#spending more time in the dreaming world then the waking

[liftingtheirspirits]

I’m going to be very open about this, against my better judgement. Years of experience in the military and in medicine have led me to believe that oversharing is dangerous, and allowing people into your circle is a choice that should be very carefully considered. I only share this because I’ve met so many people who have been through something similar, and when we connect, I feel a small piece of me come to rest.

I struggle with a conglomerate of symptoms that stem from a history of abuse, the worst of which, at times, is obsessive thoughts.

When I was younger I had been deeply in love.

We had met years prior in the most hallmark of circumstances. We were asked to make a valentine and give it to one person in the room - out of sheer coincidence, she made hers for me, and I made mine for her, despite having never met before.

As if that wasn’t enough, both of us put our AOL IM screen names on the back so we could talk.

Years went by, and thousands of track-phone minutes were spent talking about everything our naive minds could possibly come up with. Names for our kids. Our dream home. Drifting off into the warm daydreams of waking up together on a summer morning.

Deeply.

Truly.

Perhaps even madly in love.

But as years went by, our moral compasses aimed in opposing directions - despite partying with drugs, incessantly filling her own void with vices, she clutched my heartstrings and dragged me through the coals on her descent. It would take a decade to unravel the torment of distrust from the gaslighting. How could someone simultaneously feel like everything that I’ve ever needed, yet be, at an elemental level, poisonous for me?

No, she wouldn’t let go, it was much worse. She made me be the one to leave.

Over the course of a year… dying seemed like the only way out more than once.

I’ve never felt that way again, but what I certainly have felt, is the incessant thoughts. I have to be very careful you see, because ever so slowly this cheery, kind, unreasonably passionate person you’d come to know now, starts to spiral.

A dark, very slow spiral.

It starts, with a fond memory - I’ll think of sledding in January and warming each other’s hands. I’ll think of staying home sick from work and spending the day bundled up together.

... And within days I’m already gone.

Incessant thoughts; She loved me for who I was when I couldn’t love myself. She loved me when my own birth mother didn’t want me. I know it in my bones. Maybe she still does?

And without fail, I hear these words in my head and I snap out of it.

“And someday soon, on my death bed, as the last lit light inside of me dies, I’ll still wish you and I got to live out our days forever after. But life isn’t fair, the world is cruel, and you didn’t love me like I did. Afternoons; happily wasted on the phone, the long and wholesome talks for hours on end of our hopes and dreams of a simpler life; no one will remember these. No one will ever know.

… those memories die with me.”

[pupkashi]

facetimes & phone calls

part one // part two // masterlist

part three of lights out f1 au | both you and satoru are beyond busy, but pinky promises should never be broken, right?

a/n: helloooo !! i hope u guys are doing well :3 im so deeply sorry for the wait you’ve had to endure for this part </3 i hope you guys enjoy it !! i swear i wont take nearly as long to upload the next part LOL plzplzplzplz let me know what you guys think it really helps motivate me to keep going :3 reblogs are very appreciated <3 any f1 enjoyers do not jump me for any inaccuracies in the schedule okay thats all bye bye !

wordcount - 4.8k

tags: gojo satoru x reader, formula one au, gojo is in his rookie season, fluff and angst, long distance is hard

LIGHTS OUT & AWAY WE GO !

neither you or satoru were ones to break pinky promises, even two months into the relationship the two of you had managed to have at least one conversation each day despite your busy schedules and jarring time difference. there hadn’t been enough time between races for him to be able to fly in and visit, and you had begrudgingly rejected his offers to fly you out to any races.

and so the two of you sat on facetime, your phone propped up against the lamp on your desk as you reviewed for your upcoming finals. satoru cherished every moment he could spend talking with you, going on and on about his day, making sure to spare no details so you felt included. you hung on his every word, happy to be an outlet for him after stressful days on and off the paddock.

“what about you? how was your day?” he asked, a glint in his eyes as he watched you furrow your brows in concentration before humming and replying.

“same as usual, went to class, had lab, studied” you shrugged, insecurities creeping in. you were just a boring college student, how could your day ever compare to the glamor of his? nothing in your daily life compares to him getting sponsors from million dollar companies.

“what’d you do in lab?” satoru urges on, “y’know i would’ve liked to go to college i think it would’ve been nice.” your ears perk up at his comment.

“really?” you have a small smile on your face as he nods at you, looking off to the side before focusing back on his phone.

“yeah, wanted to study engineering” he replies, “i like hearing about your days so i can live vicariously through you” he giggles, even through the phone you can see the blush on his cheeks as you stared at him.

there’s a beat of silence before you speak up again. “well i woke up early cause i had to take the bus- and you know how full the busses get for 8 ams” you ramble, continuing to talk about your day in detail. satoru couldn’t feel more grateful, hanging on your every word just as you did his.

“there’s a race this weekend right?” you asked after a couple minutes of silence. satoru nodded, grabbing his phone where he had it propped up and holding it up as he laid on his back, one arm behind his head.

“imola this weekend, think you’ll wake up on time for it?” he teases, you scoff and roll your eyes at him.

“it’s not my fault i had to pull an all nighter before the last one” you pouted, “i really did try! i watched the first two laps before passing out” you defended. satoru couldn’t help but laugh.

“alright, alright I’m just teasing you sweetheart” he looks at your now flustered face and swears his skips a beat, “don’t ever feel guilty about missing a race, your classes are more important even though i try to talk you into skipping to follow me around the world.”

you grow more flustered by his words, smiling widely at your phone and clearing your throat. “maybe once I graduate I can take a gap year” regret creeping up on you. was it too soon to bring up the future? the two of you hadn’t even said i love you yet.

“oh that would be a dream” satoru giggles, his face flushed and he’s practically swinging his legs like a schoolgirl. “we can wear matching outfits in the paddock and i can show you around the cities- oh my god ill get to kiss you right after races.” the white haired driver catches himself in his daydreams, clearing his throat before trying to backtrack as to not scare you off.

“I mean only if you want of course” he assures, his face burning as a shy smile creeps onto his lips. “would you want to?”

“Im the one who brought it up, genius” you tease. satoru lets his heart skip a beat, admiring you as you got back to studying. “oh also i might be texting you a bit less since finals are around the corner.”

you can practically hear your boyfriend pouting through the phone, “how much less?”

“not too sure, I’ve got a couple back to back days so i need to start early to cover all the material” you sigh, stressing out over all of it already, “I’ll try to keep calling but i get really bad at communicating during finals season” you admit.

“it’s okay sweetheart, just take care of yourself alright?” he gives you a soft smile, “I’ve actually gotta go but I’ll text you, make sure you don’t stay up too late.”

satoru laughs as you give him a salute, smiling and waving goodbye before hanging up. he rolls over on his back and lets out a sigh, it’ll be okay, right? he begrudgingly sits up in his bed, rubbing his face before standing and getting on with his day.

the sunlight is barely creeping into his Monaco home, there’s a couple decorations here and there, some trophies from F2 and now a second place trophy is adorning the top of his shelf. photographs with family and friends hung on the wall, a picture of him and suguru smiling brightly at the camera, both of them no older than 14, clad in their karting uniform.

satoru wasn’t sure what do with himself, it was rare for him to be up so early. he almost regrets hanging up so soon, but as his phone buzzes with your text he smiles.

goodnight <3

he knew you’d have stayed up all night studying if he had stayed on the phone with you. satoru wastes no time in replying to you, a grin on his face as he makes his breakfast. he did have a couple errands to run, making a mental checklist as he finishes up his food and checks his phone, just in case you had texted him again.

he wasn’t sure how he survived without your presence before, the hours of the day seemed to drag on, texts from the team, a quick phone call and meeting up with Oscar and a couple of his friends to play some padel.

“are the rumors true then?” oscar asks, a sly smile on his face as satoru looks at him with the tiniest grin.

“dunno what you’re talking about” he teases, Oscar nudged him softly as they both stand from the bench, satoru twirling the padel in his hand as they get ready to play.

“you plan on introducing them to anyone?” satoru thinks it over, mentally mapping out your schedule as they continue the match.

“maybe after the semester ends, might be able to convince them to follow me around for the summer” he replies, cheering and giving the McLaren driver a high five as they score.

satoru’s mind continues to wander the rest of the day, what would it be like to have you here for the summer? he thinks about showing you around Monaco, taking you around Europe and treating you to fancy dinners. he imagines you in his house, having you meet the other drivers, it all makes his stomach flip.

you weren’t lying when you had said you’d be texting him less, with satoru only receiving a good morning text and nothing else for the next six hours. by the time you’d had a moment to take a break satoru was sound asleep, his phone buzzing next to him.

“hello?” his voice is raspy and groggy, and you feel guilty for ruining his sleep.

“did i wake you? sorry we can talk later” you quickly rush out, zipping up your bag and making your way out of the building you’d been studying in.

satoru rubs his eyes, checking the clock and seeing how late it was, “no, it’s okay what’s up?” his eyes are still half closed, a loopy smile on his face as he hears your voice.

“just wanted to say hi, sorry i hadn’t texted you, had to meet up for a project and then studied for finals” you sigh out, “gonna get home make some food and probably study for the rest of the day.”

satoru hums in response, “want me to send you something to buy dinner?” you can’t help but laugh, a blush and stupid grin on your face as you walk through campus.

“no, I’ll be okay thank you though” you giggle, “how was your day? when are you heading to Italy for the race?”

“tomorrow probably” he mumbles, “hopefully it’ll be a good weekend for the team” his voice trails off as he sighs dramatically, “even if you won’t be there.”

“just gotta get through these next two weeks,” you say, comforting yourself more than you were him. satoru can practically feel the stress through the phone. “my bus is here I’ll text you?” there’s a hint of hope in your voice and satoru yawns on the other end, humming.

“I’ll be waiting, sweetheart” satoru has a sleepy grin on his face as you whisper a quick bye and hang up, two minutes later he’s out like a light.

you sit giddy in your bus seat, headphones in as you scroll through your instagram. there’s a feeling of being watched you can’t seem to shake, looking up and finding two girls staring at you, quickly tearing their eyes away as if they weren’t caught staring. you check your shirt, then your reflection in the bus window. with furrowed brows you shake it off, maybe they recognized you from a class?

there was no telling how long it had been since you began studying, your eyes burning as you decided to take a quick nap, figuring you’d be up in an hour to knock out some last minute assignments.

when you woke up at was already almost 5 in the morning, groaning as you saw your somehow snoozed alarm. thankful you didn’t have classes that day as you scrolled through your notifications.

satoru <3 1h ago

good morning :)

about to get on the plane :P

forgot to mention it was a morning flight lol

you felt a small pang in your chest, texting him back quickly

hi !! sorry i got so caught up in studying i totally forgot to text you :(

i hope it’s a safe flight !!!

im probably gonna head to bed for a bit longer, have a good day :3

the frown on your face was evident as you locked your phone, your reflection staring back at you. there was no telling what satoru was up to, it was 11 am in Italy, you figured he was probably setting up in his hotel room or in team meetings.

the days seemed to fly by, with you losing track of when qualifying was, waking up for the last part of Q3 and cheering when satoru placed P5.

you texted him immediately, knowing he wouldn’t see it until later. there was a slight pang in your chest as you scrolled through the past messages, sparse ‘good morning’s, ‘good night’s and ‘hope you had a good day’ being most of the texts for the last couple days.

part of you knew this is what you’d signed up for, having talked to satoru about it the night before you’d come home from Japan.

“i really like you” you began, your hands fiddled with the drivers fingers as he hummed for you to go on. “but do you really have time for a relationship right now?” the words hurt to say out loud, but both of you were thinking it.

“I’ll make time for you,” he responded, not missing a beat as he stilled your fingers, intertwining his with yours and squeezing softly. “hey” he mumbled, smiling when you finally looked him in the eyes, “we’ll make it work, pinky promise.”

you sighed, locking your phone before slinging your backpack over your shoulder and heading out the front door.

satoru felt like the team debrief went on for ages, fingers itching to check his phone. had you woken up on time? he nodded along to kento and toto’s words, having some input on track and tire feel when necessary.

“alright get some rest, let’s try and get both of you on the podium tomorrow” toto spoke, laughing when satoru shot out of his chair and waved goodbye quickly.

satoru wasted no time in checking his phone, grinning when he saw your live commentary via text. he immediately pressed the dial button, hoping you weren’t busy.

“well if it isn’t mr. P5 himself” you teased, a smile on your face as you walked across campus. “you did great today, i think” you smile.

“hi sweetheart” he’s practically giggling to himself as he walks to the car, a giant grin on his face, “i saw you woke up in time for quali” he says, turning the car on and reversing out of the parking spot.

“course i did! had to cheer for my favorite driver” you reply, “ill be up for the race tomorrow also, it’s not insanely early” satoru can’t help but feel nervous, as if you were right there with him.

“I’ll do my best for you sweets” there’s a beat of silence before he speaks up again, “how’s studying going?” the words make you let out a small sigh, satoru frowns a bit.

“it’s going, last day of classes today and then I’ll have more than enough time to hyper focus in on everything else I’ve gotta study.” you sit on a bench outside the campus library, staring at a couple of birds in the tree in front of you.

“two weeks and you’re done with the semester right?” satoru wonders how stressed you’d be for the next two weeks, if would you be texting even less than you were now.

“week and a half, my last final’s on that wednesday” you mess with the strap of your backpack as you speak, “but I’ll be free after that.”

satoru hums, wondering if he should get you plane tickets for the races now or if he should hold off to closer to the date.

“I’ve gotta get to this study room before someone steals it, and you need to get some rest for the race tomorrow” you say, smiling when satoru whines for five more minutes. “bye toru get some rest, I’m betting everything in my bank account on you getting on the podium”

“well you’d only be losing like what? $15?” the driver teases and you wish he was there so you could smack him. “goodnight sweetheart, make sure you eat dinner and get some rest too okay?”

your goodbyes extend into another 10 minutes of talking, finally saying goodnight to him when you hear him yawning a bit, hanging up before the two of you could strike up another topic of conversation.

the next morning you were awake bright and early, watching the race with your friend as the two of you have your laptops open to work that slides that should’ve been getting studied, but instead stare at the two of you cheering at the fast cars.

you’re drowning in a Mercedes crewneck, satoru’s number embroidered on the front. he’d bought it and shipped it to you when he found out you didn’t own any formula one merch, except for the Red Bull shirt you’d bought on sale. it practically brought the driver to his knees when he caught glimpse of the two bulls on your t shirt.

you’re hugging the pillow in your lap tightly, on the edge of your seat as you watch satoru enable his DRS behind a McLaren driver.

“and gojo is on norris’ tail as we head into the chicane, he’s out of the slipstream- he’s able to get into the apex first and he overtakes!” the announcers voice is blaring though your apartment, “another great move by the rookie as he gets yet another podium for Mercedes.”

you can’t help but cheer, jumping from the couch out of excitement. “that’s my boyfriend!” you squeal, a grin on your face as you jump around with your friend, hugging her in satoru’s stead.

there’s no wiping the grin on your face as you watch him get out of his car, cheering and running to his mechanics before taking his helmet off. you feel your cheeks heat up at how hot he looks, breath hitching in your throat as you try (and fail) at focusing back on your studies. small giggles leave your mouth as you record the podium ceremony, snapping a picture of your tv and sending it to the man on your screen

told you I’d cheer you on :3 I’m so proud of you !!!

satoru spends the day in a blur, a whirlwind after the race as he handles media and team debriefs in the paddock. he gets to his hotel room beyond exhausted, falling face first into his mattress before finally checking his phone.

sweetheart <3 6h ago

his eyes go wide as he scrambles to text you back, a toothy grin on his face as he types back quickly. there’s no filter as satoru rambles on over text, sending you a plethora of messages explaining the race highlights and what he’d done after, being sure to ask how your studying is coming along. the time difference makes his heart ache, knowing you’d reply when he’d be dead asleep.

so he does the only thing he can do, ‘i hope you have a good day :3’ he sends, a small frown on his face before sighing and tossing his phone to the side and finally letting himself relax.

you weren’t sure where the days had gone, your stress growing exponentially as your finals creep up on you, hundreds of pages worth of notes to study as you coop yourself up in the campus library. the buzzing of your phone makes you lose focus, grabbing it and smiling softly when you see it was satoru.

hiii , can you call ??

at the library rn, talk later ?

oh

okay :)

no race this weekend but i might be busy w other stuff :P

satoru feels selfish for feeling hurt, he hadn’t talked to you in over a week already, the last time being sunday night after his imola podium. he tries to push past his feelings, reassuring himself that after this next week you’d be all his. he can’t be too mad at you though, seeing as though he’d all but ghosted you during some race weeks where he had other responsibilities on top of team duties.

the by week was no time for satoru to relax, with toto and kento calling him to train during the week so they could better prepare for the next race. now that they had a foot in the door for the world drivers championship they were gonna do everything they could to make it a reality. it was long days and nights for satoru, being the first one in and out as he listened in on strategy meetings and practiced on the simulators.

satoru landed face first in his bed when he got home, mumbling out a curse as he feels his phone vibrating next to him. what the fuck more did they want?

your contact picture lights up the room, one of you under the cherry blossoms after he’d asked you out. satoru’s foul mood has vanished, answering quickly before the last ring.

“hi!” he grins, sitting up in bed and looking at your face through the facetime call, he messily attempts to fix his hair as you stare at him with a smile.

“hi! whatcha up to?” you ask, messing with the pencil in your hand as you rub your eyes gently. satoru noticed the darkened bags under your eyes, and he can spot the empty can of Red Bull you’d forgotten to get off camera.

“just got back from practicing, they’re working me to the bone” he smiles, “how’s finals? almost done?” you nod at his words, exhaling dramatically.

“thank fuck I’m almost done, have my last three this week” you grin, “and before you ask yes I’ve been having actual food” satoru giggles over the phone.

“and that contraband next to you?” his brows lifted as you spot the crushed can and look at him sheepishly, tossing it into the trash can under your desk.

“dunno what you’re talking about, maybe the crashes got to your head?” you tease, satoru laughs, falling back onto his pillows, one hand behind his head. the flex of his biceps makes you lose your train of thought, satoru can’t help but admire how cozy you look in the crewneck he left you.

“funny seeing as though I’m in the top four for the championship” he quips, not so subtly trying to get your praise.

“i saw that! you’ve also podiumed in every race except your debut” you boast, wiggling your brows as you show off your limited knows, “i wish i could give you a kiss or hug you or anything” satoru feels the frustration in his bones, wanting nothing more than to hold you after the high of a podium.

“someone’s been studying up on the formula one” he replies, it makes your cheeks heat up, “after your finals you’ll be able to kiss me all you want, I’ll get you plane tickets to fly you over to me” the excitement in his chest is quickly put out as he sees the look on your face.

“i wanted to talk to you about that” you mumble, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze from your phone. you’re nervously writing in your notebook as satoru stares at you intently through the screen.

“what?” he lets out a breathless laugh, “i thought we agreed after your finals you’d come with me to my races?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

“we never talked about that toru” you laugh nervously, “and I’ve got this internship i interviewed for” you begin, eyes flickering to your phone to gauge his reaction. “um it’s between me and three other people- it’s a really good opportunity i can’t pass up on if i were to get it.”

the silence in the air makes you feel like you’re suffocating, not tearing your eyes from the paper you were writing notes in, satoru is staring dumbfounded at his duvet.

“oh.”

he winces at his own lack of words, racking his brain and speaking up again, “i mean that’s great but how are we going to work? like-” he laughs dryly running his fingers through his hair, “you’re not making time for us, how is this even a relationship?”

the words come out harsher than he intended them to, and it makes your chest pang with guilt. you bite your bottom lip, scoffing at his words and rolling your eyes.

“i don’t make time for us? what about you making time for us? for me? even before i started studying for finals it was me waiting around to see if you’d text or call” you snap back, the stress making your meaner than you wanted to be.

“you know racing isn’t just me driving around the track a couple times right? i have to practice, do media and promotions and so many other things” the slight snicker in his tone takes you by surprise, anger bubbling in your chest.

“okay? and it’s not just me going to classes for a couple hours and coming home and chilling out for the rest of the night” you shoot back, the grip on your pen tightening.

“y/n racing is my whole life, I’ve worked to get into formula one since i was a child” satoru says, “i can’t just skip out on stuff because you want me to.”

“so you shouldn’t ditch your responsibilities and goals but i should? for what? so i can be your little trophy wag?” the venom in your voice is enough to make satoru’s defenses go up.

“you know that’s not what I’m saying” he groans, “how are we ever going to work out if we’re texting each other every other fucking business day.”

maybe it was the terrible timing of it all; with the stress of finals driving you up a wall and satoru being hailed as Mercedes saving grace, the pressure was on him to compete for the world drivers championship title.

“im trying my fucking best, I’ve been nothing but supportive waking up at fuck ass o’clock to cheer you on” satoru rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw and shaking his head at your words.

“are you implying that I haven’t been supportive? I’ve sent you money for dinner, I’ve wished you luck every day I check in on you everytime i fucking can” he snapped.

“point to where i said that, stop pulling shit out of your fucking ass” you groaned, “you know what i have to study for this final im not wasting my time with this” satoru can’t help but chuckle darkly.

“so now working on our relationship is a waste of time?” he knows he’s being petty, but being snarky and rude was the only way he could mask his pain.

the exhaustion seemed to hit you at once, no longer having the energy to keep up with your anger. you put your face in your hands, sniffling before wiping your eyes. satoru’s heart breaks at the sound of your sniffles, eyes locking on your figure, frowning at your red rimmed eyes.

“let’s talk about this later” you mumble, satoru shakes his head, he knows there wouldn’t be enough time in his schedule to.

“no we need to discuss this now” his voice is stern, “if we don’t talk about this now we’re just going to be wasting each others time.” the statement breaks your heart, you know where this is going.

“we talked about this in the hotel” you say, “i knew this shit would happen.” satoru pieces everything together quickly, but ironic as it may be, he’s not fast enough.

“m-maybe in another life-” your voice wavers, chocking back a sob before you continue. “maybe in another life or another time it would’ve worked out for us.”

satoru’s hands go cold, he feels himself getting dizzy. the flurry of emotions makes him feel numb, but even as he stares at you dazed he whispers out, voice breaking.

“i love you.” the three words he’d been saving to tell you in person roll off his tongue naturally, so instinctively it hurts.

“don’t say that” you plea, “that’s just going to make this hurt more.” there’s a certain desperation in your voice, satoru shakes his head.

“do you not feel the same? tell me you don’t love me” he begs, heart shattering when you remain silent.

“i cant” your voice is barely above a whisper, you’re shocked your microphone even picks up on your words. “you know i love you, but-”

“why does there have to be a but? I don’t want to end things” satoru cries, his face is flushed red, bottom lip torn from how hard he was biting it earlier. “we can try harder, I’ll try harder” he’s clinging onto anything he can, hoping he’ll find the magic words to keep you on the phone longer.

“we have to be realistic about this satoru” you say, “we’ve got to let each other go.” even as you say the words they don’t seem to register in your mind, “we don’t have time for this relationship, it’s not fair to either of us.”

there’s so much left you want to say, but nothing seems right, not as your vision continues to blur through your tears as you pick at the lint of your sweater, his sweater. there’s no telling how much time had passed when he speaks up, it makes you jump slightly.

“so that’s it then?” satoru asks, it takes all your courage to nod, giving him a small smile and saying goodbye. your shaky thumb hovering over the red x, wincing when you end the call.

his sweater felt heavy on you, like it knew you shouldn’t be wearing it anymore. even then you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off, a chocked sob leaving your mouth as you hugged yourself tightly. it was for the best, you tell yourself.

satoru is out of bed, running his fingers through his hair and replaying the conversation in his head as he paces around the room, mumbling curses out of frustration in every language he knows. your words are rattling around his brain, he sniffles softly before finally sitting down. the bright sunlight seeps through his closed curtains, he feels his bottom lip wobble before letting his head land in his hands, sobs shaking his whole body.

despite being thousands of miles away the two of you are found in the same state, splotchy tear stained faces and broken hearted. it’s for the best, the words are repeated in both your mind and his. if that’s true, why does it feel so wrong?

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[jimjamjimothy]

Due to some spell or magics shenanigans, Dick's soul gets displaced. It is forcibly ejected from his physical body and it ends up in a stray golden retriever, somewhere in Gotham.

Dick knows that something is wrong and that he knows he isn't supposed to be a dog but can't connect the dots because of the limited mental capacity of the hardware he is running on. But he does know that he is missing someone, or more than one?, and that he needs to find them now.

He finds Jason in Crime Alley and would not leave him alone, following along until he actually gets kicked by some thugs that threaten Jason for his wallet, which is so stupid in hindsight. As thanks, Jason brings the dog to a vet clinic (because Damian would blow a gasket if he didn't repay the dog in some way).

Good news! It's a boy. Bad news, the dog actually needs some monitoring due to a concussion. Jason is given some pain meds, a bill and a very good boy attached to a blue leash.

So, bleeding heart that Jason is, he brings the dog home and takes care of him. Give him a bath and some chow before having to fight the poor thing to take the pain pill. There was a lot of whining and crying before the pill went down, but the dog was nice enough to not bite him.

The dog, named henceforth Goldie, is a nice dog, super friendly and clingy and it takes Jason's mind off of the family drama happening right that very moment. Of Batman and Red Robin working themselves through the sleepless nights, of Spoiler and Batgirl taking more on patrol, of Robin being more ruthless and Oracle running herself on empty. The whole clan is searching and hunting for Dick Nightwing's missing soul, his body safe and sound in Gotham General, a tube down his throat to help him breathe, hooked up to wires and IVs, alive but empty. His older brother is not there.

He falls asleep on the couch, Goldie on his chest, a warm comforting weight.

As the dog falls asleep, Dick is able to understand the situation a little better. In the realm of dreams, he knows that he's human, that he's stuck in a body that isn't his own, and that the dog's soul is also there with him, they're copiloting? cohabitating? sharing the body in a way where both overlap on top of each other, they only separate in sleep , both existing in dreams, and somehow Dick also gains comfort from the dog.

Things are foggy still, in the dreams and very much in the waking world. So it takes a few nights before he figures out that he's connected with someone in his family. The more time he spends as a dog, the more 'awake' he becomes in the real life, more intelligent, more aware but still missing some puzzle pieces and the full picture.

He has no idea how to alert whoever he is with that he's him, that he's Dick, when all he truly understands is that he is Goldie, a good boy who will do what he can to comfort his boy.

[avernusreject]

What if when Rook chooses not to redeem Solas, the last thing Solas sees before he gets dragged into the fade prison is Lavellan. For ten years, he'd only seen her in her dreams, imagined her in the lonely hours of the night. To see her one last time, utterly helpless to move. Hearing her scream his name as she sprints towards him. To far to make a difference. Desperation lacing every syllable that leaves her mouth. The only words that escape his lips is a rush "vhe-", before he gets pulled in

[britomart]

sincerely no feeling like coming home and blasting music

[maskedbyghost]

when simon wakes up in a hospital, the last thing you expect is for him to grab your hand, pull you close, and say, “hey, there you are, love.” his voice is so soft, so sure, it leaves you speechless. you stare at him, half in shock, because this is ghost—simon riley, the one person who’s kept every feeling locked up.

“simon, do you… do you remember anything?” you ask, testing the waters.

he blinks, looking at you with confidence. “of course, i remember. you’re my wife.”

you freeze. his wife? this is new, and you’re not sure where he got the idea, but before you can correct him, johnny walks in, taking one look at the two of you and biting back a grin. he leans in, whispering to you, “maybe just… go with it for now, eh?” he’s got that teasing glint in his eye, and something tells you there’s no harm in humoring simon for a bit, if it can be helpful for his recovery.

so, you go along with it. and to your surprise, simon doesn’t act confused���in fact, he’s more open with you than he’s ever been. suddenly, he’s holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, always looking for you, keeping you close, calling you “love” or “darlin’” in front of everyone. he’s even got that soft smile every time you catch his eye, one that makes it hard to remember this isn’t real.

the team’s amused but supportive, playing along with the whole story. simon keeps asking you little things, like what your favorite meal is, or how you usually spend your days when he’s away, as if filling in gaps in a life he believes you share. you find yourself answering with things that feel so genuine, and the way he listens—focused, attentive—feels more intimate than anything you’ve shared before.

one day, you’re patching up a minor scrape on his hand, and he just watches you, eyes soft, like he’s memorizing every detail. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. it’s so genuine, so open, that for a second, you forget it’s all just part of his memory loss.

then, one night, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, eyes serious. “do you ever think about us?” he asks softly, like he’s trying to get at something just out of reach. “how we’d be if things were… different?”

you’re not sure how to answer because there’s no script for this. “sometimes,” you admit, feeling a pang of something deep and unspoken. and for the first time, you’re almost grateful he can’t remember—because maybe, just maybe, it’s the only reason he’s letting himself be this vulnerable with you.

as the days pass, you start catching little glimpses, small things that make you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on. he catches you watching him once, and instead of asking why, he just gives you this little smile, one that feels like he’s in on the secret. and just when you’re starting to think this is all some kind of twisted dream, he pulls you aside.

“i know i’m supposed to remember,” he whispers, “but i don’t want this to end. not yet.”

it’s in that moment you realize the truth. he’s been aware all along—he’s been pretending just as much as you, holding on to this fragile, temporary illusion because, maybe, he needs it just as much as you do.

--------------------------------------------

hii!! i'm backkk!! send some requests plsss, byee <333

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[uramakimochi]

Batboys scenario:

YOU LOOSE CONTROL OF YOUR POWERS WHILE SLEEPING.

WARNINGS: Just fluff, no use of Y/N. Inspired by this thought of mine. R can fly but it's not explicitly said whether they're a Super/Kent or an alien. This should be gender neutral enough for everyone^^

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

BRUCE

Bruce entered the room with a yawn that he tried to cover with his hand, while slowly rotating his neck and chest to make his bones crack loudly.

The only thing he wanted to do was get into bed with you, hold you close and sleep forever. But he knew that all the love and devotion he felt for you would never be enough to free him from his duties as a vigilante, so the only thing he could do was enjoy to the fullest those moments that life allowed him to spend with you. One of which was a good rest together.

Bruce loved sleeping with you. There was no better feeling for him than coming home late after a patrol and hiding under the covers, wrapping his mighty arms around you and pulling you against his sturdy body, falling asleep lulled by your body heat.

But before he could already imagine how he would spend a beautiful night next to you, he had to stop on the threshold of the door when his eyes fell on the double bed. Or rather, who was above of it.

Because yes, you were there, exactly where he expected to find you, but you were not on the bed. You were literally floating above it, like a bee on a flower.

Bruce smiled amusedly, because honestly that was nothing new. That was something that often happened when you were asleep: entering the world of dreams was as if your powers merged with them and not being able to control them of your own will, sometimes you happened to rise into the air in the middle of the night. Sometimes you slipped away from Bruce's arms, but other times you even took him up with you.

But Bruce didn't care, he was used to it. And he would never blame you because that was just who you were. And he would always love you, for every virtue and every flaw.

So he approached you silently until he was at your side. Meanwhile, you continued to float above his head as if nothing had happened, clutching the pillow under one arm and your eyelids fluttering every now and then, surely because of the dream you were living in your mind.

"Sweetheart" he murmured softly, reaching up to gently pull the blanket that covered your body and that was floating with you. "Wake up my love"

After a few seconds you squinted and then finally opened your eyes in the darkness.

"Mhh" you moaned and your eyes landed on your husband's face. "Bruce... Hi, what is it?"

Bruce smiled comfortingly, moving his hand to your arm.

"Forgive me, i didn't mean to disturb you" he replied, running his warm palm back and forth along your arm. "You're floating again"

It was at that moment that despite your tiredness you realized how low his face was compared to yours and you pressed your lips together. "Oh..."

Your body slowly returned down to rest on the soft mattress and you adjusted your position to cover yourself, finally looking at your husband from below, as it was supposed to be.

"Thank you" you gave him an embarrassed smile. "Sorry"

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then walked around the bed to his side, sitting on the edge to take off his shoes and lie down under the covers.

"You have nothing to apologize for, i always tell you that" he reassured you as he lay down and you wasted no time in snuggling into his side. "You know i don't really care if you sleep mid air. I'd just prefer to fall sleep with you in my arms sometimes"

"I know, but i hate when it happens" you replied with a small pout.

You felt his strong arm wrap around your shoulders to hold you close and you closed your eyes, resting your head on his bicep, ready to go back to sleep. "Because i like falling asleep in your arms too"

Bruce smiled again, tilting his head to kiss your forehead one more time and watched you fall asleep again within minutes, lulled by his warmth and his sweet caresses that you had missed that night.

"I know my love"

DICK

Dick was the most affectionate of the boys and this meant that at every opportunity he would stick to you like a mussel and he wasn't afraid to show it. Whether it was for a simple nap together, when you were cooking or cleaning the house, while he was watching tv with you, in the shower, when you went out... You name it. He was always glued to you. And during the night he was no exception.

Even when the temperatures were the highest he would close his arms around your body and hold you to his chest as if you were a stuffed animal that comforted him from his nightmares. And you, somehow, always managed to fall asleep, no matter how glued he was to you.

But Dick was like that and there were just a few times that you told him to let go because that was just the way he showed his affection and you appreciated him for it.

And the fact that your boyfriend was clingy meant that whatever happened to you... Well, he was there to suffer it too.

Specifically, i'm talking about when your superpowers got out of control and while that almost never happened when you were awake, the same couldn't be said for when you were asleep. Because when you were dreaming it was like your body and mind were letting go and often it happened that without realizing it you found yourself floating in the middle of the night.

Now, Dick was used to your powers and all, but the first time he witnessed your 'sleepwalking flight' he felt a little taken aback. But he remembers it like it was yesterday.

Imagine the scene.

You and Dick were fast asleep (he was even snoring and almost drooling on your head) and of course his strong arms were around your body from behind you, holding you to his chest in a firm warm and affectionate hug even in your sleep.

At a certain point however, he had to open his eyes, awakened by that horrible feeling of a dry throat that screamed at him to get a fresh glass of water to quench his thirst. So Dick rubbed a hand over his eyes to wake up and reluctantly let go of your body to turn on the other side and get out of bed. But when he stretched his legs towards the floor...

Dick's eyes widened and he felt like his breath was taken away for a fraction of a second when he realized he wasn't lying on his soft bed but floating right above it, blanket included.

"Oh fuc- Woahh!"

And before he could react, he fell down with a cry. Luckily his fall was softened by the bed itself, but that didn't stop him from rolling onto the floor with a heavy thud. That and his scream were enough to wake you up too and after you woke up with a start, abruptly interrupting your dream, you fell too but your trajectory allowed you to land on the matress unlike your boyfriend.

Dick still sitting on the floor, groaned in pain and then he sharply turned to you.

"Baby!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What was that??"

The lamp on your nightstand turned on and then he heard you get off the bed and walk quickly to his side and then he saw you crouch down in front of him.

"Oh my god Dickie i'm so sorry!" you looked at him worriedly, placing one hand on his cheek and the other on his head, making him tilt it to see if there were any bruises. "Are you hurt??"

Dick waved a hand with a small, pained smile. "Nah, i'm fine. I've been through worse. Just... What just happened?"

You let out a small sigh and let yourself fall backwards, sitting on the floor. "My powers. It happens to me sometimes when i'm sleeping, especially when i'm having particularly weird dreams or nightmares. My parents told me i've been doing it since i was little"

He nodded in understanding. "Oh. I see"

You looked down, feeling sorry and embarrassed by what had happened.

"Forgive me, i forgot to tell you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, honey. Are you sure you're really okay?"

Dick nodded again, forgetting the pain to give you his classic dazzling smile. "It's okay, sweetheart, really. These are things i have to get used to if i want to be with someone with superpowers"

And you giggled fondly, leaning forward to give him a couple of affectionate kisses on the temple.

"I guess that's the price you have to pay for clinging to me all the time, huh?" you murmured against his skin and he placed his hands on your waist to keep you close to him.

"I guess it is"

JASON

Jason was big and bulky but he was a light sleeper and since he was also very protective of you, he was always alert in case something happened during the night.

In fact, the slow movement of his arm that was rising against his will was enough to disturb him from his sleep. Jason opened his eyes but did not worry about being possessed by some strange demon. He sighed when he saw what was happening next to him. Or rather, above him.

"Babyyy" he moaned with a heavy yawn, but he received no response from you who were still sound asleep.

Immediately the hand of his arm that was rising and sliding from its position around your back, reached out to grab your wrist before you could rise too high for him to reach while still lying down. When you felt his warm palm touch you, you woke up too and when you opened your eyes you saw Jason dragging you down towards him, making you return to his side in the same place where you had fallen asleep a few hours ago.

"Where did you think you were going mh?" your boyfriend asked, his voice still thick with sleep, wrapping his muscular arm around your back (again) and pulling you close.

"Sorry" you muttered slightly embarrassed in the darkness of the room, snuggling against his shoulder.

It wasn't that you were new to floating during the night, but it wasn't something you were always proud of in his presence.

"'S okay" he replied, tilting his head to nuzzle yours and plant a kiss on it, while he closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. "But if you want to go for a fly, at least let's do it together"

And you smiled, closing your eyes as well while your hand automatically went to rest on his chest.

"Sure"

TIM

Tim wasn't known for being a big sleeper. And you hated more than anything to be the one ruining the few hours of sleep he could afford, disturbing him with your powers when you started floating in the middle of the night without your control.

But Tim was a sweet soul and he always reassured you by telling you that it was not a bother for him if he slept in the air rather than on the bed. He would sleep anywhere, even on the floor and even for just five minutes, just to be with you.

"Are you really sure it's not a problem for you?" you asked again, looking at your boyfriend with uncertain eyes.

Tim lifted his head from your chest, returning your gaze with a sleepy one, already half asleep mostly thanks to the effect of your hand caressing his hair, while the other was resting on his back.

His arms dangled in the air falling on both sides of your body, while his legs remained comfortably resting on yours. Luckily Tim, even though he was well trained, didn't have a body as large as Jason or Bruce, otherwise he would have fallen to the ground.

"Babe" he replied and his exasperated look gave way to a slight smile. "For the umpteenth time, yes. It's not a problem"

"But what if you move and fall to the floor? Or what if I move and make you fall to the floor?"

"We're not that high up" Tim sighed, glancing at the bed below you and then looking back at you. "You're talking to Red Robin, if i fall i can handle it"

"But-"

Tim shushed you by leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips and of course you returned it, letting yourself go and forgetting your worries for a few seconds, while your hand in his hair slid down to his cheek.

"No more 'buts'. I promise you nothing will happen" he continued when he pulled away. "And you know i don't sleep much anyway, so if i were to fall i'd notice"

"Hmm" you muttered still uncertain. "Okay... If you're sure"

Tim gave you a smile and settled more comfortably, resting his head back on your chest and closing his eyes. One of your hands caressed his back with your fingertips and you rested your chin on his hair.

"But please, wake me up if something happens" you added and you felt him nod slowly against you.

"Mh, will do. 'Night babe"

"Goodnight Timmy"

DAMIAN

You and Damian were sleeping peacefully in your bed, him in front of you with an arm on your shoulders pulling you against his body and your arms tightly wrapped around his slim waist, while one of your legs was trapped between his.

Damian had fallen asleep lulled by your breaths against his collarbone, but like Jason he was always alert during sleep, no matter what time it was. In fact, when he suddenly felt your bodies start to rise in the air he slowly opened his eyes but he didn't panic or get scared, knowing perfectly well what was happening. And above all who was making it happen.

Damian laid his eyes on you with a loving gaze, admiring you despite the darkness. He found it funny that despite your intertwined bodies were literally floating a couple of meters away from the bed, you continued to sleep deeply as if nothing had happened. He even saw your lips curve upwards and he also smiled tenderly in turn, wondering who knows what you were dreaming of to smile like that.

Damian then noticed that you and him were getting closer and closer to the ceiling as you floated upwards. But before your head or his could hit it, he raised an arm to rest his hand against the ceiling, stopping the movement in mid-air. The other hand that was on your shoulders instead, slid up until it reached your head, covering it with his palm in a protective way.

Oh if you had been awake to see it your heart would have fluttered with joy and Damian knew that too. He cared for you in every way, both with the little things and the more heroic ones, as he had learned in his life as Robin.

Due to the impact of his palm against the ceiling it was as if your body bounced like a balloon and went back down, continuing to drag Damian with you until you finally stopped in mid-air. He reached out to your face to stroke your forehead with his thumb.

"Beloved" he murmured.

Just hearing him call your name once, accompanied by the lovely feeling of his finger rubbing against your skin, woke you up. You squeezed your eyes and then opened them, looking at your boyfriend with the typical expression of a child just disturbed from his nap.

"Mmh, what is it Dami?"

Damian gave you a smile while continuing to caress you, while you felt your eyelids still drooping from tiredness.

"You're doing it again" he simply said.

There was silence for a few seconds. And then without saying anything both of your bodies began to descend, until you gently rested on the bed again. Damian felt you wiggle in his arms while you tried to get comfortable against him and even closer if possible, looking for his body heat.

"Sorry" you muttered, pressing your face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "I promise i won't do it again... 'Swear..."

And a few seconds later your breathing against his skin became heavier. You had fallen asleep again, without any difficulty.

Damian's emerald eyes looked at you amused while his hand found its favorite place on the back of your head, his fingers caressing you affectionately. Because that wasn't the first time you told him you wouldn't do it again and he knew it wouldn't be the last either.

"I count on it beloved"

DUKE (i added him too because i felt bad leaving him out😔)

The alarm clock on his nightstand went off and he reached out to turn it off. When Duke opened his eyes and turned to you with a sleepy smile, he thought he would find your angelic still sleeping face to greet him. But his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he noticed that you were not on your side of the bed.

"Uh... Weird" he thought.

Because he was usually the first one of you to wake up and it always took him a good few minutes to get you out of bed. Could that be the first time you had gotten up before him and had already made breakfast? Was it perhaps a special day?

Duke smiled amusedly, but then he noticed another detail. Your pillow was in its right place, but the large blanket you shared was gone.

"That's why i was cold last night..." the man muttered, after realizing that he had spent the rest of the night without a blanket. But why?

A familiar yawn from above his head caught his attention and Duke looked up. And when he saw your body floating above the bed, his heart skipped a beat.

You stirred, awakened by your boyfriend's alarm clock and the famous missing large blanket slipped from your body, falling onto the bed beneath you. You then turned to look down at him with a sweet, innocent smile.

"Good morning"

Duke let out a small, scared cry and jumped up from the bed. "L-Love! What are you doing up there!?"

You looked at him in confusion and lowered your head, finally noticing the distance from your side of the bed. "Oh... Oh crap!"

With his heart still pounding, Duke watched you calmly slide down until you were back on the ground. You then gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Um, surprise?"

Duke walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Are you okay??" he asked still scared, looking you up and down. "I thought you were... Possessed or something!"

You chuckled, waving a hand. "What are you talking about, Duke? It was just my powers"

He seemed to relax. He knew about your powers, but he never expected to see something like that.

"Oh..." then he sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. It was unexpected, you almost gave me a heart attack"

You gave him a sorry smile, taking his hand to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, i didn't mean to scare you. I completely forgot to tell you that sometimes while i sleep i lose control of my powers and start flying. It's been happening to me since i was little. Imagine what would happen if i slept in the open air"

He also finally laughed and he hugged you and you felt his body relax under your palms.

"How about i make breakfast to make up for it, mh?" you then asked and he nodded with a big smile.

"I'd really like that"

[la-patrona-magdalena]

Reading list/Fanfic Masterlist Yandere!Batfamily X Reader

NONE OF THESE FANFICS BELONG TO ME, this is more of a personal reading list of fanfics I follow and such, all the links lead you to the creators' direct blogs.

Almost all the fanfics in the 'platonic' section are with Neglected!Reader, I'm addicted to that trope.

More than one link will lead you to the authors' master list instead of a masterlist for the series. This is because they don't have a dedicated list for the series, and it was easier for me to keep them this way. (There are also links to the first chapter, in this case, the author probably left the other chapters there, in addition to imagines, headcanons, and drabbles on their own.) I thought about adding a short description below the links to explain what the fanfic is about… maybe I'll do it later or just leave it as it is.

Not - series

Again and. Again - series

Bruce hears Reader call someone else "dad." - drabble

Reader who only recognizes Alfred - drabble

[UN] Fair - series

Adorned in pearls (although Bruce here is not platonic…) - one shot

Batfamily with a Shallow Reader - imagine

Reader in Squid Games - imagine

Crack Baby - series

Smalltown Meta!Reader - series

Forget me not - series

No more Chances - series

Inmorta! Reader - series

Undoing Fate - series (it's not yandere but it has my favorite cliche so…)

Tip toes - series

Meet The Waynes - series

Bring back the dead - series

Obsessive reader in the shadows - imagine

There are two fanfictions here, the first fic doesn't have a name and I don't know what to name it. - series

Who said money can´t buy hapinness (considering the # I assume that the batfam is platonic….but I'm not sure) - series

Between life and death, death is tempting - series

Ain´t no sushine - series

Beyond the Bat - series

Crow choir - series

Waterbone - drabble

Marine!Reader - one shot? drabble?

Saboteur - series/imagine

Unwanted embrace - series

I'm almost sure this was one of the pioneering stories in this trope. - one shot

Little Demon - one shot

Goodbye World - one shot

Batsis wakes up in a fanfic - imagine? drabble?

Batfam playing with Reader - I think it's a drabble…I don't know

Pity Party - series

Yandere Al Ghuls! - series

How would they spend time with you after the kidnapping? -drabble

You´re a fucking weird hacker - one shot

Lucid Dreams - series

Ghost of the Past - series

Soulamate Soul Animal - series

Good Look(includes more DC yanderes characters) - series

Web Bound (It is NOT yandere, but it does have obsessive characters) - Series

Bug like Angel - series

The other family - one shot

Batman! Damian Wayne x Robin! Reader - one shot?

Children!Reader who loves Tim more than Dick - headcanon

Yandere!Batfam Headcanons - headcanon xd

Advantages and disadvantages of Neglected! Reader - Headcanon(?)

When your family only cherish you after your death - series

Yandere Batfam x Neglected!Elle Woods!Reader - series

My pathetic family - series(?)

The ballad of a bygone blight - series

Batmon and his baby -drabble/ Scenery (bruce is romantic)

Reader happy to be ignored - drabble/Scenery

What We Want - series

The sinfull Allure (the story is not yandere, but it has the batboys, and I love this reverse harem) - series

Seven Days a Week - Hit me Hard and sort - two series

First married to Bruce - one shot

As Yanderes´ Universe - one shot series?

Polyamory with Aged Up! Damian Wayne and John Kent - imagine

Sisters!Reader x Batboys - Headcanon? (according to the hashtags)

Greetings - drabble?

How Dick and Damian would handle learnig reader is dating somebody? - Drabble?

Addictive - Series

Do You Think We´ll Be In Love Forever? (includes more DC characters) - various drabbles

Perfect Life - one shot

Batboys and reader who knows - headcanon set?

Checkmate - one shot

Tim Drake x nursing student!Reader - one shot

Remedial Lesson (18+) - One shot

Dommy Mommy!Reader - headcanon

Reader hosted by Tim Drake - one shot

Yandere self-aware Dick Grayson - headcanon set

Moon Prism Power! - imagine

What types of yanderes would the Batboys be? - headcanon

Yandere!Batboys x Reader HC - Headcanon

Dick Grayson is your coworker - Drabble (?)

Muse: The Painting - one shot

[ohmy-gojo]

i gave a second chance to cupid!

or arranged marriage with nanami kento

– nanami was told that he has to get married by his parents

– since no one caught his eye he just let his parents choose for him

– nanamis secretly a hopeless romantic, so he cant help but be dissapointed in the setting. now all he hopes is that his partner is kind

– he was shown your picture and well, he found you really pretty but he also knows looks are not everything. if youre nice and understanding than he could live the rest of his life with you

– a date was set prior your marriage as to help you get to know each other

– nanami and you showed up at the spot. you were even prettier in person. and when you both started talking, it seemed like you were a little shy so it was mostly him leading the conversation

– he asked about your likes and dislikes, your dreams, your hobbies, what food you like and even your favorite color

– your mannerisms and the way you talked was very endearing to him

– you also asked about him and got to know about his dangerous life as a sorcerer, it worried you to know the man youre marrying has to constantly put his life in risk

– all in all the date went pretty well and he was happy that he got a partner like you and vice versa.

– you both went on multiple dates before the marriage. sometimes you chose the places (amusement parks and fairs) while sometimes he chose (museums and aquariums)

– during that time you both became comfortable with each other. nanami now genuinely enjoyed spending time with you rather than thinking of it as merely a duty. now he can say that hes a little excited to marry you and live with you

– after your marriage everything was the same except you saw each other everyday. you both wake up and make breakfast together, eat and leave for work together

– you also broke out of your shy phase, now you always fill nanami about your day. sending him texts on his lunch break about how hes doing and if he ate

– you make his house more lively bc of your creativity. theres a new cover you handmade for the table and stickers even on the fans

– slowly you both start to fall for each other. it was you who fell first tho and how could you not

– and when you realized you loved him well, you were never good with words so you became more affectionate with him

– shyly giving him pecks on the cheek (first time you did that nanami was frozen, you were afraid he was uncomfortable then you saw the tips of his ears reddening) from then on, you were unstoppable. kissing him when he leaves for wokr and when he comes back home. you also loved to run your hands through his hair.

– even though you fell first, nanami was the one who fell harder

– now he really cant imagine a day without your presence. hes slowly getting used to you and your mannerisms. you fussing over him when he's overworking, always making sure he ate, taking off his glasses and pecking his forehead when he fell asleep reading a book (he could feel you doing that) and your late night conversations

– you made his house a home. it took him some time to realize that he has fallen for you

– now you both cant keep your hands to yourselves lol. he always has to have a hand in your waist

– nanamis love is shown in the way he protects you. from glaring at people who randomly touch you in the crowed train to making sure you dont hit your head in the corner of table

– he also spoils you. remember on the first date you told him about your likes, hobbies and dreams? he remembers all that and gets you whatever you wished

– you guys still hadnt gone in your honeymoon so he and you visited malaysia after the shibuya incident. that was when nanami confessed his love for you. you replied that you love him too with tears in your eyes. it was really the perfect moment for both of you, away from all the sorcery and tensions of the world.

– nanami kento, the hopeless romantic is now getting the love he deserves in this arranged marriage with you

[piratesexmachine420]

> be me > dumbass > barely graduate high school > decide to enlist in the army 'cause I don't know what to do with my life > spend six weeks in training, then immediately deployed to Europa > shitshitshit.jpg > it's exactly as bad as you think it is > war is hell and hell has frozen over > get dumped into this trench complex in Arran Chaos defending a big ice harvesting operation > "p-something ice extraction and research"

> founded by some big tech guy on Earth apparently > most of us are stationed around their big office building instead of the ice fields > whatever at least it breaks up the horizon > nothing around but ice and rocks and our trenches and the other guys' trenches and bodies and stars > can't even see Jupiter > fuckingcomeon.ogg > they've got this big sign with their logo a hundred yards or so from the entrance > just a bunch of big metal letters > theyre like two feet high each > that's where they've got me and this dude kyle camping out > only thing between us and the...*other guys* are some sandbags and the aforementioned bigass metal letters > plus my MA-75 and my heatsuit and kyle and his heatsuit and his MA-75

> not that the heatsuits are worth much > coldasfuckhere.xlsx > can't even stay above 280 kelvin > i think that's something like fifty degrees fahrenheit > feels like thirty > whatever at least we just have to sit here and not get shot > direct quote from the lieutenant > nobody is willing to leave their trenches so it's mostly just sitting around waiting to get sniped > not much to really do but shoot the shit complain about the cold and eat the mres in our heatsuits > so we do > kyle is cool > i like kyle > we alternate twelve-hour shifts so we only chat when the other is supposed to be sleeping

> but sleeping is hard and talking is easy > kyle deployed the week before me > was stationed here alone until i showed up > begs the question why we're defending this fucking sign if they know its worth leaving unguarded half the time > why the hell aren't we out in the ice fields > why the hell are we fighting over ice in the first place > sign's probably more valuable by weight > kyle laughs > we talk about our home lives for a while > neither of us did much interesting > kyle's mom was really into astrology apparently > we start trying to name constellations > i'm no good at it > he tells me hes gonna finally try to get some shuteye > and leans into me > for warmth, probably

> the heatsuits don't conduct much but it feels good anyway > start to doze off myself > fuck this sign and fuck this building and fuck this moon i'll do whatever i want > set down my rifle and wrap my arms around kyle > for warmth, probably > fall asleep > dream of california and beach volleyball > wake up groggy > really groggy > something hurts > my head?

> something...a sound > theres a loud sound > it keeps going and going and... > fuck > its the heatsuit's oxygen alarm > struggle to sit upright > something heavy on me > its kyle > he's not moving > take stock of my surroundings > shrapnel everywhere > don't see oxygen tank > or our umbilicals > heatsuit's switched to a backup but it's leaking > there's this film of red ice everywhere > ... > kyle...

> i roll him over and there are so many holes > glance over the sandbags > see a glint from a distant trench > duck down and hear something hit the ice behind me > fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck > FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK > rage > grab my rifle and start spraying over the barrier > no response > probably didnt hit him but id like to think i did > oxygen is running out > goodbye hell world > close eyes for second time today > dream of nothing > wake up groggy again > in field hospital

> goddammit > whole thing was captured by a satellite > so they sent a patrol to go recover our equipment > im lucky to be alive they say > sure > end up spending a sol in the hospital > they ship me back to the sign after that > same rifle and even the same heatsuit > bastards didnt even clean it off its still got his blood on it > still not sure what the objective of this post even is > alone > freezing my ass off > too cold > cant sleep > too much blood > spend a couple sols half-awake sprawled face-down in the ice > not gonna hit me again

> eventually rotate back to the fob for a sol > sign is unguarded the whole time > what am i even doing here > skulk around the barracks for a while > overhear that a big inspection of the ice company's facilities is coming up in the next couple sols > gonna be a big push among the grunts to clear out the snipers so the bigwigs can check the place out > everybody is writing letters home for when they dont come back > i, of course, am being sent back alone to the fucking sign > lieutenant tells me that if my station isn't up to spec they're sending my ass to callanish to die painfully > direct quote

> fine > decide im sick and tired of being so goddamned cold out there though > talk to the fob quartermaster about taking a heat lamp into the field > he tells me its too dangerous with all the thermal optics the enemy is using > i tell him he can have my next ten sol's pay > he hands over the lamp > hell if im gonna last that long out here

> rotate back to the sign > heat lamp makes things more tolerable but its a big battery-powered thing so i cant keep it on all the time > spend another sol lying flat on the ice > pick out a star near orion and name it kyle > maybe ten minutes before the inspectors show up i just wig out > start yelling and throwing things > knock over part of the sign > the big letter 'I' > fuck it and fuck the ice it stands for and fuck me > calm down > inspectors are gonna be here any minute now

> fuck i dont wanna go to callanish > i dont wanna die > i dont wanna die > i dont wanna die > i dont wanna die > i dont wanna die > try to stand the sign back up > wont stay upright > shitshitshit > hide the letter under a tarp > look around for something to replace it > grab the heat lamp > MFW I'm Pixar

[azzibuckets]

all the little things

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: it’s the little things that paige and azzi miss about each other

a/n: i combined a bunch of different requests into one fic so it’s a little bit of a mess but like always, pls bear with me…also it’s been 1 year of me writing on tumblr which is crazy🙈 time flies so fast

word count: 2.8k

masterlist

Paige misses Azzi as soon as she disappears through the automatic glass doors. She cranes her neck, trying to follow Azzi’s increasingly small figure as she walks through the airport, but soon the crowds of busy travelers engulf her and Paige gives up.

She stares at her hands on the wheel, wondering how it’s even humanly possible to miss someone so bad that it feels like a part of her is gone too. Sighing to herself, she pulls out her phone, shooting a quick text asking Azzi to let her know when she boards and when she lands and when she gets home safely.

Azzi’s reply is immediate: you do know you have my location right

Paige bites back a smile, knowing she’d be tracking it regardless of whether or not Azzi texted. She shoots back a reply: god forbid a girl wants to make sure the love of her life is safe

Azzi: fuck, dallas already making you sassy as hell. should i be worried for the next time i see you

Paige: exactly this is why you should turn around and come back right now

Paige: i miss you already

Azzi sends her a selfie, lips puckered up into a kiss, brown eyes glimmering with amusement, and Paige almost drops her phone with how fast she fumbles to save it to her camera roll. She hearts the photo, sends back a quick selfie, and groans when the car behind her honks.

She checks her blind spot before pulling back into the left lane. Home seems like a weird name for her destination, an empty and unfamiliar apartment with only a bed frame and a couch and no one to share it with. Her heart twinges thinking about her teammates at Connecticut, her family spread across the states even further now, and the bittersweet feeling of starting over again in a new city.

Her phone lights up with one final notification, and she checks it briefly.

Azzi: drive safe honey. i love you

Azzi: and i miss you more. text me when you’re home

Paige smiles. The car ride isn’t too long, but she’s so lost in her thoughts she forgets to put the music back on. Azzi and her had always been in close proximity for the last four years, never really spending more than several weeks apart, and god, she’d fucking loved it, wouldn’t change it for the world, but now it’s even harder to be so many miles away when she’s used to seeing Azzi every day. Even the little things Azzi had done that she’d always used to roll her eyes and complained about, she misses now. Her heart clenches again.

•••••

Paige is dreaming about her next meal when she’s stirred into consciousness by a hand shaking her shoulder. Groaning, she rubs away the sleep from her eyes and dreamy remnants of In-N-Out burgers and Diet Cokes she swears she can taste. It’s been months since she’s been able to indulge in either, and she’s longing for the day season is over to be able to get her hands on both.

“Paige, honey, wake up.” Knuckles brush against her cheek, lingering in her warmth for a moment before trailing down to chuck her chin.

Paige is very much not a morning person, so she sinks deeper into the bed, pulling the sheets a little tighter around her head. Maybe if Azzi sees how deeply she’s sleeping, she’ll leave her alone.

“Paige. Get up.” Azzi’s losing patience, her tone becoming a little more demanding, and usually this is when Paige would roll over and let her girlfriend have her way, but she’d stayed up late the night before finishing up a discussion post and now she can feel the warm, lethargic fingers of sleep pulling her back into its heavenly state of nothingness. So, naturally, she makes the barely-conscious executive decision to cancel the early morning run Azzi had planned, and lets her eyes fall shut, succumbing to the weight of exhaustion.

Paige feels the bed creaking as Azzi slips off the edge, and she thanks God. She decides that when Azzi comes back, she’ll join her for the gym portion; after all, she’s a hooper, not a track star. Doesn’t make sense to waste her energy wearing down the pavement when she could save it for beating Azzi in 1v1s.

Yet Azzi is back in a matter of seconds, this time shaking Paige more insistently. “P, wake up.”

Not wanting to be the victim of Azzi’s wrath this early in the morning, Paige finally untangles herself from the mess of sheets, blinking as her eyes adjust to the piercingly bright yellow light now flooding the room. “Jesus, Az,” she mutters. “You didn’t have to turn every lamp on.” She runs a hand through her mess of hair, yawning tiredly. “What time is it?”

“3 AM.” Azzi at least has the decency to look a little bit guilty, her bottom lip tucking ruefully under her teeth.

“Azzi, what the hell.” Paige flops back into bed, attempting a dramatic attempt of feigning her return to sleep, but Azzi slaps her arm.

“I need to change my pad but I left all my extra ones downstairs.”

“Okay.” Paige grabs a pillow and starts suffocating her eyes with it, willing the light to go away. “Then go get it? Did you bleed through or someth—actually, don’t answer that. I’m way too tired to deal with changing the sheets, I’ll just sleep at the edge of the bed.”

“No, I didn’t bleed through. Chill.” Azzi says, voice strained. “But, like, you need to come with me.”

“What, you need someone to help you walk or sum? You’re not the one with the torn ACL,” Paige complains.

“Paige,” Azzi says exasperatedly, staring at her as if Paige could suddenly understand her logic behind waking her girlfriend up in the ass crack of night to go with her downstairs, but Paige just stares back, lost. “Paige,” she repeats, almost embarrassed as her eyes flick from the door to the blonde still sitting in bed. “It’s 3 AM. It’s dark and the house is making noises and there’s too many windows downstairs.”

“Windows?”

“Someone could be looking at me from outside and I wouldn’t even know it cause it’s so dark.”

“Azzi, you’re being ridiculous. No one’s standing outside.”

“That’s what all the victims who get murdered first in Criminal Minds say,” Azzi replies automaticaly. “God, you have zero survival instinct.”

“If I have zero survival instinct then why are you bringing me with you?” Paige grumbles, but she’s already standing up and slipping on a hoodie, already missing the body heat of her best friend and the warmth of her blanket.

Paige is too tired to argue when Azzi forces her to lead the way. Muttering under her breath, she pushes open the door and trudges across the hallway and down the stairs. She’s too lazy to take the extra steps to flip on the light switches, usually the type to stumble her way through the dark and inevitably bump into five different pieces of furniture, but Azzi demands requests her to use her phone flashlight to guide their steps, claiming that there could be someone hiding in the corner for all they know.

Once they reach the bathroom, Paige leans against the wall, finding relief in its sturdy support against her head. “Okay.” Azzi fingers the door handle nervously. “You’re gonna be here when I come out, right?”

“I won’t move at all,” the older girl promises, raising her hands in innocence.

“I’m serious, Paige. You can’t leave or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Azzi, I swear to fucking god-,”

“Alright, alright,” sensing that Paige is close to reaching her last straw, Azzi closes the bathroom door behind her. As soon as she hears the lock clock, Paige leaves. But she heads into the kitchen, rummaging around the medicine cabinet for the bottle of Midol she knows is hanging around in there. Spotting the familiar unicorn heating pad on the couch, she grabs that and pops it in the microwave for a couple of minutes.

Azzi’s still in the bathroom when the microwave beeps, so Paige flops down on the fooor and curls around the unicorn, basking in its heat. She’s almost fallen asleep on the ground, which is honestly a lot more comfortable than it looks, when Azzi finally emerges, wiping her wet hands on her t-shirt. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “I had to poop.”

Shaking her head, Paige pushes the heating pad into her hands along with a couple pills. Azzi looks up at her gratefully. “Thank you.” Paige offers a lazy smile in reply, pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead before rushing them back into the room and into the bed.

Azzi bustles around the room for a little bit as Paige gets settled back into the sheets, arm thrown across her eyes. “You good, mami?” she murmurs once all the lights are back off and Azzi’s slipping into bed next to her. She feels a hand on her waist and a chin on her shoulder, and a faint whisper of an “i love you” before she’s fully fading into unconsciousness.

When Azzi wakes up four hours later, she spends ten minutes debating whether to wake up Paige with her. Well, five minutes to be exact - the other five are devoted to staring at Paige as she snores, pink lips slightly parted as she’s curled in her fetal position. She really is beautiful, her blonde hair almost a golden from the hazy sunlight falling through her open blinds.

Azzi decides to let Paige rest. She’s getting out of bed to brush her teeth when a hand curls around her wrist. “I think that midnight disturbance warrants a morning of sleeping in,” Paige says, voice raspy with sleep.

“You can sleep in,” Azzi says. “I still wanna run.”

“Nah, you’re staying. Can’t sleep without you.” Paige folds herself over Azzi, face snuggling into the crook of her neck, hip to hip with their legs intertwined, letting out a sigh of contentment as she relaxes into the younger girl’s body as if they’re one. And really, who would Azzi be to say no to her girlfriend?

•••••

Paige shakes herself out of her memories. Her chest feels heavy, yet she feels a little silly for getting all emotional about something as trivial and embarrasing as missing her girlfriend’s fear of the dark. Honestly, she should be glad she’ll now be able to sleep through the night without interruptions.

But Paige misses it anyways.

•••••••

Azzi walks through the airport, music blaring in her Bose headphones. She walks past a baggage claim and sees a familiar face on the TV, green and yellow streaked across the image. She smiles and takes a photo to show her parents later.

It’s still a little crazy for her to see her girlfriend’s face plastered across billboards and posters across her new city, a city that welcomed Paige like she’d grown up there. All these people passing by see her, but Azzi relishes the fact that there’s a part of Paige no one else knows, a part reserved solely for her.

•••••••

Paige has been unnaturally quiet all night, and it’s not like Azzi has been stalking her girlfriend, per se, but there’s always been a little part of her acutely aware of what the blonde is up to. The entire team, including the coaches and managers, are at Azzi’s grandparents house for their yearly pre-season barbecue, but the two of them haven’t been able to talk much all night - Paige has been chatting with the coaches, while Azzi was busy helping prepare food before getting thrown into a conversation with Caroline and KK for the past half hour.

KK brightens up when CD excuses herself to take a call, calling Paige over. “Come here Boogers, I’m telling a funny story.”

Paige hesitates for a second before making her way over to join their circle, slumping down into the cushion between KK and Azzi with a tired sigh. “You alright?” Azzi murmurs softly, instinctively leaning into Paige’s space and reaching to brush the hair from her eyes. Paige wordlessly offers a small smile of reassurance before turning her attention to KK’s monologue.

Azzi had stopped listening ten minutes ago, so she’s thankful when KK backtracks so she can give Paige context. Caroline is already out of it, staring at the carpet as she fiddles with her watch. KK’s saying something about the prank she’d plotted with Ice and played on the freshmen the week before, and usually Paige would be eating this up, hollering alongside the sophomore, but tonight she remains restless, nodding along but clearly only picking up half of what’s being said.

Mid way through her story, KK pauses, seeming to catch onto her older teammates’ lack of enthusiasm. “Paige, you aren’t even listening!”

Paige’s eyes snap up towards KK. “My bad, KK,” she apologizes, tone genuine. “Just tired.”

“Man, you’re no fun,” KK grumbles, flicking Paige’s forehead. “What’s up with you?” Paige tiredly swats back at her hand, and KK laughs, pushing back at her shoulder to try and initiate one of their many wrestling sessions they’ve been keeping a running tally of (Paige 9, KK 4).

“Alright, leave her alone,” Azzi defends, sensing that Paige is clearly not in the mood to fool around. “Go play with the freshmen or something.”

“Y’all gentle parent me and shit like I’m a kid,” KK mutters, but takes off to probably go find Sarah.

Paige leans back into the couch, head tipping back. “What’s up?” Azzi says softly, cupping the back of her neck and running her thumb alongside her jawline. Paige’s eyes flutter shut at her touch as she slowly exhales.

“Don’t know,” Paige admits. “Not feeling it today. Too much going on.”

Azzi plants a soft kiss on her temple, lingering and sweet. “Wanna take a break in the guest room?”

“Please.” Paige sends her a grateful look.

After making sure her girlfriend is good in the guest room, Azzi returns to the living room, where the entire team is now piled in and playing Mario Kart. Before long, they get bored and switch over to Fortnite. “Yo, someone get P,” someone calls out, knowing Paige would give them shit for hopping on without her.

Ice pops up, but Azzi waves her off. “I’ll go check on her,” she replies. It’s been an hour, so knowing the older girl is likely asleep, she opens the door quietly and tip-toes inside.

Paige is sprawled out in the bed, unmoving as she clutches a pillow to her chest, but her eyes are open. “Thought you were asleep,” Azzi whispers as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “You been up this whole time?”

Paige flips over and looks at Azzi, grabbing her hand in her lap. The feel of Azzi’s hand, warm against hers, is comforting. “Yeah. Can’t sleep.”

“What’re you thinking about?”

Paige breaks eye contact to stare at the ceiling, mind clearly running. “I don’t know. I was talking to the media after practice earlier, and it - it was just a lot. There’s a ton of pressure and outside noise this season and I know I should be used to it by now but - I’m just tired of it all, you know?”

Azzi nods, quiet. Paige shifts over in bed, and Azzi takes the invitation to slip underneath the comforter and nestle in beside her. “I just can’t stop thinking about how much shit we need to do,” the blonde admits quietly, voice so soft Azzi has to strain to hear. “We lost to fucking Columbia last week. We were down by 14 in the second quarter and usually I can hype everyone up and keep maintaining that good attitude but this time, all I could think about was how much we still need to work on. Couldn’t even look at the other girls in the eyes. And I’ve been meeting up with some of the younger girls, tryna talk about what they need to work on and creating goals for the season and I don’t know, I’m just overwhelmed by all of it and I feel guilty.” Paige’s voice cracks on the last word, and she subconsciously clenches Azzi’s shirt as she buries her face into her chest. “I guess that’s why it’s hard for me to talk to them right now.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” Azzi says. “You’re doing a lot. It’s only natural to feel overwhelmed.” She runs her fingers through Paige’s scalp, gently messaging, and tension seems to escape her best friend’s shoulders. “But think about the good things. Ice and Jana are becoming more confident and aware in the paint, you can see it with every practice. Mo and Allie are having a hard time adjusting but god, look at Sarah. She could win a championship just by herself.” Paige laughs a little at that, and Azzi takes that opportunity to start peppering her face with kisses. “The team’s becoming more cohesive by the week and I’m like, half a day away from coming back. And you know when I’m on the court, you don’t got anything to worry about,” Azzi says, her voice teasing.

“You sound like you’re joking but you’re right, you know.” Paige’s hand falls to Azzi’s knee, her palm closing over the scar like a shield. “Fuck, I’m actually counting down the minutes til you get cleared.”

“Yo, you guys decent?” KK barely waits a second before pushing the door open. “Azzi, we gave you one job, now you’re here all snuggled up in bed with Boogers,” she complains, taking in the scene with a wary look on her face.

“Should’ve let me go,” Ice grumbles from beside her.

Azzi groans. “If y’all don’t leave us alone we’re gonna start making out in front of you right now.”

KK, who’d been roaming around the room curiously, immediately turns on her heel, grabbing Ice’s arm to drag her out with. “Y’all are some nasty mother fuckers,” she calls over her shoulder as they both run out.

“You’re such a liar.” Paige laughs. “You hate PDA.”

“I don’t hate PDA,” Azzi defends. “It’s not my fault your definition of PDA included shit like ass grabbing. I’ll never forget the poor look in that one kid’s eyes.”

“His eyes were wandering too much anyways,” Paige says. “What was he eyeing you up for? I hate men.”

“He looked 9, Paige.”

“Don’t care.”

•••••

Azzi stretches out her legs in front of her. She was able to get a window seat this time. She looks down at her phone again, still open to the photo Paige had sent with her own kissy face in return. Maybe she would be okay with PDA if it meant a few more minutes with Paige, she relents. She would never admit that out loud though.

[norrisradio]

MORNING LIGHT

LINE BY LINE ᝰ.ᐟ "for me, the sun rises and sets with her” - heat (1995)

ᝰ PAIRING: lando norris x reader | ᝰ WC: 1.4K ᝰ GENRE: fluff, lando is a man in looooove ᝰ INCOMING RADIO: love writing some cute little morning fics ꨄ︎ requested by anon!

send me an ask for my line by line event!

The sun isn’t what wakes him. It’s you—always you.

The press of your mouth against his shoulder, barely there, like the sunlight teasing its way through the blinds. You’re half-asleep, he knows. Just instinct, maybe. The way you breathe him in, the way your fingers search lazily beneath the duvet until they find the edge of his shirt and tug, just enough to remind him he belongs to you.

The room is golden with early light, the kind that slips through blinds in lazy slats, pooling over tangled sheets and sleepy limbs. You murmur something against his collarbone—nothing coherent, just a sound, soft and warm like honey. Your lips press there next, a featherlight kiss, like your dreams are still lingering on your tongue.

Lando hums low in his throat, chest rising under your cheek.

Lando doesn’t move at first. He just lies there, head turned toward you, heart betraying him with how easily it starts to pick up speed. There’s something reverent about mornings like this. Quiet. Sacred. The kind of quiet that tastes like you on his skin and smells like sleep still clinging to your pulse.

You hum—soft, drowsy, content—and your lips find the dip of his collarbone again, slower this time, like you know he’s fully awake now and want to see how far you can push him before he gives in.

He exhales sharply, low in his chest, and drags a hand over his face. “I have training,” he mutters, though it sounds more like a plea for mercy than a protest.

Your leg slides over his, warm and bare and absolutely criminal. “No, you have me.”

He cracks a grin despite himself. Dangerous, the way you say it. Soft as a secret. Sweet as sin.

He should get up. Really, he should.

But your fingertips are sketching lazy circles against his ribs now, and there’s a sigh caught in your throat that spills onto his skin like prayer. Like ritual. Like this—waking up with you—is how his day begins and how it should begin, every time.

And maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s dramatic, but Lando swears the whole damn world starts turning only when you open your eyes.

For me, the sun rises and sets with her.

He doesn’t even know where he first heard it—some poem, some movie, something Charles probably teased him for bookmarking in his notes app—but it lingers in his brain like a truth he’s always known. Etched between every kiss you press to his chest and every second he spends watching the light shift across your face.

“You’re staring,” you whisper, voice gravelled by sleep. You don’t open your eyes, but your lips twitch, amused.

“Can you blame me?” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over the line of your jaw. You nuzzle into it like a cat, smug and glowing, and he’s a goner, honestly. Has been for a while.

The room is warm with the soft weight of morning. You curl deeper into him, your breath fanning over the base of his throat, and Lando thinks about skipping training again. Thinks about how much faster the day will move once you leave this bed, how quickly the sun sets when you’re not by his side.

He tangles a hand in your hair, tilts his mouth to your temple. “Stay like this a little longer.”

You nod, already halfway asleep again, and he closes his eyes too, holding on to this suspended moment—where nothing else matters, where the world hasn’t started yet.

The quiet stretches longer. The sun climbs higher, spilling over the windowsill, lighting the room in hues of gold and amber. The sheets are tangled, your legs still wrapped around his, a quiet reminder that you exist in his space—and that, for a moment, it’s enough.

But the world doesn’t wait forever.

Lando shifts beneath you, groaning in protest as he pulls himself upright. His hair is a mess, curls sticking up in every direction, and his eyes are still half-closed, stubbornly clinging to sleep even as his hands rub at his face. He glances at you, and for a second, it’s as if he’s deciding if he can get away with one more hour of nothingness.

“Training,” he mutters, this time with a little more resolve, but even as the words leave his mouth, his hand reaches for you, pulling you closer, just a little. “I don’t want to go,” he admits, a smile curling the edges of his lips, soft and teasing.

You roll your eyes, but the smile that tugs at your mouth betrays you. “You have to, baby. You’re the one who signed up for this.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t sign up for mornings without you.” His voice dips, a playful whine that makes your heart flutter. He’s barely even trying to hide the affection in it, and you’re completely powerless to resist.

You yawn, stretching out beside him. The blanket drapes over your shoulders, and Lando watches as you tug it tighter around yourself, still in his oversized hoodie, sleeves falling over your hands like a child playing dress-up. It’s absurdly endearing, and even more so when you look at him from beneath your lashes, the corners of your mouth tugged into a lazy, content smile.

He groans, dramatically rolling out of bed. “If I stay here any longer, I’ll just fall asleep on the floor. You know I can’t handle a day without you in it.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” you tease, your voice thick with sleep, but there’s warmth in it too, something that matches the quiet brightness of the morning.

He stands for a moment, watching you with a smirk, and you lift an eyebrow, daring him to make the move. Lando’s about to head to the kitchen to start breakfast—probably something simple, something rushed, like scrambled eggs or burnt toast—but he pauses. His gaze flickers back to the bed, then to you again.

“You know,” he starts, taking a few slow steps toward you, “there’s no law that says I can’t spend the whole day with you. Like, nothing says I can’t cancel training and just stay here, right?” He drops back down next to you, the bed creaking with his weight.

You laugh, snuggling deeper into the warmth of his chest. “You’re terrible.”

“And you love it,” he grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Mm, I might love it more if you actually knew how to make toast,” you say, your voice teasing, a reminder of how normal, how human this all feels.

Lando groans, squinting towards the kitchen. “I can absolutely make toast. It’s just—” He stops. You hear the faint crackle of the bread burning in the toaster. “...Okay, maybe I can’t.”

You laugh outright at the sound of him frantically trying to salvage breakfast, and your heart softens. He’s a mess, but he’s your mess.

“I’ll make something when you’re gone,” you call out, already pulling yourself upright, his hoodie falling off your shoulders.

“Don’t you dare make me miss you more,” he warns, voice still carrying that affectionate, lazy edge. But the sight of you, sleepy and wrapped in his clothes, looking a little like a dream, makes the thought of leaving you even harder.

You push yourself to your feet, and he grabs your wrist with a quick tug, pulling you back toward him. “No goodbye kiss?”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “You can’t even make toast without burning it, Lando, so how about you work on that first?”

With a playful growl, he pulls you down again, his lips catching yours in a kiss—slow, lingering, full of that quiet affection that’s impossible to put into words. It tastes like the morning, warm and easy and utterly, completely his.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be good,” he mutters against your lips, finally pulling back and looking at you with that smile. “But I really don’t want to go.”

“Go,” you whisper, running a finger down his jaw, the smile on your face softening, “and then come back to me. It’s just another day, right?”

And Lando, with one last kiss on your forehead, finally rises from the bed—dragging his feet like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done—but not without casting one last glance at you.

"Another day," he agrees softly, watching you disappear into the kitchen to grab your coffee. And for him, the rest of the world is just noise.

The day only truly begins when the sun rises with you.

[sheeezu]

How to shift

(From my point of view, it is a well articulated one I hope it at least gives someone the confidence that you can change realities regardless of mindset or whatnot)

I am of firm belief that you can shift any way you want, you can get ancient scripture from divinity and rehearse them before sleeping to shift, or rawdog it. There is a lot of shifting material on my blog, the community has evolved mainly to promote the idea that shifting is attainable by living in the movement. First of all, yes. This post is a little different because although it follows the structure of how a method would, but, according, to, ⚠️my personal opinion ⚠️ this is how someone shifts.

Background.

This is all depended on letting go (temporarily forgetting) of the previous reality, and completely blending in with your intended reality. The switch, is made to seem natural, and not forced. Why I believe in this? Well. I shifted with doing something similar. (FOREVER GRATEFUL I BOW DOWN)

I still actively support you can shift by plain affirming, regular methods, and while still being aware of the previous reality. But you can use this if you've tired yourself out by other practices and need a definite guide. Rest assured, this is me milking out all my shifting experience and knowledge.

As. @trasecase asked, (I did see your ask, this strangely corresponded to this post I was about to make) yes yes yes, moving doesn't matter while shifting. You can be dancing or swimming in your physical environment, the only hiccup that you can possibly perceive is your mind getting distracted mid change of reality, when you're thinking like your dr self and your thoughts divert to your cr. That's why someone can say to minimise the distractions in your environment, but physical distractions are nothing in comparison to the effect of your own mental space on your reality. (....before someone attacks me, I am talking entirely in the pov of this post, I don't believe in blockages, ty, back to the text)

How to shift

Your environment is unfortunately still at play. But you can shift, sitting up, lying down. (You know this already I won't get into this) just makes sure you have space to think.

Observe. When you lay down, your mind starts to recall either events of today, or what's going on in your conscious/subconscious. Your first realization would be that "I should attempt to shift" you can take a few minutes to set things straight in your mind. When the intention registers, you can start affirming. And don't get pissed off at your mind, or demotivated when the affirmations don't or barely give you symptoms. Your goal is to determine which direction points to your dr. This will release the pressure or responsibility you have with shifting. The more time you spend in this state is better, because your wakefulness will start to dawn; you'll get sleepy. With sleep, you slip out of your mold and the lightness you feel is due to you merging with your true self.... and obviously, shifting is instant in this state. (What? :) it is)

Void. that- that body of yours is stuck like glue and the weird song you've heard from the commercial you've heard is still going on. You can force your thoughts to go blank. For a minute, you can still let the intrusive thoughts pass by, just don't give them importance. This way, this bridge in your river of thoughts is paused for you to jump your attention upon your dr.

dream. When I research shifting, I always look at how dreams work. Why we dream. The surreal nature of them. ...something from my drafts:

"That's why dreams are so comforting. There is no second guess. There's no regret. Everything is a blurry, silly mess of your consciousness. It's an artistic masterpiece. It's a realm centered around you. It is an exploration of the world inside of you. It's free from laws or morals. It doesn't take place in the 3d. While they hold deep meaning, they're always unserious as they play out. That's how your reality is supposed to be. That's how you're supposed to shift or manifest. Dreams are your first introduction to creation.

They pass on a note to you, that you can shape the next moment. You just need to become lucid. Whether in a dream, or right now, when you lay down to shift, you need to be awake to witness and use your own power."

There's this discussion, how you should visualize or imagine during shifting. the superior advice is to barely do so, or that you don't need realism at all. Others say, you should imagine it clean and sharp; I say it should be the quality and alike a dream. Logically and theoretically they are the rehearsal of your consciousness, a blurry and nonsensical mess through which your brain rewinds the reality you're in. It's a remembrance. It's a push. To wake up back in your usual reality. When the picture of your dr that goes by is projected as a normal day to day occurance. While not rejecting the need to imagine your dr, that's your first step to normalising being in your dr! Tldr. Imagine, romanticise, think about your dr.

??? Be there. There's this type of stubborness only someone aware of their own potential and power can possess. It doesn't include the constant asking or checking of "am I there?" It's telling yourself. (If you check your environment due to intrusive thoughts just give yourself the "yes" it's a lonely little world in your mind 😔 until you wake up to your s/o's snoozing face--> back to the text) this is where the "senses shift last" comes in. You should properly trust this beforehand. I believe you'll be in a haze. If you're not, you should stop being hyper aware of everything; symptoms, mainly. There's a way to utilise symptoms as well, you can assume theyre your vibrations raising higher and higher (...if youd like). The hazy mindset means, you'll be relaxed and it wouldn't appear to you that you're trying to shift. Take this thought completely out of your mind, that you're shifting.

Blend in to your dr. Like grass grows out the soil; let your soul blossom naturally. You spend so much time reading posts on tumblr, they all tell you you're in control, you consider and accept their words. But why do you panic while and before shifting? You choose to shift. Either directly or indirectly. Anyways, philosophy aside. You should think like your dr self; or you there. Plan your day. Hear the voices in your dr. Develop the impulses, the reflex actions that usually enable you to sit up on your bed, like in this reality, you have certain actions you replicate each morning. Replicate those for your dr. Train yourself to perform five senses in a trance state. Have long rants about a certain events in your dr self's voice, without calculating or weighing them. You script for so long. You plan your dr self for so long. You can be naturally like your dr self as well. Start your cross over and don't stop. Don't dissolve in the artifical sweetener. And don't force yourself.

Epilogue. You tell me yourself. What's left behind? What's there to return to now. When you've embraced all your dr is, when you yourself bestowed your soul back to your dr, you're there.

This is not at all what I expected it'll turn out to be, disclaimer, the actual method is linked somewhere in the post, you can go see how to practically implement all this... rant ? This might be rushed, because it is. There's another fish to add in my bucket of posts. I felt the need to make a post. Anyways, if any questions then ask away. (Put them in my inbox)

This is probably not the detailed guide I promised in the poll.

[moonreader1010]

How your FS will act after your first night together 💋

-by Valerie 🧿

Please pick one of the following piles:-

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3. ^

Note:- 1. Pick the pile that calls you.

2. This is an 18+ reading. Mdni

3. The pictures used don't belong to me. All rights go to the original owners.

4. Have fun 💋

Pile 1

The Eternal Dream

The morning after your first night together feels like stepping into a romantic dream they never want to end. They wake up before you, lying still, watching the rise and fall of your breath. Their heart swells as they take in the sight of you—hair tousled, your skin glowing in the golden morning light. It’s not just lust or infatuation; it’s something deeper. They reach out to softly brush a strand of hair from your face, their fingers lingering just a moment longer as if savoring your presence.

When you wake up, they greet you with a gentle, almost shy smile, their eyes holding a new softness you hadn’t seen before. “Good morning,” they murmur, their voice lower than usual, and it sends a warm shiver through you. They can’t help but pull you closer, their lips grazing your forehead. They whisper something vulnerable, like, “You’re more beautiful than I even imagined.” The intimacy feels different now—deeper, more magnetic.

As the morning progresses, they’re utterly attentive. They insist on making breakfast, but only after stealing kisses along the way. There’s a playfulness in their actions, but beneath it, a raw sincerity. Over coffee, they speak of the future in subtle ways, mentioning how they’d love to wake up like this every day or teasingly asking, “How would you feel about dogs running around the house?” Their mind races with images of shared moments—lazy mornings, cozy nights, and everything in between.

But when you least expect it, their passion flares. They lean in mid-conversation, pinning you with their gaze, and kiss you again, this time slower, deeper. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” they confess, their voice thick with emotion. They aren’t just falling—they’ve fallen, and they’ll spend the rest of the day showing you just how much.

Pile 2.

The Passionate Realist

They wake up with a fire in their chest, the events of the night before replaying vividly in their mind. For a moment, they lie still, their hand resting on your waist, feeling the warmth of your body against theirs. It’s a grounding moment, as if they’re telling themselves, This is real. This is mine. When you stir, their lips curve into a slow, devilish smile. “Good morning,” they say, their voice husky with lingering desire.

They’re not shy about their admiration. Their gaze is bold, their touch purposeful as they trail their fingers along your skin. “You’re stunning,” they murmur, their words dripping with sincerity. They kiss you again, their lips hungry yet tender, as if trying to communicate what words can’t. There’s an intensity in the air—an undeniable chemistry that leaves you both breathless.

As you pull yourself out of bed, they watch you with a smirk, leaning back on the pillows like they’re the luckiest person in the world. “Don’t get too far,” they tease, their tone light but their eyes holding a spark of mischief. Their energy is contagious.

But as the day unfolds, their deeper side emerges. They’ll sit with you, their voice steady as they speak of their dreams, their fears, and their hopes for the future. They’ll share things they haven’t told anyone before, their walls crumbling because of the trust you’ve built together. By the end of the day, they’re more certain than ever: you’re not just someone they desire. You’re someone they’re willing to build their life around.

Pile 3.

The Protective Lover

They wake up as if guarding a sacred treasure, their arms wrapped protectively around you. Their first thought is simple: I need to keep them safe. I need to make them happy. The sight of you beside them is almost too much to take in—your bare skin glowing softly in the pale light, your warmth still lingering in their embrace. They kiss the top of your head gently, as if not to wake you, their lips brushing against your hair in a gesture of quiet reverence.

When you stir, their eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. “Hey, gorgeous,” they whisper, their voice thick with emotion. They trace patterns along your shoulder, their touch slow and deliberate. They’re not just admiring you—they’re memorizing you, engraving every detail of this moment into their mind. You notice something different in their gaze, a blend of adoration and something deeper, like unspoken promises and unshakable devotion.

As the morning unfolds, they show their affection in practical yet endearing ways. They make sure you’re comfortable, fetching whatever you need before you even realize you want it. They’ll bring up little memories, like the first time they noticed your laugh or the exact moment they fell for you, weaving a thread of nostalgia into the morning. But beneath their gentle exterior lies a hint of insecurity, a fear they keep hidden. They might hesitate before speaking, their voice soft as they say, “You know you mean everything to me, right?”

Later, they’ll tease you playfully, their eyes sparkling as they suggest spending the day together doing something spontaneous, just the two of you. But as they hold you close, their touch lingers longer than usual, and you feel their need to protect this connection. They won’t say it outright, but you’ve broken down their walls, and they’re utterly, irrevocably yours.

---------

DM for paid readings 💋💋

[niccolites]

sentinel species - i. canary

victorian, zombie apocalypse au, kyle garrick x fem!reader. read on ao3 here or masterlist here

You have a half-rotted candle, but you leave it in your bedroom so that you are unseen as you creep across the landing towards the stairs.

It is a week before the world ends; you sit on your parent’s stairs and listen to them reject your betrothal. 

This is your third courting season, which has had more success than the first two so far. A few gentlemen have shown interest in you, and your mother has had her hands full managing expectations and courtships on your behalf.

One man shines far above the rest, a distant relative of the Duke, Mr Evans. Distant enough that you don’t think anyone else is aware of the relation, but your mother reminds you every tea time, as if to keep you aware of the benefits that lie down the road of this specific courtship.

This is not the man being discussed in the drawing room of your home, for once.

You recognise the voice in your living room, as he asks to formally court you, as he has every intention to be your husband.

Mr Kyle Garrick is the very picture of a gentleman. Kind and attentive, you remember when he had taken notice of you on your first courting season. Your mother had tried to catch the attention of some of the men, to get them to sign their name on your dance card, but there had been no biters. Left alone for a moment, the picture of pathetic, and Mr Garrick had been there. He led you in a waltz and complimented your dress, your hair, how sweetly you spoke. You had nervously pulled most of your hair out of its updo, but it felt rude to contradict his compliments.

He had been enlisted, you remember, and you hadn’t seen him since that first courting season. You did see his older sister sometimes. You remember asking about him a few times, feeling some kind of obligation towards the man who had been kind to you when he didn’t have to be.

And here he is, back in your living room, speaking with your parents about your nuptials.

You listen to him, outlining his intentions for you. He has saved up his money from his service, and he is prepared to buy a home for the two of you, and start a life together.

You cannot comprehend it, certain that he must have mistaken you for someone else. He must think that there is another girl up here. The hush of his voice, drifting up to meet you. You want to catch it in your palm, cradle it there like a newborn lamb.

He had been kind to you, but you didn’t know each other. Hadn’t seen each other in years at this point, not that you would know with how certain his voice sounds. Vowing to be a dutiful husband to you. Your name spilling out, thudding up the stairs to reach your ears. Any doubt has fled, but has left behind the certainty of insecurity in its wake.

You didn’t know when he had gotten back, some moonsick dream that he came straight here from the train. You shake it off, the thought just a little bit too fanciful.

You know that your mother is going to decline, moments before she starts to. You hear her excuse this given your attachment to the Duke’s cousin - your attachment being that he is taking you for a walk tomorrow - but you know this isn’t the real reason. Mr Garrick may be a decorated officer, a kind enough man. But he barely has any standing in society. His father was a boxer, and you know that his entire family fit into a small house despite the fact that they are not a small family.

Your mother has high sights set for you, and you do not think she has any intention of lowering them. Even if that requires not consulting you in the matter of your future and who you will be spending it with. Your father had passed a few years ago now, and you knew that your mother needed to match you with someone that could sustain the two of you. Your home wasn’t your own, legally owned by some cousin of your father’s, who hadn’t taken an interest, yet.

You shift on the stairs, bare feet on wood, as you listen to the beginning of a protest from Mr Garrick before he swallows it down and thanks your mother for her time.

It’s dark upstairs, you have only found your way to the steps with familiarity. You can see the door of the drawing room open further as Mr Garrick picks up his hat and makes to leave. At the front door, he turns his head, and you swear he can see you. He can’t, you know he can’t, it’s pitch black up here. Your candle is abandoned on your dresser, the white of your nightgown is drowned in the darkness of the landing.

He hesitates for a moment, gaze darting all around you as if to find you before he exhales and turns to leave.

A week later, you can see Mr Garrick on the opposite wall to you, and you think about the defeated slump of his shoulders that night. You think you may be flattering yourself, but you think it’s still there, hidden under the shoulder of his coat. It’s likely improper for him to initiate conversation with you, beyond the level of politeness if you were to bump into each other.

Your fingers twitch underneath your gloves, feel the stitching of the seam scratch against your skin. Mr Evans is somewhere around here, and you know that you will have to put a face on, spin around for a few dances with him. Ask him about his travels around Europe, even though you surely have heard all of the stories already.

For now, you are happy to lean against the far wall and flutter your fan as if to sweep everyone else away. Your mother is speaking with a few of the other mothers, so you only have a few moments to slouch before you are caught and reprimanded.

The band starts playing, and there is a spin of skirts as the first dance starts up. You’ll likely get in trouble for dodging Mr Evans, given he had you booked for the first dance. However, you could always plead that you had attempted to find him, and the two of you had always just missed each other.

You suppose there is nothing terrible about Mr Evans, he is a perfectly polite, even kind man. He is just not interesting, and your mother had to ask most of the questions once when he had come over for tea. Something that had gotten you into trouble later that night.

You can see the mop of blonde hair that could be Mr Evans and you stand up straight, starting an idle, if quick, stroll around the opposite side of the room. There’s a door to the patio off to the side, and you duck through the door and inhale a lungful of fresh air.

It’s quiet out here, the music following you out but it’s caught in the open space, drifting up into the sky, insignificant. It’s the late evening, and the sky burns red, the sun catching on the edge of the landscape, flaming the distant fields.

This is the Oakwood estate, and they usually host the best parties of the season. A large mansion, white and pristine, surrounded by flattened grass. Perfect for playing cricket on, if one wishes. And they often did.

You smooth your hand over the wood of the railing, white paint giving the effect of marble. On the underside, you chip away at it to expose the brown wood. Out of sight, a pathetic rebellion but you take what you can get.

You know that in a few minutes you will have to return to the dance, find Mr Evans and do your usual verbal dance. Apologise for missing him, let him take him for a dance. Perhaps ask him his day was, if he lets you get a word in. You know that this is your lot in life, the idea of truly rebelling and shaming your parents is enough to curtail you, just before you can get too many ideas.

Not that it doesn’t leave you bitter, but you’ve gotten used to chewing on your words. There is a sickly feeling at the back of your throat, and it has just gotten more poisonous over the years. You’re too young to be so bitter, so you resolve to give yourself another minute of fresh air before you return to reality.

At the forest line, you can see a man in a suit shifting, and you squint, trying to make out the shape of him. A dot, with arms and legs, sprinting from what must be a mile away. You stare, unsure of what you are seeing. Inappropriate, you think, to approach this party on foot rather than via carriage, but you couldn’t see who it was to surely throw any judgement.

A call of your name behind you has you spinning around. Mr Garrick stands in the doorway, slowly shutting the door behind him as he takes you in. “Hello,” he greets, bowing his head to you slightly.

“Mr Garrick,” you start, giving an aborted attempt at a curtsy. You falter, unsure as to whether to bring up the proposal that you saw the previous night. You decide not to, settling on something more polite. “How are you?”

Mr Garrick smiles at you, impossibly handsome. You are struck for a moment, about someone so beautiful, wondering for a moment if you have imagined the entire scene from the prior night had even happened at all. “I am well, thank you,” he replies, clasping his hands behind his back. He’s broad in the shoulders, a faint strain in the fabric of his coat that draws your eye for a moment. “Just wondering why you were out here instead of inside.”

You shuffle, unladylike, for a moment. You turn back to the railing, facing the open field again. Easier, you think, to speak directly to the sun if faced a little away from it. “I just needed a moment, it’s a little close in there.” You hadn’t spoken much, before he left, but at the burr of his voice, you slip into memory. Pulled forward before you stop yourself, remembering how easily he pulls conversation from you, a loose string that unravels.

He hums, steps to the railing himself. There is a gap of space between you, the amount that is appropriate, but you still glance behind you uneasily. He had left the door open behind him, the door slanted at an angle so the sounds inside are slightly muffled, but still present. It cuts through the space between you, the constant reminder of the rules of your lives behind you. “I understand the feeling, myself,” Mr Garrick confesses, forearms braced on the railing. His head is tilted towards you, eyes dark and pretty.

“Yes?” you ask, blinking at him in surprise. You hadn’t seen Mr Garrick at many dances like this, granted given he had been so recently away, but for a man whose back was so unbent, you didn’t imagine he was someone to be intimidated in a crowd.

Mr Garrick hums again, giving you a small smile. It’s affectionate, in a way that has you flushing. “Indeed. It’s strange, in France, my garrison had 3-score more men than there are in that ballroom, and yet it felt easier to move through.” He gives you a self-deprecating smile. “I must sound very silly.”

“Not at all,” you rush to say, rocking forward before reeling yourself back in. He watches you for a moment, an amused uptick on the corner of his mouth. Your fingers flex beneath the cotton of your gloves. Count the stitches that rub against your skin. “It’s nice to find companionship in an isolating feeling,” you add, shy at how forward your words sound.

He doesn’t move for a moment, eyes darting around your face. Your name comes out of his mouth, soft, like it’s still sitting on his tongue. You turn towards the field again, see the figure of that man in the distance. He’s closer now, more than a dot now, the faint image of a person.

“I should find my mother,” you say, wanting to hunch in yourself, but forcing yourself to turn back to the doors. Light filters out, caught in the dark of outside and disappearing, swallowed up.

Mr Garrick takes a step closer to you and you inhale, feel the catch of it on your ribcage. You forget how much taller he is than you, until he is this close. The light from inside catches on one side of his face, relieving it into clarity. There is the faintest scar in his eyebrow, a slight blemish in his otherwise perfect face. His hand, bare, slides across the railing, thumb where you think you have picked at the paint.

“Mr Garrick,” you start, eyes caught on his hand, before darting back to his face. 

“I believe I asked you to call me Kyle, once,” he says, giving you an amused smile.

You don’t frown but it’s a close thing. “I don’t think that would be - appropriate,” you manage. The same response you had given him back then as well, you think.

He frowns instead, and you feel guilt curdle like lukewarm tea in your belly. You shuffle, taking note of how he leans back. You want him back in your space, want the heat of his attention.

“I’m sorry,” you add, desperate for him to not look sad again. You think about his face, searching in the dark of your stairway. It’s impossible to reconcile that he had proposed to spend his life with you. And you cannot even extend the kindness of his name towards him. “Kyle,” you add, before you can stop yourself.

His head turns back to your, full lips tilting in a soft smile. Your name exhales again, catches in the air around you and warms you. His hand flexes and he reaches up, a flicker of uncertainty on his face that lingers for a moment before it dissipates. His hand drops. You imagine how it would have felt against your skin. You’re certain that he boxes just like his father, you wonder if his hand would be calloused against your skin, or if it would be soft and deliberate.

Another voice calls out your name, and it ruptures through the slight breeze around you. Once again, you are reminded of the propriety of your situation, and you take a step back, even though you hadn’t been doing anything wrong. You recognise the voice, the uptilt at the end. Mr Evans, and you didn’t want to find out if he reported to your mother that he couldn’t find you.

“I should go,” you murmur, shuffling uncertainly for a moment before you turn around. Mr Garrick doesn’t try to stop you, which makes you feel rotten.

You turn your head just before you step back inside. A painting in candlelight that throws Mr Garrick’s face into real life, like he has stepped out of a painting. The furrow of his brow and the slightest downturn of his full mouth. The stranger out in the field, closer now, the swing of his arm as he runs. You bow your head and turn around.

-

Mr Evans is the dullest man that you have ever met. You try not to think too uncharitably about him, but as he spins you around again and reminisces about another business man who owes him some money, you wonder if it would be better if you were to fall and hit your head. Or maybe if he did. Nothing too serious, but enough blood to scare off any further attempt at conversation.

He isn’t terrible to look at, a strong jawline, his smooth blonde hair. Charming enough that your mother coos at everything he says. It didn’t have the same effect on you, unfortunately.

“Your mother is a very handsome lady,” Mr Evans informs you, something that has you blinking to focus. Your palm pressed against his as you step away and then step back into him. “She has graciously invited me over for afternoon tea with yourselves tomorrow.”

You give him a stiff smile. You had been there when it had been arranged. “Yes, our cook makes the best pastries, and my mother does enjoy letting people experience them.”

“I look forward to it,” Mr Evans tells you. You smile again and let him turn you.

The smooth slide of the violin soothes through the hall, catching on the floor and bouncing back up. You let it wash over you, until individual voices quieten, smoothing together into a mistakable blur that you cannot distinguish.

It is hot in here, a heat that catches in your throat, crawls like a bug over your skin. You imagine walking back out to the veranda, wondering if Mr Garrick is still out there. It’s cool out there, you are parched for the bite of wind in your lungs.

You decide to give yourself one more dance, and then you will go out there again. A reward, for doing your duty.

The bow of the violin screeches, a horrid twang that has you flinching, the entire room stuttering. There is a crash outside, something wooden snapping.

You turn, stumbling in your slippers as everyone looks towards the balcony. You cannot see at first, trying to peek over everyone’s shoulders. Pushing yourself onto your toes, very unladylike, before there is another smash and then someone is shrieking.

What once was a still crowd that you were a part of seems to turn on you, a tidal wave that breathes in before it suffocates you. Everyone scrambles, and you get shoved back, momentarily affronted before the screaming gets worse, more and more voices joining the chorus.

Your foot gets trampled on and you whimper, shoved back until your back hits a wall. Pulled along for a few moments, before the crowd starts to thin and you can see the moment of clarity by the large windows. 

There is a man on the floor, Mr Casings, you think. It is like your mind cannot make sense of the scene before you. There is another man, knelt over Mr Casings, and there is the red of his guts over the floor, red caught in the broken doorway. Thick and malleable looking, you watch as a stranger rifles through the torso of another man and guides his hands to his mouth.

There is a catch in your mind, the click of a door stuck in a jam. The moment before you saw this and now, your mind is syrupy slow, half still trying to remember your next dance move. You cannot make sense of what you are seeing, so you feel stuck in the run up to it, half parsing through recent memory to try and decipher it.

There is the rumble of a keening noise and it takes a tickle in your throat for you to realise that it is coming from you. You lift a hand to your mouth, try to suffocate it.

The creature kneeling over Mr Casings must hear you, its head yanks up in your direction. You think it may have once been a man, but anything human must be gone from it, leaving behind pallid skin, gore in its mouth as it makes a groaning, snapping noise at you.

Quicker than you think it should, it darts up and starts to charge at you, leaving you crying out as you start to sob, scrambling as you try to get away.

You think about lying on the ground like Mr Casings, the useless silk of your dress ripped open until the warmth kept within you went cold in the open air.

You hear the snap of teeth and you scream, an animal sound tearing out of your throat before there is a grunt and another thud.

You’ve hit the wall again, and you can’t stop yourself from looking. Whatever was charging at you is pinned to the ground, and you sob as you watch Mr Garrick grab the creature by its head and smash it into the floor.

You flinch with each thud, unable to look away. Watch as it continues to buck and twitch until it finally stills, blood on the floor where its head used to be. Where before you had felt slow, five steps behind what was happening before you, now you feel stuck, finally caught up. Door no longer caught on a jam, now thrown open, hinges loose and rattling.

You can’t look away from the image of Mr Garrick, sitting on the back of this man-shaped creature that now had a blood splatter for a brain.

Your name comes out hushed, barely able to comprehend that Mr Garrick is crouched in front of you. “Can you hear me?” he asks, and you blink at him, uncomprehending. “We have to go, alrigh’?”

You don’t move, eyes still stuck over his shoulders, the gush of blood. You can see it seeping in through the gaps of the floorboards. Mr Garrick’s head lowers before he murmurs that he’s got you, and then you feel yourself getting lifted up.

Slung over his shoulder, you have enough presence of mind to cling to his back before he takes off. Sound filters through the front of the hall, screaming and yelling. Mr Garrick darts off to the left, towards the balcony with Mr Casings.

Mr Garrick neatly steps over the carnage, shoes grinding in the broken glass. You whimper as you catch sight of his empty eyes staring upwards. Mr Garrick shushes you, smooths a hand over the back of your thigh even as he doesn’t falter.

Outside now, the cool air hits your face. The sun is still setting, the sky red and you squeeze your eyes shut at the colour. The death that you’ve seen in the hall is closed off, and if you don’t breathe in too deeply, then you won’t taste the bitter tang of blood, and maybe it’s all gone.

Mr Garrick curses sharply and you get pulled forward until you're on your feet, and tugged into his chest. He yanks you into the wall and steps in front of you, shushing you again before you can make a sound. Not that you were going to, shaking and clinging to the lapels of his jacket. You peek over the broad of his shoulder, and see why you have both stopped.

Gravel is getting kicked up from under the feet of guests as they run out from the estate. Others are running towards them, across the field and you choke on your breath when they collide. It must be more of those creatures, some type of sickness. You didn’t understand, they had the silhouette of men, but you hear the yowling when they brought a woman down and tore into her.

“Christ,” Mr Garrick mutters, cradling you in his front. “Shit, we need to get a horse.”

The stables were around the front, even though you are several feet away, you imagine you could smell the blood being spilled from here. You whimper again, shaking. “My mother,” you manage, unable to find the words for what you really want to say. My mother must be with that group of people, and we can hear them all dying. There aren't words designed to sit in the mouth like that.

Mr Garrick considers you, mouth pressed in a tight line. “Alright, wait here, do not come out unless I come back, ok?” You nod, but when he steps away, you find your hands still fisted in the lapels of his coat, like you cannot let go. He steps back, smooths his hand over your wrist, just beneath your glove. You jolt at the feeling of his bare skin, some old propriety from a lifetime ago are enough to startle you into relinquishing your grip. “I’ll be right back, keep hidden,” he tells you, pushing you further into the slight alcove.

And then he’s gone. You stare out across the grass. They play cricket out here in the summer. You remember, suddenly, the man running out in the field, wondering if that was the man that killed Mr Casings. His blood stains the edge of your dress, guilty. You want to cry, feel like a sick animal out in this open air.

Your father had a hunting dog once, and you remember how it had looked when he put it down. Mad, he’d called it, saliva foaming in its jowls. Wild eyes that had looked around, uncomprehending and yet piercing. You inhale, shaking, wonder if you look the same.

You refuse to make a sound though, lean against the brick behind you. Shake as you listen to screaming and growling that travel through the open field to reach you. You fist your hands in the skirts of your dress, try to breathe steadily. You don’t know what you will do if Mr Garrick doesn’t come back. You hope he comes back with a carriage, your mother inside to pull you inside. What you wouldn’t give to be scolded for crying and ruining the delicate rouge that she had spent precious time delicately smoothing on your cheeks.

Time is elongated and unbearable until it returns to you with a crack at the sound of a horse. You peek out, and you make out Mr Garrick astride what must be a horse detached from a carriage. No saddle, but reins around its face.

It’s only Mr Garrick who thuds down in front of you, who gathers you up and ushers you towards the horse. “My mother, where is -” you start, pliant beneath the ushering of Mr Garricks hands.

“I couldn’t see her, there’s a chance she got away, like we have to, right now,” he tells you, his voice strained as he steadies the horse, looking over your shoulder.

“I don’t -” you say, but Mr Garrick has had enough talking, and lifts you onto the horse, side straddle, before smoothly pulling himself up behind you.

He kicks the horse into motion, and you set off, quick enough that you still don’t understand.

You feel half your mind is still back on the balcony, trying to decide if you were going to go back inside. You look over Mr Garrick’s shoulder, and imagine you can see her, staring out at you. Seeing you but not understanding.

The band between the two of you pulls until it snaps. You jolt, a wounded noise high in your throat, but hidden in Mr Garrick’s broad chest.

Your father had shot your sick dog, barrel of the gun against the back of its head. Mr Garrick’s hand on the back of your skull, fingers in your hair, holding you steady. Right there, the press of his last finger on the give at the start of your neck. Saliva pools in your mouth, but you swallow it down and choke on it.

[synthetickitsune]

svt ot13 + late night drive

Seungcheol ❧ In his eyes, this is the best way to blow off some steam. Seungcheol knows that soon enough the view of the road and scenery passing by in a blur will help your thoughts flow. Sure, it might feel like you’re stuck together but you love each other. Even when things are bumpy. His hand is on your thigh or holding your hand, occasionally bringing it to his lips. He knows that sometimes he loses control. The focus he needs to keep on the road grounds him, helps him keep emotions from exploding all over the place. Perhaps it’s the same for you too. So when tension is high between you, a night drive it is. His only rule is to never bring full on arguments into the car. He wants it to remain your safe haven. Seungcheol makes it a point that he’s gonna keep driving until everything is talked through. And that’s including your day after the issue at hand is settled. Because he cares. Because he needs you to know he does. He can never keep his hands off you once you get out of the car, craving physical contact after a crisis has been avoided.

Jeonghan ❧ The drive is quiet, radio playing on low volume in the background. Jeonghan prefers it this way, partly because his everyday life is already loud enough but mostly because he knows the hum of the engine and the soft music will lull you to sleep eventually. Then he’ll of course get to watch you sleep adorably in the passenger seat and coo over you when he wakes you up later and you’ll cling to him all the way to bed. It’s an intimate affair, driving through the dark streets illuminated by the golden lights. Jeonghan can feel your barely open eyes on him whenever you wake up, from the corner of his eye he can see the small smile on your lips as well. He turns to look at you too at every red light and when the roads are empty, he steals a glance every now and then. Even when he parks the car, you spend some more time just sitting in the car, turned towards each other with your lips turned into smiles. You don’t need words to convey how much you appreciate simply spending time together separated from the rest of the world.

Joshua ❧ When Joshua is in charge of your night drives, you always leave the city behind. Time doesn’t always allow you to escape, but he makes the effort to find the roads that will guide you somewhere secluded. It tends to be quiet, the music filling in the space because his lips are too busy leaving soft kisses on your knuckles or, at the occasional opportunity to stop and wait, your temple. There’s a playful curl to his lips and gleam in his eyes that always makes you feel like he’s not just pretending, like he will run away with you one day. For now, however, it remains nothing but a dream. As you drive through the dark areas, his voice drops lower as he tells you about urban legends set in the area that he (allegedly) read online. You can never tell if he’s joking or not, but sometimes he achieves his goal and you get goosebumps and watch the shadows outside twist to fit his tales. Joshua only chuckles and reassures you that he’d protect you from the horrors - to a reasonable degree. Because he knows the best way to get your mind off it is to annoy you. And he gets to kiss the pout off your lips.

Jun ❧ Going for a drive with Jun means you’ll likely have to get the car cleaned the next day. You don’t pull out of the driveway without the car stacked with more snacks than you really need. You hold them to his mouth and he’ll say he trusts you with his life by letting you feed him and you’ll fondly roll your eyes. It’s way too much snacks, especially seeing that you’ll be stopping for more along the way. Or at least you’ll jot down the names of the best looking places to check out later. There’s never enough items on your evergrowing to-explore list. Not to mention sometimes suggesting to try a new place is the only way to raise his spirits. Your boyfriend, stubborn man that he is, will insist nothing’s wrong. But you know. You notice that he holds your hand a little tighter. There’s no need for background noise when he keeps talking. Old dreams, new dreams, things you promised to try together. Like he’s looking for a piece of hope to hold on. It’s not always, but you know these drives are his escapes. A space where he can say whatever he wants like he’s leaving everything but you and him behind.

Soonyoung ❧ You need to remind him this is not a race. Soonyoung would never drive recklessly, especially not with you in the car with him, but the highway is basically empty and it’s so easy for him to slip into a stupid skit in which he’s a retired streetracer. Your car may not sound like a sports car but he’s creative enough to make his own sound effects. Your laughter is all the fuel he needs for his fantasies. After all, these drives are for you two to simply relax and let everything go. He’ll open up the windows and encourage you to scream with him. Shout out anything you want - yell at your boss, your parents, the annoying kid that took the last free seat on the train. He doesn’t hold back, venting all his frustrations big and small. You got his back, of course you support him - and the other way around, he’ll agree with his chest to anything you say. It’s honestly draining to get everything off your chest. You feel lighter, though, and so does he. Without fail, however, once you get under the covers, Soonyoung asks if you weren’t secretly venting about him under a different name the whole time.

Wonwoo ❧ It’s usually a little against your will whenever Wonwoo takes you on a drive through the dark city. You may pout and try to guilt him into taking you home but he knows, and you do too - you’ll give in to what you want and need soon. He knows you don’t know when to take a break, that you tend to push beyond what’s healthy and good for you. So he takes it upon himself to give you the chance to relax that you need. It’s quiet because you’ll talk when you want to talk and you’re overwhelmed with the constant noise and music in your headphones while you work as is. It must be one of his favorite sights to see you slowly relax and melt into the seat. Your hand eventually finds his waiting on his thigh for this exact moment. He won’t take your thanks but he will accept an apology for sulking when he was just being a good boyfriend. And as a good boyfriend, Wonwoo listens when you start spilling about everything that stresses you out. He has all the spots where he can stop and hug you for as long as you need memorised, he has tissues and your favorite comfort hoodie ready too.

Jihoon ❧ The night’s peace settles inside the car. There’s no need for words, and so silence sometimes stretches on and on, but that’s alright too. Jihoon will put his hand on your thigh and hold you while you both think and enjoy the vibe. Some words get exchanged, and some nights he will rant on about what’s on his mind - cautiously, as if he hasn’t yet learned that you’ll always listen. Mostly it’s time to unwind and listen to the engine purr or the wind rush past the open windows while you leave the familiar scenery behind. It’s easier to relax where you can be alone and unknown. When you find a secluded spot, he stops and pulls out a blanket for you to sit on the hood of the car with him and watch the sky. It became a tradition to hold hands while you wait for a shooting star, yet it lost the original point a long time ago. Now you just enjoy each other’s company - that’s already enough luck. With your hand in his hair, Jihoon can sigh in relief and close his eyes so tight he sees the white of all the stars. He only needs you to stay by his side, nothing more.

Minghao ❧ Drive with Minghao means leaving with the setting sun. It’s a long affair, because a drive with him means going somewhere where the sky is clear and the air smells of earth, not pollution. Under the stars, he rolls down the windows and you both let the wind rushing past caress your palms. The wind rattles the tree branches or blows through the leaves of grass. The scenery is beautiful and the universe above reminds you of your individual insignificance. It’s just another form of meditation, sometimes a quiet moment to get lost in thought, sometimes more of an opportunity to open up to each other. He loves you and cherishes you as a person, and while it is impossible to know and understand another completely, Minghao is going to try. He finds himself smiling on these drives, because talking with you only proves that he chose the right person. Even if you have to agree to disagree on certain topics, the discussion is productive. It makes him think - he likes that. And when he finds the perfect spot, he’ll stop the car and pull you out to just breathe with him. To remember there’s more to life than the competition and chaos of the concrete jungle you live in.

Mingyu ❧ He likes the aesthetics. Nice car, shitty lighting, blurry and unfocused quality. There’s just something about the vibe, you know? Mingyu is trying to find the words to explain while acting natural except he’s anything but. He tries to look hotter, his gestures giving off a different, more sophisticated vibe that almost has you rolling your eyes behind your phone while you take pictures of him. They look good. A little too good. But taking a few pictures of him in the car is all he’ll ask of you. Because this is about you. He knows the long quiet drive helps you think, and he’s observant enough that he already knows what you’re thinking about and what’s been on your mind lately. He’ll help with innocent questions that just hit the nail on the head. It seems like a magic trick to you. And because he really enjoys the vibe of these drives and the atmosphere, once you get more relaxed and he finds a safe place to stop for a while, he’ll lure you out for your own personal photoshoot. The night air and his bright grin help clear your head completely. And if not? Well Mingyu kisses all the stress away. What’s a better mood booster - the flattering pictures or how much he cares about you?

Seokmin ❧ What should be a calm time to unwind inevitably turns into a loud but satisfying impromptu karaoke. All it takes is one banger to come up on the radio and Seokmin can’t hold back - and that in turn means you join in. There’s hardly anyone around anyway, so nobody won’t witness you trying to hit the high notes that your boyfriend pulls off so effortlessly. You always get too loud when you’re together, as if trying to impress each other. But once the music calms down, once you run out of energy, you feel like you can do anything. More tired than when you got into the car but also happier. Seokmin checks on you, you check on him, reassuring each other that you’re okay. That this is fun, that being silly together is still something you want, that even after a long and tiring day, you’re the ones who bring a smile to each other’s face. And then it’s finally time for quiet conversations. It’s ridiculous how fast you switch from screaming your lungs out to whispering as if somebody was there to catch you. Slowly you exchange soft reassurances and softer, fleeting touches. If there’s an encore, it’s all quietly sung love songs.

Seungkwan ❧ He’s supposed to relax. But looking at Seungkwan’s face you know that in his head he’s still working. Going through scripts, going through lyrics. You squeeze his thigh and he jumps a little before giving you an apologetic smile. You remind him to slow down, as he often does to you. He takes it a little too literally as you make a detour to quieter parts of the city before leaving altogether. Somewhere with little lights, somewhere he needs to drive slowly too. He insists it helps, yet he still asks you to talk to him. To tell him something. So you do - you tell him a story about a completely hypothetical boyfriend that does a very good job but that needs to relax before he starts to need to watch his blood pressure on top of everything else. He gets offended, even though it’s a purely hypothetical boyfriend. So of course he complains about you - not even trying to hide it - and the dishes you haven’t done yesterday. He only briefly stutters when he remembers that he actually promised to do them. It’s always him forgetting about something that concerns you that finally flips the switch in Seungkwan’s brain. The work gets forgotten. He insists on making it up to you. You’ve never seen someone improvise a date as perfectly as him.

Vernon ❧ With the music playing and the streets outside nothing but a blur of lives that don’t concern you, you talk about anything and everything. It’s silly, more often than not just pure nonsense that slowly transforms into playing games. Making up stories about the people you pass. Cracking the worst jokes you know. It’s therapeutic - you think Vernon needs this just as much as you do. There’s no plan, you rely on pure chance. If you happen to see a place that looks interesting, that’s where you stop and go. You’ve visited more roadside curiosities than you’d ever believe possible. Some turn out lame and you have to save the experience by making it fun for each other. Others are great and you recommend them to your friends. And in rare cases, you visit them once and then they disappear. No trace of them left. It’s getting hard to encounter them in the wild, especially close to the city but you and Vernon always believe that you’ll be lucky. And if not, there’s plenty of drive-thrus to go around. Sometimes you treat yourself to a drive-in cinema instead. With his arm thrown around your shoulders, pulling you close, you think life doesn’t get much better.

Chan ❧ He gives you the full princess treatment, adjusting everything to your preferences, fastening your seatbelt while holding your bag, everything. Chan wants to show off. He wants to be mature. The mood just makes him want to talk and because he finally has some private time with you, he’s set on making it count. Your future together is a big topic for him. And because you’re both relaxed, enjoying the familiar scenery outside, the conversation flows nicely. No tension, no room for worries or doubts. Inevitably it starts going off the rails of reality into the ridiculous, but that’s alright. You’re laughing and dreaming about your future, that’s good! You want a future with him! You’re holding his hand and chuckle and coo when he kisses your knuckles. But before the future, the present must happen. The past happened. And the golden light of the streetlights makes him remember. Chan really didn’t mean to make this a trip into nostalgia, but he’d lie if he said it doesn’t make him emotional how many good memories you remember. It makes him feel like you’ve shared a lot of good times. His knees get weak when you tell him you can’t wait to grow old with him and remember this night.