look shady af everywhere. 

when i went to visit for my brothers wedding in october i realized how i did not appriciate the plant life naturally around all year round when i lived there for 11 years. i guess mostly because it wasnt until two years ago that i really got in to plants but omg i cant stop imagining what our yard would look like if we were in aplace where things could just be outside all year round. i would take cuttings of my plants andjust put them every where have my own little tropical paradise in my front and back yard. 

i know this all is really sounding one sided atm but this time last year i was having the exact same visions and the exact same thoughts. and i thought about how what if my brother has kids and im up here well hello here we are now and thats happening. i feel like i need to be there. theres even a house for sale on the same street as him and all i could was fantasize what i would do to the house and how i would baby sit for them and be able to see my dog that i left with him because ultimately she was is but we co owned her together and just to be there. and be with my mom. shes living in orland with her boyfriend and i feel like the fact shes goingt o be a grandmother might sway him into moving closer, she hates the city and i imagine shes just as depressed as i am to be away and to be in a city where you dont feel safe to go outside alone. we are creatures of nature and both pisces and very sensitive to everything. 

and what if trey and i have a baby at some point? we have no one here to help us. i was thinkg about how our wedding date is a year and like two months away and i have no one here to help me plan. and for a long itme i always imagined myself getting married at this place called sugar mill gardens, a botanical garden that i had always loved in my home town there. when trey and i got together we would pokemon go there and take clippings, and i still have those plants today. but then this new vision came where we would get married on our future property. i feel like we are still a long way away from buying a house here though. idk if we would be there in time. and since we went back in october all i can think about is getting married in sugar mill. he reproposed to me when we were there and that was so sweet and just made me want to be there instead for it. 

this is very long but these are my constant thoughts that all happen at once and it feels nice to get them out to piece them together and not feel so overwhelmed with all them at one time in layers upon layers of thoughts. sometimes my vision even goes out and i dissociate and just work blurred vision cross eyed for ten minutes, who knows maybe its an hour. im back there by myself for eight hours a day idk. 

[actualltr4sh]

its been a while since i did oneuhdeez

basics what’s your name ➔ zarina do you have a nickname ➔ ‘z’ usually do you have a middle name ➔ i dew do you like your name ➔ luv  do people often mispronounce your name ➔ yeah, i get “serena” a lot but i cut that shit out do you like the meaning of your name ➔ luv. it means golden so that’s fire when is your birthday ➔  01/15 how old are you ➔ 5′4 do you like your age ➔ it’s okay. i’m old lmao what’s your zodiac sign ➔ good cap!

appearance what’s your hair colour ➔ blackityblackblackblack is your current hair colour your natural hair colour ➔ yeth do you dye your hair ➔ i have before, i don’t make a habit of it though do you have natural highlights ➔ nerp when was the last time you had a haircut ➔ recently! like a month ago lol what length is your hair right now ➔ um the back of it is like at the base of my neck but the front is short lol do you have straight, wavy or curly hair ➔ nigger curls boo do you have frizzy hair ➔ not usually do you use a curling iron ➔ not usually do you use a hair straightener ➔ not usually do you braid your hair ➔ almost always lmao what’s your eye colour ➔ brown do your eyes change colour ➔ this is not a john green novel lol do you wear contacts ➔ never!! if so, do you use colour contacts or regular contacts ➔ NEVER!! do you wear glasses ➔ yes i can not fucking see bro lmao do you have naturally long eyelashes ➔ not really ;/ they look so bare lol do you wear braces ➔ no do you have dimples ➔ no do you have moles ➔ a few, none on my face tho do you have outstanding cheekbones ➔ kinda? not really. i got a good jaw tho do you have freckles ➔ nerp. love em though do you have piercings ➔ i lost some :( i have 8 now do you have tattoos ➔ 6?? do you wear make up ➔ just my eyebrows cus i dont have any lol do you paint your nails ➔ sometimes. whenever im feeling edgy do you wear jewelry ➔ bracelets normally but my wrist just broke out so not now are you happy with your height ➔ it’s fine. im not like short but im not tall either

personality would you consider yourself outgoing or shy ➔ super shy and anxious baybee are you sarcastic  ➔ i used to be a lot worse but its toned down a lot. too anxious LMAO what’s your biggest fear ➔ being in a car accident.. didn’t used to be number 1 but now? yep what’s your guilty pleasure ➔ coke. not like cocaine but coca cola LMAO are you religious ➔ meh do you get easily along with people ➔ typically! do you cry easily ➔ if i cry a lot is that the same thing as crying easily? idk. i be stressed though lmao

school do you go to middle school ➔ like now??? do you go to high school ➔ ?????? do you go to a private school ➔ no lol are you home schooled ➔ nope have you gratuated from school ➔ ya ya ya ya yaaaa what grade are you in ➔ done done done done doneeeee have you skipped a grade ➔ nope have you been held back a grade ➔ almost! freshman year of high school was whooping my ASS okay have you ever failed a class  ➔ bitch several have you been sent to the principals office ➔ not to my knowledge have you skipped school ➔ yeah i used to be tripping have you cheated on a test ➔ how else would i have gotten my degree lol

family do you live with your biological parents ➔ hell nope do you get along with your parents ➔ mehhhhh my dad yeah my mom not really do you tell your parents everything ➔ man hell no lol do you have strict parents ➔ growing up my mom was v strict do you have siblings ➔ 5! are you the oldest ➔ nerp are you in the middle ➔ almost are you the youngest ➔ pretty much?? but not really are all of your grandparents still alive ➔ um... on my dads side maybe?? i think so

friendships do you have a best friend ➔ yeth  do you have more than 10 friends ➔ yall funny as fuck do you have at least 2 friends you can trust with your life ➔ i guess. i dont even trust myself with my life if we being real lmao do you have a lot of guy friends, a lot of girl friends or equal girl and guy friends ➔ i dont have a lot of friends period its probs equal or more girls do you text with your friends a lot ➔ two of them i talk to almost every day!

relationships what’s your relationship status ➔ dolla dolla bill yall! have you ever been in love ➔ i have and bitch oowee do you believe in love at first sight ➔ idk lmao have you ever been in a relationship ➔ one serious one and like some other shit have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ idk issa secret boo have you ever been asked out on a date ➔ yesss have you ever been kissed ➔ yeah the hoes love it have you ever made out with someone ➔ i haveeee have you ever been cheated on ➔ kinda. he got me on a technicality and that shit fucked me UP have you ever been proposed to ➔ no i hope so one day!! do you want to get married ➔ WIFE ME do you want kids ➔ one seems like enough but what if they get only child syndrome? you have to have 2 for their sanity lmao

country where were you born ➔ ugh where do you live right now ➔ UGH have you ever been out of the country ➔ canada lmao do you prefer country or city ➔ city me please do you like sightseeing ➔ sure! is one or more of your parents from another country ➔ yeth what places would you like to visit  ➔ antiguaaaaa are you fluent in more than one language ➔ black what languages can you speak ➔ colored and white if we being real LMFAOOO i be code switching like a mf

health do you have any allergies ➔ naw cuh are you lactose intolerant ➔ man hell yeah that shit is a serious barrier  have you had surgery ➔ noooo hopefully never have you had stitches ➔ no & never have you broken a bone ➔ no & never! bitch i be chilling has someone close to you died of a disease ➔ not to my knowledge.. wait yes im an asshole for forgetting do you exercise a lot  ➔ this is a joke

experiences have you ever had a near death experiene ➔ a few :/ have you ever been on a plane ➔ a couple times! have you ever had an allnighter ➔ freshman year lmao have you ever been to school/work after a sleepless night ➔ FRESHMAN YEAR have you ever been in a physical fight ➔ kinda lmao have you ever been to a wedding ➔ yesss i wanna go to one again so bad I LOVE LOVE have you ever been to a funeral ➔ :(  have you ever lived in a different country ➔ no have you ever been drunk ➔ i be fucked up have you ever been trick or treating ➔ yes free candy is weird but its cool lmao have you ever been in a school play ➔ i was in crew in HS lol have you ever been to a camp ➔ no actually why didnt i have that summer camp lifestyle in middle school have you ever driven a car ➔  barely bitch

skills how many languages are you fluent in ➔ i told you have you ever read a book in another language ➔ no can you roll your tongue ➔ not really? can you braid hair ➔ nope lmao can you do a handstand ➔ eye can

habits do you crack your knuckles ➔ not as much as i used to? if i do i really dont even notice it lmao do you bite your nails ➔ noooo do you bite your lips ➔ noooo

favourites what’s your favourite movie ➔ it’s different all the time today we’ll say bring it on lmao what’s your favourite tv show ➔ greys anatomy s1-8.. gotta clarify this new shit wack what’s your favourite book ➔ the mothers x britt bennett  what’s your favourite song ➔ idk... lets say my boy builds coffins Florence & the machine what’s your favourite colour ➔ blk what’s your favourite animal ➔ zebra. owl.  what’s your favourite season ➔ fall or spring!!

this or that summer or winter ➔ ugh honestly neither  day or night ➔ night me pls cats or dogs ➔ dog rain or shine ➔ rainnnn if im inside watching tv, sun if i have shit to do lol coffee or tea ➔ coffeeeee i don’t like tea that much tbh lol reading or writing ➔ writing probs humorous or serious ➔ humor me brown or blue eyes ➔ brwn single or group dates ➔ single i have too much anxiety for that lol texts or calls ➔ i think i like talking otp more but i genuinely hate both unless i love you driving or walking ➔ i walk everywhere if i can but cars are more efficient lol

last last phone call ➔ an apartment complex lol last text ➔ “her family pimpin her out smh” somebody said this about an old lady!!  last song you listened to ➔ savage x meg  last thing you ate ➔ some wack ass chips lmao last thing you drank ➔ raspberry lemonade last purchase ➔ the wack ass chips and the lemonade lol last time you cleaned your room ➔ technically a few weeks ago when i moved out lol last time you’ve been on a date ➔ january? yeah january

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Michael: she came to me with like $1000 and said to me "Michael i got a problem and I need make up" So, she told me the whole thing and I told her that I really liked her Jesse and I explained as best i could without telling the truth and breaking the promise i made to Jesse. And i told her i would get her makeup and keep her secret as best i could as long as she promised not to get mad at me about Jesse. And she agreed but asked if i told her secret because it wasn't a true secret then tell her so she could confirm or deny. If they came all the way to me to ask because she wouldn't say where she got the make up Then her problem was gonna be bigger than make up could fix and she would need to face it.

Saint Luches: You told Michael Jackson?!

Me: what? I needed make up. 5 days later is when T broke my nose. Stupid bitch made me so mad 30 years later her head is still fucked up for what i said.

Jesse Tony laughs: you are a real wild one!!

Me: all I really wanted to know because I obviously saw a whole troop of people loudly walking to go have sex together -- what i cared most about was why there was a plant in the closet.

Alex laughs: goddamit

Me: no, Michael explained -- i mean yes it's true that's all I was truly curious about -! But because Michael explained to me what changed in the way Alex behaved towards me was because of Mark's death. Because Tony began acting that way towards them. Because I stayed on the island, refusing to work and stuff.

Saint Luches: so Michael Jackson put you in the closet?

Me: yeah. Did you wanna come out? I'm kidding. Yeah. He realized that taking one of my soulmates was a problem that was too big for make up to fix and he needed Jesse Tony to face it. Face what life had done to him and make his choices about where he wanted to live and be with. Tony Had said he would tell me. I was hearing what Michael was confessing but Michael was saying he also couldn't tell me and couldn't accept how I felt unless i truly knew what was happening. So he promised not to tell. So he said causally, i have a closet door upstairs in 5 minutes there will be sound outside if you want to listen. So Tony walked me home and i shut the apartment door in his face and locked it. I heard him walk away and the button push in for the elevator. So i opened the door I said "I love you. I'm not mad. But you need to go" he wouldn't.

Alex: I know he was sleeping outside the door on the floor when I came home from work. It was disrubing to see the door locked and i couldn't get in my own house. We never locked the door. Middle of NYC we never locked the door. I nearly broke the door frame trying to get in. I thought you were fucking crazy asking Jesse would he do that at Michael's but not his own house and he just went in and started packing. And you just kept talking about a fucking plant in the closet and he kept saying pot and you kept saying plant. And then he said Mary wanna. And you said "oh now you want Mary, too? I have to ask Michael if its okay!" And you were about to get the phone and he grabbed your waist and said "he already did baby, it's okay" and i been blowing pot smoke in your face since I got home And I said "see? He can have Jane, too"

Jesse: You were about to shit yourself "Jane? Who the fuck is Jane? Im calling Michael! Yall two are insane!!"

You'd think Michael was controlling. But he cried when he told me he was in love with my soulmate. The guy I had my first kid with this lifetime. Chandler.

But Michael wasn't okay. He had an anxiety attack twice. Threw up 3 times, it felt like hours and I would be late for work. It had been 15 minutes.

Alex had found a way to love me that was healing. Saint Luches was getting worse everyday. I thought Jesse could help. But then i seen Michael. And in those 94 days I learned around the world people still loved me even without my child, the first child I was told I was allowed to keep, and Mark Anthony.

When i looked at Michael i knew no one had told him, except Jesse Tony James.

I could handle Saint Luches. I knew what to do. Hide the bruises and keep on going.

But my friend Michael, my very best friend that took me off the streets while I was working, bought my clothes and paid me and my rent?

Only Jesse Tony James could.

So I've spent many years as The NHRA Knows trying to find my memories and set things right in with Jesse James. Tree says he feels pretty guilty for hiding. Yet he recognized i was at work. And he couldn't avoid that fact.

In 30 years. They have just grown to love each other more.

I can't avoid that fact either.

Yes. The true and real Michael Jackson is a hermaphrodite.

He said i could tell you.

T punched me in the face cause i just popped out the closet like a Sabrina in the Box. Scared her to death. She kept punching me. She could not see who she was punching? I was bleeding all over the floor and e everything. It splattered on the walls.

I told her "you steal my man!??? I'll hate you forever!!"

What she didn't know because she's sneaky as me, is, I already knew Jesse Tony James was no longer mine.

I knew that before i went in the closet.

Girl needs to slow down Sometimes. We all do.

I'm sure it's taught her well all these years to be more honest is good. Like Michael.

I know Jesse was good for her. Settled her soul, her heart to be more basic for human rights -- to understand things bigger than her and differently than she once did.

She was a pretty tough chicken back then. I'm sure she's grown into a mighty fine young woman.

And yeah i asked Michael to buy me make up. I could went to the store on my own. But i knew, like a father, he would tell me if I was wrong to hide the secret of my body's scientific reaction.

And in order to do that. I had to tell him my secret.

A secret that turned into nearly 1 million bruises.

Its weird to say that. Read it over. If someone ever told me something like that... 1 million bruises.

Well #1 you're never seeing him again.

#2 we need to get you some mental help because there is something wrong with you.

But here i am... Lets break a million, kid

Jesse Tony James gave T 1,925,624 bruises in 30 years. To Michael 76,549

That's nothing. Alex did half what he did to T, to me in 6 months! Please.

They have boring old people sex! They can keep him!

Saint Luches killed me 113 times.

T 7 Michael 42. In 30 years.

Please! They're peddlers in the streets!

And now things get interesting

T gave Jesse 9 bruises

Michael gave jesse 745,329

And he hasn't been killed.

You wanna get talented in your mind?

Chandler's Love would expect her parents to have sex.

And this bitch ain't said no.

What's a fling between old friends? Good when you're a goddess and its the only soulmate you've given away that you've liked And you've given away half of them.

Its good for the future of the world.

6 soulmates. Gave away half. That would mean...

Knowing 2 were evil.. Knowing I gave away half.

You'd think we going pretty fucking bad especially if you learn Saint Luches is gonna get 2 women when Mark comes back.

That means the Goddess here on Earth has only 2 left. And she can do anything. Even if she's unhappy.

So it sounds scary.

So yes. Chandler's Love Requires her parents to fornicate in private or public whatever they can get away with.

So no bitching I get to fuck Mr Sexy.

Don't even be jealous. Just thank your lucky stars that I will.

Really, tho. Saint Luches chose me in Armageddon. But I was with Mark Anthony.

That kid with the black eye from his parents I "teased" was my boyfriend.

Saint Luches.

3 men is a lot. I keep thinking when Mark Anthony comes back how will we sleep? Im only 1 girl. 3 men. Its not symmetrical. We can't all cuddle Me. The only Girl. The only Neanderthal in the world. I think that every night.

Mark Anthony is also thinking of coming as a hermaphrodite.

So then Saint Luches will probably stay, so then there's an extra vagina in rotation so it makes it fine.

Don't ask me. I just wanna make sure my men are pleased and comfortable and comforted and have all they want and complete access.

They're warriors and deserve their rewards, too.

Jesse Tony Jesse had only slept with them one time in a sexual way. The night before I went to ask for makeup

And Michael said it was only once but he knew it was too good to give up. And he would never ask me to.

He wanted to share. Well now in the DNA4U they're soulmates.

Holidays,vacations. Every now and again. On a bar floor. We will

He never stopped being attractive or beautiful.

In 2008 I saw him quietly. Silently. Every thing around me was silent.

I could only put my hands in my lap and feel nothing at all. But concern and respect.

For 2 hours I just stared. Watched him eat sunflower seeds,

I never seen a grown man act that way. He would look at me with intensity. Like He was gonna talk. Move his hands like he could spit out "hello" or something. But he couldn't.

He would just stop. And he would meet my gaze. And his face would change.

He would try again.

But he couldn't

It was like a sound breaking silence would cause the atmosphere to fall apart.

It eventually. It did. Because what he had to say to Me was the past. The past I couldn't handle.

It was me who finally broke the silence, "let's get something to eat"

And i put my hand in the elbow of Jesse Anthony James and we went in silence to get the children.only I spoke "let's get something to eat. Go get dressed. We're going in the car. Sure. Pizza Hut will be fine?"

No one used words but they communicated. Declan holding up the correct shirt to wear. Smiles from the children at pizza.

The silence. No one broke it.

It was so peaceful.

I wish people treated hearts that way. Especially Armageddon who thinks they have a right to control a planet that isn't theirs.

One day they will learn like T. Not to stand there and keep punching me in the fucking face.

One sentence. For 30 years has kept her terrified of me.

But more so of herself.

I spent a long time scared of myself, too.

So I'm glad she knows, I'm not angry at her. Never was.

I hope she breaks 2 million bruises.

I hope Jesse breaks 1 from Michael.

I truly do.

I truly truly do.

[mienceri]

So I have a habit of venting to some of my friends the issues I’ve been having at work for the like the past almost two months now. One friend works at the same place that I work, just a different building. She’s also my roommate. 

We got these jobs thinking it was the best thing every and in the years we’ve worked here we’ve have total opposite experiences. My team has undergone so much changes and is no longer the same. Her team has changed for the better and even though she’s had her own ups and downs, her work experience has been great.

She’s been praised by her boss and her boss’s boss who all know her very well. She has great relationships with them and all her team mates. They value her work and she has been rewarded with more responsibility and sometimes monetarily. 

My experience, not so much. I have a very awkward relationship with my boss, given that I only speak to him once a month for like 2 minutes and he lives in another state, so I don’t see him everyday. 

In these past two months, two people have left our team; members from other locations have stepped in to work on the project remotely, but it’s not the same. I’ve been struggling to even complete my tasks and Ive been constantly criticized by my team lead for not finishing work on time, not prioritizing my tasks appropriately and spending too much time on one task. Point blank, I’m just working too slow for him.

Given, I don’t know intricately the day to day of her job and I’m aware of the fact that she has issues as well, but it’s not related to her team’s dynamic. It’s more task related and her frustration with having to work weekends occasionally and at odd hours at a time.

However, she’s noticed that I’ve complained way to much for her liking and I’ve come home mentally and emotionally drained. Many times when she has a great day or even just a normal day at work where i’ve had a bad one, me talking about it makes her impatient and annoyed. 

She gets really blunt with me. Offers me curt “advice” in the form of “Just apply for a new job”, “Just leave if you’re not happy”, “You really should leave”. And she’s been blowing me off more lately like this and even sometimes more curt than that if you can believe it. I don’t fault her for being annoyed with a person who is constantly complaining. I see the errors of my ways now and have decided to promptly stop complaining (to her atleast) especially when she’s in a good mood. I don’t want to be a toxic friend and I don’t want to bring anyone down with my negativity. I should have kept most of that shit to myself, but today I made a huge mistake at work that left me feeling super incompetent (adding to the struggles I’ve had just keeping up with my work load for the past two months). 

I complained about it and she just wrote me off. One friend tried to comfort me and she replied with “What she said” and changed the topic. When I saw that, I decided okay...I’m in no mood to talk about who had the day off for Columbus day (fucking racist ass holiday anyway) I announced that I would probably be MIA for a few days to just cool my head and she replied with a “Lordy, fine” and continued the conversation. 

Okay.

While I accept that I’m pessimistic, whiny, socially awkward, anxiety-overloaded bitch, I’m always fucking polite and do my best to never appear to be insensitive. Any other time I would have been okay that’s on me. I talk too much  but this time, this was actually a big fucking deal. 

On the side I texted my friend in the chat who saw this go down and was like...yo...she can really be insensitive! And she agreed. What I noticed about this insensitive friend, is that she can also be needy, clingy so to speak or greedy for attention. Because after I went quiet on the chat so did my other friend and she got so needy saying “Man, I need someone to talk to. I’m bored” then sent lonely memes and changed the group picture to spongebob sitting alone with some hot drink. Then changed her avatar to just blackness. Like...damn...whenever we have issues, you don’t want to deal, whenever you have issues we gotta run to you, talk to you, comfort you. When we want to wile out, whine, scream, vent, say fuck the world, you want to role your eyes and disassociate. 

I’m no longer going to tell this friend issues that I have in my life. I’ll save it for friends who actually don’t mind (and yeah I’ll learn not to whine and complain so much cuz that shit does get annoying) but real friends don’t mind so much and if they do mind, they won’t make you feel worse. 

She can just be my roommate and the occasional party friend. Real-friend approved status is now revoked. If I can’t share my issues with you (and bruh, I’m a pretty private person and I don’t share nearly as much as I could. I keep so much inside just for tumblr, my journal and the confines of my skull), that means I don’t fuck with you.

When she curt, upset when we call her out on her bs, or even just a bit too busy to talk at the moment, she wants to be like...FINE, yall ignoring me I’ma just leave and leaves the group chat. When we don’t want to do stuff that she wants to do, she gets mad and leaves. Like, we don’t need this childish behavior. We don’t need petty (but we always forgive those who are), but when we do that same, it’s a problem. 

But I swear, we won't have these problems anymore. I’m done giving her any attention that beyond courteous. I’m done.