#I don’t miss my anxiety and stage freight

[rosicheeks]

I missed the pretty little angels pretty little singing voice!? 🥺🥺

I’m sorryyyyy 😔

[captainscanadian]

Hope | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 4)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Your high school reunion forces you to relive the trauma of your senior year. 

Word Count: 4100+

Pairing: (Eventual) Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Patient!Reader

Warnings: HELLA ANGST, Heartbreak, Bullying, Insecurity, Anxiety, Alcohol

A/N: This fic was my entry for @wkemeup​‘s 4K Writing Challenge. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS!

Perhaps having a Hollywood stylist on speed dial did have its perks, for the woman who had styled you for your multiple red carpet premieres was more than happy to assist you in deciding what to wear for your high school reunion. 

Natasha Romanoff had advised you that a pair of blue jeans and a comfortable sweater could really go a long way, and you took her word for it. “Did you bring your boots with you?” She asked you as you were on Facetime. 

Rosie had informed you that the dress code was casual, so you need not to worry about having to borrow Nick’s truck in order to drive all the way to Indianapolis and hunt down a designer dress. 

But that did not mean you were keeping it simple with your outfit for the night; you wanted to make an impression, and maybe even rub it in a few of the faces that you were going to be coming across. This was your moment now. 

“You mean my black thigh-highs?” You asked her as your lips curled into a smirk, and you reached down to grab them and held them up for the camera. “Did you really think I’d leave them behind in LA when you said that I fucking sass walk when I’m wearing these?”

“That’s my girl!” She exclaimed, looking proud as ever. “Add a leather jacket over that and you’re good to go. Keep the hair and make up simple. You’re going to be getting shit-faced anyways. No need to look too pretty.” 

You gave her a nod as you chuckled softly. “You cool with me adding a Gucci belt with that? I’d like to show these fuckers that I can actually afford one.”

“Fuck, yes!” She gave you a thumbs up. “You’re going to sass walk in there, look like a million bucks and you’re going to fucking own it, you hear me?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You were certainly glad that you had a stylist who was also the best hype woman you could have ever asked for. “I’m going to fucking own it.” 

“So, now that it’s your ten year reunion… are you and Mr. Hollywood Reporter finally going to get it on?” Natasha asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “I know I’m totally assuming that he’s going to be there, but you did go to high school together. Maybe revisiting some old memories can light some kind of spark between the two of you? He seems like a good catch, Y/N.” 

“What?” You shook your head. “No… I mean, yes. He’s going to be there. But no, we’re not ‘getting it on’ or however else you say it.” 

“Why not?!”

“Because…” You let out a sigh. “Pietro is my friend.” 

Falling in love with one of your best friends had been hard enough. You could not afford to lose another friendship the same way. 

Out of all places that your ten year reunion could have taken place, it had to be at The Country Club of Indianapolis; you did not know if you should praise Rosie Bender for securing such a venue for the event, or curse her for somehow convincing you to come here. Not that you had ever been to that country club when you had been a resident of Indiana, but it was safe to say that the place did bring back some horrible memories. 

The words ‘Connie Chapman would be there’ made so much more sense to you now, as you were well aware that the country club was owned by her father. Boy, you could never come to terms with how much you loathed Connie as a kid. Her mere existence drove you up the wall. 

Ever since you were in elementary school, it seemed as though the two of were forced to compete with each other. From the good grades to the friendships you made; she had everything you wanted. She had a father who had raised her like a fucking princess, while yours had walked out when you were just a toddler. Her birthday parties would always take place at her family’s mansion in Shelbyville, and sometimes at the country club too. You were never invited to any one of them though, not that you ever wanted to. 

She was the teacher’s pet, which was most likely a result of her father’s rather heavy donation to the school. No matter how hard you studied, grinding through every assignment by pouring your blood, sweat and tears into them, she just happened to get a better grade than you did. It was frustrating to know that no matter how hard you tried, she just happened to be five steps ahead of you. She was oozing with privilege, and that made you feel quite bitter. 

During high school, she was the captain of the cheer leading team. While she was not the nicest person you’d known back then, it did not matter at all when she looked like some Victoria’s Secret model - when Victoria’s Secret was still relevant. It seemed as though she had somehow skipped the awkward stages of puberty and became attractive without ever paying the price for it; or maybe she did pay a price. You could never tell for sure. Every boy in school would fall at her feet, which was something that certainly boosted that ego of hers. She was the most popular girl in school, and you were a complete nobody. It fucking sucked. 

Despite the fact that Connie Chapman had everything you would have wanted in life when you were a teenager, you knew that you had something that she could never have, something that you believed that no one could ever pry out of your hands. Oh how stupid had you been. She had taken him right from your cold dead hands. 

As much as you hated to admit it, this was not how you had expected your senior year of high school to be. It seemed as though everything was going to shit this year, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of this shit show that was high school. 

The year had gotten off to a not-so-great start with your best friend ditching you to hang out with his new friends from the basketball team. While you had found yourself strolling through the hallways of Shelbyville Senior High School all alone during the lunch hours, your vice principal had forced you to befriend the two new students, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. 

Sure, they were both wonderful to hang out with. But deep down, you just missed Bucky Barnes more than ever. He was your best friend, had been for as long as you could remember. You had no idea why he had stopped hanging out with you since the end of junior year, and you hadn’t even bothered to ask. Things just seemed to be out of your control nowadays, you guessed. 

“Y/N!” Wanda had called out to you as she was rushing towards your locker, a panicked expression evident in her eyes as she grabbed your arm rather roughly. “Y/N, you’re not going to believe what just happened.” 

You set the algebra textbook that you had been holding in your locker before turning towards her, grabbing your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder. “Wanda, is everything okay?”

“Bucky knows.” She told you, looking at you with wide eyes as she breathed heavily. “He came over to my lab desk during biology and… he told me that he knows.” 

Her words had hit you like a freight train, as you found yourself closing your locker in a hurry when you began to feel your heart beating against your chest. “W-What?” You shook your head. “No, no, no… No, Wanda… no! How could that be? How would he know?”

“He said that he… he knows that you like him, Y/N. He sees the look in your eyes when you speak to him.” She replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe you haven’t been all that subtle with him as you thought you were?” 

“Oh shit…” 

You did not know what to do, for you had not expected for things to get out of control like they had now. You had not intended for Bucky to find out about how you felt about him, not when he had drifted away from you just months ago. 

A part of you could not help but wonder if the reason why he had stopped hanging out with you was because of this revelation. Was he distancing himself because of how you felt about him? Was it because he did not feel the same way? Why had he told Wanda that he knew about it instead of coming straight to you? 

So many questions had flooded your mind at that moment, and you could not think straight. It felt as though the whole world was closing in on you, and all you wanted at that moment was to be held in someone’s arms and be told that you were loved. It was a simple wish. To feel loved and to feel like you belonged somewhere was a basic need for a human being. It was not meant to be a luxury, though that was exactly what it seemed to be nowadays. 

Your mind was telling you to run, but your feet were planted firmly against the tiled floor of the corridor. While you wondered how you were going to face him, you had felt it in your heart to trust him. He was your best friend; he wasn’t going to hurt you. 

All it took was that simple trust. That was all it took to break you. 

As you got out of the Porsche that you had rented for the remainder of your stay, you noticed a few familiar faces staring out at you in utter surprise. For starters, the car was bound to stir up some attention. But it was your outfit that was to die for. 

Just as Natasha Romanoff had suggested, a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt really did go a long way… along with a few other designer accessories that were worn for the sole purpose of making jaws drop. It was mission accomplished. 

Not that you minded being the centre of attention this time, but the thought that the people who had once spoken about you behind your back were now gawking at you with utter jealousy sure boosted that ego of yours. You had certainly earned that luxury. Perhaps coming to this reunion was not a bad thing after all. 

“Well, well, well…” Pietro Maximoff was quick to rise from his seat as you approached the table, greeting you with a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t you look like you fucking own this place.” 

“As ironic as that seems.” Wanda snorted, considering who actually did own the place. “Who would have known that Y/N Y/L/N still had it in her to cause a scene?” 

You rolled your eyes at her words, returning a kiss on her brother’s cheek. “It may have been ten years, but some things never change.” You noted, motioning towards the formerly popular crowd who were now staring at you like they had never seen a successful New York Times best-selling author in their midst. “They always fucking stare.” 

“Y/N, you made it!” The familiar voice of Rosie Bender caused you to turn around to greet her. “I’m so glad you came.” 

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” You smiled at her before you noticed the woman who stood behind her. 

Connie Chapman. 

“I love you, Bucky.” Those three words had come out of your mouth so naturally, that you did not even beat yourself up for having just confessed your love to him. “I’ve loved you for as I’ve known you.” 

A part of you had expected him to say it back in an instant, but you knew better than that. His actions during the last few months had been very clear. But the look on his face was not one of surprise, nor did he show any sign of reciprocation. He had just stood there in silence, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment too long before he nodded. “I knew that.” 

“I knew that… you knew that.” You breathed. “Wanda told me that you told her… that you knew…” Your eyes glazed over with every second, for a part of you had worried that he was indeed going to reject you. You knew that you were in for a heartbreak, but you could not handle it either way. 

“The thing is… Y/N... I like someone else, doll.” 

And... there it was. 

“Connie Chapman.” You laughed softly as you looked over at her. “I can’t believe it.” God, the years had been so unkind to her. 

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N.” 

“You too.” You lied straight through your teeth, causing Wanda to snort her drink and choke back her laughter. 

Pietro and Rosie looked rather amused by this whole interaction, but you had just shrugged it off when your eyes landed on the man who had just walked in. Dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black shirt, and a bright yellow leather jacket that seemed to match your black one, you could not deny that he knew how to make an entrance. 

The moment he entered the room, Bucky Barnes’ eyes landed right on you. Of course, you were the centre of attention; you should have always been the centre of attention. The way you were dressed in your jeans and your top, not to mention those boots; he could not deny how stunning you looked that night. 

Not that he had the courage to tell you that you looked absolutely beautiful, but he knew that he was probably the last person you wanted to hear those words from… for obvious reasons. He had screwed things up when he had the chance, so what even was the point anymore. 

“Hey Y/N, did you hear?! Bucky asked Connie to prom!” Brock Rumlow hollered at you in the hallway as you walked past him, causing you to break into tears at the remainder as his minions continued to laugh in your face. 

It had been two whole days since you had found out that Connie was the one who Bucky had feelings for. As much as it hurt to find out that you had lost the one thing that you had cherished the most in your life to her of all people, it hurt a lot more that you hadn’t found out from Bucky himself that she was the girl he liked. 

Instead, the news of Bucky’s elaborate promposal had spread around the school like wildfire, and Pietro had rushed to inform you after witnessing the gesture that had become the talk of the school. While Connie hadn’t even said yes to him, the fact that he had even asked her to prom was reason enough for people to start picking on you. And in a matter of days, you had become the joke of the school. 

But what broke your heart the most was not that Bucky had not reciprocated your feelings for him, nor that he did not have the decency to tell you that Connie Chapman was the girl of his dreams. It was the fact that Bucky had been your best friend since you were in elementary school, and he knew damn well how you felt about Connie. The rivalry that you both shared had not been a secret and Bucky had always known that. Even when he did not love you back, you had expected him to be loyal; and he had done the one thing that he probably knew was bound to cause you the worst pain. 

Wanda was quick to wrap her arm around your shoulder and drag you away from Brock and his minions, sensing that you were on the verge of yet another breakdown. Ever since things had taken a turn for the worst, she had been trying her best to keep you calm. She knew that you were a sensitive soul, which was all the more reason for her to want to protect you from your bullies. 

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t let them get to you.” 

You should your head as you hugged her tight, sobbing softly against her shoulder. “It’s not them, Wanda. It’s not… It’s him. I loved him, Wanda. I loved him so much and he… what is it about her that made him feel that way? What is it about her that made him… fall for her? What is it that she has that I don’t? Because I thought that he was mine, and now he’s not.” 

You had to blame your own insecurities for weighing you down like this. After all, you had always envied what Connie Chapman had; and now she had Bucky’s heart too. That was the worst. But deep down, you kept asking yourself over and over again. What was it about her that made him fall for her? What was it that she had that you didn’t? 

After a while, you had realized that you could never figure out the answer to those questions. But you wanted the answers, and you wanted them from him. You had been young, stupid, and hormonal. You had been so entitled to Bucky’s heart that you had been willing to fight him for it. 

Perhaps going up to him and asking him, ‘can’t you see how much I love you,’ wasn’t the way to go. Because you did love him so much. How could he not see that? 

The fact that she had rejected him to his face, and he was still pining over her while all you had for him was true love. You wanted to ask him why he was doing this? Why do you love someone who doesn’t love you back? Why do you humiliate yourself by pining over someone who could care any less about you?

Oh what a hypocrite you were… 

“Seriously, what the fuck is it that she has that I don’t?!”

Everything, you should have known that by then. 

“Can’t you see?! Just look at her! SHE’S FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!” 

And that was it. That was all it took for Bucky Barnes to break your heart at once. 

“So, I’m... am I not beautiful?! Is that what you’re saying to me?!” 

The whole school had been witness to your screaming match that ended up to be the final tug at your heartstrings. 

As you broke down in tears, Wanda Maximoff had dragged you away from him for the last time. 

Pietro had glared daggers at him before he followed behind you, his arms wrapped tightly around you to shield you from the nosy crowd that had gathered in the cafeteria. 

And that was the last time you had ever dared to look Bucky Barnes in the eyes. 

You had barely made it through the first course of the meal when you had lost your appetite. Being at this reunion had certainly stirred up your memories and made you relive the trauma that you had been through in senior year. 

You were quick to drop your fork and clutch onto Pietro’s wrist, every breath you took feeling colder than the last as you fought the urge to break down once again, just as you had done ten years ago. 

“Piet.” 

He turned over to look at you in worry, for he was well aware of how uncomfortable it must have been for you to be surrounded by the people and the memories of your senior year. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, the concern so clear in his voice. 

You shook your head, grabbing your glass of wine and chugging it down in one go. But no amount of alcohol could ever let you live down that dreadful day. “Take me home.” 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda frowned, seeing that you looked quite distressed. 

You looked up at her and shook your head. “I shouldn’t have come here.” You admitted, cursing yourself for thinking that being here could be so much as a means of finding writing inspiration. “I can’t do it.” 

Pietro let out a sigh as he nodded understandingly, setting down his fork before wiping off his mouth with his napkin. “How about we head to The Tavern and get shit-faced? Every minute I spend in this place makes me want to throw up, and I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling.”

His sister could not help but nod in agreement. “Honestly, I only came back home because Harry asked me to check in on you. This whole reunion business never interested me.” 

“And I came because there’s no way in hell I would let the two of you deal with these people on your own.” He admitted, chuckling softly 

“I love you both so fucking much.” You smiled over at the two of them before resting your head against Pietro’s shoulder. “What would I have done without the two of you?” 

“Oh you would have been so miserable that senior year.” Wanda joked. 

From the corner of his eyes, Bucky was able to see how close you and Pietro had been seated. To say that a part of him was feeling a strong sense of jealousy would be an understatement. 

Deep down he knew that it should have been him sitting next to you during your high school reunion, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while you laughed about the memories that were meant to be happy ones. 

But instead he had ruined it all by doing what he had done, and now he was forced to watch you from afar with Pietro Maximoff in the place of your best friend. 

Bucky never had anything against Pietro, not back then and certainly not now. Back when the Maximoff twins were just the new kids on the block, he could have cared less about them. 

He and Brock were tight then, so he hadn’t bothered befriending the oldest Maximoff. He had seen you and Wanda hanging around at lunch, but he never would have thought that you had become close friends. That place had always been reserved for him, and you never opened up to anyone else. 

Even when he had distanced himself from you, he had felt possessive over you. But now he knew that it was his actions and the twins’ kindness to let you lean on them at that time that led to him sitting at this reunion in jealousy, while the three of you dined together. 

“You know, it’s not that polite to stare.” Rosie Bender remarked cheekily as she nudged her girlfriend’s brother. “And it seems to me that you haven’t even bothered to take your eyes off of her ever since you got here.” 

“She looks beautiful.” He noted, finally turning over to look over at his friend. “So… radiant. She could always light up the room she walks into.” 

“Oh please, you’re the guy who told her otherwise.” She snickered. 

Bucky could not help but roll his eyes at the reminder. “You know it should have been me sitting next to her like that, not him.” 

“It could have been you, sure. But you managed to ruin that for yourself, didn’t you?” 

“Do you think she would ever forgive me for what I did, Bender?” He asked, a little unsure himself. “Would she ever love me the same way?” 

“How would I know?” She shrugged. “Truth be told, I hope she won’t. No offence, but… as someone who watched all of your drama for the sidelines, I’ve always felt that she deserves better than the guy who took her for granted and treated her like shit.” 

“I never realized how much you hate the idea of seeing us together.” He raised his eyebrow at her. 

Rosie was quick to shake her head at his assumption. “That’s not true.” She admitted, sighing. “You know, when I sold you those prom tickets, I seriously thought that you were buying them for her. All of us in the Prom Committee, we all knew that she had a thing for you. We were rooting for the two of you to finally get together and ride off into the sunset.” 

Not that she would ever admit it to Bucky, but she had always regretted the part she had to play in your fallout. Even though she hadn’t intended for things to escalate the way they had, she often wondered if things would have been different if she hadn’t sold Bucky those prom tickets. But she knew that if she hadn’t done that, then someone else would have. In the end, it was Bucky’s fault that he had ruined things with you. 

“Wow, I guess I was an idiot.” 

“That you are.” She agreed, laughing softly before shaking her head. “Bucky, I know that she’s much better off without you. She’s built herself a whole life after she left town and she doesn’t need you in her life anymore. But I’ve had to watch you be miserable ever since she left.” 

He wasn’t even going to deny that, for even he knew that losing you had been the worst thing that had happened to him. Not even being rejected by Connie Chapman could ever compare to the pain that he had caused himself. “Rosie, I...”

“Admit it, you’ve always felt like something was missing in your life, and it’s her. She may not need you, but you need her.You fucked up, and I know that you’ve realized your mistakes now. You could either keep sitting here and look stupid, or you could finally do things right. It’s your call, Barnes.” 

[samsilver975]

Wow, never thought I’d start off my Tumblr career with a post on the DreamSMP but here we are.

I’ve decided to post my thoughts on the events that took place today! Or: my thoughts on DOOMSDAY, character by character. Please keep in mind that these are my opinions, I respect those who disagree with me! Also, imma do this in parts so we’ll start with Niki, Fundy, Eret, Ponk, Punz, HBomb and Quakity.

Let’s takle some of the ‘smaller’ ones first. Something I love about the SMP is how much care they put into every character. Not just major players, but those that would be considered side characters. Every character goes through growth and changes, which makes the world of the SMP dynamic and ‘real.’ That being said, I’ll begin with Niki. I really liked Niki’s arc in this season. I remember how loyal she was to L’Manburg in the beginning, and now she has let go. It isn’t a ‘betrayal.’ The L’Manburg she fought and died for was pretty much already gone. She tried so hard to hold onto the nation, but in the end, she let go, which is a strength in itself. Her burning L’Mantree represents that she had truly left it behind for better things. Her perspective is one that makes the world seem the most relatable; what are we all but caught in the middle to two extremes? It’s raw, bittersweet, and beautiful.

Next up: Fundy

Oh Fundy. I wasn’t expecting that. I knew the signs were there, but still didn’t put the prices together. He too, was caught in the middle, representing one whose core values were shaken to the point of shattering. He is left in a fragile state, both mentally and emotionally. I’m... not sure what I think about Fundy’s role. I didn’t entirely appreciate the sudden turn, though I understand the reasoning behind it. I felt his position was just a repeat and he didn’t really go through as much development as I was expecting. Though, the realization I felt when I was watching Ranboo’s stream and Phil mentioned their source of TNT hit me like a freight train. It made me realize that Fundy, for all his talk of unity, had drifted away from L’Manburg far before January 7th. In the end, Fundy will always be Fundy. He’ll always be a Fox.

3: Eret

I didn’t catch Eret’s stream unfortunately. I chose to watch Ranboo’s instead. But I appreciated his character arc nonetheless. His is one that extends beyond season 2, all the way back to the first war. We all know of his betrayal (and if you don’t you have a lot to catch up on my friend). Back then, he was in the same position Fundy was. Dream crowning him king could have been horrible; Eret could’ve become a tyrant. But in the end, Eret turned his crowning into a redemption arc, one long awaited that he didn’t get during Pogtopia. Despite being crowned by Dream, he owed little allegiance to him. He too, found himself caught in the middle. In the end, he did his part. He gave his fort as a staging ground for an ultimately lost cause. I think he kind of knew that; many did. He finally got his redemption though. It’s best summed up be Ghostbur, “Plus Eret.”

Ponk:

Oh Ponk. Head pats for you.

Punz:

You sneaky decoy. His tweeting about being a spy totally made me miss Fundy because I was worried about him! Nice.

HBomb:

Watching his stream gave me anxiety. But I liked his point. There are always those who won’t take action. Not even to torment one side or the other. I’m glad to see him getting involved in the plot!

Quackity:

I like Quackity’s arc from an analysis standpoint, not a moral one. He kinda leaves a sour taste in my mouth from a moral standpoint. His is the true corruption. Dream was right. He was one hundred percent more of a president then Tubbo. I enjoyed watching power corrupt him slowly; the pacing was really well done. You can see it all the way up to the festival as he enforces rules more then Tubbo. The lead up to Doomsday was a little bit odd. It was kind of a sudden swing from the loudly power hungry politician, to a... quieter character. The best way I can think to explain it is that Dream got into his head. He was another whose stream I didn’t catch until the end. As far as I can tell, he realized how close he was to becoming like Schlatt, more than any of the other cabinet members. But then... why threaten to execute Ranboo? Maybe the point came from Tubbo. Their conversation culminated with realizations for both. For Quackity, he realized that he had been too powerful, and the way to fix that was to get away, pass the chain on to Tubbo, for real. But that was before Doomsday. Quackity after the destruction was... different. I was expecting him to be angry, and he is, but not in the loud, typical Quackity fashion I’d come to expect. He tells Tommy to, “Not trust anyone,” hinting that he knows something Tommy doesn’t. Later he resigns himself to rely on democracy from now on when dealing with Dream. So... he still thinks of himself as independent? He brings up some good points in his “Savages” speech, and while I agree that rushing in as I’m sure Tommy will try to do is not the way to go... I don’t think it’s presumptive of me to say that believing democracy will magically solve everything is a bit... naive? I dunno. Quackity at the end derailed everything I had laid out in my mind about his character. In short, I enjoyed his early power mad arc, but the aftermath of L’Manburg’s fall has left me thoroughly puzzled. Either way, Quackity will not be taking a backseat in the Resurrection Arc. There’s a lot to be had from his character’s future developments.

That’s all from me for now! Once again I’ll ask that you remember that these analyses are my opinion, and I’d love to see what the rest on the community thinks. The rest of the characters I need to have my thoughts thoroughly collected for, and I pretty much wrote this at 8:30 pm as a one shot while I was still traumatized. I’ll post part two tomorrow. Also, if I fail my English class because I was watching a fantasy country get destroyed instead of paying attention to the online lesson I am Blaming You TOMMYINNIT

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU 

Chapter 10 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

Wanting is Enough

“You goin’ home for Christmas?” Dean asked.

They were walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a holiday for which neither Cas nor Dean had bothered to travel home.

“No,” Cas said. “I don’t believe I’m welcome at my father’s house anymore.”

Dean glanced sideways at him as they entered the stairwell. “Why? ‘Cause you’re gay?’ He asked.

Cas shrugged. “If he knows now, from Bartholomew or Hannah, then that certainly doesn’t help my case.” He sighed. “No, when he found out I was attending college and not entering ministry, he told me I shouldn’t come home again.”

Dean held the exit door open as Cas walked onto their floor. “When did that happen?” He asked.

“I kept the entirety of my college application process a secret. Only Anna knew,” Cas said. “She’s the only other sane person in my family. I made the mistake of informing the rest of them about it at dinner sometime in July.” He gave Dean a wry smile as they entered their room. “None of them were particularly thrilled.”

“You told them about the full ride and everything?”

“Yes.”

“And your old man still kicked you out?”

“The same night.”

Dean snorted. “Dumbass.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “You could say that.”

“Where’d you go after that?” Dean asked.

“Well, Anna was already living alone, down in Norman. She was at the University of Oklahoma,” he added by way of explanation. “I just stayed with her until August.”

Dean nodded. “She sounds cool. What’s she doing now?”

Cas broke into a grin. “She lives in North Carolina, now. She’s a therapist.”

Dean smirked at him. “So your ass is constantly getting psychoanalyzed?”

“I suppose.”

Dean slumped into the beanbag with a sigh. Cas remained at the door, leaning his weight against it.

“What about you?” He asked after a beat. “Are you returning home for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I am going home, like, my actual home. Lawrence. We spend Christmas with some family friends.” Dean paused, looking thoughtful. “They’re really more family than friends. Bobby and Ellen and Ellen’s kid Jo. Bobby and Ellen were both friends with my dad.”

“Will your father and brother be there?”

Dean’s look darkened, if only slightly. “Dad’s not coming. The whole thing started ‘cause he got tired of trying to pretend to like the holidays after Mom died. Decided to pawn us off on his old friends. But yeah, Sammy’ll be there.”

Cas gave him a nod and pushed off from the door. While he was disappointed that Dean would be gone for winter break, he was relieved, too. That was three weeks sans-Dean, more than enough time for Cas to work through his little crush. The solitude would be good, he told himself. Cas figured he could fast-track the five stages of grief, and by the time Dean returned, Cas would be the best friend he deserved. Cas sighed to himself as he rifled through his closet for a towel and a change of clothes. He was grabbing bottles of shampoo and body wash when Dean cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said slowly, like the words were difficult to force out, “You could… I mean, I’m sure everyone wouldn’t mind if you came to Christmas.”

Cas whirled around to face Dean, who was picking at a loose thread on the beanbag.

“What?” He asked, a little too loudly.

“Since you’re not goin’ home,” Dean said. “You know, it sucks to spend Christmas alone. ‘Specially in this dump,” he added, gesturing generally to the small room.

“Are you inviting me to spend Christmas in Lawrence? With you?”

Dean gave a short laugh. “I guess it is kinda dumb. Yeah, nevermind.”

“No, I’d like that,” Cas rushed out. He blinked at his own words. He was supposed to be avoiding Dean as often as possible, not spending three uninterrupted weeks in his hometown.  “It sounds nice,” Cas added weakly, despite the fact that it definitely did not. 

Dean looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Dean broke into the biggest grin Cas had ever seen. “Dude, it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.” Dean stood up with and pulled Cas in for a hug, clapping him on the back twice. Cas winced, letting out a feeble chuckle as he returned the hug reluctantly. He was trying not to notice the warmth of Dean pressed against him, or the absence of it when they parted. 

  “Are you pissed at me?” 

It was the Wednesday before finals started. They were quietly eating dinner when Dean threw the question at Cas, who coughed into his water. 

“What?” He sputtered. 

Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno, man, I just feel like I never see you anymore.” 

Guilt crashed into Cas like a freight train. He had been absent, more absent even than before Thanksgiving. Part of it was out of necessity — finals were fast approaching, and he was intent upon an all-A’s first semester. But the hours at the library were stacked on top of the hours he spent in class and the hours he spent simply staying away from his room. 

“I apologize,” Cas said, and he couldn’t keep the earnestness from his voice. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I have two final papers, three exams, and two final projects coming up before the break.” 

“No, man, I get it,” Dean said with a shrug. “You’re busy. Sorry, that was kinda uncalled for. All in my head, you know.” 

Cas wanted to tell him that it was completely called for, that what Dean was feeling was valid, that he was being selfish and rude and a whole number of terrible things for avoiding Dean. But he couldn’t, because that would mean promptly declaring soul-destroying love for his best friend, right there in the middle of the dining hall. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he mumbled. 

Cas had thought that it was getting easier, being around Dean. He’d basked in the feeling of being not just someone’s best friend, but Dean’s best friend, after Halloween, and that was enough. And while he was still avoiding spending long hours in their room, he felt like he was well on his way to making peace with the unrequited. 

But then, they’d gotten drunk on the night of Thanksgiving. Cas didn’t remember much besides waking up in a tangled heap with Dean on the floor of their room. He’d been successful in extricating himself from the strange embrace before Dean regained consciousness, and thank god for that. But the situation lived rent-free in Cas’s mind. It made things considerably more difficult. 

And then there was the prospect of travelling to Lawrence to spend Christmas with Dean and his family. Cas really hadn’t wanted to spend the holiday alone, and was, on the one hand, thankful for the invitation. On the other, his anxiety was mounting. That trip meant there was absolutely no avoiding Dean for at least three weeks; not to mention the fact that he was meeting the group of people most important to Dean. 

So if Cas was making extra efforts to put space between himself and his roommate, it was not unwarranted. 

They finished eating and made their way back to the dorms. Dean was complaining about his own finals, and while Cas tried his hardest to remain engaged, his heart wasn’t in it. He was angry at himself. Even when he felt like he was succeeding, he was failing. 

“Cas,” Dean said. Cas had just let them into the room, but Dean was standing resolutely in the hallway. 

“Yes?” Cas responded. 

“Are you… I know I already asked, but man, something’s off,” Dean rushed out. “Is — Is this about Christmas? ‘Cause —”

Cas interrupted him. “No, Dean. I’m excited to spend Christmas with you and your family.” 

Dean smiled weakly, but it was brief. “I just — you’re never around, man,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I feel like I fucked something up somehow.” 

Cas knew Dean well enough by now to know there were things he was trying to say without saying them. His heart broke to know that I miss you was likely one of them. 

“I promise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Cas said. “I’m just concerned about my finals.” Lie. 

Dean looked at him with skepticism. “Okay,” he said finally. 

Another twinge of guilt soared through him, but he didn’t say anything more, just gathered his things for a shower. Dean still hadn’t come into the room when Cas pushed past him and made his way to the bathroom. 

When he returned, Dean was gone, but Cas saw a notification on his phone. 

DW (7:32 pm)

went out back later

Cas narrowed his eyes at the short message, but typed out a reply anyway. 

CN (7:34 p.m.)

Okay. Be safe. Don’t forget, there’s class tomorrow. 

He sat down at his desk and opened his computer. He tried studying for his accounting final, but the words and equations might have been hieroglyphics for all that he was absorbing them. Cas sighed and pulled up the final project description for his creative writing class instead. 

It was his favorite class by far. In high school, Cas focused on writing short stories, mostly adapted from real life. His notebooks were his confidants, the product of never having a close friend. But now, he was challenged to write other things; poetry, scripts, memoirs. Cas lived for the challenge, finally able to stretch new creative muscles. And while his attempt at drama had received mixed reviews from his professor and peers alike, his other works were well-received. He’d never shared his writing with anyone, and to hear others enjoyed it was something Cas cherished.

But this final project, it was difficult. The professor had tasked them with writing a 1000-word story in prose and adapting it into both a drama and a poem. The goal was to tell the same story in each genre. Cas couldn’t even think of a scene he might want to write, let alone how he was going to move fluidly between genres.

He sighed, and began to list out possible ideas. When it became clear that he wasn’t getting anywhere, he closed his notebook and moved onto something less intense. He reviewed his econ notes for an hour, got started on his final paper for literature. 

After hitting a solid halfway point on his first draft, he checked his phone again. It was already midnight. Cas frowned. Dean was known to stay out late on the weekends, but it was Wednesday. Cas knew Dean had a nine-a.m. history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also knew that Dean wouldn’t make it to said class if he was out much later. He sent him a text. 

CN (12:03 a.m.)

Are you all right? 

Cas hit the bathrooms to brush his teeth and get ready for bed before checking his phone. His worry only increased when he saw that Dean hadn’t replied. He sent another text, hoping he didn’t seem too overbearing. 

CN (12:11 a.m.)

Just making sure you’re alive.

He decided that if Dean didn’t respond in the next ten minutes, he’d call, regardless of how ridiculous he might sound. 

Cas paced around the room, picking up what little stray trash they had left lying out. He was about to take out his phone again to check the time when it started vibrating on his desk. He picked it up eagerly, but frowned at the unknown number. Cas considered letting it ring out, but he hit the “accept” button at the last second. He didn’t say anything as he held the phone up to his ear, expecting a wrong number.

His eyes went wide when Dean rasped, “Cas?”

“Dean?” Cas replied, trying to keep panic out of his voice. “What — Why are you calling me from this number?”

“Phone’s dead,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I hate to do this to you, man, but… Just — goddammit — can you come get me?”

“What?” 

“I’m just — I’m at the corner of seventeenth and Gentry.”

“Don’t you have a DD?” Cas asked. Dean had never called him to pick him up from a party. He always made sure someone was sober, or he called an Uber. 

“No,” Dean sighed. 

“Seventeenth and Gentry?” He repeated, and he heard Dean murmur something in affirmation. Cas made a turn for his car and said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up.

Cas tried to drive at a normal speed, but it was difficult. Dean had left abruptly, and while Cas hadn’t thought to question it, it now seemed glaringly out-of-character. Dean had never partied in the middle of the week, and he certainly had never gone drinking by himself. Every red light kicked his anxiety up a notch. 

After the interminable drive, Cas finally arrived at the corner Dean had directed him to, a small bar with WSU flags plastered everywhere. Cas drove past the front of the building slowly, but couldn’t find Dean there. Finally, he saw a phone booth just past the bar’s street parking, and he coaxed the car forward. Dean was leaning against its side, a cigarette in his mouth. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and it was barely thirty degrees out. Cas turned up the heat in the car as he unlocked the passenger door.

Dean put out the cigarette and slid in without a word. Cas hit the gas and started the drive back to the dorms.

Neither said a word in the ten minutes it took Cas to reach campus. The only sounds were the roar of hot air from the vents and the low groan of the engine. Cas kept his eyes in front of him, never once daring to glance at Dean.

When they reached the lot, Cas threw the gear shift into park and folded his hands in his lap. He stared at his own interlaced fingers, willing Dean to speak first, not wanting to ask the question.

Dean didn’t speak, though, just opened the car door and stepped out. Cas saw a light flicker through the passenger window, and suppressed a groan as he realized Dean had lit another cigarette. Typical, Cas thought, and he was suddenly annoyed. It occurred to him that if their places were switched, Dean would be hounding him, demanding that Cas tell him everything, because he always did. Anytime Cas seemed the slightest bit off, Dean was there, asking questions, being the good friend that he was. But now? Now, he expected Cas to leave it alone, to let him suffer with whatever was bothering him. Cas took a few steadying breaths, then turned the engine off and got out.

“Dean,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, “What the hell?” 

Dean didn’t answer, just took a long drag, his gaze aimed resolutely ahead. Cas huffed and crossed his arms. 

“You… You can’t just ask me to come pick you up from a bar and not offer an explanation,” Cas said. 

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

Cas let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, well, that’s perfectly adequate,” he scoffed.

“What else am I supposed to say?” Dean demanded. 

Cas stared at him, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, his jaw set. “I’m going to bed. 

“What?” Dean asked, finally looking at Cas. 

Cas shrugged. “I’m obviously wasting my time.”

Another drag. An exhale.

“My dad called while you were in the shower.” 

The irritation shifted, almost immediately, to concern. “Your father called you?”

“Yeah.” 

“What did he want?” 

Dean tapped his cigarette against his leg. “Mostly to remind me what a piece of shit I am.” 

Cas remained silent, allowing Dean the space to form whatever his next thought might be. 

“I guess…” Dean rubbed his free hand over his forehead. “I guess Sam let it slip that I was bringing you to Bobby’s for Christmas.” 

Cas cocked his head. “And that’s… Problematic?” 

Dean exhaled another plume of smoke. “Yeah,” he said. He let out a mirthless laugh. “He said he didn’t get it, that if I was bringing anyone home, it should be a girlfriend, not…” Dean trailed off. 

Cas felt the blood leave his face. “He thinks —”

“Yeah.” 

“Dean, I don’t have to come,” Cas said. It would be better for both of us. “I’ll be perfectly fine here. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I don’t want to make life more difficult for you than necessary.” 

Dean looked at him, finally, and he was all shadow and exhaustion. “No, he’s not gonna be there. You’re coming,” he said resolutely, and Cas tried not to let the disappointment show. “Plus, that wasn’t all of it. He’s pissed that I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. Said something about how I was dishonoring my mom’s memory or something.” 

Cas was silent for a moment. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“At the bar,” Cas clarified. He couldn’t tell how drunk Dean really was, but based on that recent revelation, he could guess. 

Dean furrowed his brow. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I had like three beers. I was planning on going full blackout, but then you reminded me about class.” 

Cas almost smiled at that, because it was almost funny. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Decide to get blackout drunk just because your father incorrectly assumed you were bringing me — bringing a male partner to a Christmas he wouldn’t even attend?” 

Dean frowned. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded almost surprised at his own answer. 

Cas was treading on thin ice, he knew that. But he kept up anyway. “I don’t want to overstep,” he said slowly, “But, Dean, your father… It doesn’t seem like he’s taken the time to get to know you. The real you, not the version he wants you to be, or the version he projects onto you.” 

When Dean didn’t stop him, he continued. “And you don’t owe him anything, not anymore. You’re here, aren’t you? All on your own. He has no power over you. And, I’m only assuming, but I believe that might terrify him. Because not only do you no longer need him, but you may choose not to want him.”

Cas let out a small laugh. “Believe me, I know how difficult it is to stop putting stock in what your father thinks. It took me years to accept that I had done nothing wrong, that my father was, and always would be, a bigot. I… I’m still working on it, even now,” he admitted. Cas sighed. “But my life has been better, easier, since I stopped trying to please someone who hardly even knew me.” 

Dean’s expression changed, and he blinked. He was still looking in Cas’s direction, but not at him. Past him, at some unknown subject. Cas took a step toward him.

“Dean?” 

“I don’t need him,” Dean whispered.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean let out a huff, overflowing with something like realization. “I never thought about that before. It’s not like he’s ever tried to talk to me.” Dean threw his cigarette on the asphalt and stomped it out. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips, and he wrapped his hands around his midsection. “You know, I used to try so hard to be like him.” Dean tilted his head toward the sky. “I listened to his music, I dressed like him. Hell, I even started talkin’ like him.

“It was never enough, you know? I always fucked up. Sam didn’t get to school on time, or I forgot milk at the grocery store. I just, I dunno. I know he loves me. But I always wanted him to like me, too, you know?” 

“I do.” 

“Oh man, you should’ve seen him when he found out I’d been hiding money away to go to college,” Dean said, laughing darkly. “I thought I was gonna go to school with a black eye for a week.” 

“He hit you?” Cas asked, horrified. 

“What? No, no,” Dean said quickly. “I just thought he might.”

Cas let out a breath. There was one crime John Winchester hadn’t committed. “What do you mean, hiding money?”

“Dad never really had a steady job, not after our mom died,” Dean explained. “That’s why we moved around a lot. When I was fourteen, I started working. Chickenshit stuff, mostly. Mowing lawns and detailing cars until I was old enough to start flippin’ burgers.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “The money was supposed to go to rent and food, but I started putting most of it aside, just in case, you know? I had enough for a year of college by the time I was a senior. I figured I could get loans and stuff for the rest.”

“And when you told him, he got angry?”

Dean only nodded, now staring intently at the ground. Cas didn’t say anything more, knowing Dean had probably just unloaded more trauma than he’d even known he had. Finally, though, Dean’s gaze met his.

“But I don’t need him,” he repeated.

“You don’t.” 

“He’s nothing, unless I want him to be something,” Dean said slowly, and his eyes were growing triumphant. “Cas, you’re a genius.”

“If you say so.” 

“You learn all that stuff from your sister? The one with a degree in ‘dealing with crazy fuckers’?”

Cas smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “And therapy isn’t just for ‘crazy fuckers.’”

Dean smirked at him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’.” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, okay.” 

As they walked, Cas felt latent anger curl in his stomach. Dean hadn’t told Castiel much about his home life, not until that night. He understood, now, why Dean could so easily take care of others, but needed three beers and a cigarette to show his own vulnerabilities. In his eighteen years, had Dean ever been told that he was enough? The possibility that he hadn’t awakened something in Cas, some righteous fury.

He chided himself internally. How much of his selfish avoidance scheme had contributed to those feelings of inadequacy? He’d rather burn with the pain of unrequited love forever than let Dean think he wasn’t enough.

When they reached the entrance to their dorm, Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you okay, Dean?” He asked. 

Dean let out a long breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m okay. I really am.” He said it like it might have been the first time he’d ever meant it.

 Cas woke up at two in the morning from a particularly vivid dream. His breathing was heavy with the shock of waking up so suddenly. Dean was breathing slow and even across the room, still entirely asleep.

Cas shook his head a little. The dream had felt so real that it had left a residual burning feeling in his hand. He stared at it, but it remained entirely human.

Abruptly, he remembered his creative writing project. A short story, something he could turn into a poem and a stage scene. A lightbulb went off in his brain.

Cas lowered himself from his bed and hurriedly opened his computer. He had to get this down as soon as possible. Cas replayed the dream in his mind as his computer booted up. He supposed it might be a little strange, to turn this story in as his final project, considering it was somewhat of a self-insert. But it had everything he needed.

Finally, he opened a blank document and began to write the first draft. Cas wrote down everything he could remember from the dream, sights and sounds and feelings. With each word, his excitement grew. He’d never felt this way about a writing project, like the story demanded to be told.

Cas hit word count and kept going, because the story was building itself larger and larger. He didn’t even notice how long he’d been working until Dean’s six-a.m. alarm went off.

Dean groaned and rolled over in his bunk. He said something, but Cas didn’t hear, too intent upon getting the words in his head onto the page.

“Hey,” Dean said, raising his voice. “Stephen King, what the hell?”

Cas didn’t turn from the computer screen. “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

Dean groaned. “Like the dead,” he said sarcastically. “How long you been up?”

Cas checked the time. “Somewhere around four hours,” he said.

“Four — you’ve been up since two?”

“Yes.”

Dean blanched and swung himself down from his bed. “Dude, that means you got, max, an hour and a half of sleep.” He made his way to Cas’s desk and leaned over his shoulder. Upon seeing the word count on his screen, his eyes widened.

“You wrote all that last night? Or this morning?” He asked.

Cas shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I got inspired.”

Dean blinked at him. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee,” he said.

Cas wrote a few hundred more words before finding a good stopping point. He scrolled to the top of his document and highlighted the scenes he wanted to use for his project. Dean brought him a cup of coffee, which Cas accepted eagerly, beginning to feel the first twinges of exhaustion through his inspiration-fueled mania.

“What’re you writing over there?” Dean asked after taking a sip from his mug.

“It’s one of my final projects,” Cas replied. He drank from his own mug.

Dean looked at him in horror. “A five-thousand word essay?”

Cas laughed. “No. A thousand-word short story,” he said.

“What, so you’re an over-achiever?”

“No,” Cas said. “I’m only using the first thousand words for my project. But I just couldn’t stop. There was more to tell.” His cheeks flamed. Talking about his creative projects always embarrassed him.

“What’s it about?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “You’ll find out when you read it.”

Dean scowled. “At least tell me what you’re calling it.”

Cas looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he said. “That reminds me…” He turned back to his computer to save the document. When faced with the title option, he faltered. He typed in “The Righteous Man.” That would do for now.

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

taglist! @nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

[mopeytropey]

What if I told you that I received so many lovely messages about fond apu memories and autumnal weather ... that I felt inspired to write some bonus content about our two, favorite beer nerds?

Well, you’re in luck. Because I did.

“Hey, babe!”

Clarke’s voice greets her from out of sight as Lexa toes off her running shoes without bothering to untie them. She deposits them neatly, beside a pair of Clarke’s shoes, against the wall of the entryway as the front door clicks shut. Frank, their recently adopted rescue, comes skittering across the tiled flooring in a bundle of excitement, panting and pushing his cold, black nose into Lexa’s calf muscle. Squatting to her haunches with a grin, she scratches the ringlets of white fur behind his lopsided ears.

When she rounds the open doorway into the kitchen, Clarke is stood at the island chopping fresh herbs. The air is fragrant and the kitchen is warm, awash in bright, morning sunlight that reflects off the harbor. Music plays softly and Clarke is radiant. Lexa smiles.

“Hey.”

“How was the run?” Clarke asks without looking up from the cutting board.

Lexa heads for the fridge to remove a canteen of water. “It was good. The temperature along the water is perfect today.”

“I miss summer,” Clarke sighs and nearly pouts.

“You love the fall.” Lexa takes small, measured sips then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s your most preferred season. You haven’t stopped talking about the foliage along High Street for weeks.”

“Still, I miss summer. The boat. The beach.”

“Clarke, it was practically summer weather last weekend. We were on the boat for hours on Saturday.”

Clarke’s pout intensifies. “Bikinis.”

This produces an actual laugh, and Lexa shakes her head. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll parade around in swimsuits in the dead of winter. You keep it warm enough in here.”

Clarke’s face breaks into a bright smile as she looks up from her chopping. “Promise?”

Lexa smiles as she takes a longer sip of ice-cold water from her canteen. Clarke is dressed for the brunch they’ll be hosting shortly. Casual in her striped sleeveless top and fitted jeans, but nicer than her typical Sunday morning wardrobe of pajama shorts and baggy tee shirts. Nice enough for Lexa to take notice.

“It smells good in here,” she says, moving closer to where Clarke is stood chopping. A hand finds its way beneath the loose hem of Clarke shirt as Lexa’s mouth softly touches Clarke’s bare shoulder. “And, you look nice.”

“Oh my god—you’re so sweaty.” Clarke squirms from Lexa’s touch with a laugh, all the more incentive to move in closer, bodily pinning her against the edge of the island. “Lexa!”

Laughing, she finally steps away as Clarke turns from the counter with an expression that some might mistake for exasperation. Three years on, Lexa knows better. Still smiling, she takes another pull off the water bottle before using the hem of her shirt to wipe the perspiration from her face and neck.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Good, you stink,” Clarke laughs, poking a finger against Lexa’s bared abdomen just before her damp running shirt drops back into place. “And, your shirt is soaked. I love you, but I’m not changing my outfit just because all that adrenaline has made you handsy.”

Lexa heads for the stairs with a laugh. “Drenched in sweat from a long run used to do it for you, you know.”

She pulls her shirt over her head as she climbs, stopping at the landing to turn towards Clarke who has trailed behind her and paused at the base of the spiral staircase.

“Oh, I’m definitely still appreciating the view …  from afar.”

Lexa’s aim is impeccable. The damp shirt hits Clarke square in the face as she squeals in disgust, and Frank barks while dancing at her feet. Lexa laughs all the way to the shower.

:::

“Better?”

Clarke looks up from the big block cutting board with a smile as Lexa shuffles into the kitchen for a second time. She is now slicing strawberries and mangoes, and Lexa does a slow spin as if to show off her clean clothes and freshly blow-dried curls.

Clarke leans forward, wordlessly requesting a quick kiss, and then hums against Lexa’s mouth when she closes the distance. “Well, you definitely smell better,” she says as they separate.

“What can I do?” Lexa surveys Clarke’s array of prep stations along the island countertop—freshly diced fruit, ramekins of chopped herbs, and blocks of cheese, waiting to be grated. Aromas of ground coffee brewing and warm pastries baking have begun to fill the kitchen. “Do you need any help?”

She is still mostly relegated to making fried eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches for them to eat, but over the years Lexa has found her place in the kitchen. Clarke is as efficient as she is talented as a home chef, but she always appreciates Lexa’s company as she cooks. She often works alongside Clarke as an adequate sous chef.

“Grate that cheese for me, and I’ll do dirty things to you later.”

Lexa responds to Clarke’s titillating grin with an arched brow and smirk of her own. “Go on.”

“Honestly, after we survive this brunch, I fully plan to do dirty things with you either way.” Clarke widens her grin and bats her eyelashes. “But, the grating would still be very much appreciated.”

Lexa returns her smile while reaching for a wedge of cheese. “Okay, how much of these do you need?”

“I would do half a block of the gruyere and fontina, go heavy on the sharp cheddar.”

Lexa begins her task, dropping a few shreds of cheese to the floor where Frank sits expectantly, tail wagging against the wood floors like a miniature dry mop.

“I saw that.”

Lexa smiles over at Clarke, whose eyes remain on her knife as it deftly slices a strawberry. “Saw what?”

Moments of comforting silence pass, and then Clarke releases a long-suffering sigh. “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“What’s got you feeling so anxious?”

“I’m not anxious just … anticipatory.”

“Well, you’re certainly acting anxious,” Lexa counters. And then, her voice softens to gentle concern. “We’ve hosted brunch a hundred times, Clarke.”

“Okay, but you know this brunch, in particular, is going to be different. You don’t feel at all anxious?”

Poised to respond, Lexa sets down the cheese grater and opens her mouth just as Clarke continues to ramble on with her train of thought.

“Of course you don’t feel anxious—you’re the most even-keeled person I’ve ever met. How many times in your life have you been nervous about anything? Twice?”

Smiling warmly, Lexa shrugs. “At least three times.” Her eyes slide to the bowl of fruit that she knows Clarke has been marinating in a light but sugary glaze of orange liqueur. “How much of that fruit do you think we’d have to eat to feel a little drunk? Or, I could slip some amaretto into your coffee.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Clarke laughs. “You know that if Abby shows up to a social event and can tell that I’ve been drinking before any guests have arrived, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Lexa moves in closer, and this time, feels Clarke sink against her as arms coil around her waist. She kisses Clarke’s hairline, the skin of her shoulder. Tender endearments that she has expressed hundreds of times.  She inhales as Clarke exhales, a synthesis of their familiar proximity.

This feels different, Lexa thinks.

There is a subtle distinction that buzzes through her, warming her skin and causing her stomach to flutter. An embrace that could be almost perfunctory at this stage, is somehow much more. She wonders briefly if Clarke feels it too.

“I love you.”

“That helps,” Clarke mumbles, having nestled into the crook of Lexa’s neck and shoulder.

Lexa takes a quick breath, settling the nerves that she conceals too well. “And, Frank loves you too.”

She glances down to the floor, Clarke’s gaze quickly following, to see their fluffy companion bumping against their shins, not wanting to be left out of the affection.

“Oh, I love you too, Frank!” Clarke squats, cooing as she accepts sloppy kisses and scoops the small, eager pup into her arms, her anxieties momentarily forgotten.

:::

“Which one of you is pregnant?”

“Raven …”

Clarke is always scolding, exasperated, appalled, or any combination of all three, and Lexa doesn’t know why she still bothers. In all the years that she’s known her, Raven has never once been cowed to socially appropriate conversations no matter the reprimand.

“Don’t get mad at me—you’re the one who’s acting weird.” Raven sits across from them with a calculating stare, flanked by Lincoln and Anya and wielding her fork like a weapon. The tines point accusingly at she and Clarke as Raven says, “Something is up.”

Lexa’s gaze flicks to Anya for any hint of culpability. To no surprise, her face remains placid and untelling.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I’m not pregnant!”

“Esquire?”

“No one is pregnant,” Clarke reiterates.

The oblong dining table is overflowing with food and drinks. Clarke’s mother, who sits beside Lexa, makes an appreciative sound as she takes a bite of quiche.

“This is wonderful, Clarke.”

Clarke offers a grateful smile for Abby’s efforts to redirect the conversation, but the end result is predictably futile. Raven’s lines of questioning are often like a speeding, unmanned freight train. Virtually unstoppable.

“The food really is excellent,” Lincoln echoes with his soft smile.

“Quiet, you,” Raven snaps playfully. “Come on, Griffin. Spill.”

Beneath the table, Lexa finds Clarke’s fingers.

“We wanted you all here to tell you that—“ Clarke exhales, squeezing Lexa’s fingers. “Lexa and I got married.”

The house falls quiet for three, tense seconds, and then Octavia speaks, her voice taking on a sharp tone of mistrust.

“You mean you’re getting married.”

“We were married last week,” Lexa corrects with an easy smile.

Octavia blinks slowly, her gaze calculating between the two of them. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Clarke answers, the waver in her voice beginning to settle now that they’ve aired this secret to their closest friends. “In New York.”

Early autumn in her city. Lingering summer warmth but with a touch of color on all the trees in the parks. The promise of changing seasons ahead. Clarke stood in the courthouse in jeans and one of Lexa’s favorite tee shirts, wearing the brightest smile Lexa has ever seen. It was nothing she had ever planned for herself and somehow everything she had ever wanted in a ceremonial exchange of vows. That it was Clarke sat beside her, signing her name just below Lexa’s, no doubt made all the difference.

“You run away to New York,” Raven is saying, “exchange some secret nuptials, slink back into town as if nothing has changed—“

“Okay, you’re being a little dramatic. The plan wasn’t really that nefarious,” Clarke says.

“—and then wait an entire week to tell us?”

Lexa tries very hard not to be entertained by Raven’s exasperation, but she finds herself fighting a smile as Clarke’s best friend struggles to work out the new information.

“You were on that extended project at work,” Clarke reminds her.

“I was in Rhode Island, not orbiting in space.”

“To be fair,” Octavia chimes in, “you never check your phone when you’re locked into a project.”

“You could have texted me,” Raven argues.

“I wasn’t going to tell you that I got married over text!”

Lexa watches the pure shock and mild affront ebb from Raven’s features. “Oh my god, you’re married.”

“Yeah,” Clarke smiles, squeezing again to Lexa’s fingers.

“Hang on, why are you not more shocked by this?” Raven has turned her attention to Abby, who sits at Lexa’s right-hand side.

“Oh,” Clarke clears her throat after finishing a sip of her mimosa. “My mom was there.”

“Clarke asked for my discretion,” Abby responds calmly. “Of course I deferred to hers and Lexa’s wishes.”

“I can’t believe,” Raven says to Abby in dismay, shaking her head like an unforgiving betrayal, “after all these years, you’re still playing favorites with Clarke by keeping secrets from your other children.”

At this, Abby laughs and the atmosphere around the table decompresses. Lincoln extends his glass across the table towards Lexa.

“Cheers, buddy. Welcome to the club.”

“Thanks.” Lexa smiles, clinking their glasses together. Clarke’s hand is still in hers, and Lexa’s palm suddenly perspires.

“Yeah, took you two long enough.” Octavia’s grin is smaller, more resigned, but she too extends her glass to join Lexa’s and Lincoln’s.

“Can you estimate just how long you plan to sulk about this?” Clarke is saying to Raven as everyone else tucks into their food.

Raven clicks her tongue, though she is smiling as she says, “Ten, fifteen years tops.”

Anya has had her arm draped carelessly along the back of Raven’s chair since they sat down, and now briefly runs her fingers across Raven’s shoulder cap. “Relax, I got some pretty nice photos of the courthouse I can show you.”

Raven nearly flinches in surprise. “You were—ugh, of course you were there.” She huffs in defeat, rolling her eyes and reaching for her half-empty glass of champagne and orange juice (heavy on the champagne). “Okay, somebody needs to get me a refill because I need all the details and this mimosa is going to go down quickly.”

“It was simple and more-or-less unplanned,” Clarke explains with an easy sigh. “We drove down last weekend to visit Gus. My mom was already there on business, and … it just felt right.”

Lexa picks up the thread where Clarke leaves off. “We chose the courthouse where Gus signed the papers to make my adoption official.” She looks at Clarke, heart flapping wildly. “It was nice.”

Something softens in Raven’s features at Lexa’s words, and she exhales as Anya is refilling her glass. “Okay, that is some cute shit.”

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” Clarke frets.

“Of course I’m not mad at you, dumbass. You surprised the ever-loving hell out of me, but—I mean, jesus, you two have been grossing us out as a married couple for years.”

Clarke blows a kiss at her from across the table. “Next time I get married on a whim, I’ll text you.”

The humor drops from Raven’s face as she places a hand flat against the table. “I swear on my love of science, Clarke, if you ever soil this marriage with Esquire, I will seriously consider blocking your number indefinitely.”

Lexa grins, oddly comforted by Raven’s threatening tone. “Thanks, Reyes.”

“I’m obviously kidding!” Clarke leans over to kiss the line of Lexa’s jaw as if to underscore her joke.

“Okay, so let’s hear it. Tell me more,” Raven demands.

Lexa smiles, remembering the day. “Gus took us out for ramen afterwards.”

“Then I took them out for shots,” Anya says.

“It really was quite lovely,” Abby chimes in, understandably eager to finally have the freedom to speak of their nuptials. “The courthouse, I mean. And dinner. I’d rather not know about all the drinking that followed.”

“Aw come on, Mama Griffin. You know you’ve got some good kids,” Octavia says.

Abby agrees without hesitation. “The very best.”

Lexa feels her chest bloom with warmth to be included in the sentiment, and luckier still to have acquired such a profoundly superior family.

:::

Clarke, her mother, and their other guests have moved into the sitting room while Lexa tidies the kitchen. Still within earshot, she listens for the bright notes of Clarke’s laughter and curbs her own smile at the sound. Anya hands her items off the dining table while Lexa wraps the leftovers and loads the dishwasher. The routine between them is practiced and familiar, running through motions they have done together since childhood.  

“Keeping this little secret of yours is going to have me in the dog house. No offense, Frank.” Anya looks to the dog that has fallen asleep near their feet where she and Lexa are leaned against the island.

The kitchen now more-or-less spotless, Lexa pushes off the countertop and reaches into the fridge for two beers, popping their lids before offering one to her sister.

“My condolences,” she answers with a grin. “When do you go back?”

“Few days.”

Lexa sips her beer. “Plenty of time to reconcile then. Anyway, she doesn’t seem upset anymore.”

“At you and Clarke, no. At me?” Anya runs a hand through her hair with a long-suffering exhale that brings a smile to Lexa’s face.

She is easily amused by seeing Anya—so stoic, so stable, so disaffected by almost everything else in her life—navigate the delicate nuances of a sustained relationship. Particularly with Raven Reyes.

“What?” Anya scowls as she notices Lexa’s amusement.

Lexa shrugs, finishing another sip of beer. “Nothing. You’re just very domesticated these days.”

“Says the married one.”

Lexa’s stomach jumps as she thinks of Clarke sitting in the next room. “It’s not so bad. You should try it.”

“It’s been seven days, kid. Talk to me in seven years.”

“I will.”

Anya’s narrowed gaze moves from Lexa’s smug confidence to the floor. “Your dog is sleeping beside a Yankees emblem.”

Without turning around, Lexa knows she will find Frank curled around the offensive dog toy—a plush baseball with navy stitching, emblazoned with the infamous logo—that arrived to their house the day after the cursed New York baseball team made the playoffs. Her shoulders tense even as she rolls her eyes.

“It’s a situation that is being handled.”

“It looks like he’s fairly attached to it,” Anya prods.

“The dog’s sight is impaired, Anya. He cannot be held accountable for poor judgement.”

Frank, having lost an eye to irreparable damage before he was rescued, had immediately stolen Lexa’s heart. One look at him at the adoption event earlier that summer, and she knew he belonged with her and Clarke. They have been fairly inseparable ever since.

Anya very nearly smiles. “If you say so.”

“You’re involved in a serious, long-distance relationship with a devout supporter of the Yankees—is this really the fight you want to be having right now?”

A barely audible laugh—just loud enough for Lexa to hear it—and Anya concedes with a bowed head. “Clarke won’t let you throw it away, huh?”

Lexa takes another sip of beer then exhales in frustration, her eyes finally dragging over to Frank and that damn baseball. “No.”

:::

Brunch turns into beers and board games and more coffee, Abby excusing herself after a few hours to rest before her flight the following morning. She leaves them all with lingering hugs, motherly reminders to stay safe, and reiterated congratulations to Clarke and Lexa. By late afternoon, after another round of coffee for their guests, the house is finally empty and quiet, and Clarke collapses onto the sofa with a soft grunt of exhaustion.

Lexa sits at the opposite end, near her feet, and pulls Clarke’s legs into her lap. She begins to mindlessly rub her thumbs into Clarke’s calves as her head tips back and her eyes fall closed. They are peaceful for several minutes before Clarke’s voice scratches out softly.

“That went well.”

Lexa hums. “Raven’s outburst notwithstanding?”

“She was being really dramatic.”

“Have you met Raven before today?”

Clarke laughs, poking her foot into Lexa’s stomach. “Hush.”

At the sound of her laughter, Lexa’s head rolls to the side. She opens her eyes to find Clarke already looking at her with drowsy eyes. “You’re about to fall asleep.”

Clarke hums as Lexa’s hands continue to work against the tense muscles of her legs and feet.

“Is this impending nap just a precursor to you ravaging me later?”

“Mmm. Yes.” As Clarke smiles, her eyes fall closed again. “Need to restore energy.”

“Okay, I’m going to go read for a bit.”

Clarke pouts as Lexa shifts from under her legs and stands beside the couch to stretch her limbs.

“No. Stay and cuddle.”

Lexa bends to kiss Clarke’s protruding lip. “I’ll cuddle you later when we have less clothes on.”

“I feel objectified.” Still with her eyes closed, Clarke finds the crook of Lexa’s elbow, keeping her close with a loose grip.

“You’re welcome,” Lexa smiles, and kisses her again.

:::

It’s just under an hour later, the sky streaking in hues of burnt orange and fading pink, when Lexa glances up from her book to see Clarke shuffling towards her. She is still wrapped in a blanket that she must have grabbed from the sofa during her nap. Lexa smiles at her sleepy frown and places her book on the wide arm of the deck chair just before Clarke crawls onto her lap.

“Hi.”

“Aren’t you cold out here?”

“Much warmer now,” Lexa says, hugging Clarke closer as they shift against the wooden chair to find an optimal snuggling position. “How was the nap?”

“Mmm,” Clarke hums. “Productive.”

Her voice is that fraction of an octave lower, that sensational rasp that sends a tingling chill across Lexa’s shoulders.

“Productive?”

“Yeah, I had a nice dream about my wife.”

Lexa can’t help the small giggle that erupts as the tips of her ears go red. It will take some getting used to—having a wife, being someone’s wife—referring to Clarke as such and hearing the same in return. Thinking of herself in this way still feels a bit like walking around in shoes that are too big for her feet. A week on, and being Clarke’s wife has not yet lost its clumsy weight.

A nervous energy, not unlike the jittery uncertainties that new relationships breed, has been Lexa’s stasis for a solid week. She likens this new adjustment to the flurry of unrestrained feelings she experienced during those early weeks with Clarke. When she first reached for Lexa’s hand in public without warning, or the effort it took to calm her anxious breathing when they undressed each other for the first time. Lexa’s nerves are similarly frayed now, replaying this new epithet in her mind over and over.

My wife. 

She focuses instead on Clarke’s potentially filthy dream and clears her throat. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

In response, Clarke laughs against her neck and kisses just below her ear. “I bet you would.”

The next kiss, pressed against Lexa’s mouth, is even more languid, growing a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. “So, about that dream.”

“Yeah—can we go inside now?” Clarke laughs against her lips, stealing another kiss as Lexa’s hands slip beneath the wooly throw blanket to find an excessive amount of bare skin. “I’m officially cold.”

“Clarke, you’re not wearing any pants.”

“You know I can’t fall asleep in jeans, babe.”

As she stands with a smile, nearly tipping Clarke out of her lap if not for a sure grip, Lexa thinks of all the other things she knows about the woman clinging to her shoulders.

Not just how she takes her coffee or her favorite movie, but the brand of dish soap she prefers and the way her voice shatters just before she cries. The slow rumble of her snores and the color of her eyes when they darken in a flash of anger.

That she is selfless to a fault, often putting her own wellness at risk for the sake of others. She knows the songs that Clarke refuses to listen to because they are such visceral reminders of Jake. Lexa knows when she needs space and the times she will want comfort, even if she is too scared to ask.

These and so many more—the myriad quirks that arise out of sustained intimacy.

Once indoors, Lexa deposits Clarke onto the bed before falling gracelessly beside her in a tangle of limbs.

“So, the big secret’s out. Everyone that matters knows that we’re married.” Lexa swallows. “How do you feel?”

Clarke rolls over with a sigh, her eyes scanning the ceiling above them. “Better. A lot better, actually.”

“Yeah? No turning back now. You’re officially stuck with me.”

Even as she jokes, her heart hammers a steady beat. The light teasing easily drags Clarke’s gaze back to her, and Lexa tempers her smile enough to accept a lingering press of Clarke’s mouth.

She answers as they slowly break apart, her hands latched at the back of Lexa’s neck. “I think we both know I was stuck with you a long time ago.”

:::

[ikonislife]

Little One.

-Jinhwan x Reader

-Fluff, parent au, mentions of sex

Being the eldest to 6 rowdy boys count as parenting right? Jinhwan questions himself as he stares wide eyes at the piece of black and white paper you had just handed him. His brain had suddenly decided to take a vacation leaving your poor man singing a high pitch wheeze that honestly sounds a lot like a dying cat choking on a hair ball.

"Baby... Husband? Jinhwanie? Mr. Kim?" You had half expected him to faint or scream to the God above but this stone statue vacated of a soul in place of your husband had left you utterly confuse. Shit... you thought. What if, what if your worst fear had finally come true... He didn't want the baby.

"Is this what I think it is? Is it just me or did you just said there's a 4 weeks old wee little peanut baby in your belly." Eyes surveying your face for any sign that this was some elaborated prank you pulled, a stunt to get back at him for pushing you into the pool fully clothed not too long ago at Bobby’s house warming party... But alas, all he could fine was solemn. Jinhwan chuckles dryly, a bit like a mad man talking to the air and his spirit floating about the room rather than directing the questions at you.

"I- yea..." you sigh dejectedly, your nightmare had truly become reality because why else would he be in this state of shock, of disbelief when you had been “practicing” making baby for as long as, no even way before he had called you girlfriend. How would you do it without jinhwan, does all this mean a divorce is imminent? Eyes no longer on him, you stare at your lap, finger fidgeting out of sorrow and anxiety. What would you do without him. for so long it’s just you and him against the world... Could you really handle this world alone, single with a baby in your arms? You let yourself sink further into the couch, doing your all to hold back the tear threatening to spill.

"Aww, baby girl. Was this what had been stressing you out do much? Come here, sweetheart." Jinhwan's arms already around your shivering body even before the sentence was over, hot kisses pressing delicately on your features and it seemed his soul had finally pulled itself together judging by that bright smile on his lips. "You've been picking at your nail again, haven't you?" His hands prying your clasped ones apart, finger smoothing over the redden and frayed skin around your chipped colored nails before a soothing kiss chases the discomfort away.

"Yea... are you angry? I'm sorry." Face digging deep in the crook of his neck, your heart revels in the soft passing of his gentle hand on your back and the tight hold he has around your waist. 

"Why would I be angry?" Befuddlement evident across his handsome features, eyes squinting in hope of deciphering your strange question. Why would he be angry, you had just told him the best news ever yet your expression so pained then revelation hits him like a freight train.   "Wait the minute... Oh my Lord, did you think I don't want our little peanut? No, baby. Don't think that." He near shriek when your words and action finally registered in his euphoric brain. “Why would you think of something so awful. You and the little one are so important to me, how could I not want either of you.” His words brought out the tears you had been trying so hard to suppress. You let all the pent up emotion go, sobbing into his chest. Jinhwan shushes your whimper with words of love and reassurance, “I will never, ever leave you or our baby. My wife is so silly.”

“I- you just frozed when I handed you the ultrasound. You went JPEG on me! I thought you didn’t want the baby or me anymore... It’s not like we’ve ever really talked about babies, I just thought it’s not time yet...” You huff out the sentence, ending it with a wail of relief but it sounded more like a dying whale if Jinhwan has to be truthful. Nevertheless, it made him smile seeing you all pouty and clingy.

“Never! I froze because I couldn’t process what you were telling me. I literally felt like I had an out of body experience. My ghost was dancing around watching me sit here like a dumb ass staring at you.” He pulls you even closer to his chest, fingers threading through your hair doing his best to calm you down with the rocking of his body. “I love you, wifey. I think you just gave me the best present in the world, I don’t know how I’m gonna ever top that. You win best spouse in this relationship.” No words could express how over the moon your man is feeling, he’s a father, a freaking father to a real baby for god’s sake. “When did you find out?” He questions, the picture of your tiny baby clutching tight in his hand as he stares in a happy stupor.

“I was late so I took a test a week ago, but I didn’t want to say anything till I was 100% certain. It was so hard hiding it with you constantly checking up on why I was so upset. I’m so sorry, now I wish I had told you sooner.” Pressing a soft kiss onto his neck, your brain could finally revel in the happy news - you’re expecting a child, with the best husband in the world, how freaking awesome is that! A dumbstruck smile on your lips as you snuggle closer to your husband, whom you dare say even more intoxicated in this joyous occasion than you are. Certainly there’ll be trial and tribulation to come in his future but for now, he’ll settle for that light buzz he got from being so blessed, from having you and your baby in his arms. 

Tour had always been grueling but perhaps it had always been a bit easier when Jinhwan didn’t have anyone at home waiting for him. It used to be a blur of stumbling in and out of the dorm to pack, a quiet ride to the airport then just random shenanigans with his brothers while waiting for the flight. Sure he got to travel places, and eat foods the next ordinary Joe might not get the chance to but the long hour of practice and insane cycle of rehearsal than stage enervated whatever energy Jinhwan got to properly enjoy the rare day off he get to wander the city. Then before he knew it, it was back to the plane for another long haul home - jet lagged and exhausted.

Then like a little miracle, you crashed into his life like a little ray of sunshine he didn’t know he needed, lightening up his days just a bit more with your silliness, laughter, and the adorable little comments about everything and anything. His heart ache to part way with you even if it’s just temporarily yet the trip itself so much more tolerable knowing in the privacy of his hotel room, he had someone to vent to and laugh with about how his day had been. Late nights when he’s worn to the bones were no longer dull because he could always count on you being a video call away, waiting to lift his mood. No longer were he sleeping endlessly in his hotel room nor eat just for the sake of eating. He began to enjoy the little things in life, getting an ice cream down the street or just a walk with the other boys. Jinhwan found himself bookmarking restaurants and jotting down names of attractions, letting his imagination ran wild as he think of the gleams of excitement in your eyes when he can finally bring you to the places he loves most. Best of all, he finally had someone to share his interests and disinterest without having to worry about being embarrass. At the end of it all, he knew once he returns home, it wouldn’t be to an empty bed and the same faces he had seen all tour long. He loves his band brothers but once in awhile, Jinhwan just needed a change and you were exactly that for him. The way you danced in elation when he finally returned home after the first time paring way for a 3 weeks tour was unlike any experience he had before. You had cried for nearly 10 minutes out of missing him and finally getting to hold him again, he couldn’t say he was any better clinging onto you for the rest of that week.

With the little Peanut growing bigger everyday, Jinhwan finds it hard to even leave the house to practice or record let alone going on a long tour. It was harder and harder for him to leave you and the bump at home, even with Hanbin nagging his ears off every day to go do his job, anything at all other than adoring his baby and wife. The second work was done, he’d bolt straight home, never mind the dinner or the occasional night out drinking with the team, all Jinhwan wants was to be home singing to the Peanut and holding you close before all three of you falling asleep. 

“Honey, you gotta get going... Hanbin is going to nag my ears off again if you’re late. Kim Jinhwan! I know you heard me.” You scream from the kitchen, throat sore from the half hour long wake up call he had you do on this morning, feigning ignorant and refusing to budge an inch.

“WHAT?! that little brat called you? He nagged at you? Uh uh, he’s gonna get it today.” Poor Hanbin, by the way your dear husband putting so much emphasis on the way he enunciated “nagged”, someone is about to get a spanking or at the very least pester till he cry of frustration. 

“Seriously, of all the things I said, that’s all you caught? You’re late, Mr. Kim. Get, before Peanut and I kick you out of the house.” Trudging over with his duffle bag in hands, you almost faint from the ear piercing scream Jinhwan let out accompanies by the shock spreading over his face. 

“Mrs. Kim, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Drop that. DROP IT!!” Jinhwan rushes over, bag yanked away from your hand before carelessly landing across the room. Jinhwan bending over, pressing light kisses on your tiny bump before pressing his whole face onto it. With arms tightening around your waist, he peers back at your cold expression completely done with his antics, sharp eyes glaring up only got sharper when he saw the absolutely nonchalant expression on your face.

“Your mama never listen to me, Peanut. Do you see what I have to put up with? Shaking my head, I told her heavy lifting isn’t good for you but she did it anyways.” Goodness, the sass in your smol man. Kneeling on the floor, Jinhwan coos at the baby that was no longer peanut sized but nevertheless the endearing nickname remained. 

“You did not just say ‘shaking my head’ out loud. Seriously, baby, the bag wasn’t even that heavy. you have like 3 shirts in there. You worry too much.” Pulling him off the floor and into your arms, you exchange a sweet chaste kiss spending the last few minutes before parting way just gazing at each other. How lucky are you to be with someone so wonderful, swaying to the music only you two seem to be able to hear... well, make that three.

The world forgotten, Jinhwan lets himself get lost in your smile and the way your eyes sparkle so brightly with love even if you keep insisting that somehow you’ve turned into a rag doll after a hurricane. Finger tracing out the line of your face delicately, he thought of those single days when this seemed so impossible, to have a loving family. Then he thought of those days where shy kisses being peppered on the first few dates and feeling the force of thousands butterflies raging in his stomach. Sure your relationship with him had started out ass backward after foolishly sleeping with each other, result of a fun night with a few too many drinks. Boundaries were gone even before they were established yet after all the difficulties for you both to acknowledge you had feelings for each other, it just felt like innocent first love and first kiss all over again.

After all this times, after all the late night of cradling your worn out body in his arms while you cried on the bathroom floor from the sheer aching of morning sickness, even after all the random outburst of fury from not having enough nutella and cheetos in the house resulting in a grumpy Jinhwan braving the cold 3AM street, you still is the best woman in the world in his eyes. He hates so much when you’d whine that you’re no longer as pretty or couldn’t compete against the other wives in his friend group because Jinhwan honestly couldn’t see how. You’ve only gotten more stunning, ravishingly, astronomically prettier since Peanut decided to grace you both with his or her present.

“I love you so much, you know that baby? I only want the best for you and the little one.” Jinhwan could feel the tear threatening to spill now, it was once again like the first time leaving on tour after claiming each other hearts all those years ago. He just didn’t want to leave, simply couldn’t.

“I know. We’ll be okay, I promise.” Your hand unknowingly travels to smooth over the tiny one, a reassuring smile on your lips chasing his own to wash away the worries on his face. 

He might seems cheeky and low key sassier than Junhoe but he’s the best man you’ve ever met. The past few months hadn’t been easy and you weren’t the best version of yourself with the constant hormonal mood swing but he took it all with grace and not a peep of complaint. 

“I just wish the appointment wasn’t when I’m oversea. I hate the thought of you being alone... I’m so sorry, honey. I-I just, I just want to be here. I feel like I’m not doing my job.” 

“But I’m not alone. I have you and I have Peanut. It’s just one appointment, baby. there’re plenty more, I’m sure of that.” Your suspicion was on the dot, Jinhwan had been lagging on packing and far more brooding over the tour because he somehow thought he’s not being a good dad by leaving you and your baby. Lips locking once more, your heart ache now that you had a glimpse of his concerned heart. You want so badly to tag along but it’d just be a distraction, and you have your own life to worry about. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll call you as soon as they get the goop off of Peanut. Plus, our moms will be there. Yeah?”

“Yea...” He replies half heartedly, sadness lingering still.

“Smile for me. Come on, let me see that fairy smile.” He forces a smile but as seconds tick by, it turns into a small genuine giggle when you poke and prod at his side. “There we go.” Your fun cut short by the nagging ringtone you had assigned to Hanbin’s number. “That should be the van. I’ll see you in a week, okay love?” Jinhwan nods before letting a lingering kiss sends him off, but not before a few soft ones on your belly.

It wasn’t until Jinhwan had sent you one last goodbye text before boarding that you let your emotion run wild - crying because you miss him, then getting angry at yourself for being so dependent. The moment he found out you were expecting, you need not lift a finger. Honestly, you were sure the queen isn’t getting treatment this good, and you doubt any servant would be as doting and adoring  the way your husband is. With him gone, every little task just seemed so impossible until you just gave up and nap. Night time is even worse without his sweet singing lulling you and baby to sleep, nor was his warmth there to keep you toasty and comfortable all night long. 

With much struggle, the big day had finally arrived, the day that had Jinhwan at the edge of his seat all month long. You awaken to 20 messages from your husband and the boys alike, ranging from just incoherent keyboard smash to hyperventilating in text form. 

With Jinhwan being the first to get married in the group, no one is more excited for a new member of the iKon family than the rest of the boys, each showing their affection in their own way, their very own extra way if you might add. Donghyuk had claimed the spot of best uncle, declaring his love for Peanut with endless gifts, even tagging along to parenting class whenever Jinhwan couldn’t. Vying for the same title, Yunhyeong had done all the research he could, perhaps even more prepared than either you nor Jinhwan is at this whole parenting thing. At one point, the old YunDong ship had literally fought each other till near sinking because they both claimed to be the best. Little did they know, uncle Chanwoo had solidified his standing with pampering you with as much food as he could, even going as far as studying up on what food will be good for the baby, always on the look out for easier way for you to be healthy without giving up too much freedom. As expected of your food buddy after all, only he’d be worry about you having alternative to give up your favorite food in avoidance of gestational diabetes. He might be a child but for sure he’ll one day be one of  the best father there ever existed one day. Hanbin had taken on the role of mother hen, nagging you to sleep, nagging you to eat, then nags you the whole way to your doctor appointment. You’re no longer allowed to be near a microwave, nor trekking across the parking lot alone without one of the boys accompanying. Strange enough, Junhoe whom usually has no part of Hanbin’s antic had also turned into a overly paranoid freak over every little thing, playing into Hanbin’s safeguard persona. Every whimper, every second your face contorted in the sheer aching of accommodating two lives in one body, He’d be right there asking all the right question and offering all the solution he could. Bobby although not taking the route of diving into books and parenting class, he was all hands on deck the moment you had announced a makeover for your house. Everything from the cot to the paint on the wall, Bobby did it himself not trusting an outsider to be handling the essentials that will nurse iKon’s “precious cargo” as he fondly refer to Peanut with that cheeky bunny smile of his.

Pushing the delightfulness of your wonderful brothers in law to the side, worrisome plaguing your mind as your car racing down the familiar streets. You didn’t hate going to the hospital without Jinhwan, you know just how hard he works for a better future for your little growing family so your heart long accepted there will be times where he won’t be there to hold your hands. Yet there’s still a lingering sadness as you walk by the waiting room, watching as women of all ages snuggling close to their significant others, their little bump happily resting in between their bodies. 

“He’ll be home soon, Y/n. Don’t worry!” Your mom speaks up never once look up from filling out the many forms prepping for your future delivery, no doubt reading your worries without even needing to face you. All the while your mother in law had already got an embrace around your shoulders, pulling you close with a reassuring smile. This must be what they called mother intuition, they always seem to know what’s wrong and what’s going on long before you feel the need to voice your concerns.

“I know, mom. Just, he really wanted to be here...” Sadden smiles shared among the two women you have so much respect for, they watch with bated breath as the familiar black and white picture playing on the small screen.

Half an hour comes and goes in a flash as the doctor wiping away the goo smeared over on your belly, eagerness and joy bubbling near the surface you couldn’t stop smiling and neither could your moms. 

“Mom.” You call out but they were already both waving you off, shoving your phone back into your hands, knowing smiles on their lips.

“Don’t worry, we’ll finish up here.”

Not a second to waste, you hastily, as hastily as a 4 months pregnant woman wadding like a duck swallowed a planet would allowed, rush toward the exit, elation no longer contain as you squeal in happiness. One ring then two, you’ve never feel so impatient before waiting for Jinhwan to pick up as your feet dance in one spot.

“BABY! YOU FINISHED, HOW’S PEANUT, HOW’RE YOU, WHAT’D THE DOC SAID?” No time for greeting, your husband near screamed your ears off the second your “hello” sounded off in his speaker. Behind his overexcited voice, a  ruckus of overlapping calls for your name and muddled up questions that sounds more of some dead language than anything that’d make sense. A cuss left your husband lips before you could hear the leader’s voice booming out, simmering down the commotion.

“So, baby is fine. She’s super healthy... Just a bit of a brat. Sigh, she’s only four months old but already taking after her dad, being a pain in the butt for mommy. I guess she’ll be daddy’s little girl.” You muses, hinting at the long time coming answer to Jinhwan’s anticipation. You couldn’t contain your satisfaction in being able to share the moment with him (and the boys) even if it’s just over the phone, loving every second you get to say ‘she’, and ‘little girl’. Quite a strange feeling finally being able to put somewhat of an image to Peanut. Thus far your dreams had all been of an faceless, mystery baby that wasn’t really yours. Now you could really let your imagination wander in details and it never felt better. If the pregnancy hadn’t feel real up till now, this was the moment that solidified it all, you’re having a baby girl, your own daughter.

“That’s really good to hear, babe. What about the important news!!!” Clamors of agreement and chants of “boy or girl” erupt in the background.

“I said, She’s only four months old but already giving mommy a headache. Definitely daddy’s little girl.” Lord, what will you do with this man child.

“Aw, is our little baby giving you a lot of pain again? I’m sorry...” He coos out apologetically, completely missing the way you’re dragging out the important words.

“Jinhwan, are you even listening to what I said?”

“Yes, yes I am. She’s giving you a lot of trouble. Daddy’s litt- NO, NOO. Seriously? for real?” Midway through that sarcastic voice he does whenever you scold him for not listening, Jinhwan suddenly caught himself smiling like an idiot, disbelief spreading all over the joyous soon to be dad. For the next minute, loud screams emanating from the speaker, uproar of confusion and Lord knows what else went on before a calm Junhoe finally picks up the phone.

“Hey, noona. So Jinhwan hyung is having a meltdown and everyone else is... excuse me.” A torturous sigh left the young boy’s lips before a muffled “Will you all shut the fuck up!” could be heard over the speaker.  “I don’t know why, he’s not even saying anything but they’re just all screaming together. So what’s the prognosis? What are we having?” He returns to that dead tone, no doubt over everyone else’s shenanigans.

“What are we having? jeez, these boys. It’s a little girl, you’re having a niece!” 

“YAH! WE’RE GETTING A NIECE!!! YA’LL CAN GO BACK TO SCREAMING NOW” By the sound of things, Junhoe had also now lost in the celebration as the ruckus only grows louder from iKon’s noise pollution yelping. Hanging up, you shake your head at just how crazy they get but contentment spreading all over your body much like the comfort of a warm hugs thinking about little Peanut, your little daughter is so lucky to have 7 men in her life that will go through whatever length to protect her. You can’t wait till Jinhwan finally arrive home to you and his baby girl. 

You feel like a whale, no, you feel like a whale corpse washed up on the beach, bloated and ready to blow at any freaking second. Why did you agreed to this, why in the world did you agreed to put on a bathing suit even if it’s in the privacy of your own hotel room. You stare then sway back and forth, turning sideway then turning back, there’s nothing you could do to look less like a puffer fish.

“Wow...” A swim trunk clads Jinhwan casually strides in, jaws on the floor as he shamelessly stare in amazement. His eyes boring holes into your body as they shift from head to toe, lingering just a bit too long on your uncomfortably swollen breasts all the while licking his lips as if you’re something delectable. 

“Don’t you dare start, Kim Jinhwan...” You warn with a finger up, hand pulling a throw over your near naked body.

“What? I can’t admire my beautiful, gorgeously hot wife now?” Ignoring the daggers from your eyes, he inches closer, cold hand trailing gently along your bare belly sending shivers through your body. Pulling you closer to his chest, his lips crashing against yours as if you hadn’t kiss in months. 

“It’s mortifying when you stare at me like that.” Mumbling against his lips, you pull a pout that though he loves, Jinhwan hates the reason behind it. You were never one to care about exposing yourself to him, never shy away from embarrassment when he’d just ogles at you in that sinful black dress you wore for his birthday a year ago, in the cheeky little yellow bikini you wore the first beach date, in the giant pizza stained white t-shirt you stole from him in baggy sweatpants when you first moved in together... He just loves to gape at you, unabashedly, a lot, all the time. Yet ever since little Peanut arrived, he’d walk in to find you pulling a bathrobe over yourself, getting annoyed when he’d barge in the middle of your shower as he always did. 

“Why, huh? Is it really that humiliating for you? Why do you keep covering yourself up around me? Baby, If you ask me to describe in detail your lady part, I could probably do it. So why all of the sudden you wouldn’t let me see you naked.” Parting way from the hug, his expression scowl when he looks down to see your hands rather than embracing back, still holding onto the piece of fabric shielding your body away from him tightly. The red throw rips away leaving your bare skin to bask in the warm sun of paradise, Jinhwan pulls your back against his chest in a soul crushing hug, nudging you closer to the spotless floor to ceiling mirror. It was now your turn to sour as you gaze upon your pudgy body, your vulnerably naked pudgy body. “Look at you, smoking hot as a mom.” He pauses for a second, hissing in enjoyment as a finger trailing the valley of your breasts. A soft kiss tingles its way from your nape to your shoulder, before stopping at your collar bone. “I don’t understand, do you not see me shamelessly staring at you all the freaking time? You turn me on so hard even when you’re in that ugly preggo night gown my grandma gave you. Did you know that, baby?” Much to his dismay, you hum a soft “no”. 

“No? Good gracious, I haven’t been doing my job then. I love you no matter what, baby.” His hands left the hold he had around your now nude breasts, tiny red bikini ripped away moments ago just so he could revel himself in the softness of your curve, basking, near moaning as he gives them light squeezes. Nails delicately scrapping along your side, kisses dotting your skin like stars blooming night sky, Jinhwan whispers praises, luring out a whimper from your lips that tell him he had won this battle. He was in a trance, so enthralls in the way your parted lips gasping softly at his every touch, your hands atop his, guiding the pleasure to places you’d crave to be touch for so long. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Don’t you miss this?”

No word could be form aside from a ragged yes, you could feel yourself shaking in anticipation of what to come. You hadn’t realize how wonderful this was nor how long it had been since you got intimate, after all, being the size of Mars really make sex difficult. Hand smoothing over your stomach, you gasp from the way his erection flushing so pleasurably tight against the curve of your ass, watching with half closed eyes that devilish smirk blooming on his lips.

“Jinhwan!” 

“Yes, baby, I know. Let me take care of you.” Sultry oozing from his tone but right now, you’re not gasping because of the hand he had snaked into our soiled bottom...

“No, no. Babe, stop. Stop for a second.” Your frantic calls tear his heart apart and the worst scenarios rummage through his brain. 

“What’s wrong. Is Peanut okay? Are you okay, baby? Let me call the hospital.” 

“No, I’m fine.” Perplex, he stands there staring at you as if you had just said unicorn is real, you waste no time grabbing his hands in yours, pressing them against your belly. “Feel that?” Still in a confused haze, he cocks his head aside for a second before a smile breaks out on his lips.

“Oh my God, oh my God. Is that... Did she... Holy shit, I’m freaking out.”Hopping in one spot, coitus forgotten, all he could focus on was that strange yet magnificent buzz in his heart feeling your baby move for the very first time. Peanut is the product of you both but thus far, Jinhwan couldn’t help but feel unreasonably jealous being the third wheel to you and your connection with Peanut. He knew there was nothing you could do to let in in but now, he could finally have a moment to himself. 

You had felt tiny bump here and there but always chalked it to your imagination, never once did you tell Jinhwan afraid of how disappointed he’d be not being able to feel anything. Right now, this moment, it solidified yet another big step for you as parents as Peanut rolls and kicks her way into both your hearts. “Hello, little one. It’s dad!” Nothing brings you more joy than watching Jinhwan interaction with Peanut, the way his eyes sparkle with glee as he coos in adoration. “Babe, babe, feel. She kicks more when I talk to her. Hello, baby. It’s daddy. i love you so so much” You chuckle at his reaction, probably too happy to remember the little one is inside your stomach and every kick, every turn you could feel. 

“Move your hand around, she’ll follow.” You suggest, joy breaks out in your heart when he follows and screech in elation when the little rambunctious Peanut’s movements follow. 

“Wait, how did you know that trick? Have you been hiding things from me again. Babbbyyyyy!!!” 

“I’m not, I swear. I’ve never gotten her to move much until today. I didn’t wanna disappoint you that’s all.”

With a fake disapproving scowl, you were completely ignored as your man get back to the important task at hand, getting his little princess go ham with him. Pulling the bathrobe over your naked body, you settle onto the bed and let your husband have his fun. Oh well, at least the little one will have a good sleep after tiring herself out from playing.

“JINHWANNIEEE. Baby!!” 

“Breathe, love, breathe. Like how we practiced.” 

Huffing and puffing over the phone, Jinhwan mentally curses at himself for not taking the management’s offer to sit out of filming for the talkshow when he had the chance. Now riding to the airport listening to your scream of pain, he blames himself for being so careless. Leaving was always hard but this time, something about it bothered him so, perhaps because your range of mobility is that of a 3 months old, perhaps it’s because Peanut arrival date a mere few weeks away. He was antsy, itching to return when he barely boarded even when you had did your absolute best to persuade him everything will be fine until he returns. Well look how it’s all blown up in his face now. He’s so crazy for actually believing his almost 9 months pregnant wife that everything will be fine, everything is not fine! “Love, I’m boarding now. I’ll be back to you and Peanut soon okay? I love you both so much. You’re the toughest woman I know, you’ll be okay. Love you.”

“I love you too. Hurry, babe.” 

Phone thrown aside, your hands rubbing your stomach as if it would sooth the unbearable pain that showing no sign of subsiding, never mind the mess you had made on the living room couch. No class, no advice could possibly have prepare you for the real torturous waves of contraction, to make it so much worse, Jinhwan isn’t here to hold your hand, to tell you that everything is okay. Were you stupid to push him off to work when you knew Peanut could be here any seconds? Who would’ve thought she would come two weeks early with her dad being away of all thing. 

“Little one, come on. Just a little longer, mommy can hold out. Wait for your dad, okay? Be a good girl, wait for your dad.”

You whisper, hoping your baby will understand your desperation as another round on flesh searing pain radiates out. The second you were seated in the wheelchair, fate in the hand of the hospital staffs, you text Jinhwan again even if it can no longer reach the man, you just need for him to know you’re both safe. Somewhere above the city, Jinhwan prays to God to be with you and thankful the trip wasn’t over sea but a mere few cities over. The hour spent on the plane had been the longest hour Jinhwan had ever experienced, the hardest hour even with the long trainee period and two survival shows in his pocket. A throng of texts flooding his phone like a bad omen leaving the man running out of the airport, leaving all his belongings for the other boys to collect. All he could think was you.

“Hi, baby girl.” He whispers over the phone, although not sure why. 

“Jinhwannie... I’m so scare.” That’s why, he thought the second your wavering voice reaches his ear. He has to be calm, now is not the time to panic, not when you’re the one that’s about to shove a human being out.

“It’s okay, love. Listen to my voice, okay? breathe”

At the sweet sound of your husband, your worries and pain almost magically enervate, leaving a serenity to wash over your being. Suddenly the many needles poking at you, the nurse that keep staring at your lady part every few minutes just disappear. Your breath slow when your brain finally registers that soothing velvety voice, he talks about his day, then the dog he had saw, anything really but it calms you. 

“I’m almost there,sweetheart. How’s Peanut, is she being a bad little girl again? Hurting mommy?” 

“No, she’s perfect right now. The doctor said she’s right where she needs to be.” You gasp when another wave of contraction hits, hissing in an effort to hide your panic but as always, your husband knows better.

“Hey, hey, remember. Breathe, come on, do it with me. In and out. I’m at the front, love. I’ll be right there.” 

Phone shoves away, Jinhwan races agains the clock toward the source of his happiness. His heart beats faster with each step he takes but it wasn’t because of exhaustion, but rather the delightful on cloud nine warmth that was spreading over his body. 

“BABY!” he calls out with all the strength he could mustered up but you didn’t believe it at first, refusing to look away from the tiny human that already got both her mom and dad wrapped around her tiny fingers. Jinhwan couldn’t help but shed a tear at the wires attaching to your body, his mind couldn’t even dare to imagine the pain you were in so he did the only thing he could, the best thing he could. Jinhwan pulls your body into his, lips pressing against your slick with cold sweat skin. “It’s alright, baby.”

“Jinhwan! You’re here.” He’s here, he’s really here was all you could think about for a while, snuggling close to his chest. Your emotion run free as tears of happiness and of fear stream from your face leaving you a blubbering mess.

“Hey, shh. Don’t talk, just sit still. This might hurt okay? But it’ll help the pain.” You follow his sight to see a giant needle heading right for your back, jerking away out of instinct. Jinhwan lets you cling on him, squeezing his hands to a point of pain but he only responds with a smile. The small sobs from your lips rip his heart and soul apart but soon, it’ll be all over so for now, he’ll be strong for you.

The next few hours was a blur of the strange quietness of the drug blocking your pain away, Jinhwan watching over as you finally got a chance sleep then the ruckus of nurses and the iKon boys running in and out of the small hospital room. Yet even with all the confusion, all the insane things that was going on during birthing, he could  remember a few things very very clearly - the way your head leaning into his chest for support and that tired but content smile, how he wishes to take this weight off your shoulder watching your feature contort then twist as you use all your strength to push, when your body drop onto the stained bed knowing it was finally all over half crying half laughing, then the most beautiful sound he had ever heard when his baby cry out. 

He’s a dad.

Jinhwan thought little Peanut was the most perfect thing in the world even when she’s still covered in blood and guts. The cute little nose and the way her tiny fingers grasping so tightly around his unlike anything in this world. He hugs her close, settling next to your worn out form, smile never left his face even though his cheeks hurt.

“Look, mama. I’m here” He coos softly, being the pillar and support you need before handing the little bundle over into your arms. “She’s so beautiful, so beyond perfect just like your mommy.” His finger reaches out caressing her fluffy little cheek as Peanut gazes up with her cute doe eyes, a little smile at her lips when her dad voice enveloping her in love. “She has your eyes, baby. Look! even her smile, she got mommy’s smile. Lucky her!” 

“She has daddy’s nose, lips, and beauty mark though.”

Too spent to say much, you lean back and watch the way Jinhwan worship and adore his daughter before with a sadden pout, he hands her back for a bath as the doctor tends to your raw bleeding lower half but not before he presses another delicate kiss on her forehead with a quick “I love you” that had even the nurses melting. You couldn’t feel pain, not because of drug but because of Jinhwan and your daughter. Not once did he leaves your side, checking back every few seconds as you both being wheel into the private of your room. 

A gentle smile creeps onto your lips when familiar faces gathered in front of your room as you passed the threshold, with a wave, you let sleep lulls you into its embrace. Drowsy, worn, you whisper for Jinhwan to introduce the little one as the boys gather around the tiny couch before finally closing your eyes. As you drifting away with the sandman, you could make out a proud father cradling his baby to his chest as he smugly announces her arrival before darkness takes over.

“Uncles, meet little Peanut!”

[matabangpusooo]

have you ever experienced this?

Cold droplets of sweat sliding down your forehead as you pave your way into an open space filled with people.

“Do I look fine? Is my hair into its place? Do I look nervous? what if I forget what I have to say?”

Someone having a stage freight might have thought of these again and again but believe me, it is more than that. Confidence is believing in yourself. If you don’t, then you get to experience this once in a while just like me.  Absence of confidence is not the cause of fear, anxiety and overthinking. On the contrary, these things beget inconfidence.

I am afraid. What are you afraid of? To commit mistakes? Every opportunity is a chance of proving yourself that you can and that you are capable. Mistake as well, is an opportunity, opportunity to pick yourself up and be better. And if you miss that, you’ll end up as a shadow of fear for the rest of your life. Remember that it was you who made up this fear and you alone who can beat it. So, what are you waiting for?

I am anxious. Anxiety consumes us more often than fear, as if we are its daily dose. We worry too much about the future that we forget to live in the present. We tend to immerse ourselves into something that is not yet happening and something that will not even happen. Bear in mind that we can only act today. If that is the case, what is the point of worrying too much about tomorrow?

I overthink. “Too much of anything is bad” as they say. Overthinking is not finding solutions to your problems, it is the other way around. The more we think, the less we become equiped to fix things. Knowing the  'what ifs’ will only make you more undecisive, thus making things more complicated. Thinking is supposed to make us, not break us. What do you think?

Worrying less about failure and to fear no mistake sustains confidence. It means taking risks and leaving your comfort zone. Idenitify your weaknesses and turn them into strengths through experiences. From now on, own success and tell this to yourself  – “I will, because I can.”