#kids deserve to feel safe and comfortable in their daily lives

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

growing up with a perpetually anxious primary caregiver is such a mindfuck. that shit will rewire your nervous system

#not a shitpost #i get that parenthood and modern life in general is extremely anxiety inducing #and that anxiety is a common mental health issue and anxiety disorders exist and do not disqualify you from being a loving parent #but i am begging you PLEASE do not project your anxiety onto your kids #especially younger kids #your job is to make your kids feel safe and secure. that is a primary requirement #that doesn't mean you can't be anxious! #but just like being angry doesn't mean you're allowed to yell at your kids or slam doors or break things #being anxious doesn't mean you are allowed to surround your kids with your own fear and stress or teach them to share your anxieties #your job is to be a comforting nurturing parental figure. that means projecting comfort and love #even when it is hard! even when you are tired or angry or scared! #which is a damn hard job! and you won't get it right all the time! #but dammit babes you gotta TRY #kids deserve to feel safe and comfortable in their daily lives #you CANNOT be teaching them to expect catastrophe lurking around every corner

[footballingreenwich]

Helping Athletes and Raising Men:

A Look Into Peter Falla’s Life

Pete Falla, who grew up in Norwalk, Connecticut, still resides there to this day. He and his wife, Kathleen Falla have two sons and a dog, which inspires them to give their all each and every day to make a difference. Pete works as an athletic trainer and physical therapist. He is beloved by the community and for almost thirty years, he’s been wrapping ankles, handing out ice, and inspiring young athletes.

Pete Falla’s daily routine begins with his alarm waking him up in the morning. On a cold morning in Norwalk, Pete feels the need to start every morning early in order to truly prepare himself for what’s to come. After he gets himself ready, he awakens his kids and brings them to school before he goes to work. Every single day, Pete works to provide for his growing family and pursue his aspirations to better the lives of athletes across the town. 

Pete in his training room (fciac.net)

It’s these mornings in which Peter reflects on his day to come. The relaxing noises of the car drive to Greenwich help to calm him and prepare him for his change from the everyday dad to arguably the best athletic trainer, who is always dedicated to his athletes. 

He starts his day at ONS (Orthopedic and Neurosurgery Specialists), where Peter works within the field of physical therapy. Here, he puts his years of knowledge and experience to use to help patients and athletes fully heal within their rehabilitation. Because he has experience in both athletic training and physical therapy, he can really personalize the treatments, which is in the favor of his patients. 

ONS, the company which Pete is a physical therapist for. (https://westfaironline.com)

When afternoon arrives, Pete finds himself at Greenwich High School. In his training room, Pete fosters a community in which athletes can socialize and find support. Pete believes whole-heartedly that training rooms deserve to be judgment-free zones, where athletes can express themselves and feel at home.

In the late afternoons and evenings, Pete resides at the high school. There, he watches over the games and practices taking place across the campus. His goal is to keep all of the kids healthy and happy on the field. Pete’s passion stems from helping others, and it’s this nature that makes him such an inviting and caring individual.

Within the walls of Greenwich High School lies Pete’s training room. In the new, state of the art athletic training facility, Pete tapes, evaluates, and rehabilitates his athletes in order to get them in the best shape possible to compete. “The training room in many high schools can act like a safe haven to athletes who all find themselves in a common situation dealing with injury”, Falla proclaims. The room is decorated with pictures of Pete’s family, tape, scissors and much more equipment to aid Pete throughout the day. One of his most prized possessions, his snack cabinet, holds the key to Pete getting through the long tedious days. The cabinet is a symbol of comfort, where Pete can go to get a tasty treat if he feels the need. Right below the cabinet is his old PC, where he types up injury reports, studies treatments, and watches away sports games. 

Pete’s training room.

His desk, while imperative to Pete’s success, isn’t the most important location in the training room. That designation would belong to his brand new treatment tables. On these leather covered, folding tables is where Pete exercises most of his practice. He can assess injuries quickly, assign treatment, and have athletes in and out of the training room efficiently due to the set up of the room. The athletes are free to use the table whenever they so please, which in turn leads to socialization as well. This area creates a common ground between everyone, and whether you’re an all-state caliber player, or a practice squad player, Pete says “It provides a quiet space to speak openly about their injuries without fear of judgment by the coaches or other teammates”.

Training table in Pete’s training room.

Although he treats football players in all grades, Falla’s job isn’t what drives his love for the game. Born in Norwalk, Connecticut, Peter's background in the sport began at McMahon High School, where he proudly wore the blue and white of the Senators. As an athlete, he experienced the camaraderie, discipline, and thrill of competition that define the sport that is football. In his senior year, Peter emerged as a star, serving as captain and anchoring the offensive line at center—a role that demanded both physical prowess and strategic acumen. Peter attributes many of his skills to the game of football. He states, “It has a way of making you discover and grow personally in ways you never would expect, and sometimes you don’t realize until many years down the road.”

Pete’s yearbook photo in his senior year of high school football.

This quote rings true, especially with his journey as a father. His two sons, wearing the same colors as him, compete in the same sport he loves each and every day. According to Falla, he feels so lucky to have the opportunity to watch his boys play, and will be sad when that is no longer possible. Watching them compete brings a larger sense of importance to the game. "Seeing Drew and Colin out there, giving their all for the team, amplifies the sense of community and family that sports can foster," Peter shares. His job not only allows him to make a living, but also to be a father and watch his kids grow up before his own eyes. 

Pete’s two sons, Colin (left) and Drew (right). (Kathleen Falla Photography)

After work, the Falla family spends time with each other, bonding over their days at the various schools they reside at. The three boys in the family find themselves at Greenwich High, where Kathleen Falla, Pete’s wife, finds herself teaching first grade at Cos Cob Elementary School. She was also lucky enough to witness her boys in action, except in her case, she saw the educational and social aspect of it. Their time together as a family is what motivates Pete to keep pushing.

Peter's story is a narrative of balance, dedication, and love—a testament to the impact of intertwining one's passions with family and community. As he looks forward to another day, the personal fulfillment gleaned from his sons' achievements on the field and his own contributions off it reaffirm the indelible mark he makes on the lives he touches, both as an athletic trainer, a physical therapist, and a father.

Pete Falla is beloved by his community, and for good reason. Always rocking his signature smile, Pete makes sure to shed a positive light on any situation. He often receives chants from Greenwich’s student section such as, “Pete the Trainer! Pete the Trainer! Pete the Trainer!”. This just goes to show what being a good trainer and an even better human does for a community, and how life has it’s way of rewarding those who strive to make the world a better place. 

Pete’s signature look (ons.com)

[drewfalla]

Helping Athletes and Raising Men: A Look Into Peter Falla’s Life

Pete Falla, who grew up in Norwalk, Connecticut, still resides there to this day. He and his wife, Kathleen Falla have two sons and a dog, which inspires them to give their all each and every day to make a difference. Pete works as an athletic trainer and physical therapist. He is beloved by the community and for almost thirty years, he’s been wrapping ankles, handing out ice, and inspiring young athletes.

Pete Falla’s daily routine begins with his alarm waking him up in the morning. On a cold morning in Norwalk, Pete feels the need to start every morning early in order to truly prepare himself for what’s to come. After he gets himself ready, he awakens his kids and brings them to school before he goes to work. Every single day, Pete works to provide for his growing family and pursue his aspirations to better the lives of athletes across the town. 

Pete in his training room (fciac.net)

It’s these mornings in which Peter reflects on his day to come. The relaxing noises of the car drive to Greenwich help to calm him and prepare him for his change from the everyday dad to arguably the best athletic trainer, who is always dedicated to his athletes. 

He starts his day at ONS (Orthopedic and Neurosurgery Specialists), where Peter works within the field of physical therapy. Here, he puts his years of knowledge and experience to use to help patients and athletes fully heal within their rehabilitation. Because he has experience in both athletic training and physical therapy, he can really personalize the treatments, which is in the favor of his patients. 

ONS, the company which Pete is a physical therapist for. (https://westfaironline.com)

When afternoon arrives, Pete finds himself at Greenwich High School. In his training room, Pete fosters a community in which athletes can socialize and find support. Pete believes whole-heartedly that training rooms deserve to be judgment-free zones, where athletes can express themselves and feel at home.

In the late afternoons and evenings, Pete resides at the high school. There, he watches over the games and practices taking place across the campus. His goal is to keep all of the kids healthy and happy on the field. Pete’s passion stems from helping others, and it’s this nature that makes him such an inviting and caring individual.

Within the walls of Greenwich High School lies Pete’s training room. In the new, state of the art athletic training facility, Pete tapes, evaluates, and rehabilitates his athletes in order to get them in the best shape possible to compete. “The training room in many high schools can act like a safe haven to athletes who all find themselves in a common situation dealing with injury”, Falla proclaims. The room is decorated with pictures of Pete’s family, tape, scissors and much more equipment to aid Pete throughout the day. One of his most prized possessions, his snack cabinet, holds the key to Pete getting through the long tedious days. The cabinet is a symbol of comfort, where Pete can go to get a tasty treat if he feels the need. Right below the cabinet is his old PC, where he types up injury reports, studies treatments, and watches away sports games. 

Pete’s training room.

His desk, while imperative to Pete’s success, isn’t the most important location in the training room. That designation would belong to his brand new treatment tables. On these leather covered, folding tables is where Pete exercises most of his practice. He can assess injuries quickly, assign treatment, and have athletes in and out of the training room efficiently due to the set up of the room. The athletes are free to use the table whenever they so please, which in turn leads to socialization as well. This area creates a common ground between everyone, and whether you’re an all-state caliber player, or a practice squad player, Pete says “It provides a quiet space to speak openly about their injuries without fear of judgment by the coaches or other teammates”.

Training table in Pete’s training room.

Although he treats football players in all grades, Falla’s job isn’t what drives his love for the game. Born in Norwalk, Connecticut, Peter's background in the sport began at McMahon High School, where he proudly wore the blue and white of the Senators. As an athlete, he experienced the camaraderie, discipline, and thrill of competition that define the sport that is football. In his senior year, Peter emerged as a star, serving as captain and anchoring the offensive line at center—a role that demanded both physical prowess and strategic acumen. Peter attributes many of his skills to the game of football. He states, “It has a way of making you discover and grow personally in ways you never would expect, and sometimes you don’t realize until many years down the road.”

Pete’s yearbook photo in his senior year of high school football.

This quote rings true, especially with his journey as a father. His two sons, wearing the same colors as him, compete in the same sport he loves each and every day. According to Falla, he feels so lucky to have the opportunity to watch his boys play, and will be sad when that is no longer possible. Watching them compete brings a larger sense of importance to the game. "Seeing Drew and Colin out there, giving their all for the team, amplifies the sense of community and family that sports can foster," Peter shares. His job not only allows him to make a living, but also to be a father and watch his kids grow up before his own eyes. 

Pete’s two sons, Colin (left) and Drew (right). (Kathleen Falla Photography)

After work, the Falla family spends time with each other, bonding over their days at the various schools they reside at. The three boys in the family find themselves at Greenwich High, where Kathleen Falla, Pete’s wife, finds herself teaching first grade at Cos Cob Elementary School. She was also lucky enough to witness her boys in action, except in her case, she saw the educational and social aspect of it. Their time together as a family is what motivates Pete to keep pushing.

Peter's story is a narrative of balance, dedication, and love—a testament to the impact of intertwining one's passions with family and community. As he looks forward to another day, the personal fulfillment gleaned from his sons' achievements on the field and his own contributions off it reaffirm the indelible mark he makes on the lives he touches, both as an athletic trainer, a physical therapist, and a father.

Pete Falla is beloved by his community, and for good reason. Always rocking his signature smile, Pete makes sure to shed a positive light on any situation. He often receives chants from Greenwich’s student section such as, “Pete the Trainer! Pete the Trainer! Pete the Trainer!”. This just goes to show what being a good trainer and an even better human does for a community, and how life has it’s way of rewarding those who strive to make the world a better place. 

Pete’s signature smile (ons.com)

[aviewfromthecheapseats]

They're Not Deplorables, They're Americans: How the Media and Democrats Dehumanize Trump Supporters

The 2016 election will be remembered for many things - the rise of Donald Trump, the candidacy of the first woman for President on a major party ticket, Russian interference - but it also brought to prominence a disturbing trend of dehumanization in American politics.

When Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton said at an LGBT fundraiser that half of Trump's supporters could be put into a "basket of deplorables," it set the tone for how the media and Democrats would go on to portray all supporters of the Republican candidate. Rather than engage on substantive policy issues and have good-faith debates on the merits of each side's arguments, a sinister rhetorical strategy took hold - paint the other side as so dangerous, depraved and less than human that they must be defeated at all costs.

This effort to dehumanize Trump supporters ramped up after his surprising election victory. Major media outlets ran articles analyzing whether Trump voters were motivated by racism, misogyny, xenophobia, or simple ignorance. Academics pontificated about the moral deficiencies of conservatives. Late night comedians and celebrities hurled insults, calling them hillbillies, neo-Nazis, and far worse. The underlying message was clear - these people are not like us, they are fundamentally flawed, and we don't need to listen to any of their concerns.

But stripped of the partisan rhetoric, who are Trump supporters? They are veterans and first responders who put their lives on the line to keep our nation safe. They are middle American farmers who work sunup to sundown to put food on our tables. They are single moms working two jobs just trying to provide for their kids. They are new American immigrants who came here legally because they believe in the American dream.

In other words, they are human beings. They deserve just as much respect and dignity as any other American.

So how did we get to a place where large swaths of the country feel comfortable hurling vicious attacks against their fellow citizens just because of who they voted for? There are a few driving factors:

Media bubbles. With the decline of local news and the rise of national cable and online news, many now get their information primarily from sources that confirm their existing biases. Consuming narrow perspectives makes it easier to demonize the other side.

celebrity culture. Huge Hollywood stars with platforms reaching millions now routinely mock and denigrate conservatives. This cynically plays on and amplifies existing societal divides.

Tribal identities. More and more, political parties are becoming crude proxies for deeper debates over culture and values. This makes compromise harder as politics becomes personal.

Social media. On Twitter and Facebook, outrageous and dehumanizing rhetoric gets rewarded with likes and shares, creating toxic cycles of outrage and division.

Sorting. As Americans increasingly cluster in ideologically homogeneous communities, many progressives have little contact with Trump voters in their daily lives. This makes stereotyping more likely.

Cynical politicians. Some ambitious Democrats likely believe dehumanizing rhetoric is an effective way to discredit opponents and energize their base. The ends justify the means.

So how do we get back to treating each other as fellow citizens again? A few ideas:

Have real conversations. Make an effort to have discussions with people who don't share your worldview. Don't just scream on Twitter.

Consume diverse media. Don't just seek out sources you already agree with. Expose yourself to different perspectives.

Call out dehumanization when you see it. Set a positive example by criticizing those on your own side who cross the line.

Appeal to shared values. Remind people of what unites us - love of family, community, country - instead of just focusing on differences.

Preach grace and empathy. Treat others how you would want to be treated if you were in their shoes.

Dehumanization is dangerous and tears at the fabric of our society. In these polarized times, we have to make an active effort to see the humanity in each other. Understand why someone supports a candidate, don't just dismiss them as evil. We all want what's best for our country and our families, we just disagree on how to get there. But we are all in this American experiment together.

At the end of the day, we are not just Democrats or Republicans, we are human beings. We are neighbors, coworkers, friends, and family. We all deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, no matter who we vote for. It’s time to turn away from dehumanization and towards decency.

[k9andcompany]

CREATING A SAFE AND COMFORTABLE HOME FOR YOUR DOG

As a dog lover, you know that your furry companion is more than just a pet — they’re a family member! And just like any other family member, you want to ensure they feel safe, comfortable, and loved in their home. Creating a safe and comfortable home for your dog is crucial to their health and happiness. But where do you start? In this blog post, we’ll dive into tips and tricks for making your home the perfect haven for your furry friend.

Buy the Right Gear

One of the first steps to creating a safe and comfortable home for your dog is ensuring you have the right gear for them. This includes, at a minimum, a comfortable bed, accessible food and water bowls that are the appropriate height to prevent neck strain, and a leash and harness for safe walks. Additionally, if you live in an area prone to harsh weather, consider investing in dog booties to protect their paw pads and a winter coat or rain jacket to help keep your dog comfortable and protected in inclement weather.

Dogs are notorious for their love of playtime. Providing plenty of toys helps keep them entertained and reduces destructive behavior by providing them with an appropriate outlet for chewing and more. Choose toys that fit your dog’s size and chewing habits to avoid choking hazards. Additionally, rotating your dog’s toys can help keep things interesting and prevent boredom and the accompanying destructive behaviors.

Make Your Home Safe

As much as we love our furry friends, they can be mischievous and deeply curious. Dog-proofing your home can help prevent accidents and injuries, preventing pain and suffering for both you and your pet. Always store hazardous cleaning materials or chemicals in locked cabinets, keep sharp objects out of reach, and ensure any plants are dog-safe. Additionally, be aware of common choking hazards and items your dog is prone to snag (e.g., socks, kid’s toys, etc.). If you own a home with a yard, ensure you reduce risk there too! Some dogs chew on rocks or eat plants that may be dangerous to their health; others are prone to digging under fences and escaping. One way to help dog-proof your home is by walking through your space at their level and thinking like your pup, then taking the proper precautions in response.

Dogs are naturally active creatures and require daily exercise to stay healthy and happy. Part of providing them with a safe and comfortable home is ensuring they are mentally and physically stimulated. Don’t worry — that doesn’t require a yard, just a commitment to get moving! Going for walks or runs, playing fetch, or taking them to a dog park are great ways to keep your dog active. Mental stimulation, such as puzzle toys or obedience training, can help keep your dog sharp and engaged when walks aren’t enough. A tired dog is a happy dog and is also more likely to stay out of trouble within their home space.

Proper nutrition and feeding are essential to making your home safe and comfortable for your dog and their overall health and well-being. Dogs who trust they don’t have to fight for their next meal develop deep loyalty and are more relaxed in their environment. Be sure to choose a high-quality dog food that meets their nutritional needs — consult a veterinarian for suggestions on high-quality dog food and appropriate portion sizes if you’re unsure.

Additionally, ensure that your dog has access to fresh water at all times. Give treats and chews in moderation, and always supervise your dog when they’re snacking. And finally, be mindful of your dog’s food allergies, if any, when buying new treats.

Creating a safe and comfortable home for your dog is essential to their overall happiness and health. Ensuring they have the right gear, plenty of toys, a safe environment, opportunities for exercise, and proper nutrition are all vital components. By following these tips, you can provide your furry companion with the perfect haven they deserve. Remember, a happy dog equals a happy family!

While you’re setting up your home for success, be sure to check out everything that K9 & Company has to offer, both for pets and their paw-rents.

#dog training #dog accessories #dog care

[senior-living-apartment]

How Do the Best 55+ Communities Help Residents Live Long and Healthy Lives?

People love to live in familiar surroundings and among generally like-minded people. That partly is why many older adults greatly prefer living in communities that only accept tenants who are age 55 and over. According to the AHCA, There are approximately 28,900 assisted living communities with nearly one million licensed beds in the United States today, so how do you find the best one? The best 55+ communities provide their residents with many benefits, and the following are just a few.

Greater Security While Enjoying Peace

Few things can be more annoying for those who are age 55 and over than living among a bunch of loud and rude people. It also can be terrifying for senior citizens who have legitimate concerns about potential criminal activity. Many seniors and older adults know that criminals tend to target the elderly.

The best 55+ communities have security personnel on duty around the clock. They also have community rules against loud noise and enforce them. Older tenants generally don’t play loud music at all hours, host large parties, or deal drugs from their apartments. Every resident should feel safe and deserves the peace and quiet they desire.

Residential Units Built With Older Adults in Mind

The best 55+ communities won’t make you climb up and down stairs or live while sandwiched between two other apartments. You won’t have to worry about hearing young kids running overheard or beneath your unit because the residential buildings are single-level. The best communities will also have relatively large living spaces that can hold all of your belongings that you’ve acquired over the decades. You can make it into a truly welcoming and comfortable home.

Amenities Geared Toward Older Adults

The best 55+ communities offer the kinds of amenities that older residents truly can use and that make their daily lives easier. Amenities commonly include a washer and dryer in each unit to keep clothes and linens clean. A dishwasher makes it a lot easier to cook and maintain a clean kitchen, central air conditioning keeps things cool on hot summer days, and heaters for warmth in the winter.

A senior community might have a pickleball court instead of a basketball court. A gym and Jacuzzi might be available to help support active lifestyles. These communities often include outdoor grills for outdoor cooking. They might even organize group activities that enable residents to have fun and get to know each other better.

#Best Senior Living Communities #55 Communities #55 Retirement Communities #55 And Older Apartment Communities #Independent Living Community

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.” 

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be. 

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go. 

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays. 

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home. 

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing. 

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids. 

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve. 

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea. 

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy. 

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry. 

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.” 

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead. 

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone. 

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go. 

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too. 

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again. 

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door. 

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse. 

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub. 

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577. 

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows. 

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see. 

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him. 

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else. 

“Just a pint,” I tell him. 

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her. 

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop. 

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl. 

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where. 

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head. 

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do. 

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight. 

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1. 

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born. 

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.” 

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly. 

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight. 

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns. 

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly. 

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.  

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention. 

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis. 

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again. 

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle. 

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did… 

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing. 

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle. 

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics. 

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk. 

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap. 

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it. 

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time. 

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either. 

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window. 

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me. 

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly. 

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it. 

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me. 

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room. 

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly. 

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up. 

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal. 

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life. 

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What? 

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say. 

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.” 

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.” 

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it. 

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me. 

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now. 

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife. 

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk. 

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle. 

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh. 

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. 

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer. 

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter. 

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.” 

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head. 

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly. 

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?” 

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm. 

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.” 

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards. 

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses. 

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her. 

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead. 

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door. 

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week. 

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating. 

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside. 

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed. 

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously. 

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.” 

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll. 

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me. 

-

Read part II here!

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #boyfriend!harry #husband!harry #dad!harry #dad harry styles #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles imagines

[heliads]

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent. 

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century. 

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.” 

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.” 

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws x reader #catws #catws imagines

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

#actuallyautistic #not a shitpost #holy shit how did i spend 3 hours writing this what even is my blog #this blog is supposed to be blue whale anxiety and uncomfortably sexy clown jokes #what am i doing #sensory processing disorder #sensory issues #mental health #actually autistic #NOTIFY ME OF ANY TYPOS #i proofread this 5 times my eyes weep an unceasing flood of blood and regret #adhd #actuallyadhd #autism #sensory problems

[baureidalvez]

Angels Chasing Demons • Spencer Reid

This is my first Criminal Minds blurb! I'm new to the fandom and haven't even watched the whole thing yet (at the start of s11!) but I couldn't resist writing a little something. Feedback and reblogs would be SO appreciated, as I'm a little nervous to post this!

Summary: you try to hide your feelings from Spencer after he got shot, with little success. Mainly just lots of fluff and emotions!

Word count: 2,181

Episode: 🚨S9 ep 23/24🚨

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

You plump up the cushion behind Spencer’s head, being careful not to jostle him, noting the wince in his throat as he settles against the sofa. He nods as much as he can, a small smile on his lips, now that he’s out of the stiff hospital bed and back in your flat where he belongs. He’s on strict bed rest; Rossi told you to hide his work phone for at least a week, but you know he won’t allow that. You know it’ll barely be a few days before he’s asking for it again.

“I think I’m as comfortable as I can be for someone who just got shot in the neck,” He replies, the usual sarcastic twinge to his voice. “You know, the doctor told me that the bulle-“

“Babe,” You swallow the lump in your throat and try not to let Spencer see the tears in your eyes, this being one of the reasons having a profiler as a boyfriend is so inconvenient. You can’t hide anything. He narrows his eyes as he observes you, a free hand reaching to squeeze one of yours. “When it’s been more than a few days and you’ve healed and rested, you can tell me all about the science behind you being shot. For now, I don’t want to hear it.”

He nods once more and remembers that you haven’t seen the things he’s seen; it’s not part of your daily routine to find dead bodies and analyse every aspect to work out who committed such a thing. It’s engrained in him now, it’s second nature – you can listen to so much, but when it’s regarding the sweet man sat in front of you, you can barely look at him without wanting to burst into tears. There has been many tears over the past few days – first following the call from Garcia, and then again in the waiting room as Blake tried to keep you sane.

“I do need one more thing,” He murmurs, his hand still clutching yours, thumb stroking over the back like he doesn’t want to let go. “Will you lay with me?”

There’s nothing you want more than to be close to him, yet you know you need a minute to compose yourself. From hearing that he got shot to waiting for him to come out of surgery, to then hear that Garcia had saved him from being shot once more in a place that should have been safe – it’s all been a little too much. You lean forward to brush a chaste kiss to his lips, his gaze set on you as he waits for your answer. “Of course. Just give me two minutes, okay? There’s definitely three more care packages outside the door that I need to bring in before one of the neighbours takes them.”

“Okay.” He whispers, and you kiss his forehead before tucking the thick blanket over his lap, with a promise to be back in a moment. He sighs and knows that you’re not okay. He’s not okay either – he knows it’s only a matter of time before the nightmares start again, and he won’t be sleeping, but somehow it was easier to deal with when it was just him alone. Now you’re around too, he hates being the cause of your upset. He lays back against his cushion as you close the door to the apartment, and it’s barely a few seconds before tears are slipping down your cheeks. You were right, there is another care package sat on the doorstep, which you know is from Garcia. It’s not the reason you’re out there though, in the silent hall, the only sound being the sobs you’re trying to conceal at the thought of your boyfriend inside. It’s so hard seeing him in pain. He loves everyone around him, he loves his job, he’s dedicated his life to catching the bad guys and protecting people, no matter what it takes. He doesn’t deserve the pain he’s been through, and every time he’s called to a case, you pray to some higher being to keep him safe. Nothing makes your heart race more than an unexpected phone call or a text, your mind instantly going to the worst scenario possible. In this case, it almost had been.

Spencer may be off work and on bed rest, but it doesn’t stop the profiler part of his brain from being awake. He hears the sound he was expecting to hear as soon as you close the door, and it goes straight to tug on his heartstrings. Sometimes he doesn’t have all of the answers, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he shouldn’t get up from the couch, and he’s not sure he’ll physically be able to without injuring himself further. He clears his throat before trying to call out your name.

“Honey…” He calls again, when your name doesn’t get your attention. Not enough to come back inside anyway. “I really want to be able to comfort you right now but I physically can’t move, so, can you come back inside please?”

You chuckle behind the door through your tears and shake your head, feeling silly for thinking even for a moment that he wouldn’t know what you were doing. Swiping the tears from under your eyes, you compose yourself as much as you can, picking up the picnic basket full of snacks and tea before pushing the door open again.

“I manage to salvage this one before next door got hold of it,” You try to laugh it off, but he hears your voice wobble, and his eyes follow you as soon as he spots you. “It’s from Garcia again, she left a not-“

“Babe.” He sighs, cutting you off from rambling about anything other than the current situation. “Come here, please? You don’t have to hide from me.” Warm tears are cascading down your cheeks once more when you realise there’s no concealing it, there’s no way to keep it hidden anymore. You don’t want to push him away, but somehow your upset seems less valid than his – he’s the one who had to go through the physical pain, he got shot, it should be you taking care of him. Spencer doesn’t see it that way, though.

“Please don’t cry because of me, love,” He murmurs as you sit down next to him, pressing your face against his sweater covered chest. He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you in close, tucking your face against his shoulder, wetness from your eyes hitting the material as you cry. “Shh, I’m right here, now.”

He lets you cry it out for a few minutes, soothing sounds slipping from his lips, a warm hand rubbing the top of your back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You know you should, that you’re going to have to at some point, although you don’t even know where to begin. Spencer stalls for a few moments though, giving you another minute to calm down.

“Did you know, crying is actually a good thing? Research has found that crying actually does make you feel better, and the lump that you feel in your throat, isn’t actually a lump at all. It’s your autonomic nervous system going into high alert, which enlarges the glottis, the opening in your throat which allows you to get more air in to your lungs. It’s the tension between trying to open and close your glottis that makes it feel like a lump.” He keeps going and all you can do is smile, even though the words aren’t registering; you’re just happy to have your Spencer back and in one piece. “But.. even though it’s a good thing, it doesn’t make it any easier for me to see.”

Spencer feels an urge to comfort people, he hates seeing people cry. He remembers the unsettled feeling in his stomach that he feels whenever he sees JJ cry, or he finds a survivor who can do nothing but let out their emotions. He’s no stranger to crying himself, and if he’s honest, seeing you fall apart in his arms has his own eyes burning.

You rub your cheek against the material of his sweater, the smell soothing and familiar, much different to the clinical scent that clung to him after his hospital stay. “Spence… we almost lost you.”

Your mind flashes back to the beeping of machines, Blake’s arms wrapped around you in the waiting room, clinging onto any shred of hope that he was going to pull through the surgery. You vaguely remember a conversation between Blake and JJ, about how Spencer wants to have kids, and Rossi saying he’s too smart to die – he has too much to live for. It’s all true. He has the rest of his life to live and knowing he got close to almost not having that, is enough to scare you to death.

“We didn’t know if you were going to pull through. My heart sinks every time my phone rings, I just get so worried about you… and then I actually got that call.” You explain, unsure where you’re headed, but knowing he needs to hear it. He listens as you cry in his arms, his thumb gently brushing each tear away as it falls. “I know this is your job, your life, and I would never take that away from you. You’re amazing at what you do, and the world needs you. I just wish I could know that you’re safe. People shouldn’t be allowed to hurt someone like you.”

He exhales through his nose as he thinks of the situation from your perspective. Obviously, he was worried, but he always pushes it to the back of his mind when he’s in the heat of the moment, doing anything he can to protect others around him. He pushed Blake out of the way to keep her safe, and he’d choose that option every time. In the moment, he doesn’t think of the repercussions. It always happens so quickly, and the next thing he knows he’s in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital. He hates seeing people that he loves in pain, and he hates getting those calls too. He’ll never forget the feeling of finding out that Garcia had been shot, or that JJ had been tortured. It’s a ball of anxiety that sits in the pit of his stomach, and he realises that must be how you feel, every time he goes on a case.

“The world would be a better place if no-one ever got hurt. I like to think my job plays a part in trying to achieve that,” He replies, fingertips trailing up and down your back as he speaks. “There’s always going to be more cases, more bad guys, but every day, we put more of them away. I know it’s dangerous, but it’s a part of me now..”

“I know, and I don’t want to change that about you.” You assure him, squeezing his hand to get his full attention. “I’m not asking you to change anything. I just wish you didn’t have to get hurt, or be in pain. I’m too scared of losing you. You have too much to give back to the world for that to happen.”

“I love you.” He murmurs, making sure to look right at you, your eyes locked on his. “I know I’m not easy to be with, I’m away a lot, and I get hurt… but everything feels easier with you around. And I wish I could move my neck so I could kiss you right now.”

You laugh and carefully sit up as not to jostle him, moving your face closer so the tip of your nose nudges his. “I love you, too.”

Spencer steals the first kiss, his soft but slightly chapped lips brushing yours, moving his head as much as he can so your foreheads touch. You kiss him back with as much love as you can muster up, wanting him to feel every inch of it, knowing that he does. You sigh contentedly, feeling better after your discussion, but knowing he has a long way to go to heal. The kissing is interrupted by the sound of his phone, and you shake your head, remembering Rossi’s orders to keep it away from him and to not let him answer.

“My phone, can you get it? I can’t move,” He asks, looking around the room from where the sound is coming from.

“Nope,” You reply, shaking your head, punctuating the sound with another kiss to Spencer’s lips. “Strict orders from Rossi, no phone for at least two weeks. You need to rest, and I’m about to go and turn it off.”

He watches as you push up from the sofa, going to find his bag, and pulling the vibrating phone from the front pocket. He shakes his head as he hears you head to the bedroom, keeping it tucked away whilst he recoups. He’s in pain, and he knows he doesn’t have an easy road ahead, but with you to take care of him… somehow, things don’t feel so bad.

**

Feedback would be appreciated! Let me know what you think here <3

#aaaah i'm nervous! #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x reader blurb #spencer reid fics #spencer reid au #criminal minds blurbs #criminal minds au #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #reid fanfic #reid blurb #baureidalvez

[injeolmikasa]

AOT (SNK) HEADCANONS

What their favorite curse words are or which ones they would use in a modern setting. -Includes the Warriors ofc ^^-

TRIGGER WARNING: you guessed it. Curse words and mentions of slur usage (slurs not included ofc).

Eren (S1-3): he would definitely go with the usual “fuck” and “bitch” but have an unhealthy obsession with words related to balls that everyone hates and makes Mikasa give him dirty looks every time he says one.

“Bro you fucking piece of shit, I swear I will kick you in those fucking hairy bollocks you call a face”

Eren (S4): this man just says the most offensive slurs (unprovoked and with no visible emotions) that make the entire room go QUIET.

Mikasa: doesn’t curse too often, but when she does, she mostly uses some Japanese curse words that she picked up from her mother, such as:

“くそ! (kuzo!)”: meaning “fuck!”

“ちくしょう (chikushō)”: meaning “oh shit”

“わるがき (warugaki)”: meaning “brat”. Mostly used towards Eren when she is annoyed.

Fair to say that she doesn’t shout them, she just says them in a low voice.

Armin: we all know it’s really unlikely that he’ll ever insult anyone during an argument, but for some reason i feel that he enjoys to say things like “holy guacamole!” when he stubs his toe in the couch and stuff like that djdjdjhs

Sasha: loves weird word combinations and long curse words to say at any given moment such as: “what in the mother geewillikers’ bazooka trunk is that?!?”

No one really knows how she comes up with these.

Connie: DEFINITELY uses stinky and ass way too much.

“Hey Connie, yo mama-“

“LISTEN YOU STINKY ASS MOTHE-“

Jean: is the one who actually makes the “yo mama” jokes to Connie ALL the time. He likes to get creative.

“Hey Connie, yo mama so fat that Thanos had to snap twice”

“Hey Connie, yo mama’s forehead so big that she can make a pita out of sourdough bread by giving it a headbutt”

Historia: on a daily basis, she uses refined curse words to refer to the people that she dislikes, such as “bastard”, “miserable”, “wretched” and such, but OH- we all know that when she’s either comfortable or really mad she can say (and probably knows) more curse words than everyone in the troops combined.

Ymir: she just needs cursing to live and most of her sentences consist of phrases with random curse words intertwined into every single one of them. Special mention to “shit” because she likes it a lot and most things that aren’t related to Historia are just “shitty” to her.

“I SWEAR TO GOD REINER YOU SHITTY FUCKING DICKHEAD! STAY AWAY FROM HISTORIA”

Erwin: oh, our good suburban dad Erwin. He really likes “bloody hell” and will throw random dammits at small inconveniences like “staining” his shirt with a little bit of coffee or a pen falling from his desk.

Levi: he will for sure call everyone an “asshole” because he simply thinks everyone is. Period. He doesn’t care who you are. To him, everyone is just a “stupid asshole that doesn’t deserve his time and effort”.

Yes. He learned this word from Kenny. Now cry.

Hange: they absolutely love researching funny and currently unused curse words on the internet just for the laughs. Hange doesn’t really feel the need to curse at everything and everyone, but will randomly throw some of the ones they learned when everyone is angry and cursing to just “get in the mood”.

Ymir: “he’s just shitty, I guess…”

Connie: “JUST SHITTY? HE FUCKING SUCKS ASS”

Hange, passing by: “zooterkins! he sounds like a zounderkite. Did you two know that is the victorian word for idiot?” *laughs and leaves*

Reiner: his favorites were “son of a bitch”, “motherfucker” and “whore”, and he mainly used them to insult fellow men when he was at Paradis. Now that he’s back in Marley, he just doesn’t have the energy/tries to avoid doing it for the kids.

Bertholdt: my good man right here would never insult anyone but himself when he is frustrated (which mostly happens in his mind, of course), but sometimes, when he says these things out loud, they’re like:

“Come on Bertholdt you’re such an idiot!”

“Dumb. I am dumb. Goodbye”. *storms off in tiny anger*

Annie: is definitely beyond basic “rat kid insults” (in her words) like “pussy”, anything to do with balls, “whateverfucker” and randomly saying “fuck” or “shit” in every sentence, so she usually goes with the useful basic when needed:

“Fuck off”. Yep, that is definitely a favorite.

Pieck: definitely knows how to curse properly but chooses not to, so don’t be fooled. She might look soft, and she is. But she has also been on too many missions with too many soldiers and definitely knows way more insults and jargon than you.

She doesn’t really have a favorite one, though. She just enjoys the looks on people’s faces when she lets them know that she understood every single word that they said and that “calling her a “carechimba hija de su puta madre” won’t suffice”.

Yelena: will straight up HEX you in russian and occasionally bring up some slurs💀. I know, I’m sorry Yelena but we all know it’s true ㅠㅠ

Zeke: this man is still -sadly- not over “balls and penis curse words”, so you can imagine for yourself what his common expressions are and how he goes from “ballsack sucker” to whatever sounds like it.

Porco: uses the classical “fuck”, “shit”, “bitch” and so on, but additionally tries to incorporate curse words or even slurs that he doesn’t know how to use or what they mean and their implications, only to be met by Pieck’s stare seconds later; and you guessed it: she usually has to explain to him what they mean and why he shouldn’t be using them.

Falco: will mostly say those weird “filtered bad words” that are children-safe, such as “fudge nuggets!” and “snickerdoodle!”, but you cannot tell me that Gabi hasn’t taught him the actual stuff and he secretly uses “shit” on the internet and some others slip out when he’s playing with his friends and gets mad at Gabi for cheating.

Gabi: knows the entire classic curse word dictionary. Occasionally uses slurs pretending she didn’t know that she couldn’t say them.

One day, she called Falco a “piece of pixelated b*kk*ke” because she heard it somewhere and thought it meant “shit”, so Pieck had to step in and age-appropriately explain that it was something that “bad men did to punish women in Japan and that it was not funny at all”. Gabi never said it again.

Casually picked up “suka” from Yelena because she thought it sounded funny.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan headcanons #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin aot #sasha braus #connie springer #hange zoë #levi ackerman #erwin smith #ymir #historia reiss #pieck #pieck finger #annie leonhardt #aot reiner #attack on titan bertholdt #porco galliard #gabi braun #falco attack on titan

[cosmiclatte28]

Sushi Date! (Dad!Yuta x you)

a/n : hey sorry for disappearing, I have midterms last week and this week I only have to do 2 more... anyways I am double updating today :D

warning : none

a/n again : This is like the second scene after Fringe (though it’s not related) Namie is your first born daughter and yes you guys delivered a second child! Find out who the prince is... oop spoiled it

ENJOYYYYY

this is your fave dad!yuta domestic kind of thigns right? @yutahoes

anyone who wants to be tagged, please let me know :D

vocab crash course : Otosan - dad in Japanese

“Open up,” said the sweet man seating on the other side of the table as he extends his arm and brings a chopstick with sushi to your mouth.

You giggle, blushing from the bold public display affection nevertheless you open your mouth and take in the piece of sushi.

“Aaaa" he mimics you by opening his mouth and you really have to hold yourself back from crawling under the table. Yuta is really affectionate, but you are the type to keep it low in public. Mainly because the man you are dating is a public figure and you are just a small girl in the village doing alright . And you are just a lucky girl who happens to fall in love with him aannndd its mutual.

“wae?” He asks when you slowly kick his shin under the table. Your red ears are enough to make him realize that you're shy.

“there’s many people Yuta,” you whisper and glare at him. He runs his eyes along the room and nods his head “so what?”

“Well I don’t want to attract attention.” You play with the chopstick in your hand. Yuta doesn’t mind you instead he picks another piece and stuffs it into his mouth “No one is paying attention to us. Besides I've missed your tons! I just want to make sure you know I love you.”

You feel guilty but thanks to the banging on the table, both you and Yuta quickly drive your attentions to the little member of your family.

“Oh Kenji-san, you want more?” Yuta quickly refills his son’s empty plate.

Kenji's big smile soon reappears as he picks up his training chopstick and make an attempt to eat the salmon sushi.

“Otosan! Namie-chan too,” your first daughter who already grows up to a well behaved sweet 4 years old tug on her father's shirt.

Yuta looks at her with heart in his eyes and with his father mode he takes care of her.

Yes, your second child has been in the family for a year. Kenji is a healthy baby with calm personality, unlike Namie who cannot sit still, Kenji can entertain himself with sitting down on the floor and dozing off. You sometimes feel bad seeing Kenji staying quiet despite Namie's tireless attempts to make her brother laugh.

They're a dynamic duo, but Namie loves Kenji with all her heart. She was sometimes jealous at first, but when Yuta makes sure she gets the love she deserves and explains Kenji is her brother, Namie wants to understand and helps you a lot on daily basis by being a good sister. Yes, Yuta's absence in the house during promotion era is crazy for you, but with his constant hard work your small family can enjoy living a good life.

Yuta and you continue to supervise your children as they gladly enjoy their meals.

“I love seeing them eat like this,” Yuta puts down his chopstick and you quirk an eyebrow. Sushi is something he really likes, but he only ate a few earlier.

“Stopping? Diet?” you ask totally aware of his food restrictions. Yuta shakes his head “Let the kids have it, I had enough.”

You smile, as you help Kenji scoops in some more food.

Namie is eating like every other kid her age, totally engrossed in the delicious foods that her face is messy and her hands are full of rice.

“Aigo look at how big you've grown! Otosan still remembers the day I can cradle you.” Yuta rubs a loving hand on Namie's soft hairs. She smiles which makes Yuta smiles too.

“I am a big girl! I am a sister now! Kenji is my little brother.” Namie proudly points to Kenji who is clapping his hands as if he understands his sister's words.

Yuta plants a kiss on Namie's head and the smaller one winks.

“Look at both of you having the same smile,” you comment while helping Kenji cleans up after his happy meal mess.

Yuta watches as Namie reaches out for her own wet tissue and starts cleaning up, Yuta's heart swells at the thought of his daughter growing up so fast … he'll drive her to school and suddenly she is a young lady and one day Yuta will walk her down the aisle!

“Otosan?” the small girl's tug on his shirt brings Yuta back to present days.

“Yes princess?” Yuta plants his attention to the less messy girl.

“Help me, I don’t know if I'm clean already…” she hands Yuta the wet tissue pack and Yuta gladly takes one fresh sheet out “Of course, here next time you want yo make sure you didn’t miss this part.” Yuta explains as he wipes the cheek area.

“Thank you for dinner.” Namie mutters to Yuta after they all settle into the car and head back home.

Yuta looks surprised, Namie has never said that usually it was you, but you were quiet because Kenji fell asleep already on your chest.

“You're welcome Namie.” Yuta replies although he shoots you a questioning yet proud look.

Once the car is parked and the small family enters the house, Namie stays behind to wait for Yuta to lock his car.

“Oh, go inside Naemie, it's cold.” Yuta ushers the small girl into the house and Namie is all good she just waits to tell “Thank you!” for Yuta to drive them home safely.

Yuta feels warm, receiving small gratefulness from his children is enough to recharge his energy.

Once Namie and Kenji are asleep in their room, you finally have the time to enjoy your husband's attention. Well Yuta has been giving his attention to Kenji and Namie, but you don’t blame him. He needs a bonding time with them or else they don’t know who their father is.

You snuggle comfortably into Yuta's hug and he runs a finger throughout your hair while sometimes massaging your tense neck.

“Namie really grew up so fast!” Yuta mumbles.

You nod proudly “I taught her all of her manners.”

Yuta smile “I am aware of that; it is a habit of yours that always thank me for dinner and driving and anything else! Every small thing I did… you give me thank and attention! Namie sure saw you do that all the time and thinks it is something to do… which I am glad she did copy!”

You laugh “Yes I am glad she picks up this habit from young. Thanks, Yuta, for tonight.” You impulsively thank him like any other days.

Yuta lovingly rubs your shoulder “See, always thanking me! I should be the one to thank you… must be hard to look after them by yourself. I promise I'll try to go home more.”

His hand brushes your shoulder and he focus his eyes on the dark to notice a patch of neck pain reliever stickers on your back. He sadly smiles and runs a hand over the tensed muscles

“Must be hard right? Tired… taking care of children… I am sorry,” he presses the tight nods away, trying to help you unwind.

You blush when you let out a breathy moan on a good knot Yuta is pressing “Well I need to thank you, because I really am thankful. Thanks for being a good father to them. If it's hard? It is, but your job is also hard. so, both of us have our own duties and we need to do them well.”

“Am I? I feel like I am a bad father.” Yuta frowns as his hand continues to do wonders to your tensed shoulders. Carrying Kenji with the baby carrier while doing house chores made you want to buy a nee spine.

You smooth out the lines between his brows “No, they see you as their hero! Namie knows you work hard for her so she can go to school and eat her favorite foods.”

Yuta feels happy about that and kisses your head “You're a wonderful mom! Teaching that to your children by yourself.”

You shake your head “You are being responsible, and it is a good father image for them. They'll understand.  You- coming home every free time you have is strong enough to remind them how hard you're working for them. You're not a bad father Yuta, instead I am glad you're always trying your best to be a dad.”

Yuta hugs you deeper into the sheet “Is it? Then I am glad you are the mother to my beautiful, handsome, and wonderful children. Thank you (y/n). Saranghae~”

“me too, love you tons Yuta!” you press a kiss on his cheek and bury yourself to his chest as you slowly drift to dreamland.

end

#domestic yuta #father yuta #yuta x you #yuta x reader #yuta x you #yuta x y/n #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #yuta fanfic #yuta fluff #yuta domestic fluff #dad yuta #yuta family au #nct imagine #nct domestic fluff #nct father au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #yuta oneshot

[inkweaver22-blr]

Four for four baby! This is perhaps the last of my daily updates as I’ll be busy the next few days. Here’s another little filler chapter but it’s a good one as it’s the first one where we directly see references to other creators’ Monkie Kid works! There’s three references here, two subtle and one explicit. I’ll make sure to have links to each work in the notes at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Four: Childish Behavior

Tang often feels like the only adult surrounded by children. Literally sometimes.

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If there was one thing Tang had learned about these timelines he kept jumping between was that they were consistently inconsistent.

The minor details that changed randomly but never really affected the outcome of the events from his original time were still abundant and rarely phased him much anymore.

(Although that one time he had platinum blonde hair had been interesting.)

It was when entirely unique situations arose that the scholar was caught off guard.

New events sprung up every now and then and inserted themselves between the original ones. As with the smaller changes, these new scenarios were unpredictable and varied wildly in scope.

A surprisingly durable MK clone that somehow managed to escape being dispelled, gaining independence, and becoming Macaque’s apprentice.

An ocean demon sinking ships just outside the bay and Sandy getting to go on that water adventure he wanted.

MK’s birth parents trying to reinsert themselves back into his life after seeing his achievements on the news.

(Tang was so incredibly proud of his kid for standing up for himself and refusing their empty platitudes. The pranks that he, Mei, and the Monkey King had pulled on them in retaliation were great stress relievers.)

Since Tang could still do his best to help out in each new event without horrible consequences, it seemed the rule of “No Interference” did not apply to them. He supposed that made sense as he had no way to predict when or if they might occur and thus couldn’t change an outcome he didn’t know about.

He was grateful for that small mercy at least.

Still, with how these cycles seemed to be endless so far, a few of these events would happen over multiple timelines.

Getting de-aged by a mischievous trickster demon or spirit was a strangely common occurrence.

MK seemed to be the most popular target for this particular curse. The brightness of his personality seemed to shine even stronger whenever he was reverted into a child, which simply made Tang love the kid even more.

(He wished he could have helped the Monkey King tear Macaque apart for kidnapping their precious little one in that cycle.)

They all had their own turns of having their biological clocks reversed of course. Mei was a little trouble maker, Pigsy was a shy and timid toddler, and Sandy liked to have things he could break apart. Tang couldn’t clearly remember the times he had been de-aged but was pleased when an exhausted Mei and Mk had said he was the easiest of the adults-turned-kids to take care of.

Then there was the Monkey King.

Having to corral a rambunctious young monkey with the strength to crush boulders and the ability to duplicate or shapeshift was not easy.

(He still had no idea how MK had managed to do it alone once.)

With the amount of times they had all been subjected to this specific curse, Tang only really had himself to blame for not seeing it coming.

Tang poured over the scroll in front of him, trying to find the counter for this timeline’s version of the curse. Behind him, Mei distracted a de-aged Red Son, or Red Boy as that’s what the small fire demon was calling himself.

Getting kidnapped by a somewhat feral child with the ability to freely toss around the True Fire of Samadhi hadn’t been the most pleasant start to his day. While being mistaken as the monk Tang Sanzang was a little flattering, the threat of being roasted over the sacred blume flames and eaten had quickly dampened those feelings.

Luckily the young demon had fallen asleep, the fires dissipating as he lost consciousness. If only Tang knew how to cast the Monkey King’s fire ward...

“Ahem.”

Tang glanced up and paled at the sight of a displeased looking Demon Bull King.

“Little thief,” the demon addressed an equally freaked-out MK. “I believe you have something of mine.”

“Father! You’re here,” Red Boy called out as he jumped from Mei’s arms. “I have wonderful news! I’ve found a husband!” He quickly ran over to a petrified MK and leaned against him like he was presenting some great treasure. “Look! Look! Isn’t he pretty?”

Tang had almost forgotten about that particular detail. If they got out of this alive he was never going to let MK live this down for the rest of the cycle. Prerogative of being a dad and all.

“What do you think father,” Red Boy continued, ignoring MK’s desperate plea for him to stop. “I can marry him, right?”

DBK’s expression was frankly unimpressed as he stared down into the hopeful one Red Boy wore. Tang had a bad feeling about what was going to happen and slowly made his way around the room to hide behind MK and Mei who were also backing away.

“No.”

Tang winced a bit at the bluntness of the answer and braced himself for the explosion that was sure to follow.

“What? But… why? WHY NOT?!”

The genuine hurt and confusion in the young demon’s voice would have made Tang feel a bit sympathetic, if Red Boy hadn’t tried to eat him of course.

“Because I said so,” DBK growled as he knelt to be closer to his de-aged son. “Now, enough of this. Time to stop being a child.”

Tang frowned. That was... not how to calmly explain to one’s child about why you were refusing their request. Not if you wanted to avoid a full-on meltdown. He should know, having to take care of a young MK multiple times.

Looking into the Demon Bull King’s scowling visage, he wasn’t sure if the older demon simply didn’t know how, or just didn’t care.

“That’s… NOT FAIR!” Red Boy’s disbelief predictably turned into anger as his hair once again burst into blue flames.

“THAT’S NOT FAIR! I am not a child!” The True Fire of Samadhi burst out around the boy, seeming to startle DBK who took a step back. Tang was just thankful that it wasn’t aimed at him this time.

“I… I’m not-” Red Boy’s anger quickly melted away, as did the fire around him. The young demon sniffed a few times before dropping onto the ground and beginning to cry.

Loudly.

“You’re recording this, right?” MK whispered to Mei.

“Obviously.”

Tang sighed at their antics and looked over at DBK. The demon still looked angry but the scholar could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed completely out of his depth and unsure on what to do.

Tang took a steadying breath before mustering his courage and stepping out from behind MK. If Demon Bull King didn’t know how to act like a good father then perhaps he could show him.

If he survived this he was going to need a vacation to fight back against the grey hairs this was going to give him.

The other adults all looked at him as if he had sprouted another head as he approached the sobbing child and knelt next to him.

“Red Boy?”

“H-huh?” The young demon looked up in confusion at being addressed.

“I know that right now everything seems pretty unfair and that can be upsetting,” Tang soothed, keeping his voice steady and reassuring. “But I promise you that your father has a good reason for not letting you marry MK. Would it help if he were to calmly explain that reason without getting angry at you?” He aimed that last sentence more at DBK than Red Boy, who’s sobs had slowed.

“M-maybe…” the young demon finally admitted.

Tang turned to stare expectantly at the Demon Bull King. The demon glared down at the scholar.

“Why are you treating him like a child?”

The harshness of his tone made Red Boy start to tear up again. Tang glared right back at DBK.

“Because right now, until we can reverse this, he is a child,” the scholar snapped, his fear replaced with righteous anger. “And like every child, he deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. He deserves to be comforted by a parent whom he obviously adores and be told that it’s okay to cry. He deserves to feel safe and loved.”

The room was silent save for the hiccups and sniffles from Red Boy as they all stared at Tang. DBK’s mouth hung open as he gazed incredulously down at the human, seemingly struck speechless.

“F-father?”

The small and unsure voice of Red Boy snapped the Demon Bull King out of his thoughts, and something seemed to loosen within him.

Tang stood and retreated back to MK and Mei to give the demon some privacy as he knelt next to his son and began speaking in a hushed tone with him.

“What the hell Mr. Tang,” MK hissed into his ear as he stared wide eyed at the pair of demons on the ground.

“Language MK,” Tang hissed right back before leaning over to Mei. “I know you aren’t recording two incredibly powerful demons having a moment of vulnerability who would stop at nothing to destroy us if they discovered the existence of such a video, right?”

“Eep!” Mei nearly dropped her phone as she rushed to stop her recording and then delete the last few minutes of the resulting video.

There were a few minutes of tense silence as the three humans did their best to pretend that there weren’t two demons having an emotional moment together just a few feet away. They gave a sigh of relief when Red Boy launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms around his neck. DBK seemed panicked at first before slowly wrapping his own arms around the young demon.

Tang adjusted his glasses and gave a nervous smile to the Demon Bull King who was scrutinizing him like a particularly confusing puzzle.

At least he didn’t seem angry any more.

Perhaps they would escape this fiasco unscathed after all.

----------

I was not expecting this chapter to turn into another Dad Tang story. It just kind of happened that way. So onto the references!

First is Durability by TaintTheUnstoppable which is beginning to shape up into something really interesting.

Second is Little One by @its-kall-the-clown which is just a huge fluff fest capped off with some nice angst. Highly recommended.

Finally we have the Red Boy comic by @purble-turble! Now obviously the Tang in their comic probably won’t do what this one did, by this Tang is too much of a Dad to let a little kid cry for too long.

Next chapter won’t be up until sometime next week! See ya then!

#Ink Writes #Monkie Kid #Scattered Cicadas #Tang #Tang Monkie Kid #MK #Mei #Red Son #Red Boy #Demon Bull King #DBK #Lego Monkie Kid #Durability #TaintTheUnstoppable #Little One #KALL #purble-turble #its-kall-the-clown

[yanderedanganronpafun]

Sickly sweet - Yandere Chihiro Fujisaki x Female Darling

Hiya guys! It has been awhile since I wrote something but I finally felt inspired again because of the song Saccharine by Jazmin Bean! So this fic is loosely based off of their song and I just got inspired to write about Yandere Chihiro baby, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Obsession, mentions of blackmail, online stalking, masturbation, kidnapping

Words: 1681

Chihiro knew what he was feeling wasn't exactly okay, oh he was perfectly aware of it. These feelings truly scared him to his very core, never before had he ever felt this way about anybody else. All he wanted was to understand these emotions so they wouldn't scare him so much. However it didn't matter what he did because these intrusive thoughts always came back and didn't leave him alone. These thoughts were dark and just so fucked.

When he first met her then it wasn't this way. He could still think properly and keep a clear mind but now it was absolutely impossible. He was unable to think about anything but her. Something about her was just driving him insane and it scared him so badly. She was so sweet and kind towards him, sure his other classmates were as well. At least nowadays they were. He still dealt with the trauma of being bullied harshly for being 'way too girly' for the other kids. But now he was better. He was finally learning to be more confident in himself but even then, understandably he dealt with a whole lot emotionally as well.

Yet (Y/N) was always there for him and she comforted him and always smiled at him. She was so sweet and caring towards him. He guessed it was no surprise that he ended up getting a crush on her. If only it would have stayed as an innocent crush like in those cartoons he had watched. Everything would be so easy then but his feelings just ended up being so dark.

Chihiro thought about her on a daily basis. He imagined how it would feel to be next to her, holding her hand, cuddling with her and kissing her. Sure, these thoughts were normal for anyone with a crush but his feelings didn't stay like this. Whenever he saw her talk to somebody else then he felt a heavy feeling in his chest that scratched into his soul. He did not want her to be near those other people who could never appreciate her as much as he did. He loved her so much and he really would do anything for her. These dark thoughts terrified him but he was unable to stop it and at this point he knew that he wouldn't be able too.

All of her words sounded like poetry to his ears. He felt so calm when he heard her voice and he wanted her to stay next to him, all the time, forever and ever. They were meant to be together! She had to understand it as well, right? He would never ever hurt her. The mere thought of that made him want to scream and tear out his hair. His love for her would cross any obstacle forced in his way.

(Y/N) was always so supportive and sweet towards everyone which in itself was very kind and selfless of her. He truly did love her for the way she was but he knew how cruel the world was. Everyone wanted to take advantage of her, all of these monsters would ruin her. Maybe these thoughts were irrational, perhaps they really were, but that didn't stop him from having them. If there was anyone who could keep her safe in this world then it was him and only him, that much he was sure of.

Chihiro had never been a violent person but the deeper his feelings went for her, then the more violent his thoughts cut. He just wanted to dispose of those people that were near his beloved and who would only end up hurting her. His sweet angel was far too innocent and naive to understand it herself, so he would do everything for her. He could read her mind so clearly, all she wanted was to be loved and cared for. He was more than happy to fulfill those dreams of hers. They were a perfect match made in heaven and his sweetheart knew it as well.

There was something else he started to do that he really never did before. He started to touch himself, very often, to the thought of her. He really couldn't control himself and often even had to leave class and go to the bathroom so he could get rid of his problem. He had many pictures downloaded onto his phone, all pictures that he could find from her social media but then he also started to take pictures of her without her knowing anything about it.

Sometimes she also visited his home and once she left behind her scarf and he knew he should give it back but it smelled just like her. When he held the material in his arms and smelled it then he could feel himself instantly get hard. Oh she was driving him insane but this feeling was so addicting. So he started taking whatever little items of hers that he could and kept it for his own personal shrine. She was an angel who was here to bless him with her love. (Y/N) was far too innocent to understand what the filth around her were thinking about her.

There were times when he heard some other boys talking about her in such a lewd way that it made him want to snap their necks. These types of disgusting wastes of oxygen did not deserve to live anyways. That is something he was more than sure of. He would protect her and though he didn't know if he would kill anyone then he could still use his skills to blackmail them and ruin their lives or find some other way to make them regret the day they fucked with his beloved. Which is exactly what he did as well. He made sure these bastards would stay away from her and not even look at her direction without the fear of angering him. Wasn't this romantic? He was protecting her honor and he would make sure nobody would ever hurt her!

However it still didn't feel like he was doing enough and he was still angry and protective of her. He thought she would be happy when these fake friends and weirdos would leave her alone and not talk to her anymore but she just seemed so sad. She seemed to appreciate him being there for her but at the same time she still wanted to stay away from her and he hated it. He tried so hard not to have to go to this last resort but he would have too now.

So when he invited her over to his place to watch some movies then she had thankfully agreed, made it easier for him and her as well. He hugged her tightly when she arrived and she returned the warm embrace. This already felt like heaven for him but it was gonna get even better than that. She would understand it eventually as well. The two of them watched some movies and ate snacks until he offered to bring something for them to drink. He left the room and went to the kitchen, sneakily letting some pills dissolve in her drink until he returned with two cups in his hands. He sat close to his angel and made sure to not look too excited while he watched her finish her drink and slowly have the pills take effect. She was so innocent that she didn't realise a thing until she had passed out next to him.

Chihiro gently kissed her forehead before dragging her to his basement. He had cleaned it up and made it all nice and cosy for her. There was a small bed there as well. He made sure to carefully tie her hands to the bedposts. Even the restraints showed how caring he was! These were silk ropes so she would not get any ropeburns but still not be able to break free. He patiently waited for her to wake up, all the while playing with her hair as he was cuddled next to her. Oh she was such a sleeping beauty, his sleeping beauty. He barely even noticed when she started to wake up. He adjusted himself into a sitting position and smiled down on her sweetly.

The effect of the drug was still starting to wear off, so it took her a few moments until she realised that she couldn't move her arms and that he was staring straight at her. She was very visibly scared and while it did upset him a little, then he knew she would get over it in no time at all. “Chihiro?” (Y/N) whimpered quietly, oh his poor darling was so scared that she didn't even know what to say. She was just so perfect “Don't worry sweetie! Everything is okay! You are safe with me! I know this might seem scary now but you'll see in no time at all that you love me as much as I love you!” He was so happy that he could finally confess his love to her. This was the happiest day of his entire life!

Chihiro watched her tremble but he only hugged her close and wiped away the tears that came to the corners of her eyes. He could see her lips move but he didn't hear anything, after all he was just so happy right now. He leaned in closer to her beautiful face and connected their lips. She let out an adorable squeak as her trembling intensified. Oh his angel was just so perfect. He enjoyed the kiss and slowly pulled away. His cheeks were completely red. “So sweet...I love you so much, my angel. I know you love me too and we will be so happy together!” Before she could open her pretty lips he had already connected their lips in another kiss as his hands explored her body. Chihiro knew that he was in heaven now that she was with him and she was here to stay.

Their eternity together was gonna be nothing but sweet bliss.

#yandere #yandere male #chihiro fujisaki #yandere chihiro #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere danganronpa #danganronpa #Yandere love #yandere boy #obsession