#god this 8-4 five days a week for another nearly three months......

[ripclaudia]

why do bad things (work in 11 hours) happen to good people (me)

[whitehotharlots]

A true story about rehab from 2007

Names and places changed, dates slightly fuzzy, yada yada

This all starts with Chris.  Chris might be a good example of how things are objectively broken.

Two summers ago, Chris and his girlfriend moved from everyone's old hometown, Alton, to everyone's current home, Garden City.  I had known Chris briefly when I still lived in Alton, which was up until about 8 years ago.  In high school he was friends with my sister, a year behind her, I think, only he had some legal trouble and didn't graduate until two years after her.  The first arrest came during his junior year, when police found some marijuana in his car while he was in class.  "Apparently Alton is a utopia," he said years later.  "No robberies need solving, no cars need ticketing, no fences need mending, fuckit nobody's house must've been dirty because if there was anything else even remotely worthwhile that those cocksuckers could have been doing they wouldn't have taken a drug dog through the high school parking lot."  

The ironic part was that he was, honest-to-god, holding it for a friend.  Hadn't touched the stuff until then, hadn't even drank more than a beer or two.  Cops came in and pulled him out of class.  Cuffed him right there in class, in front of everybody.   From what I've been able to piece together that marked a very strong loss of innocence for young Chris.  No rules were worth following, after all, if The Bastards could punish you for nothing.  This was greatly exacerbated by the fact that, according to several of the best lawyers Alton had to offer, the search of Chris' car was unconstitutional as it was not actually parked in the school parking lot, or even on school grounds, at the time of the search.  The juvenile court judge would hear none of it though—all the police had done was break Chris' constitutional right to privacy.  He had committed the much greater crime of having an eighth ounce of marijuana in his glove compartment. 

His claim of having his rights violated incensed the judge, who sentenced our poor Chris to 72 hours in county jail and 12 weeks of rehab.  Were it not for his successful, stable family, he would have been sent to juvie. 

It was his first offense.  He was 16. 

Jail, he said, wasn't that bad.  He got to do it over a weekend. The guard was an old lady and even though she was kind of a bitch she let him bring in his homework.  She said she was surprised to see someone his age in here, with the adults, but whatever he had done it must have been pretty bad or else he wouldn't be here, would he?  They kept him away from the drunks at night and the only other people who came into the "pen" (his word, not mine) were guys who got bailed out within a couple of hours and were too pissed off about their own bad luck to give him any shit for his. 

What really fucked with him was rehab.  It didn’t matter that he'd never smoked a single joint (or even a cigarette) at this time:  he was an addict and by gum he had to admit to being an addict before the obese, shit-smelling overseer would sign the form saying that Chris had attended his sessions.  Every weekend for three months he was legally forced to lie.  Yes, he said, he was an addict.  Yes, even though it made no sense in any grammatical or even symbolic context, he was forced to say "my name is Chris and I'm a narcotic."  His personal habits were picked apart—why was his hair so long (it wasn't that long, really)? Why did he wear the same pants on Sunday that he wore on Saturday?  Who were these "Dead Milkmen" that his T-shirt spoke of?  Ohh… and surely this is a good-tempered, Christian punk band, right?  No?  Well you see right there that's a part of the problem.  Have your mother sign a note saying you've thrown out all of their CDs and any other enabling you might own.  No—you can't sell them, you must throw them out. 

"We had to go in a day and a half every weekend.  All day Saturday and then Sunday from noon until 4.  It took me five weeks, when I was starting to get comfortable, before I asked if I could come in Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday.  It worked out better for me that way, since the place where I worked wasn't open Sundays.  The fat guy just opened his mouth and would not close it.  'When would you go to church?'  he said. By then I knew enough to laugh and say 'oh yeah what was I thinking.'"

A few of the people had actual problems.  One guy got caught with meth, was beating the shit out of his wife and his two little girls, and seemed genuinely remorseful.  Another guy had to drink a sixer every morning or else he'd get the shakes so bad he wouldn't be able to drive to work.  But most of the people there were more or less normal and had either fucked up once or else been fucked over once—got into a bar fight while legally drunk, blew .02 over the legal limit at a roadblock, smoked pot once every few weeks and got narced on by a snitch, that kind of stuff. These people were split over how much they believed the bullshit they were being fed.  Those who believed, as the official literature did, that being hungover once in your lifetime or ever drinking more than 4 beers in a sitting two or more times in a month are both signs of hardcore alcoholism, they became repentant and preachy. 

One such lady was a thin, tan, well-dressed soccer mom who would snitch on the others when they didn't pay close enough attention to the instructional videos or else would appear in any way to not be taking things seriously enough.  If you were bad you got demerits, credit card-sized pieces of construction paper upon which frowny faces and intimidating biblical verses were printed. The overseer would also scribble something down in his notebook, which must have had some kind of official weight because it was on his person at all times.

Most people have an innate desire, however illogical it might often be, to please authority figures, and so Chris and the rest of the doubtful "addicts" thought the embarrassment of getting their reprimand literally handed to them was punishment enough for resting their eyes or letting a stray giggle break loose when the acting in an informational film was especially bad. Chris made only one such mistake.  During a lecture, the overseer kept making the point that it wasn't the drugs that people get addicted to—oh no, it's the high that keeps you coming back.  Chris smiled—remember at this point he still probably hadn't ever been high, not in his whole life—because it seemed like such a stupid, nonsensical thing to say, because even though he was only 16 he could appreciate moments like this, when the moronic essence of a big, scary process could concentrate itself into a single sentence. 

"It's not the drugs:  it's the high," the man said.  He was very clean shaven, dressed like a detective in a 70s cop show, his hair was combed so straight it was like wire, his glasses were round and cruel looking and he had this, this look on his face, this air about him like he thought he was a genius.  He nodded a little bit after the repetition of his idiotic point. Proud—he was actually proud of the things he was saying, proud of his position, proud of getting to fill the heads of desperate or else unfortunate people with nonsense.  And this made Chris smile—not laugh, just smile, and the soccer mom pulled on his ear really hard, so hard it made his eyes water, and then she raised her hand to snitch on him.  The proud overseer was still proud, looked like a king in an old movie, and with the most serious air Chris had ever seen, the fat man called him up before the entire room.  His eyes were still watery from the shock of having his ear nearly yanked up and so he looked down, towards the ground, so people wouldn't think he was crying.

"You ashamed of something," the fat overseer asked.  Chris didn't say anything. "Look up," said the overseer.  Chris kept looking down.  His chest moved in and out heavily and his fists were clenched, and he wasn't sure but he may have been crying normal tears by this point, but they were out of rage, not sadness.  Or—no…really what's the difference between those two, and it's impossible that the immense hopelessness of his situation and the utter retardation of his surroundings hadn't saddened somewhat.  If it were just rage making him cry then he would have also lashed out, punched the overseer or at least called him a name. No. No, the hopelessness must have stung enough to make him sad.  But his tears were out of rage primarily, and out of nothing even close to shame.

"Look up.  Now."

He did.  His jaw was clenched and his eyes were tightened into red little slits but he looked more defeated than mean, more helpless than threatening.

"I want you all to look at this face.  Soak it up.  Take it all in.  Done?  Give you another second.  Okay, now you're done.  This, people, is what failure looks like.  Some of you will see it again, right here.  This is what it looks like when you don't take yourself seriously, when you don't care enough about yourself to appreciate the chances that are being given to you."

He extended a demerit card towards the Chris’ face.  It was accepted without a whimper.

Weeks later, it came time for Chris and the gang to "graduate" from their classes.  By this point, Chris had gotten drunk several times (even puked, once) and tried to smoke pot a few times but it hadn't done anything to him.  Maybe he was just too drunk to feel it or he wasn't inhaling right, who knows.  Anyhow he figured a few bong hits wouldn't hurt before he had to show up to the ceremony, right, since he hadn't felt anything yet.  And, man, it was a blast because he was high as a fucking kite at the graduation, must have shoved 20 inches worth of the party sub into his mouth and downed at least 7 flutes of sparkling grape juice.  

His mother and stepfather—both stinking rich, by the way, disheartened by the lad's sudden fall from grace and more than a little pleased to see him making such a fast and exemplary recovery with the aid of such a caring and competent program—were dressed to the nines.  His mom was making time with the addicts.  This was her wont, the irresistible, flirty friendliness that drove her from the dregs of society (Chris' biological father) all the way to where she was today. While this was going on, Stepfather gracefully let loose to the riffraff around him all those little signs that showed that he was a kind man, but of great consequence.  He'd talk about sports while stretching him arm just so, just far enough to let his fancy watch fall into view.  He'd offer to lift heavy objects as an excuse to show off his bed-made tan, his gym-toned arms and back.  All of your jokes made him smile, but only just long enough for you to get a glimpse of his perfectly straight, snow white teeth. Both of them kept making their way over to Chris, who had stationed himself near the concessions table, to whisper into his ear how proud they were of him for pulling himself around and hint bluntly at him still receiving for his birthday a new car.  All the while, through this bleary, more-or-less with it haze, feeling content and calm with his surroundings and his high, Chris kept thinking about how much he had it made.  Everyone was a sucker, it seemed, but him.  Really, wow.  Everyone is stupid but me.

The soccer mom cut quickly around the room, stopping alongside each cluster of people and telling them that something important was about to happen,  it was time for everyone to walk into the little classroom where they normally met.  "You're not gonna want to miss this" she said, looking right into Chris with a mean little smile on her face that she knew would scare him.  Oh god, Chris though, she knew that he was high.  What was she in here for—ooh shit man, you've heard her talk about it 100 times.  Vicodin, right.  Vicodin and wine, passing out while one of her kids started a fire.  That's right.  Calm down. She wouldn't have known what someone looked like when he was high on pot.  Mom and Stepfather couldn't even tell and they saw Chris every day.  Calm down.

Chris shoved a few more bites of party sub into his mouth.  His mom laughed and said "getting better must make you work up an appetite, huh?"  Stepfather laughed.  Chris couldn't say anything, not even by the time they had walked all the way into the classroom and sat down on little folding chairs, because there was so much sandwich in his mouth.  Things began to quiet down within a couple of minutes. The overseer, smiling, poked his head out of his office and waved to the small crowd.  People clapped a little bit.  Chris noticed that "AWARDS RECEPTION" had been written on the blackboard with colored chalk, the letters alternating blue to red, blue to red.  A stack of certificates sat on the table up front.  The overseer waddled to the table and gestured towards his office and a large, black policeman walked from office to the entrance.  He looked all business.  There was another one who poked his head out from the office and then the overseer was still smiling, like the soccer mom he was wearing big, mean, fake smile and Chris sunk into his chair and moaned a little bit because he knew he was about to get arrested, again.  Arrested in front of his parents. 

Mom asked stepfather what the policemen were hear for the stepfather said—ahh the great rational bastard, it was all Chris could do to stop himself from hugging him—that since this was an official presentation, court mandated and all that, they must have some cops come and witness it.  That's all it was.  Nothing to get too upset about.  Still—gotta stay calm.  If the cops took no notice of Chris then they wouldn't take any notice of his being so incredibly fucking high. 

"Well," the overseer began.  Chris was hyperobservant and noncritical and he realized for the first time how long it took the overseer to get through sentences, because of all of his fat.  He'd pause every few words and take in a deep breath from his gut.  When he spoke it was in these bursts that were effeminately condescending but still bulky and powerful.  Like, if being told you were bad by a sharp-tongued gay man didn't hurt you then maybe being yelled at by an abusive gym coach would. Only he wasn't a gym coach and probably wasn't gay, either.  Talked about his wife and kids all the time.  This was an act.  He had measured out this persona for himself.  This was some kind of cruel professionalism.

Jesus, Chris thought to himself.  Pot fucks up the way you think about things.  How long had it been since they sat down?  How long since he'd been scared by the cops?  When was the guy going to start talking—ohh, wait he's already talking.  Might want to listen:

"And this is what this program is supposed to achieve: smiling faces.  Not just the smiling faces of those who are on roads to recovery—their own personal roads—but of their families and their friends.  The selfishness might end here.  The pain they have caused you, that they are sorry for, might end here.  But it's up to everyone here to make sure that all of these faces keep smiling."

He paused—too long.  Wanted people to clap for him.  They did.  Then they finished.  He continued.  His tone was different.  He had sounded like he was reading off a card.  Now he sounded more like he normally did, during classes.

"But it would be… hypocritical of me to let everyone who came here leave here, especially… if I knew that they would be making people start… to cry sometime soon.  Two of our friends will not be graduating today."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"The first… Rup-ERT Donwiddle."

Ahh.  Okay.  That guy—white guy, lots of scars—never even showed up after the first day.  He wasn't even here.  Chris sunk his head into his lap, like he was stretching or about to puke, while the overseer mumbled about how Rubert had squandered his chance for recovery and blah blah blah. 

"Rufus failed… due to lack of initiative.  He didn't come.  But every time we have this course, it seems… there is someone who does come…  but who shows such disrespect that he might as well not have"

The overseer's tone changed, again, abruptly but not in a way that seemed unplanned.  He was talking somewhere in between the rehearsed tone he'd used earlier and the mumbling, jumbled tone he used during regular meetings.  The air shifted around Chris.  It felt like strategy, men moving into position in order to accomplish some kind of task or anticipate some kind of resistance.  The bigger cop stood by the door that led to the outside, blocking it.  Meanwhile the guys who had missed the most class and been handed the most demerits began to shift in their seats a little bit while their wives looked at them in white fear, the sterile blank walls felt like they were closing in—that's what  expression actually meant, when it actually feels like the room you are in just got smaller, more oppressive—and the big fat fuck who ran the place worse the biggest fatfuck smile Chris had ever seen and he if had dropped dead of a heart attack no one with a mind or soul would have gotten up to help him.  In spite of all of this, the synchronization was such that Chris couldn't work up any fear.  He was too busy admiring the evil of the whole process. 

Chris took to talking to the soccer mom, a few months later, as part of some revenge scheme that never quite materialized.  He had first planned on sleeping with the woman and ruining her marriage.  When that didn’t work out he thought about maybe figuring out the vulnerabilities of her home and passing that knowledge on to some unseemly sorts who, god willing, would have raped, robbed, and kill her.  He didn't do that, though, for the same reason he didn't speak up during the meeting when the police were blocking off the door and overseer was smiling the very worst smile the world had ever seen:  because the woman's evil was so immense that he could barely process it, could do little else, in fact, aside from sitting back and admiring it.  What he learned from her, after she had opened up to him and filled him on all the details, was that if you didn't pass the rehab course it counted as either a violation of your parole or else as a violation of your court sentence, so your failure was akin to skipping bail trying to escape from prison.   That's to say it was a Very Serious offense, one that could put you in prison for a long, long time.  And what the overseer hadn't told to anybody but the soccer mom, who was his favorite, was that his policy was that out of every class there had to be at least one addict who failed to pass in spite of showing up, one person who because of this or that reason simply did not deserve to consider his or her self cured of their addiction.  That's what the demerits were for. Whoever got the most failed the course.  You couldn't tell the whole class about this since then the people who got the most demerits early on would have stopped coming all together.  On top of that, if you got into a situation where a few weeks in one guy had racked up 20 or 30 demerits, then that more or less lightens the stakes for everyone else.  They'll start mouthing off or falling asleep since they know they'll never make up enough demerits to catch the worst guy, and then by the end of it you'd have been better off not doing any sort of demerit system at all.  No—no, the trick was to keep it a surprise.  That had two positives:  one, you catch the guy by surprise and make sure he gets what's coming to him.  Two, you put the fear of god into the others who are all sitting around watching.  That's when they got taught what happens if you don't respect the things you should.

All Chris knew at the time of meeting was that the balding factory worker, Hank was his name, was getting pulled up really unnecessarily roughly by the cop, had his arms thrown behind his back, and was getting cuffed and pushed out of the room while his teenage daughter was screaming in abject terror and his wife was burying her head in her hands and then the two women sat there while the smiling overseer berated Hank, talked about how he needed to learn how to accept help and how this was for the good of him and his family and You two ladies should stop crying, it's pointless, what you need right now is strength, loyalty, and conviction.  Hank had blown .02 over the legal limit at a road block.  He insisted he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, not since his first DUI, that he couldn't perform the heel-to-toe sobriety test successfully because of a fully documented injury he had sustained during Desert Storm and that the alcohol on his breath—which came up on only one of the 5 breathalyzers he was given—must have been from gum or mouthwash or cologne or something.  His parole was zero tolerance, though, and so he found himself at the meetings.  Every week he told the overseer that something he had said was bullshit.  He wouldn't say "My name is Hank and I'm a narcotic," he said, because that is just fucking stupid.  He wouldn't apologize for hurting anybody because he hadn't hurt anybody.  He wouldn't lie for the sake of lying because goddamn it that's not what this country is about.

And for that he went to prison.

Coming face-to-face with the reality of just how cruel and unfair the system is can, especially for a teenager, lead to a distrust so strong and all encompassing that it borders on despair.  This distrust can, sometimes, be healthy and inspire you to try and change things.  More often, it can grow into full-blown hatred, a maniacal desire to change things or to right wrongs that leads you to do something rash or destructive.  Still more often, it leads to a sense of defeatism, a feeling that you can't win since the system is so fucked so why the hell should you even try.  At least, that's what I gather from hearing Chris talk about it.  That's probably what I would have done if something like that would have happened to me.  I would have given up and failed.

And for the longest time Chris had given up and had failed. He drank and drugged and destroyed.  This made him a blast to hang out with.  This was when he still lived in Alton and I would see him once every few months, when I was at home visiting my family.  My sister moved to Garden City to attend the university at which I now teach.  Most of her friends soon followed suit.  He was left behind.  As I am self-absorbed to the point where I don't care about my friend's lives except for when their stories are particularly miserable or amusing, I don't know much about this time period except that it saw Chris turning things somewhat around.  Not by much.  He still drinks far too much.  But he's in school now—he's at the school where I teach, actually, although I've never had him for a student. 

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Part 26 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 50,293

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

A/N: This isn’t my favorite chapter, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year and I figured if I don’t post it now, I’ll never move on to the next. Additionally, as always, I live for feedback. 😉

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 26:

(Words: 2,825)

The bus ride will probably get boring soon, or at least as long as the girls stay asleep, but even as quiet as it is, it’s almost a perfect morning. Being early (around 6:00, I think?), there’s barely any light except street lamps and car lights, but some of the clouds on the right have caught a pretty bluish purple tinge. It reminds me of that Rainbow Fish book Aunt May used to read to me as a kid. To make it better, the morning air is chilly enough that the driver turned the heaters on low so it’s wrapped-in-a-blanket-while-it-snows warm in here. Although that also might be why, apart from general dirt and old gum, the strongest smell on the bus is salty grease— since the nearest heater is under the seat Flash spilled french fries and chicken nuggets in yesterday. It could be worse, though. I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad smell and the traffic isn’t horrible. It’s not the best, but it could definitely be louder and a lot slower. The field of flowing red tail lights ahead of us is oddly comforting, like a snail-slow pasture of mechanical color. 

All in all, it’s a pretty cozy start for a dreaded five hour bus ride. It’s giving me quiet time to think. So that’s where I’m at. Or should be. I got some stuff organized in my head last night even if I keep getting distracted now. Well, it was more like a couple hours ago, since I wasn’t able to get to sleep for so long after we said goodnight. But anyway, I’m trying to focus. It’s just hard, even with both of them sleeping.

From my and Ned’s spot behind them, watching the girls’ heads gently shake and bump against each other as the bus shudders through potholes is kind of calming. They seem so peaceful from this angle, like two people who’ve never pranked me and Ned to the point we were nearly suspended, or kept us awake and annoyed by asking paradoxical hypothetical questions because they know how Ned and I will argue for days if we don’t agree on an answer, or anything else like that. It’s like finding two mischievous cats sleeping, curled up on a chair. It’s easier to appreciate them when they aren’t causing chaos. But it’s not that hard to appreciate them when they are anyway.

Though Ned and I won’t admit it when they’re fully awake, seeing their heads smack into the seat in front of them each time the bus lurched to a halt at stoplights (during the first ten minutes after they’d fallen asleep) was funnier than it should’ve been. Even knowing then that we wouldn’t mention it later didn’t stop us from exchanging silent laughs when they leaned back up, muttering unintelligible complaints before settling their heads back onto one another. For the last couple stoplights before the highway, at least, we decided to be better friends. We both stood up with one leg on the floor and one knee on our own seat so we could easily hold their foreheads back each time it happened. Again, I wouldn’t admit this out loud, even to Ned, but it’s a little bit funny that Ned was a split second slower than me, so while I kept catching MJ’s head before the stop, he half-smacked Y/N’s forehead, like a really-close-to-the-floor basketball dribble, and made a wincing face each time. A lot of times. But it did stop her from colliding with the seat, and she didn’t wake up or complain. 

As nice as it is with them and almost everyone else sleeping through the dark, quiet first hour of the bus trek back to New York, I am excited for her and MJ to wake up. Whenever that is. I’ve missed them. 

But anyway, I really need to focus. God. I’m not doing a great job of that this morning. Apparently. So I’m focusing now. It’s like Ned said. I need to be honest with myself. 

Okay. 

Alright. 

No distractions. 

I’m going to set myself straight now, before we get back, so I can make a game plan and be more decisive and make less mistakes. Fewer? Yeah, fewer mistakes. She’s told me that half a dozen times this since she read that grammar book last summer. But that’s not important.

If I’m being honest... I think I’ve avoided the real possibility that things could work out between us because it felt too risky. And I make some dumb, impulsive choices. So that’s saying a lot. If she said no, what’s the worst that could happen? May and Ned have been asking me that for months, and it’s been so frustrating. The answer should be obvious. The worst thing wouldn’t be the rejection, it’d be if it made her uncomfortable and she broke off our friendship. Or, even if she stuck around, if our friendship changed and I had to watch her get more and more distant, knowing it was my fault and nothing would ever go back to normal. 

Those were the worst — and, I thought, most probable — possibilities. For months I’ve been certain that if anything changed, everything would, and it’d all go to shit. So I kept dodging it. And dodging her before the trip. But, then, things did change this weekend. Things are changing. We fought, and it was super shitty and awful and a total nightmare fiasco, but we made up. And she seemed almost as relieved as me when we did. Now we even have this pact about spending more time together. I know it’s officially only in the name of friendship, but something’s… different. I feel it, and I think she does too. And it doesn’t seem bad. That’s the craziest part. I mean, she even kissed me last night. On the cheek, but still. “Keep it.” Maybe May’s not ridiculous: she really might feel the same way. 

I’ve been texting her this morning, actually. Aunt May. I had to admit that I’m happy she forced me to do the forehead kiss thing last night. As annoyed as I was that she and Ned ganged up on me like that, I can’t dispute the results. She kissed me! Kind of. (To be fair, she did hit my mouth a little bit even if it was an accident.) At first it made me wonder if she heard any of Ned’s shout-comments before I could turn the t.v. up to cover what he was saying. But I doubt it. Even if she felt the same way, I know her too well to think she wouldn’t freak out more and enough that it’d be noticable. Yeah, no, I’d definitely have been able to tell if she’d heard him saying things like, “Nobody’s saying you have to tell her that you googled the probability of high school sweethearts getting married that time she saved your ass on that Bronte essay, but yeah, Aunt May’s right! Just ask her to come over and either talk to her or do the hair/forehead thing!” Anyway, May’s on board with her coming over a lot this week and next week and giving us some space. So are Ned and MJ. Ned said they agreed on giving us two weeks (starting tomorrow) without them hanging out after school. And who knows, if the dance goes really well, maybe it’ll be normal for us to hang out, just us, without the whole group. Because… well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. 

I’ll admit, they’re the best friends I could ever have. All three of them. 

And it’s nice to have them all here now, Ned to my left and the girls in front of us. It’s even nicer to be outside of class or the city or crazy study sessions and have had a short breather from all that (despite the shitshow before we smoothed things over and could enjoy it). To be somewhere chill together. Yesterday and today probably feel even better because the last few days, or even weeks… no— months, if I’m being honest— have had me in a kind of less than happy place. But that’s over now. We’re all here and things are finally good. I just wish the girls would wake up, especially since Ned’s back on his phone. Again. 

Yesterday, everybody hung out for most of the afternoon, but being in the whole decathlon group isn’t the same as just being the four of us. Or two. 

Speaking of two— Ned being away during this next week or two is going to make everything so… unfiltered. New. Without his interference and being able to talk to him as often as normal, it’ll mostly just be her and me. Nobody to distract attention or blame stuff on or help me out when I’m doing something dumb (which is often). Like, for example, last night when I maybe let my excitement get the better of me and I might’ve jumped on the bed and thrown a pillow that accidentally broke the lamp on the nightstand. While I don’t really think writing that “Bill Mr. Harrington” note with the school’s address was Ned’s best idea, it helped me not care too much, enough that I didn’t do something dumber like actually tell Mr. Harrington. It might come back to bite us, though. Still, he was genuinely helpful this morning when Flash showed up too. 

While we were hanging out in the girls’ room waiting for them to finish packing, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Mr. Harrington about to yell at me and Ned for the broken lamp, so I motioned to Ned to shut up and move closer to the head of the bed we were already sitting on where, courtesy of the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to see us as long as he stayed by the doorway. MJ gave us an odd glance before she got up to answer it. Her annoyed, “What are you doing here?” didn’t immediately disqualify Mr. Harrington, but the sound of Flash’s voice saying, “I, uh, brought you guys some muffins,” made me tense at the first syllable.

“The free muffins they give us for breakfast?”

MJ’s dripping sarcasm nearly made me laugh even though I couldn’t see her, but Y/N turning from her suitcase and walking over to join them killed it still in my throat. 

“Nope,” he said. “They’re fancy muffins from a bakery a few miles away.”

I wanted to roll my eyes out of my skull.

She may not like him, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about him being into her. What a dumb way to impress someone. “Fancy muffins.”

“Expensive?” MJ asked. Even without seeing her face, I could tell she was giving him the squint death stare. It’s scary to have to respond to that face if you don’t know what the right answer is.

“Yes, especially with the delivery fee,” he said, sounding prepared for the question, “but they’re from a small local place, not a chain, which I figured you guys would appreciate. Actually, I think you’d like the woman who owns it, she was super grouchy and hard to convince.”

“Convince?”

“They don’t normally deliver at 5 in the morning.”

“Oh, so you thought you could just—”

“What kind did you get?” 

That’s one of the things I like about Y/N. She knows how to manage tempers and when to jump in; she has Flash and MJ down to a science. In that moment, though, I wanted MJ to fire her most confrontational questions at him with no mercy.

“Well, they’re all apology muffins—” I heard MJ scoff. Exactly. She gets it. “But I got blueberry, chocolate, obviously, coffee, cranberry orange, maple, I think that one has chicken in it or something, and banana nut.”

Ned and I turned towards each other with silent smirks at the last one. It’s a dumb joke, but under normal circumstances we’d never resist—

“Cool. Since you’ve brought so many, you can come in.”

Sometimes MJ drives me up the wall. This was one of those times. 

I mentally took back my agreement with her scoff.

The three of them came into the room, and for a couple seconds, Flash didn’t see us. The girls were closer to the window than they were to the wall and the bed Ned and I were sitting on, and he didn’t look behind him. Until MJ pointed us out directly.

“You can give them some too,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “Apology muffins, right?”

Flash froze for a second. I straightened my back. Neither Ned or I said anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, he shook his shoulders like a bug just buzzed by his head and walked over, opening a giant rectangle of a box up to us. 

“Take however many you guys want.”

I stared at him, not moving. Nobody flinched. Then I realized he was tapping the side of the box with his thumb. Not in an asshole come on, hurry up way, but in an anxious way. Just as I started to reach toward the box, Y/N asked:

“Why’d you get so many of the coffee ones?”

Flash looked away at just the right second. 

Did I technically cave first by reaching into the box? Yes. But did anyone see? No.

Although, I guess he technically caved by offering us the muffins in the first place. Ha. All the same, I took a blueberry one. 

“They’re my dad’s favorite. I wanted to surprise him, you know? But I can’t even get a hold of.... Um, are your guys’ parents going to pick you up when we get there, or are you actually staying for school?”

“Staying.”

“All of you?” 

He looked around to ask all of us, even me and Ned. We all nodded. When he looked at me, though, his eyes twitched. It’s a face I’ve gotten a lot before. He realized he said parents. 

“You said these are orange cranberry?” Ned asked, pointing. 

Flash nodded. 

“They’re solid, though the banana nut ones are probably the best.”

As I said, under normal circumstances, like if one of the girls had said it, I would’ve laughed right then, but I’m not used to laughing around Flash. Ned, who usually follows that same rule, shook his head and grinned, if a little bit... nervously?

“Hell no!” he said, pretending to be mildly outraged. “I’m not eating banana-bust-a-nut muffins.”

A second surprise: Flash tilted his head and paused, clearly as stunned to be told a joke by Ned as the rest of us were to witness it— and laughed. So did everyone else. It was only for a few seconds, like literally three quick seconds, but for the first time for as long as I can remember, all of us were laughing with Flash. It stopped almost as soon as it started. 

Tension crept back in soon so he left pretty quickly after that with an awkward, “See you guys in a few.” Thank god. 

The girls finished tidying their room and going over the homework that’s due today (which we did last week since we knew we’d never get it done on the trip), before forcing me and Ned into the hallway so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t need to check our room for us and potentially find the broken lamp. 

And then, pretty soon, we ended up on the warm bus, loaded in with everyone else. It seemed like everybody but Ned and I were too quiet and sleepy and squinty to be able to talk much before dozing off or staring blankly out the window or scrolling social media on their phones, the latter two options leading to the first in most cases. At this point, I think Ned, Flash, and I are the only ones still awake. 

I’m going to work at tolerating him. As long as he doesn’t cross any lines with anybody from now on, I won’t bait him either. (Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of that, especially recently.) I mean, his comment about his dad was hard to miss. And even when he said it, it wasn’t a shock. Everyone in our grade at some point has had to listen to Flash’s rambling excuses for his parents ignoring or forgetting to show up for school events. Maybe being a dick is just hereditary for him. Or a family tradition. 

I don’t remember how I got so off track. Where was I before? Oh yeah. Risk. Possibilities. The almost-worst case scenario that turned out not so bad. It’s been a messy weekend with plenty of re-evaluating, but the point is simple: I think I’ve got to give a few new things a try, and I’m excited to have a chance over the next couple weeks.

Next update: God only knows.

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[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 31

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week oh god it’s only gonna get worse

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30

The Lan Sect camp is small. It is also a bit pitiful, with a distinct lack of tents, bedrolls, or any other necessary accommodations.

Still, Wei Ying is impressed by their diligence. Long before he is aware that there is a camp in the vicinity, a lookout has already spotted them and signaled their approach. The location had not been carelessly chosen either. The sight lines to the north, east, and south are clear, and to the west, a rugged hill rises sharply, hiding the camp from the Immortal Mountain watchtowers.  

He does not have to ask how the site for the camp was chosen. He is already beginning to suspect that Lan QiRen has many more layers than he lets on, aside from the unexpected sense of humor.

Three other Nie Sect disciples have caught up with them on the outskirts of YiLing, providing a small escort. According to Nie XuanYu, another dozen are following a distance behind, ensuring that the Emperor’s presence remains a secret. Lan Zhan is walking by his side, his posture dignified and reserved. He does not speak.  

Despite clearly intending to remain out of sight, the Lan Sect disciples have not gone as far as to trade in their white uniforms for something a little less obtrusive. Among them, it is easy to pick out Nie MingJue’s dark shape, which makes the figure next to him that of Lan XiChen. The two people across from them are unfamiliar. He takes one of them for a Lan Sect disciple precisely due to the color of robes, the white layers glowing brightly in the darkness. It is not until the figure turns, displaying an equally white blindfold, that Wei Ying stumbles a step.

“Uncle?”

The answering grin, visible even in the gloom, propels him forward.

“Uncle!”

Forgetting he is no longer twelve years old, he crosses the last bit of distance at a run, and nearly knocks Xiao XingChen over with his exuberance. XingChen laughs, his grip as tight as Wei Ying’s.

Oh, but when had uncle become so small?

Nearly four years have passed since their last parting. Is it possible that Wei Ying had grown so much, that he no longer has to lift his gaze to see XingChen smile? Unexpectedly, he feels his eyes prickle, and rubs his face with both hands, covering the sudden wistfulness with a laugh. He is happy to see that uncle’s faithful shadow had not grown smaller, still towering over them both.

The man attempts to bow, and Wei Ying latches on to his forearms, keeping him upright.

“Song Lan. Did I not say my uncles should never bow to me?”

A ripple of shock travels through the surrounding Lan disciples. The Empress’ brother is conspicuous enough, his sword and blindfold easily giving him away, but the man at his side had been taken for a simple bodyguard. To hear the Emperor address him as family raises more than one speculative whisper.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Song Lan says, “I had forgotten.”

“Ah, ah, now I am Your Majesty, but the last time you were at the Immortal Mountain, you called me a rotten little troublemaker. You threatened to kick my royal backside off the rooftop if I insisted on staying out past midnight. Do you remember that?”

The politely respectful expression on Song Lan’s face shifts into fond exasperation, “I am afraid my memory is especially poor lately, Your Majesty.”

Before he could think of a way to respond, Wei Ying suddenly realizes that Lan Zhan’s presence, which had been steady at his side since YiLing, is no longer there.

He turns to find him standing a few steps back with Lan XiChen and Nie MingJue, obviously attempting to remain invisible.

“Lan Zhan!”

Although he thinks he has never seen Lan Zhan look this alarmed, not even when he had mistaken Wei Ying for an assassin, he grabs the edge of the voluminous sleeve anyway, excited to introduce the man he means to marry.

“Come meet my uncle.”

Lan Zhan allows himself to be tugged forward, and offers a formal greeting, his posture rigid, his face unreadable.

Uncle is all gentle politeness, admitting that he had been the one to send the Lan Sect disciples into YiLing, unaware that his request had gone directly against the Sect Leader’s orders. He expresses regret for having placed them at risk, and from Lan XiChen’s expression, Wei Ying surmises that uncle had already apologized once.

XingChen inquires after a few of the Lan Sect members he had met on his travels, mentions that he dearly misses the excellent cuisine at CaiYi town, and compliments the Lan Sect efforts in LianYi during the drought.

In short, uncle is trying, to the best of his ability, to put Lan Zhan at ease. But although Lan Zhan is unfailingly courteous in return, his palpable discomfort does not wane.

Suddenly, Wei Ying feels guilty.

It occurs to him that he has done nothing but pull and push Lan Zhan in every possible direction for the past five days. Less than an hour ago, he had done a terrible job of confessing how he feels, managing to not give voice to any of his carefully planned out, honorable intentions. His fumbling is unlikely to have produced anything other than frustration and confusion, to which now, Lan Zhan must add a dose of casual banter with the Shan Empire’s notorious Rogue Prince.

The moment XingChen runs out of pleasantries, Wei Ying tugs on Lan Zhan’s sleeve again, but gently this time, trying to convey an apology, “Lan Zhan, we should go sit by the fire. The night is getting cold. Uncle, come sit down and tell me what brings you to YiLing.”

“Your Majesty,” Nie MingJue cuts in, “it is quite late. If you mean to enter by the Five Phoenix Gate instead of sneaking in the same way we had snuck out, I am afraid that delaying your return will only work to our disadvantage. We should start back the moment the rest of the Nie Sect arrives from YiLing.”

Wei Ying cringes. He had not even considered the mechanics of returning with the rest of the Lan Sect disciples, let alone with uncle in tow. Uncle Jiang will be upset, and Madam Yu-- he shudders. Best to not think of unpleasant things until they are upon him.

“Very well, please instruct the Lan Sect to break camp. Uncle, will you come with us?”

XingChen turns to Song Lan, and Wei Ying thinks that even after all these years, it is still eerie to see, how they seem to share a look of understanding.

“We are hunting,” XingChen says, “so our stay must be short.”

Wei Ying waves his hand, “I knew that much without being told. You are terrible uncles, both of you. I know you would not have come all the way to YiLing just for my birthday.”

The fond exasperation on their faces is now identical.  

“Tell us what you are hunting,” Wei Ying grins, “Perhaps we can help.”

“Not what,” XingChen says, “but who.”

“A person?” Wei Ying exclaims in surprise, “an ordinary person?”

“There is nothing ordinary about this person,” Song Lan says, his expression turning hard, “So far, over three hundred people have been slaughtered by him. He has obliterated four villages and two small clans, leaving no one behind.”

Wei Ying feels a chill, “Who is he?”

“We do not know,” XingChen says, his calm edged with frustration, “He leaves no witnesses. One merchant, who had happened upon a village not long after everyone in it had been killed, spoke of seeing a young man, a boy, still alive. He could have been a lone survivor, or he could have been the perpetrator, but he was long gone by the time we arrived. So far, we have been following the trail of dead bodies across the Empire, but know little more than we did months ago.”

“You think he is here,” Lan Zhan asks, his discomfort seemingly forgotten, “In YiLing?”

“The trail had gone cold in LanLing,” Song Lan says, “but there was an incident between LanLing and YiLing, a group of bodies discovered in an old barn. The method by which they were killed was similar enough to bring us here.”

“I do not understand,” Wei Ying says slowly, “There are appropriate channels in place to deal with ordinary murders, even if they are beyond gruesome. What are you not telling me?”

Song Lan glances at XingChen again, but this time, XingChen ignores him, the twist of his mouth tight and unhappy.

“You know why the murders are occurring,” Lan Zhan says coldly, “There is a purpose to them.”

Lan Zhan’s expression is hard and determined, as if he means to shake them both until the information they are holding back flows forth. He looks grim, his spine straight, his fingers tightly wrapped around the sword. He looks dangerous. He looks regal.

Wei Ying feels his face tingle. There is an uncomfortable coil of heat building in his stomach at the sight, and he bites his tongue, hoping the flash of pain will stop the heat from spreading.

“Resentful energy,” Song Lan says.

XingChen looks even more unhappy now, but he does not make a move to stop Song Lan from speaking.

“We think he has found a way to harvest and store resentful energy.”

“Impossible,” Lan Zhan breathes, “even YanLing DaoRen himself could not--“ he cuts off abruptly, mouth snapping shut.

Wei Ying is still reeling from the information, not quite able to come up with the right words. But he immediately understands why Lan Zhan has fallen silent. YanLing DaoRen could not store resentful energy, but his failed attempts are the stuff of nightmares. Raving mad, he had threatened to shift rivers and level mountains once his experiments were complete. But in the end, the only place he had ever been able to store resentful energy was his own fragile human shell, which had rotted from inside out, unable to contain the power he craved.

Wei Ying clears his throat, “How can you be sure he has found a way to store it? Perhaps he is only following in YanLing DaoRen’s footsteps.”

Song Lan shakes his head, “Over three hundred people gruesomely slaughtered by him alone? Taking in that much resentful energy would have driven him mad. He could not have passed all this time unnoticed. The signs of his deterioration would be obvious to anyone who crosses his path. No,” he shakes his head, “I am afraid we must assume that he has succeeded where YanLing DaoRen has failed.”

“The greatest threat since YanLing DaoRen,” Lan Zhan says softly, “and you did not inform anyone. You did not send a word of warning to the Emperor.”

His voice is soft, but the grip on his sword is now so tight, that Wei Ying can see his fingers turning white from strain. He has seen Lan Zhan angry before, but never like this. This fury is cold, and devastating, and magnificent to behold.  

“Did it not occur to you,” Lan Zhan says, “that he is heading towards YiLing for a reason? That the Emperor’s birthday festival in YiLing is precisely the sort of chaos in which he can be easily concealed? That hundreds of visitors are entering and exiting the Immortal Mountain City each day, being screened by ordinary guards who would never sense an object filled with resentful energy? Did it not occur to you that the Emperor is the most likely target of this creature, and that he should be warned?”

“WangJi,” XiChen’s voice comes from behind them, a gentle warning.

He moves to stand by Lan Zhan’s shoulder, a calming presence next to Lan Zhan’s cold fury.

“Please forgive my brother,” XiChen says, “he spoke in haste. He means no disrespect.”

Lan Zhan’s expression clearly states that he may have spoken in haste, but that the disrespect was meant and well deserved.

Wei Ying does not want Lan Zhan upset with uncle. He does not want Song Lan angry with Lan Zhan for disrespecting uncle. But he can do absolutely nothing about either of those things, because his mind is utterly preoccupied by the fact that Lan Zhan is dangerous, and beautiful, and incensed on his behalf.

Lan Zhan is afraid that this madman means to hurt Wei Ying. Lan Zhan is worried about him. Lan Zhan cares about him. Lan Zhan cares about him.

He feels his mouth trying to stretch into a smile, and curses himself six times over. Everyone around him is tense enough to draw swords, he should not be grinning like an idiot.

Lan Zhan cares about him!

“Your Majesty.”

XiChen is looking at him. There is something uncomfortably knowing in his gaze.

Wei Ying clears his throat, then does it again. He is afraid his voice will come out hoarse and obviously besotted.

“Lan Zhan is right,” he says, “I may be well protected, but every Sect Leader and Young Master in the Empire is currently residing at the Immortal Mountain. They may all be at risk. Why would you not send word?”

Song Lan has moved closer to XingChen, as if he means to protect him from Lan Zhan’s fierce gaze. He opens his mouth to speak, but XingChen silences him with a touch to the elbow.

“I believe the Young Master is correct,” XingChen sighs, “We were wrong to conceal it for so long. It has been a frequent subject of discord between us, this decision. But Song Lan does not understand the power dynamics at court. He does not understand the precarious balance involved in ruling all the Sects in the cultivation world. YanLing DaoRen’s name still invokes fear and mistrust. I was afraid-- I was afraid that the truth would sow panic. Worse, that it may give some of the Sects an opportunity they have long sought, to remove YanLing DaoRen’s bloodline from the seat of power, and take the throne for themselves.”

“We intended to catch him long before now,” Song Lan says roughly, “We could only be certain that he is heading in the direction of YiLing on the second day of the festival. The trail was days old by then.”

“I am sorry to have placed the Lan disciples at risk,” XingChen says softly, “but once we learned that you were wandering around YiLing on your own, unprotected, we used whatever means we had at our disposal.”

“I was not unprotected,” Wei Ying says absently, “Lan Zhan was with me.”

He spends a few moments preoccupied with the idea that the incidents at the Immortal Mountain and the man uncle is hunting must somehow be connected. But no matter how he turns the events over, he cannot see that they have anything in common. A man who had slaughtered over three hundred people in order to collect the resentful energy from their corpses does not seem like someone who would go through the trouble of coating Lan Zhan’s teacup with poison.

Still thinking so, he realizes that everyone else has fallen silent. Song Lan is frowning at Lan Zhan. Xiao XingChen is smiling softly, his head turned in the direction of the camp, as if privy to something amusing that only he can hear. XiChen is smiling softly too, his eyes trained in the opposite direction.

Lan Zhan is not smiling. He is staring at Wei Ying, his ears red, his expression somehow lost, as if Wei Ying had done something preposterous again.

Wei Ying is pretty sure he has not done anything to merit that expression.

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head and looks away. Behind them, Nie MingJue clears his throat.

“Your Majesty, I do not mean to interrupt, but the Nie Sect is all accounted for, and the Lan Sect is ready as well. We should head back.”

Wei Ying nods. During all the fascinating revelations, he has managed to forget what waits for him at the Immortal Mountain.

He thinks he would rather face a mass-murdering madman than Madam Yu.

[sada-siva-sanyaasi]

Stains - Part 9

Series Summary: An artist goes through a lot of things, sure, but having to deal with her ex on a constant basis wasn’t something she signed up for.

Words: 3,625 words.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern!AU)

A/N: Words under the cut. Also been a long long time, eh? I honestly had a rough patch these last few months, and also didn’t have my laptop with me to update even though I had written, so I apologise a thousand times. I am so so sorry everyone! Hope the next few weeks of updates and story can make up for my loss of inspiration! Love you always, and as usual, feedback of all forms is greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist / Twitter Profiles | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

 Y/N watched Peter walk into the building and sighed to herself, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, this is it, you dropped your toddler now you go shooting.” She didn’t realise how long she was just sitting inside until she heard someone honking behind her, making her snap back and drive on.

Each step she took towards the studio was heavier than the one before, her heart racing and her hands shivering. Y/N stopped in front of the door and let out a shaky breath, cracking her knuckles. “It’s just another project, why am I getting so worked up? Fucking relax, Y/N, this is not a big deal. This is like every other project you’ve had with models.”

“Although I don’t mind the whole ‘talking-to-yourself’ thing,” Y/N jumped and turned around to see Loki stand there, a smile on his face, “do it inside the studio while you’re setting things up, won’t you? That way no one stares at you like you’re a weirdo.”

Y/N beamed and smacked Loki’s shoulder, a small yelp escaping his mouth. “Good morning, Loki. I was just giving myself a pep talk. It’s a shoot for Tony Stark, right?” Loki hummed, opening the door and ushering her in while they set their stuff down.

“Yeah, someone you already shot for if I remember. And you shot him too,” Loki added, making Y/N close her mouth and turn away with a scowl. “So I really don’t see why you’re getting so sweaty. Unless of course, it’s because your ex is coming here.”

Y/N stopped fixing her lens and turned to Loki, who looked busy setting up the lights. “How do you know so much?” Loki snickered and walked to his laptop, noticing more support staff walk in. “I just am very observant, my dear. Especially with your Twitter shenanigans, it’s hard not to know really. I think even Thor knows, I heard him laugh at your tweet for about ten god-awful minutes.”

Y/N grimaced and connected the main camera to Loki’s laptop, a hot red blush spreading across her cheeks. “We do not speak of my Twitter shenanigans, Laufeyson. It’s a dark subject.” Loki rolled his eyes and smirked, bowing in front of Y/N just as Thor walked in. “My humblest apologies, oh revered one.”

Y/N smacked Loki again and both of them laughed as they greeted Thor, settling down in their chairs. “When will the models get here?” Thor huffed, looking at his watch, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“They’ll have to get here, set up, dress up, and pose. Oh it’s a long day, and it’s only day one. There’s five more days till we go back to shooting other things again.” Y/N frowned, biting her nails as she looked up.

“Wait, what are we shooting for again?”

Loki and Thor burst out laughing, Thor even leaning forward to ruffle Y/N’s hair. “Are you sure you’re the photographer and not just an assistant, Y/N? We are doing endorsement shoots for today and tomorrow while the rest of the three days will be personalized shoots of the models.” Y/N’s scowl deepened as she stared at the door.

“Oh God I’m regretting these shoots already.” The doors opened and her breath hitched, only to see people with makeup kits walk in, and she stood up angrily.

“Oh, they’re taking so long! I’ll go get a coffee, you want something?” The brothers shook their heads and she walked out, stuffing her hands into her pockets and humming under her breath.

As she walked into the Stark cafeteria and waited in the queue, she heard an all too familiar voice laugh. “Oh I know, Bucky has made it his life mission to screw himself up in front of the world. Now he bullshits about Tony’s work, what an idiot. Jesus, my head hurts whenever he decides to use his brain. Ow, what the fuck!” “I’m standing right beside you, asshole.”

Y/N bit her lip to stop the laugh from leaving her mouth and silently stepped towards the counter. “I’d like a chocolate cappuccino with two shots of espresso and extra chocolate please.” The barista looked up and smiled. “Long day ahead? It’ll be $3.50 please,” She said, and Y/N smiled, nodding.

“Almost never ending, and here you go.” Y/N’s smile widened when she got a sandwich along as the barista winked at her. “It’s on us, hope you a great day.”

She turned and nearly bumped into a person when two strong arms wrapped around her, holding her steady. “Easy there, coffee girl.” A smooth voice said, and Y/N froze entirely, her blood turning cold. “Don’t call me that, Barnes,” she mumbled, looking up, and Bucky smirked. “Why not, Y/N? Wasn’t that how we met?” She glared at him and gestured towards the drink in her hand. “Want to get drenched in something hot again?”

Bucky stepped back from her, still not letting go. “No, I don’t think you would voluntarily drench me in that chocolate-y coffee goodness. I know you enough to know you love your coffee a lot, and that it costed a lot too.” Y/N huffed and sipped her drink, her eyes closing momentarily when the hot liquid flooded her mouth.

“Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t, but I would like to go now, so if you leave me.” Bucky hummed, his grip not faltering a bit. “No, I don’t think I will let you go, Y/N. you and I need to go to the same place anyway, and I like holding you, it’s been a while.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she noticed Pietro behind them, waving and grinning at her as Bucky ushered her to the studio.

“Fucking let me go, asshole!” She barked, not caring about how many people were looking at them, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh, hush child. We have the same destination, and so I’m making this journey along with you.”

Y/N mumbled a soft “what the fuck” as Pietro opened the doors and bowed down, allowing Bucky and Y/N to walk in. She finally shook him off and stormed over to Loki and Thor, setting her coffee down. Loki watched as she cracked her knuckles and bent forward, picking her sandwich and taking a bite of it.

“You said you didn’t want anything!” Y/N hissed and he shrugged. “With how that lady just ate our brains, I got a little hungry. I’m not sorry,” She looked around and her scowl deepened, fist clenched.

“The witch has already arrived, I see.” Loki nodded, his hand creeping towards her coffee only for it to be smacked away.

“Alright,” Y/N yelled, walking to the models in the middle of the room, “let’s get this show on the road. We got three hours today, and I want them to count. Get dressed, you’re having shoots with products.”

 --

 “No, I don’t like the shade of lipstick; don’t you think it’s too dull? How about blood red?” Dolores said, looking through the makeup as Y/N sighed out loud for the tenth time, sipping her coffee.

“How is your coffee still not over?”  Thor said, sitting beside her, and she glanced at him. “I’m trying not to finish it so that I’m busy till she decides to end our misery and just model. Jesus Christ, this is why I hate shooting with living creatures, such monsters.”

Thor coughed to cover up his laugh when Dolores shot a glare in their direction, and Loki leaned towards her. “When will you tell her this is a monochrome shoot?” he whispered, and Y/N turned to him, a coy smile on her face.

“I want to see how long it takes before she figures it out on her own.” Both of them grinned at each other and Y/N turned, only for her breath to be snatched right out of her lungs.

Bucky stood a couple feet away from her, his hairstylist fixing him up as he unbuttoned the top part of his shirt, checking himself out in the mirror. She didn’t want to admit it, but he looked like he dropped straight from heaven.

“He looks good, huh?” Pietro said, making her jump and turn to scowl at him. “What did you say?” Pietro smirked, “You heard me,” Y/N rolled her eyes and finished her coffee when Bucky said, “I heard that its monochrome today.”

She nodded, picking her camera and fiddling with it.

“Well, what colour is it, then?”

“What colour is the background, Barnes?”

“Black.”

“Your clothes?”

“Black and white.”

“Bingo.”

Dolores stopped applying her blush and glared at Y/N. “You’re telling me that after I spent twenty minutes trying to pick out the right shade of lipstick for this cream dress?!”

Y/N stared at Dolores. “Did you bother checking with me if you needed blood red lipstick and coral blush? He asked me, I told him. You should’ve asked me, Miss Smith. Would’ve saved you and us a lot of time.”

Dolores continued to glare at her as Y/N stood up and said, “I hope you’re ready. Your products have been placed there; we will be going with you first. Loki, I need you to set a diffuser over the light falling from the top and Thor, a reflector to the left please. Let’s get this done with.”

Bucky watched as Loki and Thor stepped away from Y/N while she knelt forward, looking into her camera. She adjusted the lens and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, scrunching her nose a little as she said, “Thor, move closer. Dolores, adjust your position a little to the left, chin higher in the air, thank you. And smile, don’t smirk.”

A smile unknowingly made its way onto Bucky’s face, his heart feeling light as he kept watching her. It had been three years since he spent so long with Y/N, and he was more than happy that he was getting to see her like this. Emotions and memories he kept buried for years resurfaced, his chest tightening as he remembered the little things about her.

Pietro watched Bucky, and scoffed silently. “Bro, you are whipped. I bet you even know what’s happening in her head.”

“She’s not happy with how Dolores is posing, she’s constantly correcting her but her eyebrows are still furrowed and her tongue is not sticking out yet. It shows she’s angry, not concentrating.  Y/N will stand up and walk to correct Dolores and her posture anytime now.”

Not long after the words left Bucky’s mouth Y/N stood up, walking to Thor and angling the reflector before murmuring to Dolores, moving her hands and adjusting her. Bucky’s smile turned smug as Pietro stared at him, shock on his face. “Did you fucking study this girl? How do you know so much after so long?”

Bucky’s eyes never left Y/N as she set Dolores’s hair, rambling about the position of the fans beside them. “Fall in love, Pietro. You won’t forget what makes them who they are that easily. Look, her tongue is peeking out, she’s finally satisfied and she’s concentrating.” Pietro turned to where Bucky was pointing and chuckled, noticing how he was indeed right about Y/N yet again.

“You really love her, huh.” Bucky’s smile softened and he sighed, nodding. “I do. I didn’t prove it to her then, and I don’t know if she’ll believe me now. But I won’t give up, not after I have her right in front of me.”

“For five more days, Buck. You don’t even know if you’ll see her again. And you can’t make someone fall in love with you for the second time in so little time.” Bucky frowned, looking down as his stylist walked over to him, checking his outfit. “I could tell her the truth,” he mumbled, almost a whisper. “And then what? She’ll magically let you back into her life?”

Bucky turned to Pietro, who stared right back at him. “I’m serious, Buck. You think she’ll just let you back? Do you remember the look on her face that day?”

 Flashback

 Tears made their way down Y/N’s cheeks as she took in the scene in front of her, Dolores on top of Bucky and her hands on his chest. “S-So all of this, whatever Natasha told me, it’s true? I thought she was doing it out of spite, Bucky.”

Bucky pushed Dolores off him and stood up, the stench of alcohol from him reaching Y/N immediately. He looked at her; eyes swollen and cheeks red as she struggled to contain her sobs. The fight seemed like it happened so long ago, neither of them remembered what it was really about, but it had gotten out of hand. The people around them faded, non-existent and not mattering. “Just tell me it’s not real, James. I’ll believe you. Not Natasha, not Dolores, nobody. Please,” she whispered, stepping towards him only for him to step back.

“I think you need to leave and stop assuming things, Y/N. I’m drunk, and not in my senses.” Bucky mumbled, loud enough for her to hear every word. “So, that’s it? It’s the end?” She laughed, the sound hollow.

“Did it ever begin?” Bucky hissed, and Y/N looked like she had been slapped. “A year, Barnes.” She croaked, her nails digging into her skin. “We were together for a year and friends for two years before that. And you tell me none of it was real? I was in love with you, for this? Fuck you, James Barnes. I don’t want to ever see your face again.”

“Oh, the feeling’s mutual sweetheart.” Bucky said, turning back to the counter and grabbing his beer. Y/N turned and left, slamming the door shut behind her and Bucky slumped into his seat, tears leaving his eyes. Dolores rubbed his shoulder in comfort only for him to swat it away harshly. “Get out, Dot. I don’t want you.”

Dolores scowled, biting her lip.

“Here?”

“Ever. Out.”

 End of Flashback

 Bucky rubbed his head as Y/N said, “Alright, we’re done here! You can go change, Dolores. If the boys step forward, it’ll be great,” and stepped forward, watching her thrust props into his hands. “Hold these and pose right,” she mumbled, turning to leave when he grabbed her hands.

“I’d rather hold you, if I’m being honest.” He tugged her closer and smirked when Y/N pulled away, blushing profusely. “Shut the fuck up,” she seethed, glaring at him, and he bent forward to her level, tilting his head.

“Make me, sweetheart,” Bucky’s eyes went to her lips and his smirk widened when Y/N stepped away, calling his stylist to set his suit. Pietro sighed and elbowed Bucky, shooting a sharp glare. “Stop being a flirt, you’ll scare her away, asshole.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and punched Pietro’s shoulder. “You shut up, Maximoff. Don’t teach me how to get my girl back.”

Pietro watched Y/N talk to Loki, pointing at the lights and camera and rolled his eyes, grumbling, “What a cocky bastard.”

 --

 “Today was a long day,” Y/N sighed, falling into her chair and looking through her laptop at the pictures taken. “Longer than we wanted, Dolores spent so long getting ready. Wow, all ladies like this?” Thor grumbled, chugging his coffee.

“Slow down Thor, that’s not beer.” Loki chided, shaking his head and sitting closer to Y/N. “We were supposed to finish shoot in three hours, took us four and half because Atomic Blonde kept complaining about her fat face and wrong angles, what a drama queen.” Y/N chuckled and went on to making basic edits in the pictures, before sitting back. “Be careful with your words, Loki,” she said, nodding towards the models walking to them. “I heard drama queens have powerful ears, especially around things they shouldn’t hear.” Bucky and Pietro got their chairs and sat down, Pietro beside Loki and Bucky squeezing in between Loki and Y/N.

Dolores spared Y/N a glance before dragging a chair and sitting down in front of her, as if trying to squeeze herself between Y/N and Bucky. Y/N cleared her throat awkwardly and said, “Uh, I need to see the laptop Dolores, and you sitting here is making it impossible to do so. I need to show the final results to the other two models too, you’re not the only one.”

Dolores shot her a glare before pushing her laptop back a little, and Y/N rubbed her face. She stood up and grabbed the laptop, setting it down in her lap and turning to Bucky and Pietro.

“Since these are mostly close up shots focusing on the products, not a lot of your face is in the pictures, and we will be shooting in colours as well tomorrow. I hope you’re ready for it.”

Dolores scowled and looked into the laptop. “Don’t you think my angles are bad? My face looks swollen in these.” Pietro snorted. “That’s because you got here hungover.”

Loki coughed in a poor attempt to stop laughing while Thor made no such attempt, making Dolores fume. “You talk like you look great, Maximoff.”

Bucky rolled his eyes while Y/N said, “Please, he’s a Maximoff. He’s hotter than you and five generations of your family.” “I’m sorry; I think I need a minute. Can I hug you, Y/N?” Pietro said, while Bucky shot him a glare.

“Not now Maximoff, see your pictures and then you can.” Y/N kept scrolling through her laptop as Loki raised his eyebrows, looking at the pictures. “Your pictures look fabulous, Barnes.” He remarked, and Bucky smirked, resting his head on Y/N’s shoulder. “I’ll have to thank the hot photographer for that. She seemed to have paid special attention to-” “-the product, that’s why the pictures look great. All of them do, and if you guys have any problem with how you look, go to Loki. He’s doing the editing. And get your head off my shoulder, Barnes.”  

Bucky stared at Y/N and mumbled, “I never noticed, you have a double chin.” Y/N’s hand crept to her jaw as she turned to Bucky, whose head was still on her shoulder. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get off me, please.” He shook his head, nuzzling closer to her and said, “I don’t want to.”

Y/N huffed, reluctantly settling into her seat to make it more comfortable for him. She didn’t know why she was doing it, but she did. Bucky smiled to himself, slowly wrapping his arms around her too.

Loki and Thor looked at them, and then turned to each other, eyebrows raised, before shrugging and standing up. “Who wants coffee?” Thor asked, and Bucky grabbed Y/N’s hand and raised it, while Pietro nodded and Dolores shook her head in disgust.

“I’d like a green tea; coffee is so bad for health.” Pietro scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, and getting shit-faced is not, Dolores. Come on, let’s go get coffee. What’s your order, Y/N and Bucky?”

���I’ll have a black coffee, Y/N will have a cap-” “I’ll have a café mocha, and I’m coming with you.” Y/N, with surprising gentleness, lifted Bucky’s head off her shoulder and stood up, brushing his arms off her.

She glanced down at him and bit her lip, before walking towards Loki. Bucky sighed and stood up, watching her. “Looks like some stuff did change in three years. She hated mochas before.”

Dolores rolled her eyes and glared at him. “You’re hung up on her even now? After three years?” Bucky stared at her.

“Well what else should I do, move on with you? I didn’t realise I had such a splendid option available.” Bucky pushed past Dolores and she scowled, stomping her feet. “Three years later, and nothing fucking changed.”

 --

 “See you tomorrow, gentlemen.” Y/N smiled and hugged Thor, before moving to Loki. “Send me one picture after editing it so that I know how it’ll turn out.” “Yeah I know, stop doubting my abilities.” He pulled her into a hug and sighed. “You know Barnes is trying hard, right?” He mumbled, and she pulled away slightly, her gaze unsure. “I know, and I also know what I saw that day. He didn’t stop her then, Loki.”

“And he doesn’t spare her a glance now, Y/N.” Her gaze hardened. “Once a cheater, always a cheater. Doesn’t matter how hard he tries to be different now. People don’t change, Loki.”

“But people change people, Y/N.” Loki sighed, rubbing his face. “You’ve known him for three years, and you’ve been away from him for three years. He must really miss you if he’s trying so hard even after you dumped whatever was in your hand on him.”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head, stepping away from him. “Whatever you say, Loki. Dolores is still stuck to him, see?”

Dolores was indeed stuck to Bucky, blabbering on as he stared at her with disinterest and discomfort. Pietro was watching their interaction and trying not to laugh, albeit unsuccessfully.

Loki rolled his eyes. “She’s trying to get you jealous, and you’re letting it work.” Thor nodded, munching on a cookie. “I’m sorry, where did you get that cookie from?” Thor grinned sheepishly, shrugging. “The barista found me hot.”

Loki nodded, pulling two cookies out of his pocket. “She gave me two.” He smirked, only for it to fall when Y/N pulled a croissant from her bag. “Complimentary goods from the chef, many more inside. Back down, peasants. Anyways, even if Dolores is trying to make me jealous, it’s not working.”

Thor patted her shoulder and shook his head. “You said her name and crushed the top of your bag. Like heck it’s not working.”

“Fine, she’s making me jealous and annoyed. What about it?”

Loki smirked and looked at his brother, who was wiping cookie crumbs off his face. “What are we here for?”

---

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[anemonenemerosa]

Oops sorry!! I just assumed with oknutzy! Maybe 17 for Wolfstar 🥰

No worries, anon! Since your request was already written by @mooncat457writing (read it, it’s sooo good) and no other prompt of the list was simliar, I thought of a new one and wrote something for you. I hope you ike it!

"The door fell shut behind me while getting the mail. Now I'm stuck outside on a windy October day"

The bright side of locking yourself out 

It was 1 pm when the insistent ringing of the doorbell jerked Sirius out of his dreams. He grumbled for a few moments before his brain caught up and reminded him that he'd ordered a replacement for the broken gear-belt of his motorcycle. And Sirius really needed to get the bike repaired 'cause taking the tube to and from work was just the worst. So, he jumped out of bed and raced to the door of the building – there's no way he's missing the mailperson! Tough luck, Sirius was just in time to see the backlights of the delivery-truck disappear behind a corner.

"God, damnit!" He cursed loudly, mentally just warming up for a full-on rant when a particularly forceful wind-gust shoved half a ton of leaves in Sirius' face and caused an unfortunate bang behind his back.

No. Please no. Slowly, as if keeping off looking might undo what the dreadful noise promised, Sirius turned around, finally staring at the firmly closed door. It is just now that he realised that he's not only stuck outside on a rather unpleasant mid-October day, no, he's stuck outside barefoot, only wearing his pyjama bottoms and a worn shirt. No phone, no keys. It began to rain, no umbrella. What. A. Day.

Just two months ago, Sirius still lived with James and that wouldn't have been much of a problem. Back in the day, James was still writing his final assignment for his degree and stayed at home all the time.But since he graduated, found himself a paying job and moved in with Lily, Sirius lives alone for the very first time in his 25 years on this planet. And while he loved Lily dearly, Sirius couldn't always stop himself from feeling a bit abandoned and lonely, which was ridiculous, of course. Since they got together, James and Lily never let any doubt creep in that Sirius was anything but loved and treasured by both of them.

But the sentiment was of no use just then. In that moment, he needed to find a pragmatic solution. What does one do, trapped outside with no phone, no keys and no shoes? Sirius sighed in resignation. One does walk to the next cafe, beg them to use their phone without coming off as a complete nutter and call James to rescue him.

About five steps from the door, Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, quest forgotten. Walking right up to him was his neighbour from upstairs, the most intriguing person Sirius has ever met, or almost met, seen that they had never talked before.

The guy seemed very unassuming the few times he saw him in the stairway with his knit sweaters and washed out jeans. He was very quiet in the mornings as if he unknowingly considered that Sirius, as a bartender, worked during the nights and really needed his mornings to sleep. During the afternoon however, enjoyable music wafted down through Sirius' open windows together with the delicious smell of freshly cooked food.

The neighbour -Lupin, it said on the mailbox- stared at Sirius with wide eyes for a moment before he stepped closer, holding his umbrella over both of them.

"Erm." The other man said instead of greeting him.

"Please don't ask." Sirius implored him, completely done with this day already. But then again, Lupin had a nice voice.

"Right", Lupin laughed, "You live in the basement, right? Black? I'm going to ask anyway... aren't you cold?"

Not what Sirius expected to be asked. Naturally, his response was eloquent, he was absolutely not caught off guard, "Uhh -yeah, I live here. And- and I'm cold... but I thought you were-"

"-going to ask why you are out here?" Lupin laughed again, a really nice sound, "You clearly locked yourself out. No one goes around in the rain in October like this. Want to come in to mine? Dry off and call someone?"

With that he looked pointedly at Sirius, who took the glance as a clue to have a look at himself. So, summed up, he was drenched, with dirty feet and unkempt hair. Not the first impression he wanted to make on his neighbour. He's a proper adult now. Anyhow, this was by far his best option "That would actually safe my day."

Without another word, Sirius was led upstairs, offered a warm shower and some soft clothes, which were a bit too big for him (Lupin was at least half a head taller than himself). Clean and dry, Sirius sits in Lupin's little kitchen for his next task: calling James, who couldn't leave work for another three hours, meant that Sirius either waited for another four hours or paid 600 pounds for key-service to open his door, which he found out in the next call. He got a string of curses off his chest and was met with an astounded look of Lupin, who had poked his head though the door. Today, Sirius was impressively good at presenting himself at his worst.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, not looking at his generous neighbour.

"Nah it's fine." Said one just shrugged, "What did your friend say?"

"Another four hours or 600 pounds." Sirius supplied, feeling a little miserable.

"Oh, unfortunate. Do you want to wait here? I have some work to do but you can hang out if you want."

"No, thank you. That would be too much" It really would.

"No. Really, it's no bother. I wouldn't offer if it wasn't alright." Lupin waved him off, "I'm Remus, by the way. And before you ask: Yes, Remus like in the Roman mythology"

"Nice to officially meet you, Remus, like in the Roman mythology." Sirius bowed mockingly, "I'm Sirius, and before you ask, yes, like the star and yes, I've probably heard all of the serious-jokes in existence by now."

With introductions out of the way, Sirius was sat on the big and comfortable couch in the living room with a nice cup of milky tea. He had no idea what to do now and felt a bit awkward, but his neighbour seemed unbothered by his surprise-guest.

"Sorry to be such a bad host but I have a bit work to do, I didn't get to do last night. If you like, feel free to take whatever book sparks your interest from the shelves." Remus apologised and put on some quiet music over his phone while settling in a cosy armchair across the couch with a stack of papers on his lap. It was only then, that Sirius realised how good-looking Remus was. His hair, light brown, wavy and a bit shaggy was falling slightly into his bright hazel eyes, focused on the papers in front of him. Suddenly, Remus huffed, scrunched up his slightly crooked nose (dusted with freckles that spread over his cheekbones) and lifted his left hand to his thin-lipped mouth to gnaw at his thumbnail.

"Displeasing literature?" Sirius heard himself asking before he could check the question in his mind for stupidity.

"You have no idea." the other man grumbled, "That one actually wrote that the inhabitants of Egypt are the mummies!"

Sirius couldn't help but bark a laugh at the affronted tone of Remus' voice,

"So, you're teaching history?"

"Yeah." Remus sighed and plucked a red pen from the little table beside him and began vigorously scribbling onto the paper.

The conversation felt to be over for now as Sirius' host seemed, indeed, quite busy. So, Sirius took up the offer to have a look at the bookshelves lining three walls of the room. The carped felt warm and soft under his bare feet while he strolled along the shelves. Quickly he recognised several of his favourites among the countless books and when his eye caught on The Little Prince, he couldn't resist to take it with him back to the couch.

When he was settled again, Remus looked up to see what Sirius had picked and smiled around a soft hum "I've read so many books and this is still one of my favourites."

Sirius couldn't help but smile back. "Mine, too."

From then on, they sat in a far more comfortable silence than before, both engulfed in their literature. Now and then, Remus huffed or snorted and shared some of the more entertaining mishaps of his students. It felt like they've been spending their afternoons together like this for years. Sirius was simultaneously at peace and properly creeped out.

After a while. Remus got up and returned with a fresh cup of tea for both of them. Steeped for exactly long enough, with the perfect amount of milk in it.

"It's wild that I've been living here for a little over two months and we barely even saw each other, isn't it?" Sirius commented, cradling his new cup in his hands while Remus got once again comfortable in his armchair.

"No, not really." The other man supplied with a slightly sad smile, "See, I teach evening classes from around 7 pm to midnight, get home around 1 am and because I'm an absolute night owl, I usually do my grading and preparations right after until 4 or 5 and then sleep 'till noon. And while I thrive in my rhythm, it's a bit hard to meet, or just come across, people... or get to go out for breakfast. It's silly but I love breakfast and until I get up, most places have switched to the lunch-menu already."

What are the chances. "And here I thought that you were so quiet in the mornings because you are psychic and just know that I sleep during that time." Sirius couldn't help the chuckle bubbling up his throat at the puzzled expression of the man across him. "I'm a bartender and work from 8 to 3 in the morning during the week and until 5 on Fridays and Saturdays." He elaborated, "after that I'm often too riled up to go directly to sleep, so I often go to bed around 6 and sleep until 1."

Remus just stared at him. "Our schedules are nearly identical."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply when the sound of the doorbell interrupted them. Remus got up to open the door to a hurried James, who handed Sirius the spare-keys, kissed his cheek and stormed off again.

"So, this was James. Is he your boyfriend, then?" The cosy atmosphere dissolved with the appearance of a wary look on Remus' face.

"Nah. He is my best friend, practically brother. I know, kissing is rather uncommon between two male friends, but we've been doing that since we met fourteen years ago, and I don't give a shit about convention." Sirius explained with a fond smile on his face.

After that, they parted rather quickly as both men needed to get ready for work, but a lot still lingered in the air, unsaid. His shift went over much too slow for Sirius while he brooded over the change in the atmosphere at the end of his stay with his neighbour.

The next day, Sirius woke up with a plan. A potentially humiliating plan, but worth the risk. He got up much quicker than usual, fired up the oven and began preparing. Around 12:30 Sirius knocked at his neighbour's door and was met with a sleepy Remus in pyjamas.

"Hey- erm... good morning! Here are your clothes!" Sirius began far too loud. All he achieved was a furrowed brow on the other man's face.

Get a grip, Black! "Uhh...OK. Listen, I really like you. Would you like to have a breakfast-date with me?" He tried to put on a winning smile while lifting the tray in his hands a bit.

Remus, who had blushed furiously during Sirius' rambling, blinked at him once before a wide grin spread on his face and he stepped aside to let Sirius and the warm croissants in.

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 19: Leonardo Makar Jakoby

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18

Note:  before you read this chapter, i'd like to share with you the song that helped shape and bring this piece of writing together, and if you have the patience i hope you'll take a listen and further understand the emotions i intended with this 💛

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The front door swung open faster than she intended, but Callie couldn’t stand to be under the glaring sun and heavy humidity a moment longer. Her locks were frizzed and sticking to her neck and shoulders, and sweat was lining her honey skin in droplets when she stepped into the cool house.

“Oh god, close the blinds,” she lamented, waddling through the kitchen to stick her flushed face in front of the freezer. “Next time I’ll just do laps around the house,”

“Yeah I can get on board with that,” Nick called from under the vent in the living room, his shirt left hanging on the back of the couch.

Her forehead bounced against her arm rested on the fridge, staring down at her stomach. “Please come out,” she groaned. “I can’t get any bigger,”

“We could try sex again,” Nick simpered, leering over his shoulder.

“I’m sweating,”

“We’re sweating,” Nick snorted.

When she at last stepped from the fridge, she brought with her a bowl of homemade deep red salsa that had sat long enough for the shimmering oil to be seen pooling at the top. She hastily and with little care unwound the nearly empty bag of tortilla chips on the counter, plunging a chip into the dip.  

“That’s gonna make you sweat more,” he bravely commented, joining her across the bar and dipping his own chip that piled pitifully compared to her towering bites.

She swayed and pulled air in harshly between her teeth as she chewed, an eye pinched shut and hands flailing.

“You’re gonna give yourself lethal heartburn,”

“If it gets him out I’ll deal with it,” she coughed, going in for another bite.

“You still have three days baby,” Nick reminded, wincing at his own bite of the searing salsa.

“I’m not taking any chances. I can do this,” she too reminded, her gaze harder than her words.

“No one is doubting that,”

“But everyone is expecting otherwise,” she murmured, snapping the lid back onto the jalapeño tupperware. She wouldn’t look up again, but he didn’t need to see her face to recognize the discouragement drooping her shoulders.

Nick chewed his last chip and dusted his hands of any crumbs before jogging around the wall and into the kitchen, immediately holding wrapping her in a tight embrace from behind. “I know you can do it,”

“I know you know,” she sighed, finally leaning back into his chest with her head on his shoulder.

He listened to her chew on the crunchy jalapeños and chips, his lips against her shoulder and rocking side to side. “He’s really going today,”

“Since this morning,” she added, moaning when he dragged his hands across her stomach, alleviating the insane itching that plagued her night and day. Her frame melted in his arms, tossing aside the last bite she couldn’t bare one more of with her mouth already feeling like fire.

When her fingers laced behind his neck, a low growl vibrated through his chest, his caresses wandering higher.

“I have time before I go in,” he groused.

“That walk wiped me out,” she sighed, curling her spine ever so slightly despite being ready for a nap. The implication alone got her blood boiling in a way she didn’t mind despite her wiser half protesting at anymore physical exertion.

“I’ll do the work,” he rumbled, angling her jaw to stop her low whine. “You just worry about enjoying it,”

“It’s gonna be work, you gotta help me get him out,” she murmured in defeat, her breath catching when he massaged a tender breast through the dress.

He chuckled into her hair, a burly arm supporting her up when two thick fingers slipped under her dress and panties. “I know what I’m doing.”

It was too good.

The haze she floated in, the fan blowing across her naked, spent body, the cold sheets she was lost in; the kisses she opened her eyes too when she felt Nick’s impression on the bed beside her.

It was all too good.

 “Time to go already?” she asked softly, her hands feeling his unbuttoned uniform shirt before her heavy eyes opened.

“Mhm,” he toned into the top of her breast. “It’s a half shift today,”

“You’ll be home for dinner?”

He nodded, exclaiming sorely once standing.

“Frijoladas?” she asked, rolling on her side with a pillow ready to stuff under her stomach.

“Oo, hell yeah,” he grinned, stepping into his slides. “You stay pregnant until I’m home,” he pointed, his tone grave.

“I think he’s too comfortable in there,”

“Good. Keep him in there until tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow?” her brows furrowed.

“It’s my day off,” he grinned cheekily.

“Don’t get shot,” she said into the pillow she embraced, breathing in Nick’s cologne.

“I’m too quick.” He teased, bouncing around a couple times to rile some giggles. With a final kiss shot her way, Nick was shuffling down the hall towards the door and grabbing his bag, then keys, and groaning against the assaulting summer heat once outside. It only made him want to slink back into the dark, cool room with Callie, but regardless of whether there was a c-section in three days or she managed to get Leo out beforehand, he had five days worth of time to spend with the two whenever he decided to make his debut.

Just the thought had Nick shaking his hands loose of the tremble they’d steadily maintained.

Everything was set and ready for his arrival, but counting down the minutes made the wait excruciating, and if Nick was being honest, he wanted him out weeks ago. The daily barrage of texts from friends and family asking is he here yet!? were not so much a pain, but hourly reminders that he had no control over his sons awaited birth, and that another day had gone by without him in his arms.

 Even if I’ve been fucking her three times a day, he thought bitterly.

He’d been promised from all directions that sex would do the trick, but all either had gained from it was funny walking and a sore dick, not to mention the few times where neither had actually came and they’d just flopped over one another in annoyance.

He pulled onto the road, the chilled air blasting across his face and chest that was already accumulating sweat.

Maybe he should bring home chili’s to eat with the dinner.

 Seeing as that's our last hope.

In the afternoon blaze that looked over LA, people were irritable and hollering at one another in traffic. Many drivers didn’t have the luxury of working AC in their old beaten cars, and sitting under the sun flared tempers of all races, especially humans and Orcs. He even found himself spitting harsh choices of words at particularly dumb drivers that only further congested on-ramps, and by the time he made it to the station, he could barely muster patient responses when the baratement of where’s the baby? came.

 Do you think I’d be here!? He wanted to shout, but he still needed a job to come back to.

“Still!?” Sergey asked in honest shock, feeling Nick’s exhaustion bone deep when he shook his head slowly. “You know I’ve heard-”

“Whatever you’ve heard we’ve already tried,” he groaned, the pair making their way to the lockers.

“Even-”

“Don’t say spicy foods,” Nick snapped.

Sergey’s nose scrunched. “For someone who’s expecting the miracle of life you’re awfully cranky,”

“I’m not cranky,” Nick shoved his partner into an empty locker, his shoulder making loud contact with the metal door, but he laughed it off. “I’m impatient,”

“Why not just take off the extra days before it happens?” Sergey intoned.

“Over-time pay, that’s why.” Nick smirked, pulling his lock off the locker door.

↠

She flung out another onesie so the feet popped out, holding it up to decide whether this one was to hang or fold, and decided it would be stuffed into his already packed dresser.

For weeks now Leo’s closet had been bursting at the bolts with clothes and blankets and everything else that came with a baby; so much that Callie wouldn’t actually need to buy any clothes until he was at least one, but that didn’t stop her, or Nick from plucking cute sets from racks and all the assortments of socks possible, not to mention beanies.

She traced the pads of her fingers along the baby blue designs lining a hooded onesie, grinning to herself.

Nick had picked this one, going on about how easily his little melon would get cold.

Callie placed it in the pile to be hung up, and if need be, she’d take a few out to make sure it found its place amongst the others. Her brows furrowed the longer she stared, starting to question if it should tag along in the hospital bag. The rooms did get awfully chilly.

“I’ll come back to you,” she decided quietly, leaning down to grab the next article of Leo’s clothing from the basket between her feet.

Though her eyes remained trained on the TV muttering lowly in the living room, she’d completely retreated back into her thoughts when that first cramp of the day hit, but when it continued long enough for her to really evaluate its depth, she realized this one was… different.

The Braxton Hicks that had tormented her for months were sharp, often radiating down into her pelvis like minor shots of electricity. They’d subside quickly before the next one came, but this cramp was intimidating. It wrapped around her entire stomach, stretching to her lower back, and this first one wasn’t even painful. It was low, and lasting, as if giving a stern warning about what was to come, but wouldn’t pain come with something like this?

She exhaled slowly when it finally ended at thirty-six seconds, ames still outstretched and holding a little sweater while deciding upon her next move.

Callie looked down slowly as if she expected something to lunge up at her from below, but all was the same.

Leo swirled a few times, but he’d been calm since the previous day, even when Nick cooed lovingly to him to purposely evoke some kicks and shoves.

She glanced at her phone, noting the time.

“Alright then,” she cleared her throat, flinging the sweater out flat before piling it on the tabletop. She still glanced around while continuing to fold and sort, listening and waiting for something else to come, but it wasn’t until about twenty minutes later that she felt it again, and this time she had enough sense to press a hand to her belly and actually feel the contract-

 No, she shook her head, continuing on with her laundry through this one. It was uncomfortable, but manageable, and definitely not that , she decided. It just didn’t start like that… did it?

When this one ended at twenty-two seconds, she scoffed.

“Almost had me there,” she mumbled, carefully piling the clothing on the table surface.

The third one was… annoying. It almost made her grip the table in support, but she bullied the discomfort aside and told it to fuck off. It radiated deep from within her gut like a period cramp, which didn’t help convince herself it wasn’t what she thought.

When the fourth one came, her attention to the ‘cramps’ had increased, and with her palms pressing into the tops of her knees, she straightened her back and ground her teeth, but sitting through them only generated more intensity.

But by the time the fifth one came, her leg was bouncing high and though she tried, she couldn’t help but cringe. The severity had grown more than she could’ve expected so rapidly, but forcing herself to move through them kept her from panicking. Folding laundry was the last thing she wanted to be doing now, but she also knew if she’d simply sat there with her undivided attention on this, she’d call Nick and likely take a ride to the hospital for false labor.

So she leaned back in her chair after throwing a pair of little pants back into the basket, holding her wrist against her forehead as she waited for this one to stop. Her skin was warming up, her heart hammering between her ribs.

Tightening her thighs only brought more misery when she tried to cross her ankles, and her palms fell over her eyes when it finally subsided. Callie exhaled hard, pushing her loose hair back and the basket away with her foot. No way she could concentrate on that. Her head lolled to the side when looking at her phone, debating heatedly within herself to call Nick. Her fingers tapped against the back of her hand atop her head as she stared at it, reaching after a few moments to swipe the screen up.

“No!” she snapped, tossing the phone down. “This isn’t it,”

Callie rose then, straining and following her stomach into standing before waddling to the kitchen. Her actions were unprecise when reaching into the fridge for a water, cranking the cap off angrily. She drank it purposefully, as if giving her body water would mean she was right and this was just a weird form of dehydration, or something.

“Mhm, mhm,” she went on as she gulped, a hand on her hip and rocking side to side.

But here came another one.

“Chinga su madre-” she sputtered, slapping the bottle down on the counter and bending forward. “Oh fuck me,” she forced out, leaning onto her knees as she continued to rock side to side through the harsh tightening. With every one that passed, the vigor that matched a charlie horses rapid incapacitation grew, and it brought back vivid recollections of the time she laid withering away in Nick’s arms as the onslaught of premature labor defeated her.

“No,” she straightened, exclaiming when her body gave her back a bigger no. Bowed over and down against her knees she went, puffing out a few quick breaths before slowly rising this time.

Her steps were cautious, one hand on her stomach while the other traced counter tops or walls, hovering to the back of a chair so she could gather the clothes that needed to be put away. By the time she made it to Leo’s room with arms full of fragrant, clean outfits, it had died down, but now came the soreness after them. Each step was coupled with sharp stabs that landed at her lower stomach and groin, bringing forth hard breaths from between her teeth.

She pushed the door open with her elbow, padding carefully across the plastic laid out over the carpet in preparation to paint the room, but now she feared it was too late for last minute projects such as this.

The clothes to be hung were draped over the crib until after she finished stuffing the folded clothes into the drawers, shoving aside the abundance of socks to make room for even more while counting her breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

“Get in there!” she whined lowly, shoving the drawer closed so she could move on.

Her urgency to finish wasn’t farfetched; just as she’d reached for the last of the outfits to hang, she instead found herself leaning against the crib, her forehead landing on her forearm and doubt melting away under the fervor of this one.

Deep breaths did nothing, nor did squatting which had been sworn up and down on that it worked, but only resulted in her stuck down there, hanging onto the bars of the crib and mashing her teeth together through the physical torment that stifled her breaths. The duration didn’t even matter anymore, because these were far from normal Braxton Hicks.

Callie laughed to herself as the contraction died down enough to pull herself back up, her grip remaining steadfast on the crib until she knew she could walk without swaying. Her eyes cut down to her stomach, her bottom lip starting to tremble.

“I told your dad I’d wait until tomorrow,” she breathed, her voice breaking.

All week she’d done all she could to start this, to meet her son and at last hold him, but now she was alone in his room and terror was her only companion. How did she end up questioning her own capability when she’d done nothing but tell everyone how able and ready she was for this? How did doubt always find its way in?

 I need Nick. She needed her rock.

It was time to finally, finally meet their son, no matter how prepared she thought she was or how terribly she shook now as the realization that nothing could truly prepare her for this cast over her like a shadow.

Callie nodded, her eyes sliding shut and taking a slow breath in, then letting it out even slower. “Okay,” she exhaled, stepping warily from the crib and reaching for the dresser beside the door.

Her hand landed on the door frame the moment she felt it run down her leg.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed when the warm fluid kept coming, pooling in the plastic around her bare feet. It’s sickly sweet odor was unpleasant, as was the shocking amount. Her hand shook when touching between her thighs, observing the shimmering liquid on her fingertips.

“Oh-” she gasped, laughing again. “Okay, okay,” Callie inhaled, sights set on the table in the dining room when she took another step.

But the world pulled out from under her, and the back of her head cracking against the floor was heard before everything was felt. The shock to her spine, the next contraction, her skull starting pound so loudly she could see it. Her hands lifted weakly, but they completely missed, folding heavy against the carpet beside her head.

But the contraction… it was so dull now as her world started to close, and her bent knees slid out in her own puddle of amniotic fluid she was stretched in.

“Ni…” she breathed weakly. Her arms were unable to lift again, the throbbing in her skull too mighty to fight.

A hard roll of shivers shot up his spine, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his head.

“Is the AC too strong?” Sergey asked, reaching to turn the dial.

“Nah, I just got a shiver,” Nick mumbled, rolling his shoulders again. He’d knocked loose that one, but what was this agitation that wouldn’t lift? It had come to a simmer in his belly, leaving him restless and uncomfortable no matter how he shifted in the seat.

He glanced around, jumping between passing faces and buildings, even scenting the air inside the car inconspicuously to see if some threatening scent had wafted in through the vents, but nothing explained the discomfort he felt.

It was irritating and only sank farther into his gut, heavy like stones.

“Ugh,” he groaned, moving around again.

“Tummy troubles?” Sergey played, hiding his smirk.

“Shut up,” Nick laughed off, but his grin vanished upon pulling out his phone. His thumbs flew over the screen, shooting a quick message to Callie.

 Gotta cover all your bases.

Consciousness came back to her like a kick to the jaw.

It rang behind her eyes, thundering against her temples. The sweat that had broken out across her body mimicked that of a fever dream, but her thoughts were crystal clear as she came back. The weight of her limbs was substantial, barely mustering the energy to hold her pounding head and bend her knees-

The shout that cracked in her throat was stifled late, far into the fast moving contraction gripping her frame, leaving her gasping and curling onto her side.

 That’s right, she was in labor. Active labor.

Callie pushed her upper half up, her hand sliding in the amniotic fluid pooled beneath her. She was rigid in pain, a shaking breath just moments away from becoming a shout. There was no counting, no more rocking side to side through it. There was only the suffocating wrath wrapping around her midsection like a suffocating corset, curling her neck back as she bared her teeth to the ceiling in agony.

At last it started to ebb away, leaving her spent and heaving into her palm before smoothing back her sweaty hair.

She wanted to lay back down, even being soaked in sweat and fluids with a throbbing skull. A migraine would be an easier foe to fight; at least then she wouldn’t be so dizzy she couldn’t even stand to keep her eyes open. But she couldn’t fall back into the quiet darkness. She had to bear the static in her vision and the hot tears that sprung before them.

This couldn’t end here.

“Go get your phone,” she gnarled, looking up at the door frame.

Her limbs shook something awful after finally pulling herself onto her feet, the amniotic fluid continuing to trickle down her inner thighs. Every step was a gamble, but with wet handprints left on the walls and a small trail behind her in the carpet, she made it to the table by the time another contraction was coming.

Her hands slid harshly across the table surface, knocking over clothes and mail, but her frantic searching didn’t yield her phone amongst the clutter.

“No no no-” she cried, gasping when it again constricted her midsection like an angry fist. She landed in the chair, her head flinging over the backrest and bawling into her hands as it’s fury kicked back into high gear.

The seconds felt slower than before as they ticked by endlessly, her legs kicking helplessly until she curled forward and crawled onto her knees and elbows that burned against the carpet.

 Breathe in- out, breathe- breathe in-

 It was impossible. Anything was. The only thing she wanted was to scream, but the floor smothered those. Loud grunts ripped from her throat, the dress clinging to her body like a wet sheet. Trying to form words in hopes she could calm herself down was futile when she couldn’t make it through a full breath without shouting, and as long as she was stuck there on the floor, she couldn’t find her phone.

It surely hadn’t even been a full minute since the last time he checked his phone, but he still looked again anyways, chuffing when there was no response from Callie.

Nick shifted to lean on his other foot, arms crossed and back burning under the glaring sun while stood in full uniform at the center of a lawn listening with only half his concentration to Sergey as he took the reins on this call. It was probably best that way too. If Nick had to deal with this stout man screaming about his lawn, he’d likely shove him into one of the many trash cans lining his yard.

So instead he cracked his neck, trying to ignore the sweat collecting across his scalp and gave in to checking his phone once again, but still, nothing.

Nick exhaled with another adjustment of the kevlar vest, hoping to alleviate the tightening of his chest.

Making it back to the table to again look for her phone hadn’t only been difficult, but a test of her willpower to remain standing when the contractions kept coming and strengthening enough to at first keep her on the floor for some time. She’d long since pushed her soaked panties down her legs, but was fearful if she reached down, she’d be faced with the top of Leo’s head and still no way to call for help. The thought of wobbling her way out of the house was quickly tossed; all their neighbors were busy singles or couples that were rarely home, and she sure as hell couldn’t just walk outside and scream.

So now she was upright again, even going as far as to unfold some of the clothing that it maybe could’ve been hiding between, but her thorough search did not produce the phone.

A few times she could’ve sworn she’d heard it vibrate somewhere, and when it went unfound she started to question her sanity. She did just crack her head against the floor and still struggled to keep her eyes open; it could be right under her nose and just couldn’t see it.

Callie’s hand flew over her eyes when she felt the fresh burning of tears, a weak sob building in the back of her throat. Between contractions she’d try to remind herself to relax, not to overexert herself more than she was already doing, but once the pain was no longer occupying every fiber of attention, she was left with this crippling fear.

Leo’s perfectly planned birth had suddenly been yanked out from under her in a matter of seconds, and now she was here, stranded and alone in the middle of her own labor that was completely out of her control. All the terrible outcomes she’d been warned of were suddenly so plausible; she could be losing another baby right now and she just didn’t know it yet.

Was labor supposed to hurt like this? It was so close to what it had felt like the first time during Tikka’s battle- so was she dying? Was Leo!?

There was no one to ask as she sobbed, leaned against the table with weak knees and wailing into bunched up laundry as another contraction fired up.

They were starting to last longer, which gave them more power without even really intensifying. Every one dragged on for eternity; it terrified her thinking of this going on for hours when she’d look to the clock above the bar and face that it’d only been a mere hour since first coming to.

Would Leo even have that much time?  

She steadied herself against the edge of the table, pulling her messy wet hair from her neck and face to fashion into a neater bun.

I’ve had many patients who’ve tried delivering vaginally and the baby’s become stuck in the pelvis because of their size.

Her stomach that had decreased in size since her water broke had been still; Leo had been quiet through all of this, not even a small foot to jab into her ribs like he normally did when she moved around too much, and she knew why. He was slowly moving down with every tight squeeze, coming closer to the end of his journey, but Callie didn’t know how she could ensure that being here.

She looked up, scanning the living and dining room.

Would this be enough to bring him into the world?

These walls had seen her grieve the loss of babies before; missed opportunities of a family and little laughs. Would they witness life this time?

Callie’s face hardened, nodding to herself with quickening breaths.

“I can do this,” she panted, tears brimming her eyes. “I can do this,”

Without Nick?

She wiped her eyes crudely, stopping hard when another contraction buckled her knees. The basket flipped it’s contents out before her alongside a curse, but through her own spitting profanities, she heard a soft thump , then the hum of her phone vibrating beside her hand, hidden under a small shirt. Her laughter was hysteric as she clawed for it, pressing it against her sweaty forehead and sobbing. When she could look at the multitudes of messages Nick had sent, she brought her face to the sky, thanking whoever had been passing by for showing mercy.

Cal answer me please

He sent the text with a hard press to his screen, the phone shoving back into his pocket as he made his way back to Sergey and the stout man who’d still kept hollering, but was now going to be dealt with a handful of tickets he’d accumulated after a quick sweep of his premises revealed he was the man who someone had called about.

Although at this point it wouldn’t help, Nick still took a cautionary breath while making his way across the lawn. He was a few insults away from slugging the middle aged man and calling it self defense, but Nick couldn’t trust himself not to concuss him if given the chance.

The strong vibration of his phone against his thigh completely turned him around, raising a hand to Sergey as he answered Callie’s call he’d waited desperately for.

“I texted you like a hundred-”

“Nick come home Leo’s coming!” she gasped harshly into the call.

It was what he’d feared had been happening the entire time his texts and calls had gone unanswered. There’d been days she did this; usually it was because of a nap or showering, sometimes forgetting her phone in the kitchen, but today, it wasn’t the heat that made his skin sweat, and it wasn’t his uniform that felt too tight around him. The discomfort had been under his skin, building deep down in his gut as the time dragged by. He’d known it all along, but couldn’t accept it until now.

He shouted something at Sergey, but to know if he understood him would go unconfirmed. Nick couldn’t even hear himself above the instant pounding in his ears, his sprint back to the cruiser and jumping behind the wheel all a blur, his voice shaking when he told Callie he was already driving.

The sirens stayed blaring the race across town, slamming his palm against the horn when the inane didn’t know better to get out of his way, because he’d push cars aside with his own if they interfered with this. What they’d been waiting years for, what he’d had nightmares and daydreams about, what he was so ready to protect.

It left him in disbelief while he drove wildly through the streets- surely to face harsh criticism once he’d returned to work- that in this moment, he felt no fear over meeting his son. It was only bubbling excitement to soon have all his questions answered, to finally touch the feet that kicked mightily when he heard his father's voice.

Nick’s hand covered the wide smile that spanned across his face, an equally insane stream of laughter erupting as the understanding fully dawned on him, and with that, the fear returned, too.

He was about to be a father for real, now.

By the time he was screeching around the last turn to the home stretch to their house, he’d composed himself and silenced the laughter he knew she didn’t need to be dealing with right now. By that phone call alone he could tell she was probably in hysterics, but why had she taken so long to reply then?

The sirens had also been killed before coming to a shrieking halt in the driveway, not even bothering to close his door before sprinting across the lawn.

He swung the door open so hard it bounced against the wall. “CAL!?”

“Over here,” came her weak call, and he again didn’t bother with the door before following her voice to the dining room where she was slumped in a chair and fanning her cheeks with an envelope.

“Are you okay? Are you alright?” he implored, squatting down to hold her face that was flushed and sweaty.

“My water broke all over his room and I slipped and hit my head,” she pouted, hot tears falling down her cheeks.

“Wha-” he choked, quickly standing to move her hair apart and check where she said it had smacked against the floor. Thankfully there was only a small abrasion that barely bled, but after going on to tell him how she lost consciousness and was sensitive to light, he knew there was even more reason to hurry.

“Leo’s bags,” she pointed, moving to hoist herself up.

“Hell no,” Nick scolded, easily scooping her up bridal style. “You’ll sit in the cruiser and I’ll get his stuff,” he was already walking her towards the door, taking the moment to kiss the top of her head when it rested tiredly against his chest. The exhaustion she must’ve been feeling was probably crippling based solely on her limp movements and weak voice.

Another contraction was starting when she was placed in the seat, but Nick moved faster than before when she waved him back into the house hurriedly, gripping the roof handle and arching against her seat. It was only a matter of seconds before he returned and was throwing all their bags into the trunk and himself back behind the wheel and they were off with the sirens blasting again.

Surely another harsh lashing was to come from that misuse, but this was worth it.

He didn’t know what to say or ask when she squeezed his hand like a vice, her legs straightening like a board and smacking her thigh repeatedly as she did her best to ride the contractions out silently. A few loud cries made their way from her throat still, then a soft apology that Nick would insist wasn’t needed.

He’d hold her face and kiss her cheeks when they stopped in traffic and Callie urged him to turn the sirens off when they did nothing to move the congested lanes no one could budge from, but it pained him to see her in such agony when they split her down the middle.

“W-what can I do?” he asked, fighting to keep his focus on her and the traffic inching forward.

“Nothing,” she gasped, her head lolling to look at him. “But it’s okay baby, just concentrate on the road,” she breathed, both of her hands securing around his. The sincerity in her big, tired eyes was there, but so was anxiety. Could he even tell if she was going to swing into one in this state?

“Talk to me,” she grunted while positioning herself in the seat. “Did we agree on what color he’d be?” she smiled.

He laughed nervously, a hand on the wheel and another on her stomach while her body was calm. It was so hard now, and if he wasn’t mistaken, even a little smaller. “I think we said mostly you with freckles of my color,”

She laughed, wincing. “I don’t think he’ll have hair,”

“I think he will. Maybe pointed ears,” Nick glanced at her, his smile fading when her face started to tighten again.

“And tusks-” she got out before her hand slapped against his arm to grip, this time wiggling onto her side to press her face into the seat.

It was another hour before the hospital was finally in sight, and for the first time in their relationship, Callie had been the one to leave bruises on his arm. Nick this time would take full advantage of being a cop; he could leave the cruiser parked right in front for as long as needed and no one could do anything about it.

“Ready?” Nick asked after darting around to her side with the bags looped around his shoulders and chest. His vest and belt had since been removed; they were only an annoyance at this point.

Callie’s response wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t entirely sure, either. Although she nodded, the tears in her eyes and tremble of her chin revealed to him the fear she’d tried hiding up to this point. All the times she’d told him, herself, everyone that she could do this, she was still questioning herself in the moment. All this time she’d done her best to bury that dread, but now facing the question anew, could she do this?

A small team of nurses had come out with a wheelchair after spotting exactly what was going down and Callie was transferred from from his arms to the seat, his hand lingering in hers until he was forced to follow behind.

Her intake was quick; apparently your water breaking got you a spot right to the front of the line in the maternity wing, but just as they’d given Callie a bed and IV with the promise of rest, an exam to verify what stage she was at had her cursing just as loudly as she did during a contraction. Nick’s fingertips turned white under her grip, watching in horror as the attending dove knuckle-deep to examine her.

“Okay my love,” the attending stood, pulling her gloves off. “You’re at seven, so almost there. Did you want an epidural?”

“No,” Callie snapped. “I’m doing it natural,”

“That’s fine, but know we don’t give them after a certain point so we don’t slow down labor. Who is your OB?”

“Sangui,”

“We’ll page her, I think she’s here today, actually,” she jotted down in her little notepad she’d brought forth from her chest pocket, a few strands of hair loose around her eyes. “Okay, sit tight and we’ll be back,” she smiled, squeezing Callie’s foot before leaving with the nurse.

“Hey,” Nick scooted back beside her, wiping his thumbs across her brow and looking into her tired eyes. “How’re you doing? What can I do?” he asked in soft tones, kissing her gently when she shook her head.

“Tell me I’m gonna be okay,” she croaked, hanging onto his wrist.

“You’re definitely gonna be okay, both of you are,” he reassured, pressing his forehead to hers when she closed her eyes and nodded, soaking in his confidence.

Now out of her soaked dress, the crisp hospital gown actually felt nice on her hot skin, as did the cold sheets of the bed, at least until she was rolling onto her hands and knees as another contraction roared to life. Callie cried from the misery in her lower back, unable to remain still or even lay down when it wrapped around her.

Between sprints, Nick, although feeling like more of a nuisance than actual help, spooned ice chips into her mouth and pressed forcefully against her lower back when she begged for some kind of reprieve, moving on to carry all her weight when she hung in his hold after deciding to stand and walk around; that only lasted a half lap around the room. It was an awkward way to hold her up like this, with his hands clasped against shoulder blades and forearms under her armpits, but it seemed the way she hung deadweight helped ease some of the insane force across her body.

Until they were taken upstairs to a more appropriate room for her delivery, Callie bit and smothered herself through the pain, leaning over into the bedding to scream instead of trying to walk and breathe through it like the nurses so urged. Sometimes it was the mental strain that needed to be eased.

But even then the allure of pain meds grew as the time drew on.

She walked and bounced on the exercise ball when they said it would help speed labor along, but either of those became impossible as the contractions only grew closer. There wasn’t enough time to catch her breath before the next one came barreling down, and within another hour, she couldn’t stand to be touched.

Laying down was murder, but so was standing up.

She stopped Nick everytime he urged to call Rosie or his mom, telling him he wasn’t allowed to until Leo was out. Knowing my luck this will all be false labor, she had groaned.

She wanted to rip off the noisy monitors banded around her distended waist, but hearing Leo’s heartbeat thunder through the speakers reminded her of what was to come after all of this, that she knew as soon as she saw him, all of this would be worth it.

So she grit her teeth and clung to Nick when the pain came, her nails digging into his arms and shoulders, but he didn’t let out a peep of discomfort. In the moments she was free of misery that left her breathless, he held her against his chest and kissed her steamy cheeks, wiping away the sweat dotted across her forehead. He only told her how strong and capable she was, but never asked her to keep fighting through the pain. He didn’t want her to think she had to break herself over this; that it was okay to ask for pain relief if it was easier on her already strained body.

Callie grunted against his chest, her knees propped apart with a couple pillows. She’d given up trying to find comfort with the ten pillows that only made her hotter, and although Nick was a heater of his own, he came with big hands that massaged her miserable back.

“Do I need to move?” he asked, starting to pull his shoulder from underneath her head.

“No,” she grunted, rolling her onto her back. ”I gotta go to the bathroom,”

The heavy door to their room opened, and at last Dr. Sangui came in with hands clasped and a warm smile. “What ever got you here needs to be relayed so I can share the secret with the other a hundred moms desperate to pop their babies out,”

“Homemade salsa,” Nick grinned.

“Oh, well some of them are out of luck then. How’re you doing Callie?”

“I have a lot of pressure on my butt,” Callie frowned tiredly.

“Well let’s do a quick check here then,” she moved to grab gloves from off the walls. “When was your last one?”

“‘Bout an hour ago,” Nick answered, already offering his hand after Callie slid fully onto her back and spread her knees.

“And you were seven then?” she asked, apologizing softly when Callie tensed. She still nodded through it, this one not anywhere as bad as before.

“Well, get ready for the last stretch,” she looked up at the nervous couple. “It’s time to start pushing,”

Callie’s expression worried, her head dropping back with a hand rested against her chest and the other in Nick’s grasp.

“Hey,” he called softly, stopping her before she walked into that storm. “You can do this, baby,”

She nodded with him, eyes glossy. “I can do this,”

“You can, you’re finally gonna see him,” Nick’s voice wavered, but he took the opportunity to kiss her knuckles before leaning down to kiss her, reassuring her as many times as needed.

The staff was a blur around them, setting up trays at her feet and dimming the lights to make way for the blinding one above her. Gowns were draped over scrubs and Callie’s bed was formed until she was upright with one foot in a stirrup and another in Nick’s hold, his thumb caressing her knee comfortingly.

“Alright hun, why don’t you give me one good push to see where we’re starting,” Dr. Sangui smiled from behind her mask.

Callie nodded, her chin touching her chest when she pushed, whimpering at the immediate growth in pressure.

“Mom’s a good pusher, let’s set up quickly,” she called back to her staff cheerily, smoothing down the blue mats between herself and Callie.

It was a small boost to her confidence, but one she’d take nonetheless.

She watched them finish laying the blankets over the warmed tray and the scale beside it, the stethoscopes ready around their necks and bulbs prepared to be used. She didn’t dare examine the tray of scalpels and head clamps within Dr. Sangui’s reach; she couldn’t concentrate on that possibly.

Callie’s knees started to tighten. “I’m gonna have another one,” she groaned, her toes curling.

“Okay Callie, when you feel it, that’s time to push, alright? Push right into your bottom like you’re poopin’,”  she instructed, scooting closer between her feet.

Her hold adjusted around Nick’s wrist, looking up at him, searching.

 I love you, he mouthed, grimacing when there was only a second of her bright smile before it was time.

She pushed with every fiber of strength she had left in her spent body. Until her face was red and they said rest, she pushed even if it felt like her middle was splitting open.

 Just go just go just go! She screamed internally, desperate to move her mind around the torture, but everything was pain, and she felt every second of it. Every twist Leo made in her pelvis, she felt. Every inch he moved farther down between her hips; at one point she stressed her hips could dislocate, but was only told to keep pushing.

The breaks between the pushes were still agonizing. The pressure was that of the kind around your skull when you dive too deep, but it didn’t lessen when she calmed.

“...seven, eight, nine, ten, okay take a breath,” Dr. Sangui breathed with Callie. “And again, push,”

With her chin to her chest and jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth would shatter, she started to care less and less about the gutteral sounds she made. She grabbed the back of her knees, her face scrunched-

“Here comes the head!” Dr. Sangui smiled. “Keep going- five, six, seven-”

Nick leaned forward to look, the air punched from his lungs once observing the horrifying sight before him.

“Okay take a quick break, this is the ring of fire but I think you can have his head out in another push,” she encouraged, piling gauze beside her.

“Oh fuck me,” Callie breathed, panting before falling back into concentration and pushing again, and lord did the ring of fire live up to it’s name. This time the shouts wouldn’t be suppressed, nor the curses. There was no way in hell anyone could expect composure now at this point with her center literally on the brink of ripping apart.

“Breathe breathe breathe and again,”

It was hard to hold her breath while she pushed; there was already so much pressure everywhere, and her head was starting to pound again-

There was a popping sensation, some slight relief.

“Heads out! C’mon Callie, one more good push!” Dr. Sangui cheered, a nurse stepping forward with a blanket over her outstretched arms.

Callie couldn’t see past her stomach when she searched frantically. “His head?” she looked up to Nick who’s eyes had glossed over when he looked at her.

“He has hair,” he smiled, his voice cracking.

Callie tittered, her shaking grip adjusting around Nick’s wrist again.

“You can do this,” he held the back of her head, sincerity pooling in his molten eyes. “You’re so close baby,”

Callie nodded again, eyes pinching shut when the wrath started to build up.

“Okay hun, one more time,”

She waited, inhaling deeply. “I can do this,” she whispered.

Nick started to exclaim and encourage when she felt Leo start to move from her, his grip tightening on her leg, but she couldn’t open her eyes while she pushed. Sangui cheered the same, and could feel her fingers move around Leo’s jaw and neck, pulling gently against her body until the pressure was finally gone.

She exhaled loudly as he came spinning out, Nick’s breathless exclaim opening her eyes just as the tiny, gargling screams came.

Callie sobbed as soon as he was lifted onto her bare chest, his arms thrown out angrily and puffy eyes pinched shut as he wailed into the cold world around him. Finally he was in her hold, at last able to touch the velvety skin of his face or feel his cries when resting her hand on his back, and the deep breaths he sucked in between every holler. She held the back of his delicate head, astounded by the dappling of Nick’s color that formed the markings across his round cheeks and human nose, all the way back to his tiny pointed ears.

Her words weren’t words at all, but simply emotions taking flight in wails and sobs as she touched every part of him that she’d grown.

She looked up at Nick who was wiping his eyes crudely against the sleeves on his arms. “I did it,” she sighed, her eyes sliding shut when he kissed her forehead. “Nick look at him,” she beamed, pulling him closer by the shirt.

His vision was blurry from tears when he dragged his knuckles faintly across Leo’s soft cheek, hiding the sobs in his other palm. His soft graze traced the tones of his skin, detailing the freckles that dusted across his shoulders and cheeks like his mothers.

His strong, little fingers wrapped around Callie’s, squeezing and releasing as he continued to weep against her chest as he was jostled and dried by the nurses. Nick smoothed the sticky, sandy blonde hair from his forehead, the parents laughing when Leo grunted loudly before stirring again.

“I didn’t expect this color,” Callie commented, carefully pulling it up to see he already had a few inches worth of hair running the curve of his head in a thick stripe.

“I didn’t expect hair,” he snorted.

Callie kissed his fingers, tears trailing down her cheeks as she admired him. “He’s so perfect,” she whispered, tapping his puckering chin.

Leo’s face scrunched, a soft chuff stirring a few coughs.

Nick’s heart wept; there was already so much of himself in him.

“I can’t believe how pretty he is,” Callie spoke softly, the pair in awe when he whined, his face sorrowing.

“He looks so sad,” Nick grieved, rubbing his arm that curled in tighter to his body, still gripping Callie’s finger.

Callie hushed him softly, craning her neck to press a flurry of kisses into his cheek and temple. “Que paso hermoso? Hm?” she cooed, more kisses finding his hand. “Are you angry you had to come out?”

“Is he…?” Nick trailed off, both of them freezing when his swollen eyes started to flutter open. Nick leaned far over, fighting to catch a glimpse of his eyes. “Can we turn that off?” he asked, pointing at the light.

“Oh, yep! Sorry little guy,” Dr. Sangui grinned guiltily, adjusting the high beam from his face.

Two bright golden jewels rolled around behind squinted eyelids, making out only a blurry outline of his father that smiled down at him.

“So all you got from me is my nose, huh?” Callie joked, both of them chuckling.

Leo’s big eyes opened wider, his head pressing back into her palm.

“Talk again,” Nick said, watching in amazement.

“Leo,�� she called softly, beaming from ear to ear when he stilled, his eyes opened and looking in her direction. “Do you recognize my voice bebe? Do you hear me Leonardo Makar?” she whispered, kissing his knuckles.

He kept looking up, his blinks heavy as she spoke to him, kissing the space between his eyes that Nick ran the pad of his thumb up and down over to make his nose scrunch. When it was time for him to be weighed, her heart sank the moment he cried after being lifted from her chest, his serenity broken and warmth taken away

“Go with him,” she told Nick who was already following his crackly cries to the small heated bed.

He wailed and kicked, and Nick fought shouting at them to do this all later. Why couldn’t he just lay with Callie!? They didn’t need to be putting bands around him and measuring- he wasn’t going to grow that fast!

“He is ten pounds four ounces,” a nurse smiled back at Callie.

“Oh my god,” she wailed from behind him, but Nick wouldn’t drag his eyes from Leo who was continuing to howl and tremble under their assault.

 What else could they have to do!? They’d done the lengths, drying, wrapping yada-yada, what the fuck else!? How long were they gonna keep him crying there!? He wanted to move beside him and talk to him, offer his touch in comfort, but they remained huddled around him, rolling him side to side as they swaddled him.

 “Ready to hold him dad?” an older, more soft-spoken nurse asked Nick while she finished fixing the beanie pulled over his matted hair.

His anger fell away, excitement bringing forth a quick nod.

Leo was starting to whine angrily again just as Nick found his seat beside Callie’s bed, another nurse propping a pillow under his elbow before his son was lowered carefully into his arms. His head rested in the crook of his elbow, his body curled inwards towards Nick and his hands peeking out from the blanket where he tried to suck on his fist.

In Nick’s hold Leo looked small, but even he knew just by holding him that he was a big baby, but everything about him was precious, miniature. Nick’s curiosity moved under the beanie to his pointed ears, following his brow down to the tip of his rounded nose- Callie’s nose- and over his soft lips that searched for milk.

Leo’s feet nudged softly against Nick’s palm where his bottom half was curled up, and he squeezed them with great care, watching his toes spread when a foot finally broke loose of the swaddle. Nick’s thumb fit across the bottom of Leo’s silky foot, his toes curling around the tip of his finger when he pressed gently.

He chuckled every time a little arm sporadically sprung upwards, his grabbing hands aimless and sometimes gripping Nick’s shirt. His grip was strong around his finger, lifting his hand to gaze at his little, little fingernails.

Callie watched with misty eyes as Nick pulled Leo closer to his chest, leaning down to press firm kisses to his face, nuzzling his nose under his round cheeks even when the baby boy whined in protest. His crackly voice stirred sympathy in Nick’s already bursting heart, softly, and only half-heartedly apologizing to him after peppering more kisses against his chubby cheek. The blanket was secured tighter around his little shoulders, talking softly to him in Orkish whispers that he hoped would calm Leo’s tired cries. Babies crying usually made him nervous, but Leo’s little wails stirred something close to a sobbing laughter, something affectionate and overflowing with admiration for the little thing he held close to his heart.

He wanted to see those big, amber eyes look up at him, but the longer he remained curled tight against Nick’s warm chest with calming pats against his bottom, the more he couldn’t bear to move him from contentedness.

“Of course he doesn’t kick you when he’s angry,” Callie mumbled playfully, giggling at Nick’s goofy grin when he could finally pull his gaze away from his handsome son.

“He’s got a lot to say,” Nick rubbed the space between his eyes again, chuckling when his brows furrowed and he whined louder.

“Now we can call everyone,” she grunted, eyes pinching shut as the doctor went on to stitch and clean her up. It stung, but was nothing compared to five minutes ago.

Nick gasped softly. “I have an idea,” he whispered to Leo excitedly. He cringed when he disturbed him while stretching a leg to dig his phone from his pocket, comforting Leo enough to keep him from wailing as he found his mother in his call log, but his quick panting would soon lead to full on sobs again.

High-pitched whimpers started to emit from him, his arm coming from the blankets.

“I see what you’re doing,” Callie reached to touch Leo’s forehead, rubbing her fingers back and forth over the velvety skin.

Nick tensed when the line picked up, and as planned, Leo started to cry louder, his round face souring. “Ma?” Nick called, his voice bubbling with excitement.

“Nick- who’s, who’s baby?” Dinara finally spoke, breathlessly that was.

He fought but couldn’t steady his voice before saying, “He’s here, Ma,”

There was only shouting after that, clustered and slipping madly between English and Orkish as she screamed for Oleg, struggling to get out what she intended. Nick tried to answer her blubbering questions, but she was crying the next one out before he even had time to finish the first.

Nick let the nurse lift Leo from his arms and back into Callie’s after she’d finished, ending the call with his parents after getting enough out to tell them what hopital they were at.

“Come here come here,” Callie reached excitedly, cradling him tight to her chest and freely reining kisses over the small plain his soft face.

Nick wiped his eyes again, standing to watch quietly as the nurse assisted Callie on how to get Leo to latch, his body unwrapped from the blankets and resuming skin to skin contact. Now he was really screaming, his short legs kicking wildly and arms throwing erratically until he was placed on his stomach over Callie’s bare chest.

The sensation of breastfeeding would definitely be something to adjust to, and Leo although being eager to eat was a stubborn latcher, crying angrily when Callie struggled and her soft words doing nothing to calm his hunger.

Nick could see her becoming flustered under the gaze of the nurses, glancing up nervously while trying to adjust the support under her arms.

Without a word, he stuffed the pillow higher under her elbow, releasing his own breath when she did after Leo finally found his spot.

Her head dropped back, eyes closing with a small smile across her lips. “Thank goodness.”

It was a brief feeding; Leo needed only a few drops of colostrum before he released, but the whole feeding had been another sight to marvel at. He grunted through his nose as he suckled, his face scrunched hilariously. Leo detached himself with a single sharp cry, his big eyes starting to flutter open again. This time, Nick had his phone ready for pictures when he looked around sleepily, and blindly, basically, but his cries were now little grunts and chuffs, breathing rapidly in between wide yawns that made Nick and Callie’s hearts throb.

Nick promised and pleaded her beauty when he started taking photos of them, begging her not to hide her glow after pulling the blanket down enough to snap the photos that would be cherished forever. Leo lasted a while before his lids started to slide shut, his sporadic wiggles calming when Nick rubbed his bare, fuzzy back.

He leaned over to wiggle his face between his shoulder and cheek carefully, pressing final kisses everywhere until he started to stir, but rested his cheek against his back, the beat of his rapid heart filling his ears.

Callie touched Nick’s cheek, her eyes pooling with tears again. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?”

He kissed her before he lost his composure again, smoothing her messy hair away from her face and reminding her how beautiful, amazing, and strong she was. “He’s perfect because you’re perfect,” he kissed into her cheek, wiping her eyes when she tried to look away with blushing cheeks.

“Hey!” she sniffled, craning her neck to find their bags. “Get my phone, yeah? I wanna call Rosie,”

Nick quickly located her phone, handing it to her but replacing her hand on Leo’s back so he wouldn’t roll away by some miraculous chance.

Callie navigated her phone until the line was ringing on speaker, hopeful she wasn’t in the middle of a call.

“Heeey,” Rosie answered nonchalantly.

"You have to promise you won’t be mad at me,” Callie barely got out past the excitement in her voice.

There was a pause. “What did you do?”

She withheld the laughter to say, “I’m holding your nephew,”

“My nephew… my nephew. My nephew!? You had Leo!?” Rosie shrieked, the panic heightened in her shrill voice over the line.

“He has my nose!” Callie lamented, both her and Nick laughing when Rosie only screamed obscenely through the phone.

“I’ll be there! I’m coming right now, I love you so much I’ll see you soon!” Rosie sobbed, the line clicking before Callie could get another word in.

“I hope she doesn’t walk in screaming like that,” Callie giggled, stuffing her phone beside her.

Their attention quickly moved back to Leo when an acute growl vibrated through his small body, and that was when Nick lost it. He hid his face against the pillow behind Callie, laughing as she did but also sobbing like a mess. There was no need to explain the confusing swarm of emotions he was under the spell of to Callie or the nurses around them, and definitely not to Dr. Sangui who congratulated the new parents on their healthy baby boy, assuring to Callie that as soon as she left she’d be canceling the c-section.

When the sobs were muddled and eyes red and puffy found his son again, Nick rested his cheek against Callie’s arm above Leo’s head so he could watch him sleep, kissing soft I love you’s into his covered head while she counted his toes and fingers, touching the two freckles on his chin that matched hers. They detailed the distinct patterning of Nick’s hue over the caramel glow of his skin, the darker freckles in some spots and the lighter ones over his cheeks. Nick was in awe at how much of himself and Callie he found the longer he stared and how much was unexpected, but in every sense, and every way possible, Leo was perfect.

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Leonardo Makar Jakoby

July 19th | 10 lbs 4 oz | 21 in

Born to proud parents Calista & Nicholas

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😍Expect a lot of secret drawings of Leo now😍

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (38/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series. 

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.  

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for being my beta, @imagnifika​ for the cover art, and all of you for being awesome, whether you read this story or not ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 | 37 | 38

-/-

The thing about being a starting pitcher is that Killian rarely plays. It’s every five days usually, and Killian is too competitive to simply be able to sit and watch while everyone else gets to be out there on the field. If it wasn’t absolute murder on his shoulder, he’d be in Al’s office every damn day asking why he can’t be out there.

Understandably, having to watch his teammates play without being able to help has been killing him more in this past week than it did while he was out on injury, and that was actual hell.

Rob did a fantastic job that first night clinching the first game for them by making it nearly impossible for the Dodgers to get on base, and Killian, while he didn’t play his best, pitched a good enough game and had help from Eric’s three-run homerun for them to win the second. It’s simply that everything after that has been a bit of a nightmare.

They lost two incredibly close games in a row in California to tie things up, won the next one, and now they could clinch the entire Series at home in New York.

Tonight.

With Rob pitching and Killian sitting on the bench.

And as much as Killian would love to get to be an active part of it all like he was during the winning game last year, he would give absolutely everything for them to win tonight so that he doesn’t have to get up on the mound tomorrow. The pressure and desire and want  is so damn intense that it makes Killian’s heart ache, but he knows that this isn’t really about him. No part of him could be selfish enough to want to lose today so that he could have the possibility of the glory tomorrow.

That would be ridiculous, and he doesn’t know what the hell he’d do if he wakes up tomorrow morning with a stiff shoulder and he’s got to get out there and play.

Sighing, Killian stretches out his legs to the seat in front of him as a whisper of wind whirls through the stadium to bring in the late October chill. He fiddles with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, pulling them down to cover his wrists where chill bumps are rising, and he wishes that he had a hat on to protect himself from weather, his ears likely red from the cold. It’s only seven in the morning, most of the stadium completely empty except for the maintenance crew and a few people in the offices, but Killian knew that this would be his only time to take it all in with no one around him.

An empty stadium is nearly as magical as a packed one.

He’s spent his entire life building up to things like this. Sure, there were times when he had other goals. He wanted to be a teacher, wanted to get his degree and help others, but that was always the fallback goal. It was never the main one.

Baseball has been his life.

Lately, though, Killian’s been thinking about life outside of the game more than ever. It’s insane because he feels like he’s one of those obnoxious people who only lives and breathes baseball all the time, especially with what’s going on right now, but his mind has managed to find a way to wander elsewhere.

There are saved searches on his phone about going back to Vanderbilt to finish his degree and a sent message in his email to an advisor asking if it would be possible for him to finish in New York instead of having to take classes in person. He hasn’t told anyone that he’s thinking about it, not yet. Telling someone makes it real, and Killian’s not entirely sure that he wants it to be real quite yet. He’s a grown ass man, but change is still terrifying when he’s grown comfortable in his life.

Baseball isn’t forever, though, and while he may still work in the sport later on, he’s not going to be someone who goes throughout his entire life living out the glory days through memory.

Tonight, might be another big moment that defines his life, but the past six months have been pretty life changing as well. Hell, the past year has been.

Things are changing in ways that he wants and ways that he doesn’t, and that’s simply how it is.

“So, we woke up at the ass crack of dawn so that you could sit out here all by yourself?”

Killian twists his head to the side to see Emma standing a few seats over dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, scarf wrapped around her neck and Yankees cap on her head. He was so wrapped up in his own mind that he didn’t even hear her move toward him.

“Hey, love,” he smiles, reaching up and holding out his hand so that the cool tip of her fingers touch his as he intertwines their fingers while she settles down into the seat next to him and props her feet up on the seat in front of her. “I told you that you didn’t have to come with me.”

Sitting here reminds him of another time in San Francisco when he put his heart on his sleeve and willingly handed it over to Emma to crush before they decided that they would give the two of them a go and simply see how things worked out. If she had said no that day, he could have listened. But damn is he glad that she said yes.

Or, well, technically, he was the one saying yes.

Either way, everything in his life shifted.

“I know, but you get all moody and introspective, and I didn’t want you psyching yourself out.”

“I would not do that.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Just a little bit.” His hand flexes against hers, shifting his fingers the slightest bit so that he can get a more comfortable grip on Emma’s hands. “What have you been doing while I’ve been sitting here being introspective and psyching myself out?”

“I was taking some pictures. It’s kind of cool to see the calm before the storm, you know? And then David called me with some work stuff and to give me shit about us making out being all over Instagram, so I sat on a bench and talked to him for awhile.”

“He called you this early? Is he crazy?” 

“I think David forgets that not everyone wakes up this early, and he has no qualms about waking me up. Usually I’m much meaner to him.”

“I’m surprised you’re not being mean to me.”

“The coffee we had at home really works wonders.”

Killian almost opens his mouth to say something about Emma referring to his apartment as home. But only almost. They’re both aware of the living situation, have joked about it to each other and others before, and they don’t need some kind of official discussion about things. It’ll all happen naturally, and when the time comes, they’ll talk about it. For now, things are perfect just as they are.  

Life has been crazy with his injury and then Walsh and Brennan and the aftermath of them being absolute assholes. It’s gotten crazier with the World Series and how much press he’s now getting, both for the games and for his relationship with Emma, much of which is now weirdly being caught on camera. All Killian really wants is a bit of normal here.

The sun continues to rise in the sky, darkness shifting into an orange glow that will eventually turn into bright sunshine that makes it difficult to see without a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. The grass on the field is wet with condensation, water coating the blades, and if it wasn’t freezing out there, he thinks he’d go out and sit along the edge of the back wall instead of in a stadium seat.

Bringing Emma’s hand to his lips, he presses a kiss to each of her knuckles before pulling their joined hands back down to rest on his thigh.

“I think,” he starts, not entirely sure where he’s going, “that I could stay out here forever. I don’t know…maybe I feel things too deeply compared to everyone else, but this place has always felt like home. I can’t imagine what things would be like if I’d been drafted somewhere else or if I’d never been called up at all.”

She hums next to him, and Killian looks down to see Emma’s thumb rubbing across his knuckles like she always seems to do. “What’s that thing you’re always saying? There’s no such thing as ‘what ifs.’ Not in life and not in sport. What happened, happened.”

“Doesn’t keep me from wondering.”

“It doesn’t keep anyone from wondering, twenty-nine.” Her hand squeezes his again, and Killian’s mind dares to ask once more what his life would be like had he not met Emma. It’s a question he doesn’t want an answer to. “What if my parents had kept me? What if Ruth had never decided to foster a shitty teenager with an attitude issue? What if I had never met Neal or Walsh or Ruby or anyone who has impacted my life they the way they have? What if I never met you?”

“You’d be missing out on the best sex of your life.”

Emma knocks her foot into his as he snickers at his own awful joke. “You’re full of yourself.”

He shrugs. “It happens. And I know. I’m just – my stomach has been in knots over all of this for an entire month. I’m not sure my body is going to make it ten more hours. Or hell, possibly even thirty-six. I’ve had to hype myself up for all of this, and I’m a little…fuck, Swan, I’m exhausted and excited, and I’m scared I’m going to have some kind of adrenaline crash.”

It’s Emma’s turn to bring their hands together so that she can brush her lips over his knuckles. His heart stutters at the movement.

God, he loves her. It’s actually insane how much. Truly, it shouldn’t be possible.

“For one, getting up and coming to the stadium before the sun even fully rises is not something that’s going to help with your exhaustion.”

He twists his head to look at her, and she’s got mischief in her eyes and a smirk stretched across her lips that he has to kiss away. She still tastes like coffee.

“Also,” she whispers against his lips, kissing him again, “you’re not going to crash. Not yet. I know you’re really big on not riding on what happened last year, but you’ve got to do that. You’ve been through this before, and you made it. Those butterflies in your stomach are being felt by everyone who’s involved with this team, and hanging out by yourself the entire time isn’t going to help things. Why don’t we go get breakfast together? Or maybe go back to bed?”

“How about a game of catch?”

“What?” Emma laughs as she pulls back from him with furrowed brows? “I am not playing catch with you. Are we five?”

Killian shakes his head and chuckles as he stands from the seat and begins to stretch his shoulders out, letting go of Emma’s hand and rolling his shoulders back as he laughs at himself.

“We’re twenty-eight. I know you remember your birthday last week. And come on, Swan. I play a game of really expensive catch for a living. It’s part of my job to work on my arm today, just in case, and I need a practice partner.”

“That’s what Will and Eric or August are for.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, reaching forward to tug her up only for her weight to go dead so that he can’t move her, “but they’re not here. You are.”

Emma closes her gaping mouth, and her lips move in different directions while her nose scrunches up so that little crinkles appear around her eyes under the shade of her hat. “Okay, but if there’s one misogynistic quip about me throwing like a girl, I’m breaking up with you on the spot.”

“There’s nothing wrong with throwing like a girl, Swan. It’s pretty badass. But there’s something wrong with throwing like shit.”

“I’m not going to throw like shit.” Killian starts walking over the chairs, easily maneuvering through the stands with Emma following behind him. “But I ask you to remember that while I pride myself in my fitness, it’s in things like Pilates and running or boxing. It’s not in baseball. You, meanwhile, do this for a living.”

“These sound like a hell of a lot of excuses.”

“That’s because they are.”

“There’s no excuses in baseball.”

“I thought it was crying.”

“Fuck no,” Killian scoffs. “There’s a lot of crying in baseball, and anyone who tells you something different is a liar.”

“I can’t believe you just called Tom Hanks, America’s sweetheart, a liar.”

They have to go back through the tunnels to get a bucket of balls and some gloves as well as a few towels to wipe the grass in the bullpen down since it’s wet and neither of them are wearing the right shoes for this, but they do eventually get to the point where he can lightly toss the ball back and forth between the two of them. He’s not going to pitch at full speed, not until he has Will later, but it’s soothing to simply be out here getting a little movement in. He’s been back for two weeks, practicing for four, but it’s still all brand new again to him and shaded under a light that wasn’t there before.

Emma isn’t bad at all. She’s actually rather good, a natural some might say, and he jokes with her that if sports broadcasting doesn’t work out for her, she might take up a career in this. Naturally that gets him an eye roll or two, but she keeps on throwing until the sun is high in the sky and the day has truly begun.

Killian’s ready for it.

Everything seems to pass quickly then. The entirety of the Dodgers team walks out onto the field for their scheduled practice while he and Emma are still messing around in the bullpen, somewhere between still doing a bit of practice and Killian backing Emma up against the wall to make out with her. No one sees them, though, the loud blaring of music startling the two of them away from each other, and Killian presses Emma a little further into the wall while he buries his face in her neck so that he can muffle the sound of his laughter.

He’s not entirely sure that works, especially when Emma is doing the same, but they eventually manage to grab their things and slip inside so that an entire professional team isn’t aware of the fact that he was using the early morning stadium to kiss his girlfriend.

That would certainly have been something.

There is an actual practice that Killian has to attend today, an hour of which needs to be spent with him running on the treadmill and then getting massaged by Archie to work out any knots and kinks in his shoulder and to make sure that it’s not inflamed. Killian is always terrified that he’s going to be told that his shoulder is inflamed again and that he won’t be able to play on a day where he thinks he’s going to be able to. That would completely screw up the lineup, and…No, now isn’t the time to think about that.

Killian tells Emma that he’ll see her later, that he’ll probably come bother her wherever the network has her sitting even though he’s splitting the time in the game between the dugout, the clubhouse, and the suite where his family is going to be sitting. She has to go home and get ready for the day, and even if she didn’t, he very much doubts that she’d like to stick around and watch him run.

And then they’re both off.

Let the game begin.

-/-

“Are you guys going to win today?”

Now, that’s the question of the day, isn’t it?

Killian looks down at Roland who is dressed in head to toe Yankees gear, all his dad’s of course, and there’s a nervous smile on the kid’s face. Roland is almost never nervous. He has that childlike faith in everything even with all of the tragedy in his life of having lost his mom, and he nearly always believes that things are going to work out. There’s no good or bad, just the belief that things will work out the way you want them to simply by the power of wanting them to.

If only it were that simple.

“I don’t know, lad,” Killian answers honestly as he reaches down to pick Roland up, easily putting him on his shoulders as Killian walks him down the hallways to the suite he’s staying in for the game. Roland was in the clubhouse for all of the pre-game celebrations, and the kid heard and saw things that he probably didn’t need to hear for several more years.

A decade, really. Maybe two.

Yeah, definitely two decades. There was some creative swearing.

“Why not?”

“Well, because we can’t predict the future, and the other team is really good too.”

“But I want to win.”

“Me too,” he sighs as he pushes open the doors to lead to the suites. “And everyone is going to try their best. But you know what?” “What?”

“I think if you cheer extra hard, it might help your dad out, okay? He might lose because the other team is good, but you’ve got to cheer him on no matter what.”

Roland’s ankles hit against Killian’s collarbone, and Killian pretends that the bony lad doesn’t hurt like hell when he hits him. “I can cheer really  loud. Like, Grandma says that it makes her ears hurt.”

“If you’re not making Grandma’s ears hurt, you’re not cheering loud enough.”

That sentence pretty much sums up why he’s the best uncle in the world, Killian thinks. It’s basically the equivalent of giving kids a pint of ice cream right before they go back to their parents.

Killian pushes open the suite doors and ducks down underneath them so that he doesn’t knock Roland out. Everyone is situated on the couches and around the tables in front of the TV, and no one pays him any mind as he puts Roland down so that he can run to where Addy, Lucy, and Leo are. He imagines that between the four of them, they’re going to make everyone’s ears hurt from their screaming.

Maybe Killian will go spend time sitting in the dugout instead of in here, but it’s a long game. He’s got time to move around as long as he does make time to study Robin’s throwing patterns against each batter.

“Hey,” he murmurs to Elsa in the kitchen area while she pops a chip into her mouth. “I don’t know that it’s good that you’re playing hooky from work and letting the girls do the same with school.”

“Shut up,” she says in between crunchy bites of food, her hand covering her mouth. “You think that joke is funny every time, but it’s not.”

“It is.” Killian dips his head down and presses a kiss to Elsa’s cheek. “But I fully approve of the skipping work thing, especially when your husband’s lazy ass took the entire week off.”

“He’s supporting his baby brother.” 

“Younger, Els. Younger. I don’t need you encouraging that.”

Her bottom lip sticks out. “But it’s so fun to see your ears get all red with embarrassment.” 

“Every single thing I’ve ever said about me being glad to have an older sister in you and Anna? Yeah, I’m taking all of those back.”

“You can’t.” She swipes another chip through the dip. “They’ve been said, and I keep them all in my heart right next to where Addy told me that even if she got to choose her mom, she’d still choose me.”

“Classy.”

“I know,” Elsa laughs. “Where’s your better half?”

“She’s working.” Killian pinches his brows together. “So we’re not even going to pretend that I could possibly be the better half?”

“Nope. Just like Liam isn’t the better half either. And don’t make some quip about being equals. Just let me have this. I’m already stress eating chips.” He laughs while reaching forward to drag the bowl away from Elsa so that she can’t eat anymore, but she doesn’t let him, grabbing onto it and pulling it back. “I didn’t say to stop me. World Series week is like the holidays. The calories don’t count until my jeans feel a little snug next week.”

“Ahh,” Killian sighs in understanding. “That’s likely a good thing for how many baked goods I’ve sent your way.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the dugout?” Ariel questions as she steps up to them with her glass of water in her hand. “It’s kind of a big game.”

“It’s also kind of the top of the first inning, and I’m not playing.”

“Excuses.”

“A legitimate one. How’re you holding up, A?”

She waves him away and reaches for the pitcher of water. “I’m fine. Eric is the nervous wreck. I have enough confidence in you guys that I won’t worry until, you know, we’re losing.”

“Only worrying when we’re losing? What kind of method is that? You have to worry all the damn time.”

“That’s how you have a heart attack, and I have not suffered eating healthily and exercising so much to have a heart attack this young.”

“This is where Liam would tell you that it can happen to anyone in any age.”

“Where is Liam?” Killian questions as he looks around the suite for his brother only to have him nowhere to be seen.

“He and David are sitting in David’s regular seats because David was complaining about Mary Margaret and Leo not wanting to use them. I imagine he’ll be up here soon when he realizes how expensive food is to buy.”

“They’re such old men.”

“Says the man who was wearing a sweater while drinking a cup of tea and reading in his apartment last night instead of coming out to dinner with all of us.”

Killian sputters a bit as he narrows his eyes at Ariel. “First of all, there is nothing wrong with doing any of that. Second of all, how could you possibly know that?”

Ariel shrugs, mischief in all of her features. “Emma sent it in the group text.”

Of course she did. A man can’t even relax in his own home without being called out for it.

“Who is in this group text exactly?”

“Oh, just me, Elsa, Anna, and Belle. Don’t worry. Not everyone gets to see the embarrassing pictures of you drooling in your sleep.”

He’s going to kill Emma.

Or get his revenge. Somewhere in between those two.

There’s a loud groan from everyone watching the game, and that’s when Killian is reminded that there’s a game going on. He didn’t know that he could possibly forget, but apparently being teased about how he spends his nights will let him do that. When he sees what’s happening out on the field, though, Killian wishes that he’d been able to completely and totally forget about the game.

There are three men on base for the Dodgers, only one out, and one of their best hitters is up to bat.

Fuck.

This is not a good start.

This is a long game, but bad starts can change the momentum of absolutely everything. It gets in everyone’s head. The losing team is convinced that they’re going to lose, that they can’t come back from this, and the team that’s ahead gets all the belief in the world with their abilities.

Momentum shifts are everything, and it’s not time for the momentum to shift. Not yet.

And yet it does.

Robin throws what Killian knows is a good fastball and Rob’s specialty, but Stewart hits a sharp line drive down past third base that Arthur doesn’t get to. By the time that he does, the Dodgers already have two runs, Stewart is on second, and Ferguson is sliding into home before the ball can get there.

0-3 for the Dodgers eleven minutes in.

Shit.

Now it’s time for Ariel and everyone else to get nervous.

And it never gets better. Not really. There are times and chances and shots that have Killian grabbing onto his hair in frustration, but nothing comes of it. Nothing at all. Every single time there’s a real chance, something happens: the Dodgers have an unbelievable get, someone fumbles when the Yankees should have an easy chance at a double play, or every single person somehow forgets how to hit.

Until they don’t.  

Because now it’s the bottom of the ninth, and after an absolutely incredible eighth inning, it’s now 7-9.

They’re only down by two runs.

(Two runs.)

Killian is pacing back and forth in the dugout now exhausting every bit of emotional energy he has left in him. He left the suite the moment that first inning was over, texting Emma and Liam that there’d been a change of plans and he wouldn’t be meeting up with them after all. There was no way that he was going to be anywhere other than with his team when things were going to hell.

Being two runs behind is both nothing and everything.

There have been plenty of times when they’ve come back from a deficit like this. There have been plenty more when they’ve blown a two-run lead. And yet, like fifty-five thousand people in this stadium know, this isn’t any other game. This is The Game, and they’re closing in on the golden hour of chances.

It’s win now or come back tomorrow for one last chance of glory or crushing defeat.

Best of seven means nothing when there’s the possibility of there only being one game left.

“You’re going to exhaust yourself if you don’t sit down,” Robin tells him from his seat behind him on the bench.

Will has just stepped up to home plate, his bat in hand and feet in position, and Killian can’t breathe. His lungs have stopped taking in air.

“How could you possibly be sitting down for this? Is your blood not on fire?”

“I just pitched five innings, mate. My adrenaline high is gonedown. I’m exhausted.”

The ball is launched through the air toward Will, and Killian immediately knows that he shouldn’t take a swing at it.

He does.

Strike one.

“Shit,” Killian murmurs, kicking his foot at a water cup on the ground. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

“Funny, Fisher, I told your wife the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be warming up?”

Killian doesn’t even have to look to know that Eric is rolling his eyes. “I’m grabbing my stuff to do just that.” There’s a warm hand on Killian’s back, and he turns to look at it just as a “ball” is called. “Take some deep breaths, man. We’ve got this.”

“Aye,” Killian sighs, “we’ve got this.”

Strike two.

“Shit.”

Ball two.

Ball three.

Foul ball.

Killian’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he opens it up to see Emma’s name.

Emma: They’re having to censor you on television right now.

Emma: Just thought you might want to know that. Literally every time they show the dugout, you’re cursing. Ruby is getting a kick out of it.

Killian moves to text her back, to say something witty in response, but then the wood of Will’s bat is making contact with the ball and it’s flying gone, gone, gone…

Until it’s caught in the outfield.

Out one.

“Fuck.”

They’ve still got a shot. They have to. And as much as Killian hates cheering for Arthur King and hates that he only got a monetary fine for what he said to Emma and about her, he’s exactly who Killian has to cheer for now as Arthur hits a line drive that enables him to get on first base.

That’s progress.

It’s even more progress when Eric hits a triple sending Arthur into home.

8-9.

Holy fuck.

They might do this. They just might.

Killian still can’t breathe, but this is obviously his natural state now. This is how he’s going to have to live out the rest of his life.

Emma: Okay, now I understand all of the cursing. I’m freaking out.

Killian: Me too. We make quite the pair.

Emma: The best pair. It’s all going to be okay, twenty-nine.

He smiles down at his phone, his lungs taking in a bit of air at that.

Killian: It will be. I love you.

Killian: A frankly ridiculous amount.

“Out,” the umpire yells, and Killian immediately rests his head against the dugout railing, his nails digging into the hem of his sweatshirt as sweat drips down his back even with the late October chill whipping through the stadium as the night fully comes into effect, the sun long since gone.

Out two.

“For fuck’s sake,” Al yells, throwing his hat to the ground and slapping his hand against the railing. “Why would you swing at that, Whale? You could have fucking walked, and then we’d have two men on base with one out. That changes everything.”

It’s not Whale’s fault. It’s not. He messed up, sure, but it’s a team effort. Killian doesn’t always believe that when he’s the one pitching. It’s hard to get that out of your head when you’re being yelled at by managers and fans and people online sending death threats, but it’s true. It’s not one person out there even when it feels like it.

Killian’s going to have to remind himself of that tomorrow.

No.

He can’t go there. They’re not going to play tomorrow. Booth is up to bat, and he’ll get Eric home. Then it’ll be tied up, and they’ll have their shot to close this out right here and right now.

Hope bubbles up in Killian’s chest, his throat closing up with excitement and anticipation, and that lack of breathing thing comes back again as his knuckles go white from the strength of his grip on the railing. When he looks to the right, he sees that Robin’s knuckles are just the same.

They might do this.

Roland and Addy have to be screaming their heads off up in the suite. Killian almost wants to text Elsa or Liam to see what’s happening, but his eyes are glued to the field as August swings his bat at the very first ball.

It’s a fucking foul.

Strike one.

“Come on Booth,” Will shouts out, clapping his hands together. “You’ve got it, man. Be smart about it.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s helping, Scarlet.”

“It is, Professor Jones. I’m a great motivational speaker.”

Killian’s lips stretch into a smile, a bit of calm returning, until the ball flies from the mound again, whipping through the air and curving into the strike zone at the last minute.

August doesn’t swing.

Strike two.

The stadium absolutely erupts then, hands clapping together and feet hitting against the floor while thousands of people scream, a mix of cheers and boos for August. If anyone can handle this kind of pressure, can handle the weight of world on his shoulders and the pressure, it’s August.

Pressure is a privilege.

He’s likely not feeling too privileged right now.

And as suddenly as the noise started, it calms down. While there are still people talking and cheering and making all kinds of noise, Killian can’t focus on any of it. All he can focus on is what’s right in front of him.

One. Two. Three.

Foul.

One. Two. Three.

Foul.

Killian’s stomach flips, his entire hand going white, and Will is grabbing onto Killian’s forearm so tightly that he could break the bone there.

One.

Two.

Three.

There’s a thwack of ball against Booth’s back, and it absolutely flies into the air. It’s flying, and Killian nearly jumps out of the dugout to get a better view of where it’s going. It’s got to be a home run. It’s got to be. That’s where it’s headed, and Killian’s arms break out in gooseflesh beneath the thick material of his sweatshirt.

They’re about to win the fucking World Series for the second time in a row.

Holy shit.

But then the ball dips.

It dips, right at the line of the back fence, and the ball is caught.

The. Ball. Is. Caught.

The ball is caught, Booth is out, and the game is over.

And just like the ball, Killian’s mood dips, every high hope crashing down around him and weighing down on his shoulders while his stomach flips before everything heavily settles in its place. This isn’t how today was supposed to end. They were supposed to come back from their bad start. They were supposed to win.

They didn’t, though. They lost, and even though Killian tries to be encouraging to everyone around him as they all finish up their post-game on-field routines, in his head he knows that they’ve only got one more shot at this.

They’ve got one more shot, and a lot of it is resting in the palm of his hands. Killian has been a screw up for this team so many times before, and he doesn’t know if he can do that again.

He can’t let everyone down again.

The mood is subdued in the clubhouse as everyone strips out of their clothes, just a constant murmuring of curses and complaints. Even Al is quiet when he’d usually be fired up yelling at everyone, a combination of disbarring comments and encouragements, and that may be the most shocking part of it all.

Reporters begin to fill the room as well as agents and wives and the occasional child, and Killian sits in his locker with his head between his legs taking several deep breaths to calm himself down. His heart is beating far too quickly. It’s thumping in between his ears, and that’s not how it’s supposed to be.

It’s simply not.

“Hey.”

The voice is soft and very much Emma’s, and Killian looks up to see her softly smiling down at him, Jeff no longer trailing behind her with his camera.

The smile that stretches across his lips is forced and half-assed, and he knows that Emma can tell. She steps in between his knees so that his head rests against her stomach while her hands brush through his sweaty hair. They don’t say anything else, simply stay there together while Killian breathes in the scent of Emma’s perfume on her sweater and shivers run down his spine at her touch.

He is undeniably a fan of every part of her, but being able to simply be, to exist, with her is one of his favorites. There’s nothing quite so soothing as knowing the person you love will always be by your side no matter what happens.

They lost. They did. It’s what happened, and there’s no changing it.

Tomorrow is the last chance.

It all comes down to the last one.

-/-

-/-

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[pjstafford]

A Look at my 2020

The end of the year is upon us. It’s been a tough one for all of us. It is a year we will all remember forever. I want to do a positive reflection of this year. I will probably write a blog about what I hope our country’s New Years Resolutions should be. The thoughts on that have been rolling around my head for a few days. But today, December 16, at 4:30 a.m. and unable to sleep, that 2020 familiar dread of what will happen today waking me early, I want to look at some positives. I want to unwrap the positives of 2020 like a Christmas gift before Christmas so that I can wrap myself in them as a blanket of warmth. One thing that I have been truly impressed with is the resilience of the human spirit. Let’s call this a resilience exercise.

Counting my blessings one by one...

1. I am alive. Surviving is a cause for celebration. As far as I know I have been COVID free...although there were a few days in April or early May when I was sick with something and in Feb I had the strangest cold in my life and this time last year weeks of fatigue ended in frozen shoulder syndrome on Christmas Eve. See, I want to be thankful, but I don’t want to be naive in my retrospection. Best to be honest. I’m not sure if I had COVID or not, but if I did I survived with relatively minor symptoms. Every cough or sniffle I feared in a completely irrational way was COVID. There was the week I walked around sniffing everything to make sure I could still smell. It dawns on me it is going to be difficult to write a honest and, yet, positive, retrospective of 2020. I am alive, but I have never been less healthy. I’ve gained weight. I haven’t had the physical exercise to which I am accustomed and now when I try to take a long walk I realize my stamina is gone. It will take years of concentrated effort once things are “back to normal” for me to become normal again. It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I did yoga daily in the Spring and switched to an online Tai chi class in the summer, but I don’t live near beauty or anything interesting so wasn’t motivated to walk and just my everyday life of lockdown in a studio apartment meant less movement. All of which sounds even to me like not very good justification. Did I mention though that I survived. I am alive. I will take that as blessing number one.

2. No one I care about very deeply has died or even been seriously ill from COVID. Doesn’t March 2020 seem far away? I don’t want to be dismissive of 300;000 dead especially with more to come. I or someone I love could still be gone by New Years Day. But in March and April we held our breaths for an apocalypse and at some point most of us decided to take a breath. I don’t know really if it’s good or bad that we have simply adjusted our normal and the number deaths we are willing to accept. It’s bad, what am I saying? It’s bad. But how long can we wait in fear? So I don’t know, but I want to count as a blessing that those I love have all survived to date. I cannot vanquish the fear, but I can be grateful for survival.

3. I have maintained employment in a bad economy and have mostly been able to work from home. There have been some struggles. Sometimes the work I do is depressing. Sometimes I feel I don’t make a difference. There has never been a worse time to be an advocate...or a person with disability, or a caregiver, or a provider agency, or a health care professional. I have maintained employment.

4. I count among my blessings the fact that I had a wonderful 2020 before....remember there was a 2020 before. I love when my work takes me to Santa Fe for a prolonged time. A friend came out in Feb for a wonderful weekend. Another friend came to Albuquerque to see me for my birthday in early March. I remember thinking how social I was in those first ten weeks in 2020. It’s as if I somehow knew....it sustained me.

5. I count among my blessings that when I felt my mental health despair getting at its worse...the strain of living alone in a studio apartment, working from that same apartment and following the Governor orders not to go or do anything. ..that I had friends and two weekends of “risky” behavior; a friend who came for the Fourth of July holiday and an out of state trip to Durango in late September. I’m fortunate that when I had to have human contact my closest friends were there for me

6. I count as my blessings that Biden won the election. It’s not simply a matter of politics. I’m not sure if the last eight months of the Trump Presidency wasn’t worse for my morale than the pandemic because Trump kind of lost whatever semblance of sanity he had. Part of the trepeditation over what each new day will bring is what Trump will say, do, tweet, exacerbate. I still fear revolution in the street before Jan 20. The pandemic is not the worse of what America has gone through. That’s the oddest thing about this year.

7. Here is the blessing which probably will be unpopular. The lockdown and stress of all we have experienced is tough, but the slowdown is a blessing for me. My life had gotten pretty busy. While I miss travel, it’s ok for a year not to have had the time suck that travel for work entails. I will be so happy the first work trip I get to go on, but I feel like 2020 has given me the gift of time. It’s odd because, like many, my creative sense has suffered. I have written almost nothing. Still, I often think of a Dylan lyric, maybe in the next life I will be able to hear myself think. I could hear myself think this year. Unfortunately I thought about the existentialist angst of the meaning of life and my failures as a human being and I don’t think there is enough time still to process the effects of the pandemic and I’m sick to death of the sound of my thoughts, but....I have been given this unique gift of time. Even on December 16th I am not rushed to shop, to cook, to decorate, to go to a zillion parties. It’s a different year. The Holiday will still come. It is pleasant not to feel urgency over, let’s face it, non-urgent things. I am mentally and emotionally fatigued, but not nearly as physically exhausted as I was this time last year

8. The next one is a big one. The gift of living in the moment. I have spent my entire life since 7th grade when Miss O’Neil gave me a copy of The Rubyait of Omar Khayyam trying to live with the philosophy of living for the now. Clear the cups of past regrets...tomorrow, why I may be myself with yesterday’s seven thousand years. The only time I have ever truly experience this is in a handful of concert experience. Even now, I fear for my future and I blame myself for my mistakes. Still, my relationship with time has changed. There is the sun rising and setting and that is a day. Seasons will change. But the gift of time means I can approach my day differently. When five o clock comes on a workday, a needed nap is a step away. No where to go on a Friday night... no where I can go...means the weekend rhythm exists only as I define it. The simple pleasures we always take for granted mean something more now. There is a coffee truck that stops near me on Fridays and Saturdays. When it first started stopping I was over the moon that I could walk and get a latte with fairly little risk. If I go to the grocery store and have a conversation with a stranger, it is different than it was before. Mindfulness exercise and meditation is one thing, but nothing can compare with this year to further my lessons in this pursuit. May I take the lesson with me into years to come.

9. Zoom...yes, of course I have zoom fatigue. But five friends in five different states having a monthly drink together on zoom is a benefit of the pandemic. I watched a movie this year with someone who lives in Brazil. I celebrated a friend’s sixtieth person even though I couldn’t be with her. I’ve attended book discussions and readings in New York and I already have tickets to an event in March. Kind of love New York. I’ve never been there in person. Just a lot happens there. Educationally and socially the world is now open to me. I am not limited to what is going on in my community. I hope this doesn’t completely go away.

10. Finally, storytelling and music. I found it hard to read new things in the lockdown for a while, but in March friends asked me to a virtual book club of three books I already read and we reread them together which took us into the summer. I rediscovered the Foundation series of Asimov and suddenly I could read again! My favorite book I’ve read published in 2020 is Jess Walter’s The Cold Million. I did read a digital advance copy of David Duchovny’snew book due out in 2021 and it is, in fact, the breakout novel I knew this hot young writer would eventually write. Looking forward to 2021 book club! I finally binged Breaking Bad and The Travelers as well as The Queens gambit and watched Peanut Butter Falcon. I am doing a disability focused watch on the X Files and I better kick it it the rear because I’m presenting on it in Feb. at a conference. My God, Dylan put out his first original music in eight years. It will take me eight years to fully ingest it and enjoy it. You see, no matter what happens, humanity will tell its stories and gather to make its songs. It’s that human resilience. Creation of art is not trivial. It’s vital. It has continued in this odd and strange year. It is humanity’s greatest gift and I have definitely used it this year as a resilience and growth tool.

Those are my top blessings in this horrific and, yet, wondrous year. However, you have been impacted, what we all share in common is that In a very short time it will be a memory of a year in the past.

[youthful4ever]

10 Financial Principles That Are Biblical

by George Fooshee

Some people mash cans, crunch bottles or shred newspapers and magazines to further the cause of modern ecology. As owner and manager of a collection agency for 17 years, I believe in preserving the nation's natural and human resources too-particularly from a personal finance perspective.

There are ten financial principles found in God's Word to counsel and to help "recycle" many people, especially Christians, who have been all but mashed, crunched or shredded by the miseries of indebtedness and poor money management.

To put it plainly, I've seen firsthand the full spectrum of financial woes that can hopelessly trap people in a society victimized by the credit-card, "buy-now-pay-later" syndrome.

As a bill collector, my business is to try to collect accounts that creditors have been unsuccessful in collecting. Daily, I see people in deep financial trouble. Thousands in this country have got themselves into financial messes that can lead to more serious consequences.

For years all of my personal financial counseling ended in failure. Then I discovered God's mighty Word and His ten financial principles. Financial counseling became a matter of revealing these principles and allowing financially troubled persons to choose whether to obey them or not. These principles reveal God's instructions to His children for conducting their financial affairs.

I believe that one of the major themes of the Bible is obedience to the Lord. These financial principles are real, and obedience to them demonstrates that Christians are trusting God in another area of their lives.

God is Source

The first principle is that God is the source of everything. Philippians 4:19 says, "My God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus." Proverbs 8:20,21 adds, "I lead in the way of righteousness, in the midst of the paths of judgment: that I may cause those that love me to inherit substance; and I will fill their treasures."

And 2 Corinthians 9:8 says: "And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work." Whenever we need money or possessions, prayer is the answer. Look to the Lord, because He will provide it-according to His will.

Giving Essential

The second principle is that of giving. Luke 6:38, a key verse, says, "Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give unto your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again." According to Deuteronomy 14:23, one purpose of tithing was to teach the people of Israel to put God first in their lives.

I find there are a couple of ways I can put God first daily. One is to have a quiet time. If I am unwilling to meet the Lord each morning when I get up, that means I'm putting somebody else or something else before the Lord.

For example, how many people have thought seriously about not taking the daily newspaper? The man who is unwilling to cancel a newspaper subscription, which is keeping him from reading the Word of God, may often be the same man who is having trouble making the payments on the TV set that is keeping him from doing the things that would help him grow closer to the Lord. So it can be a vicious cycle. And with TV commercials by the dozens exhorting him to buy, spend, charge and go, is it any wonder that thousands of people are so molded by the world?

Having a quiet time is one way a person can put God first. I believe another is to commit a tenth of his income-right off the top-to the Lord's work. Proverbs 3:9, reads: "Honour the Lord with thy substance, and with the firstfruits of all thine increase: so shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst with new wine."

Live On Margin

The third principle is that of living on a margin. Everyone ought to live on a margin-a physical margin, a spiritual margin, a time margin and a financial margin. Living on a margin simply means allowing room for things to happen.

There are really only three ways a person can arrive anyplace. He can arrive early, on time or late. I used to aim at arriving right on time, and I consistently arrived five minutes late. That's because I allowed no margin.

Those precious minutes add up. Think of the cumulative effort, on health alone, of continually spending 15 minutes hurrying to be five minutes late. I swim three times a week at the YMCA to stay in shape, and I try to eat right and keep my weight down, since I want to serve the Lord and therefore don't want to die of a heart attack. But 15 minutes of hurrying three times each day for 15 years adds up to nearly six months of 24-hour days when I'm under unnecessary tension, just hurrying to be late. And tension is a leading cause of heart attacks. How ridiculous! But the Lord led me to operate on a time margin-planning to arrive early rather than hurrying to be late.

Bible Backs Saving

The fourth financial principle concerns saving money-setting something aside for a rainy day. Proverbs 21:20 says, "There is treasure to be desired and oil in the dwelling of the wise; but a foolish man spendeth it up." And Proverbs 22:3emphasizes, "A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished."

For a simple example, if a couple with an income of $12,000 a year would save $1000 of it each of those years and let this money earn 6 percent interest, compounded annually, they would have $24,672.56 at the end of a 15-year period.

If at the end of 15 years of saving faithfully, a son or daughter is ready for college or the family needs to move into a bigger house or wants to serve the Lord on a full-time basis, the couple can start to withdraw their savings. They can withdraw $2000 a year for 10 years and still have $15,322.17, or slightly more than they set aside. Isn't this making your money work for you? God has a reason for the principle of saving money.

Keep Out of Debt

The fifth principle is to keep out of unnecessary debt and thus avoid the debt trap. Borrowing for a house or car is one thing but taking on financial obligations one can't keep-buying beyond the ability to pay-is another. Psalm 37:21 says "the wicked borroweth, and payeth not again." The minute a person goes into debt, he loses a portion of his freedom. As Proverbs 22:7 says, "The rich ruleth over the poor, and the borrower is servant to the lender."

Suppose this same young couple with the $12,000 annual income had decided that instead of saving $1000 a year, they would go into debt for $1000 to buy some furniture. And suppose they continue to increase their indebtedness by $1000 during each of the 15 years, without paying back one cent. With 10 percent interest, compounded annually, on the increase in debt, the couple's debt would have been an astronomical $34,949.74. The debt on $1000 alone for that same period, without any repayment, would have been $4177.21.

Too many people think you can buy now and pay later. That isn't true. I've found that easy credit now makes people uneasy later. Usually a person pays more for the use of borrowed money than he gets in interest for saving it.

Secret of Contentment

The sixth principle is being content with what one has. Hebrews 13:5 puts it succinctly: "Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."

One area where people often first become discontent involves the old automobile. Too many persons trade or sell their cars before they are used up. There's a big difference between fixing up the old junk heap to drive three more years and buying a new car. Many salesmen make the slick remark, "You just make that easy monthly payment." There is seldom anything easy about that monthly payment. It seems to get harder to make all the time. Second Corinthians 6:10 is so beautiful to apply here. It reads: "As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things."

My friends in the automobile business tell me that most cars are good for more miles than most people put on them. Just because a car has over 100,000 miles doesn't mean a person has to get rid of it. Look at some of the buses, trucks and cars still going strong, especially in countries outside North America. They are cars of the same age and mileage that other people junked years ago.

A worthwhile saying to remember on contentment is this: "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, do without."

Keep Records, Budget

The seventh principle is that of keeping records and making a budget. God's Word says, "Buy the truth, and sell it not; also wisdom, and instruction, and understanding" (Prov. 23:23). "Through wisdom is an house builded; and by understanding it is established: and by knowledge shall the chambers be filled with all precious and pleasant riches" (24:3,4).

If someone were to tell me that he's going to run his business without keeping any records, I would say this is downright stupid. And it is even worse for one who really wants to be a good steward of the Lord's money.

I started my children on a three-category budget when they started school. Every week I distributed the allowance-$1.50-.50 cents each for depositing in separate calling card boxes designated "save," "church," "spend." The kids had a visual control system. If there was no money in there, they had no money to spend. Making a budget won't be that simple, but the idea is the same.

A man I know to whom I have given financial counsel thought he was doing great because he had to borrow only $300 in the last eight months. When I asked him how he managed to get along so well, he admitted he had sold his week of vacation for $500 and had some overtime pay.

I figured that the fellow was actually spending $175 per month more than he was making during the eight-month period, despite the one-time windfall of getting rid of his vacation and working overtime. A year from now, at his present rate of overspending, he would owe $2100 more, with interest adding to his debt totaling more than $30 each month.

By keeping good records, having a plan and being honest with oneself, a person won't get into financial trouble. I seldom see financially successful people who don't keep good records.

It's the same with my own business cars. I cut all my salesmen back 15 percent and made a little budget. The salesmen follow a monthly plan and know what the limit is. They are staying within the budget without a reduction in sales. It's just a matter of being more efficient with what one has.

Don't Cosign

The eighth principle is, don't cosign. God says in Proverbs 27:13 to exercise extreme caution in cosigning. The advice infers that the world's poorest credit risk is the man who agrees to pay a stranger's debt. When a person cosigns a note, he is the one who is really borrowing the money. The reason a person needs a cosigner is because the lender is unwilling to lend that money to the person requesting the loan.

Work Hard

The ninth principle is that of hard work. The Scriptures spell it out: "In all labour there is profit: but the talk of the lips tendeth only to penury [poverty]" (Prov. 14:23). "He that tilleth his land shall have plenty of bread: but he that followeth after vain persons shall have poverty enough" (28:19).

It is important to work. "In the beginning God created" (Gen. 1:1). Even God is at work. This is a principle throughout the Bible. Many times I find that people in financial trouble aren't really working hard. I have often discovered in counseling young men in real financial trouble that they are "tooling" around too much of the time and putting 2000 miles a month on the car. I advise them to take a second job. This increases their income and decreases their expenses and it keeps them from misusing or frittering away their time.

Seek Godly Counsel

The last principle is that of seeking godly counsel. Psalm 1:1 declares, "Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly." A person needing financial advice should not go to someone who makes his living selling the very thing he's contemplating buying. "Without counsel purposes are disappointed: but in the multitude of counsellors they are established" (Prov. 15:22).

Before buying a house, purchasing a car or just borrowing money, pray about it and seek the counsel of godly people. They can keep you from making a lot of mistakes. The reason so many persons don't seek counsel is that they don't want to be told by someone an intended action is unsound-they just like to do what they want anyway.

Above all, don't sign anything until you check the deal thoroughly first. Don't be hurried into any deal. The worst deal in the world is often the one in which a person is rushed into signing-capitulating to a relentless salesman's chance-of-a-lifetime-offer pressure tactics. The best offer in the world can wait.

These are the ten biblical financial principles: God is the source; give first; live on a margin; save money; keep out of debt; be content with what you have; keep records; don't cosign; work hard and seek godly counsel.

As one learns to follow these eternal principles in his personal finances, he will know the joy that comes from trusting and obeying God.

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 13 “Breaking Point” 

a/n: wow! the last chapter got A LOT of response, it was very interesting to read everyone’s take on the “spanking vs. non-spanking” debacle. sorry it was a rough one, the next three chapters will make up for it (i hope)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 

September 22nd, 2019

It had been nearly a month and a half since Jamie had dropped off Claire after their fateful weekend at Lallybroch. They had exchanged a few brief messages and had met once for dinner nearly a week later, but things were on thin ice.

Claire didn’t want to fight — she didn’t want to feel this way about Jamie. She had just been allowing herself to feel something for him and then their conversation about how to raise their daughter wrecked it all.

It didn’t matter to her that Jamie had been beaten as a child by his own father — that was not going to happen to her daughter. The thought of anyone laying a hand on her child made her furious and it only hurt her thinking that Jamie was perfectly fine with it.

She knew it was ridiculous to keep fighting about this for so long, especially since Jamie had already missed out on the first five months of the pregnancy. Also, Claire missed Jamie dearly. She missed texting him when she felt the baby kick, or calling him after work to hear about his day. It was during this time of separation, that Claire realized how much she needed him after all.

After she had come back from Lallybroch, Geillis had asked her all about her weekend getaway.

“How did it go with his family? Were they nice?”

“They were lovely,” Claire smiled. “I met his sister and brother-in-law, their kids and then Murtagh, Jamie’s godfather.”

“Aye, what else?” Geillis leaned forward on the couch, sipping her cup of chamomile tea.

“It started out well…” Claire looked down, her fingers worrying a stain on her jeans.

“Did it no end well then?”

“No,” Claire sniffed. “We had a fight. Jamie and I.”

“Oh, Claire,” Geillis reached out her hand, laying it over Claire’s. “I’m sure ye’ll be just fine. Ye two havena fought yet, it was bound to happen.”

“Yes, but this isn’t something either of us is likely to get over.”

“Och, ye canna just leave it there, spill it lass!”

Claire ran her hand over her forehead, pushing her curls back from her face. Perhaps if she just said it all out loud, it would sound ridiculous and then Claire could move on and call Jamie.

“I had a really lovely conversation with his sister, Jenny about Jamie’s feelings toward me and mine towards him. That was fine — gave me plenty to think about. But then later that evening, Jamie and I got to talking about our daughter and how we would raise her.” Geillis nodded, a sign for her to continue. “He said that she would be the prettiest girl and that she would be a great nurse or teacher — all jobs that women normally do.”

“Aye, and men.”

“Yes and men!” Claire laughed. “Well, I told him how men do those jobs as well and if he would let our daughter do a job a man normally does. He said he would, but he wouldn’t prefer it. That wasn’t the issue… the issue,” Claire took a breath, “Is that he sees no problem with spanking our child if she misbehaves. I’ll have no part in that!”

“Jamie would hit the lass?”

“If she was acting up or crying, he said he would give her a tap on the bum,” Claire rolled her eyes. “He went on and on about how as a lad he was hit by his own father. And I know he wasn’t saying he would beat our child black and blue, but it’s just the thought…”

“Well, tis a bit different wi’ the lassies. I’m sure his father didna spank his sister as hard as he spanked Jamie.”

“You think Jamie’s father would have hit Jenny as well?” Claire gasped a bit at that.

“Aye, I do. I wasna hit by my own parents, they were too much of hippies to be doin’ that,” Geillis smiled. “But I wouldna doubt it.”

“Hmmm,” Claire sighed. “I’m sure I’m blowing this way out of proportion…”

“Maybe ye should call Jamie’s sister and find out what she thinks. Maybe tis just Jamie’s way of thinkin’, but maybe tis a Fraser was of thinkin’…”

“Perhaps,” Claire said and took a long sip of her tea, mulling over the weekends conversations yet again.

It was Jenny’s number that Claire was dialing now. She should have called earlier, but as usual, life got in the way and Claire seemed to be a professional procrastinator. Jenny answered after the third ring.

“Hello?” Came the soft Scottish lilt.

“Hi, Jenny. This is Claire… Beauchamp.”

“Claire! ’Tis good to hear from ye, I was just thinkin’ of ye the other day in fact.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner or that I haven’t been back to see you and the children,” Claire said sadly.

“Aye, tis alright lass,” Jenny said. “Jamie told me that ye two got into a fight, but he didna say what about. I take it that is what yer calling about now?”

“Yes it is. It’s a bit of an awkward subject though.”

“Shoot. I’m an open book,” Jenny said.

Claire checked her watch, she still had an hour before she needed to be at work, one of her last shifts before she went on maternity leave. She wasn’t really doing a lot of work these days, mostly just checking patients files and doing busy work — anything to keep her mind occupied.

“Jamie and I got into a disagreement about how to raise our daughter. About… whether or not we should punish our child physically.”

“Ah, so he told ye how Da used to spank him?”

“Yes, and I can’t agree with it at all. I was hoping for your insight on the matter.”

“Jamie was a troublesome lad, him and Ian both got into fights with the neighbor lads. Those two were thick as thieves, still are,” Jenny chuckled on the other end. “When they got into too much trouble, then my Da would take the strap to both of them, ten whacks each on the bum.”

“Did he ever hit you?”

“Only when I was verra young, Claire. And never like he did wi’ Jamie — my Da was a sensitive man and I kent it pained him to have to even hit Jamie.”

“But then why did he do it?” Claire asked, trying to understand.

Jenny was silent a moment on the other end and then spoke, “I think he felt it was the only way Jamie would learn. I also ken that my Da said that it should hurt him too, to have to punish Jamie in such a way. Our Da didna beat us black and blue if that’s what yer askin’, Claire. He was a just man, but a kind one too.”

Claire sighed, knowing that Jamie had never said he would beat their daughter, but only a smack on the bum every now and then. It still didn’t sit well with her, however.

“May I ask what all Jamie said to ye exactly?”

“He said that if she was misbehaving or crying, then he wouldn’t hesitate to give her a wee pat on the bum,” Claire smiled, recalling the sound of his voice — she missed him, even if he had been a bit of a dick to her.

“It sounds to me that Jamie willna take a strap to the lass, only use his hand when he sees fit. No one uses a strap anymore anyways and Claire…” Jenny said. “Sometimes tis all ye want to do when they’re screamin’ at the top o’ their lungs. When tis just ye and them, a face off and ye want so badly to just smack ‘em. Ye love them of course, no doubt. But can ye maybe see where Jamie is coming from? Tis just how he was raised.”

Claire nodded and then remembered that Jenny couldn’t see her, “Yes. I think I do. At least I’m beginning to.” She hadn’t changed her mind, she didn’t want her daughter to be hit — ever, but perhaps her and Jamie could now have a more civilized conversation about this. Too much time had passed and she didn’t want to waste another moment. “Thank you, Jenny. There was, however one other thing Jamie said…”

“Aye, what now?” Claire could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Well I think he’s upset that — that I slept with someone else, he called me a loose woman and said how I shouldn’t be making decisions since I wasn’t wise about that,” Claire rushed out. “I mean, I did also say the baby was mine, Christ, Jenny…”

“Sounds like two stubborn people that said a bunch of things that they didna mean,” Jenny sighed. “Ian and I have said a fair share of things in the heat of the moment that were none so kind, even if we did maybe feel they were true.”

“Right!” Claire ran her hand back through her curls, starting to feel a bit better about things. “I know Jamie didn’t mean it, at least I hope he didn’t, because I didn’t mean what I said… we’re still just getting to know each other and I wish more than anything I could just be open, as open as he’s been with me.”

“Claire, ye two are in a tricky situation. I ken my brother and I ken that he’s as stubborn as a bull and we get into fights of our own from time to time. And I also know that he’s probably beating himself up about what he said to ye,” Jenny said.

“I know I am,” Claire took a deep breath. “Well, thank you, Jenny. You’ve given me a lot to think about, I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me about this.”

“Anytime, Claire. I mean it, yer part of the family now whether ye like it or not.”

“I’ll let you go then,” Claire smiled. “I think I need to call Jamie and sort some things out.”

“Aye, sounds like ye do. Goodbye, Claire. Hopefully we’ll see ye and the wee bairn soon!”

Claire hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh. Just past the eight month mark, Claire was growing tired of being pregnant. She was impatient to meet her daughter and also so physically uncomfortable — it was nearly impossible to find any position that didn’t hurt her back.

Too tired to move, and with too many thoughts racing in her head, Claire shut her eyes and dozed off, only waking hours later to the sound of Geillis coming home.

“I see yer playin’ hooky now,” Geillis said softly as she stood over Claire whose eyes were opening slowly.

“Oh Christ!” Claire tried to sit up, but her belly was making that rather hard to do. “I overslept! What time is it?”

“It’s just past five pm, lass. When ye didna show up after twenty minutes, we all assumed ye’d fallen asleep,” Geillis laughed. “No one’s mad at ye, dinna fast about it.”

“Thank God,” Claire relaxed once again back into the chair, then the baby started pushing on her bladder. “Can you help me up, Geillis? I need a wee.”

“Aye,” Geillis came over to her, holding out both hands.

As Claire stood up from the couch, a wetness came from between her legs. “What the bloody hell? Have I wet myself or…”

“Did yer water just break?!” Geillis looked down between them at the puddle on the floor.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! It did!”

++++++

Jamie had been going mad thinking about Claire and his daughter. Were they alright? Did they need anything? He had been keeping in touch with Geillis for updates over the past month or so since he knew Claire wouldn’t want to speak with him.

He knew what he had said to Claire in the car was wrong, he’d just been so angry and had held in so many feelings about the pregnancy. Before he even knew what he was saying, the words just came flying out and he regretted them immediately.

Work had been slow and he had managed to accomplish next to nothing with worry over Claire and the baby. It was nearly 5pm, time to head home for the day.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket and he hoped it was Claire, he desperately wanted to see her. When he saw the caller I.D. his heart panicked a little — Geillis.

“Hello?”

“Jamie? It’s me Geillis.”

“I ken tis ye, Geillis,” Jamie chuckled. “Why are ye callin’? Is everything alright?”

“It’s Claire,” the woman said and Jamie nearly dropped the phone. “She’s gone into labor and well, ye ken the babe wasna due for another few weeks. I’ve just driven her to the hospital, this is the first chance I’ve found to call ye.”

“She’s already at the hospital?” Jamie said and rose from his chair, looking around for his keys.

“Aye, the same we work at, ye’ll ken where it is then?”

“Yes, I do. Geillis, tell Claire I’m on my way! I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jamie said quickly into the phone and then flew out the door, shouting about Claire having the baby as he passed an odd faced Murtagh.

It was too early. Several weeks early.

Just wait, Sassenach. I’m coming.

Chapter 14: Together

[starfoxrry]

soooo no one tagged me to do this but i’m gonna do it anygays bc :O

1. Big White Lie (263k) by acrayonsmile (ao3)

You’re not running on three hours of sleep.

You don’t have a headache.

You’re not an omega.

You’re Louis Tomlinson: Beta.

Louis has been pretending to be something he’s not for as long as he can remember. Will the pack find out before it’s too late to fix him?

2. Cold Little Heart (194k) by @seduced-by-curls

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham Louis really could use the help.

3. Now In A Minute (150k) by @avocadolouie

13 feels like yesterday for many people, but for Louis it actually was.

More than anything in the world, Louis Tomlinson dreams of growing up. Simply skipping over all of the awkward, embarrassing years of teenage existence and getting on with life. Real life.

So when thirteen-year-old Louis wakes up in the body of his thirty-year-old self, he expected everything in his adult life to be picture perfect. And maybe it is. He has it all…or so it seems.

Except his favorite person and lifelong best mate, Harry Styles, is totally missing from the equation and Louis doesn’t understand why. He has a lot of catching up to do and as adult life turns out to be more than what he bargained for, Louis can’t help wondering why a life that seemed so perfect, feels so empty.

Or the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

4. Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You) (54k) by @rainbowsandgucci​

Louis is staying at his Aunt’s farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles.

Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry’s friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn.

He also starts to fall in love with Harry.

Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

5. Only You Can Be My Alpha (194k) by @wubwubnparmaham

The one where Louis is banished from his tribe, and lands himself in Harry’s instead. The alluring Pack Alpha makes Louis question his nature and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. But you can’t fight destiny.

6. Where You Lay (86k) by @ham-palpert

When Louis’s upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates’ best mate, Harry Styles. Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

7. Tangled Up In You (45k) @missandrogyny​

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

8. Have You Coming Back Again (31k) by @crazyupsetter 

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

9. All The Right Moves (32k) by @cherrystreet​

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

10. Worth Dying For (44k) by @crazyupsetter 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

11. Another Day Gettin' Into Trouble (25k) by @crazyupsetter

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

12. A Sea Without Water, A Compass Without Direction (84k) by sincerely_inge (AO3)

”Tell me, Louis,” Captain Styles said, leaning forward a little. ”D’you think I’m an idiot?”

”I—what?” Louis asked, surprised by the blunt question. He had expected something different, something along the lines of how he learned music, or how he ended up as a prisoner on the other ship.

”Do you think I’m an idiot?” The captain repeated, putting emphasis on each word as though Louis couldn’t understand him otherwise.

”Of course not,” Louis said, shaking his head. He’d be a fool for thinking such a thing, and an even bigger fool for saying it out loud. ”Captain.”

Captain Styles nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. ”Then why did you lie to me?”

”L-Lie?”

”Out on the deck. You lied to me,” he said. He held up his hand, three fingers up. ”Three lies total. I hate liars.”

13. I Know How To Whisk (But Teach Me Anyway) (32k) by @2tiedships2​

Louis scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t understand. Unmated alphas don’t just go into a rut out of nowhere. Unless…”

Louis grabbed onto Niall’s arm in desperation. “Am I a homewrecker? Does Harry have a mate? Oh my God, was he not flirting? Did the change in his scent not have anything to do with my smell yesterday? Did I just make that up!?”

Louis let go of Niall and dropped his face in his hands. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“You’re an idiot,” Niall stated. Louis looked up to find Niall rolling his eyes. He snapped his laptop closed and moved to stand up. “I need to get some work done. Why don’t you stay here and think back to ABO dynamics 101.”

With that Niall hopped off the couch and headed to his room. He stopped and turned to Louis before he made it to the hall and said, “Oh, and Lou. You may want to reconsider your outlook on soulmates.”

Louis yelled after him. “Soulmates aren’t a thing, Niall!”

Or the one in which banana bread just might make Louis change his mind about soulmates.

14. The Compulsion to Find Love (140k) by @toomanylarrytears​

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

15. Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat (34k) by @angelichl​

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

16. For Reasons Wretched And Divine (94k) by indiaalphawhiskey (AO3)

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time.

Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

An AU in two parts. Two boys, two stories, and hopefully, two chances at love.

17. Friendly Neighborhood Spideypool (18k) by @shitucute

“Don’t fuck with me, I’m not in the mood.” Louis’ got the urge to punch him in the face, but he knows deep down that if anything it’ll just add fuel to Harry’s innuendo fire.

“You know I only fuck you, not with you. There’s a difference. It’s slight but still there.” He’s joking, but it’s sincere in a way that only Deadpool could make it. It gives Louis a strange mix of emotions, his body doesn’t know whether to fill with butterflies or to knee Deadpool in the balls again for insinuating them fucking.

or, Harry is Deadpool and Louis is Spider-Man and they’ve got way too much history

18. Strawberries & Cigarettes (74k) by @dimpled-halo

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

19. Mark my word (we gon’ be alright) (35k) by harioandlouigi

“He’s always known that there would come a time when Harry would bond with some beautiful, quiet omega, and they would have lots of curly-haired pups and live happily ever after.

Knowing it and living it are two very different things, though. Watching the object of your affection desperately search for a mate and completely disregard you as an option is all sorts of painful, but it is what it is, and Louis is just going to have to learn to live with that.”

Or, an A/B/O AU featuring an oblivious Harry as the pack leader, a pining Louis as his second-in-command, and an entourage of friends and family who are a little too good at keeping their mouths shut.

20. Let’s Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay (134k) by @harryventura

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis’ life upside down

21. Why Cant It Be Like That (63k) by @taggiecb

Louis Tomlinson, head of his local hospital’s charity fund, suddenly finds himself in the heart of the Royal family when his mother marries the third son of the reigning monarch. Such an upset in lifestyle brings a lot of changes for Louis, one of them being the need for a stylist.

Enter Harry Styles, a cutting edge fashion stylist who loves his job and prides himself on his passion. The first time he sees Louis Tomlinson on the cover of a tabloid he wants to dress him, style him, make him as beautiful as Harry knows he could be. When he’s hired to do just that, he knows this will be a perfect partnership. That is, until he actually meets the man.

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn’t need a stylist, Harry’s thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they’re both very wrong about each other.

22. blind from this sweet, sweet craving (31k) by @missandrogyny

"So, I guess we'll go?" Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. We could make it an adventure."

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He's fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry's gaze–he probably knows that Harry's mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he's not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he's also Harry's best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he'd still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He's got Harry's back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they'll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. "We're going," he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

23. led by your beating heart (29k) by @missandrogyny​

Nick leans over. "Oh," he says, his voice smug. "Who is that?"

Harry just blinks at his phone. "Um," he manages to stammer out.

"Who's that, Harry?" Nick asks again, but this time he raises his eyebrows and smirks. Harry knows Nick is just teasing, and that he's not really looking for new Harry Styles gossip, but, um. He might have found something. Accidentally.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is another 'um'. He really needs to work on translating his thoughts into words. But then it probably wouldn't be any helpful right now, would it? His mind is as blank as a newly erased etch-a-sketch.

"Oh," Nick says again, this time gleefully, seemingly having picked up on Harry's distress. "Looks like we've got a story here! Are you going to call or delete her number?"

Her number. So Nick thinks it's a girl. Well, Harry can't blame him: 'Lou' is kind of an androgynous nickname. His stylist's name is Lou.

But this Lou, well, Louis, he's kind of, really, really not a girl. He's really pretty though, which, is something.

(Or: AU where Harry's in One Direction, Louis isn't, and they reconnect over a game of 'Call or Delete'.)

24. Queen Of Arizella (197k - wip) by @seduced-by-curls

Stealing from Royalty is punishable by death.

Louis starts over, doing his best to keep his hands at his sides but he is hungry and he tries stealing from the wrong Royal.

Harry is King of Arizella, he needs a Queen and who better than an omega on the run from death? Louis will learn to become the perfect Queen -the perfect fake Queen, but only for a few months.

A fake lover, a fake Queen, but a real bond.

i tag: @bottomlouis @iconichalo @tinytommoson @oioilarrie @chaoticsue @babyy-honey and anyone who wants to do it just say i tag u 

[spaceskam]

Moirai (1/7)

ive had this idea in my head for awhile now, but i was still working out all the kinks on how I would write it. now here it is, hope you enjoy! 

Summary: michael finds a baby. not everyone thinks it’s a good idea.

part one - part two - part three

ao3

Michael felt it.

He didn’t know exactly what it was he was feeling, but he knew it was important and his brain wasn’t giving him any choice but to follow it.  He knew it probably wasn’t a smart idea to separate from Alex and Kyle, but there was a hum inside him that lured him away.  It led him to a locked door that opened to a flight of stars that wasn’t shown on any of the maps that they’d found.

Alex had kept his word to look into Project Shepard and make sure what happened at Caulfield wasn’t happening elsewhere.  He’d only come up with one possible other location, Pitlochry Prison, but it didn’t have nearly as much information on it.  Still, he didn’t want to take any chances, and he packed up Michael and Kyle to go check it out.

Things were still confusing between them.  He’d ended things with Maria the moment Max died, but Alex had still been hurt by it.  Fixing that was slow and painful and for a while all they could discuss was Project Shepard.  Then about five weeks ago, Michael had gotten a little too fucked up and ended up exploding the airstream in a way that even Michael Bay would’ve been jealous of.  He couch hopped for a few nights, but Isobel didn’t let him sleep in and Max made too much noise with Liz.  He’d even attempted to stay with Kyle, but one morning of hearing him bustling around at 4:30 AM was enough before he resigned to sleeping in the bunker with a sleeping bag.  That is until Alex told him to just stay with him.  It was a confusing proposition at first, but Alex had a spare bedroom that was apparently underused and it’d be easier to work with them in the same place anyway.

Michael had stayed with Alex for about a month now and he’d already decided that’s what his life was about, being with Alex Manes.  They both stayed up ridiculously late if they slept at all, they liked the same movies, they understood each other’s science rambles enough to hold a coherent conversation, they picked up after themselves, they are the same food.  But it was waking up to Alex humming in the kitchen over a pan of eggs at noon clad in sweatpants and nothing more as he offered a cup of coffee that had Michael sold.  That’s what he wanted to wake up to forever.

Then, a few nights ago, when Alex had come to them with the prospect of another prison, Michael had had a stronger reaction than he’d anticipated.  He’d overdosed on fear, memories of Caulfield taking over.  Something instinctual happened in Alex‒that’s what it had to be‒and he’d held Michael close while whispering soothing words.  There were two good beds in the cabin, and yet neither of them moved from the couch for hours.  Even when Michael had calmed down and even when they’d both fallen asleep only to wake up the next morning, neither one of them made the decision to move.

So, after 8 hours wrapped up in Alexander Manes and after clearing his mind, Michael kissed him.  He’d expected to be rejected and therefore kept it short.  Sleep was still heavy in them both and that had to be what kept Alex from being Alex and telling him to stop.  Instead, they’d stared for a moment with Alex’s fingers tangled up in his hair before meeting together in a sweet kiss.

They hadn’t really discussed what that meant, but they hadn’t taken it back.  In fact, they’d only moved forward.  Within the last three days, touching and kissing and mindblowing sex had come back to their relationship.  They used the excuse of Pitlochry to not have to really talk about it because talking meant addressing their issues and they’d historically been bad at that to the point it ruined all the good stuff.  He wanted so badly to keep the good stuff.  He planned to keep the good stuff. That meant staying alive, safe, and with Alex at Pitlochry.  He couldn’t afford to break again because he found someone he couldn’t save.

Yet, whatever was calling to him made him throw all caution to the wind.

The staircase was long and dark, so much so he could barely see a damn thing.  Instinct and whatever was calling him were his only sense of direction.  Maybe he should’ve felt scared. Instead, he felt braver than he had ever before in entire life. The hum deep in his brain, in his bones, kept getting louder and stronger the more he walked.

And then there was a glow.

It was faint, but it sparked something deep within Michael, a familiarity that his conscious mind couldn’t comprehend but his body knew.  He raced towards it and not a single cell in his body was surprised to find a pod at the end of the tunnel.  The walkie-talkie that was strapped to his shirt went off, Alex’s voice ringing through the air and getting progressively more and more panicked when he didn’t respond.  He couldn’t respond.

Inside the pod, there was a baby.  A small one, curled into the fetal position and floating there for god knows how long.  Someone had put her here, put her in a place where no one could find her unless they knew.  Michael didn’t know.  Yet here he was.

“Guerin, I’m giving you ten seconds to respond, if you don’t, I’m going to come get you,” Alex said, carefully skirting the part where he’d put a small tracking device in each of their walkie talkies.  It was for safety, in case someone was here.  He thought someone had him.

Michael should’ve responded.  His body seemed to scream out to respond to him, to let him know he was totally fine and it wasn’t necessary, but whatever was bringing him to this pod was in control.  It didn’t give a shit about a worrying Alex; it wanted Michael.

The fear only started whenever his own hands began glowing in a way he’d only seen Max’s or his mother’s.  He didn’t know how to do that and he surely didn’t know how he was doing it now.  But that hum assured him this was supposed to happen, subduing his fear with the overwhelming calm and desire to follow it’s lead.

No silver was needed as his glowing palms reached into the pod, grabbing the infant cautiously and pulling her out into the world.  She breathed for the first time and she whimpered and she whined and Michael stared at her as he held her out in front of him.  The baby laid across his forearm, Michael instinctively cradling her head in his hand and allowed the out-of-place feeling of overwhelming pride wash over him.

Michael had held many babies in his life and even taken care of a few.  Foster care was a bitch and there had been more than one home he’d been thrown into where he was expected to cater to the younger children that were there.  It never really bothered him, it wasn’t their fault and he could at least make sure they were being looked after while he could, but none of that pseudo-parenting made him feel like he did in that moment. He could only assume that it was due to it being a child of his own species that it felt so surreal.  He couldn’t even move.

“Guerin,” That was Kyle’s voice.  It was present, not over radio signals.  Michael didn’t look over to him.  “What’cha got there?”

Eventually, after blinking a few million times, the spell over him was broken.  Michael fell back on his ass, carefully pulling the baby into his chest and cradling her close.  He had to catch his breath before letting his eyes drift over to see Valenti standing there with nothing short of shock and confusion on his face.

“The fuck’s it look like?” Michael managed before cautiously looking back down to make sure he hadn’t hurt the little alien.  She looked fine, kicking her feet aimlessly and gripping onto the wire of walkie talkie.  Michael pried it out of her little fist, letting her take hold of his thumb instead.

“Guerin!” Alex’s voice echoed through the tunnel and Michael, who was now firmly in control of his own mind again, felt his heart claw into his throat.  He’d scared him.  So much for healing their relationship.  Alex jogged up to them, coming into view with the light of the dim pod.  His chest was heaving and he looked so fucking worried.  He spoke before Michael could apologize.  “What‒where did you get that?”

“Sorry for scaring you,” Michael said softly, his eyes shifting back down to the baby in his arms.

“Michael,” Alex said slowly, cautiously.  His footsteps crunched against the dusty concrete floor. “What is that?”

“Jesus Christ, have neither of you seen a baby before?” he shot back, slowly and carefully taking off the jacket Alex had made him wear to wrap around the little alien.

“We have.  We’re more confused on how you went missing for nearly an hour and then we find you with a child that wasn’t with you when we came,” Kyle said as if it should’ve been obvious why they were concerned.  Nearly an hour?  Had he really been gone that long?  It felt like five minutes at most.

“She called to me,” Michael said simply.  That was the only way he could describe it, the only way that made sense to him.

“Uh-huh,” Alex’s voice again made him look up.  He was closer this time, worry and fear very obvious on his face.  What was he so scared of?  There was nothing scary about a baby.

“Let me see it,” Kyle said.  Overwhelming panic encompassed Michael so quickly and so strongly that he wondered if it was even his.

“No.  Why?  What are you gonna do to her? She’s mine,” Michael insisted, holding the little alien closer to his chest.  Her tiny hand was holding tightly onto Michael’s thumb and he had no intention of prying it off.

Alex and Kyle shared a look before looking back at him.  Micahel hated when they did that.  It was like they decided they could communicate without speaking.  He hated it even more when it was about him.

“Michael, she isn’t yours,” Alex said softly.  It felt like a betrayal for some reason.  Alex didn’t get it, he didn’t feel it.  She was Michael’s, end of discussion.

“Okay, but she’s an alien and who is the only other alien here? Oh, yeah, me, so she’s mine by default,” Michael argued.  He didn’t know how to put into words the tie he felt to this little baby he just discovered.  It was strong and just clicked in his mind like this was undoubtedly his responsibility.  This was his purpose in life.  They wouldn’t get it.

They did the whole look-sharing thing again.

“Fine,” Kyle said carefully, “We can take her with us.”

“Of fucking course we’re taking her with us, was there another option?” Michael scoffed, scowling at the doctor who clearly thought he had a say in this.  Like Michael would leave her.  Absolutely not.

He’d left aliens before.  He wasn’t about to do it again.

Kyle just ignored his comment though, “I need to check her out, make sure she’s stable enough to just take straight home.”  He started taking steps towards Michael.  He very slowly stood up with a nod, hesitantly passing the baby from his arms to Kyle’s.

However, the moment she was out of Michael’s grasp, she started screaming.  Her cry was a force to be reckoned with, echoing around the tunnel and bouncing off the walls to make it even louder.  Michael felt it in his core.

“Give her back, she doesn’t like you!” Michael snapped, taking her back.  He held her little head to his shoulder, glaring at Kyle who held his hands up as a white flag.  It was almost comical how quickly her cries subdued whenever Michael held her close again.  He might’ve laughed if he wasn’t so focused on the relief he got from the tiny alien relaxing again.  “She’s mine.”

Alex moved forward, curiosity in place of fear as he held his hands out.  Michael licked his lips as he looked between his baby and Alex.  He trusted Alex.  Valenti was growing on him, but Alex was the one he’d trust more than literally anyone else in the world.  Alex was allowed all his vulnerabilities without a second thought‒if he trusted anyone to take care of the baby, it was Alex. Even if he didn’t get it.

“Okay,” Michael said softly, holding his breath as he carefully passed the baby to Alex’s arms.

Admittedly, she stayed quiet a little longer than she did with Kyle, but, after a few whimpers that made Michael’s heartache, she started crying.  Michael grabbed her again, cradling her close and shushing her.

“I don’t like when she cries,” Michael said, trying to explain so Alex would stop looking so hurt, “It feels like when Isobel or Max gets hurt.  It, it’s like it hurts me too.” Alex stared at him for a moment with nothing short of worry on his face.

“Is there a rational explanation for that?” Alex asked Kyle, not even trying to be subtle.  Michael rocked her, his eyes falling closed as he fed off the peace the baby exuded when she was in his arms.

“Uh, if I had to guess, it’s a whole psychic thing. I… I don’t know why it’s so strong?  I don’t know, I’m not an alien expert,” Kyle tried.

“I meant, why does she freak out every time someone other than Michael holds her?” Alex clarified, sounding a little more fed up.

“Oh, I’d say his body temperature. I don’t know exactly how the pod things work, but I’m sure it feels like an incubator.  Also, I’m sure the little thing’s used to his species, they’re hotter than us,” Kyle rationalized. Michael opened his eyes again.

“I don’t know, Alex is pretty hot,” Michael commented.  Alex’s lips struggled as he tried to fight the incoming smile, cocking his head to the side as he gave his signature Sweet Eyes.  Michael had no other way to describe them than that.  They were so fond they made him feel gooey, they’d always been his Sweet Eyes.

“Oh, so the baby trance breaks for you to be flirtatious?  Why am I not surprised?” Alex said and Michael smiled at him.  Maybe they could still be something.  He knew adding a baby into the mix made things a little harder, but Michael believed they could still make it.  They had to.

“Okay, look, I know we’re all distracted by the whole baby thing and flirting with your ex thing, but I’d like to remind everyone that we’re still in an abandoned prison in a secret tunnel where we found a fucking child,” Kyle said.  He had a good point.

It was much faster getting out of Pitlochry than it was getting inside of it, yet the sun was already starting to set which meant they had to have been there for a while.  Michael’s internal clock must’ve been completely fucked once he started feeling that pull.  That was made more prevalent whenever they all climbed into Alex’s fancy truck and Micahel was suddenly hit with just how tired he actually was.  His whole body felt drained and he melted into the seat, the baby firmly against his chest.

Alex drove maybe five minutes before pulling over and forcing Kyle in the driver’s seat and climbing in the back.

“You’re going to drop her if you try to keep sitting up when you’re about to pass the hell out,” Alex said and he didn’t give Michael much of a choice but to lay his head in his lap.  Not that he minded.  Michael made sure the little alien stayed in his arm, laying all cuddled up between the seats of the car and Michael’s chest and still wrapped in the jacket.

*

“Oh my god, I can’t get over how cute she is,” Isobel gushed as she lifted the baby from the couch.  Michael watched her, struggling to keep his hands to himself and not make sure she didn’t drop her.  He knew she wouldn’t, but that didn’t help the anxiety in his chest.

Alex sat beside him and draped his arm over the back of the couch behind him‒that helped.

“Okay, so, her cells look the same as yours, for the most part, I’d say she’s definitely the same species.  The only difference is your power source is pretty prevalent in your DNA, but hers... it’s virtually glowing inside of her.  Has she shown any signs of any powers?” Liz asked as she walked in from the kitchen.  In the 30 minutes since she’d pulled up at the cabin with Max, she’d turned the kitchen into a makeshift lab.

“Other than the whole luring Michael thing, no,” Alex answered.

Liz nodded, “So, she’s psychic?”

“We all are on some level, though,” Max added.

“Okay, well, when did you guys come into your main powers?”

“I’ve had ‘em for as long as I can remember,” Michael said, letting himself lean into Alex’s side just a little. Isobel nodded in agreement.

“Mine was a bit later, like when I was eleven, but the psychic thing was already there,” Max said.  Liz nodded thoughtfully, mumbling under her breath as he went back into the kitchen.

“Oh, look at this smile!” Isobel cooed, turning the little alien slightly to show Micahel her smile.  It was easily the most contagious thing in the world.

Isobel had been a little later than Max and Liz, but she was carting a few baby essentials including bottles, formula, onesies, and diapers.  Micahel was especially thankful for the diapers since his jacket was now completely ruined.  However, with some help from Kyle, they had him fed, bathed, and dressed, putting both she and Micahel at ease.  It also helped that this happened after Liz had stuck her in the arm with a needle.

“Oh, she’s so soft and lovable! Yes, you are! Yes, you are!” Isobel said, earning happy heavy breathing and gurgling from the baby.  A few more baby-talked sentences later, she stood to give her back to Michael.  He clearly had it written all over his face how much he wanted to hold her again.  It really felt like his baby.

“Hi, baby,” Michael said, trying his hand at baby talk as he brought her back against his chest. Alex snorted.

“She needs a name,” Isobel said, leaning forward.  Michael nodded slowly, pursing his lips in thought as he looked down at the baby in his arms.

Before he could even suggest anything, Kyle walked back in the room with Max and they stood in the middle of the room like they had something important to say. Michael doubted they did.  He got his confirmation‒the baby was healthy. That’s all he needed to know.

“So, I figure we can all pitch in watching her until I can get in touch with a social worker.  She’s young enough that she’ll probably get adopted fast, but‒”

“What are you talking about?” Michael said, sitting up straight as he stared at Kyle in frustrated confusion.  The words ‘social worker’ sent a familiar chill down his spine that he’d thought he’d gotten over at least a decade prior. No way that was an option when it came to his baby.

“Micahel, we can’t keep her, she’s not ours to keep,” Max said, that condescending tone dripping from his voice and provoking Michael to have to keep way too much focus in staying calm.  “We have to give her to someone who knows how to take care of her.”

“I’m sorry, who said this was your decision to make?” Michael snapped.  His was nearly vibrating with anger.  How dare they think they could just take her away.  What the fuck gave them the right?

“Michael‒”

“Don’t ‘Michael’ me! She’s mine! She isn’t going anywhere!”

“You don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby.”

“So?  Does anyone? I’ll learn,” Michael said, scoffing as he shook his head.  The baby in his arms clearly seemed to feed off his mood, gradually getting more and more fussy as Michael got more and more pissed.  “I’m not having this conversation with you guys, she’s not going anywhere. I don’t understand why you would want her too.  I know you guys think you had it great and all, and I’m sure you think you did, but you were still confused and scared of yourselves and scared of other people.  And we were older, we knew that we came from pods!  She’s too little, she won’t know anything.  She’ll just know that she can do things that she shouldn’t, she’ll be terrified and alone.  Why should I put her through that, especially when she has someone who wants her?  Not only someone who wants her but understands her power and can provide an environment where she can explore that power freely without being scared and trying to hide it.  I can give her what we didn’t have!  I don’t care if you don’t want to, Max, but I do.  I’m not letting you guys try to convince me that she’ll be better off with someone who doesn’t understand her and never will.”

The room was quiet as they stared at him.  Though, instead of understanding like it should’ve been, it was just pity.  It was as though they weren’t even aware that this baby was going to grow and become like them, become a powerful alien.  Yeah, there was a chance she could end up living fine and happy, but there was a bigger chance that she wouldn’t.  And at least they had each other‒this baby wouldn’t have anyone.  Michael knew what that felt like and, bond or not, he refused to let her go through that.  

“Fuck you guys, I’ll figure it out on my own, no need to stress yourselves out,” Michael spat, standing to his feet and heading down the hall to Alex’s room.  He couldn’t look at them, not when they all were acting like he was being irrational.  He didn’t have it in him to comprehend how wanting to take care of someone who needed it was irrational.

The only thing that calmed him down was the fact that Alex followed him.

“They’ve completely lost it, why would I give her up? She needs me, she needs someone who‒” Michael had to cut himself off when he turned to see Alex’s face didn’t look that much different from the rest of them.  Pity and concern.  He took a step back.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alex asked, reaching out to him.  Micahel stepped away again.  He didn’t even have Alex on his side.  Alex, who grew up feeling unwanted, unloved, and undeniably different in a way he couldn’t understand for years, wanted to subject the same fate onto an infant who had someone who wanted her.  What the fuck was going on?  “You don’t even have a place of your own, how can you take care of a baby?”

It was a low blow, they both knew it.  Well, all three of them knew it.  It knocked the air from Micahel’s lung and, within seconds, the baby was crying.  Michael stared at him, a million different things going through his mind as a way to retaliate but only one stood out and repeated itself.  I have enough saved for a new place, I just wanted to be with you, you asshole.

Still, regardless of how much he wanted to throw it in his face, he couldn’t.  So Micahel gave a tight, sarcastic smile and leaned closer.

“Don’t worry, Alex, we’ll be out of your life in a few days,” Michael said, pushing past him and heading towards the guest bedroom.  It hurt him and he hoped it hurt Alex, even if just a little bit.  If anyone understood why he didn’t want to give him up, it should’ve been Alex.  But then again, he had spent over a decade thinking that Alex was an exception to many things.

He rarely ever was.

Michael ignored the shakiness in his hands as he shushed the baby in his arms, swallowing back any tears that threatened.  He felt stupid for being emotional, he should’ve expected this.  Alex never stayed when things got hard and the rest of them thought nothing of him. Why would anyone around him think he was capable of raising a baby?  They all thought he was stupid, a lowlife, a good-for-nothing street rat who would never get anywhere and would never care for anyone but himself.  But they were wrong and he cared a lot about a lot of people to the point he’d do anything for them and this baby had been added to the list.  Why couldn’t they see that?

Michael sniffled louder than he wanted, wiping away a stray tear and pretending it wasn’t over losing Alex all over again.

“It’s okay, baby, we’ll figure it out, it’s just you and me,” Michael said, “That’s all we need.”

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

I haven't seen an ED hc on here yet and I need to project a bit so here's this: at the begging all the queen boys were skinny as hell but as time went on the only one who remained that way was brian. and everyone assumed that it was all natural. what they didn't know was that brian consciously started eating less when he got to the age where people's metabolism usually slows down. he was well aware that his skinniness was part of his trademark look and decided he needed to keep it that way (1/3)

he started cutting down the amount and frequency of his meals but the others never noticed - brian had always been peculiar with food (not eating meat or unhealthy things etc.) so they assumed he ate at home whenever he refused the takeout they had in the studio. in the mid 80s they slowly start noticing that brian’s no longer just skinny, but also sickly looking but still don’t say anything, assuming he might have a stomach bug going on (touring can bring that on quite easily after all) (2/3)

then, a couple of months later, brian passes out in the studio and the boys finally connect the dots. they feel incredibly guilty for not noticing the signs and are determined to help brian recover. (3/3) //if you could please write something where the boys realise all this had been going on without them noticing and then try to figure out how to help brian out of this mess while he refuses to believe that he needs help at all (can be gen or you can add a ship if you’d like)

TW explicit mentions of Eating Disorders, Disordered Eating, Anorexia, Orthorexia, Hospitalization and excessive vulgar language. 

All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand…

For my life still ahead, pity me…

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Again.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

One more time. So you remember how you fucked up.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

24 ribs sticking out from grey ashen skin.

Brian’s bony finger traced over each one as he counted outloud, eyes focused on the full body mirror in front of him.

You remember how handsome you used to be? Remember when theyjutted out like a fucking Greek god? But you ruined it. You ate that chocolatecupcake like the pig you are and now you’re fat again. Fat and disgusting.

“One, two, three, four, five…”

It doesn’t matter if you cry about it. It won’t make you anyskinnier. Put on your running shoes, fat ass.

“Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”

RUN!

Brian wiped his face free of the tears, eye’s falling downto his bare feet. Skeletal but most people’s standards but bloated looking tohim. He had blisters on his heels from running a mile every morning, but itdidn’t matter. Pain was beauty, right?

♚

Of all the numbers, zero is the most beautiful. Brianthought that to himself as he ran around his neighborhood, the sun dipping inthe sky, crickets already chirping.

His knees hurt so bad, his chest was on fire and he was surehis blisters had reopened, but he had done this to himself. If he only atethings that were good, he wouldn’t have to run this second mile. If he juststopped inhaling anything that came into sight, he could be home right now,settling into a night’s rest.

But he was out here. In the cold English sunset, wearinglayers of jogging clothes to try and keep warm. He deserved this. Briandeserved this.

The day he hit his goal weight, he’d never have to do thisagain. He’d be doing zero laps.

♚

It was nearly midnight before he tempted to step on thescale.

The bathroom was so dark. Only trickles of moonlight pouredin from the window. He refused to turn on the lights since he weighed himselfnaked. Having to see his bare body was revolting. There was so much wrong withit. His legs were too chubby. His stomach so round. His cheeks akin to a hamster.It was better in the dark.

The cold metal of the scale sent a shiver up his body as hestepped onto it. He had to squint to see the number, but he was sure it hadgone up since this morning. That fucking cupcake.

8 stone.

Tears pricked his eyes. The number had gone down. Why was hestill so big?

So big.

Who could like someone so grotesque as him? With so muchskin? With so much fat?

Brian hugged himself, elbows tucking into his concavestomach.

He was disgusting.

♚

“You’re drinking your coffee black, Bri?” Roger asked, nosescrunched up as he peered into Brian’s coffee mug. Brian pulled the mug closerto him defensively but smiled and lolled his head as if nothing was wrong.

“You know I don’t drink milk, mate,” Brian said, taking asip of the acrid brew, forcing his brow to stay unfurrowed.

“Since when? Thought you were vegetarian, not one of thoseweird animal hippies,” Roger said eyes narrowed.

“Well, I’ve decided through research that the milk industryexploits cows. Did you know that mother cows and their c-“

“Yeah, yeah, alright. You could at least put a sugar or twoin there, you mad man,” Roger said with the wave of his hand, Brian’s plan atboring him with animal ethics having worked.

Brian smiled to himself, taking another sip. Roger was outof his mind if he thought he’d ever put sugar in anything he ate. Might as welleat straight fat. At least his little plan worked.

♚

“Brian, sweetheart, you look absolutely pale! Have you caughta cold?” Freddie said, a hand pressing against Brian’s clammy forehead. Brianducked away from the touch, laughing nonchalantly as he did.

“Perhaps? I feel, uh, fine. Maybe I’m just low in something,”he said as convincingly as possible. His fingers started to twiddle with the sleevesof his shirt that was far too big.

Freddie gave him a look he couldn’t decipher but he nodded.

“Well, you better rest up. Can’t have our main guydeveloping an ailment before our show tomorrow, huh?” Freddie said, a handstraying onto Brian’s bony shoulder. The touch made him erupt into goosebumps.

Did he know?

Does it matter?

♚

“Brian, we need to talk,” John said, his grey eyes big andstormy.

His gut dropped to the floor, heart pounding so hard itechoed in his ears. Was the gig up?

Brian wouldn’t go without a fight.

“What about?” he said casually, crossing one leg over theother, leaning back on the couch backstage.

John sat down next to him, uncomfortably close. Brian didn’tlike people touching him. It made it all the harder to hide.

John looked around to see if anyone was around before heleaned and whispered, “The crowds really big tonight. I, um, I’m kinda nervous,”

Oh sweet jesus. Thank god. Thank god.

The anxiety melted from Brian, a small smile growing on hisface.

“John, how old are you? You silly man,” He said jokinglybefore pulling John in for a hug.

The bassist grew rigid, not reciprocating. It’d only been a second,but the atmosphere grew bleak and heavy. John pulled away, face tightened infear. He looked over Brian for a second before he left in a hurry without somuch as a word.

Did he feel how skinny fat Brian was?

Who cares?

♚

Just because you finished a successful tour does not meanyou get to pig out. Look at all this food. It’s disgusting. Unhealthy. Do youwant to be fat? Don’t you want to be the skinny boy everyone knows and loves?

But I’m so hungry…

Hunger is good. Hunger means you’re strong. Hunger means you’rebeautiful. Hunger means you’re worth something.

I don’t feel good.

You won’t feel good if you get fat. If you stay fat.

I really don’t feel good.

Put that carrot down. Do you know how much sugar carrotshave? Do you want to poison your body with junk?

I think I’m gonna…

The after party for The Game fell silent. They’d all beendrinking, laughing, eating and a few other illegal activities when they heard athud. Hundred of eyes searched the room for the source of the noise untilsomeone spotted a collapsed Brian by the single veggie plate in the corner ofthe room.

Flurries of bodies and voices, yells and whispers erupted,some rushing to the phone, some running over to Brian.

Roger, Freddie and John surrounded their guitarist, panicfueling their every move.

“He’s bloody cold! Has someone called 999?” Roger shouted,rolling Brian over so he was on his back. It was a frighteningly easy task todo, the guy being light as a feather.

“Brian, sweetie, wake up please. Help is on the way, love.Stay with us, please,” Freddie pleaded, eyes misty as he held Brian’s handbetween his own, hoping to warm it up some.

John just stood next to the three, mouth and tongue seized,body trembling uncontrollably.

This is good. This is really good. Maybe soon you’ll benothing. Zero. A beautiful number. A beautiful state to be in.

♚

“…He was in fucking heart failure…”

“…electrolytes too low…”

“…emaciated…”

“…bone’s of a 60 year old…”

“And if he had died?”

“…you never said anything!”

“…was I supposed to know what this was?”

“He’s alive no thanks to any of you…”

♚

Brian’s eyes opened sluggishly, theonly thing he could seeing being an intense white light.

Was this it? Was he in heaven? Was allof this finally over? The pain and the cold and the empty stomachs and the migraines?Was that all gone now?

“He’s awake,” a mousy voice said.

Brian’s vision cleared, revealing awhite ceiling.

So he wasn’t dead.

He looked in the direction the voicecame, shivering when he saw it was John. His face was so swollen and so redfrom crying. It looked like he’d done a week’s worth. When their eyes met, Johnlet out a heart shattering sob, burying his face into Brian’s bed sheets. Theywere soaked.

Why was John crying so hard? He justpassed out was all. Nothing to be bent over.

His eyes scanned the room for other faces.

He found Roger’s. His eye bags wereunprecedented. His hair mused like he’d been trying to pull it out. Rogershrunk back into his chair, looking down at his shoes instead.

He didn’t have to look for Freddie.

Freddie walked up to Brian’s bed, hisface untelling. He looked at Brian’s IV, which he just now noticed he hadbefore he opened his mouth to speak. He faltered for a moment but spoke.

“Brian, I am so, so sorry,” he said,voice cracking, throat dry. He reached for Brian’s hand, but Brian pulled away,shaking his head.

“For what, Fred? I just passed out! It’sno one’s fault,” he said incredulously. They all looked like train wrecks for asimple blackout?

Freddie recoiled at Brian’s wordsbefore he softened again. His eyes parted from Brian’s, licking his lips. Whydidn’t anyone want to look at him?

“Brian…you didn’t pass out. You wentinto heart failure. You were in the ICU for 3 weeks in a coma. It…they had touse the electric paddles on you on two separate occasions,” his voice grewthick, obviously trying to push away the urge to cry and scream.

“They thought you weren’t going to makeit,” Freddie mouthed, his shoulders caving in as a few tears escaped down hischeeks.

Brian blinked before finally look downat himself.

Various bruises on his arm fromdifferent IV’s and blood draws Burn marks on his chest. And a line running downhis chest, all stitched and taped up.

A number 1, almost.

Not a zero.

He looked up to Freddie, jaw hanging.

“You needed a bypass, Bri,” Freddiesaid, a nervous hand rubbing his neck.

“W-Why?” Brian choked out, his mindhaving gone blank.

Roger snorted from across the room. “Youknow why,” he said bitterly.

And it was true. Brian knew why.

The room was quiet except for Deacy’smuffled sobs.

“I…I…the…I..can’t bloody think withyour crying, John!” Brian snapped. He didn’t mean it, he really didn’t.This..illness made him do horrible things. Nasty things.

John responded by growing smalleralthough his crying didn’t. Freddie wanted to bark back, but this wasn’t right.None of it was. Instead, he grabbed John and left the room. Roger was the onlyone who could talk to Brian about serious stuff anyways.

Brian gulped when the door slammedbehind the two. Now it was just him and R-

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rogerasked, playing with the hem of his shirt. There was no malice in his voice.Just a simple question.

“I..didn’t think anything was wrong,”Brian said, which was the truth.

This, whatever it was, made the worldsplit in two. Reality and what went on his brain both felt real. He knew he wassick, but he wasn’t. He knew he was skinny but he wasn’t. He knew he was dyingbut he wasn’t. It was hard to know the truth sometimes. All the times. It washard to reach out when everything felt both okay and crumbling. Which was thetrue one?

Roger let out a puff of air from hisnose, eyes fluttering shut, desperate for sleep. In times of crisis, he seemedto be the only one capable of keeping their wits about, so he’d been on babysittingduty for nearly a month. He wanted his bed so bad.

He wanted his best friend too.

“That’s fair,” he said with a sigh.There was another silence between them before Roger got up and padded over toBrian’s bed side. He plopped himself onto the uncomfortably wet sheets but paidthem no mind, instead looking at the skeleton before him.

“We’re all really sorry, Brian. None ofus knew you were fighting a battle alone. We just thought…I don’t know what wewere thinking. But we thought you had a handle on whatever you were doing and thatwas wrong of us to just assume,”

“You needed us and we weren’t there.There’s only so much we can do about the past though, right? But we’re gonna behere for you from now on. When they send you to the psych w-“

“Psych ward?” Brian spat out, sittingup straighter in bed.

That’s where crazy people go. I’m notcrazy. I’m fine. I’m fine. I don’t belong there. They’ll make me eat. They’llmake me gain weight.

Roger just took in Brian’s anxiety, an uncharacteristicallygentle hand laying onto Brian’s bandaged chest.

With the sincerity and sweetness of amother, Roger said, “We almost lost you Brian. We almost had to bury you. We’renot going to let that happen again. You’re not going to leave us like that,”

Brian laid back against the bed, hisonly veiny and pale hand going over Roger’s.

Nothing felt real. Nothing made sense.Nothing was good. But he knew he could trust Roger. That infernal voice buzzingin his head might have been his constant companion, but Roger was his bestfriend. And best friends don’t lie.

Brian blinked away a few tears, hiswhole body tired, in pain and in a mental tug of war, but he said, “Okay,”Roger collapsed for the first time in weeks.

♚

John held onto Brian so tight, his faceburied into his neck. He would prefer to never let go, but he knew he had tosoon.

“Brian, I lo- you’re my best friend,okay? Get better?” he said before letting go. Brian smiled, patting his back.

Freddie came in for a hug next, meltinginto Brian’s embrace.

“I need my guitarist back. My soul brother,”Freddie said, kissing Brian’s cheek.

Lastly was Roger who just held out hishand for a shake. A firm one.

“See you soon, mate.”

Brian looked at all of them, taking intheir faces before he had to go. Wheeled out from the hospital and into the vanthat’d be taking him to the psychiatric ward.

The future ahead was scary and unknown,but he wanted to charge ahead. He wanted to live. For his friends, his family andmost importantly, himself. He wanted to play guitar and sing and eat and neverworry again.

All he wanted was to be four again.

Not zero.

Never zero.

Take heart my friend we love you

Though it seems like you’re alone

A million light’s above you

Smile down upon your home

[your-modern-shakespeare]

A Little Too Real: Epilogue

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 4.5, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 7.5, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 10.5, Part 11, Part 11.5, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Summary: RealityTV!AU- You are a wardrobe supervisor for a popular TV network. The show is planning a reality TV show like the bachelor and Bucky is the newest contestant. But as the competition starts he realizes that he doesn’t like any of the girls…on the show anyway.

Pairing : Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 16,355

A/N: Well...THIS IS IT! This has been such an emotional rollercoaster not only for these characters but for me too. This story is about three years of my life and I’ve been putting off ending it because it’s been a really hard week, but it’s time to share a happy ending for these characters. I want to thank everyone who has read and loved this story and supported me along the way. I couldn’t have done this without you so Thank you! But without further ado, I love you guys and Enjoy! (P.S. A completed masterlist will soon be posted with links to every chapter and some fun info about the series. 

Warnings: fluff, FLUFF, some sexy times and mentions of, maybe like a little angst but not really?, drinking, talk of drinking and being drunk, fluff?, I think that’s it, fluff

ONE YEAR LATER 

Y/N’S POV

I tried my hardest to sleep on the flight and yet my nerves and the time difference didn’t make it easy. 

This being my first full week off in over six months, you could definitely say that I was looking forward to it. Not to mention, I hadn’t seen Bucky in about 2 months...in person that is. This tour had been hard on me, harder than the last one. But I guess it was different when you knew you had someone at home waiting for you. 

But things were good with me and him. The distance definitely put a strain on our relationship, but we knew that coming from spending every second together to hardly seeing each other was going to be hard. This realization hit pretty early on. 

After the crew watch, Bucky and I had about two weeks together before I had to leave again. But like I had told him before, I had Monday off, so he took me to the hospital to FINALLY get my cast off and then to our redo first date...it was perfect and then we went on the date...I’m kidding of course. The date was everything I could have ever expected and more, he really pulled out all the stops. Not to mention he was there the next morning when I opened my eyes, which was the only thing I had been nervous about. 

He was also there for the opening night of the show, that next Tuesday, which he absolutely loved. We got to walk the “red carpet” beforehand, he got to watch the show, and then we got to go to the after party together. But the best part of the night was that we got to tell everyone that we were together, that we were a couple and that we loved each other. 

Yet, the real world came knocking the following Monday morning, and we couldn’t keep pushing off our inevitable flights. I was headed to Boston first and he was going back to LA. 

So over the next couple of months we Skyped at least once a week, talked almost every night, and texted probably way too much. But we had decided early on that even if it was just a fast call, that it was important to hear each other’s voices, that even if the text was good morning or goodnight, at least it was an easy way to feel connected to each other. The Skype date, though, was the most important out of all, this was not rescheduled or missed and was usually on Mondays because I was always and he had gotten them off too, so that there was no way we missed our date. It was nice that way. 

There was one Monday where Tony called him in to work, but the whole time he worked we were on our date. It was pretty fun that way because we liked to mess with Tony and make him feel bad that he had messed up our Skype date. But I had to admit it was nice to see Tony and I actually got to see a little bit of what Bucky was working on with this latest update of the arm. 

A lot of times we ended up talking about things that I didn’t understand but the way he spoke about his work just made me smile, because I could see how happy it made him. And ever since Tony had hired him on full time, now that he was done with the show, he seemed to be a lot happier. It really gave him the time to start exploring updates for the arm and he even began reaching out to other people about different limbs. Which I knew he had been excited about because he had been pushing to do projects like this even before we started dating. 

But this also meant that he spent a lot of time traveling like me. Where I was going to a new city every week or two, he spent a lot of time going back and forth between New York and LA, so did Tony. Fortunately this made me feel less guilty about having a place in New York when I wasn’t living there. I let friends stay there when they were in town or on vacation and whenever Bucky and Tony were there they were more than happy for an apartment over a hotel room. 

And then my first break came and God if I wasn’t excited for it. Bucky was in LA at the time so I stayed at his apartment and we had a million wedding type activities  to do with Peggy and Steve, seeing as this was the first time that I had been able to get more than one day off. Peggy, Steve, Wanda (who got engaged to Vision on their one year anniversary), Vision, Bucky and I had all had multiple Skype calls to discuss wedding details, before the break, but once my one week hit there seemed to be an explosion of wedding stuff to do. 

We had another engagement party, just a small event for the close friends that Peggy’s parents hadn’t thought to invite and other family members, like Bucky’s mom, who hadn’t been able to make the first party. We had a bridal shower where Steve and Peggy got a butt load of new stuff, mostly things for the kitchen and money from her family in the UK. We went to three different bridal salons both for Peggy’s dress and for the bridesmaid dresses. Then the following day I went to Steve’s morning suit fitting as well as Bucky and Michael’s, no matter how awkward that was, don’t even get me started. And even on top of all the wedding things, I still had a couple of days to spend completely alone with Bucky. 

Then it was back on the road for me. 

But it wasn’t nearly as bad this time around. Bucky and I had gotten used to our routine so that wasn’t hard to pick up again and being in Austin my first week back after the break, at the venue where this all started, felt almost like home in a sense. I got to talk to the people who I worked with before, I got to talk to some of my old theatre teachers, and I got to have a stress free week. It was just so nice to not have to worry about dressers that I didn’t know, in a theatre I had never been in, and a city that I knew nothing about. It was a great first week back because of it. It was the other five-ish months that were difficult. 

I grew to miss Bucky a little more everyday. We still had our calls and texts but it was harder after having spent a whole week seeing him, to suddenly see him so little. Not to mention, on top of working seven to nine shows a week, it depended on the city, I was helping Peggy plan her wedding. That meant that I was usually on a Skype call with Peggy, her mom, the wedding planner, and Wanda, picking out flowers, invitations, cake design, caterers, a band/or DJ, and pretty much everything else that was aesthetics and essential for a wedding. Of course, we also talked about the guest list, which was very long, when to put in fittings for the dresses, per my expertise, who to book for hair and makeup, which airline to use for flights, and anything else that I probably would have never thought of. It was all a little overwhelming. 

So as the next couple of months passed this became the new routine. Talking to Bucky, talking to Peggy and her wedding planning committee, and then working a lot of shows, while I bounced around from city to city. You could say that as the less and less sleep I got the more I started to regret taking this job. 

Don’t get me wrong, I loved this show. I loved the people I worked with and the musical itself was something that I surprisingly never got tired of...but like I said, it was hard to be away from the people I loved. 

So when I hit my next week long break it was off to the UK for me. Two months since seeing Bucky, six months since seeing Peggy, Steve, Wanda and Vision (who so easily joined our friend group and became just as essential), and my first time ever being in the UK, it was a little crazy. And I was exhausted. 

I wanted to try and sleep a little more than I did on the flight but, I don’t know, being in the air made it hard. I was also overthinking EVERYTHING.

Where would I have to go to get my luggage, would I take a taxi to Peggy’s parent’s home or would I just go straight to the venue, would she be there to pick me up or would someone else be there, and when would I see Bucky? 

So with all of that to think of, sleep didn’t come so easy. 

But when I heard that we were starting our descent into Heathrow, I perked up a bit. I was beyond excited to get off this plane and I knew that at the very least I wasn’t but an hour from seeing Bucky again. 

So we landed and everyone on the plane grabbed their things. I had one small carry on which had my bridesmaid dress in it, I did the alterations myself seeing as it was too difficult to get a fitting in while I was stopped in one of the cities, and an outfit or two, just in case my luggage was lost. That was another thing I thought about too. 

But for now I focused on getting off the plane and into the airport. 

I waited in line to get off and made my way inside the airport and through the gate. Already I could feel a little bit of the stress that I had been thinking about on the flight. But like I did with every other airport I had been to, I followed the signs to baggage claim and I waited for my other bag to come out. As I stood there and watched all the other passengers get their bag I started to feel a little worried that mine wasn’t going to come out. But before I had the chance to investigate further, I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

I turned around and as soon as my eyes registered what they were seeing, I felt two very different things. One was relief because out of my peripheral vision I could see my luggage, and the second was complete excitement because standing before me was Bucky.

I dropped my bag, immediately jumped into his arms, and kissed him senseless. I didn’t care about the people around us or the fact that Steve and Peggy both were standing behind us, I just focused everything on Bucky and the fact that I hadn’t seen him in what felt like forever, hadn’t actually felt him in just as long. When he pulled away, I just wrapped him in my arms, not quite ready to let go of him. 

“I missed you so much.” I whispered in his ear. 

“I missed you too.” He said back to me, not letting me go, but setting me back on the ground. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.” I kissed him one more time before actually letting him go. I picked up my bag from the floor and handed it to Bucky before going over to Steve and Peggy, giving them hugs too. 

“Our hello wasn’t nearly as good as Bucky’s.” Peggy said to me sarcastically mid hug. 

“I guess I should have said hello to you first then?” I asked, moving to Steve for a hug. 

“Nah, I guess boyfriends can be greeted first.” I laughed at the two of them and then we headed out of the airport. 

In the car, Steve and Peggy were in front and Bucky and I were in back, and as much as I wanted to talk to Bucky and catch up with him, it was hard to when I was so curious about the city and all of the things to see. Luckily he caught on and started to give me fun facts about the city and all of the things that he recognized from when he lived here. 

And then about an hour later we pulled into a driveway which led to a beautiful, very old and traditional home. Out front stood Peggy’s parents along with one other person who I hadn’t met. Being the gentleman that he was, Bucky opened my door for me and assisted me out of the car before grabbing my luggage. As he did that, I went over and greeted Peggy’s parents and they introduced me to Mrs. Langdon, the housekeeper. And by housekeeper I mean the head honcho of the place, at least on the female side, and by that I mean they had a full staff for this house, which astounded me. Honestly when I thought the Carters had money, I didn’t think it would be so much that they were practically Downton Abbey, but they pretty much were. 

Anyway, Mrs. Langdon gave me a tour of the “estate” as she called it and eventually brought me to my shared room with Bucky, where he was already waiting for me. 

I spent a little time getting settled in, unpacked some of my stuff, took my bridesmaid dress out of my bag, and sooner than expected I had passed out next to Bucky on the bed. We may have done something else before passing out but no one else needed to know about that.

But back to the wedding...Over the next couple of days we did a lot of different things. We had hair and makeup appointments with our team so that we could finalize our wedding looks; the boys went and got proper haircuts. Steve and Peggy finalized the head count which pretty much finished everything with the caterers and vendors. We finished making the playlists for the DJ and we went over the music for the band one more time. I went ahead and steamed or pressed everyone’s dresses, suits, trousers, and shirts, at the least I knew that Peggy’s dress would need the time to completely dry, so it was good I did it ahead of time. And then we got to the last two days before the “big day.”

So, with the aroma of a hangover lingering in the thoughts of my future, I woke up to the day of Peggy’s bachelorette party. We had decided to give us a day between the bachelorette party and the wedding because I knew that Peggy would want to go kind of crazy and we didn’t really want to feel un-functionally terrible the day of her wedding. So with that in mind, Wanda and I had to do a lot of research on amazing places to go and things to do...in a country that we had never been to before. Easy, right?

But anyway, we decided to start the day off slow and gradually build up to the crazy-drunk night that Peggy had imagined her bachelorette party being. So we let her sleep in a bit, went out for Brunch at her favorite cafe, got mani/pedis, and then went shopping for a look to go out on the town in. 

We were searching through the racks of a dress store in the city and Peggy peeked through the dresses to where I was looking on the other side of her rack. 

“So when are you and Bucky getting hitched?” 

“Haven’t I answered this question enough for you?” I responded, pulling a dress out and laying it over my arm. 

“I’m going to keep asking until it happens. You know that right?” Wanda just laughed at us. 

“And I will always give you the same answer. When he asks you’ll probably be amongst the first to know. Not that it’ll happen anytime soon but…”

“What makes you think it won’t? You two have been together longer than Wanda and Vision have and they’re already engaged.”

“First, that’s not true. We were friends when those two started dating. And second—”

“Friends.” They both said and put in air quotes. I ignored it. 

“Second...I’m still on tour for another six months. It would be impractical to try and plan a wedding in the middle of tour madness. We hardly get to see each other as it is, but could you imagine me showing up to bridal shower or an engagement party after not having seen him in months.”

“Are you trying to say that your reunion would be too inappropriate? Just get a room beforehand and it’ll be fine.” Wanda finally chimed in. 

“I’ll even fix you hair for you before the party.” Peggy said. 

“You guys are so embarrassing. I’m just saying that I’m not sure it’s going to happen anytime soon. I would be excited if it did happen, we talk about getting married and we try and make plans, but it just isn’t in the immediate future. Right now I have the tour and he has his newest project with Tony, not to mention the actual reason we are here in a dress store right now. We should be really focused on your wedding.”

“I’m just talking shop. I’m pretty sure that’s what we’re supposed to do at these bachelorette parties.”

“You may have a small point, but let’s talk about wedding things. What about you Wanda, what’s happening with your planning?”

Directing the attention away from me was exactly what we needed to get this dress shopping back on track. The wedding planning sped things up believe it or not, not only did the three of us find a look for tonight, Wanda a beautiful red velvet dress, Peggy a gorgeous white jumpsuit , and for me a stunning pants/tank combo, but now Peggy wanted to stop by a bridal salon and have Wanda try on some wedding dresses. I mean, when would she ever have another chance to try on gowns that hadn’t been made in America?

So, of course, we had to Skype with her twin brother, Pietro, he was technically the only family she had left and he had practically threatened us about getting to help pick out the dress. She ended up falling in love with one but decided that she would have to come back later to figure out the logistics of ordering it and getting it back to LA. And as any best friend would, I offered to do the alterations as soon as the tour was over, to help offset the costs, which she was relieved to hear. 

After we were done at the bridal salon, we quickly stepped in to a shoe store, Peggy telling us that we obviously needed new shoes to go with our new dresses; it was crazy how much I had bought for this wedding, it was a never ending shopping spree.  We had even purchased a bride-to-be sash for Peggy to wear out, which she absolutely loved. But anyway, with shoes and dresses in hand, we went back to the hotel room we got for the night and started to get ready for the crazy part of the night. And with hair done up, makeup sponged on, dresses in place, and shoes strapped up we made our way to dinner. 

Peggy chose this nice restaurant that apparently Steve had actually shown her while he was living in London and helping take care of Bucky after his accident. And knowing how well Steve treats Peggy, the place definitely lived up to his standards. Everything was delicious and even though the place was nicer than most restaurants it was actually really nice to experience a piece of their relationship that was so simple and down to earth. But with dinner soon done and plenty left to do tonight, we left the restaurant. 

The funniest thing about Peggy’s idea for a bachelorette party, was definitely the research materials she used to give us ideas. Mostly from movies, her ideal party was definitely out of line for the Peggy we had come to know and love. Of course, Wanda and I had to veto a lot because we had concluded pretty early on that some of things listed were things that the three of us would never be comfortable with; for instance, like going to a strip club. But one that we stuck with, because at the very least it was the most harmless out of the ideas, was going out to a nightclub. We weren’t entirely sure if she would like this place, but we had a back up if she didn’t. 

Peggy, much like Steve and Bucky, was an old soul. And despite the pop/modern music they played at the parties they hosted, it wasn’t ever too loud that you couldn’t hear what the other people were saying. Which was exactly the case when we stepped foot into this club. 

There was a DJ at the front of the room playing some song that we had never heard of and the dance floor was packed with people jumping around, poorly dancing and even some obscene couples. But ignoring that, Peggy pulled us over to the bar and ordered each of us a drink to kick off the idealized night. 

We sat at the bar for maybe a few minutes before a group of guys, seeing Peggy’s sash, dragged us over to their table. They were all very nice to us, they asked us about our boyfriends and we asked about theirs, which struck up some great conversations. We even, bravely, got up and danced for a bit and the guys bought us drinks...way too many drinks. After awhile I cut myself off because I was already feeling pretty out of it and it wasn’t even eleven. That and I was also getting sleepy and alcohol would only make that worse. So when we were done dancing and back at our table I hung out with Peggy and Wanda and the guys, but I think they were catching on to just how tired I was starting to become. 

Peggy came and plopped down next to me, very ungracefully climbing over anyone who was in her way, Wanda following very stably.

“You’re not having fun.” She slurred. 

“What? Of course I am!”

“You’ve been staring at the wall for like five minutes.” Wanda said.

 “It’s not because I’m not having fun.”

“What else could it be?” Peggy got closer to me. 

“Well...the time difference has really messed with me and I get sleepy when I’m tipsy, you can ask Bucky. And for some reason I really want some tacos. Do they serve tacos here? Like good street tacos, not like Jack-in-the-box tacos, but like good authentic street tacos?”

“I’m not sure if they serve those here.” Wanda decided, not really seeing any food around here. 

“But you’re lucky I picked some up along the way.” I heard from behind me and turned to see Bucky standing there with a bag of food in hand. “You’re also lucky that I know you so well.” He handed me the bag of food and I pulled him down closer to me so I could kiss him. 

“What are you doing here?” He walked around and sat down beside me, both Wanda and Peggy going to talk to Vision and Steve. 

“Peggy is...very drunk and she’s been texting Steve all night, he was worried about her.”

“Well it’s sweet of you guys to come and hang out with us, didn’t mean to spoil your night.”

“Seeing our girls could never spoil the night, not that I’m saying we weren’t having fun. We had the whole day away from each other, so why not spend the night together?”

“I like that.” 

So for the next couple of hours we danced and we talked with the guys who were all very jealous of just how stunning our boyfriends were. Bucky and I didn’t do any more drinking and as the night went on I got out of my little funk and had a great night. 

Peggy and Steve, though, were the first to bow out. She was definitely drunk and Steve was ready to take her back to the hotel. But as soon as the bride and groom were gone it was a gradual departure for the rest of our group. Vision, Wanda, Bucky and I all went back to the hotel but had to get separate rooms since we had only gotten one for the night; a King size bed would have fit three girls, not six people. We didn’t really get into our room until three in the morning but after that I’m pretty sure it was the fastest I had ever fallen asleep. 

The following morning...I wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought I was going to be. But Bucky and I had had a plan to keep the both of us from getting too sick. The trick: vodka and you know what’s interesting about vodka...it’s clear...like water. And with Peggy so out of it, she never caught on to the fact that Bucky and I weren’t wasted. 

I just didn’t want any of this weekend to be tainted by being sick, or blacking out, or even a hangover. And honestly I kind of figured that Peggy would feel the same but then again the pressure she was under from her family and the wedding planner alone and add on top of it all living at home during all of this, would probably make me drink that much too… if I had any of that I mean.

But anyway, because the only thing we had to do today was greet the guests who were staying at the castle and have dinner with Peggy’s family, Bucky and I got to spend the day together; apparently they don’t do rehearsals for weddings in the UK or like a big family rehearsal dinner. It was really important to me to have a day like this because I needed to spend as much time with him as I could before I had to go back on the road. 

So we started the morning off with Breakfast and then Bucky showed me around London like a proper tourist. We saw everything that anyone would see if they took a week long vacation in London. 

We stopped at every London landmark, taking countless pictures, and just enjoying our time alone together. He really treated me like a princess, making sure that I had an absolutely amazing day. And it was...a perfect day with the perfect man; I couldn’t have asked for anything more. So with a good mood set for the day we headed over to the venue. 

Out of every single detail selected for the wedding, the venue was by far the most insane and the most extravagant. And by extravagant I mean that they were getting married in a castle... A CASTLE! Talk about a literal dream come true. From what I was told, the place had been completely rented out for the entire weekend, so if that wasn’t a huge reminder of just how rich the Carter’s were, then I don’t know what else would have been. 

But with the castle being about 2 hours from where we were, and us being about 2 and half hours from when Peggy wanted us to meet downstairs so that we could start greeting people, I decided to do my makeup in the car and then Bucky and I would just change once we got into our room. The only problem with my plan had been Bucky thinking he was funny when he swerved the car on purpose, obviously trying to mess me up; he thought he was so cute. He’s just lucky that the end of my eyeliner was far enough away from me that it didn’t do nearly as much damage as it could have; I had a little mark on my cheek that I had to fix. He got a pretty good laugh anyway, but I had the rest of the drive to think of a proper payback. 

About thirty minutes after Bucky’s prank, we pulled up in front of this gorgeous castle, absolutely picturesque, and ogled just a moment before a few people, who I could only assume worked there, came and grabbed our things from the car, parked the car for us, showed us to our room and then left us alone. 

With little time left until we had to meet up with Steve, Peggy, Wanda, and Michael, Bucky went into the bathroom first and I took my dress and Bucky’s suit out of their garment bags, giving them a quick glance over for any wrinkles. When I couldn’t find anything too major, I went ahead and tried to do something with my hair, not really having the time to do too much to it. 

Yet, Bucky had had plenty of time to shower and dry his hair, so when he came out of the bathroom, he was looking as handsome as ever and I thought that maybe now was a good time to get back at him. 

So I was sitting on the bed looking at him and he walked over to his bag, going to grab clean clothes to change into. He easily caught on to me. 

“See something you like?” He said, smiling at me. 

“I don’t know, I guess it would depend on what you would do if I said yes.”

“Y/N...you are playing with fire…” 

“What are you going to do about it?” He made his way across the room, dropping the clothes that were in his hands, and grabbing me in his arms before kissing me hard. 

It’s been a little over a year since our first kiss and yet he still had that way of kissing me that just made me melt in his arms, physically and emotionally swoon. Yes, I was trying to get payback for earlier but where I had planned to tease him all night and make him regret messing with me, this plan was now seriously backfiring against my will to say no to him. 

And as it usually did, the kiss developed a lot further than just a kiss. He was already naked from the shower and he was making quick work of the clothes I had been wearing. He just made me feel as if I was the only person in the world that mattered, like time completely disappeared when he kissed me, like we had no where else to be. Which actually did remind me that we had somewhere to be. 

His lips moved down to my neck giving me, most likely, the only chance to interrupt this and get downstairs on time. 

“Bucky…” I tried to stop him. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” His lips on my skin felt like Heaven, a heaven I really didn’t want to ignore, but...

“Oh God, Bucky we can’t do this.” He pulled away from me and looked at me, his lips only an inch away from mine. 

“Do you want me to stop?” I had wanted to get payback for what he did earlier...but I also missed him so much over the past two months that I never wanted him to stop. 

“No.” I closed the inch between us and pulled him closer to me. He took full advantage of this and kissed me as if he was seeing me for the first time all week; kissing him like this made the whole world fall away.

That is until we heard the knock at the door. 

“I don’t want to particularly know, but I think I can guess what you two are doing in there, and guests are going to get here any second, so..." We heard Steve say outside our door. 

Bucky fell beside me on the bed, letting me sit up and take a second to re-adjust the little that I still had on. I got off the bed first and went over to where our clothes were hanging. Bucky groaned before he too got off the bed, grabbing his boxers from the floor and putting them on, and then came over to get dressed. I took the dress off my hanger and slipped it over my head, then turned to Bucky so that he could zip it up. As he buttoned up his shirt and put on his pants, I tied his tie for him and as I fixed my lipstick, he put on his tie and jacket. Last, we both sat on the bed and put on our shoes, Bucky, obviously, taking a little longer than me. When we were ready to leave the room, he grabbed my hand and leaned down to give me one last kiss. 

“I love you.” He said. 

“I love you.” 

We made our way to the door and opened it to see Steve standing there waiting for us. Bucky let me out first, like the gentleman he was, and yet he glared at Steve the whole time. 

“Perfect timing as ever Steve.”

“You knew what time you needed to be downstairs.”

He walked off in front of us and we followed after him, letting him lead us through the castle, back downstairs. As we walked though, Bucky let go of my hand and walked behind me, trying his best to apparently smooth out my hair that he had messed up, something that I had missed earlier when we were getting ready. 

Not being too far away from where everyone else was, we joined the group quickly, beating the first guest. Bucky grabbed my hand again, standing in line next to Wanda, Peggy and Steve, Michael was on the far side, as far away as he could be from me. 

(Side note: at the bridal shower we had thrown for Peggy and Steve, Michael volunteered to come over from London to bring the Carter family gifts. Somehow he thought it was a good idea to kiss me, “because he was still in love with me,” which resulted in Bucky punching him. Bucky was just being civil now for Peggy’s sake, but he really hated Michael...so we both just kept our distance from him...as much as possible.)

Anyway, the first guest to arrive was actually Peggy’s grandmother and grandfather and a few other members after that, but seeing all of Peggy’s family actually made me kind of sad. Not because Peggy’s family was here, they were great and loved seeing Peggy and Steve right as they arrived, but because Steve didn’t have anyone. Everything that I had been told about Steve’s family was simple, his mother and father had both passed, they were both only children, and Steve was an only child. I didn’t know anything about his grandparents but apparently, neither did he. He seemed okay though about having only Peggy’s family at the wedding, he would always do anything for her. It just made me sad not to see anyone there for him. 

And yet, a few minutes later, unexpectedly, Winnie walked in. She went to Steve first and I just watched how incredibly happy he was. Bucky and Steve had grown up together, they had practically been brothers and when Steve’s dad died, it was Bucky’s mom who helped his mom out and the same when Bucky’s dad died. And when Steve’s mom got sick and died, it was Winnie, Bucky, and Peggy who had helped him through. So I could see how much it meant to him that she came for the wedding. 

After she said hi to Steve and Peggy, she came over to Bucky and I. 

“Hi mom.” He said, giving her a big hug. 

“My baby! You look so handsome.”

“You can thank Y/N for this one, she knows how to make me look my best.”

“Y/N.” She came over to me and gave me an even bigger hug, didn’t think that was possible. 

“Hi Winnie. I had no idea you were coming, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I know. Peggy called me and asked if there was any way I could make it. She said that she knew that it was a long way for me to come but that it would mean a lot to Steve, so of course I had to come.”

“If we had known you were coming, we would have come and picked you up.” 

“Yeah mom, we absolutely would have picked you up.”

“You guys are so sweet, but I didn’t want to interrupt your week together by making you pick me up from the airport. I know you crazy kids haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Well, either way I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

His mom went off with some of the other guests and we finished greeting whoever came in. Later when we walked throughout the house we saw that tea had been served and that we were pretty much stuck in a modern picture of Downton Abbey. Bucky and I liked to just wander around the room, tea cups in hand, and listen in on how Peggy’s family talked to each other. It was really just like an episode of Downton Abbey, except it was 2019. 

And then we went to dinner. This wasn’t anything official for the wedding, it was just dinner. But coming from America where it was normal to have a rehearsal dinner it kind of felt like that but there wasn’t really any official talk about the wedding. 

The food was amazing though. There were a lot of different courses, appetizers I had never tried before, a main course that was cooked to perfection, and dessert that was so decadent that I almost didn’t want to eat it. 

Later Bucky and I were sitting on a couch in the main room, while Peggy and Steve were off somewhere, probably talking to her family. 

“Bucky?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for today.”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything. Showing you around London was my pleasure.”

“I had a lot of fun.”

“I did too.” He leaned down and gave me a kiss, not too long but long enough for his mom to come over to us and interrupt. 

“You two are just the cutest; perfectly made for each other.”

“Thanks mom. It’s honestly all Y/N, she brings out the best in me.”

“And he’s the perfect gentleman who treats me like a queen.”

“Well I’m glad everything that I taught him has stuck.”

Sitting next to us, she asked a lot of questions about my job, what I was up to, the places I had visited and of course when the tour was over. I think she was trying to convince the two of us to get married and yet she was so indirect about it, it was kind of ingenious the way she brought it up; like an ambush but so innocent and motherly. 

But as it got later Peggy and Steve started showing people to their rooms which gave Wanda, Vision, Bucky and I the perfect time to head to bed ourselves. While Bucky and I were walking to our room I texted Peggy letting her know that we were heading to bed and that she could text me if she needed anything. 

I had every intention of going to bed as soon as we got in the room, Bucky...not so much. As soon as the door was shut and locked behind me he was kissing me senseless, like we hadn’t been interrupted earlier. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all night.” He said between kisses, slowly backing me up towards the bed. “You just looked so beautiful in this dress.” 

“So what are you going to do about it?” He smiled and laughed at the statement I had said to him earlier. 

He kissed me again, this time going for the zipper on the back of my dress, I started to undo his tie and the buttons of his shirt, both of us getting completely undressed without breaking our kiss. This time when we kissed though, it wasn’t nearly as rough as it had started. There wasn’t a pressure there had been this afternoon, there wasn’t a possibility of being interrupted, nothing but him and me just so wholeheartedly loving each other. It was perfect, being with him was perfect. 

And yet, the morning of the wedding came much earlier than planned. And by that I mean that Peggy snuck into our room, both Bucky and I only covered by a sheet, and woke me up before the sun was even up. She kept whispering about how we needed to get started on everything and I could obviously tell how nervous she was, but I was also naked and not in any position to talk about this without fear of flashing my best friend. 

So I asked her to give me five minutes and that I would meet her out in the hallway. I wanted more than anything to snuggle back up to Bucky and sleep until at least the sun was up, but I couldn’t leave Peggy out in the hallway when she was freaking out. So I gently woke up Bucky and let him know what was happening, gave him a kiss goodbye, got dressed, and quietly walked out of the room. Peggy was pacing and Wanda was leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for me. 

“What’s wrong Peggy?” I asked, stopping in front of her, making her stand still and look at me. 

“There’s just so much to do and I woke up this morning with countless emails from my clients and I want to answer them but its my wedding day and I shouldn’t be thinking like a lawyer. And then I was sitting in my bed all alone and I was just thinking about things like, what if the flowers don’t get here and what if the bakers drop the cake and what if—”

“Okay, you need to stop. You’re assuming the worst possibilities because you’re stressed.” We decided that maybe we shouldn't talk in the middle of a hallway full of bedrooms where everyone was sleeping, so we walked down to Peggy’s room. 

“That’s the thing, I’m not stressed—”

“Peggy do you know what time it is?” Wanda asked. We sat down on her bed. 

“I wasn’t able to sleep that well.”

“Listen to me...everything is going to be fine. Despite what your mother and wedding planner have told you, today is not about the wedding, it’s about you and Steve. When you look back at this day you’re not going to think about the flowers or the cake, you’re going to think about how happy Steve made you and how grateful you are to have found someone as amazing as him. And I don’t know if this is just stress or fear or what but I think the biggest thing you’re facing right now is not being close to Steve.” I would know. 

“I’ve been away from Steve for more than one night.”

“I’m sure you have been, but take it from someone whose been in a long distance relationship for over a year, when you feel lost and scared and stressed you don’t want to be alone. You don’t want to be half way across the country or even just down the hall from him when you feel like you need him, even if it’s just for a hug or to tell him how much you miss him.”

“Yeah.” 

“I think that maybe when it’s a better time of day, I’ll go and talk to Steve and see if maybe we could do a little blindfolded meet up, I think it’ll help with what you’re feeling.”

“Really? That’s not breaking the rules is it?”

“No, as long as you don’t see each other it should be fine.”

“I think that’ll really help.”

“Good. So what do we need to do?”

“I think we should try and go back to sleep for a bit, I’m sorry for waking you guys up so early.”

“Well we can stay in here with you and that way you won’t feel so alone.” Wanda suggested. 

“I think that’s a good idea.” I agreed.

“A mini sleepover, yeah, I would love for you guys to stay.” 

So we all cuddled together in her bed and went back to sleep for a couple more hours, and when we were woken up this time, we all seemed to be in a much better mood. That is until we realized that it was Peggy’s mother and the wedding planner, who were now just in the room to talk and keep us from falling back to sleep. 

They kept talking about everything we needed to do today and I could see the stress start to creep back into Peggy. So I texted Bucky, I needed to get these two together even if it was just for a minute. 

Y/N: Are you awake?

BUCKY: I am 

Y/N: Are you with Steve?

BUCKY: Yep

Y/N: We need to try and sneak Peggy over to see him

BUCKY: Is she okay?

Y/N: She’s just needs to see him. Trust me 

BUCKY: What can I do?

Y/N: I just need you to find something to blindfold him with and I’ll let you know when we can escape her mother. 

BUCKY: Okay

So as we started to get ready for the day, I looked for any chance for us to sneak off. But first we had to deal with her mom, which meant we had to play along until there was an opening. So we all took our turns showering, letting Peggy go first, and meeting up with her and the hair and makeup teams, as soon as we were done, in a bigger room down the hall. It was nice to be pampered on, to not have to worry about how I was going to do my hair or makeup, there was someone for that. Surprisingly, the longer we sat there the less stressed I felt, but I could tell that Peggy wasn’t feeling the same. 

So when her mom got word of some kind of problem with the flowers, I saw the perfect chance to escape. So I texted Bucky first and asked where he was, letting him know we were on our way. I grabbed the blindfold we had and the three of us snuck down to the boy’s room, putting the blindfold on Peggy before I knocked. When I knocked, I heard some movement and we had to wait a minute before Bucky opened the door for us. The three of us obviously looked like we were getting ready, you know, we had clips in our hair and parts of our makeup done, but the boys looked like they were just lounging around...I was kind of jealous. 

But anyway, Wanda and I helped Peggy into the room and over to Steve who was standing blindfolded by the bed. When she grabbed onto his arms and felt that it was him, she wrapped her arms around him and his around her, we could all see the immediate relief they felt to be close to each other again. So wanting to give them a minute, Vision, Wanda, Bucky and I went to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room, Michael just sat in the chair in the corner of the room and ignored us; Vision should have been a groomsman but Peggy was scared that she would never hear the end of it if Michael wasn’t one, so Vision was there to hang out with the guys and help keep the peace between Bucky and Michael. 

I sat next to Bucky with my legs draped over his lap and he leaned down to give me a kiss. 

“Missed you this morning.” He said. 

“I missed you too. Peggy was freaking out and she needed some help, I couldn’t say no to her. I’m just glad we were able to sneak over here, who knew that flowers would cause an emergency? I thought we were never going to get her mother to leave.”

“Yeah and I’m sure when they get down there and check all the flowers, they’ll find that everything is perfectly fine.” That sounded fishy to me. 

“What did you do?”

“Steve was freaking out too. You presented a good idea but I knew that there had to be some way to get Amanda to leave the room…”

“You...are sneaky.”

“I would do anything for Steve and they needed to see each other.”

“Sap.”

“You’ve made me this way, loving you made me this way.”

“Then I’ve got nothing to complain about.”

We only had 10 minutes together before we had to get back to the room. I could tell that Peggy was feeling much better and looked excited to get ready and get down to the “altar.” So the ladies picked up where they left off and her mom came back into the room, claiming that everything was perfectly fine; I tried not to laugh, but I smiled at the thought of what Bucky did to help out his friends. 

But as time passed and as we got closer to the start of the ceremony, I could tell that Peggy was getting a little nervous again. There wasn’t much we could do at this point but encourage her and let her know that she would see Steve soon. 

Somewhere between the freaking out, getting ready, and the mimosas, we actually got to the final fifteen minutes before we were supposed to make our way to the ceremony room. So Wanda and I went ahead and got into our matching dresses and then went to help Peggy into hers. 

Peggy’s dress was...stunning and absolutely special. See, when Steve’s mom got married it had been a tradition in her family to incorporate the “something blue” into the gown. Steve’s mom had had a light blue petticoat underneath her dress when she married his dad and Peggy knew that the best way to honor his mom was to continue the tradition. She took that same petticoat and asked the alterations team from her bridal shop to incorporate it into her dress, which only made the dress that much more special.

So with dresses, heels, and bouquets in place the wedding planner came in and told us that everyone was ready for us and since the ceremony was inside the castle we didn’t have to go very far. I was so excited to finally see Peggy and Steve get married, but even I had to admit that as we got closer to the ceremony space the more nervous I got. I wasn’t nervous about them or their marriage, more about the fact that I was walking down the aisle by myself. 

But I pushed those feelings aside and held up Peggy’s train as we made our way down the stairs, stopping right outside the ceremony room, where Peggy’s dad waited for us (He got a little teary when he saw her in her dress, it was really cute). Despite the fact that we maybe only had a minute until we walked down the aisle, I turned to the girls and wrapped them both in my arms. 

They both just laughed at me but hugged me back just as hard. 

“You know, the next time we’ll hug like this you’ll be Mrs. Rogers.” I whispered. 

“I know.” Peggy let go first and dabbed at her eyes, wiping a tear away before it fell. 

“Let’s do this.” Wanda said and we all smiled. 

The wedding planner watched as the ceremony started and then put us in our order, getting us ready to go; Peggy and Steve wanted as much of an American wedding as they could get: the only things they got were Peggy walking down the aisle last, Steve facing Peggy as she walked and an additional wedding cake to go along with the fruitcake. From where I stood, I could see that Peggy’s mom was seated in the first row to the left, Bucky’s mom in the first row to the right, Steve was standing at the end of the altar and Bucky and Michael, all three guys in gorgeous morning suits, were just now walking to their seats. I was the next one to walk down, Wanda following after me and then Peggy and her dad after her. 

So as soon as the guys were seated to the right, I took in a deep breath and put all my faith in myself to not trip down the aisle. I smiled, I looked right ahead, I walked with as much grace as I could muster and then I caught Bucky looking at me with a big smile on his face. And it was as if every worry I ever had simply disappeared. I looked at him as long as I could and then I sat down next to Peggy’s mom, Wanda being beside me soon after. 

And then small quartet started to play Canon in D.  

Everyone stood from their seat and turned to face Peggy as she finally stepped into view. She looked even more gorgeous walking beside her dad, with the huge grin on her face and her eyes locked on Steve. I looked over at him and he was trying hard not to cry but I could see how emotional he was at seeing her in her dress. He looked up at the ceiling before she got up to him trying his best to squeeze the tears back in. 

When she got up to the altar her dad moved the veil from her face and kissed her cheek, giving his official blessing with the officiant and handing her off to Steve. 

He reached out for Peggy’s hands and looked at her with a brilliant smile on his face. But then he saw her dress, up close, and there was nothing holding back the tears anymore. He had to have seen the blue and it had to make him think of his mom. Seeing the free flowing tears Peggy stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, giving them a very sentimental moment before the ceremony. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. Just slightly pulling away from him. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He reached up to wipe his tears and she got his other cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” They both stepped just enough away from each other, taking each other’s hands again and looking to the officiant. 

“Are you guys ready?” The officiant asked and they nodded.  

And then the ceremony began. 

“It is my great honor to welcome everyone today to the union of Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter. We are gathered to celebrate the life that these two share, to celebrate the love that they have for each other and the love that they continue to find in each other every single day. This place in which we are now met has been duly sanctioned, according to law, for the celebration of marriages. You are here to witness the joining in matrimony of Steven Grant Rogers and Margaret Elizabeth Carter. If any person present knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage, he or she should declare it now.” He stated and when no one replied with anything we directed his attention back to Steve and Peggy. 

“Are you Steven Grant Rogers free, lawfully, to marry Margaret Elizabeth Carter?” 

“I am.” He replied.

“Are you Margaret Elizabeth Carter free, lawfully, to marry Steven Grant Rogers?” 

“I am.” 

“Marriage, according to the law of this country is the union of two people, voluntarily entered into for life, to the exclusion of all others. Today Steven and Margaret wish to publicly affirm this commitment and offer each other the security that comes from legally binding vows, sincerely made and faithfully kept. But first I was asked by the couple to read a poem, one they believe as do I, that perfectly describes not only their relationship but their future together.” He shifted the papers in his hands. 

“The Art of Marriage” by Wilferd Arlan Peterson: Happiness in marriage is not something that just happens. A good marriage must be created. In the art of marriage the little things are the big things… It is never being too old to hold hands. It is remembering to say “I love you” at least once a day. It is never going to sleep angry. It is at no time taking the other for granted; the courtship should not end with the honeymoon, it should continue through all the years. It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives. It is standing together facing the world. It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family. It is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice, but in the spirit of joy. It is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways. It is not looking for perfection in each other. It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding and a sense of humor. It is having the capacity to forgive and forget. It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow. It is finding room for the things of the spirit. It is a common search for the good and the beautiful. It is establishing a relationship in which the independence is equal, dependence is mutual and the obligation is reciprocal. It is not only marrying the right partner, it is being the right partner. It is discovering what marriage can be, at its best.” 

“This ceremony does not create a relationship, it is a symbol of how far you've come since the moment you met. It is a symbol of the promises you have and will make to each other as you grow stronger as individuals and as partners. No matter the challenges you face, you now face them together and your lives are no longer just for yourselves. You depend on one another to love, support, care, and protect you. These values and promises are not to be taken lightly and will remain with you for the rest of your lives.”

“Do you, Steven, take Margaret to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish all the day of your lives?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Margaret, take Steven to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish all the day of your lives?”

“I do.”

“The rings?”

Bucky stood from his seat and walked over to the altar, handing Steve Peggy’s ring and Peggy Steve’s ring and then returned to his seat. 

“Repeat after me.” He said to Steve. 

“I, Steven, give you this ring as a symbol of my vow. With all that I am and all that I have, I promise to love and care for you as I accept your love now and for always.” He repeated and placed the ring on her finger. And then he moved to Peggy. 

“I, Margaret, give you this ring as a symbol of my vow. With all that I am and all that I have, I promise to love and care for you as I accept your love now and for always.”

“Steven and Margaret you have both made the declarations prescribed by law and have made a solemn and binding contract in the presence of your witnesses here today. It therefore gives me great pleasure to declare that you are now legally married. Steve, you may kiss the bride.”

Steve stepped closer to Peggy and wrapped his arms around her before kissing her. The whole crowd erupted in applause and I seriously doubted there was a single dry eye in the place, at least I wore waterproof makeup. 

When they broke from their kiss and the clapping stopped the officiant gave his final pronouncement. 

“It is my honor to introduce, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.” 

Everyone clapped again and Steve and Peggy walked down the aisle together with Peggy’s arm laced through Steve’s. They both looked so happy that I couldn’t help but smile with them. As soon as they were out of the room, Bucky walked his mother down the aisle, followed by Peggy’s mom and dad, then Wanda and I, and last Michael. 

We were told ahead of time to meet Peggy and Steve outside, where we would take some time and take photos before heading over to the reception, giving plenty of time for the rest of the party to arrive; apparently not everyone had been invited to the ceremony. So we let the photographer tell us how to pose and where to stand and who to stand by and whatever else. 

Eventually we got to the point where she was done taking pictures with the family and then with the wedding party, so we all headed back to the party and gave Steve and Peggy a chance to take some individual photos and spend a little alone time together. Bucky, held my hand as Wanda, Bucky and I made our way back inside and as soon as we walked through the front doors Vision joined our group. 

Walking into the reception...this space was absolutely gorgeous: tables covered in expensive linens, only the best china, elaborate centerpieces, hanging flowers, chandeliers, and candles everywhere. This is obviously where Steve and Peggy lost all decision making ability. This had Peggy’s mother written all over, not to mention the fact there had to be at least enough chairs and tables for 250 people; I wasn’t sure where the other 200 people were coming from but I wanted to go back to the small ceremony again. 

Bucky and I still ventured in and found the table with our names, right next to Vision and Wanda,  and sat in our chairs, waiting for Steve and Peggy to finish photos. This gave us a chance to relax from the sort of stressful morning and kind of check in with each other, especially since the four of us had kind of been separated all morning. So we talked and the guys had some funny stories about Steve getting ready and then Steve and Peggy made their entrance. 

They looked just as happy before, if not more. They walked hand in hand to the middle of the dance floor and let the DJ present them to the new crowd, before joining us over at our table: Steve, Peggy, Peggy’s parents, Bucky's mom, Wanda, Vision, Michael, Bucky and I were at the front of the room looking out over the dance floor and to the guests. 

It was almost simultaneously that the food began to be served. I wasn’t too sure what everything was on the plate but I recognized chicken which was delicious as was the other food I wasn’t sure about. Peggy and Steve did there best to eat properly, but I knew they were both probably starving seeing as it was a little after five and it was the first time they had eaten all day; it was tradition for the bride and groom to share their first meal of their wedding day as a married couple. 

Having finished eating dinner and plates now being collected Peggy and Steve made their way over to the cake which was just as extravagant as the rest of the party. But where the big cake was all fruit cake and mostly just for the English guests who were used to eating fruitcake, Peggy and Steve had a second cake for the few Americans who were here and for the cake cutting, since it was smaller and easier to cut. If 250 people hadn’t been watching them I knew that Peggy would have tried to cover Steve’s face in cake but with her mother watching closely they both carefully placed a bite of cake in each other’s mouths, the guests applauding afterwards. Nice and proper. 

After pictures had been taken of the cake cutting, servers came and started to cut and distribute the fruitcake, the few Americans at our table asking for the other. And as soon as everyone had had their piece, Steve stood from his chair and reached out his hand for Peggy to take, asking her for the first dance of the night. The band started to play Dream a Little Dream of Me, which I knew was their favorite song to dance to, and then he wrapped his arms around her and lead her into a very sweet and very simple dance. 

When the song finished they helped Peggy back to her chair and then it was time for the speeches...unfortunately, Michael was up first. Being the bride’s brother, and seeing as the nature of toasting in London was actually supposed to be a roast, Michael should have had a lot of material. And he had some funny things to say, I’ll give him that. But it was when he started talking about me and about how his ex was best friends with his sister, was when it got real awkward for me and a little anger inducing for Bucky. When he finally wrapped up his speech there was an awkward clap, I’m not even sure about what happened, so I could only imagine the confusion of everyone else. 

Waiting for Michael to not be in the same walkway as him, Bucky then made his way up to the mic; I know he was ready for his speech, he had rehearsed it with me multiple times over Skype.

“Hi, my name is Bucky and Steve is practically my brother. In every sense of the word he is, believe me. Brothers...they annoy you to no end, do the exact opposite of what you say just for the hell of it, and of course they give the best material for the best man’s roast, I mean speech. The first thing that you need to know about Steve is that this man that you have all fallen in love with is the exact opposite of the man that I grew up with. Yeah he’s handsome and he’s managed to snag Peggy who at the time, when they met, was way out of his league...may still be but I’ll leave that alone for now. But what none of you know is just how crazy this guy was. The biggest thing about Steve was that when we were in high school he was not nearly as handsome as he is now, sorry buddy, you’re married now so I’m allowed to say this.” Everyone laughed and he paused so they could. “Despite that he was the most loyal, most kind boy you would ever meet...which was not a hit with the ladies, I’m sure you could imagine why. And I thought for a long time on what embarrassing story to tell, it had to be something that you had never heard of but something that didn’t absolutely ruin him for you guys. So this story is actually a well kept secret, the thing that I was sworn to never repeat, a secret that has been kept since we were seniors in high school…” 

“Bucky.” He stood and said, almost in a warning. Peggy pulled him back down into his chair, laughing at how defensive he was being. 

“See, he’s scared so it’s perfect. But anyway, as most of the close family would know, Peggy and Steve started their relationship as friendship; they were just as close as I had been to Steve...except the tension between those two was definitely romantic where the tension between me and him was due to him stealing my comic books or something stupid like that. Anyway, as friends, the three of us were inseparable and then we got to prom season our senior year. The three of us had always gone to homecoming together, but this was the prom and you absolutely had to have a date. Peggy was the “it” girl and like I said earlier, way out of Steve’s league, and she was the date that every guy wanted. I always had the suspicion that she said no to those other guys because she was waiting for Steve, which she was, but he had it in his head that he couldn’t just ask her, he had to outshine everyone. So Peggy being asked out by the quarterback was kind of the last straw for him, the next day he came up with the ultimate ask-Peggy-to-prom plan. And this plan...It started out with flowers, the most beautiful bouquet you could imagine...and it ended with a broken arm.” There were some confused faces and a small laugh. 

“I’m dead serious guys, a broken arm. So the day that Steve had planned to ask Peggy to prom was actually the best and worst day of my 18 year old life. The best because I had only waited a little over three years for him to get the courage to do it. The worst because of how it went. But our first stage was buying everything for what he wanted to do: flowers, candles, flower petals, her favorite candy, something he saw that he thought she’d like, a lot of presents, and then we went and had film developed of every single picture they had ever taken together. Once we got everything, we waited until she was out of her house, drove over and started to set up this surprise. Now obviously we couldn’t go inside, so naturally we scaled the fence and set it up in her backyard. We made a heart of rose petals, spelled out “Prom?” in candles, and had all of her gifts set out on the table. Steve was dressed in the nicest thing he owned and holding the flowers, standing behind his sign. And we must have waited for hours, and I mean literal hours, not just figuratively. The candles kept blowing out, the wind was blowing the petals all over her yard and then what I thought was the unthinkable happened, and yet it was still highly probable with Steve in the picture; he was a big klutz. But this is the fun part.” 

“So he goes to light a few of the candles again, but like I said earlier, he’s a klutz, and he trips and falls on top of the ones that are still lit. Now most of them didn’t catch but there was one that did. So in a moment of pure panic he runs over to this pond that they have in their backyard, and as he is running over to stop from anymore of his shirt catching on fire, he trips again, halfway falling into this pond and breaking his arm in the process.” 

There was quite a bit of laughter and everyone watched as Peggy sat across his lap, trying to keep him in his seat. 

“So anyway...that happened. But back to the story. So his arm is broken, I’m trying not to laugh and yet I’m trying to help him off the ground without hurting him, and there’s now no way he can ask Peggy to prom this way; I mean I guess he could, but I wasn’t going to let him. Now this is the part that Steve doesn’t know. I’m pretty sure that what he thinks happened is that she saw the set up and came to find him. Right?” He asked Steve and he nodded. “Well I have to tell you that that is not what actually happened. I told you to go to my car and I told you that I was going to finish setting up the promposal...but that’s not what I did. And it may have been selfish but I just didn’t think that either of you deserved that. Steve, you went out of your way to prepare this romantic promposal and Peggy had waited almost four years for this moment, so Steve deserved to actually be there and Peggy deserved to be asked in person. So I, very quickly, cleaned up everything. I threw away the rose petals, the candles, and I took all the presents and flowers and put them on the front porch, minus the photos, I took those with me. But I obviously couldn’t just leave all of this with no explanation of why it was there or who left it. So I grabbed this receipt and a crayon from my pocket, don’t ask me why I had a crayon, I couldn’t even tell you, and wrote out: Come and find me? Brooklyn Hospital. Steve. I wasn’t sure what that would do, but I had to hope that these two would get some common sense and just go for it. Peggy did end up meeting us at the hospital though and Steve told her…”

Bucky stepped off the makeshift stage and came back over to our table, leaning over close to us, Steve glaring at him the whole time. 

“Now Peggy...what was the excuse that he gave you?” He held out the microphone for her to answer. 

“He told me that he broke his arm playing baseball with you.”

“He would say something like that wouldn’t he...if I’m being honest I couldn’t remember the excuse, so thanks for that.” He then walked back up to the stage, laughing, as was everyone else. “Anyway...I’m going to wrap up I promise. So after the excuse of the century, Steve finally asked Peggy to prom and of course she said yes and I guess the rest is history. They sat in his hospital stall as he was getting his cast put on and they looked through the photos and when they came back from the prom it was nothing but love with those two. I have to say, the moral of this story wasn’t to out this secret, it’s wasn’t too embarrass him or roast him, even though it was kind of fun to do that, it was to prove the lengths that he would go to to make Peggy happy. Him meeting her was fate and it took them three years to finally get past friendship, but I know that they’re stronger for it and will forever be perfect for each other. He’s my brother and I could never imagine him being with anyone else. So thank you for letting me come up here and talk your ear off. Steve and Peggy...I love you guys, you know that, and I totally take credit for getting you two together. Thanks everyone!” 

Everyone applauded as he came around and gave Steve and Peggy each a hug before coming to sit back beside me. 

“You did great.” I said to him. 

“Thank you, my favorite pastime is embarrassing Steve, except this time he asked me to do it.” I laughed and leaned forward to give him a kiss. 

Next up in the wedding agenda, we had the father daughter dance with Peggy and her dad, and the mother son dance with Steve and Winnie, obviously making the whole room come back to a little more of a serious note, but giving the perfect opportunity to invite people on the dance floor and to really get the party started. 

There were happy, upbeat, and modern songs and there were jazzy, vintage, and slower songs, just a perfect mix given the variety of ages amongst the guests. Bucky and I danced a few times between getting drinks and eating cheeses and other assorted finger foods, I even danced with Steve, Vision, Wanda, and Peggy all individually and we did a few group dances for fun. And then we got to another slow dance and of course I let Bucky pull me away from everyone else and put the attention back on us for a second. 

“Hi.” I said. 

“Hey beautiful.” 

“You know, I haven’t had the chance to tell you how handsome you look today.”

“Well I haven’t been able to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“That’s a lie, you told me earlier, right before the pictures.”

“Can you really blame me though, I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world.”

“Bucky…”

“What? I do.”

“Well thank you. I was trying to compliment you, but thank you.”

“Your very welcome...but you may continue complimenting me.” He was just cracking me up today. I hadn’t seen him just effortlessly happy in a long time, I missed seeing him like this. 

“I just loved seeing you as I walked down the aisle...you looked so handsome and you were smiling and I felt so much love for you.”

“You have to know that I felt the same way.”

“I do. And not only do you look so handsome but I am loving the finished product of your morning suit.”

“Well, I only look this good because of you. You’re the one who made sure we all looked good, even you know who.”

“Do you want to know what my favorite part about this morning suit is?”

“I have two guesses.” 

“Okay.” I smiled

“Number one: you like it...because you can’t wait to take it off of me later.” I laughed at him. 

“Wasn’t exactly what I was thinking but I don’t mind where you’re going.” This time he laughed at me. 

“Well it’s a good thing that that wasn’t the real answer then. Number two...you like it because my pants are high waisted and you can’t see my white shirt when I lift my hands above my head.”

I took in a deep breath, my jaw hitting the floor. “Oh my god...you know me so well.” I pulled him down and kissed him; I could feel him smile. 

“Well if you had doubts before…” I laughed at him.

“Yeah, no doubts now.” I teased. 

“Good.” 

After we were done with our dance, Bucky grabbed my hand and walked out of the house and down to the dock overlooking the lake, claiming to want a second alone with me in a space not so loud. The scene was absolutely beautiful with the setting sun and the calming waters, it was the perfect escape from the crazy party happening inside. 

We walked down to the very end and leaned against the railing, taking a moment to breath in the air and enjoy the peace and quiet. 

He turned and looked at me and I leaned back against the corner of the railing, letting it support me a little more and take some of the pressure off my aching feet. 

“Can I admit something?” He asked. 

“Of course.”

“I missed you this week.” Curious...

“We’ve actually spent a lot of time together—”

“I know, but it’s not the same when everything we’re doing is for someone else, you know? Yeah we saw each other, and we got to be in the same room as each other but we didn’t get to really spend as much quality alone time together. It’s why I wanted to bring you out here...for just a moment.”

“Well you couldn’t have picked a better moment. It’s beautiful out here.”

“Yeah it is.” Except he was still looking right at me. Sap. I just shook my head at him. “Seeing how happy Steve and Peggy are, it made me think about us and about how much I love you. And honestly I don’t think I’ve told you that nearly enough.”

“Bucky...I know that you love me. Just because you don’t say it to me doesn’t mean that I don’t know it. And I know that I’ve made things complicated this past year—”

“You haven’t made anything complicated.”

“I’m the one who took this job.”

“That’s your dream.”

“You’re my dream.”

“And you’re mine.”

We both turned back out and looked at the water, watching the sun change it different colors. 

“You know...the first thing you ever said to me was in Russian.”

“Really...I guess it was, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I remember being so nervous that day and then I walked into that room and saw that huge panel of people sitting there, watching me. The nerves had been bad before but they were worse after that, and I’m not sure if you could tell but I was about ready to walk out of there. Then they asked me about myself and I just tried my hardest not to lose it, and then you spoke. ‘Ты говоришь по-русски?’ I looked over at you and my heart leapt in my chest (You speak Russian?). You hadn’t said more than three words to me and I was completely amazed by you. You were the reason I accepted the job. You were the reason I went and said hello to everyone on set that first day, I didn’t want you to catch on that I had only come to see you. You were the reason that I did everything I did and you are still the reason I do everything I do. But the craziest part is that I'm still falling in love with you after all this time and after everything we’ve been through. There are things that I fall in love with everyday and it’s amazing. You’re just...amazing. And there’s no one else I would rather be amazed with for the rest of my life than you. Because I love you and you’re my everything. So no matter if you’re ten feet from me or 10,000 feet, I’m always going to love you.”

“Bucky…”

“I just thought you should know.”

“Well I definitely thought I knew, but it’s nice to hear it from you.” I reached up and kissed him with tears in my eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close to me. God, he was just the sweetest and honestly the master of grand gestures, a pro. “I love you too, you know. I don’t think I can come up with something that sincere and wonderful on the spot, but I want you to know that I feel the same way about you.”

“Oh, no, I definitely rehearsed that.” We both laughed at each other and he let go of me, reaching for something in his jacket pocket. “I have something for you.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” He pulled out an envelope and put it in my hands. On the outside ‘James’ was written, in a very familiar handwriting. I looked up at him, completely shocked by what this could be. He gestured for me to open it. 

“Asa gave this to me. And I think it’s a perfect time for you to read it.”

So I opened the letter and pulled out the note, a note that my father had written to Bucky before he died. I could already feel the tears in my eyes coming back, but tried to hold them back so that I could read what he wrote. 

****

Dear James, 

On the last day of a man's life there are quite a few things that tend to go through his mind. I thought of two things: my wife and my daughter. 

I thought about how much I missed my wife and how lucky I was to know that she was waiting for me. That day I saw her face a lot, everytime I closed my eyes I saw her eyes looking right back at me, almost beckoning me in a way. And God if I didn’t want to go to her. When I had been as sick as long as I had, there just came a point where the fighting didn’t seem worth it, not when I could have stayed with her. 

But I thought of Y/N and I thought of the lies that I had told her and the secrets that I had kept. With time she would forgive me for them, but if I didn’t say goodbye to her, if I didn’t tell her one last time how much I loved her, then I knew that she would never forgive me. So I called her and as a father does sometimes, I lied to her to protect her from my impending leave. 

And then she asked me about you. The same man who had gone on a television show to find love and had coincidentally fallen in love off screen. The same man who cared for her and was there for her in the ways that no one had been before. The same man who is her best friend, the love of her life and her hero. And in a way, James, you are my hero too. 

When I’m gone, things will be hard for her. She always believed in this idea of who her parents were, praising us for our titles and not for our actions. Her mother was a saint but never really got the chance to show Y/N the things that moms get to show their children. And I...I was the perfect idea of a father, from a distance I was everything that she was missing. But when I sent her to America, I didn’t know that her grandparents would keep her. 

I want to tell you that I fought harder to bring her back, but with her mom gone and her parents wealth and my lack thereof, it seemed impossible. My life without my wife became unbearable and the medical bills just as so, not to mention I had no legal way of getting to the states, not a way that was fast anyway. So with life stacked against me, I let her go, hoping that at the very least her grandparents could give her a better life than I could. 

Y/N never knew the truth and in every way all I seem to do is cause her pain, which is why I never told her about my being sick. 

There are choices that we have to make in this life. We never know if they’re right and yet my mistakes and lies have somehow brought her to you. So in a way I hope they weren’t all mistakes because no matter what I did in this life, my life was always for Y/N. 

But now I’m passing the baton. She loves you and she’s going to need you now more than ever. So if there’s only one thing that you ever do in this life, just make her happy. Show her the world, give her everything that she could possibly dream of, be her everything, but most importantly love her as if every day is your last. Love her and never let go. 

So fall more in love with each other, learn new things about each other, grow old with each other, do the things that I never got to do with my wife. Just make sure to always love each other and everything else will be okay. I promise. 

Take care of my little girl, 

Your future and late father-in-law

P.S. I hope what’s in this envelope helps 

****

“What’s in the—” I looked up to see Bucky down on one knee, with a ring in his hand. All air had completely left my lungs and I knew that if my face wasn’t already covered in tears, that it was now. 

“I’ve had this for a little over a year now, but I’ve known for a lot longer that I was going to marry you someday. It was never a question of if, just a question of when and I can’t see a better moment than right now. So...Y/N Y/L/N will you marry me?”

Without any hesitation and with a huge smile on my face, I said, “Yes. God, yes.” 

I knelt down and gave him a big kiss, holding his face in my hands and not letting go for a long time. When I pulled away, he stood up and put that gorgeous ring on my finger. And if I thought the tears had been bad before, I don’t even know what was happening now. He could see how emotional this was for me and he just pulled me into his arms and held me tight to him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, placing a hand on my cheek and bring me back up to look at him.

“Am I okay? I am so happy, I really am.”

“I know it’s hard not having your dad here.”

“I didn’t even know that he wrote to you. I knew that I had mentioned and told him a little about you, but that letter was just so personal, like he knew how much you meant to me.”

“Asa. After that time that he spent with us, he told him every little detail about us and he knew, he knew how much I loved you.”

“I love you so much. I can’t believe you proposed.”

“I’m so incredibly happy you said yes.”

“How could I have ever said no? You make me happier than anyone in the world.”

“You make me happy too.”

Instead of going back inside right away, we went and walked around the grounds, enjoying the sunset and the beauty of the castle. Then that curiosity from earlier was brought up. 

“I’ve been thinking about something for a little while now, I wanted to talk to you about it. See, I spoke to Steve and Peggy about proposing to you and Peggy had some interesting things to say. She asked you about us getting married and you didn’t think it was good time because of the tour.”

“Well, you have to admit that it’s not. We’re practical people, we understand the busyness of our lives and we saw what Steve and Peggy went through when planning their wedding. I hardly get to see you as it is and planning a wedding, our wedding, over Skype just...it’s not something I want to do.”

“First of all, our wedding is not going to be like this wedding. It’s beautiful and has absolutely celebrated the couple that they are, but you have to admit that it’s kind of crazy. We don’t have an Amanda and we don’t nearly have as much family and where Peggy and Steve had to fight a lot for a day that was even a little bit there's, we get to choose what we want. So that’s the first thing, the second thing is that I never want you to feel guilty about taking jobs that make you happy. I know how much you love what you do, I know you love the theatre. And I’m going to be there with you every step of the way no matter what you choose to do. This proposal isn’t about us settling down and getting married, this is about me making a commitment to you, it’s about me wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t care if we get married tomorrow or ten years from now. We could just go and get married in a courthouse and I would be perfectly happy. But I just want you to be happy, and I want you to stop thinking that I could ever be disappointed or upset that you took this tour. We will figure everything out, just as we have since the moment we met.”

“You’re amazing and I love you.”

“You’re amazing and I love you too.”

“I’m not ready to go back inside.”

“Then let’s not go back inside just yet.”

As the sun kept going down we just watched as the colors of the sky made everything that much more beautiful. But as you could imagine, being gone as long as we had, made a certain friend group curious. Bucky and I were sitting closer to the front entrance, they had some little concrete wall/benches, when Steve, Peggy, Vision and Wanda found us. 

“You guys have been out here for a long time.” Peggy said. She was obviously the most curious out of everyone but it also seemed like she totally knew what happened. 

I didn’t even say anything I just took my left hand from Bucky’s and held it up for them to see which definitely resulted in some squealing and lots of hugs. They were obviously so happy for us and in that moment I just got really emotional again. I could feel the tears in my eyes and I tried really hard to keep them in. 

“Hey, why are you crying?” Bucky asked, bending down to my level and wiping a tear from my cheek. 

“It’s just been such an emotional day. Earlier you gave me that letter from my dad and it really made me realize that my mom and dad will always be a part of me, but the five of you are my family. And I couldn’t imagine a better family to have.” I started to say to Bucky and then spoke to the group.

Trying to keep those tears back failed when they attacked me in a group hug; I think everyone got a little teary eyed hearing that. And being right in the middle of all of this love just reminded me of how good my life was and how lucky I was to find such wonderful people. 

When we managed to stop crying, we decided that the six of us had definitely been out for too long, and headed back inside to the reception. We danced, we partied, we drank but most importantly we loved. 

Somewhere amongst the partying I went and hung out with Winnie who was the most excited out of everyone that Bucky and I were engaged; I’m serious about that too. And from the get go she had so many ideas, I could tell that she had been thinking about this for some time. Bucky seeing the slight panic on my face though, and from across the room, came to rescue me, taking me back to the dance floor. 

 And then it got late into the night and guests started to leave, giving the perfect opportunity for Steve and Peggy to bow out for the night, needing the sleep for their flight to St. Lucia the following morning. So they walked around the room and said goodbye to everyone and then they got to me.

“So...you quit your job and didn’t tell me right?” Peggy asked. “I can’t go another six months without you.” I laughed and wrapped my arms around her.

“No I didn’t quit my job...but they did add a show stop in LA.”

“Really? Steve and I are totally coming to see the show.”

“I would expect nothing less. Have a great honeymoon.”

“I will and you enjoy being engaged.”

“I will.” 

Steve was next, giving me a huge hug and telling me how happy he was to be getting a sister. And then the people who were left gave them a proper send off, with picturesque sparklers and a vintage car for them to drive off in. 

After they left though, everyone sort of made their way either back to their rooms or to wherever they were staying. So Bucky and I said goodnight to Wanda and Vision and went up to our room to do a little more of a private celebration of our engagement and of course before that I had to call Asa and let him know, he was practically my dad; we decided to call friends in the morning. 

And when the sun rose we got ready for our day, cleaned out our room, ate breakfast, and got on the road back to London. We had called Tony, telling him and Pepper, who had gotten remarried and were perfectly happy with each other, our wonderful news. So as a pre-pre wedding gift, he gave Bucky another week off so that we could really spend some time together. Of course I was grateful for any time I got to be with Bucky but it was nice to spend a little more time together as an engaged couple and in the same state no less. 

But a decision that I cherished more than anything in the world, and thought back to frequently, was taking that job at the network. At the time it had only been a way for me to make ends meet, I needed money and they needed someone who actually knew what they were doing. And yet, I got a lot more than I ever bargained for: I got a family and I met the love of my life. But like that journey had shown me, not everything was going to be easy and there were going to be moments where I had to depend on the people in my life to help me and love me.

But most importantly it was moments like Peggy’s wedding, Wanda’s wedding, eventually my wedding and every milestone in between, that really showed me the amount of love that I had in my life, something I hadn’t thought I had before I met Bucky. So even though my friendship with Bucky seemed a little too real for Reality TV, our marriage continues to grow as we face new challenges and fall a little more in love with each other each and every day. So who needs Reality TV when you’ve got a Bucky?

****

THE END

****

Tell Me What You Think Here

Tags: @fangirl1802, @seargantbcky, @lust-for-pan, @38leticia, @barnes-and-noble-girl, @karipaleta, @capandbuck, @camillechan, @findacauseandserveit, @audasia25, @kendallefire , @alicerozenju, @snuggleducky, @mell-bell, @lifeasabookbutterfly, @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi, @iamwarrenspeace, @ssweet-empowerment, @chook007 , @juliagolia87, @jjsoccer11, @smol-flower-kiddo, @mrsdaamneron, @isaxhorror, @barnesism, @thatgirlrowan, @linki-locks11, @janeyboo, @vgurl18, @guera31, @bornfortherainydays, @carryonmy-assbutt, @calwitch, @mackevanstanfan80, @mrsalh32611

[marshmallow-phd]

Sculpted Raven

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: It had been just you and your brother for the longest time and that’s how you liked it. Politics and lies had drove you away from your home five years ago and that has since left a bitter taste in your mouth. While exploring the latest town you’d settled in, you met Chanyeol. He was everything you didn’t want: goofy, happy-go-lucky… a wolf. Mate pull or not, you were going to try everything you could avoid him while keeping the secret from your brother. But how long would you be able to fight? Will Chanyeol be able to pull you back into the world you swore you would never enter again?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

**

Lon was gone for work by the time you woke up the next morning. A tiny twinge of guilt sank your stomach when you walked into the kitchen to find it absent of any evidence that you’d made dinner last night. The pots and single pan were completely dry on the dish mat on the counter and all the leftovers were packed up in plastic containers on the shelves of the fridge. You’d expected to clean that up yourself once you were out of bed, but Lon had beaten you to it. Where was all this adult-ness suddenly coming from?

After making a simple breakfast, you changed into an old t-shirt and your favorite pair of comfy shorts and pulled out all the cleaning supplies.

Over the next few hours, you scrubbed nearly every inch of the apartment, even the parts that could technically be counted as still somewhat clean. The bright white bathroom practically glittered and the living room looked more like the setup of a showing rather than your most used space. The only place you didn’t touch was Lon’s room. You didn’t have a hazmat suit to tackle that disaster zone.

Satisfied in your handy work, you flopped down on the couch for a little bit of relaxation. There you stayed for the next hour as you worked yourself into the mood to take a desperately needed shower. You reeked of sweat and cleaner and the odor was starting to bother you. The ability to transform into a wolf may not be something you possess, but your hearing and sense of smell had always been just a tad more sensitive than the average human.

Eventually you were able to command your muscles to push you up from the couch and shuffle you into the bathroom.

The water came down hot but low in pressure area. You had to make do, though, and closed your eyes to pretend that you were bathing under a hot spring waterfall rather than a dingy apartment bathroom to make the experience not so drab. However, your imagination ran too far for you to catch it.

With your eyes still closed and your mind lingering under that waterfall, a pair of thick, strong arms wrapped around your waist. There was nothing sexual about the embrace. You just felt… loved. Protected. Matching lips softly grazed your cheek before settling next to your ear.

Stay with me, a low voice whispered. Though you hadn’t heard much of that voice, even in your mind, it managed to send a shiver down your spine.

And, god, did you want to. In that moment, in that fantasy, you allowed yourself to stay with him, wrapped up in those non-existent arms. Never would you do something like this in real life. By now you would have shoved him away. You were someone that took care of yourself and didn’t really need someone to protect you. Even Lon knew when to back off and you handle yourself - at least, he used to.

But there in your imagination, you pretended that you were someone who wanted to be held just like that. Someone who wanted home to be Chanyeol’s arms. He was certainly built like a protector. Strong arms and a tall frame that was packed with muscle, but not too much that his hugs would be uncomfortable and unwanted. No, he was just perfect.

The sudden appearance of icy water broke you out of the scene and brought you back to reality.

Right. You were the girl who stood on her own two feet. You were a leather jackets, torn up jeans, and middle-fingers-up kind of person. Enough of this romantic bullshit. Besides, your feelings weren’t real. It was the mate pull messing with your head and that was it.

Finishing up your shower, you walked back to your room and threw on clean clothes. The sound of the front door opening and shutting alerted you to Lon coming home from work. Still towel drying your hair, you stepped out of your room to greet him.

Lon was sitting on the couch looking exhausted. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers gripping the roots of his hair.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked, greatly concerned.

Glancing up at you, Lon tried to slap on a smile, but he gave that attempt up fairly quickly.

When he didn’t answer, you tried to think of something that would break up the tension. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I really do promise that it won’t happen again. I hate worrying you and-”

“(y/n), sit down.”

Confused, you obeyed, taking the empty cushion next to him. You threw the wet towel onto the chair next you. Lon reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He held it out for you to take.

“I got this letter from Mom yesterday,” he explained. “It was forwarded from our last address. It’s about three weeks old, judging by the date Mom put in the corner. She always so old fashioned.”

You didn’t take the letter, fearful of its contents. “What does it say?”

Instead of just telling you outright, Lon forcefully placed the letter in your hand before standing up. “You should read it yourself.”

Leaving you alone, he went down the hall to his bedroom.

As you curled up into the corner of the couch, you unfolded the letter. For a minute or two, you simply stared at it, not absorbing any of the letters scrawled on the page or the words they created. With closed eyes, you inhaled deeply before reading whatever it was your mother had to say.

My Little Pups,

It’s been too long, hasn’t it? I still remember the day you two left. It was too sunny for such a sad day. I know it was the best thing for you both to do, but my motherly heart is still broken over it. I hope you have stuck together and watch out for each other. I know you have.

The reason I’m writing now isn’t just to say hello and that I love you and miss you. I wanted you to know in case the doctor’s prediction comes true. You see, I’m sick. They aren’t entirely sure the cause of it, but something is wrong with my heart. It’s too weak and not pumping blood like it should be. At least, not at the pressure the doctor’s would like. I’m not seeking further treatment or taking anything that they try to prescribe to me. It’s simply my time. Perhaps then I can see your father again.

I miss him dearly. I know you do, too. Markus is watching over me and making sure my affairs are in order for when the time comes. And I know your pride might try to stop you, but, please, come see me. Let me see my children’s faces one more time. Please.

I love you to the big, bright, beautiful moon and back,

Mom.

As much as you tried to hold them back, ugly sobs were pushing themselves out of your throat. Tears trickled down your cheeks. Blots dotted the page and smeared the ink where your mother had shed tears of her own.

“We should go see her.”

Jumping to your feet you whirled to face your brother who had emerged once again from his room.

“How could she let that monster take care of her!” you snarled. “It’s his fault!”

“He was also the one who convinced the pack to spare the rest of us,” Lon reminded you.

It didn’t matter. Markus was still a traitor in your eyes. The reason your father was dead and your brother and you had lived like nomads for the last five years.

“I-” You were fighting with yourself. Your mother was dying; you needed to go see her. But she was right. Your pride - as well as hatred for Markus - was stopping you. Shaking your head, you pushed passed your brother, dropping the letter on the way to your room. You shoved your feet into your shoes and grabbed your jacket. Wet hair or not, you couldn’t stay in the house right now.

“Where are you going?” Lon asked.

“Out,” you snapped. “I need to take a walk.” You slammed the door behind you and rushed down the steps. Turning left on the sidewalk would take you close to downtown. But you turned right, to the path that led close to the woods. And then you left the predetermined concrete path for the welcoming embrace of the trees.

No, you couldn’t shift into a wolf, but you could still take comfort among the empty branches and soft floor of the forest. Spring was approaching soon and then you could spend all your time in the trees without worrying about getting too cold. Right now, the temperature was the least of your worries.

You knew that if you didn’t go see her, you’d regret it for the rest of your life. She was your mother, after all. The one who gave birth to you and spent her glory days raising you and making sure you turned into a relatively good person.

But if you saw Markus…. Screw his rank. You’d punch him in the face.

You were deep in the woods now, to the point where you couldn’t make out even a vague outline of the buildings.

A howl pierced through the air, making you jump. It was followed by nasty growls and snaps of teeth. Your first instinct was to run away, but then Lon flashed in your head. If he came looking for you and ran into another wolf-

Without hesitation, you ran towards the danger, the only thought being to protect your brother.

**

Chanyeol hadn’t gone on a solo run in months. At first it was just an order from Junmyeon to make sure none of them got cornered by a hybrid. After that, there were now so many of them in the pack it was nearly impossible to go on a run without someone else begging to tag along. This time, he was just lucky.

What he really wanted to do was march up to your front door and steal you away. Make you see reason. You knew about wolves so by extension, you had to know about mates, didn’t you? You had to feel the draw to him, right?

So, how could he help you to let him in? How could he get you to see that he was good for you, could protect you, and make you happy?

All these questions were bouncing around in Chanyeol’s head to the point that he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. His paws slipped in the mud underneath him, making him trip and collide with something hard. Shaking his head, he whined, waiting to be yelled at by one of his brothers.

Except it wasn’t one of his brothers that he ran into.

A brown wolf was pushing himself up to his feet, a low, irritated growl rumbling in his chest. One sniff of the air told Chanyeol exactly what this strange wolf was.

An omega.

What was he doing here? The pack had driven all of them out that had come in hopes of joining the hybrids. How could they have missed one? Did he just arrive here?

Straightening up to his full height, Chanyeol let out a threatening growl. If the omega left peacefully, Chanyeol wouldn’t have to fight. But the omega just barked at him in an authoritative tone. Giving one last warning, Chanyeol pawed the ground.

To be honest, he couldn’t remember exactly who pounced first. They might have both jumped at the same time. All he could say was that they collided in the air in a fit of snarls and claws. Chanyeol got a good grip on the omega’s foot with his jaws. The omega let out a howl before managing to throw Chanyeol a few feet away.

Multiple kinds of footsteps reached his ears. Most were of the four legged kind, but one set, coming from the other direction, was daintier - human.

Five wolves joined Chanyeol at his back. But where he thought they were going to have his back, Kris jumped in front of him, blocking Chanyeol from attacking again.

“No!”

If Chanyeol was in his human form, he would have gasped at the newest addition to the party.

You ran into the area where the wolves were all gathered. What were you doing here?

To throw him off even further, you ran to the brown wolf and threw your arms around his neck. Chanyeol growled, taking a step forward before Kris snapped at him. The omega shifted back into a human and you helped him to his feet. It was the new guy from Kris’ shop, the one that Kris said was your brother.

“Lon, are you okay?” you cried as you looked over the omega.

“I’m fine.”

The rest of the wolves also changed back to their human forms, the danger seemingly passed.

Kris turned to the omega. “Lon, are you sure you’re alright?”

The omega - Lon - nodded. “Really, I’m good.”

So the wolf Chanyeol just mildly fought was your brother. Fantastic.

“What the hell is going on?” Junmyeon demanded.

“I was just trying to find my sister after she ran off,” Lon explained. “I’ve always tried to avoid any of you when I’ve gone on my runs. Then he,” he pointed to Chanyeol, “just attacked me after running into me.”

“You’re in our territory!” Chanyeol yelled.

“By my okay!” Kris shouted back.

Junmyeon narrowed his eyes. “You knew there was an omega here?”

“Yes, I did,” Kris answered. He showed no remorse on not sharing that important piece of information. “He doesn’t pose a threat. I saw no reason for him to leave.”

Chanyeol was torn. The omega being your brother certainly explained how you knew about wolves. But your brother was the lowest in rankings. He didn’t even have a rank. He was a loner, someone with no pack, no brotherhood. No wonder you wanted nothing to do with Chanyeol. Joining him would mean leaving your brother behind. Accepting Chanyeol meant becoming part of his pack and there wasn’t a place for Lon among them. Omegas were rarely accepting into new packs and even then, they were always on the outside.

“I’ll trust your judgement, Kris,” Junmyeon said begrudgingly, “but if something like this happens again, I’ll have to reconsider.”

“That’s fine,” Lon huffed, leaning on you a bit for support. Apparently their brief fight had taken a small toll on him. His eyes darted towards Chanyeol. “Just make sure that one stays away from me and my sister.”

Kris shot a look of concern to Chanyeol. “But-”

“Okay,” Chanyeol replied. “You won’t have to worry. I will.”

Your eyes widened in shock at him, not quite believing that he would agree so readily, but you didn’t stick around for long to see why. Lon was tugging you away from the area and away from the pack.

Watching you go was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But with this new information, getting you to come to him was going to be even harder than he thought it would with your initial disdain. Hope was fading quickly and he wondered if he would be the first in the pack to have his mate truly reject him. The odds certainly weren’t looking good.