#btw just in case i have nothing against cloud. cloud is baby.

[depression-napping]

If only Cloud knew what he was saying and to whom

Just you try it, baby boy

(Edited for bigger pictures)

[amirasainz]

can you do more of baby!sainz crushing on lando and lando really likes it and flirt with her any time ++ carlos’s reaction

Of coure I can. This is a Part 2 story, so I would recommend reading the first part. My stories are usually seperate stories, however it was quiet fitting in this case. Btw, Carlos ec gf is mentioned, Isa I love writing requests for you guys and hope you enjoy reading my work. Let me know if you have any whishes! -XoXo

Three times when....Part 2

4. The Quadrant video

Ah, the delicate dance of family dynamics and romantic getaways—the kind that unfolds against the backdrop of sun-kissed beaches and whispered secrets. Carlos Sainz, the Ferrari sensation, had planned a romantic vacation with his girlfriend, seeking moments of stolen kisses and moonlit walks. And what better place than Bali to weave their love story?

But life, ever the mischievous storyteller, had other plans. A new Quadrant video emerged, casting its spotlight on the youngest Sainz sister. There stood Amira, flanked by Lando’s friends, Max and Keegan, her eyes fixed on Lando as he explained the rules of their karting challenge. Karting—a miniature ballet of speed and precision—would be their canvas.

Lando, the showman, draped his arm over Amira’s shoulder. His friend Keegan would take the wheel, aiming to beat Lando’s time. But first, Lando had to set the benchmark. As he zipped around the track, Amira’s gaze never wavered. Her words flowed like a river of admiration: “He is an amazing driver. It won’t take long before he takes his first win. Look how easy he makes it look.” Her grin was infectious, like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds.

And then, in a hushed whisper, she added, “Como un profesional.” Keegan and Max exchanged puzzled glances, their linguistic compass spinning in confusion. But Amira knew. She’d witnessed her friends’s journey—the sweat, the sacrifice, the hunger for victory. In that quiet moment, she held a secret: Lando Norris, the boy who’d captured her heart, was destined for greatness.

When Lando finally finished his run, he sprinted toward her. “And, what do you think, darling?" he teased. “Maybe I’ll be able to take you on a ride one day.” His flirtatious tone hung in the air, and apparently, it was working—because Amira was giggling.

Throughout the video, Lando would sweetly explain things to her while she had her whole attention on him. At the end, Max had to do the outro, because Lando was sitting in a kart with Amira on his lap. He clearly showed her things on the wheel, so he moved her hair aside and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"What the fuck did I just watch" thought Carlos to himself

5. The Spa crash

Carlos Sainz found himself in the midst of an interview when his eyes caught sight of his friend sliding across the treacherous Spa track. The Belgian circuit had claimed its share of lives over the years, and the rain only intensified its danger.

In that heart-stopping moment, Carlos’s mind painted worst-case scenarios. But then, relief flooded through him as Lando Norris responded to Sebastian Vettel’s thumbs-up signal and was soon escorted back to the safety of the team garages. Carlos wasted no time, ending the interview abruptly to ensure Lando’s well-being.

Yet, what awaited him upon his arrival was unexpected—a scene that tugged at his heartstrings. Lando stood in the rain, his little sister, Amira, by his side. Tears streamed down her face, and Carlos heard Lando’s soothing words: “I’m fine, darling. Nothing happened. It was just a little jump-scare. I promise, I’ll always come back to you.”

But Amira’s worry persisted. “How can you be so sure about that, Lando? What if—” she began, her voice trembling. Lando cut her off, determination in his eyes. “Hey, none of that, okay? It will take a thousand armies to keep me away from you, okay?” He waited for her nod, their bond unbreakable.

Carlos watched the scene unfold, touched by the depth of their friendship. He approached them, pulling them into a group hug, seeking solace in their shared connection. Together, they retreated into the warmth of the Ferrari garage, a sanctuary against the rain-soaked night.

Later, as Carlos settled into bed with his girlfriend, Isa, he recounted the events. “I didn’t know the two of them were such good friends,”he mused. Isa sighed, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You truly know nothing, Carlos Sainz.”

6. DJ Lando

Ah, the nightlife—the pulsing heartbeat of music, neon lights, and secrets whispered in the dark. Lando Norris, the McLaren sensation, was no stranger to the DJ booth, spinning beats that made the crowd sway and lose themselves. Clubs welcomed him like an old friend, and this weekend was no exception.

But amidst the thumping bass and swirling lights, something shifted. A new presence graced the scene: Amira, Carlos little sister. Her usual decline to join club outings had become a predictable pattern, making Carlos’s job as the protective older brother straightforward. Yet this time, she stood there, defying expectations.

And what a sight she was—dressed in a short dress, high heels elongating her legs. Lando kept her close, his arm around her waist or fingers tucked under her hairtie. Carlos’s attention zeroed in on them—the way Lando leaned in, whispering things in Amira’s ear. Her cheeks flushed crimson, embarrassment or amusement dancing across her face. What secrets did they share? Carlos couldn’t fathom, and it gnawed at him.

Lando’s proximity to his sister grated on Carlos’s nerves. Why was he so close? What did he want from Amira? The frustration simmered, and Carlos’s annoyance grew. Why hadn’t anyone clued him in? The club’s rhythm pulsed around them, but Carlos’s mind spun with questions. Perhaps it was time to confront Lando, to unravel the mystery that danced between them.

[joontier]

4:23AM | drabble

–> Pairings: jimin x reader

–> Rating:  R

–> Genre/warnings: established relationship!au; swearing; pwp basically, smut (grinding, explicit sex, exhibitionism, slight boob play, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex – male and female receiving, cum swallowing, daddy kink, clothed sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms)

–> Word count: 2k

–> A/N: Happy Fathers’ Day y’all! Here’s a drabble to show some love for Daddy! Jimin~ btw, this is heavily unedited too jeezhus I just had to post this BECAUSE I FINISHED THIS JUST THIS MORNING ASFSIDFJASIF

bts m.list | navi

It’s freezing.

A shiver runs through your body, the goosepimpled skin of your legs rubbing against each other at the cold. You pull the duvet over you and the smaller person asleep beside you. Shifting your position on the bed, you turn to face your daughter, gazing at the little girl as light snores escaping her pouted lips snuggling her stuffed toy closer to her chest.

Your face crumples at the endearing sight. With a wide grin plastered on your face, you brush off a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face. She looks so much like your husband – pouty lips, round cheeks and all. As she shifts in her sleep, you see her giggle a little all the while mumbling incoherent words.

You leave your daughter be, rising from the bed and tucking your daughter under the sheets. Padding through the carpeted floor cautiously, you exit the room you’ve shared with Hanbyul for the night. As you close the door, your line of vision focuses on your husband who was currently sprawled out on the couch, back facing you as his arm is slung over the back rest and a leg dangling off the side.

There are clothes and toiletries strewn across the place, resultant of your late arrival at the hotel last night. In fact, the entire trip had been a major headache for you. If it weren’t only for Hanbyul’s excitement for her sixth birthday celebration at Tokyo Disneyland today and Jimin’s mutual enthusiasm for it, you don’t think you would have endured yesterday.

As you find Jimin’s wonderfully round ass particularly inviting, you join your husband on the couch, spooning him and looping your arms around his torso. You start planting tender kisses along his neck and across the expanse of his exposed collarbone due to the loose shirt he’s chosen to sleep in. “Mhmm…” Jimin groans against the couch, readjusting himself so he’s facing you.

Humming with delight, you let the pads of your fingers trail over his face, tracing his cheekbone down to his jawline. He’s so beautiful, even if he’s like this, half-asleep with a small grin etched on his face.

Jimin peels one eye open, blindly retrieving his phone from a nearby table and checking the time. “Baby, it’s 4:23AM. Look.” He twists the device in his palm to show you the screen, the white digits blending in with the background picture of the three of you taken during a recent holiday trip to New Zealand.

Frankly, time had never been an issue before when it came to both your private needs, but ever since Hanbyul came to your lives, you consider yourself lucky when you get at least five hours of sleep in a day. Having second thoughts, you decide that this probably wasn’t the best time for sex, so with a contented sigh, you turn your body over to the other side, letting him spoon you.

You close your eyes, letting your fatigue lull you back to sleep. Jimin pulls you closer using the arm slung over your waist until your ass meets his crotch – his rather…hard crotch. Your breath hitches.

Honestly? Fuck sleep, rest be damned.  

Arching your back even more so your ass grinds against his boner, Jimin’s hands find your thighs, occasionally squeezing as they go trail irregular patterns on them. “Honey, I thought you said it was 4:23AM?”

“I know, love. But I didn’t exactly tell you stop, did I?”

Next thing you knew, you feel pillowy lips attach themselves on your neck, nipping and sucking on that sensitive spot just under your jaw. The action already has you whimpering, and Jimin takes this opportunity to let a cold hand travel under your shirt, squeezing at your breasts.

You likewise slide a hand between your bodies, grabbing at his already throbbing length underneath the confines of his sweatpants. Lust courses through your veins as you see his cock straining against the cotton of his Puma sweats, clearly wearing nothing else underneath. Ah, bless Jimin and his sleeping habits.

As you get on your knees on the floor, you adjust the faux fur rug under your knees so they won’t be too sore later. You tug on the garter of his sweatpants, Jimin lifting his hips a little so you can pull them down to his meaty thighs. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“How ‘bout we put that mouth to good use, hmm?” With one hand at the base of his shaft, he gently tap the tip of his cock on your lips, goading you to open them. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

“Yes,” you mewl, obeying in an instant. You replace his hold on his length with yours, placing kitten licks on the bulbous head. Ever so slowly, you take him in your mouth, his cock smooth yet hard and heavy on your tongue. Looking up through your eyelashes, you see your husband gazing at you intently, eyes clouded with lust.

His staring only encourages you further, taking more and more of him until he reaches the back of your throat, trying not to gag at the full feeling of your mouth enclosed on his. Jimin inhales sharply as you swallow. “Yes…fuck, baby girl, just like that.” Your pussy clenches on nothing at his words so you resort to rubbing your thighs together, hoping that the friction will help ebb your raging hormones.

It doesn’t. It never works.

You find your rhythm as you bob your head up and down his cock, swirling your tongue around his length as you do so. Jimin begins thrusting up to you as holds your hair, fingers forming a makeshift ponytail. “Shit, baby…I-“ Reaching one hand up, you take his balls into your palm and knead them sensually, making him come undone at your will. Soon enough, Jimin’s hips stutter, his cock throbbing inside your mouth.  

“That’s right, swallow for me, kitten.” Rope after rope of cum travel down your throat as you comply, Jimin gently carding his fingers through your hair in praise as you milk him completely.

Jimin pulls you into his lap to kiss you feverishly, his tongue languidly moving against yours. Moaning wantonly, your hips undulate, grinding your clothed cunt against Jimin’s once-more hardening cock. “God, you’re so wet, baby. You’ve always loved sucking Daddy’s cock, don’t you?” You know he feels how drenched you are even with only the thin cloth of your boyshorts separating your sexes.  

You only take your bottom lip between your teeth in approval, wanting nothing else but his cock inside you, now. Jimin coos at your evident desire, but he tells you he’s not going to fuck you until he gets to taste your pussy first.

He lays you down on the couch, tugging your underwear down, the cold air hitting your bare pussy making you shiver. Jimin’s mouth makes contact with your core, immediately assaulting you with his tongue. He slips the wet appendage through your folds and into your pussy, thrusting deeply.

Hooking his arms under your thighs, he pulls you closer to him, your cunt under constant abuse as he licks, sucks, and nips at your clit. You’re a writhing mess on the couch, cold beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead. The moment he lets a finger slip through your folds, you almost come undone, clenching all over his digits as that coil inside your stomach tightens. A fresh wave of pleasure courses through you when he adds another finger, body quaking as your orgasm hits you.

Just as you let your body fall limp on the couch, your husband places a chaste kiss on your lips, telling you that he’s not done with you just yet. Letting out a squeal in excitement, Jimin revels in your mutual eagerness, already lifting your shirt off your torso.

“No, no. Leave the shirt on.”

Swinging a leg over his lap to straddle him, you give him a reply. “Mhmm, kinky.” Jimin chortles at your comment, telling you that keeping your shirt on served another purpose, just in case your now-six-year-old daughter comes barging out of the room. You pause midway, surprised at how you totally forgot that your daughter was one door away from discovering how babies were made.

“It’s fine,” Jimin reassures you, rubbing at your thighs. He slowly guides you to bend forward for him, hands gently squeezing your waist. “It’ll be fine if you stay quiet. Can you do that for me, love?”.Placing the back of your forearms on the armrest for support, you brace yourself for Jimin’s girthy cock, ass wriggling in anticipation. As you nod your head, Jimin gets to work, grabbing hold of his cock and sliding it against your wet folds, lubricating his dick with your own essence.

“Daddy, p-please…” You’re starting to get impatient with his ministrations and before you tell him to fuck you already, Jimin plunges his cock to you in one smooth motion. You let out a loud cry at his action, eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Your husband places a hand by your nape, bending you forward even more. This angle only allows him to sink himself deeper into your cunt so you cup a hand over your mouth, struggling to keep your moans at bay. Jimin thrusts languidly against you, each snap of his hips enough to graze the sweet spot inside.

The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin resonates throughout the room, your cunt squelching loudly as Jimin relentlessly fucks himself into you. He bends forward in an attempt to get closer, deeper into your cunt. As he cups your clothed breasts, consecutively pinching and tweaking your hardened nipples over your…his shirt on you, Jimin maintains his pace, reveling at the sensation of your velvety walls tightly wrapped against his cock. You chase after your second orgasm, sliding a hand between your legs to play with your clit. Your elbows give in under the pleasure combined with Jimin’s weight on you. Body quaking endlessly, Jimin whispers praises by your ear, egging you to go one last time, as if to make up for the month-long drought you both had to endure.  

Your husband flips you over with ease, muscles rippling as he hooks an arm over your waist, making you lie on your back. Cheeks flushed and hair a little matted with sweat, your tongue darts out to lick at your lips, delighted at the sight of your husband looking just as wrecked as you are.

Slamming into you once more, Jimin continues to toy with your clit, bringing you to another orgasm when you still haven’t properly recovered from how strong the previous one was. “Last one, baby girl. C’mon, cum one more time for daddy.” You hands find a throw pillow to hold on to for dear life, knuckles turning white as your grip tightens, just as tight as how your pussy clenches around his cock, completely milking him for all he’s got. Jimin stills as he reaches his climax, balls pressing heavily against your ass.

Your husband pulls out seconds later, breathlessly falling to your side. As you both lay there on the couch, chests heaving as you pant heavily after your climaxes. Your ears catch onto a soft thud coming from inside the room, signaling that your daughter had woken up,

“Chim, Hanbyul!”

Jumping in alarm, your husband quickly pulls his sweatpants back up just in the nick of time, while you cross your legs, pulling your shirt lower to cover the evidence of your intimacies, yours and Jimin’s cum now trailing down your thighs.

“How’s my little princess?” Jimin calls out with a smile on his face, standing to greet your daughter as Hanbyul sleepily rubs the back of her hands against her eyes. “It’s still early, darling. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Jimin guides Hanbyul back to the room, before turning on his heel to face you. “Bath. Round 2,” your husband mouths, turning around again to lull Hanbyul back to sleep.

Despite the soreness you feel between your legs, you obey Jimin nonetheless, heading towards the bathroom with a spring on your step. 

All rights reserved. hhyungz 2020

[tobiosmilktea]

Hi is it ok if to ask a scenario on how y/n tamed the super energetic captain terushima? Like that would be super cute don't you think? Btw love your stories💖💖💖💖 soooo cute

figure 8s — terushima yuuji

2.5k words | genre/s: fluff | warning/s: mentions of blood, terushima’s kinda ooc?? | pairing: terushima x gn!reader

↪︎ in which your cold demeanor tamed johzenji’s infamous volleyball captain

a/n: this took so long to write! i’m getting over another bad case of writers block and i’m not sure if this was something you were looking for, def not my best work. i’m really sorry it took a while to get it posted, so enjoy!

you believed it was the way you had never thought of becoming friends with someone as juvenile as terushima yuuji that was the cause of your daily migraines. to his constant thunderous childlike behavior or how he would flirt with literally anyone if he was bored enough. terushima liked to think you and him were close—best friends even, but with the amount of times he had hit every nerve by flirting with you and teasing, you thought the complete opposite.

the two of you had gotten into a little argument again earlier this morning.

it was callow and stupidly unnecessary, anyone who knew of your usually quiet and aloof personality knew you wouldn’t even spare energy getting into one with terushima. you didn’t even want to think about it as granted, it was about his usual antics of flirting with a random first year the moment you two walked onto johzenji high. it was so unlike you to care so much about him flirting with someone other than yourself. perhaps it was the way a foreign feeling of raving moths that ravaged your gut when you watched him ask for that girl’s number like it was nothing. 

it’s not like he’s gonna call you anyway, you thought selfishly to yourself as the first year walked away.

and as icy cold as you were, you were always the type to still give a little too much effort and care into things that most wouldn’t (not to you anyway). and surely, you shouldn’t be worrying about not apologizing to a boy who started your verbal quarrel in the first place when you opted to giving the cold shoulder afterwards. you had nothing to apologize for anyway and yet there you were—resting on a far from comfortable chair in your classroom during lunch alone as you stare outside. 

you couldn’t think. well... you could, but all your could think about was remembering the ghosting sensation of having butterflies in your stomach early this morning. you couldn’t help but internally gag as your mind suddenly flickered towards the realization, jealousy?

no, it couldn’t be. how could you be jealous over terushima giving attention to someone else when you’ve been rejecting his advances the moment you two met in your first year?

your glare had left the cerulean skies of miyagi as it eventually fell back on a blank sheet of paper within your progressively numbed hand. it was cramped into the same position for eons as you gripped your pen within your hand. held tightly until your knuckles bled white and all your veins ached for blood flow, until the muscles in your hand ached in agony, until you felt your trimmed fingernails finally cut deep within your skin that bled crimson. the baby hairs that were obviously too short to stay tamed, tapered and framed down your face as you looked down upon the bloody stain on your paper.

feelings like this were far too foreign to you, far too dangerous as you even had the audacity to write a letter of your compiled forms of withering memoirs, serendipities you yearned to achieve, and even the surprising downpour of jealousy you wished you never felt. you assumed that writing them all down would suffice in ridding yourself of such feelings.

you dropped the pen as you bore holes into your hand with your hard gaze. crescent-shaped lacerations had divided your skin as even the lingering sting of wounded flesh didn’t really affect you. you cursed under your breath as you grabbed a tissue out of your bag to quickly wipe up the blood.

the padding of shoes against the floor of the loud classroom had gotten louder as if someone was approaching you, hitching a breathe within you as you swiftly shoved the slightly bloody paper under your english textbook. johzenji’s setter, takeharu come into view as he threw you a calm smile while you quickly hid your hands under your desk.

“hey, sorry to bother you (y/l/n), but are you okay?” the setter gently asked, yet it was laced with hesitance and caution as they were talking to you.

you shrug you shoulders, muttering through your teeth. “could be better, but i’m fine.”

“oh okay, that’s good.” takeharu response in the same awkward tone. could you tell you two hadn’t talked much? “you and terushima have been ignoring each other,” he then adds.

“really?” you scoffed, “i haven’t noticed.”

a soft chuckle left takeharu’s lips as he scratched the back of his head, “well, um, he’s been kinda annoying us lately. he’s been asking about you all day, but refuses to talk to you.”

your gaze flickers towards the setter, curiosity kindling within you. “why is he so stubborn about it?” you miffed.

“you tell me, (y/l/n).” there was something persuasive about his articulation, that even if takeharu was implying some sly arrangement, you couldn’t help but play along with it. “you two have petty arguments all the time that end up not being that serious, what happened this time?”

“the usual misunderstanding,” was all you could reveal, anything else and you would’ve landed yourself a one-way ticket towards absolute embarrassment.

takeharu scoffs, “of course it is. now, listen, terushima is acting weirdly and obviously that’s going to affect our volleyball practice, like i seriously don’t want extra drills just cause you keep ignoring him.” his thoughts lingered for a second, “i don’t know what you two argued about, but i think you two should talk and clarify some things and just become friends again.”

“we were barely friends to begin with, takeharu.” you asserted, your gaze finally turning to meet his in your usual deadpan expression.

“really?” he inquired, testing the waters he knew was perilous to trek on. “that’s not what i remembered when i saw you two skipping class that one day, or how you two are always with each other during lunches—”

a slight warm sensation reached your cheeks as you shook your head, “you’re looking to far into it. terushima’s the one who comes up to me and i just talk to him because i’m bored and have nothing else to do.”

“right, of course.”

a smirk melted upon takeharu’s visage and to what you would usually want to wipe that smug look off his face, you only turned away to hide the blush rising on your expression. “and that’s all it was,” you concluded. “besides, i’m pretty sure he has a massive crush on karasuno’s volleyball manager.”

“oh yeah, i think everybody knows that.” the setter laughs as if it were to lighten up the mood a bit more, but the look on your face when he said that made him recoil a bit. “b-but since he finally found someone he actually goes to school with and is actually his age, maybe—”

“maybe nothing,” you immediately cut him off, “are you forgetting how much of a fuckboy he is?”

“personally, i think he’s more of a playboy since he just flirts and doesn’t sleep around, but I get what you’re saying.” takeharu mutters matter-of-factly before continuing, “and obviously i’m not forgetting that fact, but based on how differently he acted today now that you were giving him the silent treatment, I think you actually have a shot.”

you brows furrow, “a shot at what?”

“taming the infamously untameable volleyball captain, terushima yuuji.”

you audibly scoff, feigning yourself from bursting out laughing at the idea. 

“think about it.” the setter starts again as you two look at each other attentively, “almost everyone here knows that you and terushima have a thing going, whether or not you two actually like each other. not that i’m saying you should live up to the peer pressure, but you two literally look like the epitome of opposites attract in a shoujo manga. what do you think would happen?”

“something unfortunate, that’s for sure.”

takeharu could only roll his eyes again, amusement lighting up his features as he shook his head at the notion. “i still think you should talk to him. lunch isn’t really over yet, either.”

you audibly groan as the setter suddenly forces you to get up out of your chair, “do i have to?”

“yes!” he exclaimed, “please, he’s being so annoying.”

the school’s crowded hallways surrounded you. you typically liked having your personal space, so having to be casually bumping shoulders with others as you walked through the hallway was literally your worst nightmare. perhaps it was the simmering and leftover fervor from your argument that your jungle-mind was too clouded with the thought of having even an inch of feelings for the volleyball captain. despite knowing where terushima’s classroom was, you weren’t even trying to find him anymore, instead, you wandered the labyrinthine corridors in self-indulgence until you managed to stumble upon the restrooms. they were right near terushima’s classroom.

you relieved yourself before cleansing your hands from the wet crimson that dried into a burnished brown. you didn’t have any bandages on you and you certainly weren’t in the mood to walk all the way to the nurses office, so you opted in wrapping your hand with two layers of toilet paper before trekking back out into the hallways.

a sigh escaped from your lips as you stepped into terushima’s classroom.

to your surprise, he was actually sitting at his desk for once and not walking around his classroom talking to others. rather, he did have others around him making conversation, but it wasn’t like terushima was active in their talkative endeavors in the first place, anyway.

“i’m here to make amends,” you announce, folding your arms over your chest as the students who surrounded the volleyball captain noticed your blinding presence and backed away slightly.

“did takeharu send you?” terushima questioned as he arched a brow at you.

“yeah,” you immediately answer only to be responded by the tilting confusion of terushima’s head in disbelief. “...but it was on my own accord as well.”

a chuckle emits from his lips as he nods, “okay then, you can continue.”

the hint of playfulness in terushima’s voice made it difficult for you to speak of your apology seriously. with the sense of lightness within the air, suddenly bringing up their past argument would surely eliminate the casual aura. “i...” you almost hesitates and you didn’t know why. fuck it, you thought. “i wanted to apologize for overreacting this morning. i honestly don’t even know why i got so affected by you flirting with others when i shouldn’t even care.”

the words spilled out of your mouth faster than anticipated and you immediately felt embarrassed. you weren’t used to apologizing despite certain faults in your past, you would never get used to it. you would certainly never get used to the hard gaze terushima’s expression fell into the moment you offered some form of remorse. and to what you assumed would be another form of reciprocated antagonizing of your character, a simple, yet small grin tugged at terushima’s lips as he looked at you. for a moment, you felt your heart stop.

how charming.

“it’s alright,” he replied positively, taking you aback. “it’s quite funny, though—how you acted. i was genuinely surprised, (y/n).”

you raised a brow at the boy before you, “really?”

“well, my feelings have always been a product of being played by you.” terushima slyly suggested a fact that you weren’t even aware of. he shifted his weight upon his chair as you remained speechless, “i always thought my feelings were obvious for you, (y/n).”

your eyebrows furrow into confusion as you noticed how everyone suddenly gave you and the volleyball captain space. “they were jokes, weren’t they?”

“and how would you know they were jokes?” he tested.

“you flirt with everyone.”

“only to get you jealous enough to like me back,” he fired back as you were found speechless once more.

your gaze that fell to the floor had flicked upon terushima, sighing as you shifted awkwardly from your stance in front of him, “i don’t get it.” you said when you leaned your weight against a desk behind you. “why me?”

terushima shrugs, “you were a challenge—a confusing one that is,” he confesses, “usually, people would either be too easy to win over or reject me straight up. meanwhile, you neither gotten easily won over or had rejected me, so i continued to be by your side until you noticed i was serious about my feelings for you.”

“you know i hate it when people aren’t being straight up with me, yuuji.” 

yuuji, the way your voice said his name was music to terushima’s ears as it kept repeating it in his head. he was so obviously wrapped around your finger, you didn’t even notice. you rarely called him this, but when you do, you were being serious. “i know, i just figured at some point you could’ve just completely told me to fuck off if you really wanted to... but you didn’t.”

you really didn’t. that was your complete downfall and realization that you possibly had feelings for johzenji’s volleyball captain. it filled you up with so much ichor, you assumed that maybe your feelings of annoyance for him was simply a facade. perhaps you hated the fact that you actually enjoyed terushima’s boisterous presence that you even felt you heart steadily quicken the more and more he poured his feelings out to you. god, you were a mess on the inside, but on your exterior, you visage was still as deadpanned as before.

“you’re right,” you finally spoke from a brief period of silence. “perhaps you’re not as annoying as i thought you were.”

“so you’re not mad at me?” he asks innocently.

you shake you head, “why would i? i was the one who got jealous in the first place.”

terushima could feel the corners of his lips tug into a smirk, “is this your way of confessing to me, (y/n)?”

“yes and that’s all you’re getting from me, yuuji.” at that point, you couldn’t help but put a small smile on your face as he offered his hand for you. graciously taking his calloused hands into you soft ones because you thought you two were doing your signature hand shake, terushima had actually pulled you into an embrace.

you two held each other for a good second, almost in awe as this was both out of your characters to be in each other’s arms, but it honestly felt nice. you and terushima had almost forgotten the tense air that was between you two the entire school day until it was interrupted by the loud ringing of the school bell.

[inessencedevided]

The Untamed, episode 45 - watching notes

I'm at this stage of fandom rn where it's really hard to concentrate on anything else 😅

Every song I listen to gets dissected for how it relates to wangxian

I need to concentrate on my thesis but instead I'm pondering how the untamed raises questions about collectivism vs individualism and how my western perception of that might differ greatly from a native chinese person or even the author's intention

Can't I just write my thesis about THAT?

Alas, I digress ...

Back to our regular programming :D

Last time one Sophie watches the untamed wwx went all Sherlock on us and used his formidable skills of deduction to expose Backpfeifengesicht's plan of killing everyone and blaming it on wwx

I've heard from several people that the next few episodes are their favourites, so no high expectations at all :D

Nobody wipes the blood on their chins away. Might be about the aesthetic

I adore detective-duo-wangxian so much!! Especially because wwx does 99% of the talking but then lwj will chime in with a single word and it's 100% devastating :D

If anyone knows any well written case-fics for these two, please, I need recs! (For after the show)

Backpfeifengesicht makes good one point and that is that jgy already is at the top of the cultivation world. So what does he gain from all this?

Or is it simply that he's afraid of wwx because he's a rebel and might act against him? (Don't answer that. I wanna find out through the show ;))

Wwx just casually revealed that he's been to cloud recess and that he handles went to the restricted section forbidden chamber. What will you do about, Lan Qiren? Huh? 😂

Oooh! Backpfeifengesicht is the ghosted faced man! I thought it was Jiggy himself!!! 😱

That makes way more sense though!

Lan Sizhui! Jin Ling! Oh you brave boys! 😭

Someone hold me 😭

But why does he not take zidian now? He's done so before!

"You little fool!" Is "I love you" in Jiang-Cheng-speak :D

"We're done for! What can we do??" - wwx *strips*

Sorry

Bahahaha 😂😂😂

I just burst out laughing waaay to loudly for the fact that I've got people sleeping in the room next to mine

But look at Lan Qiren when he sees wwx strop to reveal anat is probably his nephew's undershirt 😂😂😂

He's probably questioning every decision that's let him to this point :D

This is completely inconsequential,but I couldn't keep quiet about it anymore because I every time he makes this motion, it always sends a shiver down my spine!!! Notice that wwx (or rather Xiao Zhan) is one of these people whose fingers bend in the opposite direction??? I know it's just a normal thing some people can do, but I can't watch it!! It makes my fingers hurt just looking at it 🙈🙈🙈

Is he turning himself into a demon lure flag?? 😱

Lan Jingyi 🥺🥺🥺

Also does wwx now just transfer his self-sacrificing tendencies to lwj?

Nothing is as hot as these two together in a fight scene

Jiang Cheng doesn't want to leave them behind. He does care! :') he just never unlearned how to unravel his love from his anger

Sizhui running up to greet his dads :')

Look at them! I'm soft guys 💔

He called him Yuan!! 😭😭😭

So this is it. Any doubts I ever had about Sizhui's identity are gone

Will he finally recognize him??

Why don't you say anything lwj? This one time, I beg you!!

Sect Leader Yao still at his gossip shit even 16 years later 🙄

Lam sizhyi is seasick! Why is this so cute! 😭

Oh Wen Ning!! He recognized A-Yuan? Right?

I want to hug Lan Sizhui for his openness and kindness towards everyone he meets, no matter their status or what other people say about them! (Wen Ning now or who he thought was Mo Xuanyu the supposed mad-man) and I wanna hug lan Wangji right after for raising him to be like this :')

Oh Wen Ning! 😭

That's how I'd look at Sizhui, too, if I met him - poor unadulterated wonder :')

And just think about what that means for Wen Ning! He's not the last of the Wens! All their fight wasn't for nothing. This child, their legacy, survived 😭😭😭

"Can I call you A-Yuan" "Of Course." God I'm gonna burst into tears 😭

I'm actually bursting into tears!!

Isn't this the dream of anyone who has ever lost someone? :')

"He's like a brother and father to me" :')

And he raised him from when he was 4 or 5? So ... A-Yuan was about 2 when the Wens died? Right? Then 5 would fit with lwj's 3 year isolation

Ob god, it's the butterfly-toy!!! 😭😭😭

Wen Nings smiling through his tears! I can't! 😭💔And he's got the one from the market!

Aww, wax isn't wearing the white undergarment anymore. Too bad

Oh poor Jin Ling ...

So much grieve that he could probably never process. There so many lost kids in this story, hurt by things they had no control over 😔

I mean, I get it. That's the person who killed his parents (without being in control, but he doesnt know that) and everyone is just talking to him as if it's normal and that didn't happen. But he can't forget,but he doesnt really understand either and he has no outlet. Of course he'd just ... crash 😥

And who would have thought I'd ever try at a flashback of Jin Zixuan's death :(

For once, it'd be nice if the adults actually acted like the parent figures they're supposed to be and explain things to their children 🤦‍♀️

I'm so thankful though, that no one even thinks of scolding him for crying. Jismg Cheng only asked who it was that made him cry (and looks like he'll kick their ass). Generally, thus show has a very healthy attitude towards tears. Most characters cry when they are faced with tragedy, regardless of gender. Men being allowed to have appropriate reactions to grieve (instead of a single men tear or just punching things) is really nice to see

Oh Yao dude whose courtesy name I can't remember, shut up!

Thanks Ouyang Zizhen! You get me

I live for these children standing up to their elders

Meanwhile Nie Huaisang is just on the sidelines, enjoying the show :D never change!

The Lotus Pier theme song alone is making me cry rn 😢

Why can't wen Ning come in?

Oh Sizhui!

He many times do you want to make me cry happy tears today?? :')

Little turnip-baby ❤

But why doesn't lwj say anything ??? 😭

Lan Wangji raised A-Yuan smong a bunch of rabbits??? 😭

Now he's a turnip baby with a taste for carrots, how cute is that? :')

Holy shit, wwx and lwj are really joined at the hip these days of lwj won't enter the hall if wwx isn't allowed to :D

Lwj 😑 "no misbehaviour"

Someone. Knows. Their. Husband.

Okay sorry, but as painful as these cuts must have been and yes, while you do see scars on this prostitute's face, they in no way warrant these horrified gasps as of they had all seen a monster 🙄

Xue yang. Fancy seeing you here in this not at all disturbing sub-plot 😬

Okay that's creepy. That's really creepy

Shouldn't Jin Guangyao have a bit more compassion for these women?

On the other hand, he was born to menacingly stand behind a curtain 🤷‍♀️

W. T. F. ????

Jin Guangshan??? o___O

That's the most skin we've ever seen on this show and it's in a scene like THIS? 😬

THIS IS HOW JIN GUANGSHAN DIED? 😱😱😱

How?

How can you die from sex?

And then jgy made them keep going?

UGH

These poor women :/

So there's someone who set her free on purpose, right?

Bicao has really interesting eyes!

Oh wait, took me some time to catch up. This is about Quin Su and why she killed herself, right?

WHAT??

They were siblings o_O

They just went full game of thrones on this ...

Hey Jin Guangshan, screw you for raping that woman

Wait, is that why jgy had him die like THAT?

I'm so confused about how that happened btw

But why would Jin Guangyao merry quin su anyway? Was this some kind of political marriage that he couldn't call off?

This episode answered some of my questions but raised about a dozen more 😅

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose

5 episodes to go. I'm both happy because I can't wait to brows the untamed tag without looking for spoilers and extremely sad 🥺

Right now I'm planning to watch one episode each day until friday and then watch the last two on Saturday, hopefully quite early, so I can spend the rest of the day crying my eyes out over it, without having to worry about such trivial things as being a functioning adult or a responsible student 😅

[nctsoftskz]

no fear is childish | l. keonhee

word count: 1.1k A/N: hello!! I hope this was what you had in mind when you requested! If it’s not the case, feel free to request again, i’ll gladly write for this bub again! I had a lot of fun writing it, thank you for requesting! Requests are still open btw!! :D

You just finished watching the last episode of your series and decided to go to sleep. It was pretty dark outside and Keonhee was already in bed, he came back very tired and drenched from practice. He had to run from the bus stop to your shared since he had forgotten to bring an umbrella. You scolded him for having his head in the clouds and he retorted that the weather forecast hadn’t announced it last night, which was indeed the case.

You turned all the lights off as well as the TV and you headed to the bathroom to do your night routine. You closed the curtains in your room and noticed that it was really dark outside and still pouring cats and dogs. You hoped that the weather wouldn’t be too bad because you weren’t extremely fond of thunderstorms and you dragged yourself to your bed as you felt the tiredness suddenly hitting you straight in the face. You brought to duvet up to your chest and quietly fell asleep to the sound of the pouring rain.

A few hours later, a loud clap of thunder woke you up with a start from your deep slumber, a hand to your heart. Since you were young, you had always been scared of thunderstorms. The loud sudden noises, the downpour, the strong wind, everything felt menacing and you absolutely hated it. You didn’t understand how people could find this whole situation relaxing.

When you were younger, you used to scream and cry when the storm was going on outside, threatening the world, it scared you so much that your mom or dad had to come and sleep with you to get rid of your fear and put you back to sleep. Now, your fear wasn't as strong as it used to be, but you still need some comfort to go back to sleep.

When you saw the sky suddenly getting illuminated, you held the comforter above your head and closed your eyes as you anticipated the loud clap. When you reopened them, it’s exactly at this time that the loud clap tore the sky in two and you shrieked, sinking even lower under the covers. You felt the tears gathering in your eyes, but you tried your hardest not to cry, in order not to wake up Keonhee. He was peacefully sleeping next to you, unbothered and oblivious to the chaos that was taking place outside. You debated on whether you should wake him up or not, but you saw your boyfriend shift from under the comforter.

Keonhee emerged from his sleep and was confused. It was still dark outside, his alarm wasn’t going off, but he swore that something woke him up. A shriek to be more precise. He turned to face you, but you weren’t there. His frown got deeper and looked at the bathroom door to see if the light was turned on, but everything was dark, except for the few lightning bolts that were illuminating the room through the curtain.

You wiped your eyes and cursed yourself for being so loud when you saw your boyfriend awakening. Your ultimate goal was to not disturb him in his sleep and you completely failed. 

“Y/N, where are you?” He mumbled and you whined, feeling guilty. Noticing the unusual shape under the covers, he wanted to lift them up, but you beat him to it. You peeked from the duvet, holding still tightly and met Keonhee’s eyes. You looked frightened to death and he was even more confused than before. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked while rubbing his eyes after having switched on the bedside table. A thunderclap prevented you from answering and you disappeared under the covers, again. “Is the thunder scaring you?” He softly smiled and yawned, immediately sending another wave of guilt through your bones. You mumbled a quiet “yes” and remained hidden under your cotton shield. He chuckled and shifted closer to you, his body warmth already bringing you a sort of reassurance. His hands blindly reached out for your body and dragged you closer by the waist. He kissed the top of your head and reassuringly rubbed your lower back. You take in his body odour and closed your eyes.

He felt himself drifting back to sleep, but he was reawakened at every time you flinched because of a random thunderclap. 

“Close your eyes babe, you will keep getting scared if you see the flashes of lightning.” “I’m trying, but it’s not that easy,” you mumbled as you anticipated the next one. “You should’ve woken me up at the beginning of the storm,” he whispered against your forehead. “I’m sorry, Keonhee..."  “It’s alright, love, you’ll know for next time, alright?” he softly pushed your head deeper in his collarbone and you shut your eyes as a lightning bolt appeared in the sky and crashed in the park not far from your building. “Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be alright. I’m here, just focus on me, baby.” He whispered as he dried your tears with the back of his hand. You nodded, trying to convince yourself and you held onto him tight. You had an arm around your boyfriend’s neck and the other grabbing tightly the fabric of his pyjama top. He started humming a soft melody and you tried to focus on that and his hand in your hair.

You still flinched a bit here and there as you could hear the thunder moving to another part of the city, making you relax a bit.

“It’s going away sweetie, you can go back to sleep now, alright?” he suggested and you nodded. “I’m sorry for waking you, it’s a bit childish.” “Hey,” he said, taking hold of your chin to look at him in the eyes, “everyone has their fears, it’s human to be scared of something. No fear is childish. If you wanna compete on that, I’m scared of pigeons, find something more childish than that.” You giggled at his words and kissed his cheek. [A/N: I’m not making fun of it, I actually relate, birds are flying DEMONS]

“Thank you, honey,” you said and your boyfriend softly smiled. “It’s nothing. You were brave to go through this. Let’s get some rest before the sun goes up.”

Nothing felt better than falling asleep in Keonhee’s arms, feeling safe and loved in his powerful hold.

[bloommelon]

Everything Is Blue

WARNINGS: severe angst, suicidal themes, suggestive sexual content, eventual suicide, mental illnesses, eventual character death, unhappy ending, suicidal content, graphic suicide

A/N: please don't read if you're depressed, this is a very sad story but im proud of it because I actually finished something for ONCE. NONE of this is based on real life, it's all fiction. Jaehyun just fit my idea of this character, and I hope no one gets the wrong idea that I tried to glamorize suicide. And also, I do not feel suicidal and I am not depressed because of writing this, i simply got this idea while thinking I should try and write angst. On another note, I hope whoever reads this likes it or at least it makes you feel some type of emotion. Thank you. *i did not proofread at all btw*

Song: Colors by Halsey

✖✖✖✖

August 3rd

Jaehyun and I sat in a field of Nemophila by the river, the sun shining and clouds floating above us eating strawberries and our laughter filling the hot summer air. Jaehyun had taken me to the museum to see his favorite painting an hour beforehand, telling me it reminded him of me. It was a simple painting, blue sky with fluffy white clouds on a sunny day. I'd almost stayed home that day, not wanting to go anywhere due to a flurry of sudden panic attacks that week. "When you're feeling anxious, come here and call me and I'll come as quick as I can." At that moment, I'd been filled with happiness due to Jaehyun's caring nature but I should have been the one making sure he had somewhere to go when he was upset, but his feelings of sadness weren't noticeable back then. Giving him a hug wasn't enough to stop the pain he felt daily just from living. Laughter hurt, and so did seeing me smile making guilt rush through him at the fact that I brought him some happiness, but not enough for him to change his mind.

September 19th

Jaehyun wrote poetry about clouds and sunshine and the color blue. He would have  painted himself blue if it was socially exceptable. Most of the poems he let me read brought tears to my eyes, ruining my mascara. He always wiped the mascara off, then he'd kiss all my tears away telling me that's how poetry should make me feel. I told him many times how intense it felt, the emotions brought out by the poems he wrote and he'd stare at me and say" that's how i feel about you." Intense. Wildly. Airy. Bright and warm like sunshine shining down through clouds. Most people tell you to write when you're feeling blue to get whatever you're feeling out of your system so that you can feel yellow and bright again,but he still wished for the sun to poison him. He wished for dehydration and shock to take him away instead of writing useless poems.

October 13th

Friday the thirteenth. Bad omens were shown, I just didn't recognize them. I look back now and something had been off about Jaehyun that day. His smile wasn't the same. It was crooked in a way that it was almost a frown, but to outsiders it passed as a normal expression of happiness. He painted sometimes just like writing, and his paintings left me feeling blue just like the blue sky in august, like the painting in the museum, like the color of the walls in his room. It wasnt even a sad painting-he'd painted a red rose in a field of baby blue eyes by a river at night. It wasn't even sad, but when i touched the paper after it dried, I just wanted to cry. He'd held me telling me about the meaning behind it. "It's supposed to make you appreciate things and people that are different, but still appreciate the normal things and people too. No one should be left out. That everyone and everything is more than meets the eye, you just have to look deeper." The way he talked made me want to cry, and he could sense something was wrong, but the fact that I couldn't look deeper to notice his sadness made me tell him everything was fine. I pretended I was fine and I pretended he was fine, so that in the moment, I could feel like everything was fine when nothing about that day was fine. That night he'd went home and cried himself to sleep, and he'd almost done something heartwrenching but I couldn't ask him a simple 'are you okay?'. He would have lied anyways, but maybe if i would have pushed him to answer he wouldn't have cried alone that night or almost took a razor to his skin.

November 7th

Jaehyun and I would sit in my room for hours in comfortable silence, him drawing while i read books. He'd been noticeably upset on this day. To the point where I kept asking him what was wrong and was everything okay. He started rambling about death and blood to the point where fear bubbled up inside of me, spilling out into the world and when he noticed I was terrified, he had cried and apologized repeatedly. He'd thrown his drawing pad in the middle of all of this, it getting lost behind my bed. I'd held him for hours after that, hoping he would feel better and calm down. It worked on the outside, and I foolishly believed I'd helped him on the inside as well. He wasn't okay, and the way he had talked about blood and death so freely spoke volumes about what he thought of daily. If only I'd tried to look deeper. Most of us take what we see on the outside and assume that there's nothing more to see and we should look away as to not disturb the normalcy of the world.

December 25th

Christmas day was snowy and beautiful, the sun fighting it's way through the clouds to shine down on everything to try and melt the snow, but the snow was relentless and the roads icy. The gifts didnt matter that day as everyone was together and that made Jaehyun filled to the brim with happiness, which mattered a lot more. That night we lay together wrapped in nothing but the warmest blue blanket we could find, the snow falling against the window and the christmas lights above us in my room shining down us painting our faces in green and red. He was happy, but that didn't mean the pain had suddnely disappeared and that family made the bad thoughts run away, he was just hiding them. That night he whispered how much he loved me , lips against my temple. He told me I was the only gift he needed. He didnt know that he was the only gift I needed, and that him staying could have been so much better. Maybe that's selfish. On Christmas some people expect everything they want to be given but give nothing to others. That year, I was sadly part of the people who expect and was given everything I wanted but I gave nothing.

February 14th

Jaehyun's birthday. I had thrown him a surprise party that he loved, wearing a blue dress with pink hearts on it since it was also Valentine's day. Once he opened his gifts, which was a copy of the painting with the clouds on a sunny day that he absolutely adored and a necklace with my name on it in the shape of a cloud. His dimples stayed out all day, like I wish they would have stayed for life. As a Valentine's gift he gave me a blue rose and a painting of me by the river sitting in the field of Nemophila. That night I ended up in only his blue flannel with marks of his love on my skin the next morning,his whispers of "i love you more than anything" ingrained in my thoughts forever. I'd told him the same, but it didnt count as much since he said it first, and knowing now that that wasn't enough for him to stay breaks my heart all over again.

March 2nd

We spent the day walking around despite him being vocal of not feeling like getting out of bed, and he was a bit angry with me until I got him laughing by singing embarrassing 80's songs and dancing awkwardly. We both danced until we got tired, our legs exhausted and breathing was a difficult feat. I told him that he didn't deserve to be sad and he told me "i deserve whatever the world throws at me" which made me worry about him for weeks. I didnt tell him that, although maybe I should have. I just didn't want to make him feel bad when i started having panic attacks again because of it. He didn't know and didn't mean to, he just was in so much pain.

April 20th

He'd cooked for me on this day, telling me he felt a lot better. He appeared completely calm and peaceful like how some people get after doing things they love. Which he was good at cooking and enjoyed it, so I was extremely happy. He hadn't cooked in months-not like this. He was also baking. He wouldn't let me go in his kitchen. "It's a surprise, darling. Just be patient" Although he acted normal enough, whatever normal means, i sensed sadness coming from his being. After we ate, I felt nauseous. He turned into a concerning boyfriend rather than a happy one which made me upset since I knew he was keeping his sadness a secret. While he went to clean the kitchen after throwing a blanket on my cold body, I felt even more nauseous and after contemplating on whether or not to run to the bathroom my body decided for me. Vomiting isn't something anyone is fond of, and Jaehyun was even more concerned when he found me lying on the floor against the bathtub. He threw all the food away after that and blamed himself for me getting sick, though It was just a case of me eating way too much. Once in his bed, he kept apologizing and ended up crying but I held him and told him everything was okay. He didn't tell me that every small thing affected him so horribly it'd leave him wishing he'd never been born. He didn't know that those small things were things he couldn't help, but his brain told him that he ruined everything.

May 27th

Sitting in the field of Baby blue eyes with him felt different this time. More peaceful. We laid down side by side watching the clouds, he always said he wanted to float in the clouds but not anything about how he wanted to be buried like the roots of the nemophila we laid on. He didn't tell me he didnt want to grow anymore, not by himself and not with me-not with anyone. Instead he told me how much he loved me, that he'd die for me and told me it all day. He wouldn't let his hands off of me, never letting go of my hand or arm or hips. He wouldn't let go. He asked me to stay the night and keot me in his arms until I had to work the next day, getting upset when I left. He didn't tell me I'd only have a week or two left of this. Left of being in love, left of seeing his pretty smile and those dimples he was known for showing almost all the time. He didn't tell me he was looking for reasons to stay, trying so hard not to give up.

June 16th

When I'd woken up, a feeling of dread left me near tears all day. I hadn't seen Jaehyun in three days and it'd gotten late in the day without a word from him which was unusual. I pushed the uncomfortable feeling to the side until I'd decided to leave to go see him after calling him and texting him repeatedly. While walking out the door I remembered that day when he'd terified me with that talk of blood and death and him throwing his drawing pad. Worry filled my being, making me feel sick as I pushed my bed onto the side to find his blue drawing pad.

Tears stream down my face at the drawing I found. In my hands was the reason for all his weird behavior,all his guilt and all of his pain. He wanted to die. My Jaehyun wanted to disappear from this world forever. I throw the drawing pad in a random direction and run. I call all of our friends and his family, wanting to know if they had seen him. None of them had. I didn't want it to be true.

My legs carried me to the field of baby blue eyes by the streaming river, the sun shining down so brightly and the clouds reminding me of the painting Jaehyun loved so much.

My legs were already cramping but I pushed through that pain to find the love of my life laying in a field of nemophila, his wrists slit so terribly blood is all you could see. Flowing from his wrists to drip onto the plants under him, it was so red and gory I stopped breathing, running over to him to begin screaming while on the phone with one of his best friends. Johnny knew something was wrong, his voice got further away as he told Mark to call someone. To call 911, to get help.

In Jaehyun's hand was a a razor blade and I grabbed it, throwing the wretched thing far from us. I kept shaking him and screaming at him to get up. Nothing worked. Around his neck was the cloud necklace, and despite the horror I could see, he looked extremely peaceful, his eyes shut permanently. My Jaehyun was gone, and he'd died where he loved, but he'd felt so unloved to come to this place.

I'd never enjoy bright sunny days or museums again. I couldn't, not when I couldn't see Jaehyun's dimples or hold his warm hand. As much as he wanted to burn, he'd left the world cold. The sun still shined so brightly down on us as if nothing had ever happened in this place.

🌹

[justkeeptrekkin]

For the prompts... Hizashi and Shouta's reactions to each other immediately after the end of chapter 9 of Kogane no Kami (I ADORE that story, btw). If you want something more casual, umm, something something mutual pining and keeping warm. Tbh, I'm just excited to read anything you write ♡

Hello listener~Thank you so much i’m really glad you liked my fic!! I would absolutely LOVE to do a chapter 9 follow up but, just in case anyone out there hasn’t read it and doesn’t want major spoilers, i’m going to stick to the second half of your question. Thanks for the prompt

Hizashi lies under his duvet and two blankets. He is wrapped up in his dressing gown, beneath which he’s wearing his winter pyjamas. He has two pairs of socks on. His head is buried under the covers.

How is he still cold?

The sound of his teeth chattering sounds oddly loud under the roof of blankets. And even though he’s really- really really- tired, he can’t sleep. Instead, all he can do is stare at the underside of his duvet, and the bluish light of the streetlights peeking through the gaps that Hizashi’s missed whilst making this cocoon.  

His eyes are cold. How is that a thing?

After about ten minutes of trying to sleep, it becomes too much. With a loud, frustrated growl, he rips himself out from under the duvets and blankets. It brings on unpleasant consequences.

“Shit! Oh my God why is it so cold-”

Hizashi dances on the spot for a moment as he decides whether to run a hot bath, make a cup of tea, or a hot water bottle. Of course, he knows why it’s so cold. He and Shouta have the worst landlord in the universe and they haven’t fixed the heating in time for winter, despite the fact that they’ve told him multiple times that it’s caput. Shouta’s been moaning about it far less than him, but it’s reached the point now where they’ve both lost their patience.

Hizashi instinctively looks to the wall on his left. On the other side, Shouta’s in bed. They’ve lived together for years, and yet the thought of him being just on the other side of the wall sometimes makes Hizashi’s stomach flutter. Still.

After all this time.

Maybe Shouta is cold too, he thinks.

“No,” he warns himself, because he knows where this is going.

But his mind betrays him. Maybe Shouta could do with some extra warmth, like I could.

Hizashi measures this thought that drifts into his mind, looks down at his feet as he does so. They’re covered in fluffy, cat shaped bed socks. They even have little ears. And his pyjamas have Doraemon on them. Running a hot bath would be much more sensible than what he is considering doing next. But then, no man wearing a combination this silly has ever done anything sensible.

He looks back at the wall.

There is little point pretending to argue with himself, he realises. He made his choice as soon as the idea popped into his head.

Hizashi’s feet transport him to Shouta’s door, and then he’s knocking. And no one’s answering.

He’s asleep. Of course he is, it’s Shouta. Hizashi huffs to himself, watches his breath form a cloud in front of his face. Pretends not to be upset or frustrated. Paces around in front of Shouta’s door for a moment, feeling a bit like a lost puppy. Then, gritting his teeth against the agonising, illogical feeling of rejection, he-

The door opens. “‘Zashi.”

Hizashi stops in his tracks and spins round to face the man standing in the doorway. His arms are wrapped around him, and he’s wearing a turtle neck jumper. He’s unrolled the neck so that it covers his chin and mouth.

“Shou, sorry man, I just- it’s freezing.”Shouta doesn’t respond immediately. “Yes.”

Hizashi feels warm for the first time in hours. His cheeks, unmistakably, are hot. “You’re cold too?”

Again, Shouta doesn’t seem to know what to do with this. He’s never been good at small talk, and Hizashi isn’t exactly making this easy. “Obviously.”

“Cool, yeah. Obviously. No, I just came because- uh-”

Because I want an excuse to cuddle you?

Thankfully, Shouta doesn’t give Hizashi any more time to talk nonsense. He disappears into his room, leaving the door open for Hizashi to follow. He smiles to himself and takes the invitation.

And then he looks at Shouta’s bed. He’s been in here plenty of times, and never has his bed ever felt daunting. Hizashi combs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that he never seemed to be able to kick as an adult.

“Which side do you want.”

Hizashi’s heart stops at how casually he asks this, but, as ever, his mouth is on autopilot. “Right! I always prefer right.”“Thought so.”“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Remember when we were in second year and we went on that class excursion, we had to share a bed then too.”Hizashi does remember, but only now that he brings it up. Back then, it hadn’t felt so weird. They’d stayed up half the night eating junk food and talking about everything and nothing. Hizashi is usually the one with the good memory. He wonders what made Shouta remember that trip now.

“You kick in your sleep.”“Do not!”“Do, too. If you kick me tonight I’ll throw you out the window.”Hizashi makes an unconvincing sob. “OK,” he moans. “I can’t help what I do in my sleep though.”“Not my problem.”

Shouta gets back under the covers. When Hizashi doesn’t move at first, he stares at him blankly. Hizashi startles, joins him in bed without further hesitation.

“Oh my god it’s so warm. How are you so warm. You’re a little radiator.”

“Hmmm.”

Hizashi lies on his back and shuffles down the bed, so the lower half of his face is covered by duvet. Whenever he breathes his face feels, irritatingly, too warm. Shouta lies still, turned towards him on his side.

“What are you doing.”

Hizashi peers over at him, wide eyed. “Huh?”

“I thought the whole point of this was sharing body heat.”

Hizashi swallows. Trust Shouta to say something like that out loud and not be embarrassed. Never freak out or make things weird.

Hizashi, on the other hand: “Errrrrrrrrrrr-”

“Come here.”An arm suddenly wraps itself around his waist, pulling him towards Shouta. Hizashi yelps in surprise but allows it; is suddenly pressed up close against Shouta.

In his bed.

He can feel his breath at the back of his neck. Shouta’s hand lies against his stomach, although he can’t really feel it through all the layers he’s wearing. If he weren’t absolutely freezing, he’d be wishing he wasn’t wearing any pyjamas under his dressing gown.

And that’s exactly the kind of thought that’s going to get you into trouble. STOP IT.

Shouta wriggles, moves his other arm so that it lays beneath Hizashi’s head, rather than being bent awkwardly between their bodies. There’s something even more intimate about that, and it takes all the will power Hizashi has to steady his breathing.

“You remind me of that cat. Have you seen that gif of that cat?”“I’ve seen every cat gif ever made,” Shouta says seriously, and Hizashi laughs. His voice is quiet and low. “You’ll have to be more specific.”“You know, the one with the mummy kitty pulling in the little sleeping baby kitty in its arms. Like it’s a soft toy or something. That’s basically what you just did.”

“Hmm,” Shouta considers. There’s a suspicious pause. “Hizashi, do you consider me a parental figure in your life?”“Wh- No!”

Shouta laughs, and Hizashi playfully, and without much conviction, tries to escape his embrace. Shouta holds him there tightly.

“God, you’re so annoying!”

He can imagine the smirk on his face right now, even though he’s turned away from him. Hizashi’s breath forms clouds in his vision.

“This isn’t fair.”Shouta sighs. “What?”

“You’ve got the better end of the bargain. You can warm up your face-”

-By burying it in my neck? My hair? Is that really what you’re going to say, Hizashi, you MORON?

“I mean- you know- my nose is cold,” is what Hizashi eventually decides on.

Shouta snorts. He plants his hand directly on Hizashi’s face.

“Better?”“Eugh- God you’re in the weirdest mood tonight-”

“And you won’t stop complaining. Just turn round, Hizashi.”He does as he’s told, and finds himself just below Shouta’s chin, eye-level with his clavicle. It’s warm. Shouta is warm. His arm is draped over him under the covers, and Hizashi’s leg instinctively finds it’s way between Shouta’s. He doesn’t have time to regret it, because Shouta shuffles closer.

“Oh,” he says out loud.

“Hm?”“Nothing,” Hizashi croaks.

Hizashi can feel Shouta’s heart racing through his sweatshirt.

It’s enough confirmation that maybe- just maybe- Hizashi’s not alone in feeling like this. Whatever this is- he hasn’t found the word to describe it yet. He shuffles down and presses his face against his chest. He doesn’t miss the shakiness to Shouta’s deep, slow breath.

By the time Shouta’s heartbeat has settled, they’ve both fallen asleep.  

[trumpetnista]

CMW2/Trumpetnista: Not You, Too

Summary from FFN: CANON COMPLIANT AU WITH HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE END OF SEASON 4 AND THE FIRST EPS OF 5. POSSIBLY A FUTURE FIC; Gotham breaks all the rules all the time, especially now. Thankfully, the one about cats having 9 lives? That still holds. Bruce thinks Selina is dead. Everyone does until she walks into the GCPD the next morning.;Rated for language and imagery;1st in my 2019 SSS Project

Words from the Hooded GOTHAMITE: As I said last time, what keeps me watching GOTHAM (other than the awesome writing, dope ass cast, and the lovely fandom...) are Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. They hooked me like a fish and I fell in love with the rest of the show in the process. Season 5 has been excellent as always yet bittersweet. It’s supposed to be the last one (I hope not. I hope the show gets picked up or we get a movie or something! It can’t be over yet! Come on!) and I have a feeling that B and Grumpy Cat aren’t gonna be together in the endgame. Not outright, anyways. I don’t think they’ll be enemies but together? As in Helena Wayne showing up levels of together? Nah. 

That’s what fanfic is for. There is a follow up to Positive planned, BTW.

Anyway, this one is another canon complaint AU set in the current season. All you really need to know is that The Eviler Evil Valeska Twin shot our girl, she was paralyzed and now she’s not thanks to Ivy Pepper Version 3’s reluctant help, and Gotham is now divided up into Zones, most of them insane and wild and chock full of yikes. Oh, and Bruce loves Selina but that’s always been pretty fucking obvious. LOL! Enjoy the latest. 

Disclaimer: “Honestly, it’s not mine!”

"What's up, 5-0? Beautiful day, isn't it? The sky is smoggy blue and the birds are singing..."

He was hallucinating.

He had to be.

There was no way that what he was hearing was possible.

No matter how much he ached to, there was no way that he was hearing Selina Kyle's voice.

She was dead. Truly dead. She had gone on one of what she called her "shopping trips" for The Haven and Jeremiah Valeska had finished what he had started that horrible night in the Study. He and his demented girlfriend had trapped her in a warehouse, knocked her out, and blown her up. Not only had they done it, Jeremiah had turned himself in, battered but proud. He claimed that it had been for the best. Selina was nothing but street trash. She was his downfall and utterly unacceptable as a companion for him. Gotham needed its Dark Knight to be with someone who truly understood what reality was. Someone like...

Bruce Wayne hadn't let him finish. Before anyone could stop him, he had picked up a chair and gone after him, much to the shrieking horror of Ecco. It had taken several officers and someone, likely Alfred Pennyworth, sedating him to make him stop. He had woken up in Jim Gordon's office and had stayed on the couch. He didn't want to see anyone. Nobody knew what to say to him. Everyone knew how much Selina meant to him. That was why she had been targeted twice.

Bruce had managed to help her. He had gone straight into the belly of Ivy Pepper's foliage covered beast to get the root to fix her severed spine. Selina had gotten back on her feet immediately and hit the ground running. Shocking everyone, she had opted to wait to get her revenge against Valeska. She was going to play the long game. Valeska wasn't going anywhere. He was just as trapped as everyone else, thanks to the bridges being gone and the Travel Ban.

When asked why, she had sadly explained that Tabitha Galavan, her Mentor turned Sister, had been impatient for revenge and it had taken her life. She had allowed anger and hurt to cloud her judgement. She had dropped her guard and Oswald Cobblepot had promptly murdered her. Bruce had seen it happen. It had been expected. After all, both Galavan siblings had done great harm to the man but hearing Barbara Kean's devastated rage? Knowing that Selina would have to mourn her? It had hurt deeply. It was all a goddamned waste.

Instead of seeking out Valeska or his followers, Selina had opted to use her skills as a thief to help The Haven and its refugees. She would pick a small gang's turf within a Zone, typically Penguin's, and go in for 12-36 hours. She would bring back people, ammunition, medicine, and meaningful things like blankets or feminine hygiene products. She had quickly gained a reputation for being utterly ruthless to any who tried to stop her, which had concerned him greatly. Ivy had warned him that the root would not only fix her spine but amplify the darker aspects of her personality. Bruce had tried to reel her in, leading to several arguments, and eventually, they had reached a stalemate.

She would do what she liked. He would stay out her way or at least keep his judgement to himself while he helped her. Gotham was a madhouse. It always had been but now? It was a free for all. It was survival of the fittest and she would be damned if she let someone who crossed her walk away. She had made that mistake in the past and it had cost her dearly. She had been screwed over one too many times. It would not be happening again. If there was a Hell, she was already going to it so what did it matter, anyways? Self defense wasn't murder, neither was saving people's asses.

Plus, she didn't know about him but she was in no mood to deal with the same group of psychos 10 years from now. She wanted to deal with new psychos.

But, now she wouldn't because she was dead and gone. She was as dead and gone as his parents.

His Selina was gone and Bruce would never see her again, not in this life.

But, the hallucination...she wasn't...she couldn't be...

Could she? Please?

Her mane of golden chestnut curls wasn't singed and pulled up into a messy bun. She wasn't standing in the 12th precinct's main entryway. She wasn't wheezing softly from a partially blocked nose. Her tactical suit wasn't unzipped to reveal a stained gray sports bra and bruised torso. She wasn't looking at the stunned occupants of the room with her usual dismissive amusement, even with a black eye. She wasn't limping and her whip wasn't wrapped around her bruised shoulder like a coil of wire as she drank straight from a bottle of what appeared to be Everclear.

She couldn't be...could she? Was it possible? She couldn't...why was the room spinning? Why was his chest hurting? Bruce stood in the office, speechless and shaking, watching as the Selina hallucination sat on the receptionist desk. It was so real...

"What's the matter? You guys never seen a 7 lives having bitch before?"

"My God..."

"Jesus Christ, Gordon! Get the hell off of me! You, too, Alfred! Bad touch!"

The hallucination looked like her. It definitely sounded like her but it couldn't...she wasn't...but Jim was smiling at it. Alfred was too. Both were still hugging the hallucination and Harvey Bullock had taken its bottle of liquor away, taking a deep swig. She snatched it back from him and shot him a lethal look, making him grin.

"Buzz off, gumshoe. This is mine. I earned it. Plus, it's the closest thing we've got to morphine, which I kinda need right now. I need some morphine, a shower, a nap, maybe take a crap before all of that..."

"Kid, we all thought you were done for. Valeska and his crazy Terminator bitch said you were."

"I'm not a kid. Yeah, I definitely got shanghaied by those goddamned freaks and it sucked but their bomb didn't kill me like they wanted it to. It just made me fly away, which was totally fun until I landed face, ribs, and tits first into the side of a delivery truck. Don't do that, by the way. It hurts. I managed to get it started and it has some good stuff in there. Ammo, some cases of water, and those military TV dinner things and I think there might be meds. I'm not sure. Speaking of meds, I'm still looking for Lee. She was the best, bravest doctor in the city and if I can find her, you can get The Narrows under control real easy. Everybody loved her because she legit gave a shit so they're looking for her. There's a big T.P. and blankets reward for anyone who finds her. She might be across the river, I dunno. Maybe someone could swim over through the subways to go check and to ask for help in person since using the radio obviously doesn't goddamned work..."

"It's too dangerous. The damage from the bridges blocked or flooded the tunnels."

"Dammit. You can't rig something up, Foxy? You're like the better version of that tech dude from the James Bonds movies. The hell's his name again? X? Y?"

"Q."

"Right...whatever. Where's Bruce?"

"Selina..."

"Where. Is. Bruce? Alfred, where is he? Did he...where the hell is he?! What happened?!"

"Valeska showed up here gloating and he snapped. He took a chair to him and...he was in Cap's office but..."

"Get out of my way. Now."

"Selina, I know you're worried but..."

"Harper, I really like you but if you don't get the fuck out of my way, I swear to God, I'll..."

Bruce stepped out of the office and all eyes went to him. All he could see was Selina. He was still shaking and breathing was getting more difficult by the second but he couldn't look away. He didn't even want to blink because then, she would disappear and...

"Oh, no."

As soon as she touched him, reality hit him all at once.

She was real.

She was alive!

"Bruce. Bruce? Come on, baby, look at me...you need to breathe...look at me!"

His first instinct was to obey her and he did just that. His Selina wanted him to breathe. She wanted him to look at her and he was going to. He was going to do any and everything she asked.

Baby? That was new. Selina usually called him B or by his full name. Either that or she called him a douchebag or something else along those lines but fondly. Never a pet name. She had always cringed at pet names and other conventional romantic relationship things like them. But, she was alive. She was alive. She was battered and bruised and didn't smell very good but she was alive. Selina was alive! She wasn't gone. Jeremiah hadn't taken her away from him. Gotham hadn't stolen her away from him. He hadn't lost her. She was alive. She was right in front of him. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't hallucinating.

"Selina?"

"Hey, Bruce."

"You're alive."

"Barely."

"...y-you're alive?"

"Yeah, I'm alive. I'm right in of- ow!"

Bruce knew that he would have to do some serious groveling later but he didn't care. He hauled Selina flush against him and squeezed as hard as he could, uncaring of her injuries. The noises escaping him could be called crying or maybe screaming, he wasn't sure. As if let loose from a puppeteer's strings, he slumped against the wall and surprising him, Selina wasn't fighting him.

She was holding onto him just as tightly. She was crying like she had after her failed suicide attempt and he loosened his grip enough for her to look up at him. She had to look up at him, now. She had to stand on her tiptoes to give him a proper kiss when they were standing. He remembered when she was taller than him. He remembered when they first met. Every memory he had with her, good and bad, was running through his mind at warp speed.

Cupping his face, she kissed him deeply and he responded immediately, mindful of her cut lip. His second hug was much gentler and he smiled at a beaming Alfred, a crying and grinning Jim. They loved her just as much as he did. They were her family, along with Barbara Kean, and...

"As soon as the Travel Ban lifts, I'm going on vacation and I'm taking you with me. I don't give a shit about your Mission or whatever the hell you call it. We're going someplace warm where we can get falling down fucked up drunk legally and I can have my tits out."

Bruce tried to laugh but he kept sobbing, drinking her in greedily. She was alive. His best friend, his heart, his Selina was alive! She wanted to go someplace warm? Done. She wanted him with her? Done. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, he would do it. Even if (when) it compromised his moral compass, he would do it anyway because Selina Kyle was alive. She was alive and he wasn't going to question how. Okay, he would because that was how he was. He always wanted answers but the universe had granted him a most precious gift and...

"...not you, too?"

His voice was small and the smile, the look she gave him was the softest he had ever seen.

"Not me, too. Not today. Not ever. You're stuck with me, Bruce Wayne. Get used to it."

[queenmabscherzo]

DVD commentary - Targeting, Ch. 26

this is the second part of the chapter. i didn’t want to do all the post-game interviews and stuff, i mean, that is what it is. but i really like talking about the boys :’) so for the anon who requested chapter 26, here’s most of it:

Winning is a hell of a drug. And the crash? That's apocalyptic.

It starts during the trip to the hotel, the mundane reality of a bus ride that reminds Steve—it's not Hollywood, here. (obv this is a reference to big sports movies, which would end with the championship or whatever, but also any time i can make an MCU reference and like tap on the 4th wall, that’s fun.)

It all feels so big when you're standing in the middle of the stadium, in the middle of 70,000 fans and 4000-watt LEDs (i looked up “stadium lights” btw, which is one of those dumbass things that you feel like you have to research and then reread it a year later and ur like “oh ok lmao”), but when you drive away, when you watch the horizon and the dark night sky swallow that stadium right up, it doesn't feel as big anymore. It already feels like two lines of text on the NCAA Wikipedia page. (the best moments always go by too fast, don’t they, Steve) (luckily he’s got more best moments yet to come)

And now that his mind is reeling back to the dirt and the desert, all Steve can think about is Bucky's glassy eyes. He wracks his brain, running through their conversation over and over so he won't forget: something about hurting Steve, something about forgetting phone numbers, checking on Sam Wilson, (bucky rly cared a lot about sam, ngl. Protective Bucky Barnes made it a personal goal not to let freshman phenom Sam Wilson get hurt IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER)

I love you.

Steve taps his foot incessantly through the drive to the hotel. (in retrospect i should have made a parallel between this bus and the high school bus hnng) The rest of the bus rocks with three different group chants and a tuneless rendition of "We Will Rock You" that the white boys must have started. (mannnnn i remember sports buses ……. I remember in middle school one of our fav bus songs was “stacy’s mom” …)

Steve texts Bucky a simple You okay?, but doesn't expect a response and doesn't get one.

When they finally reach the hotel, Steve's internal systems are going haywire. The euphoria of victory has nosedived, but he started so high in the atmosphere it's becoming hard to breath—the imbalance of oxygen—all the meters in the cockpit spin out of control—(speaking of mcu references) he just wants to know if Bucky is okay. He just wants Bucky to be okay.

So Steve's pretty much delirious when they enter the hotel, split into groups, and go their separate ways. He drifts onto an elevator with Sam and the Bradleys. When they reach their floor, Steve turns down the hall for his room on autopilot—then stops in his tracks.

There is a man in black leaning against his doorframe. The corridor is empty except for this dark motionless figure with a duffel bag strapped to his back. Steve is suddenly very conscious of his breathing.

(in early drafts of targeting, i sent bucky to the hospital at the end of the game. Not like in a Serious way, just in a precautionary way. he just hurt his head so they might as well get it checked out, right. in the early drafts, i had steve and his teammates visit bucky IN the hospital. i considered Rumlow being there, or pierce being there. I also considered Steve punching Rumlow for being gross. But yeah. Hospital. That lasted in the drafts for a long time, actually. It’s not a bad idea, but it’s logistically hard wrt getting him out of the hospital, and like, has more serious implications than necessary. I’m all about hurt/comfort but i didnt wanna beat bucky up too bad.)(and obviously the hotel room is ……. GREAT)

A voice sounds from behind Steve: "Did Eli lock himself out again?" (AGAIN!!!) (I wanna know that story lmfao)

Steve's friends all laugh. (steve does not laugh. He knows who it is already. nerd.)

"I'm right here!" Eli protests from the back of the group.

"That's not Eli," Steve whispers, pace accelerating—heart accelerating. He breaks away from his teammates and strides down the hall, like tripping, like falling, like pointing the nose of the plane straight toward the earth. Like plummeting forward and just barely catching himself with every step. (one time i had a coach describe “running” as “falling forward and catching yourself” and idk how i feel about that metaphor in practicality but it sure works right here lmao)

The dark figure looks up as Steve approaches, but doesn't move.

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky's waist and kisses him on the lips. (we all KNEW who it was right? It’s one of those surprises u know is gonna happen but you still can’t wait to see it)

Numbness starts to creep up his limbs—probably from the buckets of adrenaline careening through his bloodstream, a fire and flood (thank u @ vance joy) every fifteen minutes since the game started. But God, his heart is so big, right now, so loud and so real. If any heart could take it, it's Steve's.

What kind of kiss.

Steve has never kissed anyone like this. A direct line to all the empty spaces in his chest.

(this is the third time they’ve kissed, now. The first time being when bucky was freaking out in his hotel room a couple weeks ago, and pretended it didnt happen. The second time was in millenium park, aka steve’s christmas present to bucky lol. And of course, a lot happened between that kiss and this one. I’d like to think they both changed, as people, even.)

(have you ever been caught off guard by an incredible kiss when you were the one giving it???? Maybe that’s just me, because i’m so casual and careless at all times. But have you ever gone in for a kiss and Meant it, but still the other person doubles down and gangs up on you somehow? That’s this kiss. That’s this kiss for steve. Steve is like, “there’s nothing left to say, i just have to show him”; and bucky is like … still kind of thinking every kiss with steve could be his last. So he gives it all he’s got. I guess. Idk if i’m describing it v well but. What kind of kiss.)

All of Bucky is so strong: (OH YEAH that’s also rly important, i cannot stress how fucking Strong bucky is and how much i love him for it) (besides the fact that he’s been through so much and survived it all …. He’s still GOOD.) (STOP im gonna cry about bucky barnes for a bit) Steve can feel it under his lips and under his fingertips, the molten resilience warm and dormant under Bucky's skin. Steve presses harder and leans closer. He can't get close enough. His hands press into Bucky's spine, and he still can't get close enough. He opens his mouth and Bucky sighs and draws him in and he still can't get close enough.

One of his teammates whistles. Steve and Bucky don't let it stop them, this time. (oh don’t worry, i did not forget about the other boys, those poor poor babies. Isaiah is probably like :o and Eli is probably grinning and like smacking his brother on the arm until it bruises. Sam is prob the one who whistled.)

Steve's body systems are all rebooting. He can't feel anything that isn't in contact with Bucky—which is fine—that's perfect, he doesn't need anything else—

Then Bucky touches him, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. (have you ever kissed someone and just forgot they had hands until they USE THEM??) (anyway) Bucky's hands come to rest on his face, leaving fingerprints on Steve's jaw, like lavender and cirrus clouds. His hands slide behind Steve's neck, and his fingers thread through his hair. He finds the dimple at the base of Steve's skull and whimpers.

Steve has no idea what his own hands are doing. (LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!) (they on bucky’s butt!!!!!!! I’m joking, they’re WHEREVER YOU WANT THEM TO BE.) He can't focus on more than one thing, and right now, that one thing is the feel of Bucky's bottom lip under his own.

He can't get close enough. He presses in for more contact, from knees to navel to sternum. He backs Bucky into the wall, and he can feel the jolt when his fingers are trapped between Bucky's jacket and the wallpaper. (a jolt!!! He prob was a little forceful …………… *eyes emoji*)

Bucky breaks the kiss and hisses and presses both hands to Steve's chest.

Horror washes over Steve. "What's wrong?!"

Bucky grimaces. "Sorry," he pants, eyes fixed on Steve's mouth.

"What—no, don't be—what's wrong?" He steps back, but keeps his hands on Bucky's waist in case he needs—anything. Support? What's wrong?

"Sorry. It's…" Bucky swallows. His eyes flicker. Steve can see the faint green of a lingering bruise near the bridge of his nose. "Dislocated shoulder." (in early drafts, this was a collapsed lung. In retrospect, that’s prob because it might have required the hospitalization. I think the shoulder injury is more … symmetrical, tho.)

Beat.

"You—you have a dislocated shoulder?"

"Wait, you what?" That would be Eli, stepping closer, eyes wide. (athletic trainer eli!)

"Well." Bucky looks down again. "It's relocated now." (thanks buck. Thank you for that elaboration.)

"When did it happen?" Steve asks.

"That—when me and Wilson went up for that deep pass. And landed on top of each other."

(“Bucky and Sam both go up for the ball; it twirls off their fingertips; they tangle in mid-air, and they both go down hard. Steve jogs toward them, heartstrings strumming dominant chords in his bloodstream.

Sam Wilson gets up first, moving stiffly, both hands on his lower back. When Steve offers him a hand, he waves it off even while he winces. Steve glances downfield. Bucky's teammates are helping him to his feet and stuffing his shoulder pad back into his uniform.”)

Steve wracks his brain. "On the last play?"

"No," Bucky says. His eyes dart between Steve and each of his teammates. "Before. We were winning. It was a go route."

It's all kind of a blur in Steve's memory: images of Sam Wilson in deep coverage, Bucky lining up as a safety, zone reads, go routes, post routes, slant routes. He can remember Sam tumbling down on the sidelines, and something occurs to him: "Was it the fight?"

"No," Bucky answers, and Sam speaks at the same time: (<3)

"No," Sam says, staring at Bucky, a nauseated expression curling his lip. (because that play was … A LONG time ago) "No, it was in the third quarter. Right after halftime," he clarifies, and everyone knows he is right.

Steve begins to feel a strange, localized ache in the hinge of his jaw. "You played the whole second half with a dislocated shoulder?"

Bucky shrugs. And then winces. (he’s sO CUTE. and dumb. BUT CUTE.)

"Holy shit," Isaiah breathes.

"I mean, we popped it back in, first," Bucky backtracks.

"Still," Eli hisses, then leaps into action. "No wonder it hurts—Steve Rogers and the kiss of death, over here." (tbh i thought of this joke before i even decided on an injury lmfao.)(i am not funny.)

Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Eli talks over him. "Come on, come inside, I have a couple ice packs in the freezer." (ELI IS SUCH A DAD���!!!!!) Eli fumbles with the key-card and shepherds Bucky into their room. Once they're inside, he relieves him of his duffel bag—working carefully around his left shoulder—and shoves it at Sam without looking, then guides Bucky onto the end of a bed. Once he is settled, Eli turns to rummage through their mini-fridge. "Steve, grab me one of our hand-towels, yeah?" he orders.

Steve does so. When he returns from the bathroom, he stops in his tracks. Bucky is perched on the edge of Steve's bed, a little wide-eyed, but calm. Eli hovers over him, inspecting Bucky's shoulder. Sam sneaks the duffel (i only included this fucking duffel bag so bucky could sneak his Secret Documents into Steve’s room lmfao)(and so Sam could make the “overnight bag” joke tbh.) next to the TV, then catches Steve's eye and shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile.

The entire tableau punches all the air out of Steve's lungs. (same) (obv i really wanted steve’s friends to accept bucky, and i’m nothing if not Dramatic. so. Here we are)

Steve eases onto the corner of the empty bed. Eli doesn't even acknowledge him, his focus trained on Bucky. "They check you out?" he asks as he prods the left side of Bucky's back with well-trained fingers.

Bucky nods. He gazes at Eli the way you might gaze at someone who speaks to you in a different language, but nevertheless does so very earnestly. (i mean it’s safe to say bucky NEVER expected a reaction like this, not only because his own coaches/staff aren’t this nice, but also bc like, these guys are his rivals, lmao) (and he also is prob thinking about what a dick he was to Steve a week ago)

Eli tugs at the collar of Bucky's windbreaker and asks if he can remove it. Bucky lets him help without speaking and without moving his left arm much. Once the jacket is gone, Eli has better access to Bucky's torso.

"Hospital?" Eli asks.

Bucky shakes his head. (LOL)

"Broken ribs, too?"

Bucky nods. (ok ok ok . i worked very hard not to let eli fall into a trope where he just existed to “take care of bucky”. Because i wanted him to rly be the character who cared about sports medicine and … about PEOPLE. So i established it earlier, with steve, with sam, with his major, with his brother, with his kids, everything. And he really knows what he’s DOING. he sat down with bucky for like a single minute, and could tell he had loose tissue and broken ribs around the relocated shoulder. And he’s made something of himself, here, of caring about people. He’s cared about his brother for years, when no one else cared, and now he’s gonna make a living taking care of hurt athletes. I also think it … kind of fits with comics!eli, who was such a sweet bean and just wanted to be a good superhero and live up to his grandpa. I rly rly rly absurdly love eli bradley, guys.) (also contrast him with steve, who wants to take care of people but has no idea what he’s doing; isaiah, who has a good heart but isn’t good at showing it; and sam, a good friend who’s a big goof.)

"Did they scan you?" Eli goes on, and doesn't wait for an answer. "There's loose tissue, I think. Can you lift your arm?"

"Not really," Bucky says, and proceeds to lift his arm (LMAO YOU ASS). He almost makes a ninety-degree angle.

"I mean, I haven't seen the scans or nothing," Eli says, and sounds genuinely sorry for it, "But I think there's some kind of tissue damage. Maybe not torn, but ... Can't believe they didn't take you to the hospital."

"We have doctors," Bucky says dumbly.

Eli dismisses that with a wave. "Did they give you anything?"

Bucky blinks.

Eli beckons for the towel, which Steve hands over. "Any drugs?" Eli clarifies.

Bucky huffs, a small sour sound that could be laughter. "You'll have to be more specific."

Steve, Sam, Isaiah, and Eli all stare at Bucky.

Steve thinks back to the NAC Championship Game. "Pump me with enough drugs, and even I can't tell I'm injured." It could mean so many things. Even at American State, players take shots to stave off the pain long enough for a football game. Sam Wilson comes to mind, and his small doses of painkillers and muscle relaxants to alleviate the back spasms. (if you’re into that kind of thing, meaning semi-unpleasant-medical-commentary, look up “toradol shots” and “football” and some articles are more biased than others but yeah, it’s sketchy either way.)

But Bucky sounds so angry. It's the tone of voice that draws Steve's imagination to dark places.

Eli is the first to recover. He holds up the ice pack, now wrapped in a towel. "I mean anti-inflammatories," Eli explains, "or something to knock you out overnight."

Bucky accepts the ice pack. He turns it over between his hands. He looks thoughtful. He picks at a stray thread on the towel. He doesn't speak.

Sensing the toxic discomfort in the room, Steve is about to step in when Isaiah clears his throat.

"So his arm's not gonna fall off or nothing?"

Eli blinks, then ducks his head. "I mean, he said it hurt," he says sheepishly.

"You ain't have to assault him and force him to strip," Isaiah points out. (isaiah is really a big sweetheart, he just doesn’t express himself well lol.)

"I don't mind," Bucky mumbles.

Sam interrupts, then. "So what do we call you?" (and sam is ……  sam.)

Bucky and Steve both stare at him, mouths open.

"You know," Sam explains. "Do you go by … James? Or Barnes? Can I call you Bucky, or is that like a pet name? 'Property of Steve Rogers' or whatever?" Steve blushes. "Or do you prefer the Winter Soldier?"

"Anything but that."

"Bucky Bear?"

Bucky snorts. "Nice ring to it."

"But really," Sam says, smiling now. "I'm gonna hack into Steve's phone and steal your number so I can send you a ton of pictures of me with the trophy. (this is true, and definitely definitely happens.) (except the part where sam hacks into steves phone. He just gets buckys number. Hes not shy, pls.) So. What name do I save you under?"

"... Bucky's fine," he replies with a bemused half-smile.

Steve gazes at him. There is a perfect ache in his chest, like too much color bursting inside and not enough space.

"… out of it. Earth to Steve Rogers." (ISAIAH!!!!)

He snaps back to the present when he hears Isaiah speaking. "I'm—what?"

Sam cackles, which Steve thinks is pretty unfair, since it's his fault Bucky just knocked all the air out of Steve's lungs.

"Maybe we should go," Eli says gently.

"Hell yeah it's time to go," Sam says, rubbing his hands together. "We're going out, right?" He grins at Steve. (sam …… is too young to legally drink. I’m crying. i mean not that it’s hard for young people to get alcohol but he’s literally 19 and asking to go out. He’s so full of life and he’s so RIDICULOUS!!!!!!!!!)

Everyone in the room stares at him, shifting awkwardly.

"I don't think they're coming," Eli says.

Isaiah takes Sam by the elbow and steers him toward the door. "We can still go out."

"Wait." Sam plants his feet. "Steve, you …" (like sam’s not CLUELESS here, he just saw them make out for crying out loud. He’s just got so much energy and they just won a BIG GAME okay, it just takes him an extra second to process things. Which, i mean, is relatable.) He looks at Steve, then—looks at him—and seems to see something new; then he looks at Bucky, then Steve again, back and forth. "Oh."

"Sam—" Steve tries, but Sam interjects.

"Holy—okay, okay, I mean, he did bring an overnight bag and shit," Sam says, gesturing towards Bucky's duffel.

Bucky's face turns an impressive shade of crimson. "What." (he most certainly did not. Well, staying-overnight wasn’t the primary function of the duffel bag. He was maybe hopeful. maybe.)

"Sam—"

"I think you just took their relationship to the next level," Eli cuts in with a sly look.

Sam, on the other hand, has gone from mortified to elated in the span of about four seconds. "What's in the bag, Soldier?"

Bucky levels him with a scowl to match the nickname. "Toothbrush and a box of condoms." (LIIIIIES. There’s only like 3 condoms. And they’ve been in there for months. but still.)

Beat.

Sam is the first to laugh; Steve joins in, but it's weak because he's reeling with embarrassment. And distantly, definitely turned on.

"Right. We're leaving," Isaiah says pointedly. (poor frikin isaiah puts up with SO MUCH!!!!! His roommates are so ridiculous and horny and he never asked for this except he totally moved in with them and knew full well what he was getting into and is maybe into it, but anyway, anyway.) (housewarming didn’t come out of the blue that’s all i’m saYINg.) (isaiah’s BLUSHING.) Sam Wilson is laughing too hard to protest.

After a small commotion ("There's Advil in my bag!" Eli says, just as Sam calls, "Always use protection!"), and the hotel door latches with a heavy bang. Steve can still hear his teammates in the hallway, but they are muffled and unintelligible, and they fade away fast, leaving Steve alone with Bucky.

Neither of them speaks right away. Bucky is still sitting quietly on the end of Steve's bed, staring, unfocused, into the middle distance. Steve takes the opportunity to look at him. Properly, and all, without sticking his tongue down his throat or bashing his injured shoulder into a wall.

(fun fact: the following transition is a fucking bitch. I don’t think it’s great but i’m an awkward loser, so i was like ok, how do i get them to say i love you and fuck already? Like in a Realistic Fashion. Realistic for dumb jocks.) (rolls eyes forever)

Bucky is in black sweatpants and black Nikes with red soles. The back of his white T-shirt has a list of dates—probably a catalogue of Southeast State National Championships—while the front bears the Southeast logo: a red elk skull with wicked hooked antlers. (check out the “targeting art” tag, a couple people have drawn this and i love them for it) (what else would make a “tundra” logo”...? idk) His face looks better than it did a week ago. Just a little swollen. Steve probably wouldn't even notice if he didn't know to look. There's a string of bruises on Bucky's arm and his knuckles are tore up and there's still dirt clinging to his nails, but all that's just standard football wear-and-tear. He's got a couple days' worth of stubble, and there's a little crescent patch on his jaw where nothing grows; a small white scar from God knows where, God knows when. His lips are parted. Steve wants to kiss him again. But between the corridor and now, this moment with silence and an ice pack wrapped in a crisp white towel, it doesn't seem so easy, anymore.

"You doing okay?" Steve asks.

Bucky's eyes snap back to life and he looks at Steve. (bucky is so spacy lmao awww) (honestly bucky is a lot like me. I think of all the characters in this story, he’s the most like me.) "Yeah." Just yeah.

"You want to use that ice pack, or stick it back in the freezer?"

Bucky looks down at the bundle in his lap, like he forgot it was there. His chest rises and falls.

"Here," Steve says, and stands up slowly so he can slide onto the bed next to Bucky's bad shoulder. He gently takes the ice pack and folds it against his arm, the outside of the ball-and-socket joint, right along the seam of his sleeve. "Good?"

"I dunno," Bucky croaks. "You don't have to—I should probably go." (like seriously, second guessing wild, impulsive decisions? Assuming people don’t care as much as you care? That’s just relatable, man.)

A knot twists in Steve's stomach. He presses into the ice pack a little harder—not too hard—just enough to feel present.

"Why did you come, anyway?" Steve asks.

Bucky's eyes track to his duffel bag, (he came because he wanted to bring steve those documents that incriminate Pierce. He came because he wanted someone to validate him. To validate how bad he felt. To validate the abuse he’s gone through. To tell him he’s not imagining things. He came because he likes steve and he misses him. He came because his sex drive is wild. He came because if he stayed in his hotel room, he would lose his mind.) then back to Steve. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm sorry I hit you," he mumbles. (and he came to say that, too. he’s been feeling bad about that for a long time.)

Oh.

How ridiculous, Steve thinks. What a small, silly thing, now. He's sitting here with an ice pack to Bucky's mangled shoulder, counting the bruises up Bucky's arms and his face, and that's just the ones Steve can see. He's sitting here in good health and a golden haze of victory, and Bucky is apologizing to him. How absurd. "Oh—Buck, don't worry about that."

"No, look, I'm obviously … messed up and all," Bucky launches into a stammering speech. "I'm sorry I hit you, and yelled at you, and … kissed you. (sorry about the mixed messages, to be specific) I guess. I'm—I just—I want you to know I didn't mean all those shitty things I said. And the game today, I didn't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm fine," Steve assures him. "I promise."

"Right." Bucky cracks his knuckles. He doesn't look convinced. "Anyway. I've been fucking with you for weeks now, (by “fucking with you” he means stringing steve along and then pushing him away. Toying with him. Which is how it looks, from certain points of view. It’s not how steve felt, but it certainly could be read that way.) so it's cool if you don't believe a word I say." (bucky was 100% lying in chapter 23 when he told steve “I was messing with your head” [with regards to kissing steve]. At the time, he was in a really dark, messed up place, and he was really angry with steve, and thought they would both be better off apart. They couldn’t mess each other up anymore if they were apart.)

Steve gapes at him. "Buck … You were mad. You had a right to be mad." (for the record, i PERSONALLY don’t condone bucky punching steve. But steve is more forgiving than i am, and more deeply [and unhealthily] attached to bucky)

The look in Bucky's eyes is so specific. Such a localized pain. From a distance he seems hard, and strong, towering marble, but if you look from the right angle you can see the anguish buried in the rock. The fear and sorrow in David's eyes, despite the calm repose of his limbs. (as in michelangelo’s david. I kind of get michelangelo vibes whenever i watch TWS, the scene with bucky in the bank vault.) (but i knew him.) (from the right angle, David looks very scared. And it’s the same with bucky, i feel.)

"I'm real fucked up, Steve." He sighs quietly. "I should go."

Bucky lowers his shoulder to wriggle out from under the ice pack. Steve lets it fall to the bed—instead, he grabs Bucky's knee.

"Don't go."

"I shouldn't have come. Steve ... I don't want to keep hurting you."

Steve has never been able to deny Bucky anything, but this—he read this wrong, before. (when he just let bucky go after hitting Steve) Bucky begged Steve to leave him alone, and Steve has let him go too many times. He'd thought he'd been doing what was best for Bucky. All this time, Bucky thought he was doing what was best for Steve. (isn’t that kind of the point. Of the story. Of them.)

"You won't hurt me," Steve promises. "You haven't hurt me. None of that was your fault."

"I hit you."

"You think I can't take one lousy punch?"

Bucky snorts; he doesn't smile, not quite, but he looks amused, and Steve counts it as a win. "Wasn't lousy. (BUCKY IS BIG) I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. You were hurting too." He pauses there, feeling sober again, and he braces himself. "Bucky, can I ask you something?"

"What."

"Who gave you the black eye?"

He scoffs. "You were on the field. You saw. Wasn't it Creed's elbow?"

"Bucky," Steve scolds him gently. "I mean last week."

He ducks his head and doesn't answer.

"At my house," Steve prods. "Bucky?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Was it Rumlow?"

Bucky laughs, low and bitter.

"It was, wasn't it?" (steve has probably been thinking this ever since he saw it, considering he also overheard rumlow being an ass in bucky’s hotel room a few weeks ago)

"No. It … wasn't Rumlow."

Steve's not sure he believes him, (did you guys believe him?) but doesn't press the issue. He owes Bucky a little privacy. Just asking is what matters, for now.

Bucky looks up at him through long, long lashes; the same way he has always looked at Steve, (LIKE ON THEIR BUS IN HIGH SCHOOL) a bright blue, the hottest part of a flame.

"Quite a pair, aren't we?" Steve says through a watery smile.

"What's that mean."

(means we’re both selfless shits and we both know it. means no matter how bad we’re hurt, we both still want to take care of other people first.)

"Means I'm here for you, Buck," he says, soft and insistent. "I'm not going anywhere."

Bucky shakes his head. There might be a smile leaking through his granite mask.

Now or never.

"About what you said," Steve says carefully. He squeezes Bucky's knee and rubs small circles into his thigh. "You know, after the game?"

Bucky cringes. "Oh, god. I'm sorry about that too." (NOOOOOO--)

"Don't be sorry," Steve whispers—begs, even. Please don't be sorry. Not for that.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Bucky says. The muscle of his thigh twitches under Steve's grip. "I was caught up in the moment, you know, and it just came out, and it was totally wrong-place-wrong-time, I'm sorry."

"Did you mean it?" Steve breathes, almost inaudible, because he can feel the cracks under the surface.

Bucky covers his face with both hands. "It's—yeah, Steve, yeah I meant it. I just … shouldn't." (FUCK SPORTS AND TOXIC MASCULINITY AND HOMOPHOBIA AND FUCK IT ALL and give bucky a hug 2kforever.)

"Oh, Bucky."

When he looks at Steve again, his eyes are red. "You don't have to say it back."

"Are you kidding me?"

Bucky blinks. "Um."

"Listen to me, Buck." Steve sinks to his knees between Bucky's feet and looks up at him. It's dizzying. It makes his head ache just to think of it: all the years, all the football games, all the doodles passed back and forth in class, all the times Bucky treated Steve's injuries with ice and stupid jokes. He reaches up to take Bucky's face in both hands. "Listen to me," Steve says again. "For as long as I can remember, every single day of my life, you were the most important thing in it. The best thing. Bucky, I was in love with you before I even knew what that meant."

"Steve—"

"And then you were gone. Just gone, and I felt so … much. There was so much, and I didn't know where to put it all." Bucky is crying openly, now, his nose red and his eyes shining. "God, I don't want to feel that way ever again," Steve whispers. "So yeah, I do have to say it back." He smooths the tears from Bucky's cheeks. "I love you," he says. He says it out loud for the first time in his life as he looks into Bucky's eyes, the eyes he has known and for years, for decades, for centuries upon centuries. "I love you, Bucky."

(i practiced that love confession during my Long Commute for months before i ever published it.) (such a balancing act, making it sound like something a person would say, and also make it very very meaningful. And like ….. Adequate for these 2.)

Bucky's lips blossom for him, parting like the gentle pink petals of morning. At first, all that escapes is a sob. He blinks, hard, and tries again:

"You're a punk." (bucky’s response was not a balancing act and did not take nearly as much effort, it’s the most in-character thing i’ve ever written lmfao)

Steve grins. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You are such a punk."

There is water gathering in the creases of Steve's palms. "Is this okay?" he asks, wiping away more tears.

"This is the worst." Bucky sucks in a breath, and then grabs both of Steve's wrists and squeezes. "Yeah it's okay."

"Okay," Steve says. He feels his own throat growing hot. They're both going to end up crying, probably. He gazes at Bucky's lips, the chapped creases and the swollen spot where he always bites down on it. Steve smiles. "I'm kind of afraid to kiss you again."

"Afraid."

"Well, yeah, Buck, it always seems to go wrong. (I MEAN HE’S GOT A POINT!) I try to break your arm, or you end up puking everywhere—" (a stranger whistles at us in millenium park--)

"Shut the fuck up," Bucky demands, and pulls Steve in for a kiss.

It is stiff at first—more overwhelmed than anything—their noses and their lips crushed together because they need it so bad. Because if they didn't kiss right now they would probably both erupt into color and flame and leave a crater behind in the Arizona desert. After a moment of desperate contact, after the reassurance that this is real, this whole night has been real, Steve relaxes. He strokes Bucky's jaw and parts his lips. (i wrote this sex scene between a dress rehearsal and a concert. A pretty major gig actually with a big symphony in a decent-sized city. I don’t LIVE in that city, so i had nothing to do between the rehearsal and the show, so i sat in a philly cheesesteak bar and wrote smut.) (i was also very anxious about the gig at the time.)

Bucky's hands are restless. They flutter like sparrows from Steve's wrists to his face and his elbows and finally, the fabric of his shirt, where they cling tight and pull him closer. He drifts back, stretches onto the mattress and pulls Steve on top of him. Not that it takes much coaxing. Steve goes hungry and willing. He wraps an arm around Bucky's waist and helps him shift farther onto the bed. Steve nudges a knee between Bucky's thighs, and that doesn't take much, either; Bucky's legs spread easily, (*eyes emoji*) and draw Steve in, and how absurd is this, now. It's phenomenal, the goosebumps that break out at the base of his spine and sweep straight to his skull.

Bucky kisses like an ocean. Writhing and fluid and breathless, pulse as natural and magnetic as the tide. He wraps Steve in white foam and surges against him. (this metaphor, for example, gives me vivid deja vu for that restaurant where i wrote it.)

Steve's left arm is trapped between Bucky and the mattress. With his right, he gropes for Bucky's hand and tangles their fingers together. Bucky's heel hooks behind his knee and he smiles, but doesn't break the kiss.

Steve grinds against Bucky's hip bone. That earns him a delicious groan.

Bucky gasps softly as he breaks the kiss. "I should probably be careful, you know," he whispers.

"You—? Oh," Steve says, scrambling up onto his elbows. "Sorry! Are you okay? Does this hurt?"

"No, not really," Bucky says, adjusting his left arm. (a resounding “yes” if i ever heard one) (he’s fine tho, he’s fine. just. you know.)

Steve can't imagine—just—at all. He just can't imagine. He can't picture hurting until it doesn't matter anymore. He wants to fix it so much. He wants to take away all of Bucky's hurt. "Is—? We can take it slow, if you want. I'm sorry. Is this—"

"Steve." Bucky spreads his fingers through Steve's hair and smiles. "I said careful, not abstinent." (if you could not tell after reading targeting, i really wanted to attack the stereotype where bucky is a wilting flower who needs to be coddled by Everyone. including but not limited to their Bedroom Activities)

He leans up to plant a soft kiss on Steve's chin.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"I'm not trying to pressure you though," Steve shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. (but also, i mean, steve is very very very sweet and i love that about him. It’s not offensive. it’s seriously fucking sweet.) "We can stop if you want."

"Steve Rogers, so help me, if you fucking stop now, you'll—I'll—I will … I'll do something. I can't think. But I'll do something. And you won't like it." (tbh i couldn’t think of something clever to say, and you know what? that seemed like the most accurate depiction of bucky’s state of mind)

Steve couldn't argue if he wanted. "Oh yeah?"

"Fuck."

"You don't want me to stop?"

"I don't want you to stop."

(at this point, i was picturing like, bucky hasn’t actually Had Sex in awhile. Like a year, even. he’s probably made out with someone in the dark corner of a bar or maybe fooled around in a bathroom at a frat party. which, getting a half-assed hand job 2-3 times a year is nice but it’s not exactly intimate. actually, it’s not even nice. anyway. bucky might be .. even more sensitive than usual. Especially since it’s….. steve.)

Steve leans in for a kiss again, a rich slide of lips against teeth. He tugs gently at the hem of Bucky's shirt and drags his fingernails across the ridges of his stomach.

The noise Bucky makes is sunset and surf and sin. Steve kisses that sound. He slides his left hand out from under Bucky's back and into the front of his pants. (STEEEEEEVE!!!!!!! GET IT STEVE!) That's a good reaction, too: Bucky's hips jump, as if jolted by an electric current.

Steve wants to know every single one of Bucky's reactions, wants to learn every perfect way to make Bucky squirm. He fumbles with Bucky's waistband, and that is fingernails against Steve's scalp; he wraps a hand around Bucky's dick, and that is a hiss of air through teeth; he strokes once, up and down, and that is a low whine in Bucky's throat. He tightens his hold, and that is Bucky's hand slipping into Steve's pants, grasping him and caressing him in return, which—damn, you know. (YEAH DAMN!!!)

Steve trails kisses along Bucky's jaw until he finds the soft spot under his ear. Bucky's pulse speeds up, his breath speeds up, and his hand speeds up.

"Oh, God, Bucky," Steve groans.

That's all it takes. Bucky arches his back, spilling over Steve's fist, gasping for air. (bucky came SO fast in this scene lmfao i’m dyin. I still am not sure if it’s like …. TOO fast. Like unrealistically fast. Or … unkind of me. But i just. he hasn’t done this in awhile, he’s with STEVE, steve just confessed his LOVE, all the game day adrenaline--yeah i mean, at the end of the day? same, bucky. same.)

As Bucky spirals back to earth, his grip on Steve's cock tightens and his pace quickens. Steve grinds down into his hand, desperate and fevered, and it doesn't take long for him to come, too. (i mean i guess it’s been a few months for steve too……...lmao ….)

And that—God Almighty—that doesn't feel like a small thing. That feels like a great deal more than two lines of text on a Wikipedia page. (SWEETHEARTS!!!!) (they’re so corny. STEVE is so corny.)

Steve tries to catch his breath, panting hard against the hollow of Bucky's shoulder, leaving a warm, damp patch in the fabric of his shirt. Bucky twitches under him. Static currents and shallow breath. The dappled violets and whites and yellows of the sea at sunset.

Steve is careful not to crush Bucky underneath him. Even in the dense fog of sex and happiness, he is so, so conscious of Bucky's hurts. If anything, Bucky is more delicate, this way; supine and pale and fragile under the tips of Steve's fingers.

Steve traces the lines of Bucky's abs—Jesus—he would count them if he could see straight. He wipes his hand on Bucky's hip bone and asks, "You want to clean up, or anything? You're welcome to use the bathroom."

"You hinting?"

"Am I—? No, it—I just—"

Bucky is grinning, though. (if you know me at all, you know i can’t write a whole sex scene of like, ocean tides and starlight and fragile hearts or whatever. There’s gonna be a joke about a condom or like, the realistically gross follow-up. I AM WHO I AM.) His stomach shakes with laughter, and Steve gapes at him—miles of smooth skin, threads of cum shining on his stomach. It's terrific and terrifying and it's obscene. (terrific AND terrifying!!! Steve, sweetheart!!!) Steve can't even think in words.

Bucky pokes him, hard, right near the collarbone. "You want me to clean up?"

"… I don't ever want you to leave this bed again," Steve breathes. (STEVE, on the other hand, is a much bigger sap than me.)

Bucky just laughs some more.

"What are you giggling at?"

"I ain't giggling." (oh texas boy)

"Oh yeah?"

"I don't giggle."

"What do you call it?" Steve says, running a fingertip from Bucky's sternum to his bellybutton, a slow, subtle trail.

Bucky covers his eyes so all Steve can see is his smile and the way his throat bobs when he swallows.

He can't get enough. He drinks Bucky in like a drug, every detail, every little meaningless deed. The way one side of his smile is higher than the other; the fine hair on his arms; the mess on his stomach, drying and tacky and glistening in the lines that define his abs; the way his knee sways back and forth; the T-shirt bunched up under his armpits.

"I don't giggle," Bucky repeats. Then he uncovers one eye to look at Steve. The tip of his tongue peeks between his teeth. Steve wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss it all.

"Okay," he whispers. "You don't giggle." He kisses Bucky's elbow, which is the nearest thing within reach.

It must tickle, because a noise escapes Bucky's lips. A noise that is absolutely a giggle. (i don’t think he’s laughing because he’s ticklish, at least not 100%. ;) ) "Shut up," he says before Steve can even open his mouth.

"Not a word."

[shipcestuous]

"Odd and True" Episode 2: Revenge of the Shipper (Submission)

(This post is covering chapters 3 through 6 of the book.  And I thought it couldn’t get any ‘cestier, but I was incorrect.)

Picking up where I left off last time (sorry for the wait, by the way; work is kicking my ass), we’re back in 1909 again, the story’s present, and Od and Tru have just been reunited after two years.  The sisters fall asleep in the same bed the same way they did when they were young, although Tru notes:

“[T]he bed stretched no wider or longer than before, and we had to sleep with our knees knocking into each other….

In the morning, I awoke to the warmth of the sunlight brightening my face and the sight of my sister and her rumpled brown hair lying next to me.  On the back of her neck gleamed the little clasp of the gold chain that held the key to the mystery box she’d spoken of the night before–the box that contained a story of some sort.

How my fingers itched to reach out and unfasten that clasp, to unlock the box.”

Of course I’m looking at this moment with shipper goggles fully in place, but I still can’t help but be reminded of those movie scenes where Character A wakes up next to Character B (usually after some romantic stuff) and is happy to realize it wasn’t a dream at all and they’re actually here.  Also, although I know Tru’s talking about a literal box and all, I can’t help but read that line in a shippier way.  My shameless shipper goggles at work, friends.

When Od wakes up, Tru asks her to stay here with her and their grouchy aunt, but their aunt doesn’t want Od there and says that she’d been told not to come back.  Od tells her, “I’m tired of living without my sister.  I’m taking her with me….  I want to save her.“  “Save her from what?“  “From you.  And the other monsters.”

(Their aunt Viktoria is the sister of Maria and Magnus– Viktoria is the middle sister–who used to believe in and love magic along with them.  They actually formed a little group as kids called “MarViLUs,” a combination of the letters in the three siblings’ names; the “L” comes from their last name, Lowenherz, meaning “lionheart”.  However, Viktoria now pretends not to believe in magic and hates when Od talks about it.)

Od and Viktoria get into a fight over whether Tru will stay home or leave with Od, and Od accuses their aunt of “keeping her trapped out here, just like our father did to our mother."  This accusation echoes Magnus’s accusations toward their father, another way the sisters’ relationship mirrors Magnus and Maria’s.

Od teaches Tru how to fight and tries again to convince her to come with her, even telling Tru twice that "we’re meant to be together."  (Ignore that sound in the distance; it’s just me screaming.)  Tru tells her that unlike Od, she can’t just leave, because "I’m a cripple….  I’m deformed”–words that really hurt Od to hear, making her tear up.

Tru asks Od again about their uncle Magnus and what happened to the girls’ father: whether Magnus truly made him disappear, or if Od is saying “in a delicate manner, that [their] uncle was a murderer."  Od dodges the question, and also Aunt Viktoria’s questions about whether Od has been in contact with Magnus, and I’m still on the edge of my seat to find out exactly what went down back then with Magnus, Maria, and the girls’ father.

Ultimately, the sisters and their aunt are at the train station, saying their goodbyes.  Tru is torn between staying home where she feels safer and following her big sister.  Even as she rises from her wheelchair to hug Od goodbye, she’s unsure. But then, "Od pulled me close enough for me to feel her heart pounding against my chest.  I couldn’t let her go.”  To their aunt’s outrage, and with Od’s help, Tru boards the train.  As the sisters ride away, Tru describes Od’s eyes as being “as luminescent as the sun stealing through the clouds behind her,” from how happy she is to have her sister by her side.  Thus ends chapter 3.  (Yeah, all that was one chapter.)

In chapter 4, we find ourselves in Od’s POV, as she remembers 1896 (so Od is about 6 here, and Tru is 2).  Od remembers their routine: their father would stop by their house for a week every other month.  And every alternating month, “when Papa specifically wasn’t visiting,” Magnus would show up and help Maria care for her daughters.

When neither of them are there, odd things happen.  Supernatural things. And Maria falls sick.  So one night, Od prays really hard that Magnus will show up to help them (as he told her to do in her previous flashback, citing the strength of their family bond).  The next day, he shows up, and when Od tells him how Maria is sick (it’s morning sickness, btw; she’s pregnant), he’s upset.  “Not again."  He asks the girls not to eavesdrop on his conversation with Maria, so of course Od does just that.

Magnus tells Maria that "you brought us to California to make a better life for the both of us” and that with every baby that her husband “saddles you with, you get stuck deeper and deeper."  Maria feels stuck.  Magnus volunteers to take her and the girls with him elsewhere (another parallel to the Od/Tru relationship). Their argument intensifies, Maria throws a pot, and Magnus rides off to blow off steam.

An hour later, the girls’ father shows up.  (His name is Louis, by the way.  I’ll be using that from now on, for brevity’s sake.)  Immediately, Od recognizes that "there’s going to be an awful battle” when Magnus comes back.  When she tells her father that Uncle Magnus is here, he gets agitated.  “Is he in there with your mother?”  She tells Louis that Maria and Magnus fought and he rode off, because Mama is sick, because she’s going to have a baby, and then Louis goes in the house to comfort the tearful Maria.

Magnus doesn’t come back in time for supper.  Meanwhile, Louis is reading to the girls, the Grimms’ story of “The Robber Bridegroom."  (Which is an interesting story to tell, considering that that’s basically how Magnus thinks of him.)  When Magnus does show up, it’s right as Louis finishes the story.  I’ll just… give you the excerpt here (again, from Od’s POV).  Because here, the subtext basically stops being subtext.

"Magnus!"  Mama jumped to her feet.  "You’re drunk!”

“Did you tell him the news?"  Uncle Magnus wobbled across the floorboards toward us.  "Did you tell him he’s got you further pinned to the walls of this house?  A chloroformed butterfly in his collection of treasures.”

“Go lie down."  Mama grabbed her brother by his right arm.  "Don’t let the children see you like this.”

“Odette, take your sister up to bed,” said Papa, lowering Tru to the floor.  “I need to have a little talk with your uncle.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like I’m a child, old man,” said Uncle Magnus, lunging forward, but Mama held him back before he could reach Papa.  “You may be older, but you’re nothing like a father to anyone–not to these children, not to any other children–”

“I’ll stop talking to you like you’re a child, Magnus,” said Papa, “when you stop acting like a twenty-one-year-old brat who’s in love with his sister.”

Mama and Uncle Magnus froze at those words, and their faces flushed bright red.

So yeah.  That happened.  I mean, I’d figured all that subtext couldn’t be just in my head, but you never know.  So it was nice to see the author’s confirmation (through Louis) that the subtext up to that point was intentional.

Od ushers Tru upstairs and tells her little sister to cover her ears.  Even with her own ears covers, Od remembers hearing the argument going on in the house beneath them.  The next morning, though, the house is eerily silent.  When Od creeps down the stairs, she finds Magnus sitting in Louis’s armchair.  She recalls, “he reigned over the empty room in my father’s chair."  (He also sits in Louis’s chair at the heat of the dining table in the next scene.  Just in case this moment wasn’t clear enough.  We get it, Magnus, you want to take Louis’s place completely.)

Magnus tells her that Louis is gone and that he’s never coming back, and ”for the first time in my life, I hated him.“  (Which is understandable, but makes me really sad.  I ship Od/Tru and Magnus/Maria, but Od’s admiration toward Magnus when she was younger was absolutely precious.)

When Maria wakes up, she tells Od that they’re going to move soon so she needs to pack her things.  But Od is convinced that Magnus killed her father, so she spends hours digging through their yard searching for Louis’s body, until Magnus comes out and stops his crying niece, telling her that Louis isn’t dead.  He just stormed out and Maria to leave for good.

"Od?  Did you think I killed him?  Is that why you’re digging?”

“You’ve said you wanted to kill him since the day Tru was born….”

…

“Your father’s not what he claims.  He’s not a poet, or an artist, or a loving family man.  He’s living down in San Diego, filthy rich from an allowance he receives from his parents back in England.”

“No, he’s not!"  I dropped the shovel and covered my ears.  "You killed him.  I know you did.”

“No, I didn’t."  Uncle Magnus squatted down and yanked my hands away from my ears.  "Stop saying that.  You’re ripping my heart to pieces, Od.  Look at me.”

I did as he asked, and the old, familiar compassion shone in my uncle’s brown eyes.

“Do you want me to take you to him?” he asked.  “Shall I prove to you he’s alive?”

So Magnus volunteers to sneak Od out to see her father (sneaking because Maria wouldn’t want Od to see her father ever again; yet another parallel to Tru slipping aboard the train with Od against their aunt’s wishes, partially because she hopes to see her mother again).  Maria sees them leaving and forces Magnus to tell her where they’re going, and she’s distraught; Od describes her as “screaming my uncle’s name, as though someone were chopping her to bits, as though she were laid out on a table, a victim of ‘The Robber Bridegroom’ murders."  And that’s where the chapter and the flashback end.

Back in the present in Tru’s POV, Od says they’re headed to Philadelphia, following a premonition of Tru’s.  Tru says that she wants to go to their mother instead, but Od claims their mother is ”not proud of her living conditions.  I don’t want to embarrass her.  And I don’t want to stop for any visits and chitchat.  We mustn’t get attached to any one place if we’re going to be productive,“ and then Od tries to change the subject.  Once she learns their mother IS in Philadelphia, she tries to dissuade Tru from going to see her.  Only more reading will tell if I’m right or not, but I suspect Maria and Magnus might be living together.

A small thing that’s notable about Od and Tru’s travels here: since Tru had to leave her wheelchair behind with their aunt in her rush to board the train, she has to rely on her cane and leaning on Od to walk here.  They might have been apart for two years, but their bond snaps into place again immediately; Od still fills her role as Tru’s protector, and Tru still relies on Od instinctively, even though she still doesn’t quite believe her big sister about the supernatural stuff.  Also notable, they keep doing the bed-sharing thing on the train.  Platonic bed-sharing is my favorite ship trope, it really is.

The next chapter, we’re back to Od’s flashback of her six-year-old self and Uncle Magnus going to see her father.  We also learn that when Maria first brought Magnus to California, she found work as Louis’s maid and that was where they met–further showing the imbalance in their relationship.

Finally, they reach Louis’s house, and Magnus takes Od’s hand and tells her, ”Whatever happens, know that you’re loved a great deal.“  The door is answered by a pretty young maid (Magnus comments that she resembles Maria, and asks if she was 16 or 17 like Maria was when Louis hired her).  Od finds out that her father has a whole other family here since long ago (the oldest boy is nearly Magnus’s age) and he’d been lying to her and Maria. Louis admits to Od that "this is my real family,” and Od is heartbroken (me too).

Od swears she’ll never speak to Magnus again for showing her all this.  (She is just six; that was probably not a good call tbqh.)  They stop for dinner at what seems to be a brothel, which… also not a good call, Magnus, but he’s barely an adult himself.  One of the women there comments that Od looks so much like Magnus and asks if he’s sure she isn’t his daughter.  Magnus says, “She’s definitely my niece, but she’s my girl, and I love her dearly."  Which is not actually a denial.  She could be his niece AND his daughter, and they do look alike from their descriptions so far.

The next day, Magnus and Od return home, and Maria is understandably furious about what her brother exposed Od to.  She tells him that she’ll never forgive him for taking her away, and she doesn’t want him to contact her or the girls again, and Od reflects that the previous night ”that was the last night I’d ever see my uncle, let alone my father, during the long and difficult years of my childhood.“

Now that we’ve learned all of this from Od’s flashbacks, it paints the story she told Tru in the prologue in an even sweeter light.  Od knows this horrible truth about her father and how her family divided, but when Tru asks about it, she paints it in a more magical light so as to protect Tru from the true (heh) nature of the events.  She doesn’t want her little sister to be shattered by the realization the same way Od was, and as an older sister with about the same age difference between me and my sibling as Od and Tru, that’s both the realest and the sweetest thing.

It does lead me to wonder if that’s the only supernatural thing she’s told Tru that was… altered a bit, but I’ll have to leave that for the next installment, because this is already incredibly lengthy.  I hope to have the next one written out far sooner than it took me this time, though!  These relationships are so compelling, so I might keep reading more tonight. :)

[x]

I’m so glad to hear that Maria and Magnus really is canon-ish now. There can be no doubt that all of the subtext was intentional. 

Thanks for this detailed update! I have the next one in my inbox now so I’ll move right on to it. 

[helthehatter]

Keep Calm, He’s Pregnant

I forgot to post this the last time I was at the library! I wrote a mpreg one shot for @thetrashdino for her story of baby Isabelle. When I have the time I might retry it cause I can probably do it better. But until then enjoy!

And please note this is in NO WAY canon to Isabelle’s actual story. It’s just a fan fic.

Judy, from her desk, let out a small sigh when Nick’s phone buzzed once again.

The fox eagerly checked his new text before typing a rapid fire reply as he spoke to his partner. “Was that jealousy, Carrots?”

She rolled her eyes, “That was annoyance. You aren’t getting paid to text Heather.”

“Yes, Chief Bogo,” Nick chuckled, pocketing his phone. “But when you finally decide to be social and get a buck friend you better not mix work with pleasure.”

Judy rolled her eyes once again before turning back to her work. Nick didn’t let her mood affect his; the fox was currently on cloud nine.

His girlfriend Heather had just moved in with him and she was a great roommate. Her cooking was worth five stars; she had excellent taste in movies and was a very talented kisser.

Nick released a dreamy sigh, impatient to get back home and snuggle with his vixen.

 .

             But that had been months ago, before dinners had turned quiet and their retro VCR left to collect dust. They had hoped an intimate night would fix whatever had unexpectedly broken.

It hadn’t. And, officially out of love, Heather packed up her things and left. And Nick was more upset that he wasn’t, well, more upset.

           But only a few days after Heather left and Nick had started to feel…odd. If he wasn’t nauseous he was craving sweets (such as blueberry and chocolate ice cream, and he had never even been a fan of chocolate!). And there was his sudden fatigue, making even Judy look at him weird when he practically laid on his desk.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not as young as I used to be, Fluff. When you’re older you’ll understand.”

Nick decided he needed to look up what was wrong with him when he nearly snapped Finnick’s ear off when he got the wrong pizza.

           “Okay,” Nick sat alone in his apartment, in front of his laptop as he typed in his symptoms. “Let’s find out what the hell is wrong with me.”

The word pregnant glared from the screen in big black font and Nick felt a cold ball of dread from in his stomach.

“Stop it laptop,” he tried to laugh but couldn’t. “I’m the only jokester in this household.”

But the word still stared at him, sending his heartbeat out of whack. He clicked through a few websites that explained the symptoms of pregnancy and it matched him perfectly. He recalled that he and Heather had never used protection.

“Hah…” his voice was high-pitched yet raspy. “Hahhh…” He passed out.

 .

             He woke up to his phone ringing, Finnick was calling.

“Yeah?” Nick asked and to his horror his voice was watery as if he was crying.

And of course Finnick’s giant ears caught that, “Are you crying?”

“Pfft, no! You’re crying you freak!” Nick tried a laugh that came out hysterical.

“Are you sure you’re okay, bud?” Finnick asked.

“Yes, Dad. Why’d you call?”

“Your bunny said you’ve been acting weird, asked me if I knew anything.”

Nick felt a twinge of guilt for worrying his two friends. “I’ve just been a little tired.”

“Is it because of Heather?”

Nick hung up instead of answering. Instead rolling onto his back and throwing his arm over his eyes. He felt pricks of tears in his eyes and angrily rubbed them away.

“I can’t have a baby!” he yelled up at the ceiling. “I’m a baby!”

He rolled onto his stomach, but then sat up because he didn’t know if it was safe to lie on your stomach when you’re expecting. “I know nothing about raising a child.” He slid off the couch and onto the floor, letting out a groan. What am I going to tell, Carrots? I can’t let the ZPD know the bloodsucking media will stalk me! But won’t I need maternity leave? I need a doctor too!

He buried his face in his paws, pulling his legs up to rest his knuckles against his knees and went quiet, his breathing the only noise in the apartment. His mind went from panicking about the future to recalling the past. His father had never been a presence in Nick’s life, and his mother, bless her soul, had tried her best. But Nick still grew up feeling a sense of neglect and his failure at becoming a junior ranger scout didn’t help. It wasn’t until he befriended Judy that he finally felt a sense of being wanted and appreciated. It was a really nice feeling.

He wondered if the kit growing inside him would be better off if he gave it up to a different family. Would he have been better off?

Those thoughts were only in his head for a moment before a vicious urge of protectiveness and anger made his fur bristle. Just the thought of another family raising the kit he carried made him incredibly jealous, and the thought of the kit being adopted by a family that didn’t understand the hardships of a fox terrified him. He was the only one who got what his kit would be in danger of; he was the only one who knew what was best for his kit.

And he also knew he was both an idiot and a goner because he wasn’t even showing yet and he was already incredibly attached to the little bean in his stomach.

 .

             “You’re what?” Bogo looked up from his files to stare at Nick through his glasses. The fox wasn’t in his uniforms, instead in a thick jacket that he didn’t want to be suspicious but since he was already growing a bump he had little choice.

“Well, my name is Wilde, CB,” Nick pointed out, leaning his elbows onto the desk and looking completely at ease.

“And you want…maternity leave,” Bogo’s voice betrayed how the buffalo could not believe he was having this conversation with Nick.

“Yep,” the fox nodded. “I mean, it’s only for two months. Btw, I also need you to stay completely silent on this. Not even Carrots can know.”

Bogo arched a thick eyebrow, “You haven’t told Hopps?”

Nick shook his head, and while he felt guilty from hiding this news from his best friend he also felt a sick sense of-he couldn’t even describe the feeling-at the thought of telling her he had gotten himself knocked up because of a vixen who had vanished without a trace.

“Alright,” Bogo sighed, “Then you better get out of here before she can hunt you down.”

“Roger,” Nick slipped off the chair and headed toward the door, but didn’t get far before Bogo called him back.

“Do you have a doctor?”

“I was thinking of just having a home birth,” even though Nick’s tone was joking he was being dead serious. “Didn’t our ancestors used to give birth in caves and open fields back in the day?”

When the buffalo just frowned at him Nick released a breath, “I gotta keep this a secret, I don’t want the paparazzi to bother me…or the baby.”

“I have a friend who’s a doctor,” Bogo informed him. “She would keep it a secret.”

Nick’s ears pricked up, “She would?”

“Yes, I can have her call you. She makes house calls.”

“You’d do that for me?”

Bogo chuckled, actually chuckled. Nick was pregnant and getting a laugh out of the chief was literally the strangest thing to happen to the fox. “You’re one of my officers, Wilde,” Bogo reminded him. “I do what I can for all my officers.”

“Oh,” Nick placed a paw over his heart, “You’re going to make me blush.”

The buffalo rolled his eyes and sent Nick on his way. He had just shut the door behind him when a familiar voice filled him with dread.

“Nick, hi!”

He pulled on his trademark lazy smirk as he turned around to see Judy hopping toward him. When she reached him her brow furrowed in curiosity, “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

“Oh, uh,” Nick let out a fake cough. “Not feeling so good, Carrots. I’m gonna go on sick leave for a few days just in case I have the plague.”

Her expression said she wasn’t buying it, “Why didn’t you just call Bogo instead of coming in? If you’re sick you need to rest.” “Are you actually bossing me when I could fall over dead at any moment?” he asked.

“It’s not bossing it’s telling you the practical thing to do,” she pointed out. “But Finnick told me he called you the other day and you hung up on him.”

Nick felt his tail bush up. He did not need his former and current work partners to gang up on him, and that’s exactly what he told her.

Judy blinked, taken aback, “We’re not ganging up on you; we’re worried about you. You’ve been distant ever since…” she trailed off for a moment and gave him a look that was on the borderline of angry. “Is this all about Heather?”

Nick let out an exasperated breath so loud it startled the rabbit, “Look, since I’m currently sick I’m going to go home and get some rest and pretend I can have my privacy.”

He ignored her now guilty look and headed toward the exit, “Nick, I didn’t mean…”

He left before she could finish her sentence.

 .

             The first week of Nick’s pregnancy became a pattern: sleep in (which he didn’t mind at all), eating a bunch of random food he had never tried before (he didn’t know what a kohlrabi was but he certainly ate it), visited by Bogo’s doctor friend (an armadillo who didn’t keep her paws to herself), and ignoring the calls of his friends.

           “I know, Arnold Schwolfzenegger,” Nick told the TV as for the fifth time he watched the only movie he could truly connect to: Junior. “I should tell my friends but I know how they’ll react.” He lowered his voice to mimic Finnick, “What’s tha matter with ya, Wilde? I’ve told ya over and over to use protection and now look at what happened to ya!”

He raised his voice to a feminine lilt to mimic Judy: “I can’t believe you Nick. I should’ve known this would happen, you getting crazy over some vixen who up and left you and now you have a kit on the way!”

Nick stopped his mimicry when he realized tears were falling. “Stupid hormones,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

He cuddled onto his bed, holding a pillow to his chest and massaged his bloated stomach. “Don’t worry, little Bean. Your dad’s got this.” He wouldn’t be able to hide a child from Judy forever, but hopefully, by the time that happened he would know how to handle it.

“So,” he pulled himself onto his back, paw still on his belly, “What are you going to do with your life? You’re my insurance, kid, I expect you to take care of me when I’m old and gray. So what will be your career, a teacher for some giant college? A chief for a five star restaurant? Oh, wanna be a cop like your pops? Trust me, if I can do it, you can do it.” He blinked when Nick realized that…for so many years he was never this hopeful about the future, not until he had become a cop.

“Oh bean,” he smiled at the ceiling, “You might have chosen the perfect time to be born.”

 .

             Nick woke up to the sound of his bed creaking, but he was still too tired to open his eyes and assumed he had just shifted in his sleep.

But a few moments later a voice spoke: “Nick.”

He let out a scream and nearly fell off his bed, staring in shock and horror at the rabbit that sat on the edge of his bed.

“HOPPS!” he shrieked, “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!?”

Judy was staring at him with open surprise; she lifted a shaking paw and pointed at his stomach.

“You’re…you…”

Nick panicked and wrapped his arms around his belly as if that would hide the very obvious baby bump. “Okay, first let me say-”

“You liar!” she snapped and bopped his shoulder with her paw.

Nick blinked at her scowling expression, “What-”

“You told me you were sick and-and you made me think I did something wrong by ignoring me! And you hide this-” she flailed her arms at his stomach- “from me! I thought we were friends!”

“Okay, first off,” Nick began. “Breaking into someone’s house is illegal.”

“You gave me a key,” she snapped.

Oh. That’s right. “Second off, I didn’t tell you I was pregnant beacsue…”

Judy furrowed her brow when he trailed off, “Because?”

“I think it’s obvious that this wasn’t a plan,” Nick admitted.

“Yeah,” Judy agreed, her voice having gone softer when she saw Nick’s expression. “It’s Heather’s, right?”

“Yeah, but…she doesn’t know. And since she hasn’t contacted me since she left, I think it’s best she just…isn’t told.” “So you plan on raising the kit on your own?” she asked him.

Nick straightened his back, “I can do it.”

“I believe you,” she said simply and those simple words surprised him.

“You do?”

She smiled softly, “Of course I do.”

“So you’re not mad anymore?” he asked.

“Oh I am furious,” she replied, her smile was still in place but now it looked terrifying. “And once that baby is out of your belly I’m going to make you suffer.” She took in a deep breath, “But until then…”

She moved to sit next to him, leaning her head on his arm and placing a gentle paw on his belly. “I’m going to be here for you and the baby.”

Affection tightened Nick’s throat and intense relief lifted a weight off his shoulders. “Thanks, Fluff.”

She smiled up at him, “Between the two of us I’m the mom friend. And this is what moms are for.”