#Instagram shoves itself in your face daily

[fanartfunart]

Instagram is a terribly incessant website.

[mililika]

i love you

character: fem!y/n x geto suguru note: comfort

art

Evening. The sun had finally sunk below the horizon, and twilight was slowly engulfing the city. Lights appeared in the houses. Many were returning from work or from classes. The cars were not honking patiently, everyone wanted to get home as soon as possible. Small food shops were gaining more and more orders, the smell of food began to smell more and more: the smells of dough, tuna shavings, onions and meat mixed, pleasantly tickling the receptors in the nose.

Now is not the time for swimming. So only they were standing ankle-deep in the sea. Its smell, noise and color-it was all so harmonious. It seemed that the sun was able to take away not only the daily activity, but also the very brightness of the sea water.

Their friends remained on the shore. Gojo tried not to burn the meat on the grill to the state of coals, Nanami sighed softly, looking at him. Shoko and Utahime were drinking beer and discussing baseball. Five teenagers were standing a little apart from them. Nobara filmed the sea on her phone, because the Instagram page will not fill itself, and everyone should see the story where Gojo is trying to fry meat. Yuji babbled something in Megumi's ear, like he was telling about some manga, the brunette occasionally nodded his head, if you look closely, you can see that the corners of his lips are slightly raised. Nanako and Mimiko finally set off the fireworks. They were so happy. They moved their sticks smoothly in the air, sparks fell on the sand, disappearing. The girls watched the lights in their hands like kittens who saw a sunbeam. But they managed to set them on fire in the apartment and almost set fire to the curtain when they were about ten years old. Nobara suddenly decided that a joint selfie would not hurt and even Megumi, who was clearly against it, was able to shove it into the frame. Gojo mumbled something sad that his beloved children were having fun without him.

And they were all standing in the sea.

As a child, you always wondered: does the earth have an end? Is there a boundary, approaching which you will fall into an unknown space? It seemed that if you stretched out your hand to the horizon, walk a few hundred meters, and you would be at the very end of the earth. But it was boundless, no matter how much it went, this clear line could never be reached.

Geto was standing behind you, leaning slightly, as if a majestic rock was covering your back, gently hugging you around the waist, and putting his head on top of your head, not paying attention to your curly curls, which now and then tried to get into his face. He barely touched your skin, but you clearly felt the heat of his body. You weren't cold, but his hugs, his patting on the back in the morning, his big hot palms that squeezed yours during walks, as if Geto was afraid that he would lose you in the crowd-seemed the most necessary for you to live, inhaling deeply.

The last month has been particularly difficult for you. Conflicts have started in the clan, because soon we will have to think about changing the head. The girls at school have midterm exams, you know that they are capable girls, but you still worry about them. You want them to be happy so much, because for all these years they have become like real daughters to you. The authorities threw papers, several times they were called to a task with a special level without a safety net. You could have died, you knew it. It was so scary, because you want to go home. They're waiting for you there.

Nanako is waiting for you there with a fashion show, she is still a lover of shopping. The blonde really loves clothes and everything connected with it. Maybe if she doesn't change her mind about being a shaman, she can go into designers or seamstresses. Nanako cares about your opinion, she likes to choose clothes for you too. And she will wait with trepidation in her heart for your return, so that you try on a new blouse that she bought for you.

A modest Mimiko is waiting for you. She is not as emotional as her sister, but she also loves you and will be waiting for your arrival. She expresses her love for her family through cooking. She knows that you don't like spicy food, so she rarely makes kimchi. She knows that her sister can't stand the taste of umeboshi, so she always tries to find a replacement. For Geto, she always buys only one brand of green tea, if there is another, she will not take it as a substitute. Mimiko appreciates her family, where you are like a mentor for her, because it was you who taught her to cook.

And Suguru is waiting for you at home. He's like a distant, distant star. It seems so cold, even dim, compared to the Sun. But if you wait for the night, you can see all the beauty of this star. The light of this star is so bright that no distance will help hide it from human eyes. This star is so hot that it can be equal to the Sun.

This was Suguru Geto.

It seemed quiet, not particularly remarkable, but for you it was the most beautiful. You comb his long black hair every morning with ecstasy and braid it into a bun, you always liked their smell, he always winds pleasant emotions. His body is excellent. On a strong back, there are small moles that you count as if fascinated, Geto often wondered how you didn't get tired of doing this. He has beautiful hands with slightly protruding veins, strong thighs that I wanted to crumple like a cat blanket. He has the right facial features, any model will envy. Even his scars you thought were beautiful.

He is not as serious as Nanami and not as flighty as Gojo. He is the golden, perfect middle ground. His concern is in the little things: he slows down the sound on the TV if you suddenly fell asleep before the end of the movie; he does not cook you the food that you consider tasteless; if he gets up before you, he prepares you a delicious and fragrant coffee. He is mildly embarrassed, although he can be rude, he always tries to be more restrained at the moment of anger. He is a wonderful father and mentor.

Geto Suguru as a whole is beautiful.

And only you got such a Geto Suguru.

This may sound strange, but only now you clearly realized something. You love him. You love it to the sparks in your eyes and to the goosebumps on your skin. Such feelings made me want to cry and dance at the same time. You wanted to drown in these feelings: in euphoria, joy, anticipation and love. This realization made my chest feel very hot, and my lips spread out in a stupid smile.

— Y/n — he called you softly.

— Yeah? — you finally came out of your own thoughts. Suguru himself was still looking off into the distance.

— Close your eyes — the guy asked, finally letting you out of his arms a little. You followed his words — and now stretch out your hands a little forward.

You didn't quite understand what he was driving at. Although, for some reason, you thought that now Suguru would dig up a sea cucumber somewhere and put you right in his hands. It's tough, especially considering that they are mega nasty for you, but still Suguru studied with Gojo, a master of ruffling people's nerves.

You gently stretched out your half-bent arms forward to the sea. The brush was covered with heat when Geto walked over each finger with his palms, causing pleasant goosebumps all over his body. He smiled a little, noticing your slight smile on your face.

You felt that with one hand he reached into the pocket of his long shorts. Soon he returned to the strange study of your fingers again. Suddenly, on one of them, you felt a strange squeezing feeling.

From the realization, the corners of your lips twitched nervously, and then lowered. My heart was pounding like mad, painfully knocking the air out of my lungs, just a little more and your bones will break. The delicate skin on the face began to burn out hot salty tracks. You covered your face with your hands, slightly hunched over. No, no, no, no. This can't be happening.

On slightly bent legs, covered with goosebumps, whether from adrenaline, or from the coolness of the water, slightly shaking, you finally turned around to face Suguru. You lifted your head up and froze.

The darkening sky with slowly emerging stars, the light from the windows of distant houses, sparks from fireworks somewhere on the shore. And Geto. The most beautiful and most beloved person in your whole life. His gentle smile, slightly flushed cheeks, kind black eyes.

This is the most beautiful picture you've ever seen.

You have never experienced such a feeling of happiness and euphoria. My legs suddenly became lighter, there was a whole garden of blooming flowers in my chest. And on his face there are only tears and a smile.

You pounced on the guy, hugging him tightly by the neck. Your hot breath scorched his ear, and tears soaked into his T-shirts.

— I love you so much, Suguru — you said with a slight hoarseness, slightly sniffing — I'm so happy that even my legs can't hold.

— I love you too — his long arms wrapped around your waist, gently stroking your back. He let you go a little to look into your eyes — I don't care if we die tomorrow, I want to be happy with you.

[sixeyesgojo]

Pictures of You

Summary: prequel to I’ll Be Your Enemy - fluffy!

Characters: IBYE!Reader, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Nobara

Word count: 2,3k

Content warning: none

A/N: requested by @thecaptainsbride

If anybody got the reference Gojo made when he was late; congratulations, you have been successfully hurt (but this time it was not me).

Since I left the relationship between Gojo and the reader up for interpretation in IBYE, I will do the same here! Consider this piece me trying to mend your hearts <3

Taglist applications open for anyone who is interested!

“A trip to an amusement park or something like that doesn’t sound so bad,” you mused in front of Satoru. “It serves as relaxation and maybe the first-years can get closer to each other, you know, bonding and so on. They will see each other many times from now on, so getting along with each other is important,” you reasoned, your eyes almost sparkling from the thought of a day off.

“But Jujutsu Sorcery is an individual–” he began.

“Satoru, I think you should see this as vacation. A vacation where you can eat sweets until your teeth rot and absolutely nobody will hold you back,” you interrupted him.

“Okay, I am sold. Am listening now.” You just knew how to convince him. Sweets.

So that was exactly how the first-year students and you ended up at a fairground somewhere in Tokyo; it was quite neat, not too small but not too spacious either. None of you could get lost in it. Still, it was buzzing with life and all kinds of people mingled. The colorfulness was a refreshing sight to take in, compared to the dark world of Jujutsu Sorcery where seeing people suffer was your daily routine. The pleasant smell of food wafted through the air, making your mouth water, as you walked past the different booths with them. Waffles sounded like absolute heaven on earth right now.

Jujutsu Sorcery certainly was a draining sport, mentally as well as physically. Therefore it was only right to take a break at times, right? Self-care days were just as important as working.

In order to wind down a bit, you had suggested a one-day trip – just you, Satoru and the three first-year students you had adopted in your mind right away after meeting them several times.

“Sensei, you look very pretty today!” Yuji complimented you. Even Megumi noticed: “Did you have a haircut? Your hair seems a little bit shorter.”

“Yeah, Nobara had a field day with me. Cutting my hair.. or more like trimming the ends, choosing my outfit, doing my make-up and so on just for today,” you gushed as if you were a high school girl again. “Leave it to master stylist Kugisaki Nobara and nobody will ever look bad,” the brunette girl commended herself. Yuji was affectionately patting her on the back.

Undoubtedly, Satoru was late – nobody was surprised about that. You already went ahead and generously treated the trio of students you loved dearly to some food.

“Thank you for the food, sensei!” As usual, Yuji and Nobara were in perfect harmony with each other, seemingly sharing a brain.

“Thank you very much,” Megumi also expressed his thanks sweetly. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought the way his lips seemed to twitch was unintentional. “Absolutely no problem, kiddos. You guys enjoy it while I try to contact Gojo-sensei, yeah?” you shot them an apologetic smile, already fishing out your phone. The three of them nodded in perfect synchronization. They’re as cute as little ducklings, you thought.

You didn’t even need to bother calling.

You were about to dial Satoru’s number on your smartphone when Yuji’s voice boomed, “Oh! There he is! Gojo-sensei, we are here!!”

The boy waved at his teacher.

Satoru immediately spotted the pink-haired student and skipped over to where you all were standing. “Sorry for the wait! I’m afraid I got lost on the path of life!!”

“Nice of you to finally join us, but sadly, the fun is already over and we decided to go home. Just wanted to call you to let you know! We’ve been here since morning,” you deadpanned as the white-haired man arrived, looking Satoru dead in the eye – if they weren’t covered. “Wait, wha– Hold on, I am very sure I am not that late. MY MOCHI?” Satoru sounded frantic, facing his students who just shrugged their shoulders. “Serves you right,” Megumi stated calmly. Nobara, being the sassy girl she was, also joined in, “Losers don’t get to have fun and that’s a fact.”

It was such a wholesome and funny moment for you to see the students playing along with your prank without being told beforehand.

You broke out in laughter, not being able to contain it any longer, “You should have seen your face, dumbass! I was just joking!”

“Phew, I almost thought I had to kiss the idea of eating sweets today goodbye. What a horror that would be, my day would be OVER this instant,” the blindfolded man pouted, “so where should I buy my sweets? I’m gonna buy the entire place anyway, but where do I start? Any suggestions for Great Teacher Gojo?”

“Hold up, Satoru! We gotta take a picture together to commemorate this special day!” you suggested, bouncing up and down with enthusiasm. “I swear I just saw sensei’s eyes sparkle but I might be wrong,” Yuji remarked, looking at his dark-haired friend for confirmation.

“Sensei, if you want to take a picture, we have to take it at the right angle!” Nobara chimed in, the secret Instagram influencer in her on full display. She continued to explain, “It would come out great if Gojo-sensei took the pic, long arms privilege and so on.”

The female student almost seemed more into it than you were, it was adorable to you to see the usually bold student be this into taking pictures.

You hand the tall man your phone, but not without shooting him a “if you drop my phone, I’ll make you drop dead” look.

“Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation,” the male teacher commanded loudly. Upon hearing that, Megumi immediately slapped his hand in his face and turned away in embarrassment. Why was this man like this?

“...Ladies?” Yuji asked, the expression on his face screaming ‘confusion’ “Gojo-sensei just referenced a Beyoncé song, Itadori,” the dark-haired boy explained in a hushed tone, turning back slightly as if he did not want to get caught.

“And it’s not just any song!” Satoru happily chimed in. “Yes, yes, the good old Formation,” you added, nodding in satisfaction. You remember how you showed him the album when it dropped.

“Can we all just ignore Gojo-sensei and take our pic?” Nobara inquired as she shoved everybody into their respective spots. “Alright, everybody, smiiiiile for the camera. Say cheese!”

Click, click, click, click.

Finally, Satoru had gotten his share of sweets. Complying with his sweet tooth was always an effective way to calm him for some time. Almost like feeding a baby, in a way.

Now it was time for fun rides!

...or at least that was what you thought… until Satoru dragged you along to ride a freaking pendulum ride with him. The three students had managed to talk themselves out of stepping foot on that monster of a ride but Satoru didn’t even give you a chance to refuse, he simply gripped your arm and walked towards it.

Stopping only when you were already standing in line, you nervously eyed the metallic behemoth with its iron arm. The monstrosity was seemingly ready to make you throw up from the way it would spin you through the air repeatedly, going back and forth and back and forth again. Why did you have to do this?

“Satoru,” you called his name timidly and tugged at his sleeve, the strange feeling not leaving your gut, “do I really, really have to do this?”

“Absolutely! I promise it will be very fun,” Satoru replied with a signature grin you wanted to wipe off of his face at that moment.

No, it was not fun. At all. You were dizzy and your fear of height was kicking. The blasts of air hitting your face left, right and center were not helping at all and you were sure, if anybody took a picture of you right now, you would look horribly green.

“I– can’t do this anymore!” you shouted mid-air, right before the ride swung to the other side. The force knocked the air out of you once again.

“SATORU, PLEASE GET US OUT OF HERE!” you begged and squeezed his arm with an iron grip. The height was too overwhelming. “Mid-ride?” Satoru asked and you nodded frantically. “Now that’s what I call reckless! Sounds like fun. I’m in!” he declared with a grin.

“Domain Expansion: Infinite Void.”

That was the last thing you heard the tall man say before he touched your head with his large palm.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized this man used his domain this recklessly, for fun. Maybe it was a side effect of being able to use it multiple times a day.

The infinity gently wrapped itself around Satoru and you. Almost movie-like, you watched as the entire, vast universe beautifully unfolded in front of your eyes. Each star being created separately, then abruptly flashing by as a sea of stars – as if you were in a wormhole. You perceived the entire domain within a flash of a moment, yet tasted eternity in it. Everything but nothing at once.

Despite being touched by Satoru himself, the sensations weren’t without merit. If this was how it felt to be in the safe space of Satoru’s touch within his inner world of Limitless, you would rather not fathom how it felt to be the one hit by this powerful domain.

It took you some time to process things and recollect.

“When I said I wanted you to get the two of us out of that thing, I didn’t mean ‘send me to your domain’,” you scolded him.

“Well, it was convenient,” he defended himself and you could almost hear the grin on his face, “Bet you’ll hate me after this though.”

“Hating you was never really an option I’d ever consider but okay, we’ll run with it this time. Now undo your domain, please, while I am asking nicely.”

“Your wish is my command! This time at least.”

“Satoru.” A stern last warning fell from your lips.

“Yes, yes, boss. On it.”

“I thought you said it’ll be fun but I am absolutely not riding that thing ever again,” you took deep breaths to calm down as your feet securely touched the ground again. Your legs were still trembling a bit.

“And it was fun! At least for me! I like seeing you struggle – it’s so funny – and the way you clung to my arm? Adorable! You are so tiny compared to me, like a bug I could crush between my fingers!” The annoying sorcerer laughed merrily.

“Gojo fucking Satoru, the only thing that is about to be crushed here are your balls. With my leg. You are very lucky to have that damn Infinity of yours or else,” you threatened.

“Ouch, you really do know how to hurt an invincible man,” he snickered and flicked your forehead lightly.

Rejoining with the students was easy as they all saw the barrier Satoru’s domain created.

“You are lucky there was some kind of show going on down here. That barrier above would have freaked people out if they weren’t distracted,” Nobara said, looks shooting daggers at her weird teacher. Innocent and as nice as ever, Yuji pitched in as well: “Yeah, Fushiguro also tried to distract children with their wandering eyes! I think he did a good job.”

“Okay but what did he do though?” you asked curiously and looked at the boy in question.

“...Shadow puppets,” Megumi slowly admitted, looking anywhere but at the people in front of him.

“Oh? You love your foster-dad-turned-great-teacher this much to embarrass yourself out in public? That’s new!” Satoru teased the poor boy. “Someone has to be the voice of reason around here or you’d all be in jail. That includes preventing civilians who are able to see curses from seeing you use Jujutsu while floating mid-air,” he justified, ignoring the tall teacher’s mockery completely. 

“As much as I love slandering Gojo-sensei, I’d rather spend my day actually having fun,” Nobara pitched in, reminding everybody of why you were here in the first place.

“So, let’s go ride the ferris wheel!” she added excitedly.

More fun rides.

Before you knew it, the day passed by. You could already feel the heaviness in your legs from walking. The swirling feeling from all the rides boded in your chest – you probably would not be able to sleep well tonight. It was definitely worth it though, you thought.

You had already brought the students back to their dorm – Satoru had ran off to the school because he remembered he had to do something – and were on the way home yourself.

You were in some sort of trance, completely immersed in your phone, so you hadn’t registered when Satoru called your name until he gently tapped your shoulder, falling into step with you.

“Yeah?” you looked up to Satoru, snapping out of your train of thought.

“Just wanted to tell you; ‘Operation: Relaxation Day’ was a great success.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Satoru.” A genuine smile graced your lips and for a moment, he softened at the sight.

“You know what? It was amazing, I really should start listening to you more often,” he confessed with a smirk.

“Well, it’s thanks to your amazing power of persuasion that we got to spend it like this, so thanks for today,” you half-heartedly complimented him.

“You do know I only said we’d not be available today and then dashed, right?” he asked you, the usual playful tone lacing his voice. “Exactly what I meant by saying ‘your amazing power of persuasion’.”

“I think I’ll frame the picture we took,” you murmured softly, fondly looking at the screen of your phone. The picture from earlier was displayed on your homescreen.

Surely, you would hang it on the blank wall in your home as well. It was a personal treasure now.

Taglist (dm me if you wanna be added): @assbuttbaek​ @megumifushi​ @bleueluna​ @gojos-mochi​ @delammi

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Plus One, Ch. 2

Previously on Plus One

It oscillated every other minute between being an amazing idea, but also being the worst idea of all time, and Lexa was mostly exhausted of bouncing back and forth. It might be easier, she decided, if she just got herself on board with it being a good idea, but a deep, gnawing hole seemed to manifest itself in her gut at the very thought of seeing her ex. 

As she went through the motions of finishing the day, of doing inventory because it was Wednesday, Lexa tried not to distract herself with the thoughts of her impending trip. In just forty-eight hours, she’d be face to face with Costia, who she hadn’t seen in months, who she avoided before occasionally running awkwardly into each other at mutual friends’ events. She’d come face to face with her ex who was getting married. 

And she was going to do it with a complete stranger on her arm. 

With a heavy sigh, Lexa tossed her clipboard on her tiny desk in the storage closet and plopped down in the squeaky chair, tipping it back with a wail. Her sister was the worst. 

It was quiet in the shop, closed for just a handful of hours, Lexa always took a day to inventory and repair the damage of the week. She enjoyed the late evening work, when her workers were gone, and the shop was empty and full of dreams. No one knew how the cabinets stayed so clean, or how the scratches on table tops got sanded and fixed, or how the wobbly table by the window was miraculous cured one day, or how the ceiling fans got dusted, just that it all happened, and Lexa was off, meaning she didn’t come in until at least ten, the following morning. 

But Lexa sat in the chair and let her brain do the same mental gymnastics it always seemed to do in the new quiet she found herself craving. She opened her laptop and ignored the awaiting spreadsheet, and instead opted to look over the answer Clarke had given her to the “Know your partner” quiz Clarke googled and made them both do. A mix of basic information and Newlywed Game style innuendos, Lexa filled hers out after a bottle of wine and anxiously waited for Clarke’s. 

That was what started the daydreaming. She scrolled through Clarke’s answers and furrowed, doing her best to memorizing all that she could, as if she’d be tested on it all, as if it’d be impossible to believe she could be happy with someone like Clarke. 

And when those thoughts started to seep into her brain, Lexa leaned back again and dug the tips of her fingers into her eyes. 

In a week it’d be over. 

And with that and a deep, heavy sigh, Lexa looked at the screen again and went about learning Clarke. 

She started professionally, of course, looking at her corporate page and resume, because this was, if not anything, simply a business transaction and Lexa thought it was easier to parse a person if she didn’t actually have to fall for her. 

A graphic designer at Anya’s firm, Clarke held accolades and a long list of references. The link to her work showed a wide range of commercial campaigns and a certain amount of talent evident by her list of upcoming projects. A graduate of a small, private, liberal arts university, her academics leaned heavily scientific, which was a surprise until Lexa read some of the answers in the survey about a degree in physics given up for art. 

Lexa promised that she wouldn’t have looked at Clarke’s Instagram if Clarke hadn’t requested her first. She wasn’t someone who lurked, or at least she thought she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be someone who snuck around, digging through someone’s past, analyzing every filter and caption like a private investigator. But then Clarke appeared. 

And there were pictures of Clarke with friends getting drinks on a rooftop. And then the one with her laughing and baking. Or the Christmas party where she was on a corporate Santa’s lap, smiling so wide her eyes were shut. Despite herself Lexa found herself smiling along with the girl in the pictures. The one who went hiking with a pack of dogs, and the one who seemed to always be eating something. The one who had a lot of friends and enjoyed making them smile and laugh. The girl who posted storie about her morning run, and the girl who seemed to have a healthy work life balance. 

Lexa closed the webpages and stared at her inventory for exactly two seconds before curiosity won again and Lexa started looking at Costia’s account. There were the standard pictures of her pre-wedding planning. There was Costia working out. There was her new bride-to-be, happy and smiling at a gift for her birthday. 

And then a throwback that made Lexa’s stomach drop as she stared at a familiar image of Costia smiling in a bikini on a beach. It was from the last trip they took. Lexa was the one behind the camera. 

Three weeks after that picture was taken, Lexa walked in on Costia and a girl in the middle of the afternoon. Right in their own bed. Only to then discover it’d been going on for months. And it wasn’t the first. And then, Lexa didn’t remember much except that she moved into the apartment above her coffee shop and woke up one morning alone on sheets that weren’t familiar, in a room full of boxes. 

It seemed even more difficult to start inventory after that shot to the gut. 

But her phone went off, and Lexa leaned back in her chair after shutting the laptop again, wondering if that sinking feeling ever went away when it came to someone you love, or loved, or once loved, even for a moment. She didn’t have anything to compare it to, and she didn’t have any idea what love really was. 

It felt like a deep wound was scratched open, the scab pulled back, and a burning numbness gnawing at the bottom of her spine. It felt like it would swallow her whole, and Lexa hated, more than anything, giving anyone the power to do anything as such over her. 

Hey! Do you think this will go with your outfit?

An image came next, of Clarke in a dressing room wearing a very pretty dress, with very messy hair with her tongue sticking out. Lexa didn’t notice the gnawing feeling disappear. 

We don’t have to match completely. 

We do! Don’t you know how to date?

Not really. 

Another picture of another dress came a moment later. Clarke was pretty. She was happy and silly and kind. It felt oddly normal, for as crazy as the whole scheme actually was. 

I like that one, Lexa wrote, making sure to add a heart-eyed emoji to emphasize her point. Maybe that was flirting. Maybe she was allowed. She definitely needed more rules. 

Good, I do too. It matches your tie, you know? And these heels will still leave you a little taller than me. 

Sounds good to me!

Kind of excited. I guess I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow. 

I’ll be the one at the bar. 

I’ve heard it’s possible to find your soulmate at the airport. Something about the crossing of paths and time and space. 

If my soulmate is a bottle of wine, then I reckon I might. 

A love story for the ages. 

Lexa smiled once more at her phone before tossing it to the side and letting her head drop to the desk. With a groan she growled into her hands and broke it down. She just needed to make it seventy-two hours. That was it. She could sleep for about twenty of those. She could drink for another twenty or more, if she really tried. 

But this was it. This was the end. 

And regardless of the weight of everything else, there was something satisfying about knowing it was almost over. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The airport was absolutely teaming with bodies and people, weaving their way through the swelling crowds, loading and unloading the terminals at a constant, steady thumping rate, so regular one could set a watch to the heartbeat of the building. 

Clarke adjusted her bag on her shoulder and tapped the ticket against her thigh as she moved through the security line. The nerves were coming for some reason. That was why she was at the airport three hours before the flight. She was anxious and needed a stiff drink and a few moments to catch her breath. She needed to escape the whirlwind she’d allowed herself to create. 

Carefully, she made her way through the airport, checking the boards and finding her way to a seat in the empty waiting room. Not even an attendant waited at the kiosk. 

Once again, she let herself awkwardly scroll on her phone, learning everything she could about her future date and weekend plans. 

Lexa was nearly non-existent online. She didn’t have any pictures of herself. She rarely posted anything on her personal account, and when she did, it was just a book or a coffee or from a trip. She wasn’t one to enjoy being the center of attention, but when it came to her shop, she made sure to post almost daily, highlighting her employees and their recommendations, she made share to highlight events, she made sure to be as active as possible. 

Anya had already warned Clarke that her sister was devoted to her work. She’d poured all of her effort into being successful and part of the community, and Clarke admired it, she just wished that there was more for her to see. 

And so, once more, she flipped back to the long line of questions they’d filled out before giving up and gazing out the window at the planes coming and going. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to think that she was doing something nice and good. It was an act of charity. It was the shake up Clarke needed and was selfishly trying to package as benevolent. 

“You beat me, and I’m usually the first one here for a flight,” Lexa observed, walking up to Clarke, stealing her from her reverie. 

“I like airports. Just waiting for true love to stroll up and introduce themselves.”

Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets, her bag balanced on her shoulder as she cautiously looked around, surveying the empty terminal slowly. Clarke watched her look around, smiled at the innocence of it. Enjoyed the way she ran her hand through her hair, mussing it up a bit and tossing it to another side. 

“No one likes airports,” Lexa shook her head before taking the seat beside her. 

“I do. They’re romantic.” 

“Romantic?” 

“You can get onto a plane, and a few hours later, you’re hundred of miles away, and it’s different weather, and it’s a different time zone. You can go to sleep in a different state. How can you not be romantic about that.”

“It’s a tin can filled with recycle air.” 

“But there are peanuts.” 

That did it. Lexa cracked a smile to herself and relaxed a little. 

“I was going to be the first one here. Surprise you with coffee, but you beat me to it.” 

“You are quite a good girlfriend. Someone clearly trained you well.” 

Lexa shook her head, somewhat bashful, somewhat reserved. There was always something right there, just below the surface, obfuscated by a kind of resolve to never give anything away, not at any price. Clarke read it between words in their texts and emails, a glaring finality in the simple pixel of a period. 

“Can I get you a coffee? Two creams, two sugar right?”

“You don’t have to--”

“It’s early and I’m trying to be charming. Allow me to somewhat repay you for this whole endeavour.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, darling.” 

With the term of endearment, Lexa nodded, grinning into her chest as she stood and made her way across the terminal in search of sustenance. Clarke watched her take out her phone, texting her sister no doubt. 

Once more, Clarke resumed the digging on her own, scrolling on her own phone at old pictures on Lexa’s profile. She was ready for fun, and she was ready to crack at that facade. 

“I don’t know if this will help,” Lexa sighed as she sat down. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.” 

“Oh this won’t be good for me either,” Clarke said as she took a sip. “I’m a fairly nervous flyer.”

“And yet you let me get us both coffee.” 

“You made a good point, and I’m prepared to be paid back all weekend.” 

With another grin, Lexa leaned back, her arm going on the back of the chair that Clarke inhabited, naturally, with ease, with a level of comfort. 

“Are you ready to tell me the story?” 

“Which one is that?” Clarke turned to look at her date, returned from an absent moment. 

“How we met.” 

“How we met,” she nodded, her smile bordering on mischievous. “That’s simple. Don’t you remember? It was a very blustery Tuesday, and I was trying to escape the wind and rain. I almost tripped coming into your coffee shop, but you happened to be sweeping, and were kind enough to catch me.”

“You’re severely overestimating my reflexes.” 

“Fine. I ran you over and we both ended up on our asses in the middle of the coffee shop. Coffee everywhere.” 

“Sounds pretty likely.” 

“And I knew right there, I was hooked. Those eyes, all angry and annoyed at me for not looking where I was going, despite my persistent defense that I’d been assaulted by the weather.” 

“Why do I have to be the angry one?” 

“Wouldn’t you be though?” Clarke returned, daring her to be contradicted.

“Maybe,” Lexa agreed over the lid of her cup, fretting with it nervously. 

“So I crashed into you, and you bought be a coffee. I turned up every day after that until I finally asked you out. You took longer than I would have liked to answer me, but I accepted it anyway, and we’ve been madly in love ever since.” 

“And when was this?” 

“About eight months ago.” 

“How’s it going so far?” 

“Splendidly. I’ve already met your sister, who it happens that I work with, which is super convenient for everyone.” 

Quietly, Lexa sat there, going over the story, going over all of the past eight months of apparent bliss in her head. Clarke watched her furrow before softening, her eyes not seeing, but rather looking through the window as a plane took off and another landed. The softening of her features was soon met with a perplexion, a slight, gentle contortion of the brow and the lips, a tightening as a kind of confusion overtook the ease of the entire story. 

“Is it that easy?” Lexa asked quietly, turning her head toward her date. Clarke cocked her head, waiting for more. “Is all of it… just… a wind? Waiting for someone to just ask you out? Is it that easy? Does that happen to people?” 

“It can. How does anything happen in the world? It just… does. The universe is just a series of things happening, all of the time, right?”

“But is it that easy?”

To her credit, Clarke thought about it. She flexed her jaw and took a deep breath before slowing letting it go as she wondered if it really was. 

“I don’t know. Maybe it can be.” 

“How?”

“I guess there has to be a balance to making things happen and letting things happen.” 

“I don’t know if I’m good at either of those things,” Lexa confessed. She sat up straighter a moment later, afraid of her honesty, and surprised more by how easily it came out. 

“I think you can be.”

“That’s probably too kind.” 

“We’ll see.” 

Clarke rubbed Lexa’s shoulder, rubbed the middle of her back between her shoulder blades until she reached the collar of her shirt, where she massaged her neck. She tensed before relaxing, and Clarke didn’t stop, just rubbed there gently, slowly until she knew it was enough and she trailed her palm back toward the seat. 

It was right there, they just didn’t know it.

[letshaikyuu]

─── ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ // ᴍꜱʙʏ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴊᴀᴄᴋᴀʟ

ᴀ/ɴ: It’s this wonderful person’s birthday @mysticrainpain​ and even though I’ve said all that I wanted on Snap, I’m here to gift you with some Black Jackals content because we both know how much you love them ;3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: none; possible manga spoilers if you don’t know who plays in this team !! ; gender-neutral reader

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: It’s your birthday and the team forgot about it. We all know this is going to end disastrous lol; this is basically something crackhead-like and not at all serious, so just go with the flow <3

Ok, for the older members of the team to actually forget your birthday, they must be either extremely tired or they got drunk the previous night and forgot all about it lol

I like to headcanon them having their alone time once a week in their favorite bar and just talk, without worrying about scarring the newbies lol

I wouldn’t be surprised if the younger members either didn’t know to start with because they wouldn’t have access to your file where your birthdate is listed or:

Hinata and Bokuto are too occupied with practice to actually remember what date it is; Atsumu only sees the date while posting his daily Instagram story from the gym, but doesn’t think twice; Sakusa doesn’t even look at his phone tbh and it’s running on low battery somewhere in his bag

And then, as if to tease them, a notification goes off while all of them are in the locker room and getting ready for morning practice: ‘Y/N L/N’s birthday is today!’ Oh shit. Bokuto screams, Hinata is panicking and Shugo and Sakusa are just tired

So, they have only a handful of minutes - 15 tops - to not be empty-handed and completely lost when you walk through those gym doors. Mission Impossible, who? The plan itself is not even a plan to begin with, but they work with it

Buy a cake

Buy some decorations

Buy some snacks and drinks

Hinata definitely forgot his wallet, so the others pitch in to cover his part as well. He definitely forgets his wallet often. Luckily for them, they have a pretty neatly placed konbini nearby. Hinata and Sakusa run off - Sakusa speed walks to be honest - because Hinata is the fastest and can grab the items quickly, while Sakusa actually remembers what you like and where it’s placed in the store, so they’re the perfect duo for that

On the other hand, we have Bokuto trying to find some kind of items to use for decorations because the nearest store like that is a 10-minute run from their gym, so that’s impossible...he opts for using an extra net as ‘streamers’ and a wall to hang other ‘decoration items’...it doesn’t look good at all, but you work with what you have

Atsumu heads on over to the confectionery and buys a simple cake - definitely his favorite flavor because he doesn’t want to eat anything else - and asks them to top it of with: “some kind of birthday shit, idek,” as the store clerk recalled Atsumu say. He’s the first one back because the cake was already done when he entered the shop

Hinata and Sakusa are back with just a few minutes to spare - you had previously sent a message to Shugo, apologizing in advance for being late a few minutes. He wanted to kiss the ground you walk on because they ✨ got ✨ extra ✨ time. 

They can hear you walking towards the gym with their coach - who, proudly says, didn’t forget about your birthday and agreed to stall for a few more minutes while the guys shut down the lights of the gym and waited for your arrival

Upon entering the, now, dark gym, you call out for the guys, only to be met with complete silence. “Surprise!” And, cue the confetti Hinata sneaked in Sakusa’s basket and bought unsuspected. Guess who’s cleaning the gym because the coach said no confetti Hinata - Hinata

Honestly, it’s noticeable that whatever they did was done rather quickly and unprepared, but who are you to find anything wrong with their sweet gesture? They tried their best and sigh in relief when they see the amusement, yet happiness in your eyes

“You guys actually did something for my birthday!?” You exclaim, surprised that they’d use their precious practice time to prepare this. Atsumu walks over with the cake - you flinch once he approaches because he has this habit of accidentally shoving cakes into people’s faces - but he’ll save that for another day

The fun doesn’t last long because coach really needs to start practice and while Hinata is sweeping the floor and listening to the critics coming out of coach’s mouth, you thank everyone for making an effort and doing all of this

Of course, Atsumu shoves the cake in your face and snaps a picture

“We need ‘em memories,” he says as he looks at the picture. Coach really wants to scream because they need to wipe the floor again - well, Hinata does because he’s ‘already holding the mop’ and he curses under his breath - and Shugo just wants a drink and some quality sleep

Yes, perfect birthday indeed

extra:

“I’m so sorry for not getting you a gift, but it’s, uhm, you know...It’s on a boat!”

“...on a boat, Bokuto-san?” 

“Ye! I bought you a camel from Egypt, hope you like it!”

*face palms*

[timextoxhajima]

12 Days Of Christmas: The Treehouse

Part of a collaboration project under 12 Days Of Christmas hosted by yours truly.

Member: Hyunjun

Genre: angst, fluff, childhood friends 

Word Count: 1.6k

The Christmas playlist was playing in the background, allowing the wooden planks of the room you were sleeping in to absorb all its soundwaves. Had it not been the heater offering both residents of the room, you would’ve frozen stiff. 

Then again, things might turn out different, because your ear was pressed into Hyunjun’s hoodie and his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. There was a soft snore emitting from his nose, though not loud enough to call it an actual snore, but loud enough for you to hear the thrumming vibrations through his chest. 

I’m just counting down the days before I lose you to your Mrs. Right, aren’t I? Isn’t ironic that I was the one who’s seen you grow up from when you were shorter than me... all the way till now? 

Ten years had worn through the both of you in just a blink of an eye, from running through the playgrounds your parents brought you to, to skiing up in the mountains when they brought your families for holiday. The friendship had started off completely platonic, to the point where Hyunjun’s first watch of porn was with you, and not with his male friends.

You cannot help the smile that emerges on your lips when Hyunjun screamed at the screen, and you were the one who had to grab the phone to turn it off.

But I bet you watch it now on a daily basis, don’t you? When did we cross the line where these things couldn’t be shared between friends of the opposite gender? 

Hyunjun shuffles in his sleep, finally removing his arm from under your neck but instead wrapping his other arm around your waist, treating you like a bolster. His nose was now just inches away from your eyes, the peace in his face too alluring to ignore.

Normally, the two of you would be against cuddling and sleeping together because on the surface, you were just friends and romantic feelings were never involved, no. But earlier today, when Hyunjun seemed particularly down after school with his Airpods shoved so far into his ear canals he couldn’t hear you, you knew there was something wrong.

You had him in a headlock before he struggles a little bit, though you know he could’ve overpowered you. When you release him, you had expected him to retaliate by ruffling your hair or kicking snow onto your boots, so it worries you when he doesn’t. 

What was so wrong that you couldn’t tell me what happened? I recognise that look in your eyes -- you always have them on when you are faced with a problem you cannot solve. Be it a Math question or whether you should get a black or brown coat. 

Hyunjun remains quiet through the whole walk back to your neighbourhood, only every now and then offering you a piece of gummy from the pack he had in his hands. Then, when he turns down the road that leads to the treehouse you had built with him before high school, it’s nothing but a confirmation to what was going on in his head. 

Or at least, the fact that there was something bothering him.

You pester and nearly pick a fight with him once you reach the treehouse, for he does nothing but hurl his bag in a corner and plop down into the nearest beanbag, sulking for days with his Airpods still in his ears. 

It became increasingly frustrating when he refused to speak, so your final method to crack him open was to play pretend-angry. He never liked it when you were angry, especially if it was directed at him. But when Hyunjun ignores you ignoring him, you cannot help the defeated sigh that runs out of your mouth. 

Is there something wrong between us? Had I done something wrong that made you rethink our decade worth of a friendship? Or... did you find someone else, that you are afraid to tell me about? If there is someone else in the picture, I hope you never find it difficult to tell me. 

Time. That’s what he needs. 

Hyunjun continues his boring habit of scrolling through Instagram while you flip through the books that he had brought over from his home, knowing that you’d read it. The scene remains quiet and still for a certain period of time, then you feel the wooden board under your rear sink with some weight.

Turning around, you saw that Hyunjun had gotten to his feet to remove his socks and put on a pair of clean ones the treehouse had. The uniform blazer comes off and he lays it over his bag in the corner of the space. He hasn’t said a single word since you caught up with him after school, igniting nothing but wild thoughts through your head that just won’t shut up.

“Hyunjun,” You finally say. “Are you alrigh--”

“Don’t say anything, please,” His voice is quiet and slightly raspy with the cold weather. Hyunjun’s hair is slightly tousled when he picks up the blanket and lies down in the mattress laid in the middle of the space, head falling into the soft pillow that had a mixture of your hair scents. 

“If you have any problems, you know you can tell me, don’t you?”

A pause. It feels like a year. 

“I don’t know if you can help me with this one, y/n.”

Nothing feels worse besides not being able to be there for someone... even when you are physically there with that person. 

“Right now, I don’t need a solution. But you’re welcomed to join me in a nap if you like.”

A moment of hesitation on your part. You get to your feet as you close the book, carefully climbing into the mattress with him and feeling his warmth radiate onto yours, despite having at least six layers of clothing between your bodies. 

He’s never invited you to a nap per se, it’s always been some stupid wrestling match until one of you gives up and then it became a routine that you’d fall asleep on the same bed. There would be pillows in between the two of you, because that’s the norm. 

Not this. Not the way you shoved your arm under my neck and had my shoulders in your hold. Not the way you are holding my waist like you were hugging a bolster. 

The thoughts finally swarm their way to the surface, and you find yourself speaking your thoughts after the longest time.

“Just what is so wrong that you think I cannot help you with?”

His skin feels like milk when you brush his hair out of his eyes. However, your movements are stopped when his hand that was previously on your waist reaches up to hold your wrist mid-air. 

“Did I wake you?” The whisper comes out much softer than you thought, and given that his eyes were still closed, it concerns you that he might not have heard it.

“No,” Then his cat-shaped eyes open and stare right into yours. The gaze feels strange, but you choose not to overthink. That is arguably the worst thing you can do now.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then it’s fine.” 

No, it’s not fine. 

“I just don’t want you to keep any secrets from me, that’s all,” Hyunjun releases your wrist, both your hands coming together under your ear. You are looking up into his eyes that were now both wide open, filled with all the stress in the world, and it was unusual in itself. Usually, he’d be the one to help you destress.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it... I just--” You can tell he’s holding himself back from saying something that could potentially ruin your friendship. He’s in love.

“You’re in love, aren’t you?”

Hyunjun eyes dart away for a split second, then returns to you. 

“I don’t know--”

“Like, in love love.”

“What does ‘in love love’ even mean?”

“Well, like you’d want to marry her and like-- have kids with her or something.”

Hyunjun studies your facial expressions for a few moments, face void of any expression. It makes him hard to read, but your vulnerable stupidity has already exposed your own feelings to him. 

Then he has this little smile on his lips, the kind that you didn’t know you missed it until you saw it. 

“And may I know just who do you think I’m ‘in love love’ with?”

“Why in the world would you think I know who you are ‘in love love’ with? Does it look like I can read your mind? If I could, I wouldn’t have spent so much time dealing with your silent treatment and letting you ignore me like I’m a damn ghost--”

All of a sudden, it tastes like sugar and gummy bears. Hyunjun’s eyes are fluttered shut but yours are wide open. 

What?? Is??? Happening??

He pulls away for just a mere inch, eyes opening to greet your confused ones. The chuckle that rings through the air suddenly sounds like bells agains the Christmas music in the background. 

“Do me a favour and close your eyes would you? You’re the one I’m ‘in love love’ with, no need to be so stressed about it.”

[hmsjiara]

‘cause you’re amazing (just the way you are) jj + kie

request by @love-life-always​: We never really hear anything about Kiara's kook year, so I was wondering if you could write a story where Kiara had an eating disorder during her kook year, while trying to fit in and stuff but she managed to recover when she became friends with the pogues again, but then for whatever reason it starts to affect her again and jj/the other pogues notice.

this turned into one big angsty mess real quick lol. but protective!jj is my kink, so... here you go lmao. thank you so much for the request, i hope you like it :)

read it here on ao3.

disclaimer: i understand that eating disorders are a serious/complex issue and am NOT trying to romanticize them in any way. and while i did some research before writing this, i am in no way an expert nor have i ever experienced something like this. so, if any part of this is inaccurate or ignorant i apologize. if this triggers you in anyway, please do what’s best for your mental/emotional health.

trigger warnings: eating disorders, panic attacks, brief mentions of abuse.

                                      •••

It was an unspoken rule among the Pogues that they didn’t talk about Kiara’s Kook Year.

It hadn’t always been that way. When Kiara had returned to the Chateau with a years worth of apologies and a case of Miller Lite, John B and Pope had forgiven her almost instantly, but not JJ. Weeks of veiled insults and sharp glares had followed, and despite John B and Pope’s efforts to sway him, JJ seemed determined to hate her forever.

But eventually, even he managed to forgive her for abandoning them. Kiara assumed that it was a combination of her constant presence, and the boobs and curves she’d developed during her Kook Year. She couldn’t really blame them for noticing, since they were horny teenage boys and she spent the majority of her time in a bikini.

So, things went back to normal, and the Pogues caught on to the fact that Kiara didn’t want to discuss her absence, or her exile from the Kook Academy. It was easier this way, she told herself. Talking about Sarah still hurt too much, and as for everything else... well, it wasn’t important.

So, she doesn’t talk about Sarah, about how they got drunk and watched movies and saved baby sea turtles together, how her heart aches when she thinks about her. She doesn’t talk about the girls at the Kook Academy who spread rumors behind her back, who shove her in the hallways and on one occasion dump a smoothie on her head in the cafeteria. She deletes the mean comments under her Instagram posts before the Pogues can see, because she doesn’t need them to defend her, and the last thing she wants is to explain why everyone hates her so much.

Because she just got her friends back, and Kiara isn’t going to burden them with her problems, not when they have it so much worse.

                                        •••

The words eating disorder cause a certain kind of alarm to go off in Kiara’s brain.

Because yes, there’d been those months at the Kook Academy where she’d gone from diet to diet, weighed herself after every meal, looked at the girls in her grade with their flat stomachs and thin, long legs and hated her curves and muscle-toned limbs. She’d followed all the trends— juice cleanses and swearing off anything over a hundred calories. She even stopped surfing, switched to running, wondering if it would make a difference.

Her mother’s comments hadn’t helped. Once Kiara was going to parties and sleepovers with Sarah, her mom started buying her clothes that were two sizes too small, handing her grapefruit halves in the morning when Kiara asked for eggs and bacon, shot pointed glares at the half-eaten box of cookies on her dresser.

So, she started just... not eating. It was almost too easy to do. All she had to do was say that she was running late for school and skipping breakfast, snack on celery sticks for lunch, tell her parents she had homework to avoid coming to dinner. And it had worked: she’d gotten thinner, and her mother smiled when she started wearing the clothes she’d bought her, so Kiara assumed it was fine.

It was a visit to her doctor that made Kiara realize that what she was doing to herself was wrong. There’d been no official diagnosis, just a few pointed questions about her daily food intake, a suggestion to incorporate more protein into her diet. But Kiara had read between the lines, and she’d gotten over it, moved on, recognized that what she was doing wasn’t how she wanted to live her life. And she hadn’t told anyone, especially not the Pogues, because it was her business and they didn’t need to know.

The problem is that sometimes Kiara forgets to catch herself.

Like when she spends a little too long looking at her stomach in the mirror, or when JJ offers her the rest of his fries at the Wreck and she wrinkles her nose and says too many carbs.

He frowns, presses a hand to her forehead, as if checking for a temperature. “Too many carbs? Who are you, and what have you done with Kiara Carrera?”

She laughs, shoves him away from her, goes to get another beer from the fridge, but JJ is still watching her when she gets back. “I didn’t know you cared about that sort of stuff.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, avoiding his gaze as she knocked John B’s feet off of the counter.

“Calories and shit,” he said with a shrug, and it was a perfectly reasonable remark, but Kiara didn’t like the direction their conversation was going in. “Is this something you picked up from the Kooks? You turning into one of those soccer moms who meal plan and don’t let her kids eat sugar?”

It hits a little too close to home, so Kiara snatches a fry from his basket and makes sure that he sees her eat it.

“There,” she said, chewing somewhat obnoxiously. “Happy now?”

JJ rolled his eyes, turned to listen to whatever Pope was saying about his internship, but Kiara couldn’t help but feel like she’d dodged a bullet.

JJ couldn’t find out. Not now, not ever.

                                       •••

Being forced to attend Midsummers is the last thing Kiara needs or wants, but her mother doesn’t care.

She thinks it’s how she copes. Kiara can hang with whoever she likes, as long as her mother can put her in a pretty dress and show her off to the Kooks.

The subtle, pointed comments start again.

Take it in a bit on the hem, Silvia. I’m not used to this, you know. I never had Kiara’s curves when I was younger.

I know that your friends don’t have to worry about this, Kiara, but you have a figure to maintain. Eating at the Wreck every night just isn’t going to fly.

Maybe a side salad instead, sweetheart. I’m paying the seamstress by the hour.

Kiara’s not proud of it, but she does go along with her mother, because she’s tired of fighting with her, and the idea of her daughter going to Midsummers with all the Sarah Cameron’s of the world has made her happier than Kiara has ever seen her.

She tells herself it’s only for a couple of weeks, that she can get through it, but it’s getting harder to ignore the comments, to resist the urge to weigh herself after a bag of popcorn or a sandwich from the Wreck.

Before, when she was friends with Sarah, it was easier to hide. Sarah didn’t really notice other people— it wasn’t her fault, just how she’d been raised.

The Pogues are different.

At first, they buy all the usual excuses. She’s not hungry, she already ate. But then John B asks her to split a burger with him at the Wreck, or Pope roasts her a s’more and she refuses, and they start to notice.

One time, Kiara buys a new kind of green tea ice cream from the grocery store, and she eats it all in one sitting, calories be damned.

JJ laughs, nudges John B. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Damn, Kie.”

It’s a joke, a passing comment, but Kiara flinches, feels a sudden surge of regret. Shit. Her mother was going to kill her.

JJ sees it, because of course he does, and then his teasing grin disappears and he gives Pope and John B a knowing look.

Pope looks instantly uncomfortable as John B clears his throat, and Kiara doesn’t like it one bit. She feels cornered, suddenly on edge, as John B opens his mouth and says, “Kie, is everything okay? With you, I mean?”

“Of course,” she says, shrugging, the deflection easy. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, it’s just—“

“You’re not fucking eating.”

Kiara flinches for real this time at JJ’s harsh, blatant tone, her stomach hollowing out as John B hisses JJ’s name and says this isn’t what we talked about.

Oh, so they’re talking about her now. Wonderful.

“Fuck this,” she says, springing to her feet, the empty ice cream cartoon and metal spoon clattering to the floor. She feels sick just looking at it. “Y’all are— y’all are delusional, okay? I’m out.”

“Kie, it’s okay,” Pope says, his eyes on the floor. “Millions of people have, uh, stuff like this, you know, it’s not—“

“I do not have a eating disorder,” Kiara growls at him, ignoring Pope’s own flinch, how he curls in on himself at her words. “Your statistics don’t apply to me, okay, Pope? You have no idea what’s going on.”

“Kie, we’re just trying to help—“

“Fuck you, John B,” she says, turning to leave, not able to stand the pity on his face.

“No,” JJ snarls, rising from his chair, clutching the neck of his beer bottle so hard she thinks it might shatter. “I’ve had enough. Do you know that’s the most I’ve seen you eat in weeks? Something’s wrong, Kie, we’re not idiots, okay? So just tell us—“

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Maybank,” she snaps, the pit in her stomach filling itself with something cold and bitter. “This is my business, just like whatever the fuck is happening with your dad is yours. So leave me alone.”

She regrets the words as soon as she says them, but it’s too late, because JJ’s beer bottle shatters and John B yells as alcohol and shards of glass scatter across the floor, and Kiara is out the door before any of them can make her stay.

They’re just worried, she knows that, but it’s fine. She has it handled.

                                      •••

In reality, it’s the opposite of fine.

Kiara avoids the Pogues in the week leading up to Midsummers, ignores the texts they send her asking her to meet, actually hides when John B comes to find her at the Wreck.

She tells herself she just has to get through Midsummers, and then it’ll all work itself out.

The stress makes it worse, she thinks, and in between her anxiety over the Pogues and her mother’s pre-Midsummers prep, Kiara doesn’t realize that she can’t remember the last time she ate until she’s pulling up to the club with her parents.

It’s kind of like a wake up call, the shakiness in her limbs and the empty feeling in her stomach, and the next thing she knows, she’s hyperventilating over the sink in the girls bathroom.

It’s hard to breathe, and the heavily perfumed air definitely isn’t helping, and her mother is going to kill her, and Kiara doesn’t even know how it got this bad again. She doesn’t look too thin in the mirror, at least not to her, but what do other people see?

She’s not quite sure how, but she manages to find her phone in her clutch, to fumble through typing in her password and locating Pope’s contact.  

He answers on the first ring.

“Kie? Is everything okay? Where are you?”

He’s obviously concerned, and she feels like such an idiot, because she spent the past week pushing him and everyone else away when all they wanted to do was help her.

“Bathroom,” she manages to say, fighting to speak past the tightness in her throat. “In— Inside. Pope, I can’t breathe, I can’t—“

“Okay, Kie, it’s okay,” he murmured, sounding surprisingly calm. “Fuck, I’m working, I can’t leave. But I’m gonna help you, okay? Just breathe. Give me one second—”

The call ended, and Kiara tried not to panic anymore than she already was, but it was a relief when Pope’s name appeared on her phone screen again.

“Pope?” She asks, his name more of a sob than anything.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, Kie, you’re gonna be fine. You’re not hurt, right?”

She shakes her head, then remembers that he can’t see her, and confirms that she’s fine (physically, at least) through the phone. Pope keeps doing that, asking her questions in a low, level voice, until she hears a knock on the bathroom door.

“Pope, is that you at the door?” She asks, clutching her phone tighter in her hand, any sense of control she’d managed to regain vanishing.

“No, it’s—“

“Kie? Kie, are you in there?“

She doesn’t know why, but the sound of JJ’s voice makes her crumble. She can still hear Pope talking to her through the phone, hear JJ on the other side of the door, but it’s like it’s all coming from very far away. Her breathing picks up again, and she barely registers JJ’s fuck it, I’m coming in.

His knock on the stall door jerks her back into reality. “Kie? It’s JJ, can you open the door?”

With shaking hands, she grapples with the lock, automatically shrinking away when light floods the stall and she sees JJ staring down at her.

She must look like a mess— sitting on the floor of the bathroom in her dress, mascara running, like some girl who just got dumped by her boyfriend at a party. But she can’t really bring herself to care about that, because she still can’t seem to get enough air into her lungs.

“JJ,” she whimpers, because he’s just standing there like he doesn’t know what to do, some raw emotion in his eyes she can’t bring herself to decipher right now.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” JJ says, snapping out of whatever trance he’d fallen into at the sight of her, his movements slow as he crouches down beside her, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Take it easy, okay, Kie? Just breathe.”

He takes the phone from her, has a brief conversation with Pope, then hangs up and pockets it. Kiara doesn’t object, staring at her hands and trying to stop herself from shaking.

“Can I?” JJ asks, and she realizes he’s asking to hold her hands.

She nods, and then his warm, calloused fingers are brushing against her skin as he rubs soothing circles into the back of her palms. Her heart rate isn’t slowing, though, her breaths coming quick and fast again, but then JJ’s arms are around her and he’s pulling her back against his chest and murmuring reassurances into the top of her head.  

He tells her to copy his breathing, and she does, focusing on the steady beat of his heart against her shoulder, the fact that his hands are still holding hers.

Eventually, her breathing returns to normal, and her anxiety is replaced by exhaustion. She sags against JJ, closes her eyes, relaxes into his warmth.

The next thing she remembers is JJ guiding her into the passenger seat of the van and bucking her seatbelt. It’s easy to trust him, to let her eyes slip closed and listen to the steady, familiar hum of the engine.

Kiara doesn’t ask where they’re going, and she must fall asleep at some point, because then she’s waking up in the driveway at the Chateau. She ignores JJ’s offered hand and stumbles out of the van, tugging off her heels the moment she gets inside and collapsing onto the pullout couch.

She doesn’t want to move ever again, content to fall asleep right there, exhaustion heavy in her bones, but JJ takes one look at her and pulls her to her feet. He takes her to the bathroom, turns the shower on and places a hand on her back to guide her inside. He asks if she wants him to stay. She says no, because JJ’s already looking at her like she’s a wounded animal, and she doesn’t want him to think that she can’t do anything by herself.

Even if she almost has another panic attack once he leaves, has to remind herself to breathe as she undresses and steps into the shower. The hot water helps, and she loses track of time standing in the spray. She never hears the door open, but when she gets out there’s a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt on the counter.

She puts them on, drys her hair with a towel but leaves it down, too exhausted to do anything else. The sweatshirt smells like JJ, and she breathes it in. She doesn’t want to think about what it means. She can have a pass tonight, she figures.

When she opens the door, the hallway smells like cooking oil and burnt toast. She wrinkles her nose, pads into the living room on silent feet, and she thinks JJ might be right to treat her like a skittish animal, because when she walks into the kitchen and sees the plate of eggs and toast on the table, she wants to run back inside the bathroom.

JJ seems to recognize her urge to flee, because he pats the seat across from him and gives her a pointed look. “Sit down, Kie.”

She complies, because she kind of owes him, and JJ actually managed to cook something without burning the house down, so that’s a miracle in it itself.

“It’s no five-star Kiara Carrera creation, but it’ll have to do,” he tells her, smiling at her as she sits down. “I only know how to cook breakfast— sorry.”

He seems almost embarrassed, but Kiara doesn’t see why. “No, I love it,” she tells him, and he just stares at her, as if he thinks she’s lying. “Really, I do.”

He grins at her then, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the Chateau, and then JJ’s digging into his own food like a starving stray dog who hasn’t had a real meal in weeks.

It smells great, even though the toast is a little burnt, and Kiara is starving, but she still hesitates before picking up her knife.

JJ notices it, because of course he does. “Eat, Kiara,” he says, his tone soft but firm. “You need it. Please.”

It’s the please that gets her. She takes a cautious bite of toast, which is burnt on one side by covered in butter. It settles in her stomach, warm and filling, and before she realizes it, she’s scraping her plate clean.

JJ doesn’t say anything, but there’s a gleam or triumph in his eyes when he takes her empty plate from her and places it in the sink.

She was exhausted before, but the food’s made her drowsy, and Kiara stumbles into John B’s room while JJ is washing the dishes. He’s not home, but she decides to wait until tomorrow to worry about it, if she has to. As well as a bunch of other things— like what the hell her mother is going to do with her.

Kiara’s muscles feel like they’re made out of lead as she collapses onto the bed. She’s exhausted, but her thoughts aren’t stopping, and it’s a relief when JJ appears in the doorway.

“You good?” He asks, and she hums into her pillow, not opening her eyes.

But then the floorboards creak as he turns to leave, and she doesn’t know what makes her do it, but she calls his name.

“Yeah?” JJ says, and she opens her eyes this time, studying his silhouette in the doorway, all soft lines and tousled blond curls.

“Will you stay?” She asks, before she can consider what it means, how he’ll interpret it. “I just... I don’t want to be alone right now.”

But JJ just nods, moving to the other side of the bed and lying a respectable distance away from her. He closes his eyes immediately, but Kiara can’t seem to relax. They’ve slept in the same bed before, but this feels different. Heavier.

“JJ?” She murmurs into the silence, and he hums to show that he’s listening. “Thank you. For tonight, I mean.”

“S’ no problem, Kie,” he says, his words slurred by exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he turned to look at her. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, picking at her nail polish to avoid meeting his gaze. “I know. It’s just... it’s hard, ya know? I didn’t want to bother any of you, God knows you have enough shit to deal with without me piling my own on top of it, and it wasn’t that big of a deal, I swear—”

“Kie, your shit is my shit,” JJ said, his voice firm as he reached out to take her hand. She brushed her fingers over his knuckles, comforted by the familiar pattern of the cracks and scars that had stayed there even after his cuts had healed. “I’m not going anywhere. And this... whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. All of us— John B and Pope too.”

Kiara nodded, and it was silent for a while, but then she said, “I’m sorry. About what I said, about your dad. I was out of line, and I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” JJ said, shrugging, his fingers squeezing hers in reassurance. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but... it’s just scary, Kie. It was like I was watching you slip away right in front of me, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Kiara didn’t know what to say to that, so she just tucked herself into his side, pressing her face into his shoulder as JJ wrapped an arm around her. Their fingers were still intertwined, resting on his chest.

“Kie,” he said after a while, when she was on the brink of sleep. “I shouldn’t have to say it, but... you know you’re fucking beautiful, right? Just the way you are. You don’t have to—

“Thanks, JJ,” Kiara whispered before he could finish, her voice catching. She told herself not to cry, but a few tears escaped anyway. JJ wiped them from her cheeks, wove his fingers into her hair, running them through her wet curls.

“No, I’m serious, you’re like really hot, I—“

Kiara laughed, swatting at his arm, even though there was no real force behind it. There was a certain warmth rising in her chest, as she breathed in JJ’s scent and fell asleep in his arms. She didn’t quite know what it was, but it was new, and she liked it.

Far more than she should have.

                                      •••

It’s better after that. Not perfect, not right away, but better.

She explains everything to the Pogues eventually, and they take it all in stride, as if she’d just told them that she had decided to take up knitting as a pastime.

John B is always there, offering to drive her to get dinner, insisting he hasn’t eaten in days. He insists that Kie teach him how to cook fish the way they do at the Wreck, makes her taste-test each batch and critique them.

Pope does research, because that’s how he copes with this sort of thing, and after a while he starts bringing it up with her. JJ glares at him at first, asks Kiara if she wants him to stop, but she likes it. She likes knowing she’s not alone, that this is normal.

JJ’s approach is more subtle. He’s always making her food (he still can’t make toast without burning it, but she eats it anyway). Honestly, when JJ pouts and bats his eyelashes and flashes that devilish smirk of his, it’s hard to say no to anything he offers her. He makes it easy though, and that’s what she loves. It’s not awkward or forced, just them sharing a basket of fries at the Wreck, or visiting a local food truck festival in town.

She doesn’t know why she thought telling the Pogues would be a bad thing, because it’s nice not having to hide this from them, to know they’ll be there if she needs them.

Kiara doesn’t need perfect, she decides. She just needs her boys— if she has them, she’ll be fine.

No matter what happens.

[bytheangell]

Love Is an Open (And Not Broken) Door

(Read on AO3) (based on this instagram video of Dom fixing a door) “Why did you touch it?!” Jace asks, glancing back over at the door that was now officially missing its handle while he rummages through Simon’s sad collection of tools… which mostly consists of things that came with furniture he had to put together himself, a single screwdriver, and maybe a wrench.

“It’s not my fault!” Simon insists. “Well, I don’t think…”

Simon knows the door handle didn’t just fall off on its own. And he knows it’s been a bit loose after forgetting about his vampire strength more than a few times and pulling way too hard. But surely he can find a way to blame this on some universal karma or something, right? One of those ‘this was going to happen no matter what’ things.

Jace grabs a very small screwdriver and makes his way over to the door. He’s wearing a white long sleeve shirt, dark jeans, sandals, and a beanie, a much more casual look than his usual all-black, leather-clad getup. They’re meant to be relaxing, but of course, Simon has to go and somehow ruin a night in. He can practically feel the frustration radiate off of Jace as he prods at the hole in the door and curses under his breath. More than once.

“It’s fine, just leave it,” Simon says.

“...leave it to do what?” Jace asks. “Do you think it’s just going to fix itself?”

Jace has a point. But Simon doesn’t care about their future door problems, he just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend dammit.

“I pulled it off, can’t I just… shove it back on?” Simon offers.

“One, thank you for admitting this is your fault. Two, no, that is not how this works. Do you have something magnetic?”

“I have… magnets?” Simon is very aware of how dumb that sounds the second it leaves his mouth. “Like, the ones on the fridge?”

Jace considers this answer. “That might be enough. Bring me two.”

Simon continues speaking as he walks back to the fridge to pick the best two, though he’s pretty sure these all cost him $0.99 at some point so that isn’t saying much for their quality. “Listen, if you don’t know how to fix it, it’s fine. I can just… break the door and replace it later.”

Jace furrows his brow. “We know a warlock, and your solution isn’t to ask for a portal out but to just snap the door off the hinges and replace it later? When you can’t even replace the handle?”

Simon huffs. “I’m just saying. You don’t have to keep trying. You’re not a repairman, you don’t have to pretend to know how to do everything.”

Jace smirks at that and Simon sighs. Of course he’d see it as a challenge. “Who am I kidding, you’re Jace Wayland, of course you do. Go ahead, be annoyingly perfect and prove you know how to fix a door handle.”

Simon watches as Jace pokes and prods a bit, using the magnet to fish out something that dropped into the door when the handle broke, at some point giving up on the screwdriver and using the blade of a pocket knife to turn something and Simon isn’t even sure where the wire on the floor came from, and--

Jace presses down on the now re-attached handle and the door swings open.

“Oh my g--” the word catches in Simon’s throat. “You did it! You actually fixed it!”

“Don’t ever doubt me again, Lewis,” Jace says, brushing his hands off matter-of-factly.

“Was the idea of being trapped in here with me really that bad?” Simon pouts.

Jace looks up at him with half an eye-roll as he gathers the pile of makeshift tools off the floor. “Normally, no,” Jace says. “When I happen to have tickets to that sold-out concert you wanted to go to…”

Simon’s pout is immediately replaced by his jaw-dropping in disbelief. “You got tickets to the Queen show?”

“Floor tickets, which a little birdy told me are the best ones. And if that birdie lied she’s going to have ichor duty for the next year,” Jace adds, and Simon laughs because of course Jace got Clary’s help with this.

“It was going to be a surprise but luring you out of the apartment became a much less casual task when it involved needing to rebuild the door,” Jace adds with a glare that’s too fond to hold any heat.

Simon mentioned the concert in passing weeks ago when the tickets sold out before he could save up enough money for them, and certainly couldn’t afford any of the inflated resale prices. He can’t believe Jace remembered at all, let alone went out of his way to get the best seats. In fact, with the amount of rambling Simon does on a daily basis, he just sort of assumed Jace tunes the majority of it out. Clearly he’s wrong, and that realization brings a smile to his face so wide it actually hurts his cheeks a little.

“I was kidding when I said you were perfect before, but I think I mean it now,” Simon only half-jokes.

“I think we both know I’m far from perfect,” Jace says. “But you tend to bring out the best in me.”

Simon leans in and lifts himself up on the balls of his feet to place a gentle kiss on the corner of Jace’s mouth. It’s his favorite ‘If I kiss you for real I won’t be able to stop and we have things to do so this is as close as I’m getting’ spot.

“Remember that the next time I break something,” Simon promises.

“Or you could just stop breaking things,” Jace suggests in return.

Grabbing his jacket, Simon starts for the door to leave when Jace moves to cut him off.

“I’ll be opening the doors tonight, and not out of chivalry, but self-preservation,” he adds pointedly, glancing down at the recently re-attached handle.

Simon laughs. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, my knight in shining leather.”

[haikyall]

time signature

AO3

ayoo~ this is for sonderdaisies in instagram and discord! Here’s your prompt in my entry for @bnhagiftexchange WC: 4.7K

Pairings: Hawks & Miruko (Keigo Takami & Rumi Usagiyama) AU/Prompt: Musician AU, 

Summary: Music brings people together, even if you see each other at work... and live across the street from one another

Three hours. It has been three hours since Rumi has started looking for her portfolio. That portfolio had the pieces she wanted to present to her leader when they start rehearsal tomorrow. That portfolio could bring her career to new heights. That portfolio could get her a promotion. The portfolio is missing. 

Her house is already a mess because of trying to flip it upside down just to look for that flimsy clear book. She hates the fact that she is forgetful and things like this happen on the daily basis. 

Maybe it’s under the bed— you already checked the bed— how about one more ti— you checked it five times already. Inside the couch? You can’t rip open your couch, Rumi. I can watch me. Okay, where are you going to get a new one? Fuck where is it? I swear I won’t be able to practice tonight without those.

She knows it’s not at the rehearsal studio, she remembers putting it in her envelope… where is her envelope? Rumi suddenly has the motivation to look for something else. Did I leave it at the studio?!?!

Her frustration gets the better of her and she starts to aggressively look for the clear envelope. She gets more annoyed as more time passes and she hasn’t found the thing yet. Her annoyed self got more pissed to know the fact that it was ten in the night. She annoyingly grunts and then she hears it…

Soft piano playing. It was Clair de Lune, Haydn. It was calming, soothing. The volume was soft enough to be heard by neighbors whose houses are just across the street but not loud enough to be causing any disruption. It was like the house the sound was coming from was a huge music box. 

Whoever was playing the piano, was very good. The emotions were displayed perfectly and mixing some of their own. You would know if you’re emotional in playing by simply catching the attention of the unsuspecting audience. Rumi notices how the pianist speeds up by half a second and after a while of playing they would realize the speed and calm down. That’s not how you play the song.

The song calmed Rumi down. She listened to it for quite a while, settling on the couch while thinking if she did leave her life’s work at her office. Her brain goes haywire thinking if she even labeled her stuff. She scolds herself for being so damn irresponsible, this wouldn’t be happening because of it. 

Her eyelids start to droop the more she listens to the goddamn classical piano player. Times like these are when she wants to throw something to the other house to shut the people up there but this time she has absolutely no reason and energy for that.

Rumi blacks out.

Rumi Usagiyama is late and it was a difference of five minutes… five minutes led to thirty because of her extensive care for her silver hair that reaches the curves of her hips. That same thirty minutes led to an hour because of searching “how to cook pancakes” on Google and ultimately failing, leading her to just settle with cold pizza on her fridge. An hour flew to an hour and forty-five minutes as she was looking for her sheet music which led her to have a massive breakdown because she was missing pages and had to print everything again, and then she realizes that she’s running five minutes late which lead to a total of an hour and fifteen minutes late with ten minutes tardy time.

If it weren’t for that fucking pianist and their fucking Haydn I wouldn’t be so late and slept on the couch.

She frantically runs to her rehearsal room where everyone involved in the project we're talking, tuning their instruments, eating, resting, or a combination of a few. It was like this every morning, you enter a room of people you’ll work with for a few months to play for a musical, and then when the project ends you act like you didn’t know each other’s life story and how they came around with their instrument.

It was always so noisy.

The tan girl sighs as she expects another classic sermon from her superiors saying that “she should be more responsible” or that “if you loved music, maybe be more punctual”. 

Well, I happen to love pancakes too so shove your fucking violin bows up your asses. We don’t even play the same fucking instruments.

Rumi sighs as she smiles and bows apologetically to her superiors. Her superiors shake their head and leave her little space in the wide rehearsal room and rolling her eyes, she sits down, reviewing her sheet music as a way of prepping herself.

“Chill down, baby bird, you look like you were gonna pounce on them if they didn’t walk away,” Rumi sighs in relief at recognizing who’s voice now was towering over. The voice laced with concern but 90% consisted of cockiness. She looks up and sees a blond, and stout Keigo Takami with an amused eyebrow raised.

Rumi sends a scowl onto Keigo’s way, “Hahaha, very funny Kei,” Keigo chuckles as he squats to Rumi’s level as she attempts to focus on her work.

“I am quite the crowd-pleaser myself if you didn’t notice,” The blond dude says in reply and it takes for the tan girl to process what in tarnation her colleague just let out.

Rumi peels her eyes off her sheet music one more time, and shakes her head, “No, why would I— why are you even here?” She asks annoyingly to the smirking Keigo who was also looking at her sheet music.

The blond man stands up, “Just wanted to remind you we have rehearsal in five, baby bird— oh, you guys have a similar sheet music to the stringed instruments,” 

The silver-haired grumbles as she realizes that Keigo was doing her a favor, she completely forgot about the rehearsal, “Thanks, Kei, I’ll keep it in mind” Keigo turns around but seems to have forgotten to say something and turns back to Rumi who is now doing air-drumming movements, aligning her hands on the imaginary lyre, playing the piece with the correct notes in her head.

“Also, uhh you left some of your sheet music here” Keigo hands her a portfolio with her name at the front and where all of her missing sheet music pages were located. Rumi mentally slaps herself in the face to scold herself for forgetting such an important thing in her life let alone make Keigo return it.

Rumi grabs the portfolio “I was wondering where that went… thank you, sorry about that,” She apologizes and Keigo finally turns around gives her a thumbs up. She remembers a part of her conversation and yells back.

“AND JUST SO YOU KNOW, PIANOS ARE BOTH STRINGED AND PERCUSSION SO DON’T DISCRIMINATE SHIT, BABY CARROT,”

Keigo smiles to himself, finally, a decent reply. The thumbs-up he was showing just now flips and turns into a middle finger as he walks back to his little space of the rehearsal room. 

Rumi smiles at the non-verbal reply and shakes her head. He seems to know how to cheer things up huh? She examines the smooth texture of her clear portfolio, once again scolding herself, clutching the plastic material in anger.

So… I had a mental breakdown, and wasted my time for fUCKING NOTHING?!?!?!

___________________

Keigo packs up the last of the things he needs to take his leave from the rehearsal studio. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and starts to stride away out of the building.

The blond man stands in line waiting for the subway to arrive, as he does an old lady in a kimono outfit comes up behind him.

“You have grown, young bird”

Keigo is stunned, is this lady talking to the right guy? The pianist looks in both directions, checking to see if she is talking to the right person. The lady giggles as she sees that Keigo points to himself to be even more sure that it was him.

“Do I know you?” Keigo asks 

The old lady smiles, “No, but I’ve seen you grow on this exact hallway, I’m proud of what you’ve done” She then proceeds to point at the place where Keigo used to play songs as people walked by, grateful for any change they drop him with. Keigo remembers this in an instant and scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

“O-oh, th-thank you, ma’am” He bows toward the elderly and she starts to enter the train,

“Enjoy your trip home,”

Keigo smiles, “You too ma’am” He then enters the train as well.

__________________

Keigo then arrives home to hear xylophones to be the sound that greets him. He’s aware that one of his neighbors plays the xylophone. Keigo is sure it's not anyone from work as the xylophone pieces were never the pieces they would play at work. He assumes that they would practice the workpieces given that the performance is just a week away from now. The xylophone pieces were just popular songs. He sometimes hums along to the songs his neighbor chose. It was like Keigo’s evening couldn’t be complete without at least hearing one note of the xylophone, it served as his lullaby into the night.

Keigo doesn’t complain about the noise. It’s not noise, it was one of the most beautiful harmonies one could ever hear. He would trade the world to hear it again.

“Not in the mood today, huh?” He says to himself as he hears that the xylophone notes were just being played at random, not a single beat or harmony was being made. It was like they were being played out of frustration like a person was venting their anger or whatever they were feeling onto the instrument. He decides to not join them for tonight and sighs at the fact that he won’t be practicing the piano.

Keigo wanders how his neighbor is even still playing, he swore that the amount of frustration they’re letting out onto the instrument seems enough to break the sticks used to make the sound of it. He’s impressed that the xylophone itself is still in one piece to be exact. 

Keigo never had the energy or time to know who exactly was his neighbor due to his work and his dedication to it. His neighbor may have thought otherwise and never introduced themselves when they first moved in. He didn’t mind, he respected their privacy plus, it would be extremely awkward if he introduces himself now and not five months ago.

He listens to how frustrated his neighbor seems to be. He chuckles at times when he hears the same key is being played like they were annoyed by the sound of it and tries to fix it by repeatedly playing the note. 

Even if the xylophone isn’t exactly playing any song right now, he still believes that it’s still harmony in some way, it invokes emotion… well... his emotions, it was like the instrument was talking to him, ranting on how crappy their day was, a broken music box. He found the thought both funny and intriguing. Sometimes, he wants to know what’s got the lyre player in such a sour mood like this.

As Keigo listens to the horrific music. He searches up piano music sheets as more xylophone playing was starting to give him a headache. “Your Name, huh? Is this what you wanted to learn, baby bird?” He asks himself, remembering one of the pieces that were in Rumi’s portfolio. Keigo simply couldn’t help it, the clear book was thick, and he’s a curious man.

The music then stops, Keigo looks at the time; 10:00 pm. Ah, they should stop now. He notices that whenever it was ten sharp, the music stops, even if it was in the middle of a song. It was their bedtime, Keigo then decides to also call it a night and starts to close all the lights and prepare for bed. 

___________________

Rumi barges into the rehearsal room, she sighs in relief to see that no one was there yet. She woke up early today, she didn’t get to practice any songs last night and it pissed her off. She was so busy scolding herself with forgetting the portfolio of her pieces that she had forgotten the more important matter, practicing the exact songs in her portfolio. 

She didn’t want to be a burden to the other lyre players since it was evident who knew how to play the lyre if they practiced their pieces before going to work and it would be hella embarrassing if Rumi didn’t have any songs to present her lyre group with. 

It was a tradition that the lyre group makes lyre versions of popular songs, everyone in the building loves it. The sounds resembled that of a music box, melodic, lullaby-like, gentle, and peaceful, just with six other xylophones playing. 

She then grabs a music sheet stand and shoves her portfolio on it, and she starts playing in an instant. She takes notes of the pauses and how the song escalates. Maybe the group will choose her songs, the songs she’s been choosing have been very difficult, those kinds of songs kind of gives an appealing view to their leader. 

Rumi chose quite a popular song, it was “Sparkle” from the movie Your Name. She chose it mainly because she cried at the ending more than she would like to admit. She skips the repetitive piano intro and starts straight at the D#. It was quite a simple piece, she was hoping that the leader would somehow make it more complicated. The leader would always encourage them to bring him something more simple to make it grander to play since he can turn it more difficult the more they play together.

The silver-haired girl has been tapping on the same notes over and over again but seems to slowly lose count on how many times she should be playing a specific note. “Five D#… wait no… wasn’t it four?”

She plays the notes again to confirms her suspicion and she starts to anger herself at how much she confused herself over the starting line of the notes she’s playing. “If it weren’t for me and my forgetful ass and forgot the fucking portfolio, I wouldn’t be here right now cram practicing,” she grumbles to herself as she lashes her anger on the flipping of pages on her portfolio.

She starts to get impatient with herself since she keeps on making the same mistake on the same note. For some reason, she isn’t keeping track of how many times her glockenspiel on the metal plates “GODDAMMIT ALREADY” She screams out in frustration, flinging her stick towards the other side of the room. 

The stick barely misses the incoming blond male that enters the room. His eyes follow the direction of the stick as it hits the wall, taking precautions to not get hit by another stick. He notices that the stick is not a usual drum stick but is more similar to a lyre stick… Rumi. “Woah there, take a chill pill, Rumi,” Keigo says as he enters the room.

“Keigo… hi,” Rumi breathes in and composes herself and Keigo finds this a perfect time to piss her off even more

“Hello baby‘I'm pissed and I throw my stick in anger but luckily I'm alone’bird” Keigo teases while making air quotes as he says the nickname with his index and middle fingers. Rumi rolls her eyes. She paces across the room to pick up her poor glockenspiel as the other person in the room settles his place on the piano

“Well not anymore,” She grumbles and Keigo simply chuckles.

“What you practicing?”

“Just for some presentation,” Rumi shrugs off the question and focuses to prepare to start playing.

“Can I listen?” Keigo says in pure curiosity and Rumi’s answer went out faster before she even thought of saying it.

“NO!”

“And why not?” Keigo asks, raising an eyebrow at the sudden response.

“BECAUSE I HAVENT….” Rumi answers a bit too fast again and shuts herself up and tries to concentrate again on the piece.

“You haven’t what Rumi? I’m not a fortune teller over here and even if you do say no, I’m still going to listen,” Keigo points out and Rumi huffs in frustration at the man’s persistence. She hated at the fact that Keigo is right. He’s assigned to the same orchestra as her so he can’t possibly leave the room, and it’s not like he can’t listen to it even if he wanted to.

“Ihaven’tpracticedityet” Rumi says in a quick and silent voice. Keigo was impressed she managed to speak in a volume that's still too quiet even if they were the only two people in the room

“Sorry what? You were too soft” Keigo says, genuinely and for spite. Rumi inhales deeply, calming herself down before reiterating what she just said, in a slower and louder manner. 

“I haven’t practiced yet,”

Keigo scoffs, that’s what she’s so worried about?  He looks at her dead in the eye. “I’ll help you then,” 

“What’s the piece?” Keigo asks, stretching his fingers as preparation to start playing.

“Sparkle, from—” Rumi calmly says

“—Your Name”

“Your Name,” They both say simultaneously. An awkward silence fills the room and they both freeze at the realization that they said something at the same time.

“Do you play the intro?” Keigo asks and Rumi shakes her head.

“No, it hurts the ears if I play it on the lyre” She explains and Keigo nods. 

He then shrugs his shoulders and faces the piano, “I’ll play it then,”

“Whenever you’re ready then,”

Keigo’s hands lay on the white and black pieces, awaiting the right signal to himself to start playing. He calms his senses and takes a sharp inhale of breath. His fingers then start to wander and dance on the piano and the first notes are finally played.

Rumi waits for the repetitive beginning to finally come to an end and joins Keigo in the next measure. The piano and the sound of the lyre start to compliment each other, Rumi is impressed that she can play better with the guidance of a piano… Or maybe it’s Kei— NOPE IT'STHE PIANO.

The flow of the music was so enchanting, the music was attracting the people who weren’t assigned to the studio. The piece itself was already hard to play on the piano alone, concentration only became harder for both as they hear people crowding the entrance of the room. The pressure was killing the pair in the most silent yet obvious manner.

Don’t fuck up, Rumi. Don’t you dare fuck it up now? It’s going to be so fucking embarrassing for Keigo if you dare mess it up. Oh my fucking god, too fast, too fast, too fAST—

It was obvious that the piece was escalating for some reason and Rumi was panicking at the pace they were going for many reasons. One, the tan girl hasn’t memorized the piece, meaning she has to look at both the piece and her xylophone. She’s starting to wonder why on earth she’s speeding up. 

Was she not following the time signature? Maybe she didn’t time the rests right. Shit, did she forget to play a note again? Rumi looks at Keigo and everything starts to fall into place. Keigo is panicking. 

Keigo’s eyes were so focused on playing the piece it was like he was solely playing the piano on his own. His fingers are going too fast, it wasn’t obvious to the audience but he was a least two beats advanced. He’s forgetting what piece even was in the first place. His eyes are too wide. Keigo is going too fast. 

“Keigo!” Rumi screams out. Keigo hears it and he turns around and he finally sees it. Rumi isn’t looking at him but he can see her struggle, the way her eyes are flipping from the notes to the actual instrument was her way of panicking and telling Keigo to slow it down, any faster and she’s going to have to make a mistake on the way of trying to keep up.

“Sorry,” Keigo mouths out and he tries to mellow down the speed but it ends up being too fast for Rumi’s speed again. Rumi hasn’t seen Keigo’s response Rumi feels like her arm is about to fall off. She’s just pulling through the fact that the song is about to end… Okay maybe choosing the six-minute version of the song was a bad idea. 

The song finally ends and they get applause from the people who were watching them. The pair never really processed how many people were watching. It looked like only a few caught on to the fact that they were a bit too fast and the fact they ended a bit early because of it. 

Keigo and Rumi share a hug and Rumi hit’s Keigo’s nape in the process. “That was pretty stupid of you, Keigo,”

“Sorry about that,”

Keigo and Rumi turn to the crowd and simply bows in gratitude.

“What is going on in here?” The head of the lyre group comes in, the crowd quiets down their noise. It shows on their face that they have no idea why there is a crowd and why Rumi and Keigo are bowing as it turns out the head of the lyre group has just arrived in the building and hasn’t watched the entire scene play out.

“Ah, Keigo was helping me practice,” Rumi explains with a bright smile, satisfied she even finished the song. The leader raises an eyebrow as Keigo bows in front of them, a way of greeting.

“Is that so?” 

“She couldn’t get the timing right,” Keigo explains, why he is helping her in the first place.

The leader crosses their hands on their chest, “It sounds to me, you also couldn’t get the timing right, Keigo,” They say with a menacing voice.

“He got nervous, chill out,” Rumi defends.

“A musician that can’t play at the right time signature shouldn’t be playing in the first place,” The leader says, smirking. They’ve pissed off Keigo, it was obvious by the way he was looking down, fist clenched. He’s holding in every urge to bite back at the way the leader was taunting the pair.

“Is that your way of telling Rumi her song choice sucked?” Keigo quietly asks.

“Excuse me?”

“You weren’t here for the performance, more likely you came by the end of it, I can see it in your face,” Keigo points out the bewilderedness of the guy the moment they came in. He can tell that they haven’t calmed down from the shock of the people and the ending of the song.

“That’s not what I—“

“I wasn’t finished,” Keigo says, Rumi is freaking out. She’s trying to calm Keigo down by gripping his arm and silent whispers, scolding his name but Keigo persists and continues, “Now, if you’re going to tell me and Rumi that the piece she chose doesn’t suit your style, then maybe you shouldn’t be a leader because of that selfish thought, 3/4 of your lyre group are already here and they are looking at you with pretty nasty looks,” Keigo reminds the leader as he points to some people in the crowd and the leader sees their members looking at him menacingly or not even looking at them.

“Anyways, if you don’t like the help of other people from your same orchestra, maybe you should take a chill pill,” Keigo says, packing up his stuff and leaving. 

“Keigo— wait!” Rumi says, gathering her stuff as well and following shortly, completely ignoring her leader.

“Where are you going?” She says after chasing up to the blond man.

“Home,” 

“Let me come with you,”

“but—“ Keigo tries to retort, seeing that the silver-haired girl still has work and has to present the piece they were practicing in the first place yet that same girl cuts him off,

“It’s the least I could do after everything you said, dumbass,”

“Fine,” Keigo sighs continues on his journey with Rumi.

___________________

They both wait for the subway train to arrive, and as they do so, a new but familiar voice enters their conversation, “Hello there, young bird,”

Rumi is shocked to hear an old voice from behind her so she turns around. Keigo already knew the voice so his calm stature doesn’t change, “Hello,” Keigo says, bowing in respect.

“Where are you going?” The old lady asks.

“Home, people at work like to be asses today,”

“I get that, you have a pretty guest too,” The old lady points at Rumi who has a tint of blush on her cheeks after being called pretty. 

“Hi, I’m Rumi Usagiyama,” She says, bowing as well

“Hello there, little bunny, ah… well I have to be going, have a wonderful day you two,” The elderly woman says, looking at her watch and departing.

“Take care!” Keigo says as he watches her depart from them. He notices the soft gaze of Rumi as she watches the elder woman disappear, “… you like being called pretty~” He says, teasing the smaller human.

“N-NO I DO NOT,” Rumi says, eyes wide, color creeping up her cheeks, and hits Keigo’s shoulder on instinct.

“Hey, what was that for?” Keigo says a hand goes to the injured area. Not all that injured but still painful.

Rumi rolls her eyes, “You are annoying,”

“You like it when I’m annoyin— okAY OKAY I’LL STOP,” Keigo tries to bite back but Rumi is already a step ahead and pinches and twists Keigo’s ear. The train finally arrives and the two finally calm down and board the train.

___________________

They are finally walking to what Keigo calls his home. As they walk through, Rumi notices how this path seems familiar. Too familiar. It’s like she knows it because she’s been here every day. That’s exactly what it was. 

Is he going to make a left there? But I also live there. Then straight ahead for two intersections then another left. wAIT A SECOND—

“You live here?” Rumi asks and the question catches Keigo off guard. Of course, he lives here, where else was this girl expecting?

“Yeah… is there a problem?”Keigo slowly answers. Rumi’s brain is doing the most before short-circuiting again, everything seems to fall into place. 

“Did you just so happen to hear instruments playing from your other neighbors?” Rumi asks an oddly specific question “Cause ya know, you’re not the only one who can play an instrument.” She explains and Keigo nods.

“Yeah, just yesterday this neighbor of mine must’ve been pissed~ they were making the most random of notes I swear, poor xylophone just wanted some rest,” He chuckles and Rumi nods.  Did this asshat just say xylophone? yeSTERDAY?!

“ARE YOU THE ONE WHO PLAYED CLAIR DE LUNE THE OTHER DAY?!” Rumi again asks a specific question and Keigo answer it absent-mindedly.

“Yes, how did you—“

“WE’RE NEIGHBORS YOU FUCKHEAD,” Rumi freaks out and Keigo doesn’t seem to be on the same page as her.

“… what?”

“The xylophone playing yesterday wAS ME,” Rumi explains that she was the mastermind of the horrific music and Keigo slowly starts to understand.

“YOU?!?!” Keigo points at a laughing Rumi. “WHY WERE YOU PISSED?!”

“CAUSE I LEFT THIS GODDAMN PORTFOLIO AND THE LEADER GOT PISSED AT ME FOR IT,” Rumi explains while waving the envelope she was looking for one and a half days ago. 

“BUT I RETURNED IT TO YOU” Keigo tries to make sense of the situation

“EXACTLY WHY I WAS PISSED,” Rumi says as Keigo shakes his head, everything finally clicks into place and they both have calmed down, “Thank you, for a while ago,” Rumi silently says, remembering how they even found out the new information in the first place. She sees her house and yet they turn the opposite way.

“Hmm? Oh, no problem, was getting sick and tired of them treating you like shit anyway,” Keigo simply says as they finally arrive at his home, Rumi feels weirded out at the fact that she isn’t at her house but the house right in front of it.“Care for coffee, neighbor?”

[skrltwtch]

iMessed-Up

Prompt: Person A means to send a message to Person B saying, “I love your hair” but accidentally sends “I love you”. It turns out Person B loves them back. Not wanting to break the latter’s heart, Person A asks them out. They date for six months before Person A realises they’ve fallen head over heels for Person B. (Source of prompt in link at bottom of post.)

Word count: 1,430

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Y/N, 8:05 p.m.: Geoooooorge

George, 8:05 p.m.: Yes, hi it’s me.

George, 8:06 p.m.: What’s up?

George, 8:06 p.m.: Honestly, this doesn’t sound good.

Y/N, 8:06 p.m.: Shut

Y/N, 8:07 p.m.: Up

Y/N, 8:07 p.m.: I want to share pictures of last night

Y/N, 8:07 p.m.: And …

Y/N, 8:07 p.m.: I know you’re not on like, anything

Y/N, 8:08 p.m.: Weird flex, but okay [smirking face emoji]

George, 8:09 p.m.: It’s not weird.

George, 8:09 p.m.: Is it?

Y/N, 8:10 p.m.: Nope. It’s commendable, really

George, 8:11 p.m.: You can quit, you know.

Y/N, 8:12 p.m.: I can, but do I want to

George, 8:12 p.m.: [man shrugging emoji]

Y/N, 8:14 p.m.: Anyway, what I wanted to ask was — I wanted to run some pictures of last night by you because you’re not on anything and I don’t want to be that person who uploads terrible pictures of their friends, especially someone who can’t defend themselves

George, 8:15 p.m.: That’s … sweet.

George, 8:15 p.m.: Thank you.

George, 8:15 p.m.: But I’m certain I look good in all of them.

George, 8:15 p.m.:

Y/N, 8:16 p.m.: You’re grossly photogenic

Y/N, 8:16 p.m.: And I hate you

George, 8:16 p.m.: LOL.

Y/N, 8:18 p.m.: Ok, incoming pic spam. Don’t say I didn’t warn you

Y/N, 8:19 p.m.: Pick three, please?

Y/N, 8:19 p.m.: The best

Y/N, 8:19 p.m.: Your favourites

George, 8:20 p.m.: Bring it on.

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:24 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:25 p.m.: I picked the best of the bunch. There were more

Y/N, 8:26 p.m.: Lots more

George, 8:28 p.m.: These look great.

George, 8:28 p.m.: You look great.

Y/N, 8:29 p.m.: [blushing emoji] [blowing a kiss emoji]

Y/N, 8:29 p.m.: Thank you!

Y/N, 8:30 p.m.: You look smashing, too

George, 8:30 p.m.: Thank you.

George, 8:31 p.m.: Um … I’d go with these.

George, 8:32 p.m.: [image]

George, 8:32 p.m.: [image]

George, 8:32 p.m.: [image]

Y/N, 8:33 p.m.: Yeah, I was thinking of those, too

George, 8:34 p.m.: Don’t we just look cute together?

Y/N, 8:34 p.m.: Absolutely

Y/N, 8:35 p.m.: Ok, I’ll share them — slap on a filter or two first — and I’ll show you the comments

Y/N, 8:36 p.m.: Like I always do [smiling emoji]

George, 8:37 p.m.: I bet most of it will be ‘Why isn’t George on here?’ and ‘That wanker George doesn’t know what he’s missing’.

Y/N, 8:38 p.m.: Eh, that’s about right

Y/N, 8:38 p.m.: But it is your choice

Y/N, 8:39 p.m.: Some people really could afford to not be on Instagram

Y/N, 8:39 p.m.: Not that you’re one of them. But I’m glad you let me post stuff of you

Y/N, 8:40 p.m.: Especially since, you know, you’re in movies now

George, 8:41 p.m.: That doesn’t mean anything will change.

Y/N, 8:42 p.m.: I know

Y/N, 8:42 p.m.: And I’m really happy for you

Y/N, 8:42 p.m.: And proud of you

Y/N, 8:43 p.m.: I like this picture a lot

Y/N, 8:44 p.m.: You’re right. We do look cute together [smiling face with hearts emoji]

George, 8:45 p.m.: Have I ever been wrong?

Y/N, 8:46 p.m.: Shut up

Y/N, 8:46 p.m.: God, I love you

I put my phone down slowly, knowing that all I needed to do next was absolutely fucking nothing. Stupid fingers. Stupid, stupid fingers. I didn’t not love George. I loved him — as a friend. He was nice, and he was so lovely, and so sweet, but it never once crossed my mind that we could be … more than. I hadn’t even finished processing the fact that he’d still hang out, and want to hang out, with me and our other, childhood friends after having landed a couple of roles in which he received top billing. Damn it. ‘Your hair’ was how that sentence was supposed to end. Now I had no idea what kind of end I had sentenced our friendship to.

His sudden reticence after providing such swift responses wasn’t helping. He had read the message. For once I’d welcome the ominous pulsing three dots, just so I’d know he was still there and hadn’t — I couldn’t imagine how he might’ve reacted, and I didn’t know either what kind of reaction I wanted him to have. I did know that what I had to do next depended on his response. And damn it, I needed it now.

‘…’

Look at those dumb dots, bouncing away without a care in the world.

‘…’

Imagine being on the verge of an anxiety attack because of three damn dots. And because the connection between your brain and your fingers picked the best moment possible to fail you.

‘I love you, too.’

My face drained itself of all colour.

Be careful what you wish for, am I right?

He followed up with a heart emoji. No, two. No, three.

I screamed into the nearest pillow. He was serious. This was serious, because he tended to use emojis like they were rare, precious resources on which the world was running low.

I hadn’t a clue what to do. The state of things was undeniable: I was now living in a universe where I told my best friend I loved him when I didn’t, not in that way, and he told me he did, too, yes in that way. I needed counsel. And the one person I could turn to in times like this, and come away enlightened and empowered, was what I happened to need help with. Of course. There was no second best. There never was.

I sighed; my phone felt like a brick in my hand. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t break his heart. I didn’t want to. I’d never dream of it. But would leading him on amount to the same thing? I had seen and read plenty of stories in many forms of media about people who’d chosen to tell or fudge the truth in similar situations, and guess what? Neither course of action culminated in happy endings. If there were any that didn’t make it to online forums about laughable or cringe-worthy attempts at backpedalling, I wasn’t aware.

I needed space. I needed time. To think. I needed to see him. His presence would be calming, even if he’d caused this state of emergency in the first place. I’d know what to do when I see his face — in person, because the sight of his contact picture on my phone and the photos I’d filled our chat with were, for some reason, sending all the circuits in my brain crashing into one another.

I released the breath I’d been holding since the third heart emoji made it from his phone to mine.

I sent him a heart emoji, and I asked him out.

Not like, you know, on a date.

Just out.

✦✧✦✧

I pulled my chair closer to his, leaned into his shoulder, and shoved my phone in front of him. ‘Look at this,’ I said, ‘this’ being a photo of us on our most recent date: our third visit to the Barbican Conservatory after my blunder — one of the classics, just next to getting involved in a land war with Asia — saw us fancying ourselves as a couple.

‘That’s us?’ said George. He took my phone and stared at the picture. ‘We’re fucking adorable.’

It could be the 7,827th time he’d say that about us, and my stomach would still find itself host to a kaleidoscope of butterflies. I’d come to love the idea of an ‘us’. And so did everyone in our social circles, apparently, some well before George and me being an ‘us’ turned out to be one of the rare positive outcomes of me being an arse. He didn’t know about that, and he’d never know about that. I wasn’t in the business of being cruel — I’d clearly never been. Hell, after a certain point, I started to count my blessings daily that I took this gamble: it wasn’t long before I found myself falling head over feet for him. I remembered berating myself once for not seeing this sooner.

‘Everyone agrees,’ I said. ‘Read the comments.’

‘I am,’ he said. ‘It never fails to amuse me how people make such a big deal about me not being on Instagram or whatever. I’m perfectly fine raking in social clout by proxy.’ He took a sip of his salted caramel mocha. ‘Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be on social media now, not when I’m about to start this new project. I think it could be big.’ His fingers interlocked themselves with mine.

‘Of course it’ll be big. It’s with Sam Mendes.’ I grinned. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ I said into his ear.

He leaned in to thank me with a peck on my cheek. That simple act warmed me up better than my pumpkin spice latte.

He passed me back my phone, after which I went back to mindlessly scrolling through my profile, a careful curation of photos of us, food, my outfits, my cat, and just about everything else. It didn’t take me long to reach the catalyst of our relationship: an innocent wefie at Columbia Road Flower Market, where I’d spotted the most beautiful peonies and couldn’t pass up the chance for a commemoration of my latest purchase with my favourite person in the world. My heart swelled. The one visible comment on the photo, made judiciously by a friend, read, ‘Fucking hell, get together already, you two. And tell George his hair’s out of control’.

I put my phone face down on the table and turned to George. ‘I love you,’ I said, ‘and your hair.’

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You, Chpt.4

Summary: Bucky mends things with Steve and together they move forward to the next step in the relationship. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: Some lovely smut towards the end of the chapter

Word Count: 5.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I originally had this broken out into two smaller chapters but then I decided the hell with it and am giving you one giant monster of a chapter instead. So please enjoy this 5.3k word beast which contains lots of sweet fluff and some steamy smut towards the end. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Four

The communication black out lasts three days. It’s the longest they’ve gone without talking or texting since they met over a month ago. Bucky is surlier than usual and eventually Natasha calls him out on it. He wants to pick a fight with her when she does but he’s running late for his shift and he has to hurry out the door, settling for just flipping her off as he leaves. Natasha, however, is undeterred and proceeds to text him, letting him know exactly what she thinks of the situation. 

It’s a slow night in the ER and Bucky can’t stand the down time. All he can think about is the fight with Steve. Well, not even a fight really. Steve pissed him off and he did what he does best: he ran. The more Bucky thinks about it, the more he feels like an ass. He knows how socially awkward Steve is, how he’s not always sure of societal norms. It’s not all that surprising that Steve would make a faux paux, but Bucky’s reaction to it wasn’t okay. The longer he dwells on it the more he realizes how very not okay it was. 

Bucky is forced to take his mid-shift break when Darcy comes on rotation, the tiny woman physically shoving him towards the break room and telling him to catch a nap if he can. She’s been a good friend since he started there three years ago, and she knows how much the overnight shift wears on him. Bucky stares at his phone, wondering if a text would wake Steve. He hopes not, it’s just past two in the morning and no one deserves to be woken up by an apology text at that hour. Bucky types, and retypes, and retypes again, the best apology he can muster. After staring at his phone for another five minutes, willing the message to send itself, he deletes it, settling for a simple: I’m sorry for what happened. Can we talk when you have time?

Sighing in relief that the dreaded text is sent, Bucky lays back on one of the break room cots and starts scrolling through his Instagram feed. He barely gets through Clint’s latest story when his phone rings, Steve’s goofy contact photo lighting up the screen. Shocked, Bucky flails and drops the phone, the damned device sliding under the cot where Bucky has to crawl down to get it, frantically trying to answer the call in time. “Hello!” he shouts breathlessly as he swipes to accept the call. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks, confused and concerned by Bucky’s breathless tone.

“Sorry, dropped my phone. I’m here.” 

“Oh, is it okay? I’ve broken four iPhones dropping them. I’m pretty sure Tony is ready to kill me, but they’re just so fragile.” 

Bucky smirks, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “It’s fine, thanks. How on earth did you manage to destroy an iPhone just by dropping it though? They’re fragile but my buddy Clint drops his daily and it’s fine.” 

Steve chuckles, a self depreciating rumble, “Well, when you drop them while exiting a Quinjet in mid air they don’t typically make it to the ground in one piece. And one time it was off a building but really, that time it just slipped right out of my hand. Even super soldier reflexes couldn’t catch it.” 

The laugh Bucky was suppressing bursts free. “Oh god, no wonder Stark wants to kill you.” 

There’s a beat of silence after Bucky’s laughter dies down. It’s heavy, the reason for the call hanging in the air. “It’s real good to hear your voice.” Steve admits quietly. 

Bucky’s heart clenches, “Yeah, it’s good to hear yours too. I didn’t mean to bolt like that. I’m sorry I didn’t give us a chance to talk it out.” 

“You weren’t wrong. I don’t know her, and it was thoughtless of me to trivialize your problems by trying to solve them for you.” 

“You were just being a good person. I get why you wanted to help. In the moment though, I felt like you thought I couldn’t take care of my own kid. And I’m sorry, but that’s probably always going to be a sore point for me. I fight like hell everyday to give that little girl a better life than I had and I’m damned proud of that. But… I still shouldn’t have run out on you like that.” 

“Buck… I… I would never think for a minute that you can’t take care of her. She’s so lucky she has you raising her, you’re an amazing parent. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” 

Bucky sniffed roughly, ignoring the burning of unshed tears, “Thanks, Steve. It means a lot. And I promise the next time we disagree with something, I won’t go running off without us talking things through. I really like you, Steve. I want to give us a real chance.” 

“I really like you too, a lot. Can I see you later this week? Maybe we can have a do over at the cafe and you can actually eat your chocolate chip pancakes this time. They were really good, you missed out.” 

“Yeah, we can do that. I was really looking forward to… wait, what? Did you eat my pancakes?” 

“Um, well, I took them home thinking I’d be able to give them to you later. But then you didn’t reach out and I didn’t want them going to waste. I’m sorry?” 

“Nah, it’s good someone ate them. I really was looking forward to them, though. I have off all day tomorrow for Becca’s appointment if you’re free. And you know who else really likes chocolate chip pancakes?” He waits a beat for Steve to guess but the other man is silent on the other end of the line, “Becca.” 

Steve is quite another moment before finally responding. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing you. If you’re not ready for me to meet her, that’s okay. I’ll wait as long as it takes until you’re comfortable.” 

“We’re not rushing, it’s time. Tomorrow will be good because if she does get glasses, which is likely, we’ll be able to celebrate with dinner out for her. Honestly, she’s going to take one look at those giant pancakes and you will be an afterthought. She loves my friends who help watch her but I’ve never introduced her to a boyfriend before so I’m not sure how she’ll take that. Hopefully this will make it a good experience for her.” 

“Ah yes, bribing small children with baked goods and sugar. I’m all in favor of that.” 

Bucky chuckles, “Whatever works. So, we’ll see you tomorrow? Maybe around five thirty?” 

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll see you two then.” 

“See you then.” Bucky disconnects the call, a wide smile plastered on his face. He really likes Steve and feels like this relationship could be different from his past ones. 

Bucky’s good mood is noticeable and gets him teased by both Darcy and Carol at work, followed by Clint when he arrives home later that morning. He can’t be bothered by their affectionate jabs though, he knows he has it bad. He hasn’t mentioned to his friends who Steve is, as in Captain America, only saying he’s a cute guy he met in the bodega near his house. Only Natasha knows the whole truth but she eats secrets like M&Ms so he has no fears of her saying anything to anyone. 

xxXxx

Becca is surprisingly cooperative getting ready for preschool, even after Bucky reminds her she has a doctor’s appointment afterwards. She’s so used to seeing her various doctors that it doesn’t even phase her outside the concern if this new doctor will have a good prize box like her breathing specialist does or if they’ll just have stickers like her normal pediatrician. Bucky reminds her that not all doctors have prize boxes and she should be nice to them no matter what. Becca nods but tells him that he should really ask these sort of questions when he calls for an appointment. It’s through ironclad self control that he manages not to laugh until she’s through the doors of Applegate Academy. His little girl is a spitfire and he loves it. 

Bucky manages to snag a few hours of sleep while Becca’s at school. He can’t wait for Monday when he’s off again and can sleep for a full night like a normal person. Cat naps on his breaks at the ER and a few hours here and there at home never seem to be enough when his rotation schedule has too many days in a row. Bucky dresses quickly, not wanting to show up in his sweats despite knowing the cafe is definitely a casual meet up. He’s still unsure how Becca is going to handle meeting Steve. Sometimes she’s all bravado and personality, others she tucks herself behind Bucky’s legs to shy away. There’s never a rhyme or reason to it and the pediatrician said it’s normal preschooler behavior. Bucky can only hope it goes well for all of them. He has enough to worry about with the eye doctor’s appointment. 

Becca decides she loves her optometrist the second she sits down in the exam chair. Dr. Gibbons is a soft spoken older man with greying hair and a deeply lined face. He makes Becca giggle throughout the appointment with his antics which keep the visit stress free for the little girl. After running through a series of tests he confirms what the school suspected, Becca does need glasses. The doctor explains that Becca’s prescription is only a -1.75 so it’s not surprising she hadn’t shown more noticeable symptoms. Bucky fights back the tears that prickle along the corners of his eyes at the news; relief washing over him that this wasn’t something he’d blatantly missed. 

Shopping for glasses is a bit of a challenge considering Becca thinks she’s a princess and Bucky’s wallet begs to differ. He lucks out that they have a sale going and he steers Becca to the shelf of glasses that he can get for a reasonable price. She does finally pick a pair from the sale shelf that she says make her look like a librarian, which is her current career aspiration since she met the school librarian a month ago. Bucky chuckles and assures her she looks very nice. The doctor offers to have them ready to pick up in an hour which leaves them with enough time to walk down the block to the community park they passed on their way. Becca throws herself around the jungle gym like a wild animal and it makes Bucky thankful he spent the extra money on a protection plan on her new glasses. She’s an active little girl and he’d rather pay a extra few dollars now than buy a whole new pair of glasses when something happens. 

The glasses come out perfect and barely need adjusting to fit Becca’s face. The tortoise shell frames stand out against her pale face making her grey-blue eyes even more pronounced. Bucky is full of emotion watching her tilt her head from side to side examining how she looks until finally announcing they’re marvelous and taking off to see how far away she can see now. Bucky hands over his debit card, cringing at the total but thankful he had enough to cover them without completely wiping out his savings. Becca is oblivious to his stress, thankfully, and spends the whole walk to the cafe pointing out things she can see now like little symbols on store signs and smaller items on display in store windows. It’s like the whole world has opened up for her and Bucky couldn’t be happier for his little girl. The awning of the cafe comes into view and Bucky braces himself for the impending meeting. The first half of their day went well, now he just has to hope the second part does too. 

xxXxx

Becca shrieks when she sees the tiny honey bees on the sign of the cafe. Her love affair with bugs of all sorts has her grilling the waitress about bees while they’re led to a table. The poor waitress at least knows enough about bees to keep the conversation going, although the cafe itself is more wildflower themed than bee themed. The tiny honey bees on the sign were more of an afterthought than the main artwork. Becca is still on her bee tangent when Steve walks in, looking around and spotting them easily. 

“Becs,” Bucky gets her attention, “Remember that I said we’re meeting my friend Steve here too? And that you have to be on your very best behavior?”

Becca nods, “I know. I’ll be good. And then I’ll get pancakes as big as my head.” 

“You got it. Steve is here and he’s coming over so remember your manners please.” Bucky waves Steve over, the blonde was actually waiting for Bucky to give him permission before approaching. It’s sweet and considerate and makes Bucky think he was right in entrusting Steve to meet his little girl. 

Becca hops up as Steve approaches and stands ramrod straight, her little hand extended towards him. “Hello.” she says in her most polite tone, “I’m Rebecca Grace Barnes, but you can call me Becca.” 

Steve looks like he would melt into a puddle on the floor if he physically could. Instead, he crouches down to her level and shakes her hand gently. “Nice to meet you, Becca. I’m Steven Grant Rogers, but you can call me Steve.” 

Becca giggles, “That’s silly. You have Captain America’s name.” 

“Oh god.” Bucky mutters under his breath while Steve blushes brightly. 

Steve pulls his SHIELD ID card out of his wallet and flashes it to Becca. Her eyes widen and Steve presses a finger to his lips making a shhh sound.  

Becca spins around to Bucky glaring, “Why didn’t you bring Captain America home before?!” she demands. “He’s way cooler than Chrissy’s stupid uncle who was on TV.” 

“Rebecca Grace!” Bucky hisses. “This is my friend, not someone for you to brag to your classmates about.” 

Becca cringes, she hates being scolded. “Sorry Bucky. Sorry Steve.” she pouts, reclaiming her seat. 

“It’s okay,” Steve assures her as he takes his seat across the table from her. “I know you were just excited.” he turns to look at Bucky, drinking in the sight of him after the long days of radio silence. “It’s good to see you.” Steve reaches out across the table for Bucky’s hand and the brunette extends his to meet Steve halfway. 

“You too. I missed you.” Bucky tells him, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze. The moment is soft and full of unspoken words, words unsuitable for the tiny ears that aren’t missing a beat. 

Becca watches them with narrowed eyes. “Is Steve a friend you kiss?” she asks, breaking their tender moment.

Steve blushes again, hard, and Bucky can’t help but grin. Steve is painfully adorable when he blushes. “Yeah, Becs. Steve is my boyfriend.” 

“Tommy’s mom has a boyfriend. Tommy says he takes him to Coney Island and lets him have funnel cake for dinner. Can we go to Coney Island?” 

Steve helplessly looks to Bucky who just nods subtly. “Sure, Becca. We can do that sometime.” Steve assures her once Bucky has made his assent clear. “I like spending time with your brother and I’d like to spend time with you too, if that’s okay.” 

“I guess that’s okay.” 

Bucky shoots Steve a thumbs up and tries not to laugh. “Why don’t you pick out your dinner, Becs? It’s your celebration dinner, you can have whatever you want.” 

“What are we celebrating?” Steve asks, wanting to give Becca a chance to tell him even though he already knows.

“My glasses!” she announces excitedly. “They’re new. Do you like them?”

“They’re very nice.” 

Becca launches into her spiel on how she wants to be a librarian and the librarian at her school has glasses like these and so does the librarian at the public library so now she looks like them and she can be a librarian when she grows up. Steve nods and smiles at the appropriate times, completely enamored by her. Becca’s expressions are identical to Bucky’s, the Barnes family genes running strong between the pair of siblings. She’s lively despite her small size and Steve finds himself thinking back to when he was just a feisty little thing himself. 

When the waitress comes back around, Becca orders chocolate chip pancakes and hot cocoa. Bucky and Steve follow suit ordering breakfast for dinner; Bucky looking forward to finally getting to enjoy his own order of chocolate chip pancakes. Becca attacks her food the second it’s in front of her, letting Steve and Bucky chat while she eats. They catch up with how Steve’s been doing since his last mission and how much Bucky’s looking forward to a day off and going back on daytime rotations soon. Steve is surprised by how easily the meal goes with Becca. She’s such a sweetheart and he worries he’ll be wrapped around her little finger in no time at all. 

The validity of concern comes to fruition as soon as they leave the cafe. Steve gives Bucky a chaste kiss, promising to text him later when Becca tugs on the hem of his shirt. She’s tired, leaning heavily on Bucky’s leg and waiting for Steve to stoop down to her level. 

“What’s up, Becca?” Steve asks once he’s down face to face with her.

“Can you tuck me in tonight? I bet you have better bedtime stories than Bucky.” 

Bucky tries to look offended but fails, barely suppressing a laugh while he shrugs at Steve.

“If you’re sure.” Steve says carefully. “But I’m probably just as boring as your brother.” 

“Nah, you’re super cool. Please come home and tuck me in?” 

“Okay, lead the way.” 

Becca takes Steve’s hand but is dragging behind him after a few blocks. “Steeeve.” she whines, “Carry me?” 

Steve doesn’t even hesitate, he just scoops the little girl up in his arms and pops her on top of his shoulders. 

“It’s so tall up here.” she mumbles, leaning her head on the top of his like it’s a pillow.

Bucky gives Steve an apologetic look but Steve just smiles. He really doesn’t mind in the least. Steve always wanted kids but never expected it to be in the cards for him. He was so sickly growing up he felt that he couldn’t in good conscious pass along his genes and risk a child having all the health issues he did. And that was even if he found a woman who would have had his 90 pound asthmatic self for a husband. Steve had always known he was bisexual and had leaned towards a preference for men, but that would have posed a whole other set of issues for him back in the 1940s and would have ruled out any possible chance of children for sure. Now though, he’s able to openly date a wonderful man who just happens to come with a kid in tow. It’s everything he’s ever dared to hope for and Steve tries to slow his racing thoughts to no avail. He hopes and wishes and prays that the rush of affection he feels for this man lasts and grows. Steve has never felt so in sync with someone before and it’s hard to slow down his emotions because of it. 

Becca is practically asleep when they get back to their apartment. Bucky’s been keeping an eye on her as the moments between her blinks slow, until her eyes stay closed and she’s draped over Steve’s head and shoulders like an obnoxious hat. “She’s almost out.” Bucky whispers to Steve as they climb the stairs to his apartment.

“Do you think she’ll still want a story?” Steve asks quietly. He’s been trying to remember stories his ma told him along the way. He knows bits and pieces of a few and hopes she isn’t going to be too picky. 

“Depends. If she wakes up a bit when you put her down, you’re not getting away without a story. If the eyes stay mostly closed, you can escape with just a hug.”

“You have it down to a science.” Steve jokes.

“It happens.” Bucky shrugs. The truth is, Becca is a pretty easy to read kid. She’s expressive and open which makes anticipating her needs extremely easy. Bucky had gotten so lucky with Becca; she had been an easy baby, a happy toddler, and was now an easy going preschooler. Natasha likes to tease that she’s lulling him into complacency and the real struggle will hit during her teenage years, but Bucky has a feeling she’s just a genuinely good kid. Admittedly though, he’s probably a little biased.

“It’s not much, but it’s ours.” Bucky tells Steve as they enter their tiny apartment. He leads Steve down to Becca’s room so he can pull her off the blonde's shoulders and lay her down in her bed. 

Becca stirs and blinks blearily, not fully waking up. “Steve?” she mumbled.

“Yep, I’m here.” Steve pulls up her lady bug print sheets, making sure she’s well tucked in. “You sleep tight, okay?” 

Becca mumbles something unintelligible and then flings her arms out for a hug. Steve leans in and carefully returns her embrace. 

“Night Steve. Night Bucky. Love you.” she says with a yawn before sprawling out to get comfortable. 

The men quietly exit Becca’s room, Bucky closing the door behind them so they can head down the hall to the living room. 

“Thanks for doing that.” Bucky says once they’re standing by the sofa. “She seems to really like you.” 

“The feeling’s mutual.” Steve admits. “She’s a great kid, Bucky.” 

“Yeah, she is. So, do you have to hurry off or would you like to stay for a bit?” 

Steve doesn’t even have to consider it. “I’ll stay.”

Bucky chuckles at Steve’s eager reply. “Come on, let’s settle in and we can watch something on Netflix.” 

Steve joins Bucky on the threadbare sofa, careful to set his weight down gently since he’s a bit larger of a man than the sofa was designed for. Bucky slumps in like he’s done a million times before, letting Steve adjust to dictate how close he wants to be. Much to his surprise and delight, Steve scoots over almost instantly to wrap an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “This okay?” he checks in as he moves. Bucky nods and the smile on Steve’s face could light up the sun. 

They watch an old episode of Parks and Recreation, Steve recognizing the show in Bucky’s Netflix queue. He’d watched a few episodes and found he really liked it but hadn’t gotten past the third season yet. Steve doesn’t get much downtime to sit around watching TV and he cherishes the time with Bucky to just relax and bask in the affectionate warmth of each other’s company. 

“This is nice.” Steve says with a yawn as the second episode comes to an end. 

As if on cue, Bucky’s yawn echos Steve’s as he nods. “It is.” he agrees, sliding himself up a little so he’s hovering closer to Steve’s face. “It really is.”

Steve takes the hint and meets Bucky half way for a lingering, unhurried, kiss. One kiss leads to two, leads to three, and then they’re making out with Bucky practically lying on top of Steve on the small sofa. It’s less than comfortable but Steve is too wrapped up in having Bucky on top of him to mind. His mind swims, overwhelmed and unable to focus on anything other than Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. There’s a pressing hardness against Steve’s thigh and he groans when he takes notice. It feels fast but they’ve been talking for months and he hasn’t felt this close to anyone since before the ice. He slides his thigh back and forth, giving Bucky just the slightest friction until the brunette is shuddering and gasping his name. 

“Steve, wait.” Bucky rasps, pushing lightly on the other man’s shoulders. 

“You okay?” Steve checks in.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… Becca’s right down the hall.” 

Steve blushes brightly, “Sorry, I didn’t even think.” 

“It’s okay, you’re not used to having a kid around.” 

“I can go, just gimme a minute.” he laughs lightly looking down at the bulge in his slacks. “Last thing I need is someone snapping a pic of Captain America walking around with a boner.” 

Bucky barks out a laugh, “Wow, yeah. That would be bad. You don’t have to go though, I have my very own room down the hall with a door that locks. As long as you can keep quiet, we’ll be just fine.” 

“I think that can be arranged.”

Bucky grins, taking Steve’s hand in his and leading him down the hall to his bedroom. It’s nothing fancy, just a bed and dresser with a small window and closet. The navy blue bedspread has white constellations on it and Steve smiles at this new tidbit of insight into Bucky’s life. Bucky takes a moment to lock the door before pushing Steve gently back towards the bed until the back of his knees are colliding with the edge and he’s forced to sit down. It’s subtle, the way Bucky is herding Steve right where he wants him. Bucky brackets Steve’s knees with his own, forcing Steve to scoot back a little to give him space. Leaning down, Bucky captures Steve’s lips and picks up right where they left off on the sofa. 

Steve hasn’t felt small since before the serum, but this, being surrounded by Bucky under his loving touches and kisses, Steve is transported back to his pre-war self. His whole being is consumed by Bucky and he loves the overwhelmingness of it. Little gasps slip from his lips when Bucky trails kisses and little nips down the column of his throat, he can barely keep up with the sensations. Before he knows what’s happening, Steve realizes Bucky is kneeling between his legs, looking up at him in silent request. Steve nods and Bucky gets to work divesting Steve of his pants and underwear. 

Bucky groans slightly at the sight of Steve’s cock bobbing proudly upwards towards his navel. He’s long and deliciously thick, and while Bucky’s no size queen, he’s fully appreciating what Steve’s got going on. He gives Steve’s shaft a few tentative strokes, making Steve cant his head back and squeeze his eyes tightly shut. Rubbing away a bead of pre come at the tip with his thumb, Bucky lowers his head and swallows Steve down with ease. It’s been a while, a very long while, but deep throating was a skill Bucky mastered long ago. He’s always loved giving head, the intimacy of the act and the trust it requires on both parts. There’s something impossibly erotic about bringing his partner to the peaks of pleasure that can only be reached  by just the right suction and swirling of his tongue.

Steve thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as Bucky starts sucking him off in earnest. He’s had blow jobs before, hurried, rushed things back in the 30s and 40s done in secret with the fear of being discovered, and a few since waking up from the ice that were more relaxed and quite nice, but nothing could have prepared him for Bucky’s mouth. It’s like white hot electricity is flowing through his veins and he’s trembling uncontrollably as the energy coils low and tight in his belly. He can’t stop himself as he stammers, “Buck… Buck wait… I can’t…. I’m gonna…” 

It’s all the warning Bucky gets before Steve is spilling down his throat and he’s swallowing quickly trying not to lose a single drop. Steve is still shaking, the muscles in his ridiculously toned stomach dancing from the tremors. Bucky leans back on his heels, unable to hide his smirk even as he wipes the saliva from his puffy lips. 

“That was…” Steve attempts but ends up just flailing a hand in place of words. His higher brain functioning isn’t back online yet. 

Bucky bites his lip to suppress his grin, he’s pleased with himself damnit. It’s not every day he gets to reduce a national icon to a stammering mess. 

“God, Bucky.” Steve huffs, “Seriously. Fucking hell. Get up here.” Steve pulls at Bucky’s shoulders until the brunette is straddling his thighs again and Steve can start tugging at the button on Bucky’s jeans. 

Bucky lets Steve tug his jeans and boxer briefs down around his thighs, too impatient to completely take them off. “Jesus, Bucky.” Steve murmurs, still undone and reeling from what was easily the best orgasm he’s had in this century. He thankfully has the sense to spit in his palm before wrapping it around Bucky’s throbbing cock. Watching Steve come had Bucky right on a razor edge of pleasure himself and he knows he isn’t going to last much longer than Steve did. There will be time later for going slower, drawing it out, he assures himself. Right now the heated frenzy is exactly what they both need. Steve is absorbed watching the head of Bucky’s cock appear and disappear in his grasp, barely recognizing how very close Bucky already is. He twists his wrist slightly on the upward stroke, making Bucky gasp little choked off moans against his chest where the brunette has slumped forward, practically boneless. Steve grips him a little tighter, reveling in the pulsing of Bucky’s hot, fat cock in his hand and the noise it causes. He might not be as long as Steve, but his girth has Steve squirming thinking of how it would feel inside him. Despite what Tony thinks, Steve is no blushing virgin. He knows exactly what he likes in bed and his mind supplies all sorts of wonderful fantasies of Bucky giving it to him until he barely remember his own name. 

Steve is startled from his pornographic imagination when Bucky goes rigid against him, jets of come splashing all the way up his stomach to his chest. He lets up his grip and works Bucky gently through the last of his orgasm. Steve wipes his hand on Bucky’s jeans so he can wrap his arms around Bucky, letting him stay nestled against Steve’s broad chest while he comes down from his own high. 

“Why did we wait so long to do that?” Bucky asks a few minutes later, breaking the gentle silence. 

Steve chuckles, “Beats me. Don’t know how I’m gonna keep my hands off of you now though.” 

“Hmm. Guess we’ll just have to control ourselves somehow. Or maybe we can get a babysitter sometime and really make a night of it.” 

“Yes, please, yes. Becca is great but god I want you in my bed for a whole night.” 

“I’ll talk to Nat, we’ll figure something out.” Bucky offers, heart pounding at the idea. 

Steve stifles a yawn, the late hour catching up with him. “I should head off.” he admits unhappily. 

“Let’s get you cleaned off first.” Bucky pulls his jeans and boxer briefs off, wiping Steve down where sticky come is cooling on his golden skin. Tossing them into the laundry basket, Bucky grabs a pair of soft pajama bottoms so he can walk Steve to the door. 

Steve is reluctant to leave and they swap sweet, sleepy, kisses in the doorway until finally he finds the resolve to pull back and wish Bucky sweet dreams. Bucky watches as Steve heads off, wondering how he got so lucky when all he did was mouth off in a bodega after a bad day. Whatever it was, he decides he’s not going to question it. It’s nice to have something actually go right in his life for once.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain’t Got Shit On Us (Fezco x fem!reader, Part 2.)

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like the scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: I think we found the right ground for this... Something (it ain't one shot but I don't know if we can call it series either, we'll see). I like to start with something like Rue did - a bit of narrating and then slowly slipping into the "episode". Let me know if something will not add up for you, ok?

Word count: 2.5 K

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and drug addiction, strong LBGT themes, age gap, Rue's maniac/bipolar episodes. The normal things.

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Sometimes the feeling of not belonging somewhere grows over your head so much that you actually feel like you don't belong anywhere, to no one. That you don't even have a place to come back to. It is scary to go through a place alone when all those people look at you because they see for the first time. It feels like they are whispering things about you, that they are laughing at you and you can feel the anxiety inside of you growing. 

It hurts. It hurts so much that you just want to crawl onto the toilette cab, sit there and cry to your own knees until it's over.

Those shared looks judging your appearance, your looks, your make-up or your old favorite shoes. Those are the things that slowly kills you from the inside.

The people smoke there even tho they shouldn't, snorting because of some jokes,  looking all cool and chilled and for you, it is a walk of shame. Your head is kept down and you continue to the building at a quick pace, hoping that you will not be too exciting for them. And it doesn't matter if it's a new workplace, new school or a new home for seniors for that matter. It's the same over and over again.

A neverending cycle.

To find the office where you had to pick up the paperwork that needed to be done and taking your schedule was probably the hardest thing you have ever done. It felt almost impossible. The crowd and groups of people your age took you from one side of the building to the another and you felt so lost. Like never before. 

The door finally appeared after first class already started. When you slowly stepped into that small room, you looked like a mess. It was a small room with one window, it's walls were calmingly green and the pictures and motivational posters with kittens made you grin.

An old lady smiled at you from behind the desk. She appeared to be a kind person. It comforted you a bit, sitting in her office, looking her to her hazel-brown eyes with the last bit of confidence you were able to find somewhere inside of you.

“So you are new here, I see, I see.” - Mrs. Smith told you when she prepared the papers for your parents to sign up and printed you your own class schedule. Her heart-shaped face lit up with a smile when she leaned closer to you. - “Don't worry about being late. No one showed you around and you could find me anyway. It is totally fine if you will be lost in this building for the first couple of days, sweetie. You need to learn a lot.” - Her fingers patted your wrists knitted together tightly. You accidentally exhaled out loud because you held your breath again, smiling at her lazily. 

“Hope that the professors won't be mad.” - A giggle came out of your mouth and Mrs. Smith stood up to brew you some tea. 

“You can be here for until the end of your first class if you’re so scared. You seem to be feeling uncomfortable, am I right?” - She gave you the cup, sugar to add-in and a cookie. Your head nodded. - “I am a granny of two, I can sense when you don’t feel good."

A couch in the corner was the place you chose to chill at. You sat in a small ball there with your knees crossed over each other, your earbuds plugged into the small jack on the top of your phone and sometimes you sipped a bit of the tea.

The feeling of melancholy took over you as you went through the new post on Instagram made by people who you were used to seeing daily. Once again, you felt like you didn't belong to that place, like on a short trip to Disneyland. But this trip was permanent. And the harder the reality dropped on your shoulders, the worse you felt.

You couldn't say that you hate this whole place. You liked it, it was a normal city, normal neighborhood, nothing too weird. But that little worm of knowing that you're not at home anymore was keeping that feeling alive. For a few moments, your eyes and your mind drifted away into a place far away in your head.

The bell-ringing was a sound you almost welcomed. It brought you back to reality, leaving Mrs. Smith's little office. It made your mind occupied with different things, your nose shoved into the piece of paper with the schedule. Mrs. Smith was kind enough to print you a map of the school and gave you how you should go. That was a thing that made you smile. Kindness. Random kindness from a woman who saw a strange girl for the first time. It was her job most probably but you were thankful for it either way.

Sometimes all of us feel like a hero of a novel or a movie. The days slowly become on a long, neverending surreal piece of art as the faces and colors mash up into one painting. Your mind seems to be too occupied to actually take notice of something. Too occupied to take a hold of itself and you drift away into places far, far away.

You couldn't seem to remember or recall a single word the teachers have said to you. And they seemed to ignore you as well, it was like a symbiosis. Why should they be excited about you? A new face in the crowd was not that interesting to ask for a name. It was just one face between many ones. Why should they care? Your face wasn't anything that has the power to change the whole world. Or your name.

First moments you actually took notice of were when you made it to the cafeteria. Nobody looked at you anymore. You just took your plate and ordered some food like a normal student. 

A table in the back of the cafeteria felt ideal for you. You sat there with your lunch and ate, just watching the others and looking though your notebooks and what have you written down. To your surprise, your hand wrote automatically for you and there were truly some pieces of information written down in your typical messy handwriting.

"Hey, loser. Why you're alone?" - A girl's voice asked you in a cocky manner. At first, you thought that it's finally here - your first bully. But when your eyes found her face, she seemed to be strangely kind with a cocky smile and raised eyebrows. Messy brown curls framed her face while her skin had the color of darkened caramel. Your clothing style was really similar - but her Converse shoes were all tied up and not torn.

She had a tall girl next to her. Her make-up was heavy, her hair was a color extravaganza and her clothing style reminded you of anime cosplay and San Diego's comic con. Her skin was almost white, Albin-ish or what. Something made her really pretty. Whether it was her large nose or her eyes, you couldn't tell. But she seemed nice, her presence felt nice as well even tho you saw her for the first time ever. Her lips were giving you a graceful smile, she rolled her eyes at the brunette's questions and then she pinned her eyes on you.

"Fuckin' hell, I'm just kiddin', girl. You're lookin' all like holy shit I'm busted, like in the series about that cheating bastards. Oh man, you should see yourself. But you're sitting at our table." - The brunette said less cockily and more jokingly, slowly sitting down with her food.

"Does that mean I should leave?" - Your voice trembled and you sound panicked. Brunette took a good, long look at you and the other girl sat next to her.

"Of course you can stay! Don't be angry about Rue. She's a pain in the ass when she has her episodes. Right now, we're in the manic phase so she won't shut up. And she has mean comments that don't make sense most of the tomes." - The girl with pretty the make-up offered her hand for a handshake and you accepted it. - "Name's Jules by the way. That's Rue." - Just as Jules said Rue's name, Rue managed to pull of Eminem's old rapping pose from one of his album covers and nodded at you with a weird cocky smile.

"Wazzup', newbie?" - Rue said with a high laugh while Jules looked like she's about to kill her in the next few moments.

"I'm Y/N." - You said quietly and Jules let go of your hand.

"Ya all brand new out 'ere, aren't ya?" - Rue entwined her fingers on the table and you looked you dead in the eye, being serious all of a sudden. Like a detective. -"She thinks she's like Morgan Freeman or what when she has her phases. A detective or what." - Jules laughed.

"But Morgan Freeman is the man, Jules. Just the man. He's all cool and shit." - Rue laughed at her. Those two seemed to be a funny pair of... Friends? A couple? You couldn't tell. They acted like friends, but they looked at each other with tender smiles. You could only guess.

“What did bring you this part of the world? Adventure or lousy parents?” - Jules gave you a slight smirk and playfully raised her eyebrows.

“Dads work brought us here. But I and my siblings are kinda cool about all of that. We can have a new experience.” - You shrugged your eyebrows and took a bite of your sandwich. 

“If you're looking for a drug paradise, ya are right where ya wanted to be, whaddayasay?” - Rue wiggled her eyebrows and opened her yogurt, sticking her spoon inside of it, drolling some pills into the vanilla pudding with her long, delicate yet strong fingers. Your eyes instantly popped out and your it almost fell out as you watched the pills. 

“What. The. Hell?” - You squealed in a high pitched tone and rose her eyebrows, asking you about what is the matter.

 “I have BPAD, what did ya expect, man? This is the better way to take the medication. Ya want me to gulp all of it or what?” - Rue said in a joking tone, she was ironic, but she gave you that addict look. 

“Trust me, I searched through her bag. This is really only the medication for her BD. It's cool. No drugs.” - Jules assured you. You nodded slowly with a frown on your face. Could Rue had some history with addiction? Or what was Jules talking about? You watched the way Rue slowly mixed her pudding. 

“Just the way I love it.” - Rue hummed happily with her eyes closed. She had a tired look on her face, the bags under her eyes made her gaze look more devilish and her cheeks were too sharp. But she had a beautiful mouth and full lips. 

“If you don't mind a pair of weirdos as your friends, we agreed we could make a trio out of our duo. But we are something between girlfriends and friends so I just want to warn before any weird situations happen.” -  Jules put her head on Rue's shoulder and smiled happily. 

“After ten minutes you know me? Wow, that was a quick one.” - You joked and Rue pointed on you with her spoon. 

“Ten minutes is everything you need to know if a person is a dickhead - trust me, I would know if you're a super dickhead. Ya seem to be cool.” - Rue winked. Was the situation that bad in here? Just ten minuted to know if a person is a dickhead? That was something. 

So what was in stock for you? An ex-junkie with a BPAD and an all-anime-about girl who looked like a colorful extravaganza. Better than a jock with his nose rose up and an attitude of a dickhead or a chick with anorexia you thought to yourself. As always you were lost in your head for a moment - thinking about Rue's disorder. They told you that Rue is in her manic state, how was she like during her depression moments? Will it be alright? 

“Okay. Cool.” - You said in the end. New people and new friends, just as your older sis said. It felt really cool. 

“Welcome to the losers club.” - Rue winked at you playfully. 

At three p.m. Fran waited on you and your brother in the car. You stuck with Rue and Jules for the rest of your day, Rue's manic ass making you laugh all day. You didn't find her bickering and manic shit annoying at all, you laughed at it a lot actually. Both of you walked you back to your sister's car, do not letting your anxiety get over your head. 

“See ya tomorrow, the new one.” - Rue giggled and threw her hand over her girlfriend's shoulder and brought her closer to her small, thin body, hugging her tightly.

“See you tomorrow, guys.” - You smiled and crawled into Fran's car. Your sis was smiling at you proudly, waving to Rue and Jules. You could feel that Fran is excited about that. You lean from the car's window and waved at them excitedly. Rue was dramatic, holding her entwined palms on her chest, sending you some kisses and pretending to cry. 

“I told you, shithead. You have friends! Nice!” - Fran patted your upper thigh and grinned in front of you. You two took the same route you took on your way to school. 

The gas station came up to your sight quicker than it did before. Nobody was there this time - no smoking boy with a blue design t-shirt and jeans hugging his upper thigs. The spot which came significant to you that morning was empty now, no boy in your sight. 

“What you're lookin' at, shithead? Some magical place you're searching for? You did the exact same thing in the morning.” - Fran told you quietly, lighting up her cigarette before mom could see her smoking. 

“Nothing. Let it be.” - You smiled at her shily and sat back to your seat. 

The feelings of loneliness can be a long time thing. But sometimes, just sometimes and when you are really lucky, someone can show you wour place and make you feel like someone cares about you. You can meet new, special people who take you as you are. 

And when you are this lucky, nothing can be better than that. But not to give you false promises - it isn't a thing that does happen every time. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Careless

For @b-lank-0 in return for the lovely art she drew for Witness!!! It was awesome and amazing and you can find it on my Instagram

Warnings: non/dubcon, rough sex, multiple partners, threat of violence, humiliation.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You share a floor with Bucky and Steve in Stark Tower. They’re growing tired of your general cluelessness and they let it be known.

DISCLAIMER: READ ALL WARNINGS. ALL OF THEM.

It was difficult at first. You hadn’t lived with anyone since that one year in university. After that, you had requested a private dorm; late nights filled with your roommates blaring music and raucous voices had been too much. Ever since, you had held to the pattern of solitary. You weren’t anti-social per se, more socially inept. Your childhood shyness had only grown to adulthood aloofness. So it was that you had moved into Stark Tower with trepidation.

You had been an intelligence operative for years but only recently promoted to work directly with Stark and his team. Your move to New York had been stressful in itself and Tony had generously offered to save you a fortune in rent with a tenure at his infamous skyscraper. You had accepted if only because you had no other option. Yet the prospect of living alongside those you had only ever seen on the news was even more overwhelming than merely the thought of living with others.

The actual arrangements had cemented your anxiety; stirring a constant storm of nerves within. You were to share a floor with the two super soldiers and thus far they had been less than welcoming. You supposed that was mostly your fault. Your shyness was often mistaken for standoffishness and you were clumsy to boot. Disaster was never far behind you. The only thing you were skilled at was your job and that only took up so much of your time. When left to your own devices, well, you were better off doing nothing at all than even trying.

Today was no exception to the rules. It had been almost a month since your arrival at the tower. You were slowly growing used to your roommates. You had learned to time your own daily routine around theirs. You woke up early to shower before they woke so you were gone before them and ate your meals in the common room a few floors down. When you were in the loft, you tried to stay in your room. The few times you had run into Steve or Bucky, you felt as if you were in their way. Especially after spilling a bowl of cereal on the former and elbowing the other in his rib as you tried to untangle your sleeve from a door handle.

You were in the shower when it all fell apart. You were just washing the last of the soap from your hair when the alarm began to wail. Shit! You forgot you put the kettle on for tea and you had taken a bit longer than planned. You pulled back the curtain and wrapped yourself in a towel before you dashed into the hallway. You cursed under your breath as you ran to the stove, the smoke rising as you turned the knob to ‘off’. You took the dishcloth from over the oven handle and began to fan the thick cloud away from the alarm’s sensor.

“Jesus,” Bucky’s angry voice was the last you wanted to hear. Steve followed behind as they arrived to scowl at your latest fiasco.

The alarm stopped its song and you lowered your arm and hung the dishcloth back in its spot. You gulped as you clutched the top of the towel together. Water dripped from your hair in cool pebbles down your back. You shivered as the smoke cleared and the super soldiers remained; grumbling as they crossed their arms at you.

“Sorry, guys,” You cringed, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Well you did,” Bucky growled as he neared and leaned against the fridge. He yawned though it sounded more a snarl.

“You know, we just got back from a mission?” Steve huffed, his chest rose and fell dangerously. You noticed then that neither of them were dressed. They only wore their boxers and it made you even more aware of your own lack of clothing.

“At three a.m.,” Bucky added, “So about three hours ago.”

“I really didn’t mean too. I was just making tea.” You blinked innocently.

“While you were in the shower?” Steve’s arms uncrossed, his hands on his hips now. “Smart.”

“You really need to get your head on straight,” Bucky gritted through his teeth, “This little sweet act isn’t gonna cut it forever.”

“Tony and his pet projects,” Steve chortled darkly, “He does pick the most tragic characters.”

“Hey,” Despite the active discontent aimed in your direction, your hackles rose at the jab. “I earned my place here. Same as you.”

“No, you see we’re agents and you’re, well...” Steve looked to Bucky.

“A desk jockey,” Bucky finished. “You’re Stark’s little pet. Running around, grabbing his files and his coffee.”

“No,” Your voice peaked, “I do more than that. I-I-I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Oh look, the little mouse is upset,” Bucky chuckled, “She might even bite if we push her far enough.”

“Just leave me alone,” You grumbled and made to walk past them. They moved in tandem and closed the space between them; blocking your way out of the kitchen. “Get out of my way.”

“You gonna make us?” Steve challenged.

“Just...you two, stop, okay? I’ll go talk to Tony and have him change my room.” You hugged your chest as the towel threatened to slip.

“Hmm,” They looked at each other before their eyes went back to you, “We don’t want you to move.”

“No, we just want you to learn a few things,” Bucky smirked, “Like how this whole thing works.”

“What ‘whole thing’?” You asked dryly. You stepped back just a little under the heat of their gaze.

“Living together, working together…” Steve’s eyes strayed along your bare shoulder, “I don’t think the problem here is your general oblivion.”

“No, there’s tension, you see? Anger at first, sure, but more than that,” Bucky flexed his biceps as he spoke. “We need to get it all out in the open. Take the stress out of this place.”

You took another step back and looked around the loft. You weren’t sure you caught their meaning clearly. You swallowed your nerves. “Look, I’m just going to have my tea and you two can get back to bed.” You turned and opened a cupboard, distracting yourself as you searched for the breakfast tea. “I’ll be quiet. I promise.”

You closed the cupboard door, the tea swiftly snatched from your grip. Steve threw the box over his shoulder and it bounced into the sink. You tried to back away but found yourself colliding with another; unseen until his arm was around your middle. Bucky clung to you and shifted you next to the stove. With his free arm he reached over your shoulder and moved the kettle from one burner to the other. He grabbed your hand and raised it over the hot coil; just close enough to feel its heat.

“Now, you’re going to do as we say or we’ll just teach you the old fashioned way,” Your hand was only an inch from the burner. “Understood?”

You trembled as he held you against the stove. Your voice rose an octave as you choked out your answer. “Y-yes.”

You glanced over at Steve, shocked as he hooked his thumbs in his boxer and removed them with a single swipe. As he stood upright, so did his cock and you gasped. Bucky pulled you away from the stove and released your hand. He tugged at the towel until it fell away and you tried to catch it. Bucky’s hands were on your shoulders, pushing you towards the island opposite the counter. Your stomach hit the lip painfully and you soon found yourself bent over the island.

Steve came to the other side, his thick fingers brushed your damp hair away from your face. He smacked your ass, your feet dangling to the floor as you struggled to reach the tile. Steve’s hand knotted in your hair and he pulled your head back, his other hand on his cock.

“Don--” You were smothered as he pushed himself past your lips, grazing your teeth.

You almost bit down as you felt Bucky’s cock prodding at your entrance. You kicked your feet out and he slapped your ass with both hands. You yelped around Steve’s cock as he shoved himself further, gagging you as he met the back of your throat. Bucky entered you as he spread your ass, bottoming out as Steve did the same. Your hands gripped the countertop as you struggled to breath.

“Now, I think this is much better than arguing,” Steve remarked as his hand went to your neck. He could feel his cock as it moved inside.

The sensation of both of them inside of you was too much. The shock of how quickly it had all descended was worse. You could barely breathe, the invasion of both mouth and pussy was painful. Bucky’s metal fingers stabbed into your hip and Steve’s hand formed a vice as he held both your neck and hair as he plowed into your face. You were struggling to stay conscious as Bucky got deeper inside, well past your limit.

You gurgled around Steve’s cock, the slobber coating his length and your lips. Their grunts and the slapping of flesh drowned out any noise you made in your distress. You reached out to grasp Steve’s thighs, trying to hold him away from you. He only thrust harder and you started slapping him blindly, your eyes rolling back.

You felt yourself growing wetter as Bucky worked into you easier. Your face was on fire, both from the ongoing assault and your shame. The little flicker was growing to a spark. You felt Bucky’s grip on your leg as he forced you to bend it up on your counter at a right angle. You were even more open to him and he held your leg in place with a growl.

“Fuck, Stevey, you were right,” He snarled, “She’s not so hopeless after all.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve pulled out of your mouth suddenly. “Come on, switch.”

“P-please,” You tried to pull yourself away from Bucky’s relentless pounding. He dragged you back and pinched your ass before he removed himself. Your leg slipped down weakly.

His hands were replaced by two flesh ones and Steve entered you without warning. He wasn’t any gentler than Bucky and you writhed as you heard Bucky coming around the counter. “Don’t worry,” He grabbed your hair, “I don’t need your mouth to finish,” He stroked himself as he smirked down at you, “All you have to catch.” His hand slipped to your chin and he squeezed, “Open up.”

You were forced to obey as his fingers crushed your jaw and he rubbed himself faster, his tip tapping your lip as he began to moan. Steve’s thrusts were unwinding you as you watched Bucky play with himself. Steve moved your legs together, creating a snugger fit for his cock. You let out a long moan which peaked as your orgasm came suddenly at the change in position. Bucky hissed and white streams spurted forth, some in your mouth, more along the bridge of your nose and above your eye.

Bucky backed away as he slowed to a halt and your hips were slammed into the counter’s edge. You were empty within the second and felt another hot stream along your back as Steve came too. You slipped from the marble as he let you go and you crumpled to the floor heavily. Neither of them paid much heed as they breathed heavily above you. You could barely keep sitting up as your muscles buzzed.

“Now,” You sensed them as they came near and looked up. Spit and cum all over your face. “I think we’re ready to go back to bed.” Steve smirked as Bucky flicked his brows up. “Think you can keep quiet?”

[loverofpiggies]

After having a bit of a breakdown, I'm struggling to pull myself out of it. Any tips? I dont want to lose my job but its affecting my performance because I have panic attacks at work and a part of me is so scared that I'm somehow faking it and am really just lazy or something

I recall, back when I worked at Hobby Lobby still, I had a panic attack so bad I thought it was a heart attack, and I was sure I was dying.Shortly after, I recall being in such a panicked state, that driving home from work one day, I was so overwhelmed with absolutely everything, I almost just. Drove as far north as I could, and mentally planned to live in hotels until I ran out of money in my savings account.

I was having some bad mental breakdowns during that time, wasn’t great to my friends and girlfriend, and closed myself off almost entirely. It was pure hell. So I have DEFINITELY been there.

First things first: You are definitely not lazy. Living with that kind of anxiety, it puts your brain and body into overdrive. Your brain is working so hard trying to curb all that, that I’m sure it’s exhausting. Hell, it did me.

I know this is advice that a lot of people are given. But first things first,

talking to a professional therapist literally saved my life.

(I’m bolding that, because I STRONGLY recommend a professional. I can only speak from personal experience, but I am no therapist!) You have to find a good one, and I highly suggest going every single week (It’s been 5 years, and I only miss when I have to) But here are a couple things I have personally learned.(A ton of text under the cut!)

1. Journal the feelings out.

Let yourself feel all those awful emotions- but ONLY in a safe environment. If you do not think you are ready to face it, that’s okay, it’s all baby steps. But when you try to shove down scary, or unfortunate things, they will always find a way out- and anxiety is a great outlet for pent up feelings.

The reason why I say to journal, is when you try to speak to yourself, or talk it out- your brain has a tendency to try and rationalize away your feelings. My therapist told me directly to JOURNAL, because speaking is another step that your brain can use against you- but writing down? Your thoughts can be dropped directly on to paper, with WAY less rationalizing your feelings away. I didn’t believe my therapist when I first started journaling, but boy howdy, it’s been a miracle.

2. It’s okay to not be okay.

This is one I still struggle with, but let me explain it in more detail. You worry you’re faking it, or you’re being lazy, but that definitely isn’t the case. It’s OKAY to not be alright. I used to be extremely hard on myself, too. I used to be like ‘Everything is going my way. Why can’t I be happy?’ ‘What is wrong with me?’ ‘I’ve made my dreams come true, why am I still so unhappy?’

I was being so hard on myself, I was intensifying it, and making it even worse. I started to curb those thoughts, by just being honest with myself. ‘I feel like crud today. It’s fine, I’m just going to let myself feel like crud.’ or ‘Okay okay, brain I get you, I’ll take a break’.

The funny thing is, the more you teach yourself it’s okay to not be okay, it helps give you more good days. The less hard you are on yourself about your anxiety, the less intense the anxiety gets. Accepting the bad parts of you and learning to love yourself with those parts, actually tends to lessen the bad things from happening. They still happen, but it’s WAY less painful, and usually lasts way less time, too.

3. Be brave.

Let me use a couple of examples for this one.

I used to be too terrified to leave my house. I was certain if I were to- say- take a walk down the street, I would be attacked, or murdered. Like, legit, daily fears. I don’t live in a dangerous area- but I treated it like a warzone.

Certain times- I’m not kidding you- I used to be too scared to leave my closet. I can’t go into detail about that, but. Yes, that was daily life for me for a while.

So? I was scared to take walks. So I made myself take walks. I started taking walks for five minutes every day. During those five minutes, I would absolutely be panicking. I’d be checking behind me. I’d think all sorts of terrifying thoughts. But. I made myself walk.

Then I bumped it up to ten minutes. Then twenty. And let me make it very clear- through out most of this, I was scared. Every step of the way. Terrified. But I knew, that if I did not face this fear, then it would cripple, and control me.

Because I forced myself to make those baby steps back in college, and become more and more open- it is the only way I could have possibly traveled to sell at conventions. Now? I fly around the country, and take public transport, and hell, today I’ve been hanging out at a ton of local parks just because it’s fun- and the only reason I got that far, was because I had a fear, and I faced it- no matter how much terror it gave me.

This is related to everything. In therapy, I HAD to face memories that I shoved away for years. It was hard. And it was scary, and I cried, and I felt all those things I had to feel-- but because I faced them, and with the help of my therapist, learned how to handle them- I’ve never felt so confident, or brave. Because I faced walking outside, or faced my deepest insecurities- it is the ONLY reason I am where I am.

Remember: I used to be terrified of leaving my home- and now I spend entire days exploring the outdoors. Why do you think I enjoy posting lots of instagram videos about my outdoor experiences? I know people who have never faced those fears like I have.... and trust me. It is not a life I’d wish on anyone. So no matter how scary it is- you do have the strength to do it, but you have to be gentle with yourself and take gentle steps.

And to face these fears in this way? Gives you a CRAPTON of confidence, let me tell you. I’ve never been more certain I can face whatever life throws at me- because I keep forcing myself to face the scary things anyway.

And 4- the thing that took me the longest to learn.

4. There is nothing wrong, with doing medication.

For years, I did everything I was supposed to. I went to therapy every single week. I journaled almost daily, I made myself start taking walks- I made myself start doing things I was too scared to do, and so I did EVERYTHING I could.

And I want to make it extremely clear, all those things I did changed my life significantly for the positive. But sometimes, on top of all the other junk, you still have a chemical imbalance going on. Remember, the human brain is huge and complicated and it takes a lot of things to function the way it’s supposed to. And sometimes, something in it is just kinda off.

From my extremely, EXTREMELY limited understanding of the brain (don’t @ me) my brain was either burning through serotonin too quickly, or not producing enough. Serotonin is related to a lot of things, like depression and anxiety.

Even though I did all the other things I was doing, and they were DEFINITELY, absolutely helping me- there was still an imbalance- and I began taking medication to help correct it.

And there is a reason I put this on number 4. The only reason the medication helps as much as it does, is because I have all the other skills I’ve gained. Medication is not a cure all. It helps with my anxiety yes, but only because I’ve gained the skills to recognize when I’m having increased anxiety. Because I know when I need to journal, or take time to myself, or spend a day outside, or to talk to my therapist- THAT is why my medication has helped so much. My medication was the final step, literally the final tool I needed, on top of everything else I use daily to keep myself mentally in check.

And a final thing to remember?

This takes time.

When you do all these things, the therapy, the journaling, all this self assessment, what you’re really learning to do, is to reprogram your brain. I was reprogramming my brain from having intense fear from going outside. I reprogrammed my brain in a billion more subtle ways, to benefit me. I only was able to do this, with a licensed professional, that I connected with and that I could tell cared about my wellbeing.

And five years ago, hell, even three years ago- I was a wreck. And all this work? This struggle? This deep dive into my brain? God, it’s so worth it. It’s really, REALLY damn worth it. I had to teach my brain that it didn’t need to protect me by putting up all these barriers, that I wanted to feel all the things it was trying to protect me from... and it’s changed everything. I’ve never felt so content.

And once again, that IS with diagnosed complex trauma, anxiety disorder and PTSD. You can live with those things and be happy, but you gotta fight for it. The fight is hard, but the results are absolutely worth it.

And even if you don’t think you can do it, I know you can. The brain likes to be really hard on itself, but that doesn’t mean everything it thinks is true. Because I’ve been there. I thought I couldn’t do it. I thought I’d be trapped feeling awful forever. But I fought- in small ways, then in big ways.

You just have to find the right direction to go. And, I hope this helps you pick a direction that will help you. 

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 2: At Last

Ch. 1 - 

A long yawn interrupted his reading of the paper in hand, and he tightened his broad body, pressing as deep as possible into the passenger seat. The briefing was bland as usual, same thing every week. A compiled stack of papers that amounted to possible sightings of Bright’s or wand activity, their locations, dates, descriptions he had to skim over in case anything seemed familiar. It was mind numbing, but if it kept him out of the hole for the incident years ago with Tikka, he’d bear it. His mind might collapse in on itself in the process though.

Activity seemed to have kicked up around the outskirts of LA, but there was nothing to be alarmed about if the paperwork was any say indication of it. If there had been, Nick would’ve been sat in a cramped office with MTF, answering the same questions he’d memorized perfectly in order from all the years of interrogations.

He chuffed silently, rolling a peppercorn from his pasta he’d taken for lunch between his canines.

The last few pages were always dedicated to Tikka and the grave importance of her being apprehended, but still, nothing sparked his interest or alerted him, not even the paragraph where there was a supposed sighting in San Diego. He just couldn’t believe she’d wander back to LA after what happened.

Nick folded the papers and stuffed them in the glove compartment. Everything there he’d heard that morning, anyways.

Instead he scrolled through his phone as he took hearty bites of the pasta, mindlessly looking through Facebook videos and news articles- same shit, different day. Nick rarely liked anything on Instagram; he’d only gotten it so Callie could tag him in the long stream of photos she posted, detailing their everyday life and sometimes the more private aspects. Cautious he was about staring down at his lover in some of the revealing photos while working. Popping a boner was dangerous on the job.

He opened another app, observing where they were that day and grinned before flashing over to message Callie.

Its the size of an apple today

The drivers side door yanked open and another officer climbed in, slamming the door behind himself.

“Chill out,” Nick mumbled, taking another bite but leaving the fork between his teeth, reading her reply.

Really cause i feel like i have an eggplant in me

He smirked. Stick my eggplant in you if you want

“They act like I’m fucking contagious or something,” the younger Orc spat, and Nick snorted.

“Get used to it,”

“No respect- not even for a cop,” he went on, unwrapping his sandwich hotly.

“You’re telling me stuff I already know, kid,” Nick exhaled, stifling a chuckle when Callie responded, Only if you bring me home more cheeeese

“When did they stop harassing you?” the rookie asked, looking at Nick with worried brows. Nick’s head leaned back against the headrest, running his tongue over his filed tusks as he thought it over, but in the end, grinning again.

“When you joined,” Nick smiled sarcastically and his young partner looked down to his sandwich dispondantly. “It gets easier when they get used to you,”

“Or when another Orc joins and carries the burden…” Sergey mumbled, taking a bite of his sandwich. Nick nodded indifferently. Sergey was quite young compared to when Nick finally made it into the Academy and onto being an officer, but he had a good heart despite being a little skittish and hot headed at times. His tusks had been filed like Nick’s, but he’d been blooded young- something about resuscitating a toddler at a pool, ah, he couldn’t remember. Not like he could gloat about his own blooding. Either way, it meant most Orcs didn’t chastise him like they had Nick, which in turn made their jobs a little easier.

“It’s bullshit,” Sergey chuffed.

"You wanted to join- that’s on you. What’s bullshit is Heig making us work the afternoon before the banquet,” Nick reasoned, returning to the message.

Im getting a costco bag this time. Does pucca need food?

“You’re going?” Sergey asked, a cheekful of sub.

“We have to go,”

“Oh fuck- Dura is going to kill me. I told her we didn’t have to go,” he griped, holding his head.

“Anytime the LAPD is doing something expect to have to go,”

His phone vibrated in his hand again. Nah she’s good. Im off at 4 today

Nick finished the last bite of his food before replying, Okay. Dont forget to take your vitamin

“You’re taking Callie?” Sergey asked, looking over to Nick yawning again and sliding down his seat as he stretched as best he could in the cramped space.

“Wouldn’t go without her,” he told him, his phone face down on his chest.

“Gonna tell people tonight?” the young Orc piped, his ears twitching when Nick side eyed him. Nosey little asshole.

“Not like we could hide it. If anyone says anything to her I might throw a table,” Nick grumbled.

“Even if, it’s none of their business. People delve into others shit for their daily dose of drama and then don’t want to assume any of the responsibility afterwards. Like humans abandoning babies,” Sergey rattled, his accent coming forth a little.

Nick had turned his shoulders in his seat, looking at him a little aghast. “Such depth- is that why Dura puts up with you?”

“It is because I’m the darkest hue of grey she’s ever seen.” he flaunted, earning a scoff from Nick. It was true- Sergey was a very muted color compared to most Orcs that were painted in swirls of green or blue tones.

Nick’s shoulder radio sounded, and the two listened for the call to the accident. Sergey took a couple more heaving bites of his sandwich as Nick responded, instructing him to turn on the lights before siren until they’d pulled onto the street.

↠

His day closed around 2, uneventful, and he liked it that way. Coming home pissed off wasn’t necessarily a bad thing when Callie willingly offered herself up as a sexual ragdoll for him to blow off steam, but being in more delicate condition meant having to withhold some of the roughness she adored. He was left with time to head to Costco before he had to pick her up, which by this time on a Friday, would be packed, and her method of dealing with rude shoppers who bumped into her uncaringly was… hostile, to say the least.

Nick grinned to himself as he palmed the wheel to park the truck. Already so protective.

He wandered aimlessly, up and down the aisles, grabbing this and that, knowing he was forgetting something that he’d only remember once home; it happened every time. He grabbed the massive bag of shredded cheese and moved on with his cart, snatching samples as he passed the small stands. As always, he stopped to look over the books, mostly for himself, but kept an eye out for a new Stephen King novel- yep, there it was. Now Callie would have something to do during her appointments that seemed to drag on and on for hours. But another one caught his eye and he picked it up.

Multi-race Baby Names: 1000+ Choices for Your Little Surprise

Nick scoffed. “Surprise?” he said under his breath. 1000, huh? That was also placed in the cart and purchased.

The drive to the bank was decent. In that neighborhood, people drove angrily, like they were the only ones that mattered on the road. It resulted in him flashing his badge at a particular asshole who kept trying to shove his way in front of Nick when the lanes merged. Nick couldn’t help but laugh a little sarcastically. Years in, and he was over being prim and proper just so people wouldn’t mind the Orc cop.

He parked the truck in front, pulling out his phone to tell her he was waiting.

He thumbed through the book he got for himself, reading the preface as he snacked from a monstrous box of crackers he’d bought; Sci-fi was becoming a new favorite of his.

A soft, carrying whistle caught his attention and he looked up, smiling at the pretty face that tuned the two-note whistle as she walked to the truck, her growing belly poking out from between the smartly pressed jacket she wore over her dress suit.

“Hey baby,” Nick said as she struggled to hoist herself up into the truck, tossing her bag to the floorboard along with her folder packed with paperwork, grunting when she curled over her stomach. “How was work?”

“I’m on the verge of firing Isabel. I’ve never met someone so fucking lazy and sorry for themselves, ugh! And she always attacks people for being more committed than her? She tried to get on me for being branch manager and I was this close-” she basically mashed her thumb and index together, “This close to knocking her on her ass,” she leaned over to give him a quick kiss.

“Don't forget you’re preg-”

“I didn’t work my ass off to feel bad that she can’t manage to make it in 3 of the 6 days she works-” she angrily tied her hair up. “Fuck that,” she yanked the seatbelt over her stomach, arching her back to better settle in the seat and slipping an ankle under her thigh once kicking off a heel. “And I need maternity clothes. I can’t keep squeezing into these shirts,” she huffed, letting her head bounce back against the seat with a hard exhale. “Fuck I’m winded,”

“Little thing getting too big already?” he asked affectionately, backing out of the spot.

“Your dad was right when he said you’d make big babies,” she smirked.

“We could skip the banquet and go shopping,” he tried, flashing a devious grin but only receiving an unamused glare in return.

“I didn’t spend all that money on a dress to let it go to waste. You can’t weasel your way out of the suit,”

“I hate suits,” he grumbled, his hand instinctively moving to her stomach when he pulled up to a busy road he had to turn onto.

“Mhm. Did you get the cheese?”

“And a few other things,” he motioned to the box in the backseat. Her legs bounced in excitement at the newest Stephen King, but she passed it to look over the baby names, also pulling a cheese stick from her purse as she flipped through the pages.

“We should also make a list of names we won’t use,” she commented dryly, and he snorted.

“Like?”

“Bog- Bogdub?” she pronounced slowly, her nose scrunching. “I like Lorn though. Shat? Shat is a name?” she exclaimed.

“Really old name,” he palmed the wheel as they pulled into a drive-thru across the street, lowering his window. “What’ya want?”

“You’re getting takeout?” her brows drew in together.

“There’s only gonna be snacks and drinks at the thing,”

“Oh, okay, eehhmm… 2 five-layered burritos with guac and crema,” she said through the corner of her mouth.

“Better not have fish in it,”

“It’s a Taco Bell, mensito.” she ribbed, his flat look making her giggle.

They drove home with pleasant conversation drifting between them, his hand remaining on her stomach and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the baby that had caused an unexpected bout of nausea that morning, but had subsided in time for her to order her favorite item on the menu.

Once home, he carried their bags and Costco purchases in one hand and kept his other arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against his side to plant firm kisses on her temple, Callie pushing half-heartedly against his chest as she laughed against his affections. Pucca was already barking inside, jumping at eye level excitedly once the door had opened.

Both of them took the time to smother her with kisses and silly questions about how her day was, the chubby pitbull wiggling side to side to keep up with the lightning speed of her wagging tail as her parents showered her with love.

Callie only bothered enough to take off her jacket and unbutton her shirt once sat at the table, far too eager to dig into her meal with Pucca’s chin rested on her thigh; she gave her little scraps, baby talking endlessly to the pretty eyed pitbull. Nick had started sitting at an angle in his seat beside her, making room on his lap for her restless feet so she didn’t fidget uncomfortably.

“What time is the thing tonight?”

“Six,” Nick barely got out. She had a brilliant habit of asking him something whenever his mouth was full.

She twisted her wrist to look at her watch. “Doesn’t leave much time to get ready,”

“Don’t rush. As long as we show up it’s fine,”

The final bite of her food washed down her throat with her drink, standing to ball her wrappers and toss them.

“I’m gonna shower real quick.” she called from the kitchen, speed walking as she pulled her dress shirt down her arms, Pucca at her heels.

“Mhm,” unconsciously he hummed around his food, pushing some around with his fork when his eyes flickered up in realization. He sat straight with his neck extended, listening intently from the table; the shower curtain rings scraping across the pole, the water springing from the shower head. Nick started to cover his food and gather his trash, his eyes remaining trained on the entrance to the hallway.

By the time it was all shoved crudely into the takeout bag, he was on his feet, and had heard the shower curtain open and close again.

There was no reason to, but he still tiptoed down the hall as he pulled his shirt forward from his shoulder blades, pushing his face into the cracked door so it opened a little more.

Thinking of how the water streamed down her naked body only provoked his eagerness, which in turn made him a little clumsy in his impatience to push his pants and briefs down and yank his socks off.

“Nick?” she called loudly from the other side of the curtain, and he took the opportunity to poke his head in.

“Yeah?”

She spun with a short screech, her hands hidden in her bubbly, lathered hair.

“What’re you doing?” she started to grin, scratching her scalp as he stepped into the narrow shower, now even more of a tighter fit with a wide shouldered Orc before her.

“I needed a shower too,” he said against her neck, partially squatting to wrap his arms around her middle, her distended stomach right below his pecs. He tried to hide his flinch when the searing water ran over his scalp, and she laughed at the way he tensed and grunted.

He flinched from under it, wincing as he spit some from his mouth. “S’like fire,”

“Only way to get clean,” she smirked, bending back under the water to shake her fingers between her soaked tresses, the raining shampoo following the curves and dips of her body.

Nick felt his eyes heavy, as well as his breathing when he watched how her honey-golden skin shone from the miniscule light coming in. He was already salivating, inhaling deeply to find her scent, but there was too much steam and the smell of her fragrant shampoo around them.

The soft brush of his touch across her nipples shot goosebumps down her sides, her eyes opening to find his burning ambers as he stepped into her space. His thumbs rolling and swiping stirred a soft sigh from Callie and her arms fell around his shoulders loosely when he leaned down to adorn her wet skin with kisses and soft bites, his hands catching the curve of her back when she craned backwards.

His tongue was hotter than the water running over them, his nipping, sharp teeth a pleasant shock every now and then, either around a nipple or biting along the soft sides of her breasts.

“No point in a shower if you’re gonna be dirty,” she murmured when he fisted his hand in her hair after standing straight, a hard kiss to follow.

“Dirty is better than filthy,” he growled, and she smiled when he gripped her bare ass.

“Says you,”

He eyed her, wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into her again, but also fuck her until she was blind. Her soft touch grazing up his hardened dick made him grunt, his eyes fluttering when she pumped him.

“Mhm,” she kissed into his jaw, then down his neck, finally resting back on her heels when she reached his chest. “You like it dirty, don’t you?” she questioned seductively, un-needing of an answer; she knew.

Nick shuddered in anticipation as she kissed down his chiseled belly, her hands dragging down his ass and thighs. A soft kiss at his inner hip started a hard tremble in his legs; that was his pressure point she only sometimes took advantage of. Finally she gazed up at him as she took his hard member into her hands, finding his desperate eyes.

It always left his mind a pile of useless muscle when she did this. He’d before questioned inwardly how she’d become so good at the way she took his dick to the back of her throat and rotated her hands so perfectly along his shaft at the same time, but by the time the question arose in him this time, he was already bracing himself against the shower wall, his hips rocking into her hot mouth.

And she encouraged it. She’d pull on his hips when he slowed, her attentive touch winding up his clenching stomach, her eyes keeping his when she’d let him fall from her hot mouth onto her chin- fuck, that thin string of spit made him whimper- before letting him rock back in, his direction the only guide back between her lips.

Nick pressed his face into his arm, exhaling harshly when she squeezed along his shaft. Forget the hot water running down his back, or the drops waterfalling over his shoulders- all he could focus on was the soft scrape of her teeth and the way her tongue shaped to his girth perfectly.

“Fuck, Callie,” he ground out, fighting with every shread of restraint left not to pin her arms above her head and fuck her face.

“Feeling filthy?” she teased, her tongue gliding up along the underside of his dick.

Nick shivered.

She gasped as he lifted her from under her arms in a flash, holding her face to kiss her harshly.

His rigid cock was rested against her stomach, and already her hands were around him again, stroking up to his head where her thumb could swipe over the tip and move the thick beads of precum around.

“Stop,” he breathed heavily, again squatting before her, but to pull up from under her ass until her legs wrapped around him.

Her stomach hadn’t grown big enough to stop this… yet.

A wavering moan fell from him when he merely brushed against her cunt while carefully hooking his arms under her knees, his palms flat against the tile wall.

She was open, and ready, and he didn’t need to smell her to know she’d been prepared for this since he first stepped into the shower. He could see it in the feral glint of her caramel pools, and her mouth hung open, her full lips begging to be kissed.

But Nick liked to take his time.

Despite her pleas, he pushed in agonizingly slow, always groaning loudly for that first slide in.

She kissed him with abandon, her blunt nails pinching every so often as he loved her from tip to base, the deep pumps leaving her limp in his hold.

“Apurate,” she sighed, her tongue lapping against his teasingly. She tasted like the water dripping down their faces, her lips still soft as he stole a few slow pecks.

“Shut your big mouth,” he played, hissing when she bit down on his bottom lip. He snapped his hips forward once, a gasp falling from her wide smile.

“You like my big mouth,”

“Yeah when it’s around my big dick,”

“Oo, getting cocky?” she asked, clinging to him when he fired into her. Callie’s head fell back, her body thrusting up and down against the wall as he fucked her, gazing down at her bouncing breasts. She cursed, and cried, her toes curling on either side of him.

“Keep saying cock,” he groused, kissing her turned jaw.

“Then fuck me harder with that big cock,” she simpered, watching one of his hairless brows rise before her repositioned his feet and fucked her without restraint.

Immediately she locked up, under an assault she couldn’t flee from, but squirming from this would be foolish when he so perfectly caressed her hidden treasure, turning her words to clustered cries and sending her eyes rolling back into her skull.

“Yes-” she choked, heavy hands holding his face. “Fuck me, fuck me just like that,” she near laughed, smiling widely as the bliss started its slow build-up.

He kissed her sparingly, unwanting of those delicious moans to be smothered, stifling his own so he could hear clearly the way she begged in his name. It sounded like a holy prayer, the way it rolled off her tongue; it made him feel like he was the one to be worthy of worship.

“Baby-,” he panted, dropping his face to her neck when his groin area started to tighten. “Baby I’m gonna cum,”

“Not yet,” she begged, “Just a lil’ longer,”

But he continued, entranced completely.

“Nick,” she breathed, and he had enough power in him to stop from thrusting back in, his head hidden inside her smooth pussy. No way he could stay like this for long. He was teetering on the brink, wanting so badly to throw himself over that brilliant edge.

“Rub your clit,” he ordered, and watched, and moaned, fighting the burning urge to fuck her again as she rubbed her swollen clit rapidly.

“Do you like it?” she asked, but his head didn’t lift as he nodded, daring a slow, single pump as she carried on. His arms shook from the power of his hands pressing into the shower wall.

“Do you still wanna fuck me?” she whispered, grinning at the desperation in his face.

“Don’t do that,” he whined, daring another slow pump, pressing tight enough into her that she moved up the wall.

“Fuck me then,” she moaned, her breath fluttering. Nick recognized that. “Fuck me,”

He obeyed, a loud, shuddering moan coming forth as he shifted back into that steady rhythm again.

“You’re gonna make me cum baby,” her voice was peaking, her head hanging forward as the once flawless flicks of her wrist became erratic, and then her hand pulled back altogether. ”Oh there, oh there-”

There was a long moment of her eyes pinched shut and jaw hung before she let go of her long symphony of moans, her hips circling as much as possible as the euphoria stretched across her shaking form.

It only took a few pulses of her pussy around him to finally have him falling into that pool of ecstasy, pressed balls deep into her quivering cunt as he drained in her, thick shots of semen pulsing from his dick again and again.

Where once the water splashing down them had been forgotten, it was now preventing her from holding around his shoulders comfortably, and he at last looked at her, bumping her nose a few times as they both struggled to even their breathing.

“We need to bathe in holy water after that,” she cracked, and he snorted, placing a few good kisses on her cheek before carefully letting her down. It was almost comical the way he popped from her, grunting quietly when his still shrinking dick felt vulnerable without her warmth around him.

“Now I’m too lazy to finish,” she sighed, a hand over her tightened stomach and the other reaching to pump conditioner in her palm, uncaring of the aftermath leaking down the insides of her thighs.

“So I guess you washing my back is out of the question?” he pouted.

“Only if you wash me first,” she played, her long hair held up in a wet pile atop her head.

Callie hadn’t actually expected him to, but when he squeezed a tiny mountains worth of her silky body wash into his palm, she turned, already turning to jelly in his hold as he massaged it all along her body. Across her menacing crow tattoo that adorned her shoulder blades, and down her toned arms to her hands that he cupped in his, wrapping them around herself when he circled her.

She turned her cheek into his kiss, relishing in his sturdy chest against her back and his protective hands holding either side of her stomach.

Now he could smell her- even above the body wash. There was Callie’s vanilla, and the savory essence of pregnancy that reminded him of her blood he’d savored when he first bit her, and now there was him, seasoning her like the final pinch to a perfect dish.

She was all of them- a tailor made perfume just for him.

One hand lingered over her stomach where the other moved around her, holding close what he owed his happiness to. But alarming pride also coarsed through him. Seeing her grow with pregnancy made him animalistic, almost; there was nothing like seeing evidence of what he’d done with his mate literally show before him like that.

“I did this,” he declared softly, fingertips pressing mindfully into her round belly. “I put a baby in you,”

She reached back to hold his opposite cheek, planting a few lingering kisses on the one closest to her. “That’s your baby.”

Pulling on the tux and making sure everything was tucked and buttoned neatly had been easy up to this point. The YouTube tutorial was doing little to help his fat fingers loop and pull the tie into anything that could actually pass as a tie, and he slipped it from around his neck angrily, the fitted fabric of the black tux around his shoulders already bothering him.

“Fuckin’... piece of shit,” he hissed under his breath. “Fuck this,”

He stalked towards their room, pushing Pucca down when she jumped at his thigh. “If you get fur on this your mom will kill me.” She still wagged her butt, whining after him as he walked down the hall. That’s when it hit him; fucking lint rollers! He stomped the rest of the way to the room, pissed at his own inability to remember his entire purchase list when going to the store.

“Can you help me with… this,” he trailed off, rendered speechless.

The carnelian red material of the sheer gown flowed down her body softly like the calm running of water, changing shape only over her stomach that bulged beneath it. It pooled elegantly around her feet, and the thin straps of the shoulder and low cut back showed off the art adorning her body, especially the dark, menacing crow across her shoulder blades. She looked at him curiously as he detailed her long hair pulled into a loose twist, some locks falling around her face and neck, just a glimpse of the silver earrings dangling and the small stars beside her brow ridge.

“How do I look?” she asked, tentatively, her thigh and knee poking from the high cut of the dress.

His mouth opened to utter everything; gorgeous, beautiful, perfect, astounding- but he was left with nothing but his hand on his chest, unable to take his eyes from his ecstatically beautiful lover.

“Lat're ij goddeukuk,” he uttered, finally, but not knowing what he’d said, she looked back to the mirror, her hands running down the curve of her belly and cupping underneath.

“Think people can tell?” she asked.

He grinned, proudly. “People can tell,”

That’s my baby.

She nodded, turning to grab his tie and loop it around his collar. “I’m nervous,” she said softly, her thin fingers manipulating the material expertly.

“You both look beautiful,” he said, and she grinned, her eyes still on the tie. “So good that I can’t imagine how you’d look in a wedding dress,”

“I’m not-”

“Getting married pregnant, I know,” he griped, a little sourly.

Her hands moved to hold his face, stood on her toes and craning her neck for a kiss until he leaned the rest of the way down. He exhaled, holding her sides as her thumbs smoothed his chiseled cheekbones, her kisses soothing away what little disappointment sat on his heart.

“You will one day?” he asked huskily, enveloping her mouth for a deeper caress as his fingers curled into the sheer material of the dress.

“Calista Jakoby is too good of a name to pass up. And that police pension.” she grinned, yelping when he smacked her ass.

With the tie braided artfully and her heels slipped on as she steadied herself against him, she grabbed her clutch and phone as he grabbed the keys, planting a few kisses on Pucca’s head before closing the door behind them.

She half jogged to the truck when the cold of the night pricked her exposed skin, and this time he helped her into her seat, making sure her dress didn’t catch in the door. The heater was cranked once inside, noting the goosebumps already rising on her arms and again they rode with his hand over her stomach.

“Rosie is salty she wasn’t invited,” Callie grinned, flashing the long rants worth of messages from her sister.

“Paramedics aren’t as cool,”

“Oh you’re gonna get on her about that again?”

“If she keeps mocking about seeing me at that doughnut shop, which I was at for you,”

“To be fair that was too good of a joke to pass up on.” Callie simpered, laughing when he squeezed her knee.

Valet took his truck when they arrived, surprisingly complimentary of the LAPD, and Callie kept her clutch against her stomach when Nick offered his elbow, walking up the dazzling stairs carpeted in rich red and stunning gold linings. He felt a little out of place being at such an upper class location but Callie fit right in, like she should’ve always attended sparkling events such as this.

They passed a few familiar officers chatting in the marble lobby, and she almost forgot to keep her chin lifted confidently as they took double takes at her obvious condition.

“That makes me feel like a walking attraction,” she intoned.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, they were obviously looking at me.” he corrected, evoking a giggle.

They boarded the elevator, both looking around at the exquisite space that looked like it belonged in New York amongst the ultra rich, not LA.

She turned, finding one of the walls to be a mirror, and took her phone from her clutch.

“C’mere,” she called, and he stood behind her, posing against her back as she beamed in the photo. There were silly ones; of him holding her up as she craned back, pretending to bite her neck, and there were raunchier ones of her ass pressed into his hips he couldn’t help but laugh at.

“That ones for Instagram.” she chimed, depositing her phone back in her clutch as they made it to the upper floor.

The music boomed through the wide hall they walked through to enter the banquet room, the tables lining the walls littered with fellow officers and their wives or husbands, some with kids dressed elegantly. All had a look to dish to Callie, who was in the small handful of other woman wearing something besides the normal neutral colored gowns, but then they saw the stomach, and their conversations shifted. Nick hadn’t told anyone at work beside Sergey and Ward, so this was the night the news was breaking: the Orc finally knocked her up.

They stood at the entrance, overlooking all the tables and people, the dance floor a little sparse besides Nick’s captain dancing poorly with his band of merry men. She scoffed.

“I’m already over this.” Nick stated, fixing the cuff around his wrist.

“Jakoby!”

They turned to find Sergey walking up to them, a wide smile and also in a fitted tux with his girlfriend close behind.

“Hey kid,” Nick nodded in his direction, greeting Dura quickly.

“Miss Callie, my favorite human,” Sergey said in a silly manner, a little smitten as he hugged her tightly.

“Hi sweetie- hi Dura!” Callie said excitedly, hugging the lean female Orc behind him that was cloaked in a strapless, deep green gown with diamond embroidery beneath the bust and equally dazzling hoops hanging off her pointed ears.

“Oh my god you’re finally showing!” Dura whined lovingly, holding Callie’s sides after she hugged her. “Any kicks yet? This lug won’t tell me anything,” she jabbed her thumb in Sergey’s direction, but he only rolled his ochre eyes.

He wouldn’t let me say a word to anyone,” Sergey directed the blame to Nick.

“Yeah cause that was so difficult for you,” Nick grumbled.

“Y’all Fogteeth need to stop congregating in public like this,” Ward piped in, walking up from behind Nick before giving him the handshake. Their interaction wasn’t as constant since Nick had finished his first year, but they made it a point to still meet up for lunches or when Ward needed help in his yard. “How ya doin’ mamas?” he moved to hug Callie, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Ahh, depends on the day,” she grinned, leaning sideways. “Hi Sherri,” she flashed a dazzling smile, effectively warding off Daryl’s salty wife who didn’t look half bad in her royal blue dress. Hair was a little tacky along with those ridiculous nails, though.

“My goodness, look at this,” Daryl held her sides, patting a couple times. “How long ‘til he gets to meet his uncle?”

“Got about 5 more months,” Nick said, loosening his tie. Callie pulled his hands down, mumbling to stop messing with his suit.

“You know I still don’t understand how you were able to keep quiet about this but I can’t get him to shut up about fuckin’ veggies- just in my ear, all day when we have routes together,” Ward teased, the girls laughing as Nick chuffed loudly.

“You never shut up about your dead ass lawn…” Nick mumbled.

“Cause that shit you suggested still ain’t doing shit-”

“I’ve told you a hundred times-”

“I want a snack,” Callie butted in before they started bickering endlessly.

“Me too- come, tell me all about the little faushnu.” Dura said affectionately, the girls arms linking as they walked back to the tables loaded with sweets.

“Congrats, brother,” Ward clapped Nick on the back, making the Orc somewhat bashful.

“Yeah yeah, thanks.”

“Hey, did you get that briefing from Heig this morning?” He questioned, bumping Nick’s arm.

“For everyone?” Sergey butted in, listening curiously.

“Yeah- is there really another wand floating around?” Nick asked lowly, and Sergey’s eyes widened.

“A wand!?” Sergey exclaimed, and Nick hit his chest with the back of his hand. The young Orcs face tightened, his filed tusks showing momentarily from behind his angry pout.

“Do we really have to get involved in that shit again?”

“I don’t see why we would. What happened was one thing and this is another. I don’t want none of that shit in my business.” Ward explained, head shaking as he searched for Sherri.

“What shit?” Sergey tried again, but the other officers dropped it, leaving the rookie fuming.

A few hours in, and most of the men had removed their jackets and rolled up their sleeves, leaving Nick to follow suit promptly. Any longer and he would’ve lost his mind under the restricting fabric. Heig was alongside a few other deputies, all lined up across the stage as the mayor spoke highly of the LAPD, his shadowed eyes only aiding to a sense of lies alongside his smile.

Most watched, but a lot mingled amongst themselves still, uncaring of the announcements that could’ve been done at the station instead of this whole thing.

“Theadora,” Callie tried, scooping ice cream into her tiny spoon. Nick scrunched his nose.

“Elizabeth?” but now Callie shook her head.

“Why do we only ever suggest girl names?”

“I feel like I’d only make girls,” Nick shrugged, sipping his rum and coke. “Most of the firstborn in my family are girls,”

“Mm, maybe. What about Guillermo?”

“Wasn’t that Rosie’s…?”

She shook her head. “Benecio,”

“Ahh. Anyways- something I can pronounce please,”

That unnecessary part of the banquet ended in low applause, but Heig looked like he’d been handed the key to the city, standing under the hot lights and sweating like a hooker in church.

“He didn’t even get a medal or anything,” Nick commented dryly, and Callie looked at him with a knowing smile.

“Like you got? For being the biggest and baddest?” she asked, and he nodded, confidently.

“Damn right. That’s why that shits framed.” he wiggled his brows, smirking when she chuckled with the spoon between her teeth.

The men dispersed from the stage, the dance floor filling again with tipsy couples only embarrassing themselves as they flaunted their supposed dance skills.

Nick’s arm hung off the back of her chair, his fingers tracing designs on her arm when she leaned against him, whispering little nothings and the occasional joke as the minutes ticked by in their own little world. Ward ambled around, butting in and then wandering off again and again until Sherri kept him close, and the same went for Sergey. He was already tipsy by the time he flopped back into a chair beside Nick, asking where Dura was even though she’d been following him around for the past hour.

The seats started to fill up when the music slowed, sending most of the more lively attendees away to the drinks.

“Are you gonna ask me to dance?” Callie asked softly, and he looked down at her, his brow cocking.

“You’re gonna make me go out there?” he asked, and she smiled, nodding. He considered arguing, but he also knew how much she’d missed dancing since instructed by doctors to take it easy. With a defeated sigh, he rose, holding out his hand to help her stand and smooth down her dress. Nick lead her through the tables, thankful that a slower song had started lulling through the speakers; he didn’t have any skills to get down like she was capable of. But after years of watching Callie during recitals and performances, and gazing at her as she spun slow circles in their kitchen only to be dragged over, he knew enough.

With their hands held up, he spun her slowly, bringing forth a dazzling smile as he drew her in. The way he so tenderly ran his hands down her arms to her lower back made her sigh, her own inching up his chest as they fell into a steady, smooth swaying. His forehead bumped hers, catching her molten eyes that sparkled under the lights around them.

“You’ve been practicing?” She asked softly, her thumbs stroking his neck when her hands slid higher over his shoulders.

“Shuffling in a circle isn’t that hard,”

“Say that to my broken toes,” she teased, and he growled at her, only stirring another smile. “I’m joking. You’ve only broken one of my toes,”

“Keep it up and I’ll pass you to someone else,” he smirked, arm moving around her shoulder when she slipped hers around his waist. Callie beamed when he started to purr with their cheeks touching, the soft strokes against her shoulder blade from his wide, rough palm sending shivers down her sides.

“You’d never,”

“Don’t tempt me,”

Their shape was a little funny- her stomach prevented her from pressing flat against him like normal, but it still made him grin, just barely, to himself.

It was like they were dancing with their baby, softly lulling it like Callie talked about doing when she could hold it in her arms.

“If I can hold it in my arms,” she pouted, wiping the gel from her stomach after an ultrasound.

Nick frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Cause this is the fourth time I’ve been pregnant, and I haven’t been able to name or hold any of them.” she told him, silencing any further rebuttle. No matter how grim that was, her words were valid.

His arms drew tighter, giving her a light squeeze. Every pregnancy, she was more disconnected than the last, afraid to become attached. He was already head over heels excited, but he had been the other times, too. It saddened him to see her pass by onesies and various other baby items when they’d go to stores, telling him, ‘we can wait a little longer’.

Let’s see if this one makes it, is what she really meant.

“Do you know how many times I had to stop myself from grabbing a glass of champagne tonight?” she said into his chest, shaking him from darker thoughts.

“If my kid comes out with an ear on their forehead I’m gonna punch you in the throat,” he grumbled, and grunted when she poked his sides.

“I want a day to get drunk after I deliver,” she looked up at him. “I miss our nights at Loco’s,”

“We still have fun without getting drunk,” he mouthed against her jaw, keeping his arms secured around her when she giggled and wiggled.

“We’ll have mommy and daddy days,” she decided, tucking her head back under his chin. He blinked a few times.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard something like that out loud,” he confessed softly, a little flushed. “Never thought of myself as a daddy over just being a parent,”

“You’re my big Orc daddy,”

He scoffed stubbornly, squeezing her. “Shut up,”

The slow song only lasted that one turn. People started calling for upbeat music again and Callie pulled Nick away from the dance floor, mentioning that she didn’t want to risk getting kicked in the gut when one of the white boys inevitably tried to breakdance.

So they all huddled to a table; Ward with Sherri- although she could care less at a table full of Orcs- and Sergey with Dura, all of them teasing and talking and booming with laughter when the drinks came and went quickly, the men throwing them back and some more when Sergey pulled a fat flask from his tux. Nick became quite the chatty cat when he got to drinking, pointing this way and that, speaking of things he normally kept bottled after shitty days or telling Ward in particular how much he liked his mustache.

When the men started slurring and Sergey nearly tripped over an entire chair after saying he didn’t see the entire said chair, the woman gathered their stumbling men, sneaking out of the banquet despite Heig moving to the stage again to make more announcements, drunkenly that was.

At valet, Callie directed Nick to the passenger side, pushing his big body up until she could close the door quickly. Off with her heels and she could drive, again blasting the heater when the harsh chill of the night stung her skin.

“Nick c’mon,” Callie laughed, a hand against his chest to steady his towering form that one arm around his back couldn’t do alone.

“You could’a left me in the truck,” he mumbled, walking, but when he swayed here and there, it was like trying to catch a falling tree.

A string of giggles tumbled from her lips as he mouthed the back of her neck, kissing across her shoulder with his hands against the door and his body shielding hers as she struggled to find the house key, her shoulder drawing into her cheeks every time he tried to get one of her ears.

They both lurched forwards when she managed the door finally, but Nick still had good enough reactions even drunk and caught himself, then her before they both went crashing to the floor. A moment of shock, and then he was laughing, air forcing out between his pursed lips.

“Go, go to bed,” she instructed, letting him wobble his way towards the back of the house, but stopping to give Pucca hugs and kisses. “Go lay down before you fall,” she instructed as she tossed her heels aside. Ugh, much better. She even wiggled her toes into the carpet a bit.

“You go lay down before you-” he mimicked, standing suddenly, walking with determination into the kitchen, throwing open the pantry door with more force than meant. “Found them,” he mumbled with heavy eyes, cradling his bag of Takis as he bumped into the kitchen entrance before heading back on his original path.

She had lock up duty that night- closing windows, double checking doors, arming the alarm system that Nick had had installed a couple years back.

Upon entering the room, she found him with the open bag still in his inner arm, struggling to kick off his shoes and not fall flat on his face with Pucca walking circles around him.

“Get,” she waved Pucca away, then pushed against his chest to get him onto the bed, losing a few Takis along the way. “Stay there,”

“Are you trying to get me in bed?” he asked coyly, lifting his feet as she pulled his shoes off.

“I already have you there- Nick!” she smiled, exclaiming as he kept stealing kisses along her collarbone when she tried to unbutton his shirt.

“You’re so pretty,”

“Hush and stay still,” she ordered, somehow getting his dress shirt off before smacking his thigh to make him turn a little.

“You’re my girlfriend,” he stated matter of factly while pointing to himself with eyes clouded by booze, chewing loudly on the chips.

“That so?” she went along, pulling his slacks down his legs and stepping back as he violently kicked them off across the room.

“Yeah, cause I,” he pointed to his own chest again, “Put that in you,” his finger landed back at her belly.

“Proud of yourself, ain’t ya?” she smiled, pulling her earrings off.

He nodded, a smug smile plastered across his face that only made her eyes roll in amusement. But his amusement puddles when he watched her start to carefully hang his suit up, pressing down small creases.

“Just throw it in the laundry,” he mumbled, glaring hatefully at the handsome suit.

Callie turned, the temper of her eyes dangerous. “Hell no. I picked and paid for this suit- it’s gonna be treated like a member of this household,”

Nick scoffed. “S’not that nice,”

She looked at him blandly. “Wanna pay me back the $300 for it then?”

“Pay you back with some lovin’, c’mere,” he made grabby hands at her, but his reach was smacked away, an exaggerated pout following.

The dress was pulled up from her feet as she padded to the bathroom, eager to take off the make-up she’d painstakingly put on. At least swirling the makeup remover around was enjoyable- she’d often drag the mascara around her eyes to resemble the joker, cackling quietly to herself before rinsing it off. A quick wash, some moisturizer and her eye cream she couldn’t live without later, and she was finally done, but stopped halfway down the hallway to turn back.

Should pee now before I get up and run into something.

Doing that with the dress was a damn chore. Coming back out again, she glanced at the sticky note on the spare room they still needed to clean out and prepare. The corners of her lips kicked up in a smirk.

N + C = baby, the sticky note said. Nick had first stuck the note to a onesie he’d bought the day she’d made it past her first trimester, and despite the teasing nature of the words across the onesie, she couldn’t part with the attached note. It had been on the door since, and realistically, she didn’t think she’d ever be ready to take it down; there had been times she considered framing it. Even after recalling that beaming, cocky smile he gave when presenting the ‘Of course I’m cute, have you seen my dad?’ onesie.

Nick chewed noisily, still sprawled across the bed and offering a hand to pull the zipper of the dress down the soft curve of her spine. Callie swatted at his hand when he pinched her butt, his eyes a little hungrier for something besides Takis when a waft of her scent hit him after the dress fell into a red puddle around her feet and left her only in red lace panties that barely contained the ass she’d gained.

If he thought fucking his scent into her was something that made his ego skyrocket, sticking a baby in her and carrying that child heightened it everyday, boosting his pride to an otherworldly level. On top of the bite that adorned her breast, this would solidify them as mates for life, more than marriage ever would. That being said, it still fascinated Nick that of everyone she could’ve chosen, she loved him, an Orc, and chose to breed with him regardless that they’d have a halfling. She wanted his child.

Nick was lost in admiration before he could realize that she’d been watching him as she rubbed cocoa butter into her stomach, her brows curved in scrutiny. He looked like he was on the verge of crying… but he could just be tremendously sleepy after downing his weight in alcohol.

Her hair fell loose around her shoulders after pulling a loose tank top on, turning with hands upon her hips. “You look sad,”

“I’m in awe,” he elaborated artfully, his hand spinning and a chip between his lips.

“Awe?” her brows perked up, watching him struggle to sit up and reach for her.

“I need t’talk to ‘em,” he murmured, pulling her by the hips.

“About?” She grinned, leaning back into her hands when he pushed her shirt up.

“It’s private,” he mumbled, and she snorted.

“Listen,” he said close to her distended stomach. “You are the greatest- and I mean greatest when I say it in the presence of a literal goddess,” he paused to gaze up sleepily, but she looked away, pink dusting her cheeks. “You, tiny me, are the best thing I’ve ever done,” he proclaimed softer, his wide hand over her protectively. “You made me realize how badly I wanted to be a father,”

Sentiment stirred her heart, listening to Nick declare such love to their unborn child with his forehead rested against her stomach.

“I love you,” he murmured, a kiss lingering on her stomach before he pulled her shirt back down. “I love you,”

Soft strokes from her hands across his head turned his face up to her, and she grinned, holding his cheeks when he stood to kiss her; he tasted like vodka and fire.

“I told you this one would stick,” he said against her mouth.

“Don’t get a big head now,”

“I’m just sayin’, third time's the charm,” he simpered, and she followed him into bed.

Just as Callie had finished propping numerous pillows around herself and grabbing the Firestick, Pucca came bounding up the bed, walking all over Nick in attempts to lay between them.

“Braav-” Nick cursed, pushing her away, but she was still smiley and wiggly, rolling to lather Callie’s face in kisses. “We have to train her to stop that,”

“She just feels left out,” Callie baby talked, smooshing and swirling Pucca’s wide head between her hands as the panting dog moved closer. “My big baby,”

“Not gonna be th’baby anymore,”

“But she’s always gonna be my first! Aren’t you? Aren’t you preciosa? Mi hermosa bebe?” Callie gushed, Pucca’s head twisting back and forth and her floppy ears perked forward.

Nick finally settled, Takis in one hand and phone in the other when he stopped to watch her smother the dog, kisses upon kisses to her furry head, wondering how enamoured she would be with their baby in her arms.

“We can start buying more stuff now y’know,” he carefully suggested.

Callie shrugged, resting her jaw in hand when she perched on her side. The knuckles of his hand rubbed her stomach, peeping from beneath her shirt. “I suppose,”

“You know you’re allowed to enjoy your pregnancy,”

“It’s not that,” half her face scrunched. “I do- I really do. I even try to remind myself when I’m puking that I’d rather be dealing with that than… empty. But I feel like if I become 100% invested it’s all gonna be taken away again,” she explained with a reserved tone.

“Not this time. You’re so far along now,”

“I’m still worried. I always worry.” she said with her eyes keeping his, a hidden fear showing through in her jittering foot.

He didn’t know what to say. There would be no vanquishing the worry until she had it cradled in her arms and against her chest. Nick could offer little words of reassurance. He didn’t know what it was like being afraid of your own body that could betray you after giving life.

“I like Leonardo,” he stated instead, and although her mouth opened to protest, a sense of appeasement filled her, flipping the name again and again in her mind.

“That’s a strong contender,”

“Or Jonaq,”

“Started strong and ended lame.” Her lips flattened into a straight line, and he smacked her hip.

Pucca’s head popped up from behind Callie, a soft growl rumbling, but her tail was wagging fiercely, her pretty eyes trained on Nick.

“Oh what’re gonna do? Huh? You big useless thing?” Nick challenged, sitting up to press his nose to Pucca’s as she continued to growl.

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

“Okay, let’s take a look here,” the ultrasound technician chimed, dragging the probe across her jellied stomach that was just starting to swell outwards. Nick had lost his mind the first time they noticed it. He spent at least 10 minutes taking pictures, even ones where he knelt beside her before the mirror with his cheek against it, smiling proudly.

The screen displayed the fuzzy black and white mess of shapes and blurs, Callie’s head not having yet rested against the examination table as Nick leaned in closer from her other side.

“Got the butt first this time,” the technician chuckled.

When the small definition of a foot and leg came in suddenly, he tensed, the picture moving up past ribs to a clear profile, softening Callie’s tense expression.

The little head bobbed back, along with small arms and legs that fidgeted in the misshapen oval that would be it’s home for the next 28 weeks.

“It’s moving,” Callie grinned, Nick’s head tilting to watch it wiggle around. “I can’t feel anything,”

“Probably won’t till after about 15 weeks,” she told her kindly, her fingers flying over the keyboard of the machine as she measured and took screenshots.

You’re inside me, Callie thought affectionately, her adoration for the black and white fuzz shaping her baby growing every passing second she saw the tiny arms curl close to its face, or a little leg kick outwards.

“Do you wanna know the sex?”

Nick and Callie looked at one another, but he shook his head. “We’re okay with waiting. So far,”

“Do we get pictures?” Callie asked eagerly, wiping down her stomach once the exam had ended.

“Better yet- here’s an entire album.” The technician smiled, handing over a long stream of printed photos displaying profiles, butts, and overall shapes.

“I can’t tell who’s nose it has,” Callie squinted, holding the scan at arms length after pushing her glasses up.

“It's still too squishy,” Nick chuckled.

“Yeah. Should we get one of those 4D ones done?” she asked, and he pulled in his shoulders while parking in his parents' driveway.

“I wanna wait ‘til it’s born to see it. I don’t want something in my head of what I was told it’d look like,” he explained, grabbing the scans so he could look them over again. “Look at those little arms,” he groaned lovingly.

“I guess,” she said, looking them over again when handed back. “I think it has my nose,”

“Maybe it’ll have my elbows.”

She snorted, folding them diligently to place gently back in her purse as they exited the truck.

Dinara was there to answer with warmer hugs for Callie now than Nick, her hands falling to her small stomach as she berated her with questions about her health; how she was feeling, was she tired, had she eaten yet.

Oleg always had open arms ready, almost picking small Callie up off her feet in a hug and holding her face affectionately as he smiled down at her with warm, golden eyes. “You glow like my Dinara did when she was pregnant with Nick.” he’d say.

Nick was bossed around by his mom as she ordered Callie to sit down and put her feet up, directing her son to pour his lover tea. He handed it off sourly, winking at Callie.

His mother and Callie could sit and talk for hours, most of which was gossip from two completely different lifestyles, added in the normal day to day life and shit at work. Nick and Oleg watched TV, bickering over their rival teams before any steady chit chat could find it’s way in until the food finished cooking and they all moved to the table.

She would deny it at first, but when Dinara slopped seconds and thirds onto Callie’s plate, she never pushed it away.

“You give my grandbaby all the food they can eat.” she’d order earnestly, the spiced rice and veggies piled high on Callie’s plate and too good to resist.

“Speaking of,” Nick said around a full cheek. “She hit 12 weeks a couple days ago,”

Dinara gasped, her fork falling into her roasted potatoes. “You did!?”

Nick retrieved the scans from her purse, but they were snatched from his hands by Oleg before he even sat at the table again, which were in turn snatched by Dinara who barely gave him any lean to look at them as she did, blubbering words of amazement.

“Oh I’m so relieved- I’ve bought so many things I’ve wanted to give to you but didn’t want to anger you!” Dinara sobbed, the scans against her chest even with Oleg trying to pry them from her hands. “Oh, beautiful baby,”

“We can start crib shopping now,” Nick said, holding Callie’s thigh, but she only shrugged indifferently, still smiling as she watched Dinara.

“Onesies first?”

The hesitation was still there, even though they’d made it over that mark. But he nodded, and smiled, leaning over to kiss her head before returning to answer the questions his parents laid on them.

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

Oh oh oh here we go 🖤 don't she look the cutest with that bump! and Nick in a suit Y U U U U M

translations: -"apurate": hurry up -"lat're ij goddeukuk": you're a goddess -"faushnu": baby -"braav": brat

[demaury]

Some kind of mistake (cha. 4)

Ever since Eliott first came across the new resident of the apartment 320, he made peace with the fact that Lucas ‘Big Blue Eyes’ Lallemant would, one way or another, turn his life upside down. Thing is, he hadn’t expected that Lucas’ wife and Lucas’ daughter would play a part in it. Because, you know, he didn’t know they existed until it was too late. (ao3 link)

Eliott stared at the screen of his phone, like he had been doing far too many times ever since he fell into that damn rabbit hole that was Instagram.

Love of my life.

It was written, in all caps, and it made Eliott hate himself a little bit more each time. The picture in itself? He could live with it, even knowing she was the girl he had spotted with Lucas last Saturday. The caption? That could mean anything and everything all at once. But there were dozens of them. Videos of Lucas being a dork with her. Close-ups of their hands tangled — or their legs. Birthday declarations. Anniversary posts. And then-

Then came the little one. 

Eliott had no idea what her name was. Lucas didn’t have much about her on his Instagram, but her mom’s account had a whole bunch of pics of him feeding her and holding her. For some reason, though, he kept coming back to this post in particular. The most recent one Lucas had posted, the day before the evening he had come to his place. It was the one that made Eliott resent this situation the most — all the while knowing he had no right whatsoever to be upset. If he had been building castles in the sky, it was his problem, not Lucas’. Not his girlfriend’, or wife’, or whatever. And certainly not his kid’s.

Still.

He should have listened to Idriss. He should have been sneaky and found that fucking Instagram account earlier. Everything would have been much simpler and he wouldn’t have been left feeling like shit for something that wasn’t his to feel.

He hadn’t seen Lucas, not even caught a glimpse of him ever since the moment he spotted the three outside the building, and frankly, it was best. There was nothing better than not stumbling every five minutes on your cute but very much taken new neighbor when you were trying to get over your stupid crush on him. Because, yeah, that was a stupid crush right there, no matter if he had started acknowledging it only when it had turned out to be impossible.

Maybe a part of him was relieved. Tiny. Secluded in a corner of his brain.

A huge part wanted the ground to swallow him every time he came across Manon though — because, eh, he knew her name now, not like he could still pretend he didn’t —, which happened on a daily basis.

He had just lit up a cigarette one morning, at the foot of the building, and was waiting for a client to pick up the phone when she had greeted him with a polite nod. He had replied with the same gesture, and just like that they had started existing in the same world. Once his reflex pushed him to hold her the door as she kept struggling with the stroller. Another time he had just hopped in the elevator, only to find an abandoned pacifier, attached to a string of wooden beads, lying on the floor. For some reason he crouched down and picked it up, but just before the doors closed themselves, Manon appeared outside and once again his reflex pushed him to block them.

“Oh, you found it, thank you so much,” she sighed, relieved. “I thought she had thrown it in the street.”

Eliott’s eyes traveled from the pacifier to her blue eyes, once, twice, then he nodded and handed it back to her. “You’re welcome.”

She smiled and waved him goodbye, before retreating towards her flat.

Ava Rose, he thought as he unlocked his front door, once he’d reached his floor. That was the name spelled on the wooden beads. Lucas. Manon. Ava.

He shook his head to himself while stepping into the quiet apartment. He had never minded living alone because he had literally fought for it — against his parents, against his friends, against himself. But right now he didn’t remember the appeal. He sighed, then stepped back, closed the door and locked it before shoving his keys into his pocket.

He needed to get laid.

*

The blinds of his bedroom suddenly snapped open with a hissing sound, and Eliott groaned, face burying into his pillow as the morning light flooded in. He didn’t know which day it was, but he wasn’t particularly keen on finding out. Neither about that, nor about the person who just decided that it was a good idea to make his eyeballs melt with his skull.

“Well, it’s been a while since I last saw you do that,” a voice muttered somewhere around the bed.

It took Eliott an extra-second to realize it was Sofiane, and that if Sofiane was here, it meant he had used the spare key. It pissed him off. They had a deal. Sofiane had the spare, but he had no right to make use of it. If anything it was just for one of the many occasions Eliott lost his own.

“Do what?”, Eliott gritted into his pillow, not caring if it was rude or if the words didn’t come out just right.

There was a sigh. “Sleeping around,” Sofiane answered bluntly. “Distancing yourself. Not answering my texts.” He paused, and Eliott could make up the crease of concern between his brows without having to look, then his friend added: “Eli, are you okay?”

Eliott huffed into his pillow, then rolled onto his back, squeezing his eyes shut. “I am,” he said, perhaps a bit more harshly. He opened his eyes carefully, then sat up, holding the sheets reasonably high on his waist. Sofiane was patiently waiting at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, like the good dad trying not to throw a tantrum. It made Eliott sigh, and he ran a hand through his wild hair. “Look, I know what you think, and you’re wrong, okay? I’m not- I’m not manic. It’s got nothing to do with me being bipolar. I’m just having a shitty time, and I’d rather spend it alone.”

Sofiane cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry for not having thought about that when I stumbled on the girl you just slept with crawling out of your apartment,” he deadpanned.

Eliott wanted to glare, but all he managed to do was to stare blankly at his friend. He didn’t have enough energy to be angry. Everything had been burned out this past week, when he had finally decided to make use of all the entries he had in a bunch of clubs around Paris, but never used because Sofiane and Idriss were a thousand times too boring to tag along nowadays. Of course, Daphné hadn’t been pleased when he had to call in sick, but he guessed it was mostly because the girl he was with had been cackling loudly at whatever she was looking on her Instagram feed.

“Just go away,” he mumbled, flopping back down onto the mattress.

“Eliott, I’m serious. What happened? Last week you were telling us about your new crush and now you’re burying yourself under the covers.” To be fair, Eliott did answer the question. Just with his mouth pressed onto his pillow, which, technically, may not have been the best idea to be understood. “I didn’t quite catch that,” Sofiane pointed out.

“He’s got a girlfriend,” Eliott snapped. “Or a wife even, for all I know. And a fucking kid.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Ah,” he repeated sarcastically, then he shrugged to himself. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m fine alone.”

I’m used to crushing on straight guys, he added inwardly. At least, his last functioning brain-cell was working in his favor to keep the filter up between his brain and his mouth. He didn’t want to have to explain Sofiane that he used to have a crush on him, back in high school — back when he was so desperate to find some balance, some control over his life, that even the tiniest, simplest gesture was enough for him to fall in love and mistake his gratefulness with stronger feelings. It went back to ten years and now Sofiane was just his close friend and nothing more. There was literally no point in bringing it up now, except if he really wanted to make a mess.

“Are you sure it’s true, though?” Eliott peeked out from his pillow, looking at Sofiane with a quizzical expression. “Are you sure it’s even his kid? I mean, plenty of people have roommates nowadays. You did live with Idriss at some point and you two were never a couple.”

“Look, Sof,” Eliott retorted, trying really hard not to hurt his friend’s feelings, “I’m not stupid enough to make assumptions based on nothing. His girlfriend’s all over his Instagram account with fucking love declarations. I hear the baby cry, I see her walking around with her stroller. I don’t know what kind of messed up world you live in but in mine these are proofs enough that I need to fucking back off and stop having shitty ideas.”

Sofiane heaved a sigh. “Alright. Alright, yeah, maybe. But just, don’t ignore me. Okay? I don’t mean to intrude or to upset you, I’d be just as worried if it were Idriss,” he concluded before leaving the room.

*

Eliott’s digital pen slipped onto the graphic tablet like any other goddamn pencil in the world onto a paper sheet when the wailings picked up again. He slapped his hands onto his temples with a furious hiss, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration as if he was six all over again and trying not to hear his parents fighting.

He was going to murder someone.

Or worse, he was going to lose his sanity.

The baby had been crying for three hours straight, then had relapsed for fifteen minutes, just enough for Eliott to think it was finally all good — and then had started all over again. He just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d have already gone out, if it wasn’t one in the fucking morning and if he had a few hours to lose in a club, where he’d hopefully get to enjoy the background noise. But since he had done practically nothing for the last few days, taking entirely too much time off to go out and about and party more nights than his body could possibly handle, what was bound to happen was finally just about to happen: he was in the deepest shit, with a shit-ton of shitty deadlines coming his way, and not enough hours to possibly get through all of it.

Below his flat, the baby was still crying; sometimes her wailings seemed to fade out, but he just assumed that her mom (or her dad) was simply walking around the apartment trying to ease her. Well, it didn’t work. It took ten more minutes for Eliott to snap, scrap his chair on the floor as he stood up from behind his desk, and strode out of his flat without even caring about walking in socks or locking the door behind him. He knew what he was about to do was petty, and mean, but he didn’t care. He simply needed to let out some of the pettiness he had bottled up since his last encounter with Lucas, two days ago.

Eliott was walking out the building, when he had stumbled on him, baby in one arm as he was fighting to fold up the stroller with his free hand. As soon as Lucas had caught sight of him, after simply uttering a ‘hi’ in response to Eliott’s polite greeting, he had immediately said, blue eyes sharp and tongue even sharper: “Now that I finally get to see you, could you, please tell your girl to stop screaming so loud? The building’s old and we got a baby, you know.”

And truth be told, Eliott had been so stunned, and so vexed, that all he had found to answer was “I will tell them.”

That was a far cry from all the sweet banter from last Friday.

If Lucas had been literally any other guy, any other guy with whom he had shared no more than a single evening, and no physical contact whatsoever, and that the guy had treated him the way he was doing right now, Eliott would have never even so much as thought about him ever again — except perhaps during one of those evenings where people casually recounted their worst moments in life around a glass of wine.

But unfortunately for him, Lucas was not any other guy, he was the guy who lived on the floor below. He had to hear about him, and so it was only fair that Lucas did too, Eliott thought bitterly as he knocked onto the front door of the apartment number 320. It didn’t take long for it to open, but still long enough for him to work himself up some more.

“Hey,” Lucas mumbled as he stood in the doorway, the baby’s wailings echoing louder from inside the flat. He was wearing pajama pants and a wrinkled, plain white tee-shirt, his hair sticking in literally every possible direction.

It didn’t go unnoticed that Lucas’ blue eyes were bloodshot and painfully red, but Eliott was too petty to let himself distracted by something like that. “Can you do something about it or I can definitely make peace with not getting one minute to work?” he snapped.

Lucas opened his mouth to answer but the baby’s cries suddenly intensified, making his shoulders slump a little more. “I’m sorry- I’m really sorry, she’s teething and Manon’s out of town and-”

He trailed off and Eliott found himself standing there like an asshole. Of fucking course. It was his luck, to decide to be petty just when no one could do a single fucking thing about the situation that bugged him. He should have thought about the teething thing, but it wasn’t like he was used to having babies around. Lucas watched behind his shoulder, looking more than a little defeated, and Eliott would have found it funny if he didn’t actually think Lucas was on the verge of crying too.

“I, uh, yeah. I-, you know what, nevermind,” he muttered, taking a step back from the threshold.

Lucas spun around when a particularly loud and slightly worrying screech echoed from wherever the baby was inside, and Eliott didn’t know why, he didn’t, because he wasn’t compulsively polite, but he followed Lucas regardless.

It was the stupidest thing he had ever done, but he was doing it anyway. It was like seeing a car-crash on slow-motion, he just couldn’t stop his feet from padding inside, and his hand from closing the front door. He was on auto-pilot, and he was already regretting it as he followed Lucas inside the living-room, where the baby was fussing in her baby-seat. Her face was red and crumpled from crying, and he could make up the streak of long-dried tears down her cheeks.

“C’mon Ava, please,” Lucas insisted quietly, rubbing her tummy as she kept kicking up in the air with her feet. His voice wavered and Eliott felt truly sorry for him, to the point of momentarily forgetting about being pissed.

Not just momentarily, in fact, he realized as a good minute stretched out with him standing there and Lucas looking completely helpless next to Ava. He reached out to touch her forehead, letting his fingers caress her red, chubby cheeks.

“They don’t give stuff to make it easier for them while they’re teething?” Eliott enquired, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats, and it seemed to startle Lucas.

He stared at him blankly, as if he had forgotten he was even there. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, “but it’s like, effective to a certain degree. She’s got tons of teething rings but they always stop helping after fifteen minutes. I don’t know why, they aren’t even warm when it just stops working!” Lucas’ frustration was so painfully apparent that Eliott winced to himself.

“Hey, calm down, it’s gonna be fine. She’ll just tire eventually,” he offered.

“I thought so too,” Lucas sighed, turning back to Ava after a moment, “six hours ago. She’s already had Ibuprofen, she doesn’t do well with those stupid chamomile drinks and she refuses to eat anything. She’s gonna be dehydrated before she even stops crying.” He sighed some more, and shook his head to himself as he leaned forward to pick Ava up from her baby-seat. “Guess we will just have to take another ring. Again.”

If Eliott saw that Lucas was shaking a little bit when he stood up he didn’t say a word. He caught the purple teething ring that Ava was waving angrily in the air before it fell to the ground, and made a point of not making a stupid face as saliva suddenly coated his fingers. Instead, he behaved like a grown man and followed Lucas in the kitchen to rinse his hands and the ring. In the meantime, Lucas had opened the freezer and was struggling to pull out another plastic toy without making the whole content of the freezer fall down on the ground or bump Ava’s head into anything in the process. Eliott took the freezing toy from Lucas’ hand and put the warm one for him to stock in the freezer, before the door closed and he handed the fake set of keys to Ava. The object seemed to stir some interest after a few moments of waving, and she eventually grabbed it and brought it to her mouth (not before she hit Lucas’ chest with it a handful of times though).

Lucas turned bleary eyes to Eliott, handing his hand out. “Can you give me-”

For some reason, Eliott immediately grabbed the kitchen towel left onto the kitchen elements, probably after recent use. Lucas mumbled a small ‘thanks’ and wiped Ava’s chin clean. “Let’s hope this one will last longer than fifteen minutes,” he whispered tiredly as he retreated towards the living-room, rocking her a little, Eliott following close behind.

Ava was gurgling pensively, the plastic keys faintly echoing as Lucas sat down with her. He glanced up with drawn-out eyes. “I’m so sorry, really,” he winced, “you should go back upstairs and enjoy some quietness as long as it lasts.”

Eliott waved, huffing a little. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He fidgeted a little then perched himself onto the armrest of the couch. “I mean, it’s true I work better at night but, like-”

“Yeah. You had your hands full. I know.”

Something in Lucas’ tone made him glance down at him, a little surprised, but then Lucas was already busying himself, trying to find a comfortable position on the couch without leading Ava to start fussing again. The baby was growing quieter, too busy she was munching on the keys, and Eliott hadn’t realized yet how much his head was starting to hurt. He couldn’t even imagine what Lucas was going through. Maybe that’s why he had snapped at him the other day — it would definitely explain the change of mood between them.

Yeah.

That was probably that.

Eliott shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll be able to do much if in fifteen minutes she starts crying again.”

Lucas looked down, embarrassed, his eyes looking hazy enough to make it believable if he started to cry right there and then. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I was just joking, Lucas,” Eliott quickly said, and he nudged him slightly in the shoulder, pulling a face. “Timing might be a bit lame though, sorry.”

Why are you doing this? Why?

It was stupid. But it felt natural. How could you just fight comfort?

Lucas groaned, sighing a little as he rested his head on the edge of the couch. “I’m too tired to smile, you’ll have to wait for another day.”

Eliott snorted quietly, then shifted to sit down onto the couch. “I’ll just wait to see if we get past fifteen minutes,” he explained as Lucas drew his eyes on him with a quizzical expression.

“Twelve,” he replied, somber. “Last time it was twelve.”

Ava paused, her mouth wide open as she stopped chewing on the keys, and she seemed to take a particular interest into Eliott, her blue eyes staring at him as if she was wondering all of a sudden what he was doing here. Yeah, I’m wondering too, he said to himself.

“Well, we will wait and see,” he said out loud. “You know, one minute after the other.” He glanced at Ava, who had started busying herself with the plastic toys. “It seems to work, though.”

“Don’t get too cocky just yet,” Lucas huffed, adjusting his position on the couch with a ‘humph’. “I love Manon and I love Ava, but if I get the chance of escaping this hell for a week I’d happily take it, just saying. I just need some silence.”

At this point, the words sank in without particularly cause Eliott to suffer. It wasn’t that deep. It was easier than this time in high school Sofiane had started dating a girl and was talking about her all the time. It stung a little bit, but it was how it was. Nothing more to say.

Really.

“Talk to me, I can’t fall asleep with her,” Lucas mumbled, reclining Ava into his arms.

Eliott quirked a brow. “Why don’t you put her back to sleep?”

Lucas took a deep breath. “I’m afraid that if I stand up she’ll start stressing out or something. And right now my head hurts so much I can’t take that risk. I need my twelve minutes of calm and silence.”

“We’re already two minutes in, sorry.” Eliott laughed quietly when Lucas turned desperate eyes on him. “Okay. So. Hum. What do you want to talk about then?”

“I don’t know. Literally anything. What are you working on?” he asked without tearing his eyes away from Ava.

Eliott didn’t know much about babies (nothing, really), but it almost looked like Ava’s eyelids were going heavy. “Designing flyers and promos cards for a club. It’s kind of what I do most. Marketing and stuff. And I get free drinks and free tickets sometimes.”

“Sounds cool. Cooler than my job.”

“What kind of accountant are you?” Eliott asked, cocking his head a little.

“I, uh, I work for an agency that sets up seminars for companies and stuff. Kind of an event planning thing, but the opposite of the party type,” Lucas explained, lowering his voice. “Manon works there as well.”

“Oh,” Eliott replied, then he adjusted his voice to match the level of Lucas’. “Did you, uh, did you guys meet there or something?”

“Nah, we met in high school. We weren’t talking much back then, we kind of were onto different sides of a large circle of friends, and then we lost track of each other.” Lucas looked briefly at him then sank a little further into the couch. “We only reconnected, or rather, well, you know, connected, because I was delivering lots of stuff to the agency when she was an intern. It kinda fell into place like that. We practically met on a daily basis because of that and then we hung out together outside of work and stuff. After a while- well, after a while she started suggesting I should pick up my studies, just to get a better job. So I did eventually, I went for a quick training course and she got me a job in the same agency.” He smiled, then added: “She’s the best.”

Eliott tried to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

You don’t get to be upset.

You do not.

“I dropped out of art design school,” he said, almost whispering. It was the first thing that came to his mind as he was desperately trying to find another (safer) topic. Lucas glanced at him, looking interested, and Eliott rubbed the back of his neck, propping his right leg to rest his ankle on his left knee. “I didn’t want to waste so much of my time learning things I didn’t care about or that I knew already. I was bored so I took a few commissions outside from school. It was easy and fun and I got paid for this so after a while I just figured I could do well enough without a degree. Kind of useless when you’re doing in the self-employment department.”

Lucas had a ‘makes sense’ raise of eyebrows. In his arms, Ava was still clutching at the set of plastic keys but her eyes were getting heavier, drool dribbling down her chin. Eliott leaned forward and grabbed an abandoned towel on the coffee table, then handed it to Lucas who gave him a tired smile in return.

“Have you been living here for long?”, he asked, wiping her face clean.

“Almost five years. At first it was a bit expansive, but I didn’t want to back down and go back to living with my friend Idriss. It was fun and all but once you’ve tasted being on your own…”

“I’ve never lived alone. Funny right?” Lucas twisted his mouth in a crooked smile. “Before, I was living with my three friends, those you met the day I moved in. It was fine and cheap, but after some time the flat got crowded. Basile and Yann were dating and their girlfriends were constantly home and it got a bit too much for me at times. So I moved in with Manon for a while and now we’ve moved here because the other place was way too expansive.” He remained silent for a moment, then shook his head a little. “I’ll end up in my forties, letting everything and everyone down and just go live in Bali, I’m telling ya. Running on some beach every morning and stuff.”

“Sounds nice,” Eliott chuckled. “I’m more of a snow person though.”

Lucas cocked an eyebrow. “I never said you’d be there,” he deadpanned.

“Ow, that hurts.”

They shared one more glance and laughed quietly.

“I suppose I could make an effort and make a trip or two in Alaska every once in a while,” Lucas whispered casually after a minute or two. “You know, just to get away from all that vitamin D.”

Eliott smirked. “Yeah. Sure. The vitamin D.”

There was a silence as they stared at each other. It was a shame to see such beautiful eyes ruined by sleepless nights, Eliott couldn’t prevent himself from thinking. Now he was starting to understand what his mom meant when he wasn’t sleeping enough during his teenage years, and she always ended up complaining that it transformed his whole face. He had always brushed it away because that came from his mom, but maybe he was starting to get the point.

“Has it been twelve minutes already?”, Lucas asked.

“Nope. Why, I thought you needed your twelve minutes of silence?” Eliott teased softly, shifting a little on the couch to rest his elbow onto the backrest. “Don’t tell me you want them over already.”

“No, I just want to get a sign that she finally got tired enough to sleep for good.”

“What if she wakes up after thirteen minutes?”, Eliott didn’t resist to ask.

Lucas glared at him, but it was more endearing than strictly menacing, with the bags under his eyes and his messy hair. “I’ll hit you thirteen times if what you brought up brings bad luck.”

Eliott snorted, resting his head on his folded arm. “Alright then. Let’s wait and see.”