#we just feelin angsty today

[realmsdeliight]

   @fictalmultitude​ asked: " is this a joke to you-?! " - from jace           - from ( x ).

   Anger. She recognized the fire lit behind her son's eyes. A raging flame that only a dragon could withstand. How else could he have taken the news? How else could he have reacted to hearing of his brother's slaughter? Had it been under different circumstances, he would never have spoken to her that way, she knew. But it was not different circumstances. And whatever composure she had mustered to meet her eldest son when he returned to Dragonstone began to crumble.

   " Do you think I am taking this lightly?" Her words came out snapping, harsh. Not what she had intended, but she couldn’t back down from it now. Her own anger clawed its way to the surface. "Do I appear to be content in your eyes? Do you think I am unaffected because I have not yet burned down King's Landing?" With every word spoken, her voice grew louder and more caustic  than she had ever been with Jacaerys, or any of her children for that matter. She regretted it as it left her lips but that regret would not take the lead in this encounter. There would be time for remorse later.

[thecapricunt1616]

Chapter 2 The Bear & His Honey

Chapter Inspo: Quote - "The only heaven I’d be sent to, is one where I’m alone with you." Summary: (18+ ONLY FIC) Carmy gets heated in the kitchen, makes Winnie lunch, & Meets the famous Sugar. A/N: Heyooo!! I am so proud of myself for like not having writers block and actually continuing a fic I started LOL! I think this one is longer than the last, like 7k characters or smth. I can't make promises abt. when I'll post next, but I can try to make it this week! I hope you're all enjoying so far. Warnings: Swearing, Yelling, smut, alcohol, tad angsty if you can even call it that, and then just overall feminine yearning!! ***As per usual; Reblogs, Likes, Comments, & Constructive Critiques are not only welcomed, but much appreciated! Without further ado, here we go! Woooo!***

𝒞𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉!

Chapter 1 Here

__________________________

I followed him in to the screaming, bustling pit that was his kitchen. “BEHIND!- Jesus Christ, Tina, watch it - I said Behind! Should I just drop this, huh Chef?!”  Someone cried out, the intensity of the atmosphere causing my chest to tighten as if clawed hands were achingly squeezing ever so slowly around my lungs. 

 “Gosh” I muttered, trying my best to take everything in, every sense of mind becoming slightly overwhelmed. Carmen briskly showed me to his small office, the insanity of his kitchen not even strumming a nerve for him it seemed. He showed me to a desk covered in too many papers in the corner, before thumbing through them until he found what he was rummaging for. “Ah! Yes. Here we go!! Alright. You look at this” he turned to me, handing it over. 

“With that big-booky-brain of yours, sure you could figure some changes to make the dishes sound extra special ‘mm?” He mused. I glanced over the piece of printer paper, nothing more than a piece of plain white paper adorned with dish names and descriptions of them followed by pricing. 

“Uhh…sure thing. ‘M not that smart, slutty books about muscley guys with wings and mind reading abilities only get you so far…” I said jokingly, my eyebrows furrowing as I my eyes glaze over the intricate ingredients I’d never heard of. 

“Alright, uhhh.. you’re gonna have to go more into detail about what you’re getting up to at the bookstore when I get back” he teased and closed the door to the office behind him as he headed to the kitchen. 

I continued reading over the ingredients, adding an appetizing verb here and there, hoping that was what he was looking for. I lean on my hand, looking over the other papers on the desk. Mostly food shipment orders, different labor receipts, jumping in my seat a bit when I hear a huge crash and what sounds like a bunch of aluminum clattering. 

“FUCK, JESUS! ” Carm yells, his voice booming through the kitchen and it was suddenly silent, as if every single thing stopped. “How many times have I told you guys, do, NOT leave empty FUCKING pans ON THE EDGE OF YOUR GOD DAMN STATION. Everyone look over your FUCKING station, RIGHT THE FUCK NOW - if there is an something that needs to be washed- it goes IN THE SINK. NOW. Move!” 

The only response is a chorus of “Yes Chef!” 

“Marcus get the fuck over here deal with this these fucking sheet pans!” He barks. I swallow the nervous lump in my throat, contemplating if I should just grab my purse and go. My eyes flick to the door when I hear the handle, and Carmen walks back in, his face a bit flushed from his outburst I’d assume. 

“Hey” he said casually and smiled a bit, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was holding a plate that honestly, looked amazing. “So, not chilli, so sorry, but- we do have Mac salad, and then this fire pork stew type deal, oh, and your onions, and a burger, and a hot dog- feelin frisky today, Winnie?” He puts the plate in front of me with a soft smile. 

All tension I was feeling vanished like sand between my fingers. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips and I look up at him. “And my ketchup?” I asked and he rolled his eyes, taking the ketchup and mustard bottles from his apron and setting them down in front of me. “Sorry, your majesty.” He teased.

I take the ketchup, squeezing a good amount over the top. “I guess… I am feeling frisky” I said, doing the same with the mustard. “Yea? You reading up on more winged muscle man porn while I was out there?” I laughed as I cut up the hot dog and burger on top, a real laugh. Not something someone could usually drag out of me since my brother. But for some reason, Carmen seemed to be very good at it. 

“Ohhh yeah. I was just all spread out here on top of your desk rubbing one out - the yelling you were doing really did it for me. Finished right before you came in.” I teased with a feline smirk, watching as his cheeks heated slightly. “Yeah- sorry about that” he rubs the back of his neck. “Uh- Marcus he just left all these fucking pans and Syd ran right in to them - keep tellen ‘em to put shit where it goes.” He sighed a bit. 

“No, no, no need to be sorry. A book store and a kitchen are 2 very different places to work, just glad everything’s alright” I took a bite, my eyes widening at the amazing flavor. It definitely wasn’t home, but that was okay. It was fucking amazing. I bring my hand up to my mouth to cover it as I speak, unable to wait another second to tell him. 

“That? Is Fuuucking heat dude. Wow.” I said swallowing and immediately going for more. “Really? You are…unbelievable” he chuckles, sitting back with a small smirk on his lips. “No you are unbelievable, Chef, great work. 5 stars on yelp” I giggle and he shakes his head rolling his eyes in amusement. 

“Why thank you, your review is valued” he gets up and leans in. I swear I feel my heart stutter in my chest when his chain brushes my temple as he reaches around me and grabs the menu I had been scribbling notes on for him. I could smell the musk of his cologne, a bit of tobacco from his cigarette, and a tinge of salty sweat from being in such a hot kitchen all morning. It was intoxicating. I wanted to bury my nose in his chest and just inhale, I could get drunk off the scent.  “Sorry” he said softly, sitting back down and looking at the menu. 

My cheeks had to be on fire, and I’m sure if his chain grazed my face again, its icy touch would sizzle at the contact. I swallow the bite I had forgotten about in my mouth when he was so close and look over at him. He was still looking over the menu, eyebrows raised slightly, “mm, like that” he mutters, rubbing his chin in contemplation. 

“Wow, look at what your slutty books taught you, ‘opulence to the core in your mouth’ hmm? What were they describing?” He smirks, his eyes meeting mine. I swear I could burst into flames and be left as nothing but a pile of ashes. I can’t remember a time that I’d been so melted by the attention of a man. 

“Uh-“ I stutter, clearing my throat, trying to rack my now empty brain (other then that pesky vision buried deep, of him rage fucking me over his desk. Sending waves of soaking warmth to my core, so strong I’m more petrified of the vision of me getting up and his chair being wet with my arousal) “Oh, you know…” I trail off with a shrug, my gaze finding my plate again and taking another bite to avoid embarrassing myself any further. 

“Well, I just may have you edit these more often little miss vocabulary” he continues reading over. “I like this, exactly what I wanted. Thank you” he smiled softly, setting the paper down on the desk. Our hands brush, and goosebumps immediately rose everywhere from my shins to my jaw. 

I look over at him, to find him looking right back at me. “This is…like so good” I said to take my mind off the ache growing between my thighs and he grinned. “Glad you like it. Swing by anytime I’ll make one for you, on the house of course. Gotta make sure we treat our official menu editor well” he rested his hands on the top of his curls with locked fingers. His biceps looked much more pronounced this way, the tattoos I hadn’t been able to see on the back of his arms making an appearance. 

He looked as if he was a fucking statue, a Greek god carved from the masterful hands of Myron. He is beautiful. He has such a strong nose, a muscular jaw and neck, god his fucking neck. Those veins, I can imagine when he gets all fired up they protrude powerfully. I trail back up to his nose, god that fucking nose. My core clenches around nothing at the sudden dirty image of messily riding his face comes to the front of my mind, his beautiful blue eyes darkened in lust due to his blown out pupils, his beautiful sexy nose nuzzling my bundle of nerves, my arousal dripping down his neck and chest as he drinks up all he can. Flushed at the Hollywood porno in my mind, I quickly shut it out like slamming a door and my eyes flick to his beautiful blues, a satisfied smirk on his blush pink lips. 

“What?” I questioned, my cheeks growing hotter. “Mm. Nothin’. Enjoying the view or somethin’?” He questioned and I look at my plate. “No- I mean, well” I stuttered, picking up another bite and putting it in my mouth to avoid the confrontation as it had worked for me shortly before. 

He playfully smacks a hand over his heart “wow!” He said earning a giggle from me “here I am, slavin’ over the stove like a damn housewife for you to make your- whatever the hell - and you have the gaul to insult me!! In my own restaurant at that!”  He feigned offense, a real smile adorning his features, eyes crinkled, dimples on proud display. 

“You’re cute! There. Is that what you wanted, Carmen? Your ego stroked a little? Awww, Carm, you’re such a handsome little boy” I laughed, leaning in and pinching his cheek playfully. He rolled his eyes, swatting my hand away with a grin. “So you only go out with guys with wings, that it?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Wow!! Look at you, big player!” I gently kick his clog with my boot “you askin’ me out?” I asked, my heart picking up speed once more. “No, I just asked if your preference is a buff dude with wings. But since you mention it, sure, I’d love to go out with you. Thanks for the offer” he teased, a pesky smirk on his lips. 

“Wooow!” I drew out and laughed. “Wow!! Big sexy muscle man can’t ask a girl out, hmm? Need to trick her in to asking you?” I took a sip from the water bottle I’d brought in my bag. His cheeks heat, raising his eyebrows he says “well I’m no big sexy muscle man, I’m just ahh…how did you put it?” He asked. 

I leaned in, gently adjusting the pendant of his chain to face front and center again before resting my hand on his chest, palm flat, and feel the heavy thump of his heart when I speak again “a very handsome little boy” I said softly, my eyes flicker to his lips as he gently tugged his bottom one between his teeth. “Mm” he hummed, I felt the vibration under my hand. “That was it. Yeah” he said just above a whisper, his voice richer, deeper, like the dark chocolate cake described on the dessert menu. 

The door flies open and I jump back in my seat, resuming eating as naturally as I could manage. “Bear! There you are, Jesus Christ. Since when do you take breaks? The fuckin’ glassware company left three boxes of cocktail glasses off- three Carm!” A very loud blonde storms in, dropping her large purse in a slump at my feet and kicking it under the desk like I wasn’t even there. 

“Sorry,” she gives me a sympathetic smile “just restaurant shit.” She looks back at him “who did the order?” He asks. “Syd!! I told you, Carmen, you are putting too much on her plate right now! Stop being such a jagoff” she pushes his arm gently “and fucking divide the work!! Fuckin- fuckin’ teach Manny how to order!! I don’t know!” She said exasperated and frustrated. 

“Sugar I’ll call them, I’ll fix it, I fucked up.” He admitted with a sigh and rubs his face. “Yes. You did. And you better fix it. Or else how in the fuck are we gonna do your stupid little house cocktail on family night in three days?!” She asked, holding up 3 fingers and waving them in front of his face as he shook his head. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He muttered and ran his fingers through his curls. “Sorry should I-“ I grabbed my purse from the back of the chair and motioned to the door “ahh fuck. Ye’ I’m so sorry I-“ he blinks hard, thinking. 

“What time do you get off?” He asks “5:15 usually” I said and got up, my plate of food mostly gone. “Shit…uhh..” he rubs his chin in contemplation. “Can you swing by at like- 10? If not, it's totally fine, we- we can have a drink? If you want..” he offered. I nod, a soft smile gracing my features. “Sure thing, I’m a night owl anyway. See you at ten, Chef, thanks again for lunch, it was great”. But before I leave the office, I lean in and whisper in his ear. 

“Be a good, handsome little boy while I’m gone. No more yelling over dropped trays, mm?” I rub my hand over his bicep giving a gentle squeeze and my eyes flicker to his lips, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly, bright red flushing his cheeks.  “S-see you at ten” he stuttered in reply. I shut the door behind me, giggling quietly to myself as I hear who I now knew as ‘Sugar’ saying “Where’d you meet that pretty thing?”

Read Chapter 3 Here!

[brewed-pangolin]

not thirsty or anything, but i’ve had this in mind for ages and basically soap has a pregnant gf (reader) and at the end of mw3 he ‘dies’ while she is around 4-5 months pregnant and basically ends up getting close to the rest of 141 while grieving BUT! soap is not actually dead. he is alive but he has to pretend to be dead to protect him from makarov and only the rest of 141 and kate knows. anyways, after healing soap starts stalking/watching over reader and he wants to go back home to her but he can’t because he is supposed to be dead. i don’t exactly know where i am going with this but i am in deniable of his death, and it ends with fluff and smut ofc! i would also imagine johnny would def be a twin baby maker

This one made me feel angsty, so that's where we're going with this one.

cw: mentions of loss. Angst no comfort (sorry)

--

You sat at the corner table at the bustling coffee shop. Your back to the sidewalk as you stared into the void that was black Americano in a white porcelain mug.

You had barely touched your chosen beverage. Electing rather to rather to trace your fingers around the rim while silently studying it's chipped texture.

The gentle pressure of a warm hand on your thigh pulled you out of the lonesome trance. Meeting the welcoming honey gaze of one Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, who for one reason or another, had become the gravitational rock within your world of uncontrolled chaos.

"It's alright, love." He said, voice low and soothing like a weighted blanket on a cold night.

"We can go home if you want. No need to stay if you're not feelin' it today."

"Kyle's right."

Kate's voice interjected quietly from across the table.

"And you need to rest. If you so much as sneeze at this point, those two mini Scots will come flying out."

You feigned a kind smile. One you had practiced over the last few months to keep your torrid of emotions at bay.

Kate's humor was always a welcome reprieve.

Yet with the constant churn of life within your belly, you were finding it harder to laugh at anything as you were repeatedly reminded of the light that was so unceremoniously ripped away from you.

"C'mon, love. Let's get you home." Gaz pressed with a gentle tone as he stood from his rod iron chair and extended his hand.

He could read you like a book. And your pages were strewn in tumultuous heartache and unshed tears.

"I'll get the tab." Kate added. Just as she pulled out her wallet her phone began to ring.

"Shit. You two head out. Gotta take this."

"Price, again?" Gaz inquired with a raised brow, pulling your fur line coat over your shoulders.

"That's classified." She answered. Turning on her heels and matching back to her car.

You had begun to take note of her use of the world recently.

That was the thrid 'classified' call in two days.

Not that it was uncommon, of course. Something just seem to familiar about the way she spoke to said 'classified' recipient on the other line.

[cynicalrosebud]

Rumor Has It (11)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

CW: Homophobia, harassment, attempted violence, you are responsible for your own media consumption.

Notes: I'm feelin a bit angsty today so I'm getting some old feelings out.

Rumor had been doing his best to ignore the looks and whispers. He’d heard it all before, but things felt different this time. The rumors swirling around base about him and Nikolai had only grown louder, and today, they were unavoidable. Everywhere he went, there were sidelong glances, snickers, and muttered comments that weren’t meant to be overheard but were plenty loud enough.

He kept his head down as he walked past the rec area, on his way back to the barracks. A couple of soldiers leaned against the wall, watching him with narrowed eyes, their voices low but pointed.

"That him?" one of them murmured, loud enough for Rumor to hear.

"Yeah," the other one replied, smirking. "The one who likes it rough. Saw him chattin’ with Nikolai the other night."

Rumor gritted his teeth but didn’t stop walking. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction.

“Hey, Rumor,” one of them called out, pushing off the wall and stepping into his path. "We heard some interesting stories about you. You got a thing for Russians, huh? Wonder what else you're into."

Rumor’s shoulders tensed, but he kept his eyes forward. "Cer i grafu," he said, his voice low and controlled.

The soldier grinned, not moving. "What’s the rush? You got something more important to do? Or maybe someone?"

The other soldier circled around, blocking him from walking away. “C’mon, Rumor. No need to be shy. We just wanna know if all those stories are true.”

Before the Sergeant could respond, the first soldier grabbed his arm, yanking him back.

“You deaf? We’re talkin’ to you—"

“Let go.” Rumor’s voice was low and dangerous, his fists clenched at his sides.

"What? You gonna hit me? Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face, would you?"

Just as Rumor was about to swing, a shadow loomed behind the soldiers.

"There a problem ‘ere?"

The voice was calm, but it sent a chill through the air. Ghost stepped forward, his skull mask catching the light, and the soldiers instantly froze, their smirks faltering. Soap appeared from around his shoulder a second later, standing just behind Ghost with that familiar grin, though there was no humor in it this time.

“Problem, lads?” Soap asked, his Scottish accent thick as he looked at the soldiers with an easygoing smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Because it sure looks like there’s about to be one.”

The soldiers exchanged nervous glances. "No problem, sirs," the first one muttered, releasing Rumor’s arm.

"Just a little misunderstanding," the other soldier added quickly.

Ghost tilted his head slightly, his eyes boring into them from behind the mask. “A misunderstandin’?” His voice was quiet but full of threat. “Doubt tha’. You touch one of ours again, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do.”

The soldiers paled, taking a step back. “We didn’t mean anything by it—”

“You never do, do ye?” Soap stepped closer, his hand resting casually on his sidearm. "Yet somehow, you always manage to fuck things up."

Ghost crossed his arms, his voice cold. “Apologize.”

The soldiers blinked, clearly not expecting that. "What?"

"You heard me." Ghost took another step forward. "Go on. Now."

The soldiers glanced at each other before muttering, “Sorry…”

Soap raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? I’ve heard more convincing apologies from me bloody granny. Say it like you mean it.”

The first soldier swallowed hard. "We’re sorry."

The second one nodded quickly. “Yeah. Sorry, mate. Won’t happen again.”

Rumor grimaced, glaring at them. "'M not your fuckin' 'mate', mate."

Ghost didn’t move for a moment, his eyes locked on the soldiers, who were visibly sweating now. Then, with a curt nod, he stepped aside. “Leave, before I change my mind.”

The soldiers didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted down the corridor, leaving Rumor standing there, fists still clenched. He let out a slow breath as they disappeared.

Soap clapped him on the shoulder, his grin returning. “Had tae step in before ye splattered ‘em.”

Rumor chuckled, though there was still tension in his voice. “Didn’t need the cavalry.”

“Maybe not,” Soap replied with a wink. “But where’s the fun in letting ye take care of it alone?”

Ghost watched the soldiers leave before turning to Rumor, his voice softer now. “Y’alright?”

Rumor nodded, though his jaw was still tight. “Aye. Just pissed off.”

“You’ll have that,” Soap said with a sigh. “Bunch of bawbags who think they’re invincible. Ye did good holdin’ back.”

“Not sure I would’ve if you hadn’t shown up,” Rumor muttered.

Ghost’s eyes softened behind the mask. “No need to go solo on this. You’ve got us.”

Before Rumor could respond, Price’s voice cut through the air as he approached, hands casually in his pockets. Gaz close on his heels.

"What's all this then?" Price asked, his gaze flicking from Rumor to Soap and Ghost.

Soap chuckled. "Just settin' some lads straight, Cap. They was gettin' a bit too personal with our boy here."

Price raised an eyebrow. "That so?" He turned to Rumor, his expression softening. "You alright, Carwyn?"

Rumor nodded. "’M fine, Captain."

Price gave him a knowing look before stepping forward and clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Good. 'Cause if anyone gets to you, they’ll have an issue with the 141. And trust me, they don’t want that."

Rumor smiled despite himself, appreciating the show of support. "Thanks, Cap."

Price’s lips quirked into a small grin, his eyes twinkling. "Anytime, lad. Now, come on. Let’s get a drink, yeah? Forget about those arseholes."

Rumor let out a breath, finally feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. With the 141 at his back, he knew he could handle anything that came his way.

[platonicphoenix]

Aero's Lore (Partyrockers oc au)

Aero, the guitarist and the silent seeker of her band: the Partyrockers, she was one of the only members without a party-based alt mode.

(this is kind of older writing so sorry if it's lowkey dookie water. content includes violence, some swearing, and Overlord- He's his own trigger warning. This is mainly non romantic, and more of just angsty. Writing and Aero's design beneath the cut vv)

Aero: (rip to the height difference Aero is ~27ft tall and overlord is ~44ft 💀❌️)

Overlord (IDW art):

Aero's p.o.v:

Bombs noises, gunfire, and explosions could be heard from everywhere I was. Disko was setting off explosions on the buildings and watching in joy as organics ran free of their abusive 'owners.' This civilization was known for keeping organics like pets or peasants and torturing them for their sick amusement. It was wrong, it was disgusting. Someone had to punish them.

So Disko and I took that initiative.

The punishment came extra for any Autobots running by. Disko was still loyal to the Decepticon cause, I just follow. Though, nothing is perfect, right? I got caught by the Autobots and detained. Such acts couldn't go unpunished I guess.  How sick though, the Autobots are defending them!?! Those sick bots who treat organics like toys and not sentient beings? What did we even fight for!?!? Disko managed to get away. Whispering into my comn-link that he would come back for me.

Hopefully- I’ll be back. But I was sent to Garrus-9, that horrid prison.

As a few mega-cycles passed by, 'Overlord' came along, rampaging throughout the whole place and leaving only destruction in his wake.

Luckily, I was a Decepticon. So of course, I had been freed from my cell and managed to recover my guitar. (P.S. Aero's modified guitar can unsheathe spikes to use as a melee weapon, and be a gun.)

Although it was 'nice' at the new Garrus-9, I still miss my old band. I still want to escape and get back to Disko, to have a conversation with Partylock again, to take pictures with Barbwire, and to pole dance with Partybomber and teach him the guitar. Also to meet that rat sack of a youngling he illegitimately adopted.

So, to escape. I fought in the arena. I Fought and murdered numerous poor bots just for Overlord's sick amusement and other bots to watch and enjoy. I wanted out.

Hoping Overlord would keep the promise of freedom he made to everyone. I fought and fought until I reached the top, and seized victory by its throat.

The moment I won that final battle, I looked at Overlord straight into his optics and waited, just for him to tell me, "Meet me in my quarters" So I did. I wonder, why did he want me in his quarters? To drink a cup of Engex as a reward or something?

When the time came, I went in. Just for him to say:

3rd person p.o.v:

Overlord: "Welcome, Aero.. that sweet, sweet victory of yours must've felt amazing! Knowing that you now get the chance of freedom, correct?"

Aero nodded, waiting for him to get to the point.

Overlord: "Well… Too bad. 

Aero, my dear. You don't think I don't hear that retched guitar of yours? Every time I try to recharge, I hear the strumming of chords and different melodies! You're lucky, so, so lucky that you're good.. Cause I'm feelin' nice today, so I'll give you a 3rd option."

Aero's p.o.v: 

What was he on about!?? I was confused. Options?? What did he mean by options??

Oh...

Oh, frag…

Oh, fragging no-

Don't tell me...

This slag licker lied???

Overlord: "Fight me, suicide, or... Be a ‘personal music player.’ I wish to hear all sorts of melodies you have in mind.."

WHAT THE FUCK???

my optics widened and I may or may not have a disgusted look plastered onto my face plates.

Overlord: "You see, recently I have been growing bored, bored and stressed and tired. I need something to... Soothe me."

he strummed the chords on my guitar, I jolted back, not wanting to be near this disgusting wrench. Overlord cackled as he watched me jump back.

Overlord: "Oh, don't be so scared... I won't exactly kill you~! Unless, you chose otherwise.. or, frag up.."

I'm so fucked. 

Shit

Shit

Shit

SHIT!

OH FOR FRAG SAKE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

IS THAT SO HARD TO FUCKING ASK FOR??

.

.

.

..I held my urge to go batshit crazy on this mech, but this is OVERLORD we're talking about, I would die in an instant. So here I am again, forced to sit and wait for a miracle, as I slowly wilt away and lose my sanity every fragging second.

"I don't want to die." I mumbled "..... I choose the music option, I'll play my music, every melody you ask until I can't..!"

Overlord: "Or until I get bored." he said with a sadistic grin plastered onto his faceplates

Shut the fuck up for fuck sake.

"I'll make sure you won't get bored, music never bores!" 

Hope that wasn't too cheesy...

Overlord: "Oh really?" he chuckled "-and one last thing... You can't leave this room, don't forget. You're supposed to be 'free'." his sadistic wheezing echoed through the room and made my audials sting, almost like the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

This just got even worse. I should've chosen suicide. Too late now! Urgh. Overlord sits on his recharge slab, elbows resting on his knees as he hunches over, and looks at me in the optics.

Overlord: "Well, songbird? What are you waiting for? Get playing."

Songbird?!?! I think I just gagged. I sit on a nearby chair. Tune my guitar, and strum the cords of the first song...

Welcome to your new life Aero!

(P.S. If Aero strums the wrong cord, he would whoop her ass, and Overlord would make sure she isn't dead, just to torture her, and to make this funner. In the Partyrockers Au Overlord is a bit less ‘kill-oriented’, sometimes he takes bots with potential and crushes their will just because he finds it funny.)

(Silly sketch)

[theharddeck]

feelin' angsty tonight

i want to fall in love. i don't feel unloveable and i get that it's a game of odds but damn. i want to go on a date that goes on and on and on because we don't want to leave, i want to be kissed under a streetlight on a walk home. i want to be given someone's jacket, i want to call someone after a fight and we're both crying bc we're more scared of hurting them than winning the fight. i want to be admired, i want someone to be proud to introduce me. i woke up from a dream this morning bc the thought of a body over mine was so foreign that it hardbooted me out of sleep and that sucks bc i deserve to be held. i don't want to be told that it'll happen when i least expect it, or that i'm worthy of love, or that i am loved by friends (and i am) but also i want to be told i'm pretty and have someone respect the shit out of my mind but also beg to fuck me. not one or the other, not believing its a sin and blaming me for it in the morning. i know i lost my chance to build my life with someone, and that's okay, it took a lot to be where i am today and i'd rather be alone than lonely with someone, so i stand by the choice i made, but i'm terrified of living the rest of my life knowing i have healed and have love to give, but by virtue of luck, or odds, or statistics, there's just no one to give it to. fuck.

[player1064]

February 2004

WIP asks but it's just the various sections of my happy (???) beville (/angsty carraville) WIP

ohohoho I loooove this section tbh. not sure WHY i love it but I do it's got it all it's got angst it's got fluff it's got gary being pathetic.... beautiful

---

February, 2004.

“Are you at Old Trafford yet?”

“Still in the car, we’re not due out on pitch for warm-up for another hour still.”

On the other side of the car’s back seat, Scholesy is sat slumped against the window, staring out with a bored expression. There’s no music playing – they can never agree on what radio station to tune to, and Gary spends most drives to matches on the phone with Becks anyway. He feels a bit guilty, though, ignoring him the whole drive, even if they have spent all morning together.

“Tell me when you get there, yeah?”

“Becks, I swear, you’re worse than my dad. I’ve only been doin’ this ten years, haven’t I? I’ll give the finger to one of the cameras just for you, how’s that sound?”

Next to him, Scholesy groans.

“Don’t, Gaz,” he says, “you’ll get fined.”

At the same time, down the phone Becks is saying “not sure that’s worth the fine, babe.”

“The two ‘a yous are always ganging up on me, it’s not fair.”

“Tell Scholesy I’m giving him a big wet kiss next time I see him.”

“I’m not tellin’ him that.”

“Is he threatenin’ to kiss me again? Tell him I’ll drop out of England squad next week if he does that.”

“Scholesy says he can’t wait to give you a nice big snog when we get to London on Monday.”

David laughs, pretty and perfect and it makes Gary’s chest ache just hearing it, makes him wish they could just skip the stupid match and get to Monday already.

“Good luck today, Gaz,” he says warmly, “you’ll smash ‘em, I know you will. I love you.”

Gary pulls a face at that, aware that Scholesy is watching him, that he can see his blush creeping up and know exactly what David’s saying to him. These things have always seemed to come so easily to David, it’s baffling. The first time he’d told Gary he loved him, a million years ago, Gary had blinked and said ‘do you fuck’, then spent the next ten minutes scrambling to assure him that he knows, that he knows, that there’s been no lack of affection on David’s part to make him doubt it. That he loves him too.

“Yeah,” he says now, darting his eyes towards Scholesy who looks away, pretends not to be listening. He clears his throat. “You too.”

*

When they walk into Old Trafford, the receptionist at the staff entrance calls for him to wait a second before going through to the dressing room. In the blink of an eye, Gary finds his arms being loaded up with chocolates, and roses, and a stupid little teddy bear with the Manchester United crest on it.

He shuffles into the dressing room awkwardly, struggling to see around the giant bouquet, and just as he’d expected (dreaded) he’s met with teasing cheers and wolf-whistles when he walks in and drops them into his locker.

He snaps his phone open and texts David ‘you are horrible <3’, before looking around the room with a glare and saying “not a fucking word”.

“Look at you, Nev,” Butty says with a grin, because he never just keeps his mouth shut. “You’re more popular than Giggsy, who’d’ve thought?”

Giggsy raises an eyebrow. “Is he fuck, those are obviously just long-distance guilt gifts. I’m the one who actually has a chance of getting laid tonight.”

Gary looks down at the floor, scratches at his head awkwardly. “I think he jus’ doesn’t want me feelin’ bad that we can’t do any of the Valentines nonsense this year.”

He swear he sees Roy lean towards John and mutter “he’s feeling guilty about something, that’s for sure”. But what would that even mean?

*

He should be focused on the game. He’s always focused on the game. Single-minded, that’s him.

Today, though, he can’t stop thinking about what Roy had said, about the concerned look he’d given Becks’ stupid flowers.

Surely, surely he hadn’t meant –

Because why would he even think that?

There’s still a game to win, though, and Gary does try to get on with it. Except that when he dives (yes, he dives, he’s in the penalty box – of course he dives, anyone would) and the City players start yelling at him, he feels everything bubbling up inside him and oh god, the Boss is going to kill him.

He storms back to the dressing room and is tugging off his shirt to go shower when his phone starts ringing, because of course it does. Because, if he was thinking clearly, he’d’ve been worried if it didn’t.

“I was provoked, Becks,” he says when he picks it up, skipping the greeting.

“You silly cow,” Becks replies softly, like he’s not disappointed. Like Gary’s not just put the cup at risk. “No you weren’t. What’d you go and do that for?”

“He –”

“Gaz, that’s a three match suspension.”

Gary’s been a professional footballer for ten years now, he knows perfectly well that he’s going to get a three match suspension, so he’s not sure why Becks feels the need to remind him of it. It’s not the sort of thing he’d rub in his face, when he knows that Gary’ll be getting the hairdryer treatment any minute now. When he knows it’ll mean –

Oh, god.

International break starts on Monday.

“Becks,” he says desperately, apologetically. “Becks, I forgot – I weren’t thinkin’, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it doesn’t have to mean – I can still come down, with the lads. I know I can’t train, but – but I can still come. We can still –”

“Gaz.” David sighs. “D’you really think the Boss would let you do that?”

Fuck.

*

“Boss,” he says, voice wobbly, “Boss, please. Double my fine, or – or bench me, but please. Just one day, not even that – half a day, and I’d be back for the next morning’s training.”

It feels a similar situation to the one he’d been in last summer, stood alone in front of Sir Alex’s desk with tears streaming down his face and a snotty nose, begging please, Boss, you know how stubborn he can be. He is sorry, it’s been eatin’ him up, he just doesn’t want to look stupid if he apologises and you sell ‘im anyway. You know how much he respects you. This is all he’s ever wanted. Boss, please.

“Gary,” the Boss says slowly, “actions must have consequences.”

I don’t – I can’t do this without him, I’m not good enough. You know I’m not good enough. I’ll do anything. Please, Boss, please.

He remembers the way Sir Alex had looked at him over his glasses, that long calculating stare of his. You assured me this… attachment of yours wouldn’t get in the way of your game.

“Okay,” he says now with a grim nod. “You’re right.” His voice cracks as he talks, so he blinks a few times and repeats “you’re right, I know. I jeopardised the match. I’m sorry.”

Sir Alex nods, and looks down at the papers on his desk, starts shuffling through them. This, Gary knows, is his cue to leave. They’re done here.

I know you don’t owe me anything, but it’s – it’s not just for me. It’s the team, we need him. He’s special, don’t – I know it’s been difficult between you two, but can’t you fix it? If anyone can fix it, surely you –

– You only get this one favour, Gary. Do you understand?

I’ll do anything, just – please. Please don’t sell him.

A one season loan. It’s an excellent opportunity, the chance to experience a new league, a new style of play. Gives our less senior players a chance to earn more minutes. Then he’ll come back, and we’ll all be stronger for it.

And you promise he’ll come back?

I promise he will be given the option. That’s my only offer, lad, not many people could get away with asking this of me.

[riceballcatfb]

My favorite Kyoru fanfics

The Furuba fandom is full of talented fanfic writers, and I wanted to share some of my faves. I marked all the TWs I could remember, but make sure to read the tags on each fic's page. 💕

I also write fanfics at: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybeee

Divided into categories of FLUFF, SMUT, EMOTIONAL HURT/COMFORT, MUTUAL PINING, AU (ALTERNATE UNIVERSE), and OTHER.

FLUFF:

"To Have and To Hold" by AmyNChan: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32395837

"Baby, take this next step with me" by cold_flame: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32069827

"catblocked" by miss_coverly: (*implied sexual content*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/31903687

"Lunch Break" by cold_flame: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31735495

"Kick" by KammieCeleek: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31632353

"Annunciation" by Geoduck: (not technically? Kyoru, lots of Yuki) https://archiveofourown.org/works/31583126

"Singsong" by lugubrious https://archiveofourown.org/works/31331432

"settle down with me" by furubaish: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20118079

"i'm home" by animation_nerd: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30525489

"Tenderness" by thesohmaestate: (*implied sexual content*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207985

"Surprise, Baby! Part 1—Hajime" by KyoruQueens https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780973/chapters/59923339#workskin

"Between the Raindrops" by Pr3ttyM3ssy: (*implied sexual content*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/28421691

"Ice" by sparklyfaerie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342299

"Saint Claws" by gotemsayingwow: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315263

"(un)Romantic" by sparkleyfaerie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933161

"Millennium" by f3tid: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891098

"I Don't Want To Go Home Alone:" by gotemsayingwow (*implied sexual content*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/26836006/chapters/65472577

"Hatsumode" by sparklyfaerie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26834506

"Day's End" by sparklyfaerie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629393

"Alone Time Can Be Fleeting" by Spunkangel: (*light sexual content*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/26521384

"Tohru's Birthday" by Geoduck: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8462890

"The Company We Kept" by gotemsayingwow: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199214

"Baby Bump" by bipolarweeb: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878304

"Cat's Spirit" by bipolarweeb: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524826

"Just One Picture" by bipolarweeb: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25892695

"my heart on your sleeve" by miss_coverly: (*implied sexual content*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752121

"what we were dreaming of" by gureisu: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621672

"and i held you in my arms" by peachilized: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605121

"Box Lunch" by floraltohru: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063696

"Keep Me Warm" by zhiantara: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385395

"An Attempt Was Made" by Why_is_gamora: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371763

"Our Job" by ashe_urbanipal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346938

"not even the rain has such small hands" by miss_coverly: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25340518

"vigilante" by floraltohru: (just light Kyoru) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249171

"i got lost while the sunlight was painting us gold" by Vulpeculate: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019278

"you're such a dream to me" by thewinterose: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19794463

"you can practice on me" by shedreamsofstars: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24055933

"put your lips close to mine" by shedreamsofstars: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595519

"i know i've kissed you before, but i didn't do it right" by a-bigail (spacepuck): (*implied sexual content*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/19876051

SMUT:

"Bathroom Escapades:" by Anon_xoxo: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32074996

"Sink" by sparklyfaerie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955061

"New Memories" by TeacupOctopusTopHat: (also AU) https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277481/chapters/63971191

"Just a Dream. Nothing More." by riceballinthebasket: (pretty light smut) https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864131

"inertia" (a series) by miss_coverly: (also just slightly AU, ongoing as of July 5, 2021) https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948753

"Flush" by sparklyfaerie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741857

"Seeing Red" by reconquer: (light smut, mostly just amazingly hilarious) https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733187

"hell was the journey, but it brought me heaven" by zhiantara: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549539

"Everspring" by f3tid: (not complete as of July 5, 2021—looks like it might have been dropped, but still FUCKING amazing) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603540/chapters/62144008

"feels so good to feel" by gureisu: (pretty light smut) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472566

"put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it" by thewinterose: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249746

"i like my body when it is with your" (a series) by thewinterose: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1413367

"Fanning the Flame; Waking the Animal" by TripleX_Tyrant: (*fans face* woo it's hot in here) https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605460

"Lost in Paradise" by Lolita_pen: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20622485

"Curves and Edges" by Sophia_Ravencrest: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28448118/chapters/69711165

"Running Hot" by BeigeRabbit: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445591/chapters/67094716

"Sweet Disposition" by truthwallflower: (looks like it'll turn into smut? ongoing as of July 5, 2021) https://archiveofourown.org/works/32363944/chapters/80234113

EMOTIONAL HURT/COMFORT:

"...i'll protect you from your dreams" by liquorisce: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887639

"small voice, dark hallway" by a-bigail (spacepuck): (*also labeled as AU*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709534

"Gratitude" by gotemsayingwow: (also pretty fluffy) https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199124

"crybaby, crybaby (i need to cry, baby)" by thewinterose: (*implied sexual content, TW: grief*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771904

MUTUAL PINING:

"Tonight you belong to me" by palamig: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18595273?view_adult=true

"our fingers dancing when they meet" by shedreamsofstars: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28077531

"Why is today so special?" by modzy78: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823879

"such a pretty face" by The_Eclectic_Bookworm: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523289

"It Bothers Me Too" by riceballinthebasket: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181349

"Green" by sparklyfaerie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27036169

"Better Off" by riceballinthebasket: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977768

"Never Again" by Pwrites: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353651

"Sappy" by bipolarweeb (also tagged as hurt/comfort): https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742675

"Year of the Cat" by Anonymous: (*also some sexual content, not explicit*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186534

"does the galaxy hold a different story" by meadoe: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098292

"pining and desperately waiting" by thewinterose: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602068

"must be love on the brain (that's got me feelin' this way)" by thewinterose: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033309

"i'll come closer to you (if you come over)" by thewinterose: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206736

"Written on your skin" by palamig: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963591

"enumeration" by floraltohru: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480013

AU (ALTERNATE UNIVERSE):

"The Night We Met" by pettyimperfections (LOVE IT): https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259768/chapters/58464862

"and hear the harmony, only when it's harming me" by miss_coverly: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447077

"What's a White Lie Between Friends (& My Family?)" by AnxietyAvocado: (*TW: brief attempted sexual assault, not detailed*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/24114184/chapters/58051627

"Two Lines" by KammieCeleek: (*light implied sexual content*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/31894495/chapters/78975883

"The Other Side" by proseprincess: (*couple of smutty chapters,* ongoing as of July 5, 2021) https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020377/chapters/65963152

"your face turns red and so does mine" by skyexplosions: (rated M, ongoing as of July 5, 2021) https://archiveofourown.org/works/32211892/chapters/79823173

OTHER:

"Tohru's Leaks, Kyo's Leaks" by Geoduck: (*humor; light sexual content, not explicit*) https://archiveofourown.org/works/18185816

"Second Visit" by Geoduck: (*TW: PTSD;* tagged as hurt/comfort, also a lil fluffy) https://archiveofourown.org/works/30663365

"gimme three steps" by winryrockbae: (*TW: alcohol, bar;* humor, fluff) https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281903

"(i'm so) heavy in your arms by liquorisce: (angsty) https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498043/chapters/67239421

"a scattered assemblage" by floraltohru: (a bunch of oneshots, some Kyoru; ongoing as of July 5, 2021) https://archiveofourown.org/works/23916382/chapters/57507973

"Family Ties" by pchanpro: (a collection of Kyoru oneshots, ongoing as of July 5, 2021) https://archiveofourown.org/works/32069545/chapters/79444072

"seeking eden" (a series) by ArtificalFlavorz: (looks like it was dropped, but still amazing; *mutual pining, smut*) https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897249

"heat wave" by ArtificialFlavorz: (looks like it was dropped, but still amazing; a collection of Kyoru oneshots) https://archiveofourown.org/works/20760791/chapters/49331102

"in the cracks of light, it was you i dreamed of" by sailorshadzter: (collection of Kyoru oneshots, ongoing as of July 5, 2021, rated M, ) https://archiveofourown.org/works/32100574/chapters/79525642

"Let's Chat" by AnxietyAvocado: (the sex talk lol) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939588

"A Word Sparks a Story" (a series) by f3tid (collection of Kyoru oneshots, ongoing as of July 5, 2021): https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966282

[thelastspeecher]

The Breakup Scheme, Pt. 2

Part 1

Look, I'm as surprised as you are that the second part to this little plot in my Modern Stanley McGucket AU is getting posted the day after the first one. I literally wrote all of this ficlet today after work. I guess the spirit just really moved me or something. Anyways, this one's much more angsty than the first one, but there's still some lighter bits, particularly in the first scene. Just so you know what you're getting into. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Lute knocked on the door to Angie’s bedroom.

              “Come in,” Angie’s voice replied.  Lute pushed the door open.  Angie looked up.  She was sitting at her desk, in the middle of typing something on her computer.  Stan recognized it vaguely as her favorite fanfiction site.  Angie placed her hands in her lap.  “How can I help the two of ya?”

              “We wanted to talk to you about somethin’,” Stan said.  “Once we’ve said our piece, you can get back to writing fanfiction.”  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “I don’t write fanfiction,” she scoffed.  Stan raised an eyebrow.  Angie looked away.  “…I read it,” she mumbled.

              “We ain’t judgin’ ya, don’t worry,” Lute said.  He frowned at Stan.  “Ain’t that right, Stanley?  We’re here to talk to her ‘bout somethin’ important, not rag on her hobbies.”

              “Hey, some of my best friends like fanfiction,” Stan said with a shrug.  Angie rolled her eyes again.

              “Spit it out.  What do the two of ya want?  It better not be chore-related.”

              “It’s not,” Stan said.  He nodded at Lute.  “Wanna lead the charge?  She’s your twin.”

              “This entire thing was yer idea, but whatever,” Lute said under his breath.

              “No, you wanted to do this instead of my idea.”

              “I meant the end goal of what we’re doin’ was yer idea.”

              “Um.”  Angie looked back and forth between Stan and Lute.  “I ain’t followin’ this.  What’s goin’ on?”

              “We’re wonderin’ ‘bout yer relationship with Max, that’s all,” Lute said weakly.  Angie frowned.  “And maybe- we’ve- some of yer behaviors have resulted in us gettin’ the feelin’ that ya might not want to be with him no more.”  Angie’s eyes widened in surprise.  Stan focused on her body language.  Her shoulders had tensed and her face gone slack, suggesting that it wasn’t surprise at something coming out of the blue.  It was surprise that someone had caught onto something she was trying to hide.  She coughed politely.

              “What- what gives ya that impression?” she asked.

              “It’s not one thing.  If it was, I wouldn’t’ve believed Stan’s claims,” Lute said.

              “Smart.”

              “Okay, what’s with that?” Stan interrupted.  “You guys don’t believe me unless I get proof to back up whatever I’m sayin’?”

              “We ain’t pickin’ on ya.  It’s the same standard we hold fer anyone makin’ outlandish claims,” Angie said.  She crossed her arms.  “And yes.  This claim is outlandish.”

              “I know, I know,” Lute said.  “But I can’t shake the idea the two of ya ain’t happy.”

              “Well…shake harder, then.”

              “Angie.”  Lute walked over to Angie’s desk.  He put a hand on her shoulder.  “Yer my sister.  That means ya come ‘fore Max in terms of priority.  Yer happiness matters more to me than Max’s does.  I won’t be hurt if ya want to leave him.”

              “I…”  Angie swallowed.  She shook her head.  “I understand, but-”

              “But what?” Stan asked, joining Lute by Angie.  She scowled.

              “But yer barkin’ up the wrong tree,” she said firmly.  “I ain’t plannin’ on breakin’ up with Max any time soon.”

              “We’re not askin’ if you’re planning on breaking up with him,” Stan said.  “We’re asking if you wanna break up with him.”

              “Ya want the answer to that, huh?”

              “Yes,” Stan and Lute said together.

              “Fine.  The answer’s no.  I don’t want to break up with him.  Now drop it.  I know we’re teenagers, but that don’t mean we have to be all over relationship drama like on those stupid shows Stan watches.”

              “Wh- bu- they’re not stupid!” Stan stammered.  Angie snickered.  “Oh, shut up, McGucket.  You watch ‘em too.”

              “Sure, but I don’t go out of my way fer ‘em.”  Angie turned back to her computer.  “Kindly leave my room.”

              “Fine, fine,” Stan said, throwing his hands in the air.  “We’ll let you get back to…”  He squinted at Angie’s computer screen.  “Whatever the hell a ‘Spirk slow burn’ is.”

              “I thought you said you didn’t like slow burns,” Lute said idly.

              “This partic’lar one, I do like,” Angie said.  “And I’m eager to get back to it.  The author is one of my favorites and he just updated fer the first time in ages.  Apparently he had some sort of big, personal drama, and writin’ fanfiction took a backseat ‘cause of it.”  She made a shooing gesture with her hands.  “Go on, get out.  And close the door when ya leave.”

              “Sure thing,” Lute said.  He and Stan exited Angie’s room, Lute closing the door as quietly as he could behind them.

              “So-” Stan started.  Lute shook his head.  “Huh?”  Lute gestured for Stan to follow him.  They walked down the hall and into Lute’s room.  “What was that about?”

              “Angie’s got awful good hearin’.  I don’t want to risk her catchin’ wind of our plans, even if she ain’t likely to hear ‘cause she’s distracted by somethin’ else.”

              “Right.”  Stan leaned against the wall.  “So.”

              “So.”

              “I was right,” Stan said.  Lute frowned.  “Hey, I told you just askin’ her wouldn’t work!”

              “Then what do you have in mind?  Should we do somethin’ sneaky?  I ain’t used to bein’ sneaky without Angie bein’ in on it.”

              “No need.  We’re gonna go with my idea, and my idea’s gonna work.  No sneaking around necessary.”

              “How so?” Lute asked.

              “I’ll tell you on the way.”

              “On the way where?”

              “To wherever Max is.”

              “We’re goin’ to go behind Angie’s back?” Lute squeaked.

              “When you say it like that, it sounds dirty.”

              “That’s ‘cause it is!”

              “Fine, it’s dirty.  But it’ll get the job done.  Figure out where Max is and we’ll go talk to him,” Stan said.  Lute eyed him suspiciously.  Stan sighed.  “I’m being literal.  We’re actually gonna talk to him.  We won’t be throwing any punches.”

              “Good.”

              “Not unless Max throws one first.”

              “Oh, Lord.”  Lute dragged his hands down his face.  “What did I get myself into?”

-----

              Stan shoveled old hay and manure out of the horse stall.  All in all, he didn’t mind mucking out the barn as much as he thought he would.  Horses turned out to be way less gross than he expected.

              “I’m still surprised Max took it so well,” Lute said from the next stall over.

              “What did I tell ya?” Stan called back.  “I know what I’m doing, Gucket.”

              “I’ll only agree once they’re actually done.”  Hooves clopped against the concrete floor.  Stan looked over his shoulder.  Angie was back from her ride with her horse, a palomino named Daisy.

              “Who’s gettin’ done?” she asked.  She clicked her tongue and pulled on the reins.  Daisy came to a stop.  In one smooth, effortless motion, Angie dismounted.

              “We’re talkin’ about muckin’ out the stalls,” Stan lied.

              “Ah.  Yeah, it ain’t a bad chore, but it’s a bit time-consumin’, fer sure,” Angie said with a nod.  “I’ll drop Daisy off in the paddock ‘n come back to help you fellers out.”

              “Thanks!” Lute called.

              “No problem.  One of these horses is mine, after all.”  Angie led Daisy out of the barn.  Stan’s head popped up at the faint sound of tires crunching on gravel.  He looked over at the driveway.  His mouth went dry.

              “Shit,” he breathed.  Max’s Tesla had pulled up.

              “What was that?” Lute asked.

              “Max is here.”

              “He is?”  Max exited the Tesla.

              “Yep.”

              “Well, maybe he’s just here to peacefully break things off with Angie?”

              “I dunno about that, Gucket.  He looks pretty damn pissed to me.”

              “Uh-oh.”

              “My thoughts exactly,” Stan said.  Max stormed into the barn.  “Hey, Max.”

              “Keep my name out yer mouth,” Max snarled.  Fury flashed in his amber eyes.  Stan winced.  “Where’s Angie?”  As if on cue, Angie walked back into the barn, carrying Daisy’s saddle and reins.  She smiled at Max.

              “This is a nice surprise,” she chirped cheerfully.

              “Why would ya think that?” Max asked.  Angie blinked.

              “Ya don’t drop by the barn often.  I wish ya got here a few minutes earlier.  I could’ve showed ya what I’ve been workin’ on with Daisy.”

              “Stop it,” Max snapped.  Angie frowned.  “You know why I’m here.”

              “Uh.  No.  I don’t.”

              “Dammit,” Stan said under his breath.  Similarly hushed, but PG-rated, swears sounded from Lute’s stall.

              “I’m here ‘cause ya went and sent yer brother ‘n farmhand to break up with me fer you!” Max thundered.  Angie gasped.  The saddle and reins fell from her hands, tumbling onto the concrete floor.

              “I- I most certainly did not do that!”

              “Really?  ‘Cause they showed up at my house a coupla hours ago and told me that you wanted to break up, but were too nervous ‘bout it, so’s ya chickened out and sent someone to do it for ya.”  Max pinched the bridge of his nose.  “If ya want to break up with me, just do it yourself.  Heck, I would’ve taken a text over Lute ‘n Stan givin’ me the news.”

              “I didn’t tell ‘em to break up with ya fer me!”

              “…You didn’t?” Max asked softly.  Angie shook her head.  Max’s shoulders drooped in relief.  “So, ya don’t want to break up?”

              “I…”  Angie looked down at her feet.  “I wouldn’t say that.”

              “Then-”

              “I don’t know how those two yahoos found out and I sure don’t know what possessed ‘em to break up with you for me, but they- they weren’t wrong,” Angie said.  “Fer- fer a while now, I’ve been tryin’ to think of how to handle this.”  Max covered his face with his hands.  His shoulders shuddered.  “I- I can give ya the lil bit of the speech I was workin’ on.”

              “No,” Max choked out.  “Don’t.  Just- just let me walk out of here with some dignity intact.”

              “Okay,” Angie said softly.  Max turned on his heel and strode out of the barn, furiously wiping away the tears streaming down his face.  Angie immediately spun around to glare at Stan and Lute.  “What in the Sam Hill did you two do?!” she screamed.

              “You said it yourself, you wanted to break up with Max.  We took care of it for you,” Stan said.

              “Sure, I wanted to end things with him, but I didn’t want you two to do it for me!  I-”  Angie’s face crumpled.  “I was tryin’ to think of a way to end it where we’d walk away with the smallest amount of hurt I could make, and- and the two of ya went and made the hurt worse than I- than I thought would be even possible.”  She covered her mouth with her hands, tears spilling onto her cheeks.  “I feel- I feel so betrayed,” she sobbed.  “How could ya do this to me?!”

              “We were just tryin’ to do what was best,” Lute said quietly.

              “Well, ya did what was worst!” Angie wailed.  Stan winced.  Footsteps sounded.  Pa and Ma McGucket walked into the barn.

              “We saw Max hightail it out of here and figured somethin’ went down,” Ma McGucket said.  She caught sight of Angie and immediately made a beeline for her daughter.  “Oh, sweetling…”  Angie clung to her mother, sobbing.

              “Did ya break it off with Max?” Pa McGucket asked.  Angie shook her head.  “He ended it with you?”

              “N-no!  They ended things!” Angie said, pointing at Stan and Lute.  Pa and Ma McGucket looked over at the boys.  “They- they told Max I wanted to break up with him and- and-”

              “It was Stan’s idea!” Lute said quickly.  Stan glared at him.

              “Not cool,” he hissed.

              “It don’t matter if it weren’t yer idea, you should’ve known better ‘n to go along with it,” Pa McGucket said firmly.  “Both of ya, go to yer rooms.  Now.”  Stan and Lute dropped their shovels.  As they started the long walk of shame back to the house, Pa McGucket joined his wife in comforting Angie.

              “I can’t believe we did that,” Lute whispered.  “I- why’d I go along with ya?”

              “We thought it was the right move to make,” Stan said.  Lute shook his head.

              “No.  I think we both knew it was wrong.  But we were too blinded by our jealousy to see that.”  Lute put his hands in his pockets.  “Well, so much fer gettin’ more time with Angie.  It’ll prob’ly be months until she wants to be in even the same room as us.”

              They walked through the farmhouse front door and parted ways at the staircase.  Lute went upstairs to his room, while Stan continued down the hall on the ground floor to his.  He entered his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

              Stupid, Stan, stupid!  Stan sat on the edge of his bed.  The image of Angie breaking down, sobbing so hard it sounded like it hurt, her hair getting damp from her tears, was seared into his brain.  Why’d you do that, you fucking idiot?

              As if in answer, a new picture of Angie appeared in his mind.  When she had ridden in on Daisy mere moments before shit hit the fan.  Her caramel-colored hair tossed by the wind, her cheeks pink from excitement, and blue eyes shining with delight.  Her sweet smile and bell-like laughter at even the worst of Stan’s jokes.  Her sarcasm and kindness and how warm and soft her hands were when she was teaching Stan how to bake biscuits.  Her ability to wake butterflies in Stan’s stomach just by stepping into the room.

              Stan’s heart plummeted to his feet.

              Oh.  That’s why.

[inconsistentmemes]

RANDOM LYRICS FROM MY SPOTIFY DAILY MIX PLAYLISTS

so a lot of these ended up on the angsty side, whoops!  enjoy!

“ all I see now is your greed, dollar signs in your eyes. ”

“ the only time a fool like him is satisfied is when he’s all stone cold drunk. ”

“ every feeling in my bones tells me to lash out and tell you to fuck off. ”

“ ‘cause everything’s changing, and I don’t know shit about shit. ”

“ i wanna be a good man, i wanna do right. i don’t wanna be a criminal for the rest of my life. ”

“ i’ve seen your best and worst, and at your worst you’re still the best. ”

“ you’re lost and so confused from a choice you couldn’t choose. i know just how it feels, ‘cause i felt that somewhere too. ”

“ you look like trouble, and i think i’ve seen enough. ”

“ if you must know what i think of you…so help me lord, i’m gonna speak the truth. ”

“ terrifies me that you’re willing to stay. if you follow me down it’ll bring you pain. ”

“ you’ve always been a huge piece of shit. if i could kill you i would, but it’s frowned upon in all fifty states. having said that, burn in hell. ”

“ remember when we all got drunk? i ended up with two broke thumbs…oh my god i felt so dumb. ”

“ i tried to sell my soul last night. funny, he wouldn’t even take a bite. ”

“ how come everything important, only happens when i’m dormant? why does everything that’s neat only happen when i sleep? ”

“ and you can tell your friends and all their friends, i want the whole wide world to know. ”

“ and one day we might have a big house with nice cars and fancy clothes. ”

“ i’m gonna give you fair warning that i will be the reason for the tears in your eyes. ”

“ woke up this morning, i feel so fucking important. ”

“ so i got an apartment across from the park. put quinoa in my fridge, still i’m not feelin’ grown. ”

“ you don’t understand how easy you are to need. ”

“ so are you done pretending your vanity is anything but temporary. ”

“ if i said i was okay, i’d be lying through my teeth. ”

“ and everything inside of me was saying i should run. ”

“ we can’t waste a minute, it needs to happen now. ”

“ i look in the mirror i don’t like what i see. ”

“ believe the words they say, you live through your past. ”

“ if you think you’re better than me, i know you’re not. ”

“ funny, how we say we don’t need it then turn around and try to achieve it. ”

“ then i turn around and think i see someone that looks like you. ”

“ and one day all the walls will come down, all the doors will open, all the roads will lead home. ”

“ can we forget about the things i said when i was drunk? ”

“ too much night to start the day is the only way to be. ”

“ call it what you wanna call it, i’m calling it criminal. ”

“ and in an hour if you hear me shout, come a-runnin. ”

“ tonight, we’ll all be outlaws, take what we want and then ride off. tonight, we’ll feel alive. ”

“ well i’ll meet you at the river where we both can clear our heads. ”

“ how much evidence do you need? ”

“ i need a short term fix for a long term problem. ”

“ who was it that said that great things come to great men? well, that fucker lied to us. ”

“ i’m a little pissed off today and there ain’t nothing you can do about it. ”

[gojology]

Fireworks.

the request :

pairing : not technically a pairing.. but lets just say gojo x female reader warnings : angst and cursing, no editing. wordcount : 2561 a/n : this physically hurt me to write thanks anon. aha all jokes aside i’m so sorry for not making this quick enough, i finally got enough time to finish it and it’s not even that good :( thank u SO much for ur kind words omg u got me feelin like <333333333

       You stare at him, and he stares back, you’re sure he’s unblinking behind those shades of his.         You knew what would happen after this confrontation, after all, you were the one who had asked him to meet you here. It’s a small, calm park. The atmosphere is still, and the shrill sounds of cicadas are the only thing penetrating the deafening silence between the two of you.          “Hey.” he finally speaks up, sounding a bit too impatient for your liking. You flinch a little, and your fist tightens. It was like he never learned how to introduce himself politely.         You take a deep breath in and exhale, your breath comes out in clouds of smoke. You remember when Shoko had given you those cigarettes one day and Gojo slapped it out of your slack hands, Geto and Gojo laughing at your flushed face, your heart twists.          Truth be told, you didn’t even know why you were thinking the world was ending- it wasn’t. Breaking up with your fellow peer was awkward to say the least, but there were only 4 of you in the jujutsu class, yourself included. It would be undeniably dreadful to see his lanky figure dotting around the back of the class with Geto, and to have to work with him for everything else.          “Hey.” you reply, your words dripping with venom.         “C’mon, cut to the chase.” he waved his hand a few times in the air as a dismissal of the conversation, a half eaten lollipop dangling dangerously from those limp long fingers. It makes you hate him even harder. Couldn’t he read the room?     “I don’t have time for chit-chat, you know?! The strongest needs some rest. I’m human like the rest of us! Sheesh, Jujutsu is so demanding....”      “We need to break up.” is all that slips from your lips, and even you’re shocked it came out that carelessly. You wanted to stop resisting, to stop holding back and let loose the long river of hatred and misery you had for this man- no, a boy, he was a boy.      A strong wind blows against your warm face, and the lollipop drops onto the grass without another word.        Gojo gapes at you dumbly, and in return you look down to study that glistening in the moonlight lollipop, it’s pink and ants are already crawling on their new found prey. Your shoes are slightly dirty, and you could see-        “Are you serious?” he scoffed as if it was a joke. It’s not, and you hate being taken like a joke. You weren’t, and that’s all Gojo Satoru did- take everything as a joke, everything was childs play to him. You were looking for a serious relationship, and him? He was looking for sex and quick make out sessions.        “Wait- you’re not joking?” he laughs again, but it trails off, you doubt it actually affected him.        “Of course I’m not joking. Why would I joke about shit like this?” you spat back.        You didn’t care about his feelings right now. You deserved some sort of medal for dealing with him, any sort of compensation really. it seemed to you like the relationship didn’t quite matter for whatever reason. If he wanted to be fuckbuddies he could’ve just said so-       But you still can’t wrap your head around why he kept you, he didn’t throw you away, and you falter. You wanted to be his girlfriend in some ways, in others you wanted to punch him in the face with as much cursed energy as possible.        Gojo takes his glasses off, slipping them into his jacket’s pocket. It seems like he doesn’t want to talk, but you press on.        “I’m fucking tired, Satoru. You treat me like bullshit. I’m not your-” you take a short breather, tears beginning to dawn at the corner of your eyes. “I’m not your fucking doll. And I never, ever WILL BE. I’ve hung onto this stupid fucking relationship long enough and the amount of dedication you poured into this isn’t enough. I deserve better.”        Shit. You hated rambling like that. Scratch that, you hated confrontations as a whole, this would be sure to take a toll on you later.       Turning your back on him, you allow those tears to finally fall. Tears that had been shut in long enough had finally seen the light of day. You wipe the trails away with the already wet sleeve of your hoodie, a large trembling frown adorned your features.        You can’t hide your sniffling even if you tried, and before you know it you can’t even prevent the floodgates from bursting. The tears seeped into the dirt, creating some sort of rhythm as they fell from your cheeks.       “Hey-” he places those hands on your shoulder that made your knees go weak, it’s gentle, and he slightly caresses you. It’s strangely intimate for the situation you found yourself in, but you’re still mortified. Why did you enjoy his touch?        It feels like you’re in this position for ages, his hands on your shoulder, your back facing him. Somehow, someway, you can taste salty tears and you didn’t remember drinking any, for a split second you feel disgusted, at you, at him, at the world.      A small noise leaves your throat.      “It’s okay.” he finally spoke, was that a hint of sorrow? Never mind that, he was actually taking this seriously. What a turn of events.      He took it better then you certainly thought, especially since this would be a definite blow to his big ego. You turn to face him, maybe as an act of superiority, hell like you knew.       Peculiarly, there are tears in his eyes as well. Crocodile tears, probably. He’s most likely trying to guilt trip you- hah, like you’d fall for that. You knew better.      “It’s okay.” he repeated again, brushing those tears away with his roughed up thumb, you’re mortified. Why were you allowing him to touch you?      A calm silence settles between the two of you, but shortly after you hear the rustling of cloth.       Gojo’s taking his jacket off?       About to speak, your mouth snaps shut as he placed the impossibly large jacket around your body, small compared to his. Instinctively, you allow it, but your mind is cursing you for not lashing out on him- why did he still care about you, anyways?     Gojo takes a step back, and you realize you’re now wearing his jacket. His gaze directed at yours, eyelashes fluttering. Your lips are tingling, and for some unbeknownst reason you wonder how a kiss would feel right now.      A part of you still wanted the relationship.      “Take care.”      And with that, he twirled around with a hint of flair, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets; wind howling against your ears as he did so. He was finally leaving you, but that wasn’t what you envisioned, you wanted to leave him- not him leave you.      You watched him stroll off, heading to where ever he came from.     That was how your first, and last relationship ended.  ‧₊˚✩彡.     The thought of this abandoned relationship nestled at the back of your head, and it had been for several years. It was like it happened yesterday.      His glasses still resided on your nightstand, sitting on the same spot that you had hastily dropped it on all those years ago, gathering dust quickly as you couldn’t quite look at it.       Gojo’s jacket was at the very back of your closet, and you’d advert your gaze to somewhere else- anywhere else, whenever you saw the wretched pitch-black sleeves that were twice the size of your arms.       You had taken a rather looked down upon jujutsu path, one that you knew only one other person had done before you. Nanami Kento was his name, from what you remembered. Sure, you still kept in touch with Shoko, but that was about it.       Today was one of those days, Shoko would invite you to some sort of establishment to eat, perhaps make small talk about what had been happening in your life, and that was that. Admittedly, you missed that childish relationship with her so badly- but you could never tell her about that.       Japan at night was always a treat though, that was certainly a fact.      Perhaps Shoko was thinking about other things when she took you to the Japanese night market, though you didn’t blame her- after all the fireworks festival was today, if you remembered correctly. Stalls filled with games and cheap street-snacks wafted about in the air, sweet tangy sauce, noodles, your stomach grumbled as you thought about taking a bite on the horribly unhealthy junk food.       “Here, Y/N. I’ve heard this takoyaki is really good.” You and Shoko had finally found an empty bench to sit at, and for some reason the muddy green color painted onto the wooden bench made your stomach lurch- it was the same shade that you saw nearby when breaking up with Gojo.     Shoko gives you this lukewarm yet kind smile, enough for you to give her a small grin to her in return, and you take the still hot container out of her gentle hands.       You plop the doughy deliciousness into your salivating mouth, and immediately you’re giddy. Savoring the taste of the thick brown sauce coating your pallet. You had to admit, Shoko, Geto, and... Gojo had amazing taste in food. Your tastebuds had instantaneously dulled as soon as you parted ways with the trio.      “Shoko-” you mumble, your mouth still stuffed, you cover your mouth and try to lower the sound of your chewing. “This is really good! How much was it?”        Shoko’s eyebrow quirks, and she leans in closer to you, “What was that?”        About to repeat yourself, you drink in the scene around you first. Cheerful children roaming the streets; too past their bedtime. Angsty teenagers and the many lanterns strung highly above everyone’s heads, how bright everything was.       Then you see it.       Someone large, atleast, significantly larger as opposed to the general crowd bustling in the streets. You couldn’t be mistaken, he had the same wild white hair- except it’s gelled up into spikes. He’s wearing a mauve darkish-purple uniform, it seems, a cute shopping bag swinging side by side as he took long strides. One thing you had to note was a blindfold, though.       Gojo’s not wearing those classic shades that was practically his signature.       You peer over at Shoko, who’s now frantically waving at Gojo, humming, his chin tipped towards the clear canvas of a sky, dotted with many white stars. He seems livelier somehow, an aura of friendliness radiating instead of arrogance, and you drop your takoyaki in suit.       He notices you.      And then he notices Shoko.       “...’Scuse me. Comin through.” he maneuvered himself through the already annoyed crowd, muttering quick polite apologies before finally freeing himself from the tight bundle of people. A large toothy grin is displayed for the world to see on his face, you feel like you’re about to vomit everything you had eaten today.       Your eyes scan the bag he’s holding, it contrasted heavily from the dark color scheme of whatever he was clad in; pastel yellow with a cute light green mascot chewing happily on mochi. In bubble letters above it were the words, “It’s a good day for yummy food.”      “Shoko!” he exclaims joyously, giving her a quick hug. “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while outside of work.”       Then, Gojo glances at you, atleast that’s what you assume he’s doing, the blindfold was really confusing you. He politely smiled, not as big as the one that he gave Shoko, though.        “Long time no see, Y/N.”        You clear your throat and nod in agreement. “You too.”        Polite chatter between the two of them ensued, and you steadily got more bored as the time went on, checking your phone and stealing quick stares at the two of them. You want to comment, to be included, but you doubt anyone really cared for you right now.        “...How are you?” you say bluntly, blinded by boredom, and immediately you regret it.       Shoko chuckles awkwardly, looking at you with those tired eyes of hers. “Was that for me or Gojo?”        Fuck it, if you were gonna go out, you might as well do it now.        “Gojo.”        “Shit. Putting me in the spotlight like this?” he stands back up from leaning down to talk to Shoko eye-to-eye, now turning to look at you, pausing.       “You’re even more straightforward then I remember, and I thought that was impossible.”        “Yeah.” you finally say after too many seconds of silence. It seemed like he was hinting at something. “I guess we just grow as people, even though I thought that was basically impossible for you.” you cheekily retort back, crossing your arms over your chest with a smug smirk now proudly playing at your lips.        “AND you got sassier? Never quite grew outta the brat phase.” taking a seat between the empty space between the two of you with a huff, his right leg placed above the knee of his left, his thumb plays with the hem of his blindfold, pulling it just a bit so that you could see his snow white eyelashes, alongside with a singular eye.     It’s like time stops as soon as you see them, and it’s like Shoko isn’t closely surveying the two of you, obviously perplexed with this sudden increase of the intensity of conversation.        You see a split second of something flickering in those eyes of his, you’re not quite sure what it could quite be.. Vulnerability?         “Can’t believe my eyes.” pulling his blindfold back down. They’re still as breathtaking as you had imagined them to be. He shrugged, leaning back into the bench casually.      For a while, the three of you just watch the stall directly in front of you- it’s a goldfish stall. Gojo had gotten you one when the two of you were still dating.         Shit. Why weren’t you over such a silly relationship? It wasn’t like you still had feelings for him, but there was still this emotion you couldn’t shake off. It clung onto you like a leech.         “It’s been so long since we’ve relaxed with each other like this.” Shoko mused aloud, turning to look at the two of you. The words are so faint, you’re barely able to hear her subtle voice.        At this point, colorful fireworks started bursting into the air- every shade of color could be seen. Vibrant greens, blues, reds, a loud crackling is all the ear can hear, aside from the loud cheering of over joyous children. Both of you are unanswering.       Vaguely, you remember the first time you saw the fireworks. Lo and behold, you remember wisps of Gojo’s white hair that you twisted and played with, your legs wrapped around his head. You felt on top of the world. Now, you found yourself at the bottom of it.         There’s a grateful, albeit, sad smile on your face. It wasn’t like it was all sunshine and rainbows for you, no. You felt bitter. Hatred, even, that Gojo matured without you.        “Yeah. I miss this.” you say through gritted teeth.         If you were to be honest, you did miss them. Geto, Shoko, Gojo, running around pelting each other with scrunched up paper.       Not just Gojo.        But you guess he’s a big factor as well.       

[quietrainfan]

Hey! Anyone want some heavy platonic Loceit angsty headcanons I've extracted from the new episode? Well, too bad because it's happening regardless. :)

Yes, also some Unsympathetic Patton. You know what blog you're on. (This interpretation/headcanon shall not die. Not here.)

(Also, this is going to combine my observations and thoughts as well, so sorry in advance if this post turns out as a bit of a mess.)

Alright, so! Orange Side confirmation. How we feelin', Sanders Sides fandom, how we feelin'?

Honestly, the Orange Side theory wasn't something I was really all that into. It was a 'meh, could be cool' headcanon for me personally. But I have to say the way the reveal was handled made me jump in my seat with pure joy. No joke, I audibly gasped when Logan's eyes flashed orange.

It was all downhill from there, I was excited. Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a sucker for character's eyes glowing when they've reached their limit or are displaying a power they've never shown before, combine that with an unexpected reveal and I'm sold.

Plus, glowing eyes have been a common theme with Unsympathetic content and Dark Side headcanons so you could imagine how the first peak into the Orange Side's existence (or, rather confirmation. we all saw the 'hello' hint, Orange, you cheeky little munchkin.) was his color in Logan's eyes made me feel. It was so cool!!! Ah!

Then Thomas had to tease us again at the end card with our boy Orange's eyes popping up in the darkness, waiting for his chance to be too loud to ignore. Like, the audacity. Who do you think you are, Thomas?! (That was a joke. Sorry, I'm just really pumped.)

Also, Remus got quite a few laughs out of me. Ah, I missed him.

Okay, headcanon time! We're going to do Logan first, then Janus, then combine the two. Sound good? Alright, here we go (Trigger Warning for discussions of alcoholism, please if anything I write here sounds insensitive or inaccurate, let me know and I will edit. Also, no need to read if you don't want to. Stay safe.) :

Logan

Logan knew where to grab for that alcohol bottle.

I mean, I guess that makes sense since he lives there and is naturally the most observant Side. But...that bottle's placement was a little too convenient.

Sure it was played up as a joke and it was funny.

But something about the way Logan threw his coffee into the sink and quickly replaced it with the wine stuck out to me.

I've joked about Logan and/or Janus having to "drink to cope" due to sharing the single brain cell Thomas has amongst all the chaos. But seeing that in an actual episode, even as a gag, is kind of...different.

Let me explain.

This may be a common thing for Logan that he struggles with.

He wakes up early to be the first one to help Thomas start the day, naturally. Logan goes to make his cup of coffee and there's always the lingering urge to take a sip of wine before anyone can see because he just...can't face everyone without needing just a little bit of it to cloud out all the gross, petty, negative feelings he experiences every day around them.

He's logic. He can't be drinking and risk any more harm to Thomas's function.

So, it's a constant battle with coffee vs wine, coffee vs wine, coffee vs wine-

Most of the time Logan is able to resist and go with the coffee.

It doesn't make him feel good in the slightest. If anything it makes him feel even worse knowing he'll be more alert that day.

Logan hates that was even a thought at all. He needs to be alert. Otherwise everything will fall apart. He is the rock in the system and without him everything will crumble.

Such a selfish mindset. He needed to focus.

Other days Logan just doesn't have it in him to discard the wine regardless of how much he wants to.

He knows what the day holds for him. It was all so repetitive at this point. Logan knew when he wasn't able to get through it despite it all.

That didn't stop him from shaming himself for caving. He should be able to handle this. He's made so much progress with resisting it up to this point but today he through it away again because he just had to, right?

Sometimes Logan finds himself "cheating" by hiding a couple drops of wine into his coffee on days when he chose the coffee but later felt particularly bad about...a lot of things, into his second cup.

Logan more often times chooses neither. The temptation for clouding out the others was just too strong and was a waste of time.

Logan is beyond tired of the others.

Every single action they have agitates him now. No matter how minor it is.

Roman's loud voice and constant references makes Logan's toes unconsciously curl beneath his shoes. Even a silent warm smile and wave from the prince fills Logan with an unpleasant tingle in his knuckles.

Virgil's neverending foreboding and unnecessary nasty remarks that he doesn't even bother to filter provokes Logan's new habit of biting his tongue. Any kindness he ever gives him makes his stomach twist.

Patton's nicknames, poking for for a laugh, his "sweet" way of shoving away any objection he may have, how casually he behaves as if he isn't part of any problems- how quickly he's prepared to "bounce back". Logan feels like every word, action from him something steps on a guitar cord in the back of his mind that makes the ugliest, loud, screeching sound. He feels this strange warm fuzzy ache he can't define. All he hears is that cord playing faster and faster the longer he stays in their presence. Logan no longer trusts himself alone with Patton.

Logan thinks if he just separates from the others long enough, the ugly strumming noise will go away.

But he's so wrong.

Logan can hear it even when he's all alone. When it's finally silent, he still can't get rid of it.

It's loudest when Logan is alone in his room. Logan has lost count of how many nights he's spent clenching his head, quietly sobbing, and praying for it to just go away already.

Logan often feels like he's losing it.

On nights where the sounds are particularly louder than usual, he swears he can see orange shadows creeping around him, lights of the color flashing on and off, he sometimes even sees it seeping in and out of the cracks of his door like a thick fog. At times he'll even wake to it glowing absurdly bright through his window.

It's just the sunrise. Logan tells himself. He has to believe that. Everything else looked normal, after all.

What's worse is Logan doesn't know how long he's been hearing this sound or seeing the strange lights.

Patton knows about Logan's late night and early morning struggles.

But surprise, surprise, he pretends as if he's nonthewiser.

If either Virgil or Roman asks about Logan, Patton will answer: "Oh, that silly billy's probably got his head in one of his astronomy books again! I wouldn't bother him right now."

Knowing full well he's having an emotional breakdown in his room that gets worse every day.

Knowing about the little sneaks of alcohol in his hot morning beverage. Might even speak about yummy drink combinations when they hang out in the living room, while Logan is present, specifically and even only on the days Patton knows he's cheating with his bad habit, while he's still drinking it.

The further Logan is to the edge, the better. Patton is still bitter about the events of Redux ending in his favor, after all. He needs leverage from somewhere.

When Thomas left to see Nico, Logan heard the cord again. His chest tightened and though he could feel the tears welling up, he kept them down.

Thomas hasn't been very happy lately. He had to let him have this.

No matter how loud those cords get.

Janus

I noticed that Janus was either unseen by the others or unacknowledged by them.

Janus was near all of them but far enough that he was separated.

He could've just popped up at the end without them noticing but...that's less angsty therefore less fun so-

Janus has been the instigator for bringing Sides that have been hidden away to be brought to light for a long time. If the assumption that Janus let Remus out is true.

He's always been hinting at upcoming events that are sure to come if Thomas continues to ignore certain aspects of himself.

He knows. He knows our Orange boy is getting worse and soon will be too loud to ignore. Janus wants to protect Thomas but that's becoming harder every day. Thomas is making it harder.

Janus will reveal the Orange Side eventually. And very soon. Hell, that's looking like less and less of a choice considering Logan's...outburst.

I think Janus has this painful awareness that he can be seriously hated for doing his job. After all, he's always the one who's forced them to acknowledge uncomfortable truths about Thomas.

He's the one giving them all of those hard pills to swallow and especially after Remus, it is definitely overwhelming and exhausting to be met with.

They question their roles more and more because of how used they are to the fixed mindset Thomas has had for such a long time.

That can't feel good.

Janus knows that his job may cause more hatred to fester the more that's revealed.

Janus is being kept at arms length and he knows that won't stop any time soon.

But he's a clever snake. That won't keep him from keeping an eye on Patton.

(Find it real suspicious that Patton was all mushy with Janus in that end card but still is at a big distance from him.)

Loceit

Janus will sometimes find Logan in the common room with his head in his arms, sprawled out against the coffee table. His glasses being discarded from half his face, unmistakable tears lazily dripping out of his lifeless eyes.

Janus would wordlessly go to the sink and grab a glass, filling it with water.

Janus goes over to Logan, giving him a gentle rub on the back. He urges him to sit up. It takes Logan a few minutes but eventually does.

Janus hands Logan the water, supporting the back of his neck as struggles to get it down, reminding him to take his time.

Janus takes his glasses and gently sets them on the table. He hands Logan some tissues.

Logan lifelessly takes them and tries to clean his face. But he always ends up crying into them.

Janus moves Logan unkempt bangs from his face before moving his head to his shoulder. Janus manifests a warm blanket over Logan and uses a bit of his abilities to soothe the shorter man's pain, tenderly putting pressure on his neck.

Janus and Logan have a talk. Logan always asks why he bothers to stop and comfort him.

"You've helped me through a lot, Logan. Not returning the favor is out of the question."

That was always his answer.

Janus and Logan do this often.

Janus opens up about sometimes needing a bit of a drink himself from time to time. Though mostly that consists of tea more often than not, he sometimes has a glass of wine or two to relax on days when it's particularly hard.

He feels ashamed of it. Janus has to be the strongest out of everyone, especially the Dark Sides. Allowing things to faze him was the worst case scenario. At least, to that degree.

But Janus understands that isn't his fault and urges Logan not to blame himself, either. While he hated that weakness he occasionally submitted to, he wasn't going to let the rare slip up to define the worth of his role.

Logan thinks that Janus really is the strongest out of all of them just for saying things like that and he's being too hard on himself.

On nights when things become too much Janus will sit with Logan and share a drink. They try to have as many conversations without wine as possible but sometimes Janus says "screw it" and sits with Logan with one or two drinks.

Just having Janus there helps Logan choose his coffee in the mornings and feel as if he's being heard even a little bit.

Now if only those cords could actually quiet down, that'd be even better.

[babybubastis]

Inspired by the prompt “Welcome to fatherhood” sent to me by @prettylittlebirds82. I hope you don’t hate it lol. And I’m sorry it took me so long 🙈

Just some angsty, domestic WinterPrincess.

Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy complications, hospitals

———————————————————————

He moves as the mattress shifts, rolls over in his sleep to place his hand in the warm indentation left by her body.

Footsteps, rustling, whispering flutter on the edge of his consciousness. He burrows into the covers, groaning when his hand still searches, comes up empty, searches again.

“James.”

The whisper of his name is what does it. Whatever is in her voice sets off an alarm and he’s out of the bed and at her feet, blinking his eyes against the bathroom light.

“What’s wrong, sugar?”

Shuri looks up from her perch on the toilet, hands clutching her round belly, then drops her gaze again.

“I can’t stop,” she rasps. It’s then that he notices the steady trickling sound.

Bucky frowns, tilts her chin up so he can look her in the eyes. “You can’t stop what, angel?”

A sniffle. “I had an accident in bed, so I got up to use the bathroom, but I can’t stop peeing.” She shakes her head, whispers under her breath to herself, “It can’t be, it’s too early, it’s not time.”

The crease in his brow deepens, and his stomach drops even before his brain fully registers what she’s saying.

For maybe five seconds, he doesn’t breathe. His chest feels heavy, his right hand shakes, his vision tunnels.

Then she grabs his arm to try to stand, and a switch flips.

Bucky lifts his wife into his arms and strides over to the counter top. He sets her down like glass, eyes and hands frantically roving over her slightly trembling form.

“Are you having any contractions?”

He’s read enough to know that rupture of membranes doesn’t always mean labor is coming immediately. But it’s a damn good indicator, and he has to fight down the panic flooding his veins.

Panic isn’t something Bucky’s accustomed to, despite his whole life basically being one long shitstorm. From being taking captive as a prisoner of war over eighty years ago, to literally being snapped out of and back into existence, he’s had enough stress for three lifetimes. And somehow none of that has prepared him for the slow but powerful dread gripping his gut as his fingertips slide through the small puddle gathering on the cold marble underneath his very-pregnant-but-not-quite-pregnant-enough wife.

A large tear spills over and down Shuri’s cheek, but she shakes her head. “No, I feel fine, otherwise. This doesn’t make any sense...”

Bucky lifts his hands to cup her face, fingers gently wiping away the moisture before placing his right hand on her belly.

“You’re both gonna be okay, you understand me?”

His Queen nods once, bottom lip trembling before she presses both lips together and closes her eyes. She sucks in a breath and blows it out. When her eyes open, they still shimmer. But there’s resolve there, a determination and strength that makes him straighten up. He presses his lips to her forehead and lingers there, breathing her in before pulling away.

The next few minutes are a blur as he rushes around their suite grabbing clothes, shoes, phones, keys, wallets.

She’s still sitting on the counter when he comes back. Her eyes are closed again, head bowed, lips moving silently as both hands rub her belly. Bucky falters as he notices the towel now tucked between her legs. And there’s the panic again. He swallows it down and walks over to Shuri.

When he places his hands over hers, she sighs.

“Let’s get you dressed, baby, then we’ll head to the hospital.”

Her eyes flutter open and she nods. They’re silent as he helps her dress, a cloud of anxiety gathering around them.

“Wait, Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“How are we getting there?”

Shit.

He’s so out of sorts- exhausted, terrified, and trying to shove it all down enough to think straight, but he forgot to actually secure them a ride. Today was only the second day of their “baby moon”. Shuri had wanted to see New York City at Christmas time, just the two - make that three - of them.

Her water breaking at the end of her second trimester wasn’t part of the plan.

Bucky finishes helping Shuri tie her shoes before he runs into the bedroom again to grab his phone.

An ambulance is their best bet, but it’s 8:07 on a Friday morning in Downtown Manhattan. And according to his phone, it’s snowing. Heavily.

Shit.

“What about Tony?”

He whips around to find Shuri slowly climbing down from the bathroom counter. Rushing over to help her, his heart swells in spite of everything at the adorable grunt she lets out as her feet meet the floor.

“Now what about Tony, doll?”

Shuri huffs. “I thought I told you he and Pepper bought a second place in the city? They had their youngest last year at one of the hospitals here, but I forget which one.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. He doesn’t remember any of that.

His wife rolls her eyes and steps past him, waddling over to the desk near the door to grab her phone. “He invited us over for Christmas when I was on the phone with him last night, so they should be nearby. Maybe he can help.”

Before he can say another word, Shuri is on the phone, nervously chewing her bottom lip as her hand cradles their baby.

“Tony-“

Bucky can hear Stark’s voice on the other end then, way too loud for as early as it is, and he busies himself with double checking the small bag he’s packed to avoid becoming agitated.

He really doesn’t have anything against the other man. Despite their history, Bucky can’t blame Tony for what transpired between them all those years ago. And after Tony nearly died to defeat Thanos, Bucky only has respect for the man.

Tony had flatlined on that battlefield.

It was Shuri who sprang into action, refused to take no for an answer. She shouted orders at Doctor Strange to open a portal to her lab, and within minutes, she had Stark on a table while she ran diagnostics and went to work.

She was behind closed doors for hours, allowing only Pepper and Bruce back, along with Strange.

Bucky has no idea what exactly happened. He had waited outside of her lab until his eyes drooped, and the sound of the doors sliding open jolted him awake. Shuri emerged, hands bloody and shaking, but her expression gave nothing away. When it was all said and done, Tony Stark ultimately had her to thank for giving him his life back.

The friendship that bloomed between them after that made Bucky uneasy for... a while. Even after Bucky managed to work up the courage to confess his feelings to Shuri, and she confessed that she loved him back, he couldn’t shake the streak of possessiveness that flared unreasonably whenever Tony was around.

But he never begrudged his love her friendship, even when she decided to build a second Wakandan Outreach Center in New York, and Tony - who was making every effort in using his resources to help rebuild the world he’d saved - eagerly offered to be of assistance to Shuri in any way he could, in exchange for some “playtime,” as Stark called it, in her lab.

And Tony wasn’t the only one who had become a bit enamored with the then-Princess; the entire Stark household loved her, too. And yet, the retired Iron Man and the former Winter Soldier had barely ever exchanged more than two words and a few terse nods over the last few years.

Shuri calls to him, effectively bringing him back to the present, and Bucky realizes he’s nearly worn a tread into the carpet with his nervous pacing.

“Tony is on his way.” There’s a tinge of relief in her voice, but her left hand hasn’t left her belly, and she taps her phone against her thigh in an uneven rhythm.

Bucky walks over to his wife and grabs her hand. He brings it to his lips and inhales deeply.

“You ready?” It’s an effort to keep his voice steady.

She nods once, attempts a small smile that barely reaches her eyes at all.

Then Bucky interlaces their fingers and leads her toward the door and out of their suite. He slings their duffel bag across his shoulders and scoops her up into his arms, barely breaking stride on the way to the elevator. Shuri gives a surprised little yelp that, under different circumstances, might make him chuckle.

Instead, he holds her a little tighter and fights the urge to tap his foot while they wait for the car to reach their floor. It feels like an eternity waiting in that hallway, Shuri’s shallow breath against his neck, their baby cradled between them. He can hear Shuri’s heartbeat, wishes he could hear their little Bean’s heartbeat, too.

When he steps inside the elevator and reaches toward the button for the lobby, Shuri grabs his hand. He arches a brow in question.

**

To Tony’s credit, they don’t wait long at all. It can’t be more than ten minutes since Shuri hung up the phone when Bucky hears their ride approaching.

Any other time, he might roll his eyes and accuse Tony of having a flair for the dramatic. But he’s never been happier to see a Stark Industries helicopter in his life.

The chopper barely lands before Tony hops out, waving them forward. Once inside, they get buckled and take off in record time.

“How you feelin’, kid?”

Shuri looks up and gives a small smile. “I’ll be better when I know Bean is alright.” Bucky runs his thumb across the back of her right hand, and Tony reaches across from his seat to briefly squeeze her left.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, alright? Pepper’s OB owes me a gigantic favor, I already called ahead of you at the hospital. All we need to do is get you to OB Triage, and her colleagues will take it from there.”

Bucky exhales slowly and clears his throat. “I don’t know how to thank-“

Tony waves him off before he can finish his thought. “It’s the least I can do.”

Bucky nods. Shuri sags against him, and he turns his head to place a kiss to her temple.

“But if you want to repay me,” Tony interjects after a moment, “Anthony could be a great middle name.”

Shuri snorts. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” But there’s humor in her voice, and a genuine smile on her face this time, and Bucky is grateful to Tony for the second time that day.

**

By some miracle, triage isn’t busy at all. The on-call doc and a nurse greet them and take Shuri back while Bucky deals with the paperwork and Tony goes in search of caffeine.

It takes everything in Bucky not to chuck the clipboard back across the reception desk and follow after his wife. By the time he’s done filling everything out, every nail on his right hand is bitten down to nothing and his stomach is full of lead. He hands everything over and leans both hands on the desk, fighting the urge to crush the cheap fiberboard.

“So if you could tell me where they took my wife...?”

The middle aged woman behind the desk gives him a sympathetic smile. “Gimme just a sec, hun, I have to make sure they’re ready for ya.”

Before he can object, she stands and disappears through the door behind her desk. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and counts down from ten in Xhosa. He has to start over twice before the receptionist comes back.

“Mr. Barnes? They just took your wife down the hall for an ultrasound. She should be back in the room shortly, and then we’ll have someone take you back. Just sit tight, okay?”

But Bucky’s already been away from Shuri and Bean for ten minutes, and ready to crawl out of his own skin for every second. He tries for a smile - something charming yet authoritative, but hopefully not menacing - and sets his fists on the desk, leaning forward.

“Look-“ he starts, but a hand taps him on the elbow before he can finish his thought.

“Hey, let’s take a breather, huh?” Tony nods toward the double doors to the unit.

Tony must see the hesitation in Bucky’s eyes, because he gently nudges him.

“Just a few minutes. You look like you need it,” he says.

Bucky flicks his eyes to the receptionist, then back at Tony and the two large cups of coffee in his hands. He sighs heavily and gestures in front of him. “Lead the way.”

**

The waiting area is blessedly empty. Bucky walks over to a TV in the corner and searches for the remote. He can hear Tony slowly approaching behind him, but decides to distract himself with finding a decent show. But almost every station he clicks on is on commercial. He swears under his breath and slams the remote back down onto the coffee table.

“You break anything in this room, I’m not payin’ for it.”

Bucky whips his head around to find Tony smirking at him, and lets out a little puff of air.

“I just... I want to do... something.” He rakes both hands through his sweat-dampened hair. Then, almost so quietly, he’s not sure Tony even hears: “I’m goin’ a little outta my mind, here.” His voice cracks at the end, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of unshed tears.

“Welcome to fatherhood.” Tony claps a warm hand to Bucky’s back.

“Yeah,” Bucky chokes out through a watery, humorless chuckle. All of his weight slumps into the chair behind him then, and it teeters backwards on wobbly legs. “Baby’s not even here yet, and they’re already giving me a frickin’ heart attack,” he mutters into his hands.

“Like I said,” Tony replies, “welcome to the club. That kid’s gonna scare you shitless about a hundred more times before they’re even outta diapers, so,” he pauses to take a sip of his coffee before saluting the weary man next to him with his styrofoam cup, “buckle up.”

Bucky groans.

Slumped in this stiff chair under too-bright fluorescents, the adrenaline is beginning to wear off.

His hands are beginning to shake again, and a shiver runs through him.

“How far along is she, again?”

“Hm?” Bucky lifts his head, blinking to clear his vision.

“How far along is Shuri? I forget,” Tony repeats.

Bucky blows out a breath. He doesn’t even need to think twice, he’s been keeping track just as closely as her. “Twenty-four weeks, three days.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah,” Bucky rasps, panic threatening to clog his throat again.

Tony clears his throat after a moment. “She still insisting you guys don’t find out the sex?”

“She told you ‘bout that, huh? She uh, she thought it would be a nice surprise. Now I’m not so sure we should’ve waited to find out...” Bucky rubs his mouth.

Another silence.

His fingers twist the fabric of his pants, knees bouncing and jaw clenched as he resists the urge to go up to the nurse’s station for the twentieth time and ask when he can go back and be with his wife.

Tony gently pats his knee, and almost automatically, Bucky stops fidgeting. A little bit of the tension leaves his body and he inhales slowly to keep it at bay.

“Twenty-four weeks, three days,” Tony muses. “That’s early. But-“ he says as Bucky opens his mouth to respond, “but, it’s not terribly early, and you’d be surprised at the things they can do. This is the best place on the East Coast.”

Bucky drops his head again and nods.

“Shuri told me you guys had Arlo here.”

“Sure did.” A small smile lifts the corner of the other man’s mouth as he presumably thinks about his rambunctious and adorable youngest child.

They sit there for several minutes, Tony sipping his coffee quietly while Bucky ignores his in favor of chewing on his nails again.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there, but he has half a mind to just burst through the doors and bypass the receptionist all together to find Shuri. He’s halfway out of his seat when Tony pulls his phone out and glances at the screen.

A twinge of guilt shoots through Bucky, and he sits back down. “You can take off whenever you need to. You really didn’t have to keep me company. I appreciate it.”

Tony finishes typing something on his phone and puts it back in his pocket before looking up.

“Believe it or not, I’m happy to do it. Couldn’t just leave you here.”

Bucky flicks his gaze to Tony’s, searches his eyes for any hint of falsehood or irritation.

The corner of Tony’s mouth lifts slightly. “Really, Barnes. I know you and I have some shit to work through. But a lot of that got put into perspective after... all the other shit.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” The knot in his stomach unravels just a tiny bit

“And that woman in there,” Tony gestures toward the doors to triage, “I would do just about anything for her. She’s done a hell of a lot for all of us over the years. And she indulges my old ass when I need a virtual lab partner and Bruce is too busy to be bothered. My kids love her, Pepper loves her. I know she saved you, too.”

Bucky’s throat is clogged again. He looks down at his hands, rubs at the upgraded arm Shuri gifted him on their wedding day: black inlaid with gold and purple, a permanent ring of gold Wakandan lettering etched into his left third finger.

“And you feel like it’s your turn to save her.”

Bucky chuckles, in spite of himself, in spite of everything going on right this second. Because Tony is way too on the nose. He sighs, a heavy, weary thing that seems to leave him deflated. He doesn’t look up as he replies.

“How do I save her from this? How do I fix this? This isn’t the way any of this was supposed to go...”

“You don’t fix it,” Tony interrupts. “Just be there. Whatever happens, don’t hide from her, and don’t try to shield her, either. Just be there and take care of them both. I know I don’t really need to tell you that.”

Bucky takes in Tony’s words. He nods, presses his lips together as he looks up to meet Tony’s eyes. A thank you is on his lips when one of the double doors behind them swings open, and his heart stutters for a second.

“Mr. Barnes?” A petite woman in navy blue scrubs looks back and forth between Bucky and Tony.

Bucky shoots up immediately. “That’s me.”

The nurse waves Bucky forward. “Your wife is back in her room, you can come on back.”

He shoots a glance over his shoulder as he heads toward the door. Tony is on his feet now. “Tell the Her Majesty I’ll call her later to check on her. Rub that belly for me. And take care of yourself, too, yeah?”

Bucky tries for a smile, hopes he makes it. His heart rate is climbing again. “Will do.”

**

Bucky pulls open the curtain and Shuri opens her eyes.

The bed practically swallows her up, she’s so tiny, even with her large belly. The pang in his chest is so acute, it takes him a couple of tries to find his voice.

“Hi, babydoll. How are my two favorite people?”

She gives him a wan smile and shrugs. “We’re okay, I think. Bean has been moving a bit, and the ultrasound looks alright. But,” she pauses and closes her eyes briefly. Bucky walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to take both of her soft hands in his.

“It’s okay, angel.”

She clears her throat and looks up at him. “The doctor says my amniotic fluid index is 2 centimeters.”

Bucky frowns. “Is that low?”

“Normal range is 5 to 25 centimeters. Almost all of my fluid is gone. Somehow my cervix is still completely closed, but they want to keep us until the baby is born. The doctor said most people go into labor within 72 hours of their water breaking, so traveling back home is too risky. They’re bringing one of the NICU doctors up soon to discuss things.” Her teeth gnaw at her bottom lip as she pauses, gives him a chance to absorb what she’s saying.

He feels what little breath was in his lungs being knocked out. They’re stuck here. And they’re baby is coming 16 weeks early. The dread in his gut builds. Feels like it’s clawing its way up from his stomach to his chest, and he clamps his mouth shut to keep it from escaping. Something else is bothering his wife. Truth be told, he’s not sure he wants to know what else she hasn’t told him, but he needs to know. He reaches up to pull her bottom lip out from between her teeth. His fingers linger there, caressing her face and memorizing every detail for probably the billionth time.

“What else did they say?”

She sucks in a long breath, then puffs it out. “They said I’m at increased risk for infection now that my water has broken. There’s significantly less protection for Bean and me, the longer I stay pregnant, so they’re putting me on antibiotics, and betamethasone shots to help speed up lung development.”

Bucky swallows thickly. “Do they know how this happened?” She’s been doing everything right - sleeping eight hours a night, taking her vitamins, eating clean, drinking tons of water, exercising appropriately -he can’t wrap his head around this.

Shuri gives a shake of her head and another tired shrug. “I tested negative for any kind of infection. Apparently, most cases of premature rupture have no known cause. Not that that makes me feel any better.” She looks down at her stomach and rubs it slowly, methodically. “According to the scan, Bean is only 1.4 pounds. So tiny, Buck.” Her voice catches on that last part, and then her face crumbles.

Bucky feels like he’s fracturing into a million pieces as he leans forward and draws her into his chest. One hand cradles the back of her head while the other rubs up and down her back. Her belly presses into his, and his control slips.

He’s terrified. For Shuri. For the baby. Heartbroken, because he honestly doesn’t know if their Little Bean is even going to make it. And frustrated, because there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. Except be here.

Shuri feels the gentle shake of his shoulders. She lifts her head to press her forehead to his, the salt of their tears mingling together as their lips meet. The life inside her belly stirs enough that they both feel the movement, and everything else ceases to matter.

**

She manages to stay pregnant for six more weeks.

Six weeks of daily ultrasounds and bed rest and no privacy and lab draws and living in the hospital because the risk of traveling back home is too great.

Bucky is sure his back will never recover from sleeping on the hospital cot, but he’d give the health of his back and more to have his sweet baby and their Bean safe. He refuses to leave her. Even when Shuri flies in her mother, her OBGYN, her doula, and a couple of the Dora Milaje and puts them all up in a hotel, Bucky sleeps by his Queen’s side.

And when, six weeks to the day that she was admitted, their sweet baby boy makes his way into the world, Bucky is by her side for that too, holding her hand and supporting her as she pushes with more strength than he ever thought any one person could possess.

Ikemba T’Challa Buchanan Barnes is beautiful. Way bigger than predicted for a thirty-weeker, and so strong, but still tiny in the grand scheme of things, and vulnerable.

Bucky barely sleeps because he can hardly stop marveling at the long fingers, the soft tuft of dark brown hair, the satiny chestnut skin. He stays up nights talking with Shuri until she passes out, then quietly reads to baby boy until the wee hours.

It’s another five weeks before they get discharged- five weeks of Shuri faithfully pumping breast milk around the clock until their baby is strong enough to nurse, five weeks of her barely even leaving his room. They’re both a wreck, The White Wolf and the Queen, trying to hold it together enough to make sure their baby boy makes it out of the NICU and back home with them where he belongs.

They can’t get out of there fast enough the day he’s finally discharged. Shuri dresses him in the tiniest little onesie made of black and gold Vibranium thread. She made it herself, embroidered the insignia of the Golden Tribe on the front, and her hand lingers as she brushes softly across it. Bucky’s chest tightens a bit as he watches her eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He knows she’s thinking of her brother.

Silent tears stream down her face as she hovers over Ikemba in his car seat. Bucky flies the Royal Talon himself, because he’s too on edge to let any of the Dora do it. He trusts them with all their lives, but he’s too fidgety to sit in the back with his family.

Home. Get them home. That’s all he wants, and his shoulders don’t settle back down into a normal position until they step onto the tarmac.

Tony calls just as they’re walking into their quarters. Interestingly enough, he calls Bucky’s phone.

“Stark?”

“Hey, daddy, how’s it goin’? You guys in safely?”

Bucky suppresses an eye roll. “Stop calling me that, it sounds gross coming from you.”

Tony laughs on the other end, and Bucky finds himself chuckling as well.

“Whatever, you like it. And you better get used to it, because once my godson learns ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’, that’s all he’s going to want to say for a while.”

“I think we’re going with ‘baba’ and ‘mama,’ actually,” Bucky replies as he takes Ikemba out of his car seat and hands him to Shuri. He puts the phone on speaker and busies himself with putting their luggage in the closet.

Tony huffs. “You know what I mean. Anyway, how’s my girl?”

“I’m fine, Tony,” Shuri chimes in, settling in the recliner to nurse.

“I’m giving you a week, and then Pepper and I want a ton of pictures of baby boy.”

Shuri chuckles. “Of course. Give Pepper and the kids our love, okay? Well call you later in the week.”

“Alright, Your Majesty. Try to get some rest. You too, pops.”

Bucky snorts as he walks out of the bedroom and into the sitting room to give his loves some peace and quiet. He pauses briefly at the threshold, watching his wife nourish their son, his tiny little grunts and sighs practically melting him into a puddle of gratitude and adoration, before closing the door. “I’ll try. And Tony?”

“Yeah, Barnes.”

“Thank you.”

Tony hums in response. “Nothin’ to thank me for. You guys are family. Just take care of each other.”

Bucky’s chest warms, and he nods. “Of course.”

“Oh, Barnes.”

“What’s up?”

He can hear the smile in Tony’s voice as he replies, “Welcome to fatherhood.” And then the call ends.

A wide grin blooms across Bucky’s face as he walks over to the window overlooking the city. Bright, bustling, beautiful. Home. He closes his eyes and takes a real breath for the first time in three months.

After several minutes, the sweet lilt of Shuri’s voice singing a Wakandan lullaby reaches his ears and Bucky’s face hurts, he’s beaming so hard. He takes one more look at the landscape in front of him, then heads back into the bedroom to bask in the warmth of his family.

[waxwing-saint]

Masterpost.

I’m keeping this one out of the FW tags because it’s a stretch.

Jealousy. Fleur abruptly changes plans during the Battle of The Seven Potters when she realizes she’s the only one she trusts to protect Hermione, but after fighting off Voldemort himself they’ve missed their portkey. With a long thestral ride to think and Fleur’s marriage of convenience only days away, everything has just got Hermione feelin some type of way. Same girl, same.

Things are a little angsty today, but to be fair, the prompt was jealousy, so idk what you expected. There is a lot going on for Fleur as an individual that we couldn’t include because...well, spoilers. But also for Hermione, who won’t hear the word ‘mate’ come out of Gabrielle’s mouth for another four days and who has no idea that the frustrated feelings she has for the ever-confusing Fleur are something much, much more than what she currently understands them to be. Time to start screaming about Veela (with a capital V, as in, the language) under the cut:

cationix is a true hero for putting up with my absolutely feral obsession with this idea that veela vocal cords are different from human vocal cords. She’s such a hero that she even agreed to making both Fleur’s maternal and paternal grandmothers pureblood veela to keep her closer to the biology necessary to be able to harmonize with herself and physically speak the language like other veela. Is it heavy-handed? Yes. Is it ruining the fic? Probably. Do I care? I do not. Am I a total nerd about it? Best fuckin’ believe. If anyone else is a nerd and wants to be nerds together, my ask box is open.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[bangtanfancamp]

Make A Wish

Prompt: “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with..”

//It’s your birthday today, and there’s no one better to cheer you up than your best friend, Jimin//

-masterlist

•Best friends to lovers

•Park Jimin x reader

•12.3k words

•fluffy angsty fluff (my specialty)

•one shot

•( But could be the precursor to these drabbles- a, b - maybe? alternate timeline?  if you *squint*- maybe. lol)

• Jimin singing happy birthday (trust me, you need it in your life) 

~ quarantine got me feelin alive ~

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

“Jimiiiin, not tonight.” You moaned into your phone.

“Seriously? Y/n, what is going on with you? You never turn down poké. Are you sick? Oh my god, are you dying???” Jimin’s sweet voice sounded so concerned.

“No, Jimin.” you huffed. “ Calm down, you big baby. I’m not terminal. I just… today’s been a weird day, okay? My roommates are gone and I have the place entirely to myself to write and what did I do with it? Absolutely nothing. Nothing came out right all day. It was all hot garbage- which means I’m hot garbage, and now my head just hurts.” You pouted, flopping face down on your couch.

“That’s all? Y/n, you’re making a big deal out of nothing! Don’t you dare back out of letting me treat you for your birthday because your first draft was a first draft and not an instant masterpiece. We both know you know better than that.” His threat was unconvincing. He was as menacing as a piece of cotton fluff.

“It is not ‘nothing.’” You winced.

“Okay, okay. Bad choice of words. That was a little harsh… but you always back out on your birthday, y/n. I’m not letting you do that again.” He asserted firmly.

“Look Chim, all I wanted to do for my birthday was to have some silence to myself to do what I wanted - and I wanted to write. But now I’ve blown the whole day- all that time is gone. I can’t get it back, and I have nothing to show for it. I don’t want to get dolled up right now, and I certainly don’t have the patience to go out and belt karaoke around strangers with you tonight.” You stated matter of factly, ignoring Jimin’s huff of frustration.

“I just think getting you out of the house will get you out of your head, y/n.” Jimin sighed.

“And what if I don’t want to get out of my head? Huh? What if I want to wallow? If I can't be a good writer, then at least I can be a good tortured artist.” You sighed.

“This is ridiculous,” he scoffed. “ You’re not Hemingway. Get up off your butt and put on that maroon dress you always stuff in the back of your closet.”

“Are you ignoring me on purpose?” you grimaced. “I’m not going out. I’m not singing karaoke. I’m not squeezing myself into that god forsaken dress-you know the looks I get in that thing- and I’m not going to be nice to you when you won’t respect my wishes. It’s my birthday we’re celebrating, Jiminie. Not yours. Tonight’s not about you.” Ouch. You frowned. God, you loved him but he was so frustrating sometimes. Still, you probably could’ve pulled that punch a little.

“Okay, first of all, they look at you like that in that dress because you look hot as hell in it, by the way, but fine. Fine. If going out isn’t what you want, then what DO you want?” He sighed. You could picture him pinching the bridge of his stupidly perfect nose at a stop light, exasperated to the hilt with his stubborn best friend.

“You wanna know what I want? I’ve had a rough day, Jimin, and honestly, all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with... but I don’t drink. And I don’t have a boyfriend. So I would like- at the very least- to be coddled and allowed to be a potato tonight.” 

“You’re exhausting, you know that? You’re beautiful and young and the only person who doesn’t know how talented you are. Dummy.” His affectionate words were riddled with frustration. You couldn’t blame him. Your emotional bait and switch had wrecked the plans you’d both had set in stone for weeks now only to cancel an hour beforehand. He had a right to be grumpy, but so did you. And you had the birthday trump card, so he’d just have to suck it up. But, in the midst of all of that, you noticed something. It was super delayed through the thick fog of your pity glasses, but had he called you-

“Make yourself decent at least, I’m coming up.” You heard him shift his car into park and turn off his engine.

“Wait, you’re here?  I didn’t give my consent for this!” Your brows furrowed furiously low. 

”And?” Jimin sassed.“Nothing in this friendship would ever get done if I waited on you. We both know that. You ruined my plans, so I’m crashing your pity party.”

“Jimin, what part of ‘I want to be a potato’ didn’t you catch?” You frowned.

“The unwritten part where being a potato means being alone, dumb dumb. You can be a potato with company. I’m not letting you spend your birthday night alone again and - ughh god, why do you live on the third floor?” He huffed “Open up and let me in.” He demanded. Grunting, he gave your apartment door a few hefty whacks, ignoring the judgmental glare of your passing neighbor.

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, feeling decidedly like one of the three little pigs being bullied into letting the wolf in. Jimin’s certainly done enough huffing and puffing, you thought with an eye roll. Stuffing your cell into the kangaroo pocket of your grey hoodie, you trudged reluctantly to the door. At the door, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the  entryway mirror and grimaced. Yikes. 

You looked a mess. The bags under your eyes were positively cavernous today and half hidden behind the heavy clumps of hair slipping out of your defunct sloppy bun. Geeze. Not your best look. Sorry, chim...you get what you get. You thought dismissively. If he hadn’t had the decency to warn you, then you were under no obligation to tidy yourself up for him. I swear to god though, if he gives me crap about my pink bunny shorts, I’ll kill him.

“Oh my god, keep your shorts on! I’m coming!” You snapped. Unceremoniously, you yanked the door open only to be met with a view you never could  have expected. Jimin, he...looked beautiful tonight. You suddenly felt a chunk of disbelief lodge itself in your throat as you choked, struggling to get air in.

 Not long ago, he’d dyed his hair a stunning sterling silver, but he was always running so chronically late to everything that it never seemed to be styled. It was usually a lovably fluffy bleached out mess- but not today. Today It was parted off center, silky and blown out- coiffed up and away to frame his face, layers gently sweeping to highlight the cheekbones he didn’t know you loved. 

He wore a dark silky shirt, some impossibly deep shade of blue, unbuttoned just enough for his collarbones and a delicate silver necklace to slip through. As your eyes washed over him, you noticed the billowing fabric was tucked into the tightest pair of leather pants you’d ever seen and  a pair of classic, black pointed boots. Boy, when he did it, he did it up. Even the slight sheen of sweat across his brow bone honestly just highlighted how ethereal he was by nature. The whole ensemble made him look so elegant and lean and impossibly out of your league, even just as a friend.

Holy crap, I’d be pissed too if I looked that good, you thought to yourself.

“Are you gonna let me in or you gonna continue being a fluffy socked barricade?” He shifted his weight deep into one hip and my god, he looked fantastic. 

“Comin for the socks today, huh? I haven’t been demeaned enough?” You rolled your eyes heavenward.

“Demeaned? By whom? Not by me. Certainly. Now I’m serious, let me in, this is getting heavy.” He grunted, squeezing past you. For the first time, you noticed a giant canvas tote bag swinging behind him, stuffed to the brim with things you couldn’t quite see yet. Still standing stupefied in the doorway, you twisted back over your shoulder to watch him unceremoniously let the bag clunk down on your kitchen island with a thump.

“Geeze, what the heck is in there? A body?” 

“It was almost yours when you shot me that text mearlier.” He sighed, dipping to rummage in the bag, tongue poking the inside of his beautiful cheek as he scowled. “But, as much as I hate you for it right now..” he tightened his jaw. “You are right. It is your birthday.  I could tell even over text that you weren’t feeling your best. And nobody should be miserable -or alone- on their birthday. So! I left early and made a few stops on my way.” He confessed, hands titling along the steep incline of his perfect hips.

“What kind of stops?” You queried as you tugged your too long sleeves over your knuckles.

“The kind even you can’t put up a fuss about.” He replied, reaching forward to tap you on the forehead with an elegant finger, his eyes softening and a smile playing on the edge of his lips.

“I pick my battles.” You argued, shrugging defiantly as you stuffed your hands in your hoodie pocket.

“Uh huh…. sure you do. That’s why I look like this,” he gestured along his elegant body, but you averted your eyes halfway through the journey, “and you look like you’re auditioning for the reboot of the big comfy couch in those pajamas.”

“Are you calling me a clown?” Your eyes narrowed as you sized up his response.

“ I am not actually. But I’m also not the one who canceled my own birthday plans just to wallow in my own mortality, so if the clown shoes fit…”

Jimin’s snarky comment was swiftly cut off by the sound of his sharp, undignified yelp when you smacked him with a tasseled throw pillow to the face.

“Watch it, Park. I am intrigued, but you are on thin ice.” Your squinted eyes pierced his, and only for a second, his cocky facade wavered. 

“Duly noted.” His silver ringed fingers reached up to trace the cheekbone you bludgeoned as your stomach tilted a little.

“Back on the man jewelry train, are we?” Still pouting, you kept a guarded distance as your eyes dragged over the silhouette of his hands, your tongue flicking out to wet your suddenly dry lips.

“Never got off, sweetheart.” He replied smoothly, sending a wink your way as the light glinted brightly off the silver threads dancing from his ears.. “Especially on a special night. Even if your ungrateful behind is the only one who will see me in my majesty now. A travesty really.” He huffed, twisting to look down at himself- the lines of his dancer’s body impossibly striking as usual, even with little to no effort. You shook your head to break the one sided tension.

“Yes, yes, the female population will shrivel up and die now that they don’t get to watch you sip champagne in public on someone else’s birthday-What a waste. Is there a point to all this, Park, or did you just come over to siphon sympathy from me? Because if that’s the point of your visit, I have none to give you. There’s only enough for me. So if you’ll excuse me, I have some grade-A emoting to get back to that you have so rudely interrupted.” You cocked your hip triumphantly, hands contentedly pocketed away as your hair flopped to the side.

“You know,” a gentle smile curved across Jimin’s face as he dug through the bag, “you don’t have to make it this hard to love you all the time, y/n. It’s got to be exhausting. It wouldn’t kill you to let me in sometimes.”

“You don’t know that. It very well might.” You stuck your chin out. You weren’t hard to love. Not on purpose. Prickly sometimes, but not hard to love. Neither was Jimin, for that matter. In fact, he was entirely too easy to love. It had become a bit of a problem actually. Nibbling on your thumbnail, you mentally noted that his sweetness actually made your life much harder than it needed to be most of the time. It meant you had to keep a salty wall of platonic sarcasm up out of necessity at all times- distance must be maintained, you assured yourself- because otherwise you might be forced to confront the fact that you actually, sort of, maybe had-

“Well, you won’t be going anywhere tonight- unless you die of happiness from my birthday gifts.” 

When you turned back over your shoulder, Jimin was positively beaming. It softened something in you, sent a burst of warmth sparkling in your stomach. In spite of yourself, a tiny smile stole across your lips, lighting up your tired eyes.

“Presents? For me? What do you have up your sleeve?” You lazily tugged on his billowing midnight blue shirt. Your voice was softer now, curiosity beginning to creep in and overtake your resistance.

“Ha ha. Very punny. You’ll see soon. Where’s your lighter at?” 

“By the candle. Over in the window.” You pointed, rising up on your toes in an attempt to see around his shoulder. He shifted to block your view as you caught your first whiff of the subtle notes in his cologne. God, he was so extra. Cologne for poke and karaoke. You couldn’t lie though, it mingled so nicely with his natural scent. It was so indescribably Jimin that you bit back a grin as he turned to follow your finger.

 “Christ. How have you not caught this place on fire yet? It’s right next to your curtains!” He mumbled.

“Is this you being nice to me yet? Cuz I can’t tell.” You laughed dryly. 

“Fine. I’ll try if I have to. We just might have to blow out the curtains instead of the candles.” He sighed, but the laughter creeping back into his voice betrayed him. 

That was one of the great things about Jimin. If he was ever mad at you, it really was just because he cared that much about you. Selfishly, you kind of loved how stubbornly he insisted on making you let him in. No one had really ever bothered to push back before him. And god, was he cute when he was determined. 

Spinning on his heels, Jimin clasped your shoulders, eyes bright. “All right, birthday girl. You wanna be a potato? Be a potato. Just be a potato with her eyes closed.” He led you to your sofa and guided you to sit so you didn’t flop down and injure yourself. “Stay right here, and don’t peek or I swear to god, y/n…”

“You swear to God you’ll what?” You snickered. “Threats of bodily harm aren't really on my wish list this year, Chim.” 

“Oh my god, y/n. Must everything be a joke to you? ….Maybe there are people who really do just love you and want you to be happier than you let yourself be. Maybe they’re even at your apartment trying to show you how important you are on a day when you’re...acting like an ungrateful butt.” He grunted under the effort of something. You frowned.

“Hey, are you okay over there?” 

“I’m fine.” He panted. “Eyes closed!”

“All right, all right.” You worried your hands in your lap as he scurried about. “They’re closed…. And I know. I know I’m being a brat today.” You confessed.

“It that….self awareness, I hear? The clarity your new age has brought you.” His airy voice mocked. Internally rolling your eyes, you continued.

“Make all the jokes you want. I know. Life has just… its kind of sucked lately, Jiminie. I really just wanted one day to myself to work on these story ideas I never have time for. Do something I’m passionate about, you know? But nothing flowed today. I’m so out of practice, Chim. Everything I wrote today sucked. Whenever anyone asks what I do for a living, I want to tell them “I’m a writer” but then they’ll ask what I’ve written. And I don’t have anything worth showing them…I just, feel like such an imposter.” You flopped back against the couch, tucking your feet up in your lap as your eyes searched the ceiling. 

“Eyes closed, Socrates. Wax philosophical when I’m finished.” He chided.

“....Jimin.” Your voice was traitorously soft now. “What- what if I’m already a failure? What if I never get published? ” You scrunched your eyes shut, a rebellious tear escaping as you tried to hold it back. All noise in the room stopped as Jimin stilled. Suddenly, quick as a whisper, you felt the cushion next to you sink, dipping beneath Jimin’s weight.

“Y/n, is  that what’s really been bothering you?” His voice was gentle, full of care. You sniffled softly, nodding your head in assent. You couldn't bear to say it out loud again. Jimin exhaled, heavy and low beside you. “Oh best friend, what a backwards way to spend your birthday.”

“Huh, don’t I know it.” You muttered wryly, resting your chin on your knees. 

“Stay here.” Jimin leaned forward and brushed a soft, reassuring kiss to the top of your hair before the couch righted itself, fluffing back in his absence. “I’ve got this. I know just want to do. Don’t move.”

Before you could ask for an explanation or even process what he’d just done, the room around you went dark, the glow beyond your eyelids sinking into a fuzzy dimness. What on earth was he up to?

“Jimin, what are you-“ You’d barely had time to question before Jimin’s silky, breathy voice was floating on the air.

“Happy birthday to you 

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday,  y/n

Happy birthday to you”

Your thick lashes fluttered open to find Jimin bent low in front of you, a small but beautiful birthday cake in his outstretched hands, lit with long stemmed candles that flickered like sparklers. “Make a wish, jagiya.” 

“I told you not to call me that,” you sniffled, all your fight dissolving at his impossible sweetness. 

“Please. We both know you love it.” He teased softly, voice so gentle it was almost a whisper. He smiled up at you, his coffee colored eyes swirling with delight. Humbled, you looked at him in awe, forgetting for a second that it was your job to blow out the candles...but God, how beautiful he looked in the flickering light. He shouldn’t even be possible, you thought. You mentally recorded the way the apples of his cheeks glowed in the candle light before dipping at your hips to lean forward and blow across the cake, extinguishing them all in one low huff as you hid your wish away in the corner of your heart.

“Yay!!!!” Jimin cheered. “What’d you wish for?” He asked nosily. “A boyfriend?” He bounced his eyebrows cheekily. 

Why would I ? You thought, when you’re here, looking so devastatingly soft and beautiful. Internally you sighed, but out loud you shot back with a snarky, “Ha Ha. Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sticking your tongue out defiantly.

“Maybe you’ll spill the beans once you see the rest of your gifts.” He teased, eyebrows lifting happily, his smile full of secrets.

“Rest of my gifts?” You asked, brows scrunching. 

“Oh absolutely. I know my presence alone should be enough to spoil you, but if we’re not going out, I guess we’ll do it up here instead.” He winked. Sliding to the side, he sat cross legged on the floor between you and the coffee table. There were three boxes, each with a number taped to the front.

“Is there a method to this madness?” You queried, reaching for box number 2.

“Yah, open number 1 first, you philistine! God, who decided to let you teach children every day?” He chided, smacking your hand away. 

“Yeesh, Fine- be boring.” You spat, tongue flicking out defiantly at him, only to have him shoot the same face back at you. “ I’ll go in order.” You mocked.

Dipping down once again, you pulled the lid off the top of gift box number 1 only to be greeted by the rich smells of your favorite Chinese take out dishes. You couldn’t help yourself when you started laughing. “Seriously, Chim?” Your eyes were bright and happy, a sparkle creeping into them for the first time tonight. Jimin reveled in it.

“It’s impossible to be sad with a mouth full of shrimp fried rice. Science.” He shrugged as your brow arched suspiciously back at him, stifling your smile. 

“Besides, if we’re not going out, you still have to eat. You might want to be a starving artist but God, we both know you’re an ogre when you’re hangry. So, technically the first gift is for both of us.” He quipped.

 “I resent that statement.” You rebuffed

“I’m sure you do. Doesn’t make it any less true.” Jimin smiled, leaning back on his palms to look up at you.  Tipping his head to the side, his luscious hair flopped into his eyes. Despite your annoyance, your heart still fluttered at the sight. You were tempted to lean over and fix it, but he carded his jeweled fingers back through it before you could. God, he’s so pretty, you swallowed. Focus.

“Open the next one!” he instructed. He shot you a lighthearted wink before shuffling present two towards you. 

Indulging in a heavy, gag filled eye roll at his wink, you ignored the butterflies swarming insistently in your stomach. Traitors. “So bossy...The nonsense I put up with from you,” you murmured.

“It’s mutual, darling. Trust me. You’re no peach either.” His words were snarky but his eyes, his tone, were entirely loving. It threatened to melt you right there on the floor like spilled ice cream but you resisted showing it.

 “Now open it! Open it!” He insisted. His eagerness made you question who the gift was really for at this point, but his innocent happiness was too infectious to resist. Unfurling the ribbon wrapped around box 2, you felt a smile burst across your face without your permission as rental copies of your favorite movies stared back at you from the box.

“Chim, what is all this?” You asked, shaking your head in disbelief at him.

“In my years of research, your day is always better after a full belly and a good movie. You sounded pretty bleak earlier so I didnt know if you’d want to be pulled out of this mood or bask in it. So I got the full spectrum just in case- all the way from tacky explosions to quiet British gardens.” He shrugged his shoulders lazily, as if that solution to your bad day was as easy as first grade math and not the sweet, attentive gesture it was.

“But you don’t even like half of these.” You added skeptically.

“So? You do. That’s the whole point.” Head tipping to the side, he smiled that glorious smile at you that melted you just a little bit more.

“But I’ve already canceled your night. I’m not gonna make you spend the next four hours making you watch movies you don’t like.” You deadpanned.

“God, four hours? What are we watching?” He sneered.

“The run time is not my point.” Your eyes rolled. “You just…. already gave up your night for me. What if it sucks?” You couldn’t quite look at him. Your question tumbling out softly, more vulnerable than intended.

Jimin shook his head, a gentle sigh leaving his lips. “Another year older and no wiser”

Confused, your eyes flicked up to his, already watching you with a warmth you didn’t understand. He spoke softly when he said,

“I want to be here, y/n. If I’m with you, my night can’t suck.” 

The genuine smile that carved his eyes into sparkling moon slivers cut through your cynicism in a way only he could. “Do you trust me?” He asked gently. You could only summon up a small nod, eyes struggling to meet his.

“Then let. me. love. you.” He punctuated each pause by tapping you below your collarbone, just above your heart, not hard enough to sting, just enough to know he was real, here and he meant it as your eyes grew misty.  “At least for today. This only happens once a year. Tonight’s about you, remember? So we’re gonna do what you like. Plan A is out? That’s fine. It was too me centered anyway. Besides,” he rummaged through the cases. “ the ghibli ones are nice. And the pride and prejudice guy isn’t half bad. He’s grown on me seventeen rewatches in.” He smirked. God he was going to be the death of you.

“Okay, I’ve made you watch that twice- max.” You defended.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right. It just felt like seventeen because the movie’s so dang long.” He looked off in the distance thoughtfully.

“You brat! You’re not helping.” Fighting back another smile, you attempted to smack him with the nearest pillow again (Pom pom trimmed this time) but he quickly caught your wrist and dodged it.

“Ah ah, not this time.” He looked so proud of himself as he took the pillow and happily stuffed it in his lap and out of your reach. “ Besides, I am helping. See? You’re smiling now.” His glittering eyes were innocent and bright as he looked up at you. 

“Am not,” you lied. 

“Your face betrays you, madam.” He whispered, leaning forward to softly poke your cheek where your dimple was beginning to show. For reasons you couldn’t comprehend, you felt your face grow warm under his gentle gaze like the sparklers

from the candles had been relit beneath your skin. Your cheeks must be a flaming pink right now, but If he caught you blushing, he certainly didn’t acknowledge it, and for that you were grateful.

“Fine. I’ll pick which film we torture you with later. Something romantic and peaceful and slow.” You threatened.

“Do your worst, madam.” He saluted.

“Stop calling me madam, weirdo. What’s in the third box?” You shuffled on the sofa, clearing your throat and feigning disinterest. 

“Ah, the piece de resistance.” He clutched his hand to his silky chest dramatically.

“Must you do the French thing right now?” You quipped, feeling your eyes roll of their own accord.

“Yes, in fact, I must.” He shot back indignantly. “Do you have any idea how long it took to find this? Your taste is excruciating, I swear. Can’t just get you a forever 21 sweater like everyone else- no.” His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of whatever burden he’d been carrying while present hunting for you.

“To be fair, you can’t get anyone a forever 21 sweater anymore.” You grimaced.

“Touché. Gone too soon. Another tragedy” fist to his chest, his eyes shot heavenward in salute to his fallen friend. Idiot. Coming back to the moment, he yet again became insistent.“….now come on! Open it will you!” He scooted closer excitedly, nudging the third and largest gift in your direction.

“Okay, Okay! Keep your pants on. Geeze, who’s birthday is it anyway?” You shot him a look that would have killed an inferior man, but not jimin.

“Nope. Don’t give me that face. Open it, y/n. Trust me. You’ll like it. I promise.” His eyes then, so round and soft, so full of eagerness and innocence, undid you then. You would have done just about anything for him then when he looked at you like that. Wouldn’t kill me to let you in, huh? Lies, you sighed.

Bending down, you attempted to lift the box into your lap like the others only to barely be able to budge it. “Christ, what is IN this?” You asked, only to be greeted by his eager giggles as he mimed zipping his lips shut. After struggling enough with whatever this was, you decided to climb down to the floor next to jimin to open it there. And as you untied the bow and lifted the lid, the whole world went a little blurry as tears filled your eyes.

“Chim…. you didn’t.” Clapping your hands over your lips, you looked at him, heart stunned and collapsing in on itself with love as a beautiful glossy vintage typewriter beamed up at you from inside the box.

“Happy birthday, jagiya.” He smiled, voice a simple whisper. All the admiration in the world glowed back at you through his eyes. It took everything in you not to burst into undignified sobs as you crawled over into his lap, sinking your nose into his neck as he wrapped you in his arms.

“How… where did you find this?” Your voice muffled from being pressed to his throat.

“I can’t tell you all my secrets.” The smile in his voice was heavenly as he held you, his steady hands rubbing your back. “This was going to be your present all along. I improvised the others.” 

“You were gonna bring a typewriter to a karaoke bar?” you asked inquisitively.

“Eh, it’s not always a bad thing when the plan changes,” he shrugged, a smile on his lips.

The room went quiet as you pressed into the affectionate grip of Jimin’s arms. “It looks just like his.” you sniffled.

“Do you like it?” Jimin’s fingers gently tucked beneath your chin to bring your eyes back to his from where they’d been buried in his shoulder. Did he really need to ask? Sheepishly, you nodded, a wobbly lift to your lips curving up into a wonky smile.

“It’s wonderful.” You breathed, glistening eyes focused only on him. “I can’t believe you found this. There are so few of that style of typewriter left.” 

“It’s my best friend's birthday. I had to find something spectacular for her. She’s a writer, you know. But she’s really hard on herself a lot. I thought, maybe... finding a typewriter like the one her dad had when she was a little girl might help her remember why she loved to write so much in the first place.” 

His thumb brushed delicately across your cheek, catching a small tear you didn’t know had fallen as your heart stopped- completely forgot why it was supposed to beat. Noticing the startled look in your eyes, Jimin’s confidence stuttered just for a second as he started to pull his hand away. “Sorry, is that… too much?”

You didn’t know if he meant his words or his touch, but before you could even think, you’d grabbed his hand and placed it back on your cheek, your fingers gently tracing the back of his. Jimin’s eyes went wide at the gesture. Shaking your head softly, your eyes flicked back to his. “No. It’s not. It’s not too much.” You assured. 

You both stayed like that longer than either of you knew- you placed in his lap, one of his hands wrapped around your waist, the other caught against your cheek as held held it close, both of you unsure of yourselves as you got lost in the others gaze. It felt decidedly like more and less than friendship all at the same time

Friends were thoughtful. Friends helped pull you out of a funk. Friends gave each other birthday gifts, really really thoughtful ones that reached back into your childhood and mended a little broken piece of you. Friends hugged each other when they were happy, right? Friends romanticized all the good things about you. Friends felt their belly go sparkly and gooey at the cool touch of his rings against your cheek. Friends… appreciated how breathtaking you were in close proximity. Friends let their eyes caress the rim of your lips...right?

“Um, the um… fried rice is… probably getting cold.” You said, but for all your effort it barely came out above a whisper.

“Yeah, we shouldn’t… uh, let it get cold.” Jimin’s lashes fluttered closed as he bent to press his forehead against yours. A shaky exhale came from his nose, like he was gathering all his willpower… for something… before he pulled back, a warm smile back on his face. “Come on, let’s feed you.” He pressed a swift kiss to your forehead before quickly starting to get up.

Starry eyed with wonder at whatever the hell just happened between you, you scrambled out of his lap and onto the fluffy rugged floor. Jimin swept his luscious hair out of his eyes with glistening fingers as he stood, and your breath caught. Damn him and that beautiful profile. 

“Is your DVD player still in the bedroom? I’ll grab it and hook it up in here.” He coughed unnecessarily, lifting his chest and chin with purpose as he immediately vacated the room.

Well dang. Wasn’t that whole moment a twist. Your fingers absentmindedly found their way to the cheek he’d touched, marveling at the remnant crackles of electricity still sparkling there. Lost to your thoughts, you ignored the thumps and sounds of frustration coming from the other room. Jimin could be ransacking the place for all you knew, destroying your carefully curated sleeping space with his clumsiness as he dissembled the entertainment system but you couldn’t care less right now.

He’d never… looked at you like that. A smile you couldn’t contain burst across your face- giddy, girly and happy. Your fingers brushed your lips. The way Jimin was watching them like…it was almost like he- like he wanted to- no. That was too much. Everything tonight had been a lot, but to let yourself go there? No. You couldn’t let yourself think about him like that, let yourself wonder if he thought about you like that but...

“Good grief, y/n. What drunk wombat hooked this up for you?” Jimin grumped from behind the wall.

“You did, remember?” You piped back. All the fight had left your body at his affection but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still play with him a little.

“Why on earth would you let me do that?” He complained.

“I didn’t! I was unpacking my dishes in the kitchen when you disappeared for forever and came back all proud of yourself for setting it up. I didn’t have the heart to tell you what a mess it was.” Your words were sarcastic, but your tone was light, your troubles having melted away at his sweetness.

“Hmm, generous of you but past me was clearly an idiot. Why in God’s name did I put it all together like this?” 

“Theirs not to make reply, 

Theirs not to reason why, 

Theirs but to do and die.” 

You recited back to him in a sing song fashion.

“Did you just- was that the charge of the freaking light brigade?!? What is this, tenth grade English?” 

“So you were paying attention back then.” You snickered.

“To Miss Golightly in those tiny dresses? You bet I did.” Jimin appeared from around the corner, DVD player and cords in tow as he winked sleazily at you and you fake gagged.  

“I despise you sometimes.” You frowned.

“That’s a funny way to say you love me.” He observed, kneeling in front of your living room tv to begin setting up your birthday movie marathon. And just like that, you were both back in your groove as you shook your head at him.

“You’re appalling, you know that. That woman was twice our age !” You chided.

“Slander. Holly couldn’t have been more than what- 24? 25?- at the time. Besides, you’re older than me too, you know. Never bothered me any,” he shot back, a wicked grin on his face.

“Hey!! Not by that much! And that is irrelevant right now. We are discussing your moral failings right now, not mine, young one.” You curled your knees against your chest, pouting matter of factly.

“I don’t know how befriending beautiful women who are out of my league is a moral failing but if it is, I have no intention of repenting.” He shrugged lightly as you shook your head at him. “Potsticker please.” 

Digging through the box, you found the take out carton of veggie potstickers and held it in his direction, pointedly ignoring the fact that he’d just called you-

“No, feed me! My hands are dusty.” He turned his palms out to you in innocence.

“I’m not going to feed you, Chim.” You deadpanned. 

“Why not?” He whined. “I’m slaving away for you! The least you could do is feed the help.”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything! I was going to emote ALONE tonight, remember?” your spunky fire was back, full tilt. No one got under your skin like him.

“You ungrateful little… yeah, without me you would’ve drowned your sorrows in cold pop tarts and home decor YouTube videos- alone. Happy birthday! One year closer to death,” He griped.

“Don’t hate on the noble pop tart. Besides, that sounds like a great night.” You lied.

“At least toss it to me, you uncultured fiend. I’ll catch it and stave off starvation a little longer.” He pretended to feel faint, wilting against the wall.

“Oh my god, don’t be so dramatic, you big baby. We both know I can’t throw for crap and even if I could, you can’t catch. Come here.” You sighed mournfully. Another eye roll that heavy, and they might get stuck back there. 

Triumphantly, Jimin dutifully scooted toward you, having won the battle, if not the war, and happily opened his mouth.

Face heavy with displeasure, you fed him the dumpling, grumbling every second of the way... until his mouth brushed your finger as he bit down and your world tilted sideways. With his cheeks happy and full, Jimin capitalized on your flustered state by pressing a soft, very intentional kiss first to your thumb and then to your palm before playfully bouncing his eyebrows and returning to his work. 

Shellshocked beyond measure, you crawled back toward the sofa, nestling down on a velvet floor cushion in front of it and trying to regain your bearings. The heck was THAT? you wondered. This night was certainly taking an interesting turn. Quite a few at this point.

A few moments later, your tv suddenly sprang to life, peaceful music playing through the speakers as the menu glistened on the screen.

Triumphantly, Jimin strolled back across the room and draped himself elegantly across your sofa, one foot on the floor by your hip, the other stretching across the length of the couch. “There! Hand me the lo mein so we can get this night started.” He was so pleased with himself, he hadn’t even noticed your delayed motor functions as you sputtered on the floor. A fresh breeze blew through the window carrying the scent of his cologne and you were almost undone.

“What was that about?” You asked, carefully avoiding looking back at him as you handed him his noodles.

“What was what about?” This brat. You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he feigned ignorance.

“Don’t play the fool with me. You know good and well what. Since when do we kiss each other’s hands? Or hair ? Or foreheads? Or kiss at all for that matter. In any context??” You accused, getting slightly riled up.

“Does that mean you didn’t like it?” He asked, cocky smirk etched permanently on his face now. That little rat.

“Answer the damn question, Park. Don’t toy with me.” You snapped, admittedly a bit too ferociously, but you couldn’t tell if you were pissed off or aroused and both options knocked the wind out of your chest. Plus, had he seen himself? He wasn’t playing fair.

“Woah woah. Calm down. Didn’t you want to watch something tranquil? You’re ruining the vibe, birthday girl.” You could hear the chuckle in his voice as he teased you, and yup, it definitely pissed you off. 

“Ha Ha. Answer my question.” You shot him a look he knew better than to press. Acquiescencing, he sighed, his shoulders dropping and face shaking softly as he smiled down at you.

“You said you wanted cuddles today. You’re being a standoffish butt today, but we both know you want affection. Even if you won’t let yourself have it.” He stated matter of factly.

“Humph. Well who says I want affection from YOU anyway?” You huffed, arms crossing as you arched an equally annoyed eyebrow at him.

“You do, dummy.” Oh no. You’ve been exposed.

“The frick are you talking about?” You scowled, voice dripping with accusation. He was still looking at you kindly, the patience of Noah, as he calmly gathered his thoughts to answer you- like you were a ridiculous child and he needed to word it right so you didn’t fly off the handle, fully unhinged. The idea only made you more gruff.

“I see your face when I touch you, y/n. You think I’ve been your best friend this long and can’t read those big eyes of yours?” Drat. Sold out by your own body. Traitorous. 

“What do you mean?” Brows pinched, you clutched a cushion into your lap, like it could guard his perceptive eyes from seeing straight through to your heart again.

“Y/n, we both know what I mean.” He said gently.

The worst part was he was right. 

You knew your eyes went wide and starry for him, constantly and without your consent. It was a miracle it had taken him as long as it had to say something. But why was he calling you out on it today? Of all days?

Sighing, you accepted your fate. You’d been called out. No one knew you like Jimin. No one else cared for you like this. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t felt yourself hopelessly slipping into an infatuation with him lately. But what were you supposed to do when he acted like this? Paying attention to the tiniest details, being kind when you definitely didn’t deserve it, looking like that. I mean, come on. You’re just a girl, for Pete’s sake. Humans can only put up with so much stimuli. But to feel so exposed… your feelings so bare to him without meaning to. Unsettled you.

Despite his teasing tone, Jimin’s eyes went unexpectedly soft as he whispered your name. Turning back to look at him, his thumb found your chin again as something sweet blossomed in his gaze. “ I really do just want to take care of you today. You’re my best friend, y/n. You know how much you matter to me. I was just being playful but…. if this is too much, I can reel it back in. We don’t have to do anything you're uncomfortable w…”

“Oh god. Shut up. You sound like the school counselor.” You interrupted. His glittering laugh filled the room at your outburst. 

“Mrs. Applebaum?!  Another immaculately dressed woman. Those legs? in those skirts?” He let out a low whistle as you frowned. “Didn’t mind getting counseled by those one bit.”

“You pig. You're disgusting.”

“And You’re hilarious. See? This is why I keep you.” He pinched your cheek proudly as you swatted him away. “Now, do you want me to stop?” He asked bluntly, His eyes suddenly firm. 

Did you want Jimin to stop being affectionate with you? God no. You just weren’t sure it meant to him what it meant to you. Or if it was selfish of you to allow it. But you couldn’t figure out how to word any of that. So instead of articulating your emotions like a healthy adult, you shook your head “no” heatedly, like a small child and he chuckled at you. 

“Okay, then. Turn around and watch the movie. If I have to sit through three hours of this, the least you could do is enjoy it.” He ruffled your messy bun as you turned around to watch the movie, happily leaning your cheek against his knee. Admittedly, you were more content than you’d been in ages, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

 About twenty minutes into the movie, you were still comfortably leaning into his sculpted calf when he muttered, “Now this we’ll have to do something about” before unceremoniously grabbing at the unraveling scrunchie holding your precarious bun together.

“Hey!” You yelped as he snatched at your hair. “The heck are you doing?” You barked.

“Calm down. I’m going to detangle this birds nest. It’s blocking my view,” He chuckled. “Eat your fried rice,” He sassed as he pivoted your head back toward the screen.

And so the night went, Jimin lazily running his smooth fingers through your hair as you happily munched on shrimp fried rice and lost all your fight as you got swept away in the beautiful movie playing on your screen. Occasionally you’d take a mental step back to savor how incredibly soft Jimin’s constant touch felt as he played in your hair and marvel that you’d survived this long without it. When he got so good at this and when he figured out you loved having your hair played with so much were questions you didn’t have the answer to, and you really didn’t need to as long as he kept doing it. 

As much as you hated to admit it, even to yourself, he’d been right not to let you spend tonight alone. Occasionally, you’d glance back at him and he’d catch your eyes only for both of you to burst into a fit of giggles. He’d been right- good food, a good movie and good company was all you needed to get out of your funk. 

When had he gotten so much smarter than you?

As the movie credits came to a close, You reluctantly rose up to your feet, stretching out your crumpled back like a little cat as your now loose hair tumbled down around you. Jimin took the opportunity to poke your stomach beside your belly button as he glided past you toward the kitchen and you yelped.

“You ready for a slice of cake, sunshine?” He chuckled. Tugging down your sweatshirt, you followed behind him into the kitchen before promptly climbing up to sit cross legged up on the island. 

“Why not.” You chirped. 

“Do my ears deceive me - or do you sound almost, dare I say, happy?” Jimin asked in mock surprise, hand to his chest.

“And what if I am?” You bit your lip, suppressing the smile threatening to burst across your face.

“Then I’ve done my job right.” He smiled, face swooping in dangerously close to yours, voice dropping to a timbre he rarely ever used as his thumb swiped just below your bottom lip. Your breath stilled in your chest, but instead of drawing closer, he threw his head back laughing, the bright brilliant sound crashing through the walls of your apartment.

 He left you there, a fluttering mess, as he grabbed a beautiful cake knife from his industrial sized bag of birthday gifts, plus two gold forks and two small plates, each rimmed in gold and small flowers. “Now, we doing ladylike slices- or we going ham on this cake?”

Sputtering to find your voice again, you retorted a breathy “go big or go home” as he happily cut a massive wedge of cake, one for him, one for you before lithely hopping up beside you on the island. He happily swung his bare feet over the edge, elegant boots having been chucked off ages ago. “Happy birthday!” He giggled, clinking the edge of his plate against yours like a toast. 

“Happy birthday,” you muttered back, shaking your head at him softly. What were you going to do with this man? You were grateful to shovel your mouth full of cake just so you wouldn’t have to talk again for the next few minutes. 

“You eat birthday cake like a hamster,” Jimin laughed. 

“You flirt like a hoe.” You piped back. “You don’t play fair.” 

“Why would I? Fair’s no fun.” He tapped you on the nose with the tip of his fork.

“Hey!” You swiped at him. “Don’t waste the frosting! That’s a criminal offense in this house.”

“You gonna lock me up then, officer?” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

“Must everything be a joke to you, Park?” You huffed, parroting back his words to you from earlier.

“Oh come on. Lighten up. You know you love it. It’s the only reason I’m still alive to do it.” He bumped your elbow with his, his glittering eyes full of playful delight.

“Whether there’s any truth to that or not, ease up. You don’t see me cracking any of this crap back at you, and I don’t want to seize up and have a heart attack before I finish the great American novel. So…”

“Will I be in it, do you think?” He asked, coffee eyes inquisitive and bright.

“In what?” You asked dumbly.

“In your great American novel. Obviously.”

“I mean, I guess you could. You’d make a pretty convincing annoying ferret if you play your cards right.” You shrugged, popping another massive chunk of cake in your mouth. The icing was creamy decadence and you reveled in it as jimin sputtered at your response.

“A ferret?! You wound me, madam! is that all our friendship has meant to you?” His voice was indignant now.

“A talking ferret?” You offered. “But that’s the highest I’ll go.” You shrugged.

“How dare you.” He frowned. “ I don’t even make it in as a tragic hero? Some coming of age romance’s leading man? You’re gonna make me a weasel?” His voice was becoming shrill.

“Ferret. Not a weasel. A very stylish, talking ferret, who rides around on the heroine’s shoulders and accompanies her in her travels while providing her companionship and wise counsel.” You nod matter of factly. 

“I’m your emotional support weasel?” His lip curled distastefully.

“Again, ferret. But yes, actually, that’s exactly what you are. You’re the constant that keeps the heroine sane and guides her on her journey. While wearing an assortment of adorable tiny stylish outfits.” You popped more cake in your mouth, pleased with yourself.

“Seriously? That’s it? Do I at least get to transform into a human from time to time?” the poor boy's wounded ego was trying its best to be optimistic.

“No, you stay travel size. So you can dutifully scurry out of the tent when the dreamy knight finally makes his move on me.” You sighed wistfully. But Jimin’s brows formed a decidedly flat frown.

“So I’m flounder?? From the little mermaid???” 

“I don’t know how much wise counsel he gave, but he was definitely her best friend. Plus you both have the same cheeks.” You reached forward to pinch his supple face. Altogether too depressed to duck out of the way, Jimin opted instead to scowl at you for all he was worth while you teased him.

“You know flounder was in love with Ariel right? And she abandons him. Without hesitation. To get the guy. With no remorse. And he’s just left alone, terrified that she might not survive and knowing that even if she does, she’s never coming back for him!” Jimin looked horrified.

“Which is why I take the ferret WITH me instead of leaving him behind. But on to more important things, did you just accidentally confess your love to me? Oh jimin, after all this time.” Your eyes go mockingly wide.

“Don’t sass me right now woman. I thought you didn’t give me that kind of crap back?” He deadpanned.

“Just when I’m feeling extra feisty. Like you know, on my birthday.” You scrunched your nose, smiling back at him.

“Ha Ha. I’m taking my cake back.” He pouted.

“Not so fast.” You swipe a bite from the slice of cake on his plate, gobbling it up before he can stop you.

“Thief.” He scowled.

“Baby.” You stuck your tongue out.

“Don’t call me that outside the bedroom.”

“I don’t want to be in a bedroom with you.” You snapped defensively.

“That’s not what your eyes said earlier.” He teased, and just like that he had the upper hand again.

“Again with that? This is ridiculous! What are we even doing, chim?” You sighed, plopping your plate down.

“Careful with the china!” He scolded.

“I’m serious.” You cocked your head to the side. “Since when do we flirt and bait each other like this? What’s going on?” There was an exasperation in your eyes he hadn’t expected.

“We banter all the time,” he defended. Your half lidded eyes shot him a sharp “cut the crap” look, and he took a deep breath. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. The truth this time, chim. This feels different…” an unexpected wave of bravery swept over you. “and you know it too. You...you  aren’t usually like this with me. All night you’ve been cheeky and flirty and touchy with me…. and whatever that was after you gave me the typewriter. You- you didn’t look like you then. You don’t ...look at me like that. What’s going on, Jimin? The truth this time.” Your eyes rounded with sincerity, and his cocky facade toppled.

“You’re not dropping this, are you?” He swallowed.

“Nope.”

“Fine….last chance to back out. You can’t unknow once you know.” His half smile was wobbly and unconvincing.

“Not a chance, Park. Spill.” Your eyes were firm, but kind. You watched Jimin’s shoulder rise and fall before he angled his torso in your direction, shuffling his words around in his mouth, tasting 

them before he shared them with the world.

“Maybe,” he started. “Maybe this feels different because...it is. Maybe I’d had a plan.” He carded his hands through his hair as you watched him. “Get dressed to the nines. Take you out, treat you to champagne, make you laugh. Spin you around. Sing your favorite songs to you. Give you the best night of your life so you forget how hard you are on yourself for a little while.. make you feel special. Give you your gift. Then at the end of the night, when we’d be all happy and giddy, maybe…” he paused, drawing in a quick breath. “Maybe I’d finally have the courage to tell you I like you when I say goodnight and kiss you at the front door. Maybe I thought I’d be brave enough to do that tonight.” Jimin rests his elbows on his thighs, breathing out slowly, like he was trying to calm his body from going into shock before gathering his composure to meet your eyes. 

You stare back at him- floored. 

“So… when I cancelled everything?” You swallowed.

“I had to scramble to salvage my plan.” He shrugged honestly. “I'd been working up the nerve to tell you for months, y/n. I knew I’d lose my nerve if I didn’t tell you tonight.” His deep eyes met yours with a “what can you do” smirk.

“But I’ve been a brat to you all night.” You felt awful.

“In your defense, it was a pretty big birthday. Existential crises really make beasts of us all.” His boyish smile was warm and adorable.

“I feel like a monster.” Your face fell. You’d been difficult and obnoxious all night and all along, here he’d been gearing up the nerve to spill his heart to you. If it was possible, you liked yourself even less than earlier. You were beyond belligerent with yourself- if any other girl had done even half of this to Jimin you would have pulled her hair out. But you were the offending party this time and what did that make you?

“Don’t.” Jimin chided, like he could read your thoughts across your face. “I haven’t been any better. And that dumb comment I made about your eyes earlier?” He cringed at himself. “Honestly, I had a 50/50 shot that it would work because I have caught the way you’ve been looking at me lately, but... I’ve only caught you because I was already looking.” He confessed, reaching out to play with your fingers on the counter with his.  For the first time in your entire friendship, Your poised, elegant best friend looked unsure of himself with you- impossibly confident Park Jimin a sheepish, love struck little boy with you- and it positively liquefied you. 

“Jimin. I-“  was all you could get out before you got lost in the angles of his face again, unsure of how you got here. He’d always been the brave one. You weren't sure how this is supposed to go if your cowardly heart had to be in charge. But luckily, he saved you again and continued.

“So, I figured- You’d either been looking at me that way because my feelings were stupid obvious, and I was making things weird and embarrassing myself OR... you were looking at me like that because... you wanted to kiss me as badly as I wanted to kiss you.” He swallowed, eyes locked on yours.

This was it. 

If there was ever a moment to speak up, you had to do it now. His beautiful brown eyes were swirling with something beautiful now that you’d only ever seen one other time. You recognized it now. It was the same look he’d had when he’d cradled your face earlier and something had almost come over him. You knew that look now. You had a name for it- This was how Park Jimin looked when he wanted to kiss you. 

Hopping down off the island, Jimin regarded you with confusion as you came to stand between his legs. Your eyes were wide and trusting as they met his. Part of him feared you’d come down to politely turn him down so he braced himself as he silently studied the face he knew best in the world. Whatever you were about to say, he’d buckle down and take it.

“I have been fighting liking you for longer than I’ve been your friend, Park. Some part of me has always liked you. You’re beautiful and sweet and lovable- what was I supposed to do? Every girl we knew was in love with you. And I was no different, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself. Once we became close, I already felt so spoiled to have you in my life at all that I’d get mad at myself for not being content and wanting more. But….” your eyes flicked down, your fingers coming up to gently trace the fullness of his lips. “But, if you can feel this too,if...you want more than this too then… maybe, we can be greedy together?” 

Your eyes were hopeful and Jimin burst into a smile so wide and so bright, it put your fairy lights to shame. “God, that would be amazing.” He said, his cool ringed fingers scooping your face up and tracing your jaw’s edges.

“So, if you still wanted to kiss me, maybe that could be something we tr-“

Mmmph.

Any words you’d had were shoved back behind your lips as his face dipped down to press a heavenly, gentle kiss to them. And god, it was everything. He was warm and soft, all consuming as he slipped down from the counter to hold you properly. His fingers slipped back into your hair as you got lost in the spun sugar taste of his lips. Your palms found his chest, clutching on to fistfuls of silk as the kiss deepened and Jimin pulled you close. 

It was better than you could’ve ever imagined it would be and without realizing it, you’d started smiling, a sparkling laugh spilling out of your chest before you could catch it. He beamed back at you, forehead pressed against you as his smooth perfect nose traced yours.

“What?” He chuckled. “You should never laugh after kissing a man for the first time. Sure fire way to wreck his ego.” He teased.

“Even if he kisses as good as you?” You blushed, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s terrible how fragile  masculinity is.” Your banter had none of its usual punch. You were too dreamy eyed over whatever spell he’d just cast on you to put any real bite to it.

“It is, isn’t it? But I don’t think that’s what we’re talking about here.” His fingers played with the ends of your hair as his other hand scooped your waist against him. Foreheads still resting against each other, you tried to steady your breath only to inhale more of his citrus cologne and get woozy over experiencing so much of him all at once.

“What- uh, what are we talking about then?” You’d just barely gotten that out, all the fluidity of a gasping fish. Jimin’s eyes sparkled as beamed down at you. 

“I think we were talking about how the timeline of that confession means you’ve been lying through your teeth when you tell me you don’t want me to call you baby. Isn’t that right, jagiya?” He quirked a devilish brow at you.

“You pompous little- it’s still my birthday. I will have none of your insubordination.” You smacked him in the chest with a dull thud. Not much room to wind up when you were pressed this close to him.

“Just let me loooove you,” He sang airily at you as you shook your head and looked away.

“Cut it out.” You smothered your smile.

“Just let me looooove YOUUUU.” He continued, tracing his nose along the shell of your ear as he sang softly and pulled you close. This time, you didn’t resist as he scooped you up. This time, here were no pillows thrown, no fighting, no defensive words. This time, you melted into the sweetest man you’d ever known and let him catch you. 

You felt your shoulders sink as realization hit you- all this time, while you thought you were bearing up under your feelings all alone, your best friend had loved you too.

The boy you felt safest with, the boy you were most yourself around, the boy who’d been by your side so long you couldn’t bear the idea of imagining life without him- he was as enamored by you as you were by him. He’d planned this whole night for you. He’d gone out of his way to show you how much he cared. He’d refused to let you feel alone on the most important day of the year. He’d been braver than you in every way and reached out to your heart when you hadn’t had the words to find his. For that, you’d always be grateful.

Somewhere in the midst of your revelation, your eyes had gone misty. Jimin lovingly brushed a thumb across your cheek to catch your rogue tears for the thousandth time tonight as your eyes went starry. You looked up at him, the whole cosmos swirling in your eyes, and gave him a terribly undignified wobbly sniffle.

“I think I love you, Chim.” you whispered. 

“Is that going to be a problem?” His eyes were sweet as he watched you.

“Really screws up my novel.” You sniffled. 

“Does it make it worse if I say I love you too?” He asked innocently.

“Drat, does this mean I have to make you the knight now instead of the weasel? Cuz that’s really gonna wreck my whole outline.”

“I thought I was a ferret?” He chuckled warmly.

“We both know you were a weasel. You’d been planning to take me karaoking. You know how I get on stage in front of crowds. No ferret. Full weasel.” You asserted calmly. 

“Damn. Fair enough. Well, can I be the knight if I sway you with a high quality animated film first?” He’d never looked at you more fondly, all the world’s stars hidden in the pocket of his cheek as his lips curl into a smile at you.

“Depends. Will there be something to drink?” You queried, chin tilted in suspicion.

“Hot tea.” He offered.

“What kind?” You squint.

“Chamomile?”

“Too basic.”

“Earl Grey?”

“Fresh out.”

“Lavender then.”

“Acceptable” You nodded. “Will…” you hesitate. “.. will there be someone to cuddle with?” Glancing up at him, you were bashful all of sudden to admit how much you didn’t want to lose his touch now that you’d gotten it.

“For as long as you’ll have him.” He booped the tip of your nose with his, giddy at the idea of staying beside you.

“Good. That’s all I wanted.” You nodded matter of factly, before quickly adding-“Will he keep his rings on?” You blushed, fiddling with his hand.

“You like them! I knew you liked them! You brought my jewelry up way too much not to.” His smile was positively electric.

“Oh Geeze. Calm down. Forget I said anything.” You muttered regretfully. But before you could shuffle back any further, He happily caught you off guard with a smacking kiss to your temple.

“This is going to be so much fun messing with you.” 

Suddenly, he was picking you up by the waist, spinning you both in a circle. “I’M DATING MY BEST FRIEND!!!” He hollered.

Giggling wildly in his arms, you held on tight but popped his shoulder for good measure. “Jimin! Are you insane? Put me down, you idiot! The neighbors will hear!” But there was no fight in your words- just giddy, blissful glee. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this happy.

“No!” He laughed. “I’m not putting you down until you say it too.”

“But we haven’t even discussed this!” You protested through another fit of giggles.

“Please, we’re basically dating now anyway.” He challenged. 

“Fair point…. but Jimin, stop for a second. Put me down yeah?”

Chest panting as he stopped and set you down, his eyes found yours as he smiled that million dollar smile at you that-oh god- you’d get to have all to yourself, all the time now. You swallowed a delicious thrill at the thought.

“What is it, love?” He beamed, brushing your hair out of your eyes with his fingers as you blushed at his endearment.

“Promise me we won’t lose this? If we do date, I mean. I do want to date you- actually be with you, and get to kiss you and be your girl when we’re out with our friends. God. I’d love that. But just, we can’t lose this- the friendship. That spark that makes us special. You can’t go all gooey soft on me if I’m your girlfriend and I still have to be allowed to call you on your nonsense.” Your face was soft, nervous to ask him for some reason. Scared you sounded ridiculous perhaps.

“God I’m in love with you.” Jimin pulled you in for another kiss. This one airy, sentimental, light. He pulled back, kissing your nose, both cheeks and your forehead. “Y/n, if that’s your only rule, you can have it.” He laughed. “Be obnoxious and prickly and sassy all you want- just, you have to learn to let me in. I’m gonna go overboard and love you and kiss your neck in public and tell my mom we’re dating and remind you that you’re the best writer I’ve ever read when you call your work crap. And I’m gonna tell you how wonderful you are all the goddamn time while you look at me like I’ve got a third eye, and you’ll love it but you’ll act like you don’t. And that’s fine, y/n, but promise me- you have to start letting that love in. Even just a little at a time. Cuz I’m not going anywhere, and it’s not going to stop so you’re gonna have to start accepting the fact that someone thinks you’re beautiful.” 

He kissed your nose again

You blushed.

“And kind.” He kissed your cheek.

“And talented.” The other cheek

“And hilarious.” Your forehead.

“And that i'm not going anywhere no matter how much you push. Cuz... you’re kind of it for me.” 

And finally, 

he kissed your lips again. 

Lingering and slow as you unraveled in his hands. You felt dizzy when he pulled back.

“I’ll always be your best friend, and you let me in, yeah? Even if it’s slowly.” He raised his pinky in the air between you. Usually you’d make some crack about how small his pinky was- some nasty comment you didn’t mean because, actually, honestly, you loved his hands. You just didn’t know what to do with all the tremendous affection you felt for every part of him, so you flung it back at him as teasing. But not this time.

No, this time, you’d say what you meant, what you felt. Because Jimin would understand. Jimin reciprocates it. And there wasn’t anyone you’d risk your heart for more than him. Because, was it a risk, if the person loved you as much as you now knew Jimin did?

So, slipping your pinky into his, you hooked your hands together, kissing his palm and the spot where your fingers interlocked.

“Jiminie, I might be really bad at this. But I really lik- I…. love you. So I’ll try. Just, be patient with me, yeah?” Your rounded eyes searched his, hunting for any apprehension he may have in linking his heart with yours but finding none.

“For you? I’ve got all the patience in the world. But you wanna know a secret?” He whispered conspiratorially.

“What?” You breathed back, just as hushed. You were genuinely at a loss for where he was going with this.

“You aren’t bad at anything you do, y/n. You just think you are. I just won the lottery with you.” He was right back to eyeing you like he’d just captured the most precious treasure in the world and in the best way, it absolutely overwhelmed you.

“Chim. God, you’re gonna make me cry.” You gushed.

“Nonsense, no tears on your birthday. I’ve worked too hard to give you a great day- don’t you dare ruin it. AGAIN.” He flared his nostrils at you in warning and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“Fine, Fine. Make the tea. I’ll get the next movie set up.” You conceded. Squeezing you into a tight hug, Jimin kissed your hair, muttering a soft “you got it” into your crown before pressing you into him with one last tug and turning on his heel to find the kettle.

Looking back toward the box of movies, your feet carried you, light as air, back to the couch. Every now and then, as you picked the next movie, your eyes drifted back to him. Drinking in the sweep of his hair, the glittering edges of the smile permanently fixed to his face, the happy, contented eyes of your best friend who was more than your best friend now. In the span of one night, he’d come barreling in and crashed the gate around your heart with the most bizarre choice of weapons- his gentle voice, his infectious laugh and his wild, kind, massive heart. 

He’d loved you until you realized it was safe to love him back. And Everything in you wanted to memorize this night that almost didn’t happen: he’d been right, your friendship never did get anywhere without him. 

You were terrified, but you’d also never felt more alive or more loved in your life. And perhaps that was the best of the many gifts he’d given you tonight. Hope. And love. Looking back over his shoulder, he caught the sentimental gleam in your eye and smiled warmly at you. 

“Already boldly staring at my ass, I see. See? You’ll make a great girlfriend.” He winked, as you shook your head happily at him.

Giggling, you shot back with, “I always stare at it. That’s just the first time I let you catch me.” You stated matter of factly.

“You know what? I believe that.” He nodded as he came back to the couch to sit beside you. Handing you your mug, he rested his free arm on the back of your couch as you dutifully snuggled against him, relishing in how much he already felt like home. You knew you shouldn’t make homes out of people. And you wouldn’t ….but right now, the warmth radiating off his body and the coolness of his silk shirt were too soothing for you to stay cooped up alone in your head anymore.

You’d much rather be here- snuggling in the arms of your best friend, who’d be your friend and your love and more than that all at once, and letting the world fall to bits outside as you finally opened up your heart to him. It was your birthday, you had a cup of tea that was sickly sweet from too much honey, your favorite movie was playing, and you were with Jimin. 

You didn’t need anything else.

Tipping his head, he rested his cheek against your hair, his spare fingertips tracing the edge of your sleeve. And for possibly the first time on this whole entire mixed up day- you felt yourself fully relax.

Nothing could be more perfect than this.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.” He whispered, a petal soft kiss pressed to forehead as he did. “I hope it was wonderful.”

“The absolute best.” You smiled, eyes teary with love and relief. “Don’t know how you’re topping this one.”

“Oh I’ll come up with something.” He assured, his voice sweet as the honey in your tea. 

“Hey Chim,” Your voice the ghost of a whisper.

“Yeah?” He pulled back to watch as much of your face as he could see.

“You were my wish.” You said simply, no frills, no whistles. Just heart aching truth.

Silence hung in the air for a beat as you smiled contentedly into his chest and took a sip of your tea. The silence wasn’t unpleasant. Far from it, it felt warm and complete. You hadn’t needed to get anything back, you’d just wanted him to know.

“I think... that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Jimin whispered, almost to himself. Another beat. “You are a miraculous thing y/n l/n….. I love you….Happy birthday.” 

He breathed, a soft kiss brushing the top of your hair as you both sank into each other- the first night of a million more to come - finally complete with your heart’s other half.

-fin.

[desiraypark]

The Weight (Pt. I)

Clyde x Sherri (Non-Linear Series) This entry is in response to @aloneandsleepless​‘ prompt request! The message reads: Hey Desi darling! Can we have a little drama with Clyde and Sherri? Requesting "being physically/emotionally vulnerable" from the Non Sexual Forms of Intimacy list! You're so incredibly creative, I'm sure you'll come up with something amazing! ❤️ First of all, thank you *cries*. Second, I hope this meets your expectations! :) Content: Angsty? | Sadness/depression (denial of depression); impostor’s syndrome; ageism (imposed on self because it’s imposed by society, tbh lol); couple’s spat; spouse approaching the other but the appropriateness and effectiveness of the method might be debatable.  A lil’ bit o’sap. Word Count: 2,402

“The llllittle...boy licks to...likes to b...ah...ck...” “Vroom, vroom...!” Sherri looked away from her pan and glanced in the dining room at the children. Chris’ face was inches away from their homework, and Sid had turned the dining table into a freeway for their toy car. 

“What are your ‘a’ sounds?” Sherri asked.  “Ah, ah...” Chris said.  “And the other one?”  “Ay...” “Did you try the other sound?”  Chris looked back down at the worksheet. “B-ay-kuh...bake...” Sherri looked back at the pan. “Good job. Start it from the beginning.” “The little boy likes to bake...” “Vroooooooooom...” “...he licks...likes...” “Sid?” Sherri called. “Yes?” “Can you play quietly so Chris can concentrate?” “Yes, Mommy. Sorry.” “It’s alright. Thank you.” Sid turned the vocal engine off and drove the car in silence. Suddenly, there was a rumble at the front door. The lock turned and the kids hopped up from the table and ran through the living room. 

“Daddy!” they shouted.

Clyde opened the door and scooped both of the little ones up in his arms. “Arrrgh!” he growled, holding them up.  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked. He planted kisses on both of their foreheads and put them back down.  “Ms. Daniels gave us homework today!” Chris exclaimed. “Oh yeah?” “Long sentences!”  “Well, alright, my lil’ Einstein,” Clyde said.  The trio made their way into the dining room, but the kids sat back at the table. Clyde walked straight for the kitchen and Sherri gave him her cheek to kiss. “Mmm...” he hummed. “Those lips taste as good?” Sherri smirked and faced Clyde so he could give her a peck on the lips. Then another. And another. “Eww!!!” the children said. “Eww?!” Clyde mocked them. “What y’all mean eww?” Sherri and the kids laughed. Then, Clyde rested his hands on Sherri’s protruding belly. He gave it a rub. “Now what you got to say about it, Littlest One?” “It said, please don’t keep mommy up tonight...” Sherri mumbled.  “Well, I can’t make no promises on that...” Clyde whispered in her ear, before giving the lobe a nibble.  “Leave my kitchen, Clyde,” Sherri said giggling. Clyde gave her butt a tap and walked into the dining room. “What’s this homework about?” he asked, sitting beside Chris.  “Different stuff,” the oldest responded. Clyde adjusted his glasses by the hinge and looked over the homework--a sheet full of short sentences. 

“You or Mommy are supposed to draw lines under the stuff I said wrong,” Chris added. “Is that so?” Clyde read the instructions and realized that either he or Sherri had to underline any words Chris had gotten wrong, or didn’t self-correct. So far, only the word “fluffy” had a line under it. Clyde smiled at the sight. “Underline bake, Baby.” Sherri said. Clyde searched the table and noticed the red ink pen resting against the table’s centerpiece. He underlined “bake”.  “Hey, Babygirl...?” Clyde called over his shoulder. “Mm-hmm?” Sherri responded. “A man came into the restaurant this afternoon. He started a non-profit education center. Supposed to help kids with all kinds of needs. I uh...I got his card for you.” Sherri froze for a second, then kept cooking. “For what?” “He’s lookin’ for people to join his team. It’s very new. He wants people from different backgrounds helpin’ him out...”  Sherri didn’t say anything. She turned off the stove and reached into the cupboard for plates. “Okay.” _____________________ Later “What’s this you were telling me about? About this man?” Sherri asked, walking into the bedroom. 

Clyde was already in bed with a book. Sherri grabbed a bottle of cocoa butter lotion from her dresser and sat on the bed.  “He started a non-profit company for kids with special needs. Behavioral, academic. Kids with problems at home, anything. He said he wanted to hire a few reading tutors...” Sherri began to rub the lotion on her belly. The circular motions soothing her emotionally, as well as physically. “He said you didn’t need a formal education. It wouldn’t pay much now, but it would be a great experience.” Sherri let out a wry laugh. “So, you told a stranger in a restaurant that your dropout wife was looking for a low-paying job?” Clyde stared at the back of Sherri’s head with furrowed brows. “No, I said I would tell my wife about it, and see if she’s interested.” Sherri closed the lotion’s cap and put it back on her dresser. “Well, thank you for thinking of me, Baby. But I’m good...”  She yanked back her covers and climbed into the bed.  “But are you, though, Baby?” Clyde asked. Sherri was just about to turn on her side before she glared back at him.  “What do you mean?” she asked. “It ain’t no secret that you regret not settin’ out to be in education, Babygirl. I thought this would be a good way to get you back on track. But I guess I was wrong,” Clyde said. Sherri turned on her side and laid down. “Yeah, you were. I don’t need you job huntin’ for me.” Clyde looked down at his book. He tried to keep reading, but Sherri’s response was eating away at him. He took in a deep breath. “So, you just wanna be a receptionist for the rest of your life, Sherri?” He didn’t have to see her face to know what it looked like. Slowly, Sherri turned on her back and sat completely up.  “What is this about, Clyde? Are you ashamed of me all of a sudden?” she asked. Clyde huffed, then closed his book.  “No...” he answered. “But I know when you’re feeling sad, Baby. And I know you’ve been real sad these last few months.” “First of all, don’t tell me when I’m sad. I’m not sad. I’m not depressed or any of that. And even if I was, that doesn’t have shit to do with my job...”

“Sherri...” Clyde said patiently. “You can deny it all you want to. But you know and I know that you ain’t happy where you are.” “I am happy!” Sherri snapped. “What are you talking about?!” “You like your job, Sherri. But you ain’t happy,” Clyde continued on. “You regret not finishin’ school, Baby. It’s all over your face. You think you’re hidin’ it from me, but you’re not. You never have. And denyin’ it hasn’t made it better.” Sherri scoffed. “Please, Clyde. You don’t know what I’m hidin’ and what I’m not. Whatever the case may be, I’m halfway through my life, now. I’m damn near 40 years old, I’ve got two kids--almost got three. I’ve got to run around after three kids--” “Stop usin’ our kids as a crutch, Sherri.” Sherri’s eyebrows lifted. She was speechless. Clyde wasn’t as mild and meek as people assumed he was, but he’d never drilled into anyone like this before. Especially Sherri. He had the patience of a saint, and Sherri could tell that the patience had suddenly started wearing thin. But so was hers. “You my therapist now, Clyde?” Clyde drew in a deep breath. “No, I’m not. But I am your husband. And I know you better than I know the back of my own hand.”

“And look here. I don’t appreciate you sittin’ up here talkin’ like you the only one takin’ care of our kids...” “That’s not what I said. And it’s not what I meant, either,” Sherri responded.

“Whatever you meant, there ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you from goin’ back to school, but you. I tell you about a potential job in your field, and you up in here actin’ like I stole somethin’ from you,” Clyde fussed. “I just don’t understand where this is comin’ from. Our life is just fine right now. Since when did you start feelin’ like it wasn’t good enough? Suddenly it’s so bad that you need to go job scoutin’ for me?” “Ain’t nobody say all that, Sherri. Yes, our life is just fine. It’s real nice. But you ain’t no “just fine” kinda girl. You ain’t never been,” Clyde said. 

“Everything about you is excellent, but when it comes to stuff like this--your dream, you start actin’ real cowardly.” 

Sherri stared at Clyde and huffed.  “Look. Whatever the case, Clyde. I don’t need you bein’ my reference. I don’t need you recommendin’ jobs for me. You worry about what you’ve got goin’ on, and I’ll take care of what I’ve got goin’ on.” Clyde nodded. “Alright.” He put his book on the nightstand and took off his bionic arm. He put the arm on his dresser, climbed back in bed, and turned off the lamp on his nightstand. Then, he slid down and pulled the covers over him.

“You ain’t got to worry about me sayin’ another thing,” he added. “Gon’ and pass that impostor’s syndrome down to our baby.” Sherri didn’t give his statement a chance to marinate in the air. 

“I think you should sleep on the couch,” she said without hesitation, or a even a thought. And Clyde didn’t argue. He climbed out of the bed, grabbed his pillows, and walked out of the room with them. He dug through the linen closet for a blanket, and curled into a ball on the little chaise of their sectional.  ____________________ The Next Day As she did every weekday morning, Sherri got up at 4:30AM. The scent of oatmeal soap still strong from last night’s shower, she gave herself a quick wipe down at the sink, then got Sid up. She helped Sid take care of their personal needs, and got them dressed. Per usual, mother and future middle child got a quick bite and made their way to the Busy Bees Daycare. Every week day, Sherri oversaw the front desk of the daycare and helped to keep an eye on all of the children, including her own.  Every week day--even on Mondays when he didn’t work--Clyde woke up and got Chris and himself ready. They too, sat at the table for a quick bite--cereal, usually. Then, Clyde would walk Chris to school. Today was a work day, so he hung out at home for about for about 45 minutes before making the seamless fifteen (or twenty, depending on his mood) minute drive to Strafford’s Kitchen. Today was definitely a “twenty minute drive to work” kind of day. Sherri always got off at 2 o’clock. Her and Sid would head home and hang out until it was time to pick Chris up. They’d walk to the school, chat with Chris’ teacher, and make their way back home to start homework and dinner. When Clyde was off, he would start dinner while Sherri and Sid walked to get the eldest Logan child.  Sherri had spent her day snatching every chance at mental solitude she could find. Clyde didn’t know what he was talking about. She was happy at Busy Bees. Had been for seven years. And more importantly, it was too late for her to consider going back to school. Especially with the cost of tuition nowadays.

“What’s on your mind, Sherri Pie?” Mrs. Barbara asked. She’d snatched Sherri out of a daze. “Hmm?” Sherri asked. “Everything alright?”  Sherri forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, everything is fine.”  Mrs. Barbara raised an eyebrow at her and Sherri laughed. “Me and the husband had a little spat, that’s all.” “Hmm,” Mrs. Barbara said with a nod. “And you know what Mrs. Barbara?” Sherri asked. “What?” she responded. She peeped into the commons space to get a look at the children, then back at Sherri.  “I just might owe that man an apology.” Mrs. Barbara laughed. “Well, wives can be wrong sometimes, believe it or not. What was the argument about? If you don’t mind me asking...” Sherri shook her head and rolled her eyes--at herself, of course. “He started talking to me about going back to school, and things like that...and I got really defensive, I think.” “You think?” Sherri sighed again. “I did.” “Do you want to go back to school?” Mrs. Barbara asked. “It would be nice, but it would just be too much right now. With Sid and Chris, and this one...” “Well, I’m gonna stop you right there, Sherri,” Mrs. Barbara said. “It would be nice sounds like you want to go...” “...yeah, well...” “You’ve got us. You’ve got your neighbors. And from what I know of Clyde, that man would put the world on his shoulders for you if he could. You’ve got more support than a lot of people in this world...” Sherri chuckled to herself. “Clyde said something along those lines.” “Well...” Mrs. Barbara said, peeping into the commons space again. “If Clyde and I mirror each other’s thoughts, then he must be right.” Mrs. Barbara winked and walked back into the commons area. Sherri just smiled to herself.  ____________________ Sherri and Sid returned home at about 2:30. “Can I watch TV, Mommy?” Sid asked. “Sure, baby,” Sherri said. She put her purse on the coffee table, turned on the television and flipped straight to PBS. Then, she made her way to the kitchen to hang her keys on the HOME hook. A familiar greeting card was sitting on the counter. On the front, it said “For You, Just Because. Blood rushed to Sherri’s cheeks, and she opened the card.

Her handwriting was on the right side, and read: Honeybunch, I love you and I appreciate you. Thank you for loving me and taking care of me. I know you’re feeling down now, but I want you to know that I’m always here, and I want to take care of you just as much as you do me. Love You, Sherri New handwriting was on the left side of it: 10/12/2027 Babygirl, I love you with ever fiber of my being. And I’ll never stop taking care you. No matter how much you take on, be it a little or a lot, I’m always going to carry it all with you. I just want you to be happy. And I want you to believe in yourself just as much as I do. If not more.  Love You More, Honeybunch Butterflies fluttered in Sherri’s belly. She gave her little bump a rub and read Clyde’s message one more time before closing the card. Then, she walked into the living room, joined Sid on the sofa, and pulled the raven-haired middle child into her arms.  “Goodness, I can’t believe Arthur is still comin’ on...” she said.  ____________________ TAG LIST @aloneandsleepless​​ @direnightshade​​ @finn-ray-nal-beads​​ @a-true-janian-reply​​ @thegreenmatt​​ @sister-winter73​​ @loewsy55​​​ @mariesackler​​​ @clydes-hole​​​ @sydneyssmut​​​ @kirah36​​ @lovelyyandtired​ @morby​ @tsarinastorm​ @clydes-hole​ Tag List request post