#I got stuck in a half asleep anxiety attack for hours last night and then I had stress dreams

[hajihiko]

Post-midnight Anxiety

#Kazuichi Souda #Hajime hinata #hinasouda #Sdr2 #Super danganronpa 2 #An art #I got stuck in a half asleep anxiety attack for hours last night and then I had stress dreams #And one very cool story dream actually. #Dont listen to your brain post-midnight

[shushiyuii]

Could you please write one of those 5+1 things for naga tommy trying to hide being a naga from his family then the one time he doesn’t hide.

Btw I’m sending this to more gt/vore writers so don’t feel pressured to do this just thought it’d be fun to see everyone’s different styles

i actually do have a fic similar to this but it's nice to write a series so naga tommy part 3! yaay! my voice is literally dying irl help-

Warnings: Soft vore

Words: 1.2K+

Tubbo and Ranboo hid in a large cavity of a tree, large enough to for the two of them to hide in from the sights of Tommy, it was hunt and go seek and Tubbo and Ranboo hoped to win this time around because if they did, they could get the grand prize.

Tubbo could almost buzz in excitement, but he had to keep it to a minimum if they wanted to keep hidden, they weren’t the only ones participating after all. There was also Wilbur, Philza and Techno in this game. Who were more than professionals.

They all wanted to win the grand prize, what was it?

The grand prize varied on the person, but for Tubbo and Ranboo. They’d go spend time with Tommy and the others for a couple of days in the woods, having their adventures. Tubbo giggled as he knew he’d win this game.

As for Techno, he was determined to win as he climbed the steep trees, climbing into the most hidden leaves and climbing as high as he could. He hoped this be the vantage point needed to win.

Wilbur was simply hiding behind some rocks but a nearby lake, the rocks being tall enough to provide cover for the boy to hide in, he hoped this would be enough, enough to win his prize of doing his chores. He hated doing them, this was an opportunity of a lifetime.

Now Philza, Phil’s prize was fairly simple. The kids would have to do the housework for a week, he wasn’t determined to win as he didn’t really care for winning, he just put that as his prize since he had to say something.

What did Tommy get out of all of this though? Cuddles, if he won he got cuddles. And boy was he excited to win.

How the game worked was exactly what hide and seek is. If Tommy won, he’d get to simply store everybody in his storage stomach, if he couldn’t find the last person he’d lose and the other person would win and get their prize.

Tommy had yet to lose, he smirked at the thought of another victory.

He slithered across the woodland plains as he scented Phil, his first catch. His head snapped towards a bush, which moved ever so slightly. As if it were breathing, a smile threatened to turn his features.

Before Phil could run, Tommy pounced and cupped his hands around the bush, catching Phil in his hands, he then raised his hand to level and opened up his hands to see a dizzy looking Phil.

“Found you!~”, he sang. “Mate, you gave me a fucking heart attack. Jesus.”. Phil huffed as he came to his senses and looked up at his son. Tommy used his other hand to pick up Phil by the back of his shirt and brought him closer to his face.

“No, you know the rules!”. His dad said as Tommy opened his mouth. “Awwhh” he pouted, “But only I win! I might as well!”, “You never know, Tommy”. “Finee”.

He moved Phil to his shoulder, who moved to the crook of his neck. Once he made sure Phil was safe, he moved on to find the others.

He found Wilbur easily hiding in the rocks, but then he was bribed an almost irresistible deal. “Tommy if you let me win, I’ll let you eat me for a week”. He almost took the deal, until their dad spoiled it, “No bribing.”. The two pouted and continued to find.

Surprisingly Techno was found next because he made the mistake of moving to a weak branch and almost falling to the ground. Tommy caught him in time though and lastly it was Tubbo and Ranboo’s turn to be found.

But time passed and everyone grew worried, it was almost night, and they couldn't be found. And with the night came mobs, which wasn’t something Tommy wanted to really deal with along with the anxiety of potentially missing family.

The four of them called out for them and eventually separated in different directions to find them but there was no sign of the two. And that’s when Tommy really began to panic, his family and himself growing tired with every second passing.

They eventually returned with neither of the two. And with them exhausted Tommy offered them to rest, and he takes over the main search. They wanted to refuse but Tommy already took it up himself and swallowed the three of them. One by one.

Once Tommy felt them safely tucked away, he gave a quick rub before heading off to find his two other friends…

Meanwhile, Tubbo and Ranboo weren’t having the best of times. They may have accidentally gotten lost whilst trying to find their way back. And were now trying to avoid as many mobs as possible.

“Tubbo fly up!”, “But there’s spiders! What if I get caught?!”. “Please try?! We need a high ground!”, he narrowly dodged an arrow as he said that, squeaking as it passed over his head.

“Okay! Okay!” The tiny boy flew upwards towards the trees, any of the ground mobs now looking at Ranboo. But the moment they stepped towards him was gone. Teleported right next to Tubbo.

“It looks like we’re stuck here for a while”. Ranboo said after making sure the coast was clear, Tubbo sighed. “I hope Tommy finds us soon”.

It was about an hour later, with Tommy frantically scanning every area he came across, crushing any mobs to see if they had a sign of his friends.

Tears were streaming down this point; he was mainly relying on his instincts of scent and hearing as his eyes became almost unreliable. His occupants tried to comfort him, but he knew they were just as worried themselves.

He turned again, then he heard a faint voice in the distance. It was so faint, but his head immediately snapped in the direction of the small voice. He wiped at his eyes and saw something moving, it’d jump and disappear from tree to tree, coming towards him.

Tommy slithered quickly towards the two, “Ranboo!”. Ranboo landed at another tree as Tommy stopped next to him, Tommy’s hands moving to cup him and his eyes scanning for any injuries.

“Are you okay?!- Where’s Tubbo?!”. He said frantically. Ranboo turned with his back facing Tommy, revealing a little sleeping Tubbo. “He flew around a lot, trying to find a sign of you. But, eventually got too tired”. He laughed slightly.

Tommy sighed with relief as the two of them were safe and cupped them gently in his hands. “I’m gonna store you guys then, I don’t want you out in the middle of the night”. He moved Tubbo from the back of Ranboo and brought Ranboo closer to his mouth.

He quickly tasted Ranboo with his chocolate and vanilla flavouring, he titled his head back and swallowed. He purred as he felt Ranboo tuck him with everyone else.

Now for Tubbo, he carefully placed the boy in his mouth, as much as he wanted the flavour of honey, he resisted in favour of not waking Tubbo. But failed as Tubbo half-asleep stretched on Tommy’s tongue and hugged it as much as he could.

“Did we win?”. He slurred, half sleepishly. Tommy giggled slightly, “Yeah, you won. But it’s late so you’re going to bed”. He said quietly. Tubbo mumbled an inaudible response.

Tommy tilted his head back and swallowed and moved to find a place to sleep. In his stomach, Tubbo landed who looked for Ranboo. He found the boy and cuddled up to him for the night, happy to have been found.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #tw vore #giant!tommy #naga!tommy #tiny!tubbo #tiny!phil #tiny!tommy #tiny!techno #tiny!wilbur #tiny!ranboo #shushi's writings

[outerbankspreferences]

Flight - Rudy Pankow

A/N: This makes Elaine out to be a bitch, but I don’t think she is. I support her and Rudy 100% and think they make a wonderful couple. It was more for the plot. 

Word Count: 1885

MASTERLIST

Flying had never been a problem before. You’ve never had to film anywhere that you couldn’t drive to. You had done some acting jobs around LA, and one time you went to Nashville before getting a part in Season 2 for Outer Banks. Netflix had offered to pay for you to fly out to North Carolina, but you opted for driving instead. You didn’t know anyone you were filming with, so you drove yourself.

Of course, you had been dreading filming in Barbados since you got the part. You had the biggest fear of flying and had been avoiding it since you were little. When you got the email from Netflix that contained your ticket to say that you were panicked was an understatement. Drew, Chase, and Maddie C. were already in Barbados, so it was going to be you, Rudy, Jonathan, Elaine and Maddie B. Everyone was just going to carpool to the airport. 

Rudy had a thing for you since he met you at the first table read for season 2. You were shy at first but quickly came out of your shell when you started to get to know everyone. Rudy thought you were hilarious and enjoyed your company so that’s what caused him to be knocking on your door the night before you guys had to leave for your flight.

 When you opened the door in your sweatpants and messy bun, he still thought you looked beautiful. “Hey, I thought you would be asleep.” Rudy spoke up and you moved to let him in your apartment. “Yeah well, I guess I’m a nervous flyer.” You laughed to yourself, “do you want a cup of tea?” You asked grabbing one of your mugs. Rudy had noticed your book and mug in the living room when he sat on the couch. “I hope I’m not interrupting you” Rudy spoke up as you walked into the living room handing him a drink. “No, you’re not, I just figured I’d pass the time until I fell asleep.” You responded, the both of you sitting on the couch. “I didn’t know you’re a nervous flyer, what did you do when you had to come to North Carolina?” Rudy questioned. “Uh, I drove.” You shrugged like it was the simplest thing to do. “What, that’s like a 3-day drive.” He said baffled by your answer. “Well yeah, but it’s a good way to see the country.” You laughed thinking about the memories you made on the solo road trip. “And you did it by yourself? That’s badass Y/L/N.” Rudy said smirking.

 The two of talked the whole night away and you showed him pictures of your trip across the country and told him all the stories. Rudy thought that he could listen to you talk all night, even after he started to get tired. He finally excused himself from you place promising to sit with you on the plane tomorrow to ease your mind.

 You woke up the next morning with a sick feeling in your stomach and it only got worse at the thought of getting on an airplane. You got the rest of your last-minute things packed up and brought out by your door getting ready to meet everyone at JD’s car. You were the last to show up when Elaine shouted out to you. “I thought you weren’t going to show.” She spoke with a snarky tone, and Rudy nudge her shoulder getting her to knock it off. “Yeah, well I’ll probably be late to my own funeral.” You laughed trying to ease the tension. You guys all piled in the car and Elaine took the opportunity to sit next to Rudy and made you sit in front with JD, while Maddison sat in the back.

Elaine also had a thing for Rudy and didn’t enjoy you showing up to take his attention away. Everyone thought they were going to get together after season 1 but it never happened. Then you came along, and Rudy pulled all his attention to you. Elaine wasn’t too secretive about her hatred towards you, but you just brushed it off as a mild insecurity and jealousy. You weren’t angry that you had to sit up front but instead talked to JD and tried to ease some of your nerves. No one else knew that you were a nervous flyer and you preferred to keep it that way. Even though it was something simple, you were still embarrassed.

Once you guys got to the airport the nerves got even worse. Because of the pandemic you guys had to wear mask and you also had sunglasses on, so it was hard for people to recognize you guys. Rudy helped you carry your bag into the airport and then guided you to TSA. “Have you ever been in an airport?” Rudy asked whispering in your ear so no one could hear. “Uh once when I was little with my mom. We had to pick up my grandma.” You responded. Your eyes darted around to all the people and different screens and you started to get overwhelmed. Rudy could sense that you were started to get anxious and put a hand at the small of your back pulling you closer to him. “We’ll get checked in and then go get some air, okay?” He explained grabbing his passport and paperwork. You pulled yours out of your purse and laughed when he saw that you had everything in a little Ziploc baggy. “Alright, that’s the most mom-like thing I’ve ever seen” he said.

 Rudy helped you get through the process of security and then you guys were about to go outside when Elaine spoke up, “where are you guys going?” She asked almost annoyed of you guys leaving. “Y/N/N and I are going to find the bathroom. Safety in numbers.” Rudy fibbed, pulling you along. Once you guys got outside the two of you sat on a bench close enough to your gate that you wouldn’t have to rush when your flight got called. Rudy watched your body relax a bit when you weren’t stuck inside.

 “It’s going to be okay Y/N/N.” Rudy spoke pulling you to sit on the bench with him. “I know, I know.” You said half trying to convince yourself. “I’ll be next to you the whole time, and we can just talk, or you can read your book. It’ll be over before you know it.” He spoke and put a hand on your shoulder, and he could feel your breathing increase. He knew what was happening, you were about to have an anxiety attack, “okay Y/N, you need to take a deep breath.” He rubbed small circles on your back. “I can’t do this Rudy; I can’t be in that death box for over 11 hours.” You spoke and your voice starts to shake. You look over at Rudy and he’s got a concerned look on his face. He takes your face in his hands forcing you to look at him, “you’re going to be okay Y/N, I’m going to be with you the whole time. Nothing is going to happen, just please take a deep breath.” He spoke firmly but you could feel the softness of his hands. “You promise?” “Of course, I would never let anything bad happen to you.” You nodded your hands in his grip, but he didn’t let go and you could feel his hot breath on your face. Rudy was looking into your eyes and then his eye flicked down to your lips and you could feel yourself getting nervous again but this time it wasn’t the flight, but because of how close Rudy was too you.

 Rudy leaned in closer, and you let your eye flutter shut. You felt Rudy gently place his lips on top of yours and you pushed yourself closer to him to deepen the kiss. It that moment it felt like you were on cloud nine, as if it were only you and Rudy left in the world. Rudy pulled away and left you smiling like and idiot. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” He whispered, and you kissed him again. “Me too.” The two of you giggled and then heard your flight get called. “Just remember, I’m here the whole time.”

When the two of you got back to the gate the others had already boarded expect for Elaine. When Rudy saw her, you could feel his grip on your hand tighten. “There you guys are, what took so long?” She asked seeming annoyed. “The just called for the flight, we’re not that late.” You spoke up, and Elaine rolled her eyes at you. “I saved you spot next to me Rudy, Y/N can sit next to Madison.” She explained pulling at Rudy’s arm. “Uh that’s okay, Y/N is kind of nervous so I said I would sit with her.” He explained trying not to be rude. Elaine scuffed, and the three of you boarded the plane. You were sat right behind Maddie, JD and Elaine, “here take the window seat, it’ll make it easier on you.” He said stepping to the side so you could get in. The flight attendant was giving the inflight instructions, explaining how to put the oxygen masks on and your leg started to shake. Rudy noticed and put his hand on your thigh, “it’s okay, they have to explain all this stuff Y/N/N.” He whispered in your ear kissing your cheek. You nodded in confirmation and soon enough the pilot was getting the plane ready for take off.

As the plane started to gain speed and lift in the air you watched out the window, and Rudy got you a drink of water for the flight. You guys had been flying for about an hour and you were looking out the window but Rudy’s grip on your thigh never left. He was talking to JD, when you guys hit some turbulence. You jumped and clung onto Rudy’s hand, “nervous flyer Y/L/N?” JD asked not missing the way you reacted. “I don’t know why she would take a job like this if she’s scared of flying. Kind of stupid if you ask me.” Elaine piped in making you feel embarrassed. “It’s not stupid Elaine, everyone is scared of something.” Rudy said defending you. “It’s fine babe, just a bit of turbulence.” He said and you blushed at the nickname. “Can we listen to music or something, I think I just need a distraction.” You asked, and Rudy pulled out his headphones.

“Thanks.” You spoke, not really knowing what to say to him, “I owe you big time.” Rudy laughed, “it’s no problem. When we get to Barbados you can self isolate with me if you want.” He responded. “I hope I’m not being to forward, but I’ve had a crush on you for a while now, and I’m going to assume you feel the same for me.” He explained. You did have feelings for Rudy, you always had but you kept your distance because you thought he had a thing for Elaine. “I would love too self isolate with you. it would be much better then doing it alone.” You said leaning in to kiss him. “And yes, I like you too.”

TAG LIST:

@lemur46 @drewstarkeysbitchh @taylathornton

#rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow x you #rudy pankow blurb #rudy pankow imagines #rudy pankow x y/n #rudy pankow outer banks #Outer Banks

[dangerous-mess]

Say Anything

Characters: Asra x gender neutral reader

Contains: Asra uses he/they pronouns, mentions of anxiety, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, mentions of a breakdown, mentions of identity crisis, mentions of insecurity, Y/N reader, second person POV

Word Count: 2K+ 

Asra called out a farewell as the door of the shop closed, leaving you alone. Asra had to go run some errands and promised that he would only be gone for a few hours at most. They also promised to bring back some of the pumpkin bread he knew you loved so much. Of course, you couldn’t argue with that, so you told him goodbye, making sure to give them a small kiss before he walked out. As soon as the door closed, the smile on your face dropped and you let out a sigh that you didn’t realize you were holding. You knew your partner had things to do but you wish he could have stayed in today, to stay with you. Although you know if you simply told them you needed them to stay in, he would drop everything and be there for you, but you already felt like such a burden, your anxiety not helping at all. 

Ever since the incident with the devil, you’ve been trying to adapt and reestablish a life for yourself. Although you still didn’t have all the memories from during the plague, you knew enough. You knew you weren’t the same person that Asra or Julian or even Muriel knew. You were different and everyone didn’t seem to care, everyone was just happy to have you back, but you still felt out of place and as if you weren't good enough. You felt like you would never hold Asra’s heart the same way the old you did. Sure, he told you how much he loved you and how much you meant to them but you slowly started to think that maybe he was just saying that. Maybe he was hoping the old you would eventually come back, but the old you was dead. The old you was only ashes in the Lazaret, simply a person of the past. 

You felt yourself slowly beginning to get lost in your thoughts and you knew that if you continued to keep thinking over everything you would break down. And the last thing you wanted was for Asra to come back and find you sobbing, so you decided to take a walk. You grabbed one of Asra’s extra scarves and put it on along with a pair of worn out boots you had. You walked out the door and made sure the shop was locked before walking with no destination in mind, just wanted to try and clear your mind. You found yourself heading in the direction of the forest, your thoughts still running. Your mind was running from your own identity and purpose to what Asra’s true feelings and thoughts about you were along with just wondering if you were worth Asra losing half his heart for. Tears began to well up in your eyes and you knew you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You stopped and collapsed on the forest ground and started sobbing. You started to pull the scarf close to you, wishing it was Asra here with you before you took it off and tossed it aside. Your thoughts were against you, with the main one being that Asra doesn’t want you, that he is only taking pity on you. 

You continued to sob and cry, even screaming out in anger and frustration as all these emotions hit you. You just had so much on your mind and were consumed with so many different emotions. You just sat on the forest floor for what felt like a few minutes, but time had clearly passed as the sun was beginning to set. You knew you should probably head back to the shop before it got too late, so you wiped away your tears as well as picking up the scarf. You were tempted to put it back on but just couldn’t. You started to make your way out of the forest, with what little light you had. In no time you made it back into town, hearing the ruckus of the townsfolk enjoying their evening. On most other nights you would laugh and join in, probably finding Julian hanging out amongst them causing trouble, but tonight you just weren’t in the mood. So you took some back alleyways to the shop, getting more anxious as you got closer. You arrived at the shop and just stared at the door, you felt yourself reach for the handle, but couldn’t get yourself to open it. You knew Asra was home as the lights were on inside, which only made you more anxious to go inside. You decided to just rip off the band aid and go inside, so with that you started to turn the door handle, only for it to swing open, Asra standing right in front of you. 

“Oh Y/N,” he spoke, his voice soft and quiet. They went to reach out for you, to pull you into a hug, but you simply backed away. You saw him freeze before stepping aside and letting you in. You walked in and sat down at the table, not sure what to say. The room was filled with silence for what felt like forever, before Asra spoke up again. “Where did you go? I came back before lunch and saw you gone, I figured you just went to the market for yourself but as it got later into the evening, I got worried.” 

You looked down at your hands, realizing they are covered in dirt, but now was not the time to wash them, this conversation needed to happen, even if you wish it could be avoided. You cleared your throat and felt the tears begin to form back in your eyes. 

“I went for a walk, just went into the forest is all. I needed some air and some time to think and just lost track of time, don’t worry about me.” You spoke out, your voice trembling as you glanced up and tried to smile at your partner. God, it was going to hurt, you loved him so much but you didn’t want them to feel trapped or that they have to be with you. 

You watched Asra move closer to you, placing his hand softly on your cheek, wiping away the tears that had escaped. “Oh darling, what’s got you upset and hurting?”

You felt a sob rising up in your throat as he called you that. You tried to fight it back, you had to for the moment. You needed to get it all out there, to just rip the band aid off. “I’m not the same Y/N you knew before the plague, and I know you loved the old me, but I’ve changed. I’m not the same as I once was and I never will be. I’ll never be the same person you knew and loved before. You don’t have to force yourself to stay with me and you don’t have to pretend you love me.”  

You pulled yourself away from him, more tears rolling down your cheeks. You looked at him, knowing this may be your last moment seeing him, even if he looked sad and as if his heart broke. 

“I love you Asra, I always will, but I don’t want you to feel as if you have to be with me. I’m sorry if you feel like you have to be with me, to feel pressured to love me all because you gave up half of your heart to bring me back. I’m sorry the old Y/N is gone, I’m sorry for everything. Just give me the word, and I’ll leave. I’m sure Nadia or Portia won’t mind giving me a place to stay so you aren’t stuck with me all the time, and I can just come in when you need help around the shop or I can go and do my own thing, if it hurts you too much to see me and be faced with the constant reminder that I’m not the one you truly love.” You finish your speech, getting all your thoughts out. You looked at your hands, afraid to look at them, you feared what their next words would be. Tears dripped onto your hands and your vision was becoming blurry. The silence seemed to go on for a lifetime and you just wish he would get it over with, that he would break your heart so you weren’t sitting here on the verge of a panic attack. 

“Y/N, I love you. I loved the old you, the one from before the plague, but I love the you I brought back. I would bring you back over and over again, cause you are my other half, in more ways than one. Sure, you aren’t the same person I knew and loved from before, but I still love and care for you. You seem so much happier than I ever remember before. You seem so much more confident than you ever have before.” Asra pauses and lifts your head up. You try to avert your eyes elsewhere, but ultimately you are face to face with him. You see his eyes are red and puffy, tears rolling down his cheeks. He takes one hand and cups your cheek and you can’t help but lean into it. He places a small kiss on your forehead before resting his forehead against yours. 

“I love you so much Y/N. You are the love of my life, the one I want to be with till the end of time. The thought of losing you again pains me so much. Please, I want you to stay with me, here in the shop, if that’s what you want. If you want to go or if you no longer want to continue what we have, I’ll let you go. I never want you to feel like I’m holding you back, I just want you to be happy, even if that isn’t with me.” Asra chokes up and begins to cry as the words spill out of his mouth. 

You feel the sob you’ve been holding back since you’ve got home rise up again, but this time you can’t hold it back. You gently pull away only to suddenly hug your lover. You bury your face in his chest holding onto him tightly, as you sob. Both of you cry in each other's arms, neither of you saying another word. Asra seems to calm down before you, as he begins to rub your back and whispers words of comfort. When you finally begin to calm down you start to pull away, just to be able to look at them. 

“I love you, I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay here with you and run the shop and learn magic with you. I want to travel to the ends of the earth and see everything that is out there for us to see. I want to wake up beside you every morning and fall asleep in your arms every night. I just want you, if you’ll have me as the mess I am.” You say as you fidget with your hands, you can feel the dirt on them and it’s starting to bother you. Asra takes one of your hands into theirs and holds it tightly. He offers a small and soft smile to you, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“My love, I will always want you, mess and all.” Those words hit you hard, and before you can process what you are doing, you are pressing your lips against his. Asra of course, kisses you back, for he is never one to complain about any sort of affection you give. Asra swiftly pulls you into their arms and holds you close. You can feel both of your hearts beating as one and in that moment you begin to wonder why you ever thought they didn’t love you in the first place. 

“Asra, as much as I would love to stay like this with you for the night, I really need a bath.” You mumble out and you hear them chuckle. Asra stands up, holding on to you as they carry you off to the bath. You hold on to them gently, giving them little kisses on the cheek. In no time the bath is filled and you are stepping into the warm bubbly water. You glance at Asra and give a playful smirk, “Care to join me?” Asra smirks back and begins to strip before joining you.

#the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfiction #asra the magician #the arcana asra #the arcana x reader #asra x reader #asra x gender neutral reader #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with comfort #Angst with a happy ending #asra uses he/they pronouns #asra is canonically non binary #second person pov #asra fanfiction #fanfiction

[dclsbaby]

tolerate it - Dominic Calvert Lewin 🦋

Summary: despite being in love, you and dom drift apart during a career hiccup and it breaks your heart into tiny little pieces

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst? pain?

A/N: hi everyone! I took the looongest hiatus known to mankind and I just want to thank everyone who has still stuck by this blog! I haven't written in a while and this isn't by best work but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! ily!

masterlist

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch

I notice everything you do or don’t do

Every little thing he does leaves you in awe. The man can’t do no wrong in your eyes. You notice the way he breathes, his little gestures, his subtle movements. Others can envision an entire story just by observing the way he looks at you. As you lay in bed with his body next to yours, his chest rising with every breath taken, you discover a newfound appreciation to add to the list of things you love about him. You have never felt a feeling so intense, so visceral. Love is terrifying, isn’t it? Love often leads to infatuation, and this was no different to you. You wear your heart on your sleeves, feel every emotion, from the exhilarating highs, to the excruciating lows. To be dependent on another human for happiness is a dangerous game. You fear love. And with fear comes paranoia.

It started when your conversations became shorter and shorter by the day. Then, it’s him arriving late from training, to no longer waking you up before he leaves for early morning training. No more forehead kisses when you’re still asleep, no more post-it notes on refrigerator doors telling you he’s made you breakfast, no nothing. Bodies that were once intertwined each night now rest apart with unwanted distance in between. Distance you so wanted to close.

As the weather turned cold, so did he.

I wait by the door like I’m just a kid

Use my best colours for your portrait

Lay the table with fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

Without fail, you would always wait for him to come home, run to the door when you hear his car pull over on your driveway and leap into his arms the second he steps in your shared home. He would hold you up as your legs wrap around his waist, and whisper “I’ve been waiting to come home to you all day,” in your ear. A memory you long to relive.

You knew he had been struggling, coping with a plateau in his career, playing less and less, becoming a resident of the substitution bench. It hurt you to see him hurt, but it also pained you that he did not turn to you for comfort. “Nothing is wrong,” he says, over and over. Lies, you thought. You know him better than anyone else. So you try and convince him that he could trust you, and that keeping it all in would only make it worse. I mean you would know, as you have been suppressing so much pain this whole time. But he wins this battle yet again, and with his ego intact, he shrugs it off, ignores his frustration, and pushes you away.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural my sky

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life

As months passed by, you were no longer his live-in partner, but a stranger he has to coexist with, leaving you lonely each night as he drifted off to sleep inches away from you. Even then your love for him is still as potent, as strong. Your loyalty is a crime.

Your efforts to make him feel better never ceased, as you continue cooking him his favourite meals after training, helping him pack his bags the night before he leaves for international duty, doing household chores so he never had to bother with them after coming home from an exhausting day, making playlists of songs you think he’d like, and putting movies and tv series you know he would enjoy in his Netflix list.

You would do anything for some form of acknowledgement.

You would do anything to bring back those first two years back.

You would do anything for a simple touch, a hug, an embrace.

You would do anything for… something.

Everything you did, you did for him. Every thought that passes your mind, involves him.

It’s just a phase. It’s just a phase. You try to convince yourself. That’s a lie, another subconscious voice says.

---

It was the night before the Merseyside derby, which happens to be the final match of the season. The most anticipated match of the year. The perfect match. The match that determines if Everton is crowned Premier League champions. Half of the city at war with the other half. Two colours, two clubs with a historic rivalry battle it out on the pitch once again.

He was nervous, you could tell. You catch him playing with his food and struggle to finish his meal as he was sick to his stomach. After months of hate comments, online trolling, and being subject to pundits’ criticism, this was the perfect match to prove all the doubters that he is worthy of wearing his blue jersey. He spent several more minutes tossing pieces of food with his fork until he got up, placed his plate on the sink, and made his way up the stairs to sleep. No “see you upstairs”, or a last goodbye before he sleeps. You had to resist every temptation to start a fight and argue that you deserve more than silence. But you knew how important tomorrow’s occasion is, and decided against it.

Shortly after you make your way into your bedroom. He was curled on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, bedroom lights dimmed. You go to your shared bathroom, take what’s left of your makeup off, and get ready for bed. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Darkened under eyes, lips cracked down the middle. You were dehydrated, tired, exhausted, and looked almost ghastly. Turns out having a broken heart does have implications on your vanity. How much longer can I do this? You thought. You felt pathetic, feeling sorry for yourself. You exhale a deep sigh and make your way back into the bedroom, joining him in bed. As you settle on the bed, you turn your body away from him, and tug the duvet your way, curling into a fetal position and tuck yourself in, and drift off to sleep.

All of a sudden, you hear sounds of shifting sheets, the bed slightly moving with every turn he makes. You could tell he was awake. You knew the events of tomorrow are playing on his mind and making him lose sleep. With only a little hesitation, you extend an arm and rest your hand on his back, causing him to shudder a little. Your touch had stopped the shifting and brought him comfort he did not know he needed. Not long after, you could hear soft snores from his side of the bed.

---

You woke up to an empty bed, which was not unusual. You forgive him though, since it is a big day and he probably had to tune into the game day mentality early in the morning.

You watch the game from home and stare at the TV screen as the cameras zoom into Dom, his face serious, ready to fight it out on the pitch. Since the second the referee blew the first while, it had already gotten intense. Both teams began attacking from the get-go, a handful of chances created even though it’s barely been a quarter of an hour.

Minutes passed, and yellow cards have been handed out for several players. Every spectator in different time zones all glued to their screens, all on the edge of their seats until half-time. The camera catches a glimpse of him walking off the pitch. He looked angry and frustrated, you could tell. He was responsible for most of the chances created during the game, though he couldn’t seem to poach one in.

Ben had made a long pass that Dom couldn’t quite convert into a goal.

Lucas had delivered a stunning, almost perfect cross that landed on Dom’s head, but it went wide.

Richy had attempted a shot on his own, which pissed Dom off.

It’s all square at half-time, but football is a game of two halves, and to decide which side of the city will celebrate tonight is determined by the next 45 minutes at least.

Every player is now back on the pitch, ready to give it their all.

10 minutes in, it’s long balls and defending, the opposition giving no room to maneuver through the box. That is until Lucas passed another strikingly accurate cross.

“MISS AGAIN! How could he have missed a cross like that a second time?”

“Everton’s number 9 squashes an open goal opportunity, what a shame, that.”

“He’s going to hate himself for that,”

“He already does, Calvert-Lewin looks like he’s about to see red.”

You listen to the commentators as they describe Dom’s frustration. You watch with anxiety, occasionally scrolling through your phone to avoid the intensity.

---

Into the final minute of the game 90+3.  Still all square at the Goodison. It’s now or never.

“Free kick!”

“The free-kick will be done 20 yards off the goal post.”

“This could be the last chance of the game!”

“It’s been decided that Sigurdsson will take the free kick, Calvert-Lewin leaps into the air, ball’s on his head—GOAL!!!”

And just like that, in the final minute of the game, his team clinches the winner, and your man is hailed the hero of the night.

You watch the screen as the referee blows the final whistle of the game, Dom doing sprints around the pitch with his teammates, bodies jumping on each other, veins popping through every neck, roars of exhilaration filling the open air as Everton is calculated to win the league.

You watch him immerse himself in the exhilaration of crowning his team champions of the Premier League. The blue confetti rained over the stadium in the crisp yet comfortable afternoon air, cheering noises blasting through the speakers. You watch the screen zoom into the love of your life, or was. You see his perfectly chiseled face, those bright green eyes, brunette locks still perfectly put together even after a hard-fought game, his sweet smile warming your heart. Your eyes glued to the screen as your man is hailed a hero, and feel an overwhelming sense of pride.

Though not even the cheering and happy faces on TV could distract you from the churning feeling in your stomach. It’s a feeling you can’t quite pinpoint. Is it confusion? Anger? Happiness? You don’t even know.

You’re happy for him, truly. But you can’t seem to shake the fact that it took him being distant from you, and completely ignoring your existence to get his head back in the game. It’s like you and football were mutually exclusive, and he can’t focus on both things he loves most at the same time. You weren’t going to make him choose either.

---

He didn’t come home that night, and you saw it coming. You knew he was going to go out with his teammates, and rightfully so, they achieved a massive milestone after all. But it bothered you that he didn’t say anything, no texts, no voicemails, nothing to tell you of his whereabouts. You thought he would at least change after all that success, but still nothing. Everything is going to stay the same, isn’t it? You thought.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed. Again. Totally expected. You reach out for your phone and see 10 missed calls from your best friend and several text messages with picture attachments. You were not prepared for what you were about to see.

Attached were pictures of him in a club with his teammates, pictured awfully close to a woman you don’t recognise. He was smiling and looked happy. You can’t remember the last time he looked like that, or even smiled at you. You haven’t even stood as close as they way that woman is in his space, for months. He hasn’t looked at you the way he’s looking at her in those pictures for months.

You felt sick. Your mind is racing. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest. You wanted to cry and scream but nothing came out. Total silence. Pure shock. You had no tears left to cry, as you wasted it all from crying yourself to sleep just inches away from the man who broke your heart every day.

Should I have seen it coming? Has he been going out with her for months? When did it start? You try to remember every single detail over the past few months. Every single pain, every single action that you could have overlooked.

---

By the afternoon, you’ve already spent hours sitting on your bed, staring at the pictures sent to you. More links have appeared as gossip sites picked up on the story.

“Dominic Calvert-Lewin celebrates historic Merseyside win with a mystery girl who is not his missus”

“Everton Hero – Also a Cheat”

“Cursed WAGs – DCL celebrates PL win with mystery woman as his missus is MIA”

The more you read these news outlets, the number you feel. The whole of England knows your dirty laundry, you felt like a fool.

You were done.

Drawing hearts in the byline

Always taking up too much space or time

You assume I’m fine, but what would you do if I…

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Believe me I could do it

Shortly after you hear keys rattling downstairs, followed by the sound of doors shutting. You hear footsteps walking up the stairs, and you mentally prepare to see his face. You still don’t know how you’re going to react, not until you see him.

As he steps into the doorframe, he sees your bloodshot eyes and stops in his tracks.

“So, I presume you’ve seen what’s being said about me,” he moans.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve seen,” you shrug.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous isn’t it, shouldn’t believe everything you say,” he says.

“-is it though? Is it absolutely ridiculous that what they say could be true?” you cross your arms.

“Of course, it is! What are you even saying?” he says, offended.

“I’m saying that I have spent months slaving for you, putting you before myself without getting anything in return! I’m saying that I have been so miserable in this sad excuse of a relationship, holding onto the last memory of when you last said you loved me which was months ago! I’m saying that it would not be so unbelievable if you had been cheating on me, and that I had to find out from some tabloids!”  

“If you had been so miserable then why didn’t you say anything? You could have said something if you’ve been so unhappy!” Dom yells.

“Because I have been tiptoeing around you! Afraid of saying the wrong things to set you off, I did not want to be a burden during a time when I know you’re struggling,” you sigh.

Dom’s body nearly goes limp after hearing your confession.

“I put you before myself over and over again for the past year, and you have the nerve to assume I’m fine? Fine with what? Being ignored? Being second best? You don’t know what that does to a person,” you cry.

“Do you regret it?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “Do you regret me?” he looks at you.

“No, Dom. No, I don’t. I don’t regret you because I’ve spent the last few months giving it my all to a relationship on the brink of ruins. I never gave up on you, and I never gave up on our love, or what’s left of it,” you sigh. “Deep down, I think I knew that I deserved more than a pathetic excuse of a career hiccup, but I was prepared to stand by you through it all,” you break into cries. “My love was strong enough to ignore every warning sign, strong enough to mute fire alarm bells ringing in my head, alerting me to leave a relationship where I was no longer appreciated,” you rest your head on your hand. “Maybe we’re all allotted a certain amount of fight to give per love, and today… Today I ran out,” look up at him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Do not say that. I am not done fighting for this relationship, I know I fucked up! You don’t think I know that? I will fix everything, you don’t have to do anything, let me do everything I will fix us!” Dom begs.

“There’s no fixing us. It takes two people to fix a relationship, I learned that the hard way and I singlehandedly attempted to piece us back together only for you to break through what I’ve built and held together with my bare fucking hands,” you say as you wipe your tears away.

Dom drops to the floor as he could no longer stand the pain he feels from what you’ve just said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what to say,” he pleads

“If it took you this long, and if it took me standing here yelling at you for you to regret what you did then we are past the point of fixing,”

“You know what football means to me, I felt stuck, everything that I had dreamed of as a kid was slowly fading, I couldn’t bear it,” Dom reasons.

“I would never get in between you and football. I would never have even considered making you choose, Dom. I would have done absolutely anything for you, anything, you said. “I just needed you to tell me what the hell is going on so I could have helped you. I did not deserve to be swept under the rug, to be left feeling useless, while you were out doing god knows what with god knows who after training every. Single. Day.”

“Are you implying that I cheated on you?! That I, me – someone you’ve known for years, is cheating on you?”

If it’s all in my head, tell me now

Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

“Go on then! Tell me I’m making all of this up in my head. Tell me that I am not wrong to assume such insane thoughts, tell me that it is so beyond the realm of possibility that you could ever be unfaithful.”

Dom stayed silent.

You simply nodded and picked up your belongings, ready to leave.

“Nothing happened. I swear,” he pleaded.

“Your silence was enough,

Goodbye.”

I know my love should be celebrated

But you tolerate it

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #dclsbaby #everton fc

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 22: Dukexiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 22:  When you close your eyes, you can see what your soulmate sees.

Content warnings: Sleep deprivation/what could be considered insomnia, food mentions, energy drinks, parental abuse, drunk abuse, mentioned anxiety attack, physical altercation, dissociating, school security, maybe PTSD?

Word count: 3.5k 

For as long as Remus could remember, he’d hated sleeping. 

At some points it got so bad he couldn’t function. Falling asleep at the breakfast table before violently jolting awake, asking his mother or teacher to repeat things four or five times until it finally clicked that they were asking if he was okay, staring off into space for what felt like a couple minutes, only to learn that it was several hours later and he’d missed dinner. Roman had gotten used to his twin’s habit of losing sleep, and although it never ceased to worry him, it became more of a given thing that if Remus forgot to do his chores, it was (most of the time) an accident. He’d walk into their shared room and snap his fingers in his face a few times, ask if he wanted dinner until Remus finally understood, and then help him stumble downstairs. 

It was also a given in their family that if Remus ever did fall asleep, whether in his own bed, or on the couch, or outside in the backyard, never wake him up. He so rarely got any rest whatsoever that the seldom times he was able to conk out, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be down for over twenty hours. In those cases, their parents would silently close all the curtains and shut off the lights if he was indoors, or cover him with their deck umbrella and lay a blanket on him if he was outside, and make it law to not disturb him. He’d miss school, it was fine, just let him sleep.

And it was all because of his soulmate. 

Because it wasn’t so much the act of sleeping in itself that he hated. No, the times he actually got deeper than the REM phase, when he was actually out, it was amazing. Blissful and relaxing and made him so hyper aware when he finally woke up. Like the colors were no longer dim and words made sense the first time they were uttered. It was the actual act of falling asleep, when he had to close his eyes but was still fully conscious, that he hated. 

He didn’t have a proper idea who his soulmate actually was. Every time he closed his eyes and their vision fused, when he saw everything his soulmate saw from their perspective, they never seemed to be around a mirror. That would have made life a whole lot easier, if he only knew what it was. Then at least he’d have a chance to save them.

It started when he was little, when their soulbond was just forming. Back then, it was still shaky and glitchy, sometimes showing what his soulmate was seeing, and sometimes just showing the blackness of his eyelid. He saw grassy fields of a park that he couldn’t identify, a dimly lit bedroom with toys scattered on the floor, the night sky from a window that wasn’t his. But then it morphed; playgrounds becoming littered liquor bottles on the floor of an unkempt living room, dark lego-covered carpet evolving from something once played upon to something his soulmate was thrown harshly onto, the view of the stars suddenly filled with the face of a screaming man. The man. 

Remus had no idea who the man was, but he knew his face well. He knew every fury filled expression on his drunken face, the way his nose wrinkled in disgust, how his mouth twisted and contorted as he screamed. Their ears weren’t connected, so he couldn’t tell what the man was saying, but it was punctuated with flying fists and hands gripping collars, thrown beer bottles and pushes to the ground. It didn’t happen every time he closed his eyes, but it had happened enough for Remus to suddenly jerk awake the moment their vision was shared out of pure panic. It happened enough that if his mother reached up to adjust his hoodie strings, he’d flinch violently, or when Roman snuck up on him just a little too quietly, his hands would fly over his face to protect himself. He wouldn’t develop bruises, or take the undoubtedly cruel things the man said to heart, but he was still affected. If he tried to sleep, and the man appeared in his sight, he’d bury his face in his arms, eyes wide and staring at his pajama pants, knowing what was happening to his soulmate however far away they were and he was unable to do anything to help. At least he could open his eyes and be free of the horrors. It was only in the rare instances when he’d close his eyes and his soulmate was already asleep, revealing nothing but the black void behind his eyelids, that he could actually sleep. 

When Roman awoke that morning, he blinked his bleary eyes and turned to the other bed in the room, sighing when Remus’ bloodshot eyes met his from where he was curled against the wall, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The bags under his eyes had worsened more than they had before. If he was counting right, this was the third night in a row that Remus hadn’t slept at all. The last time he’d slept had been days ago, and only been for a couple hours before he awoke with a sob.

“Are you okay?” 

In a move unlike Remus, he shook his head no. He rarely admitted that he wasn’t fine, but it was getting to that point of almost mania where his eyes glazed over every couple minutes, hands constantly shaking, unaware of anything around him.

“You probably shouldn’t go to school today.”

“It’s f’ne,” Remus mumbled, hitting his head into his arms, “T’st in Engl’sh. Gotta go.”

“It’s not like you to care about school.” Roman threw his blankets off, noticing the way Remus flinched at the sudden movement, and began to change out of his pajamas.

“S’nior year. Failing Engl’sh. Ac’demic probation.” 

“Ah,” Roman hummed, gingerly placing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie in front of Remus. “Is English your first class?”

“Mmhm.”

“How about I drive you back home after your test?”

Remus had zoned out, staring blankly at the clothes in front of him, so Roman took that as a yes. As much as he hated letting Remus go to school when he was like this, he knew that if he didn’t drive him, Remus would find a way to go by himself and probably accidentally walk into the highway or something. 

By the time Remus zoned back into the real world, Roman had left the room. Lethargically, he changed into the lazy outfit Roman had placed in front of him and pushed himself off the bed, debating if he had the energy to brush his teeth or not. Just as he was considering just pouring the toothpaste into his mouth and gurgling it, Roman walked into the bathroom with an open can of Monster. 

“I have a stash in the basement so Mom doesn’t find them. Keep it down low and don’t take them, or I’ll cut you off.”

Remus didn’t even realize he’d grabbed the energy drink until he had half finished chugging the can, almost sighing at the immediate burst of adrenaline. 

“Hell yeah.”

“Get ready and be downstairs in twenty minutes or I’m leaving without you.”

It was an empty threat, they both knew it, but Remus rolled his eyes anyways and set about to brushing his teeth, pulling out his phone to check the time. There was a barrage of missed messages and notifications that he hadn’t been able to care about after sleepless night number two, so he sent back explanations to the people who’d questioned his disappearance and gotten up to date on what he’d missed on social media. 

He stumbled downstairs as Roman was opening the front door, offering him a bagel silently. Their parents were both at work already, so they locked the door and got into Roman’s car. Remus wasn’t allowed to get his license, not when there was a solid chance that he’d fall asleep behind the wheel. 

“I’m driving you home after English, capiche?”

“I’d probably skip after the test either way.” His hands twitched against his bouncing legs, still unbearably exhausted but now with his heart beating at a rabbit’s pace. 

“You are not walking.”

“Yes, mom.”

Roman let out a tired sigh, leaving the drive quiet except for the soft sounds of the radio hosts. When they pulled into the school lot, minutes before the bell, Remus was getting out of the car before it had stopped all the way.

“Meet me in the main office after first period, dipshit!” Roman yelled as Remus disappeared into the building, flipping him off and letting the doors close behind him just as Roman shouted something else. Whatever. 

While caffeine was perhaps his most helpful crutch in this nightmare that was living, it had side effects. As soon as his test paper was down before him, his mind completely blanked of every word he’d ever heard in his entire life. Though, in all fairness, that also probably would have happened without the energy drink. He was so used to barely sleeping that it had become a norm to him, but it wasn’t a healthy way to live, so even if he’d learned how to function on twelve hours of sleep a week (on good weeks), his brain hadn’t quite caught on.

The instructions for the test wavered and throbbed before him as he blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to banish the blurriness from his sight. He could barely hold a pencil in his shaking hands, his thoughts somehow flying at the speed of light and equally as stuck and lethargic. Pretty much how he felt. 

“Remus?”

His head flew up, his unruly bangs flopping into his eye. Since when did he need a haircut?

“I’ve been calling you for a few minutes now,” His teacher said quietly. Although they were trying to hide it, he could see his classmates glancing at him from the corners of their eyes, “Are you alright?”

As if perfectly on cue, he could feel his mind zoning out again, vision going blurry as his thoughts disappeared. Vaguely, he could feel a gentle hand on his arm slowly lifting him to his feet, a voice giving a foggy command to the class, and then he was led out of the room, the painfully bright hallway lights blinding him. It also brought him back to the present, ever so slightly, as he was taken down the hall to the main office. In the back of his mind, he was grateful for it, because this was where Roman would pick him up. Did this mean he was going home now? Was the test over?

“-last time he slept. He keeps zoning out. I think it would be best if he went home and retook the test another time.”

Hm? He blinked hard, until his eyeballs hurt, to try and get the gears in his brain to start working again. The teacher was talking to one of the secretaries, and they both kept looking to him in concern. 

“Can I call someone to come pick you up, Remus?” The secretary asked, already flipping through her contacts book.

“His brother also goes here, and can probably take him home. Would be easiest,” The teacher cut in before the question had even fully settled in Remus’ mind, and he internally cheered. At least that was settled. And by the sounds of it, he could do his test another time, which was a huge weight off his shoulders. He didn’t have, nor desire, Roman’s perfect grades, but he at least wanted to graduate.

“I’ll get him excused from class. Thanks for bringing him by.”

Remus blinked again and realized the teacher had left, leaving him wavering in the middle of the office in front of a very worried secretary. She was saying something, her mouth was moving, but the words didn’t compute. However when she gestured to a dimly lit backroom, he got the message and stumbled in, nearly collapsing on the small cot in relief. The door was closed nearly all the way, leaving just a crack of light shining through. 

As much as a nice break the darkness was, it just made his eyes want to close farther, and took twice as much effort to keep them open. Pulling at the skin in the corners of his eyes, he reluctantly sat up and focused his stares on the miscellaneous anatomy posters on the wall. 

That was when his gaze fell to the hunched form in the corner, staring at him with dark glistening eyes, and he nearly fell off the cot.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He yelped. The figure flinched back, curling more into the chair they were perched on. 

“Sorry. She told you I was here when she brought you in. Didn’t you hear her?”

“In all honesty, no. I didn’t.” The two kept at their staring contest for longer than necessary, before Remus decided to break the silence, “So, what are you in for?”

For a good minute, he didn’t think he would get a response. The guy kept staring back at him, like he was trying to size him up, before he muttered, “Anxiety attack in class. Teacher forbade me from staying here.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yeah, well…” He finally broke the eye contact, staring down the nails he was picking at. “What about you?”

“Haven’t slept in three days, I think. Maybe four? I was all zone-y during a test so the teacher said I had to go home.”

“Damn teachers and their sudden respect for mental health.”

Remus snorted, resting his head against the wall. “Why’d you have a panic attack?”

“None of your business. Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Soulmate stuff,” Remus answered easily, not put off by the other’s suddenly annoyed tone. It wasn’t common to be unable to sleep due to a soulmate issue, whether it was trauma or another issue entirely, but it wasn’t unheard of either. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it sucks. Still don’t wanna tell me why yo-?”

“No.”

“I accept your rejection and will now take my leave to cry in the bathroom stall.”

The other boy actually snickered, a reaction Remus had been wishing for but hadn’t dreamed to expect. He waved a hand dismissively. “I hope you have a good cry.”

“Aw, thanks,” Remus cooed, leaning forward on his hands. “I haven’t seen you around. What’s your name?”

“Virgil. Only moved here recently.”

“How recent is recent?”

“Couple months.”

“Ah. I’m Remus. School disgrace, nice to meet you.”

“Oh boy, befriending the wrong crowd already.”

“I would be offended if you weren’t correct,” Remus grinned, hitting his baggy eyes a couple times with his fists.

“Virgil?” The nurse poked her head through the door, squinting in the low light, “Your dad’s here.”

Virgil stiffened immediately, casting Remus a look he didn’t quite understand before getting to his feet, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. She smiled at him and opened the door wider, gesturing for him to exit.

That’s when Remus saw him.

Him.

It took him a moment to understand that yes, his eyes were open, and yes, this was the man from his shared vision with his soulmate. 100% him, the same dark eyes and half grimace, except now wearing a pristine three piece suit that very much didn’t match his memories of him. He was signing a sheet, presumably to ensure that he’d picked Virgil up, and didn’t notice as his son stood frozen in the doorway, watching him with fear filled eyes.

Remus jumped to his feet, stepping next to Virgil.

“That’s your dad?”

Virgil let out a choked hum, one that was probably meant to be an affirmation, before gripping the strap of his backpack. “Why?”

“I’m your soulmate,” He said with absolutely zero tact, and the way Virgil’s face paled was enough indication that he’d understood. He gently laid a hand on the shorter’s shoulder, a silent indication to ‘stay here’, and marched towards the man at the desk. 

“Can I just say one thing?”

He looked up, surprised, and gave Remus a once over. His stomach twisted, being under the man’s gaze, the person who had made it impossible for him to sleep, now in front of him. Eye to eye, he appreciated, because in all the times he’d seen him second hand, he’d towered over him. Now they were the same height, and that brought a sick joy to him.

“I suppose?” The man asked, voice as calm and professional as his suit, looking to the secretary with an almost laugh.

“With all due respect,” Remus snarled, hand curling into a fist, “Fuck you.”

And then he hit him. Hard. All his pent up anger, years of watching his soulmate get beaten to a pulp, losing sleep until he was a zombie of himself, panic attacks of pure worry and fear, flew out in one punch, hitting him square in the nose and sending him stumbling back.

The secretary yelled something he didn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears, and suddenly two arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Let me the fuck at him!” Remus screamed, fighting against the grip with everything he had. The man was on the ground, staring up at him with equal parts horror and pure rage, dabbing at his bleeding nose.

“Remus, breathe. Just calm down, you’re okay. Just breathe,” A shockingly calm voice whispered in his ear, and he immediately sagged against his brother, the restraining arms becoming supporting. 

“That’s him,” He said weakly, pulling away so he could turn to Roman, “That’s him.”

Roman furrowed his brow for a moment, looking between his twin and the man on the floor, before his eyes widened. He knew all of Remus’ stories, being the one a young Remus would come to when the visions got so bad he’d break down, listening to his rants about the abusive guardian of his soulmate. 

“Call the police,” He deadpanned, turning his glare to the secretary.

“I don’t think Remus-”

“Not for Remus, for him!” 

A gasping breath caught everyone’s attention and the focus shifted to the boy still standing on the doorway, his expression one of absolute terror, staring at his father. Remus broke completely away from his brother to cross to him just as the office door slammed open, two security guards-- the secretary had probably called them at the first punch-- taking in the scene before them. He could vaguely hear Roman explaining the situation, glad that he didn’t have to justify anything because he would most likely just end up throwing hands again. 

Virgil watched him approach, almost cowering in on himself, as Remus extended a hand. 

“Let’s get out of here. You’re not going back with him.”

It took the shorter boy a second, a nervous glance between his earnest eyes and the outstretched hand, before he took it in his own. Remus let a relieved smile take over, interlocking their fingers and leading him past the scene. As he passed a still talking Roman, he swiped the car keys from his pocket with no one any wiser.

“He’ll notice eventually,” He stage-whispered as they exited the large double doors, making their way through the parking lot. “I can’t drive, but we might as well sit in the car until Roman’s done.”

Virgil was quiet, allowing himself to be led through the rows of parked cars before Remus stopped, unlocking the doors and sliding into the backseat, pulling his soulmate in after him. There was a blanket tucked under the front seat and he yanked it out, unfolding it as well he could in the cramped space. 

The shorter boy was shaking violently, trying to hide his hands and now bleeding fingernails in his hoodie sleeves. Remus, for maybe the first time in his life, opened his arms for a hug, and was genuinely shocked by how fast Virgil lunged into his grip. He didn’t have many soft spots, but he could make one for his soulmate. 

“You’re not going back to him. Over my dead body. We’ll figure everything out later, but for now-” He shuffled backwards, leaning his head on the window so Virgil was basically laying on top of him, “I don’t know about you, but I have about a million hours of sleep to catch up on, so I’m going to catch a cat nap before Roman’s done.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“And it’s not even noon,” Remus snickered, maneuvering the blanket so it covered them both. 

He closed his eyes, and for a split second, all he saw was himself, from a lower angle. It was disorienting to say the least, but before he could comment, the world was engulfed in black as Virgil closed his eyes as well.

And for the first time in… who knows how long, Remus wasn’t afraid to sleep. 

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #dukexiety #creativitwins #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #ts soulmate au

[lavaffair]

Just Admit It

Inukag Fluff Week Prompts: Touch and Pining

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33211216

Having a crush on someone can be wonderful, but also incredibly unfair. The hours spent daydreaming about the person who gives your stomach butterflies seem to be more fun than having the actual crush. Experiencing this vulnerable feeling because of a person is actually quite terrifying and painful. Most of the time, crushes lead to heartbreak and letting go of the person who never gave you a chance.

Being in love with a person can be extremely intense, almost obsessive, and beautiful if done right. When someone’s feelings reach this level, it begins to cut deeper beyond the surface, into dangerous and uncharted territory. Especially if the person you are in love with has absolutely no idea of your true feelings towards them.

For Kagome Higurashi, her feelings towards her best friend Inuyasha Taisho went way beyond a crush. She was in love with her best friend, so in love that it hurt her, and she was too afraid to ever tell him about them.

The risk of ruining her lifelong friendship of 16 years was too scary to think about. Kagome could never think of her life without Inuyasha, he was always there to annoy her, get her angry, protect her, and support her whenever and wherever. When he yelled at the bigger kids for making fun of her name when they were five, or afterward when she pushed someone away from him when they pulled on his ears, they made a pack to back each other up. The friendship just blossomed after that.

Of course, they made more friends along the way, which included Sango and Miroku; whom they met in middle school, but their friendship never changed. They knew each other better than anyone else, and they have had the uncomfortable and awkward conversations that come up between teenagers, and so they have seen it all.

They have been there for each other when their hearts have been broken, when they had fights with others, and when they have personal issues. The bond between them was so strong that even the idea of it breaking caused Kagome a ton of stress. She could not do it and would not do it. At the end of the day, they will be in each other’s friend zone and they will die in the friend zone.

She was convinced that Inuyasha had zero feelings for her. He has seen her at her worst, and probably only looks at her like a sister. There was no way he could feel anything more for her.

This is why seeing him flustered and awkward about having to share a bed together did not raise any suspicions. It was obvious he was just a bit uncomfortable with the situation since it has been years since they have shared a bed with each other. They are both in their early twenties now, and sharing a bed was very intimate at this age compared to at 13.

“Yash, I could go downstairs right now and ask for another room. You look like you’re going to have a heart attack.” Kagome grinned at him, trying her best to suppress her shyness.

“Tch. We tried that already! That old hag wasn’t budgin’. This is the last time we let Miroku make hotel reservations.” He anxiously paced around the room.

“I can’t believe they don’t have any rooms with two beds. It’s not like it’s a special weekend or anything, it’s not even that busy this time of year.” She could not help but bite her bottom lip while watching him pace the room. His anxiety was getting to her.

“Well. We’re stuck here now, I tried all of my tricks but that lady wouldn't budge. We just gotta figure this out.”

He disappeared into the closet and pulled out an extra blanket provided by the hotel and placed it on the ground beside the huge bed. It was soft and fluffy enough to provide some comfort, but Kagome knew his back was going to hurt tomorrow and beyond that. They are staying at this hotel for the next few days, and until they can find a new room, they will have to make due.

“Inuyasha, we can just share the bed.” She tried speaking logic into him.

Inuyasha hoped she missed the way his body jolted at her offer because it was an intense one. Share a bed? With his best friend, whom he also harbored feelings for? Not a chance. Not when it was hard for him to even look at her without thinking about all the ways he could hold her.

He was down bad, he just refused to make it obvious. Instead, he played off his feelings for her by being extra rude sometimes. It helped mask his feelings and it was believable because he was naturally a huge jerk. Of course, he has gotten softer because of Kagome, but he turns it on when he needs it. Right now, he was too flustered to even pretend to act like a cocky bastard.

He and Kagome have not shared a bed since they were pre-teens, and that was before puberty kicked in. It took him a while to notice it at first, but when Inuyasha realized he had developed feelings for his best friend, he knew he had to shut it down immediately. He saw the changes she went through, and how she went from this annoying, loud, bossy little girl into this independent and beautiful woman. It was too much for him, and it happened overnight. He sucks at handling his feelings, he is not the best with women, and thus concludes him knowing he is not good for her.

Kagome deserved better, she deserved more than him. Some guy who can talk about his feelings and does not want to punch almost every frustrating person in the face. He was in love with her, so in love, he would sacrifice his chance of happiness just to see her happy with someone else. He will support her from the sidelines, like any good best friend, while his heart tears away at the idea of a love that did not get a chance.

Her friendship was enough for him. That is what he told himself every day.

“No.” He replied flatly. “You probably still kick in your sleep.”

“I do not kick!” He heard her shout.

He laughed, “Tell that to my legs. I think they’re still bruised.”

Of course, he did not miss the way she scoffed as she got the bed ready to sleep in. He could hear her breathing from across the room, her sweet, natural scent filling the space every time she moved around and it was intoxicating.

“Don’t be such a big baby!” She padded the pillows for extra fluff. “You’re a demon, my kicks don’t even hurt you.”

He poked his head out from the closet, looking for anything extra to put on his makeshift bed other than bath towels. “Half demon,” he corrected. “And yes they do.”

She blew out some air from her lungs and padded over towards him, her little feet tip-tapping on the carpet floor. “Inuyashaaaa,” she whined. “If I promise to not kick you, will you please sleep on the bed?”

He swallowed hard, his nerves getting the best of him as he cleared his throat. It took him a second to compose himself before exploding, and then he put on his best face. He raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk playing on his lips with a little fang poking out.

“So you admit that you do kick now. huh?”

Kagome rolled her eyes, immediately walking away from him with her arms crossed against her chest. “You’re impossible!”

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, he heard her zip and unzip her luggage and heave a sigh. “I’m going to change really quickly. I’ll be right back.”

He grunted in return and quickly changed into some sweats and a loose-fit tee shirt. His makeshift bed was as good as it was going to get, the fluffy comforter folded on the ground providing some back support. There were no more extra blankets, but Kagome always brought an extra for traveling, so he would just use hers to sleep in.

Little sounds were coming out from the bathroom and he knew she was doing her nightly routine of skincare and hair brushing. Out of all the women he has ever met, Kagome was the one always on top of her routines. He knew she had one in the morning and one at night, and the only reason why she was not taking her nightly shower was because of how tired she was after a long travel day.

The sound of clothes coming off and then rustling back on her skin was extremely distracting, so he decided to focus on the interesting floor lamp in the corner of the room. It had a rustic-colored body, with a cream-colored lampshade over the light bulb, and it was as boring as any other floor lamp in existence.

The door to the bathroom clicked open, and the sweet scent that was Kagome hit his nose instantly. It was never enough for him and he was so selfish he always wished for more. The citrusy scent mixed with vanilla was expected after she stayed in the bathroom for so long, but he did not expect his heart to skip a beat when he laid eyes on her in her pajamas. To anyone else, it would just be plain sleepwear, but seeing her in a pink tee-shirt and shorts set was driving him insane. There were little white stars decorating the entire ensemble, and Inuyasha could not believe Kagome could get any cuter.

“Nice PJs, what are you, five?” He teased, if only she knew he was dying inside.

She glared at him in return, “At least my pajamas are more fun. You’re in the same thing you always wear.”

“Kagome, you never see me when I’m going to bed.” He was trying really hard to stop himself from stuttering.

“You’re right, but I see you in the mornings when you’re a grump. You don’t change out of them unless you have somewhere to go.”

“I didn’t come here to get chastised for my taste in sweatpants, Kags.”

She giggled and it sent a jolt of electricity into his system. “That may be true, but when we get back home I’m buying you new pajamas. I’ll get some cute ones for you.”

The half-demon narrowed his amber eyes at her, “You’re gonna get matching onesies ain't ya?”

Shrugging her shoulders and shooting him a cheeky little smile, she skipped to her giant bed and left his question unanswered. Choosing to turn off the lights instead, and leaving the duo in the dark.

Cheeky wench he thought.

There was nothing else for either of them to do but get comfortable in bed to sleep. Everyone in the group had had a long day, and he was sure Sango and Miroku were already asleep in the room across from theirs. He was thankful the universe spared him from having to listen to anything that was not snoring.

“What time do you think we’ll all be up by tomorrow?” He heard Kagome ask from above him.

As he made himself comfortable on the floor with the fluffy pillow Kagome had given him he answered, “Hopefully not at noon. I’ll push you off the bed and bang on their door until yer all awake.”

She laughed, “You’ll get us kicked out if you do that.”

“Yeah?” Well, maybe we can find a hotel that has rooms with two beds.” He grumbled.

“Sharing a bed is not a big deal!” Kagome lied, because to her it would definitely be a big deal.

To the blushing half-demon sleeping on the ground, it was also a very big deal. “Goodnight Kagome.”

Kagome pouted, thankful that he could not see the disappointment on her face. “Fine, don’t be extra grumpy when your back hurts tomorrow.”

They flipped on their sides facing away from each other and attempted to sleep. Kagome was doing well, the giant bed was super comfortable and it would bring her to sleep in no time. Except, she could listen to Inuyasha shuffling over on the floor knowing he was trying to find a comfortable position.

A frustrated grunt had her fluttering her eyes open and groggy from sleep. She wondered how long she had been out, and she would ask Inuyasha but he was still tossing and turning on the floor. She rubbed her eyes and let out a tiny yawn before scooting over to the side to look at him.

At the moment, he was fighting with Kagome’s blanket and was one minute closer to taking the car keys and sleeping inside the car.

“Inuyasha?” he heard her ask. Her voice was soft and sounded small, she looked tired and in much need of sleep.

“Kags? Hey, sorry for waking you.” He said apologetically.

She shook her head with a little smile to show him she felt no animosity towards him. “Yash, you’re uncomfortable. Please come to bed.”

“You say that like it’s easy..” he muttered over his beating heart. She was so tired, and yet here she was still concerned over him and putting his needs before her own.

“It’s not easy.” She replied sleepily.

“What?” He sat up from his floor bed and looked at her. Her eyes were glossed over, and a little smile was painted on her face. “Kags, what do you mean?”

She shrugged awkwardly in her laying down position and yawned again. “I like you, so, it’s not easy for me to tell you that.. but you can’t sleep on the floor.”

Inuyasha’s face heated up instantly, a blush so red and deep that he could make tomatoes jealous of its color. There was no way she was telling him the truth. There was absolutely no way she was reciprocating his feelings right now, because this all seems too good to be true, and nothing this amazing ever happens to him. He was already lucky enough to call her his best friend, but for her to like him back when he had never told her was more than he could have asked for.

Her words processed rather quickly, and Kagome shot up from the bed. suddenly wide awake. There was absolutely no way she just said that to him. Every second that passed caused her to overthink everything, and she felt like her friendship with him was slipping out of her fingers the more time passed.

“I- I mean! Um.. no? Uh. I didn’t say that! Forget what I said!” She laughed nervously, “Haha funny joke!”

Her stuttering was going through one fluffy ear and out of the other because he was still trying to process what she said. He could see her better than she could see him, and her blushing face did not match the denial she was spewing at him.

“Would you laugh too if I told you I felt the same way?” His voice wavered during his confession while his stomach made flips.

“You…” Kagome paused and took a deep breath in a failed attempt to get herself to relax. “You like me too?”

“Yep.”

“..For how long?”

“Since I turned 13 and saw you in that one blue dress at the school dance.” There was no going back for him now.

She remembered that day pretty easily because it was one of her most cherished memories. It was the middle school dance, and everyone was super excited to find someone to go with. Naturally Kagome went with Inuyasha since they were so inseparable, and she wanted to surprise him and go in her new blue dress. That whole night Inuyasha was acting weirder than usual, but she thought it was because of the school dance, not because of her or her blue dress.

“What about you?” His question dragged her out of her thoughts.

“Around the same time as you, except it was after the dance. Yura cut off some of my hair because she was kinda obsessed with it, and mama had to even it out afterward. It was so short, and I hated it! But you came up to me when I was crying and told me I was pretty with my short hair, and then you yelled at Yura the next day.

“That’s when I sort of figured I liked you more than just as my best friend.” She admitted.

The two best friends stared at each other in bewilderment due to their confessions. The words they shared are still floating above them like small clouds. The fear of their feelings staying one-sided was nothing but a fluke now, because their feelings were reciprocated.

“Do you um..” Kagome coughed, “Wanna get off the floor and talk about it some more?” She padded the mattress for emphasis.

He was sure he looked like an idiot with how fast he got up from the carpet. Maybe she did not see it that way, but he sure did feel that way. He felt like he was floating even with his body now firmly on the large bed. He left a small space between them, on the off chance that he was reading into it too much.

It was quiet between them and sleep was still creeping onto them like a predator watching its prey.

“You know I expected my confession to you to be kinda dramatic.” Kagome laughed, “Like, we have a huge fight and we’re yelling at each other from across the room and then you say something stupid and I just kinda scream it out.”

The half-demon raised a brow at her in amusement. “You watch way too many movies, Kagome.”

She pushed on his shoulder in mock offense, “Don’t pretend like you don’t sit there and watch them with me!”

“That’s because you force me to watch them with you. How many times have we seen the Notebook? I lost count!”

“Okay, okay, first of all, we haven’t seen the Notebook since high school. I’ll admit we saw it too often, but not recently!”

“Yeah?” He grinned at her, his fang poking out only adding to the effect he has on her. “Doesn’t mean we haven’t seen similar movies.”

She huffed, “I’m a sucker for romance. You can’t blame me for that.”

Inuyasha watched as her lips turned out into a little pout and she puffed out her chest. Those same lips he has always caught himself staring too hard at, the ones he thought about kissing everyday but knew he never could. Well, here was his chance; and she was sitting right in front of him.

Before he could back out of it, he leaned in closer to her face and stared directly into her dark brown eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and the little gasp she let out echoed his ears. Her breath fawned over his lips as she realized how close they were to touching. Her eyes flicked from his golden ones to his lips, and then back to his eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked her breathlessly. He was totally enthralled by her and her full, parted lips.

She nodded in anticipation knowing that her voice would fail her if she tried to speak.

His lips were on hers instantly as he drank her in like water. They were as soft and plush as he expected them to be but they were also even more than that. Their lips molded against each other so easily it was strange to think about why he waited so long to do this in the first place. The kiss they shared was sweet and cautious but still electrifying. He did not want to scare her away in case she backed out of it, but little did he know she was savoring this moment between them.

Slowly, they parted ways as they tried to catch their breath. Inuyasha noted how cute she looked with pink-tinted cheeks, kiss swollen lips, and sparkling eyes as she looked at him. He could not stop the grin from showing up on his face after finally being able to kiss the girl of his dreams, the same girl that was a bit too far from him at the moment.

“Come ‘ere.” He slurred, his voice deep and rich with admiration. He extended his arms to her and beckoned her towards him with a blush still on his cheeks.

Without saying a word she crawled over to him and broke the remaining space they had between them. She fit into his lap so perfectly and she never wanted to live a life where she could not do this again. The butterflies in her stomach were eating her alive but she powered through the feeling and laid her head on his shoulder. His strong arms embraced her small figure and pressed her into him while he fought the nerves in his body to relax. This was still extremely new to the both of them, but suddenly they wanted to be as close to each other as possible.

They sat together like this for a few minutes until Inuyasha noticed that Kagome was starting to drift away into sleep again. Even the excitement of a love confession was not strong enough against the pull of sleep.

“Kags,” he whispered. “Let’s lay down. You need to sleep more comfortably.”

She protested, “But I’m comfy here.”

Before she could say anything more he quickly changed their position and laid down on the bed. With one arm still holding Kagome snuggly on him, he used the other to bring up the giant comforter to cover the both of them. He was glad they both decided to leave the lights off during the entire ordeal they had earlier so he did not have to get up and ruin her comfortable position.

Kagome was thankful for the lights staying off too because she was not going to let Inuyasha go even for a second. Miroku and Sango might be extremely confused tomorrow morning when they notice the change in dynamic but that will be tackled when they get to it. Right now, she is way more content with her head on his chest and his hand on her back.

Before she officially dozed off into slumber, she kissed his chin and snuggled into him. With her head on his chest, she could hear the erratic beating of his heart after her surprise kiss. He said nothing as he listened to her breathing steadily with every minute that passed until her grip on his arm went slack.

Inuyasha had not expected so much to happen between them in a span of a few hours. Their dynamic now changed forever. He was aware that they still had more to talk about, but for now, he was going to cherish this moment with her. He kissed her forehead one more time out of pure need and desire before settling in to catch some sleep.

He would never deny sharing the bed with her ever again.

#inukagfluffweek2021 #inukag #inukag fan fiction #inukag fic #ao3 #inuyasha #inuyasha x kagome

[angst-fairygodmother]

Cliche prompt 48 or grumpy-affection 13 for Barba x reader? Plz. I need him.

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompts Nonny. I hope you enjoy the result! Word Count: 1785 Content Warnings: Panic attack/anxiety attack described in detail

Your hands trembled as you fumbled for your phone, tears blurring your vision and making it difficult to find his number. You felt like an elephant was sitting on your chest as you finally managed to make it to the right place in your contact list and click to dial. You pressed the cool glass of the screen to the side of your face and listened to it ring once, twice, three times.

“Come on, pick up,” you whispered desperately. “Please, please pick up.”

“Y/N?” he asked, voice distorted as it passed over the speakers but still undeniably, comfortingly him. “I did pick up.”

He sounded sleepy and with a glance over at the clock on your nightstand, you realized why. It was two in the morning, and he worked such late nights and long hours that he was probably just able to fall asleep before you disrupted him. Guilt twisted your aching stomach.

“Rafi!” you gasped, the thudding of your heart slowing minutely just hearing him. “Oh thank god.”

“What’s wrong?” there was a spike of panic in his voice and you could picture him as he sat up swiftly, sheets tossed aside and boxer-clad legs swinging down over the side of the mattress.

“I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I shouldn’t have woken you up. It’s just...I didn’t know who else to call.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Just talk to me.”

“I have no right to ask, but could you...would you come over? I just really need somebody right now.” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “No, not somebody. I need you.”

There was a long pause. The world seemed to be spinning and you could hear the rush of your blood in your ears, crashing like the ocean but louder. The muscles in your neck clenched, practically screaming under their own tension. 

“Rafael?”

“I’m on my way,” he assured. “It’ll take time for me to get there, though. Will you be okay until then? Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“No, I’ll be alright. Just focusing on getting here, okay?”

“Of course.”

~

About half an hour later, there was a knock on your apartment door and you forced yourself to stand on legs like over-cooked pasta to answer it.

“I got here as fast as I could. I even offered to use the tip feature to bribe the driver to ignore the one-way signs so I could get here faster, but he wouldn’t do it. Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What’s wrong? What can I do?” he asked.

His statements and questions were more rapid-fire even than the worst grilling you’d ever seen him give the team, all of it spilling from his lips barely as soon as he had passed the door, a door which you clung to for support. He carefully hung his coat and scarf on the hook, knowing how particular you were about such things and turned to face you. 

“Y/N? Please talk to me.” His hands reached out, hovering, waiting for you to speak, to consent, to tell him something before he dared to actually touch you. “Whatever it is, whatever happened, we’ll get through it. I’ll do whatever you need.”

“You’re talking too much,” you sighed, biting your lip. “Just shut up and hold me.”

Taken aback, he gaped momentarily at you before doing as you asked. Still a little hesitant, he placed his hands on your shoulders before rethinking it and sliding his arms further around you, pulling you close against his chest. You breathed in his sharp, clean scent and let it break down the last of your walls. Like cutting strings of a tangled marionette, all of the tension leached out of you and you all but collapsed, his strong arms and firm grip the only things keeping you off the floor. A soft sob wrenched from your lips and you clung to the soft fabric of his sweater, balling the no-doubt expensive fabric in your fingers tight enough to leave an impression.

Moving awkwardly, he guided you to your couch, never letting the space between you grow wider than an inch. You shifted to sit beside him and felt him tsk with a shake of his head, the only warning you had before you were pulled into his lap and your head was tucked beneath his chin. You felt yourself being gently rocked as he hummed a simple melody, running soothing strokes up and down your spine and for the first time in hours, you felt like the blackness might leave and things might be okay. 

There was a click, somewhere in the background, and it startled you, making you jump.

“Oh! I forgot,” you said, pulling away slightly to look toward the kitchen. “I made a pot of coffee, since you were coming over and it’s so late...early…” 

You moved to stand and go make him a cup when he stopped you with a hand on your arm. His eyes were crinkled with barely restrained laughter. 

“You know me too well. But you stay here, I’ll get it myself. Do you want a cup?”

You nodded. Now that the panic part of your night was over, you were feeling completely drained and the little jolt of warmth and caffeine sounded perfect, just to keep you human until you could sleep. He shifted you gently off his lap and stood, leaning back over to place a kiss to your forehead and then headed into your kitchen. 

You twisted, leaning your chin on the back of your couch to watch him as he expertly navigated your apartment, smiling at the implication held in his familiarity and comfort there. He was wearing jeans and a soft fleece pull-over. His hair was uncombed and stuck up at amusing angles, tales of his own restless sleeping before you called and his rush to come to your side. It took a rare person to be allowed to see Rafael Barba anything less than put together, and yet here he was, letting you see it all in high definition. 

“At least you’re smiling now,” he observed as he set two large mugs on your coffee table and resumed his seat beside you. “Smiling is a lot better than crying.”

You felt a blush heat your cheeks and you bit your lip as you turned back to him, tucking your knees up to your chest as you faced him. You hadn’t realized you were staring, or smiling, until he pointed it out, but of course you were. Rafael was your rock, your anchor, your life raft, whatever metaphor you needed at any given time to say that he was the best thing in your life and the thing that made you feel grounded and whole and okay no matter what, and you loved him.

“Now that you’re feeling a little better,” he said, hesitating, taking a sip and then a second of his coffee to stall and work up the courage to ask. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed, sipping your own drink — perfectly made to your preferences of course — while you gathered your thoughts, and then cradling the mug in your hands.

“It was just...I get anxiety attacks sometimes,” you explained hesitantly. “Especially when the cases are really hard. But it’s never been this bad before. I felt like I was actually dying and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You thought you were dying and your first thought was to call me?” he asked, softly tilting his head and looking at you, with that gentle, comforting warmth in his green eyes that you knew he only reserved for you. 

“Well...yeah. I lo...I mean you’re you. It just made sense in my head.”

You wanted to tell him the real reason you had thought first to call him. You wanted so badly to say those words that were poised on the tip of your tongue every time you looked into his eyes or saw his face or heard his voice. Instead, they died on your lips and you made do with what you could get out.

“I’ve never had them, so you’ll have to walk me through what I need to do,” he offered, “but I’ll help however I can. This time and any other time they come up.”

“They come and go so irregularly, and each one is a little different. I don’t know if I can teach you or explain it right.”

“Then start with right now. How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Better now. A little nauseous, and exhausted, but that happens a lot. I think the worst of it is behind me.” You felt guilty again and frowned. “It might have been ending on its own before you got here. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you out of bed.”

You didn’t admit that it was the knowledge he was coming that helped you calm down. You had already come too close tonight to saying something that it wasn’t the right moment for, you didn’t need to risk it again. 

“Y/N, shh,” he soothed, plucking the mug from your hands and setting both aside to hug you tightly again. “There is nothing to apologize for. I don’t care what time it is, or what I’m doing. I want you to call me when you need me. For anything.”

“Rafi, I...thank you.”

“So, the acute attack is over. What do you need? What happens next?”

“I should set up a heat pack for my neck, since I tend to get stiff muscles after and don’t want to be sore in the morning. Then I should try to sleep.”

He nodded, committing the information to memory for the future. “Where do you keep the heat pack? I’ll get it for you and then leave you to rest.”

“It’s in the bottom drawer of my night stand. But...you don’t have to go.”

He paused, halfway out of his seat and nearly fell back to the couch cushions. 

“I mean, you came all this way, and it’s late. We both have to get up in the morning. I don’t know if I’ll have a second wave. It’ll be better for everyone if you just stay, right?” you smiled sheepishly and he answered with a soft grin of his own.

“If that’s what you want, I would be happy to spend the night.”

“Good,” you smiled, standing and taking his hand. “I could use a cuddle after that. And Rafael?”

He hummed in question, prompting you wordlessly.

“Really. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming. For being here. For being you.”

#the two prompts worked perfectly together #good choices #panic attack tw #anxiety attack tw #Rafael Barba x Reader #Law and Order: SVU fic #I hope this is in character. I really really tried

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

EARLY BIRD

Angel Reyes x Reader

Anon asked: could you write an imagine with angel Reyes in which you think he’s gonna break up with you because he’s been distant with you.

Word Count: 1.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 ​ ✨

Author comments: I'm sorry it took me so long! I just needed some time away from my phone, 'cause I was feeling somewhat sick, but I'm back! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Another morning, waking up in an empty bed and the next side to yours totally cold. You snort turning your body above it, pulling your hair away from your forehead with a hand. There's any noise outside of the bedroom, the one you were supposed to share with Angel because, probably, he left the house stealthily some hours ago. You don't know what's going on. You don't know what's happening between you. And at any time you have tried to talk with him about it, he only says that everything is okay and you're just a little paranoid. You want to believe him. You really try with all your efforts, but there's a bunch of insecurities getting stuck inside your chest oppressing it, that doesn't let air through.

✉: “hey, early bird”

You haven't thought about it, grabbing your phone to know if he is still alive, leaving it on the pillow where your head is resting. Some minutes laters, when you're almost falling asleep again, the advice dings turning on the screen.

✉: “eh”

That's all. And he keeps saying that nothing has changed. For sure.

✉: “you free 2nig?”

✉: “i think so”

      “y?”

✉: “we could have a night in”

     “dinner and movie”

     “hang out for beers”

✉: “am into first”

✉: “k! 7? 8?”

✉: “8 good”

✉: “k! ily”.

✉: “back”

You know he's not going to come, but at least you try it.

When the night is about to fall down plunging Santo Padre into the darkness of the desert, you begin to set up ready in case a miracle happens. Putting the steaks you bought at pops, in the pan with some oil and salt over low heat, you leave the kitchen to change your clothes. Wearing nothing but his favorite shirt, you spread on your neck and collarbone that fruity and fresh perfume he loves the most. And picking up your hair in a ponytail, you walk barefoot back to the kitchen. It's flooded by the delicious smell of the meat cooking slowly, turning them to the other side when it's getting golden. Leaving the food in the background, you go next to the freezer checking that the cold beers are ready to be drinked. You have popcorn, candies and chocolate for later. Everything is on point, even if you don't have much faith that he's going to come.

You weren't wrong.

At half past nine you're sitting on the couch, eating the cold steak you cooked and drinking the third beer. Angel didn't answer any of your messages, nor your calls. So, after trying to contact him for almost one hour, you decided to have dinner alone.

Another night.

The desire to cry floods you with leaps and bounds, grabbing the last piece from the fork in a bad mood before leaving the dish on the table and drinking your beer till it's empty. You fall asleep on the sofa some minutes after with your eyes filled with tears.

Although the door closes silently, you open your eyes getting up, stretching once you sit up. Angel looks like shit, tired and upset with his hair made a mess. Noticing sideways that the sun is almost shining, you don't say anything when he's about to apologize. Leaving him alone with the word in his mouth. You don't even pick up dinner stuff, going back to bed and throwing away the shirt you're on to wear yours. Covering your head with the blankets, you can hear Angel's heavy steps following to the bathroom to get locked in. The water running down the shower.

A fist hitting the marble.

And finally, a weary snort when the mattress sinks a little next to you.

“I was arrested.”

No words from you. He knows you're awake. Once your eyes are opened, it's impossible for you to fall asleep again.

“I really wanted to spend last night with you, mi amor.”

Nothing.

You don't even move.

“I'm so sorry.”

You try to get up, pulling away the blankets tired of hearing bullshit. Not understanding why he just doesn't tell you it's all over, assuming he doesn't because he hates loneliness and no matter how much he despises you, that you're going to come back once and again like a beaten dog faithful to its master. He never was like that, he just changed from nothing. From being the loveliest man to a ghost in your life. Angel grabs your wrist, stopping you from leaving him alone, but you can't look at his face.

You can't fall again.

“Stay, please.”

“I needed you to stay a lot of times, and you weren't even here.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, you already said that.”

With a heavy snort being spitted by your lips, you sit on the edge of the bed rubbing your face with both hands. Getting up and holding your phone in a hand, you guide your feet to the door looking for some coffee in the kitchen, to serve it inside a big mug.

“Emily is back and I am just trying to save EZ's ass. I didn't see I was abandoning you.”

Sounds like an explanation, but you don't really care. This hole between you two isn't going to get closed with some apologies and some kisses. He's going to have to make it up to you.

Hard.

“And when I’m saying I’m sorry, it's because I'm really sorry (Y/N).” He takes three steps closer towards you, with his hands keeping down inside the pockets of his short sweatpants. “I fucking love you. Nothing and nobody could change that. I swear on my mom.”

You have a sip of your coffee, closing your eyes when he names his mother for the first time in that way.

“Listen, I got to be back at the scrapyard in four hours. But this afternoon we're gonna go to a place.”

“Which place?”

“You'll see. And I know you're gonna like it.”

“But?”

There's always a ‘but’.

“But first I have to pick up a buddy, I promise him that he could stay with us”.

“What the fuck, Angel?!”

You're drowning in coughs, leaving the cup to hit your chest with a palm.

“(Y/N), trust me, okay? You will love him.”

“You're a fucking jerk.”

“Mi amor, listen.” He grabs your forearm, stopping you. “Trust me”.

“I can't fucking trust you. Not today. Not after telling me you were fucking arrested, and now telling me you're gonna bring a ‘buddy’ to our fucking house without asking me.”

“You're gonna regret those words this afternoon.”

“Yeah, but for that, you have to be here and you're not gonna come.”

Letting go yourself, you walk away from him. You can't believe this is truly happening, getting worse as the minutes go by.

Driving through the desert, you don't know where the hell you're going, hoping he's not bringing you to Vicki's place because one of the girls needs to hide. Even if he talked to you about a guy. Angel is giving you the directions you have to take, making your blood boil whenever you ask him about it and he just smirks at you with that kind of smile you would like to punch out.

And yes, it's a surprise when you reach Grace's kennel. Frowning at him as you stop your car, you try to keep calm.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Am I a fucking joke to you, Angel?”

“What?”

“I'm not gonna fucking bring a junkie to my house!”

“We're n— We're not he—”. He can't even talk, breaking into laughs stirring on his seat. “Step out of the car, mi amor.”

“No! You know what? We're fucking done! I can't! I can't handle it!”

You're getting so nervous you don't know what you are saying. Collapsing. Exploding. But seems like the oldest Reyes doesn't give a fuck if you are on the verge of an anxiety attack, when he takes off your seat belt before grabbing the keys of your car. Angel doesn't say anything, getting out of it and walking to your side. After opening your door, he holds your hand pushing you into him. And you just let him do what he wants with you.

“You ok?” Grace asks you somewhat confused and worried, looking at your pale face. Pursing your lips, you shrug your shoulders.

Seems like you're in shock, not understanding anything that is going on around you while your boyfriend guides your steps to the backyard of the kennel. You find a big black dog lying on the ground with a plastic cone covering his head from his neck and some bandages on his paws and his tail. Tail that he begins to move full of happiness walking with some difficulties close to Angel.

“See, buddy?! I told ya I was coming back for ya'!” Your boyfriend squats towards the dog to hug him, whilst the animal is crying a little, stirring and trying to lick his face.

“What? What's that?” You point at the dog with a finger.

“I was driving on my way back home, and I saw a fuckig shithead dragging him by the paws with a bike. I was arrested because he ended up unconscious”.

Pursing your lips, you can't help but cry slightly bending over the floor and stretching a hand on air, just wanting that he can smell you to see you don't want to hurt him. The dog brings his snout closer, sniffing your fingers for some seconds taking two steps next to you. His tail starts to move again, imagine that he's also smelling Angel's scent on your clothes.

“Hey, buddy. Nice to meet you”. Using a soft and low tone, the dog shortens the distance licking your face without expecting. That makes you laugh loudly.

“I know you feel alone when I’m riding and he doesn't have a home.” Angel says, waiting for you to finish spinning the matter by yourself. “See? I knew you were gonna regret your words.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You growl, drawing a smile to your new friend with his head rested on your chest, as you caress one of his sides.

“Is he okay?” Your boyfriend asks Grace, getting up as he does, being followed by the dog.

The women nods.

“He's strong. But I'll give you some pills for pain, in case he complains. And you should change the bandages every day. Bring him back next week and I'll check him.”

“Done. How much do I own you, sweetheart?”

“Nothing. Just take him to his new home.”

“Thank you, Grace.” You say before hugging her tightly.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” She said then, nodding at her.

“So, what's his name?” You ask Angel, walking back to the car with the dog practically glued to your legs.

“Caco”. He answers holding your hand, leaving a kiss on the back of it.

“So, I'm assuming the place where we’re going next is a pet shop, to buy him a lot of things.”

“Shit, mi amor, I got fucking horny every time you show me how smart you are.”

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes

[jaefmin]

Treat you better | N.Jm

Treat you better - Na Jaemin

↳ Pairing: caretaker!Jaeminx fem!reader [sick!reader]

↳ Genre: fluff, angst, fever, humor (if you notice mine😭), friend!au, anxiety, childhood!friends, tattooed!Jaemin sadlkf they don't even kiss-

↳ Synopsis: It's your stupid, ugly and imperfect body that's giving up right before attending an important meeting with your boss. This could give you a promotion, but your body's in a state to just lay in bed all day. Will you be able to get to the meeting?

↳ WC: 2.7k

Header made by: @vantaengelic Go follow my baby rn!!

↳ Pairing: caretaker!Jaeminx fem!reader [sick!reader]

↳ Genre: fluff, angst, fever, humor (if you notice mine😭), friend!au, anxiety, childhood!friends, tattooed!Jaemin sadlkf they don't even kiss-

↳ Synopsis: It's your stupid, ugly and imperfect body that's giving up right before attending an important meeting with your boss. This could give you a promotion, but your body's in a state to just lay in bed all day. Will you be able to get to the meeting?

↳ WC: 2.7k

Ajdjksj- why dId I mAkE tHe syNoPsIs sO cLIcHé

@intokook 🙃🙃

As soon as you're about to pass out from exhaustion, someone knocks at your room's door. Not now. Please. You're barely left with the energy to open your eyes. Your eyelids feel heavy, but soon lift up wide awake when the person enters your room. Those usual creaky sounds of the doors reach your ears only to make you quiver, and, you're blessed with a sight of a pale faced man, hair neatly arranged on his face with a worried expression. Your eyes fall on the man's outfit, a pair of cargos, with a black shirt covering his torso. His facial features seem pleasuring- beautiful orbs with round specs, muscular hands, and beautiful tattoos on them. You immediately recognize the man by his tattoos, and he seems to recognize you too. His appearance disgusts you now that you've realized him. But it's too late to analyze and hate the man in front of you more deeply. Before knowing anything more, you fall asleep.

You feel a hard splash on your face, and in seconds, and you're wide awake. A chill runs down your spine and you begged for the person to have thrown warm water on you. Your eyes witness a standing Jaemin, with a mug of water in his hands. His tattoos attract your eyes towards them, and you can't help but stare at them. "So this is how long it takes to wake you up? I've been shaking you for the past half hour and you are like some big old chimpanzee that doesn't feel anything when an ant's trying to move it." Jaemin baffles. "Hey!" You stammer "Anyways, why are you here?" You ask back. It was oddly strange of Jaemin to be here. "Some man called Jaehyun sent me here. I'm originally taking care of old sick people in an old-age home, but Jaehyun told me about your situation. Trust me, I didn't expect it to be you." Jaemin explained in a high tone. He paused a bit after a comeback again. "And If your condition's hell, then didn't you think of paying the doctor a visit?" His tone seemed like he was sick because of you, and he was criticizing you for even breathing. "That's not how you talk to a sick person." You stood up in your defense "Yeah yeah. 'Sweetie, would you like to visit the doctor? 'Cause I really think we should go there.'" Jaemin mocked you, and you could really see the same young, frustrated Jaemin in him. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

Jaemin made sure you were seated properly in the car. He drove the seatbelt around you and continued to the driver's seat. He turned on the heater, and asked "So, what's wrong? When did you get your fever?" His tone seemed to have calmed a little bit. "Yesterday night. I had a headache, the night was full of surprises every hour." You replied to him in a voice low pitched. "Don't worry we'll get you all fine. And Jaehyun told me that you had a really important meeting... Or something like that? Would you like to tell me more about it?" Jaemin asked. "Oh yeah, there's a personal meet my boss wants to host with me. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have exaggerated it, only if it wasn't in Vegas." You ended with a sad tone, knowing that you'll never make it in there. And losing your job... for another season of hunger games until you get the next one. You sighed. "Don't worry sweetheart. I'll take you there." Jaemin boldly let out.

"No need to worry Y/N. You're absolutely fine. It's just a viral. All those bacteria are kinda fighting inside your tummy, and you've gotta let the good one win and then bam! Y/N's all back!" Jaemin exclaimed. "Which one's the good one?" You ask him only to have been receiving a weird reply from him. At first, he stammered a bit, and then let out. "Not like you're gonna go and dance with pom-poms inside your tummy to cheer them up. Do you even know how much Jaehyun exaggerated it?" He immediately changed the subject. He kept on talking, and indistinct sounds entered in your ears as you were in your own world, lost, thinking something. Although a smile did appear on your face upon hearing Jaehyun's name, and how he'd taken care of you. He was the best colleague ever, and you had your own little crush on him.

"J-Jaemin?"

"Yes?"

"I really need to clean up my bedroom. You've witnessed how soiled it is. Would you mind doing that for me?"

"While you will...?"

"...Watch the telly?"

......

"Alright, JUST because you're sick. Keep in mind I don't really be so kind to people like you. I hate those years when you're in your twenties. A big judgmental couch potato stuck to your screen."

"Well, you are in your twenties?" You replied after calculating a bit. "Not for long." Jaemin replied. "A decade passes like this." He snapped his fingers to indicate how the years pass, and you seemed to be fascinated with his answers. You knew the old Jaemin, the one that used to bully you in high school, but this one seems interesting. Feels like he's gotten over the series of unfortunate events that you both went across. His aura was different. The kind that would make you jump into his personality's fathomless ocean, and plunge into it. Somehow, he made you feel like he had changed a bit, but at the same time likewise the old Jaemin. The days you spent together, the fights both of you had, all those memories kept haunting you. You never forgot what he meant to you. "Earth to Y/N?" Jaemin snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked back at the tattooed man. "I'm not going to clean up your room." "What?!?! Why?!?" You stood and stared at the air, thinking what happened to your voice. It got harder, huskier, a sense of cough in it. Before you knew it, you were coughing your lungs out like crazy, and that just made Jaemin panic. He started going around in circles, and you immediately asked him to bring water because you knew he wasn't going to do that on his own. "Alright, shh calm down. Relax. Here's your pill. Have it and take rest." Jaemin shortly laid you on the bed after that. His face was on top of yours, and he was about to get your medicines to you, when you felt it coming. You were about to cough. You were trying your best to control it, but Jaemin wouldn't stop lecturing you on relaxing.

Bam.

"UGH!! GROSS Y/N!!!!!!" Jaemin's face was a masterpiece from down where you were looking from. After a couple- err well a lot of 'ewws', 'ughs', 'you're so damn gross' , 'who would want to even take care of you', he finally calmed down.

"What kind of person coughs on the face of their own caretakers?" Jaemin asked after wiping his face for the tenth time. "Face-cougher." You were all giggly and jolly before hearing that name. "Excuse me?" You said. "What's wrong, Face-cougher?" You did not like the new nickname. "You did not call me that." "Yes I just did, face-cougher." Jaemin replies and you are not staying quiet in this. "Y/N is a face-cougher!! Face-cougher!!" Jaemin started teasing and that's all you were taking.

Another bam.

And it isn't good this time too.

This time, you landed right on Jaemin. He put the couch cushions for his defense, but the anger inside you told you to throw the cushion and throttle him right away. And you decided to do that. Of course, not the whole 'throttling' part. He was quick enough to find another good defense. This one was a vessel, the one he decided to cook pasta for you in, but that never progressed further more than deciding. So, physically preparing yourself, you grabbed the spatula and dashed towards Jeno. A thought tingled inside you and you tried to push it away, but it forced you to look at it.

You're sick, Y/N.

You almost forgot about that. Your body was filled with a wave of energy to fight back. This thought didn't last too long, and not before you're outta the dreamy world and back at Jaemin. You were right above him right now. Jaemin immediately used his defense, the closed side facing towards you. You hit the vessel making a loud noise, and it sort of felt that you were getting your panic attack again. It hadn't been a long time since you knew that your spatula wouldn't last against his vessel and now you didn't even have the time to go and change again. He took the advantage of your a-bit-too-late-realization and pounced over you. "Damn it! Is this how girls are when they're sick?!?! Oh pity those male doctors!!" It was kinda weird to hear these things from a guy's mouth, but you knew what an anti-girl person Jaemin was. It reminded you of your colleague Jungkook, who had the same behavior towards girls. Jaemin's arm slipped over, and he landed right on you. There was a worried expression on his face, to get close to you again, a fear of whether you might 'bam' him or not again. He immediately held you for support, but your body was doing nothing other than feeling weak- no mood to stay strong, so you got pulled away with Jaemin. He landed on ground with his back facing it, and had you in a such a position that his body was pressed against yours. Jaemin's face was centimeters apart from yours, and it reminded you of this days when he used to hold you this close. You both stayed still in the moment, processing what just happened. He waited a while, before he stretched out his hand to cup your face. He stroked your skin with his soft hands, a feeling of shiver running down your spine. "Everything's still the same, Y/N." Jaemin muttered. "I'll be here."

"Alright, have this, you'll be fine within half an hour." Jaemin gave you a huge tablet. "Are you sure?" You asked, nervousness filling you up. "Yes, the doctor's prescribed it.'' After having the medicine, you had a nice sleep while He cleaned up your room, and you woke up around six. "Morning, sleeping beauty." Jaemin's voice was heard across the room. Its like he knew that you were going to wake up right at this moment. Freaky how he does that.

Does he have to get back the flirting mode on? You rub your eyes, and try to get up, but due to the weakness inside, you fall back. Jaemin immediately notices and rushes towards you. "Does the medicine make you feel any better?" He asks, a caring tone occupying his voice. He puts his hand under your waist and tries to get you up, the bridal style. "What are you doing!? Move!" You shove his hand away, a stiffness taking shield over your body. "What? I was helping you get up." You saw the innocence in his voice and calmed down a bit. "It's alright, I can handle that."

He gives you a perplexed look and turns to the soft toy in his hand. "Alright, but I must admit, you have a great soft toy collection." Jaemin faces you again, this time with puppy eyes.

"NO. You're not going anywhere with Dolphie. Keep it back."

He turns towards the shelf while mumbling something to himself.

...

"HEY! I'M NOT A MEANIE!"

Jaemin left the dolphin on the shelf and your eyes were forced to shift their gaze towards the whole room. It was way cleaner than you could ever keep it. Everything was finally clean, not dust-coated as it used to stay. Your study table attracted your attention- looking brand new, as if it were just made yesterday. Jaemin must have some experience of helping old age people with their stuff back at his old house. "Wow. It's... pretty." You complimented his efforts. He smiles to you and lays over your bed. "You have pretty great stuff."

"I liked your journal the best."

You felt like throwing yourself outside the window. Or, it might be great to take him in too so he doesn't go around telling everybody about your crushes. "Literally, Y/N," You weren't prepared for what's next. What's he going to reveal? The time you crushed on your math teacher? Or when you imagined a boy naked? But what came out was way worse than all of the book.

"You had a wet dream with me?"

Oh no. Out of all of it this one was what he asked? The tension on your face rose up, blood rushing up to your cheeks. He looked at you and smirked. "Oh, don't worry sweetheart. I've read all of it." You couldn't handle a second before you smashed a pillow right at him. He took it by surprise, and actually got hit by the pillows. "Do girls hit people when they're shy?"

Crackhead.

A thought rose up in your mind. "Yes. They do. And if you get them too shy they might even stab you." Jaemin mocked a scared look on his face and then went, "Heh. You and your stupid girl jokes." You quickly needed something against him... a secret, maybe. You try to recall something embarrassing that he told you, and it strikes faster than you thought.

"I think you might die."

Jaemin's face was left expressionless, "Oh, all because I read your journal and now you're gonna stab me?"

"Close, but not exact."

Before you could tell him the exact reason why he might die, he pulls out a pink book, and turns out, it's nothing but your journal.

"Y/N-" Before any word could come out of that beautiful mouth of this crackhead, you reach out to grab the book from his hands. It seems like he doesn't even want to try, and you have the book in your hands within a flash.

You keep the book with you, hugging it as tight as possible, so that even if he tries to make a grab at it, he would fail. He lays down on your bed, the body-fit shirt hugging him tight. It seemed like his mood had completely changed. He chuckles, "You're still the same, you know? Nothing has changed." He held out your hand. Was he trying to change the topic?

You try to indulge into the conversation, asking "How? Everything has changed over the last decade."

Jaemin had changed completely, and that fact made you think that he would feel the same towards you. You saw a sense of maturity, more of responsibility in him. Ever since both of you separated, it had been hard to move on, every day and night spent in grief. But as usual, life strung the both of you along with it, and you both followed. You suddenly had flashbacks, that night in the club, the pool party... you immediately shook your head, wanting to forget all of the embarrassing moments of your life.

"Y/N, You know that the meeting's tomorrow, right?" Jaemin's face grew serious. "Do you have any idea how you're going to manage?" There was a tone of worriedness in his words. "C'mon! I almost became your wrestle buddy! I can handle it!! I'll just gulp down some of my medicines, and I'll be okay." Your conditions were streets ahead after you got some sleep. Everything felt finer, specially when you woke up to the perfect sight of the room you never had. You played with Jaemin's fingers and then reached out for his arms. You assured him, "Everything's going to be fine, only if I can control myself for puking on you." Not being able to control yourself, you giggled at Jaemin's widened eyes.

"I'm going to wear plastic on me then." You burst out into fits of laughter, "Like JYP?" Jaemin smiled upon you, "Yes."

After all of this, you were sure the trip would be fun, and you probably won't upload the next season of hunger games.

#jaemin #kpopfics #jaem #jaemnet #nct #dream #nctdream #jaemjaem #nct jaemin #kpop #jaemin tattoau #sickreader #Feedbacks appreciated

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 13

Trigger Warnings: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1374

Chapter 13 - Easier to Run

Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back

And never moving forward so there'd never be a past

The weeks passed by quickly. Lorcan spent his time learning about all the tools in the shop and how they worked. He was getting better, but he still made plenty of mistakes. It always tugged on his heart when Barb would come home with scrap wood from the free box at the local lumber yard.

She was happy to see Lorcan so interested in something. He would get up and have breakfast with her and she would have to go get him for dinner.

Lorcan loved working in the shop. He decided working with wood was what he wanted to do with his life. Besides Rowan, Barb and her cooking, this quickly became his favorite thing. It was almost as if Lorcan was made to work with wood.

He still wasn't confident enough to finish Mr. Whitethorn's decorative box, but he felt confident enough to make one of his own style. Rowan would be home in a month and he doubted he would hear much from him since exams were coming up. So, he buckled down and got to work.

++++

Exams were brutal. As Aelin, Elide, and Rowan walked back to their apartment, they just looked like zombies. They didn't talk. They were exhausted.

They all collapsed in the living room.

"That was the worst exam I have ever taken in my entire life." Aelin's words were muffled. She had collapsed onto the floor, face first.

Rowan and Elide grunted in agreement.

Ding

"Whose phone is that?" Rowan asked sleepily.

"I think it's yours, Ro." Elide had collapsed over Rowan's legs and felt it vibrate.

Rowan groaned. If it was Lorcan, he wanted to answer it.

Lor: I hope your exam went well. I'm sure you're tired, but I'm excited to see you on Saturday.

Rowan smiled. "Gods, I love him."

"You have it so bad, Ro," Elide giggled.

"Oh, shut it. It's not like you aren't like that around Manon." Elide blushed.

Rowan: The exam was fucking brutal. We're exhausted. But I can't fucking wait to see you.

Lor: Get some sleep. You're going to need your energy next week. ;)

Rowan: Will I now?

Lor: :) I love you, Ro.

Rowan: love you too, babe.

When Rowan set his phone down, Elide was asleep. He didn't have the heart to wake her, so he grabbed a couple blankets off the couch and threw them over himself and the girls and fell asleep himself.

++++

Saturday. It was Saturday, he was going to see Lorcan tonight.

Aelin was driving them all home. It was only about a four hour drive, but it was four hours too long. He was so lovesick for his boyfriend.

The girls knew he was anxious, so they tried to make the time go by faster by playing Rowan's dance mix. And they didn't want to listen to his whining. A half hour later, they were all singing at the top of their lungs and dancing in their seats. All anxiety dissipated.

The last three hours flew by and they were pulling up to the Whitethorn house.

"Go get him, buzzard!" Aelin yelled at him as he ran up the driveway to the door.

As soon as he got to the door, it swung open and there he was. His beautiful boyfriend. He looked amazing. He looked healthier every time he saw him. Lorcan's frame was fuller, it looked like he was using the makeshift gym in the garage. His hair was up in that furiously sexy messy man bun that Rowan still didn't understand how it was so attractive.

He was wearing black skinny jeans that hugged his ass so very nicely and a black long sleeved shirt. Gods above, he was fucking sexy.

Lorcan gave him a half smile, a small blush gracing his cheeks "What? Are you just gonna stand there?"

"If Mom wasn't home, I'd fucking jump you right now cause you are so fucking sexy." He rested a hand against the other's heart.

The blush on his cheeks spread as he laughed and pulled Rowan into a hug. "I missed you." Lorcan nuzzled his face into Rowan's neck and started peppering kisses against his skin.

Rowan groaned, "Later, babe. I can't hug Mom with a hard on."

The man in black laughed again and pulled him inside. Gods, that sound was music to his ears.

---

Lorcan was so happy as he watched Rowan tell stories of his most recent semester at Uni. Barb laughing at Rowan's over the top reenactment of Aelin doing something stupid and somehow also genius. That girl was nuts.

After Rowan had exhausted himself, Barb came back into the living room with chocolate chip cookies. Lorcan decided it was time. Excitement, but also nervousness started pulsing through his veins.

He got up and half jogged to the garage.

"Lor! Where are you going? It's cookie time!" whined Rowan.

Lorcan came back with a paper bag. He saw Rowan's confused face.

"What's that?"

Lorcan just smiled tentatively and set the bag on the coffee table after moving the plate of cookies. "One of these is for you, Ro, and one is for you, Barb." He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes as the nerves started getting to him. He bit his bottom lip as he stepped back and hooked his hands behind him.

Rowan's brow pinched together in what looked like apprehension. Barb looked at him as she put a hand over her heart. She knew it was one of his projects he had been working day and night on.

"Go ahead, Rowan, dear." Barb gestured to the bag.

He peaked in the bag, reached in and pulled out a beautiful wooden box. It was about the size of a cigar box with a carving on the top. Rowan admired the hand carved hawk on the top of the box, his fingers tracing the lines.

Lorcan was so nervous. He couldn't stop worrying on his lip with his teeth.

As Rowan opened the box and saw the wood burned writing inside, he let out a small sob and put a hand over his mouth as a tear fell down his cheek. Lorcan wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

To Rowan

You are my everything.

With love,

Lorcan

Rowan met Lorcan's eyes, "You made this?" Lorcan nodded hesitantly, his lip still stuck between his teeth. "Wh- How?” He turned the box over in his hands, seemingly admiring his work. Lorcan opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off. “You didn't tell me about this." Rowan's voice became stern. Maeve flashed through his mind as he took half a step back. She could easily go from sweet to deadly in a second. It was terrifying. Rowan wasn't supposed to remind him of his aunt. His stomach clenched, his heart raced. All he wanted to do was run. But he managed to get some words out.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. Are you mad that I didn't tell you?" Worry and fear laced his quiet words. His chest tightening even more, nausea roiling in his belly. Fuck. Breathing was getting hard. He dug his fingernails into his palms to try to ground himself.

"No. I don't think so.” That was a lie. “I'm just shocked." He sounded upset, judgement lined his every word. Even Barb seems taken aback by Rowan's reaction. Her jaw hung open as she stared at him incredulously.

Lorcan's eyes lined with silver. He had been excited to surprise Rowan with this, but apparently that had been the wrong thing to do. Suddenly, he was a boy again having his knee gently bandaged before being scolded and slapped.

As soon as Rowan looked back down at the box, he quickly made his way to his room, taking the stairs three at a time, and locked the door. He hadn't thought about cutting himself in a while, but all the negative thoughts flooded his brain. The memories. The terrible memories. Once again, he failed. Always a failure. Before he could think of it, he dug out his journal and pulled out the blade.

____

Thanks for reading!

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire @tanvee1231

#rowcan fanfic #rowan whitethorn #rowcan #rowan x lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #linkin park #heavy battle symphony #throne of glass

[awyeahitssam]

Bakery!AU, werewolf Stiles Stilinski, no Hale fire. Working Title: No Shoes, No Shirts, No Fucks Given

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the woods, the bark of a large tree stump digging into his bare back.

Looks down.

Notes that he’s butt naked, though the sensation of twigs and leaves in uncomfortable places could’ve clued him in well enough without the visual input.

Groans.

“Fucking seriously? I knew I should’ve stuck to city life.”

He’s been a werewolf for nine weeks, and it’s the first time he’s left Berkeley since he was bitten. His dad had heavily hinted that he wanted him home for winter break months ago, and back then Stiles had been eager to agree.

That was Before. After, he just felt a crawling anxiety.

It was his dad. There was no way Noah wouldn’t notice something different about Stiles. He was a cop, trained to be observant, and in the past Stiles might have been fine but Noah had really stepped up his parenting game in Stiles’ junior year. He was hardly an absent father these days, which seemed like a bad thing for the first (okay, fifth) time.

Point being that Stiles took his finals, packed his shit, and decided to drive the two and a half hours back to Beacon Hills on about zero hours of sleep. Because he was an adult and could do what he wanted, and he wanted to be home two days sooner than promised, before his dad could throw out whatever incriminating shit was in the fridge.

After nearly falling asleep twice in about eighty minutes, Stiles ceded, pulled into a rest stop, and decided on a nap before continuing on. He had been taught to drive by three separate police officers, and besides that wasn’t dumb enough to keep himself in a situation that would have him crashing into a pole.

Key word being keep himself in, because he sure as heck would put himself in it during some manic burst of energy.

So he wasn’t super sure about the moral of this story. Don’t pass out at a rest stop,  you’ll be kidnapped, stripped, and dumped in a forest?

More like: being a werewolf sucked ass.

The only footprints that he could see were his own, and his feet were bare but undamaged, coated in several layers of dirt.

Stiles groaned, standing and relishing the pop of his spine. Then he picked a direction.

Started walking.

It takes Stiles about half an hour to find his way out of the woods, and by that time he’s recognized it as the Beacon Hills preserve. Maybe it was a Stiles thing, or more likely it was a werewolf thing (because Stiles liked a brand new excuse to blame everything on as much as the next guy), but this was no half-assed form of sleepwalking. He had gone at least sixty miles.

It took another twenty minutes of jogging to make his way into town. His dad’s house would be another forty or so, and increased body temperature or not, he’s freezing.

He sees a light on and goes for it, because whatever happens can’t be worse than being caught half-naked and covered in dirt by the old lady next door who babysat him when he was little.

It’s a bakery, less than six months old since Stiles hasn’t been home in that long and it wasn’t here last time. His dad had probably mentioned it in passing, but Stiles can’t remember for the life of him.

Most importantly, when he pushes the door (completely bypassing the ‘Closed’ sign) it budges open, bell chiming over the entryway. A sharp-eyed man looks up from the counter, mouth already open to snap something, and his words fall away in the face of Stiles pathetic state.

“Look man, I know the sign says ‘No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service.’ but I just had the weirdest night and your shop is the only building with lights on this early and I’m really, really hoping you have some spare clothes behind the counter.”

Stiles stares the dark-haired baker down hopelessly, giving his best doe eyes, and says, “Help?”

It’s not something he’s used to asking for, but put in this situation there’s not much else to do.

For the longest moment the man just stares into Stiles’ eyes, but then he takes a deep breath and the crease between his brows eases.

“Come with me,” he sighs, raising the counter so Stiles can follow him into the back of the shop. “Wouldn’t want the Sheriff’s son to be arrested for public indecency, would we?”

Stiles tries not to bristle, because there are several officers on duty (two of which he had dodged on his way) and the guy seems like he’s about to help him out. Besides, something about the man’s presence is settling, and his frazzled mind finally seems to be focusing for the first time in days.

Of course, it gets a little sketchy when that focus extends to him memorizing the scent of the guy’s shampoo and hearing his heartbeat like a loud, steady drum directly in his ear. Stiles is trying to wrangle in his super senses when a pair of sweatpants and a white tee are shoved into his arms. He turns to blink up at the man, who’s tugging his button up back on sans undershirt, and shifts awkwardly.

“Uh, thanks,” Stiles rasps, and swallows when he realizes how hoarse his voice sounds for the first time.

“Change in here,” the man says curtly, showing Stiles to the employee restroom. “We’ll talk when you’re done.”

Stiles nods, entering the bathroom with a heavy sense of trepidation. He’s going to have a hard time explaining this away, and he knows it. Still, he’s earned a reputation as ‘silvertongue’ at college, and not just because Loki was his favorite Marvel character and Stiles was good with his mouth.

He dresses slowly, bits of a plan coming together as he wipes the dirt from his feet with a damp paper towel and washes his hands. By the time he exits he looks somewhat presentable, mostly in that he’s no longer naked and doesn’t have dirt streaking his face, legs, and feet.

He hears movement towards the front of the shop, and spares a longing glance towards what he assumes in the back door, but before he can make a move the baker pops his head around the corner, eyes narrowed.

“I made tea,” he announces, and it sounds bizarrely threatening. “Come join me.”

Stiles flashes him a sheepish (and one-hundred-percent false) smile and follows him out to one of the tables. They sit.

“So, uh, thanks for the clothes—I’ll wash them and bring them back here tomorrow, if that’s cool?”

The man shrugs ambivalently, but his eyes are sharp and heavy as he regards Stiles. “That’s acceptable. Care to explain your nude jaunt through the night?”

“It’s morning,” Stiles quips back, mouth quicker than his brain, and winces preemptively, waving his hand through the air as though to dismiss his automatic snark. “No, ignore that, I’m rude and yeah, you kinda deserve an explanation here.”

Stiles sighs heavily, looking to the ceiling as if asking for some otherworldly assistance, before crossing his hands and looking back to Peter with faux seriousness. “No one in the history of ever should agree to a drunken carpool with frat boys.”

The guy’s eyebrows raise.

“Not, like, drunk driving carpool. This was more of a everyone-but-the-driver-is-wasted-after-finals-and-the-driver-can’t-turn-down-a-good-bet-to-save-his-life kind of situation. And, if you aren’t following, I was the driver.”

It's a simple enough part for Stiles to play. Stupid college student gets in over his head. Sheriff’s Kid - Bad Again? Cliches exist for a reason.

Stiles falls into his role flawlessly, blushing and wincing and laughing awkwardly at all the right points. He pulls experiences from his life to make the emotions more genuine, though some part of him still feels distant and amused by the whole situation. It’s probably the same part of Stiles that cackles at the misfortune of others and thinks morbid things at the least appropriate times.

So yes, Stiles is caught up in the lie, but he’s also monitoring the guy for a reaction. Nothing about his countenance seems to indicate disbelief so it’s a good bet this is working. Stiles was seven when he taught himself to be a good liar.

Becoming a werewolf just made him a great one. The ability to smell whether somebody was buying his shit or not was invaluable.

And really, who would admit to such a preposterous and embarrassing tale if it wasn’t true?

“—and now that you’ve got enough material to blackmail me for life, what even is your name?”

The guy, who had stared at him steadily through his rant, scent fluctuating between incredulity, amusement, and irritation, tapped neat nails on the table between them. “I’m ever-so hurt you don’t already know it, but very well. It’s Peter.”

Stiles cocked a brow.

“Hale.”

Stiles blinked, because Hale was not only a name he knew from childhood, but one that had popped up in his extensive research into his sudden lycanthropy.

And this guy couldn’t be serious.

“Oh? Any relation to Talia Hale?”

The man smirks. Stiles wonders if he can smell his building irritation at the thought that—

“Oh yes, Alpha Hale is my older sister.”

Good god.

“Did you seriously just sit there listening to my ode on the tribulations of being a dumb college kid for shits and giggles?”

Peter shrugs loosely. “I wanted to see if you could lie convincingly, and it seems you can.”

Stiles’ exhaustion and grumpiness began to peek through the need to protect his secret. He had to find his car, figure out what led to the sleepwalking and how to prevent it in the future, and determine whether or not he was going to be attacked for entering another pack's territory despite having grown up there.

He also had one million questions about the whole ‘how to werewolf’ issue, but he’d been doing fine on his own so far and Stiles hated asking for help. Especially from someone that practically reeked of smugness.

Stiles wrinkled his nose, huffed, and stood. “Thanks for the outfit, I’ll bring it back tomorrow morning.”

He turned to the door, and for a moment Peter let him live in the delusion that he could walk out without a word.

“You know, sweetheart, your life is going to be difficult if you can’t even tell a born were from your average human.”

Stiles stalled, glancing back. It was a good point. Stiles had been in the same high school as Cora Hale for four years and never even suspected. Clearly he wasn’t as observant as he liked to think.

“My life is already pretty difficult, darling. Are you just pointing out what’s evident, or offering a solution?”

Peter made a thoughtful humming sound, watching him expectantly, and Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, I thought not.”

Whatever this man wanted from him, Stiles wasn’t interested.

He was halfway out the door when Peter asked, “Would you like a ride?”

Stiles grit his teeth and tried to think logically. He couldn’t show up at his dads sans jeep, and he really didn’t fancy walking the sixty plus miles to find it.

Still, “Don’t you have a shop to open?”

#steter drabble #steter #peter/stiles #STILES/PETER #alpha stiles #naked vision quests #(No not actually) #Pre-Slash #first ‘chapter’ and Peter has already seen Stiles naked #wolf whistles

[ithehellisbucky]

Today

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested: None

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Clasutraphobia, panic, anxiety, implied PTSD, trust issues, angst, fluff, mental illness, trauma, anxiety attack, sexual innuendos

Author’s Note: Let me know if I missed anything in the warnings, and let me know if I got anything wrong or misportrayed in the part where the stuck in the elevator, I want to be as accurate and informed as possible, and I definitely don’t want to be offensive.

My Masterlist

~

Today was a good day. A very good day. Not only a good day, but a great day. Bucky was doing okay. He was smiling, he was happy. Happy is always a good thing, especially with Bucky.

For starters, this morning was amazing. You woke up to an empty bed. And at first, you freaked out, normally when you the bed next to you was empty Bucky was having an episode. You looked around to see if anything was broken or damaged, but surprisingly nothing was. The blinds were even pulled open.

You get up and pushed the thin sheets off your body, causing you to remember last night's escapades with a smile. You stagger to the clean laundry pile, grabbing one of Bucky's shirts and pulling it over your head with a tug.

You stretch and feel your back crack, reminding you that its morning.

Walking into your kitchen in the mornings almost always brings a smile to your face. Perhaps it was the yellow rays of sunshine lighting up the room, or it could be the promise of breakfast. Today was no exception.

You were greeted to a shirtless Bucky, making pancakes and letting out a string of curse words whenever anything goes wrong.

You lean in the doorway for a minute, in the stereotypical romantic movie way. Bucky turns around and looks slightly shocked when he sees you standing there. "Shit, doll. I wanted to have breakfast ready for you woke u-"

You walk over to him and cut him off with a kiss, gently tugging him down to your height by his hair. He wraps both of his arms around your waist and you leave your hand in his hair while you wrap the other one around the back of his neck. Bucky spins you around and carefully picks you up and puts you on the kitchen island, deepening the kiss. 

You pull away for a heartbeat and say: "It's okay," before pulling him back towards your body. The two of you make out on the counter for a minute before you smell something burning. 

"Do you smell something burning?" You ask, pulling away from Bucky's lips, much to his protest.

"Shit shit shit." He exclaims, letting go of your body to run to the stove, attempting to save whatever's left of the pancakes.

You laugh at his charming forgetfulness, he was definitely an old man. 

"I'm going to get some cereal from the fridge unless you think you can salvage the pancakes?" You state with a giggle. 

"Yeah, that's probably for the best," Bucky responds. "None of these are eatable."

You walk over to your refrigerator and open the door to get the milk. Bucky's arms snake around your waist and he rests his chin on your shoulder. "I love you." 

"Relax, I was only getting milk." You exclaim with a chuckle. You spin around to face him and quickly peck him on the lips. "I love you too."

Bucky smiles into the kiss, and for a second you think he's shoving you into the fridge, and then you realize he's getting the milk. "Hm, I see you have an alternative motive."

"I only have eyes for you, Doll. 2% milk is no competition." Bucky smiles and lets you go. He reaches to the top of the fridge and grabs a box of cheerios. He puts the milk and cereal on the counter as you sit on one of the stools. 

"You seem to be having a good day." You exclaim as Bucky slides a bowl of cereal in front of you.

"I am." He says, going to sit across from you as you take a bite of your cereal. "God, did I tell you how fucking beautiful you are today." He says as more of a statement than a question.

"I think you just did." You say, spooning some cereal into your mouth. 

Bucky smiles a weathered smile and then perks up. "I just remembered, I got us a reservation at that place Pepper was talking about."

"The french place?" Bucky nods, his smile never wavering. "God, I can't wait to sink my teeth into a twelve dollar eclair." 

"Mm, what time is it?" You exclaim, confused at your lack of exhaustion, especially since you fell asleep at 1 am. 

"10." Bucky shrugs even though he's probably checked the clock at least twenty times since he woke up.

"It's 10!" You blurt, all while Bucky is sitting across from you, chuckling as he spoons cereal into his mouth. "I slept for 9 hours!"

Bucky grins, and you smile at his happiness. "It's nice to see you so happy." 

You put down your bowl of cereal and walk over to Bucky and stand behind him, resting your chin on his head and wrapping your arms around his waist. You plant a kiss on his shoulder. "I'm going to go take a shower."

"Okay," Bucky says as you walk to your bathroom.

"Are you coming." You exclaim from over your shoulder, looking for just long enough to see Bucky stand up, his smirk as prolific as ever.

~

You and Bucky made it out of your apartment at 12, after a very... Relaxing shower. 

Most of the time Bucky preferred to show no PDA, for fear of one of his enemies seeing and hurting you. Today was different. Bucky had his arm draped over your shoulder as you walked, he would smile every time he looked at you. Nobody would guess that this happy man had been through such tragedy. His past didn't define his future.

Instead of taking a taxi or the subway you and Bucky opted to walk the distance on the sidewalks of New York City. 

The two of you got an amazing apartment in Brooklyn for surprisingly cheap. You were pretty certain that Pepper did some meddling with your landlord, but you didn't care (and Bucky pretended he didn't know, even though you were certain he did).

The weather today was reflecting your mood. Bright and sunny. Today was such a good day. You and Bucky reach the restaurant after about an hour of peaceful walking. Bucky holds the door open for you like the complete gentleman he is.

The restaurant is insanely nice. Like, 12 dollar eclair nice. "Buck, do you think we can afford this place." You ask, immediately skeptical of the three forks and silk napkins.

"It's okay Doll," Bucky says, reassuring you in the most Bucky way.

"Do you have a reservation?" A woman's voice asked. Startled, you turn to see the hostess standing in front of you with a lively smile on her face.

"Yeah, Barnes," Bucky says, keeping his arms wrapped around you, an unusual cocky smile on his face. 

The woman smiles and looks down at her list, then looks back at you and Bucky and simply says: "Right this way."

The woman leads you and Bucky to a table next to the window, in the front of the store. Bucky pulls the chair away from the table for you and pushes you back in when you sit down.

You had rarely see Bucky smile this big, or smile at all frankly. Picking up the menu that the hostess put down on the table you quickly scan the sheet. Even though you were expecting the items to be pricey, you weren't expecting this. Hell, the eclairs weren't 12 dollars, they were 14.

You frantically look up at Bucky, concerned about the prices. Instead of seeing an incredibly distraught face, you were instead met with a beaming Bucky, adoration written across his features.

"What?" You ask, his smile spreading to your face.

"Nothing, I just love you so much." He reaches over the table and clutches your hand lovingly. Today was a good day.

~

The food was really expensive. But Bucky didn't care. And neither did you. Bucky was so happy, and nothing could make you happier than that.

You finished up lunch at 2:30, after several 14 dollar eclairs. Bucky takes your hand in his as you walk back to your apartment. He was no longer smiling, but his eyes were, much more than his mouth ever could.

After the half an hour-long trek the two of you finally made it back to your apartment building. You start to walk towards the stairs when Bucky catches your arm. "It's okay Doll."

Bucky had a phobia of small spaces. It reminded him of what Hydra would do to him, keep him strapped into a chair, and then throwing him into a tiny cell when they were done. Bucky only took the elevator when he needed to, or when he was too overwhelmed to know what he was doing. The point is, whenever Bucky had the choice, he would never use the elevator.

But today he did the opposite. "Are you sure, you don't need to feel like you have to." You respond, stroking the side of Bucky's face. 

"I'm alright, I promise," Bucky says, grabbing both of your hands and holding them in a loving embrace.

With your hand in his, you walk to the elevator, reassuring him by placing one of your hands on his shoulder. Bucky leans over and pushes the button for number 4, waiting patiently for the doors to close. "If you need to get off just let me know, we can stop at any time." You exclaim in the most calming voice you can muster.

As the doors to the elevator close, you hear Bucky take in a sharp and ragged breath. You put your other hand on his chest to calm him and his breathing seems to steady. The elevator moves upward and you can hear the sound of clanking as it reached each floor. When you reach the second floor you lean into Bucky and quietly say: "It's okay Baby, it's halfway done." All Bucky does is reach down and grab your hand, squeezing it to remind himself that you're there.

As the number flashes to the third floor you wait for it to go onto the fourth, but it doesn't. The elevator stops altogether. No. No. Of all people this could've happened to, it had to be Bucky. 

You immediately turn to meet Bucky's eyes, facing him and seeing the panic on his face. His eyes immediately flit around the room, looking for any possible exit and finding that there are not. 

"Bucky. Bucky. I need you to look at me." He avoids your eyes and continues to exam the room, looking for any crack or opening that he could take advantage of. His eyes set on the place where the sliding doors connect. "Bucky, please don't try to pull the doors open, it'll make it worse."

Bucky doesn't speak. He walks towards the doors and tries to put his fingers between the two doors. Bucky puts the tip of his fingers in the crack and tries to pry it open. It leaves a dent, but alas the doors don't budge. 

You try to touch Bucky, but right when you make contact with his skin he winces, and you pull away. You low your voice to a whisper, trying not to harm Bucky in any way. "Bucky, baby." 

Bucky turns back around to you, panic surging in his eyes. At first, you're terrified that you're no longer speaking to Bucky, but the Winter Soldier instead. In an instant, you were sure that the man standing in front of you wasn't the Winter Soldier, but someone desperately afraid of becoming him.

Bucky slams his hands into the wall and pulls another one up to rake against his face and hair. You lean in from across the elevator to see tears building up in Bucky's eyes. If you were another person, and Bucky meant something different to you, you would be fearful for your life. But you weren't somebody else, and Bucky meant the world to you; you were more scared for Bucky than for yourself. Bucky wouldn't hurt you, but would you accidentally hurt Bucky?

You walk closer to Bucky, and for the third time, you attempt to calm him. "Bucky." That was all you said. Not as a question, and without any hesitancy in your voice. It was a statement.

Bucky turns around to look at you, the heartbreak in his eyes more evident than ever, and a tear rolls down his face. Bucky staggers over to you and wraps his body around yours, making you carry some of the emotional and physical weight on Bucky's body and mind.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes." You feel his tears sinking through your shirt as he clutches you tighter. You continue, "You were born on March 10th in 1917." 

You slowly sink your body downward, taking Bucky down with you. "Your best friend is Steve Rogers." You lower yourself further. "In 1943 you enlisted in the army." Your voice lowers to a whisper as your body drops even further.

"You were assigned to the 107th." You reach the ground, "and were captured by Hydra." Bucky's breath hitches, and you wish you could skip this part of the story; but alas, you had to tell the bad parts before you could tell the good ones. "But you were rescued by Captain America."

You scoot your and Bucky's bodies towards the wall of the elevator.

"You joined the Howling Commandos." You say, pushing yourself further towards the wall. "But then you fell off a train."

Your back hits the wall and Bucky squeezes you harder, either from the slight impact or from news you just recited, probably both. "And was captured again by Hydra." You reposition yourself, putting Bucky's head in your lap, his body faces diagonally towards the middle of the elevator.

"You lost your arm." Bucky's face scrunches up, and you respond by stroking his hair, which visibly calms him down. "Hydra tortured you." That was the line that you said the quietest, but Bucky still shoots straight upwards. 

You grab his face in both of your hands. Bucky doesn’t wince, and you realize it’s because he knows that you would never hit him. You were one of the few people who would never hit him, and from what you’ve heard there aren’t as many people in Bucky’s life who would never physically hurt him as you wished there would be. "Inside your of your mind, Hydra created someone called the Winter Soldier." Even more, tears streaked down Bucky's face, and you rested his forehead on yours. "They used the Winter Soldier to do horrible things." You clutch Bucky tighter to your chest.

"Eventually you were rescued by Steve Rogers." Making a point to say his best friend's whole name, to reassure him that he was saved by an ally, not a foe. "He turned you back into Bucky."

Bucky was violently shaking at this point, so much that his metal arm was hitting the ground, making loud noises. "And Steve found you again." Bucky calmed down slightly, shaking less than he was before. "A man named Tony Stark waged war on you because of something the Winter Soldier did."

You pressed a light kiss onto Bucky's forehead, not wanting to startle him too much. "You and Mr. Stark made peace." Bucky calmed down more, and his body was shaking less. "And a woman named Shuri made sure that the Winter Soldier wouldn't come back." At this point, Bucky's body was almost entirely still, except for the occasional stutter. You were unhappy that you had to tell this next part as well.

"Then a man named Thanos waged a war." Bucky started shaking again, and he reached out his metal arm behind you to steady himself, which in the process caused his arm to make the clanking noise again as he shook. "And he wiped out half of the world." You pause for a moment, taking in a long and strangled breath "including you."

Bucky starts to shake even more, so you gently pull his head down to your chest, so he can hear your heartbeat. So he can know that you are alive and safe. "But you got brought back to life, by Mr. Stark none the less."

Bucky's choked sobs have slowed, and been replaced with silent tears. Your shirt was fully soaked, but that didn't matter. All that matters is that Bucky feels safe. That Bucky is safe. "Steve went back to the forties." Bucky's breath hitches again.

"Then you met me." Bucky stops breathing as heavily and looks up to meet your eyes. "You are safe." 

You pause, pressing a kiss to Bucky's temple "You are loved." You hadn't even realized it, but tears were streaking down your face.

Bucky sits up and stares you in the eyes. He wipes the tears off his face and feigns a small smile. "I'm safe?" He tries to say as a statement, but it comes off as a question instead. 

You put your hand on the top of his neck, resting just below his chin. "Yeah." You swallow, looking him dead in the eyes. "They can't hurt you anymore."

Bucky doesn't say anything, he simply leans in and kisses you. Not a passionate kiss, not a sensual kiss, but a loving kiss. A kiss that's only message was thank you. A kiss that both you and Bucky needed.

"I love you." He exclaims in a voice so quiet that if he had said it any lower you wouldn't be able to hear.

You pecked him on the lips and said a line that would be insensitive if you weren't in this current situation: "I know." You pause for a moment, and then remember something that you should have done the second the elevator stops: push the damn emergency button. 

Bucky is still holding onto you with a death grip, but the panel is a few feet away. You lean in closer to Bucky's head and whisper "hey Bucky, I have to let someone know we're stuck in here."

Bucky nods slightly, but when you go to move he maintains his grip on your body. Bucky's still shaking, although not as dramatically as before it's probably a good idea to stay holding onto him. When you look down at him he looks away, seemingly guilty for keeping you rooted in one spot.

"It's okay, I'll call Judy on my phone." Judy was your landlady, a nice woman in her late 60s. Judy had straight grey hair that she always wore with one lock of hair braided in the front. She was the type of person who sold hand-made tye-dye t-shirts at the front desk and talked about going to Woodstock like it was yesterday.

You had her number on speed dial and she picked up almost immediately after you started ringing. "Hello dear." She says, her soothing voice immediately calming you down.

"Um, we're, uh." You look down at Bucky, whose is at this point resting with his head on your lap while you were running your fingers through his hair. His eyes were closed and his body was still shaking, the sound of his metal arm clanging against the floor making the sharp metallic sound echo throughout the elevator.

You put your hand over your mouth in a certain way to make sure that only Judy could hear you. "We're trapped in the elevator." Bucky still hears, despite your best efforts, and flinches at the word trapped.

Judy gasps slightly and then begins frantically talking: "Oh dear lord, tell me what happened! Is James okay?" Judy always called Bucky James, and if it was almost anyone else he would be pissed, but no one could ever be pissed at Judy.

"Um, we're, uh- getting through it." Bucky grabs your hand and holds onto it for dear life, all while you move from running your hands through his hair to rubbing his temple. "Could you do me a favor and call the fire department?" You ask politely, even though in reality all you want is to freak out and get this fucking thing over with.

"Yes, I'll call them right now. Now dearie if you need anything just let me know. I am so terribly sorry that this happened to you and James."

"Thanks, Judy, I'll let you know." You hang up the phone and look back down at Bucky.

"How are you doing baby?" Bucky's eyes open and rest at a squint.

"I'm here." He exclaims, stating a fact that may seem useless to anyone else besides you. He was here. Bucky was here. Right now being here is the best you could hope for.

Bucky sits up, and you stroke a strand of hair out of his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well, we're talking right now," Bucky says with a forced chuckle.

You smile for a split second and then lean in to kiss his hairline. "If you don't want to you don't have to."

"No. I- I do." Bucky gulps and looks away. "It's just- I've been through so much with Bucky. It just, uh- kind of shocked me that Steve would leave me. I trusted him." He looks back up and you can see tears glistening in his eyes.

"I know, I don't think that he knew what he was doing." You run your hand along his face again and watch a tear roll down his cheek. "I'm sorry baby, but you do know that I'm not going to leave you." You pause for a moment, creasing your brow. "Right?"

Bucky looks away, blinking several times. "I'm not going to leave you Bucky." You halt and run your fingers through your hair, trying to think of something that could calm him down. "I can't imagine not loving you, and I can't imagine a reason for leaving that love behind."

"I have something I want to ask you," Bucky exclaims as you go back to running your fingers through his hair.

"Shoot." You respond, trying to force yourself to calm down.

"I shouldn't. I- I mean I shouldn't right now." He gulps.

"Why not?" You ask, your brow creasing in worry, the artificial serenity on your face subtly being destroyed.

"Because you deserve it to be perfect, you are perfect." Bucky takes a long and shallow breath then continues. "And if you're with someone as obviously imperfect as me... Then at least the moment should be perfect.

He looks you in the eyes and sees the confusion. "I- I should do it now. But, since it's not perfect, I'll do it again later." He swallows. "I- I just need to know the answer, to, um- calm me down."

"Okay baby, what is it." You exclaim, worry creasing in between your brows.

He sits up and fumbles with something in his pocket. 

Oh my god

Holy fucking shit.

It was a velvet box.

He opens the box to reveal a classical engagement ring. You can't speak. Your hands go flush to your face and you can't speak. Bucky Barnes was sitting in an elevator, holding a wedding ring. For you.

Bucky's face drops when he notices that you haven't said anything. "Do you want to pretend like I didn't just do this. Or should we break up? I'm sorry, I just-" He pauses, and that's when you remember what he had gone through just minutes before.

There were dried tears on his face, and his body was still shaking. "I was having a good day." He says as a tear rolls down his cheeks. "Because I knew that I was going to propose to my girl today."

Bucky is at this point fully sobbing. He looks like he's going to go in to cry on your shoulder, but then he stops himself. That's when you realize that you never answered his question.

"Yes." You say at almost a complete whisper.

Bucky's eyes snap to your face and his entire demeanor changes. He immediately starts to smile and he completely lets down the guard that he was holding in his body language. "You want to marry me?" He asks, out of breath from nothing.

"More than I've ever wanted anything before." Bucky smiles and his tears stop. His shaking hands move to slide the ring onto your finger. Once the ring is on your finger you hold it up to the LED light projecting into the room. The diamond sparkles.

Bucky leans towards your face and presses a tender kiss onto your lips. You may be stuck in an elevator, and Bucky may still be healing, but you knew one thing for sure: you and Bucky will be alright.

Requests are open!

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[omoi-no-hoka]

Hey! I saw your blog today and I love it very much!! I see you're an open person so, I also have a question: HOW does one survive studying japanese at uni?? I'm in my first year and only my second (online haha) semester and we started out with Minna no nihongo 1 but we're supposed to finish Minna 2 by the end of this semester, same with Basic Kanji book 1 in the first sem and now Basic Kanji Book 2, all while also learning mostly of Japan's history and others in this semester. Exams will kill me

Hello! I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog! I am open to a fault lol. Let me recount my meandering journey through uni, illustrating my feelings through gifs of Noel Fielding because he is my celebrity crush.

Uni is such a difficult time for so many people, trying to figure out who you are now and who you want to be later. It wasn’t until my senior year that I realized what I wanted to do. I started writing out my university experience and it got super long, so allow me to just summarize my “Lessons Learned” here and you can read the rest if you want to know all the dirty deets lol. I double-majored in Japanese and English, so I think that my experience can perhaps be useful to people who are majoring in things other than Japanese as well. 

Hard-Learned Lessons from Uni

Do not choose a course of study because it is “practical.” Choose it because it is something you love. Seriously. Nothing is more important than this point. Do not choose a major because “I’ll make a lot of money” or “My parents are telling me this is good for me.” 

If you are learning multiple languages at once, you must give your brain time to organize what you learned from one language lesson before moving on to the next. You can do this by waiting a couple hours between lessons, getting up and walking around, studying one language in different space from the other, etc. Otherwise, it all becomes a terrible mess in your head.

It’s okay not to know what you want your career to be. It’s okay not to have a specific plan. Life works out one way or the other.

I know how expensive uni can be. (It’s been six years since I graduated and I’m still making hefty loan payments.) But don’t feel like you have to take a full courseload every single semester and graduated asap, particularly if the classes are hard and/or you are working. I took the maximum credit hours allowed every semester on top of working RIDICULOUS hours and it nearly killed me at one point. I’m not kidding. 

It is not unusual to have an identity crisis and/or mental breakdown. Take care of yourself. Know when you are nearing breaking point. Seek out the help of professionals. Most universities have psychiatrists and therapists that will see you very cheaply. 

Surround yourself with good people and look out for each other. 

Do not rely on substances to ease your suffering because sometimes the remedy becomes the malady. Not saying you should avoid all parties or anything square like that, but just don’t be one of those people that parties every night and gets in over their head. 

Let me preface this by stating that I’m an American, and our universities are stupid because they force us to take a ton of “general education” courses that are irrelevant to our majors, and many students spend their first couple years taking only a couple courses related to their majors and minors, and try to focus on getting those stupid gen eds out of the way. 

Year 1: Oh Shit, This Is Harder Than I Thought It Would Be

I come from a town of less than 2600 people. Our high school prepared its students for the following career paths:

joining the military (boys only)

becoming a farmer (boys only)

welding, carpentry, or other practical jobs (boys only)

becoming a housewife (girls only)

So basically I coasted through high school never having to study anything because it was one great big joke, only I thought I was like super duper smart because I was in the top five of my graduating class of 48. LOLLLLLLLLL

I entered university as a German major, Japanese minor. (Japanese was not offered as a major at my uni). I had never studied German previously, but I studied Spanish and French in high school and I just had this feeling that German and Japanese were the languages for me. 

The first semester, I had Japanese 101 and German 101 back to back, in the EXACT SAME CLASSROOM. I can’t stress enough how much of a mindfuck it was to go from thinking about Japanese for 50 minutes, having a 10 minute break, and then trying to switch your brain to German. IN THE SAME ROOM. It actually gave me headaches to try and make that mental jump. Managed to pull through the year with A’s in both, but German was much more of a challenge to me than Japanese. Which was really unexpected. 

I also flunked several gen eds because I didn’t give a shit about them and skipped them and got placed on academic probation and was nearly kicked out of uni because of my poor grades

Basically, I was such a weeb that I had watched enough anime with subtitles and sung along to enough anime songs that I had absorbed about 90% of the first year’s worth of Japanese vocab and grammar through osmosis. I really did have the power of God and anime on my side.

Year 2: The Year of the Mid-Midlife Crisis and Mental Breakdown

There really is no gif that will encapsulate the level of turmoil I went through that year. I looked really hard for one, trust me.

It became apparent very quickly that I could not keep up with German. I ended up dropping it early in the first semester, which meant I had to choose a new major. Thinking of what would be practical to pair with a Japanese minor, I went for International Business for a semester, took Accounting, and realized that I HATE The Man, corporate bullshit, and also numbers as a concept.

All I knew at this point was that I liked Japanese but couldn’t make it a major. I also knew I didn’t want to transfer universities. So I kept taking gen eds, just barely passing them because to this day I cannot bring myself to put effort into something I do not care about, and also taking more classes related to my Japanese minor. It was the Japanese classes that saved my GPA and kept me from getting kicked out of uni.

At the same time, I took a creative writing course because that’s been a hobby of mine since elementary school, and I kinda thought about an English major, but then was like, “Eww I don’t wanna be forced to read books I don’t give a shit about. And also, what will I do with that degree?”

Also, at the same time, I was working full time, and often getting stuck working from 2 pm to 7 am (Yes, 15-hour shifts, because the overnight dude would call in sick last minute and I’d be begged to cover his shift), and then dragging myself to classes and drooling on the desks because I’d fall asleep.

Also also, I started to have possible hallucinations? To this day I don’t know what was going on, but either I was legitimately going crazy, or there was a demon following me around and being quite rude to me, making light fixtures fall and shatter inches from my head, throwing papers around my room, opening and closing doors, turning lights off and on, coming to me in dreams and doing some really, really traumatic things to me in them, and just standing in corners staring at me at all hours of the night. Had me so scared that towards the end of the school year I was waiting to sleep until sunrise, when it would go away. And no, I was not using any mind-altering substances of any sort. Not even going out and getting drunk. 

So, yeah. Year Two was a hard one that I can’t believe I pushed through. Probably the darkest year of my life, I’d say. What got me through it? An unhealthy amount of energy drinks, friends, and my love of Japanese. Also Aerosmith.

Do I still see that demon? No. He vanished when the school year ended and I moved out of the dorms. Do I believe in the supernatural? Yes, to an extent. Do I think that what I was seeing was actually a demon? I honestly don’t know. I have had actual supernatural experiences verified by multiple witnesses, and a few years before Year 2, several friends and myself had seen an entity similar to what was following me around. But this one in Year 2 only did things when I was alone. So it could have all been in my head, and I will never know. 

Since then, I have been diagnosed with general anxiety and also a form of insomnia that keeps me from sleeping through the night, and I know that my anxiety manifests itself in psychosomatic ways. In other words, my mind will take my anxiety and turn it into a physical symptom that feels real in every way, but is actually not occurring. So far it’s manifested as: sensitivity to sunlight, the symptoms of a stroke or heart attack, half of my face going numb, and headaches in my left eye. Once I realize that the symptom is just my anxiety, I can force myself to ignore and overcome it. But then my anxiety finds a new form to manifest, and the cycle repeats a few months later. It could be that my stress caused me to see this demon for a while.

Should I have consulted a psychiatrist and gotten help? YEP. If you find yourself struggling like that, seek help please. 💕

Year 3: Adrift But Afloat

I moved out of the dorms and into an apartment with my best friend, a Japanese girl I met in the dorms freshman year. I will call her Setsuko. Setsuko is basically the reason I graduated uni. She memorized my class schedules and took copies of exam dates, woke me up, forced me to go classes instead of skipping, forced me to go to the library and study with her, and cooked me dinner most days since she didn’t have to work like I did. I can’t express enough how much she did to improve my life outside of school and work, and how much that improved my mental health. She also acclimated me to lots of subtle things about Japanese culture just by living with her, and this helped me later when I moved to Japan. Thank you, Setsuko. 一生の恩人。

I was still doing those bullshit 15-hour overnight shifts way more than I should have, and also had the maximum courseload.

The Japanese classes got a lot more difficult in Year 3. But I loved them. They were the only classes I never skipped. I took more classes towards the minor like Buddhist Philosophy and Japanese History, which I really enjoyed. While polishing off more gen eds, I thought over what to do with my major. 

My family and friends all told me that I should become an English teacher. I had always been good at words and at explaining things. But I didn’t really like the idea of being a high school teacher. I became an English major, though, because I knew that I didn’t hate English. Took grammar classes and HOLY SHIT did I hit my stride.

I realized that I didn’t like English lit. I liked linguistics. So I focused heavily on all grammar and linguistics courses, taking the bare minimum of literature courses required for the major. My GPA improved substantially. 

Yet I still was consumed with this nagging fear. It was Year 3 and I still had no fucking idea what I wanted to do when I graduated.

Year 4: Clarity At The 11th Hour

Urged on by my “Don’t you dare get one of those stupid arts degrees that won’t get you a paycheck” parents, I decided that the most “practical” degree would not be “English,” but “English Education.” I began taking the English Ed classes with linguistics, grammar, and second language acquisition classes. The goal was to become a qualified English high school teacher who could also do ESL (since I had Spanish and Japanese under my belt more or less). 

At the same time, I entered into Independent Study for Japanese with two other students. We were tasked with reading Izu no Odoriko, a classic short story. Independent study was its own beast. It required a lot more concentration and work on my part, obviously. But because Japanese was my first and foremost passion, I centered my efforts on those courses, and then on the others.

The process of getting certified to be an English teacher was lengthy and expensive in my state. This meant my graduation would be further prolonged, and I was worried about money, because I was already about $50,000 in debt at the time, despite working those fucking overnight shifts all the time that were eating me alive.

Then, during the summer vacation when my 4th year ended, I got a scholarship and went to Japan to study abroad. Education majors had the option to study abroad in several countries, and as luck would have it, one of them was Japan, and it was Setsuko’s HOMETOWN! The study abroad program itself was the first month of summer vacation, and Setsuko said, “Okay, just come stay at my house for the rest of summer vacation!”

Never have I said “yes” quicker in my entire life.

On the train headed from Sapporo to the town where I would be actually staying during my studies, I looked at the lush rice paddies and mountains in the distance and my entire heart just hummed with this “This is where you’re meant to be.” I knew then and there that I would move to Japan upon graduation.

What would I do there? Well, teach English, obviously.

My three months in Japan effectively aligned my entire life. My path had materialized before me. It was a roughly hacked, hard-to-see path through thick underbrush, but I could see it nonetheless. 

Year 5: Let’s Hurry It Up, I’m Ready To Live

Come Year 5, all of my Japanese classmates that had been with me since freshman year were gone and I was alone. My professor taught me Classical Japanese through independent study, and it was the must grueling course I took my entire five years there. But I found it invaluable and am eternally grateful to him for teaching me, because you see Classical Japanese a lot more than you’d think you would in everyday life. Particularly in formal settings. 

I still wanted to get certified to teach English in American high schools, because while I knew I wanted to go to Japan for now, I didn’t know if I wanted to spend my entire life there and I wanted a solid job opportunity when I came back to the states at some point.

However, the more education courses I took, the more I saw that the American education system was just as full of red-tape and The Man’s bullshit as corporate America, something else I rebuke with every fiber of my being. I also realized I’d need to take a 6th year of university, and that just wasn’t financially feasible for me. So I switched to a plain old English major with a heavy focus on linguistics and second language acquisition, and continued classical Japanese. 

I took the remaining 3 gen eds online in the summer, graduated, popped up to Chicago to do a month-long intensive course to get the CELTA (Certificate in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages issued by Cambridge.) It’s the most widely accepted and revered certification for teaching English as a foreign language.

So in the span of five years, I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in English with a focus in linguistics and SLA, and what is technically a major in Japanese Studies. 40 credit hours were required for a major, and I completed 42 credit hours tied to my minor, so while it isn’t listed on my diploma as a major, I did the coursework. I also got a CELTA Pass B, which only 20% of applicants achieve and never expires. The grand total for all of this was roughly $100,000 USD in loans.

Post-Graduation

The week I came back to my hometown from Chicago with my CELTA in hand, I packed my suitcases, threw a going-away party, and then flew to Sapporo, where I began my first job after uni, teaching English to children aged 0-18 at a private English conversation school. I did that for three years before changing careers and becoming a Japanese-English translator/interpreter for a global company. 

So how useful have my choices during university proven to be?

I’m sure I don’t have to explain that studying Japanese helps me tons with translating Japanese to English or living in Japan lol

Studying English grammar, linguistics, sociolinguistics, and second language acquisition has allowed me to recognize minute nuances that can make the difference between a successful and unsuccessful business negotiation when interpretation is necessary.

My background in education also means that I know how to present information clearly, concisely, and in a way that engages the audience. I am known as “The PowerPoint Pro” at work lol. 

I also have a keen eye for performance evaluation, behavior analysis, and improvement action plans. 

I offered English conversation lessons to coworkers for over a year, and now that is being done in other branches across the company! (Well, they were before COVID haha.) 

I DO NOT RECOMMEND WORKING THE HOURS I WORKED WHILE IN SCHOOL. My grades suffered and I wish I had worked less and focused more on classes. However, by working 15-hour shifts and doing full days of classes, I developed a very good tolerance for overtime, which comes in handy in the Japanese workplace. Just last month I had three 15 hour days in the same week. Sweet, sweet overtime pay. 

All of these facets have culminated in me earning a pretty nice promotion to 正社員 seishain back in February, which means I get nice benefits and basically my job is guaranteed until I die or the company goes under.

Should I decide to return to America someday, I will probably not go into the education field. Too much red tape. I will likely continue translation/interpretation for companies, because it isn’t too difficult and pays well. Though ideally I’d love to just make a living sharing cool information about Japanese and stuff, and maybe writing those stories that are bouncing around in my head when I should be working haha.

Do I think the debt is worth it?

Well, I don’t think I had any other option than to take out those loans. I didn’t have the means to learn the things I wanted to learn unless I went to university. 

Unless Japanese work visa requirements have changed, you are required to have a bachelor’s degree in order to obtain my sub-type of work-visa, so I needed a degree of some kind no matter what. 

Frankly, if I hadn’t gone to that university and met my best friend Setsuko, I don’t think I’d be where I am right now, living the life I am now. So just having met her is worth any price to me. 

Paying off all the loans is daunting, especially when yen is weak to the dollar. There were months I had to ask my parents for help, especially early on. But now I’ve got multiple loans paid off, my salary has increased, and the “omg i have money and no supervision so I can buy whatever I want” idiocy has mostly gone away. But I did get a super sweet pair of blindingly silver Converses a couple days ago that I definitely didn’t need

Do I have any regrets regarding my time at university?

I still regret dropping Old English for a stupid English Ed class. Seriously, how cool would that have been? But I still have the textbook, workbook, and I contacted the professor last week and she was kind enough to send me a syllabus. God bless her. So now I’m working on that bit by bit, which is fun.

I wish I hadn’t been such a cocky, naive idiot my first year. Thinking I could just “show up for tests” was the stupidest thing. It messed up my GPA, and my parents forbade me from retaking classes so I couldn’t go back and fix my mistakes. I think I graduated with a 3.4 overall GPA out of 4, but my English major GPA was 3.9 and my Japanese GPA was 4.0. So it’s pretty frustrating to have those gen eds and my dumbfuckery mar my transcript like that.

I really didn’t party at all. Most all of my friends were straight-laced Japanese exchange students, and I was also working ridiculous hours so I just didn’t really have the time. A part of me feels like I missed out on that part of the college experience.

Recently I’ve been putting more effort into improving my creative writing by reading a lot of books on the subject. Not a small part of me wishes that I had gone with a Creative Writing major instead of English major, because I still would have studied all the grammar and linguistics. Then again, I do believe that creative writing can be self-taught.

I wish I hadn’t worked as much as I did. There were a lot of times I couldn’t complete assignments or I missed lectures because I was just so drained. It wasn’t even good money.

Well...I did not intend for this post to become as long as it has. I’ve been cooped up in my apartment with nothing but two goldfish for company for over a month now and I think I’m a bit stir-crazy. Thank you to anyone and everyone who bothered to read all of this and become my therapist for a bit haha. Love you all. Stay safe and well. 💖

#study japanese #learn japanese #university #college #study tips #mental health #love you all #asks are open #stay well #noodle-of-sunshine #noel fielding #studyblr #college study tips #university struggles #college struggles #study english #study english education #study linguistics

[twelverose]

i once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden.

One year together measured in the memories lit by golden haze.

Rating: Teen (Implied sexual content)

Paring: Tentoo/Rose Tyler

WC: 6k

Tw: panic/anxiety attacks & drinking/smoking

A/N: a light plot. more of a character study than anything. but like, it was fun to write so. (angst & fluff)

Song: Daylight by Taylor Swift

Read on Ao3

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now It's brighter now, now

__________________________________________________

“He needs you. That’s very me.” echoed through her mind as she watched him sleep.

They were driving back to the zeppelin. Pete driving with her mum in the front seat. They were trying to give them as much privacy as possible. Not that it mattered. The moment they made it to the main roadway, he fell asleep.

He fell asleep holding her hand. Like he was holding onto his promise.

When Jackie realized he was asleep, she went on about Tony. Which morphed into why Pete needed to finish some project that had been sitting in the garden for a month now. Rose pointed out why it had been abandoned. Her mum gave her no mind. Explaining you need to finish what you start. Rose scoffed. Quiet enough to avoid a scolding from her mother.

It took about an hour to get there.

Once they woke up the Doctor- which took a lot more effort than it used to- and made it onto the airship, Rose found herself exhausted. The last 72 hours catching up to her.

72 hours of fixing timelines and finding her universe and saving all of them. An emotional roller-coaster stuffed in for good fun. She wasn’t sure how she felt right now. Everything was foggy- including her vision.

She made her way to her usual seat. The Doctor not trailing far behind. They were pressed together in the seat. Not that they had to be, but it was a subconscious thing. Something they did before everything could give her butterflies all over again.

They listened to Pete’s call to Torchwood. Well, he did more than Rose. The drone of his voice forced her eyes shut. She started to drift off, resting her head on the Doctor’s shoulder.

She was half asleep when he asked, “It’s gonna be us?” in a low voice.

She reached for his new, new, new, hand, “Yeah.”

&&

They were lucky. Lucky to have each other. Rose reminded herself that everyday. But falling into things- things they never did before- was beginning to look more difficult than they thought.

Days full of new aliens and old tropes. Meetings that sounded exciting in theory but when given context, Rose couldn’t process correctly. The Doctor trying to fit into the routine of work and home. Old jealous feelings and new conflicting ones falling out of each other’s mouths. Learning to communicate truthfully.

But they made it work. Just like they always have and always will. Although time decided it would move slow.

It was a hell of a day repairing a fleet of fly-sized spaceships and giving the captains directions to Bangladesh. That’s what the Doctor did. Rose was granted the honour of detailing her most recent experience with the “Original Doctor” and how they saved universes.

There was a heavy dread in the back of her mind. Thinking of all the versions of the people she knew that she failed to save. She never got used to detailing what happened when she jumped. But the dread had become something new now. It was thinking of the day they drag the Doctor into an interview room and drill him on how he’s different. She already was holding a grudge against the stoic people she knew would question him.

She didn’t like them in the first place.

Rose came home late. Annoyed and brain dead by the ten hours of redundant questions. Why had they waited two weeks to ask? She didn’t know. But the thought only annoyed her a little bit more. The Doctor was lying on the couch, watching some documentary. Probably about the universe. She couldn’t really focus on anything either way.

“Rose!” His head popped up when the front door closed. Hair adorably mussed and a bright smile on his face.

She gave him a small smile, “Hey.”

He looked like he was about to ask her questions about her day. But bit his tongue when she gave him a pointed look, “Tired?”

She nodded and fell onto the couch next to him. She didn’t want to explain. She could probably ask Pete for the tapes or documents if he was so desperate for an explanation. But he looked at her with those puppy dog eyes and she caved. Giving him a brief explanation of what she had to say and why it was stupid. It wasn’t much but it was what she had to offer.

“I was stuck on Earth working for U.N.I.T. for five years. Reminded me that I wasn’t a desk jockey or meant to live a linear timeline.” He said matter-of-factly.

Rose snorted, “You’re stuck with both for the time being.”

“Not so bad when I’ve got you.”

The words echoed memories she still considered precious. They happened more often now. Soft moments laced in a golden haze replaying in her mind. They changed her moods completely.

This time, she couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him. Something they were trying to find the natural for. He still let himself go lovesick. Like now, as Rose pulled back with a tongue in tooth grin at his small sound.

He wasn’t entirely ruffled. But definitely dopey eyed when he mumbled, “I love it when you grin like that.”

She hopped up to grab her phone, much to his dismay. And people thought they were attached before.

“Rose, wh-”

“I need to call mum. And order a pizza. You can look for a movie in the meantime.”

“That’ll be at least an hour! What am I supposed to do after I find the movie?”

Rose raised her eyebrows, “Last time it took you almost two hours because ‘Films aren’t the same here!’”

The Doctor opened his mouth to defend himself but couldn’t quite find a good defense. She was happy that he didn’t. Because she was right. he found a movie right before the pizza showed up. It was some sci-fi fantasy that didn’t really interest Rose but she doubted she’d stay up until he found another one.

For a man who was so used to letting things happen, he was picky over the media he consumed.

It was a pretty movie, she would give it that. The colors and framing were nice. But nothing else really appealed to her. After eating and curling into his side, she found herself drifting to sleep. Only opening her eyes when the light was bright enough to wake her up. Or when the Doctor moved because his arm was falling asleep or the dialogue pulled him into the story.

Part of her wished she wasn’t so tired. She loved watching him react to new things. Now they lived in a universe of brand new. It normally included having to hear him complain that she should at least try and enjoy the story. He didn’t protest too much. Just enough to remind her that you could find good in every story. So in return, she’d read a book.

Reading gave her a better advantage of watching him. His eyebrows and lips would twitch, as if he was replying. Or maybe criticizing the character’s choices. His fingers would twiddle and feet would tap. It was almost childish, how much he immersed himself.

She loved it. But she was also happy with where she was- option number two. It was also twice as comfortable.

Before she knew it, she was being lifted off the couch. Rose could feel him strain slightly as he carried her. She tried to hide her smile but couldn’t help but let a small one ghost her face. He tapped the bedroom door open with his foot. Moving as gently and quietly as possible, as if she wasn’t a deep sleeper. He knew that well.

Maybe he didn’t know when she was pretending. It made something catch in her throat. All the times she would pretend to be asleep- most of the time because she was already halfway there- just to spend time close to him. Did he never really know?

When he tucked her into bed she realized that he had yet to spend a night in the bedroom. Sure, he needed a little less sleep than the average human- because he wasn’t average. They shared a bed several times before, but he never stayed with her now. Granted, her bedroom wasn’t an alien jail cell or an archaic guest room.

It was an intimacy they never had without barriers and boundaries. Before, they were too aware of what time and space can do. Well he was. When he kissed her forehead, Rose realized it was something they could throw into the wind.

She grabbed his arm before he moved away, “Stay.”

&&

There was a company party at Torchwood. The Doctor had been around long enough- two months and three days- for people to know who he was. Which meant he and Rose ended up staying for an afterparty. And then found a few.

In theory, it was Jake’s fault. He was the one who wanted to test the Doctor’s limits. They were greater than Rose expected. And unlike previous times, he wasn’t afraid to let it show. They ran around the streets of London. Jake showing them holes in the wall, where to get anything and everything. He broke up around 1 in the morning. Leaving them to laugh when one of them stumbled and hide from her father’s paparazzi in dark alleys. It didn’t do much but make them look worse in the morning.

They didn’t care. Too busy having a good time. There’s no doubt in that. They danced and flirted and had way more than one too many. Stumbled home and…

Rose woke up to a pounding headache. Maybe she was getting too old to have that type of fun. But the moment she had the thought, she decided the hangover was worth the fun. Even if the bed was empty when she woke up.

She got out of bed with a groan and grabbed the first shirt within arms’ reach. Which happened to be the Doctor’s button down from the night before. She brushed her teeth and took a few painkillers before walking out into the living room.

The stereo system was playing music that Rose wasn’t familiar with. But she heard him humming along.

She stopped and smiled as she caught sight of him. Clad only in a pair of briefs, the Doctor was swaying side to side as he chopped something. He was light. Not the tense and straight-backed man who needed to prove he was still worth his title. Hair beautifully messy, a blush spreading over the freckles of his back, and remnants of them from the night before.

He was beautiful. Especially when he let the weight off his shoulders.

She couldn’t help wrapping her arms around him when he was within reach. Pressing a kiss against his spine as he chuckled. Appreciating the heat his body left against her cheek.

“Good morning.” The vibration of his voice made her feel light as well.

She hummed in response. Appreciating the feeling of it all.

“I figured I could make us some breakfast.” He said, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Have you made any tea yet?”

“No.” A tinge of pink gathered on his cheeks, “I waited because it’s better when you make it.”

She let go with an exaggerated sigh and a smack of his bum. Smirking to herself at his quip, which was exactly as she always thought. She made their tea in their respective mugs. Her’s was one her mum painted with Tony, his was the one Tony made for him as a surprise. It was lumpy and chipped and colorful. Rose knew it was the few things that would expand into the sentimental collection he’d grow. It would probably remain one of his favorites.

She sat on the counter next to where he was making their omelettes once the tea was ready. She watched his focus intense when he went to flip them. Tongue daring to peek out the side of his mouth.

“Since when did you learn to cook?” She asked suddenly.

He placed his omelette on a plate before giving an explanation.”

“Oh, er,” His hand went to rub the back of his head, “When you have meetings or something during lunch, Jake has been showing me some stuff. He gets a kick out of it. Finally found something he’s better at than me.”

Rose laughed, “You found yourself a drinking buddy!”

“Oi!” He scowled, she noticed how he barely kept his finger from pointing, “I have not become that domestic, Rose Tyler!”

She couldn’t keep but laughing even more. The image of a Doctor disheveled and only in his pants, making breakfast and trying to defend that he still had an edge. The only thing that could make it any better was a “Kiss the Cook” apron.

Rose made note to get him one for the next holiday.

“Rose!” He whined, “Please, will you let off it?”

She found herself saying, “Make me.”

The Doctor wasn’t having any of that taken lightly, he took the two steps to invade her personal space with zero hesitation. The next laugh got caught in her chest. The smile remained though.

He smirked when the only sounds were their breathing and the music.

“Didn’t have to do much to do that.”

“You wish.” She mumbled, trying not to show how much she wanted him to kiss her.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” It came from deep in his chest.

He kept close to her. Close enough to where she could feel his breath against her lips. She was seconds from giving in. Letting him win until-

“Food’s getting cold!” He made a dramatic spin to grab their plate.

Rose kept in the groan. Feeding his ego was the last thing she wanted to do in the moment.

Which was fruitless. Because he still had sharper hearing. Thus, he easily made out the “Tease.” she let out underneath a loud sigh.

“You can wait, we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

She followed him to the table, “You wouldn’t say the same if I did it to you.”

He set the plates down and turned to face her, an offended look on his face.

“As if.”

She smiled, “As if you haven’t thought the same way.”

“Like…?” He did a poor job of hiding the way he looked at her.

“Well, we could stay inside all day. Just the two of us.” She took a step closer.

“I thought that was already planned.”

She ignored him. Standing on her toes and whispering, “Or the rest of the weekend.” before pulling him into a kiss. Only to push him away when it became a little more than chaste.

“Minx.”

&&

The day she had been dreading came two weeks later. Rose’s ears had been ringing ever since she went by the Doctor’s lab to see if he was ready to go. Only to find a few of his coworkers and to hear that he got taken up for an interview. Jake said he didn’t see him during their breaks.

She called her mum everyday. It was habitual. But today it seemed like Jackie knew what was happening. Maybe Pete told her. Rose didn’t really care. She might later.

Why didn’t they deserve a heads up?

Jackie tried her best to soothe Rose. She could hear her daughter pacing the flat, rummaging through things. Half-heartedly listening to Jackie’s story about Tony and dinner. She was halfway out the door when Rose said,

“He’s home. Talk to you later.”

And he was a mess. Hair messy but not in the way Rose liked. Shirt untucked and blazer unbuttoned. His jaw set. He looked angry. The type of anger that would hide behind his eyes. That made deep brown shine gold if you knew him. She wondered if this was going to be a different anger than before. She heard stories of Donna Noble’s emotional and passionate rants and rages. She saw Donna close to falling apart when she sent her back to fix the timeline.

He looked a lot like both right now. A mix of a wildfire and a downpour.

“Doctor?”

He looked afraid.

“Hey, c’mere.”

His fist clenched.

“Talk to me.”

She reached for his hand and led him to the sofa.

She couldn’t read him. All tempestuous thoughts couldn’t translate the way she was used to. He saw that. So instead he tried to put on the facade of someone who has it together. One that only told her it was worse. Something terrible tugged at something deep within him.

“I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” He cleared his voice, “It actually didn’t bother me until I got home.”

It was exactly what she expected. Everything that made her heart hurt for him.

“It does that, doesn’t it?” She wasn’t sure what to say.

Her mum had always been better at this. She always knew how to get through, to tell people it was okay to say what they needed. Rose was better at feeling the same as them without the words. But she sat in front of a silent rambling man.

“Yeah. It’s a blow to the chest.”

She reached for his hand, interlocking their pinky fingers. There was a static shock when she did. And that seemed to be the tipping point. The shock that told him to let go.

“I need you now.” His voice broke at his attempt to hold back tears, “I don’t know. Before I could go on. I could keep going. But it’s different, isn’t it?”

Rose nodded. Still unsure of what to say, how to help. She understood. Understood so clearly she wondered if he had tapped into her mind.

“Do you think they realize what they say?”

“Yeah.” Rose looked down, “They’ve done it to me and mum several times. Well, mostly me.”

“How did you deal with it?” His eyes were wide. He looked lost trying to navigate what he was feeling.

“I knew I had to get back to you.” It came out simple. Like it was clear. Like she never spent days in bed after these interrogations sometimes.

He shook his head, “I’m not the me that you were trying to get back to. They know that. You know that.”

“I know you’re the same man. One less heart and hair that’s got a streak he always wanted.”

“Now I’ve got a last name and pay rent. Not exactly the man you met.”

“It’s been eight years since we met, for me. We change. I don’t mind, Doctor.”

He grabbed her hand, not taking his eyes off of it, “Some people do.”

“To hell with them. We’re going to live lives they can only dream of.”

A silence settled over them. Rose heard her phone vibrating in the kitchen, but didn’t care. She watched as his eyes traced her face. Curious and willing. Unsure and timid.

“I’m not sure what else is going to happen. I don’t really care,” He took a shaky breath, “All I know is that it’s you.”

&&

Her mum and Pete asked for them to look after Tony for an evening. There was some publicity event or whatever. Jackie couldn’t remember what exactly. Rose never minded. Her little brother was easier to take care of than most would think. Raised just as she was plus a little more expense. He deserved it. The miracle child who kept her company at her worst times. He knows it too.

He also adored the Doctor. For one, he looked super cool and was super cool because he saved the universe and worlds with his sister. Two, Tony could ask him any question and he’d have the answer, the Doctor never dulled it down either. He just would answer the questions that followed. Tony’s favorite thing though, was that they could get into messes and out of them without too much consequence. Rose was sure that if he knew the words, he’d already be calling him a brother-in-law.

As much as they were two peas in a pod, it took an hour of debate between the boys for them to figure out what they were going to do. In the midst of the Doctor arguing the pros of his idea, Rose announced that they would be going to the park.

After a walk around, they settled on a hill. The Doctor laid out his trenchcoat for him and Rose to rest on. Tony left for a few minutes before coming back with a handful of flowers. Handing them to Rose and asking her to make him a crown. Before taking off to find more, so they could all have one.

“Since when could you do that?” The Doctor asked, pulling out a prototype of his sonic.

Rose shrugged, “I taught myself when I’d babysit my little cousins. Muscle memory at this point.”

“You’ve never mentioned it.”

Rose looked up from the braided weeds with a smile and raised eyebrow, “‘Cause you’re not a six year old who needs to be kept busy. At least, most of the time.”

“I’m six months and fourteen days.” He puffed his chest.

Rose rolled her eyes, “Always have to bring yourself into it, don’t ya?”

Before he had the chance to reply, Tony came running up with another boy in tow. Quickly dropping a few handfuls of flowers at Rose’s knees before steering toward the Doctor. People who appeared to be parents a few yards behind. Rose waved, making sure it was alright as the boys focused on the Doctor.

“This is Dr. Noble! He’s my sister’s boyfriend.”

Rose chuckled at Tony’s explanation of him. But the boy held out his hand to shake in a grand gesture. The Doctor took it with the same enthusiasm.

“And what’s your name?”

“Jackson. I’m Tony’s second best friend.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, “Well who’s the first?”

Tony looked shocked, “You are, Silly!”

“Of course I am, Tony.”

Something overtook the playful gleam in his eyes, something softer and touched. Rose noticed that there may have been a tear in his eye. She smiled at the ground, glancing up every so often.

Tony started asking the Doctor to tell his favorite story. The one about what happened at Krop Tor. She listened as closely as the boys, he had never let her hear it in entirety before. Most of it was as it happened, granted, not as grave. There was something he didn’t know, which wasn’t normal. And they got trapped when they went to figure it out. So it goes.

But he changed his tone at the end of it. Lowering his voice when he asked, “Do you want to know the best part?”

To which the boys nodded eagerly.

“Well, I wouldn’t be here to tell you this if it weren’t for someone.” He nodded his head at Rose, “I was just fighting the body. Which is scary but nothing compared to the soul of the Devil.”

“C’mon!!” Tony bounced on his knees.

“She was the one who made the final move. Ready to sacrifice herself and who she loved for the better of the universe,” He started to whisper, “I knew that she was the best. But this is when she became the very best.”

He explained how she shot the window of the rocket. Dramatizing it to make her sound more impressive. Throwing his hands around while talking about the Tardis. Dedicated to giving the happiest ending for the boys.

He did it with a breeze, leaving them whooping and cheering.

They were once again antsy to run around and burn off energy. Rose handed them both a crown, trying to keep Tony’s attention.

“When do you have to be back here, Anthony?”

He scowled at the use of his full name, “Before the sky turns all dark blue.”

“You’re good to go.” Rose laughed.

Tony pulled his friend away. They only managed to get just out of ear’s reach before Jackson came bounding back up.

The Doctor looked up from where he was fiddling with his sonic, “Yes sir?”

“What’s your first name?”

“Doctor,” He grinned mischievously.

“Your last?”

“Noble.” He said it with pride.

Jackson gave him a questioning look but shrugged and ran back to Tony, who was poking at something with a stick.

Rose left the rest of the flowers on the ground and turned her attention to the sunset. Listening to everything going on around them. The phantom breeze in the trees. All the kids calling for each other. Passing conversations.

“What about when we get married?”

It came out of nowhere. She tried not to let her surprise show, “What about it?”

“Our last names.” He looked at her, the wind in his hair reminded her of their time on New Earth, “I quite like Noble and I don’t think you should give up Tyler.”

“What if I want to?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Well, I mean-”

“I’m joking, Doctor,” She looked at him, lost in thought, “We could hyphenate them.”

He shook his head in thought, “Hm, but who would go first?”

She shrugged, returning her focus to the sky. Listening as he rolled “Noble-Tyler” and “Tyler-Noble” off his tongue while it turned a brighter and brighter pink.

She swatted at him with the back of her hand when Tony ran back to them. Trying to avoid any conversations that aren't necessary. He asked the Doctor to come play with him because Jackson had to leave. Before he started to drag him away, the Doctor managed to give Rose a peck on the cheek. The six year old was too impatient. Leaving him to yell “I love you!” at her.

Her eye roll was followed with her own shout, “I love you too!”

&&

The Doctor was wearing a tuxedo similar to the one he wore the first time they were here. This time it wasn’t to gain information but to give it. He was to give a lecture on something he figured out in the eight months he’d been here. He argued that it wasn’t that important. That he didn’t need to do it. Pete reminded him that the other scientists working on it eight spent years. Not months.

The Doctor and Donna’s personality had always been intertwined in him. Rose knew it. She first noticed because he was quick to reply to her mum’s quips and actually started to enjoy spending time with her.

He said it was because he’s half the alien he used to be. But both Rose and Jackie beg to differ.

But this was the first time she’s seen the personality merge work against him. He couldn’t just brush off the idea of speaking in front of people who are there to question him. Speculate how he did it. Insecurities bubbled to the surface and crawled into his nerves.

Rose found out through Jake, who had to pull her from talking to people before the seminar. She wasn’t the one resisting. She was tired of questions about this “mystery man” who was “quick to put a ring on her finger.”

Although, the reactions to the fact that she was the one who got down on one knee humored her. But led her to explaining that he got her ring later.

“He’s been pacin’ the room like an animal that hasn’t got enough enrichment.” Jake said while walking Rose to where the Doctor was, “I couldn’t get through to him but we all know you can.”

She entered the room to a speaker being in pieces across the floor. The Doctor sitting in the middle of all the pieces, trying to rig something together. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a DADA sculpture or a new invention. Either way, his new anxieties were making him manic.

“Doctor?”

His head snapped up and he gave her a tense grin, “Rose! I was just thinking of you.”

“I don’t think you stop doing that.”

He shrugged and started sweeping all the pieces into a small pile in front of him.

“Doctor,” Rose said it softer than before, “What’s going on?”

“I’m about to talk to a room full of people and I can’t suppress hormones like I used to be able to.”

He said it with a straight face. Leaving Rose to hold her breath to keep from causing him anymore anxiety. She wasn’t sure if her urge to laugh was caused by the point-blank approach of explanation or the fact that he was clearly lying. She didn’t think on it too much. She tried to think about what her mum said and did all the times she was at a breaking point.

The first thing she noticed was how disheveled he was. Only half dressed, though he’d never admit it. Then it clicked.

“Presentation is the most important thing. That’s what I’ve learned from Pete. So let's tidy you back up.” She held her hand out to lift him back up.

She talked about everything except what his mind was so desperate to be focused on. Coaxing the dopey smile and puppy-dog eyes out of him. In the end, it was more flirting than discussing. But it worked the way she needed to either way.

Rose couldn’t help but notice how he focused on her hands when she buttoned his shirt.

“I’ll unbutton them later if you don’t have a heart attack on stage.” She said with his favorite grin.

She couldn’t help but let it slip. And the mischievous look she got in return was worth it. Now that he was dressed, it was time to move onto his hair. Which would only take so long due to the fact he was overprotective and particular with it. This was where she planned to dig back in.

He gave her a sheepish smile as he sat down in front of the mirror, watching her hands start to tease his hair.

“What had you so worked up earlier?” She asked, watching his eyes dart from her to anywhere else in the mirror.

“I started thinking too much. Or- I focused on one thing and wouldn’t think of anything else.” He looked like a schoolboy. Embarrassed to feel things.

Rose thinks this is the most human moment he’s had yet. His superior biology not quite what it used to be.

“What was it?”

“Well, uh,” She swatted the hand that went for the back of his head as he spoke, “I didn’t want to disappoint Pete. or Jackie. Or you.”

His eyes met with hers in the mirror and she gave him a sweet smile, “My mum and I don’t care. You know that. Pete? He’s got PR on standby if necessary.”

“I know,” The Doctor shrugged, “But you’re the ones who let me get here.”

Jake knocked on the door, “He’s got five minutes!”

His spine went rigid again. Rose ran her hand over it in response. She pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, where no one would notice if a lipstick stain was left.

“Just talk to ‘em like you’d talk to Tony, yeah? Go on your big monologue and worry about what’s going on in their heads later.”

When he stood up she fixed the lock of red in his hair to flow with the rest.

“I love you. You know that?”

“Absolutely.” She straightened his bowtie one last time, “You know, you have nothing to prove to me.”

&&

Rose blew air out like a cigarette, watching a cloud too hazy and heavy form. Those days were long gone. She realized they had gone before she met the Doctor. A long memory now, where she lived in a parallel universe with a new half-human, half-timelord Doctor. She didn’t mind, though. That’s life isn’t it?

It was this line of thought that led her into sleepless nights. Comparing lives. Wondering how her old Doctor was doing. Wondering if her Doctor was really, truly, happy. If they’d ever get back the life that they belong in. All this what-ifs and open-ended question that she���d never get an answer for until the moment came. They ran rampant through her head. Like a skipping record.

Sometimes it was tempting to pick up old habits when she got like this. She knew why she didn’t when the door behind her slid open, revealing a shirtless, groggy Doctor.

“Rose, it’s 3 am.”

“I know,” She turned to face him completely, “I couldn’t sleep.”

He hummed in understanding and sat next to her. Looking up at the sky full of stars he’s yet to map. It made a sharp pang go through her chest. To see him like this. So bare in a universe he was ready to make a mark on. Then Rose noticed the goosebumps rise on his arms with a gust of wind. He’s yet to admit that he’s been cold. Even when it’s written all over his face and hands.

She also noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed. As if he was counting each and every star.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

She shrugged, “Thinking ‘bout what you said.”

“We’re at the halfway mark. Now is time for her to grow on her own.”

Rose thought back to the shed on Pete’s estate that they spent every free day they had at for the past month. Which meant one of them pulled the other out of bed. Because they had their very own Tardis growing inside, waiting to learn of new skys.

“But will we make it that long?” She felt the fear bubble over into tears, “It scares me. To not know when. Which is ridiculous but I’ve waited so long and I know you’re just as restless.”

He sat there for a second, gathering the right words.

“Rose, you did the impossible once. All on your own. Yeah, you had Jackie and Clive and Pete, but-”

“Now I have you.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Like it was some confession. Admitting something she always wished for had come true. But it wasn’t made up of the dreams she once had. It was messy and real but even worth more than what once was the only thing that let her sleep at night.

“I told you a year ago, it’s gonna be us. I could care less about what else there is.”

Maybe that was the catharsis. The unholy amounts of emotion came pouring out of her. She fell into his arms as she broke into tears.

She had no clue where it came from. Maybe it was stress from work. The clutter starting to build in their tiny flat. Or knowing they were so close. Her heart begging to be reminded of what showed her love in the first place.

“Rose, you golden girl. You did it. You got back to me- or well, I came back with you. Besides the point. You’ve done it once. What’s a second time with the impossible holding your hand?”

He rocked her slightly as she started to calm down. Brushing her hair out of her face and wiping her tears. Pressing kisses against her forehead. Mumbling things she normally didn’t hear.

He pulled her back with a wide grin, “Hey, we still have to get married before leaving. I don’t want another slap from your mother.”

“I think we should do it Vegas style.” it came out as a snotty laugh. And in the back of her mind she wondered if he ever saw her like this before now.

“I don’t care as long as it’s you.” He smiled, “You said it a while ago, ‘Better with two.’”

She giggled, rubbing her eyes one last time, “The stuff of legends, us.”

“Especially in a few months' time.” He said, looking back up at the sky.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Rose pulled him into a tight embrace, “We’re okay.”

#timepetals #tenrose #tentoo x rose #rose tyler #ten x rose #.txt #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x rose tyler #doctor who #dw #dw fanfic #tentoo #metacrisis doctor #vincent writes

[whirlybirbs]

Great now she has to get HIM off!!!

PRACTICE   &   PERFECTION   ;

summary: miss turner catches arthur in the throes of something more private. a companion piece of this work.pairing: arthur morgan x reader, turner as a placeholder surnamerating: explicit! masturbation, first time handjobs + fingering! wahoo!word count: 3.4k, oopsa/n: hahahaha i am horny for arthur morgan. this is a part of my simpler said aloud series. if you’d like to read more about these two, here’s the masterlist!

He can’t sleep.

He tosses, for the fifth time in ten minutes, and curses himself as he does. It’s the fourth night in a row of this hellish curse — He should be exhausted, but the heavy pull of his eyelids is absent. A fan of his beauty rest, he finds himself irritated with the fact he could be asleep by now, snoring loudly and blissfully unaware of the world.

But, Arthur Morgan can’t sleep. 

He tosses again. His tent is illuminated by a strip of light glimmering through the gap in the canvas — the dying campfire floods his space in oranges and inky blues. It’s late now, and the camp is silent save for the lap of waves on the shore of the lake and the peepers in the tall grass. 

Somewhere in the distance, coyotes bay and yip as Dutch snores, like a chainsaw, cutting through the night.

Christ, it’s annoying. 

Arthur kicks at the sheets tangled around his feet.

Draping an arm over his eyes, he tries to block out the light and count the crickets chirping, but his mind keeps wandering to places that leave sleep just out his reach.

It’s anxiety, Hosea had said, commenting on Arthur’s sudden evasion of sleep, keeps you up, just like me.

After another half hour, he strangles an annoyed sigh behind his hand as he rubs his face and grits his jaw. He imagines the circles under his eyes are dark as coal now. He’s sure Micah will make a comment over breakfast — something about Miss Turner keepin’ you up, Morgan?

... That’s a nice thought.

(It’s Pinkertons and Bounty Hunters and the O’Driscolls, really.)

Arthur, then, decides that maybe that very thought could be his saving grace and he sets out to tire himself in the best way possible — hand fisted down his union suit, teeth barred and eyes clamped shut.

He intended for it to be quick — not drawn out nor luxurious in any fashion; after all, the other tents were only feet away. Sound carries and Arthur would rather the others not hear the more explicit parts of his mind playing out in the early morning hours.

... But, you are a lovely thought.

Nails digging into his shoulders as you try to grapple under the mounting heat between your legs, knees shaking as he winds you up like a toy, thumb grazing that sensitive bundle of nerves...

Fingers work at peeling away the top of his union suit, a flash of hot interest peaking in his gut at the mere recall of you whispering his name in moments more heated. You have a way of doing that to him; you get him going quick with the brush of a kiss, utterance of a name, touch of a hand. It’s embarrassing, almost, how tight you have him wrapped around your thumb and how willingly he lets that become his place.

Arthur blinks down at his hips, heavy lashes fluttering as he palms at his arousal. He’s hard already, shamefully so, and he can’t help but chew his lip as he runs a hand along himself over his wool suit. The friction is nice. He thinks about you, keening along his fingers, and the friction gets nicer.

He’s distracted, mind in the field you’d both stood in three days ago. You’re propped up on that wall, snakebite forgotten, as his lips attack love-bites into the delicate flesh of your thigh. He remembers the sounds, the breathy little whimpers and the way you’d pleaded his name — he remembers the slick heat between your legs as he’d happily delved across the lace with nimble fingers. The moment is seared into his brain, and suddenly Arthur wishes he’d had the courage to rip your bloomers off and away and get a taste.

His hips buck a bit at the thought of you, legs spread and ankles hitched around his shoulders as he laps at the delicate folds of flesh there. You’d be warm and sweet and wonderful, he thinks, and his chin would be slick with evidence of your arousal.Arthur shudders a breath, trying to keep it down. He passes another touch across himself and shifts on his cot, lip pulled between his teeth tightly —

Arthur can hardly speak when his tent floods with light and you’re suddenly there, a soft gasp worming itself from your lips.

In the light of the dimmed fire, you glow; but Arthur doesn’t give himself a moment to linger on the sight. He curses in a harsh whisper, hands flying to cover himself and tug at the sheets at the foot of his bed.

What he’s been up to, though, isn’t lost on you.

“Miss Turner —“

“Sorry,” you whisper coyly, not at all unsettled by the thought of Arthur Morgan taking care of himself — quite the opposite, “Am I interrupting?”

(You’d been in the same predicament as him, sleep lost and worry high.)

Arthur’s clutching the sheets over his arousal when you speak, head dropping back to the pillows as he tries to overcome the sudden shame and embarrassment that flies across his face. Arthur knows he’s been caught, there’s no sense in tiptoeing around this, and yet all he can manage to grit out is a sarcastic:

“Not at all, sweetpea, not at all.”

“You’re an outlaw, Arthur,” you whisper, moving towards the cot, “Not a liar.”

He bites his tongue, blue eyes moving to follow you as you drift closer. Your chemise is hanging from your shoulders, hair spilling over your back in sleep kissed knots and you look like an angel, something that should stay far from the dirtier thoughts he’d just been having about you —

“Can’t sleep?” you ask, kneeling beside his cot, eyes roaming him greedily.

Arthur doesn’t trust himself to speak. He nods his head.

“... Could I help?”

It’s like leaping off a bridge — it’s a dive into uncharted waters. You’ve never done something like this, not with him nor anyone, but the thought is hardly there thanks to how much you want it. Arthur seems to notice the hungry look in your eyes and succumbs to it fully, hands moving to push away the sheets in acceptance of your help.

“I, uh, just —“ the sentence burns up in your gaze.

You decide, very quickly, that Arthur Morgan looks rather pretty like this.

His union suit is unbuttoned, splitting him up the middle and exposing the plains of his chest and abdomen. His skin is hot, from the summer night and the burning arousal, and you find yourself quite enamored with the view before you.

Arthur is bright pink. Even in the dark of his tent you can see it. He can’t help it — this is the thing of fantasy, having you admire him so openly, having you reach to touch him in a way so intimate. The rosy blush that has settled neatly across his cheeks and ears steals your breath away.

The evidence of his arousal is outlined in his union suit and his entire body lurches when you reach, one finger tracing the side of him as you smile so sickly sweet that Arthur feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

This is going to be the death of him. 

He can hardly look at you, too taken by sheepishness but hips spurred by the greedy look you give as you rise from the floor. He shifts, arching to follow your touch, and you give a breathless little laugh when you settle back down beside him on his cot.

This time, the pressure is a bit more — your whole palm grazes him and he shudders, dark lashes screwing shut as he swallows and tries to form a coherent string of words.

He gives up when you hook your fingers in the last set of buttons, springing him free.

His cock is big — flushed a pretty pink at the head and thick. It’s a sight that you always imagined would have you uncomfortable and horrified and running for the hills. Seeing a man naked, on any night beside your wedding night? It was always warned against, always battled back with deep settled fear; women like you aren’t meant to be doing things like this in the quiet hours of the night, but it doesn’t scare you, doesn’t disgust you. Instead, it kicks something alive inside of you that’s anything but innocent. It’s far from it.

“Look at you, cowboy.”

Arthur’s eyes roll shut, head dropping back to the sheets as he lets out a weak laugh. Finally he speaks. His voice is horse. “This has got t’ be a dream.”

You pull your lip between your teeth as you smile, fingers finding the bare skin of his hips as he squirms on the cot. His breath hitches as you tug at his union suit, hands moving to scale his side as he exhales long and hard.

“You look like a dream,” you mutter, “I could watch you for a while.”

Arthur gives a weak sound at that. His hands move to pull you down into a needy kiss — one that leaves his cock pressed to his belly and you don’t think twice before you’ve moved to run a tentative touch along it.

Arthur’s eyes jump open and his whole chest heaves.

“Sh-Shit.”

“Good?”

He can’t even respond, just chew his lip and flare his nostrils and nod.

Your nose brushes his as you lean over him, lace of your chemise skimming the exposed skin of his hips and chest; it’s a sensory trap, luring him in at the welcoming softness. You take him gently into your hand and give one hesitant pump.

Arthur nearly gives in then and there.

You have to rush up to silence the groan that flies from his throat. You bite his lip, pulling away with it stuck between your teeth. Arthur’s eyes are rooted to the way you look at him, like he’s some revered man. 

He feels unworthy of it. Unworthy of you.

“Shh,” you whisper, nudging his face with your nose. You move to bite a kiss along his throat, “You want Dutch t’ hear you?”

Arthur gives a pitiful, daring laugh, then -- as if to say, “why not” -- a breathy rumble that shakes his chest and leaves you grinning into the skin along his shoulder. You kiss him again, amused, lips lingering by his cheek as you climb over his leg and situate yourself above him; he follows, chasing you upwards as he props himself up on his elbows. Arthur is slack-jawed, face bright in a rosy glow, eyes half-lidded as you move. 

Under his eyes, you feel small.

“Is this okay?” you whisper, leaning to set a slow pace, lips falling along his cheek.

Arthur pants, nodding desperately at the hot touch. “Y-Yea -- Christ, yer gonna kill me.” 

You snicker, settling against his thigh fully now -- your chemise pools around you and you can’t help but bunch a hand into it, hiking it up over your thigh in a flash of skin; Arthur gravitates towards it, chasing the searing contact, finding under calloused fingers there’s no lace around your hipbones. No cursed bloomers. Just skin. Blue eyes anchor themselves to the expanse of skin up your hip, awe rooted there, as he realizes you’re bare and flush right against his thigh.

“Jesus --”

His head drops back against the sheets and you grin above him, thumb slipping along the head of his cock to find it slick -- Arthur jolts at the sensation, chest heaving in a gasp as you quirk a brow and slip the wetness down his length, earning a low moan, mingling with a desperate laugh. He screws his eyes shut, hands moving to grasp at your thighs like a ship lost at sea.

Eagerly, you lay a hand over his and drag it upwards, under the lace, grinning happily when it settles along your ribs. His hands are warm and rough and big, settling to press you against his thigh -- his voice is hoarse when he speaks.

“Yer th’ prettiest damn thing I ever seen.”

Arousal crawls up your chest, heat flaring in your face. No one has ever touched you like this. Certainly not brushed their thumb over your nipple and moved to haul your chemise off you totally when you say their name.

The outlaw surges up, pulling the nightgown from your frame as his mouth moves to latch itself to the curve of your breast --- his stubble tickles, tongue moving flat against your breast as he bites a little mark there; a reminder of the night, something tangible, something secret. Blue eyes connect with yours and Arthur smiles, happy to at least have thrown you off for a moment. It’s a shift in the power balance, one that sends a hand through his hair eagerly.

You move then, hips squirming against him as you pick up the pace -- it earns a low groan from Arthur. Planting a firm hand on his chest, he settles back against the cot without a fight. You’re in charge; he’s the one who needed help. 

“This is about you, Arthur.”

His eyes can’t help but shut, lashes kissing his cheeks. The idea that this is all about you giving -- the idea of you happily surrendering yourself to him stirs his arousal further. His hands crawls up, calloused fingers brushing the curve of your hip again, this time urging a pace out of you. You chew your lip, lids going heavy, as you move your hips in tandem with your wrist; it’s not easy, but the reaction is worth it.

“Y’ sure y’ never done this before?” he asks, words broken by pants.

“Never,” you lean, biting a delicious little mark along his collarbone, “Though, I think I’d benefit from some extra practice, Mr. Morgan.”

He can’t hide the desperate sound that’s pulled from him at the name.

Arthur is a mess, eyes on you and on the roof of the tent and on your core bucking against his clothed thigh. He’s trying to remember how to breathe, how to think -- it’s hard when you’ve come along and robbed all worldly abilities from him. The sounds in the tent are sinful; breaths mingle in the quiet, names exchanged in eager little prayers that wind both of you higher and higher.

This is not how he anticipated his night going.

“Practice -- fuck,” he squirms, spurring a grin out of you, “ -- makes perfect.”

Your thumb brushes the head of his cock again, sending the outlaw gasping after the remark. He tightens his hold on your hips, dragging himself up and smothering your grin with a kiss that’s bruising. He bucks you forward, dragging you along his thigh, and the friction is wonderful. Your hand falters, slipping up along the ridge of the swollen head and Arthur’s breath hitches -- enough that you chase the exact reaction through the same ministration.

It’s the right one.

His hands are shaking when he winds them around your back, mouth digging harsh bites into the column of your throat as you whimper -- you pry at his jaw, face gripped in a tight hold; you heave a gasp, eyes darting to his swollen lips. Arthur happily lets you assert the gesture of dominance, mostly because you brush the underside of his cock with fingers slick with pre-come in that exact moment and his eyes roll right into the back of his head. 

“Shit --” he gasps, hands moving to grab at your backside as he falls back to the cot, a bit too locked in the pleasure to do much else, “Sweetpea, please --”

“Like that?” you ask quietly, mimicking the motion.

His hips lift, arms tensing as he nods; his lip is pulled between his teeth. “Y-Yeah.”

“Arthur Morgan,” you nearly purr, falling along his hips and pressing your chest to his as you concentrate your hold on his arousal, “I think I’m awfully lucky -- a man like you, lettin’ me touch 'im like this...”

You kiss his cheek and his heart flutters. 

He moves to root his fingers in your hair. 

You give him another slick pump. Another curse.

It’s the look that does him in, though; one look, a smile, illuminated by the dying fire outside his tent -- you’re a dream, chest pressed against his and hair spilled along your shoulders -- he comes hard; it’s like a tsunami, washing over him so hard that he’s floating and his world is dark and his hearing is gone. He’s dead, dying, gone, in heaven. Arthur Morgan has died in your arms.

He’s laughing, then, eyes still screwed shut as you grin above him.

“Miss Turner,” he pulls his eyes open, “I -- This...”

He’s come along your wrist. The first thing he sees is you dropping a finger to your tongue with a coy look. 

He’s dead. This is heaven.

Now, he doesn’t want to sleep. 

But, you’re happily pulling yourself from him, snagging his handkerchief from the wardrobe at the end of his bed and moving to clean him up with a gentle hand. Your fingers nimbly button his union suit back up, mouth chasing the skin of his chest -- and he just watches, touch fond. 

“Think you can sleep now?” you ask as you chuck the handkerchief over your shoulder. You sit up, settling on the side of the cot. You scoop up your chemise, “Did I tire you out?”

Arthur stops you. His eyes are narrowed.

“Where you think yer goin’?”

You blink. Oh. 

He moves, then, pulling you down beside you and winding his arms around you desperately -- as if you’d run off. You can’t help but laugh, sheepishness settling across your cheeks as you chew your lip. You’re naked, pressed against him and a bit cold, but the ache between your legs is the biggest problem.

“Honestly,” you mumble sweetly, “I was going to take care of myself, but --”

Arthur pulls an eye open.

His smirk is dangerous.

“Were y’?”

He winds you into a kiss, then, your head turned to engage over your shoulder, when his hand slips between your legs. You can’t help but lift your leg, hiking it over his hip and opening yourself up to the searing touch.

“I could take care a’ this” Arthur mutters, greedy mouth kissing your shoulder as you gasp, “Like y’ did fer me --”

You’re soaked. His fingers slip along the velvet folds easily. You breathe his name.

“Won’t take much,” he chirps, “Look a’ you.”

God, you wish you could shut him up. That, however, had happened earlier -- and now you’re at Arthur mercy; you grip at his hips, fingers winding tightly in his union suit as he seemingly curls around you and presses sloppy kisses to the back of your neck as he works a pace along your clit; it’s dangerous and wonderful and you say his name like plead, begging for something you don’t even know.

Then, a crooked finger slips inside you and you jolt.

That’s it. 

His thumb moves, coaxing another cry of his name before a second finger stretches you nicely -- the feeling is foreign but it’s good, you feel better than you have when you’ve been the one doing it, certainly. His fingers are thicker, rougher, warmer. 

“That alrigh’?”

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Your legs are shaking.

Arthur grins. 

“Yer close,” he rumbles lowly, “C’mon, practice makes perfect.”

Just like your smile did him in, it’s those words that do you in -- you come along his fingers hard, hands wound in his union suit and gripping the edge of his cot as he smothers your sounds with a bruising kiss; it strangles your rational thinking skills and you’re stuck in a honeyed glow as the come down follows. 

Before you even realize it, Arthur is tugging the sheets up over you and pulling you close to his chest. You melt into the touch, smile permanent on your face as you bury yourself in the hold.

His beard scratches your forehead as he kisses you there.

“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said yer gonna be th’ death a’ me,” he says slowly.

You laugh sleepily. “Weren’t you the one who said dyin’ happy comes much later?”

A low laugh. “Yeah, well, that was before y’ got me off --”

“Go t’ sleep, Arthur,” you chirp, pinching his side, “Sooner morning comes, the sooner I’ll make you, again.”

And on that note, Arthur Morgan goes right to sleep.

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