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avmisworld · 4 years

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BTS when you hurt yourself:

Kim Seokjin:

The smell in the kitchen was mouth-watering, and you were getting hungrier and hungrier as the seconds passed.

Jin was stirring the pork next you, the meat making sizzling sounds against the hot pan. He was singing some girl group song you didn't recognize, occasionally changing the lyrics or the tune to make you laugh.

You were doing your best to help, which wasn't much, by cutting the onions for the kimchi jiggae. Jin had tried to talk you out of it, since you were a very clumsy person and hated the kitchen, but you were determined to help, although the feeling of regret was growing with every passing second.

The chemical irritant in the onions was causing tears to form in your eyes once again, and you curse under your breath, dabbing at your burning eyes gently with a tissue.

"Y/N? You sure you don't want me to help you with that?"

You turn at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, blinking rapidly in an attempt to make your watering eyes come back to focus, and see Jin staring at you with an concerned expression.

There's a hint of amusement on his face, probably due to your overly sensitive eyes, but he looks mostly worried, the meat momentarily forgotten as he waits for your answer.

Your bottom lip juts out involuntarily, and you can't help but pout at the thought of letting Jin do this alone. As much as you hated cooking, you loved spending time with your lover even more, and making meals together was cute and domestic, everyone knows that.

"No, I'm okay, really. Just a little tears, that's all.", you say quickly, turning back to the onions with newfound energy after waving your hand dismissively at Seokjin.

You can hear your boyfriend sigh audibly, but he thankfully doesn't say anything, going back to his own tasks while you continue to cut the evil white vegetables, ignoring the tears streaming down your face.

Maybe it's because of your less than optimal sight, or your wet hands, or just your bad luck, but somehow, the knife you're holding slips just as you go to cut the last onion, leaving a nasty cut on the back of your hand.

You let out a shout of pain, releasing the wooden handle of the knife from the surprise, and the metal tool goes tumbling down, hitting the marble floor of the kitchen loudly.

"Oh my God! Y/N, are you okay?!?", Jin rushes to you at the speed of light, his slipper-clad feet skidding on the floor as he bolts to you, immediately reaching for your hand.

He lets out a gasp of horror when he sees the bright red of the blood streaming down your hand and to the floor, dripping steadily, and his brown eyes widen comically as he rushes you the sink to wash your hand.

You let him turn on the silver faucet, the cold water streaming steadily and calming the burn of the cut, and you sigh in relief, gently scrubbing your hand under the warm water, while Seokjin goes rushing to medicine cabinet, muttering incoherent things under his breath.

"Jin, I'm fine, it's not as bad as it looks.", you say in an attempt to calm down your boyfriend, who's currently throwing pills and syrups all over the place, probably looking for your stash of bandages.

Your boyfriend doesn't even answer, simply shooting you a death glare before continuing to search for the band-aids, and you sigh dejectedly, turning off the stream of water and walking over to the man.

You stand next to Soekjin silently for a few seconds, watching as he continues to pour around medical supplies until he finally finds what he's been looking for, letting out a victorious sound as he lifts up the small package of bandages.

He takes one out, wrapping the soft white material around your injured arm gently, as he holds your wrist delicately with his other hand, making sure you won't move.

You feel your heart beat harder when you see the focused look in your boyfriend's eyes, so intent on making sure he fixes you up perfectly.

His dark eyebrows are furrowed low over his chocolate eyes, his plump pink lips jutting out slightly in concentration.

The love you feel at the moment is overwhelming, and you can't help but run your fingers through his disorganized brown hair, smoothing it under the palm of your hands as you continue to stare at him.

Jin doesn't say anything, simply sighing again, and you know he's pissed. After all, he told you multiple times to be careful, even suggested to replace you, but you disagreed, and now you hurt yourself.

"I'm sorry", you whisper, focusing on your hands in Jin's hair, although you can clearly feel his eyes on you. "I just wanted to help. But I guess I really don't have a place in the kitchen".

You feel like a failure and a burden, and you guess Jin can feel it too, because there's slim fingers wrapped around your chin, pulling your face up to look at him.

"It's fine, baby. I was just worried for you. You know how stressed I am seeing you get hurt, right?", Jin asks softly, eyes boring into yours as he presses the palm of hand to your cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb.

You feel a soft smile form on your face when Jin presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then another one to your bandaged hand.

"Now stay here, and I'll go finish cutting that onion, yeah?", Jin says as he gets up, walking over to the kitchen, and winking cheekily at you. "Maybe now the food will be ready today."

Min Yoongi:

It's summer again, which means you have to reorganize your closet. You dreaded this day for so long, too lazy to waste your time on such a trivial thing, but enough is enough.

Sighing dramatically, you fold another pair of long jeans and place them on the growing pile of winter clothes on the edge of your bed.

"What's with the long face?", your boyfriend, Suga, asks you from his side of the bed, amusement laced in his tone as your frown deepens even more, folding yet another pair of pants.

He's not really doing anything, just laying on your bed with his phone, probably scrolling through some work related documents, but you know the real reason he's here is to keep you company. If he actually wanted to work, he'd be in his studio, but your boyfriend knows how much you hate cleaning your closet, and he'd probably offer to help too if he'd know anything about sorting clothes.

He's wearing his favorite dark blue hoodie, it's sleeves long enough to cover his hands, and dark gray sweatpants. His hair is matted to his head from laying on the pillow for too long, black strands framing his pale face in weird angles, and his eyes are half-closed as he stares at his phone, slowly drooping downwards.

They do open, though, the second you grab a big pile of perfectly folded short-sleeved shirts, and clumsily climb on Yoongi's office chair, in order to reach the high shelves of the closet with your short height.

"Ya! Be careful when you're standing on the chair. Don't fall.", Yoongi warns you, his eyes completely focused now as you stand on the chair unbalanced, holding the swaying pile of clothes in your arms tightly.

You try to assure your lover you'll be okay, but the pile of clothes is effectively covering your mouth and whole face, so you simply nod, hoping he'll understand the gesture.

Placing the pile on the shelf, you turn around happily, smiling at Suga widely, but just as you're about to come down, your foot slips from the soft black padding of the chair, and you fall on your butt against the carpeted floor of your room with an 'oof'.

"Jesus Christ!", you hear your boyfriend yelling at the background, but you're too shocked to notice. There's footsteps heading towards you and then in a second you're in Suga's arms, who's holding you tightly to him while muttering curses under his breath.

"I told you, I fucking told you- Damnnit", he mumbles, not letting you move an inch from your spot on his lap as he checks you for any serious injuries.

But you don't even feel the sharp sting in your tailbone, too focused on the fact that your beautiful, perfectly organized, pile of clothes somehow fell with you.

"Shit- Baby, why are you crying? Does it hurt a lot? Should I call an ambulance?", Yoongi's asks, frantically wiping the tears streaming down your cheeks with his calloused thumbs, but you simply shake your head in response, letting out a choked sob.

"Yoongs- My clothes-", you sniff, pointing at the used-to-be pile miserably, your bottom lip wobbling as you recall the hours of hard work, all dissipating in a second.

Your boyfriend seems confused for a moment, following your gaze, and you watch as his expression changes from confusion to understanding, and finally, disbelief.

"You're unbelievable.", he finally mutters, but you can feel the way his hands slightly relax against your waist, and he doesn't push you away when you cling to him even more, burying your wet face in his neck and whining about how you'll never fold another piece of clothing in your life.

Jung Hoseok:

"And for the next step, just-", your boyfriend spins around gracefully, feet whirling so fast you can hardly see them anymore, and you blink, not quite registering the move.

Hoseok is dressed for dance today, with loose white Alladin pants and an oversized sleeveless brown top, his sneaker shining white against the floor of the practice room.

His wavy caramel hair is tucked under a white cap, cute curls popping out of the sides, and he's barefaced, his golden shining under the florescent lights above you.

Hoseok had told you he was going to the studio to practice some new choreography he was working on, and you had suggested coming with him. You also suggested he taught you the dance, although you didn't expect it to be this hard.

You weren't a horrible dancer, for someone who never even participated in a Zumba class, but next to THE J-hope, you were practically disabled.

You clear your throat, tugging slightly on the hem of your black tank top, and think of any way to do something even remotely similar to this move without looking ridiculous.

As if he sensed your thoughts, your boyfriend's smile grows and he lets out a short chuckle, leaning down to peck you on your nose quickly.

"Hey, it's no biggie, yeah? This is just for fun.", he says gently, moving back to look into your eyes with his own twinkling brown ones.

You nod, putting on your most serious face, and start the dance from the top, your shoes making awkward sounds against the waxed floor, nothing like your lover's smooth footsteps.

'And then just squat, jump back up, and turn-'

Your ankle twists and you let out a shout of pain as you fall down, legs crossed over each other awkwardly and face contorted in pain.

"Oh God, Y/N, baby, are you okay?"

J-hope's by your side in a split of a second, helping you up gently with his hands around your waist, steadying you.

You feel yourself blush with embarrassment, cheeks flaming hot as you try to stand on your own, wincing slightly when a bolt of pain runs from your right ankle to your leg.

"I think I twisted my ankle.", you say miserably, letting J-hope half-carry you to the leather couch at the edge of the large room, his one arm wrapped around your waist tightly while the other is holding your hand.

Hobi helps you clamber onto the couch, before sitting next to you and lifting your hurt leg gently, his fingers running over the jut of the bone with a feather light touch.

"I don't think it's broken, thank God.", he mumbles, eyes wide with worry as he tries to look for any sign of serious damage. "But maybe we should go to the hospital, anyway."

You shake your head quickly, finding the situation more and more embarrassing with every passing second. "No, no, it's okay, babe. It'll pass in a few.", you promise, interlocking your hands with J-hope's and sending him a smile, hopefully confident and not full of pain.

"I'm sorry, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have let you do that-", Hoseok starts, voice full of sorrow and regret, but you cut him off immediately, shaking your head with fervor.

"None of that, Hobi. I wanted to learn the dance, and I was the one who asked. It's not your fault you got a clumsy baby for a girlfriend.", you say jokingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, squeezing your intertwined hands softly.

Your boyfriend lets out a giggle, and you feel relief flooding through your chest when the familiar glint returns to his eyes, along with the toothy smile you love so much.

Hobi smiles, leaning forward to press the softest of kisses against your lips, his lips warm like the summer against your own, melting something in your heart.

"My baby".

Kim Namjoon:

You don't even flinch at the sound of glass shattering against the floor of the kitchen. Unfortunately, you were already used to things breaking, considering you lived in the same house with the clumsiest person on earth.

Groaning loudly, you get up from your comfortable spot on your maroon colored couch in the living room, slipping on your soft lavender slippers and padding over to the kitchen.

Namjoon's standing by the gray marble counter, a sheepish smile growing on his face when he sees your done expression.

He's wearing his signature clothes at home: a simple olive green t-shirt and black sweatpants. His hair is combed, strands of light pink carefully pushed away from his forehead, and there's embarrassment tinging his soft brown eyes as you lean against the doorway, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, baby", he says awkwardly, still sending you a smile as he rubs the back of his head nervously, messing up his hair slightly. "I just wanted a cup of water".

You sigh, but still walk towards your boyfriend, who's looking at you with slight confusion when you place your hands on his broad shoulders, pushing him towards the living room gently.

"Go to the living room before you break anything else, okay? I'll clean this up.", you say gently, your voice teasing as your lover looks at you with guilt in his eyes.

"Are you sure? I can organize here", he suggests hesitantly, clearly unsure if it's a good idea himself.

You smile and lean forward to kiss his cheek quickly, trying to show it's okay, you're used to cleaning up his messes, and it doesn't bother you at all. Honestly, the fact that Namjoon, with all his mature persona, was such a clumsy baby was rather indearing, in your opinion. "It's no biggie, I promise."

Your boyfriend smiles again, this time wider and more sincere, and leans forward to place a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, making your cheeks blush slightly. "Thank you, baby".

You look away shyly, glaring at RM playfully when he lets out a small chuckle at your cuteness, and push him once again towards the exit, watching as he walks towards the couch, waiting for you to finish and proceed with your movie night as planned.

You examine the shattered blue pieces of what was once a glass pitcher, now scattered all over the parquet floor of your kitchen. Your boyfriend probably was planning to fill the pitcher again when it fell, so at least there wasn't water on the floor, as well.

You decide to pick up the big pieces of glass first, and then sweep the smaller shards using a broom.

Squating over the glass pieces, you pick them up carefully, making sure you dispose all the broken glass into the garbage can before picking up more.

But when you bend down to pick another piece, you somehow slip, your knee coming to contact with the floor, straight on a sharp piece of glass.

You hiss when the glass gets stuck in your skin, blood already dripping down your leg in small red drops, but you react quickly, taking out the piece of glass without hesitation and throwing it to the trash before getting up and limping out of the small room.

"Hey, babe, should we wat-"

Namjoon's eyes widen when he sees the cut on your knee, quickly jumping to his feet, almost falling on his face in his hurry to get to you.

Despite his first reaction, your boyfriend seems to understand what happened without even asking, quickly leading you to the bathroom to wash your leg, the cut already hidden from the eye with the amount of blood covering it.

You let Joon wash your leg gently, his hands gentle against your skin, careful not to hurt you with his touch.

"Well, I guess you're not the only clumsy one", you say with a sigh, watching as the man in front of you applies some sort of healing ointment to your cut, quickly covering it with a band-aid.

"I'm sorry, love, I should have done it myself", Namjoon says with sorrow, and you feel guilty for making him feel this way, immediately reaching forward to grab his cheeks with your hands, forcing him to look up at you.

"Hey, none of that. I wasn't being careful enough, it was obvious something like this would happen.", you assure the pink-haired man sweetly, squeezing his cheeks together until his lips pucker out, making you let out a giggle as Namjoon rolls his eyes slightly, pulling away from you to intertwine your hands.

"Plus, if I cut myself, I'd probably be taking you to the hospital right now if it was the other way around."

Park Jimin:

Surprise date nights were always extremely nice, especially when your boyfriend was Park Jimin.

You sigh when you stick the key into the wooden door of your apartment, exhaustion seeping through your bones. You were tired after a long day of working at the office, and all you really wanted to do was change into your PJ's and cuddle with your boyfriend all night.

Pushing the door open slowly, your eyes widen at the unexpected sight in your living room. Instead of seeing a drowsy Jimin sitting on the couch, maybe napping, in his soft wool sleepshirts and messy blonde hair, your shared apartment is rather dark, the only light coming from candles scattered around the room.

The small circular kitchen table is set for two, shiny white plates glistening under the flickering lights of the candles, the metal utensils carefully placed by each plate, along with two glasses of wine and silk napkins.

There's an amazing smell as well, and you suspect that Jimin had made your favorite dish: Samgyeopsal. Considering your boyfriend never really like cooking, it warmed your heart to think he put so much effort for this surprise.

Just before you open your mouth to call Jimin, the only missing piece in this perfect scenery, you hear his voice behind you, coming from the second entrance to the living room, where your bedroom is.

"Welcome home, baby", the honey voice you love so dearly says softly, and you turn around to see your boyfriend smiling at you with the galaxy in his eyes.

He's wearing a soft blue shirt, falling loosely around his lean body, but not hiding at all his strong chest and biceps. His blonde hair is brushed without too much thought, looking soft against his fair skin, and you desperately want to run your hands through the long strands.

His face is just a little puffy, his plump lips curved into the prettiest grin, white teeth shining even more under the dim light, and his eyes are twinkling like clumps coal, almost disappearing above his mochi cheeks.

"Jimin!!!", you don't hesitate to run to your boyfriend, wrapping your hands around his small waist tightly, "This is amazing. Thank you so much.", you mumble into the soft cloth of his top, pressing your cheek to his chest, where you can feel the steady beat of his heart.

The man holding you laughs sweetly, placing one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head, stroking your hair gently. "You're welcome, sweetheart".

Jimin places a soft kiss on your lips, before pulling away and intertwining your hands, your fingers organizing themselves naturally besides each other as he leads you to the table.

There's a single candle in the middle of the table, this pretty wax candle with small white stars decorating it on the outside, standing tall on the spotless white tablecloth.

As Jimin goes to bring the food, you pick up the candle from the table, planning to move it somewhere else to make room for the food, when a drop of melted wax falls from the edge of the candle to your hand.

You somehow manage to keep holding the candle, despite the burn against your skin, quickly blowing out the candle and placing it on the marble counter.

Jimin was just bringing the food when he sees your pained expression, and his eyebrows furrow with worry as he places the food on the table and rushes to you, where you're cradling your arm to your chest.

"The candle melted on me", you explain, letting Jimin take your hand in his, his frown deepening even more at the sight of the red patch of skin, your sensitive body already reacting to the burn.

"You should really put something on this", Jimin says worriedly, tugging his bottom lip between his upper teeth as he inspects the forming rash.

You let your boyfriend take you to the medicine cabinet, watching with slight amusement as he stares at the different ointments with confusion, looking for the right one for some time before finding it, sending you an apologetic smile.

He carefully applies the paste to your hand, sending you looks every few seconds to make sure he isn't hurting you, and wraps your hand in a bandage, before pulling you in for a hug, so you're seated in his lap on the floor, straddling him.

"I think I'll stick to led candles next time", he says with laughter in his voice, his body shaking against yours as he giggles, lips pressed to the space between your shoulder and neck. "I love you, beautiful."

Kim Taehyung:

You don't know how you always find yourself in this situation, with Taehyung on top of you, pinning you down easily with his strong body.

He's sitting on your thighs, holding your wrists together above your head with one large hand, while the other is traveling up and down your sides, his thin fingers skimming over the most sensitive parts of your body: below your ribs, above your belly button, in your armpits.

Tears gather in your eyes as you thrash in your boyfriend's hold, desperately trying to get away from the torturing hands. Your begging seems to reach dead ears, though, because Taehyung doesn't even lessen his grip on you, despite your cries and choked shouts for mercy.

You have to admit that you were the one who attacked your boyfriend first, jumping on him when he was peacefully lying in bed, scrolling through his Instagram without a care in the world. But in your defense, your lover has no right to ignore you for the sake of his phone.

The 'oof' Taehyung had let out when you jumped on him had been hilarious at that second, but the laugher was short lived when you saw the devilish smirk forming on your boyfriend's handsome face, replacing the surprise and the slight pain from before.

And now you were here. With Tae above you, killing you slowly with his cursed hands, looking annoyingly hot, even so early in the morning, with his curly black hair and his melanin skin, shining even brighter than the sun outside.

His face is still a little puffy from the morning, eyes still a little droopy with sleep, yet he still manages to win you so easily, even when you're giving all you got, and that pisses you off.

Thinking quickly, you put all the energy you have left to lift your upper body from the soft matress of the bed, and you watch with satisfaction when Taehyung's smug face turns into one of surprise as you flip the two of you, so you're on top now, straddling him with your legs on either side of his body.

Not wasting any time, you pick up the closest object to you, which happens to be a soft feather pillow, before slamming it into Tae's face with a shout, and leap off of him in the speed of light straight after, sprinting down the hall.

You squeal when you hear the crazed laughter of your boyfriend behind you, and you run even faster, the hallway of your apartment flying by in a flash as you reach the living room.

Too immersed in running away from your terrifying boyfriend, you don't even notice one of Taehyung's many slippers, constantly lying around your house, and your eyes widen a second too late, slipping and falling straight on your back.

"Oh, you've done it now-", Taehyung stops mid sentence, skidding to a stop when he sees you sprawled on the (thankfully) carpeted floor, his smile switching to an expression of confusion.

"Ouch", you say miserably, pushing yourself up to a sitting position as you rub your back with a pout. The fall wasn't that bad, thanks to the cream-colored carpet you landed on, but it still wasn't pleasant.

"Are you okay?", Taehyung asks you, crouching next to you, and your frown deepens when you notice your boyfriend pursing his lips in a poor attempt to hide his smile.

"Ya, it's not funny", you whine, but you don't push your boyfriend away when he picks you up in his arms easily, carrying you bridal style towards your room.

"Pabo", Taehyung says teasingly, pressing a sweet kiss to your nose, "That's what you get for trying to run away from me".

Jeon Jungkook:

Being Jeon Jungkook's girlfriend meant working out. Alot. Not that you've never worked out before you met him, but being just as competitive as Jungkook, you couldn't just let your boyfriend be the active one between the two of you.

Which is why you were now standing in the gym of your shared apartment, in your favorite gray Nike leggings, transperent from the knee down, a simple black sport bra, and matching black sneakers.

Your hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, and you're watching your boyfriend, who's currently running on the treadmill.

Jungkook looks good, even with the sweat trailing down his face and soaking his shirt (maybe it made him even hotter). His black hair was matted to his face, strands of it hanging over his eyes, and his dark eyes were squinted, focused on the clock in front of him.

His simple white tank top was completely stuck to his body, a bit transperent thanks to his sweat, and you could clearly see his abs, clenching and unclenching with every step he took.

With a final huff of exertion, the treadmill stopped, and your boyfriend collapsed against it, leaning on it as if it was the only thing keeping him alive.

"You crazy muscle pig. You keep getting stronger and stronger", you say teasingly, but your voice is filled with admiration. Jungkook never stopped surprising you, just when you thought he couldn't get better.

Your boyfriend smiles weakly as you make your way to him, still not having enough energy to respond, and you stop in front of him, handing him his water bottle and cleaning his face gently with a soft white towel, absorbing the sweat.

"Thanks", he manages to let out, lifting the water bottle to his mouth and gulping it down in mere seconds, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after.

Staring at your boyfriend, you make a decision, thinking for a second before saying: "I want to add ten minutes to my time".

At that, Jungkook looks up at you, his eyebrows raised slightly. "Are you sure?", he asks hesitantly, clearly not wanting to make you feel weak, but also worrying for you. "You run long enough as it is".

"Well", you shrug, slinging your own towel around your shoulder. "You added more time today. I got to up my game, you know?", you say jokingly, but Jungkook doesn't laugh, still looking concerned.

"I'll be fine", you say, pushing Jungkook off the treadmill gently. "You're here if anything happens", you remind him.

Jungkook opens him mouth to say something, probably to try to convince you, but you shoot him a quick look to shut him up, and get on the large machine before he can protest.

You start running, and it's fine at the beginning. After half an hour your legs start to burn and your breathing is heavy, echoing in the room. Usually, you'd end here, but you decided to do forty five minutes today, and with your current speed, it wasn't easy at all.

10 minutes left. Your eyes are burning and there's no more air in your lungs. But you have to keep going, you can't lose to Jungkook.

5 more minutes left. Your legs wobble. You can hear your boyfriend call out your name, concerned. Your eyes are half-shut, head spinning, you see Jungkook ten times instead of one.

"Y/N!!"

Your eyes open. You're in Jungkook's lap, who's staring at you with frightened eyes. Your hair is wet, water dripping down the side of your face steadily. Jungkook must have poured water on you to wake you up.

"Shit, are you okay?", Jungkook asks, pushing the hair away from your face, the palms of his hands burning like fire against your skin. "I have to call an ambulance, shit-"

"No, don't, I'm fine", you protest, managing to sit up in Jungkook's lap. "I just pushed myself to the edge, that's all", you promise, grabbing a nearby water bottle and downing it down in two gulps.

Jungkook shakes his head, still looking frantic, and you grab his cheeks, forcing him to look at you in the eye.

"I'm fine", you whisper, "I'm fine, Jungkookie. I guess it's still hard for me to understand that my boyfriend is unbeatable in all things, especially sports", you say with a sarcastic roll of your eyes, and Jungkook finally smiles, breathing out a sigh of relief and pressing his forehead to yours, just breathing you in.

"Can you say that again loudly, so I'll record it for the future?"

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years

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(っ◔◡◔)っ 𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕌𝕡♡

hii,, hope you two are doing well uwu. ok so far, ive only been requesting stuff n i figured might as well just ask for a matchup too lol,,,for knb, haikyuu, free, and fire force (i know ur rules said only 3 so it can be any three from those 4 lol)

my name’s lily and uh basic stuff..i’m a female high school student around 156cm maybe 157 on a good day;3 im bi but with more of a preference for guys (who are tall, like as long as ur a tall guy/girl whatever, i will prolly automatically start simping akdhfj)

i have long black hair that’s usually straight but on a slightly wavy side. my skin’s like a light-ish brown and my eyes are chocolate brown,, or so i’m told. i’m on the more busty side and would say i’m fairly curvy(?) but my grandma keeps saying i’m skinny and need to eat more:))speaking of eating, its like absolutely one of my favorite things ever lolol (so yeah kinda contradictory lol)

according to a test i did i’m ESTP-A altho i don’t rlly know much about personality types so i can’t say for sure if that’s accurate. even tho i’m usually extroverted i can be pretty introverted a times to so(?) ambivert(?) i guess. pisces (but i wouldn’t say i’m a perfect example of a pisces) im somewhat emotional and yeah kinda artistic i guess, just not in drawing lol. i can do other stuff well just not drawing akjdj,,,school-wise i do pretty well despite being lazy and procrastinating a lot (i guess you could say i’m the aomine of academics🤪) oh yeah im also on the school volleyball team and a few other “academic” clubs (MUN, etc.) i can also play the piano altho i don’t rlly play classics,,mainly anime songs akjdjd. yes, i’m a major weeb. my room’s full of posters and manga and my wallet’s full of emptiness;-;

ok some more random things about me…i’m apparently rlly impulsive, i am a pretty confident person but like i still panic a lot before competitions or anything like that ajhdjd also when i panic, i ramble…a lot. actually i think i ramble a lot on a daily basis regardless of whether or not i’m panicking oop— uh back to the confidence thing, if it’s in terms of a crush or someone i like, i don’t hesitate to confess or anything like that unless the situation is kinda complicated and it’d be hard to be together or like i’m not 100% sure of my feelings stuff like that,, basically i don’t rlly have much of a fear of rejection(?) but maybe that more cuz i haven’t rlly liked liked anyone THAT much yet. oh ohh i lovee baking esp. cookies altho i get lazy a lot so i haven’t been baking as much. ah yes another thing about me my brother will never stop teasing me about…my fear of fish:) they creep me out ok. i love snakes and crocs tho so uh ?? idk i’m weird like that lolol. oh yeah i have a little brother and sister so a lot of people see me as the “responsible older sister”. is that true? i’d say yes, my bro n sis would say no🤡. one last thing, i love elephants more than anything in this world🥺🥺💗

oof ok that was pretty long— sorryyy and thank you for taking time to read through all this akhdjf

»»————-　♡　————-««

Hello @pinkcowgirleggpanda~! Thank you for your request~! I’ll be handling the KnB portion of your match-up~! ^^

» » Admin Ko

And I’ll be doing the other two! Thank you for choosing us and I am so sorry this took so long to get out ;;!

>Admin 𝕋

𝕀 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙…

ᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇɪ ᴋɪʏᴏꜱʜɪ

Precious iron heart~! Despite his persona on the court, he’s actually a very sweet, protective, and kind spirit~! He is definitely your stable and solid rock in any situation / scenario you might find yourself in~! In terms of being emotional, he’s rather in touch with his emotions and will definitely be able to help ground you or at least bring you back to sensible ground if your emotions get the better of you and make you more stressed out than need be.

Other then that, he’s super curious and interested about your hobbies~! He likes to support you and honestly will keep you in line if you happen to stray too far from what needs to be done. He won’t really lecture you, but he’ll remind you that to get out of the hell that’s called school you gotta at least finish with passing. He wants to see you succeed and will feel bad if you happen to fall into a slump or a mood where you end up upset at yourself.

He will definitely be out to support you at any an all of your games~! He’ll always be in the stands with the other Seirin members to support~! (Really he drags them against their will, but they end up coming on their own to support you after seeing how cool it was)

Teppei will definitely be a big help on your impulsive moments. He loves and worries over you and will definitely evaluate a situation quick enough so he can decide whether or not what you’re doing is good or not. He thinks it’s absolutely adorable when you ramble and before games he’ll be the one to gently cup your face before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead for luck in hopes of calming you down. He knows you’re gonna kick ass anyway.

In terms of PDA, he’s not super handsy, but he does love to let others know that you’re definitely taken. He’ll hand you one of his shirts on a whim if you are in need of one. He let’s you borrow his jackets and hoodies. He’ll always have an arm around you too~!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘦 𝘠𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘬𝘪

This cool and somewhat overprotective man is definitely someone who would be perfect for you! This man will be able to keep you grounded, and be able to makes sure that you get things done, and not procrastinate your work! One thing that he will really like about you is that fact that you can be super open and inviting with everyone you meet, but then be amazed at how when you are by yourself you are quiet and just overall a soft. The contrast will be intriguing to him!

You say that you are impulsive, and he can help you with that no problem! Help you stay out of your head and keep you in a calm state of mind, so you don’t do anything impulsive and start panicking about something! He understand the feel of anxiety so he will do anything he can to make sure you don’t always feel that when you are around him!

He’ll take into account that you eat a lot, and will use it to his advantage so that whenever you guys are on a date, he will literally buy you food the whole and loves watching you eat until your heart’s content. He loves seeing your face when you enioy the food that you eat. It’s one of the reasons why he started liking you, because of how open you are with things that you like and enjoy.

He will think it is absolutely hilarious that you have a fear of fish, like I mean he won’t outright say it, but in his mind he will think it is funny, but adorable. Another thing that made him like you, only because it was so charming to him.

Physical features and PDA: He won’t necessarily care for PDA, as in if you were to want to engage in pda he will, but he won’t ever actively want to do excessive pda if that makes sense lolol. He won’t care if you are skinny, but it will be easier for when he wasn’t to pick you up and throw you in a fun way! And with your hair I feel like he will love just to put his hands through absently whenever you guys cuddle!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

ᴛᴏʙɪᴏ ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ

One word, chaotic. But in a good way! See you and Kageyama would like two puzzle pieces, and the reason being is because he is emotionally stupid, that you can definitely help him with that! I mean, seriously, he needs some help. Help him. Anyways, you and Kageyama will have a blast with each other; he will be the type of person where your mental battery doesn’t get drained because he is just a quiet as you can be and just as soft. The cuddles would be endless and amazing because of this.

He will like how confident you are, from confessing to someone to being confident in competitions and such. And if he were to see you that you are panicking, he will do his best to calm you down. Key phrase here is do his best. He might not be that good at it, but you love the spirit. He is more of an introvert so him trying to make you feel better is gonna take a toll on him, but he will do it to make you feel better! Because he loves you!

This boi will love that you eat so much. He will have literal eating contest with you and then pass out when you win and he ate too much food. He’ll like how you aren’t afraid to show your “boyish” for lack of a better word. He’ll also love that you play volleyball and will want to play with you all the time. I mean it. All the time. Literally will push a volleyball in your face until you say yes to him, and then he’ll stop when he is satisfied.

Kageyama, when he finds out that you bake will definitely want to eat some of your baking! You’ll mention it in a passing way, and he’ll stop you in your conversation and immediately want you to bake for him, which you obviously can’t, but you think it’s either way and tell him you will the next day! Next day comes around and he scarfs down the cookies like he depends on it, and when done will give you kiss as thanks. It’s kind of gross though because his mouth is still full lololol.

Physical features and pda; Like Sousuke, he isn’t one to actively look for pda, but if you were to hold his hand or cuddle with him in public, he will unconciously respond to you, he will really not think about and it’s the most adorable thing ever! He will just lean into and play with your curly hair and not really think anything of it. He will get laughed at by his friends, and he will be embarrassed but he won’t stop once he gets started! You are also just very huggable to him!

#match-ups #matchup #submissions #anime matchup #submission #knb matchup #knb x reader #teppei kiyoshi x reader #teppei x reader #free x reader #free! matchup #free! sousuke #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu matchups #kageyama tobio

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ontowanderlust · 4 years

Text

How to say I love you (3)

A/N: Hi. Hello. Yes, I’m alive, and yes I should’ve updated sooner. In my defense, it’s been one hell of a semester, I’ve had quite of a rollercoaster ride and not in a good way, mind you. Writer’s block had enveloped me in some ways you can’t imagine and now, here we are.

I would like to thank all of you for still going to my blog even if it’s dead and still read my works. You guys are awesome! I do wish you’d take the time to comment or send me asks about random stuff....

Another thing, please excuse this story. It’s not as par as the first two and well.... I hope you guys bear with me.

Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas! (It’s Christmas here sooooooo yeah)

Special thanks to: @grimpower-s My dearest beta, you are amazing! Thank you for editing this on short notice and for waiting for quite a long time for my update.

One of the reasons why I haven’t posted this was because of the sucky title. Let me know if you guys have better ideas. The other reason was just I’m too lazy to post this. My betas knew that I had a name written here but I had to revert to second person since… this is tumblr. (Though, the last name is predetermined already, don’t fight me on this.) Let me know if this sucks or if you guys like it.

Also some reminders:

Five is eighteen in this fic

The apocalypse had already happened

(Spoiler) They are sent back in time

And there are some of the 43 involved in this fic- there are 16 actually. Find them all and hit me in my asks if you knew the reference of the names.

Alternatively: 7 times he confessed and the 1 time she accepted his confession / 8 ways to say I Love You

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Prompt: This prompt is brought to you by R. McKinley (you write beautifully, may I just say) and @chickenshit‘s photo edit. I did say that I’m gonna write something about this, right?

=Masterlist=

It was so unlike her to stay silent as she assessed him. Given that she usually had a comment ready for him, he’s unsure as to what to make of her lack of reaction.

It didn’t help that they are both standing on the front porch of the Morris’ mansion- where they could be easily seen by either of their families with him wearing that stupid suit and tie Luther had procured for him while balancing a ridiculously large teddy bear and huge bouquet of flowers shoved onto him by Allison.

Why hadn't he asked Vanya again? He groaned inwardly as he shifted his weight in an attempt to curb the nervousness he is starting to feel. Oh yeah, her boyfriend turned out to be a real piece of an asshole.

“You need some help with that?” she asked, gesturing to the ridiculous items he held as he gladly shoved them to her, eliciting a slight oof from her.

“Please,” he muttered, backtracking his action as he helped her settle the teddy bear to the ground while she balanced the bouquet on her arm. “They’re yours anyway,” he cleared his throat, wiping his pants discreetly onto his pants.

Why the hell is he nervous? It’s just his neighbour, after all.

His neighbour, whom he found annoying, whom he had kissed the week before. He inwardly groaned. If only he could go back in time without facing another repercussions…

She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes darting from his gifts back to him, searching his eyes for answers. “Why?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?” he echoed as he studied her, eyes narrowing as he was trying to decipher if she was messing with him. “These are what girls like, right? You know, when someone needs something from them? Flowers, teddy bear, chocolates, and a fancy restaurant date?”

As much as he liked to see the smile creeping back to her face, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of annoyance as he watched her face go through a myriad of emotions, finally settling with a full blown laughter.

“It’s the chocolates, isn’t it?” he groaned as he was about to spatial jump and find the item he had forgotten to which she waved him off.

“And where…” she wheezed out, trying to control herself. “Where did you even get that information, hmm?” she challenged, tilting her head at him as her laughter ceased, rising to her tiptoes as she reached over, the back of her hand pressing onto his forehead to feel for any sign of fever.

“Please don’t tell me you resorted to watching those cringey films-”

How dare she?

“Listen, you ungrateful-” he started, trying to swat her hand away from him.

He was cut off by the front door swinging open only to reveal the grinning face of Y/N’s twin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his sister. “Hey, there you are! You’re being-” his jovial tone died in his throat as he drank the scenario before his eyes. “-summoned.” he finished lamely as he watched his sister pull away from the ridiculously overdressed guy standing on their porch.

Crutchie paused at the doorway, his head shaking as his grin made its way back to his face as Five closed his eyes in embarrassment.

Just when he was about to speak again, Five grabbed Y/N’s free hand, his wrists glowing as he spatial jumped both of them out of the porch, and out of Crutchie’s sight.

“This isn’t what it looks like, Crutchie!” the remaining lad let out a small laugh as the sound of his sister’s voice died into the air while he retrieved the forgotten bear before closing the door.

“I have to admit, this is not what I envisioned when I saw this. I’ve always thought this was his way of proposing…” he muttered to himself.

“I… am severely under dressed for this.” She bemoaned as the blue lights dimmed, revealing the fancy restaurant he was talking about earlier. He wasn’t really kidding about taking her to the restaurant.

He gave her a glance over. While her description of what she is wearing is severely under dressed, he had known that she was brought up beyond a comfortable lifestyle. Her dress- while she would describe it as simple, it is enough for his breath to be taken away. “You look fine,” his tone is dismissive, yet he couldn’t help but glanced at her again. “As you always do.” he muttered to which she turned her head to him with a questioning look on her eyes.

She shook her head as he grabbed the menu off the table. When she felt him actively averting his attention from her, using the menu as a way to do so, she sighed, effectively stopping time around them as she did, earning the attention she was seeking from her companion.

She stood up, carefully taking the bouquet before striding towards his end as she took his wrist and dragged him away from the table, and away from the restaurant.

When she felt like she had placed quite a distance between them and the offending restaurant, she had relinquished her hold over time but she had yet to relinquish the hold she had over the boy.

“What the hell was that?” Five demanded of her as she steered him towards the park near their houses and slowed her pace, prompting him to do the same. “I was about to order you food.”

She scoffed. “You’ve no idea on how to dine exquisitely. Stop trying to pretend like you have an idea of what it’s like to live in finery. It doesn’t suit you.” She scolded him. “Besides, why would you even take me there when you’re obviously not used to that kind of stuff?”

“I don’t get you,” he spoke as he shifted her hold on him in a more comfortable position. “Here I am, trying to make up to you, trying to apologize but you won’t even give me the chance. Do you really not like me that much?”

“And why exactly are you apologizing?” she countered, pausing at her tracks. “You know, this is the most out of character you’ve ever been: dressing to the nines, knocking over my front door, giving me ridiculous stuff, taking me to a nice restaurant… if I hadn’t known any better, I would think you’re trying to take me on a date here!” she spoke in a no nonsense tone, her hands leaving his to move animatedly as she enumerated what he had done, faltering for a moment as he watched her eyes went wide.

“What?”

“Are you…” her voice dropped to a whisper as if she was afraid of voicing something confidential out loud. “...confessing your feelings for me?” she asked out of nowhere, making him freeze.

He looked at her sombrely. “...would you believe me if I were?”

“Not in the lightest.”

Her reply was instantaneous and clipped as she resumed walking, making him do the same. What the hell is wrong with this girl? One moment she’s all animated then the next she’s being hostile. She hadn’t believed him yet so why would she believe him if he had outright shown it through this?

Whatever. It’s not like him to care about anyone’s opinions. He shouldn’t make any exceptions.

But why does it feel like he is suffocating?

“If you had allowed dinner to commence,” he cleared his throat, reigning him back to reality. “You would’ve known that I was trying to apologize for my actions last week.” he explained in a strained voice.

“Last week?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. “What did you do last week that warrants all of this?”

“Please don’t tell me you had forgotten what transcribed last tuesday.”

“You mean to tell me that you went all through this just so you could apologize because of the kiss?” she slowly uttered the words as if she was trying to comprehend what he was trying to convey.

“Exactly.” he nodded. “If you could just find it in your heart-”

“Fine, I accept your apology!” she suddenly exclaimed, throwing her free hand in the air in somewhat defeat. “Now can you please just stop being weird?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “Me?” he asked her. “Being weird?”

“Weirder than usual.” she amended as her face underwent a myriad of emotions, settling on furrowing her eyebrows as she sighed. “You didn’t have to go through all of this, you know? A simple apology would’ve sufficed- not that I was expecting one from you anyway. But thank you, it means a lot as to how far you’d go for an apology.”

He didn’t know why but there was a strange urge for him to utter those words he was dying to say ever since he saw her on her porch earlier. He could’ve easily blamed it on the way the street lights seemed to envelope her in an ethereal look, or perhaps the way she looked right now with a bouquet cradled on one arm while dressed in one of her simpler yet refined dresses.

“I-” he opened his mouth but at the last minute, he seemed to swallow the words as she looked up to him with those eyes displaying a curious look. “So we’re okay now?”

She let out a small smile. “Yeah, we’re okay now.” she seemed to hesitate for a bit but decided against it as she stepped towards him, raising onto her tiptoes as she hugged him tightly, ruffling his hair as she quickly stepped back and dashed away from him, perhaps out of embarrassment.

He shook his head, a small smile slowly creeping its way to his lips, that heavy feeling dissipating all so suddenly.

“Okay.”

#The Umbrella Academy #TUA #The Umbrella Academy fanfic #number five #Number One #Number three #Number seven #luther hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #Mentions of:#Newsies

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megabadbunny · 4 years

Text

if we let go (5/?)

A lazy smile quirks Rose’s lips. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised. She did say he was the one who let her in, after all. It’s just nice, she supposes, to be right about something for once. (It’s very nice to be right about him.)

Right after Journey’s End, Rose gets a choice, even if she has to carve it out for herself. This chapter has lemons; visit ff.net for a citrus-free experience.

***

chapter five: you gave me a life i never chose

After what feels like a lifetime (but is, in actuality, a mere thirteen hours, seventeen minutes, and forty-six seconds), amidst a landslide of half-empty teacups and coffee mugs and medical-technical gear and bits and bobs, the medscreen finally (finally) begins to beep.

“Really?” murmurs the Doctor, straightening up from his slumped position over his research materials for the first time in hours. Hardly daring to believe, he reaches for the device with only the smallest amount of trepidation, mentally preparing himself for whatever he might find there. He flips the screen his way. And there, amidst a string of medical technobabble reassuring him of Donna’s stasis (respiratory and cardiopulmonary systems going a little faster than he’d like, but stable enough, considering), reads a string of text distinctly unlike the rest:

<oi>

Eyes widening, the Doctor reads the text again, over and over, barely able to process what he’s seeing (never mind that he engineered things for this very purpose—the fact that it all worked is nothing short of miraculous).

The device beeps again as new text blinks across the screen, bright white lines flashing cheerfully against the grey.

<what’s going on>

<hello>

“Yes, yes,” the Doctor stammers immediately, out of instinct, more than anything—doubtful Donna can hear him right now, after all, even if he is stationed just a few feet away from her comatose self. Half-panicked, half-giddy beyond belief, the Doctor scrambles around in the technological viscera scattered over the medbay counter until he finds all the pieces he’s looking for (cables, clamps, Martha’s old mobile, a webcam the size of a thumbtack plucked from the year 2057, a simple jury-rigged electroencephalographic scope, the usual) before realizing that, oh, right, Donna would probably like an answer, wouldn’t she? and abandoning it all to type out a quick <<Yep, I’m here>> before he returns to the task at hand.

<great> flashes across the screen in response. <so you gonna tell me what the hell is going on? or where the hell i am? or why’s it so dark here? or why can’t i move?>

<<Why, hello, Donna! It’s nice to hear from you, too>> the Doctor types into the medscreen, even as he smiles. <<No need to thank me for saving your brain from immediate and irreversible liquidation, original memories fully intact and pristine. The dulcet vision of your digital voice is the only accolade I need.>>

<<You’re still on the TARDIS. You can’t move or see or otherwise process external stimuli because you’re in a medically-induced coma.>>

<well isn’t that wizard> reads the immediate response in a tone so reminiscent of Donna that the Doctor can’t help but laugh. <you wanna tell me why i’m in a coma?>

Smiling, the Doctor shakes his head. <<In the wake of the metacrisis-event, due to the external memories’ rapid deterioration of your brain, I’ve telepathically isolated the offending elements from your neural network and blocked them from re-entry>> he explains, typing between bouts of plugging in cables and adjusting dials on the electroencephalographic scope. <<Unfortunately, the best way to maintain the integrity of the telepathic blocks involves keeping your conscious mind safe from anything that might trigger the memory of the offending elements, which involves putting you in a persistent vegetative state until we can find a way to safely and permanently extract the metacrisis material from your temporal and parietal lobes, without damaging any of the surrounding tissue or neural pathways. Got it?>>

If the medscreen could convey an exasperated sigh, the Doctor imagines it would right about now. <in english please> the screen flashes at him.

The Doctor grins madly as he works, relief bubbling up in his head until he’s almost dizzy from it. He’s never been so happy for a companion to do the digital equivalent of offering him nothing but a blank stare; no more babbling about macrotransmissions or shatterfrying or mountains that sway in the breeze means his telepathic blocks are holding firm. That means no more Time Lord knowledge overwhelming human brains, which means that, for the time being anyway, Donna’s safe.

Which means, he realizes as he fishes his specs out of his pocket, that he may actually have a chance of saving her.

<<My memories are still in your head and you’re stuck in a coma until I can remove them>> he types to Donna. <<But don’t worry, in the meantime I’ve rigged up this handy-dandy medical transceiver and plugged it directly into your subconscious so we can still communicate!>>

<oh god no> flashes across the screen. <doctor do NOT make me a brain in a computer, i expressly forbid it>

<<Wouldn’t dream of it>> the Doctor replies before affixing the tiny webcam to the side of his specs.

<good>

“Oh, ye of little faith,” murmurs the Doctor, slipping on his glasses and fiddling with the settings on Martha’s mobile phone. “When have I ever let you down?”

“That tatty old suit lets down my sense of fashion every single day,” mutters a digitized version of Donna’s voice, and the Doctor laughs, now, properly laughs. A spluttered sound of indignant surprise erupts from the webcam’s built-in speaker, and the Doctor laughs harder, imagining the shock that would sweep across Donna’s face right now, were it capable.

“Oh my god!” shouts Donna’s voice from the speaker, disjointed and tinny in that way that voices-projected-from-telephonic-devices often are, but still her voice, nonetheless. “Doctor, I can hear you!”

“Yes!”

“And you can hear me!” yells Donna’s voice.

“Oh, yes!” the Doctor shouts gleefully in reply.

“But how? I’m still asleep, aren’t I? I still can’t move or see anything—”

“Well, then,” says the Doctor, fiddling with more settings on the mobile as he smiles what may or may not be the universe’s smuggest grin, “Let there be light!”

He hits one last button and is rewarded with a high-pitched screech not unlike one that might rip out of a pterodactyl. “I can see!” Donna shrieks, and silently, the Doctor adjusts the webcam-speaker’s volume, lest Donna’s voice split his eardrums or manage to wake her own comatose body somehow. “Oh my god, I can see the TARDIS—her walls, I mean—and cabinets and lights and—you’re in the medbay, right? Oh, you are—cos that’s me over there on the bed, isn’t it? Oof, I look a bit peaky, don’t I? But how on earth—?”

“Oh, it was just a small matter of rigging together the right materials to tap into your subconscious mind. Simple enough, if you’ve got a spare mobile and travel-size electroencephalographic scope lying around. A direct line, if you will,” the Doctor laughs. “Doesn’t get much more direct than this!”

“This is bonkers, absolutely bonkers. I can’t believe you managed it!”

“Didn’t I mention, though?” asks the Doctor as he springs up, feeling lighter than he has in days—maybe weeks, maybe longer. “I’m brilliant!”

“You really are,” Donna concedes, and in any other situation, the Doctor might feel mildly insulted at how surprised she sounds to admit it. “So, what do we do, now? What’s the next step?”

The Doctor considers as he darts over to Donna’s body on the bed, double- and triple-checking her vitals, just to be sure. “Well, now that the imminent danger has passed, I suppose it’s time to do a little research, scan our local solar systems to locate the equipment we need to finish the memory extraction.”

“Sounds good to me. The sooner I stop being a vegetable, the better, and if anyone can fix that, it’s you.”

No, not just him, a stubborn little voice at the back of the Doctor’s head insists. Not him. Them. Because in all honesty, the only reason he’s got any hope at all right now is all because of—

He chuckles, silently chiding himself. He really can be an idiot, sometimes. Doubting himself. Doubting her. He should know better than to distrust Rose’s instincts, whether they’re telling her to help Donna or bolt back for the TARDIS at the last second or anything else; for all he knows, her intuition could very well be a side effect borne of the Bad Wolf phenomenon (but really, he suspects it’s all just her and her gut, in the end. She’s surprisingly insightful, for a human. Always has been. He’d do well to remember that, he thinks).

Looking down at the medscreen, at the numbers displayed across its surface showing a significant calming-down of Donna’s vitals, the Doctor softens. Rose was right, in more ways than one. The Doctor reminds himself to apologize to her at the first available opportunity—though really, he thinks as he stows the medscreen and all of its connected parts safely inside his pockets, wouldn’t she prefer that he showed her how right she was, instead of telling her?

“Hang on, how come my hands look like your hands?” asks Donna, interrupting his thoughts. “I mean, obviously they’re your hands, but it’s the wrong angle, like they’re coming out of me instead of you. Like a first-person videogame thing. Am I seeing the world through your eyes, right now?”

“Near enough,” the Doctor replies cheerfully.

“Okay, but—but not like. Not literally though. Right?”

“Strictly figuratively,” the Doctor laughs. “Don’t worry, Donna. It’s all in the glasses.”

“Oh, thank god. The thought of accidentally seeing you naked again makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.”

“On second thought, maybe I’ll leave you in the coma after all,” says the Doctor.

***

Rose awakes with a start, tensing at the weight pressed against her, the unfamiliar room surrounding her. Her first thought is that she must have been knocked unconscious during a jump gone wrong—not terribly common, but it’s happened before—but as her eyes adjust to the semi-dark, taking in everything in the room from the curved ceiling to the carpeted floor to the telltale rough coral walls, recognition slowly filters in, and she remembers.

She made it. She made it back to this universe. She made it back to the TARDIS, back to the Doctor. (Doctors, plural? Both of them, then.) And he—

Oh. That weight, that body pressed close—that must be him. One of them is with her right now, isn’t he? Because this is his room, isn’t it? And if she turns over, Rose will see the Doctor lying in bed next to her, won’t she?

Her limbs still thick and heavy with sleep, Rose lazily rolls over to find the Doctor (the human one, she remembers, because that’s a thing, now), curled on his side and fast asleep. Slumber-tousled hair tumbles over a forehead smooth from worry, the Doctor’s mouth parted just slightly, his eyes shuttered, as if in prayer. It’s strange seeing him like this, not because of their years apart, not even because they’re both lying in his unfamiliar bed, but because Rose is casting about in her memories to recall the last time she ever saw him so quiet and unguarded, and she’s coming up empty-handed. She has seen him sleep before, technically; that’s not new. But she has never seen him really, properly vulnerable, in this body or any other. She’s never seen him look so human.

Human or not, it’s surreal to be so close to the Doctor right now, after so many years apart. So Rose just watches him for a moment, just taking everything in. Part of her can’t believe it, even though he’s right here, right in front of her. It’s all almost too much to absorb.

(Only almost, though. God, he’s pretty like this. Then again, he’s pretty much always pretty.)

Probably she should go ahead and get up (escape, she doesn’t think, before the moment swells too much in its sentimentality, before he wakes up and goes flighty, before she grows vulnerable herself), but struck with a sudden curious need, Rose shifts in the bed instead, one hand lifting up. She places her palm flat against the Doctor’s chest, gently, feeling its rise and fall with each deep inhale and soft exhale, before tracing a line down to the bottom of his ribcage. She can sense his heart beating, behind layers of tee shirt and skin and muscle and bone, pulsing quietly almost in time with her own.

It’s all very different. But not bad different.

“I thought I was the rude one,” mutters the Doctor, eyes still solidly shut.

Rose twitches. “Huh?”

“I thought,” the Doctor repeats, eyes sliding slowly open, “that I was the rude one.”

There goes her plan. “Oh, don’t worry,” Rose chuckles. “You’re plenty rude.”

“Says the person trying to tickle me awake.”

Cringing, Rose starts to draw her hand back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

The Doctor stops her hand before it can withdraw very far, anchoring her fingers and palm solidly back against his chest. “S’all right,” he mumbles, blinking sleep away. “Probably a good time to get up anyway.”

He’s right.

Neither of them moves.

“Did you end up getting any actual sleep last night?” Rose asks.

“Do you know, I think I did, after…” the Doctor starts to say, and trails off. Rose can practically see the memory of the night before as it replays in his mind, and admittedly, it’s a little difficult to tell in the semi-dark, but is he blushing? “After you came in,” he says hurriedly. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” says Rose, hiding a grin. “I’m good.”

He smiles at her then, almost shyly. “Good.”

And that marks a good time to get up, Rose thinks. For her to put space between them before he has the chance to.

(Except he still hasn’t moved his hand from hers. Palm pressed against his chest, Rose can feel his heartrate pick up beneath her fingers, and suddenly she’s very warm, and moving seems difficult.)

“But, like I said, probably good to go ahead and get up,” the Doctor says quickly, and Rose imagines that if his hand weren’t full of hers, he’d be nervously tugging on his ear right about now. “You know. Get the day started, and all that.”

“Probably. What time is it?”

At that, the Doctor blinks just a little too much, fully awake now. “Well,” he says, drawing the word out. “That’s sort of an interesting question, isn’t it? What time is it. Difficult to answer, considering the relativity of time (especially on the TARDIS), and taking into account that there’s no real universal chronometrical measurement or standard, and we’re really just relying on observations alone, which can vary greatly depending on the observers’ proximity to a gravitational mass—”

“You don’t know,” Rose realizes aloud.

After stuttering for a second, the Doctor closes his mouth. He shakes his head, the motion tight.

“Because of the metacrisis?

He nods.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it.

He shrugs. “It’s no worries.”

“Not even a few worries?” Rose asks, lips quirking in a small smile.

“Eh, I’m sure I can manage without the time sense. Plenty of species do. Now, the bypass, on the other hand...”

As if on cue, the Doctor starts to yawn, only to snap his mouth shut halfway through. “Oh,” he says, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Rose, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think I might have morning breath now.”

Rose chuckles. “Many of us do.”

“Well, isn’t that wizard,” the Doctor says drily. “Being human is just wonderful, can’t imagine why I never tried it long-term before.”

“It’s not all bad, you know.”

“Hmph. I’ll believe it when I see it,” he grumps. “Or hear it or smell it or feel it or taste it, as the case may be.”

Humming thoughtfully, Rose takes a moment to consider. Her fight-or-flight instinct is still murmuring quietly in the background, telling her that this is as good a moment as any to end the conversation, go ahead and get up and wash up and go about their day, whatever it may bring; the sooner she leaves this warm little cocoon, after all, the sooner Rose will be able to build her walls back up, retreat back to safe territory. Before things get out of hand. Before she has a chance to get hurt again. (Before any of them do.)

She ignores it.

“That,” Rose says, scooting just a little bit closer to him (just the littlest bit closer, mind), “sounds like an awful lot like a challenge.”

“Oh?” asks the Doctor, eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Yes,” she says solemnly, nodding. “Tell me: what do your human eyes see?”

“Plenty of stuff. It’s not my physical sensory capabilities that concern me.”

“Humor me.” Rose curls her fist against his chest. “What do you see right now?”

Beneath his ribcage, Rose swears she feels his pulse skip a beat. “Well,” says the Doctor, “not to belabor the obvious, but I see you. In my bedroom. In my bed, of all places.”

“That’s not so bad, is it?” Rose asks cheekily, tongue pressed against the back of her teeth.

The Doctor grins at her in a way that makes something flutter in her stomach. “Not bad at all,” he concedes.

Rose smiles. “And what can you hear?”

“All the same things you can, I imagine. Your voice, my voice, the TARDIS’ hum,” the Doctor counts off, “the buzz of the temporal-spacial equinometer, the quiet hiss of the life support system, faint overtures of the Vortex—”

“Right, of course I can hear all of that,” teases Rose, rolling her eyes.

“The sounds of you wriggling in the sheets like the squirmy little thing you are…”

With a laugh, Rose’s smile widens. “How’s about your nose?”

The Doctor wrinkles said nose again. “Aside from my aforementioned temporary halitosis, let’s see. It’s picking up on a hint of recycled oxygen courtesy of the TARDIS, traces of residual space matter from our time onboard the Crucible, traces of the toothpaste you used last night…”

He leans in closer, making a show of sniffing her hair. “Moringa oleifera, arginine, extracts of Fragaria ananassa, other components of your shampoo. Still partial to strawberry, hm?”

“Now you’re just showing off,” Rose laughs, and he laughs too, nodding enthusiastically.

They are very close now.

The Doctor hasn’t moved his hand, still holding hers against his chest, but that’s all right; Rose’s other hand is free, and, feeling brazen, she reaches up with it now, to run her fingers through the Doctor’s gloriously rumpled hair. If his hair is any different from his Time Lord counterpart’s, she can’t tell; it’s still thick, smooth, stupidly pretty. Her fingertips glance against his scalp first, scraping lightly after, and the Doctor’s eyes threaten to shutter closed, fluttering like he’s fighting to stay awake.

“What do you feel?” Rose asks him.

The Doctor hums deep in his belly, the sound rumbling against Rose’s fingers. “Sleepy, if you keep doing that.”

Rose’s hand slowly drifts downward, tracing a path from the Doctor’s ear down to his shoulder, joining its counterpart on the Doctor’s chest.

“Suppose you’re going to suggest I eat some candy or a biscuit next,” the Doctor chuckles wryly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Certainly. What better way to appeal to my sense of taste and thereby prove your point?”

Rose considers for just a split-second before she draws in close to kiss him. It’s impulsive, and her heart races in her ears for all that it’s a short and sweet and chaste kiss, but it’s worth it for the small sound of surprise the Doctor makes when her lips meet his, and the dazed look on his face when she pulls back.

The Doctor blinks at her. “Do you know,” he replies, just the tiniest bit breathlessly, “I might be willing to slightly revise my stance on my newfound humanity.”

“Just slightly?”

“Just a little bit,” the Doctor agrees before leaning in to return the kiss. His lips work softly against hers, the pressure light, relaxed, and Rose melts into it immediately, even as some distant part of her brain still reels in disbelief that this sort of thing happens, now, that this is something they can do—that they can see each other, and hear, and smell, and feel, and, as the Doctor’s lips part to grant entry to Rose’s tongue, taste. Rose’s tongue glances against his briefly before retreating and he chases after her, suddenly starving. Distantly, she thinks she should tease him that his morning breath isn’t that bad after all; presently, she wonders how the Doctor would react if she pulled off his boxers, if he would rather straddle or be straddled. Her hands fist in his tee-shirt, his pulse speeding up against her knuckles as she pulls him in until they’re so close, they’re nearly touching, the scant space between them nearly buzzing with the desire to be bridged.

The Doctor breaks the kiss long enough to catch his breath, and if Rose didn’t know any better, she’d think he was gasping. “We,” he starts to say, and swallows. Sighs. “Erm. We really should…”

“Get up now?” Rose supplies, but she doesn’t move away, closes the whisper of a gap between them instead.

“Hmm. We should,” says the Doctor, even as he bends down to press a kiss, featherlight, to the pulse point beneath Rose’s jaw.

Her breath hitches in her throat and she fights not to let her eyes fall shut. It’s impossible not to feel a little giddy at the closeness of him, the sudden sensation of their bodies sliding together, skin achingly close to skin; she wonders if that’s as true for him as it is for her, with all his fresh new cells and nerves buzzing beneath thin layers of clothing and pretense.

“Yeah,” she sighs, hands slipping down to the elastic of his boxers. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, last night was—”

“Unexpected, but inspired?” asks the Doctor as he kisses her neck.

“And probably a little too much, too soon,” Rose adds, playing with his waistband. “Better to ease into this sort of thing, right?”

“That would be very responsible of us.”

“Yeah,” Rose pants as the Doctor insinuates one of his legs between hers. “We should take things slow. Make sure…”

“No one gets hurt?”

She slips a finger beneath his waistband. “Are you talking about the two of us, or—”

“Much as I hate to admit it, this equation has three variables.” The Doctor nips her collarbone, soothing the hurt with his tongue after, sending heat pooling deep in Rose’s belly. She fights the urge to grind down on the Doctor’s thigh. “And as much as I’d like to pretend it doesn’t matter,” the Doctor continues, as if he doesn’t notice how hot and wet she suddenly is, “the other me is bound to have conflicting thoughts about all of this.”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t keep pushing me away,” says Rose, running a teasing thumb along his hipbone, relishing the feel of him stiffening against her.

“A fair and rational point,” the Doctor concedes, even as he shudders and kisses the swell of her breast, his lips warm and soft through the fabric of her shirt. “But I’m not sure how much rationality applies in situations like this.”

Rose pulls back enough to properly look at him. “He’s not the one who let me in,” she tells the Doctor, her gaze hard. “He’s not the one who stayed.”

“So is this a reward for me, or a punishment for him?” the Doctor asks.

He doesn’t look angry, or sad. There’s no blame in his tone. His expression is perfectly neutral, like a scientist putting forth a vague hypothetical. Rose sees through it immediately.

“There’s no one else in this room,” she tells him, “but you, and me.”

The Doctor nods. “Good,” he breathes, and Rose kisses him again, fiercely this time. It’s a bruising thing, greedy even, but neither of them are complaining as Rose’s tongue slides over his, slick and warm and sweet. The Doctor groans into her mouth as her thigh brushes against his cock, as she finally surrenders to the urge to grind down on his leg; his fingers knot in her hair as he takes control of the kiss and it’s only a little frantic, the way they’re clinging to each other, and it’s awkward, this tangled mess of clothes and limbs, but it’s delicious, too, the friction and the need and the way the Doctor maybe-accidentally bites her lip when Rose’s hand slips into his boxers to stroke him from base to tip.

He’s hot in her hand, hot and hard and wonderfully human and his reactions are human too, as he abandons the kiss in favor of burying his face in the join of Rose’s neck and shoulder, panting, his hands flying down to clench her by the hips, pulling her into him. A moment later and he’s pulling at her tee shirt, dislodging her hand from his shorts so he can strip her shirt all the way up and off. After urging Rose onto her back, the Doctor takes just a second to appreciate the view, his eyes at half-mast and lips just parted, before he dips down to kiss her breasts. Swearing under her breath, Rose arches off the bed, into his touch; he rewards her with his fingers on one nipple and his mouth on the other, teasing both to stiff, sensitive attention.

His thigh is still wedged between hers and Rose grinds down wantonly, practically whimpering, grateful for the chance to relieve the mounting ache throbbing between her legs. She wants so badly to touch him again but it’s difficult, positioned the way they are, and it’s only made more difficult when his hand leaves her breast in favor of sneaking beneath the waistband of her borrowed boxers, brushing featherlight and tentative over the seam of her sex. At that point it’s almost impossible to think about anything but his mouth on her breast and his fingers gently stroking her and how it’s so good, it’s so good, it’s almost perfect, and she reaches down to guide him, push his fingers into her slick wet sex and show him how she likes to be fucked.

Rose clamps down on any cries that might try to escape as the Doctor picks up on her rhythms, fingers fucking her gently at first, then—at her grasp tightening on his wrist—more, harder, until sweat starts beading on Rose’s forehead and breasts and she can feel her climax tensing deep in her belly, coiling tighter with each delicious thrust. The Doctor is a fast learner. (Of course he is.) But she wants more.

“Off,” Rose says breathlessly, pushing at the Doctor’s waistband until he seems to get the hint, propping himself up on one elbow as he removes his hand from Rose’s boxers. But instead of immediately disrobing, he looks at his hand thoughtfully for a moment, and even in this dim light, Rose can see how slick his fingers are, nearly glistening from her. She has approximately half a second to feel embarrassed before the Doctor’s tongue darts out to taste his fingers. Rose just stares as he plunges his fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around the tips, like he might do with a strange new specimen he just encountered, or perhaps one of his very favorite jams. He hums appreciatively and Rose only just manages to stifle a whimper as renewed heat floods between her legs.

The Doctor glances up at her, removing his fingers from his mouth with an obscene smack. “Rude?” he asks innocently.

“Very,” Rose says, pulling herself up by his shirt so she can kiss him again. He tastes like sex. Like sex and something sweet and something musky and animal, primal. He tastes incredible. Struck with indescribable need, Rose pulls at the Doctor’s clothes and this time he definitely gets the hint, sitting back just long enough to strip off his shirt and boxers before returning to help Rose wriggle out of her (his) shorts and Rose might knee him in the ribs a little but before she has a chance to apologize he’s covering her mouth with his, claiming any words that might tumble out. Settling between her thighs (and god, but that’s glorious, the feel of them sliding together, skin on skin at last), the Doctor urges her legs over his hips and around her waist. After teasing her for a moment with his hand, fingers sliding through slick heat to make sure she’s ready for him, absolutely sure—and she absolutely is, almost embarrassingly so, though she can feel herself tightening with anticipation—he pushes inside.

The fullness is almost overwhelming. Rose bites down on his shoulder to keep from crying out.

He draws in a sharp breath. “Is that—?”

“It’s good,” Rose stutters against his neck. “It’s good. You’re good.”

The Doctor leans back to look at her, concerned. He thinks he hurt her. Rose shakes her head—he didn’t hurt her—well he did, just a little bit—well, she’ll be a little sore later—but good sore—and she doesn’t mind, she was a little overeager herself, she just tensed up is all, excluding last night it’s been a little while since she’s done any of this, and this is all stuff that can be discussed later, and don’t you dare stop now, don’t you dare—and she pulls him down by the shoulders for a kiss.

“Don’t stop,” Rose pants into his mouth.

“Right,” he says, distracted, between kisses and bites. It’s a question, not a declaration; for her, not for him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push further, though Rose can tell he’s aching to. His whole body is humming under her hands, sweating with the effort of holding back. But she’s adjusted to him now, enough that the stinging has given way to warmth and she really, really wants him to start moving. Her hips roll forward, pushing him in deeper, until Rose can feel the full length of him inside her. The Doctor groans at the back of his throat.

“Good?” Rose prompts, chest heaving.

“It’s—ah—good,” he grits out. His hips start moving, grinding against her with slow, long thrusts, his eyes clenching shut. Rose suspects this is the moment his respiratory bypass would be kicking in, in the other body. “Very good,” he gasps.

They fall into a rhythm, pushing and pulling and sliding together, fingernails digging into each other’s backs and hips and shoulders—they’re definitely going to find each other’s marks, later. But for now, Rose arches up and kisses the Doctor’s throat, mouth drawing a path up to his jaw, lips pressing against the space behind his ear until she can feel his heartbeat hammering there. She nips at the sensitive flesh and hears him bite back a curse; she grins so he can feel her teeth on his skin. The Doctor slides his hand back between them and his thrusts pick up in speed and urgency. Tension starts building up again, low in Rose’s abdomen, down where they’re joined, where he’s teasing them both. Little shocks of pleasure ripple through her, previews before the main event.

It’s almost too much, the sensory overload—she very nearly wants to push him away, wants the maddening tension to stop, wants to shatter into a thousand glittering golden pieces. She bucks against him wildly, her toes curling at the feeling of him meeting her stroke-for-stroke, her breath leaving her in a staccato. Their exhales are punctuated by gasps and groans as they clutch at each other, Rose reaching up to drag her fingers through his hair again, her fingernails scraping against his scalp. She feels his responding hum deep in her own sternum and pulls him up for a kiss, mouth open, tongue sliding against his.

After a moment, the Doctor breaks off the kiss, his face twisted in concentration. “Oh,” he gasps out, his voice ragged and husky, words breaking in the air. “Oh, Rose. Oh, fuck.”

Now it really is too much. Rose lets out a shout and her eyes slam shut as she comes, shuddering, muscles clenching deliciously around the Doctor. She arches off the bed, scrambling at the Doctor’s back for purchase as he empties into her with a muffled groan. His thrusts slowing to a stop, the Doctor slumps over her, only to roll off onto his back immediately afterward, chest and stomach heaving as he gasps air back into his lungs.

It’s very quiet in the room, except for how they’re both panting like they just ran a marathon. Lightheadedness swells up in Rose’s skull, complementing the something that feels an awful lot like tenderness settling nicely behind her ribs.

She tries to shut that line of thought down before it can get too far. Because any minute, Rose thinks, he’ll spring up; time to go, time to move on to the next great adventure, time to pretend none of this ever happened. That’s how he would have reacted before, she knows (or she suspects, rather, as if he would have even let things progress so far, before), and there’s no reason to pretend he wouldn’t do exactly the same thing now, last night’s venture notwithstanding. That, Rose reasons somewhere in the pleasant post-sex haze that seems to have replaced her brain, was just a fluke. It’s much more like him to push her away, or to run. Which means it would be better for her, really, if she was the one who left first. So she’s going to. Before he does.

Any minute now.

A few long seconds tick by, and Rose can’t help but notice neither of them is moving away.

Huh. Imagine that.

Tentatively, eyes still fixed glasslike on the ceiling overhead, Rose extends her hand somewhere in the netherspace beside her, where she can hear the Doctor breathing, where she can feel the dip in the mattress that signifies his weight pressing down. She doesn’t have to reach far; her hand finds his almost instantly, or maybe his finds hers, their fingers twining together regardless of the sweat cooling on their skin. She offers a little squeeze, and the next exhale that leaves the Doctor sounds suspiciously like a sigh of relief.

“I must say,” says the Doctor, still sounding just the littlest bit winded, “you make a very compelling argument in favor of this whole humanity business.”

“Damn right I do,” Rose mutters, and they both laugh.

***

Grinning ear-to-ear, it’s all the Doctor can do to keep from running as he strides down corridor after corridor toward his bedroom, hands in pockets and a whole heaping helping of pep in his step.

“Can’t help but notice this isn’t the way to the console room,” pipes up Donna’s voice from the webcam speaker.

“Nope,” says the Doctor, popping the p at the end. “Got to make the rounds first, wake up all the non-comatose humans. And I wouldn’t mind a moment to freshen up in the bath as well. And yes, I will take off the glasses first,” he says before Donna has a chance to.

“You better.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he laughs, reaching for the handle on the bedroom door. “I’ll make sure nothing has a chance to offend your delicate—”

The sound of laughter from inside the bedroom stills his hand.

...human sensibilities, he thinks and forgets to say, but it doesn’t matter. The Doctor fully expected to open the door and see his room, painted dark by synthetic night and occupied by a bed and one (1) singular sleeping human—which, of course, is still a strange thing to see, this whole other version of his current self outside the confines of a mirror or any other reflective surface, but still: expected. What he did not expect, however, was not just one human in his room, but two. And after the events of last night, he certainly did not expect to hear either of them laughing. And apparently together.

To be fair, it isn’t the sound that sends his stomach plummeting so much as the implications accompanying it.

Probably he should turn and go, give them some privacy, but he’s too busy lingering and simultaneously chiding himself for lingering. He and Rose shared a bed plenty of times before—well, not always a bed, per se, sometimes more of a bedroll or a cot or a prison bunk or the occasional pile of prickly sneeze-inducing hay—so there’s no reason he should be standing and staring like this, no reason at all for him to be gaping at the door to his room like some kind of slack-jawed idiot. It doesn’t matter what they might or might not have got up to in there, besides sleeping. He’s a Time Lord, for goodness’ sake. He doesn’t—he can’t—care about any of this. He’s better than all this. He’s got to be.

“Wow,” pipes up Donna, cutting through the sluggish silence like a knife through jelly, and the Doctor jerks back from the door before the sharp sound of her voice has a chance to disturb anyone and make the situation even more awkward than it already is. “They didn’t waste any time at all, did they?”

The Doctor does not reply, preoccupied with collecting some thoughts and working overtime to push others away, racing to put as much distance between himself and his room as possible. This doesn’t change anything, he knows. He’s still got things to take care of. He still has research to do. He still has to help Donna. He still…

Jaw set, he grits his teeth against the unwelcome feelings trying to swell up uncomfortably in his throat. What’s wrong with him? Isn’t this what he planned for? Isn’t this what he designed?

(Isn’t this more or less what he knew would happen, when he pushed her away for the umpteenth time? When he told her she wasn’t welcome here, with him?)

“Doctor?” asks Donna’s voice, unusually quiet, now. “Are you all right?”

The Doctor shakes his head in an attempt to clear the nonsense away. “Of course I am,” he replies. “I’m always all right.”

***

He knows he should feel guilty, on some level, allowing himself any measure of happiness while Donna’s in crisis and his other self is so busy tending to her. But the human Doctor is finding it increasingly difficult to dampen his grin whenever Rose so much as glances his way, and when she returns his smile, lashes fluttering and lips curving shyly upward as the two of them make their way to the console room, it takes every ounce of the Doctor’s considerable willpower to keep himself from pulling her into the universe’s tightest, happiest hug. If he were a cynical man (and goodness knows, at times, he has been), he’d chalk up all this giddiness to the postcoital hormones fizzing pleasantly in his veins. Just chemistry, pure and simple. But right now, he’s fairly certain the only chemistry involved here is how hopelessly drunk he is on her.

Of course, then they step into the console room, and the Doctor is forcibly reminded that, much like with actual alcohol, when humans forget to pace themselves, afterward they get to deal with fun little things like hangovers and other delightful consequences.

“There you two are!” pipes up his other self, darting about the control desk, flipping switches and pulling levers. “I was starting to think you’d sleep the whole day away, the both of you. Of course, Rose, you always did sleep like the dead, metaphorically speaking—you could put Donna’s coma to shame—but it’s surprising even to me how quickly your particular brand of circadian rhythms has spread to those around you. Suppose it only makes sense, given the matching human physiologies and all. Still, you two missed quite a lot while you were out, so you’ve got a bit of catching-up to do, the both of you.”

He sounds cheerful enough, bordering on oblivious, but this is a manner the human Doctor remembers all too well, recognizes with startling clarity once viewed from the outside—he’s just a little too nonchalant, just a little too casual, yet somehow manic at the same time as he makes a show of checking monitors and typing commands and pressing buttons, perhaps, just a little harder than he needs to, unable to look either of them in the eye as he does so.

He already knows. Somehow, he’s figured it all out. He knows everything. Of course he does.

Speaking of hangovers, the Doctor’s starting to feel just the littlest bit queasy.

“How’s Donna doing?” he calls out anyway, ignoring the sick feeling twisting in his stomach.

“Oh, right as rain,” Donna’s voice chirps out of the blue. “Thanks for asking!”

Rose and the Doctor both jump. “Donna?” asks Rose in disbelief, glancing around the console room as if Donna may manifest from thin air at any moment. “Donna, was that you? Where are you? What’s—”

“You rigged her up to a medical transceiver, didn’t you?” the Doctor realizes immediately. “And it worked?”

“Apparently,” says Donna. “‘Course I’m still stuck in the medbay, still put under and all that. But he’s got a camera or something sort of rigged up to his specs, so even though I’m asleep, I still can see and hear everything he does. Isn’t that genius?”

“Wow,” Rose breathes. “Are you all right, Donna? You’re not still in pain, or anything?”

“Can’t feel a thing. Could probably use an extra blanket, though, knowing how cold he keeps the place.”

Laughing, Rose shifts her focus to the other Doctor, shaking her head in wonder. “This is incredible,” she says earnestly. “God. You’re brilliant.”

“Thanks,” replies the other Doctor with a grin that’s just a little too tight. “Of course, it’s just the first step of a much longer process, it isn’t exactly a tenable long-term solution to keep Donna rigged up like this—”

“No brain-in-a-computer for me, ta.”

“—but it’s a good first step nonetheless.”

“What’s step two?” asks Rose.

“Step two for me is scanning the nearby systems to find the equipment needed to extricate the offending material safely from Donna’s brain,” replies the Time Lord Doctor, tilting his head distractedly at the monitor as he types in another command. “Step two for you lot, I suppose, is whatever you want.”

“Great,” says Rose. “We want to help you.”

“No need,” the Doctor insists. “I’ve got it all under control. And you know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen. Speaking of, have you two eaten yet? The galley’s fairly well-stocked at the mo, lots of good proteins and complex carbohydrates at your disposal. I’m sure you two are famished after everything you’ve both got up to last evening. Humans tend to rack up quite the appetite, activities like that.”

The Doctor’s blood pressure drops like a stone. He glances at Rose to find her face carefully composed, her earlier excitement already fading like it was never there.

“You talking about everything with the Daleks and the end of the world?” Rose asks coolly. “Or the sex?”

If she were physically present, the Doctor imagines Donna’s jaw would drop open at that, at the bold frankness of it. Now the blood comes rushing back into his cheeks til he thinks he might catch fire from it. Rubbish human body and its rubbish autonomic nervous responses.

His other self does not look away from the monitor in front of him. “I’m sure the latter is absolutely none of my business,” he says pleasantly.

“You’re right. It’s really not.”

“Yeah, it’s not really any of my business either,” Donna pipes in. “So could we maybe turn the transceiver off for this—”

“Fair enough,” interrupts the Time Lord Doctor, “but then that does beg the question of why you brought it up.”

“It was gonna come up sooner or later. I’d rather bring it all out into the open now. Or would you rather I made passive-aggressive jibes about you two and you lot and snide comments about late-night activities?”

“Honestly, it would be delightful if we didn’t comment on any of this at all.”

“Great,” Rose laughs weakly. “So just ignore it and it’ll go away, just like we always used to do?”

“That’s what you came back for, isn’t it? To get back to the way things used to be.”

“I came back for you!”

“All right,” says the human Doctor loudly, surprising himself and everyone else. “That’s enough!”

No one responds, the console room silent except for the glass column grinding quietly away over the hum of the TARDIS. The Doctor glances between Rose and his other self, pulse pounding sluggishly in his chest, the sick feeling in his stomach growing heavier with each passing moment. The other Doctor still won’t look at either of them.

“That’s enough,” he says again, quieter this time. “We can all have a good row about this later. Our priority right now is taking care of Donna. Everything else can wait. Right?” he adds to Rose, arching an eyebrow meaningfully.

Jaw set and gaze hard, eyes flashing, for a moment it seems like Rose is going to argue with him. But she quickly relents, tension easing from her shoulders. “Right,” she says quietly, nodding.

“Right?” the Doctor snaps at his original self.

The Time Lord Doctor doesn’t look at him, too busy staring at his monitor. “Right in theory,” he murmurs, slowly. “But in practice…”

“What?” asks the human Doctor impatiently. “What is it?”

His original self scans the readings on the monitor again and again, as if different information may yield itself on repeat viewings. Whatever he sees there makes the tight, forced grin melt right off his face. His brow furrows in alarm.

“Doctor?” asks Rose, concerned, now.

In lieu of responding, the original Doctor pushes away from the control desk, racing toward the TARDIS doors. With a great heave, he throws them open, to reveal—

Nothing.

No planet surface beams at them from outside the TARDIS. There is no sun, no stars, no vortex. No light, no dark. No warm, no cold. An empty, silent, colorless expanse extends as far as the eye can see.

“Oh, no,” murmurs Rose, clutching a hand to her stomach.

“What is that?” demands Donna’s voice. “Is something wrong with your glasses, Doctor? I can’t see.”

“That’s because there is, quite literally, nothing to see,” says the original Doctor quietly, shaking his head.

He turns to face Rose and the human Doctor, eyes wide with fear. “We never made it out to the other side,” he says. “We’re trapped in the Void.”

***

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter [forthcoming]]

***

P.S. I would like to give a big shout-out to the absolutely wonderful @tenroseforeverandever @goingtothetardis @hanluvr @ladydiomede @wordmusician @gallifreygirl81 @OH @super_powerful_queen_slayyna and absolutely anyone who ever said something nice about this story or especially if you encouraged me to continue it. I’m sorry this chapter was three years in the making (!!!!) but it is heartily dedicated to y’all lovely lovely peaches! <3 <3 <3

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nickmuch · 5 years

Text

e.j.h. - teo

NOTE: am i a writer? No. Did i have nothing to do at work bc i finished all my stuff 3 hours too early and wrote an imagine out of boredom? Yes.

Also: I seriously wrote this as a joke, but oof 3 pages long?? Just for it to stay locked up on my laptop?? No, ma’am. So I decided to post it here. It’s obviously not bomb and english is not my first language, so don’t roast me pls :(

„Hey…“ he said after entering her room. It was so soft that it could barely be heard at first. However, his presence was felt in the house the moment he had opened the gate. The walls were too thin for her liking and she felt like she had been eavesdropping even though all he did was take off his shoes, put them neatly behind the front door and slowly climb up the stairs to the master’s bed room. He was cautious. Way too cautious, she thought. That made her stomach churn again.

“Talk to me”. His hand touched her forearm lighty, making his way up to her shoulders, then across her collar bone, to her jaw and lastly holding onto her cheeks with both his hands softly but firm enough for her to know that this was real. That he was real. They were real.

Life felt like a simulation these days. She couldn’t feel anything besides her tiredness. Ironically, everything seemed as if she was in a dream world. She was the eyes to a video game character but couldn’t feel what its shallow body felt. Like an illusion.

“I … I-“. She tried to talk to him. After all he didn’t do anything wrong, he wasn’t the reason for her horrible mind-state. Hell, she didn’t even know why she felt so unsure, so irritated and aloof, keeping him at a distance she didn’t feel comfortable with because he was her safe place. Edwin was her safe place.

Her mouth was dry, making her voice raspy when she finally found the words to speak. “I am scared of losing you”. Six words. Six words that held so much more meaning to them than it seemed. Because it didn’t just mean that she was scared of losing him. It meant that she loved him. That she couldn’t imagine a life without him in the picture. That there was this big possibility she could lose her best friend any moment now and that drove her wild.

His eyebrows furrowed. A slight frown visible on his delicate face and his mouth pouty from thinking of what could have possibly happened that she even thought for a second he would ever leave her alone like that. “Whatchu mean?”.

She pulled away. He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know because for the past week she had been ignoring him mercilessly. It was the fear that kept her from telling him, talking to him, seeing him. The way he would react? Only god knew. But it’s been a week and sooner or later she did have to face him. With or without fear of losing him.

Suddenly her head felt dizzy and before Edwin could process what was going on, she was already on her feet running and hunched over the toilet to empty her stomach. Not that she had eaten anything and even if she did, it didn’t stay for long anyways. “Mi amor” he murmured. He didn’t know what was going on but he for sure wasn’t going to leave her on her own while she felt this miserable. “What did you eat? Did that upset your stomach or something?”. Before he could receive an answer to his question, she was throwing up again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to her, she turned her body towards him. As if on cue, his arms were wrapped around her securely, holding her fragile self like a safety blanket, ready to protect her from everything evil in this world.

It was only a look, but enough for him to see what she was trying to tell him all this time. Now it all made sense: her avoiding him, the nausea, the tears she shed the last time they saw each other. She was talking to Zion in the PM backyard then. Hushed whispers mixed with frantic worried looks. Soft touches. An unwary smile from Z. Not gonna lie, Ed did feel jealous when he saw them together like that. Who could blame him, though? Last time he checked she was his official-but-not-so-official-girlfriend, promoted from best friend to lover after their last wild party weeks ago. The party itself wasn’t so wild, but what happened between her and Ed after was. So, naturally he felt annoyed that she would go to Zion with her problem instead of him.

Now she was in his embrace on the cold floor while they seemed to be waiting for her next nauseous moment. “You are, aren’t you?” he asked. It was more like a statement. In his mind he had already pieces two and two together. Edwin knew that she was, it was a feeling deep down. A shaky breath left her lips, followed by a short nod of her head. “Are you mad? Are you going to leave? I- I don’t know what to do, you always keep a cool head when things blow up. I am not good with this. How are we supposed to tell the others? Will we even- “. He didn’t let her finish. Too many thoughts clouded her mind and Edwin knew the only way to make it stop was to answer her questions. And so he did by kissing her passionately like never before. The kiss was supposed to tell her that everything was going to be alright, that he wouldn’t leave their side even if the world would end tomorrow. “You talk too much. Let your heart speak for once, mi amor”.

A smile crept up her face. It felt so foreign, she couldn’t remember the last time she had a smile on. Probably two weeks ago before her life was turned upside down in just a matter of 5 minutes. “You sure?”. Her voice seemed stronger now. Edwin took his time before answering. “All I know is that I wanna spend my life with you. Forever. We’ve been best friends for years now and ever since … ever since-“. She nodded quickly, signaling for him that it was okay he felt so nervous and to just continue whenever. “We weren’t supposed to sleep with each other because we’re best friends. Always been”. This made her heart beat faster and scared that this whole conversation was close to taking a different turn than expected. “But maybe” he began. “Maybe we were supposed to be lovers and not best friends all along”. Suddenly Edwin fell backwards a bit. She couldn’t help herself and hug him with so much force and passion. This needed to be true. This needed to be real and not just a simulation of her weird twisted fantasy. That’s why she engulfed him as tight as her weak body allowed.

“So, I’m willing to try and not only be there for you, but also for them. No matter the decision. I want this to work out. I want us to work out. And it will”. The look in his eyes was determined. He was more than sure that this was what he wanted, what was always truly in his heart but couldn’t be said out loud in fear of ruining everything they had built in their friendship. It was too precious for that. But right now was the perfect time and so he did. He told her what was going on in his mind for what felt like years, but really it had only been a couple weeks since he knew what he felt for her and yet, they both believed this love would never end.

Edwin seemed to have an imaginary bullet-list in his head. The way he concentrated and stared into the distance while trying to think and say all the things he loved about her. The way she would make sure to call him at least twice a day – as a good morning and good night -, whether it was on a bad day or good day, busy day or lazy day. Didn’t matter. Or how she would laugh at anything he said, even if the other boys didn’t find the joke very funny. How her lips were so goddamn pouty and soft after a nap. Even back then he had the urge to just kiss them. Silly of him to not realize any sooner how madly in love he was with this girl. “Okay!” she laughed. “I get it. I am awesome or whatever”. It was said more as a joke but honestly? He did think she was awesome. “Oh and, Ed?”. Now it was his turn to look at her quizzically. “I love you, too. And we will conquer this whole love thing. Together. You, me and … and them”. Tears were rushing out of his eyes uncontrollably as she spoke her words. She finished with a short silence, followed by a single word. “Teo”. At first, Edwin didn’t catch on but after repeating what she said in his head a couple of times, it finally clicked. “Yes, it’s definitely gonna be Teo”. This was truly a dream come true and neither her nor him wanted to ever wake up from it.

ANOTHER NOTE: ok so yes, she’s preggo and Teo is short for Mateo and that’s one of my favorite names, so I had to add it in here somehow. Anyways, if you actually read the whole thing: I love you.

- Cami

#edwin honoret #brandon arreaga #zion kuwonu #austin porter #nick mara #fanfic #prettymuch #edwin honoret imagine #prettymuch imagines #pm #ejh #love #blurbs #zion kuwonu imagines #austin porter imagines #nick mara imagines #brandon arreaga imagines #pm blurbs #writing

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interstellactic-studios · 5 years

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Howdy guys! I have some news today for y'all, just a small update on some stuff but I'd appreciate it if y'all who still exist here would read!

Here's a watercolor piece I finished recently uwu sorry for not posting here often anymore, tumblr mobile is how I mainly accessed tumblr and it's like super shitty.

Even after I switched from apple to Samsung when I got a new phone back in July, so I've hopped around a little and I think I'm going to officially start using Instagram a bit more. I'll still post here occasionally for y'all who don't have Instagram and are too lazy to make one though so don't worry XD

Ok so now to some important news! If any of my mutuals have dms with me or people who actually contacted me (unlike some who basically haven't talked to me since they made a request which is a bummer) about request have dms open then message me on whether or not you have an Instagram so we can maybe do more stuff there? ^_^" I'm not joking about tumblr mobile going to shit for me: notifications don't work like at all and are super janky, my dms are oddly changing order even though I haven't touched some in a long time, and sometimes I cant even make post cause the button just poofs even when I close and reopen the app >_<" if I have a dm with you or y'all have wondered why I keep dying, when I started using tumblr less is when these problems started. I literally am having technical problems that carried over to a completely new and different branded phone than my old one. I'm sure I'm not the only one here with these kinds of issues, and of course now most of my notifs are literally pron bots following me or liking random old ass post of mine.

I'm super disappointed in what's happened to tumblr tbh since I didn't think this hellsite could actually get worse ._. Except now it's in quality too rather than just a bunch of its content. I'll stick around because the tumblr website itself still works pretty decently for me, but I'm not on my laptop for media as much so activity will be slowed until I can figure out how to rise from the grave permanently oof. Also irl life has also kept me super busy and my art time is restricted to school sketchbook doodles. This art here is literally art I did for my AP class and i put many days of at home work into it as school days =_=""" I'm hella tired. Good news is you'll guys probably can see more improvement on my art since I am taking 3 art classes and I'm gonna try and post my work from those at least.

Also I know I've typed a bunch so I apologize for the long ass message most of y'all probably won't read and probably won't even see tbh, but I got one more very important thing to say. Everyone who has dropped contact with me who had request, I am no longer going to waste time and effort into them since I have asked many times for those who haven't talked to me to rekindle a convo since a while back all my dms were poofed and I messaged who I could track down. I've had no new people come up since the ones I've messaged myself so all those requests will be moved to my discarded/incomplete folder and I will no longer work on them until you come out of the dark and ask. I've gotten behind on art request for other people because of time wasted on these and I owe several people art now, which I apologize for those who have been waiting btw I've been doing my best but things keep getting difficult. Please understand that I'm not being rude by doing this, I just can't overstress myself anymore over these because it's hindering my ability to create for others and I feel hella shitty about being pushed behind and basically being ghosted. I'm going to use all the free time I have working on art I owe to people who still speak to me, figuring out job stuff, trying to set up a college portfolio since these are taking up most of my time. Once I completely finish these hopefully I can start doing more of what I love on here and other social media sites than just for school and shit.

Ok that's finally it now phew! Sorry again for the long post, and some cursing oof, I hope y'all have a fabulous day/night! ^w^

#interstellacticstudios #my artwork #my art #my art stuff #watercolor #watercolour art #wicke speaks #reblogs are appreciated #reblog if you want to

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kokichino-benaben-blog · 6 years

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ITH Shorts #2: Her

Guess who's still writing? Hahaha, this bitch right here lmao. Here's a particularly edgy piece. I'd make it less edgy, but I just got out of exams...so I'm kind of drowning in feels. In other news, y'all will be getting more frequents with the story now! Of course, they're all snippets, but it's better than nothing amirite? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Is it really over?” Wrath asks me, looking at me worriedly. I try to avoid his gaze. It’s a question I’d rather not answer.

“Yeah.” I let out an exasperated sigh. But maybe I should answer. Wrath gingerly puts his hand on my shoulder. Sparks sporadically fly off the crack in my skin. Wires peek out of the cracks like unsuspecting plants growing between the cracks of a sidewalk. Any more damage and I would’ve looked like a walking system unit.

I try to wipe off the blood from my chin, but I end up smearing it, making it worse. I try to rub off the blood on my hands, but it won’t come off. I wish I could cry. Too bad I don’t have tear ducts. I wish I could cry. I wish I could forget. But I have all my memories synced to computers in the lab. It’s all just too bad.

“In the end, no good came of it.”

“You sure?” He doesn’t look convinced. I sure don’t feel convinced either.

Because maybe, I too, want to know if it really is over.

Because it certainly doesn’t feel like it.

She was never mine, but I still let her go.

Or rather, she let go of me.

I look back in the bloodied alleyway. I see her. I discreetly wave to her, hoping maybe we could salvage this.

She doesn’t wave back.

I guess we can’t.

I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. Even without a functioning heart.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Because I don’t want to admit that it is all over. But it hurts so damn bad for it to be true.

Both inside and out.

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

“I have better things to do than be here.” She looks at me as if it’s my fault she’s here. It isn’t. I shuffle awkwardly in my seat. The feeling’s mutual. At least we’re on the same page.

“Me too. I have to make dinner tonight. The sooner we hit the books, the sooner we’ll both get to leave.” I look at her, trying not to throw the chair next to me at the wall. I mean, she hasn’t done anything (yet) to make me hate her. Other than the fact that she dates a jerk.

I shouldn’t hold that against her. Sure, her boyfriend isn’t the epitome of evil (Satan is), but he’s racist. Painfully so. Unfortunately, he’d rather use his fists to make his opinion clear rather than words. Then again, he’s tame compared to the others. I rub my bandaged arm underneath my uniform. It’s been about a saptāha since her so-called boyfriend and his friends ganged up on me and almost broke my non-cybernetic arm. It still hurts.

I take a deep breath and exhale. It’ll only be as bad as I make it out to be. Besides, it’s not like this could possibly escalate to anything bad so long as her boyfriend doesn’t know, right? What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“So what do you need help with?” I try to put on my best smile. I keep staring at her chocolate eyes.

She seems to take the hint.

“Nothing really.” She sounds like she means it.

“Your parents say otherwise.” I quip good-naturedly.

“Hey, you can’t hold me up against unrealistic Cipherean* standards. I can’t help it if my parents have high-as-fuck expectations of me.” She retorts, not so good-naturedly.

* Cephirean= Eastern Asian (it’s a work in progress)

“Whoa there, I didn’t ask for a life story. I’m just here to tutor you.”

She stares blankly at me for a second in confusion. Shit, that’s what her expression seems to say. She blinks back into reality and blushes profusely. Well, this is going great. At this rate, I just might make it home by just half past never.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that people make assumptions because I date a ‘jock’ that I’m a stupid blonde bimbo. Well, I’m not.” She grabs strands of her ombre cherry blonde hair and points to them. “And okay, I’ll admit my grades are slipping, but I didn’t think it’d be so bad that I’d need you,” She gestures to all of me, “to tutor me.” Her eyes throw daggers at me. “No offence, there’s nothing wrong with you.” She gestures to all of me again.

Like I’d believe that. Everything is wrong with me. Low-esteem and boys don’t exactly work well together. Especially if you’re the universe’s punching bag. Which is a title I wish I didn’t have. But I do, which sucks. A lot.

“Well, at least there’s you to believe there’s nothing wrong with me. That’s a first.” She smirks. “You haven’t been down on the streets, have you?”

“Actually, contrary to popular beliefs, I haven’t. It’s not like my parents would let me out there anyway, took me ages to convince them I was mature enough for a boyfriend...Why are you asking?” She gasps, her face turning pale. “You aren’t a drug dealer-- are you?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” I chuckle. This girl certainly has her priorities straight. I was scared she was going to ask if I was a murderer. Which I definitely wasn't. At all. Nothing to hide at all.

She raises a concerned eyebrow. I quickly reply, “No, I’m not.” to assuage her growing fear that her serial-killer tutor was a drug dealer. Because I am definitely not. Her face slowly gains colour. She’s sceptical.

She has every right to be.

“Moving on, I didn’t catch your name. Your name is?” She brings out her hand for a handshake.

I hesitate. What if I grow attached to her? I’ll suffer for it. But I have to tell her my name. It’s common courtesy. I bring out my hand to shake hers. “Kaito. Kaito Riseborough.” I reply.

“But no one calls me Kaito. I just go by Kai.” I quickly add.

We shake hands. I hold on for a little too long.

“Well, I just go by Genevieve. But my close friends call me Vive.” Genevieve laughs this bubbly laugh, and it makes me want to hurl. I don’t need this. I don’t want to like her. Or like like her for that matter.

“Am I one of your ‘close friends’?” I joke.

“You might earn that highly coveted title soon.” Genevieve giggles. “But seriously, like you said before, the sooner we do this, the sooner we get to go home. I want to binge watch Faye.”

The universe is trying so hard to make me not like her. “How far are you?” I ask before I realize that if we keep talking like this, we’ll never get to leave the godforsaken library.

“You really don’t want us to leave this library, do you?” Eyeing me carefully, she continued. “If you must know, I’m three seasons behind. I’m only one season five.”

I try hard not to fanboy. I try hard to keep myself from spoiling the season for her. I swallow my excitement and compose myself. “So what do you need help with?”

“I don’t really need your help.”

“Not this again.” I look at her knowingly. It’s a vicious cycle. I guess we both don’t want to leave.

“Okay, well maybe I might need a little help with Universal History. We got this project-”

“Wait. You're a freshman? I thought you were a junior.” I exclaim. Genevieve looks much older than 14.

“Shhh. We’re in a library. And yes, I am. It’s the makeup, I look like a baby without it. So there’s this unit project-”

“Where you research about lost races and civilizations across the universe and present it to the class as a five-minute lecture.” I finish. “You have Miss Ahn, right?” She nods. “Yeah, we did the same thing last semester.”

“Awesome! Kind of off topic, but how was the exam for U.H? I heard it was easy but then I heard it was hard, so I’m kind of worried.”

“It’s not that bad-” She looks relieved. “But it’s not easy either.” The look of relief disappears. “I can lend you my notes if you need them.” I quickly finish.

“Really? I mean, I’m doing fine in her class, but that exam is worth 20%. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need to bring my average up.” She looks grateful. My heart does a figurative backflip.

How am I supposed to do this?

I guess even if a lot of me is just wires and circuits, I’m still cursed with falling for the first pretty girl I see. Funny how that works. I don’t even have a functioning heart. Not like hearts really have anything to do with feelings. It’s all just symbolism.

“Because, you know-”

“Cephirean parents?” I finish her sentence.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. Athiean parents aren’t so easy on their kids either. It’s either be a doctor, lawyer, or engineer.” I chuckle softly. Almost all my cousins are either doctors, lawyers or engineers, or some other high-paying job. “If not…” I make a gesture of me cutting my neck with a knife.

“Oof. What a mood. My parents want me to be a pharmacist. But I just want to be a cat lady.” She sighs dreamily. “Say, what do you suggest that I do? For, you know, the project. It’s worth 10%.” She looks nervous again.

“I know, I did the project already. But I thought it was a group project?”

“It is. But I wanted to do it on my own. Working in groups are a pain. I do most of the work anyways for every project. My classmates are just lazy asses.”

“Smart choice.” I think for a bit.

“Maybe...you should do the human race. We don’t hear about them often, now do we?”

#short story story fiction

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