#like i swear last time i was not sleep deprived was during exam week in june lmao

[sillyfreakx5]

hmm i may potentially start IDing with transinsomnia

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"- "and you better not start now"

gif not mine cr. belongs to owner

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: got nothing to say for myself really, just listened to a song, the idea hit me and i haven't written anything non science related in a decade so i gave it another go....that being said i realised i am awful at emotions lol. Side note i am from the UK so if some things seem off i apologise

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Warnings: ? mentions of skin? terrible fluff and flirting attempts

Word count: idk, it would not stop ~4k

A bop. A bop and some alcohol. That is all you needed after a long tiring week of studying for finals and cramming for your practical assessments. This week had been the last week of exam season and you were more than grateful that it had ended. You did not particularly care about how you’ve done on the assessments. That was not your present self’s problem, that was something for future you to worry about. Presently you just wanted to take a nap and head out with your girlfriends on a night out to just dance and drink all the stress away.

You weren’t a drinker, not by a long shot. You barely touched alcohol once or twice a month, and that happened mainly when you would have a get together with your friends. It was hard not to get sucked in when everything around you was so loud and chaotic it made you want to be part of the chaos not just an observer. You’ve done the whole ‘being sober whilst your friends got drunk’ and you swore to yourself it would never happen again. Funny how nights out looked disgusting and cliche when you were actually awake to witness them. From the group who ended up dancing on the tables, to the group who dispersed to hunt for one night stands, to the group who decided to pass out at the bar or in the toilets and then you, the sober one left to pick everyone up and send them back home safely and make sure than no one got into a fight. You sometimes wondered how the hell you got home alright when you ended up actually drinking on these nights out as none of your friends seemed willing to stay sober and watch over you. For once, you were not going to question your luck and just roll with it.

Before you settled for a nap though you knew you had to go downstairs to do your washing. Being a student during exam season meant you were surviving on microwavable food, lots of caffeine, sugar in all sorts of forms and that your tiny dorm room looked as if a hurricane has passed through it with dirty clothes all over the place and bedding that has been left unwashed for at least 2 weeks. You felt disgusting and unfortunately the neat freak in you kicked in, unsuppressed anymore by your pre-exam anxiety. With a sigh you started undoing your bedsheets and stashing them in a basket along with other bits and pieces of clothes. Making sure that you got your laundry detergent and your key card you started lugging the basket out of your room praying to the Gods that the lift was not broken.

Living on the 8th floor had its perks, but not when you were in a sleep deprived hurry. All you could do is check the numbers going down to the lower ground hoping that the lift would not stop at any other floor. But of course your luck would run out, on 3rd floor the lift slowed down and stopped, making you release an angry huff. ‘Of course it would’ you muttered to yourself as the doors opened only to reveal a tall men impatiently tapping his foot. Huffing he too got into the elevator making you aware of his stature. He may have not been as tall as some of the men you’ve seen but he was clearly working out as his muscles made him look way broader than his stature permitted. A gym rat, you rolled your eyes and tried to move the laundry bag and yourself into the corner, the space feeling too cramped for your liking. The dragging sound of the bag made the person turn around and give you a curious glance which you dismissed quickly. You weren’t interested in conversing with strangers on a normal basis let alone a gym rat. Nothing against them, you just had nothing in common and your tired brain did not want to make up a polite small talk.

‘Lower ground?’ the person asked you, surprisingly the voice was soft and clear, something you had not expected of him. It made you glance at him, ‘yeah’ you nodded after composing yourself. The person nodded making their long bangs fall into their eyes which prompted the next two surprises for you; in an attempt to settle his bangs out of his face he not only revealed a muscular defined arm which you’d have to admit was kind of attractive- you’d have to be blind not to notice, but also an array of random tattoos all over his arm and hand. The other surprise hit you a moment later after you realised you’ve been staring at him for a second too long and you sniffed and turned your face away. The smell of alcohol was coming off of him strongly as if he’s been drinking for a few days straight and his pores exuded it. It took you all you had to not cough. Frat boy, gym rat- this guy was ticking all the ‘no no’ boxes and so regardless of how good looking he was he did not deserve second thoughts.

Your prayers being answered, you reached lower ground quicker than expected and you prepared yourself to rush out of the lift. However, the clothes basket was heavier than you’d thought so instead of a swift exit like you’ve planned, you closely resembled Santa dragging his toy sack.

‘Would you like some help with that?’ the guy who’d turned around and observed you amusedly as you struggled extended a hand in your direction. You huffed and dropped the basket on the floor and couldn’t help but notice the basket he held in one hand and how the effort made his muscles and veiny arms that much more noticeable. Hot.

‘’S all good thanks’ however, you were not going to accept his help. You just wanted to get these damn clothes in the wash so you could go and nap away the remainder of your post exam stress. The guy held your gaze for a second too long before he raised an eyebrow and looked unconvincingly at your basket and your face, which was red by now you’d presume. Then shrugging he carried on walking towards the laundry room getting further and further out of your view, and you could have sworn there was an extra spring in his step. That fucker.

After monumental efforts you managed to drag everything to the laundry room only to notice that it had been left propped open by an empty bottle. Entering with difficulty you made your way to the closest washer available and dropped the laundry basket on the floor with a relieved sigh. Bending down to start putting your clothes in, you could definitely hear a snicker behind you. Whas that….? Of course it was, you were the only two souls in there. Everyone else was probably either enjoying some much needed sleep or partying the evening away already. Deciding to ignore him you continued to pile your clothes into the machine and soon enough you got distracted so much so that you did not realise you had started humming.

‘Nice voice you got there, but do both of us a favour, leave it for when you’re on your own will you?’ another snicker from behind. Flustered you whipped around, ‘what?’ his gaze on you held a smouldering effect making you feel as if you were pinned down by just its sheer force. His dark eyes, whilst amused, were also narrowed on your form as if commanding you to listen to what he was saying. Your breath hitched and as much as you’d tried to shrug off the feeling and the temptation to not listen to him and turn around, you found yourself unable to. Trying to hold his gaze your eyes wavered for a split second when the tip of his tongue peeked out from between his lips to wet the lower one. A gesture so fleeting, done as if by habit, but paired with the intense gaze it had your throat constrict and your instincts had been to follow his moves, your own tongue coming out to lick your own suddenly dry lips.

Had you intended to do this to toy with him? No. Has it worked? Judging by the way his eyes travelled slowly and purposefully down your face towards your lips, you could swear it has. Refusing to give him more vulnerability than that you turned around with tremendous efforts and continued pilling clothes into the washer completely missing the way he stared at your ass that was now on display. Biting his lip he gave you another once over before returning to his own washing.

You couldn’t help to glance his way every time you would turn around to pick up more clothes out of the basket. He was sporting a concentrated face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his broad shoulders and the way his arm muscles were defined by the effort were making you breathless. However, what made your head spin and your heart to skip too many beats for it to be healthy was what happened next. You blame your bad luck - or good luck- for glancing at him only to catch him grab his shirt and give it a tentative sniff and a shrug. So he knew he reeked, but your snicker turned into a hiccup as soon as he had grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Normally a situation like this wouldn’t phase you, you have seen plenty of men naked. But this one, this one was a special one. His bunny like features, defined nose bridge, jawline and floppy but rugged hair were a complete contrast to his defined jawline and...oh lord….were those six or eight abs??

‘What in the name of abs are you doing?’ sputtering you turned to fully face him. What a mistake. He did the same so now you had a full frontal view, first row, VIP seat to his naked upper body. That was definitely a six abs package. Shrugging, which by lord made everything tense up in ways you did not need to see, he threw the longsleeve into the wash and slammed it shut. All that did not take more than 5 seconds but to you, it seemed like a slowed down eternity in which your eyes got a good view of a muscular anatomy.

‘What, it’s dirty and i’m doing my washing?’ he stated as if it was plain as day and absolutely normal to get naked in the laundry room.’In the name of abs? Should i be calling you a peeping Tom?’ A slow forming smirk that made him look dangerously mischievous made its way onto his face.

‘Pffft, what? I said in the name of gods, what are you on about? Why would I be looking at you, whilst you think it’s perfectly fine to strip in a public place??’ he laughed at your clear distress but chose to not to mention your choice of words. ‘Hardly public is it? There’s just you and i in here’ he rebutted whilst turning around to scan his laundry card onto the machine and pressed start. You scoffed indignantly, ‘what am i chopped liver? I’m not goddamn blind’ you mumbled, not for his ears but instead chose to say out loud, ‘what about the poor souls who will see you in the lift back up? Is that not a public place?’

Unbeknownst to you he had clearly heard your previous statement, his smirk once again widening, so you had actually been looking. Good. Clearing his throat he put on as much of a serious face as he could ‘I think it’s unfair to call them poor, this is not cheap accommodation, if they live here it is clear that they are anything but poor’ he knew what you’d meant by poor, but just the annoyed tick in your eyebrow that appeared at his statement was worth it. Choosing to stay silent instead of taking the bait, you returned to your laundry. Only to curse out loud- you had finished it and upon scouring your belongings haphazardly you realised your card was missing. Vaguely remembering you had only taken your room card you groaned, this was not how you’d intended to spend your afternoon before the party.

Without a second’s notice, a tattooed hand with a card appeared before your eyes and the washing machine burst to life. Indignantly you whipped your head around to look at the owner of said hand, ‘what are you doing?’ only to come face to face with the end of a defined collarbone and jawline. And by all that is saintfully just, the line of his throat was just as attractive as the whole of the man. Being this close to him rendered you absolutely useless, jumbled thoughts ranging from ‘i need to pay him back’ to ‘what is he even doing’ to settle in the end to a single thought which you also voiced out loud without even thinking. ‘Your moles are pretty’. You had managed to get past the expanse of his neck to the outline of his lower lip when you noticed his mole, and to your defense- it was cute, but with the whole package, cute is the last word you had in mind. More like- it added a completeness that you would not think he needed but there it was.

He swallowed thickly, enjoying for a second too long the glazed look you had on your face as you said that. ‘And you have nice eyes’ he retaliates even though this is the first time he’s had a closeup look at them. Bright and sparkly, unknown to the both of you, a mirror of each other’s. Sparkly with a promise of something. Something which would have to wait for….if you had your way, forever, if he had his way- a second. You finally willed your legs to step aside and away from the unclothed man.

‘Uh-thanks’ you never stutter, but something about the heavy and thick air around makes it hard to take controlled breaths. ‘For the washing i mean’ you correct yourself. You will never admit to him out loud that him complimenting your eyes made your heart stumble and your brain freeze. You turned around to escape the situation, completely missing the amused expression on the man’s face. ‘You are welcome’ he extends his hand out walking to your side not missing the way you try to put some distance in between the two of you.

‘I’m Jungkook’ he smiles, a complete 180 from his appearance, his smile was warm and genuine, the type of smile that is reflected not only in his eyes but his whole face. His nose scrunches up too cutely, you think to yourself. He somehow resembles a bunny? Mustering up all the courage and bravery your heart still had, you grasp his hand. Hm, soft, odd for a gym head. You knew what he was asking for, but you would not give it to him. As cute as he is, you still tried to tell yourself you were unimpressed. ‘And i’m a poor soul who lives in this block of flats’ you mutter ‘i will pay you back for the washing’.

As soon as you reached your tiny cramped room and settled down for that nap you’ve been craving, you could not help but replay the last words he said to you, sounding way too smug for his own good. ‘Is that you telling me to put a shirt on for your sake?’

[scripttorture]

Hello! I have a few questions related to your most recent post and the definition of torture. You said:

"A trained person who was never tortured will always out perform someone whose training involved torture."

According to everything else I have seen on your blog, this makes sense - the mental and physical trauma from being tortured have lasting effects which make certain tasks more difficult.

However, this seems to juxtapose certain tropes I've seen in US military training advertisements. For example, "Hell Week" in the Navy SEAL training seems like it would be torture if it was forced upon someone (like if the soldiers didn't sign up for it and didn't have the option to quit.). *Hell Week is when soldiers are training continuously for 5 days in freezing, wet conditions, with little more than 4 hours of sleep for the entire week, under insane amounts of physical and mental stress.

- If someone chose to be tested both mentally and physically, I feel like it wouldn't be torture. However, if the same exact conditions were forced upon someone else (testing their mental and physical limits without their consent or understanding), does your quote above mean that the person who did not have a choice would not reap the benefits of the training/testing? Or would the Navy SEALs be better soldiers if they didn't have to go through 'torturous conditions' during Hell Week, regardless of their choice to do so?

(I used Hell Week as an example, but I meant this question generally. I'm trying to figure out how to best train an elite soldier and avoid any harmful torture apologia tropes, while also making sure that they are able to handle insanely challenging situations)

- My other question has more to do with the definition of torture that you quoted from the UN in one of your master posts. If someone is being seriously injured (pulled fingernails, whipping, starvation etc), but not for the purposes of interrogation, punishment, or intimidation, is that still torture, or is that just abuse? And, regardless of what we call it, would the effects be the same as if it were torture for any of the three motives above?

Sorry if this is long and hard to understand, I can clarify if needed!

It’s not the longest I’ve gotten and it’s perfectly clear, duck*. :) Honestly this is a difficult topic with a lot of nuance, it’s better to take a longer and more thoughtful approach.

 From the stand point of the legal definition and what we study/understand as torture any consensual activity, however extreme, is not torture.

 But here’s where it gets interesting: consent and our attitude to an activity actually changes our response to pain. It may even change how much pain we feel.

 I’m going to take a slightly different example to yours. There are a lot of cultures globally that have practiced scarification, ritual cutting to deliberately form scars. And this can be done for a lot of reasons: membership of a family or clan, coming of age, traditional medicine, religion, you get the idea.

 A lot of people in these cultures describe their scars as incredibly important and the process of getting them as a moving, deep and positive process.

 This does not mean they wouldn’t be traumatised if they were attacked by someone with a knife.

 Being able to approach something painful and see it as positive really changes our perspective. It makes trauma and mental illness a lot less likely. And being able to back out, even if it’s just for a little while to take a breather, seems to make us able to withstand more pain then we would have otherwise.

 The simplest and most famous experiment that dealt with this relationship between our mindset and pain asked people to keep their hands in ice cold water. They timed how long people could do it when they were told to stay silent and how long they could do it when they were allowed to swear. If they swore they could hold their hands under for longer. An average of forty seconds longer.

 Looking back over O’Mara (Why Torture Doesn’t Work, a very good intro to how pain works and what it does to the brain) the way he describes it as by thinking of the experience of pain as a collection of three things. There’s the physical sensation itself, the nerves firing. But there’s also an affective component, how we feel emotionally about the experience and a cognitive component, how we think about it.

 Did you ever play that game as a kid where you stuff as many chilis as possible in your mouth to see who would spit them out first? I… might have done. And from what I remember it hurts an awful lot. But those memories to me are mostly about messing about with my friends, I remember trying to be stubborn about it and I remember us laughing at each other.

 This is a completely different experience to someone being held down and having chili stuff up their nose. But the difference isn’t necessarily in the physical damage done or the physical sensation of pain. It’s in the other components, the emotional response and the rationalisation.

 I also had a filling drilled in my tooth without painkillers as a kid. I don’t know how common this is in the West? It happened in Saudi. Honestly my biggest memory of it is the language barrier between myself and the dentist.

 These are anecdotes obviously but I’m trying to show that you probably also have experiences in your own life that back up the experiments too. The way we think about a painful experience really does make a huge amount of difference. And that means consent matters enormously.

 These soldiers are going into this experience knowing what to expect, how long it will last and that they can stop at any time. That makes a huge amount of difference. Those same factors have drastically increased the time volunteers will spend in solitary confinement for research. I’m pretty sure if I dug even a little I’d find pain studies with similar findings.

 Here’s the flip side: the physical factors are still in play.

 Sleep is an important physiological process that’s essential to normal functioning. Studies on consensual sleep deprivation have shown massive negative impacts on memory along with a host of other things that you can read about here.

 Let’s take a non torture example. A student who stays up all night cramming for an exam is not going to develop the symptoms of trauma that a torture survivors who was sleep deprived would. But the effect sleep deprivation has on memory is due to sleep playing an essential role in preserving memory (and learning more generally.) So they’re both likely to have difficulty remembering things in days just before and just after sleep deprivation. They’re also both more likely to have false memories and catch a bad cold.

 As a result of this memory impairment I question the educational value of anything involving sleep deprivation: you can’t learn while messing up the processes that let your brain remember things.

 There have been cases in the UK of people dying during training for the armed forces. Because while consent makes a huge difference, mindset makes a huge difference- our bodies still have limits. We can choose to push ourselves past those limits and, whatever our motivation or feelings, it can do real harm.

 Personally? I’m unsure of the benefit of these kinds of exercises. As in I’m unsure there is a benefit. Learning is going to be shot, chances of injury are going to be a lot higher- I don’t see anything that could be improved by these sorts of exercises.

 Anecdotally people do report feeling like a closer unit after going through these sorts of routines. That might be the benefit: moral and unit cohesion, possibly self-esteem too.

 If you’re making up something for your story I think it’d be helpful for me to mention a little statistical effect that gets used to justify punishment pretty regularly. Get some dice out if you’ve got them and roll one. Let’s say the number represents performance in some kind of test (because effort and learning matter but our performance also varies because of things we can’t control.) A roll of 1 gets punished, a roll of 6 gets praised.

 Now after you roll that first 1 statistically speaking the chances are your next roll will be better. And if you roll a 6 then statistically speaking the chances are your next roll will be worse. People observe this effect in real life and they often conclude that there’s no point in praising someone but that punishment leads to improvement. Really it’s just a statistical effect, after a particularly, noticeably bad day the chances are things will be better next and vice versa.

 This effect can make it difficult for people to recognise overall, long term progress. Which is the kind of progress you should be paying attention to when designing a training program.

 If you want good performance from people, whatever the metric, the most efficient thing to do is ensure that those people are; well fed, have access to clean water, get plenty of sleep, have breaks and have access to medical treatment when they need it.

 I’d say the main things to keep in mind when designing this fictional training regime are:

Being honest about the effects you describe, ie if they’re spending long periods without shelter are they at risk from exposure? If they’re standing in cold water are they going to get hypothermia?

Remember that even if something is damaging or causes lasting trauma it would not necessarily prevent someone from doing their job. Torture survivors have serious, lasting symptoms but many of them still work.

 I think I’m going to leave that there because I’m not an expert in militaries or training people. And keep in mind that I am a pacifist, read this with my biases in mind.

 Getting to the second question, there is a little more to the UN definition then that. The primary factor is still who the abuser is. For it to be torture (legally speaking) the abuser has to be (or be ordered by) an on-duty government employee, part of a group that controls territory (ie an occupying force). Some countries also count international organised criminal gangs in this definition.

 It’s also important to note that torture can be targetted at someone other then the victim. So if the police arrest the brother of a political opponent and beat him in order to intimidate the politician, that is still torture.

 Basically there are a lot of factors in the legal definition of torture and it’s that way by design. The hope is that you end up with a framework that captures as much government abuse as possible.

 But it also means that there’s a pretty high barrier when it comes to proving torture. Which means that things which are legally torture can be prosecuted as assault, bodily harm or equivalents to these, because it’s easier to get a conviction for those charges.

 Technically you are correct: if abuse done by a government official doesn’t have one of the four motivations in the legal definition (attempts to obtain information, forcing a confession, intimidation or punishment) then it doesn’t meet the definition.

 However in practice I’ve not heard of a case failing because of the motive.

 I’m not a lawyer and I’m not an expert in international law. I won’t say it’s never happened. But it’s much more common for cases to fail for other reasons. Off the top of my head I’d say the most common reason is difficulty proving the abuse took place.

 The most common types of torture today are ‘clean’, a term we use to indicate that they don’t leave obvious marks. If someone turns up with fingernails torn out or the skin of their back lacerated by a whip that is clear physical evidence of abuse. Nothing else causes similar injuries. But if someone turns up at a doctor’s with swollen feet or reddened skin, if they’ve lost a lot of weight or they’re so tired they’re struggling to stand… Well all of those things can be caused by common tortures. But they can also be caused by common illnesses.

 A lot of the deaths from torture today are similarly hard to prove. Beatings and stress positions ultimately cause death by kidney failure. Which can mean that prosecutors are asked to prove a victim didn’t have an underlying health condition. Or take drugs.

 Honestly my instinct is that the motive is the easiest thing to prove. It’s often harder to bring charges against people in positions of authority, regardless of the country we’re talking about. Bringing those charges, proving abuse took place and proving it was done by the person in question, those are usually the tricky parts.

 The difference between torture and abuse is scale. Torture is industrial scale abuse.

 The law doesn’t define that scale but that’s what we’re talking about when we talk about abuse from organised authority. Abusers might have dozens of victims. Torturers have thousands, tens of thousands.

 If you want to explore a different motivation in your story, something outside the legal framework, consider the scale at which this abuse is taking place. Consider how organised it is. If it’s organised and large scale, with multiple abusers, with no prior relationship between the abuser and victims then torture will probably be a better model then abuse. If it’s smaller scale with a more personal relationship and if it isn’t supported by a legal framework/organisation then abuse might be a better model.

 For victims and survivors the difference isn’t so much about the symptoms they personally experience as the… side effect of that scale. Abuse victims are often very isolated and may not know anyone who has had a similar experience. Torture implies a community of survivors and possibly generational trauma. There are also effects to do with access to support, access to medical care and how likely it is that someone will be believed.

 Torture survivors are often systematically disenfranchised in a way that abuse victims are not. Torture survivors are often forced to leave their home country. Anecdotally, based on what I’ve seen globally over the last few years, I think that struggling to get citizenship is increasingly an issue for torture survivors. And without citizenship there’s difficulty finding legal work, getting accommodation, accessing medical care, accessing the legal system etc.

 I do not know whether torture survivors are more or less likely to be believed by their community compared to survivors of abuse. I do not think any one has attempted a comparative study. I do know that the prevalence of clean torture means that many torture survivors are not believed and this puts up a further barrier, making it harder to access medical treatment and bring charges.

 Rejali’s book was published in 2009, so things may have changed a tad. At the time he was writing the average wait for a torture survivor to see a specialist doctor was about 10 years.

 Abuse is to torture what murder is to genocide. And there are difference on a wider social scale as a result.

 I mention all that because I feel it’s relevant but the impression I get is you’re mostly interested in the long term symptoms? In which case, yes the legal definition makes very little difference. The physical injuries caused by particular kinds of abuse don’t change depending on whether it’s a private individual or a police officer holding the Taser.

 The lasting psychological symptoms are not particular to torture; they’re what the human brain does when traumatised. The same symptoms can manifest in people who witness traumatic events but weren’t actually hurt themselves. They can manifest in people who were injured in accidents and they manifest in people who were neglected or abused. Hell, I have a couple of them, though no where near the severity a torture survivors would experience. A sufficient amount of stress is enough for these symptoms to start developing in anybody.

 You can find the general list of symptoms here. There’s also a post specifically about memory problems over here.

 The pattern I describe; that these symptoms are a list of possibilities not ‘every torture victim will get all of these’ holds true for trauma survivors generally. Anecdotally there is some variability with chronic pain being reported more often with some kinds of abuse. That might be because it can have physical causes, psychological causes or a mix of the two.

 Whether it’s torture or abuse there isn’t any way to predict a survivor’s symptoms in advance. Much of the advice I have about writing torture survivors and their symptoms holds true for trauma survivors generally. Which is why I’ll still take a crack at some questions that aren’t about torture.

 Pick the symptoms that you feel fit the character and serve the story. We can’t predict symptoms and that means that there’s no reason why you shouldn’t pick the things that appeal to you.

 And I think I’m going to leave it there. I hope that helps :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*This is a weird English endearment. I had someone ask if this was me trying not to swear. 

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

You summoned us, and here I come with a Fred Weasley request:) So I was thinking Weasley twins are reader’s best friends, and Freddie in the reader’s dorm going through her/their suitcase, finding some muggle stuff that she’s or suppose to have due to Umbridge’s stupid restrictions. And he finds multiple things that she likes from her muggle life and along those things there’s like an ipod or something with muggle music, so they end up dancing to some song (Patti smith?) and confessing feelings?

You were a mess, your hair in the bun that Fred found to be hilariously adorable but you described it as you looking like a crack whore. You were panicked though, saying that Umbridge dropped a massive exam on you with no warning tomorrow and you needed to study.

So he and George decided to supervise your spontaneous study session. They were quiet, sure to not disrupt you. However they did ask you to take breaks by the hour. Well you were on hour six. And you rejected the last three break requests.

Fred sighed. "Y/n you need to take a break." He said. "no." You said. "Yes." He sighed. "Y/n. Break. Now." George huffed. "No." You repeated. "Y/n. You haven't eaten. You haven't taken a break in the last three hours, come on. At least take a nap or something." George said. "Would you like to hear it in German? Nein." You snapped. "I'm at least getting you food. Fred, get the damn girl to take a breather." George said, leaving you two alone.

"he's right you know." Fred said. "I don't care." You sighed. Fred sighed. "Can I at least help with something? At least George had a reason to get up." Fred said. "You can leave me alone to study!" You groaned. "No because if I do that you won't take care of yourself." Fred said. "Fred--" you turned to look at him and he had this concerned look on his face. "...Alright... I'll take a break." You sighed. He smiled and you stood up, stretching. "How do you even take breaks when we're not here?" Fred asked. "Usually play something on my record player." You shrugged. Fred rose a brow. "Whatcha got?" He asked. You opened your closet door, kneeling to the small record player and a box next to it.

"let's see... I've got the Beatles, AC/DC, some jazz, a couple of classical records, Hozier--" "Who's Hozier?" Fred asked. "Hozier it is." You said before putting the record on. The familiar guitar played softly and Fred rose a brow. "is it odd to say this reminds me of Luna?" He asked. "How do you think I discovered it?" You asked with a smile. Fred chuckled and you sat back down.

"Nope. Y/n, you've been sitting in the same spot for hours, stand up." He said. "But--" "Up." He said. You stood up with sigh and he extended his hand out. "May I have this dance, milady?" He asked, earning a snort from you. "Okay weirdo." You laughed. He pulled you close, holding your hand and keeping one hand on your waist. "So... How has your week gone?" Fred asked. "aside from my teacher driving me to the brink of insanity? Meh. I've been better." You said. Fred chuckled and you smiled. "I like to hear you laugh, y'know." You said.

He smiled. "Oh really?" He asked. "Yeah. It's nice. " You said. He cleared his throat still holding you close. "Y/n uhm..." He cleared his throat again. "...Uhm... Am I stepping on you?" You asked confused. "No... I just wanted to say.. I love... Spending time with you." He said. "I love spending time with you too." You said. "And..I.." he cleared his throat, you looking up at him. "...I love you." He said. You blinked. "...I love you too Fred." You said. "I love you... As more than... A friend." He added. You looked up, slightly shocked. "Fred I--"

"alright so I got cookies, some chocolate, chicken and a house elf is aware of the surprise exam so the elves are going to--.... The fuck did I walk in on?" George asked. You and Fred let go of each other. "Uhm... Well I... I need some air so..." You said before leaving. "...But I got her cookies man." George groaned.

Fred sighed, running his fingers through his hair in the great hall. "Why on Earth did I admit that to her? She probably thinks I've gone mad." Fred groaned. "Or that you don't mean it." Angelina said. "What?" Fred asked. "Come on Fred. You said 'I love you' and then haven't talked to her in three days." Angelina pointed out. "I say Fred's playing it right." Lee said. "Thank you Lee." Fred sighed. "How on Earth is he playing this right?" Angelina asked. "Y/n was the one that took off. She might need space. Clear her head. Think about this. Plus, Fred did say he told her during a study break." Lee explained. "What does the study break have to do with this?" George asked. "We all know how focused she gets. Maybe Fred threw her off. Plus, she took an exam that isn't going to get graded. She's probably driven herself mad." Lee said. "Wait, what do you mean it's not getting graded?" Angelina asked. "Umbridge was fired for harming a student. Damn woman finally snapped." Lee said. "Well Y/n must be--" you say down at the table surprising everyone. Your eyes had dark bags under them. "I just found out that I studied for nothing. And I haven't slept in almost four days." You grumbled. "What in Merlin's Beard would keep you awake for four days!?" Lee asked. "Fred!" You groaned. "Me?" Fred asked confused. "You! You blithering idiot!" You said with a groan. "I didn't sleep after your damn confession! I put your name as a fucking test answer, I have been trying to think of anything other than you and it doesn't work! You broke me Weasley!" You said. "I broke you?" Fred asked, Lee holding in a laugh as he did. "Yes! What the hell were you thinking, confessing your feelings A) during a study break, B) After I crammed my head chalk full of information on pixies and werewolves, and C) right before what was supposed to be a big test!?" You asked. " I didn't realize I affected you that badly." Fred admitted. "Are you kidding me!? Are you actually joking!? You're stupid red hair has been on my mind for DAYS! I swear to God I've reached the hallucination part of sleep deprivation because I am seeing you EVERYWHERE." You said. "Okay! Okay Y/n, calm down--" "Don't tell me what to do Lee." You snapped, eyes wild as you did causing Lee to jump back.

Fred paused looking at you. "Y/n come with me real quick." He said. He got up, taking your arm and dragging you back to your dorm. He closed the door and turned around. "Go to bed you insane woman." He told you. You blinked. "Oh hell no. Not until you listen!" You said. He sighed. "Alright. I'm listening." He said. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since our third year. You almost broke your leg from a fall in quidditch and I sprinted over and you had this stupid grin on your face. I was freaking out and all you did was lean up, put your hand on my cheek and said 'thanks for being here Love.' before taking off again." You explained. "When you disappeared for three days I get that you were giving me space Fred, but I felt like you were taking off again." You muttered. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way princess." He said softly. "I want you to feel like you can be yourself with me. And I want you to voice your problems. Y/n I really do love you." He said. "I love you too Fred." You said. He smiled and you hugged him. He kissed your head and noticed a sudden lack of movement.

He pulled away slightly to see you passed out against him. He snorted slightly but lifted you up and laying you down in your bed. He turned off your light and began to leave before he felt your hand grab his. "stay" you whispered. He smiled and laid down next to you.

Taglist: @amhyeah @newtaholic-staygold @bbeauttyybbx @fleurho @yodeadxss @mariah-can-dream

[harry-hook-me]

I love your writing so much so could you do #18 “How long has it been since you’ve slept” from prompt list 2? harry hook x reader where harry is in auradon and is struggling with classes and is staying up late for studying cuz if he fails he'll have to go back to isle and he doesnt want to be separated from (y/n), the nothing like Audrey, daughter of sleeping beauty. and he's constantly drinking coffee and energy drinks and (y/n) notices, and he just blacks out in front of her from stress/tired?

The sleepless pirate

Writer - @harry-hook-me (myself)

Request – @descendantofthesparrow

Prompt - #18 “How long has it been since you’ve slept” List 2

Summary – Harry has been struggling with classes and has been losing on a lot of sleep to try and study, y/n, daughter of sleeping beauty, helps Harry with his studying and makes sure he gets some sleep.

Disclaimer - I do not own any of the Descendants characters or scenes from the movies, all credits goes to the creators and producers of Disneys descendants.

Warnings – Some swearing and sleep deprivation

AN- second post in a week, look at me go! I, going to try and write all requested I have at the moment during lock down. Requests will only open again once their all done so please don’t send in requests at the moment! – Lou xo

Word count – 1722

I'm y/n, the second daughter of Aurora, also known as sleeping beauty. Unlike my sister Audrey, I’m a lot less ‘princessey’. I don’t consider myself selfish, unlike her, I’d care more for others happiness and health than my own.

Harry has been in Auradon now for six month, since he’s been here, him and I have become extremely close. The son of the infamous Captain Hook came to Auradon with his two crew mates, Uma, daughter of Ursula the sea witch and Gil the son of Gaston. The first time I met the pirate, I was in my English literature class, he sat next to me and from that day we became a lot closer and very quickly after meeting became friends.

“So have you ever told him how you feel?” Jaydan asks, the son of princess Jasmin. “I’ve not, and I don’t plan on it” I reply standing up from my seat and rolling my eyes at my best friends question. “Why not! Y/n I’m sure he feels the same way, he act so different around you, he looks at you different to everyone else. I honestly thinks he like you y/n” Esmay adds, daughter of Esméralda. I chuckle and shake my head at her statement, “you my friend are obsessed with the idea of love” I reply to her. “What can I say, I’m a hopeless romantic” she says back, holing her hand out and leaning back I her seat. I sigh and place my hands onto my hips.

I stroll down the hallways of Auradon prep, cradling a stack of books in my arms and heading too my English Literature class. Upon my arrival into the classroom, I take my usual seat and get my books ready. Harry enters the room shortly after myself, he takes his seat next to me; he looks awful, dark circles around his eyes, messy hair, like he’d not slept for weeks. “Harry? Are you okay?” I asked concerned for the pirate. He looks up at me and smiles lightly, “mhum” he replies, looking half asleep. I place a hand on his forearm, “how long has it been since you’ve slept?” I asked, worry probably clear on my face. “Two days ago” harry replies with a yawn. I look at him wide eyed. Class began and I turned to face the front. What was happening with harry, I kept going over it in my head, not giving my full attention to what the teacher was talking about.

As the lessons ended, I gathered my books and tossed my bag over my shoulder and headed out the door. I jogged up to harry and grabbed his arm, “hey, why haven’t you been sleeping? Do you want to go for a chat?” I asked him, the dark haired boy nodded in response, I nodded back and began making my way outside to the courtyard.

I take a seat on a picnic bench near a tall willow tree in the courtyard, harry sits in front of me. “Right, why haven’t you been sleeping, is there something on you mind?” I ask him, looking deeply into his beautiful blue eyes, he’s so intriguing, and I feel like I just want to know everything about him. The pirate sighs deeply, shaking his head slightly and placing a ring covered hand on top of mine which is placed on the table. “I’m failing” he begins, “I’m failing every single fucking one of my classed” he adds clearly frustrated and exhausted. “Y/n, they’ve told me that if I don’t pick up my grades soon their going to send me back to the isle” he continues, his voice slightly braking as he reaches the end of the sentence. “That’s why I’m not sleeping, I’ve been studying nonstop, but I just don’t get it. I don’t understand any of it! And I’m fucking scared y/n” he looks up at me, his eyes glazing over, “I-I can’t go back there” he looks down into his lap again shaking his head. I’m shocked, I place my other hand on top of the hand he has placed on mine. “hey, hey, look at me” I start, he looks up, eyes red, sweet boy, he looks exhausted, drained, the usual cheekiness and life to him is nowhere to be seen. “I’m going to help you okay, I’m going to help you study, help you to understand. I won’t let you go back okay, I won’t let you.” I began feeling emotional myself. “I’m going to come over to your dorm tonight at six, I’ll bring all my books and notes and we can study, and I’m going to make sure you sleep. And I’m dam well going to make sure that your staying here.” He nods in return. “Thank you” he whispers, smiling at me.

I arrive at Harry’s dorm at bang on six, carrying a large stack of books in my arms and notes filled my backpack. I gently kicked the door rather than nocking as I had no hands free to do so. The door opens to reveal a still tired looking harry. “Hey” he said to me, “let me help you with these” he added taking the large stack of books off of be effortlessly. “Thank you” I replied and walked into the dorm as harry stepped out of the way of the door, closing it behind me. I look around the room, empty cans of energy drinks and empty coffee cups littered the place, I gasped lightly at the sight, my poor harry. “Gil’s staying with Carlos and Jay tonight so we’ve got the room to ourselves” he snapped me out of my thoughts, I nodded in return. “So where shall we start?” he asked, taking a seat by the window, “physics?” I suggested, harry responded with a nod, I pulled out all my physics notes and joined harry at his seat by the window.

I was awoken by the bright light of the sun shining through the window, but I wasn’t in my usual bed in my room, instead I was lay on the same seat me and harry had been studying last night. The pair of us must have fallen asleep together, the still peacefully sleeping pirate was underneath me, my head lay on his chest, one of his arms wrapped around my body, I hear is heart beat and his steady breathing. I smile, breathing in and taking in his scent. The boy stirs, one eye and then the other opens, squinting due to the light. Harry looks down at me and smiles, the boy chuckles slightly and I feel his chest move up and down, I smile in return. “Well, good morning” harry says. I sit up and giggle, “sorry, I-I didn’t mean to, stay over” I chuckle. Standing up and stretching. “It’s okay, to be honest, that was the best night sleep I’ve had in a long time.” Harry admits, blushing slightly. I smile and look to the ground. Harry stands and walks towards me “thank you” he adds.

I’d been helping harry with studying for two weeks now, and he’s been getting on very well. It’s the week of exams and Harry was starting to stress. “but-but, y/n, what if I get it all wrong, what of I go in there and my mind goes blank, w-what if…” harry panics as we stand outside of out English literature class before the test “hey, harry, it okay, it’s okay” I cut off harry and place my hands on his panicked cheeks. “You’ve worked so hard, we’ve gone over everything. You’ve been sleeping so much better. I promise you, you’re going to be absolutely fine” I look the pirate right in his ocean eyes and smile, trying to calm his nerves. He places and hand on one of my arms, closes his eyes and sighed, I stroked his cheek with my thumb and the pirate smiles the most precious smile. He pulls me into a warm, tight hug. “You’ll be okay” I whispered to him.

The day had come to find out what grades we’d got in our tests. I was sat on my bed reading when a loud and continues knock came from my door and pulled me from my concentration, I walked over to the door and opened it, a very smiley and very fidgety Harry Hook. “Hi!” I giggle with a smile. He waves an envelope around, and hops into my room. Harry hands me the white, half ripped open envelope and I take out letter inside, reading it. “You’ve passed every single class!” I cheer jumping in excitement and pride. I practically jump into Harrys arms and he picks me up and spins me “Harry! I’m proud of you, I knew you’d do it! I knew it!” I cheer. He puts me down and I smile brightly at him. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you, y/n” he returned the bright smile back to me, placing a soft hand gently on my cheek. “If I didn’t have you, I’d be back on the isle by now!” he adds, “thank you!”. I hold on to the arm connected to the hand he has places on my cheek. “You had it all in you harry, you don’t realise how smart you are! It was all you” I looked up at the handsome pirate, eyes locking in a deep gaze.

Harry slowly brings himself closer towards me, I feel his breath on my face, taking in all his facial features; his crystal blue eyes, chiselled cheek bones and jaw line, his lips. Before I knew it, harry pressed his lips against mine, I swiftly wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his around my waist, slightly pulling me up to stand on my tip toes. His lips feel warm, comforting. He pulls away, resting his forehead on mine, looking deep into my eyes once again. “I-I like you, a lot, y/n” he stuttered. I smile “I like you too harry, a lot” I giggle in return. The widest smile appears on his face, two deep dimples emerging on his cheeks. He closes his eyes and sighs what seems to be a sigh of relief. “Be mine?” he asks, so calmly. “I already was” I giggle in return before he connects out lips, once again.

[jeonmagines]

Neighbors | 1 |

-

jeon jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff, crack, probably smut but it’ll probably not b that good bc i’ve never written smut before but i’m gonna try now aHaha

summary: you tell your neighbor to keep it down while he’s doing the dirty dirty with a girl

THIS IS FROM MY WATTPAD OK @/ohkayjimin i ain’t no stealer 😢😢

you absolutely hated all the noises your neighbor made next door. whether it was the banging of their walls or simply just their loud music and yelling. you were sleep deprived because of them. you didn't know whether it was a he or a she but you were pretty sure it was a he. every other night there would be loud banging against the walls filled with moans.

your new neighbor moved in two weeks ago and ever since then you've never met them due to your habit of studying for your exams at the last minute. you were rarely out of your apartment during the month of exams, except for times you would go out to go to your classes.

it was your last day to get every single detail you needed into your brain for your exam tomorrow. everything was going great until the banging in the walls happened AGAIN. you tried to ignore it and focus on what you were reading but you were bothered by all the moaning. you quickly got up and prepared yourself to knock on your neighbor's door. after four knocks a tall handsome boy stood in front of you. he was shirtless, in his black boxers, and his eyes were barely seen due to his black messy hair covering them. you tried your best not to look down at his toned abdomen but it was hard. they looked really nice. he coughed to get your attention and you quickly went back to your senses.

"oh yeah um. uhh... i'm sorry to bother you but it's 9pm and i'm trying to study for this huge test i have tomorrow. can you maybe keep it down a bit?" you looked down at your feet from embarrassment because you had never thought you would ever tell anybody to keep it down from having sex. you took a second to look up at him and his face was completely red.

"oh my god. were we that loud?! i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to bother you from studying. we'll keep it down. i'm sorry!" you told him it was ok and he thanked you. you went back into your apartment and heard no more noises throughout the whole night.

after your exams you and your friends decided to give yourselves a break and go out to the mall. you haven't hung out with your friends for almost two months. you didn't know growing up was this hard.

as you were locking your door, your neighbor came out as well. he looked at you and you tried your best not to look at him. it just seemed awkward having a normal conversation with him after everything that happened nights before.

"hi. where are you going?" he asked while walking towards you.

"oh i'm going to the mall with my friends. you?" you ask, slightly tilting your head.

"oh i'm gonna go work out."

of course he was.

you both bid your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

-

"oh my god, what? you asked your neighbors to keep it down from having sex? who does that?"

"apparently she does." your other friend adds and they all laugh together.

you had told your friends about the incident a couple of days ago and of course they were making fun of you for it.

you spent your whole day shopping and enjoying your time with your friends, but sadly it was getting late and you had to go home since it was already getting dark.

as you were walking to your apartment you ran into your neighbor again. "are you following me?" your neighbor, jungkook asks as he tries his best to get his key to cooperate with him.

"you must think you're special." you say as you try to hold all of your shopping bags, rummaging through your pockets to find your keys.

"you know you can just, i don't know, put your bags down, right?" he laughs.

"why don't you try to concentrate on opening your door? it seems like you're having trouble." he glares at you and you sigh because your keys were no where to be found.

"what's wrong?" he asks, finally giving up on trying to open his apartment door. "i can't find my keys, i swear i had it like....earlier." he just laughs and what he said next surprised you.

"since you lost your keys, why don't you come spend the night at my place?"

PLEASEE let me know what u think 🥺 i appreciate ur comments they give me motivation to write more

[goodtimingz]

dreaming you would come true

intro. pt1. pt2. pt3. pt4. pt5.

AN: i’m writing these everynight instead of writing my essay. plz feel free to send in your relationship goal prompts c: i’ll write them in this universe or i can do it for another idol!

tags: studentlife, jae day6, fluff, college!au

: the one where you meet jae in your second year of college and it’s basically love at first sight. just little excerpts of what i think a relationship w jae would be like c:

1.7k words

Hi, hello. Every time I say hi to you it makes my heart flutter.

It was Saturday night and finals were over. 

On any other day you'd be celebrating, out with the group for drinks like everyone else was. But tonight you just weren't feeling it. Maybe it was the chicken you'd ate at dinner, the fact that you hadn't slept enough or the fact that finals being over meant you had no more reason to meet Jae. 

You missed his laugh already, and the way his elbows hit yours when you wrote notes beside eachother. The bee line for the boba shop that shut at 11pm on Fridays, and waking him up after watching him fall asleep from a 20minute online lecture. You missed him and you felt under the weather.

Wonpil had been hesitant to leave you, your close friend and classmate. You both lived in the same dormitory building and had met on the first day of class. "Y/N are you sure you don't wanna join us?" he had asked pouting, hand already on the door handle. You had to reassure him that you were fine and come up with some lie about needing to call your mom. This was a time to celebrate and everyone deserved a break, including Wonpil who had worked his ass off and probably got all A's. 

Your mind wondered to Jae, picturing him out at a bar with his mates. He probably forgot about you right? Maybe he'd been hanging out with you for the past 2 weeks because you helped him study better... (not sure about that since you'd always bother him with deep questions related to your psych class just to hear his voice abit more.)

Stuck in your thoughts, the knock on your door almost sent your soul out of your body. Ever since you were woken up by the staff during a false fire alarm the knocks had always made your heart race. You hauled the heavy ass door open with a sigh, expecting your drunk best friend or another random drunkard knocking on everyone's doors.

Instead you came face to face with Jae. Well, more like chest to face since he was ridiculously tall.

"Ayee Y/N, you didn't think I'd skip a day without you right?" His playful voice and the sweet words were like music to your ears .

Without a second thought you smiled at him and every worry went away, replaced with burning red cheeks. "What brings you here?" You questioned bashfully, opening the door wider for him to get out of the hallway.

"I was thinking you'd be boring and stay in tonight, so I asked your friend Wonpil what room you were in. You know he's in my Music class right?" You roll your eyes and nod at him as he places a plastic bag on your desk.

You couldn't lie, you were beyond surprised and happy he'd come. But it was more surprising to watch as Jae pulled out three bottles of soju and searched your shelf for cups.

"How about we cheers? You've been working your ass off and I need to drink to forget how bad the last exam went. Leshgoo!"

Your eyes widen before you realised you were laughing. "Jae do you honestly think we can finish 3 bottles? I heard from your friend Younghyun that you're a light weight as heck!" Coincidentally (or not), the day after you met Jae, Younghyun had sat beside you in one of your stats classes. 

Since then you had been sent a handful of snapchat's of Jae sleeping in awkward positions, so you assumed Younghyun had heard about you through Jae.

Jae looked at you sideways, fiddling with the lid of Soju. "Ehh Younghyun's a machine that's why. Anyone is a lightweight beside him." He was already pouring you both a drink and before you knew it 3 bottles were gone. You were a light weight too, so that was definitely not a good decision.

Jae looked so cute. You're not sure how you got here, sitting on the floor of your bedroom cross legged, facing the cutest guy, but boy were you glad to be.

"Y/N, you always look so pretty, I wonder if I can see you when you don't look panda-ish." Jae mumbled, his eyes smiling sleepily. He was a sleepy drunk, or maybe that's just the 8hrs he slept for the past week. He sure loved the panda idea, and had even drew a panda on your notebook during one of your study sessions.  

You laughed at his sweet expression, pushing him softly on his shoulder. "Try again in a month, but I might blind you with my beauty. You should know I'm just like the 9-tailed fox when I’m not sleep deprived."

Yeah, you were drunk, in fact you both were. You tried your best to send him a sexy wink but you ended up laughing at yourself because no matter how drunk you were, you were still shy. 

"Does that mean you'll eat my heart? I did not sign up for this!"Jae's cute eyes turned to slits with a suspicious scowl. (You took a mental picture of it, saving later for a rainy day.)

"Only if you let me..." You sent him a suggestive look and laughed as he covered his chest. Anyone looking in would probably think you two were insane. You weren't sure what time it was, and if it hadn't been you're own room you probably wouldn't remember where you were either. There were boxes of chinese food you’d ordered and random things everywhere around the two of you. 

"I don't think the 9-tailed fox asked her victims for permission Y/n..." He had a point. "Okay then, mind if I just-" you reached out to his chest, pretending to cut a slit with your nails and reach in to grab his heart while he giggled the whole time.

"WOW, with that precise cut you should've been a surgeon!" Jae teased, his cheeks were so flushed and you took both of his hands in your own.

"You should know that is what I always dreamed to do, but here we are, 2 years into a psychology major. Thank me later when you have identity issues next, I'll be your certified therapist friend." You found the most dramatically serious voice you could while thoroughly drunk, and sent another wink Jae's way before lazily reaching for his hair. 

He dodged your hands feigning offence. "OUCH, you friend-zoned me? Well, I guess you won't be able to dye my hair pink anymore, that's saved for my girlfriends." 

"GirlfriendS??? As in plural? Wow Jae I should be the one surprised, I didn't know you were a player... But I guess it makes sense since you're so cute."

Friend-zoned? Who was talking about friend-zoning here? You weren't. Jae loosely put his hands up in defence, "Your homeboy is loyal to the day he dies!"

You move his hands out of the way shuffling so your knees were touching. You already knew he was loyal, he had a niche personality that could vibe with others but you never seen him disrespect a women.

"And why would I friend zone you? You're so cute, Have you seen this?" Cheek pinch. "And this?" Nose boop. "And these!" Your fingers brushed his lips, unknowingly a pout had formed on your face. "It's not fair that you always look cute. Save some for the rest of us Jae."

,

Jae felt his heart beating faster as you moved closer to him. The way you touched him with that smile and then the pout, it was enough to sober him up. He reached out to hold your face with both of his hands, watching as your hands dropped to your sides and your expression grew bashful.

"I think you're one to talk Y/N" He spoke so softly, noticing just how close you were. You looked so adorable, he could swear your lips called his name.

Who was he to deny it?

He leaned forward, gently kissing your lips. They were soft and tasted like peach soju. He could only think of you, if after this you never talked to him, slapped him or acted like it never happened he would accept it. But he liked you, and he couldn't stand denying it anymore.

To his surprise you kissed back softly, tentatively as if you were afraid.

When you pulled away his eyes searched yours, afraid he would find regret. "Will you remember this in the morning?" He asked you nervously.

"Jae, I'm pretty sober right now, and I like you." Your words were so sure and the shy smile you sent his way sent a wave of relief over him. Thank gosh.

"10 points! that's exactly what I wanted to hear because I like you too Y/N." Okay, his pulse had definitely increased to double speed and his hands were sweaty. Even though he knew your feelings now, it still felt so nerve-wrecking to confess. He tried hard to keep eye contact because some dating advice website said it was important, but it was hard.

,

You let out a breathy laugh before it turned into a genuine one. Was that so hard? Hell yes it was, your heart was beating out of your damn chest. Anyone with ears could surely hear it, which meant Jae could surely too.

"So... we good?" You managed to find words but it felt like trying to speak another language. Suddenly the room looked a mess and you got to your feet, starting to clean. "Of course we're good Y/N, we always are." Jae spoke comfortingly, a bashful smile resting on his lips as he followed your acts. Perfect. You nodded with a grin, taking the bottles from his hands to throw away.

When you turned back to face him, he looked so shy smiling at the ground. He was so Jae, so cute, so your type. You could not resist resting your hands on his neck and pulling him down for another kiss, this time you were sure to let him know you liked him. 

When your lips touched everything except Jae left your thoughts. The way his lips moved against yours felt so right. When you two separated his hands rested on your waist and you never wanted them to leave. Up close Jae was so beautiful you couldn't help but smile.

"So... can I dye your hair now?" 

Jae laughed at your asking eyes, nodding as he pulled into a tight hug. With your cheek resting on his chest and his chin on your head, a buzz of excitement rushed through you. The future suddenly looked less black and white, and more blue? Yes, rather than pink you think Jae would suit blue.

[isthisthingeven0n]

through the darkness : d.d

brief summary: you’re coming up to graduating college, but its obvious you’re struggling with stress. when it gets very bad, david and everyone are there to help you through it.

word count: 1.5k requested: by a sweet anon - i relate to the idea and fell in love writing it thank you! warnings: idk. swearing, self doubt (how every student has felt at some stage basically) 

* masterlistin’

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism) 

Sitting with your head in your hands, you can feel the morning breeze glide through your window panes. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” You mumble to yourself as you sniff quietly, not wanting to wake him up.

All night, you’ve sat at your desk and studied. You’ve reread the same pages over and over in hope some of the information will sink in. But as you close your eyes and try to recite anything, none of it reappears back to you. Not a single page of text is staying in your brain, and that is breaking you piece by piece.

Moving in your bed, David turns to see you. His eyes widen as he sits upright and looks to the spot beside him having remained untouched. “Did you study all night?” He questions with a small yawn as you keep your back turned.

His eyes wander to the series of cans on the floor, the piles of books and papers decorated with post-it notes. Three mugs remain uniform as they all contain various levels of caffeine you tried to consume to stop your eyes closing on you.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You mutter in response as you look straight ahead, seeing the sun rising in front of your very eyes. “Haven’t got time to sleep.” The words leave your lips like a mantra. You knew you could make time to sleep, but you can’t. There’s too much to get done, too much to study and memorise before your final exam.

“Y/n, you gotta let your body shut down.” David speaks out, shuffling across the sheets to perch on the edge of the mattress behind you.

He wants to reach out, take a hold of you in his arms. But he knows better than to force you, he knows you’re struggling and he will avoid any sign of making it worse.

Over the passing weeks, David has seen less and less of you. The happy, loving, funny version of you that he loves. You’ve been replaced by a sleep-deprived student who is sacrificing everything to try and focus.

It isn’t just David who has noticed, everyone else has seen it happen. When he asked Natalie, she explained it’s perfectly normal. How it’s what students tend to do during finals, especially third-year students.

“I’ll sleep soon, I promise.” You lie as you blink rapidly in aid of stopping the heaviness in your face. “I just gotta read this last chapter, make a few notes and I’ll be with you.” You wave him off as your vision zones out from the textbook, the words blurring together.

David opens his mouth to say something, but no words follow. He turns away and rises to his feet and shuts the bathroom door.

As you listen to the shower being turned on, tears flow from your eyes automatically. You bury your mouth into your sleeve to stop the sobs being heard over the water hitting the shower floor.

“God,” you sniff as you sit back upright and wipe your eyes. “just fucking focus.” You mutter forcefully to yourself as you slap your cheek to keep your eyes open. “One chapter, Y/n. One fucking chapter.” Your aggression turns into sadness as tears hit the pages of your book. “Fuck.” You groan as you wipe the tears away, only to see more replacing those you removed from the pages as the ink smudges.

Behind you, David stands with the door open. He heard you swearing to yourself before he stepped into the shower, his concern growing as silence replaced your mutters.

He watches you curl up in your chair, your arm stretching out to grab a book only to see a cup of coffee fall to the ground. “You piece of shit.” Your voice becomes louder as you stand upright and turn to see David stood there.

Neither of you speaks up, you both remain still for a split second before he walks over and holds you close in his arms.

David can feel his chest becoming damp from your tears, but he keeps a tight hold of you, refusing to let you go just yet. “I don’t know if I can do it, Dave.” You admit through your sobs. “I’m so tired, nothing is happening and I’m scared I’m going to fail after all of this.” You state through shallow breaths as your words get hitched in your throat.

“Come on,” David whispers as he kisses the top of your head, shuffling you into the bathroom with him. 

Holding your hand, David sits you down on the closed toilet seat and takes your make up wipes. He slowly helps remove the remains of last nights makeup and turns the shower on. With ease, he helps you undress and climbs into the shower with you.

He smiles softly as foam covers you both, the warmth slowly weaving into your body and softening your cold limbs. 

Once out from the shower, David wraps you into a towel like a child and laughs lightly. He watches as a glimpse of a smile appears on your face for a split second, but it’s enough to make his heart swell. 

“Just ten minutes, okay?” David tells you as he pulls you onto your bed, holding you in his arms as you both lay in dressing gowns. 

You shuffle closer into him, closing your eyes as you nod. “Ten minutes. Don’t let me oversleep.” You ask as you instantly drift off, unable to stop yourself from saying anything else.

David smiles down as you remain fast asleep on his chest, a slightly refreshed version of yourself as he glances to his phone.

More than ten minutes have passed by, but you definitely need it. 

*

“Miss Y/n Y/L/N.” You walk up to the stage wearing your brightest smile as you shake your professor's hand. “Congratulations, Y/n.” He tells you as you nod to him before walking toward the steps, holding your diploma. 

David watches in the crowd with all of your friends, every single one of them bursting with pride as they see you return to your seat. “That’s my girl!” He shouts as you walk through the aisles, shyly looking down as he chuckles to himself.

Everyone knew how hard you worked for this moment, to actually make it through your final year. You had been through some of the darkest depths you didn’t know existed, but everyone was there to help nudge you closer to the surface. 

“I can’t believe she’s graduating.” Zane says as he wipes his eyes. “I feel like a proud parent.” He sniffs, causing Heath to hug him and pat his back.

“They grow up so fast, don’t they.” Heath comments and David focuses on you, how you’re glowing as you sit beside friends. 

You glance behind you, spotting your friends all in the crowd. Looking at all of them, you can see Zane tearing up with Heath, Carly and Erin taking photos and filming for you along with everyone else. But then your eyes lock with David’s.

His camera is nowhere in sight, he is simply focusing on you, on your moment. You give him a small wave, and his smile grows at the sight. “Thank you.” You mouth to him as he nods, knowing how much those two words truly mean to him and everyone else. 

As the rest of the students around you graduate, all you can think about is how lucky you are. That you have friends and a family who care so deeply about you, that no matter what, they’ll always be there to help.

Rising to your feet, you watch as everyone makes their way to their family members. Your parents are stood beside David, and bring you into a tight hug as they ramble on about how proud of you they are. And then they leave you for a moment with David, standing still in his smartest shirt and cleanest pair of black jeans.

“Good to see you made the effort, Dave.” You joke as he reaches out, bringing you into his arms. “Thank you, David.” You whisper to him this time, thinking back to the week before your finals. 

David didn’t give up on you that week. He stuck around and helped you as best as he could. He made sure you ate, he helped you have a routine despite it throwing off his own all because he wanted you to succeed. 

“All I want is for you to be happy, and for you to be living the life you dreamt of.” He tells you as his hand rests on your cheek. “I couldn’t be more proud to call you my girlfriend, Y/n. My college fucking GRADUATE.” He yells and you laugh loudly, ignoring the glances from your parents. 

“God, I love you, you dork.” You chuckle as you lean in, kissing him softly.

“And I love you too.” He mumbles into your lips as you feel a flash catch your eyes as you pull away.

Turning your heads, you spot Natalie holding one of David’s disposable cameras. “Trust me, in years to come you’ll thank me for capturing that.” She tells you and you both nod, going along with it. 

But now, looking back you are thankful. On top of your mantle sits your diploma along with a series of awards and a framed photo of that moment, something you’ll never forget. 

[amyscascadingtabs]

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Three different years, three different Christmasses, and three different reasons Jake's awake all too early in the morning on December 25th.

(or, did anyone say CHRISTMAS FLUFF???)

read on ao3

december 25th, 2014.

06.08 a.m.

“Oh my god, have you been here all night?”

Jake's not sure whether Amy’s about to laugh at him or tell him off about how he needs to take better care of himself. From the incredulous look on her face, like she can’t believe her eyes when he nods at her from behind his desk, it could be either.

“Jake, that’s insane. Have you ever heard of, I don't know, sleeping during the night?”

(It's the second alternative.)

 He has heard of sleep, and he’ll confess the thought of his bed with its good mattress lump and too-soft pillows is more tempting now than when he first considered going home about eight hours ago, but he also just drank a can of artificially blue energy drink and might never sleep again. All the better - it’ll give him more time to catch his arch-nemesis, who sent him yet another rant about omelets yesterday that left Jake none the wiser and all the more frustrated.

 “I’m trying to get a trail on Doug Judy,” he shrugs in response to Amy. “You think a person can disappear into thin air?”

“I’ll go with no on that one.”

Jake groans. “I swear that’s what he’s done. It’s infuriating.”

“I’m sorry he got away,” Amy tilts her head to the side with sympathy, “but I promise you’ll catch him. Just go home and get some sleep.”

“You go home and get some sleep.”

“I have! I’m just stopping by to get a couple of hours of work done before I have to go back to my brother’s place.”

“Why are you going to your brother’s place -” He makes note of the red and green stripes on her knitted sweater and her red bauble earrings. “Oh, right. Christmas.”

 Never one for family-centered holidays or one with a particular skill for keeping track of time, Jake could have sworn the occasion wasn’t happening for another few days at least, but Amy nods. Her earrings sway with the movement.

“So you’re working on Christmas?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re working on Christmas,” she retorts simply.

“Yeah, but I don’t celebrate it. You like being with your family.” Jake snaps his computer shut and leans over his desk instead, hands clasped together and chin resting on them. “What’s the mysterious deal here? Has there been a juicy scandal in the Santiago family? Please spill.”

Amy sighs, her cheeks turning a shade of pink he recognizes from the last time Captain Holt complimented her work on a case in front of the bullpen. “There’s nothing juicy. I just needed some time away from my brothers if I’m going to survive today.”

“I thought you liked your brothers?”

“I have seven brothers, Jake, and I like all of them. Except for David. Perfect David,” she says, screwing up her face like it pains her to say the name. “David is planning to take the Sergeant’s exam this year. David is looking at buying a house. David’s proposing to his girlfriend. Aren’t you thinking of getting married to your boyfriend, Amy? Oh, that’s right - you two broke up! Such a shame. You two made an adorable couple!”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “Sure. Ouch.”

She starts writing on her computer, fingers tapping over the keyboard with speed and only stopping for brief moments when she looks out the window like she’s taking a break to think. Jake decides to give her a moment alone and dives back into his own poorly structured document of barely existent and equally far-fetched leads. He doubts he’s writing anything coherent at this point, but the thought of Doug Judy out there taunts him too much to allow himself to stop.

 He feels guilty whenever Amy mentions her breakup with Teddy. It’s been three weeks since the most catastrophic double-date in history, and most of the time, they’re cool, but then there are moments where he’ll mention Sophia and notice how Amy’s eyes will turn away and her expression will morph into a smile so different from her natural one. He can’t decipher what it means, or if it’s nothing and his mind’s playing tricks on him from when he had a little bit of a crush on her. It’s not like it would matter, he reminds himself. He’s with someone, he’s happy, and Amy’s over him anyway.

It doesn't stop him from wishing he could read her thoughts sometimes.

 “Are you having dinner with your mom tonight?” Amy asks, jolting him back to reality. The tapping of her fingers against the keyboard has slowed down, and the tension that radiated from her before seems milder. Jake thinks he can note the hint of a smile on her lips.

“How do you know I’m having dinner with my mom?”

“You told me last year?”

His memory flashes back to a late-night, dead-end stakeout last December. “Right. Right, yeah, I am - Sophia’s away visiting family, so.”

Either Amy's smile turns more wistful, forced, or he’s imagining it. “That sounds nice. Are you planning to get any sleep before then?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” he tries joking, but because his body is cruel, moving his face triggers a massive yawn that makes Amy giggle.

“Actually, sleep deprivation is linked to a weaker immune system, higher risk of cardiovascular diseases and trouble with concentration,” she lists, ignoring his eye-roll. “Seriously, Jake. Go home and rest, then come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Just need more coffee.”

“I pity your doctor.” Amy shakes her head. “But hey, it’s Christmas - if you promise me you’ll go home and sleep after, coffee’s my treat.”

“Really?”

“Consider it my Christmas gift for you. “ She’s out of her seat and taking on her coat before he’s even had a shot to ask why he’s willingly going outside in the cold when there’s perfectly acceptable, free coffee in the break room. Then again, he’s not one to say no to a surprise. Especially not when the words on his computer are getting blurrier by the second, and he’s lost nearly all faith in his own skills as a Detective thanks to the failed capture of Doug Judy three days ago. Caffeine will help him stay awake; maybe long enough to come up with at least one more idea. Something - anything - and he’ll let himself go home. As soon as he’s made progress, he’ll rest.

 “Gingerbread lattes. Sickly sweet, so suits you perfectly.” He gives Amy a quizzical look as she puts down the red and white Starbucks cup in front of him. She blushes. “I mean, because you eat what I believe is a dangerous amount of sugar. Nothing else.”

Jake grins. “That difficult to hide your crush on me, huh?”

“I don’t have a crush on you. If you’d like to give me a Christmas gift, I’d very much appreciate you quitting bringing that up.”

“Uh-uh, it’s a no-can-do.” He unscrews the lid from his cup, licking up the sweet foam. “This is great, though. Thanks, Amy.”

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas,” she says, and he thinks he sees a glint of that shy, covert smile again. “For what it’s worth, I really think you’ll catch him. I believe in you. Just get some sleep first.”

“Merry Christmas.” He lifts his cup like he’s making a toast. “I believe you can survive Christmas lunch with your family. Maybe even without strangling anyone.”

Amy snorts. “Now that would be a Christmas miracle.”

“So would Doug Judy surfacing again be at this point.”

She holds up her own takeaway cup, touching it to his. “Cheers to Christmas miracles, then.”

“Cheers,” he laughs.

 In the corner of his eye, he sees his phone light up with a Merry Christmas-text from Sophia. He can’t fully explain the guilt that follows when he waits a few minutes to reply, or why he’s struck with a sudden desire to tell Amy another joke first so he can make her laugh again, but it's probably just sleep-deprivation.

 ~

 december 25th, 2017.

05.33 a.m.

Jake wakes up not knowing how to breathe.

It’s not happening as often anymore - not nearly as frequently as it did during his first weeks home - but often enough for it to no longer surprise him. The dreams before he wakes up are almost indistinguishable from each other, always another version of Romero’s gang having him backed into a corner with their shivs pointed at him. Melanie Hawkins is watching the whole thing go down from the other side of the cell, her laugh nefarious and causing his blood to freeze to ice. In every dream, he screams for help, but no one ever comes to save him.

 It’s fine, he tries to tell himself, forcing in air through his mouth. His chest hurts, his heartbeat’s far over the healthy bpm and a sense of instinctive dread is pooling in his stomach, but he’s fine. He’s home.

He listens for the sound of cars driving past outside her window, a trick he’s learned after too many of these nights, and reaches out his right hand to touch his nightstand. A second wave of fear floods him when he realizes he can't hear a single car, and when he reaches out his hand, all he feels is a wall that doesn't belong to his bedroom.

He sits up so quickly it makes him dizzy. He doesn't remember where he is, and can't distinguish the room in its encapsulating darkness, but if he's back in prison or Romero or Hawkins have somehow manifested in his real life, he's all too aware he doesn’t have anything to fight with except his bare, trembling, hands.

This is where you die, a voice in his head wheezes, and his lungs feel tighter. This is where it ends.

 The sound of another person’s breathing sharpens his focus. It could be someone from Romero’s gang standing behind him, breathing down his neck, but the only thing he feels is droplets of sweat trickling down his back. It could be Hawkins, standing somewhere in the room watching him, but this breathing seems too slow and peaceful. Nervously, he looks to the side, and even in the darkness of this room, he recognizes the silhouette of his fiancée sleeping next to him in bed.

The puzzle pieces seem to fall into place, mitigating the waves of panic as they go. He’s not at home, because he’s with the Santiagos, celebrating Christmas upstate with his in-laws-to-be and their many kids and grandkids. He and Amy drove here yesterday, celebrated Nochebuena with all her family, and they’re staying for Christmas dinner today.

Everything’s fine, he tells himself instead, and finds that he’s able to force his breath into the pattern Amy taught him after one of his first attacks. In, out. You’re not in prison. Inhale. You’re okay. Exhale. Repeat until it works.

 As his eyes become more and more used to the darkness, he’s able to make out the contours of Amy’s face. She’s on her side facing him, her hair draped across the pillow and her hands holding onto her part of the blanket. It doesn’t seem like he’s managed to wake her up. She’s fast asleep, and Jake pats himself on the shoulder for having learned to ride out the panic attacks on his own. It’s bad enough that he can’t sleep; he’s wrecked with guilt when it affects her, too.

He presses a kiss to her forehead. The corners of her mouth twitch into a small smile, and the aching in his chest is replaced by a comfortable warmth.

He’s careful not to try and disturb her when he gets out of the bed they’re sharing, finding a hoodie and a pair of pajama pants he’s thrown on a nearby chair, and sneaks outside.

 The snow shocks him. He’s used to a gray, rainy Brooklyn during December, a polar opposite to the Winter Wonderland surrounding their rented cabin. It's still a couple of hours away from daylight, but the porch lighting and bright snow are enough to make him feel safe. He scrapes clean a spot on the edge of the porch and sits down.

The air is cold in his lungs, but it’s the refreshing kind of cold, the kind that feels healthy and makes you realize how polluted the air you breathe on a daily basis is. It’s far from the signature prison smell of mildew and fear, far from the stuffy atmosphere in the courtroom during their trials, far from any of the memories that haunt him during nightmares and nocturnal panic attacks.

He’s safe. He’s free. He’s okay.

He grabs a handful of snow, squeezing it and feeling it shape after his palm. If someone had asked him during a night he laid awake in his cell, whether he thought he’d ever see snow again as a free man, Jake’s not sure what his reply would’ve been. There were a lot of things he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to experience, but here he is, living them. He forms the snow to an imperfect snowball, then throws it against a tree. It gives him an odd, childish sense of having achieved something, so he does it again.

 “Having a snowball fight with yourself, are you?”

He turns around to see Amy standing in the door opening. She’s in pajamas, bathrobe, and her winter coat, but despite her Michelin-man-like appearance, she still looks like she’s shivering when she sits down next to him, handing him one of two steaming mugs of coffee.

“I just needed to get some fresh air. Sorry, I tried not to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I only noticed when the bed got cold. You’re an excellent source of heat.”

“Where would you be without me?”

“I’d be colder,” she states simply. “And sadder. Worse in every possible way. But you know that. Let’s not talk about it.”

“Yeah. Let’s not.” He takes a sip from his mug. The coffee burns the roof of his mouth, but he can tell his cup has been doused with the perfect amount of sugar, so he keeps drinking. “What time is it?”

“Nearly six. I bet all the kids will wake up soon, and the quiet in this house will turn into chaos as everyone’s opening their gifts and trying to capture reactions and thanking each other,” she laughs. “Get ready for the annual Santiago Christmas chaos.”

“I’m excited,” he says with full honesty. If he had to think of a good opposite for prison, a crowded living room of families with children opening gifts on Christmas morning is a strong contender, and it’s made even stronger by the fact that he’ll have Amy by his side for it. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Merry Christmas.” Her face is cold, but her lips are warm from the coffee when she kisses him. “Now do you think we can go back in and snuggle under our comforter until we actually have to get up?”

 Jake doesn’t know if he’ll ever be free of the nightmares, but he knows that for as long as he’s laying forehead to forehead with Amy Santiago, pretending to complain when she rubs her ice-cold feet against his, tickling her as revenge just so he can make her laugh, they seem further and further away from reality.

 ~

 december 25th, 2020.

05.17 a.m.

 Although she's only been born for a mere five weeks, Jake’s already certain his daughter is a flat-out genius. For example, even though it's her first time celebrating, she's got one of the staples of Christmas celebrations down to a T; she's waking up far earlier than should be allowed.

 “She's way too excited about her presents to sleep,” he suggests with a yawn as the infant’s crying wakes them up for a third time that night. “Truly my daughter.”

“More like she's hungry and wanting attention,” Amy mumbles as she reaches for the nursing pillow, trying to find a comfortable position for both her and baby. “Still your daughter, then.”

“Guilty as charged,” he says, and in the low shine of the table lamp on her nightstand, he can see her rolling her eyes at him. Leah’s grunting in complaint as Amy takes a few seconds to unhook the strap of her nursing bra, bordering dangerously close to a cry when she can't seem to figure it out, but then it works. The sound of Leah's content suckling fills the room, bringing with it a novel feeling of peace they've come to know in the last weeks.

When she's crying, their hearts are shattering. When she's happy, they're floating on air. And because their daughter is barely a month old, they're on a constant rollercoaster between the two absolutes.

 “You can go back to sleep if you want,” Amy offers, not for the first time that night. “I’ve got this under -” She yawns. “Control.”

“I know.” He could, and considering the low total amount of sleep he's gotten this week, he probably should, but he has another idea. “This is nice, though.” Leah’s pajamas has reindeer heads on the feet, and he holds them in his hand. “I can’t believe it’s her first Christmas.”

“I think you’re more excited than she is,” Amy laughs. “We’ll see what she thinks about it after the two-hour car-ride to my brother’s place.” “She’ll sleep through it. You’ll worry.”

She grimaces, stroking her fingers over the tiny hand Leah is holding on her chest. “Touché.”

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Merry Christmas.” Amy stifles yet another yawn. “You don’t mind getting up with her while I close my eyes for just a little bit longer, do you? Or else I might actually fall asleep in the middle of Christmas dinner.”

“No, of course not.” Jake doesn’t tell her he was hoping she’d ask. He can’t risk ruining the surprise he came up with at work two days ago. For someone so sleep-deprived he almost took Charles’ lunchbox from the precinct fridge two days ago and was about to start chewing before Terry stopped him, he feels it’s some of his finest idea-work.

Leah finishes eating and Amy burps her, handing her over to Jake like she’s the most precious of goods - which, to be fair, is accurate. Their daughter finds her favorite spot with her head on his shoulder near immediately and he gets out of bed almost as fast, only stopping to give his wife a kiss on the cheek before leaving their bedroom.

 Even a year ago, he would have laughed in the face of whoever had told him he’d ever willingly wake up at 5.30. He would have called them insane if they’d suggested it would become the routine it has, or that he would like it. Every morning when he gets up for work, he’ll wake up extra early and take Leah for a couple of hours, giving Amy some undisturbed sleep and himself some quality time with his daughter. She is, without exception, in her happiest mood in the mornings. Sometimes she’ll give him what sort of resembles a smile if he makes a funny enough face, or she’ll wave her hands when he sings to her. Jake can’t imagine a better way to start his day - if he has to spend a whole workday away from her, at least he gets these moments first.

 He’s not going to work today, but he still has plans for their morning together. It’s the first-ever Christmas they’re celebrating as parents, which he figures calls for a more luxurious breakfast than their usual coffee and toast, and Amy may have suggested no big gifts this year, but she didn’t say anything about ones addressed from their daughter - loophole. She insisted they’d get a tree, though, so now there’s an over-the-top decorated fake tree in the corner of their living room with a whole of three Baby’s First Christmas-ornaments. Two of them were gifted by Charles. As was five other gifts, and he only stopped because Amy made him.

 “This is the Christmas tree,” Jake tells his daughter as he shows it to her for the one-hundredth time, only for the way her eyes light up when she gets close enough to see the lights and baubles. “It’s not real, because your mom’s allergic to those, but it looks pretty nice, right?” Leah coos. “Yeah, I know. We’re being extra this Christmas. It’s all for you, you know.”

“But it’s what you deserve,” he adds, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the baby scent he just can't get enough of. “Even though you’ll never remember this. I guess it’s mostly for us. But you’re a great excuse.”

She whimpers like she understands and is offended by what he’s saying, and he laughs at the timing.

“Don’t worry. It’s been fun. You’re going to have amazing Christmasses. I’m kind of jealous, actually.”

He sits down with her in the armchair placed in front of the three, putting his feet on the footstool so Leah can lay against his knees. “I never liked celebrating holidays much, because my dad was either drunk or just wouldn’t show up, so me and my mom were alone for most of them, which sucked.” Jake pouts his lip, and Leah moves her head in a way he decides to interpret as nodding. “You’re never going to have that. You’ll have gifts and people everywhere, a billion cousins to play with and food for days because your grandmother is an amazing cook. You’ll love it. I sort of feel like I’m getting revenge for all of my failed holidays by making sure yours are perfect.” He rubs his nose against hers in an eskimo kiss. She makes a noise that is not quite a laugh but leaning towards it, like she’s trying to figure the motions out. “I guess you could say we’re discovering the traditions together, huh?”

 The beauty of being an adult is you can make a new family with new traditions, a memory of Holt’s words from a Thanksgiving seven years ago comes to mind. Jake’s always considered the squad his family, and he’s made traditions with Amy in their years together, but he’s never been this excited about them before. He’s already humming to himself when he plays the Taylor Swift Christmas album on his phone, putting Leah in the baby bouncer and pushing it so it moves by itself. He googles the recipe and narrates his actions to her as he goes, mixing eggs with sugar and melting butter and stopping every now and then to bounce her seat again. He takes an involuntary break to change his daughter’s outfit, finding an even more festive one he couldn’t stop himself from purchasing when he walked past it in the store last week. It’s a baby Santa suit, complete with hat and all, and he takes about twenty-or-so pictures of her in it before remembering what he was doing before.

 It takes twice as long as the recipe suggests, but eventually, Jake’s looking at two plates of saffron french toast that’s only a little burnt, matching Super-Mom and Super-Dad mugs - also gifted to them by Charles - filled with an attempt at a gingerbread latte that he’s sure will taste decent with enough whipped cream, and the Christmas gift addressed from Leah is imperfectly wrapped sitting next to Amy’s plate. It might well be one of the proudest moments of his life, and he gives himself a mental pat on the back for being such a natural talent at the whole festive traditions-thing.

 He contemplates singing as they enter the bedroom. The idea falls flat, because he doesn’t know any Christmas songs well enough to avoid completely butchering them, and the act of balancing a baby, a gift and a coffee cup without dropping either is enough of a challenge, but he does manage some humming as they go to wake up Amy.

 He wonders if she’s heard them, because she sits up in bed way too fast for someone who just woke up, but she’s smiling at them with a glee that seems to erase all traces of exhaustion when he sits down on the side of the bed, handing her the coffee.

“You dressed her as Santa,” she laughs, tickling Leah’s belly with her free hand. “Oh my god, she looks so cute.”

“Bought the outfit myself,” he grins. “Merry First Christmas as a mother, babe.”

“I’m loving it. I thought we said no gifts, though?”

“It’s not from me, it’s from Leah. Loophole!” Jake half expects his wife to roll her eyes at him, but she simply grins wider.

“She might have one for you, too.”

“Oh, Lee. You shouldn’t have!” He shakes his head at his daughter, getting a confused look in return. “You’re too nice to us.”

“Well, she does keep us up all night.”

“True, true. She’s lucky she’s the cutest.” He kisses his daughter’s cheeks not for the first time that day. “She might have fixed another little surprise for you out in the kitchen. Well, her and I. Mostly me. But she was very supportive!”

This time Amy does roll her eyes at him, but affectionately, before putting down the coffee on her nightstand and reaching over to kiss him.

“Merry First Christmas as a dad, Jake.”

 He still considers himself a beginner in the area of Christmas traditions, but as he and Amy take turns eating their French toast and unwrapping their Leah-themed gifts while the other one bounces a suddenly fussy baby in their arms and Taylor Swift’s Christmas album keeps playing on a loop in the background, he’s certain he’ll be able to learn.

He’ll do anything for the two people who are already his greatest gift of all.

[winterromanov]

we will grow taller together - bucky x reader

PART ONE - THE GENTLE HUM OF EXISTENTIAL DREAD

parts: zero

Pairing: bucky barnes x reader

Extract: “No. No, what I’m saying is, he needs—they both need—someone. He needs someone to help look after Clover while they both get their lives back on track.” Steve pauses, looking you straight in the eyes. “Someone like you.”

Genre: romance, nanny x single father!AU

Taglist: @blindedbyyourgrace17 @verygraphicink @igotkatiepowers @welcome-to-my-studylife (taglist still open, reply/message to be tagged)

PART ONE

“Next please!”

The queue shuffles along until your face-to-face with yet another tired-looking college student, purple eye-bags visible underneath a pair of circular rimmed glasses. It’s fall dead week and if most of your customers are anything to go by, it certainly lives up to its name. Every single one of the tables spread out on the main floor of Vormir Coffee has been crammed with sleep-deprived teenagers and textbooks, meaning you and your colleagues have been swept off your feet with orders for caffeine products refills. You expect the rush to continue over the next few days as revision turns into actual mid-terms—as is tradition, you’ll be offering free chocolate muffins throughout the week by the door, because nothing heals the pain of a shitty Econ paper like chocolate muffins do.

Yet…as you look in the near-dead, distant eyes of your latest customer, you feel a pang of jealousy deep within your chest. While you’re pouring coffee into refillable mugs and forcing your best service smile (which is a difficult feat nine hours in to a ten hour shift) they’re reading and learning and absorbing.

You miss learning. God, you miss learning, even the terrible impossible chaos of one exam after another and deadlines piling up around you like sandbags. But being, y’know, poor, means there’s not much you can do about your grad school dreams, even if you do spend your free hours searching the internet for outlandish scholarships and funding schemes.

So. For now, it’s coffee. Potentially forever if you want to continue to eat and have electricity, which is just about all you can afford right now. And the occasional lipstick if you’re feeling particularly extravagant.

“What can I get you?” you ask the student, whose scruffy brown hair doesn’t look like it’s been washed in a few days. Oh well. Desperate times require desperate measures. At least you’re not his roommate. He grunts for an inevitable espresso and fishes round his wallet for some spare dollars while you get to work. Moments later you offer him the finished product and he drops the exact change into your hand, skulking away to a table without another word. Well, you’ll forgive a lack of manners during one of the most surreal weeks in the academic year.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

On the announcement of your name your glance flicks back to the remainders of the gradually quietening queue, and your face subconsciously breaks out into a grin when you finally see a customer that doesn’t look like a vacant zombie.

Steve Rogers grins back at you. He’s wearing a beanie over his blonde hair and a warm winter jacket—the temperature was freezing when you practically slid from the subway to work this morning and as the day slowly eclipses into evening, the temperature is falling back down with it. His cheeks are flushed from coming into the warm.

“Hey Steve!” you greet him cheerfully, because seeing an old friend is the perfect way to end a tiring shift. “How are you? How’s Natasha?”

Steve dips his head bashfully, like he always does when he’s asked about himself or his girlfriend. “We’re both great, thanks. What about you? It’s been a while.”

You gesture around you as an answer. Taking all the shifts you possibly can means you probably spend more time in Vormir than your own apartment. From what you can recall Steve has been back in the States for a few weeks after his most recent tour of Afghanistan; him or Natasha keep dropping you invites here and there, but you’ve been working or too dog-tired to accept them. It kind of makes you sad, as you watch your social circle shrink, but being an adult is the worst and staying alive is reasonably important to you.

“That bad, huh?” Steve asks sympathetically. You nod back, dramatically rolling your eyes.

“That bad. Always that bad, Rogers. I’m a slave to consumerism, but don’t let my boss know that.”

Steve laughs, leaning onto the counter. “I actually… (Y/N), when do you finish up here? Do you want get a drink? I’ve just got something I wanted to run by you.”

You narrow your eyes with curiosity. The clock that ticks mercilessly above the door reads six forty-two, so you’ve got less than twenty minutes left of your shift, and the look on Steve’s face is too intriguing to turn down just so you can rush home, open a bottle of cheap white wine and watch Stranger Things on Netflix. Even if you are up to the season three finale.

“I clock off at seven,” you reveal, but you nudge your head in the direction of the remaining customers who are starting to get annoyed at the hold-up. “Grab a seat. I actually have to do my job for a while longer and I’d rather not get fired because you’re distracting me.”

Steve holds his hands up in mock surrender and slowly backs away from the counter, allowing your next customer to slide into his position. You watch as he drops into a two-seater by the window, scrolling through his iPhone, a muted grin tugging at his lips.

-

Steve’s favourite bar is a short walk across town, the kind that is warm and dark and a little bit retro. You’ve been to Endgame before with him and Natasha, and you’d all split quarters so you could play ABBA songs on the Jukebox by the entrance. Right now it’s playing Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac, so it seems today’s patrons have taste.

You grab one of the more private booths through the back while he gets the drinks. You’ve not seen your phone since your lunch break so you take the spare seconds to scroll through your social media—less than an hour ago Natasha’s posted a photo to Instagram, both her and Steve making stupid faces in the living room of the apartment they share. It’s captioned who do I have to kill to make sure you’re not deployed again?

Your heart melts a little. Steve and Nat. Nat and Steve. Two people who have been together for longer than you’ve known them, and they just work so fucking well, two halves of the same coin and all that. Your thumb hovers over the like button for a moment before clicking it, because you’ve never had someone in your life like that. You’ve not found the other half of your coin.

Most days you’re too exhausted to really think about it. But sometimes…something will click in the back of your brain and it dawns on you like an avalanche that this might be your life forever. You’ll be serving coffee forever. You’ll be on your own forever.

Fortunately Steve slides into the seat opposite before you can go into a full-on existential crisis, but you sure as hell know that’s what will inevitably cross your mind when you’re stuck staring at the cracked ceiling of your apartment in bed tonight.

Steve’s smile is concerned as he pushes a desperado in your direction. “You look troubled.”

“When am I not?” you say with a shrug, taking a sip of your drink. The alcohol burns in your empty stomach. You haven’t eaten since lunch—maybe liquor isn’t the best idea, after all. “Anyway. As much as I love seeing you, Rogers, this isn’t just a friendly drop-by is it?”

Steve is drinking some generic American beer. He wipes his lip before speaking. “Yeah. Like I said. There was something I thought I’d run by you.”

“Ominous.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Are you going to spend the next half an hour or so pushing a pyramid scheme you swear isn’t a pyramid scheme? Because I really didn’t think that was your style.”

“No. Not a pyramid scheme.” He shakes his head in mild disbelief, probably wondering why he’s still friends with you. “It’s more…do you remember my friend? James?” When you look back blankly, he elaborates. “Bucky. Guy I used to go to school with. Dark hair. Lost his arm in Afghan about a decade ago…”

“Oh! Oh. Bucky Barnes. James Barnes.” You feel kind of bad that the arm was what made it click, but you do remember a quiet, well-mannered guy standing in the background of a few of Steve and/or Nat’s social events over the last few years. You’ve never been formally introduced but Steve talks about him every so often, just casual mentions in conversation, nothing detailed. They’d grown up together, trained together, but their career paths parted after Bucky’s car nicked an IED on the outskirts of Kabul. Truly horrifying. “Yeah. Sure. I remember him. What about him?”

Steve grimaces. “Well, it’s a bit…complex, to explain, so I’ll just go straight into it. About seven years ago he met a girl, she got pregnant, they had a daughter.”

“Oh! I never knew he had any kids.”

“Yeah. Clover. She’s six now. Way too smart for her age, really mischievous—doing crazy things like sending vegetables in the post to the grandparents she doesn’t like and reading fucking Frankenstein. Big Mary Shelley fan, to Buck’s sheer delight. Awesome kid.”

You smirk, not sure what any of this has to do with you, but little Clover sounds exactly how you were at her age. “She does sound pretty awesome.”

“But Connie, her mom…she passed away just over a year ago in a really awful car wreck.” Steve’s face falls into a look of heartbreak, empathetic as always. “Her and Bucky haven’t been together for years but they shared custody of Clove, Connie having her a lot of the time.”

You feel something shift in your chest, like shards of glass are pressing in between your ribs. Real loss stories have always been pretty hard for you to digest, regardless of who they belong to. You think about death a lot in, like, an abstract and unreachable kind of way. You think it gives you size, an awareness of your place in the world, the universe. But that’s your own death. You’re kind of comfortable with that one day you will cease to exist. It’s just the people that you care about you fear for. And everybody cares about somebody.

“God, that’s awful, Steve,” you murmur, eyes softening. “Is he looking after her on his own now?”

Steve nods, biting his lip. “Yeah. And he’s not doing too great, (Y/N). It’s not my place to go into details about what goes on in his head, but nobody gets over the trauma he went through and goes back to before. And the loss of Connie and suddenly becoming Clover’s only parent, and her trauma, as well as trying to hold down a full-time job…like Jesus, I’m surprised he can even get up in the morning. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

You ache for Steve’s oldest friend as is only natural, but you’re still at a loss as to where this involves you. You rest your chin in your hands, looking at Steve intently. “It sounds like he’s going through a tough time. I’m really sorry. But is this…any of my business? Because you can always confide in me about things that are on your mind, but this sounds really personal.”

“No. No, what I’m saying is, he needs—they both need—someone. He needs someone to help look after Clover while they both get their lives back on track.” Steve pauses, looking you straight in the eyes. “Someone like you.”

The laugh that erupts from your chest is involuntary, but Steve’s expression is still completely serious. Is he really suggesting what you think he’s suggesting? “What? You’re asking me to be a nanny?”

“I suppose you could call it that.” When you stare at him with disbelief, he rolls his shoulders. “(Y/N). Why is this such an eccentric idea? You hate your job. Buck has a spare room at his place which, no offense, is way nicer than your apartment. You’re great with kids, you’re funny, you’re smart…and you’ve already said you think Clover sounds like an awesome kid. You two would get on great.”

“That’s all irrelevant considering a, I’m not a nanny and have no experience looking after a child in that close and intense an environment. And b, Steve, this is an eccentric idea. Other than the scraps you’ve given me I know absolutely nothing about James, and what the hell does he know about me?” When Steve’s face looks a little guilty, you roll your eyes. “Oh my god. Steve. James hasn’t even said he wants a nanny has he? He doesn’t even know you’re asking me this.”

“This would be so good for him,” Steve half-pleads, puppy dog eyes engaged, “He’s fussy about strangers and Clover, but he knows you through me. He’ll trust my judgement.”

“Steve. You can’t just go making decisions like that! This is insane.”

(Steve has a habit of thinking he knows what’s best, for himself or other people, and rampaging down that path in the pursuit of a happy ending. Sometimes people don’t need his version of a happy ending.)

Steve eventually relents, relaxing back in his seat. He’s forgotten you’re not usually one for blindly going along with one of his Heroic Schemes, preferring a more idealistic approach. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll discuss it with him first. But I think you should come along when I do that.”

“Steve.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, but I think you should meet them both properly. You could be a good friend to him either way. It wouldn’t hurt, (Y/N). Maybe it would be good for you too.”

God, you’re way too done for this shit, your legs aching from a day of being constantly on your feet and dead inside from getting up at six this morning. Steve is not the kind of guy to give up on something he’s clearly passionate about in his quest for the greater good, and this point it is just easier to agree to his requests. Even though his idea is way too bizarre for anyone normal to actually accept.

Being a live-in nanny for a guy you barely know and his daughter, both of whom have just lost someone extremely significant in their lives? And him being totally unaware that his best friend is proposing a job he has no authority to give? Yeah, fuck that.

Steve is right about one thing, though. You do really, really hate your horrible job.

When you reluctantly nod, and Steve grins, you jab a finger in his direction. “Like you said. It means nothing. This is weird as hell, but you’re super annoying when you don’t get your own way, and I’m totally allowing you to receive all the backlash when it backfires.”

“I think I can deal with that.” He gestures at your empty bottle. “Want another drink?”

The alcohol has made your body a little lighter, but your stomach growls loudly in argument. Instead, you clamp your hands on the table. “No, but you can buy me a pizza. It’s the least you can do for me, weirdo.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, used to your directness. “Pizza it is, then.”

Okay, so maybe Steve Rogers is the most annoying person in the world, and maybe his aggressive selflessness in the hope of doing right for his friends will eventually be his downfall, but he’s usually a pretty nice guy. You sometimes forget that you’re lucky to have him.

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 19

Yes it’s late! Yes I skipped Day 18! Yes I’m very tired lol. This day is a sequel to Day 12--which is a sequel to Day 9. SO if you want to read the full series from the start, 9 then 12 then 19!

Prompt: Protective Tentacles

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, Roman, Virgil, Remus

Warnings/Tags: SFW, Swearing, sleep issues, sleep deprivation, mentioned bulimia, mentioned seizures, mentioned hallucinations, mentioned sleepwalking, drug use, prescription medicine abuse, kissing, fainting, brief mentions of therapy, hospital stay and psychiatric evaluation. General apathy and sympathetic Remus

               Logan grabbed the doorknob and heard the maid shout his name; he winced and turned, “Sarah, I really don’t have time to-“

               She held up the dropper with a look of longsuffering. Logan opened his mouth and took the drops of CBD oil under his tongue before rushing out the door. He spat into the bushes, taking a sip of water and rinsing out his mouth as he crossed the large lawn, punching in the code to open the gate as he spat again. He climbed onto the bus and sat down, taking out his phone and checking the school’s portal. Mr. Stevenson still hadn’t graded the Calculus exams, and Logan grit his teeth, shoving his phone into his pocket. Even though his parents would never ask, Logan liked to have his grades updated and ready to show them when they came in on Wednesdays for dinner. He was starting to feel slowed, and he checked the time, firing off a text to Roman as he swallowed his last stashed Adderall, hoping his friend would have more today.

               Logan had a schedule, just enough Adderall to last him until Wednesday, then he’d leave his new batch in his locked cello case until Thursday when his parents would no longer be home all evening and search his room. Then he hauled the cello home for his weekend lessons and used the school loaner on Friday. His mother would bring him on Monday mornings so he could bring the cello back and store it in the band room. Or Tuesday, if his mother was busy with meetings, like this week. Anytime Roman didn’t manage to palm enough Adderall—which was often—Logan would turn to the three other rich kids with prescriptions that were willing to sell—or trade for pot; Logan would take several pills a day, as many as it took to keep withdrawals at bay, unless he actually managed to run out. Logan’s parents were scientists, but his mother had gone on a natural medicine kick when the therapists had given up. So now he had a weed card, and a mother obsessed with monitoring his sleep—very unnecessarily. Logan had done plenty of research on the best ways to skip sleep, and other than days when his parents—or the maid—would watch him to make sure he didn’t spit out his treatments, or when his mother decided to try some new pot baked goods or when his father would smoke with him in some odd attempt to make Logan feel like they were bonding as men.

               As infuriating as that was, it didn’t hold a candle to the way his mother would wail and beg him to sleep on the weekends. Ever since his first seizure she had been insufferable, unbearable in her smothering. Logan tried to be more careful now, keeping track of the Adderall and the CBD and the caffeine and the sleep he’d actually given in to. The seizures had been the first symptom of critical systems failure, but certainly not the worst. The hallucinations were bad, auditory worse than visual because Logan had a harder time dismissing them. Worst of all were the episodes where he’d black out, but his body would keep going. He’d broken through his bedroom window and rolled off the roof, falling down and cracking his left shoulder. Thank god for your mom’s azalea bushes! Sarah had shouted at him, watching him writhe in pain in the grass. The time he’d managed to scare her had been his most frightening time as well.

              Logan had come to in the kitchen with a knife in his hand. Sarah was curled on the floor between the island and the oven, screaming for him to stop with the kitchen phone in her hand. He dropped the knife and started crying. He wanted to go to her for comfort. Sarah had raised him, after all, and Logan was six before he’d finally learned not to call her mommy. He was the monster, though, the bad thing he was scared of—and she was even more scared than he was. So, he turned around and went to his room, crying at his desk until the police and paramedics showed up. He’d spent a week in the hospital under strict psychiatric observation then. Logan had slept for 36 hours straight, and woken up with tears in his eyes. Both of his parents had been there, the whole time, and even now Logan’s heart would tighten at the warmth of the memory, waking up to their hugs and kisses and smiles.

              Logan was pulled out of his nostalgia when his phone pinged. His mother’s contact photo popped up on his phone over the text Have a good day, sweetie! See you tonight! I’m making dessert!

              Logan’s lip curled and he quickly checked his homework schedule, moving things around. His mother would definitely dose him tonight, which meant he’d sleep, and run behind. He would have exactly three hours from arriving home until his parents came in for dinner at 7 pm sharp. He could finish almost all of his homework, but the extra credit for Calculus 3 would have to wait until Thursday evening, pushing back his homework he planned to finish early in order to take a few hours off to watch Nasa’s livestream of the upcoming meteor shower. He swore under his breath. He hated missing the livestreams, especially when his parents would be bothering him about watching it. He wanted to, but he couldn’t fathom it now.

              He jumped when the bus stopped short and he had to throw out his hand to save his face from hitting the seat in front of him. He straightened his glasses and scowled up at the man in the mirror. Behind him a rowdy pair of girls started shouting obscenities, blaming the driver for interrupting their impromptu makeup session. Logan rolled his eyes, reminded of Roman and Virgil. The thought of his friends brought a genuine smile to his face. Although Logan was put on edge by the mere thought of sex, romance or—god forbid—love, he did wonder when his friends would admit their feelings for one another. Even his own mother had noticed their shameless heart eyes for one another during their last concert. Logan had tried to stop her from calling Virgil’s dads, but the woman never listened to him no matter how loudly he shouted. It was one of the biggest reasons Logan didn’t bother getting angry anymore, especially with his parents; it accomplished nothing and it wasted precious energy.

              A jab to the back of his head made him turn around, that well-hidden anger bubbling to the surface, but it dulled when he saw two of his usual suppliers had moved to the seat behind him. He glanced back to the usually inattentive driver and then dug in his backpack, producing the small parcels he usually divided his stash into for economical reasons. He set two between his feet and nudged them backwards, his eyes glued on the driver. A second later, the parcels were replaced with a pill bottle and he grabbed it, taking visual inventory of the total pills inside before shoving it into his backpack and zipping it. The two boys did the same, disappearing back into the proverbial crowd. The school was two stops away, and Logan had already gone back to calculating his homework time, and whether it would be worth skipping lunch or not. He decided against it—Roman probably wouldn’t eat, and Logan usually tried to get extra food for him at lunch, passing it to him during band and hoping Roman could end up trapped long enough to actually absorb some nutrients before purging everything again. It usually didn’t work, but sometimes the director was in a bad mood and he’d make Roman wait. Logan knew manipulating friends was technically wrong, but guilt wasn’t really something he participated in.

                 The hours went by fairly quickly until lunch; Roman had another Adderall for him and he saved it, swallowing it during third period Calculus when he decided to try and cram his extra credit in between taking lecture notes. Unlike the day before, Roman and Virgil attended lunch rather than smoking in the parking lot. Roman got a salad and a water while Virgil and Logan went for the cheeseburgers that were probably not made from actual meat, but they tasted brown, and they had cheese on them, and that was enough. They sat down at their table—avoided by most of the other students due to Logan’s snippiness. He was halfway through his food when Virgil choked on a bite, “Jesus L! Is that your heartbeat?”

               Logan looked down where his heartbeat was causing his shirt to tremble in time, a bit elevated, but not that bad for him. He scowled and moved his drink—a large canned energy drink—in front of him, “What about-what are you doing?!”

               Virgil had stood and pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Logan’s neck, “Hold still and be quiet.” He watched his phone timer until it beeped, “Two hundred bpm!”

               “No it isn’t,” Roman said, standing up to check.

               Logan sat sullenly as they double and then triple-checked their results, “It really is two hundred. Logan that’s too fast!” Virgil said. “When’s the last time you had an Adderall?”

               Logan opened his mouth, but he couldn’t remember, so he scoffed, “Stop overreacting. It’s no big deal anyway.”

               His throat was dry, and he tried to clear it, taking a slow swallow of his energy drink and waving them off. “Logan maybe you shouldn’t be-“

               “Just shut up, Roman!” Logan sniped, then he closed his mouth and pinched his nose shut, trying to force air out of his lungs. After twenty seconds, Logan moved his hand and let out a long, slow breath, smiling, “There, nothing a vagal maneuver can’t fix. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.”

               Logan stood up and—without any warning—fainted.

                 Logan winced against the bright overhead lights, trying to blink away the blurriness, but he didn’t have his glasses. He could hear voices, distant and muddled. ”…-es, ma’am. His two friends are beside themselves. If it’s going to be a while would you mind if th… alright. Yes ma’am he’s asleep now, but unfortunately I can’t administer anything you haven’t given me here… CBD oil? No Mrs. Berry we don’t… yes ma’am I’ll tell him.”

              Logan squeezed his eyes closed as the curtain around his cot rustled and the nurse checked on him. “I know you’re awake, Mr. Berry. Your mother said your friends could come and sit with you until she gets here. The band director already gave them a pass. Feel like visitors?”

              Logan nodded, “’s bright.”

              “That’s what happens when you do whatever shit you’re doing and then wake up with a hangover in the nurse’s office,” the nurse said. “But, I’ll turn half the lights off. Just try not to get rowdy some of us still have to work.”

              Logan sighed, but he did smile a bit when the lights went out, only to jump as Virgil and Roman crowded in beside him, “Fuck, Logan you scared the shit out of me!” Virgil scolded.

              “How are you feeling?” Roman asked.

               “Mom’s on the way,” he rasped.

               “I got it,” Roman said. “I already took it all out of your bag.”

               Logan looked to see the nurse, but her desk was empty and she was standing in the hallway. Virgil glanced over, “She didn’t hear y-“

               “Give me one,” Logan said.

               Virgil shook his head, “Logan no fucking way! You just fainted!”

               Logan squeezed his eyes shut, “Please, I’m gonna have to go all week… maybe longer, please! Roman? Please?”

               Roman glanced at the nurse, then pulled the curtain, fumbling in his jacket pocket.

               “No!” Virgil hissed as Roman pulled out the bottle and offered it to Logan.

               “I c-can’t swallow it,” Logan said thickly. “Not whole.”

               Roman met Virgil’s eyes and ignored his expression of horrified disappointment. He popped two of the pills into his mouth and chewed it, wincing at the taste—though it was nothing compared to the things that he tasted on any given day. He gathered as much saliva as he could and then bent over Logan, pressing their lips together. Logan wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck to hold him in place, and he licked the Adderall out of Roman’s mouth like a dying man. The kiss was slow at first, mechanical, but it became something else as they stayed close, and soon Virgil was checking the nurse’s whereabouts again as the other two made out, Roman letting out little pleasant moans against Logan’s lips.

               Virgil cleared his throat loudly when the nurse returned, and Roman straightened, fixing his shirt. Logan closed his eyes again and waited for the meds to kick in a bit more. “How long til she gets here?”

               “Nurse said an hour,” Logan said. “Or that’s what I think she said. Mom’s got clinical trials today so it’s not something she can just leave.”

               “They should have sent you to a hospital, not left you here with your dealer,” Virgil growled, glaring daggers at Roman.

               Roman sighed as he pocketed the pills, “Look, I’ll keep these in my bag until I get to come see you, ok? Then I’ll leave them behind that loose siding under your window. Just don’t be stupid. Maybe this is a good opportunity to quit.”

               Logan wanted to argue, but his lips were still kiss swollen and the taste of Adderall soothed him, so he just nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

               “I love you,” Roman said, lifting Logan’s hand to kiss it, then he ducked out.

               “He’s just as bad as you are,” Virgil said. “For enabling you like that. I can’t stand it, Logan. I can’t stand what you two do to each other.”

               “Are you jealous?” Logan asked; his words were cold, but so was he, and the last thing he needed was a lecture.

               Virgil winced, “Fuck this,” he muttered. He turned and pushed the curtain out of the way, leaving the office—and Logan—in buzzing silence.

                 Logan woke up on Friday, late in the evening. His parents were home, judging from the voices downstairs, and he could remember faded scenes with them over the past two days. He’d missed school, missed band practice, missed the meteor shower and—judging from the raging head and body ache—enough Adderall to start withdrawal. He sighed and slid to the edge of the bed, sneaking over to his window. He’d just reached to open it when something grabbed his ankle in the dark, pulling him. He hit the carpet and was dragged, scrabbling uselessly at the carpet until suddenly he was on his stomach on smooth, cold stone. He squinted in the low light as he stumbled to his feet, until someone—or something—handed him his glasses. He quickly put them on and found himself standing in front of a stranger, “Hello?”

               “He was finally awake!”

               Virgil and Roman stepped out into the light and Logan took half a step back, “I’ve never hallucinated these two before,” he muttered to himself.

               “We aren’t hallucinations, Logan,” Roman said. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up all week.”

               “I didn’t really get the chance to tell you about Remus because you fainted at school and… well I took off. But he’s my friend.”

               “Our friend,” Roman said. “He’s been keeping us up all night pretty regularly. You should love him.”

               “By the way,” Remus said. “Whatever they have you on, those brownies are delicious. I stole five while waiting for you to wake up.”

               Virgil rolled his eyes but it was an affectionate gesture, “Glad to see you again, L. I’m… sorry I… whatever, I’m sorry.”

               Logan opened his mouth but Virgil stepped forward and hugged him, and as soon as Logan felt him, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. “Virgil… I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have-“

               “Yeah what did you say to him?” Roman asked. “He was mad the whole night!”

               “Mind your business,” Logan said when Virgil’s cheeks turned red. “So um… Remus, huh? What is he?”

               “No idea,” Virgil said. “A monster from under my bed, but he said he can get us into the amusement park through the staff emergency sleeping quarters.”

               “Theoretically,” Roman reminded.

               “Close enough!” Remus said, clapping his hands together. “So, Logan, would you like to come on some potentially life threatening rides with us, without any security or safety measures taken?”

               Logan smiled when Virgil nudged him, “I guess so, as long as I don’t break my glasses.”

[promptlists]

Lights Out - Harry Hook X Reader

A/N: I’m officially back in business! Sorry for being M.I.A for so long, I swear I’m back to stay! Word Count: 4982 Warnings: Fluff, swearing, hints at abuse Requested: Yes!

I was wondering if you could do an imagine where the reader and Harry Hook somehow end up sharing a room and they don’t really like each other but he has a nightmare and the reader comforts him and realises he isn’t as bad/mean as he seems?

“I can’t continue like this anymore Mal, I’m going to lose my mind” You were holed up in your best friends dorm room trying desperately to chug as much caffeine as you possibly could in the few minutes before you had to head to class. “Surely it’s not that bad Y/N” She replied, handing you another mug of coffee. You downed it in one. “Mal! I’ve been running solely on energy drinks, espresso’s and power naps between tutor sessions for the last three weeks. I shouldn’t be alive at this point. I have not slept in almost a month. A MONTH!” You slammed the mug on the table and scooped together a pile of notebooks and papers. When you looked at your watch you nearly had a mental break down. “Oh great! I’m late for English Lit,” you mumbled under your breath before charging towards the door, an energy bar in your hand. Mal stopped you before you could leave, pushing you back down in you chair. “Y/N, you need to sleep” “I’ll be fine,” You weren’t really in the mood to listen to her, you had a English exam to sit and you were already running behind. “I just don’t understand how he’s managed to keep you awake for this long” She was talking about your new room-mate, the infamous, hook wielding pirate who invaded your living space when he arrived from the isle a few weeks ago. Some how you drew the short straw and were forced to have the unwanted VK as a room-mate; life becoming increasingly more difficult from that moment onwards.Since Harry had arrived he had done nothing but infuriate you, using whatever methods necessary to irritate you. So far the most effective of which had been the sleep deprivation. The pirate would purposely turn all of the lights on whenever you tried to sleep and insisted on playing the sound of crashing waves at all hours during the night. You were one audio file of a seagull away from killing a man. “I just don’t understand how I’ve not strangled him yet” You replied, rolling your eyes to show you were unamused “Now will you let me go Mal?” Your purple haired best friend pulled you into a hug. “Fine. Go ace that stupid exam of yours. Then you sleep” Mal said pointedly, a stern tone in her voice that was almost motherly. “And I’m going to talk to Ben. See if we can get you another roommate” You squeezed her harder before pulling out of the embrace. “Thanks M! I really appreciate it. Now if you excuse me I’m about to go get an A” You saluted her as you headed out of the dorm room and into the English Hall, feeling oddly confident despite the lack of proper rest. Mal burst into a rare hysteric fit of giggles as soon as you were out of ear shot. She knew you’d be asleep within the first twenty minutes of the lesson.        

Three words. You had written three words and your eyes were already starting to droop. Three fucking words. Maybe it was the fact that the exam hall was deadly silent or the fact that the lights had been dimmed ever so slightly but you felt the strongest urge to lay your head down on the desk and drift away into a blissful in-interrupted sleep. This was bad., really bad. The English exam was worth a stupidly large percentage of your overall grade and you refused to let some selfish pirate and his odd sleeping habits rob you of your success. “Cowgirl the fuck up Y/N” you whispered under your breath as you forced yourself to prise your eyes open. You were met by death glares from those around you. “Sorry” you mouthed before getting back to scribbling down your answers. No longer caring what the students around you thought, you continued to talk to yourself for motivation. “You’ve got everything under control Y/N, you can stay awake” Everything was not under control, there was no way you were staying awake. To be fair to you, you lasted longer than you thought you would but ten minutes into the exam you were fast asleep.

Tap Tap Tap You felt your whole body groan as you were awoken to the steady sound of metal hitting oak. You were still wrapped a foggy daze after emerging from your nap and you were still unable to comprehend where your were or what time it was. Tap Tap Tap. The noise continued, so you forced yourself to open your eyes and gently scan the room you were in. You saw the desks first, then the chalkboard, then the clock. Then it suddenly clicked. Shit. Tap Tap Tap. The exam was over, all of the other students had left the hall, and you were sat alone at the back of the room, still flat against your desk. You glanced at the paper in front of you, you had’t even finished a paragraph. Tap Tap Tap. It was in that exact moment you realised that you weren’t in fact alone. “Ye look so peaceful when you’re dreaming sweetheart” You felt your blood slowly start to boil as your eyes landed on a particular pirate, sat with his feet up at a desk directly in front of you, taping his hook against the chair leg.  Still, the familiar accent sent shivers down your spine. Crooked smile, dark brooding eyes and one dangerous voice, Harry Hook was unbearable.     “Don’t you sweetheart me” You hissed glaring at the grinning boy “You’re always so fucking smug aren’t you” “I have no idea what yer talking about” he continued, grinning even wider as he began to stalk towards you. “That was quite a nap ye took there Y/N” You scoffed before shuffling in your seat slightly to wriggle away from Harry’s looming presence, uncomfortable with the lack of space between the two you. “I wonder why,” You whispered under your breath, avoiding eye contact with him. Harry was now stood directly over you, his hand leaning on your desk, one of his boots resting on the edge of your chair. “Ye wouldn’t be blaming me now would ye?” The pirate began, before picking up your test paper and tutting at the lack of content. “ Oh Y/N, it seems as though you’ve lost your touch” He pouted. “Oh Harry,” you said mocking his tone, “It seems as though you’ve forgotten that the only reason I’m going to fail this test is because you won’t let me fucking go to sleep on a night!” You were becoming more and more agitated with the pirate who was pressing his face closer and closer to yours. You gulped, your confidence wavering, when the tip of his nose brushed the skin by your ear. “Ye know yer starting to blush sweetheart” Harry whispered, a cocky edge to his voice. It was true, your cheeks were starting to prickle with heat as Harry moved closer to you still. Something about him just made you uncomfortable, something unhinging yet somehow alluring. He was good looking, there was no doubt about it, and all it took was a flicker of a smile across his lips and you were practically melting. Snap out of it! You yelled to yourself internally. He was an asshole, a sly, impulsive little flirt who made you fail your English final. Yet somehow, you couldn’t stop staring at the blue in his eyes. Harry was smirking again, clearly aware that you had been daydreaming, so you quickly turned the tables in an attempt to salvage your pride. “I’m done here Hook,” You said bluntly, standing up abruptly and slamming your hands on the desk. The sudden movement clearly took Harry by surprise as his smug demeanour dropped for a second, his usual grin drooping a little. He quickly composed himself again though, the facade re-appearing as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. “Leaving so soon sweetheart? I feel slightly offended” You were so close together now, Harry hands snaking towards your waist, his chest pressed against yours. “Let me go Harry,” you growled, trying your best not to make eye-contact with the pirate. You couldn’t trust yourself not to crumble if you looked directly at him. “Why would I do that Y/N?” Harry whispered, as you felt the cool metal of his hook rest against the small of your back. You shuddered. “Get. Your. Filthy. Hands. Off. Me” You pushed him away for good and grabbed your bag, scowling at Harry as you reached down to get it from the floor. You where starting to storm away when Harry called out to you again. “We can finish this tonight sweetheart” Harry called out, his usual Cheshire-cat smirk still plastered across his face. “I wouldn’t count on it” you began, hesitating as you got to the door frame “I’m changing room-mates. Ben’s going to sort it”

It turned out Ben couldn’t sort it, so no more than an hour later you were back at your dorm-room, greeted by the triumphant sniggers of the highly amused pirate. “Back already are ye darling?” Harry teased “Couldn’t get enough of me hey?” You purposely ignored him, charging over to your bed and dumping your binders and notebooks on the quilt cover. Harry followed you, sitting at the foot of the bed and picking up one of your books. You snatched it immediately from him. “What’s wrong with ye sweetheart,” he said patronisingly, “Anybody would think ye didn’t like me” “I don’t” you said pointedly. “Come on, work with me here Y/N,” He was still smirking like a dickhead “Do ye ever stop being uptight” You stopped what you were doing to glare at the boy and throw a pencil at him. “Do you ever stop being a psychotic man whore?” You fired back, really not in the mood for his ridiculous antics. He put his hands to his face, resting his cheeks in his palms and pouted; whimpering as if he was offended by what you had said. You sucked your teeth. “Ye really don’t like me do ye?” Harry laughed “No” You replied bluntly, your mind drifting to the amount of grovelling you were going to have to do the following day to get your English teacher to let you redo the exam. “Ye really should ye know - start liking me - we could have really hit it off” The pirate teased as he inched slightly closer to you again. You huffed, you’d had enough. “Any chance of ditching the industrial lights and sound effects tonight or what?” You asked brightly, shifting your voice to make it sound more optimistic. “Nah” “Then this conversation is over”

The two of you barely spoke for the rest of the night. Well. Harry had tried to his best to flirt his way out of your bad books but quickly relented once a hardback novel went flying across the room and hit him in the head. It was safe to say he didn’t bother you for the rest of the night. Once it had started to get dark outside you changed into your pyjama’s, ditching the floral skater dress in favour of a soft oversized shirt. “Harry! Hurry up in the bathroom I need to get changed!” You yelled at him through the crack in the bathroom door. You didn’t trust the pirate enough for you to get changed out in the open of the dorm room - in fear that he may come charging through whilst you were mid-way through taking off your dress. “Ye know sweetheart it would be a lot easier for ye to just get changed in ye bloody bedroom” The bathroom door swung open and you were face to face with the pirate who was leaning against the door frame. “I don’t want to be exposed,” you huffed defensively, putting an emphasis on the last word which made Harry chuckle. “Ye strange Y/N Ye know” Harry laughed genuinely, his blue eyes lighting up at the way you wrinkled your nose. There were times, although they were rare, when Harry did this, little pockets of random happiness where the pirate simply spoke his mind. It intrigued you. But then again there were far more frequent times when Harry would deprive you of sleep and embarrass you in front of your friends just to spite you. It was unsurprisingly hard to overlook. “Just let me get changed you scoundrel” you said lightly, pushing him out of the bathroom and locking the door behind you.

When you walked out of the bathroom Harry was laid on the sofa, his arms and legs stretched out along the arm-rests as you walked past him. He smirked. “Oh Y/N!” He called softly in a sing-song voice, the teasing obvious in his tone. You ignored him as you made your way over over to your bed, unfolding the covers and clambering inside. “Y/N sweetheart, are ye ignoring me?” The pirate continued, not even turning his head to look at you. “I’m trying to sleep,’ You snapped at him, irritation making you hostile “Although, I’m sure it’s a pointless exercise, you never turn that bloody sound system off” Harry made a mock whimpering noise, before spinning around to face you, a condescending smirk plastered all over his face. He cocked his head at you. “No eye mask?” The pirate asked you with a wicked gleam in his eye. He huffed loudly. You had bought an eye mask, along with some ear buds, in the hope that you’d be able to ignore Harry at night, but you had come back to find they had all gone confidently missing. Asshole. “Do you ever give it a rest Harry?” You asked. You sound more desperate than you had originally planned. Harry only smirked wider. Then he stood up. Walked towards the TV. And turned on the stereo system.

There wasn’t much surprise that you were still awake at two am, even if your patience was wearing thin. Your whole body ached with tiredness, your eyes hollowed, your head pounding, yet there was no way you could sleep. Everything was too bright, everything was too loud. Every limb groaned. You had no idea how Harry could sleep like this, hell you didn’t even know if the pirate slept at all! You grabbed another pillow and pressed it over your head, trying to drowned out the incessant sound of crashing waves in vain, you knew it wouldn’t work, it never did. You sat bolt upright in your bed, scowling deeper than you ever had before. Enough was enough. You were stood up one, fists clenched ready to confront Harry when…

Darkness. You were plunged into complete darkness. Every light in the whole dorm room went out in one quick burst, every lamp, every night light gone, as if someone had blown out a cake-ful of birthday candles. Even the blinking numbers on the microwave had disappeared, anything remotely electrical turned off, sent to slumber But that wasn’t all. Silence. A long awaited, precious quietness fell upon the dorm room,  no more waves, no more seagulls, no more sounds of the sea. Just quiet.  You smirked to yourself. Saved by the power cut. “The fuck Y/N?” Yelled the pirate, leaping up from his bed and clicking the switches on the lamps beside him frantically. It was your turn to smirk, giggling to yourself as Harry tried to turn the lights back on, clearly thinking this was your doing. Didn’t they have power outages on the Isle? “Relax Harry,” you said plainly “It’s a power cut, nothing to do with me. I doubt they’ll sort the electrics out until the morning though so just go to sleep for god sake” “Ye sounding way too happy about this ye know. Just ye wait until I-” “Good night Harry” You said climbing back into bed. You couldn’t see him in the darkness but you could hear that he had stopped moving. Maybe you were actually going to sleep for once. “Ye wouldn’t get it Y/N!” He started to shout “I can’t bloody-” “Good night Harry” you repeated, cutting him off. You were smiling to yourself as your head hit the pillow, the muffled babbling of Harry mumbling profanities making you grin. It was going to be a good night.

Or so you thought. You had slept blissfully for a few hours but soon you were wriggling and writhing in your bed sheets uncomfortably. You were freezing. The dorm room was no warmer than outside, the beginning of a gale billowing, ice creeping along the window panes. “Of course” You sighed to yourself, “The power cut’s knocked off the boiler” You curled up further into a ball, the only warmth from your own body, the ice blocks that had replaced your hands buried deep within your thighs. So much for a good nights sleep. You knew then that you wouldn’t be drifting off and time soon and huffed to yourself, Harry for once could not be blamed. Wind rattled at the guttering and rain beat down against the glass window as you propped yourself upright, starting to shiver properly for the first time. You pulled the threadbare shirt over your knees as you tried to salvage any warmth you could but it was know use, you would just have to deal with being cold. You were considering going to find Mal in her room when your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of somebody unmistakeable afraid.

Your eyes had pretty much adjusted to the dark, the silhouette of Harry shooting up from his mattress unmissable. He was gasping for air, panting and holding his head in his hands as he tried to return his breathing to normal. You were stunned, even through the darkness you could see all of his muscles were tense, the moonlight leaking through the curtains illuminating beads of sweat on his forehead. Harry was a lot of things, scared wasn’t one of them. “Harry,” you called lightly, hardly daring to raise your voice above a whisper “You okay?” The pirate shot his head around so he was facing you, his eyes wide for a second with alarm before his face settled into a blank unrevealing expression, no familiar smirk in sight. Now you were concerned. He grumbled something unintelligible and the paused, as if considering whether to speak or not, before taking a deep breath and offloading whatever was on his mind to you. “I have constant nightmares okay!” He practically shouted as if he was admitting it to himself for the first time “I wasn’t being an asshole to ye, with the music and the lights, I just needed to hear the sea, it helps ye know. Ye probably think it’s pathetic but I can’t sleep without the fucking light on” He paused before continuing” Don’t ye dare laugh at me Y/N, I’ll gut ye with me hook if ye even think about telling anyone" You didn’t have the slightest idea what to do with all this new information. It stunned you, not adding up to the twisted image of the flirty pirate you had in your mind. You were baffled. “Harry you know full well I wouldn’t” You whispered earnestly. You cocked your head at the pirate at the other end of the room. Harry Hook had nightmares. Harry Hook who tried to set the King on fire when he first came to Auradon, Harry Hook who scared little kids for fun, Harry Hook who flirted with you just to make you embarrassed, had nightmares. Nightmares so bad that he had to turn all of the lights on and and play the sound of the ocean to himself. He wasn’t finished yet. “I’ve always had someone to cuddle with, usually CJ” Harry continued, as you tried to picture the pirate cuddled up to his sister. Piece by piece the arrogant intimidating persona you had come to associate with Harry was coming undone “Now, I realise we are not exactly on that level but yer the only one here and I’m really scared to go to sleep” It took a while for you to register what he was saying. He wanted to cuddle with you. Not in a flirtatious seductive attempt but in fearful, vulnerable kind of way. You both needed to sleep you guessed. “Y/N?” He called through the darkness, almost desperately. A knot was starting to grow in your stomach and before you knew it your were stood up, ambling towards the boy. “I’m warning you Hook” you said gently as you reached his mattress “I’m absolutely freezing”    

He untucked the bed covers so you could climb in the bed beside him, wiggling as far as he could to the right side of the bed so you could lay on the left. You didn’t touch, you didn’t speak, you just laid there, you still shivering, him still slightly traumatised from whatever was haunting his dreams. All together, it was unbearabley awkward. “What was it?” You said eventually, you words slicing through the uneasy silence. You felt Harry turn around to face you, his blue eyes blinking at you in confusion. The bed covers wrinkled as he shifted, the crumpling sound the only thing that you could hear. He was bare chested you realised, and forced yourself to draw your eyes away from his exposed torso before he noticed you staring and focus back on his face. “What?” He asked plainly, his eyes looking tired for the first time, remnants of black eyeliner smudged across his cheeks. “The nightmare” you prompted, keeping your voice as soft as possible. Harry inhaled sharply and let out a large breath, the warmth hitting your skin. “It’s the same fucking one every time” The pirate spat, his eyes looking upwards as his jaw clenched, as if he was angry at something you couldn’t see. “I’m back on the Isle. I can’t be older than about  seven and its him, it’s always him” “Who Harry?” You reached for Harry’s hand, or maybe he reached or yours, it was hard to tell. You intertwined your fingers instinctively, a jolt of electricity sparking between the two of you. You were certain Harry felt it too as he looked at you strangely an unreadable expression settling across his face. Neither of you moved your palms. Harry’s jaw was set in place now, his eyes narrowing with a kind of anger that you knew wasn’t directed at you. “My Father. He used to…he used to -” He never finished his sentence. He didn’t need to. And of course there was nothing that you could have said after that. Sometimes all the words in  the whole English language won’t be enough, they won’t help. But he kept looking at you, the bluish-steel of his eyes glassed over and you knew. You knew you couldn’t just lay there any longer.

Just as another bite of cold wind swept under your nightshirt, your hands moved around Harry’s middle, his skin warm and soft. In seconds his body moulded to your own, sharing his body heat as easily as you shared your heart. “Hey,” you whispered to him, tucking your head in the crook of his neck “If it’s any compensation, you’re not half as bad as I thought” Harry chuckled lightly, but only squeezed you tighter. He had never let another close to him like this, close enough to share breaths, close enough to share secrets. “Yer quite something Y/N,” He whispered, slowly returning back to his self again. You snuggled further into him, grateful for the warmth and the unlikely comfort you found in the pirate’s arms. You wrapped yourself around his shoulders, pulling him close and gently rubbing his arm. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his. You sunk into the warmth of his side and Harry reciprocated, the two of you giggling at things that simply weren’t funny, both appreciative of the friendly gesture. But it was more than that. Way more than just friendly. There was something else there, a spark of something more than platonic. You had hugged plenty of friends  before and it had never been like this. Not ever You hadn’t run your hands through their dishevelled hair and nearly stopped breathing when they stroked yours. You hadn’t traced the contours of the chest or stared when they bit their lips. They hadn’t nipped at your skin playfully with their teeth when you joked about thinking they were a psycopath. They hadn’t cupped your face with their rough palms and told you you were different, different and yet so beautiful. You hadn’t blushed. They hadn’t noticed and said it cute. You hadn’t wanted to kiss them so badly it almost ached. But you did with Harry. And it scared you a little. “You smell like sea salt,” you whispered, the tiredness making you act completely delirious “And metal” “Metal?” Harry asked with a raised eyerbrow, stifling a laugh. “Metal” You confirmed adamantly, before breaking out in a yawn. Harry looked at you questioningly. “What?” You defended “You do. It’s not a bad thing” Harry chuckled at you and you untangled yourself from him, twisting to face away from the pirate.

You started to snuggle down into you pillow when you stopped abruptly. Your eyes shot open. He kissed your shoulder. He kissed your shoulder. Harry freaking Hook just kissed your shoulder. And then he did it again. Before your better judgement could take over you turned around, grabbed the bottom of his jaw and pushed his face towards yours. You were staring at his lips now, doing whatever you could to resist them. Don’t do it Y/N, don’t do it. Come on. Will power, self-control, self-restraint. Stop staring at him, you don’t want to kiss him, you don’t. Resist the sexy pirate, resist the pirate RESIST! You did not resist “Just so you know Harry, I am about to punch you on the mouth with my own mouth, softly, because I think I like y-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence. He kissed you. Without warning, without permission. Without even consciously deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else. You lips crashed together, quickly falling into rhythm as you tilted your head backwards.  You felt Harry’s lips curl up into a smile under your own. You pulled away from him, playfully swatting him on the arm. “You could have given me a heads up Hook?” You giggled, running your fingers up and down his bare arms. Harry chuckled airily at you. “What ye were taking too long” He was smirking again. You breathed a sigh of relief, he was smirking again. “Who said I wanted to kiss you Mr. Stinky Metal Pirate” “Ye did not seriously call me Mr. Stinky Metal Pirate?” “I did” You were trying not to burst into a fit of giggles. “I do not smell like bloody metal” “Oh Harry darling” you said in a joking tone “But you d-”

In a split second he pulled your hands away from him and picked you up under arms, pulling you in front of him. You were pinned down, him over the the top of you grinning like an idiot. You were both laughing. “Harold Hook” you said with mock sadness “You’ve picked the wrong girl to mess with” You rolled to the side, escaping his grip and flipped him over, sitting on top of him. You pushed his chest down, your hands pressed against his torso. “Y/N” he said softly, staring directly into your eyes. He leant his forehead against yours. “Harry” He inched his head closer to yours so that you could feel the warmth of his breath. You pulled slightly away but he pulled you back, pressing his mouth against your ear, whispering to you softly. “Anything ye want to tell me lass” “Yeah” you laughed, squirming as his lips tickled your skin “If you don’t want to smell like metal, maybe don’t carry a hook around everywhere” Before you could say anything, he sprung upwards scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder “Un-hand me you beast” you screamed as you flailed your limbs. He eventually let you go and you pushed him backwards on his bed, kneeling your legs either side of him. He wrestled you to the bed again. You tried to push him off, your palms flat against his and you both collapsed in a tangled heap on the floor. You sat up, giggling like little girls. You stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep” You said eventually. “Okay” he said simply grinning at you.

At that exact moment every light switched on one by one, flickering into action. You clasped at your ears when the stereo turned back on, playing the track at a significantly louder volume than it had originally been set at. Both you and Harry groaned but then started to laugh. “Powers back then I guess” You said as you watched Harry wrestling with the speakers to turn them off. “Yeah” the pirate awkwardly said, setting the remote down once it was quiet again. “Still want to cuddle?” You asked hopefully, turning out all of the lights except for he lamp closest to Harry’s bed. He looked up at you, grinned, then looked back at the floor. “Ye’ve just read my mind Y/N” He turned off the final light once you both laid together, you’re head resting on his chest listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing in the darkness. Finally, for the first time in months, you drifted off into a blissful, uninterrupted sleep.

[buckysdamnplums]

“Please Just Take A Nap”

Author’s Note: holy crap I just got like 17 new requests in the span of 30 minutes so patience with me could be highly appreciated! Also it’s now 4:45 am & I have a busy day tomorrow/today so hopefully I can get some writing done. If not, I’m sorry & I’ll try to get to all the requests :)

Prompt: “Please just take a nap”  Requested by: @bitweird1

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: sleep deprivation & cussing (why do I even warn anymore? It’s in every one)

The nights before midterms always got you. You were stressing in an attempt to cram weeks of studying into hours and you never seemed to get enough sleep. Which explains why the bags under your eyes seemed take over your face.

Now one thing your family never failed to inform you of during this tough week was that “you get cranky when you’re tired.” Fair, seeing as you were snapping at just about everyone and everything that came near you. You even shouted at Dustin yesterday when he asked if you wanted the last slice of pizza. God, you really need to get some sleep.

“Y/N, Steve is on the phone for you!” your mother’s voice pulled you away from your history notes. Getting up from your desk, you bolt out to the hallway and down the stairs to the phone in the kitchen, “Thanks mom.”

“Steve?” you twirled the phone cord around your finger.

“Hey, love. I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat tonight? I know you’ve been hitting those books like crazy for the midterms, but I don’t know why. You’re gonna ace them anyways,” you rolled your eyes at his comment, “But I thought maybe you’d like to take a break and hang out with your favorite boy?”

You could hear the small smirk forming on his lips. “Oh, so I’m going to be hanging out with Dustin? Sweet, I love that boy!” You laughed, pulling a chair over towards the phone.

“Haha, very funny. I’m taking that as a yes by the way. Be ready in 20 minutes!” before you had the chance to reply the line went dead and you were left with no option. Besides, who would pass up a study break with King Steve himself.

20 minutes later you found yourself in the passenger seat of Steve’s car, heading to your favorite diner a few blocks away. As you walked in you noticed how late it had gotten. Did you really just spend another four hours studying? God, you really needed this break.

Dinner was nice and quiet between you two. Steve was warned of how sleep deprived you’d become by your mother, but you seemed moments away from slipping into sleep. Taking that into consideration, he kept conversation to a minimum, not wanting you to tire out from talking. After eating, he lead you back to the car and drove back to your place.

“Wanna come in for a bit? We can study for the English exam tomorrow.” You opened the door, eyes drooping with sleep, yet you denied it.

“I’ll come in, if you promise to lay with me in your bed.” Steve followed you through the door and helped your sleepy form up the stairs to your room.

Once in your room, Steve convinced you to change into more comfortable, pajama like clothes. He claimed his anatomy teacher taught him it helps the mind relax and retain information better. After you changed, he could help but shake his head at how gullible you were in this state.

“Okay now lay down with me. You promised.”

“Hold on, let me grab the notebook.” you stretched across Steve to your nightstand, a yawn escaping your lips.

“Okay no. You’re not studying anymore. You’re going to sleep.” he snatched the notebook from your hands, tossing it to your backpack across the room at your desk. As he turned back he was met with a death glare.

“Steve what the hell? I need to fucking study for the test tomorrow! And no, I’m not going to sleep. That’s just precious time that could be spent preparing for the test!” You tried getting up from the bed but Steve’s armed pulled you back down.

“Okay okay fine. You don’t have to go to sleep, but at least shut your eyes for a few minutes. I’ll be right here and will wake you up so you can study again. Just,” he ran a hand through his hair, eyes pleading with your own, “please just take a nap. I hate seeing you so sleep deprived. And I’m sure you know sleep deprivation isn’t good for your memory.”

Sighing you agreed, “Fine. I’ll take a short nap. But Harrigton, I swear, if you don’t wake me up in 30 minutes you’re gonna get it.”

When he tried waking you up 30 minutes later you refused, asking for “five more minutes.” That’s when he knew he could fall asleep too, you wouldn’t be waking up until morning at this point. And besides, he’d rather “get it” then watch you put yourself through what you were. He loved you too much to let that happen.

[shadow-is-upon-us]

Whatever it takes

Hey, sorry for the delay on this one - life can be a bitch and school is seriously kicking my ass right now. Still, I'm working on this story when able!

People seem to really be liking this, so I'm having a lot of fun writing! But please, do review - it's a lifeline of every writer! Those who already do, I love you to death and I really hope you continue to like the story! Anyway, read, review and enjoy~

Find links to FanFic and Ao3 on my master post! (As well as other stories) [Ch1] [Ch2]

Chapter 3 Improvement 

“Oi, Shinso, you look terrible! What happened?” Yukino called as soon as she saw him, and Hitoshi kept back a groan.

“Long night,” he muttered, not in the mood to talk about it.

“You get bruises from sleeping?” Iba raised an amused eyebrow as his purple-haired friend knocked his head on the locker. It was too early for this…

“C’mon, can’t you see he fell out of bed! Everyone knows Shinso and sleep don’t dance!” Hondo hooked an arm around the sleep-deprived boy.

“That’s fair,” Hitoshi chuckled weakly. It was then that he slowly realized – he liked his classmates and they liked him back. They all got along and were friends. A first for him either way. But if he does well in that event and transfers, he’ll be leaving all of them behind. And he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that just yet… He hasn’t even told any of them.

“C’mon, let’s go! We got English first class.”

“Mic is probably going to be super energetic as always… How does he do it?”

“Maybe it’s his secondary Quirk?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him…”

The classes seem to fly by quickly as they day went on. Before he knew it, Shinso was waiting outside on the training ground, doing warmup exercises.

“Good to see you’re taking this seriously,” Shota spoke up as the boy turned. He actually had to blink to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. The usually messy teacher had his hair in a ponytail and wore sweatshirt and pants. Very unusual.

“You’re gonna catch flies with your mouth open like that,” the amusement on the man’s face couldn’t be missed.

“And here I thought you didn’t own anything other than your uniform. You even need to borrow suits from Uncle Mic,” Hitoshi shook his head and finished stretching.

“I can buy stuff,” Aizawa shrugged. “Now, you ready? We’re going to do this a bit differently today.”

“How so?”

“I’ll show you the basics and you’ll repeat after me.”

“You’re not gonna be jumping around all Ninja-style are you?”

“Maybe. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

This time, training was easier and seemed to last longer. Shota showed the kid proper stances and attacks, demonstrating and then practicing. Shinso actually picked up on things quickly, though he still lacked strength. Speed would be his biggest advantage, but he still needs to learn how to be nimble and his reflexes are a bit too slow. But they had time, they’d get to all of it.

“We’re taking a break,” Aizawa said, lightly out of breath as the boy panted.

“What – getting – tired – old man?” Hitoshi managed to speak in between pants, a grin making its way on his face.

“No, I just don’t want to drag you back home again,” Shota chuckled as his son plopped down to catch his breath.

“…You’re making good progress you know,” he added and tossed him a water bottle. “We can probably start with kicks next week.”

“Can’t wait,” the way he said it, the hero wasn’t sure if he just exhausted or being sarcastic.

“Something wrong?” he asked when the kid kept staring at the ground.

“Just… been wondering something,” was the answer.

“And what would that be?” Aizawa sat down as well, resting his arm on his knee.

“…Did you get into UA through the entrance exam or…?” Hitoshi asked carefully, glancing at his father who seemed to be shocked by the question.

“…Why the sudden interest?” Shota sounded tenser now, as he looked at the sky.

“Just, curios… The way you spoke at the Sports Festival – figured it wasn’t just on my and the others’ behalf…”

“Tell you what,” Eraser stood up, dusting himself off. “If you can land a solid punch on me, I’ll tell you.”

“…Deal!” Hitoshi was surprised, but willing as he got up and grinned.

Shinso put all he learned that day into action as he and Shota fought, but the teacher was mostly defending and telling him how to be better. In the last few minutes, Hitoshi managed to get behind the man’s block, but suddenly hit air as Aizawa was in the air, grinning.

“So not fair,” the boy grumbled, swallowing and wiping the sweat off his face.

“As an underground hero, you don’t have to be fair,” Eraser said and landed neatly back on the ground. “I do hope you realize you’ll be best suited for that line of work.”

“…Yeah, I figured as much…” Shinso sighed and grabbed the towel nearby, setting it over his neck. They were done for today it seems. Maybe he’ll have a chance to find out next time.

“If villains know what your Quirk is, they can learn to work against it and then you’re not going to be able to do anything. Your Quirk, like mine, is very powerful as long as the enemy doesn’t know about it, because it’s easily countered.”

“I don’t mind, I just… I just want to be a hero. A good one. Even if people don’t know much about it, I’ll know and that’ll be enough for me,” the boy clenched his fists and stared at the ground, determine.

“And that’s all that matters,” he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, seeing his father smiling. “C’mon let’s go – Hizashi probably has dinner ready.”

“Well, as long as you don’t go near the food, it’ll be alright.”

Days turned into weeks and weeks quickly became months. Hitoshi was getting stronger and better each time, and was learning fast. Right after the first week, Shinso would stay up late at night, doing some workout routines. He was exhausted quickly, and sometimes had trouble getting into bed or slept in his training clothes. But he didn’t give up.

He forced his body too much some days, but hid it well, even during his training with Eraserhead. It was all a new kind of world he hasn’t thought of much – it wasn’t his strong point or his greatest quality, but he’d make it.

Part of him wondered what Mic or Eraser would think of they ever saw him training, but he imagined they already knew. Sometimes, he could faintly hear the door opening and closing when he was working, or when he knew he fell asleep on the floor but woke up on the bed. They knew, but pretended not to. He didn’t say anything either, but would at times make some coffee or tea in thanks.

When days got warmer, he took his training outside, in the area around the house. It was well out of sight, so he didn’t have to worry about neighbors or bypasses seeing him. He still got exhausted sooner than he’d like, but there was considerable improvement – he could feel it.

It was at the start of the third month, and Hitoshi was doing combo hits on a training dummy, imagining it was Shota and how the man’s own movements would go.

“Remember to keep your arms close to your face,” he heard and spun around, sweat trailing down his face, neck and back. He panted, blinking, before giving a small chuckle.

“I know – I’m working on my balance,” Shinso said as he caught the towel thrown his way. “You’re home sooner than I expected, Uncle. Don’t you have a podcast today?”

“Got canceled unfortunately. I see you clearly would have wanted some more time,” Hizashi walked closer, his hair falling down and tucked under a coat. It was at his radio work that Mic didn’t have his usual long, pointy, banana-looking hairstyle, so it was not strange to see him like that at this hour.

“I wondered how long it’d take for either of you to say something…”

“Shota thought it best to let you do it on your own – clearly it means a lot to you.”

“…I want to advance on my own strength to, not just his,” the boy said, looking away, the towel on his head now.

“Understandable,” Yamada was standing next to him now, looking with sympathy. “But you don’t have to. Accepting help isn’t something you ought to be ashamed of. Then again, Shota was the same…” the man sighed as the kid looked up, eyes slightly wide.

“I swear, you two are somehow related by blood,” Mic smiled kindly, patting the boy on the head over the towel.

“…You’ve fought him, right?” Shinso tilted his head a bit, grinning.

“I have…” Hizashi returned the grin, his eyes knowing.

“…Got any tips?”

“So glad you finally asked.”

With Hizashi helping him, Hitoshi learned some new forms and a slightly different style of fighting, even if it didn’t go too well with his way just yet. Still, as his father usually says, no hero is a one trick pony.

Shota found the two sparring one evening and watched for a bit, happy that Hitoshi was doing and advancing so well. He didn’t care if Yamada was telling the kid a secret in how to defeat him – that’s actually the point. And in seeing how much the boy had advanced in these three months, he decided to hold a little test to see just how much.

“Alright, let’s see how far you’ve gotten,” Aizawa readied himself, staring at the kid. “Knock me over.” They were back at the school field, both dressed in their training outfits. For the past hour, they practiced some more, but now it was getting real.

So far, Hitoshi hasn’t been able to really beat his father, but he was getting closer and closer. He’s managed to hit and deflect him many times now, but defeating him was another thing entirely. Still, he figured after all this time, and with Uncle Mic’s training, he’d be able to do it now. Only one way to find out.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

It was Shinso who threw the first attack, only to have his fist grabbed. He followed up with a kick and Aizawa raised his knee high to block, never releasing the kid. He knew what’d come next and prepared, as Shota tried to trip him. Hitoshi used his raised leg to lock it around his father’s knee and keep himself balanced as he was tipped. Eraser looked presently surprised before he released the boy’s hand and used his other hand to push him back.

Hitoshi stumbled, but with his leg still locked, nearly tripped if he hadn’t reacted fast enough to grab the teacher’s wrist and pull himself up. Shota finally released his leg, but the kick which followed knocked the student back. Still, he didn’t fall.

“How am I doing?” Shinso asked, panting slightly but smiling.

“Pretty good-,” Aizawa said and a moment later, froze, arms falling to his side.

Hitoshi took action immediately and ran forward, swiping his legs under Aizawa’s and making the man fall on his back, landing with a thud and bringing up dust.

“…You used your Quirk,” Shota sounded impressed and shocked, looking at the kid. There was a mixture of shock and pride in his tone. He had to admit, he was completely caught off guard by that. And it was his first time really experiencing his son’s Quirk – not something he’d care to repeat however.

“You said underground heroes don’t fight fair,” the boy shrugged and offered a hand, which his father took. He hoped it wasn’t too much or too wrong. Using his Quirk on his father… it felt wrong. For a moment, he felt like the power could consume him – it scared him actually, just what he’d be able to do.

“That’s good, well executed,” Shota nodded with a smile, proud that his son thought it through. “Though there are three problems with this.” He wanted the best for the kid, so he had to focus on his mistakes as well.

“Figures, yeah,” Shinso knew at least one – when he does hit someone after using his Quirk, they’ll snap out of it.

“One is probably that as soon as you’ll use it, everyone else will know and figure it out. Save if for when you really need it. Two, there probably won’t be many who’ll even speak to you – remember, you were on the Sports Festival, so someone will probably know. Three, unless you can knock your opponent out, you won’t gain much,” Aizawa listed the things off, but he wasn’t scolding – he was explaining.

“But didn’t you say I don’t have to win?” Shinso narrowed his eyes a bit.

“You don’t have to, but you need to show potential. Can’t do that if you can’t use your Quirk.”

“Three months left… Can I really learn something new that fast?” there was frustration in his voice as he looked to the side.

“Not with that attitude,” at Shota’s words, he looked at the man, annoyed a bit even. “Lucky for you, I’ve been thinking on how to improve it. But I can only give some starting points and ideas – the rest is up to you.” The smirk on the man’s face made the kid excited and anxious at the same time.

“…What did you have in mind?”

“Right now, you can control five people through verbal answering of your questions,” Aizawa started off, grabbing a towel and tossing one to the kid.

“Six if I focus hard enough,” Hitoshi quickly added in, trying not to sound too offended as he caught the towel and wiped his face.

“We’ll try and get you to control people through any kind of vocal answer or even none,” the shocked expression the kid gave him made Shota laugh.

“…How?” Hitoshi’s voice was low and weak as he couldn’t believe any of this. They only had three months to do this.

“Practice. It might keep you only on two maybe three people, but you’ll be able to keep it stronger and somewhat secret if they aren’t sure what’s the reason.”

“And you want me to learn all of that in three months?” Shinso wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry – maybe both. This was crazy!

“No, I don’t. It’s what you are capable of reaching. But you need to want it and work for it,” the steadiness and almost assurance in the man’s eyes put the kid at ease.

“…Does that mean my combat training is finished?” Shinso asked, a hint of weariness in his tone.

“No, but it’ll have to do. We can work on it when able, but we should focus on your Quirk. Oh and one last thing,” Shota grinned as he looked at the kid. “You need a costume, preferably with a weapon as well.”

And cut! A bit more of how training looks like and how Hitoshi is improving! Sorry if it's kinda slow still, hope I won't lose too many of you! Promise to try and spice things up a bit soon! Thanks for reading and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave a review! It means a lot and gives me more motivation to work on the story! Thanks! Till next time~

[5hfanfiction]

Our Month - Chapter 25

Camila learned a lot of things about herself in the short amount of time since Lauren and her were keeping in touch.

First of all she realized how wrong she was when she thought that it will be hard to keep in touch with the musician. They found the healthy balance in texting and despite of the different timezones they always managed to have Skype conversations at least twice a week if they were extremely busy because they both put the effort in their rising friendship.

Camila also learned that she was right in one thing. Lauren is the exact definition of perfection. Now, that they relationship didn’t have a physical side they explored how the other’s mind works and it safe to say that the brunette was fascinated by the American’s. Don’t get it wrong, Camila loved the whole just talking and getting to know each other but sometimes it downed on her that she wasn’t intimate with anyone for a long time.

So the younger Latina learned what is to be sexually frustrated. Sometimes when they were on Skype Dinah would crash and keep Camila company while her band mate was showering, changing or just eating which was not the case while the student was on the edge. But when Lauren came back from the shower in just a towel, or was munching strawberries and moaning the foreigner’s mind went to dangerous territories. And she was ninety-nine percent sure Lauren teased her on purpose.

For her own surprise, the biggest discovery was that she was in fact the jealous type. She tried not to show it, but when somebody was hugging Lauren in a picture on Instagram a bit lower than it’s appropriate on Camila’s mind she forcefully had to stop herself throwing a temper tantrum. She usually could keep her raging feelings under control because either her best friend or Dinah – who actually was Camila’s personal informator - had no legal right to be mad even if the raven-haired girl actually dates with somebody else because they were only friends.

Camila learned that she loathes the word ‘friends’ when it comes to a certain singer but she was determined to keep their relationship platonic because they were finally back on track, part of each other’s lives and it mattered for her more. Not if anything would change on her side. She would just say 'I love you’ instead of 'Goodnight’.

The only thing the brunette hasn’t learned were her subjects in university and exam period was kicking her butt way more harder than ever before. She kind of got used to the four hours sleeps and the constant caffeine high but she had no time to catch a breath or eat properly and the usually hours long Skype sessions had to get shorter, only forty-five minutes. Anna finished her exams one week before her best friend and she decided to visit home leaving the Latina alone. Sometimes Shawn would come by with take-out food and discuss one topic, which were only excuses because they just needed to interact with an another human being without actually getting dressed and look presentable but Camila didn’t mind that.

She was sad on the other hand because her birthday was coming in a week and she adored every single birthday so hers was special but now she couldn’t celebrate. The exam was one day before and she knew she shouldn’t plan something because she will be exhausted, stressed out and probably passed out too from sleep deprivation.

– Hey Mila! – Shawn knocked on the door. – Let me in, I came with complaints on the hematology professor’s notes because they are a piece of crap and pizza!

– Why do you even knock? Just come in, you know it’s always open – Camila shouted and stood up from her chair, stretching her limbs.

– I just don’t wanna march in when you diddle your Skittles during online sex with Lauren – the boy shrugged.

– I’m not doing that! We’re just friends… – the brunette slapped him on the shoulders and took a slice of the food from the box.

– Oh yeah, I would totally believe that if Dinah and Anna wouldn’t had been so precious and tell me every single dirty detail they knew about your relationship while you two rekindled your “friendship” in the doctor’s room…

– Shawn! They are clearly wrong influence on you. We’re not doing anything. We’re just talking. I swear.

– Ok, I believe you if you say so. But just for you know, from now on, I will barge through the door unannounced and if I catch you in the act it’s your fault and you buy me dinner for a week for traumatizing me – he wiggled his eyebrows.

– My friends are horrible – Camila murmured.

– But I came here with a reason and it wasn’t just the ancient Greek nonsense our precious professor calls hematology. What do you want for your birthday? – He sat down on the bed comfortably.

Before the Latina could say anything Lauren’s picture popped up on her laptop’s screen and she abandoned her friend and the food in an instant which elicited a very sarcastic 'just friends for sure’ from the other student.

– Looo! How are you today? – she asked enthusiastically.

– Hey Camz! – she heard the raspy tone and she unwillingly grew hotter. – I just finished getting ready for the day and I had some free time so I thought I call you because I have a long day ahead and I was not sure if I could talk to you before you go to sleep. We’re still doing a bunch of interviews and then rehearsal for some award shows and Mani and Dinah wants to go to dress hunting. Which I think you can imagine how will go… Ally, Lucy and I will die so it’s probably the last time we talk – she joked.

– Come on! Don’t even joke about that. We both know I’ll die first from drowning in my notes which is estimated in two hours. I can’t wait till it’s over – the brunette sighed.

– I low-key don’t want to. You look so cute like this – Lauren smiled adoringly.

– Your internet connection is clearly horrible and has a billion pixels because last time I checked I looked like a zombie – the younger woman said cynically.

– Okay, you might look a tad bit exhausted but you would make the cutest zombie. You just look natural in sweats, your hair is up in a bun and with glasses. Plus I really like your shirt, it fits you perfectly – the singer gestured to the black The 1975 tee she gave to the foreigner.

– Thank you – she blushed. – But why are your days so full? Like several interviews in one day and you started rehearsals weeks before your first show, I thought they will let you guys rest a bit after tour.

– Well, uhm… – the American looked uncomfortable and Camila started to worry that something is wrong. – It’s business.

– Is everything okay Lo?

– Yeah, don’t worry! I just can’t wait till this rush end. Ohh and I almost forgot, Keana found a new sushi place and she said it’s amazing so we’re gonna have dinner there. I was craving some Japanese for ages anyways so it’s perfect timing… – the raven-haired girl explained with sparkling eyes but the brunette instantly frowned as she heard Keana’s name.

The thing was that Keana was gorgeous, she knew Lauren longer and she was a thirty-minutes long ride away while Camila was looking like a hobo and she was half-day long torturous flight away. But this was not why the brunette felt her blood boil, Keana was openly bisexual and that was enough reason for the student to want to smack her for finding sushi and going on a date with her girl.

– Wow tiger, stop gripping that poor glass because you’re gonna break it and we don’t have time to waste on stitching it up when we should study! – Shawn’s voice rang through the room.

– Oh, you’re not alone? – Lauren asked with an expression which looked like hurt or disappointment.

– Yeah, Shawn brought me some pizza. I owe him because he is keeping me alive. We will complain a bit more about how much we should study and then we go back to study. My life is so exciting. But back to you… Are you going with the girls? Or only Keana? – Camila tried not to sound suspicious but she just had to know.

– Hey Lauren! – Shawn stood up and waved to the camera, greeting the musician.

– Hey dude! Ohm, I think it’s just her and me but Lucy and Tyler might tag along because Luce said she wants some good sushi desperately and today is their date night. So, what are you guys up to? What’s the time there? Six p.m.? – the pale-skinned Latina was eyeing the boy in the background and Shawn could feel the daggers.

– Yeah. Six – Camila answered shortly because she was on the edge of exploding. Lauren is going on a double date. She wanted to throw her laptop out of the window and probably hit Keana with it accidentally just a little bit that she won’t be able to go.

– We were just talking about what Mils wants to her birthday – Shawn explained when he realized his friend’s changed behavior. – But then you appeared on the screen and I lost her.

– Shawn! – Camila slapped her. – I just want new friends who won’t embarrass me all the damn time.

– Oh come on, you love me! – The boy chuckled but his words made Lauren’s jaw clench.

The truth is that the brunette wasn’t the only one jealous. The musician saw Shawn lurking around Camila often, she saw the looks the boy gave to her girl and she hated the fact that they were only a door away. Deep down her realist mind knew that he isn’t a threat because he is a male but jealousy is not sensible emotion. And the younger woman told the story that they met because the Irish boy was hitting on the other student so Lauren felt that it’s totally acceptable to not like him.

– Well, I already know what you get from me – the musician smiled devilishly because she knew nobody will be able to top her presents. – I think it will arrive a bit sooner though.

– Ahww, you shouldn’t have send me anything! But I’m sure whatever it is I’m gonna love it – Camila smiled tenderly.

– I just had a wonderful idea! – Shawn said in a high-pitched voice which made the green-eyed American beyond annoyed. – Thanks Lauren! And I think I’m gonna give it to you to sooner as well because I’m going home on the first. And I’m going now too, study time! Bye Lauren, it was nice to see you!

– Yeah, bye – she waved and waited for him to exit. – I should go too, I don’t want to keep you from studying and I will be late.

– Nooo! Just five more minutes! Please? – Camila pouted.

– Alright. I can’t say no to you – she grinned. – Are you planning on going home too?

– Not really. I have the exam on the second and then I have only two days left. I think I’ll just sleep and catch up on all the Netflix shows I ditched for this annoying pile of paper – the brunette explained.

– Will you be alone then?

– Yeah, me, myself and I – the student confirmed. – But you can call me any time. I will finally have the time to obnoxiously rant about my upper next door neighbor. He’s really annoying.

– Shawn? – Lauren asked giggling.

– No, the other one. He is a total fuckboy and he hits on me every chance he has. Literally I would step out the door and he is there. When I told him I swing the other way he invited me to have a threesome because I seem like I could use a good fuck. How generous. And he has awfully loud sex, I hear him and his hoes every night. I asked him to tone it down he said I’m just jealous that he can make a girl scream. I was like, bitch you would know if somebody was here at mine because let’s be honest you’re loud as fuck but like I don’t know what he studies but for sure not medicine because he has time to have sex or… Sorry – Camila blushed profoundly. – See? I already started and this is not even the beginning of his annoying behavior.

Lauren was quiet. She wanted to hunt down that asshole and teach him some good manners because that’s not how you interact with not only a girl but anyone. On the other hand her stomach filled with butterflies because the brunette just confirmed that she didn’t bring girls up and it was just the cherry on the top of the cake when Camila was talking about having sex with anyone the younger only thought about Lauren.

– Don’t worry I promise we’ll talk – the musician tried to keep her cool composure like she didn’t get affected by the other’s words.

– I hope so! But now, I’ll let you go and I go back to torturing myself – the student giggled. – Have an amazing day Lo! Say hi to the girls from me?! And Dinah be better not go hard on you or else she needs to face me – she winked.

– Of course I’ll tell them. I text you when I can! I’ll miss you Camz – the raven-haired girl waved and sent a kiss.

– I’ll miss you, too Lo… Goodbye! – she reciprocated the kiss and the line went silent.

The next day Camila woke up with a horrible mood. She had only four days and Shawn is having the exam today which meant that she will be alone from now on because the boy will have a party then pass out before heading home. The fact that Lauren still hasn’t texted her about her night with Keana just frustrated her more and she imagined all kinds of scenarios. The worst was that they got kidnapped but she swore the other option – which was that Lauren is currently doing adult activities with Keana and that’s why she is busy and not messaging back – was almost just as horrible.

She sat down and tried to concentrate and stuff more information in her brain but her mind always ended up on the green-eyed girl and you know how it goes. She started to picture possible situations and she had imaginary conversations and fights with her and she might or might not had imaging punching Keana a few times when her phone finally rang.

[From Lo:] Hey, sorry for the late (or for you early) answer! Haha. Keeks and I just decided to stop by for some cocktails and time flew by.

Camila worked herself up already by over thinking everything so she wasn’t in the right mindset and she knew how the American can get when she’s drinking and the singer had more then seven months worth sexual frustration so the brunette put two plus two together when she answered.

[To Lo]:K

[From Lo:]Camz, what’s wrong?

[From Lo:]Did something happen?

[From Lo:]Are you mad at me now?

[To Lo:]No. I hope you enjoyed your date.

Lauren at first was confused why the student was suddenly lashing out on her because in her head it was just a fun night out with a good friend. She liked hanging out with Keana because she wasn’t in the band and worrying about management and performances or that she will go back to being depressed because missing Camila. It helped that she didn’t know the brunette although she probably heard her name and the stories about her just enough time to recognize her if they would meet.

The singer pressed the call button immediately because she wanted to explain that this wasn’t a date and she didn’t want the younger Latina to be upset but when she ignored the American started to be frustrated as well. For the third ring the caramel-skinned girl finally answered.

“Are you jealous?” – Lauren asked giggling.

“No, I just try to study and you’re annoying me.” – Camila snapped.

“Really? Because you sound jealous. And last time I checked we were just friends and I were single so if it would have been a date it would have been totally okay. But it wasn’t.” – the musician answered with a bit harsher tone than she probably should have.

“I told you, I’m not jealous. You can fuck whoever you want. You know what? Go and jump in Keana’s bed right now for all I care!” – the brunette hissed angrily.

“I don’t need your permission to do anything because you are just my FRIEND. And as a FRIEND you don’t have any right to act like this. It was your stupid idea so it’s time for you to act like a FRIEND not a girlfriend. Am I right BUDDY?” – the raven-haired Latina fought back.

“I’m acting like a friend. Should I ask for the sex tape with every girl you will be with to believe me that I don’t fucking care or what?” – the student gripped her pen now that her fingers turned white.

“You know what? I wouldn’t believe you anyways!” – the American shouted back.

“Really? What do you want then Lauren?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I don’t wanna be you friend. Bye”

Before Camila could say anything the line went dead silent. The student was on the verge of tears when Shawn opened the door. He was already wearing a suit, ready for his exam before stopping by the brunette’s room.

– What’s wrong Mila? – he asked worriedly.

– I-I… I think Lauren… Never mind – she sniffed and sighed. – I wish you a shit tonne of luck for today! And then have fun at the after party.

– I would stay and interrogate you but I really can’t, I’m sorry. I just wanted to give you this – he held a small wrapped up box – and say goodbye. Happy birthday Mila.

– Thanks Shawn – she smiled weakly. – Goodbye.

The boy gave her a tender kiss on the cheek and left hurriedly before he missed his bus. Camila was really not in the mood for presents but she wasn’t in the mood for studying either so she decided to open the gift. She found a small paper which said:

“I wanted to give you the thing you love the most.”

She furrowed her eyebrows when she found a small picture frame with Lauren’s picture in it. She chuckled because it was such a Shawn thing to do but right after she realized how stupid she had been.

Lauren was absolutely right, she was one hundred percent jealous and it was her idea to be just friends but it was clear, she loved the American.

She grabbed her phone and dialed immediately but it went straight to voicemail. After the fifth try she called her on Skype, but there was still no answer. She left a few messages too, apologizing and pleading just to talk but Lauren went absolutely missing. Camila was so desperate that she even texted Dinah who informed her that she hasn’t seen the green-eyed Latina since their shopping spree.

Camila sat down on her bed with a textbook in her hand and decided to study because she needed to pass this exam but she promised herself that right in the moment she finished she will come home and cry her eyes out.

She tried so hard not think about the fact that maybe Lauren isn’t just ignoring her. That maybe there is a possibility for them never talking again. That maybe she just sent the love of her life in the arms of an another woman.

A/N: Hi! I’m alive, sorry for the delay. So I had a bunch of exams and I had to eat my weigh in holiday food at home so I was in food coma but I’ll live. Well here is the angst because I felt like it and I said that I will finish the story sooner than I wanted originally but scratch that I will write it the way I planned before.

Love you and as always thanks for waiting, voting, commenting and sticking with my story. You can find me on Wattpad @medstudentslab

God bless y'all in Allysus voice.

B.

[pasteljeon]

Hey! I sent three replies to your last message but I have a feeling tumblr may have eaten My asks again? 🥴🤔 But we normally decorate the whole house with more trees, Christmas ornaments & lights. My mum also does these really pretty Christmas flower vases that are HUGE! How are you after this week? Are all your finals done with now? I hope so!! Time honestly gets lost with me during the holidays 😅😅😅 If my asks were eaten I’ll reply again ASAP! Hope you’re well 💫- sugarplum

Sugar!! So nice to hear from you, I really do look forward to your messages, they're so bright and kind 🥺 I got 2/3s of your message, but I honestly thought I answered them already skdhdj I've been so into the study groove lately I only come on to queue stuff and do a daily scroll through 😭 I'm so sorry!

Is your mom a plant kind of person? My mom LOVES plants. She practically has a garden growing in our house 😂 exams are, unfortunately, still ongoing but I finish on the 17th and I'm beyond excited to just yeet tf out of my uni and sleep for a week straight bc I'm so sleep deprived and stressed out 😭 I gained like 5 pounds from stress I swear 🥴

What about you? Are you already on break? I'm so hungry for home cooked food 😔