#so I should purchase them and get groceries and maybe MAYBE even take myself out to lunch as a celebration of how much effort I’ve been

[madigoround]

💜

[frogsandfries]

Followup to my previous:

I was thinking about how the bead shop here in town, the one that sells 15/0s right there in the store, they're having trouble and I feel helpless about it. I don't want them to go out of business. I'd love to give some of my time to them, and maybe--I'm obviously not as young as I used to be, but I'm younger than the people I usually see in there.

Plus, so this guy came in. He was not quite right, and I don't think the person in the shop today usually has encounters like this. I'm pretty familiar with running into the not quite right, as a person as much as in an employee capacity. I was ready to keep him honest, but I wasn't really sure if she was familiar with handling situations like this, plus, it wasn't my store...... I didn't know where I might overstep.

Anyway.

A quick aside about how I might like to volunteer for this shop, offer a different kind of face, maybe bring in a different kind of age group. But goddamn, two days off just doesn't feel like enough time for myself--and it of course feels like even less time to myself if I have to be out of the apartment for errands.

I'm just irritated that, like let's say I start making this bead boxes, or maybe I move on to something else, it feels like making a profit is the only way to do anything.

Anyway. It just gets me to thinking, like, stuff like writing fanfic, and reading and sharing it--from links, to podcasts, to typesets, to bound books--it feels like an act of rebellion, a taking back of freedom. Sure, once you get to printing and covering and bookmarks and dust jackets, like, it's still consuming, but it's not consuming for the sake of the hustle. It feels like circumventing the [publishing] industry, it feels like side-stepping the rat race and feeling a little closer to total strangers.

Even slow fashion and choosing to repair instead of replace--the coquelicot skirt, a re-re-reinvention of a completely adjustable skirt, one that will always fit you, and your mom and your sister and your cousin and your niece. It feels slow, and free from the grabby hands of capitalism--repair is bad for business. One garment built to last decades, if not generations--it's bad for business. Not letting small degradations to an otherwise sturdy enough garment lead you to throw it away--it's bad for business.

But goddamn, it feels so good and rebellious. And it's stupid that it feels so rebellious. For centuries and centuries, repair was a matter of course. One did not simply run out and buy probably a years worth of food in fabric every couple months. One made what they had work and last, and last and last, until it completely degraded away to nothing.

Growing your own garden, for those who have the resources for such, preserving even the produce you purchase at a grocery store--it's bad for business. You should just let your food go bad and buy more.

I know this is just kind of getting random and disjointed, but I'm so exhausted.

I should be able to tell my boss, hey, I want to work four ten-hour days a week, and that should be doable. I should be able to tell my boss, I only want to work thirty hours a week and I should still be able to pay my rent. It shouldn't be a big fucking deal. It's not like they're paying me for my exclusivity--actually, that's part of the problem. They aren't, and I think it would be nice to have the time to not only get off work and relax in the evenings, but also have time on my days off to run errands, decompress, maybe actually get a second job and still not feel over-worked.

I don't understand why I have to give so much of my life to my job--the extra nights when I could sleep to my own natural rhythm. It really would not be that difficult for me personally, and of course, I'm certain many others, to do four ten-hour days with this kind of client. Why do I have to devote so much of my life to my job? I'm not even talking about that "time blind" person crying because the job they wanted laughed about them essentially showing up whenever they wanted to a situation that clearly did not allow for that.

I'm not even considering the commute that I no longer have to make.

I'm merely talking about re-balancing my life, which I'm more than willing to do, to feel like I have a little more freedom and control. I just do not understand how difficult it would be to tack on one more hour before and after my shifts, say Monday through Thursday, and then just not fucking schedule me Friday through Sunday. Why is this so fucking controversial??? Because people might like it??? Because, what, the shareholders are so convinced that with constant streams of what we're doing on the computers as well as a fucking camera in our fucking faces, because we aren't in the office, we STILL have too much freedom??? Fuck the shareholders. Useless fucking breathers.

What is so fucking wrong with giving me one more fucking day to decompress--or heaven fucking forbid, get a second job--or whatever the fuck it is that I fucking want to do with my fucking free time.

I dunno. I'm exhausted and I feel like I'm under so much pressure that I might explode.

I'm also disappointed that there's more information on the internet than ever, but most of it is fucking hustle, ads ads and more ads. How long and far do you realistically expect me to sift before I just fucking give up and my interest and desire to self-educate just.....evaporate again......

Anyway, I'm going to try to set aside my bitter, stressed feelings about the hellhole the internet has become despite all the kind people and teams who are trying to lend a hand to some of us and try to keep us from sliding further down the fiery maw of capitalism.

More people are typesetting BUFN and I haven't even finished typesetting DoT. I can't finish BUFN till I've done at least one more volume of DoT.

I might actually also have to do some printing tomorrow.

[xtrablak674]

This is NOT the way to Rekindle a Friendship

It's a wrap, I arrived at a third strike and didn't even realize it.

"If someone is going to be your friend, the things that are important to you are important to them. This isn't that! #fullstop #period" - The words I said to my nephew about the situation

Reticence, that was the feeling I got from him from the moment I DM'd him on LinkedIn. The phone call I had gotten months ago regarding being his emergency contact, had left me thinking about him and what he was up to, and if he was doing better than when we had last spoken probably fifteen years ago. My exploration of my archived files just gave me a reason to reach out again, and since his old landline was now an iPhone I could unobtrusively text him some of my findings.

Maybe there was some tentativeness on my end too, as I have gotten more worn in the world, I have noticed that friendships are harder to start and keep. My natural tendency is to curate already established relationships as opposed to cultivate new ones. I think a lot of it has to do with I am at a place in my life where I don't tolerate as much as I used to. I won't settle for mediocre when I should have the best. #period

It was five months ago and I still hadn't seen him in person, that should have been a clear sign there was something unsaid in the water. If you were truly excited to have someone in your life again, I am pretty sure it wouldn't take you nearly half a year to state that you want to hang out. Even though I went anti-grace a full year ago, I think my natural default is to give others grace, I will have to work harder on this.

The only outstanding debts from my position, were the fact that he owed me some money for the groceries we had purchased in Chelsea Market for some holiday celebration at Adam's house, and he never showed up and never reimbursed me for my expenditure. The real reason our friendship was put on hold was his mental health struggles, that were in jeopardy of putting my own mental health at risk. I had to put some distance between us until he was in a better place emotionally. I was waiting to see him in person to mention both of these issues, just so from my perspective the air was cleared of any lingering and unresolved problems. But we won't get there it seems.

May 20th, 2023 was my first text to him, and a pattern I quickly recognized was that I was initiating text to him more than he was doing the same. I was being held at a distance and I wasn't quite clear why. #🤔 My experience with most of my friendships even ones left abandoned I usually picked right up where we left off, this wasn't that and I wasn't sure where the underlying issues were...

I had postulated with him that he might be a little depressed, my assessment coming from the fact that I deal with dysthymia and also the pattern of most all of my friends having some level of depression or anxiety. I do truly think we attract what we are, but I think we find comfort in those who understand what we are going though. But there was emphatic disagreement with this according to his less than a year of therapy.

Anyway after a couple of months of texting I had decided to kick the wheels on this rekindled friendship and make a request. My nephew was struggling at the hospital he was working at and was looking to make a change. I thought this was a perfect thing to ask of him, having learned that the hospital he was at he had been with over a decade. Also being cognitive of the way folks find jobs nowadays was due in large part to nepotism not merits. I didn't think the request presumptuous or inconvenient.

He shut me down concisely, he didn't know anyone on that side of the hospital. I was seriously like what the fuck? That wasn't even an attempt, or a soft-answer of 'let me look into it', it was a total and complete shutdown! As attempting myself to use nepotism to get an internship in this film program I was immediately offended and put-off, because you can't work somewhere ten years and not know someone who knows someone.

"If someone is going to be your friend, the things that are important to you are important to them."

Helping my most able-bodied and well-skilled nephew finding a job was important to me, very important in fact, and albeit I have always been of the mind to find employment based on merit, I could acknowledge the world I had known had moved on. I didn't make a huge issue of it, but I did make a mental note, not realizing I had arrived at a first strike.

He had gotten the Rona, according to him for the second time, so we were discussing the fact that I had never had it. The only recent illness I had was a flu from a few weeks ago, that coincidentally my nephew had also with a slight variation on the symptoms. And no, we didn't give it to each other, it had been more than two weeks since we had last seen each other.

So we were discussing vaccination, he wanted to know if there was anything that would change my mind about getting vaccinated and I stated unequivocally that it would make little to no sense for me to get vaccinated, I don't work, I live alone and most importantly I don't leave the house. Where am I getting exposed to anything or exposing anyone to anything?

This is where we approached our second strike, because the dialog was going the same way as my arguments with Adam about another communicable disease where me and him differed in our approach and opinion. Most importantly this ones feelings were undermining my agency and my competence to make decisions regarding my health on my own. I didn't care if he worked at a hospital, he was a chef, not a doctor. And even if all of his facts were accurate, I was my own person and I had made my decision and wasn't open in the least to changing my position.

Most importantly he was letting his feelings on the matter trump respecting my own feelings about my own health. This is more than a decorum issue or a manners issue, it was a fundamental problem. If you let your emotions take priority over anyone else's position that is rude and disrespectful. #FuckYourEmotions

I did what any responsible adult would do, I said we should just change the topic, because I was just getting pissed off just like when my physician assistant was going a little too hard in pushing the clinic her hospital offered. I don't at all appreciate when folks act like they know better about my health than I do. Even if they are qualified to. I am fully grown adult and the repercussions of my decisions or lack thereof are mine and mine alone to deal with. Seriously, I took care of a nonagenarian for over two years having to make all kinds of daily decisions about her care, and she died comfortable at her home of over fifty years.

Reviewing the text he did assent to changing the topic, but then asked about another complicated relationship Adam. I shared with him how Adam betrayed me and how that ended the friendship. He was appropriately empathetic, but even remembering the interaction I had sworn he had continued talking about the issue, not realizing how heated and enraged I had gotten. This was a technical strike. Not being self-aware enough to sense this might be a sore topic and pull his aggression back.

But he has always had an issue with always wanting to be right, which is something I entertained because I knew ultimately he could be right all he wanted, and I would still do what I wanted to do.

I didn't want to broach these personal topics, but I need to make a point. I was giving him grace and empathy that he wasn't giving me. He had two triggering areas that even nearly two decades later I was aware of. One was the child he had twenty-one or so, the second was his brief incarceration and felony charge.

He shared with me in these last few months that his son had died at twenty-nine, and that the mother of the child hadn't told him. Now this is where I appreciated my reaction to this information, because I was very in my feelings about the entire situation, and I really wanted more information. Truthfully, I wanted to curse her ass out for not telling him herself. Because I was lead to believe he had actually NEVER met his twenty-nine year old son and didn't have any current photos of him. I was like what in the holy-fuck is that about?

I understood these were my feelings and I knew parenting a child so young, and being estranged from the child and the mother had to be very complicated. Albeit, I wanted to help and find photos of the son, I stepped back because I could have my feeling, but my feelings couldn't encroach on respecting the complexity of the situation and how emotionally raw he might be about the loss of his child and the loss of the relationship they were slowly working toward.

I don't feel I was given this same grace.

Same regarding his incarceration, when we last spoke he was still on parole dealing with the other-side of life being a felon and having to deal with a probation officer and all that entails. He was extremely depressed around this change of his fortunes and wasn't quite sure how to navigate all of it, but his degraded mental health was pulling me down with him and I had to put space between us.

In the last five months I never as much as mentioned his incarceration, he bought it up on his own and albeit I had questions I never poached one, feeling this was something more appropriate for an in-person conversation, that would never come.

And now the third strike:

"Good morning, I accidentally broke my microwave. I tried to pop some more kernels in this microwave popcorn and broke something. I feel bad because these appliances just end up in landfills.

It was ten years old, I was hoping maybe to get another five years out of. Now I need to contemplate what can I replace it with, not that I use it heavily, I mean hardly at all. Maybe I can be fine without. Or maybe a refurbished one... "

A broad question I sent to him and another friend who I knew was experienced in cooking and food preparation. Him being an executive chef I thought he'd be the perfect person to assist me in my dilemma. I would learn that his help wasn't help at all, and when it came down to it I was on my own.

To consolidate the situation we had a text barrage of figuring out which device was the best for my needs, then whittling it down to a specific product. He approved the induction cooker I liked, and I sent him a link to the same product listed on eBay. I thought I was done but he then said I needed "induction compatible" cookware. He might as well have been speaking conversational Japanese, because the gas hasn't even been on in my apartment since I moved here in nineteen ninety-seven.

He recommended searches that were coming back way too broad, and I just asked him to suggest an appropriate pan, he did sending me an Amazon link, which I attempted to translate to the eBay equivalent. And like the previous link I sent the link to him for final approval before I purchased it.

Just an aside, the process I used with him is the process I learned in working with clients back in the late nineties at an ad agency. Whatever final creative you developed you always sent a link to the client for final confirmation, because ultimately it's their brand and they will know best. Silly me assuming that he would take the care to review the product and make sure it was the same as the one on Amazon, I would only find out later in an aside that there were two pans on Amazon one "induction compatible" the other wasn't, this wasn't information he shared with me.

The wrong kind of pan arrived in the mail and this was his reaction:

E: 🤣

T: Well I am NOT AMUSED! Why is it so difficult to find something that works with the induction cooker?

E: It's not. You just use eBay is all

T: eBay isn't the issue here. This pan was totally your recommendation.

E: Don't go blaming me, the one think I said was to make sure it's induction read.

T: Now I have a forty dollar frying pan I don't need.

E: The one I showed you was. Return it. I'm sure they take returns.

Curiously when I spoke to the girlfriend I had texted the same question, in two seconds she said, stainless steel. Anything stainless steel should be induction compatible. Mind you I was on fire, because how am I speaking to an executive chef albeit one recovering from COVID but someone with literal muscle memory he's been doing this so long. And he has me Googling obscure phrases as opposed to just looking for "stainless steel pans". I was so done, but then he put a cherry on top. #🍒

T: The 'hot plate' came with no manuals, no box, and fingerprints and other marks on it.

E: I did I just think you’re being mellow dramatic.  You hit the high button and heat your food… big deal

T: I don't think I am being anything. I am trying to figure out and learn a topic I have not the least bit of interest in, and went to someone I thought was more experienced and still got mediocre results.

E: Again blaming me for something that I had nothing to do with. Your very good at deflecting

T: Okay fine, you have no culpability whatsoever. Its all my fault for not looking for one word. I will note this in the future, to just do it my damn self.

"If someone is going to be your friend, the things that are important to you are important to them. This isn't that! #fullstop #period"

[Photo by Brown Estate]

[apollo-zero-one]

I love my parents and they undeniably do a lot for me and as a member of this family I should be a team player and stick it out. But also. I think my life would genuinely be so much better if I cut my parents off from my bank account and moved out. They try both they are so fucking financially irresponsible and it is like actually ruining my life I think. And I know they have good intentions but when I mention maybe wanting to move out they immediately go on about how much harder it would be and how it involves so much more than just paying rent- okay! Teach me then! I am not allowed to see any of the bills in this household. That my entire paycheck and then some goes toward. I let my mom know I had a credit card and she asked to borrow it a handful of times and it is maxed out. My bank account is always negative because she has a debit card on it. I spend maybe $40 total every two weeks and I'm here feeling miserable and guilty about it because it's making my account so much more negative and she has purchased my baby sister a new backpack. Which is fine. It's not a bad thing, alone. It's just that it's all. The. Time. And my stepdad gets on her ass about it and that forces me to take her side even though I don't agree with her because He's Doing The Same Shit!! Worse even because he doesn't TELL US ANYTHING. We all agreed to cancel all of our subscriptions in an attempt to get out of the hole and who do I find watching fucking Hulu with his secret account he made separate from the family one. Bringing home individual snacks and drinks from the overpriced corner store- and getting pissy when I say he needs to cut it out. I'm not fucking saying you can't have snacks!! I'm saying buy them from the goddamn grocery store and divide them into baggies!! The cost of a party size bag of chips and a box of sandwich sized baggies is significantly less than the cost of one single serving bag of chips every day for a week and WE. ARE. IN. DEBT. I don't fucking understand how he's got negative a thousand dollars or fucking whatever and can justify this shit. And he's the one who is always bringing it up as if he isn't just as guilty as my mom! My brother has it right, he never tells our parents where he is, what he's doing, or how much he makes. They don't know how much he works or how much money he has and he is never reliably home so he isn't asked to do things. While I, I am sharing everything I have and I thought I was helping my family through a hard time but I think I'm just enabling their irresponsibility.

And I am currently trying to figure out how to talk to them about this without it turning into a fight. I don't know if I'm going to be able to stay calm because I finally passed the threshold from defeated to just absolutely fucking seething. You are both nearly fifty fucking years old and it should not have been on me as your child to realize as my credit score tanks and my bank leaves me threatening voicemails that helping my family is financially irresponsible.

I love my family so much and it is hurting me so, so bad to get the perspective that they are a sinking ship dragging me down with them. There isn't, actually, anything I can do to help. Maybe if I do just fucking leave it'll be the kick in the ass they need to actually change. What are my other options? Lecturing them? Guilting them? Screaming at them? They already know I'm upset. Of course I'm upset.

And I'm not innocent of spending more than I should every now and then but it's never more than I was confident I had and it always was a punch to the gut when I wake up the next day and my account is hundreds of dollars negative because of something my mother did. I don't even fucking know what.

Yeah, living by myself might be hard, but at least I'll actually know and have control over everything going on. At least when my account goes negative I will know exactly why and be able to prevent it the next time. I can learn. I need to get out of this helpless, hopeless situation before it kills me.

[nickgerlich]

More With Less

It has been said many times that roughly 70% of our economy is derived from consumer purchases. This includes all the goods and services we buy. Notice I did not say “consume,” because I’m betting there is not a person in my class—myself included—who does not have at least two garments hanging in their closet with the tags still on them.

I’ll let you mull over that thought for a second.

Shopping has become a social activity, especially here in the States, although it can certainly be done alone. People do it for entertainment, to alleviate boredom, and, in many cases, to simply allow marketers to hit them with their best shot.



“Here, take my money,” we are implicitly saying. We come looking for problems we did not even know we had, and then buy the solution. Pavlov never had it so easy. It’s the cure for our bourgeois lives, the ennui that apparently comes with living in the land of plenty.

I am not much of a shopper, to be honest. Well, not when I am at home. I hate going to BAM stores. But COVID found me sequestered with my laptop and phone far more than I ever cared to be, and suddenly I found myself clicking the “Buy Now” button on Amazon whenever I needed something. Or just wanted it. Whatever. The mail person and UPS driver were here four or five days a week.



But travel is my kryptonite. I like to grab unique items while on the road, especially souvenirs from craft breweries, but also local hoodies and t-shirts and things like that. It is when I get home and unload all of this sh*t that I begin to wonder: What the hell was I thinking? That way cool red hoodie with the Canadian maple leaf I bought in Winnipeg looked great when I tried it on. We’ll see come winter if I actually wear it, eh.

Marketers, I often tell my students, are all going to a special inner circle of hell. You know. Right beside the Lake of Fire. We are the ones responsible for creating problems like halitosis, a BS word if there ever were one invented. It’s bad breath, and guess what? Here’s the cure! And Close Up toothpaste five decades ago? That makes sure you get some tonight. And don’t get me started on B.O., a western concern of the highest order. Just travel outside the country and you’ll see that the rest of the world couldn’t care less if they stink.

I created a maxim many years ago after buying my first house (in which I still reside). We had 3000 square feet on 10 acres, and a lot of wide open spaces inside and out. “How in the world will we ever fill this place?” Silly me. That didn’t take long.

Today, about 10% of Americans pay for off-premise storage space. Fortunately, I have out-buildings for the overflow.

It boils down to this: We have more stuff than we could ever use. We have specialized tools for rare tasks, from the kitchen to the garage and work shop. We have books we have never read, streaming services we never watch. We buy groceries on aspiration that we’re going to eat more healthily, then wind up throwing it out two weeks later when the refrigerator starts to stink. And by the way, American fridges are about 50% bigger than what you will find in other countries.

Because we like to have enough on hand in case—you know—we’re ever invaded or something. My massive collection of shelf-stable foods (I do the cooking) is also testament to this fear. We didn’t need a Great Depression to forge this mindset. We developed it all on our own.

I urge you all to take stock of your shopping proclivities, your acquisitions, the stuff you have that at one point or another made you feel good. And then think, as I have been working on diligently, cutting back and getting rid of, either by donation, dumpster, or Facebook Marketplace. You’re not taking it with you when you die; your hearse will not have a U-Haul trailer in tow.

And then consider that our economy still depends on us to keep doing our part. It’s a great conundrum to be sure. It’s what fuels our economy, but simultaneously becomes the bane of our existence. Maybe we all should rent a dumpster and do a big cleanse.

Dr “Trying To Do More With Less” Gerlich



Audio Blog

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tftaws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Eleven (final chapter)

chapter ten - Chapter Eleven: Safe Haven

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Bucky enjoy their time off in Brooklyn and make decisions about their future.

Warnings: FLUFF, very little angst for once, talk of torture, reference to suicide, open ended plot twist that I'm not sorry for...all the fluff, seriously...

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: Here we are...part of the journey is the end, and we've arrived. Even though there's another a/n at the bottom (with an important announcement so don't tap out too soon) I want to iterate just how thankful I am for the response I got on this series. I had the most amazing time writing it and loved getting to meet and connect with so many of you through it. ENJOY!!

----

It had taken all the strength Bucky had in his soul to knock three times on Yori’s door. He didn’t know what reserve he had had to tap into to actually make his long-hidden confession but once the words had fallen from his lips, he felt both freed and all the more burdened. Watching his friend’s eyes become overtaken by heartbreak, the desperate, confused utterance of ‘why…?’ By the end, Yori wouldn’t even look at Bucky. Bucky didn’t blame him, he was surprised that the man wasn’t yelling him out of his apartment. Instead, he calmly told Bucky to leave, surely holding back the majority of his emotions until he was by himself. The door shut on their friendship and Bucky was by himself on the other side of the door once again, drawing the shaky breath he’d held while he was inside Yori’s place. Out of every person he’d gone to see, every heart he’d had to crush, this one had hurt the most. In the dauntingly long hallway, his eyes sought out the gift the universe had given him, so undeservingly.

His guiding light.

Bathed in the blue light that flooded through the dirty windows of the aged building, Y/n stared down at her feet as she paced. For as open as they’d become with one another, Bucky found himself unable to ask her to accompany him to his last opportunity to make amends. The two of them had become so skilled at reading each other that with one look in his saddened eyes, Y/n had squeezed her phone into the pocket of her jeans and stood by the door waiting for him to ready himself. Bucky was starting to make peace with his past, but he still didn’t know what he had done in his wretched life to have such an angel in his life.

“Hey,” she greeted soothingly, turning to face Bucky as he approached her, “How’d it go?” Bucky wasn’t ready to speak yet, he wasn’t even sure how he could describe what had just transpired. He simply sighed and allowed Y/n to wrap him in her arms in the embrace that was quickly becoming his favorite place to be.

——

As I woke with a groan, stretching my arms over my head, I was immediately aware that one side of the bed was cold. I blindly reached a hand over and felt around for Bucky’s missing body, sitting up when my search was unsuccessful. I blearily scanned the bedroom, our suits laying in a pile that had been kicked to the corner of the desolately furnished room. The few articles of clothing I had gone to the nearest department store and purchased for my impromptu stay in New York still lay folded on top of Bucky’s dresser. It didn’t dawn on me until that moment that I was beginning to spread across Bucky’s apartment without even trying.

It had been four days since the Flag Smasher’s final stand and while the world may have been spinning, mine had never been more steady. Bucky and I hadn’t left his apartment for more than running necessary errands. Other than that we’d spent the time enjoying our slice of domestic heaven learning about one another. I had discovered that Bucky was a good cook but only when it came to breakfast food. He had found out that I needed to sleep with the windows opened slightly for background noise. I had learned that his Spotify consisted strictly of music from the ’40’s and nothing else, contrary to what he’d told Sam about diving into Marvin Gaye’s discography. He’d learned that I got cold easily which led to both me stealing his hoodies and being on the receiving end of many bear hugs. We could tell what the other would do in combat or how they’d handle a concerning matter, but it was finding out the little things about James Buchanan Barnes that made me fall a little bit harder for him with each revelation.

The unlocking and opening of the door followed by quiet footsteps alerted me to his presence. I heard a few muffled noises before the floorboards outside the bedroom creaked, the door opening directly after. Bucky was careful and nearly silent as he came into the room until he saw that my eyes were open. We shared a lazy smile as he approached the bed.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

I shook my head in reply, he came to kneel at my side of the bed and pulled the hand he’d hidden behind his back out revealing a bouquet of daisies. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cuter,” I chuckled, reaching out to grab the bouquet, “I don’t think anyone’s ever bought me flowers.”

“That’s a crime,” Bucky said as he stood up, shedding his leather jacket as he walked around the bed, “In my time, you always brought a girl flowers on the first date. It was just what you did.”

“I guess we can consider my little extended stay a first date,” I dipped my nose down to smell the flowers, “Although I’m pretty sure in your time you wouldn’t allow a girl into your bed so soon.” Bucky snickered to himself, “A gentleman would never let a lady sleep on the floor. And selfishly,” he tugged his second layer, a grey long sleeved shirt off over his head, and looked down on me lovingly, “I sleep better with you here.”

It was true. He’d told me how he’d only used the bed once since he’d moved in, having slept on the floor instead. I was familiar with the phenomenon, Sam had gone through the same thing when he’d returned from the service. I’d told him that if he had a nightmare and needed to move out to his living room, I’d join him with no hesitations. Shockingly, it hadn’t happened yet and we’d slept in a peaceful tangle of limbs each night that I’d been with him.

Kicking off his boots, he slipped under the duvet and sat up against the headboard, looking over at me and patting his jean clad thigh. I set the flowers down and crawled over to him, sinking down onto his lap and sliding my hands around his neck.

“I like this,” he complimented me with a smirk, tugging at the material of his henley that I was wearing, “Looks better on you than it ever would on me.” “Clearly you’ve never seen you,” I scoffed, I’d also learned that the man had no idea just how attractive he was, “What were you off doing?” “Grocery store,” Bucky answered, gesturing to the sidelined bouquet, “Florist. Dr. Raynor’s office…” “Oh, I didn’t know you had a session this morning.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his hands firmly secured around my waist and his thumbs rubbing at my hips. “I didn’t,” he answered, “I, uh, I crossed off all the names in my book. Thought I’d drop by and let her know.” I gave a breathy laugh, “All of them?” He nodded, “All of them.” Surprised and proud, I placed my hands on his cheeks and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I never doubted you for a second” I said softly, our lips almost touching, “I’m proud of you.”

Bucky gave a small smile, not yet ready to take as much pride as I could in his recovery. I could tell that he was lighter, while his personality was silent and stoic there wasn’t as much sadness lurking beneath it. To those who knew him, the difference in his behavior was visible. The days that I’d been in New York were the happiest I’d seen Bucky since I’d known him.

“So…” I sighed, my hands sliding down to his shoulders, “No more therapy sessions, no more battles to be fought…What do we do now?”

The dreaded question that we’d been avoiding since we’d isolated ourselves from the outside world. There was no doubt as to whether or not I wanted to make it work between Bucky and I, but we hadn’t even discussed what “it” was. What should have unfolded over the course of a couple months had happened as a crash course over two weeks. I didn’t regret it, I just needed to know where Bucky’s head was at regarding our future. “Look,” Bucky averted his gaze downwards, “I’m not…I haven’t done this in a long time and I can’t promise that I’m gonna be good at it. I can’t even promise that I’ll know what I’m doing some of the time. But,” he shyly raised his eyes to meet mine, “I want this. I want you.”

His earnestness was so genuine, I thought my heart might burst from the emotion in his ocean blue eyes. “Bucky, I don’t want perfect,” I said, “And I’m pretty sure that a 106 year old with a robotic arm and a girl who can fly using blue energy from inside her wouldn’t even know what to do with perfect,” I earned a single laugh out of him, “Whatever we have right now, that’s what I want. I want to fight with you by my side and make a difference in the world, then I want to come home with you and teach you to cook something other than pancakes.”

He furrowed his brow, “What do you got against my pancakes?”

“My point is,” I giggled, my hands drifting back up to each side of his neck, “I want you exactly as you are. I haven’t done this in a long time either, I thought that after my dad died I was too broken to ever let myself be happy like this and you know that I’m coming in with more baggage than before. You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing. But there’s nobody else I’d rather figure this out with than you.”

The long stare he gave me was reminiscent of the first moment we’d been alone together, standing before the 200 foot drop in Munich. It was the first moment I’d appreciated his beauty, maybe it was the first seed planted in what was now a full-blown relationship in the making. This time, instead of sassing me with those hardened, slightly amused eyes, he surged forward and kissed me, cradling the back of my head in his Vibranium palm. I returned the kiss with just as much fervor, gripping the tight blue t-shirt tightly in my fists. Unlike the kisses we’d shared at 1AM in the kitchen of my house, this one carried a different weight. It was a promise of a future. Movie nights introducing Bucky to the classics that he’d missed. Lazy mornings in bed turned passionate as our bodies surrendered to one another. Protecting each other on whatever battlefields we’d inevitably end up on. Frustrating fights over something we’d inevitably admit was stupid to argue over. Whispering soothing affirmations to help Bucky come down from a violent nightmare. I could taste it all, the good and the bad, in that one kiss and I wanted every bit of it.

“Two weeks…” I said after we’d parted, shaking my head in amazement and laughing, “That’s all it took.” “Crazier things have happened,” Bucky reassured me with a smile, running his hands up and down my back, “My folks always said they knew in a week and they were together for almost forty years.” I bushed my lips against his softly, basking in the euphoria of knowing that the two of us belonged wholly to one another. To think that I’d been willing to throw all of it away mere days ago, I was ready to deprive myself and Bucky of the love we’d craved all our lives. I thanked God that my resolve to stay away had weakened long enough to let Bucky in because now, wrapped in his strong arms with his lips begging for a deeper kiss, I knew that I had something truly spectacular in my hands.

“Well, since this is official,” Bucky said, a little breathless, “There’s something you should have.” He took his hands off of my body and reached behind his neck, pulling off one of his dog tags. Understanding what he was doing and the significance of it, I moved my head to allow him to place the necklace over it, the cold metal of the ball chain settling against my neck. The tag fell between my breasts, I picked it up and read Bucky’s name, his service number, the name of his sister, their address and his birth place. He’d given me, a part of his future, a piece of his history.

“Bucky…” I whispered, not trusting my voice enough to come out steady.

“A lot of soldiers gave one of them to their girls before they shipped out,” he recalled, watching me examine the piece of metal, “At least I know if I ever do ship out anywhere, you’ll be with me.” I bit my lip and smiled, looking up at him with misty eyes. When the first tear fell down my cheek, Bucky was quick to wipe it away and did so with a smile of his own. After all the pain we’d both suffered through in life, we were finally allowed tenderness. Our hearts were scarred, our bodies worn, but no amount of trauma could lay a hand on the way we felt about one another. There’d be many more fights, some with forces bigger than the ones we’d spent the last two weeks taking a stand against. But at the end of the day, I had Bucky, my safe haven to come back to.

“It’s getting late,” I observed after a few minutes of sweet silence, the morning hours were slipping away from us, “Are you hungry? I can make us something.” “Yeah, but,” Bucky’s hands found my arms and he rubbed his palms against them, “Let’s stay here just a little while longer…”

A grin spread across my face, one that I was finding only Bucky could bring out in me. “Okay,” I replied, settling my face in the crook of his neck and resting against his chest, the only place I wanted to be.

——

A FEW DAYS LATER

“You ready, Barnes?” “I’m ready.” “This is the most dangerous mission we’re ever going to face.” “I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle it.” “Then why are you sweating?” “I’m not…sweating.” “Well, at least I know you’ll never lie to me. You suck at it,” I smirked just before smoothing out the shoulders of his jacket, “Follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

Bucky blew out a breath, his cheeks loosing their puff as he exhaled, “Here goes nothing…” I gave three sharp knocks on the door before entering, seeing the familiar face waiting in a chair by the window. “Hey, Mama…” My mother smiled deeply at the sight of her daughter, alive before her. “Baby,” she whispered as she slowly rose to embrace me, “Oh, you’re here.” “I’m here,” I smiled, trying to fight the tears threatening to fill my eyes. My mother had been my first call after the battle in New York, realizing that my face was flashing across every news channel in the country alongside Sam and Bucky. This was the first time I’d seen her since before I’d left Louisiana with Sam.

“And you brought someone?” she asked over my shoulder, pulling away to wipe her cheeks.

“I did,” I turned around and looped my arm through Bucky’s, who was looking vaguely nauseous, “Mom, this is James.”

Bucky stuck out his gloved hand towards my mother, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Y/l/n.”

“Wonderful to meet you too, James,” she responded, shaking his hand and looking over to me, “I’ve been waiting a long time for Y/n to bring somebody home.” I forced a chuckle, “Thanks, Mom…” “Well, I’m honored that I’m the one she chose,” Bucky beamed, his bright eyes seeking mine out.

“Well, sit down,” my mom gestured to the two free chairs in the room, “I want to hear all about how you two met.”

Bucky and I exchanged a nervous look as we pulled up our seats to join her by the window. How were you supposed to explain that you’d fallen for a 106 year old who just happened to have once been the world’s deadliest assassin? “Um…James is one of Sam’s friends from the military. He came with us to Munich and things just sort of,” I slipped my hand into one of Bucky’s that sat in his lap, “Happened from there.” “We didn’t like each other much at first, but,” Bucky chimed in, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand, “She definitely snuck up on me.”

“Oh my,” she looked at me amusedly, “How’s Sam taking this? Has he threatened you yet, Bucky?” “Yeah, I, uh, got a text from him the other day, and it read something like ‘I’ve got access to government weapons, don’t make me use them.’”

I covered my mouth and snorted as my mother got a good laugh herself, “You didn’t tell me that.” Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips, Sam and him had been getting along swimmingly since his last visit to Louisiana. But no friendship could eclipse Sam’s overprotective nature when it came to his family, it was only a matter of time until Bucky was on the receiving end of its ugly side.

“Truth is,” Bucky turned his gaze to my mother while keeping a soft grip on my hand, I could feel his nerves radiating through his touch, “I’m crazy about your daughter, ma’am, I think she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

Mom sighed, an ear-to-ear grin painted across her face. It was the same one I’d seen when my sister had first brought her now husband home to meet us. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear that, James,” she replied, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you more.” “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” I questioned, “It’s been so long since the whole family was together.” “I wish, but I’m a little too tired to make the trip there,” Mom answered, settling into her seat a little more, “You don’t need an old lady there slowing you down.” “That’s ridiculous,” I gently pushed back, “But since Sam and I are back home for a while, we’ll make sure to bring everybody up one of the weekends.” “I’d like that,” she smiled. A phone buzzing interrupted the conversation, Bucky let go of my hand to reach into his jacket pocket. “It’s Sam, probably wants an ETA,” he announced, rising from his seat and looking between both me and my mother, “Sorry.”

Both of us shooed him out of the room to take the call, turning back to one another once he was gone with shining smiles. “Honey…” “I know…” I tried to hold back a giddy laugh threatening to erupt.

“He seems wonderful…” I shook my head, semi in disbelief that things had turned out the way they had. “You don’t even know the half of it, he’s just…I’m crazy about him.” “That much is obvious,” Mom gestured to my face, “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked through that door. I’ve never seen you this happy. Just one thing…” I furrowed my brows as her smile turned to a knowing smirk, “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know who he is?” I sighed, leaning forward in my seat and propping my elbows on my knees. “We weren't trying to hide it, he just doesn’t like to advertise it. Once people know, they usually can’t look past what he was. But, Mom, we’ve been glued at the hip for the last two weeks and I can promise you, what you’re seeing is what you’re getting. I wouldn’t be with him if I thought there was any chance he could hurt me. He saved my life and so many others last week...” “Sweetie, you don’t have to try and sell me on him,” Mom said soothingly, reaching out to touch my knee, “I trust your judgement and I also know what happened to him, it was tragic. The fact that he has a second chance at his life makes me happy, especially since it’s with you. Watching the two of you, how at ease he is with you…And those eyes,” she stopped to chuckle, “The way he looks at you is something special, it’s something magical. The two of you fit.”

Eventually I would tell her the whole story of how Bucky and I came to be, but it was better saved for another day. If she only knew how challenging it had been to get to something so simple and how Bucky and I valued each other all the more for it. “He fought for me, Mama,” I said with tears brimming, letting out a laugh, “Literally and metaphorically. And I just couldn’t let him go, he’s everything I’ve wanted but what I thought I could never have.” Mom placed a hand on my cheek, “You deserve him, my love. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve happiness.” And for the first time, I believed her. I believed that through my suffering, I had played a small part in helping Bucky through his. We deserved something more than what had happened to us and we had found it in one another.

“Your father would be proud of you,” Mom said, her face flashing with a different emotion than joy for a brief second. “I’m not sure about that…” I mumbled, dodging her eyes in favor of staring down at my hands, a different reaction than I’d ever had when talking about my father.

“Sweetie,” she coaxed me, tapping at my hands until I looked back up at her, “Do you…do you know something?” My heartbeat started to quicken as I struggled to contain the information I was withholding from my mother. It was taking everything I had not to tell her that her husband had been a part of one of the cruelest organizations the world had ever seen. The pain must have reflected in my expression. “Yeah,” she whispered, biting her lip and closing her eyes, “You know…” “Mom?”

She sighed, sitting back in her chair and supporting her head in her hand. “I didn’t know anything about that part of your father’s life when I married him, he didn’t like to talk about his time in the ‘service’ and I never pushed it…It wasn’t until the night that he died, before he left the house, that he sat me down and confessed it all.” “He…” I moved to the edge of my seat, “He told you?” “Mmhmm,” she nodded, a distant look in her eyes like she was transported back in time to that very moment, “I didn’t know how to process any of it, how could I? This man who I’d shared my life with and he’d made his living off of inflicting pain on innocent people. Hours later, he was gone and any chance to delve deeper into it was gone too. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with everything, but I made it. You’re free to draw your own conclusions, Y/n, I’m not telling you how to feel. All I’ll say is this,” Mom drew a breath before continuing, “Your father’s guilt over what he did, to Bucky specifically, overwhelmed him. He told me how HYDRA manipulated him, a young and ambitious man, into coming to work for them, lying and telling him they were creating a better world with their work. He thought he was fighting for what was right…I’m not making excuses for him, believe me, I’m simply telling you what he told me. Do you remember when he’d wake up from a nightmare?” I nodded grimly, the shrieks of my father’s always strained vocal cords still haunted me decades later. “Do you remember what he used to cry when he woke up?” Mom asked.

I silently shook my head in reply, when I’d be awoken by my fathers blood curdling screams as a child, I’d always bury my head under my pillow in an effort to block it out, shedding tears at knowing I couldn’t help him. “Soldat…”

My head perked up, the word was familiar to me after hearing Zemo call Bucky the same thing when we were undercover in Madripoor. “Of course by the time that your James was free, your father had been dead for over a decade but,” Mom paused, looking out the window as memories hit her, “Your father’s guilt over what he did ate away at him every day. As far as you went, he told me that the reason he wanted to keep your powers hidden was because he was afraid HYDRA would come for you. It’s the reason I moved us to Delacroix after he died, I didn’t want to take the chance of somebody finding you. Dad didn’t want them to make you a weapon the same way they made one of James. But honey,” she took my hand, “He believed you could do great things, truly. One of the last things he said to me was that our family was the one good thing he’d done in life.”

Everything that I’d thought and everything I’d never thought had been revealed to me. My father’s crimes could never be erased, but some part of me felt satisfied knowing that he knew what he did was wrong. He’d been haunted day and night by Bucky, the man who I was completely head over heels for. In some way, it felt poetic that Bucky and I had ended up together. I couldn’t magically heal his trauma, but for every bit of torture my dad and countless others inflicted upon him, I was now there to shower him in the love and safety he deserved.

“Have you…forgiven him for what he did?” I hesitantly asked.

“You know, after all these years, I’m still not sure what forgiveness looks like in a situation like this,” she admitted with a small shrug, “We weren’t affected, yet his past put us in danger, especially you. And now, seeing the man that he was paid to hurt and how much joy he brings you, it’s bringing up a lot of emotions I thought I’d buried. I know he regretted what he’d done with his whole being and I believe that, but I still question why he didn’t leave sooner. I wish I could give you a better answer but-“ “Mama,” I squeezed her hand and pushed back my tears to help her, “I’ve had this information for a week and I’m still spinning, I can’t imagine what it’s like to sit on it silently for this long. I was hellbent on keeping this from you but I’m actually relieved that I don’t have to hide it…” I took a trembling breath, “Dad did a lot of things wrong in his life, but I have a chance to do a lot of good. I’ve talked to Sam and I’m going to keep working with him, I’m done living with my hands tucked under my legs. I want to make the difference in the world that Dad thought he was making.” “I think you’re off to a pretty good start,” my mother replied, “I was terrified watching you fly around New York, but I’d also never been prouder of you.” A knock on the door followed by Bucky sticking his head through it broke us from the topic. “Am I interrupting?” he asked, his eyes widened slightly as he worried. “Not at all,” my mom said cheerily as she slowly rose from her seat, “I don’t want to keep you two any longer when you’ve got somewhere to be.”

I tightly embraced her and placed a kiss on her cheek, “Love you,” I whispered.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” she replied, gesturing afterwards to Bucky who made his way over to her and allowed himself to be hugged by her, “Take care of my girl, James.” “I will,” Bucky promised, pulling back to give a nod full of conviction.

Once the two of us had shut my mom’s door and were back out in the hallway of the nursing home, Bucky noticed the slight puffiness of my eyes. “Happy tears or sad tears?” he asked as we walked down the hall.

“‘I don’t know’ tears,” I replied with a small smile, weaving my fingers between his gloved metal ones. “But well done, Sergeant. I’d consider that a successful mission,” I finished, receiving the laugh I loved so much and a kiss to the side of my head. I pressed my lips to the place on his shoulder where I knew underneath his layers Vibranium met his skin, one of his favorite places to be kissed. My phone went off then, alerting me to a text, I pulled it out of the pocket. “Bucky…” I muttered, stopping in the middle of the hall. “What is it?” he asked as he stepped back to join me, I held my phone out for both of us to read the ominous words displayed.

The world’s seen what you can do, come to Madripoor when you decide to use those hands for something worthwhile.

- The Power Broker

“How did they get my number?” I asked in surprise, letting Bucky take my phone to examine it closer as if he could find something I couldn’t. “I don’t know,” he answered, handing the device back to me, “But we’re changing it immediately, you need to show this to Sam soon as we get to the house.” “They’re not actually threatening me, seems more like a job offer than anything else that’s only going to be declined. Plus, they’re all the way in Madripoor,” I stuck the phone back in my pocket, “I’m not going to let this ruin our day.” Bucky frowned down at me as I took his arm once again, “You’re a little too relaxed about this.” “I’m a mutant who can make things move with her mind with Captain America for a brother and a Super Soldier for a boyfriend, I’d love to see the Power Broker try to mess with that.”

——

The dock was exactly how I loved to see it, packed and filled with joy.

Sam and Sarah had invited the whole town to the celebratory cookout, people of all ages flooding our corner of the bayou as Bucky and I pulled up. Sam had loaned us his truck for the duration of our stay and I was having the time of my life showing Bucky around Louisiana and there was nothing more Louisiana than a cookout with the entire community.

Bucky parked near the end of the dock and hopped out, carrying the ice cream cake that we’d picked up on our way. He crossed around the front of the truck to open the door for me, taking one of my hands and helping me hop out of the passenger side. After a dozen more reassurances during the drive that the text I’d received wasn’t worth freaking out about, he’d begun to relax. For once, he wasn’t trying to hide his emotions. I could see it plain as day on his face, he was genuinely excited to be back in Delacroix and even more excited when the familiar sounds of AJ and Cass hit our ears.

“Oh! There he is!” Bucky greeted as the boys ran up to us and began throwing fake punches at my boyfriend who willingly played along, dramatically dodging their imaginary hits. He raised up the hand that held the cake over Cass’ head and yelled to which I quickly threw an energy shield underneath his arm to protect the overly expensive dessert.

“Aunt Y/n! Can you make us fly?” AJ came up to my side and begged.

Cass backed his brother up, “Yeah, can we? Please?” “No,” I replied, retaking Bucky’s hand and letting him lead us through the crowd, “But you can follow us with your two perfectly functional legs.” My nephews both groaned and laughed as they fell in step behind Bucky and I. “Where is everybody?” he asked as he set the cake down on one of the picnic tables set out and removed his sunglasses.

“Uncle Sam’s taking pictures with people, Mom’s cooking and Aunt Mel’s at one of the tables,” Cass answered, his face lighting up as he got a good luck at the dessert.

“After dinner,” I said, quickly having switched back into aunt mode, “Now lead the way.”

I extended my hand toward the boys and raised them up a few inches above the ground, receiving laughter and praises in return as I moved them ahead of us and through the crowd. Along the way people kept patting me on the back or sneaking in quick hugs, they shook Bucky’s hand and thanked us both for what we’d done in New York. The only thing that confused me was how people weren’t calling me by name. By the time we made it to Sarah, I had questions.

“There they are, America’s Power Couple,” she announced, coming out from behind the booth where she’d been chopping to hug us both. I pulled back to lower the boys back to the ground, “Do you know why people I’ve known almost all my life are suddenly calling me ‘Sapphire?’”

“Did you not check the internet at all when you were in Brooklyn?” she raised an eyebrow before pulling out her phone from her back pocket and pulling up Instagram, “Ever since the night of the fight, people have been referring to you as Sapphire. People are posting pictures of you, trying to get interviews with you, kids are even dressing up like you!” “Oh my gosh,” I mumbled as I scrolled through the hashtag containing the name, seeing all the proof of Sarah’s words before my eyes. Dozens and dozens of various types of photos displayed my signature shade of blue, “Bucky, look!” He took the phone out of my hand, a smile spreading across his face soon after. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly, handing the phone back to Sarah.

“You wanted the superhero life, you got it,” my sister laughed before returning to what she was doing, “Sam’s doing pictures and there’s already been people asking if you were gonna be here so I imagine they’re gonna want some with you.”

Bucky grabbed my hand and led me around to where a line had formed, spotting Sam as the destination. As soon as he caught a glimpse of us, he held up a finger to the crowd and broke away from them. The three of us exchanged hugs, me internally laughing to myself at the fact that two weeks after saying they never wanted to see one another again, they were now brothers in arms. Sam took my hand and tugged me towards where everyone was gathered, “Lotta people have been waiting for you, Sapphire,” he smirked.

As the day went on, the three of us did meet and greets with nearly everybody. At one point I found Bucky casually talking to Sarah with AJ, Cass and other neighborhood kids hanging off his vibranium arm. People had gathered around me as well asking to levitate them, something that provided entertainment for everyone. We ate, we laughed, at one point I caught Sam and Bucky watching the sun set over the Louisiana waters. I couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak in between the two and was received with an arm around each of my sides. We’d fought a shared battle along with our own separate three and now that they’d all been put to rest, we could take a minute to enjoy the freedom we’d worked so hard for. The future was unknown, but I knew that if we’d made it through the mess of a week we’d had together, there wasn’t a whole lot that we couldn’t make it through.

——

When the sky darkened, the dock lights went on and the party kept going. Someone had brought out a Bluetooth speaker and there was now a section of the dock that acted as a makeshift dance floor. I was seated at a table with Melanie watching the show, baby Alexandria fast asleep in her arms. “So…Bucky,” my sister said teasingly teased.

I let out a loud sigh, “Bucky.” “He’s perfect for you,” she smiled, “I’m glad you brought him home.” “Me too,” I scanned the dock until I spotted my boyfriend, engrossed in a conversation with Sam, “He fits right into the family.” “I’ll say, the kids love him. Max and Sophia have been following him around all day, I’ve never been able to get the baby to sleep as fast as when he held her…” I chuckled, “Yeah, just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive, you stuck a baby in his arms.” Mel snickered at my reaction, “Yeah, pretty sure every woman on the dock snapped a picture of that.” The two of us burst into laughter before hushing ourselves as to not wake the sleeping infant. “Hey, Sapphire,” she nudged my shin with her foot, “I’m proud of you.” “Well, that’s a far cry from how you felt last week,” I commented, remembering the fear in my sister’s voice from our phone calls in Riga.

“I’m always going to worry about you, but once I actually saw you do your thing,” she breathed, “I was just in awe of how you would risk your life to save all those people. It would be a waste to not put your gift to good use.” I leaned my head against hers and brushed a finger over Alexandria’s thinly haired head, appreciating the sweetness of the moment. Once a slow song came on the speakers, I watched as Bucky stepped away from Sam and made his way over to our table. “Can I steal your sister away for a dance?” he asked Mel. “Steal? You can keep her,” I shot my sister a faux smile while she watched on with a grin as I took Bucky’s outstretched hand and let him lead me away. “Gonna show me some more Madripoor moves?” I jested as we walked across the dock. “That was not dancing, although I did enjoy it,” Bucky replied, giving me a wink that could have melted me into a puddle, “I’ll show you what real dancing is.” I recognized the song as a version of ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ and realized Bucky waited until now to show off any moves in his arsenal because it was probably the first song he recognized on the playlist. He encircled my waist with his flesh arm and took my hand in his Vibranium one, pulling me so close that there wasn’t any space left between us. He began to sway us slowly to the beat of the song. I rested my cheek against his, breathing in the scent of him mixed with the bayou evening air. As far as I was concerned, dancing in the arms of the man I was somehow lucky enough to call my own in the place I loved most in the world was the perfect end to a perfect day.

“Alright, I give…” I relented softly, close enough to his ear that I barley had to speak louder than a whisper for him to hear me, “Your version of dancing is better.” He gave a gentle laugh, the sweetest sound, and rubbed at my waist, “It’s more about the partner than it is the actual dance, think I’ve got the best one.”

“You certainly know how to make a girl blush, Sergeant Barnes,” I replied just before he spun me out of his arms and back into his body, “When’s your flight back to Brooklyn?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, “Already tired of me?”

“Never,” I shook my head with a genuine smile, “Just trying to soak in all the time I can with you before you go back.” “About that…” he trailed off, turning his gaze to the various other couples dancing around us, “I was thinking of maybe extending my stay. I mean the scenery’s nice, good food,” he looked back to me, “Decent people.” The grin that I was fighting was starting to make itself very apparent, “What are you saying?” “Well,” Bucky shrugged and looked away again, “I mean, I’d need to find a place, hopefully nothing too expensive or else I’d have to find a roommate and even then, it’d be hard to find someone I like enough to live with…”

“Bucky…” I’d ceased our movements to show just how serious I was, searching his face to try and tell if he was joking or not. “What do you say, doll? You think you can put up with me a little while longer?” he asked with a smirk. I exhaled happily and pulled him down to my lips, kissing him with all the excitement that filled my veins at the prospect of him staying. When we finally pulled away, I cradled his cheek in my hand. “I will put up with you for as long as you want,” I beamed, pecking his lips once more. “I’m glad,” Bucky kissed my temple, “It was either telling you this or the other thing…” “What’s the other thing?” I asked, thinning my eyes at him in expectancy of another surprise.

Bucky drew a breath, taking a few seconds to steady himself for whatever he was planning to say. “Well, I was going to tell you that I love you but,” he clicked his teeth, “Now that I think about it, it’s probably better saved for another time,” The earth ceased to move and spin at a dizzying pace all at once, his blue eyes never more truthful than they were in that moment. “I think you’re right,” I said over the lump in my throat, holding back the tears that had come all to quickly, “Best to save that for another day, wouldn’t want to make a hasty declaration or anything...” “That’s what I was thinking,” Bucky replied plainly, continuing our charade. I gave him a watery smile, bringing one of my hands up to run through the hairs at the base of his neck. “I love you too,” I whispered.

Both of Bucky’s arms wrapped around my waist, clutching me as tight as he could without actually injuring me as our lips met. I encircled his neck and relaxed into him completely, feeing aglow with the love that I could finally admit to feeling. Both of us smiled into the kiss, feeding off of the mutual joy of what was unfolding before us. Was it crazy to commit in the ways I was committing to a man I’d known for only two weeks? To some, yes. But ‘some’ hadn’t formed the bond that Bucky and I had over the short span of time it had taken for me to fall in love with him. We had seen the best and the worst of each other, rising and falling with one another’s waves and learning what made the other tick. I wanted every part of him, the good, the bad, the traumatic and the pure. The quick decisions that would raise eyebrows made sense to us, and that was more than enough reason for me to see each one through.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” Bucky said softly after we’d parted, pulling back to admire me. “Thanks for not letting me give you up,” I returned, staring up into the eyes that had first captured me. The eyes that I’d get to stare into each and every day.

Since the night we’d connected on the jet ride to Berlin, there was some way Bucky had made me feel that I couldn’t put a name to. Something I couldn’t understand at the time but I was fully aware of now. Bucky felt like home. And with our bright future ahead of us, wrapped in his arms dancing underneath the Louisiana stars, I’d never felt more at home.

----

A/N: I'm not crying, you're crying. GUYS. IT'S OVER. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MY TIME NOW? I want to thank every single person who liked, commented, reblogged, sent messages and asks and supported this silly little fic I thought up one day after watching TFATWS. As someone who is super insecure about their writing, seeing it well received was a boost to my confidence to keep running with this. I've loved getting to write this and give it to you all and can't wait to write more for you. I'm adding my new taglist link for anyone who would like to be added, it's separated by the characters I write for and you can choose which ones you'd like to follow. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES AGAIN. I LOVE YOU ALL 3000!!

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlyhufflepuff @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse @living-that-best-life @haphazardhufflepuff @citlalireedus @lindseyrae20 @missstef23 @qhbr2013 @sebby-stann @bluemoon-icecream @iixbella @lets-love-little-me @abitofeverythinggg @itsnottilly @sltwins @mads-weasley @hart-failure @natdrunk @nctma15 @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @patdsinner33 @rosebucketbarnes @tylard-blog1

[writersrealmbts]

Diamond Tears and Little Wings: Part 5

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 02/11/2021

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Angst/Fluff/Angst: 3,846 words

A/N: Okay, I told you guys that I would be alternating between DTLW and Clearwater Springs, so here’s the proof. Anyway, two more parts after this!

Your fourth home in five years is what they told you this was. But you couldn’t remember any but this one.

So your heart was aching, and you always wanted to cry, but you never dared to do so. Something, someone’s, words, telling you that crying in front of strangers was dangerous kept echoing in your head. So you blinked away any tears that came, hugged your stuffed animal, and studied the area you would lived in.

It was a little cold, so you hugged your coat tighter to you. You’d been told by the other fairies that your coat was special, because it appeared to be designed exactly for your wings, which was rare. But none of them seemed to have any idea why you would have such a special coat, excepting the fact that maybe in the country you came from it was more normalized to have custom wing-slits.

It was completely normal to come away from a home with a stuffed animal, and clothing and jewelry that could shrink down. People liked dressing up fairies.

You played with your bracelet as you examined the cement floor, and the plain white walls, and the windows that weren’t quiet fully insulated but were full east and full west, respectively, and provided quite a bit of natural lighting. You had your own bathroom and kitchen area, and the laundry room was in the basement. The bed was a bit creaky, but the mattress seemed decent. You had a cute lamp on the side table, and they had a few books for you on a bookshelf that had the bottom shelf broken beside the side table.

There was shoebox bedroom on one of the shelves as well, very simple, with just a bed in it, but it was decorated carefully—though perhaps by their daughter. There was felt covering the floor and back wall, which would provide a little insulation for you. The outside was colored on, but you didn’t have a problem with that.

There was an old rug rolled off to one side that they said you could use, and a bar with some hangers already hanging on it and plastic drawers they said you could used for your clothing.

You looked at your suitcase, which was resting on the bed, then set your dog on top of it while you got the rug, unrolling it and placing it near your bed.

Your job there was to do their laundry and take care of the cat that their daughter wouldn’t let them get rid of, and to entertain their daughter now and then, and when you weren’t delivering the clean laundry or entertaining their daughter you were to stay in the basement bedroom. Simple enough.

The cat was a sweetheart and the laundry was quite simple with only three people to wash for. Laundry was tossed down the shoot daily and every Monday and Thursday you were to deliver their clean laundry before they awoke.

They weren’t cruel, or strict, just very structured and busy.

She was very kind and brought you groceries, even getting you exactly what you requested. You just had to leave a list with her laundry on Mondays, because Mondays were grocery days. She even spontaneously bought you a cake, and when you told her that the basement was a little cold for you, she found a nice heater for you that greatly improved things, and found some more blankets around the house for you. They were generally gone over the weekends, visiting a different set of grandparents each weekend, which left you and Cupcake, the cat, alone in the house to do as you pleased.

Those were the days you ventured down to the fairy market, which was a safe space for fairies and since you did get an allowance for doing the laundry, you could sometimes buy some special treats or things that you needed.

You weren’t a fan of the husband, which was fine, because he only seemed to come downstairs if he needed to check the water-heater (they were having issues with it and he was too stubborn to call whoever it was that professionally dealt with those things), or to ask you to do an emergency clean on a shirt or tie or slacks. It wasn’t that he was mean, or sleazy, or that he gave you bad vibes, he was just very grumpy and brisk. Cold.

And he hated the cat.

Plus you had the distinct feeling that if he found out about your diamond tears it would be a very bad thing. He was a greedy man, raising a greedy daughter.

But you had a CD player now, and you could find CD’s now and then at the fairy market, and the wife said you could use any CD’s you found in the basement.

Which was how you found your current favorite CD. You weren’t certain who the artists were because the disc hadn’t been in it’s proper case, but their songs were so nice. And you loved the one song.

So some days, when you had nothing to do but give the cat all the love it wanted, you just listened to that CD on repeat, singing words as though you’d known them before.

You did different crafts, and solved some of the abandoned puzzles from the storage room.

You improved your shoe-box, replacing the bed (it was a sponge, hard and weird to lay on) with a carefully arranged nest of fabrics and stuffing. Sometimes you stuck your stuffed dog into the shoebox and snuggled into that. The smells on it so familiar and foreign that it made you cry.

Which meant you had to find a place to hide your tears. Normally you just saved them and exchanged them at the fairy market—where the currency exchange fairy, Heidrun, just discretely nodded and added their value to your shopping card balance.

But one day she stopped you before you could leave, holding your hands. “You don’t look well, dear.”

“Fourth home,” You told her simply, shrugging. “It’s more of a job than a home. But I’m not…I’m not suffering. She always makes sure I have what I need and allows me a lot of freedom. I have the whole basement to myself, and I’m allowed in the side-yard at all times. She even encourages me to come here. And I have music to listen to. Actually, I found a CD I really like, but I don’t know what band they are because it doesn’t say on the disc.”

“Try Magnus, he knows everything going on in the music scene,” She told you, squeezing your hands. “And trying to hold onto whatever love you’ve got and are getting. It’s not healthy for our kind to go unloved.”

You nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Magnus did help you, granted, you had to sing a couple of the songs for him to find the right group, but once he did, he sent to you over to Frida with a request for BTS albums.

Frida nodded, pulling out several book-like things. “They’re super popular, but they’re also in a ton a magazines right now. They lost their fairy because of some scandal, and now they’re in a slump, but they’re also going on a world tour, so it can’t be that much of a slump. They’re actually coming to our stadium for a concert, which is cool. They’ve started putting up the posters already.”

You looked at the books, confused. “I thought you said they were albums?”

“They are. The CD’s are accompanied by a booklet of photos and the lyrics, photocards, and usually a poster.”

You blinked then picked up the biggest one, concerned and confused. “It’s…huge…and a box?”

She just snorted. “You want that one? It’s one of their more recent ones. Don’t have their newest yet, but I can see if I can get one for you.”

You nodded. “That’d be nice, but sure, I’ll…take this one for now.”

She nodded and swiped your card. “All yours, sweet-cheeks. Now, tell me how you get your hair that shiny.”

You grabbed your hair and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wash it.”

“Not even fair,” She muttered, then turned to a new customer.

You went home after hitting a few more stalls, getting more craft things and some stuff for the kitty, hugging the album and wondering what awaited you inside.

Cupcake was waiting for you on your bed, sitting up and meowing loudly, stretching out a paw for you to take (which you did because why else teach him that trick) and then purring and arching into your hand.

“I know, I was gone for forever,” You scooped him up after successfully setting everything else down. “I bought some new music for us. You need a better name. A masculine name. You don’t respond to Cupcake anyway—not that I blame you. It’s a rather poor choice of a name for a cat, much less a tom.”

He just purred, climbing up onto your shoulders and riding there while you put away the few food items you had purchased and hopping onto the fridge while you started cooking your dinner.

You hummed as you tried to think of a different name for him, but after a moment you paused, wondering what song it was you were humming and why it was so familiar and yet so distant. So easy, but you couldn’t remember. You couldn’t remember the moment you stopped singing what the words were or how the song went, despite having reached the chorus. You could only remember the last words you sang.

You shook your head and went over, quickly opening the box to where the disc was in the album without seeing any sign of the pictures (Maybe a poster?) and then popping it into the player.

But it was worse than the first one, because you swore you knew each song. You had vague images in your head of people performing the songs. It hurt. It hurt to hear these songs because they were too familiar. Too familiar and yet so completely foreign that it was unfair.

The first one wasn’t too bad, but the second started really getting to you.

By the third song you were in tears.

By the chorus of the fourth song you were full-on sobbing on the bed.

The fifth song clashed so much with the sentiments of the previous two that it just broke you down further, and you had to turn it off before you started screaming at the empty space where the music should have come from.

You grabbed the photos from the album box after you had calmed down enough. Not bothering to try and remove the sticker, you slide the photos out and started flipping through the pages, horrified at the fact that they looked so achingly familiar and yet you had no idea who they were.

You tossed them back in the box and slammed it shut, eyes filled with tears.

But you must not have woken when someone came into the basement, because three days later the man was demanding to know where you got so many diamonds.

And fairies can’t lie.

Five days later you were staring out the window, a place you couldn’t go until you filled the box on your small counter space with diamonds. It wasn’t too large, but it was large enough that you were worried about whether you would ever fill it.

So you turned on the disc again, and cried. Cried until you were sick, and then collapsed into your bed. Exhaustedly petting the cat until you fell asleep, only to repeat it the next day. And the next.

When you finally filled it, you went straight to the market just to get some time away from the basement.

The shopkeepers from your regular stops came rushing up when they saw you, even Heidrun, all asking where you’d been and if you were okay and before you knew it you were sitting at one of the picnic tables with some soup and some tea and a bunch of worried fairies fussing over you.

Frida sat silently across from you, looking concerned but ultimately staring at the table.

Or so you thought, because she suddenly reached across the table and grabbed your bracelet. “Where did you get this?”

You blinked and tried to recoil, but couldn’t. “I don’t remember. I just figured it was from one of my previous homes.

Magnus frowned, looking at it. “It looks a lot like the one that…”

She nodded. “There’s something etched onto them. Fairy craftsmanship. Come over to my shop. Come on.”

You followed her, curious, and not wanting to let something you had a very strong attachment to out of your sight.

First she tried a jeweler’s eye loupe, then she wrinkled her nose and grabbed a flashlight, shining it through the gems and onto the table.

You stared down at it, confused.

“Something tells me your family didn’t give you up willingly,” Magnus said, voice a little tense.

Frida looked at you, as though she couldn’t believe it. “You’re the fairy that was taken away from BTS?”

You just looked back at her. “Um…is that what all of that means?”

“How did you like that album you bought?” She asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

You shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to think about how much you had used it to make yourself cry, because if you did then you knew she was right. And if she was right, then it would be even sadder.

“Weren’t the one that said that they couldn’t have been too sad about losing their fairy to be going on a world tour? Why would I want to be her?”

“No, they talked about it…it’s because they’re trying to find her. Find you. They didn’t say it explicitly because they could get in trouble for that, but they’ve hinted at it and there are tons of reports and pictures of them visiting every fairy sanctuary they could without compromising their performances. It just took a while for it to hit the news for us. Y/n, they’re looking for you. And if this is any proof, I think they love you and you need love. You look like a skeleton with skin.”

Heidrun gently pulled you into her arms. “What changed? You were doing alright and then you were gone and you come back looking like a ghost.”

“They found my tears,” You whispered.

She inhaled sharply, not quite a gasp, and held you tighter. “You can’t stay there.”

“I can’t leave there either. Where would I go? I would just get arrested and brought back to them.”

Frida folded her arms. “Leave it to me. You go back, lay low. Maybe try to appeal to the lady of the house. I’ll have you out of there as soon as I can. In the meantime….”

“I’ve still got a backlog of your diamonds, come get them just in case he asks again.” Your arm was gently pulled toward the currency exchange station.

You took the bag, and the treats most of them packed up for you. If the love of other fairies was enough to sustain you, you never would have been in this mess. But fairies, while kind and caring, didn’t have enough love for other fairies to keep them alive, especially once exposed to the love of a family. Fairies were good, and kind, and helpful, but also emotionally unstable which made it hard to focus enough love into one another without a consistent source of outside love.

It was a miracle your species had survived as long as it had.

Cupcake greeted you, meowing pathetically and hopping into your arms.

You sat down on your bed with him. “Let’s think of a new name for you.”

Eventually you settled on Keyowo, which was close to his current name but meant friend and was just…it was better.

You then set to deep cleaning over the next week, shrinking your things and tucking them into your suitcase to keep them out of sight.

On Tuesday he beat you to tears because you weren’t producing tears fast enough.

The album caught your eye again on the next Friday.

You picked up, tracing the seven on the cover, and then opening it. You pulled out the poster and unfolded it.

They were in white, with feathers floating down and a hole in the floor. They all looked so good.

You touched the one on the far left, wearing the sweater. Slightly cat-like facial features. You felt like you knew what his hands looked like, even though you couldn’t see much of them in the picture. Slightly calloused, bony, but gentle and careful. Caring for everyone.

“Yoongi,” You whispered, choking up. Tearing up.

Your fingers traced over each of them, names a whisper in your mind. A whisper that turned into shouts, memories flooding your mind of each and every one of them. Your mind screaming for them because your throat was too tight to even whisper.

They were your boys.

They had to let you go.

You weren’t supposed to remember them.

They weren’t supposed to try and find you.

The next day you shoved everything into your bag, tucked the cat into your coat, left a note for the missus and headed straight back to the fairy market.

Frida looked surprised when she saw you. “Whoa, what happened? Is this the kitty your were telling me about?”

“They’re gone for the weekend, that means even if I stay nearby they’ll think I’ve had two days to run out on them. I need you to help me get me back to my family.” You teared up. “I need to find them.”

Frida nodded, glancing around and closing her shop. “Come on. You can stay with me.”

Frida’s family consisted of a pair of siblings.

The sister, Alena, was a fairy rights activist in her spare time, which is why Frida had so much freedom, and a huge music fan. She had a whole wall of CD’s and albums and posters. Stacks of magazines featuring musicians.

The brother, Agnar, was quiet, “just an accountant”, and very kind. And very affectionate toward Frida.

Frida was equally affectionate toward him, bringing a fake gag from Alena.

They helped you find an outfit that hid your fairy-ness, and he got you tickets to the concert, all of you hoping that it would get you close enough for them to see you and recognize that you were there. Also, it would help you health-wise to see them in person and the rush from the concert would be overwhelming, but also might revitalize you.

Then Alena forced you to sit in the bathroom with her while she applied a cloth to your face with epsom salts to try and reduce the bruising and swelling on your face. She told you about the fairy abuse responders, and how she would call them in the morning and tell them about your family.

Agnar totally stole your cat.

Frida let you sleep in her fairy-home (because it definitely wasn’t a dollhouse and it was awesome, of course).

Four days later, you were at the concert venue with Alena, taking a seat and soaking in the atmosphere. People were talking all around and some people were chanting the boys’ names. Another group was starting to sing the songs.

You listened nervously, wondering whether it was true or not that they were looking for you. What if they were just making a fuss to get back at the company a bit? What if the media was making things up? It wouldn’t be the first time a story was fabricated for magazines.

Then the concert started and you and Alena were cheering for your boys, but you wondered why you ever thought they’d be able to see you in this mess.

It wasn’t until the second half of the concert that you had hope.

The boys were in more casual outfits, having more fun.

And they were all wearing the jewelry that Namjoon had made from your diamonds.

Jimin was the one who saw you first, though he looked right over you and then seemed to try and pinpoint you again, but was unable to in the crowd. He stood there with a smile plastered on his face, acting as though he was studying each Army’s face when you knew he was searching for you.

So you stood still in the writhing mass that of the crowd, and studied him.

He had lost weight, and if it hadn’t been for the makeup, you bet he’d look fairly wrung-out.

All of them looked like they’d been sick enough to lose weight.

Taehyung came over and practically dragged him away (making it look playful).

But Jimin said something to Jin and Jungkook.

Jungkook was over there as casually as he could, totally looking at the camera and doing ‘fanservice’. But he obviously didn’t spot you.

Jin didn’t either.

But Yoongi did during the very last song and he stopped, staring, then he was crouched, hand over his mouth, just staring in your direction.

You waved, wondering if he actually was staring at you.

He smiled, but it also looked like he wanted to cry. He waved as well, then cautiously moved off, still keeping an eye on you.

You bit your lip, smiling.

Alena squealed and grabbed onto you, and the two of you did your best to fit in with the rest of the crowd.

Both of you lingered as long as you could afterward, her extremely hyped from the whole concert and talking a mile a minute, while you were feeling…exhausted? All of the emotions around you and finally seeing your boys again….

But you had no idea how you were going to get to them, or how they were going to get to you.

Until you saw Sejin, scanning the crowd.

The likelihood of him being on the side of the boys was pretty good.

You tugged on Alena’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

Sejin locked onto you and started moving, coming your way, waiting until the straggling fans that had been around you were gone before telling security to let you through.

You dipped your head to the security guards, then bowed slightly to Sejin. “Hello.”

Sejin smiled. “Hello, y/n.”

You bit your lip. “I remembered.”

He nodded. “I figured. We all figured. They’re waiting. They’re all waiting.”

You were practically vibrating.

“Come on, let’s get you back to them. Your friend can come but she needs to wait in the hallway for…security purposes.”

You nodded and relayed the information to Alena, then both of you were following back to the waiting room.

Sejin stopped by the waiting room. “Go on in.”

You nodded, putting your hand on the doorknob and then turning it and going in.

–

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[peachdoxie]

So I decided to go to Walmart today (my first mistake) because I've absolutely been craving white cheddar cheese rice cakes and both Meijer and Kroger are sold out after I bought them all last week, and of course walking an hour both ways in the relatively cool Ohio summer of 77°F and twice that in humidity is the most logical choice. I check to make sure it's not going to rain on the The Weather Channel app, then grab my unintentionally-diluted gatorade and Cubs hat with the pride flag on it and head out.

Now, when I planned to leave it was mostly cloudy and I thought that would be fine, but the sun decided to show its sexy face and I spent most of the 2.6 mile walk limping in the sunshine since my right foot decided it was going to yell at me for putting weight on it, but I persevered and made it to Wallyworld in more or less one piece, albeit exhausted and with a headache building. I get half way to the grocery section before remembering I need a cart (I also want to buy flour) and wander my way to the front, then back to the grocery aisles. I eventually find the location where ideally there should be dozens of bags of white cheddar cheese rice cakes for me to purchase, but, alas—they have all the flavors but white cheddar cheese, and so I have to settle for white cheddar cheese poppéd cörn triangles instead. With my disappointing spoils of war, I hobble to the self-checkout and legally purchase my corn triangles and flour.

At this point I'm really feeling like crap and am totally dreading heading back out in the heat, so I plunk myself and my mostly-empty cart down at the Walmart Sbubby (eet freesh) and play around on my phone, hoping that taking a break off my feet in the aircon will help me stop feeling like crap. After sitting for a bit, I get up, push my cart to the exit, stare outside with a mounting sense of dread, return the cart, and then walk back inside to the Sbubby, wondering how long I can loiter before they kick me out, when my body finally decides to inform me that holy shit you need some more calories girl. Hmm, I think. Maybe this is why I feel like crap.

The problem is that I don't really want Subway—I've mostly forgotten/ignored there's an entire Walmart behind me, as any sane person should—because it's Subway, and also because I was hoping to stop by the Italian restaurant on the way home and get some spaghetti, since eating a Subway sandwich will make me not hungry for the very excellent spaghetti that I don't get the chance to eat since I only go to this area of town when I can justify walking an hour for something, which apparently includes white cheddar cheese rice cakes but not spaghetti. I'm wondering how much the Subway Sandwich Artist™ will judge me if I just get a six inch with nothing but cheese on it when my eyes fall upon what I instantly know will be my savior: a soft pretzel covered in butter and salt.

"One salted pretzel," I say, somehow coherent, "and a regular fountain drink" because I'd also like some soda because why not. The Subway Sandwich Artist™ obligingly gives me my pretzel, which I legally purchase along with the soda. I sit down with my ambrosia and nectar and immediately regret my decision: Hellworld's attempt to cool its firey pits is super loud and I am quickly descending into the sensory overload layer of hell. Luckily, this Subway has a back area where it is 2% quieter into which I can retreat. I do, I wipe off half the salt because I'm not a masochist, and begin consuming the pretzel.

While this is happening, I'm updating my friends on discord as to my situation, and I recall the time my sister passed out while on a hike in Albania because she got overheated and threw off her salt balance, and I think, hmm, this is probably what's happening to me. And sure enough, after eating the pretzel and downing the soda has made me feel better! Yay! I mean, I still feel like crap, but crap that can at least attempt to make the walk home. It's like an hour after I arrived to Walmart at this point and 45 minutes of that has been me in this Subway. I throw out my trash, pack up my things, and head to the exit.

It is now pouring down rain.

Curse you, The Weather Channel! I shake my fist at the sky. Curse you for lying to me! I trusted you! My tears rival the rain.

I am now faced with walking home in the pouring down rain, thus missing out on my spaghetti, or remaining in the Walmart Subway for even more time, despite my health bar being rapidly drained by proximity to the megacorporation's holy temple. I check the The Weather Channel app to see what they say, knowing they are untrustworthy, and see that it's supposed to rain for the next few hours.

Fuck it. I'm going to go buy a rain poncho to protect my flour and just sacrifice my shoes to the puddle gods since the sidewalks here range from "flat" to "expert mountain climbers only" and I know my feet will be soaked within five seconds of leaving the building. First, though, I want to use the toilet, but the one at the front is being cleaned, so I head to the back. Granted, I had to go there anyway since I figured the sporting goods area is the most likely to have a rain poncho.

I cannot find the rain poncho. I've been in this Walmart for over an hour and a half at this point.

I go back to the front in the off chance the seasonal picnic aisles might have one, cringe at the bountiful supply of American Patriotic Equipment, and eventually give up and ask the greeter lady where I can find a rain poncho. Aisle L24, aka one of the camping aisles in the back of the store. I've already searched there but apparently cannot read, because I find them this time, begrudgingly grab the blue since they don't make pink in the adult size, and return, once more, to the front of the store, where I legally purchase the poncho.

In the ten minutes it took me to decide to find the rain poncho and buy it, it's stopped raining and the sun is shining because of course it is.

[dontmindifidontt]

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Nanami Kento x Reader JJK fanfic | Chapter 6: Returning the Favor

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 4852 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: Another scary situation causes Nanami to slowly begin opening up about his past. Warnings: drinking, oral male receiving - 18+, minors dni.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

My thoughts have been focused on one thing and one thing only all weekend. Him.

I went about my normal routine during my two days off: I read my books while drinking my coffee in the morning, and wine at night. I tidied my apartment and took care of my laundry. I took a trip to the grocery store to restock my fridge. I do everything I normally would but it's all under a haze of memories from Friday evening. Laying in bed Sunday night I hear the familiar ping of my phone, and see Nanami's name on the lock screen for the first time since he returned from his trip.

| It's me. I managed to get a new phone with my same number this weekend, though I never got around to grocery shopping... You'll be seeing me at the bakery tomorrow.

Feeling grateful for the warning I quickly swipe to my clock app and set my alarm for twenty minutes earlier tomorrow. That should give me enough time to get ready without rushing. Not that I need to wear more makeup or style my hair any differently when I know I'll be seeing him, but he makes me want to walk out the door with a little more confidence in the morning and the perfect shade of lipstick helps me find that confidence.

Lunchtime rolls around at work and I don't bother stopping my eyes from darting up at the door every time the bell chimes. Sure enough Nanami steps through the door and makes his way to the register, a smile creeping up on his lips as he gets closer. He says hello and picks out the sandwich he'd like to purchase before we get past the small talk.

"I want to take you out on Friday night. There's an outdoor wine bar downtown I think you'd enjoy, since I know how much you like wine..." he has a bit of a glimmer in his eye while alluding to my wine-fueled display from the other night. "So what do you say?"

I can't help but be taken aback at his question - it's only Monday and he's already asking me out for this weekend? Maybe he's truly trying to be less 'aloof' around me.

"Yes, I'd love to!" I reply without hiding any excitement.

"Perfect," his mouth curls in a smile at my answer, "I want to show you off."

Show me off? He's never said anything like that before. That feels like we're... together.

Before I can say anything he continues, "I can't stop thinking about how god damn good you looked the other night... all weak and begging for me."

I freeze completely, shifting my eyes around to make sure no one else is within earshot.

He senses my surprise at what he has to say but doesn't stop, "It's all I can think about, that and showing off how good you look when you know you're about to be fucked by me."

Now I really freeze. "But the face I really love, when you're desperate and practically crying for me to fill you, that face is just for me."

I nod in agreement, my mouth slightly open but no words coming out.

"So I'll see you then?" He asks nonchalantly, like we're having a totally innocent conversation.

"Yes," I stammer out, watching as he turns to walk out the door and return to work.

I spend the rest of the day finishing my work in a dazed state, operating on autopilot. All I can do is play over my conversation with Nanami and think about what's going to happen Friday night. I was excited to see him again to begin with but now... this is a different kind of excitement.

As much as I enjoyed myself this past weekend, I couldn't help but want more. He gave me so much and yet I didn't even get to see him with his clothes off. He hardly did more than loosen his tie. I know for a fact I won't be able to concentrate for the rest of the week knowing what I plan to do on Friday. How I plan to make him feel...

Friday

I clock out the second my shift is over and practically speed walk home to my apartment to get ready. After staring at my closet for probably an hour each day this week, I ultimately decided on a simple but curve-hugging black midi dress, paired with strappy heels. I wear a deep red lipstick to accentuate my mouth, sophisticated earrings that hang slightly below my earlobes, and apply a touch more highlight than usual.

After getting the name of the wine bar over text I tell Nanami I'll meet him there. Getting picked up by him felt so formal and I didn't mind having the time to myself on the walk. It helps me calm my nerves as I listen to music in my earbuds along the way.

There was no mistaking that I was at the right address once I walked up the winebar from outside. It was decorated immaculately with vines of white and red flowers, looping around the outdoor space as if the bar was a part of nature. The floral decor, however, did not dim the romantic sex appeal of the space. It was still dark and sleek, with a single candle on each of the high tops lining the bar, most of them occupied by attractive looking couples in their 20s or 30s.

Distracted by my surroundings, I jumped when I felt a familiar hand grip the small of my back. Whispering "you look gorgeous" into my ear, Nanami pulls me into his side, firmly pressing a kiss to the top of my head after giving the compliment.

"Thank you," I look up at him, catching a glimpse of myself in the reflection of his glasses, "I had a feeling you'd like this dress." I purposefully left out the fact I spent days deciding on it.

He leads us across the outdoor bar towards one of the few open high tops, and we stand beside each other at it. After waving over a server to place our drink orders (I went with his suggestion of some sort of fancy red I can't even remember,) he turns his full attention back to me.

"Tell me about your week," he states, more than asks.

Attempting to make my week sound more exciting than it actually was, I tell him about the new dessert I finally perfected in the bakery, the current book I'm reading, and strategically leave out the part about how many hours I spent daydreaming waiting for today to be Friday.

He smiles and nods along while I talk, fully immersing himself in the conversation and giving replies of his own. I have always seemed to view him as this straightforward yet vague man, though the vague piece of his demeanor is slowly chipping away.

Sipping my wine, I nearly spit it out when I hear him say, "I've thought about you every night this week." He wraps one arm around my side as he said it, pulling me in closer so that I'm leaning against him. I feel grateful for the support as my knees go weak at the scent of his cologne. Memories of last weekend begin filling my brain at the smell.

He continues to go on about how much he looked forward to seeing me this week, and my mind begins to wander. Is this him opening up? He told me he wanted to be less aloof around me, I think this is it. I don't let myself feel too accomplished in cracking his shell, however, because I remember just how many mysteries there still remain about him and his past.

We continue to chat about our weeks and flirt in the process, sneaking glances at each other's lips as we raise our glasses for a sip. Something about the stare of his eyes peering over a glass makes my stomach tighten and my thighs clench. His stare is just so all consuming.

When it comes time for him to walk me home, the combination of the wine buzz with the excitement of how well the night went makes me feel like I'm walking back on clouds. We continue to chat playfully and bump hips into each other gently as we walk side by side, my excitement building with every step since I planned to invite him inside once we arrived.

As I'm about to crack a joke about the bickering couple that stood next to us at the bar, I feel Nanami tense up and stop in his tracks beside me.

"Whats wr-" I ask, and before I can finish he juts an arm out in front of me pushing me against the wall of a nearby building towards a small alleyway.

"Stay right here," he demands, leaving me concealed in the shadows from the tall buildings on each side of me. He turns quickly and stalks back in the direction we came, reaching inside his suit jacket towards his waistband. I peek my head out around the corner of the building to see him wielding a patterned blunt sword - where the hell did that come from?

I panic and pinch my eyes shut, turning my body so that I'm once again concealed between building, back pressed against the wall. I try to repeat 'everything's fine' in my head over and over again, afraid to wonder what would cause Nanami to stalk after an unknown threat behind us. Was something following us?

Before I can work myself into a frenzy, Nanami reappears in front of me, gripping my shoulders and asking if I'm alright. It's a familiar sight from the last strange encounter we faced in the bakery a couple weeks ago.

"I'm okay but what the HELL happened? Do you have a WEAPON? What's going on" I tried to keep myself from crying as the panic from the past few moments overwhelmed me. Nanami tried his best to calm me down and brought me in for a hug, but I continued to demand answers. After he repeatedly avoids my questions I snap. Memories of him distracting me with a kiss the last time we were in this situation come flooding to the surface and I'm suddenly furious.

Tears pricking at the corners of my eyes I finally blurt what I've been wanting to say for weeks. "Why won't you tell me what's going on!? I really thought you were starting to open up to me but now you're ignoring my questions all over again. It makes me feel like I don't even know you at all!" I pant after letting it out, staring at him expectantly as we remain standing in the alleyway, my back against the wall.

"There's a reason I don't tell you much about me or my past..." he trails off at the end of his sentence but I stay silent to force him to continue. "It's to protect you."

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him in equal parts anger and confusion. "What makes you think I think I need somebody else to protect me? Or even worse, that I need to be completely oblivious as to why?"

He shakes his head in frustration before answering.

"I just... all I can say is what I used to do, what I still can do, is dangerous. And I don't tell you not because I don't trust you, but because you're safer this way." He seems to be having a silent, internal debate with himself before he continues. "I wasn't always a part of the corporate world, working amongst businessmen with no thoughts behind their eyes besides money. I used to work a form of... security. And I had to protect myself and others from very bad things. What happened tonight and the other week in the bakery are related to that."

I stared back in silence, completely in shock and unsure what to even ask next.

"These... invisible problems I've told you about once before, at the bakery? They follow me. I'm used to seeing them everywhere I go, but it wasn't a problem until recently. I'm worried that now they're focusing on you for being... connected to me." He seemed to think very carefully about his choice in words.

Hearing the honesty in his voice makes me feel I can trust him, but I still find myself struggling with the idea that he can't tell me what's really going on. Is it truly for my benefit not to know? It's hard to see how it's possible for me to be better off in the dark.

Still feeling unsure, but slightly more trusting in his decisions, I respond. "I trust you, Nanami. I still don't love the fact that I'm more or less clueless to what's going on, but I appreciate you telling me more tonight. This doesn't scare me, you know." That last part is only partially true, but he seems to let out a breath at my response.

"I promise I'd tell you everything if that's what would keep you safe, but I truly don't think that's the case. At least not now."

I choose to trust him and hold off on asking any more questions. I let out a sigh, motioning for us to continue the walk back to my apartment.

The two of us stand at the foot of my doorsteps, still shaking off the events of the night. "I don't think you should be staying at your place tonight - definitely not alone... I don't know if we were followed," Nanami says with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"I told you; I'm not scared, I'll be fine."

"I should stay with you. Just in case," he suggests and I immediately push back.

"I promise I'm fine," I reason with him, and he looks visibly stressed at my refusal of his help. "I'll call you if anything happens." He eases up at that but still looks apprehensive, as if he's still not fully convinced he's willing to drop the conversation. He takes another long look at me and realizes I'm not backing down on my assertion that I can fend for myself.

"Fine," he caves, "I won't stay tonight. But I'll have the sound on my phone turned all the way up if you need me. In fact, you should probably stay on the phone with me after I leave until you fall asleep."

I let out a short laugh at this suggestion, unable to hide my amusement at how desperately he is trying to keep tabs on me. It's endearing, it really is.

He looks confused at first but his face softens when he realizes I'm truly not scared anymore. "I just want you to be safe, okay?" his voice is pleading and his stare shifts back and forth from my eyes to my lips. "I... care about you and I have the ability to protect you, so that's what I'm going to do. I won't let anything hurt you."

I think back to the not one, but two, times he has done exactly that. He seemed to flip a switch and instinctually shift into the role of protector and fighter like it was a second nature. I would be lying if I said it didn't turn me on.

I watch his face as he continues to look down at me with total seriousness, meaning every word he just said. Something in his eyes unlocks a part of me. A swirl of emotions I feel as if I've never before tapped in to rise to the surface. I feel more than just protected, I feel listened to, cared for, and truly valued.

An overwhelming urge to show Nanami just how grateful I feel begins to take over me, and a familiar heat begins to warm my skin. He's already given me so much, and shown me how he feels. He's put himself between me and danger, he's already corrected or apologized for anything I've had issues with, and after last Friday night's escapades he has truly givena lot to me.

My core tightens at the memory of how he reacted when he unexpectedly came home early only to find me half-drunk, blasting music and dancing on his couch without a care in the world, wearing his shirt with barely much else underneath. My knees go weak and I feel a familiar pulsation begin to thrum between my legs when I remember the long, slow licks he dragged across the most sensitive part of my body. I need to make him feel the same pleasure I did that night.

Breathless and unsteady on my feet, I lurch for the collar of his shirt and pull his face down to meet mine. Without missing a beat he wraps his arms around me, linking them against my lower back. His mouth crushes mine in a kiss and I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist and whispering in his ear to walk us inside. He climbs the few steps to the door and we push through the entryway.

Shutting the door behind him, my apartment is silent except for the occasional drawing of breath from either of us and the sound of our palms aggressively sliding across clothing.

"My room's that way," I say while pointing an arm down the hall, still suspended above the ground by his hold around me.

"Who said I wanted to do this on your bed?" He replies suggestively. My eyes widen as I pull my face away from his to stare.

He winks as he says next, "You seemed to like being on the couch just fine last time."

I push both my hands against his broad chest in order to get out of his hold and plant my feet back on the ground. In one swift movement I grab his wrist and drag him over to the small couch just a few steps away in my living room, pushing him backwards so he is seated with his legs spread and feet apart on the floor.

I put one hand on each of his knees as I lean my upper half forward to kiss him slowly, trailing my mouth and small flicks of my tongue along his jawline, eventually making my way to his neck as he groans in response. After tracing circles along his knees and up parts of his thigh with my fingers I instead busy my hands with his shirt, prying apart each of the buttons until it is fully open. With his chest and stomach exposed I can see the heaving rise of his chest as he breathes. The sight makes my heart beat faster.

"You taking control now, huh?" he teases with a smirk while making no attempt to move out from under me.

"I'm just settling up what I owe," I reply seductively while kicking one leg up onto the couch beside him so I am halfway into a straddle, leaning my chest closer to his and ready to begin trailing my kisses lower.

He pulls his head back to look at me inquisitively. He then grabs the hip of my other leg and pulls my knee forward so that both are on either side of him, bringing my hips down into a full straddle against him, our faces only inches apart. "You know you'll never have to owe me for anything, right?" He asks in all seriousness.

Suddenly my cheeks are blushing not from my arousal but from sheer embarrassment. "I know, obviously..." I reply, trying to hiding the fact that my dirty talk wasn't coming across as sexy as I intended.

"Good," he eases up in his seated position once more, bucking his hips slightly as adjusts his position and making my pussy throb in the process. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to with me," before I have a chance to explain hooking up with him is all I can ever think about he continues, "And on the other hand... you have free reign to dowhatever you want with me."

With that I am absolutely soaked.

Not bothering to attempt any more dirty talk, I decide to put my mouth to better use. I kiss up and down the side of his neck while undoing the belt of his pants. While I tug at his belt he pulls my dress down from my shoulders in one swoop. After unzipping his pants far enough to pull off I frantically crawl back down off his lap, letting my knees hit the floor as I pull both his pants and underwear down with me.

I pull them off completely and toss to the side, still in a kneeling position. Bracing myself, I slowly raise my gaze back up to his lap and my mouth goes dry at the sight. He had pulled off his unbuttoned shirt while I was repositioning myself and was now fully nude in front of me, slightly reclined with his elbows propped up on the back of the couch as if in a total state of relaxation.

My lips curl into a devilish smile while I take in the look on his face. He is visibly out of breath and staring at me with such concentration it feels as if his eyes could burn holes. Despite that, he doesn't speak, and I can only assume it's because he doesn't want to beg. Deciding to move at a torturously slow pace because of this, I scan my eyes along his neck, counting the few veins that have popped up along the sides. Immediately following I trace my gaze across his collarbone, to the rounded and muscular shoulder connected at the end. Flicking my eyes to his middle, I make him wait as I watch his body rise with each breath, placing my hands on either sides of his waist. Finally, I look down to his lap.

As I do, I see his dick twitch slightly in response as if he can feel my eyes on him. I bring my face closer to stare, purposefully hovering over him so he can feel the warm air of my breath without actually being touched. He's so visibly hard that it doesn't make sense how he can sit so comfortably before me. It's as if all of his concentration is focused on letting me be in control at my own pace, despite how fucking aching he must feel.

Deciding to sneak one last look at his face before committing every ounce of my being to making my mouth feel like paradise on him, I peer upwards through my eyelashes. At that same moment he moves his arms from their propped position on the couch to come towards me, cupping each hand on either sides of my face without dropping his stare on my lips. "Don't make me beg," he grunts through his teeth.

I hold back my taunting smile as I reply, "Wouldn't dream of it." With that, I slide my tongue down the underside of his cock, beginning at the top. Once I reach the base I wrap the tip of my tongue around him and slide back up, angling my head to the side. He exhales sharply at the sensation and I do it again, fully coating his dick in my saliva.

Wetting the inner portion of my lips I pucker and press my mouth to his tip, slowly taking him in but stopping once his head has just gotten to the tip of my tongue. He desperately tries not to squirm while panting and swearing under his breath, clearly feeling inpatient but I don't budge. Instead, I suction on the very end of his head, and trace my finger down his shaft towards his balls. Cupping them, I begin to massage them back and forth and he involuntarily bucks his hips in response.

"Patient," I say, "I thought you weren't going to beg?"

Before he can respond I swap the positioning of my mouth and my hand, gripping his still wet dick in my fist as I press my tongue against the smooth skin of his balls. I widen my mouth and use my tongue to slip one into my mouth and begin to push and pull on it with the suction of my mouth. His hands now grip the top of my head as his fingers flex as if he's desperate to keep control of all of the muscles in his body. Again using my tongue I swirl and suck, alternating to his other ball and pushing it around the inside of my mouth with varying pressure. My hand that's working his dick continues at an even pace, occasionally pressing my thumb down on the center of his head and rubbing small circles.

My other hand reaches around and grips the firm side of his ass, pressing my fingers into the muscle. His breathing gets faster and I open my mouth wider to let go, instead returning to tracing my tongue up and down his shaft.

He hums in pleasure at the way my mouth glides faster and faster along the wetness. I continue to slip up and down, enjoying the sound of his shaky breathing, until I decide to suddenly change course and part my lips, taking him into my mouth fully. His breath catches and his abs tighten as he grabs ahold of my head in his hands, gasping out an 'oh fuck' to the new sensation.

Using every muscle I have I hollow out my cheeks and tuck my lips tight, careful to keep my jaw wide enough to fully separate my top and bottom rows of teeth. I bob my head back and forth, feeling his smooth skin slide against my swollen lips and pressing the back of my tongue against his twitching head. Going deeper with each thrust I can sense that he's nearing release. His hips begin to rise up into my face more and more, demanding that I take him all in.

Fully preparing to work my jaw past the point of pain I grip onto his backside, holding his cheeks in my hands so that I can keep him pressed into me. Caging my head in place with his hands he continues to cuss and mutter variations of 'you feel so fucking good' before he can no longer speak and just grunts with each thrust.

Feeling him twitch as he nears the back of my throat I know he's seconds from coming undone and I brace myself for the release. I hum a moan around him to give him the go-ahead to finish, sending vibrations along his cock with the sound. His hips stutter and he moans in response, jolting forward and nearly choking me on a gag as I feel a warm burst of thick liquid coat the far roof of my mouth. He continues to pump two more spurts into my throat and mouth as I moan in pleasure at the fact that I've just made him reach his climax. He gently starts to slide himself out of my mouth and I keep my lips wrapped tight around him until he's fully out, then swallow tightly.

Licking my lips I raise my eyes up at his disheveled state, seeing him stare down at me in equal parts disbelief and amazement while out of breath. "Holy fucking shit," is all he can say and I pull myself up from my knees, straddling him once again only this time in nothing but my bra and soaked-through panties.

As I hover my hips over him, careful not to apply pressure to his oversensitive cock below me, he reaches around to fully cup my ass in both hands. He begins to slide two of his fingers around, reaching to press up against my entrance.

I stop him and tease with a smile, "that was my turn to leave you exhausted and fucked blind."

He can barely form a sentence while grappling for a better grip on my hips as I lift myself up off the couch and slide my dress back on.

"Save your energy for next time," I wink, "I plan on making you need it."

..........

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thank you for reading !! pls tell me everyone has seen the new official Nanami art with the undone tie im crying

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Taglist: @hellonaomix

[frogsandfries]

I think I need a chiro.

My back has been at least part of my migraines for years. I need my insurance info to know if it'll be covered. I don't mind if all they can do is manual adjustment or whatever.

My girl cat woke me up this time; she was mad that I'm hogging the new bed all to myself. My boy was having seemingly the time of his life sitting on the corner quietly, not moving, the hours that I slept.

I'm so bummed that I didn't, at the very least, like, get the spilled ink cleaned up or something.

I didn't get to take all this garbage out--I got several larges boxes with the mattress and the pillows, plus the desk garbage, the regular garbage, and the used litter all need to go out. It's just been so goddamn hot out after work and it's three flights down hhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhh and I haven't needed to take out the household garbage for years so it's definitely an adjustment.

Maybe if it's so difficult to do during work, I should try taking just some of it tomorrow before work. Just some. Plus, if my migraine relieves, it'll be good to get outside. I meant to today, since garbage takes up so much more of the space proportionally. You couldn't pay me to go outside with a migraine. You never realize how much light actually gets through cloud cover until you have a migraine--it's worse when there is no cloud cover.

I was so desperate for steak today, I ordered dinner. The medicine didn't want to be neighbors with fries, so that's all I got to eat before it came right back up. The meal came with crab and a roll, and butter sauce, so naturally, I made a sandwich! That I didn't get to eat.....I had to put it in the fridge. I think I'm going to make a solid grocery run this weekend, get some cheese for my stuffed rice balls aaaannnndddd......idk, maybe frozen chicken? A bowl of cut fruit? I feel like I need to justify being a fancy bitch and buying cut fruit, but look, I'm one freaking person. There's no way I'm eating a whole pineapple, and a whole cantaloupe, and a whole honeydew melon, plus a whole pint of strawberries, a whole pint of blueberries, and a whole pint of raspberries and/or blackberries--that's generally the fruit mix I purchase. First, that's like, ten times more money than I would spend for the bowl. Second, ten times more food than I would purchase and reliably eat. The fruit bowl is proportionally more expensive than the fruit itself, but the overall investment is less money and less waste. It maths. Plus, naturally, I'm buying more ensure. I should get some granola bars to snack on, maybe some more applesauce packets, definitely some rolled oats, more oatmilk. I have to set aside some money for another smoothie box.

Now that I'm up, the neighbors are back at it with their obscenely loud music at nearly ten in the evening 🙄. Somebody went off with a drill as I was laying down and I groaned and they seemed to stop, so I appreciate that.

My sister was like "stop staring at screens" and I'm like "that's literally how I pay the bills". Now she's arguing with me that I don't have good screen hygiene: look. I have matte screen protectors on my phone and tablet, currently my only devices. The monitors for work are matte. The last time I had a migraine at work, I turned down the brightness to 25%. The brightness on my phone is regularly about 25% or less. My phone and tablet also have yellow adjusters that cycle throughout the day. I'm doing the best I can. I really believe it's more, I just got this mattress. My back is probably fucked from sleeping on the couch and piles of blankets. Plus, I've always had back issues--I first really noticed them...... what was it, 2017 when I got my first ever sitting-down job? I had another incident in 2018, after sitting on a cement floor for what my body thought was too long.

[songofsaraneth]

an incomplete list of the Bullshit ive gone through this year (2021 only), for personal edification:

I am in grad school trying to do research as well as TA a lab class during a global pandemic

My car is broken into in late February outside of my apartment. $1700+ of my backpacking/camping gear and personal items were stolen from it. Ironically they did not find the $20 cash I had. 

Car battery begins mysterious dying if left overnight and have to call for rescue from AAA 4 separate times over the course of March. I suspect it is related to being broken into but can’t prove it without a mechanic’s diagnostics.

First mechanic I bring my car to does nothing for the entire MONTH they have it, except break my air conditioning of all things. I live in a desert. It is now 90º every day. At one point they call me to say they can’t get the back doors to open. I walk 2 miles back to them from campus and demonstrate how the automatic doors work on a 2005 minivan. I begin to have regrets about my mechanic choice but the sunk fallacy cost keeps me there for several weeks.

Mid march I also wake up one day to severe jaw pain/a weird “loose” feeling, like my mouth is slanting sideways. It is midterms and I do not have time for this, so I take a lot of ibuprofen and eat soup for a week. After 3 days I shove pillows and blankets around my face one night to keep my jaw aligned and when I wake up the next morning it is severely tight instead of loose, and I have to carefully stretch it open whenever I leave my mouth closed for more than an hour. I guess I just have TMJ now.

At this point I am walking everywhere until bike supplies arrive to fix my flat tire since the bike store is too far away to walk to; including walking back and forth to campus since I can only bring 2-4 out of 8 students into the lab spaces at a time and so effectively have to run each weekly lab 2-4 times per week; as well as going back and forth for greenhouse experiment monitoring/helping undergrads on our NASA contest project

Early April I go to the dentist for a crown on one of my back molars, which I must pay for out of pocket because my new dental insurance purchased when I moved last September has a 1-year waiting period and so will not cover it ($1200). Stretching my jaw open so far for the procedure reignites my new TMJ back to high pain levels.

While still waiting on car in mid-April I have a severe averse reaction to the second dose of the Covid19 vaccine, resulting in painful ulceration of all the soft tissues in my body (mouth, stomach, genitals). It is a very bad time for 3 days and I book an urgent care appointment for the first time ever.

Urgent Care nurse-practitioner does not believe me when I describe what’s happening, and misdiagnoses me with herpes.

I am still biking everywhere but now I’m extra mad and in pain about it so take car back from mechanic so I can get groceries etc. I make an appointment with the dealership but it will be a week until they can take it. In the meanwhile I have to drive it every 8 hours so it won’t die which means getting up at 2am to drive it for 20 minutes in the middle of the night so it will still turn on in the morning. 

I have a terrible reaction to the numbing cream given to me for the painful open sores over my body, because of a lifelong mint sensitivity, resulting in an even greater amount of pain

The dealership can fix my car over the following week but its $1800 and now insurance isn’t sure they want to cover it after all

Herpes test comes back negative and nurse apologizes profusely and recommends a non-mint OTC numbing cream alternative that works (yay) and a numbing spray that does not work because it turned out to use an alcohol based propellant which should not be combined with open wounds esp on the genitals (ouch ouch ouch). I try to tell the nurse why I was right about my diagnosis and she was wrong but she still believes it was a latent virus of some other variety and and not an immune response alone, despite the published case studies I have brought to back me up. I decide I have bigger hills I need to die on right now and stop arguing. Sores persist into May but eventually do go down and numbing cream keeps me moderately functioning.

Car is fixed and I can drive again but it takes 2 hours of crying on the phone to my insurance company for them to agree to cover the cost of repair

I make a primary care appointment for the first time in years so I can have a doctor in this state if something like this happens to me again, in June I do intake/bloodwork/set up appointments to check out some other issues ive been having

Grad school finals happen which i wont get into but Yeah. Finals stress triggers another outbreak of canker sores, but mostly clustered in my mouth and only 2 on my vulva rather than 8-12. I eat only soup for another week. 

I get a referral to the local mental health clinic and call about setting up an appointment for an ADHD evaluation. They tell me to download and send in some paperwork and they will call when they have available appointments

I am supposed to be doing all my labwork over the summer but the committee member I need escapes my clutches and we don’t manage to set up a meeting to plan it out/for him to explain the protocols until late June

Bloodwork shows I am critically low in vitamin b12 and low in D, which may explain some of why I am so tired all the time

Ultrasound shows a 1.8cm mass in the adnexa near my left ovary. There are several options for what it can be (folicular cyst, other kind of cyst, tumor, ectopic pregnancy i nearly laugh at my Dr and reassure her the last one is not possible if nothing else). It may go away on its own or it may not. Follow up scan in 2 months

I remember I was supposed to email forms to the mental health clinic and finally send those in mid July. It seems cruel to make me be the one to remember this considering I am calling about a formal ADHD diagnosis.

I also finally pin everyone relating to my labwork down and have a follow up meeting + make a list of what we need to order, but the staff who place orders are on vacation and when they get back several reagents are backordered

I have my follow-up ultrasound. The tech takes lots of photos which indicates the mass is still present, but I won’t know any details until my next PCP appointment when they send over the analysis to her in mid-August

Beginning of August the reagents I need for the first steps of the process arrive exactly 1 day before I leave town for a wedding and the lab manager is about to leave town for the entire next week

After the wedding, severe thunderstorms and tornados trap me in Chicago for 4 extra days. I spend a lot of time at the airport or on my way between the airport and my parents house. A facebook friend gets video of the funnel clouds which at least gives me something to sadly email my advisor and committee members when I have to join our planning meeting from my gate at O’Hare

I lose my drivers license at the security checkpoint on my last trip through the airport and don’t realize until I am boarding the plane because of course that is happening to me now

On the shuttle from El Paso back to Las Cruces after this ordeal the driver stops and picks up a box labeled HUMAN BLOOD and puts it in the trunk and i am too tired to care anymore

I stay up all night making the world’s most pitiful r graphs for my meeting the next morning and everyone takes pity on me and does not call out how useless they are

I spend the weekend trying to motivate myself to actually go into the lab and start my procedures, and fail to leave my apartment. This reminds me it has now been a month (Aug 15th) since I sent in my paperwork and the mental health clinic has still not called me back about up an appointment

I get overwhelmed with Everything and make this list

So that’s where I’m at at the moment. And this doesn’t even include anything from 2020 thats just been continuous like, y’know, a global pandemic and having a bad breakup of a 4 year relationship and moving to a new city where I know no one for grad school etc. I feel like I’m falling apart/unable to do all the shit I need to right now but you know what? Actually its been a really bad time and maybe falling apart a little is justified ;_; 

[jubilantwriter]

It All Began with a Big Crash

(AO3)

Summary:  It's the one year anniversary of Boyfriend and Girlfriend's growing relationship, and Boyfriend absolutely, totally, DID NOT forget that today is that special day. And yet, that one single DID NOT FORGETTing leads to a domino effect, resulting in quite possibly one of the best nights of their lives.

After all, what's the point of a performance if no one's having fun during it?

Word Count: 7154

(A/N:  Happy 1st Anniversary of Friday Night Funkin’!  I literally wrote and edited this all in one day.  Got home at midnight, started writing, and then I posted it at 10 am, took a nap, went to work, AND NOW I’M HERE ON TUMBLR :D  Anyway, FNF has been a big comfort for me these past months, so it’s only fitting that I put myself through hell to get this little bit out.  I hope you all enjoy!)

\\\\

Now, Boyfriend isn't a forgetful man.  This thought crosses his mind as he stands up abruptly after paying for his lunch and racing for the door.

"Be-!"

"Eep!"

CRASH .

But sometimes things... slip from his mind, and while he's not one prone to panic, THIS is something worth panicking over.

"-EP.  SHIT.  SORRY!"

"My dishes!"  A blonde server kneels on the ground, surrounded by the clumsy carnage created by Boyfriend inadvertently crashing into her on his rush out.  She glares accusingly at him as the boy jogs in place.  "Again, really?!"

"Sorry, sorry!"  He waves his hands in front of him before looking over his shoulder.  "I'll pay for the dishes and shit uh, later!"  He dashes out the door as she calls out behind him.

"That's what you said LAST time!"

Well, last time he was dirt poor, but now that he's pretty famous around town, he's actually got the moolah to pay for damages!  So yeah, next time!

...Is what he meant to tell her, but he's already busting into the conveniently placed flower shop, panting as he looks around wildly for help.  The florist in question glances at him completely unbothered by his entrance.  

"Forgot an important date again?" she quips, staring back down at her phone as she drapes herself over the counter.

"BAP!" he says defensively, because he DIDN'T forget!  It just... slipped his mind a little.  In his defense, he'd gotten so used to being with Girlfriend that it felt ... normal!  Like they've been together for YEARS and being with her just felt so right, and every day was the greatest day of his life because he had her by his side.  So yeah, maybe the days slipped past him in a blissful sort of way, like when he gets super focused on his music or some arbitrary task, and the hours slip by and suddenly it's the next morning!  It's kind of like that, but with a girl who makes him smile and laugh and forget that life is supposed to be difficult and hard, and not fun and invigorating.  And to think they've only been together for a year...

...A year.

...Wait.

Shit.

SHIT.

He's doing it again!

He bustles over and slaps a fifty on the counter.  "Bop!" he announces in a rush, tapping his fingers impatiently as the florist holds it up to the light. 

With a low whistle, she puts it back on the table.  "Wow, you're really going all out this time, huh?"  Before Boyfriend can respond to her sarcasm, the florist calls out to her partner in the back.  "Flower!  Miku's lil bro is back at it again, dropping a fifty and hoping for the best."

"Again?"  A husky voice makes its way over as a familiar bush of thick hair pops out from beyond the doorway.  "Boyfriend, you should know by now that apology bouquets are at least a hundred."

"Ba- skida- AUGH!  It's not an apology bouquet!"  He stomps his foot, irritated to break out the English but knowing full well it’s a matter that needs clear communication.  So not really a waste of words, just a waste of energy on two ladies who will give him shit regardless of the noise he makes.

"Oh yeah?  What's the occasion?"  The taller florist - Lily, hilariously enough - leans forward with a smirk as Flower keeps her deadpan stare.  

"It's for my anniversary!"  He crosses his arms and harrumphs as Lily whistles again.

"Damn, and you didn't invite us to the wedding?  Harsh."

"No, not that-!  Ugh, you know what I mean."

"Do we?"  Lily and Flower exchange a look before Lily's smirk widens.  "I dunno, you don't give us the dirt anymore.  Remember when you'd come in here all the time, red in the face trying to get apology bouquets for that one boy?  What's his name-"

"Pico," he answers, a bit flustered as the memories rush through his mind before shaking his head, "and he liked them all, by the way!  But this isn't about him-"

"No, it's about your new girl, right?"  Flower cuts in, leaning against the doorway with a bored expression.  "What's her favorite color?  It's not green, is it?"

"It's red, and please can you make it quick?  I dunno when she wants us to meet up, so...!"  He flashes them two thumbs up and is about to bounce, but Lily grabs the collar of his shirt with a chuckle.

"Not so fast, dumbass."  She pulls him back to the counter as he whines pathetically.  "You really think a fifty is enough for an anniversary bouquet?"

Oh no.  He starts to sweat, feeling his wallet tremble in fear.  They're doing it again.  "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean, Flower?"  Lily turns back to the shorter florist as the other makes a thoughtful hum.

"One hundred, at least."

"Yeah, at least one hundo."  Lily holds her hand out.  "C'mon, cough it up, shorty."

This is beyond unreal, but at the same time, it is completely expected from people who teased him relentlessly since he was a kid.  "If it wasn't for Miku, you guys wouldn't even be here!"

"We're only here because of convenience, please."  Lily snorts as the boy continues to struggle.  "So you aiming for an apology bouquet or an anniversary bouquet?"

"Just cut me a deal, please?  For old time's sake?" He clasps his hands together and bats his eyelashes.  "I'm still that cute little kid who used to pretend to be like Miku!  Who could forget good ol' Mikuo?"

"One hundred."  Flower cuts off the potential reminiscing and steps up to the counter.  "Or it's an apology bouquet."

Grumbling miserably, Boyfriend digs around in his pocket and manages to snag something.  He pulls out his hand and counts out four quarters.  Quietly, he puts it on top of the fifty.

Flower and Lily both look at it silently.

"...Well," Flower begins, slowly taking the money, "I did say one hundred."

Roll with it roll with it roll with it-

"Yeah, and uh, four twenty-fives makes one hundred, right?"

"What, are we speaking French now?"  Lily asks with a sneer.

"No," Boyfriend begins, blinking slowly, "pretty sure we're speaking English." 

"Oh my god."  She slaps her hand over Flower's.  "We are not doing this."

"I gave you one hundred," he argues, sweating miserably as he turns up the confidence.  

"He did give us one hundred," Flower agrees.

"You are not giving this to him.  You know he didn't even plan this!  He's too stupid to pull a slick move like that!"

Boyfriend just smiles and gives them a double thumbs up.

"It's not like anyone else is gonna be coming in to give us another job."  Flower hums and stows the money in the register, much to Lily's chagrin.  "And besides, if I get bored making it, I'll just take a nap."

"Flower-!"  Before Lily can protest even more, Flower disappears into the backroom, no doubt to either work on the bouquet or take that nap.  Lily turns back to Boyfriend and glares, jabbing a finger against his chest.  "Be back here in a few hours.  You're taking whatever the hell she makes for you, stingy little bitch."

"That's all I have on my person!"

"We accept credit and debit."

"I have bills to pay."

"You're such a little-!"  Lily makes a strangling gesture with her hands before grabbing and shaking him.  "You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

"I'm trying!"  He backs up and shoots the tall florist finger guns before vacating the premises.  Okay, one thing down.  Next: chocolates.  Easy-peasy.  What place sells heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and other cutesy, anniversary items?

Boyfriend makes a beeline for the local grocery store and spends only a total of thirty minutes there, making the proud purchase of a box of chocolates, a little teddy bear holding a heart, and even a balloon that says, "I Love You".  Score!  Damn, he's doing great so far.  And it was such a quick purchase!  Maybe Miku's friends could learn a thing or two about making quick sales instead of harassing him over every little thing.

What's next, what's next...

A place for dinner, right!  Girlfriend loves the local bar.  Great food, a nice atmosphere, open mic nights, a server who's familiar with them...

A server that he crashed into and made her drop all those dishes to the floor... like that other time he did it to her and held up the service for a sizable amount of time...

He gulps.  Hm.  She's probably still mad at him too.  But uh, huh.  He's not sure what to do.  Maybe, maybe...

He takes out his phone and dials a familiar number.  It rings only twice before a gruff, annoyed voice answers on the other side.

"I'm busy, the fuck you want?"

Without missing a beat, he gets on his metaphorical hands and knees.  "Pico, can I ask a favor, please please pretty please?"

"Wow, English.  Must be desperate."   There's a loud crash on his end before Pico's voice yells at a pair of playful, young laughter.  "Hey- hey!  Watch it!"

"Pico, so uh, could you-?"

"Hey- give me that!"   More raucous laughter fills the line as Pico sighs.  "Sorry, Bee, don't think I can help ya today.  I was supposed to just watch these two kids 'til Lila came back, but then I got a call from a pal who needs help at her joint and- Skid, Jesus fucking Christ -"   There's some shuffling and a grunt as a playful squeal rings a little too close to the phone.  Pico continues as though nothing happened on his end.  "-and so basically I'm double booked for the night."

"Oh, okay."  He tries not to let the disappointment seep into his voice, but another sigh from Pico suggests that he heard it regardless.  

"Look, I'm real sorry, wish I could help, but a line's formin' and I can only do so much."   Pico grunts and a soft thump is heard.  Two voices chatter away distantly in the background, but Boyfriend focuses solely on Pico.  "Why?  What happened?"

"Well, today's me and Girlfriend's anniversary, and I wanted to take her out but-"

"Can't figure out a place to take her?  C'mon man, you- Jesus, you two, slow down, I'm comin'- you already know one."

"Yeah, the bar but-"

"What, ya worried about 'bout lines or somethin'?  I know it's busy and shit, but I'm sure Serv will get ya guys' a table easy.  It's just you two, you'll be fine."

"Okay, but-"

"Oh my GOD, what the HELL is THAT?!"  

A faint, childish voice answers Pico's horrified question as Boyfriend listens in.  "That's Moloch!"

"...MOLOCH?"

A roar sounds from Pico's side of the phone call.  The voice - uh, Skid, was it? - laughs excitedly.  "Yeah!  He's our friend!"

"He lives in Skid's attic!"

A demonic voice nearly blows out Boyfriend's eardrums.  "GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"...Does your MOM know about this?!"

"Sorta!  She thinks he's a rat."

"Hey hey HEY, back OFF-!  Sorry, Bee, I'll call ya later!"  

The last thing he hears is another roar before the line hangs up.  Pico will probably be fine - he's handled worse after all, and even Boyfriend's faced off a demon or two!  Maybe three, if that Lemon Man those two kids were friends with counted as well.  Man, demons are just everywhere, huh?

...Speaking of demons.  There’s one demon he really should be focusing on.  Like getting their dinner date set up at her favorite bar in town.  Even though he’s probably on that bar’s shitlist for knocking over their number one employee again .

But Girlfriend really does love going to that bar, and if it's for her...  Fuck it, he'll suck it up and take whatever Server-chan's got against him.  He'll just challenge her to a quick rap battle, win, and THEN they can have a nice dinner!  Yeah, that's what he'll do.  Lily's words replay in his mind as he walks off to his apartment to change into something nicer.

"You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

Fuck yeah he will.

"Damn, after all these years, you still can't tie a tie."  Lily frets over his outfit as she helps him tidy up a bit.  A colorful ribbon now decorates the box of chocolates, tying it together with the teddy bear with the balloon also tied around its wrist.  He grabs the tied together present after she rolls his sleeves up to his elbow.

"Bouquet?" he asks hopefully as Lily dusts off his shoulders for the hundredth time.  

She huffs and shakes her head, blowing a stray hair out of her face.  "You're lucky Flower didn't take a nap halfway through.  It's her best work so far!  All for the low, low cost of $51, tax not included."

"There's tax?!"  He almost falls over, but Lily grabs him by the collar of his dress shirt.

"Chill out, we'll charge it to Miku's account."

"Oh, thanks."  He swats away her hands when she tries to tuck in the other half of his shirt.  "Fuck off, it's part of my style!"

"What, being sloppy?"

"The ladies love it."

"Your lady deserves better."

"But I'm the best there is!"

"Oh, God," Lily groans as her expression falls into despair.  "Egotism really does run in the family."

"Enough about the family ego," Flower pipes up, her hands full with a large, beautiful bouquet.  "These flowers need to be appreciated."

"Holy shit."  Boyfriend takes the entire bouquet, admiring the reds, pinks, and whites.  There's a smattering of small, lavender flowers here and there, making the other colors pop.  "Roses!" he points out, the only flower he recognizes.

"Yup, and there's also lilies, alstroemeria, and-"

"Don't waste your breath," Lily cuts in, covering Flower's mouth before she can list them all out.  "He won't remember any of the names."

A disappointed sigh escapes Flower, so he gives her the biggest grin he can muster.  "Yo, I still think it's hella bomb to look at.  I really think she'll love it!"

Flower perks up a bit, a small smile forming on her usually stoic face.  "...Cool."

"Alright, get outta here."  Lily shoves him back to the door with a grin.  "You got a hot date, yeah?  Go give her the night of her life!"

"Yeah!"  He waves to the pair before leaving.  "Gonna have a great night at the bar!"

Lily's smile falters as Flower's smile immediately disappears.  "...The what?"

"See ya!"

"Wait, Boyfriend!  You're taking her out to the fucking BAR?!"  

He doesn't have the time to turn back and answer Lily, so he goes along his merry way, bouquet clutched tightly against his chest with the bear.  Hopefully the incident from earlier today has been swept away.  He really doesn't want to have a rap battle with Server-chan, but if he has to...

"Boyfriend!"  A sweet, melodic voice pulls him from his thoughts as he looks over to see his beautiful, wonderful Girlfriend.  Her iconic look now sports a sleek, black jacket reminiscent of her mother's own jacket.  It looks stunning on her, and a soft, longing "beep" escapes him as she giggles and kisses his cheek.  "Hey, hun.  Happy anniversary!"

"Happy anniversary!"  He holds out his gifts for her to take, and he delights in her unabashed joy as she takes them.

"Oh!  This teddy bear is so cute, and these flowers are lovely!"  Another giggle escapes her as she points at the bouquet.  "Roses!"

"That's what I said!"  They both share a laugh before her smile settles into something soft and relaxed.

"Now I wish I got you something too..."  Girlfriend pouts a bit, but he kisses it away with a grin.

"Hey, don't sweat it!  Lemme spoil you for the night instead."  He offers her his arm, and she happily loops hers with his.  They walk into the bar together and are met with a familiar face standing behind a podium.  Despite being the hostess, Cassette Girl keeps her iconic cap on as she notices them and greets them with a lazy smile.

"Wooow," she drawls out, giving Boyfriend a knowing grin.  "Back again so soon?  And after that huge fuss you made."

"Fuss?"  Girlfriend gives Boyfriend a curious look.  

"Uhh, beep bah."

"Didn't tell her about your mishap, huh?"  Cassette Girl raises an eyebrow and shakes her head.  "Well, if you wanted to know, Serv got it figured out.  Called in a favor last minute, and luckily he was nice enough to help out."  

"Sorry about that," he says sheepishly, and Cassette Girl merely shrugs.

"It's whatever.  Not the first time you messed her up real good.  And besides, you're not even the first person to make her crash and burn for a hot minute."  

"Is this still about the fuss you guys are talking about?"  Girlfriend looks between the two as Cassette Girl chuckles.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it.  Lemme take ya to your seats.  Bar or nah?"  

"Nah, it's our anniversary date today!"

"And you guys are spending it here?”  She pauses for a second in thought before shaking her head.  “Alright."  Cassette Girl takes it in stride and seats them near the miniature stage.

"Oh, is it open mic night tonight?"  Girlfriend sits down, already excited for the night as Cassette Girl chuckles and hands them the menus.

"Nah, originally we had a band booked tonight, but their back-up vocalist got injured, so they called it off last minute.  It's gonna be a quiet night instead."

"Aww."  The pout on Girlfriend's face lasts only a second before her smile returns.  "Oh well!  Sometimes quiet is nice too."

"Right you are.  Anyway, your waiter will be with you guys in just a sec, so take your time.  We're not too busy tonight, so feel free to cause more havoc."  She flashes a grin before walking back to her station.  

Girlfriend waves goodbye and turns back to Boyfriend with a smile.  "Cassey is so nice!  I wish we could talk to her more."  

"Maybe we'll catch her on the street one of these days."  He cracks open the menu, perusing the contents before deciding on getting his usual.

"Maybe!  Should I try something new tonight?"

"Wouldn't hurt."

"But I don't know what to get..."

"Maybe we can ask the waiter?"  He looks around for their supposed waiter, but all he sees is an unimpressed Pico standing at their table.  "Oh!  Pico!  You're dressed like a waiter!"

True to his observations, Pico is dressed similarly to Server-chan; a black long sleeved shirt replaces his usual green sweater, and a pair of black slacks replaces his usual beige cargo pants.  The only splash of color on his outfit is the bright orange apron that all servers seem to wear as per uniform, and it absolutely clashes with Pico's own bright, red hair.  

"That's because I am the waiter, dumbass."  The bite from his remark is lost from the tired slump of his shoulders, and the ginger begins to resemble Server-chan with each passing second.  "At least for tonight.  She called me in for a favor, and I agreed to help."

The conversation from earlier today pings in Boyfriend's memory.  "Is this what you meant when you said you were double booked?"

"Yeah.  Told me some blue-haired douchebag steamrolled her on his way out, and she ended up breaking a whole buncha dishes.  She went out to go replace the whole set, so I'm coverin' for the rest of her shift while she takes care of it.  Now that I think about it," Pico fixes him with a stern, knowing glare as Boyfriend shrinks under his sharp eyes, "I kinda already know about a certain blue-haired douchebag."

"I'll pay her back, I promise."  

"You fuckin' better."  Pico looks over to Girlfriend and offers her a tired grin when she waves cheerfully.  "Hey, Red, he treatin' ya well tonight?"

"Yup!  He got me chocolates, a bear, a balloon, AND a bouquet!"

"Really spoilin' ya there."

"Only the best for Gigi, right?"  He nudges Pico playfully, the earlier irritation already melting away from his expression as he rolls his eyes and ruffles Boyfriend's hair.

"Yeah yeah.  Ya guys ready to order?"

Pico takes their orders and departs quickly, the couple watching him disappear somewhere in the bar as their collective thoughts gather on one thing only.

"Mm, Pico should wear uniforms more often, huh?"

"It definitely looks flattering on him."  They both hum before taking sips from the water Pico had set down earlier while taking their orders.  With no ginger to distract them, Girlfriend's attention centers back on Boyfriend as she smiles.  "Thanks for taking me out here for dinner!  I know it's not easy for us to go out on dates since my parents still hover, so I'm really happy that we went out like you planned!"

"Oh yeah, totally."  His easy grin hides the absolute panic he had for the entire half of his day when he realized he had nothing planned.  "I wish I could treat you out for something better, but nothing else is really happening around this time of year-"

"Except for Spooky Month!"  Two voices pipe up out of nowhere as the costumed duo surprise the couple.  

"Oh, goodness, hello!"  She laughs as Skid and, uh, Pump?  Stand by their table looking curious.  "How have you two been?"

"Okay!  Mr. Pico has been babysitting us since Mom's been busy with her work stuff."  Skid bounces on his heels as Pump looks up more calmly.  "We wanted to introduce him to Moloch, but..."

"He didn't like him too much.  He said Moloch is more scary than spooky."  Pump sticks his tongue out and laughs.  "Silly Mr. Pico!  He does not understand that Moloch is our friend!"

"Moloch?"  Girlfriend hums as bobs her head in thought.  "That name sounds familiar.  There was a demon that went missing months ago by that name..."  

"Oh, weird!"

"Moloch came to us months ago too!  But now he stays in Skid's attic."

"It's like a sleepover every day!"

"That sounds like fun!"  She giggles as the kids bounce around her.

Boyfriend watches with a smile before remembering that “double booked” thing that Pico mentioned earlier.  Were these the kids he was watching when Boyfriend called…?  "So why are you guys here?  If Pico is supposed to be babysitting you guys, but is working here instead..."  Boyfriend wonders how Pico manages to balance so many jobs at once.  He himself can barely handle the one!  

"Mr. Pico said that he didn't trust Moloch and wanted us to stay somewhere safer."

"Which is weird, because Moloch is our friend!  But it made him happier, so we came here with him."

"It's boring here, so Pump and I have been teaching lots of people how to spooky dance!"

"Oh?"  Girlfriend indulges them and smiles as they crowd closer to her.  "Can you show me too?"

"You don't know the spooky dance?"

"We should show her!"

"It goes like this!"  The pair of children do a little dance for her, and a happy laugh escapes her as she watches.  Boyfriend leans back and enjoys her happiness as the kids continue to chat with her.

"That looks like fun!"

"You can do it too!"  Skid tugs on her hands, and it's enough to get her to stand up.  "Just hold out your hands like this-"

"-and then you move like this!"  The two of them demonstrate one more time before looking at Girlfriend expectantly.  It takes her a few times, but the kids are surprisingly patient and more than happy to show her as many times as she requests until she gets it right.  The sight of her having so much fun melts his heart, and he sighs as he watches her enjoy herself.  

"Damn, look at you, meltin' into the table."  

Boyfriend nearly slams his face against the table, making Pico guffaw as he puts their meals on the table.  "Dude!"

"What?  Just spittin' facts.  Hey!"  Pico's hands come to rest on his hips as he glares at the kids.  Both Girlfriend and Boyfriend exchange a look, hiding their amused grins behind their hands as Pico takes on his caretaking role.  "Skid, Pump, what did I say 'bout botherin' the customers?"

"Uhh..."  The two kids freeze in place, looking at each other before looking at Pico.  "Don't?"

"And what are you two doin'?"

"Bothering your friends!"  Pump grins as Skid nods in agreement.  "They are not customers, right?"

A puff of a laugh escapes Girlfriend as Boyfriend nudges Pico.  "Yeah dude, we're your friends, not customers.  We should get a de-"

A glare is enough to silence Boyfriend, but Girlfriend's composure quickly falls apart as a fit of giggles escapes her.  Pico ignores her as he focuses his attention on his two charges.  "They're still customers."

"But it's boring here!"

"Yeah, it's too quiet.  You said there'd be music!"

"But there's no music, except for the soft elevator music."

"But that's boring too."

Both boys pout as Pico sighs and massages his temples.  "Look, I didn't know the band would cancel today.  After I'm done here, we can do something fun , okay?"

"Like getting candy?"

"Yeah, like gettin' candy."  The two kids cheer and run off somewhere before Pico can stop them.  "Hey-!"

"Damn, Pico, I didn't think you'd be good with kids."  Boyfriend snickers as he eats a fry, watching as Pico sighs for the umpteenth time.

"You call that bein' good with kids?"

"It's better than I'd ever expect outta you."

"Rude little bitch."  Pico snatches a few fries and chomps on them, ignoring Boyfriend's protests.  

"When do you get off, Pico?"  Girlfriend spins her fork around in her pasta before feeding the first bite to Boyfriend, keeping her eyes on Pico as the ginger hums thoughtfully.

"Technically nine, but I gotta watch the kids 'til ten.  That's when Lila comes back from her shit."

"Do you wanna come over for movie night?"  She looks over to Boyfriend who nods in agreement.  Pico laughs and shakes his head.

"Ain't this supposed to be ya guys' anniversary date?  Why the hell am I bein' invited?"

"'Cause it's more fun when you join us!"  Boyfriend pipes up, making his eyes go wide with hope, knowing how much of a sucker Pico is for his puppy dog eyes.  Like he predicts, Pico grumbles and looks away, a slight blush to his cheeks as he tries to regain his composure.

"Touchin', but nah.  It's y'all's day.  It's not my place to interrupt."  

"You wouldn't be-!"  A ringtone goes off in the middle of her sentence.  Girlfriend pauses, taking her phone out as her smile vanishes.  "Oh, just a minute."  She leaves the table quickly as she answers her phone with a faint, "Hi, Daddy..."

"Hm."  They watch her go outside before Pico turns back to Boyfriend.  "I hope you have somethin' really good planned for tonight."

"Well, I don't have anything planned, per se-"

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

"But!  Movie night is gonna be a thing!  Or, was."  Boyfriend frowns, not liking how it was her dad who called her.  Knowing him, he could be asking her to come home earlier than planned, ruining their romantic movie night.  "I was gonna play it by ear, y'know, in case something like that happens."

"Fair."  Pico crosses his arms and fixes Boyfriend with a stare.  "So how are you gonna save this night then?"

"Dunno yet."  Boyfriend bites his lip and scratches at the table.  "Like I said, I don't have much planned, so like..."  His eyes wander over to the stage.  A keyboard is the only instrument present on the stage alongside the stereos.  He blinks slowly at the sight of it, a hum low in his throat.  

"What?  Ya suddenly got an idea?"  Pico follows his gaze and whistles low.  "Gonna sing a love song?"

"What?  No."  A pause.  "Maybe.  I dunno."

"You dunno?"

"I don't really have a song lined up."  But it would be perfect.  She loves it when he sings.  Or raps.  Or does anything really.  And she did seem a little disappointed when she found out that there wasn't going to be a show tonight...

"You're a rapper," Pico supplies easily.  "Just freestyle."

"But I don't have any beats."  Which is true, unless he gets some help.  His eyes wander up to meet Pico's gaze.  "...Can I ask a favor?"

"Shoot."

"You still beatbox?"

And Pico smirks.  "Only if ya got a plan."  

Boyfriend looks around the bar, his eyes landing on the Spooky Boys and Cassette Girl.  Music flows behind his eyes as he maps out the beats and flows on the spot.  Fingers tap out the rhythm he wants to follow, and Pico taps his foot in tandem.  "I think," he says, watching as Girlfriend comes back into the bar with a gloomy look on her face, "I've got a plan."

Pico leans forward, and Boyfriend quickly whispers it to him before shooing the ginger away.  When Girlfriend takes her seat, Boyfriend takes it upon himself to buy some time for Pico as he keeps Girlfriend's attention on him.

"Something up?"

"Oh, it's just Daddy."  Her frown deepens, and Boyfriend can feel his heart drop from the sight.  She shouldn't be unhappy on their anniversary - of course her dad would ruin things for her.  "He wants me to come home early, says he doesn't want me to stay over too late since he doesn't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Tch.  Your old man needs to lay off."  From the corner of his eye, he sees Cassette Girl wander to some backroom, only to reappear with a few more coworkers as one of them takes over her position by the podium.  Pico follows her next, helping her set up a couple of mics as she tests out the keyboard.  The noises catch the attention of the patrons, including Girlfriend as she turns in interest at the ruckus.

"What's going on?  Oh, is there a show happening after all?"  A small smile forms on her lips as she watches the prep.  "I wonder who they managed to get!"

"Yeah, I wonder."  Boyfriend lets her watch them for a second longer before taking her attention again.  "So how long can you stay out?"

"Mmm, at most, maybe an hour?  Daddy's imps will come and pick me up, regardless of where I am."  She puffs her cheeks out, which would normally be cute if she wasn't so distressed.  "Mommy was okay with me spending the night!  But Daddy won't even let me stay before midnight, so that ruins movie night..."

"Hey, don't worry about it.  We can always have movie night whenever."  He reaches over and takes her hand, giving it a firm, comforting squeeze.  

"But today was supposed to be our day."  She frowns again, holding onto his hand as she sighs softly.  "We were supposed to have a nice night doing whatever we wanted.  And now that's going to be ruined because my dad is being... himself again."

Random beats start playing.  It takes them both by surprise as they turn around to see Pico messing with... some kind of pad?  Is that a launchpad?  Cassette Girl shakes her head and points to some buttons before Pico nods and- ah.  So he didn't steal it from someone.  Clearly, it was Cassette Girl's own device.  

"What are they doing?"  Girlfriend watches with more interest as the two kids clamber onto the stage, Pico talking to them softly as they nod along to whatever he's saying excitedly.  He wags his finger like a metronome, and the boys both follow its movement before nodding furiously as he grins and pats the tops of their heads.  As Pico looks up from the boys, he meets Boyfriend's gaze and gives a small nod before standing up.

"They're getting a show ready for you."  Boyfriend grins when Girlfriend looks over to him bewildered.

"What do you mean, for me?"

"Heeeellloooo, everyone!"  Cassette Girl speaks into the microphone with her familiar drawl, getting the patrons to quiet down as they watch with rapt attention.  "Now, as you know, our booked gig for tonight ended up cancelling, but at the very last minute, we managed to snag another performer instead!  You may be familiar with his bright blue hair and obnoxious voice," a rumble of laughter rolls through the crowd, but he takes it all in stride as he waits for the intro to end, "but he's gotten pretty famous throughout these parts for his amazing freestyle rap!  Dedicated to his lovely Girlfriend of one year, we have Mr. Boyfriend, here to perform for one night only!"

"Boyfriend?!"  Girlfriend's eyes widen in excitement as he stands from his seat, grinning confidently as he winks to her.  It's not often he gets to perform for the sake of performing, so he wants to make this the best performance she's ever seen.

"You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

As if he wasn't.

He takes the offered microphone from Cassette Girl as she takes her place behind the keyboard.  

"Heya, folks!"  He waves out to the crowd as the people who recognize him from his many rap battles cheer him on.  Girlfriend cheers from the crowd, for once enjoying the show as just a normal person, instead of being in the thick of it.  "Like Cassey said, this show is dedicated to my Girlfriend.  I started this whole career for her, and if it weren't for her, I never would have found this flow in my life.  I love her more than any song can convey, so I hope a show's worth of songs can get the message along.  Now are you ready to get funkin' lit?!"  

The crowd erupts into cheers as Girlfriend stands and cheers the loudest, her smile wide and bright as she pumps her fist in the air.  They wait for the crowd to calm down before Pico starts his beatboxing.  The beat begins slow, the notes sounding familiar as recognition settles on Girlfriend's features.

"Yo," he begins, holding the microphone close to his lips as he gets into the beat, "it's the remix."   Pico's beatboxing continues before Cassette Girl joins in with her keyboard.  The beat plays from the launchpad as the beatboxing ends, and that's his cue to start rapping.

"Don't look complacent, wearin' those rags, you ain't adjacent.  Lookie, I'm fly, and you look basic.  Look in her eyes, and I feel like takin' it for the win."   He meets Girlfriend's gaze with a grin as he waves his hand back and forth, pumping the crowd up as he continues to rap.

"Her dad be evil, no twin.  Skin purp' like the Sprite, sippin'.  He open his yap and you wouldn't believe it's the sound of an angel when he spittin'."   At Pico's cue, Skid and Pump join in with a chant of, "Go man go!  Go man go!"   They keep it up as Boyfriend continues to rap, the energy high and exciting as he performs for fun.

"Even though he look like a demon, hold my blue nuts as I battle for the takin'.  Of this girl, I just wanna hold her hand.  Look in our DM's and it's like candy land."   Boyfriend kneels on the stage and gestures for Girlfriend to come closer.  Without missing a beat, Girlfriend makes her way over, her head bobbing in time to the rhythm as she smiles blissfully.

"Yo, I really can't bust when her evil ass dad tryna make my ass be grass.  So I got one shot, learned to spit real hot, and it might just go like this."   As he takes her hand, he pulls her onto the stage and the Spooky Boys go quiet for his next lines.

"I don't mean no disrespect, but there's something about her I can't let go.  Baby, you know that I love you, even though my balls are blue."   The joke gets a giggle from Girlfriend, and it takes all his willpower not to stop rapping just to kiss her right there.

"I want to spend my life with her, even if her dad is evil or some shit.  Now spit it like this: we gettin' freaky on a Friday night, chyeah!"  The crowd goes wild as he scoops Girlfriend up in one arm, cradling her against his body as he continues to rap.  Her arms wrap around his neck as she leans against him, warm and happy in his embrace.

As she should be.  

The Spooky Boys return with the chant, pumping the crowd up some more as they cheer loudly with the rap.

"I just want to hold her tight, chyeah!  Her hair, her eyes, her thighs, yeah.  If I die, it'll all be worth it.  Just to get a chance to show she's worth it!"  He sways with the beat, watching as the crowd gets into the performance.  Besides him, Cassette Girl is grinning, nodding her head to the beat as she plays the mellow tunes on her keyboard.  Pico meanwhile focuses his attention alternating between beatboxing and playing the right beats on the launchpad, all while paying attention to the song and directing when the boys start and end their chant.  Despite the amount of tasks on his shoulders, he holds himself high and proud, enjoying himself with a smile as he moves with the beat.  Even the kids are enjoying themselves, bouncing on the spot and watching Pico intently for his cues.  A part of Boyfriend wonders if they're even paying attention to the lyrics or if they're too engrossed in the beats and sounds coming from the keyboard and launchpad to even care.

Not that it matters.

All that matters is that they're all having fun .  He looks out into the crowd and sees smile upon smile as they're all enjoying themselves to the music.  This.  This is what performing is all about.  The energy, the enjoyment, everyone losing themselves to the music and forgetting their woes and worries for even just a minute-

That's what makes it all so worth it.

He raps the chorus one last time before letting the beat peter out, Pico ending the song with his beatboxing increasing in tempo before ending it abruptly.  The crowd continues their cheers as Boyfriend yells into his microphone.

"You guys ready for more?!"

There's no doubt in his mind that he will absolutely be banned from the bar after this show, just with how rowdy the crowd is getting.  But it's all worth it in the end as he nods to his friends to play whatever beat that comes to mind.  He'll come up with the lyrics on the fly, all of them dedicated to Girlfriend as he sets her down and holds her tight to his side as they sway together.

He doesn't know how long they go for.  All the hype and excitement pushes him to continue, and when he looks over to see if Pico or Cassette Girl or even the boys look just a little tired, he's surprised to see them too excited to even consider taking a break.  The night is filled with raps filled with jokes and love as the clock finally strikes ten.  

Time to end the show.

"Alriiiight, everyone!"  Cassette Girl takes the microphone back from Boyfriend, panting slightly as she gestures to the crowd that grew during the performance.  "Unfortunately, that's it for this show!  Thanks for watching, hope you enjoyed your meals, and please, come back again when we host another gig or open mic!"  The crowd applauds as they all bow.  Cassette Girl pats his shoulder with a grin and turns back to help Pico clean up.  Girlfriend clings to his side, giggling and burying her face against his neck.

"Ohhh, that was so much fun!"  Her giddiness makes him laugh as he hugs her tight, covering her face in kisses as he breathes for the first time since the performance began.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Are you kidding?!"  She laughs and picks him up, twirling them together in a circle before cuddling him midair.  "That was the most fun I've had in ages!"

"I'm glad," he admits, relief washing over him that their night was a success after all.  "Sucks we didn't finish our dinners though."

"I can get boxes for them."  Pico shows up next to them, both kids curled up in his arms as they cling to him.  "Or, uh, I can get Cass to get 'em for ya."

"Aww, are they tired?"  Girlfriend sets Boyfriend down to take a look at the kids.  "They did a really good job tonight!"  Skid lifts his head up, a tired but bright smile on his face as he giggles.

"That was fun!  I wanna do it again, Mr. Pico!"

"I'll think about it.  Remember what we promised before the show?"

"No repeating the bad words around mom," both boys respond, although Pump's words are muffled against Pico's shirt.  He chuckles and nods towards the couple.  

"I gotta get these kids home.  You guys get some rest too."

"We will."  Boyfriend stretches, feeling worn out from the show.  

"See ya."

"Bye, Pico!"  Girlfriend waves as Pico walks off, the two kids waving from Pico's arms.  "He really is good with kids, even if he won't admit it."

"He's always been protective of them."  They both hum, the thought sobering them a bit as they watch the ginger disappear in the crowd.  "We should visit him later and make sure he's okay too."

"Sounds like a plan."  Girlfriend smiles and takes his hand, swinging their arms between them.  A waitress comes by quickly, helping them pack their barely eaten dinners and shooing them out of the bar.  As they leave, Boyfriend passes by Server-chan, her expression still looking exhausted as their eyes meet.  But despite this, she smiles when she sees him, and he hopes she had fun too during his show.

He and Girlfriend walk for about five minutes before a limo pulls up beside them.  She sighs and turns to hug him tight, her face buried in his shoulder before she kisses him softly.

"Thanks for the lovely night," she whispers, soft and tender as the warmth from her cheek seeps through his shirt.  "It really was the best night of my life."

"I'm glad then," he whispers back, pressing a kiss to her temple.  "'Cause I'm gonna make sure I make every night the best night of your life from now on."

She giggles, pulling herself away reluctantly before climbing into the limo.  He watches as it drives away into the night, leaving him alone.

The night air is cold and brisk, but he finds himself warm regardless.  A smile wide and bright on his face as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, a tune coming out in the form of a whistle as he walks home.

What a night to remember.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Seventeen)

Summary: A special anniversary of (Y/N) and Loki’s is fast approaching and after struggling to find her boyfriend the perfect gift, (Y/N) finally decides to do something life-changing for their special evening.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: This chapter has so much fluff, so I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen February 9th, 2016 Brooklyn, New York City (Previous Chapter)

Before her life as an Avenger, (Y/N) had never cared much for shopping. All of the money she earned as a trainee librarian was budgeted out for rent, bills and groceries and if there was somehow money left over after all of that, it all went to purchasing secondhand books for her growing collection. She simply didn’t have the luxury to go shopping for things she knew she didn’t need, but that all changed when she joined the Avengers. Since she was earning more money and not paying any bills, she decided to divide her salary into three sections; one section went into a savings account, the second went towards various organizations and charities, and the third she kept to spend however she liked. Independent shops and small businesses were her favorite places to visit, and it was at one such shop that (Y/N) decided to purchase her anniversary gift for Loki; the couple had decided to celebrate the anniversary of when they first met instead of when they’d finally become a couple, much to the bewilderment of their teammates.

“You know, doll, I’m still a little confused as to why you brought me along and not one of the others.” Bucky remarked, glancing around the cozy boutique with a raised brow. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you or anything, but…well, the Winter Soldier and shopping are two things that don’t really go together.”

(Y/N) gave him a good-natured shrug and began browsing. “Bucky, I asked you to come with me because you’re an incredibly perceptive person; you tend to see things that others might miss, and you have an uncanny ability to read people. And if I’m going to find the perfect anniversary gift for Loki before the 20th, then you’re one of the best to ask for a little help.”

“And you brought Tic-Tac along because…?”

They both glanced over at Scott, who was currently reading the dust-jacket of a magic trick how-to book across the boutique. “He wanted to hang out with us before flying back to San Francisco tomorrow.” Bucky shot her a look. “What?”

“Don’t you think Lang’s a little bit…annoying?”

“Not any more annoying than the rest of my teammates.” She playfully retorted and when he scoffed, she elaborated. “Apparently, you forgot the time when you and Clint scared the hell out of me by dropping down from the ceiling vent in my suite. That was my fourth day as an Avenger, if I remember correctly.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’ve got a point there, but-”

“Hey, check out this book, guys!” Scott hurried over to them with a wide grin on his face. “Slight-of-hand magic tricks! I’ve always wanted to learn how to do that; I mean, it’s not real magic like your Light Elf kind, (Y/N), but I-” He winced and lowered his voice to a stage-whisper. “Sorry, that was kinda loud! You guys should really check this stuff out, though, c’mon!”

(Y/N) met the super soldier’s ‘I-told-you-so’ expression and gave her head a small shake before adjusting her glasses and following after Scott. “I swear, it’s like I’m surrounded by children…”

The trio spent the afternoon scouring shop after shop for the perfect anniversary gift but nothing stood out to them. Sensing her growing desperation, Bucky suggested they take a break at the nearest coffee shop and brainstorm a new plan.

“How is this so difficult?” (Y/N) groaned in frustration, resting her head in her hands as she stared dejectedly at her half-empty cup of hot chocolate. “I know Loki better than anyone else on the planet. Shouldn’t that make it easier for me to get him a gift?”

In her peripheral vision, she saw Bucky and Scott exchange matching looks of apprehension before Bucky replied, “Well…do you think that maybe you’re overthinking all this?” She glanced up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “From what I saw, you didn’t have any problems getting Loki a Christmas present. It was a book, right?”

“A first edition of Gods and Myths of Northern Europe; he’d always joked about all the silly ways Midgardians had interpreted his life, so I thought it would make a fun gift for his first real Christmas. But I can’t get him another book.”

Scott frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I would just be repeating myself, or making myself look like I’m not putting any effort into it.” (Y/N) sighed to herself. “All I want to do is show Loki how much I care about him and I feel like…I feel like nothing I do can ever properly convey that.”

All three of them sat in silence for several long moments until Scott suddenly spoke up. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, (Y/N). You show Loki how much you love him every single day!” Bucky looked over at Scott in surprise while (Y/N) shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m serious! You look at him like he’s the only guy in the world because in your eyes, he is. You know how many people would kill to have someone look at them that way? You’re the reason why a war criminal was able to turn his entire life around and become an Avenger; your love for him is what gave him the strength to believe that he could be a better man. Believe me, Loki knows exactly how much you love him; if you’re still dead-set on doing something special for your anniversary, though, a simple gesture could do a lot more than a superficial gift.”

Bucky let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know you were a goddamn poet, Lang.”

“I’m not a poet, I’m just a guy who spent a while in prison thinking about cheesy stuff like that.” Scott shrugged good-naturedly before turning back to (Y/N). “But you know what I’m trying to say, right?”

(Y/N) nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I think I do, Scott. C’mon, you two, I know exactly where we’ve got to go!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, (Y/N) found herself standing in the tower’s elevator as it journeyed to the top floor, clutching Loki’s wrapped present in one hand as the other nervously fiddled with the skirt of her lilac cocktail dress. She’d picked out his gift with such confidence but when it came down to actually giving it to him…? Well, she might’ve had a small drink of liquid courage to calm her jittery nerves as she was getting ready for their date. Stop overthinking it, (Y/N) chided herself, taking a deep breath just as the elevator stopped and its metal doors slid open. There, with his back facing her, stood Loki; he was dressed in a tailored black suit, and his shaggy black locks were perfectly styled. When he turned around and smiled at her, (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat and she was instantly reminded of the fateful day in the library when they’d first met.

“You look radiant, darling.” Loki took her hand as she stepped out of the elevator and pressed a kiss onto her knuckles before threading his fingers through hers. “I hope you’ve brought your appetite with you.”

“Well, I was training with Thor most of the day and he swiped my only protein bar, so…” Sharing a smile, they walked through the doorway of the ballroom and halted at the top of the stairs as (Y/N) gasped. “Oh, it looks beautiful, Loki!”

The ballroom was dimly lit, illumination primarily coming from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows and the candelabra resting on the small table in the middle of the room. The table was gorgeously set for two, with a silver dome covering each plate and an arrangement of lilacs near its center.

“I simply wanted our first anniversary to be both special and unique.” Loki shrugged noncommittally as they made their way down the marble steps, but her praise had caused his pale cheeks to redden slightly; he helped her into her chair before reaching for the silver dome’s handle and grinning. “And now, your favorite meal in all the Nine Realms…” Loki removed the dome with a flourish to reveal a plate laden with a cheeseburger and French fries and a large chocolate milkshake. “A charbroiled hamburger with sharp cheddar cheese and fresh-cut lettuce, a side of air-fried French fries and a homemade chocolate milkshake.”

(Y/N) beamed as he sat down across from her and removed the dome off his own plate. “Our first date at the diner. I seem to recall you thinking that the restaurant was overly-cheesy.”

He flashed her a lopsided grin. “And I still think that, of course, but I cannot deny that the cuisine and the company more than made up for it.”

The meal was more than delicious, and (Y/N) could honestly say that it was the best cheeseburger she’d ever had. As they ate, they talked about some of the novels they’d both recently read; their numerous Avenger duties sometimes meant that they couldn’t talk to one another as often as they wanted to, so it was nice that they were able to spend a quiet evening alone for a change. After they finished eating, (Y/N) and Loki moved to stand by the massive windows and watched the snow fall over the twinkling city skyline; it took a while, but she finally summoned her courage and suggested that they exchange presents.

“Oh Loki,” (Y/N) breathed, her gaze transfixed on the beautiful music box in her hands and the two dancing figures twirling in time to the sweet melody; the two figures were her and Loki, and the music was what was playing when they danced together for the first time at Tony’s charity ball. She looked up at him once the tinkling music faded away and beamed. “It’s beautiful!”

“You like it?” He had a hesitant sort of look on his face. “I wasn’t sure you would…”

Her smile widened. “I love it, sweetheart!” After she pressed a brief kiss to his lips, she carefully set the music box down on the table and grabbed her present to him, walking back to her boyfriend and offering the package to him with slightly-quaking fingers. “Okay, your turn.”

Butterflies erupted in (Y/N)’s stomach as she watched her boyfriend carefully unwrap his gift. Her hands suddenly became clammy and her mouth went dry, and it was if time had slowed down as Loki lifted the lid of the box to reveal a shiny gold ring. He looked back up at her, his expression blank and unreadable, just as she took a shaky deep breath and spoke.

“Before we met, I had a fairly good idea of how my life would go; I’d become a full-time librarian, save up enough money so I could go see the world and maybe even meet someone special, but that didn’t matter to me as much as being able to help others. And then I met you, Loki. You understood me, my thoughts and my passions, better than anyone else in the world; you helped me open my eyes to a whole unknown part of myself and gave me the strength I needed to embrace it. I’m not as skilled at expressing my love as you are, sweetheart, but then I realized that there was no better way of showing how much I love you than…” She gently took the box from his un-moving hands and held the ring as she tearily smiled up at him. “Loki Odinson, I love you with all my heart and I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. Will you marry me?”

(Y/N)’s heart was hammering in her chest as she stared into his emerald-green eyes, so much so that she was afraid he’d be able to hear it. But her fears melted away the moment Loki’s face broke out into the most dazzling smile she’d ever seen; he reached for her free hand and held it firmly between his own as he choked out, “Yes. Yes, I will!”

Half-laughing and half-crying, (Y/N) surged forward and captured his lips with a passion-filled kiss that was eagerly reciprocated. Loki let go of her hand in order to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her flush against him, tightening his hold when (Y/N) ran a hand through his dark locks. After several blissful moments, she pulled away as he continued pressing kisses along her jawline. “I-I know that it’s unconventional for a woman to propose to a man, even here on Midgard, so I’m sorry if-”

“Sorry?” Loki gave her cheek a final kiss before leaning back just far enough to see her whole face, his eyes filled with unabashed adoration. “(Y/N), you shouldn’t have to apologize for such a beautiful gesture and besides, our relationship is the very definition of ‘unconventional,’ wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose you’re right about that.” She giggled before grabbing his left hand and holding it up. “May I?” Once he gave her a nod, she slipped the ring onto the third finger of his hand and smiled. “It fits! That saves us a trip back to the shop for resizing.”

“It’s stunning, darling. May I give you your ring now?”

(Y/N) furrowed her brow in confusion. “My ring?”

It was Loki’s turn to be nervous; his fingers intertwined with hers and he gave her a sheepish smile before continuing. “Yes, well, I…I asked for one of my mother’s rings when we visited Asgard. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to propose, but…well, it would seem that you beat me to it, my clever love.” He removed his other hand from around her waist and held it palm-up before her; the air above it shimmered with green magic before a velvet ring box materialized. It was already open, revealing a glittering ring set in silver; its center stone looked like a diamond to her and the metal surrounding it was formed into delicate petal shapes, filled with a blend of small diamonds and what she guessed were peridots and purple sapphires. “I can ask my mother for another if you’re not fond of this one, or we can consult a jeweler if you’d prefer something more traditional…”

“It’s perfect, Loki, absolutely perfect.” Sharing a teary smile, (Y/N) held out her hand and allowed Loki to slip the ring onto her finger; she flexed the fingers of her left hand, unused to having something that weighty on her finger, but her smile widened as she admired just how right it looked. Looking up, she cupped his cheek and traced along his cheekbone with her thumb. “I can’t believe I’ll get to be your wife someday.”

“And I can’t believe that I’ll have the honor of being your husband.” Loki ducked his head and captured her lips in another heated kiss; without any warning, he bent down and wrapped his arms around her upper thighs, hoisting her up so that he could angle his face upwards instead of craning his neck down. (Y/N) giggled in surprise and threw her arms around his neck as he grinned into their kiss, losing herself to their passion. When they were forced to separate for air, Loki looked up at her with absolute adoration in his emerald-green eyes. “Darling, would you honor your betrothed with a dance?” (Y/N) nodded, her fingers carding through his mussed hair while he called out, “J.A.R.V.I.S., play Sergeant Barnes’ music playlist, please.”

“Of course, Prince Loki.”

(Y/N)’s brow rose in surprise when she recognized the beginning of Jo Stafford’s ‘You Belong To Me’ as it began playing throughout the ballroom, and Loki’s smile widened. “In preparation for this evening, I asked the others for music recommendations and Barnes was gracious enough to let us use his playlist.”

“Your definition of dancing seems to conflict a little with mine, sweetheart,” She quipped as Loki began slowly swaying them in a tight circle. “You’re not going to put me down, are you?”

Holding her up in one arm with ease, Loki took her hand and intertwined their fingers before resting them against his chest and gently shaking his head. “Never, my darling.”

(Y/N) smiled at that, her eyes drifting closed while she rested her forehead against Loki’s; their noses rubbed up against one another and as they continued their slow rotation, his lips ghosted over the skin of her cheek and she began to wonder if a person could actually die of happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, (Y/N) lounged on Loki’s bed and admired her engagement ring while her fiancé showered, her mind already filled with wedding plans. I’ll bet my entire book collection that Tony’ll try convincing us to let him officiate, (Y/N) thought with a giggle, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling of Loki’s bedroom as she rested her hands on her pajama-clad stomach and let out a content sigh. But while she laid there, her overwhelming happiness was soon replaced with a growing sense of dread as familiar words began to replay in her mind:

“It’s also about controlling your emotions and keeping them in check. Strong ones, like anger or passion, can sometimes be a trigger…”

“Layeia and her forbidden Midgardian lover reigned with an iron fist, executing any who opposed their rule, and gained a small following who worshiped her evil magic…”

“You and your mother are more alike than you realize. The fiery tempers, the forbidden lovers and most importantly, the ambition…”

Along with that, flashes of her ever-present nightmares and the brief snippets of King Tarian’s book crossed her mind, forcing her to repress her horrified gasp. My love for Loki could make me lose control of my magic and become what my mother was, (Y/N) thought as fear began to blossom in the pit of her stomach. But she and Loki had been in love for several months without any sort of problem…and that’s when she remembered all the incidents. Her magical abilities had been triggered by her desire to protect him from a Hydra agent in the library. In an attempt to defend his honor, she’d even attacked Tony and in her rage, nearly destroyed an entire floor of the tower. And while she’d tried reasoning that it had only been inside her head, she’d even physically shocked Loki with her magic back on Asgard and it had been powerful enough for the Frost Giant to feel its stinging pain.

The first thing in the morning I’m going down to the lab to speak with Doctor Cho, she thought to herself as she heard the shower head turn off in the bathroom, and I swear on my Aunt Evelyn that I won’t become the very same evil that my mother was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ahhhh they’re engaged!! If anyone was wondering, I took inspiration for that dancing scene from one of Tom Hiddleston’s films called The Deep Blue Sea, you guys should check it out if you haven’t already. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Eighteen-Part One

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 8: The Outside World

Chapter Summary: Jamie reflects during the aftermath of the fight, then they suit up and begin Claire's first trip into Inverness.

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Read Chapter 8 below the cut

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Chapter 8: The Outside World

***

Jamie Fraser hadn’t known that four simple words— “I don’t need you”— could possibly have torn into him with such vicious aim and rocked his whole world on such a scale. But that was before Claire. The consequence of loving her was that she held his heart in her wee palms, with all the power to shatter it with a single blow. 

He’d known it was a mistake to berate her over going outside. With a clear head, he never would have said those things to her. But after tearing apart the house, anxiety building and building along with the fear that he’d never see her again— and thinking that he’d be back to facing that empty void in his heart alone— his brain had gone straight out the window. 

So he couldn’t blame her for lashing out. He’d deserved it. He had wanted so desperately to protect her that he hadn’t looked at what he was doing to her. 

While sitting there on the couch, having collapsed into a trembling mess, he’d thought he’d mucked it all up. Until she’d taken his hands, his face— touching him with such affection... 

And given him a second chance. 

As he held her in his arms, clasping her to him as if she might suddenly change her mind and push him away, he vowed to himself that he’d use it well. 

Every time he’d held her, even in the mundane moments like sitting beside the space heater, that golden cloud that surrounded her— the warmth of her presence— had encompassed him as well. As he held her now, though, he noticed it seemed weaker. He pulled back a little to study her, furrowing his brow as the now familiar shimmering aura was less visible. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

He shook his head, unsure. This was uncertain ground, and after going through what they just had, he didn’t want to tread on it. “Ach, it’s nothin’, dinna fash.” 

She seemed to accept it, laying her head down on his shoulder and letting out a sigh. His heart stuttered in its steady rhythm as he felt the gravity of her trust and the soul-stealing tenderness of her touch. 

He didn’t have the strength to even think about moving. He would simply wait until she was ready, letting her make the first move, and he would be grateful all the while for everything she was willing to give him. 

In the end, she’d wanted to be held for a long time. There wasn’t a clock around so Jamie couldn’t have said for sure how long, but the minutes passed in a comfortable but weighty silence— each of them enveloped in the other. When she finally stirred, it was to lift her head and give Jamie a brave smile. 

“You know, I told myself that today I would do everything I could to learn about the human world.” 

“Is that so?” he asked. Unable to resist the consuming urge to brush back the single curl that hung over her face, he lifted a hand and gently tucked it behind her ear before continuing, “did ye have anythin’ in mind?” 

She gave him a bit of a helpless look, accompanied by a self-conscious half smile, “I’d hoped maybe you would have some ideas about what we should do.” 

“Weel,” he gave her an assessing look, “seein’ as ye’re currently drownin’ in my clothes, I’m thinkin’ it wouldna be a bad idea tae go out and get ye some of yer own that fit properly. What do ye say, mo nighean donn, are ye ready for a trip to the human world?” 

***

It took Jamie a short while to get them ready to go. Since Claire didn’t have any shoes, Jamie had to track down something that could remotely protect her feet. Jamie was a big man, with feet to match, and Claire’s feet reflected her own dainty features— they were nearly half the size of his. He’d settled on a pair of old hiking boots, kneeling down in front of Claire and lacing them as tightly as he possibly could. But the moment she stood up and took a few exploratory steps, they flopped so terribly on her feet that she’d stumbled and nearly fallen against Jamie. He’d grabbed her by the arms, helped her upright, and then went back to the drawing board. 

He’d emerged again from his basement bearing sandals with adjustable straps. However, knowing her proclivity toward getting chilled, he’d first bundled her wee feet into two layers of socks before strapping her into the sandals. 

She was sitting at the kitchen table, patiently allowing him to prepare her shoes while he knelt on the ground in front of her and tried to make sure they were secure. 

As he straightened, he couldna help but laugh at the ridiculous nature of the situation— Claire sitting there, slightly swinging her sock-and-sandaled feet that he’d just dolled her up in. 

“I’m a right Prince Charming, it seems, but ye’re the strangest Cinderella I’ve ever seen,” he chuckled to himself. 

He was answered by a perplexed look. She was so lost that she didn’t even try to echo the words, just gave him big doe-eyes of confusion. 

That sent him laughing again. “Dinna fash, Sassenach,” he gave a dismissive wave of his hand, “jes’ a wee bit o’ human stuff. So… are ye ready tae face the outside world?” 

She gave a decisive nod, looking like she was steeling herself to face the guillotine, and stood up with surprising grace. 

Despite her elegant air and fierce determination, the situation only grew more ridiculous to Jamie as he took in the sight of her standing in all her splendor— his tee-shirt huge on her tiny frame, sweatpants pulled up nearly to her oxters and drawn tight (yet the hems still puddled on the ground), and with socks and sandals as the pièce de résistance. 

It was the most endearing thing he’d ever seen. 

“Ye look verra bonny, Sassenach,” he stifled yet another laugh, his heart clenching with the force of his affection for her, “but I do think it’s a good thin’ we’re goin’ tae get ye yer own clothes.” 

Her lips quirked as she glanced down at herself and then up at him. 

“I take it this isn’t the typical outfit for human females?” she said, good-naturedly laughing at herself. 

Jamie shook his head. 

“I can assure ye it’s not. But we’ll fix ye up soon enough. Here,” he offered her his arm, “take my arm so ye dinna trip over yer pants.” 

She did, her wee hand slipping into the crook of his elbow and holding on to his bicep. 

With that, Prince Charming led his princess out to the waiting car. 

*

Claire seemed somewhat taken aback when they approached the vehicle and shot him a wary glance. Her hand tightened on his arm, making him stop short. 

“What… is it?” she asked timidly. 

“My car? Do ye no remember ridin’ in it when I took ye home from the stones?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I don’t remember much, it’s all pretty foggy. Other than you, of course,” she blessed him with another one of those mega-watt smiles. 

“Och, weel, ye were pretty ou’ of it, I cannae blame ye. This is a car. We get inside, and use it tae travel long distances quickly because it moves verra fast.” 

She nodded slightly, but still looked reluctant to go any nearer. Nevertheless, she drew herself up and set her shoulders with fierce determination. 

“I said I’d be brave today and I will be,” she announced firmly. 

“I’m proud of ye, a nighean,” he couldn’t help but say, “and I’ll be right by yer side the whole time. I promise, I willna let anythin’ happen to ye.” 

Much to his delight, that seemed to reassure her. She let go of his arm and walked decisively toward the car. He caught her up and slipped in front to open the door. With nothing more than a shaky inhale and a second of hesitation, she plunged in. 

He shut it behind her and quickly walked around to his side to slide in. Once he was settled, he looked over to her. 

“See, no’ sae bad, right?” 

She seemed to melt a little at that, relaxing back into the seat and nodding. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, “not so bad.” 

But in less than 30 seconds, she was eating her words. As soon as Jamie put the car in reverse and began backing out of the driveway, both of her hands shot out to scramble for purchase on the nearest available surface— one of which was the door, and the other Jamie’s arm. Surprisingly sharp wee nails dug crescents into his forearm, and he struggled to keep his hand in place. 

His first impulse was to stop. She was quite obviously panicking, chest heaving and eyes huge as she gripped him, but they needed to get this over with. Of course it’d be terrifying at first— she’d likely never moved faster than her own two feet could carry her— but he had full confidence that she’d grow used to it and settle soon enough. 

Once they were on the road, Jamie could spare a little more attention for her. She had mercifully  let go of his arm, and both of her hands were now gripping the dashboard in front of her, knuckles white. He let go of the steering wheel with one hand in order to reach out for her. Twining their fingers together, he glanced over and gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ye’re doin’ great, Sassenach,” he told her. 

She didn’t answer for a long moment. When he looked over at her again, she was white as a sheet and staring straight ahead. With a start, he realized that her hand seemed clammy in his. 

“Are ye alright, lass?” he asked in alarm. 

“I feel sick,” she forced out weakly. 

With the expertise of one familiar with motion-sickness, Jamie slammed on the brakes (thank God that the country roads were almost always completely abandoned), grabbed a grocery bag he’d left in the back seat, and shoved it underneath her. 

Her head bowed over it, a curtain of curls falling over her face, and her chest heaved with shaky breaths. But she made no indication that she was about to be sick. 

Of course she wouldn’t throw up, he realized all of a sudden, she didn’t eat. 

Still, it was a good thing he had stopped. Although she wasn’t in danger of losing her lunch, she looked as if she was on the verge of passing out. The puir lass was paler than a ghost. 

Jamie quickly dropped the bag and instead moved his hand to rub soothing circles on her back. 

“Ye’re alright, a leannan,” he told her gently, “puir wee thing. I ken the motion is somethin’ awful.” 

She let out a tiny whimper that broke his heart and made him ready to abandon this foul machine on the side of the road, walk her home, and never return for it. 

Instead of taking hasty action against his car, though, he grabbed his water bottle from the cupholder, poured a bit of water into a cupped hand, and dribbled it over the back of her neck. Then, he gently pressed his wet hand at various spots around her neck and up onto her cheeks. 

“Ye’re doin’ great, mo nighean donn, deep breaths,” he encouraged, his other hand continuing the circles it was making on her back. 

“I’m alright,” she mustered. She managed to raise her head and give him a tremulous smile. To his relief, color had begun to return to her cheeks, and she no longer seemed to be in danger of passing out. 

“Good,” he murmured, “why dinna we take a break and walk about outside for a minute, aye?” 

She shook her head doggedly. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.” 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Christ, ye are brave,” he chuckled, “ye sure?”

She gave him a nod of assent, and then sat back in her seat, looking like an astronaut waiting for lift off. 

He stifled the urge to ask her again if she was certain. While they could turn around and leave shopping for another day, she’d have to face the reality of cars eventually if she was going to stay in the human world. So, they would continue on their way— even if her suffering was driving a hole in his heart and he wasn’t sure he could live with the knowledge that it was him doing it to her. 

Jamie accelerated very slowly and tried to minimize as many bumps and jostles as he could on a road of this condition. Claire seemed much better this time around, hands clasped together in her lap instead of clutching the dashboard (although her knuckles were still white, he noticed). 

After a few minutes, she even managed to relax a bit. Since she seemed to be doing alright, Jamie took the rest of the drive to Inverness to explain to her what to expect: what stores were, what they would be looking for, etc. Claire didn’t take her eyes off of the road in front of them but gave him a few nods and hums of understanding. 

The little thrift shop he had in mind was in a pedestrian-only part of Inverness, so he parked at the nearest parking lot and steeled himself for the trial of taking Claire through the town. He had every confidence in her ability to handle it, but that still didn’t reduce his desire for her to be a wee cheetie he could tuck inside his coat. 

The second the car was parked, a sigh of relief came from the passenger side. 

“Ye made it, Sassenach,” he congratulated her, turning to her and reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. 

He had meant it to be a quick motion, but she caught his hand and held it on her lap. He could feel a slight tremor in it, and his heart went out to her. 

“I ken it’s scary,” he said softly, “but it’ll be alright. We humans arena so bad, ye’ll see.” 

“If they’re anything like you, I think I’ll love them,” she breathed. 

The words twisted his wame into a mushy mess. Oh lord, did she even know what using the word “love” in relation to him did to his puir heart? 

But he shoved his wayward reaction aside and focused his attention on the brave wee lass getting ready to face her fears. 

“I’ll be right wi’ ye,” he assured, “the whole time.” 

She gave a wordless nod, but still didn’t release his hand from her shaky one. 

“Are ye ready, mo nighean donn?” 

The term of endearment perched on his tongue and in his mind had actually been “mo ghraidh,” but he managed to choke that one off before it left his lips. 

“As I’ll ever be,” she said tremulously, but put on a brave face. 

With one last squeeze, he reluctantly withdrew his hand from hers so he could get out. He quickly made his way around the car to the passenger’s side so he could open her door and offer his hand to her again. 

She took it, squinting out into the daylight, and with that, Sorcha emerged out of the car and into her first experience with the real human world.

***

Next

[brynfelan]

The One Where Hajime Only Knows Class 77b Because He Works At A 24-Hour Grocery Store

it’s DONE, it’s BAD, it has all the pacing of a POORLY-WRITTEN SNL SKETCH, but I can’t give less of a shit I am tired and putting it out into the world. @idnek83 I told you I’d fucking write it. It’s 5am and this was written purely out of spite. also, the credit for this idea goes to them. the only reason i wrote this is because they were too much of a coward to.

Word Count: 3272 Summary: Hajime Hinata works at a 24-hour grocery store and only knows class 77-B because they all come in at different times to buy some weird shit. Chaos ensues. This is crack, just straight up crack.

There are worse things than working the graveyard shift. It pays a little extra than day hours, there’s less work to do at the counter, and the only thing Hajime really has to worry about is a drunk customer getting rowdy. Actually, he enjoys it in a weird way. He just stands at the counter, runs people up, and then leaves at six in the morning to do whatever the hell he wants with his day. Usually sleeping, but it’s also nice to be free all the time.

His favourite part of the job is the set of students that come in between the hours of two and five almost every day. They aren’t usually together, but he’s pieced together that they’re all in the same class by descriptions that he’s gotten from the more talkative of the bunch. He doesn’t know all of their names, some of them he only knows by nicknames, but he does know all of their faces.

Kazuichi Soda for example, comes in at around two in the morning every Friday night. He usually buys shitty beer or cheap liquor, and complains that he’s the one that got sent out from the party to get more booze. Sometimes he also picks up random assortments of tools or screws. Hajime thinks it should probably be illegal to sell a man a 40 of cheap whiskey and a power drill at two in the morning, but he learnt to stop questioning the combination of things that people buy at this kind of hour. He dreads to think of the drunk creations that Soda makes.

On the other hand, Mahiru only comes in around once a month. Hajime knows her name is Mahiru because the first time, she drunkenly introduced herself to him and tried to explain that her combination of items were for a photoshoot and not for any kind of nefarious purpose. He isn’t quite sure what kind of crime she could commit with several bunches of half-dead flowers, a whole cream cake and a bottle of champagne, but he’d definitely like to see it.

It’s four in the morning on a Tuesday. Hajime gets off in two hours, and he’s currently dealing with one Gundham Tanaka. He knows his name is Gundham Tanaka, because he announces it every single time that he gets rung up.

“Huh. Sunflower seeds and hamster bedding. You got any pets?” It’s an innocent question, but at this point he really should have learnt not to question Gundham.

“You fool! I, Gundham Tanaka, have my four Dark Devas of Destruction at my command, ready to strike at any moment for insinuating that they are mere pets as you mere mortals call them!” Ah, good. This happens every time. “You may also notice that I am purchasing this protective potion. This is a defensive measure to protect myself from the very devils that seek to feast on my demon blood!

Hajime looks down at the mosquito spray. He’s definitely not getting paid enough for this.

“Right, yeah. Sorry man. I hope those, uh, devils don’t bother ya too much. That’ll be twenty-two fifty-nine.”

Four hamsters poke out from Gundham’s scarf to deliver the money to Hajime. He isn’t sure if that’s sanitary, but at least he gets to see some cute animals during his shift. For “warriors”, as Gundham calls them, they’re pretty sweet and don’t seem to be adverse to getting pet when they hand (mouth?) him the bills.

Even if it gives him daytime freedom, this job isn’t worth ten seventy-two an hour. He sometimes thinks about switching to the day shift, but he gets paid more to work nights and effectively does half the work. Hajime knows that it’s the best job he’s gonna get for a while, and it pays enough to get him through college. Still, he reminds himself to check for something better when his shift’s over.

Gundham is the last of the class he sees that night. He’s definitely eccentric, maybe the most eccentric of the bunch, but he’s never caused a real scene. Except for one time when he managed to smash three bottles of red wine in quick succession, but it happens. Hajime didn’t have to clean it up, so he’s definitely not paid enough to care.

The next night, it’s Sonia that walks in. She’s never formally introduced herself to him, but Soda never shuts up about her, so Hajime has a pretty good idea of who she is. She’s buying nearly his month’s rent in skincare products and murder mystery novels. She talks the whole time too, about how this store is so different to ones in her home country, how he must get so many interesting experiences working at these hours.

“Yeah, you sure could call it interesting,” He snorts a little, “You get some interesting people come in at these hours.”

“Ah, of course! You are a respectable man to hold a necessary job such as this, I believe I would be, as they say, boned without you here! Is it customary to tip workers in institutions such as this?”

Jesus, how much money does this girl have?

“Uh, not grocery store workers ma’am. Cash or card?”

When she pulls out the cash from her purse, Hajime nearly faints. He decides that she must either be a foreign dignitary or deep in some criminal ring in order to have this much money on her person at any one time. It’s not even in exact change, and she’s a hundred over her total.

“This is too much, ma’am. Here, this is yours.”

When he tries to give the hundred back to her, she steps away from the register and puts her hands behind her back. She’s smiling, and shaking her head.

“Oh, no. I shan’t be taking that! You must keep it.”

She’s either an angel, or Satan trying to tempt him with nearly double what he makes in a night. Arguing with her is pointless, she refuses to take her items until he pockets the cash. He hopes that he never has to explain that to his manager, because he hasn’t read the company policy but he’s nearly a hundred percept sure that accepting personal money is very much against it. She finally leaves nearly half an hour later, after insisting he keep the money. He can’t tell if he hopes she comes back, or that he never sees her again.

He ends up keeping the hundred. That’s way too much money to be given to pass up.

If Hajime had to name a favourite customer out of the students, it would have to be the girl that comes in a couple of nights a week to buy snacks. He doesn’t know her name, but she always talks about video games. They share the same taste in them, and he likes hearing about his favourites from another person’s perspective. He doesn’t really have anybody to play them with, but it almost feels like he does when she comes in and asks how far he’s gotten in whatever just came out that week. He thinks about her during his shift sometimes when things get slow.

That same night, a boy with all the manners of a particularly pissed off cat comes in. He’s with a girl that towers over him, and Hajime would laugh if he wasn’t afraid of getting his ass handed to him, since he’s pretty sure the girl is carrying a sword. He’s buying twelve packs of cookies, and a single toy bunny. He pays with a black credit card. Neither of them say anything to Hajime. He’s pretty sure that’s the “Baby Gangsta” that Soda has spoken about on a couple of occasions, but definitely doesn’t want to ask just in case he gets sliced in half. He only notices that he was holding his breath when they leave.

An absolutely giant man walks in just as Hajime is about to clock out. No really, he’s huge and all muscle. Hajime might be scared of him, if he didn’t have such a huge smile on his face. He occasionally comes in early in the morning to buy a hideous amount of protein powder and other groceries. Every time he does, he invites Hajime to “train” with him. Hajime is too scared to ask what training involves, and turns it down every time. By the size of the guy, he’s pretty sure any amount of training would kill him.

Hajime doesn’t know when he clocks in the next night that it’s going to be the most hellish night of his life. He doesn’t know that tonight is the night he hands in his two weeks yet. He’s pretty optimistic when he walks in, freshly showered and having just gotten back a pretty decent grade for one of his classes.

It starts at five. Kazuichi Soda walks in first, already drunk and talking to Baby Gangsta about some motorbike he’s going to jack up so much it won’t be road legal anymore. The Giant Man is close behind, talking to a girl about doing “it” (Hajime has no idea what “it” is and frankly he isn’t sure he wants to know). That’s the first sign. No more than three of them have ever walked in together at any one time.

Lagging behind a little is Gundham and Sonia, followed by Mahiru and the tiny girl that sometimes accompanies her. The only thing Hajime can remember about her is that she called some other girl a “toilet clogging bitch” one time. Three other men follow behind, one with light hair that looks just a little too skinny to be healthy, one that looks nearly exactly the same as him except taller and heavier, and one that’s even shorter than Baby Gansta. A girl with her eyes glued to a Game Girl trails behind them, the Sword Girl almost steering her out of the way of a promotional stand for donuts. Behind them is Ibuki Mioda, a girl that comes in sometimes to buy Monster Energy by the crate at three in the morning, talking to Mikan Tsumiki who usually accompanies her to run of the health risks of drinking too much caffeine.

Behind all of them is the devil himself, dressed up like an angel. Hajime doesn’t know he’s the devil yet, but he will in about an hour.

They’re in the store for all of ten minutes before shit starts going south. Hajime can hear things being tossed around in the aisles and shouting. He definitely isn’t paid enough to deal with that, so he stands at his register and hopes it calms down.

“C’mon, we just finished our finals, Ibuki wants to go hard!”

That’s never a good thing to hear when you still have two hours of your shift left.

Now, part of the reason why Hajime likes working the graveyard shift is that it’s quiet. Nothing happens, except for the one time a guy in a Scream mask came in and robbed his register at axe-point, but he’d already been working at the store for two weeks and couldn’t give less of a crap whether or not the company lost money over that. Tonight, it isn’t quiet. Tonight, there are sixteen students that Hajime thinks might give him a migraine if they don’t shut up for five minutes.

The worst part is when they disperse through the store. Before, all the noise was coming from one place. Now it’s everywhere. Hajime thinks that some of them are having a competition to see who can make all the toys that make sounds go off in the quickest amount of time. He can hear shouting and squealing and laughing (and is that crying? Is one of them crying in his store?) and he wonders if it would be worth it to just walk out and let them take whatever they want.

It doesn’t end there. There’s a loud smashing sound, and then the high-pitched whine of the girl who looks too young to be buying booze but Hajime has never cared enough to card because it’s not his job to parent her.

“You snot-nosed bitch! I bet you’re trying to make Hope’s Peak look bad, you drunk whore!”

“I’m s-sorry! I didn’t mean to!” The crying gets worse the more the short one yells, “I-I’ll clean it up and pay for it, don’t worry! Please forgive me!”

Hope’s Peak is that exclusive private place down the street, right? Hajime passes it everyday, but couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting to study there. He isn’t even really sure what they teach, besides that they always push out the greatest in whatever field of study they run. No, Hajime chose the cheaper option, and while it might have been nice to go somewhere so prestigious, it definitely wouldn’t have been good for his wallet.

From the other side of the store, he hears clapping and laughing. He doesn’t even want to think about what fresh hell is going on in the DIY section, where he’s pretty sure he can hear Soda spilling paint everywhere if the swearing from Baby Gangsta is anything to go buy.

Half an hour or so after they all walked in, Hajime is ringing up fifteen people. He’s the only one working tonight until the cleaners come in, and this is more people than he’s ever had to deal with in his life.

Sonia has bought sixteen bottles of the most expensive champagne the store sells. Hajime doesn’t want to think about the ordeal he went though last time she was here, so when she pushes an extra hundred into his hand he doesn’t bother arguing with her. Gundham, on the other hand, has apparently bought up every single vegan burger that was in the freezer section. He’s also got all the buns, and what feels like a hundred different condiments and salad options. Through tears, Mikan apologises for the trouble she’s causing while trying to pay for whatever bottle she broke – while at the same time picking up enough hangover medicine to cure an army.

By the time he’s rung everybody up, he’s exhausted. He wants to go to bed and never get out of it, to never see anybody again. He hates customers at the best of times, and these people might be excellent outside of this setting, but in his store they’ve been an absolute nightmare.

They’re all packed up and ready to go when the girl with her nose in the video game pipes up.

“Hey, where’s Nagito?” She asks through a yawn.

Then, it happens. Hajime hears a “whoops” from the back end of the store, and everything he’s ever wanted to not happen on his shift happens.

One shelving unit goes down, then another, then another. The sounds of shattering and splintering echo through the now otherwise silent store. They go down like dominos, each falling shelf worse than the last. It’s five fifty-seven in the morning, and Hajime can only watch as his divine punishment for choosing to work in a grocery store near a college is shown to him. Bottles are smashing, toys are crushed, he’s pretty sure that whatever happens in the fish section is no longer safe to look at with the naked human eye.

“I’ve never thought about committing murder before,” He says, “But now I think I understand.”

Everybody is quiet until the dust settles. The white-haired demon walks out completely unscathed, with an innocently shit-eating grin on his face.

“Ah, I can pay for this. I’m so sorry to have caused such trouble,” He says, waving his hands like it’s no big deal, “Please, allow me to pay for the damages. My terrible luck is a scourge on this Earth, I simply can’t apologise enough.”

Hajime sighs, and looks at the clock. It’s five fifty-nine. There isn’t an enough money in the world to pay him to deal with this.

“What the fuck happened?” Baby Gangsta asks, from the back of the crowd, “Seriously, you’ve had some bad fuckin’ luck before, but this shit takes the crappy cake.”

“Oh. I tripped.” He dusts his knees off, and smiles again.

It’s unnerving that he’s so calm about this. Hajime dreads to think what else he’s done in the past that would make this seem so natural to him. Can you bar somebody from your store for accidentally wrecking every single item that you have to sell?

“There is some hope to come from this, Kuzuryu, don’t worry!” He pulls out a tiny stuffed dog from his pocket, “Please, how much will this be?”

All Hajime can do is stare. He isn’t sure what god he pissed off to deserve this. He doesn’t believe in karma, but he hopes that whatever he gets in return for this is pretty damn good.

Six in the morning rolls around. The day-staff have walked in to the mess that is the store, and his manager is just staring at him. Hajime looks at him, and just shakes his head.

“If you want the story, talk to the guy with the white hair. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.”

Immediately after he says that, he hears a whoosh. Then, everything starts feeling a whole lot warmer.

“Shit, store’s on fire. Komaeda, you’re going to get us banned from this store!” Kazuichi yells, running as fast as he can to the exit.

The others follow, and Hajime gives his manager a “what-can-ya-do” shrug, before following. This store isn’t worth getting a lungful of smoke over. Hell, he isn’t even sure working here is worth the extra cash that Sonia seems adamant to give him every time she comes in.

Sixteen students, Hajime, four other co-workers, two cleaners, and a General Manager stare as the building burns. Before his manager can open his mouth to speak, Hajime looks at him and says, “Nope. I quit. I’m leaving. Now. This isn’t my fault, and you can’t pay me enough to deal with it.”

There’s no argument. His manager just lets him go. The sixteen students get a lifetime ban. Hajime also gets a lifetime ban. The white-haired devil writes a check and walks away basically scot-free. The store is going to be closed for the next fuck-knows how long until it can get repaired. From the number of zeroes on that check, Hajime’s pretty sure this is an expensive problem to fix. He doesn’t care, it isn’t his problem.

“Hey, Mr-Store-Clerk Guy!” Ibuki grins at him, “Wanna come and party with Hope’s Peak? We just got done with finals!”

“Ibuki, that’s a fantastic idea! To repay our debt to him for causing so much trouble, we simply must invite him to part-ay with us!” Sonia claps her hands together and smiles like Ibuki’s just discovered Atlantis, “Please do come with us! But first, might we get your name? We all see you so often, and have never thought to ask!”

It’s six in the morning. Hajime rubs his temples. Any sane person would say no, because he’s tired and just quit his job so he’s going to need to find another one as soon as possible, and having a store burn down on your watch is not good on your resume.

It’s six in the morning, and if there’s any day that Hajime wants to start drinking at ass-o-clock in the morning and not on his dime, it’s this one.

“I’m Hajime Hinata. Please don’t burn anything else down.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Nagito calls from where he’s standing by the manager, “I’m sure that after that I’ll have some incredibly good luck!”