#even when its traffic and my AC deciding not to work. or something.

[therecordchanger62279]

THE BEST BARGAIN I EVER GOT

     In 1989, Ace Records issued a box set on Little Richard titled The Specialty Sessions. The box covered Richard’s five-year span on Art Rupe’s Specialty label from 1955-1959. It was released at a time when the record industry was flooding the marketplace with box sets. Bob Dylan’s Biograph set, Eric Clapton’s Crossroads box, and Bruce Springsteen’s Live 1975-1985 box had all done big business in record stores, and the labels began combing their vaults trying to put something together for every major artist whose masters they owned. Little Richard didn’t look to be the best choice for the box set treatment, however. His reputation as an innovator, and an influence, and a key figure in the history of Rock ‘n’ Roll rested mainly upon a couple of dozen of the wildest rock ‘n’ roll 45s ever recorded, but what Richard had done before and after those records mattered little in comparison. On the other hand, artists like Chuck Berry or Fats Domino had had longer chart runs than Richard, and appeared to be better subjects for the box set treatment. After all, Richard’s most important and influential records could be contained on a single LP or CD, while EMI, for example, could issue a box of 101 of Domino’s recordings for the Imperial label without apologizing for its quality. Chess could do a nice set on Berry just by including all of his hits and several quality rarities, and barely scratch the surface of his success.

     Nevertheless, Little Richard got the box set treatment. Now while I’d purchased the 6 LP Complete Buddy Holly box set when MCA issued it in the U.S. in 1981, not to mention Chuck Berry’s Chess Box in 1988, the Little Richard set was one I decided to pass on because I couldn’t imagine really needing any more than the Richard singles that were collected on Specialty’s 1959 17 Grooviest Original Hits which had been in my collection for years.

    I went to work as an assistant manager at a Camelot superstore in 1995 for several months following the demise of the independent record shop I’d managed for seven years that had recently closed. This was a big, beautiful, very spacious chain record store that, judging by the lack of foot traffic on any given Saturday afternoon, was already well on its way to extinction by the time I got there. Before it closed, though, that Camelot store had a massive clearance sale – presumably the first concrete evidence of its, and the chain’s coming demise. Boxes of clearance product began arriving daily, and we were also instructed to begin taking markdowns on specific product already in-store. We had a blowout on sheet music, laser discs, cassettes, CDs, and, yes, even some vinyl records that were still lying around the Camelot warehouses unsold, and no longer returnable.

     We set up tables we’d rented to hold all the boxes for what would be the biggest clearance sale in my nearly 30 years working in record stores. One of the perks of working in record stores – as anyone who’s ever worked in one can tell you – is getting a first look at the bargain records that get shipped to the store – not only on special occasions like this one, but on a regular basis in the form of cut-outs – deleted records drastically reduced in price, but in very limited supply. That’s what a record collector lives for, and that’s why the smartest collectors always tried to get gigs in record shops. What gems you’re able to score, however, largely depended on being in the right place at the right time. So even though I only worked at that Camelot superstore for four months, I was lucky enough to get the best bargain I ever got in all my years of collecting records. There, in a box of mostly junk clearance LPs that weren’t worth even the 50 cents or a dollar we were charging for them was a single copy of The Specialty Sessions by Little Richard – a five record box set – a vinyl box set – marked $2.88. I got so excited "my big toe shot all the way up in my boot" (as Little Richard once said). What a steal! So what if I already had all the hits! Five records for just $2.88 by one of Rock ‘n’ Roll’s greatest performers – that was too good to pass up. I stashed it and then bought it later that day when my shift ended.

     When I got home, I peeled the shrinkwrap and opened it to find a beautifully packaged box set of five records, and a stunning 12X12 booklet full of liner notes, and classic photographs of Richard in his prime. Each record sleeve told the specific history of the songs on that particular record. And the remastered mono recordings sounded so good it was if you were in the studio watching and listening to the songs as they were being cut.

     Out of the speakers came track after track after track of classic sounding R&B, gospel and rock ‘n’ roll. Who’d have ever imagined the depth and breadth of Little Richard’s talent? There was far more to the man than just those 17 groovy hits. This was a history lesson in the coolest classroom you could imagine. The 73 tracks in the box showed me the real Little Richard and why he matters so much.

     When I recommend records to people, I always tell them which record in an artist’s catalog they must have if they never buy another. If an artist matters at all, there’s always at least one classic set with which you begin. There aren’t very many artists whose one essential set is a box, but in Little Richard’s case, The Specialty Sessions is the first stop. But in 2023, this box on vinyl (in the condition mine is in) will set you back anywhere from $150 to $300. There’s no question, then, that the best bargain I ever found in all my years collecting records is Little Richard’s The Specialty Sessions vinyl box set for $2.88, bought at a chain store that is now just a memory. Right place, right time? Uh, yeah. In hindsight, this box set – one I’d passed on when it was first issued – is a textbook example of how to do a box set on a major artist, and along with The Complete Buddy Holly box, is one of the cornerstones of my entire collection.

[itsclydebitches]

I keep seeing people calling Good Omens queer bating and a I can't help but ask why? I read the Aziraphale/Crowley relationship threw an Ace lens and they are clearly as close to married as they are probably going to get without stepping on holy ground.... and they love each other... why is it considered queer bating?

Personally, I think it's mostly young queer fans turning legitimate grievances on the wrong target. A case of getting so fed up with queerbaiting in media as a whole that they're instinctually lashing out at anything that seems to resembles it on the surface, without taking the time to consider whether this is, in fact, the thing they're mad at. Good Omens is a scapegoat, if you will. The equivalent of snapping at your partner after a long day. Your friend was an asshole, your boss was an asshole, the guy in traffic was an asshole, and then you come home to your partner who says something teasing and you take it as another asshole comment because you've just been surrounded by assholeness all day, to the point where your brain is primed to see an attack. Your partner wasn't actually an asshole, but by this point you're (understandably) too on guard to realize that. Unless someone sits you down and kindly reminds you of the difference between playful teasing and a legitimate insult - the nuance, if you will - your hackles are just gonna stay up and you'll leave the room, off to phone a different friend to tell them all about how your partner was definitely an asshole to you.

Only in this case, that "friend" is a fan on social media doing think pieces on the supposed queerbaiting of Good Omens, spreading that idea to a) people who aren't familiar with the show themselves and b) those who, like that original fan, have come to expect queerbaiting and thus aren't inclined to question the latest story with that mark leveled against it. Because on the surface Good Omens can look a lot like queerbaiting. Here are two queer coded characters who clearly love each other, but don't say "I love you," don't kiss, don't "prove" that love in a particular way. So Gaiman is just leading everyone on, right?

Well... no. This is where the nuance comes in, the thing that many fans aren't interested in grappling with (because, like it or not, media is not made up of black and white categories; queerbaited and not-queerbaited. Supernatural's finale is proof enough of that...) I won't delve into the most detailed explanation here, but suffice to say:

Gaiman has straight up said it's a love story. He's just not giving them concrete labels like "gay" or "bi" or "asexual," etc. because they are literally not human. Gaiman has subscribed to an inclusive viewpoint in an era where fans are desperate for unambiguous rep that homophobes cannot possibly deny. The freedom to prioritize any interpretation - yes, including a "just friends" interpretation - now, in 2021, feels like a cop-out. However, in this case it's an act of world building (they are an angel and a demon, not bound by human understanding of identity) meeting a genuine desire to make these characters relatable to the entire queer community, not just particular subsets. Gaiman has said they can be whatever we want because the gender, sexuality, and romantic attraction of an angel and a demon is totally up for debate! However, some fans have interpreted that as a dismissal of canonical queerness; the idea that fans can pretend they're whatever they want... but it's definitely not canon. It is though. Them being queer is 100% canon, it's just up to us to decide what kind of queer they are. This isn't Gaiman stringing audiences along, it's him opening the relationship up to all queer possibilities.

We know he's not stringing us along (queerbaiting) because up until just a few days ago season two didn't exist. Queerbaiting is a deliberate strategy to maintain an audience. A miniseries does not need to maintain its audience. You binge it in one go and you're done, no coming back next year required. The announcement for season two doesn't erase that context for season one. No one knew there would be more content and thus the idea that they would implement a strategy designed to keep viewers hooked due to the hope for a queer relationship (with no intent to follow through) is... silly.

In addition, this interpretive, queer relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale existed in the book thirty years ago. Many fans are not considering the difference between creating a totally new story in 2019 and faithfully adapting a story from 1990 in 2019. Good Omens as representation meant something very different back then and that absolutely impacts how we see its adaptation onto the small screen. To put this into perspective, Rowling made HUGE waves when she revealed that she "thought of" Dumbledore as gay in an interview... in 2007. Compare that to the intense coding 17 years before. Gaiman was - and still is - pushing boundaries.

Which includes being an established ally, particularly in his comics. Queerbaiting isn't just the act of a single work, but the way an author approaches their work. Gaiman does not (to my knowledge) have that mark against him and even if he did, he's done enough other work to offset that.

Finally, we've got other, practical issues like: how do you represent asexuality on the screen? How do you show an absence of something? Yeah, one or both of them could claim that label in the show, outright saying, "I'm asexual," but again, Gaimain isn't looking to box his mythological figures into a single identity. So if we want that rep... we have to grapple with the fact that this is one option for what it looks like.

Even if he did want to narrow the representation down to just a few identities for the show, should Gaiman really be making those major changes when he's only one half of the author team? Pratchett has, sadly, passed on and thus obviously has no say in whether his characters undergo such revisions. Even if fans hate every other argument, they should understand that, out of respect, Good Omens is going to largely remain the same story it was 30 years ago.

And those 6,000 years are just the beginning! Again, this was meant to be a miniseries of a single novel, a novel that, crucially, covered only Crowley and Aziraphale's triumph in being able to love one another freely. That's a part of their personal journey. Yeah, they've been together in one sense for 6,000 years, but that was always with hell and heaven on their backs, to say nothing of the slow-burn approach towards acknowledging that love, for Aziraphale in particular. We end the story at the start of their new relationship, one that is more free and open than it ever was before. They can be anything to one another now! The fact that we don't see that isn't a deliberate attempt on the author's part to deny us that representation, but only a result of the story ending.

So yeah, there's a lot to consider and, frankly, I don't think those fans are considering it. Which on a purely emotional level I can understand. I'm pissed about queerbaiting too and the knee-jerk desire to reject anything that doesn't meet a specific standard is understandable. But understandable doesn't mean we don't have to work against that instinct because doing otherwise is harmful in the long run. We need to consider when stories were published and what representation meant back then. We need to consider how we adapt those stories for a modern audience. We need to acknowledge that if we want the inclusivity that "queer" provides us, that includes getting characters whose identity is not strictly defined by the author as well as characters with overtly canonical labels. We need both. We likewise need to be careful about when having higher standards ends up hurting the wrong authors - who are our imperfect allies vs. those straight up unwilling to embrace our community at all? And most importantly, we have to think about how we're using the terms we've developed to discuss these issues. Queerbaiting means something specific and applying it to Good Omens not only does Good Omens a disservice, but it undermines the intended meaning of "queerbaiting," making it harder to use correctly in the future. Good Omens is not queerbaiting and trying to claim it is only hurts the community those fans are speaking up for.

#good omens #mymetas #queer

[glitterge1pen]

You Only Water Plants With Cool Water

Rukawa Kaede x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 1,435

reader is a painter 

Rukawa and you both had practice. Studio sessions, gym time, he needed to go to the store for new basketball shoes, you needed new paper or canvas. He knew when you had had a bad day. When every stroke of pigment was wrong, when you had to change water too many times. You knew when he had messed up his scoring percentages, or when he’d landed a shot not to his liking.

You also had good days though. Ones where you would be electrified, dragging Rukawa to the tiny bedroom studio in the apartment, excited to show him a new piece. He tried to be subtle about sharing his smaller successes with you. Quietly asking to go on a walk to the park on weekend mornings, picking up a basketball before heading out the door.

While Rukawa couldn't exactly understand painting, or art, he did understand you. He saw how hard you worked, the same as him. You too were striving for something. So he lets you ramble on about new art books you had bought, different painters you admired, ones you hated, an art supplies store you wanted to try your luck at. This was also how you understood him. You saw how at home Rukawa watched all the NBA games, kept tabs on different players.

The two of your respective passions consumed lots of your life. Which is why he didn't mind when you had the door to the studio closed when he got home from the gym. You didn't bother him when he was watching a game. He would sleep on the small couch you had tucked in the corner of the studio, the radio giving a play by play of some game. Legs hanging off the arm rest, simply enjoying being in your presence. Some days you would go to his practices, half watching, half sketching out ideas for a new chunk of canvas. This was one of those days.

Looking up from your lap you see that practice is almost over. You set aside your work to focus on Rukawa completely. He really is something else on the court. Brash, aggressive, and still sly. Those parts of Rukawa were the same. The part of him that bluntly told you while out shopping what did look ugly, that way you swore he moved stuff around in the fridge to mess with you, or how he shoulder checked people a little too often. When he was playing basketball it was like the various gears and screws that made up Rukawa were perfectly made to play, like it was the only that life made sense to him. It added something to his outward psyche, a fire of energy that exuded from every pore.

You watch as the team starts to wind down. Shooting from various points on the court, running sprints from one side to the other, to end practice there was a complicated passing drill that you couldn't follow. You were prepared to leave, grab some take out on the way home, but when Rukawa came over to you he flopped onto the bleachers.

“Hey! Come on you can't sleep here”

With a sweat towel covering his face he mumbles,

“I can sleep anywhere, just give me a couple minutes”

But you know with Rukawa that a couple minutes can range from thirty minutes to hours. You pull on his arm trying to get him up, his eyes are stubbornly closed though. You poke, you blow air on his nose, you ruffle his hair and pull on his clothes. When that doesn't work you try threats.

“I won't pay for dinner”

“I was going to pay”

He says, words muffled by the towel. Exasperated you sit back onto the cold bleachers. You reach into a plastic bag you have settled down by your feet. It's from the craft store, new paint, new brushes, you had stopped there on the way to see Rukawa. Cautiously you pull out some paint and let it rest against Rukawa's skin.

“If you don't get up, I’m gonna paint you”

“I dont care”

“Really?”

“Why would I care?”

Before you two had been playful, teasing, but when he asks that he is genuine. Like he couldn't possibly comprehend why that would bother anyone. He has one eye open now, peaking at you, seeing that you are considering it now.

“I don't care, go ahead, just let me sleep”

At first you're still a little apprehensive. You are slow to fill up one of the paper cups from the players bench with the water fountain. You use the colors little by little. Mixing them in the palm of your non dominant hand. You start with his arm. The paint moves differently on his sweat tinted skin and you have to adjust.

Rukawa floats in and out of sleep. Lazily watching your concentrated expression move expertly over him. He likes the way the brushes feel, the cool of the paint. He notes that you're holding his hand differently, it's deliberate, your fingers not laced with his but clasping onto him. You do this so you can twist his arm this way and that. He can see blues and greens mixed onto your own skin in puddles. Then he’s back asleep.

You are no longer paying attention to Rukawa, or the dance group that came to use the gym for practice. You like working here. The gym lights are bright, the AC blasting cold air. You were originally only going to do something small. But now Rukawa's entire right arm has been consumed by paint. You are putting the last few strokes of detail on his arm knowing that you aren't done yet. You are afraid to dab at the paint to see if its dry, you blow on it and Rukawa gives a small smile at the sensation.

You pull the towel off of Rukawa’s head and lay it over his chest, placing his arm there too. You grab your bag of supplies and move to the row of bleachers below Rukawa. His left leg your new target. This is harder for Rukawa to sit through at first. The bristles of the brush more ticklish, but it is soon calming once again. He wants to see what you’ve painted on his arm but his eyes are still so heavy, he so tired.

“Wow you're really good!”

“Thanks! He’s a pretty good canvas!”

Rukawa wakes at the sound of your voice.

“Oh sorry I didn't mean to wake you!”

It must be one of the girls from that dance team he decides.

“It’s okay he sleeps plenty”

You tell the girl, she laughs a little before waving herself away. You're packing up your things, swirling brushes into the cup of water, twisting paint tubes closed. Finally feeling satisfied with his nap, Rukawa slowly gets up. Used to sleeping wherever he pleases the dull ache from the bleachers doesn't bother him much. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sees it.

You've painted a river. From his right shoulder to his left ankle is a river. Patches of grass and flowers growing along parts of it, stones, clouds, waterfalls, waves of water. It’s dynamic, twisting over the grooves of his muscles. You are surprised at how gentle his fingers move along the outline of the water, tracing it down his whole arm. In between his knuckles the water fades off his hand in droplets. The red flowers a bold contrast to the cool colors of the water. Fish leaping in and out of the water, some not even breaking the blue surface of paint, shadows of warm color beneath the water.

“You like it?”

You ask, he only nods, still admiring your work. You get him off the bleachers, once standing the daze he was in wears off. He grabs his duffle bag and the two of you head out. The night air is refreshing, the sky dark blue but bright like how it is in the summer. The street is still buzzing from the dusk. People on the way home from work, light traffic in the street, store and street lights flickering in the newness of the night.

“I’m sorry”

“Huh?”

You don't know what Rukawa could possibly be apologizing for.

“I’m gonna have to take a shower and the paint will wash off”

“That’s okay I knew that when I did it”

Rukawa seems discontent with this answer but you aren't sure how to help ease him. At the next block Rukawa turns the wrong way.

“Where are you going the-”

“Walgreens”

“What?”

“They have disposable cameras at Walgreens.”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

A/N: If someone made a bingo chart of my writing Walgreens would be on it. Will post this on ao3 later today :) Also no :) I did not :) edit this :) 

#kaede rukawa #slam dunk #slam dunk x reader #Kaede Rukawa x reader #gender neutral reader #painter au

[theonceoverthinker]

500. As this daily series of mine comes to an end, I just want to reflect on all the MARRY time writing Fair Game HCs has brought me!

I’m freezing up as I’m trying to write even just this intro. I don’t feel ready. After a year and a half, how can I feel anything else? This series is now a part of me and ending it is like losing a piece of my soul. I have so many emotions -- too many emotions -- it doesn’t feel wrong to end the series here (The 500 milestone makes sense), but it hurts all the same.

Let me start with thank you to everyone whose read these. Seriously, I know I thank you occasionally, but I can’t do it enough. Knowing that there are people interested in what I write and think about these two and enjoy the happier life I’m paining them in the absence of canon just makes me feel so much less alone than usual. It means the world to me so please believe me when I say that I wouldn’t have gotten to 500 without each and every one of you, whether you were here from the beginning or just joined in whenever. 

I’m so happy to have finally reached this moment, but simultaneously so torn up about what that means.

Will I never do another Fair Game HC again? HECK NO! While the regular daily episodes are ending, if I find another topic that I want to Fair Game-i-fy, I will definitely make more episodes, and hopefully, before long, I will! I just need to take a break from the daily updates. I’ve hit burnout several times over the past year and a half and it’s not fun, so while I still have some energy to spare, I want to end the daily series on a high note!

Also, forgive me because I’m gonna cheat this as a submission for @fairgameweek2021 while I’m at it (If it’s not cool, then my apologies). The theme today is Charms/Dreams and while neither of these come up in the HC itself, this wedding and this series as a whole I think acts as a reflection of the dreams much of the Fair Game fandom had for this ship. 

When I say this, I don’t mean it in the sense of I’d be upset if not each and every one of these didn’t come true -- that’s never been what my love for Fair Game was about, nor that each and every Fair Game fan subscribes to these HCs (Good GOD, no -- not even close). Like many fans, I just wanted these two characters who deserved happiness (Especially Qrow given his almost unreal amount of trauma and hardships) and seemed like they’d finally found it with each other to get exactly that. So in the absence of canon, I hope people were able to take solace in this space and live in the daydreams I created for them here.

So here we are at long last: The Fair Game Wedding. If you want to follow the story thus far, you can check out my HC compilation page. I’ve highlighted all of the wedding HCs in green, and have fully caught up the HC list!

That said, if you don’t feel like reading all of them and just want to check out this last one, here’s the tldr for what you need to know: The wedding is taking place in the Amity communications tower (This HC series only follows canon until 7X11 for those who didn’t know because I only choose to acknowledge good writing (especially for Qrow and Clover) here), Tai is Qrow’s Best Man, Marrow is Clover’s Best Man, Robyn is officiating, Ruby’s walking Qrow down the aisle, Yang’s walking Clover down the aisle, Clover got Qrow a silver ring with four tiny encrusted emeralds, Qrow got Clover a dark ring with four tiny encrusted rubies, Qrow’s wearing an onyx tux with a white undershirt and a crimson bowtie and handkerchief, and Clover’s wearing a black tux with a white undershirt and a dark green bowtie and handkerchief. 

Okay! We’re good to go!

Well, for the last regularly-scheduled time, let’s get to it!

HC under the cut!

“Uncle Qrow! Help! We can’t find your shoes!”

Ruby’s cry is what wakes Qrow up.

What a way to start the day. He hasn’t even had coffee or breakfast yet and he’s already been tasked with finding his wedding shoes. Give him a break.

It then comes to attention that this is his wedding day. By the time he goes to bed, he and Clover will be married. 

His crankiness at being woken up and put to work so quickly doesn’t fully evaporate, but a lot of it does all the same. 

And as Qrow starts searching his temporary room to find his shoes, he can’t help but take note of the bubbling happiness under him.

()()()()()()()()()()()

It feels so weird to Clover to wake up in the Ace Ops’ suite. He’s stopped by from time to time since leaving the Atlesian Army, especially as he’s been planning his wedding, but staying over feels simultaneously nostalgic and bizarre. 

Mostly though, the odd feeling is one that stems from not waking up beside Qrow. It’s not that they haven’t slept apart, but whenever they have outside of their bachelor parties, it’s been for a mission.

Well, in all fairness, today’s at once a party and a mission, and by the end of it, he and Qrow will be back sleeping right beside each other.

Clover can just barely stand the wait.

()()()()()()()()()()

The alter is beautiful. The whites and browns and red and greens come together so nicely. 

In an interesting surprise touch, Harbinger in its scythe form and Kingfisher in its rod form are tastefully placed right next to Tai and Marrow respectively. And on top of their handles, Qrow and Clover’s respective rings rest safely on each of their handles.

They’re both impressed, more so that their weapons were somehow sneak out and brought all the way to the communications tower without either’s knowledge.

Clover’s the first to arrive at Amity Tower. Tai and Marrow organized how Qrow and Clover would check in on things so they wouldn’t see each other until the ceremony. Though Clover found the superstition banal, he decides not to make a fuss about it today, not when there are more important things going on.

The sweet smell of flowers greets his nose. They’re all laid out so nicely, and possibly even more so in the reception hall. Clover looks to his and Qrow’s table, and then to his pants.

Marrow gave him back his phone this morning, and with Marrow temporarily busy in the bathroom, Clover sends Qrow a quick text before he returns.

Clover: Everything looks perfect up here, but I bet you’ll look even better. See you soon. ;) 

Qrow arrives a bit later than expected...which for him was anything but unexpected. Between finding his shoes, Tai insisting on ironing his suit (”I swear, there was a wrinkle on it this morning!), making sure he got a good meal in him, cramming everyone into Tai’s car, and dealing with traffic, it’s amazing they got there when they did.

By the time Qrow gets there, the caterers are starting to arrive and their cake is on its way over, too!

Though Qrow initially felt his scroll buzz in the car, he’s unable to look at it until now. He sees Clover’s text in between the tons of congratulations messages, and smiles.

He’s such a dork.

But he’s Qrow’s dork.

Qrow: You know it. ;) See you soon.

Far too much time is spent for either of their taste’s getting into their suits and going over their entrances and everything (Though given how their rehearsal went, neither can be too annoyed).

Both meet their respective halves of the wedding party and soon enough...it’s time.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Robyn’s the first to enter. She has a basic script in her hand, but everyone knows she’s gonna do some ad-libbing and are excited for it.

Qrow walks down the aisle first with Ruby. The whole time, he can’t but hold his breath behind his smile, worried he might trip. Ruby, who can now fully tell how her uncle operates, holds his arm tighter and more supportively. Qrow would be lying if he said it didn’t help. Upon reaching the front, Ruby gives Qrow a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before leaving his side.

After he arrives, the two sets of groomsmen enter side-by-side: Marrow and Tai, Elm and Port, Vine and Oobleck, and Harriet and Theodore (Yeah, I know basically nothing about Theodore, but I realized my numbers for Qrow’s groomsmen didn’t add up to Clover’s, and I hear the two of them got along, so we’re doing this!).

Once they’re in position, Clover enters with Yang. Clover, like Yang, holds his breath, but for a different reason. Qrow looks so impossibly good in his suit, and he can tell Qrow really likes how he looks, too. Like Ruby with Qrow, before leaving to join her sister, Yang gives Clover a hug and cheek kiss, but also a nice pat on the shoulder and a wish for “good luck.” Clover loves the sensation.

Clover whispers under his breath that Qrow looks amazing. Qrow thanks him, throwing a wink at Clover. Clover looks as stunned by it as Qrow did when he did it the first time.

Ceremony stuff happens, and then we get to the vows!

Robyn signals for Qrow to go first. He nods at her and begins.

“Clover,” Qrow says. “I want to say something to you, something that I never thought I would, especially here of all places, but something that feels like it should be said all the same. ...Here it goes. Clover, we don’t have to get married.” 

There’s a pause as everyone watching gasps. Clover is the only one who doesn’t, though he does raise and eyebrow. Qrow maintains eye contact with him and continues.

“It’s true,” he says. “We know we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. I’m not leaving you, you’re not leaving me, and once this is all over, we’re going to go right back to the same home we’ve spent years building together to build even more of it for as long as we can. We’ll get up, make breakfast and coffee, work, come home, watch TV, and go to bed. Maybe we’ll do different things on the weekends with Tai and the kids, or maybe we’ll just relax on the couch with a movie. So no, we don’t need to get married...but that’s exactly why I want to.”

The sighs of relief are close to deafening, and expecting that, Qrow takes another pause. Clover’s smile is beautiful, not beaming of exceedingly large, but radiant as it has ever been. Qrow hopes that whoever their planner organized to record their wedding captures it because it’s a smiles Qrow imagines he’ll want to look at over and over again.

“It’s exactly because we don’t need to throw a ceremony or a big party to show the world we love each other that makes me want to do just that,” Qrow continues. “A love like what we have, one that’s special because of all the things that don’t make it special just as much as all of the things that do, well to me, that’s a love worth celebrating. I love you, Clover, and I love the fact that being here with you gives me another chance to celebrate how we feel, how far we’ve come, and how much further we’ll go.”

There are tears in the corners of Clover’s eyes threatening to fall any second. Qrow feels that his own are on the verge of doing the same.

Clover pull him in for a hug. They know it’s not what they’re supposed to do, but it feels right and that’s all that matters. It lasts for ten seconds before they finally pull back.

Robyn’s looking at them jokingly. 

“You know you’re not supposed to do that yet, right?”

“Eh,” Qrow says, shrugging with a smirk on his face. “We’re unconventional.”

“Except when we’re not,” Clover chimes in, winking at Qrow over the joke.

Robyn, smiling all the while, rolls her eyes.

“Clover, it’s your turn,” she says. The two exchange nods and then Clover turns to Qrow. 

“Qrow,” he starts, “I definitely saw my life differently before I met you. I was an Atlesian Military Captain of the kingdom’s strongest group of Huntsmen, likely to stay just where I was until I retired or died in combat. That’s what I saw for myself, and that’s all I saw for myself. In that life, I didn’t see a home, I didn’t see a family, and I never saw someone I loved so much that I’d leave everything I thought I knew behind just to stand by his side. But once I met you and the kids, I began to see all sorts of things that I’d never considered for myself before -- all of those things I just listed and more. That’s the life we’ve had together so far -- deep, kind, strange, fun, sometimes a bit mundane but also beautiful because of it. I’ve got to tell you, Qrow, I can’t think of anything luckier happening to me in my entire life than finding you.”

Qrow snorts. It’s not an interruption, but Clover can’t help but comment on it. 

“I guess you saw that coming?” Clover jokes. 

“Maybe a bit.”

“Fair enough. Well, I don’t need to tell you that with semblances like ours, luck’s always been a special thing between us. Misfortune and Good Fortune just have a way of being part of our lives, no matter what we think or plan or want. We’ve talked before about how they counter each other or why one might be more powerful than the other on any given day, but while luck might have been what brought us together as partners initially and it certainly is part of us, it’s not all of us. Luck has some interesting perks, both good and bad alike -- it can make a day or even week better or worse -- but it can’t get either of us what we have together nor take it away. Luck doesn’t earn me the sight of that gleam in your eyes when I bring you a bowl of noodles just the way you like or that smile of yours when I tell you tell you a joke. Luck helps us live our lives, but we do the rest, and I think we do a pretty good job living it together, and I can’t wait to keep on doing it with you for the rest of our lives.”

A good number of the attendants make an “awwww” sound at the end of Clover’s vows. Qrow’s tempted to make fun of it, but abstains.

Robyn nods at the conclusion of her vows. Tai and Marrow collect the rings for Qrow and Clover from off of the weapons and bring them to them. Robyn then turns to Clover.

“Clover Ebi,” she says. “Do you take this man, Qrow Branwen, to be your lawfully-wedded husband -- to love, cherish, and grow with him in sickness and in health and for better or worse as long as you both shall live?”

Clover’s smile is present. It doesn’t get bigger, but it gets deeper. 

“I do,” he says. Qrow takes Clover’s ring and slides it easily onto Clover’s finger.

Robyn turns to Qrow.

“And Qrow Branwen,” she continues. “Do you take this man, Clover Ebi, to be your lawfully-wedded husband -- to love, cherish, and grow with him in sickness and in health and for better or worse as long as you both shall live?”

Qrow’s smile stays the same -- relaxed, easy, and so utterly content. Despite seeing it hundreds of times by now, it still looks so beautiful to Clover...especially when he says the next two words.

“I do.”

Qrow extends out his hand, and Clover, with the ring he got him, slides it down Qrow’s flawless finger effortlessly.

Robyn’s smile grows.

“Then by the power vested in me by the Kingdom of Solitas and the land of Remnant, I now declare you husbands. You may now kiss.”

Qrow and Clover have kissed more times than they can possibly count.

But by the time Robyn declares them married, they’re starving to feel each other’s kisses again. Cupping each other’s cheeks, Qrow and Clover share their first kiss as a married couple.

Everyone cheers. A quarter of the room cheers through their tears.

Finally, they’re married.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Qrow and Clover get a small break to themselves before they enter the reception. They spend much of it standing and sitting close together, kissing, telling the Qrow and Clover equivalent of sweet nothings to each other, and talking about what their previous night and this morning were like. It’s kind, relaxed, and happy -- so, so happy.

The reception’s amazing. Between awesome food, “the world’s best cocktail hour” (Qrow and Clover’s words, not mine), a good DJ, heartwarming (and a little embarrassing) speeches, gorgeous decorations, cool party favors, and a beautiful and loving first dance, everyone has an amazing time.

At some point, Qrow and Clover find themselves able to sneak out of their own reception for a break (Qrow especially needs one, but Clover’s not about to pretend he’s not at least a little tired either). There’s a small empty balcony right in front of the moon. Clover loops his arm around Qrow’s shoulders and settles it on the left one.

Clover takes a deep breath through his nose and Qrow can feel his hairs bounce up and down with it.

“Smell something you like?” Qrow teases.

“More like someone. And I can’t wait to keep smelling him.”

They relax in the quiet for a bit. Qrow snuggles into Clover’s side as the gentle wind embraces their forms wherever it can.

“We’re married,” Clover finally says, said as if he’s just realized it for the first time. 

It must be the tenth time today he’s done so since the ceremony.

Qrow hasn’t gotten even remotely sick of hearing it.

“We’re married,” he repeats. 

Clover releases a rumbling chuckle, then kisses Qrow’s upper right temple. Qrow presses his lips to Clover’s hand. It’s not a kiss, per se, but it lingers delicately on his hand.

They stay for a couple more minutes before deciding that they should probably return to their party.

The rest of the party is so nice. Friends and family party and dance the night away with the gorgeous night sky all around them for hours.

The cleanup is exhausting and despite loving their wedding planner from the moment they hired her, Qrow and Clover have never been more grateful for her services than where she says they can head out and that she would finish up the rest of the work and text them (”Tomorrow afternoon. You guys are gonna need some shut eye.”).

It takes Qrow and Clover about an hour to get home. Clover drives once they’re on solid ground again. In the car, neither talk much, content to sit and enjoy the drive home in a comfortable quiet, save for the occasional joke and “We’re married” statement.

When they’re finally home, they stop at the door. After all, who’s going to carry who over the threshold? 

They compromise. Kissing each other’s face all the way, Qrow carries Clover through their front door, and Clover carries Qrow through their bedroom door onto a...very fun wedding night (Which I’m gonna let you all imagine for yourself because I have literally been writing this all day and writing about sex is kind of tough for me when I’m at my best).

When they’re at last ready to go to sleep, Qrow and Clover cuddle close and give each other a final loving look before falling asleep in each other’s arms, blissfully together tonight and for decades worth of them to come, just as they deserve. I don’t even know what to say now that we’re here at the end. I think I said it here earlier, but it bears repeating: I love you all and thank you so much for following these Fair Game HCs.

Tagging @skybird13 @whipped4qrow @mooksie01 @luck-of-the-caw @xwildangel @solitude-of-stars-deactivated20 @vastnessofthespiral @o0nashipear0o @unfairgamey @doctorrwby @clover-and-co @megan-atthedisco @wash-my-brain @bisexualdisasterqrow @thursdayseraph @doubledexterity @rwby-things-i-guess @atlas-heartthrob @the-answer-was-bi-klance @compoterie @thuskindlyiboop @oceansquid @transdemion @deltastream21 @mimiori @xya-hunter @dinosaurs-last-day @roman-torchtwink @subatomictealeaves @drbtinglecannon @saphiralunaris @pretentiouskneecaps @amxngsthxmans @ayomez13 @carbonated-table-spices @darkestsiren @chaosgameingkoi @collectingsparechangemadeeasy @michaels-daughter2005 @youmaywanttoduck @lovethewitchofendor @victorious1956 @spence0112 @madamoisellesica @ju-ka-mc-24

Want to be tagged in future Fair Game HC’s (Or untagged, I understand) and be the first to catch all of the romance, fluff, drama, and puns (Sometimes all at the same time)? Send me a reply, PM, or ask, and it shall be done!

Would you also like to check out my old Fair Game HC’s? Who wouldn’t? Well, here’s a link to my Fair Game HC archives!!!!

#fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #rwby #lucky charms #luckbirds #luck birds #fairgame #qrow x clover #qrover #fair game hcs #500

[yelenasdog]

my girlfriend is a witch (spencer reid x witchy! fem reader)

INSPIRED BY THE SONG “My Girlfriend Is a Witch” BY October Country

genre: fluff w like maybe two seconds of angst

summary: he could feel she was hiding something, but she didn’t mean for him to find out like this.

words: 2.6k 

warnings: i cannot think of any for the life of me other than crying. also, disclaimer at the end of fic.

a/n: pls listen to “my girlfriend is a witch” by october country and “john barleycorn (must die)” by traffic, while u read. i’ve been meaning to get this fic out for ages, so i hope this is good! enjoy lovies!

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

It was hot, humid, and sticky under the Malibu sun.

Rubber soles from both boots and sandals alike, most likely the cheap ones you can buy at any tourist-targeted shops surrounding the vacationer heavy area, stuck to the asphalt streets, leaving a sticky tar in its wake.

SSA Y/n Y/l/n was not a fan, to put it lightly.

Her arm hung limp against her forehead as she leaned back against the black leather seats of the car she resided in, the material burning her bare arms. Literally.

And even if she were to be exaggerating, she still strongly felt that welts would be left where she had placed her limb for far too long.

She long ago had abandoned her blazer in the backseat of her vehicle due to the excruciating heat, the cotton material feeling heavy on her arms, so she turned up the AC with one hand, while slicking back the baby hairs that had managed to fall onto her forehead with the other. It was graced with beads of sickly sweat, not unlike the rest of her body.

Some repetitive song played on the stereo that she couldn’t quite figure out how to operate in the outdated FBI issued vehicle she was using, adding to her annoyance of what seemed to be to no end. 

The unfortunate ride was the result of her normal vehicle being in the shop, and rather than pay for a rental, she took whatever was left in the garage, however horrible it may be.

After sitting in hours of tiresome traffic, enduring the aforementioned reptititive song, and the entire John Barleycorn Must Die album later, (hey, it was in the glovebox, and it beat whatever had been on the radio) she finally had arrived at her destination.

She stepped out of the car, huffing at the sight in front of her. She took her black RayBans off, sliding them into her pocket of her slacks before slamming the silver door. Y/n then winced at the cracking sound that rang out. She walked forward, not wanting to look at the damage she had caused.

“That’s coming out of my paycheck.” She muttered, chewing on her chapped bottom lip, feeling the sting shoot through her nerves.

The door to the PD office she had been approaching swung open by a very frustrated officer. He breezed past her and she leaned back, placing a hand onto the warm concrete of the establishment behind her. She barely was missed by him in all his rage.

Y/l/n squinted her eyes, the rays of light clouding her vision. She began to regret taking her glasses off earlier, but disregarded the thought and continued into brick building.

The first person that she saw when she entered was the local sheriff. He was medium build, bald, and there was a bright grin that covered his face, far too bright for the current atmosphere, in her humble opinion.

“Ah, Agent, It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She reached forward offering a self-manicured hand, still slightly sweaty from the car ride.

“Pleasure’s all mine. So,” she began, walking over to where the rest of the team was examining what seemed to be a yellowed piece of parchment.

“What are we looking at?” She questioned, doing her best to get a look at whatever it was at the center of attention.

Almost like clockwork, or perhaps like a dog who was able to sense their favorite person arriving home, Spencer appeared from the back of the precinct, coffees in hand. 

He passed the one is his right hand to his girlfriend, leaning forward for a kiss on the cheek that Y/n had almost ignored. She rolled her eyes at the needy man, muttering “thank you, Spencer” In a sarcastic tone, placing a quick peck on his cheek. He pouted, and she rolled her eyes once more.

As she walked forward and took a sip of the hot drink, the rest of the BAU parted, allowing her to observe the sheet. After looking at it for a few moments, she spoke up, her words overlapping with Hotch’s.

“We have no idea what it is, Penelope did a search and couldn’t find anything of use, it doesn’t translate to anything-“

“These are runes and glyphs. Horribly written, not by someone who’s an expert in the craft. The corner of the page looks like there’s-“ she paused, leaning forward. Her eyes slimmed, scanning over the page, the necklace around her neck dangled, catching Spencer’s eye.

“Yeah, this looks like a sigil. If you give me some time I could try to work out what it was for.”

She looked up, meeting the confused glancing of everyone, including her boyfriend. Prentiss was the next to speak, albeit very cautiously.

“Alright, well, do you have any ideas about what the other symbols mean?”

“Off of the top of my head?” She turned towards the paper once more, “To reiterate, this person mixed multiple different kinds of glyphs, so it might be difficult to collectively translate them, but so far I’m getting life, death-“

“Very original of them.” Morgan joked, resulting in a smile and the signature eye roll of Y/n.

“Power, fear, balance. That’s the first line.”

“Reid, are you writing that down?” Aaron questioned. Spencer nodded, not even looking up from his clipboard where he was writing the info. “Y/n, continue.”

She bobbed her head once, bringing her attention back to the 2nd line. She was silent for a bit, at one point grabbing around for a sticky note and pen. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she was carefully handed one by a reluctant Spence. 

Everyone watched in amazement, amusement, and a little bit of confusion, as she wrote on the paper, scribbling what looked like nonsense next to some dates. After what seemed like hours (but was really just minutes) she pulled away, looking towards her significant other.

“When were all the victims killed?”

“September 29th, November 6th, November 9th, and that’s it.”

“And how did each of the victims thus far die?”

Hotch cut in, his arms crossed and his glance careful. “How are you certain there will be more killings?”

She ignored him, turning to Reid.

“Reid, how did they die?”

“First victim, stab wound, 2nd victim drowned, 3rd victim-“

“Burned alive?”

As this was the first time she had been made aware of the case (she had been attending to other business back in Quantico and had to fly commercial with no wifi, meaning no access to Penny to catch her up), her knowledge bewildered them greatly.

Seeing their concern spread on their faces, she picked up the photocopy, bringing it to where they were huddled. She stood in the center, pinky pointing and following along with what she was speaking of.

“This symbol here,” she pointed, making sure she held everyone’s attention”, is a rune for “New Moon”.  She then went on to describe how each of the days correspond with the Moon phases, as well as the matching rune and glyphs left on the page.

“I still don’t understand how that explains more killings?” Spencer spoke, his usual high IQ seemingly not working, a problem he had whenever he was around his beloved.

She walked over to him and smiled, shaking her head. She then explained the rest of the runes in detail, how they each had a meaning that applied to the way they were killed, and how there was still one more moon phase left and one more element as well.

The pair was separated once more as Spencer nodded in understanding, his mouth left agape. She admired him for a brief moment, the way his eyes were like large stones of sparkling tiger eye, his lips the color of a rose. 

Interrupting her, Hotch pulled her into a meeting room where Morgan was already waiting. Spencer stared, following her movements.

“Spence? Let’s go work on the geographical profile?” Emily asked, already on her way. He nodded, slanting his eyes briefly through the blinds of the glass. He blinked a few times, feeling like grains of sand had sunk to his waterline. He shook his head like a wet dog, ridding blooming thoughts from his mind, then continuing on from where he stood, doing his best to turn his focus elsewhere completely.

Meanwhile, Hotch was questioning her, Y/n’s knowledge about how the runes and glyphs themselves were written coming in handy for what that meant about the unsub, as well as building a profile. She was surprisingly educated on the subject, which the unit chief had decided to ignore all together, staying focused on the case. 

By the end of the work day, the profile was ready to be delivered, she had figured out the presumably intended use of the sigil, and the geographic profile was nearly finished. 

Satisfied with the day's work, she happily bid her goodbyes and exited the horribly boring meeting room, finding Spencer waiting by the door, coffee still in hand. He looked around the area, his eyes wandering over the portraits that hung on the walls of former officers.

“Spence, you ready?” She quipped, taking the coffee out of his hand and taking a sip. Spencer huffed, taking it back from her and throwing it away, no longer craving the warm beverage once it had touched her lips.

Spencer nodded, wrapping a hand around her waist and starting the long walk to the SUV from the building. They were quiet for most of the miniature journey, listening to the chirps of the cicadas, and the hot summer wind blowing in the branches of the palm trees. Y/n hummed quietly, finding herself in a peaceful state as she walked along with Spencer.

Spencer, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. His mind was running, trying to process the day’s happenings. 

As maybe it was the obsidian that hung around her neck on a sterling silver chain, or perhaps the selenite she kept on her desk and the amethyst she made Penny keep in her batcave, claiming they were “just very pretty!”

It could have been the way she was seemingly always busy on full moons, or even the peculiar deck of “playing cards” that she keeps in her 2nd drawer of her desk, pushed far to the left.

Not to mention the jars of seemingly normal water that he wasn’t allowed to drink from or empty, and the odd combinations of what seemed to be shapes and letters that she had stitched on the inside of Spencer’s satchel (it took quite the convincing, but to her it was seemingly important, so he allowed it reluctantly).

Possibly most convincing of all was the events of the day, her enlightenment on the subjects at hand leaving an uneasiness in the genius’ stomach.

Spencer wasn’t sure how he couldn’t have figured it out sooner.

His girlfriend was a witch.

The realization made him stop suddenly in his tracks, causing her to briefly trip over her own feet. She gave him a conflicted look, concern also present within the glance.

“Spencer? What’s wrong, are you alright?”

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, whatever he had to say not completely ready to be put out in the world. He simply made a line with his lips before continuing on, leaving her where she stood. She cocked her head, confused noises leaving her throat. 

She jogged to catch up with the man, his long legs making him walk awfully fast. Usually, Spencer would slow down so she could walk beside him in harmony, occasionally holding hands. But as of now, she was struggling to stay in pace with him, and she was beginning to feel fairly annoyed.

“Spencer Walter Reid! What is going on!?”

He looked behind his shoulder, only slowing his pace rather than coming to a complete stop. She managed to fall back into step with him, her gaze never leaving his form.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bit her tongue, then ran it over her front teeth unaware of what he was referring to. “Tell you what, Reid?”

He shook his head, once more allowing his lips to turn into a straight line, slightly puffing up at his cupid's bow. “You know, about being a witch, or whatever.” He was much quieter when saying the second part of the sentence, his voice quite low.

The statement had shocked Y/n to some degree, but she kept walking, still trying to stay in step with the doctor. She wasn’t quite sure how to go about this, if she should lie and tell him he was being silly, if she should come clean about her “hobbies”. She simply didn’t know.

She decided to just not speak until much later. 

It was after the car ride with the rest of the team (which was quite awkward, considering they could tell something was off between the two lovers), and after they both had eaten and showered before getting ready for bed. Y/n was sitting on one twin sized bed, while Spencer was sitting on the other, reading something from his laptop, which was very unlike him.

Y/n on the other hand couldn’t keep her mind off of the question he had asked earlier. I mean, she had an answer, that much was true. But if she wanted to give it to him, she could not bear to decide. She was staring at the cheesy hotel art on the beige wall, heat still radiating in from the open window that was cracked in the first place to combat the lack of AC.

Her gaze never faltered from the painting of the vase of flowers, the colors seemingly muted. She began to speak, slowly, cautiously.

“I didn’t tell you, because I honestly didn’t think you would care. I mean, maybe you would, but I thought that your whole science thing would make you think I was nuts…” She shook her head, looking to the ceiling. She could feel her boyfriend burning holes into the side of her head, staring.

“Although there’s plenty of science to back it up, and even if there wasn’t, science accepts or rejects ideas based on the evidence; it doesn’t-”

“-Prove or disprove them.”

She looked over and met Spencer’s sad hazel eyes, suddenly feeling very, very guilty.

His voice was quiet as a mouse, he was unable to keep eye contact for long, feeling the need to turn away.

“Metaphysics is an interesting form of philosophy that i’ve done a fair amount of research on, and the CIA has done extensive research on astral projection among other things widely considered to be nonsense phenomena, discarded by most otherwise.”

Her heart sunk and sang all at once, an inexplicable emotion rising like the tide, all the way up to her eyes, a tear slipping out and rolling down her cheek.

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I would have listened, Y/n. I still will, if you care to tell me about it.” 

She looked up from the beige comforters of the motel room bed, feeling an almost magnetic pull tugging her towards Spencer. So she stood and he opened his arms, allowing her to find comfort in his embrace.

“I’m sorry Spence.”

“It’s alright, I just want you to know how much you mean to me, Y/n/n. I will respect and handle anything and everything you throw my way, okay? Nothing could change how much I love you.”

She nodded, a muffled “okay” leaving her lips. He chuckled, pulling her closer. They stayed in that position for some time, savouring each other’s warmth. After she collected herself, feeling rejuvenated, she pulled away, a bright grin creeping its way onto her features.

“So,” she smirked, Spencer raised an unruly brow. 

“Where do you wanna start?”

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

kinda hate it ngl. but i hope someone out there enjoyed it. for sure not my best writing and it’s a bit confusing but whatever.

DISCLAIMER: my mother and i both regularly participate in metaphysical practices, such as tarot, oracle, the usage of incense and crystals, sigils, spirit guide communication, etc. as well as several practices drawn from hinduism but regularly (and wrongly) culturally appropriated by the west, (chakras, manifestation) while also identifying with and following the methodist faith. i understand and appreciate the origins of it within hinduism, and this is in no way meant to offend anyone whatsoever and is simply for entertainment purposes. no closed practices should be participated in unless invited or born into said practice, and none have been, nor will be. (:

(also ty to roo for educating me on hinduism and how it’s been morphed and appropriated by the west, mwah ur the best)

 love u, xx hj

#blah #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #doctor spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x reader fluff #Spencer reid x fem #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem reader #mgg #mgg x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x yn #mgg x y/n #mgg x you #mgg fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader #cm fanfic #cm x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine

[thatmultifandomhoe]

The Size of a Heart

Pairing: Lee Hoseok (Wonho) and Reader

Word Count: 9,919

Genre: Established Relationship AU - Slice of Life AU - Smut - Angst - Fluff

Overview: Between work and obtaining an MFA, it had been too long since you and   Hoseok had gotten to spend more than a few hours together, let alone be intimate with each other. When he whisks you away for a well-deserved   weekend getaway, just the two of you and no one else, you eagerly jumped  on board, and him. But when you wake up alone left with your thoughts,  unable to escape the insecurities you once put behind you, this weekend  changes your relationship in a way you hadn’t even hoped for.

Warning: Tattooed Wonho, Pierced Wonho, messy kisses, Wonho is a hoe for the reader’s boobs, size kink - body insecurity, body dysmorphia, talk about dieting, talk about starving, talk about binge eating, fasting, self-hatred, self-conscious, use of the term fat in a negative view – explanation of the butterfly project.

A/N: This drabble was perhaps one of the hardest fics I’ve written, and that’s because this story deals with something that I’ve struggled with for many, many years now. With that being said, one of the many things this story deals with is body dysmorphia.

For those who are unaware, body dysmorphia or - Body dysmorphic disorder - is a mental health disorder in which you can't stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or  flaws in your appearance — a flaw that appears minor or can't be seen by  others. I am stating this right now, I have never been diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder, but I have done many of the things that are mentioned later on in this fic.

This was not an easy story to write because I put in my own experiences with being self-conscious, with hating what I see in the mirror, with seeing an image of myself that isn’t what others see. To be honest, I’ve also left out a lot of the things that I’ve done because of that. There were many moments were I had to stop and walk away from this fic because it was so hard to read the things the MC is going through, and knowing that I did them, that I still do. It’s not easy.

This is just a heads for those who may not be comfortable reading such things. And that’s perfectly understandable. For those of you do decide to read this fic, well, I hope you enjoy. I really do. There are moments that made me laugh, so I promise it’s not all angst lol. I really do.

Master List:

Music Playlist:

Part of the Intimacy Anthology Project

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The sky was burning as the sun set for the night, cloaking the city in its familiar darkness. Leaning against the side door, you watched the world blur by from the passenger seat of Hoseok’s car.

Only half an hour earlier did you get a text from him telling you to pack a bag. Somehow, he managed to clear his own schedule, and knowing that you were free as well, he decided that the two of you needed a getaway from reality for a few days, even if it was only to his place. The best of it all, was the promise of spending all day in his bed.

You and Hoseok had only been dating for six months at this point, and while sex with him wasn’t a new thing, this was the first time that you were going to be spending a weekend with him. With all the hours that he put into his tattoo shop, and you working on obtaining your MFA while still working full time as an assistant to a family run law firm, more often than not your schedules didn’t line up. Work and school dictated both your lives, making it near impossible to spend more than a few hours together.

Despite living in the same city, the two of you relied on video chats and messaging apps to stay connected as if it was a long-distance relationship.

Which is why once you had received his text about his plans, you had rushed around the apartment, ignoring the strange looks your roommates gave you as you ran to your room, throwing in clothes from the closet without a second thought and those lacey bra and panties that had been waiting for their moment to shine.

Three nights. Two days. Alone with Hoseok sleeping next to you, was all that you needed and wanted to do. There were no plans whatsoever that involved leaving his bed.

Shifting in the seat, the corners of your mouth lifted when seeing Hoseok glance at you, his eyes lingering on your bare legs as you straightened them out more. He was driving one-handed, the other resting on the console, fingers intertwined with yours as he rhythmically rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Won’t be much longer,” Hoseok said, lifting your tangled hands to kiss the back of yours.

You hummed in agreement, watching the corner of his eyes crinkle as he smiled and chuckled, glancing up at you before focusing back on the road. He had asked for you to be ready to go by seven, that way there wouldn’t be much traffic to deal with.

“You sure you won’t have to work this weekend?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hoseok nodded, kissing your knuckles once more and keeping them against his lips for a few extra moments. “I promise, love. I made sure not to book any sessions.”

Adjusting in his seat, he shifted his knee against the steering wheel, the clicking of the blinkers going off as he pulled into his driveway. Your smile widened as you let go of his hand to gather your purse and backpack, prepared to open the door when the lock sharply echoed in the car. There was no time for you to react because the next thing you knew, fingers were gripping your chin and turning you to face Hoseok. For a split second, his sneaky grin took up the majority of his face before his mouth descended onto yours.

His plush lips were soft against yours, and while he had given you a quick kiss when you had left the apartment, you had been too excited about being with him to be able to properly enjoy it. Now…the bags slipped from your fingers, a dull thud barely registering in your mind as you cradled the back of his head. Briefly you felt him smile, but when you leaned further into him, his hands sliding their way down and around your frame as the kiss deepened.

It had been so long since either of you kissed like this. Usually you settled for soft and sweet, occasionally indulging in his games when he would try to pull you back for a chaste kiss, then another, and then one last one, I promise, until you had to rush to get back to the office or class.

Hoseok tugged on the bottom of your shirt until it was freed from your jeans, eagerly sliding his palms over your back, trailing each bump of your spine and leaving your body shivering with his sudden touch. Threading your fingers through his black hair, you lightly tugged on the locks, his sudden groan shooting you straight in the heart.

“Been too long,” you murmured, shifting in the seat so that you were sitting on your knees in the seat, and for the first time ever, hovering over Hoseok as you leaned back down, hungrily kissing him.

When was the last time the two of you were able to lose yourselves in each other? Without worrying about work and projects getting in the way every single time?

There was no warning from Hoseok except for a squeeze of your hips when you felt yourself becoming airborne for a few brief seconds, finding your new position to be straddling his hips. His hands felt like they were everywhere, lost in the taste of the mint gum he must have chewed earlier to do anything more than moan when his hands slipped into your back pockets to squeeze your ass.

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he slipped his tongue in, grip tightening on your ass as he felt your hips rock against him.

Even with the AC on, the cold air did nothing to cool your body temperature, making the already warm summer day hotter inside the car. Although you knew who to blame for that sudden change.

Your heart was racing as the kissing continued breaching into desperate lust. Your chest was aching from the lack of oxygen, but you refused to give in to such a simple thing like air. In your opinion, this, kissing your boyfriend, was far more important despite how much your lungs were disproving this decision.

It didn’t help that despite being on his lap, space between you and the steering wheel were tight. Needing something to hold on to, you slid your hands up Hoseok’s chest, gripping the sides of his leather. The sudden pull on his jacket had him moving forward, and with your minds preoccupied, neither of you realized the consequence of that action until it was too late.

The horn blared in your ears, jolting the two of you apart at the unwanted noise that only stopped when Hoseok tugged you off the steering wheel and against his chest. For the short moments afterwards, the outside world fell silent, your chest heaving as short gasps escaped from trying to catch your breath. Palms placed firmly on Hoseok’s chest, they moved with him as he tried to regulate his own breathing, and it was there that they shook with his shoulders, his giggles starting out soft and adorable before growing loud.

His laughter was infectious. So much so that you found yourself resting your forehead on his shoulder, cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so harshly. The longer that you sat on his lap, a dull ache settled in your knees, but there was nothing in this world that was going to make you leave his arms, the very ones that were wrapped around you with one of his hands cradling the back of your head. He held you just tight enough to reassure you that he was in fact here and holding you, that this wasn’t just another hopeful dream.

“Are you okay?” He said, his voice light with his giggles.

Nodding, you leaned backwards to look at him, eyes smiling as bright as his smile. “I’m fine,” you reassured, stealing a glance behind you to make sure that you didn’t hit the steering wheel as you shifted on his lap.

 His soft pink lips were darker and his hair was disheveled from your fingers. Reaching you, you gently fixed the messed up looks, missing the way that his laughter turned to only the occasional giggle, his face softening as he gazed at you. Before you could remove your hand, Hoseok was taking it in his, fingers automatically lacing together with yours as he bumped his forehead against yours.

You closed your eyes at the connection, catching the faintest scent of crisp apples attached to his clothing. It was fresh, yet reminded you of his shop at the same time. He must have come straight to your apartment from working on a client.

Inside your chest, your heart didn’t race, instead it slowed down, comfortably beating as his nose softly brushed against yours. As much as you had missed the passion and his kisses, out of everything, it was the simplest of innocent touches, his familiar presence that you craved and missed so dearly. He had a way about himself that was able to turn the mood up to a hundred, and carefully bring it back to normal.

“How about we leave this car,” Hoseok murmured, his palms resting on the small of your back. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather spend our little vacation inside the house.”

As perfect as this moment was, he was right. The ache in your knees had grown along with a minor fear that if the two of you kept this going in the driver’s seat, that you would once again be getting a rude greeting from the car horn.

Lifting your forehead off his, you raised an eyebrow at him. “Anywhere in particular inside?”

The corner of his lips twitched again, bringing back his smile at full force. “Wherever you want to be.”

A scoff left you too easily. Pushing off of him, you undid the lock and with his hands steadying you, got out of the car and headed in the direction of his front door. A summer breeze kissed at your heated body, the leaves from the trees shaking from up above as small lights blinked in and out around the yard like miniature falling stars. It had been awhile since you last saw fireflies. They were childhood memories and nostalgia that had you diverting from the original plan of going inside, content with staying out for a little while longer.

When a pair of arms wrapped around your frame and hands settled on your hips, Hoseok’s head leaning against yours, it was easy to picture this moment happening over and over again every summer. While it was a little shocking how easy it was to imagine, nothing felt more right than this. Maybe not always right in this spot, but by his side was where it felt perfect. Where it felt natural.

Lips nibbling at your neck had your eyes closing, easily leaning against his body as you were brought back to reality.

“Didn’t know you were into public stuff,” Hoseok teased, sucking at a particular spot on your neck that had you gasping. “I’m not sure how my neighbors will feel about that though.”

You swatted at his thigh, feeling his lips curve upwards before he pressed himself completely against your backside, allowing you to feel every inch and curve of his body. Shifting in his embrace, your eyes widened upon feeling something else pressing against your ass. One that brought back more mildly more recent memories and weren’t childhood friendly, saliva building up and forcing you to swallow.

“Maybe…maybe we should go inside.” you suggested, voice barely above a whisper as you tried to remain calm, taking a shaky breath despite wanting nothing else but to continue.

Hoseok hummed against your neck, leaving one last kiss. Straightening up, he winked and tapped your ass, leaving a hand on your lower back to guide you to the house, all as if he wasn’t walking around with an erection or that he had riled you up. Like this was normal for him.

It only took seconds.

Fifteen seconds to get inside his house. Ten seconds to kick your shoes onto the shoe rack he had, and only five seconds for Hoseok to spin you around and bring you close enough for him to kiss. Like in the car, the lust was quickly ignited once more as you tried to keep up with him, wanting to taste and feel more of him. You wanted him, in every which way possible, to the point where it was an overflowing pot, and yet, even then it wouldn’t be enough.

You would never be able to get enough of the man that was Lee Hoseok.

With an ease that still surprised you, Hoseok gripped your waist and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, making you wrap your legs around his hips to bring you closer. Once he had you like he wanted, he secured his arms around you and carried you away all while keeping the kiss going.

He walked with a clear destination and kissed like he was the devil coming to collect his debt, personally bringing you to Hell’s gates where you knew that only his touch would run hotter than its fires.

A chill erupted along your spine as blankets and pillows gently encompassed your body, only then did the kiss break, chest heaving as you tried to look around the room, but when he nibbled on your shoulder it was game over. You moaned, taking a moment to indulge in the feeling before reaching up to push his leather jacket off. He barely removed himself from you to take off his favorite clothing piece, but he tugged it off and only ended up lightly biting your skin, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Sorry love,” Hoseok murmured, kissing that spot oh so gently that it questioned whether or not his lips had actually touched the skin.

“It’s fine,” you chuckled, tilting your head to kiss him once again.

When Hoseok kissed you for the first time it was after your sixth date. At first you had thought it was strange that he would wait so long for a kiss that most people gave out after a second or third date, but he had never been one to rush things, and by taking his time, it had made that first time all that more special. They had been addicting back then, and as he took you to Paris in the comfort of his room, you found yourself never wanting to stop.

Shirts were quickly discarded and you managed to get Hoseok on his back, taking the advantage of straddling his waist to leave your own love bites around his neck, kissing your way down his sternum, feeling each and every shaking breath that he took before hearing his groans.

A black and grey scale of a lion took up the majority of his chest, strands of its mane peaking up onto his shoulders and the base of his neck that always teased you when he wore a shirt. Due to how large the piece was, the mane covered his pecs, practically hiding the silver bars of his nipple piercings. A dare he had gotten back in his younger years. When he told you that story it was always with a smile. Free piercings and jewelry, I just had to prove I had the balls to go through with it.

A deep moan sounded from above when you kissed his nipple, the metallic taste of the piercing lingering on your tongue, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to grind himself into you. It only succeeded in sending the fire that was boiling straight to your heart, your nails raking down his sides and causing him to flinch at the sensation.

“We can tease the fuck out of each other later,” Hoseok groaned, undoing the button of your shorts with quick movements. “I’ve missed you too much to wait any longer.”

As much as you enjoyed worshiping every curve and groove from his muscles, he was right. Releasing his piercing, you leaned back up to steal a kiss that he readily accepted. His palms trailed up your body, almost wrapping around you as he rolled you on your back and slipping between your lower half.

Breaking the kiss, Hoseok messily kissed down the valley of your breasts, his fingers making quick work of removing the offending shorts off your legs and tossing them to the floor without a care to where they landed. The bra didn’t last much longer. Once your breasts were free, he descended on the left one, sucking and licking the nipple as he fondled the other, forcing a gasp from you as you felt your underwear grow damp.

The blankets were bunched up and shifting towards the edge of the bed, and when he suddenly let go of your breast, the air in the room suddenly too cold as it made contact with the wet mess he left, you let go of the blankets and chose to hold on to his shoulders when he latched on the right nipple. As if not wanting to let it feel left out, he ran his thumb over the saliva he left, spreading it over your boob.

“Hoseok,” you whined, back arching off the pillow.

He hummed around your breast, lips curling up until he released you with a satisfied grin as the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Sorry love,” he murmured, messily kissing you again. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Take off your pants if you’re so sorry,” you said, raising a leg to push at the jeans that clung to his body.

“Gladly.”

Pushing himself up, his black bangs fell in his face as he worked on removing his pants, the belt clattering against itself as it fell to the floor.

Wetting your lips, you watched, unabashedly drinking in the way your boyfriend had built himself up from all the late night and early morning workouts he did at the gym, even occasionally slipping one in during the middle of the day. All his hard work and protein shakes had paid off, even with his odd obsession with eating ramen at random times.

However, as he went to push them down, you quickly leaned forward to trace the black cursive letters that were tattooed near his abs and v-line, right above the band of his jeans. He didn’t have this the last time you two had sex, and there was no memory of him mentioning getting another tattoo.

“Monsta…X?” You read aloud, glancing up at him.

His smile widened but he didn’t speak, settling for only raising a single eyebrow.

Of all the things he could have gotten inked onto his body, this was perhaps the strangest. Usually he only got tattoos that were important to him. The lion on his chest was symbolic to protecting those he loved. His entire upper left arm was a nightlife scene with bright colors of Seoul, South Korea to represent his home country, and underneath that on his forearm was a small bouquet of yellow daffodils that appeared as if the flowers had grown right out of his wrist, they were so realistic.

Everything had a meaning, so what was so important that he had to get those words tattooed? Especially in a spot that made it impossible to not steal a glance at his…

“You named your dick Monsta X?” You gasped; eyes wide as his body shook with his laughter. “Why?”

“Why not?” He giggled, continuing to remove his pants.

Your mouth opened and closed repetitively, but a slow grin overtook your face and you shook your head, just as amused if not even more than Hoseok was. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I mean…” Tossing his pants away, he winked as he reached over to the nightstand drawer and pulled out a foil, setting it on the bed next to you as he sat on his knees, his thigh muscles stealing your attention briefly when they flexed, the bulge in his briefs almost straining against the fabric. “You always call it that anyway.”

The sudden laugh was ripped from your throat and you hurried to cover your mouth with your palm. If it weren’t for the fact that he was grinning – his eyes met yours for a moment and his smile softened, almost daring to dip into shy territory before he cleared his throat - and you knew that he had a sense of humor, you would have been trying to fix what you said. Besides, it wasn’t like he was wrong either, it had just been the last thing you expected him to say.

“Now that we got that out of the way,” Hoseok said, still amused while lifting your legs together in one hand as he removed your damp panties with the other, tossing them like a basketball towards the door despite your halfhearted protests. He quickly discarded his own pair without a second thought and after rolling on the condom, with no warning whatsoever he tugged on your legs to bring you closer to him and in-between you once more.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in another kiss. This one, unlike the others, was slower, more sensual as he took the time. Despite the heated impromptu make out session in the car, it still felt like forever since the two of you had last been together. Not just intimately, but in the simplest, and loving ways.

When the kiss finally broke, there were a few beats where the world seemed to stop turning as you gazed at each other. Even though it had only been six, glorious, months with Hoseok, the thought of it one day coming to an end was nonexistent. With him, it felt like you were right where you belonged.

He stole another kiss, then a second, but could one even call it stealing when you’re just as eager to kiss him? As the kisses continued, fingers trailed down your hip and thigh, feeling it grip your leg and moving it around his hip before repeating it with the other.

The night was long, but as the sheets twisted in your grip, you knew it was going to be everything and then some.

Shifting against the sheets, you pressed your face further into the warm pillow, the blankets tucked around your body, ensuring that at no point would the chilled air reach you. Not wanting to move around too much, you stretched a hand out to the side, hoping that Hoseok would feel you moving around and pull you close. He always ran warmer than you, even going so far and to tease about you using him as your own personal heater.

Instead, your fingers wrapped around cold sheets.

The difference in temperature had you yanking your hand back to the safety of the warm cocoon you were wrapped up in as you tilted your head. Blinking, you saw that the side where Hoseok should have been, was neatly made up, with only a single wrinkle from when you tried to feel around for him.

“Hoseok?” you said, wondering if he was even still in the house.

He had promised that this weekend was for the two of you with no interference from anyone. Including work and school. Holding the blankets to your chest, you took your sweet time sitting up. The sunlight that was streaming in through the blinds and decently sheer curtains blinded you for a few seconds, forcing you to tilt your head away from the window. Although in only a short time were your shoulders relaxing as the sunlight warmed the bare skin.

Now that you were up, you were able to see that the floor had been cleaned up from last night’s reunion, the clothes that neither of you had gave a damn about where now in the hamper by the bedroom door, and your purse and backpack were sitting on the leather desk chair with a red silk robe folded over the back. It was the exact opposite from the night before. The only exception was the missing Hoseok.

Yawning, you ran a hand through your hair, recalling the way that Hoseok had brushed the locks away from your face to kiss you. The corner of your lips curled upwards, and you had started to lay back down on the bed, the warmth of the blankets coaxing and teasing the possibility of a few more hours of sleep, you spotted a piece of paper on his pillow.

It was folded in half with your name written carefully on it with a heart, bringing a smile to your face before you had even read it.

Morning love, I promise I didn’t sneak off to work while you slept. I told you that nothing work related would interfere with our weekend, and I’m keeping it that way. So you’re probably wondering where the hell I am then. Don’t worry, I just went to the gym nearby for my morning workout. I should be back by noon, unless you’re still asleep by the time I return, then this letter will be pointless.

Either way, I’ll see you soon.

Always,

Your Muscle Bunny.

Despite the fact that he was still gone, a grin appeared and you were pressing your face into the pillow, still holding onto the letter as muffled giggles filled the room. He was never going to let you live that down, but even then, it was so true.

Hoseok was without a doubt jacked up and he took the time to research, spending hours understanding the muscles that he wanted to work on and finding the best exercises to achieve that. Making protein shakes in bulk. There had been many conversations where you’d ask and he’d go on and explain it all to you. At times it made you wonder why he never became a doctor.

But then there were those moments – the rare times the two of you managed to find time together – and he’d be the one tugging you closer for cuddles, sometimes laying on top of you with his head resting on your chest while watching a movie and playing with his hair. When it was hard to find time to meet up for dates, instead of going home to your roommates, you found love letters addressed from him, each one handwritten asking how you were and catching you up on his life. They were personal, each one containing a faint whiff of his cologne, sometimes little mementos that he thought you might enjoy, a slip of poetry or even ones he created himself. Every one you received was carefully placed in a box that you kept on your dresser, more often than not rereading them when all-nighters were the only way to get work done.

He was buff and strong, but at the same time he was soft and didn’t care who knew.

A true muscle bunny.

Rolling over on the bed, you set the note on the nightstand, making a mental note to save it for the memory box when you got back home. The clock had revealed that it was only eleven in the morning as you got out of the bed, quickly nabbing and covering yourself with the robe before going anywhere else.

Without having Hoseok home, the place was quiet as your footsteps papped against the wood floor when you went down the hallway to the bathroom. If he was at the gym then he’d be hightailing it to the shower, unless he wanted to be mean and give a sweaty hug, and you wanted to take advantage of the hot water before he got back. Living with a group of undergrads to try and save money had come with many pros and cons, but the true loss had been the long hot showers you treasured. It was a luxury if you were able to snag fifteen minutes without someone banging on the door.

The fact that he had written out a note instead of sending a text kept the smile floating as the water heated up, your favorite playlist playing loud enough to be heard from down the hall. It was the little things that he did that made you wonder if it was right to tell him those three special words. Since the two of you started dating, it was impossible to imagine yourself with anyone else, and while you didn’t want to jump the wagon and declare that you were ready for marriage, being able to say I love you and hear him tell it back to you, sent butterflies dancing in your stomach.

Reaching in to check the water, you hung the robe on the hook, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. Purple hickeys dotted all over your body, primarily centering around your breasts and neck. Unable to help yourself, you stepped closer to the mirror as you let down your hair, tracing the shape of the marks that he had left out of love last night.

When you thought back on it, he had been so focused on your breasts, his hands remained on either your hips or your face, tilting you constantly so that he could kiss you in whatever position he put you in. But never once had they touched your stomach. Eyes falling to your torso, the lack of any curves had you biting the insides of your mouth, ignoring the dulled pain as you swiped away the fog that had gathered on the mirror.

At least, you thought they had been out of love.

There were no curves. It was just a square. You were just a square. No wonder Hoseok had ignored your stomach last night. He was constantly working out and even with his abs and broad shoulders, his waist still had the slightest curve that was obvious when he wore tight shirts, giving his body the appearance of an upside-down triangle. He put in the time and effort for his muscles and here you were, just a square.

Your workout routine? The most of a workout that you got involved walking on campus to get to each class and then your car for home or work. You couldn’t remember the last time you had carved out a set amount of time to go to the gym or do a home workout. There was barely any time to yourself.

The hot water raining down on you was a momentary distraction from the thoughts swirling around. It only lasted a few short minutes. Like wildfire, they ignited memories and beliefs that you swore you had locked up and burnt to ash years ago. Especially when you have been doing so well recently.

Numbers of a scale rapidly spin each time you stand on it. The black and white numbers playing wheel of fortune as they decide your fate for the night. Did you lose? Or did you gain? The cards were always held by the ringmaster that was the small scale and whether or not they were what you originally wanted; they were never good enough when they were finally dealt out.

It was never enough. Never good enough. You always had to push it and even then, it wasn’t enough. The image you saw in the mirror convinced you to take smaller portions of meals, pushing the hours in-between meals before suddenly cutting off eating after a certain time, because the way your stomach twisted in pain and begged for some sort of substance had you convinced that it was working.

Days. Weeks. You’d be so good at keeping up with it, but there was always a hiccup that sent you plummeting in a spiral. It could be a snack, a small cherry tomato or even a cracker, and the next thing you knew all the containers were on the counter as you shoved whatever you could down your throat without a care in the word. Even then it wouldn’t be enough. It was never enough. You’d be eating, but your stomach would feel like a bottomless pit because you were so hungry. Hungry to the point that you wouldn’t be able to recall what the food you ate tasted like.

Then the scale would be mocking you all over again.

Leaning backwards against the wall, the water from the showerhead made it impossible to distinguish between the tears sliding down your face. You just pressed your lips together, just staring at the floral shower curtain that was hanging up, the shampoo bubbles sitting in your hair as you remained still.

You have been doing so good lately. The past hadn’t even been lingering thought and when Hoseok entered your life, everything just seemed to be falling in place.

Yet here you were, standing in the shower with water that was steaming but you felt nothing, rehashing old thoughts that were crawling their way through any empty space that was available. The tiniest crack of an opening was all they needed to enter uninvited.

He didn’t know about this. Hoseok. You had been so good with eating, no longer cutting back or bingeing that it never crossed your mind to tell him. But as you moved under the water to rinse out the suds, your fingers grazed the hickies he had left in his place. All over your chest and neck. Avoiding your stomach. Your thighs were barely even grazed. Everywhere but your stomach.

He knows, you thought, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, gasps and whimpers filling the bathroom but drowned out by the music as you cried. There was no other way to explain it. He saw what you used to see, what you still see. The square. Nothing more than a body with rolls that hung on you. It was a miracle he was able to still have sex with you last night. How could he be with someone like you when it was so obvious that he put effort into maintaining his own body.

Body on autopilot, your hands went through the motions of washing out your hair and then applying conditioner while your mind detached itself from the mundane task at hand. The idea of him seeing you like this, with no shape at all, what you considered to be a square...no. A square was too nice of a term. You were not a square. A glance through the opening of the curtain let you see your reflection in the mirror, and your eyes watered up once again. Not a square, you thought. A blob. A fat, overweight blob, taking up his time and space.

Twisting your hair, you stared at the locks as water poured out before abruptly shutting it off, fingers gripping the handle that controlled the temperature as you pressed your free palm against the wall. The bathroom was like a sauna. Even after with the water shut off, the room was hotter than hell.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away those thoughts. They were leeches clinging to the inside of your mind and no matter how much you pulled, they weren't coming off. In a daze you manage to straighten up and get out of the shower, wrap a towel around yourself and hair, all while biting down on the inside of your cheeks in an attempt to push them away. When you looked up however, the smear mark from when you wiped the fog off the mirror was still there, allowing you glimpses at yourself. For a split second you saw bloodshot eyes stared back and purple hickeys staring at you, but you looked down towards the floor to hurry out of the room, unable to push those thoughts and images away.

That’s because it’s you.

That blob is you.

It’s you.

Last night was wonderful. Beautiful. Perfect even. But now all you could think about was how Hoseok had avoided certain areas of you on purpose. That perhaps, he didn’t think you were as beautiful as he thought.

You didn’t recall changing. One second you were entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel and the next when you looked down to grip the fabric tighter, you were dressed in one of his black t-shirts and a pair of panties you had packed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the towel fell from your fingertips and in an attempt to hold on to something, anything to keep you from floating away, you slid them over your face and into your hair, twisting and gripping the locks until there was a hard ache on the side of your scalp.

“Go away,” you softly whispered, tugging a little hard to make those pesky leeches leave you. “Please go away. Please”

They needed to go. Disappear. It didn’t matter if you had to burn them to a crisp and leave behind a permanent scar. You just needed them to go away, because spiraling was not an option. Not again.

The house was silent when Hoseok arrived, his keys jangling together until he closed his fist around them, making him wonder if perhaps you were still asleep. A small smile formed as he quietly toed his shoes off, the first destination in his mind was to go to the bedroom and see if you were there.

Last night, neither of you had gone to sleep, or truly slept, until dawn had begun to peep through the curtains – because apparently the night didn’t last forever like the two of you had thought. A fault that was perhaps all on him and he should have known better. He was supposed to be older, wiser, more experienced, but how people liked to forget that he was still a man only in his twenties. Just…later in them.

But as he neared the bedroom, he remembered full well how you had wrapped your limbs around him, coaxing him back for more, kissing him not only on his lips but in everyplace where his skin wasn’t dotted with purple love marks from you.

Since he wore tank tops to work out in, the marks had certainly left an impression on the guys at the gym, receiving more head nods and grins than usual. The older man at the jewelry store however, had been less impressed. Then again, that could also be because Hoseok had gone straight there after working out, skipping out on his shower to pick up his order before the store closed for the day.

Not exactly the best decision that he’s made in life so far.

Carefully pushing open the bedroom door, his smile softened upon seeing you curled up on the bed. Not wanting to disturb you, he quietly set the box on his nightstand and left the room, going straight for the bathroom to shower.

As much as he would have loved to tease you, you didn’t deserve waking up to him smelling like dried sweat.

However, he frowned upon seeing the floor mats placed on the floor and condensation covering the mirror, droplets of water covering the entire surface of the bathroom. He turned to look down the hall, but he couldn’t hear any movements or your voice calling out his name.

Maybe she was still tired even after showering, Hoseok thought, shrugging it off as he shut the door behind him, hoping you hadn’t used up all the hot water.

Water dripped from his hair as he entered the bedroom, the towel tightly tied around his hips and confirming every single imagination and daydream. A glance over at your body revealed that you hadn’t moved at all in the time that he was gone.

Smirking, he kneeled on the bed, moving until he was behind you, pressing a hand on the mattress in front of you to maintain his balance while he leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Wake up love,” Hoseok murmured, dragging out the kisses as he took his sweet time in trailing them up to your jawline, last night once again reclaiming his mind. It was a joke to even consider that it had left in the first place.

He wasn’t going to lie and say that he hadn’t missed the sex when the two of you were apart more often than not, sex was great, amazing, otherworldly and even more with you. But that wasn’t even number one on his list. More often than not, he missed being able to sling an arm around your shoulders or waist to bring you in for a hug. The way that your fingers would run through his hair when you thought he was asleep, and the way your eyes always lit up when you talked about something that happened in your classes. Or when you would bump his leg with your foot to ask him about a word that was just on the tip of your tongue, but just conveniently out of reach at that second. It was always a simple word, but the way you exaggerated your arm motions while trying to describe it were fascinating to him.

Hoseok missed you.

Feeling you shift underneath him, his lips curled into a smile as he lifted his head, prepared to give you a kiss that you deserved, only for that mindset to suddenly change when he saw your watery eyes.

That was not how you normally woke up.

The last time he had seen you crying after waking up was when you had gotten your period in the middle of night. It had been a week early and the cramps came out of nowhere, leaving him clueless with what to do but willing to do anything to help ease the pain. Which meant a late-night run to the twenty-four hour convenience store, looking at a picture of the brand of pads you used on his phone, along with buying your favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream and the big bottle of Advil.

He already had a heating pad at home for days when he overworked himself and his muscles got sore. Before leaving for the convenience store, he had set it up for you.

“What’s wrong love?” Hoseok asked, shifting so that his weight was on his left hand behind your back, hovering over your body to try and see your face better.

Before he could do it for you, you were quickly wiping your face with the heels of your palms. “Nothing,” you hurried to say, moving to sit up with the mindset of rushing out of the bedroom to make a run for the bathroom, hoping he would believe that it was a simple eyelash in your eye.

But he was too quick for you, his hand gently capturing your wrists and moving them down as he cupped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Baby, it’s not nothing. What happened while I was gone?”

Sniffling, you shook your head. No. Why would you point out the obvious? He knew what you looked like. He saw. So why was he playing this game with you?

He sighed at your stubbornness, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. Not caring if he got the blankets and sheets wet, he settled down beside you and slipped an arm underneath your body to roll you over and into his embrace where he securely wrapped his other arm over you. Once you were nestled in, Hoseok rested his chin on top of your head, drawing a lazy shape on your back, patiently waiting for the moment that you found your voice again.

The second Hoseok hugged you, the back of your eyes burned and you tightly squeezed them shut, not wanting to see anything, an old way to tell yourself that if you couldn’t see, then you wouldn’t have to see what was being reflected back at you.

But wrapped up in Hoseok’s arms, with his heart beating like a sweet lullaby, arms strong enough to fight off anyone who tried to hurt you, even he was unable to find and protect you from the leeches that forced you down the path that was littered with the broken glass and bloodstains that was your past.

His heart broke at the sound of your cries echoing in the bedroom, feeling the tears slide down his chest as he rubbed your shaking body. There was nothing he could do or say to make you feel better until he understood what was happening. All he could do was be here to hold you until you were ready.

Time passed by slowly, but at some point, the tears began to dry up, and the gasps for air had calmed down, allowing you to be able to breathe normally again. The only time you had physically moved was to cling to Hoseok, despite not wanting to tell him what was swirling around in your mind, you didn’t want him to leave you.

A blob.

You’re just a fat blob.

Do you really need to eat lunch today?

“Make it stop,” you whimpered, fingers clenching on the pillow behind Hoseok as your fist dug into his back.

His body jerked at the new bump but he ignored that, choosing to focus on what you were saying. You didn’t know it, but the entire time you had been crying, tears had fallen silently down his cheeks as he watched them fall into your hair. He hated seeing you in pain.

“Make what stop love?” He softly asked, moving a hand to be able to stroke your cheek.

“My mind,” you cried, not yelling, but your voice cracked as the emotions swirling inside you forced it to raise. “Please, make it stop. Shut it off, anything, please.  Please, make it stop!”

If the world was to crash down around him, Hoseok knew that it would only take seconds, or even minutes, for it to crash and end him. Six months ago, you had agreed to go on a blind date set up by a friend of yours who had gotten a tattoo done by Hoseok. It had been a spur of the moment, neither of you really searching for anyone, but the thought of being in the company of another person instead of alone had tempted both of you enough to say yes.

Six months ago, you became his entire world and here you were, crashing around him, begging for him to stop whatever it was that was going on in your mind. Something that he had no feasible solution for. If he knew how to fight the demons that only you were able to see, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t, and knowing that, had him feeling like he was failing you in every possible way imaginable.

Gently, Hoseok shifted your body and moved you next to him on the bed, and when you tried to look away, he cupped the side of your face with a tilt in his direction. There was no avoiding in seeing the pools of tears building up and over his eyes.

“Tell me what’s wrong love,” he whispered, stroking your cheek once more. “You’re scaring me, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

God, he was hurting. You hadn’t expected him to react in such a way.

Lie. Tell him you’re fine. He’ll believe it if you believe it.

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

Wetting your lips, you repeatedly opened and closed them, feeling like a damned fish unable to breathe and in search of water. Instead of suffocating, you were drowning.

“I…”

An ache built up in your stomach, reminding you that you truly hadn’t eaten anything since last night. Twisting and curling, the sharpness of running on empty was the cold kiss from a toxic lover. Memories of binging on food after midnight cuddled you from behind, weighing you down with iron shackles locked around your stomach.

“I…”

Skip lunch, eat a little bit of dinner so he won’t worry.

Tell him that you’re fine.

“Please love,” Hoseok begged, his fingers smoothing back locks of hair that had begun to fall in your face. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me. You don’t need to carry this by yourself.”

Lie dammit.

“I’m starving,” you whispered, watching his eyebrows pull together, fingers pausing on your skin but you reached up with a shaky hand to cover his, gripping tightly. “It hurts. So much Hoseok, but I don’t want to eat. I tell myself that it’s better if it hurts, but I…I can’t anymore…I can’t.”

The leeches were shrieking in your mind, white tips of a burning fire were touching them and they were dropping to the ground, yet the fire didn’t hurt one bit. For the first time in so long, the shackles of your secret came undone allowing you to step away from the broken path you had set yourself on.

Hoseok had turned his hand to run his thumb across your knuckles, the realization of what you meant hitting him. Eyes watering up, he opened his mouth to speak, only there were no words that felt right. You were hurting so much right now, the last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing without meaning to.

But like a dam that had suddenly burst, the words that he couldn’t find, were flooding out of your mouth. “I…I was so good, better than I have been in years, but last night and this morning, it was one thing after another and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop my mind from going there and it was all I could think about and I…I don’t want to think like that anymore. I don’t wanna be that person anymore.”

“Last night,” Hoseok softly repeated. What had he done the night before, a night that he had thought was so perfect, that was able to nearly cripple you this morning? The idea that he hurt you without even knowing it made him clench down on the inside of his cheeks.

You shook your head, knowing that you weren’t saying it right, implying that it had been his fault when it hadn’t. “While you were gone, I was showering and I…it’s so fucking stupid, but I saw my reflection and your note saying you were at the gym I just, I just started comparing myself to you. You’re always working out, doing what you can to stay fit and it was like years of self-hatred suddenly came back, reminding me of how gross I was, how fat I am and I couldn’t stop it…it was like once it came back it wasn’t going to leave and I – ”

Except you didn’t get to finish. Between the tears once again clogging your throat and Hoseok yanking you back to his chest, his shoulders shaking as he started crying because there was no way in hell he was able to hold it in anymore. The words died off, but you both knew where it was heading.

The fabric of his shirt that you wore wrinkled under his hands, the soft fabric of the towel that he wore grazed your legs. How it hadn’t managed to come undone from all the moving around was a tiny thought that stuck inside your brain.

“Don’t.” Hoseok’s arms tightened around you, almost painfully, but his grip was in only one arm as the mattress dipped underneath your bodies, and the next thing you knew he was pulling you to sit on his lap as he sat up with his back against the headboard. His eyes were rimmed red, cheeks flushed. There wasn’t a time where you recalled being able to compare his eyes to an ocean. Not until now at least.

His chest was heaving as he leaned his head back against the wood with a soft thump, bottom lip trembling while trying to form together something to say. Words. He needed words. “I…you never…not once did you say anything to me.”

“Because I was good when we met,” you cried. “I hadn’t been doing anything, and I’ve been so good this entire time, but this morning it was like…like I was suddenly drowning in it because it’s always been like this, always coming in waves. And I wanted to start it all over again.”

Despite how much it hurt, how hungry it made you, there was that painful satisfaction of seeing the numbers go down on that evil scale. To be able to wear the clothes that you never could before. The way your stomach aches and cries out at one, two in the morning yet you deny it the simplest thing it wanted, because for a period of time, you were the one in charge. You had control over what was happening in your life and it…it was fucking addicting.

“But you’re already so small.”

The tears had slowed down, always slipping down his cheeks faster when he thought of how long you’ve been hurting, and he had never known.

Bottom lip trembling, somehow, you managed the weakest of smiles, voice cracking as you spoke. “I know.”

You always had been, but the reflection you saw in the mirror, never was real. For years you were purging yourself of a you that never once existed.

The person that Hoseok saw when you thought he wasn’t looking, the one who gently swayed to her favorite music, who had a love affair with words and their meanings but more often than not forgot them. The woman he saw who, on their third date hurried him over to the park to watch the fireflies dance in the night sky because they were the only type of bugs that you liked, and the woman who he reached out for when waking up first thing in the morning even if he hadn’t spent the night at your apartment, was not the same one that you saw.

You saw a version of yourself that you hated, so much so that the only way you would be happy with your reflection, was to destroy yourself.

Instead of speaking, Hoseok simply hugged you tightly to him, resting his head against yours as he felt you curl yourself around him. To say that this wasn’t how he had pictured this morning to go was a mild statement, but as he left a gentle kiss on your shoulder, he simply wanted to love you, and show you what it was like to be loved.

Time ticked by slowly, but when Hoseok finally lifted his head off yours, the tears had stopped falling leaving his eyes itchy and dry. He barely glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Instead, his gaze went to the black jewelry box he had set there. With everything that’s happened, he forgot that he had even picked it up.

“It’s – it’s not my place to tell you what to think,” he softly said, reaching over to retrieve the box. He felt you shifting and knew that you were watching him, a glance at you showed the curious frown you wore. “But I think you’re wrong. To me, you’re not gross. You’re not overweight. Ever since that blind date, six months ago, you’re the only woman who I care about.”

Without any ceremony, he held the box out for you to take, gently smiling and nodding when you looked up at him as if to ask if it really was for you.

Carefully, you opened the lid, feeling your heart nearly collapse at the sight of the necklace that delicately laid a bronze gold heart on the white fabric. On the side sat a tiny firefly, and in the center in elegant cursive read, ‘You’re the reason why my heart beats.’

“I love you,” Hoseok finally confessed. Lifting a hand, he brushed the hair back out of your face, his fingers gently grazing your cheek as he did so. “All I want is for you to be happy, love. You mean the world to me, and I want to help you through this. To me, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but now that I know that’s not what you see, then I’ll help you. So that one day, you might be able to see what I see. Whenever that may be.”

His image blurred once more. Instead of hiding your face from him, or wanting to get away in general, you reached up to pull him down for a kiss despite the tears. Each one was short and sweet, but like an addiction, you kept going back for just one more.

Even if he didn’t understand it completely, or maybe he did, but he was willing to learn to help, because that wasn’t a life you wanted anymore. You just…you just didn’t know what to do, or how to do it by yourself. Not when those leeches were able to corrupt such an amazing night in seconds.

Hoseok wasn’t one to break away from a kiss but this time, he leaned back to take the necklace from you, undoing the clasp and hooking it on for you. The heart rested right in the middle of your chest. Right where it belonged.

“Now, I know I promised to not bring home any work,” Hoseok said, gently wiping away a few stray tears on your cheek. “But I remember you talking about getting that tattoo done one day. If you want, I can do it for you.”

“I never decided where though.”

His eyes softened. “I heard someone talking about this thing called the butterfly project. The idea is to draw a butterfly in the place where you’d hurt yourself, and by having it there, it’s supposed to help stop those urges. Maybe…maybe we can do something like that.”

The room fell silent.

You had been wanting to get your fireflies tattooed for years now. They were a favorite reminder of a simpler time. When the world was kind and beautiful and not harsh like you had painfully learned it to be. Sitting here with Hoseok, he served as the reminder that despite the hurt, there was always hope nearby. Whether it was from him, the world, or even deep within yourself.

Hope and love had a funny way of coming together in the darkest hours of our lives.

The tattoo gun buzzed loudly in the kitchen.

Hoseok pressed his lips together, eyebrows pulling in concentration as his gloved hands skillfully moved the machine while he began the process of outlining the cluster of fireflies on your thigh. When this was all over, there would be fireflies flying around at dusk on your body forever.

It was something you loved, in a spot that you passionately disliked, but even now you smiled. Because how could you look at something you loved with hatred?

None of this was going to be easy. Gazing at Hoseok, a small smile appeared. Perhaps he felt your gaze on him, but as he lifted the gun to wipe the area, he glanced up at you. A soft smile instantly appeared.

This wasn’t going to suddenly fix things. That was far from the truth. But that was okay because in reality, that was life. There was the good, the bad, and everything in between that got thrown at you.

Life isn’t perfect, but with Hoseok…it felt like it was.

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[diyeoracha]

IwaOi Fanfiction Masterlist with 90+ Works

Hello! In celebration accumulating over 290 bookmarks on my AO3 account featuring IwaOi, Haikyuu S4 part 2, and @haikyuuweek2020​ (Day 7 - Free Choice), I decided to create a masterlist of all of my favorite Iwaoi fics in order to keep myself organized as well as contributing to more traffic for those works! Works are split up into genres such as alternate universe (either not childhood friends or set on Earth), angst, canon compliant (post timeskip with spoilers), canon divergent (childhood friends but divergent timeline post timeskip), high school, and university au

Formatting update: Jan 13, 2021 (spacing is wonky on the mobile app!).

Fic update: Jan 7, 2021

This is incomplete as I got distracted while re-reading a lot of these and have only gone through half of my bookmarks, but feel free to check my own page here for the rest of them! I really do hope you guys enjoy reading these and leave comments and kudos! Please reblog and like so more people can enjoy

Titles marked with (♡) are my absolute favorites and there’s a chance I cried while reading them but otherwise they’re in alphabetical order

Alternate Universe

an allegory of all the things we could’ve been

Word count: 16k

Summary: “I don’t know anything about some red string,” Iwaizumi murmurs into the cracks of Oikawa’s skin, “or even about lifetimes or fate. But no matter where you are, I’ll find you. Gods or otherwise.” Reincarnation AU

And All the Prince’s Men

Word count: 65k

Summary: “Father only loves that which he owns, and I am the one thing that can never truly be his.” Royalty AU

Built a Temple in Me

Word count: 55k

Summary: Up the mossy mountain steps, past the komainu guardians and the faded red gate, and beyond the boundaries of the green shrine—that’s where the forest and the spirit world within it lies. That’s were Hajime met him, and where their story began.But intertwining of destinies can be ugly business, Hajime finds, when their first meeting begins with blood and the too-human eyes of a beast. God Oikawa AU

Quote: It fills his heart anyway, heals the hole in his chest that had been bleeding since he cut Tooru so forcibly from him.

Cotton Breathing

Word count: 13k

Summary: Long-distance and summer only but childhood friends AU

Conquering the Great King

Word count: 105k

Summary: Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

Quote: Oikawa's eyes twitched wide for less than a second, his knee pressed in hard against Iwaizumi's thigh, "I may be gorgeous, but I'm not a doll."

dear diary, i met a boy

Word count: 15k

Summary: Iwaizumi's first impression of his upstairs neighbor involves getting woken up at two in the morning to the sound of Oikawa singing along to trashy pop music. He'd thought it would get better, but it all just goes downhill from there. Modern AU

Desperado

Word count: 82k

Summary: Clearly Iwaizumi had a checkered past. Kyoutani has never asked about it, nor has Iwaizumi ever brought it up. He knows it’s a sore spot for his mentor, just like the gorgeous Monte Carlo he keeps hidden away is, so he leaves it alone. Out on the streets, you learn a little something about when to turn a blind eye in order to survive; Kyoutani knows better than most to leave the past of men like Iwaizumi well alone. Heist AU

Even Heroes (have the right to dream)

Word count: 20k

Summary: Oikawa Tooru, ace reporter of the superhero beat of Asahi Shimbun, hates superheroes. Or maybe he just hasn’t met the knight one yet. Superhero AU

♡Infinite Risks

Word count: 8k

Summary: “It’s my fate,” Oikawa responds slowly. He’s crying. “It’s too lonely,” Iwaizumi’s heart sounded broken. “And I’m not there with you. Not really.” Edge of Tomorrow AU

In Defense of Reptiles

Word count: 9k

Summary: In their seventh year, Oikawa is chosen to be the Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament, and Iwaizumi suffers. Harry Potter AU

Quote: “You are so spoiled,” Iwaizumi tells him, but lets him shuffle down until Iwaizumi’s hand is now running through Oikawa’s hair instead of rubbing his shoulder.

In the Telling

Word count: 6k

Summary: Muggleborn Iwaizumi could not be less impressed with pureblood Oikawa Tooru. Harry Potter AU

♡Lockdown

Word count: 72k

Summary: Within the first few months of his stay, Oikawa gets caught up in a war between cellblocks, becomes a prime target, and must decide just how far he's willing to go to protect Iwaizumi Hajime. Prison AU

♡long nights, no peace

Word count: 18k

Summary: It's the steady knowledge that Iwaizumi Hajime will always be someone that he can rely on, that no matter what the world throws at the two of them, they share in a piece of each other's soul. Pacific Rim AU

Quote: Quiet settles between them softly, like the warm pressure of the blanket, or Iwaizumi's fingers curling to lightly hold the fabric of Oikawa's shirt.

The Long Light

Word count: 36k

Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime's seventh year at Hogwarts begins, and begins, and begins, and begins. Somehow, Oikawa Tooru is always there. Harry Potter AU

Magic Man

Word count: 12k

Summary: Oikawa is named the most desirable wizard in France. Iwaizumi is not impressed. Harry Potter AU

Quote: You keep saying partner or them. Is it rude of me to ask you to clarify?

Meet me in the grey area

Word count: 24k

Summary: Set in a hero/villain AU with Iwa as our trusty hero and Oikawa as our charming villain

Saw You at the Fish Market

Word count: 14k

Summary: In other words, Oikawa befriends hot part-time worker Iwaizumi and tries to impress him both off and on the court, in hopes of more.

♡♡ (sing with me) A Song of Conquest and Fate

Word count: 26k

Summary: When Seijou receives a missive from Aobajousai to discuss a potential peace, its emperor Oikawa Tooru could not have foreseen the series of events that would follow. Historical fantasy AU

Similar Creatures

Word count: 53k

Summary: "What's your name?" "Whatever you want it to be."(Or, Oikawa gets directions from an attractive stranger on a street corner.). Escort AU

♡Something Like Us

Word count: 28k

Summary: Friends since childhood, Oikawa and Iwaizumi now live together, both playing for the National Team. It's no secret that athletes who are bonded perform better. So if the two of them happen to bond...It'd be for the good of the team, right? A/B/O AU

Space

Word count: 44k

Summary: Tries not to think of his rooftop garden, or the apartment he used to inhabit, or Hajime’s broken expression on the night they whispered their goodbyes before Tooru’s launch, attempting to push it all to the back of his mind behind visions of this alien world terraformed. Astronaut AU

Stop the Time

Word count: 10k

Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, 27, E.R. nurse at University of Tokyo Hospital. Hospital AU

♡♡The Loyalty of A Traitor

Word count: 76k

Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was an undercover officer with a single objective: Infiltrate the Seijoh Syndicate of the Yakuza and tear them down from the inside out. His primary target was the boss, Oikawa Tooru. The job itself was simple enough, until Iwaizumi got in too deep and absconded not only from the mission, but from the city itself. Yakuza AU

These Flowers I Stole For You

Word count: 3k

Summary: ANBU don't cry. They tear themselves apart, bit by bit, and then they stitch themselves whole again. Naruto AU

on shipwreck shore

Word count: 8k

Summary: “I’m going to murder you in cold blood and feed you to the basilisks,” Iwaizumi says conversationally. “You can’t do that, I’m your boss,” Oikawa sings, positively sparkling. “Also we’re partners, which means,” he points at Iwaizumi and leans in, “you’re stuck with me.” Detective AU

Page 305 of 304

Word count: 53k

Summary: “…she called you ‘papa’,” iwaizumi managed. oikawa just stared for a moment longer before relaxing in a smile. “yeah. cute, right? but you can call me ‘daddy’ if you want.”

Temporary fix

Word count: 12k

 Summary: “And you’ve shampooed his hair how many times now? Hmm. Yeah, that’s not technically a bromance.” A/B/O AU

Tokyo Boy

Word count: 16k

Summary: He has feelings for Iwaizumi Hajime, who probably has casual lovers just like him in every major city he visits on business. Oikawa is just his Tokyo Boy, just another pit-stop on Iwaizumi’s travels. Businessman AU

Trial by Fire

Word count: 78k

Summary: (lawyer!AU - in which Iwaizumi loves his objections, Oikawa is beautiful, and they have more chemistry than two opposing attorneys probably should.)

Watch Me

Word count: 32k

Summary: Oikawa's a cam model. It’s been a month since Iwaizumi first spoke in his chat. When they meet in person, things get complicated. Cam model AU

Angst

open when

Word count: 1k

Summary: Iwaizumi knew it was coming, but it still hurt. It still hurt when he opens one letter and drowns it in the tears he cannot keep at bay.

Chasing Paper Suns

Word count: 10k

Summary: Post-high school,     Oikawa makes it to the national volleyball team but Iwaizumi doesn't. The     next three years become an exercise in growing up without growing apart

Quote: “ ‘it’s just—I’m     just trying so hard—’‘What, and I’m not?’

Timeless (We Have 30 Days)

Word count: 12k

Summary: Or AU where you're branded 50 days before you die. But Oikawa doesn't tell anyone so now there's only 30 days left.

the weight of water

Word count: 6k

Summary: “Again,” he says, the smallest tremor in his voice, and Oikawa blinks at him a moment before smiling, soft and sweet. “Iwa-chan,” he replies, and Iwaizumi closes his eyes. “Again.” “Iwa-chan.”

Canon Compliant

Are You Listening?

Word count: 4k

Summary: 30 times oikawa said i love you and 1 time he didn't have to

Quote: “Iwa-chan, watch out for the log—!” Oikawa looked on in horror as his best friend tripped and fell flat on his face.

Edge of the balcony

Word count: 8k

Summary: Iwaizumi looks older, he realizes. Oikawa knew he had aged as well, and so did everyone around him, but the thing was when you see people often, you don't notice the subtle changes in appearance. And Oikawa hadn't seen Iwaizumi in four years.

How can this loser ever win

Word count: 2k

Summary: everyone is in stupid love with Iwaizumi Hajime and he has no idea

♡♡♡Lost in Translation

Word count: 9k

Summary: Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women's volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

maybe we could be enough

Word count: 9k

Summary: iwaizumi hums in reply as the car goes silent, frank ocean crooning from the speakers. they stop at a red light when iwaizumi feels eyes at the side of his face, and turns to look at oikawa.

Most people never even get a single high school rival

Word count: 5k

Summary: Team Argentina gets to know Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer.

Primavera

Word count: 8k

Summary: They say it takes twenty-six years, for certain breeds to fully bloom.

Quote: Did you know that distance is only me, growing towards you?

♡♡♡rest on your laurels

Word count: 4k

Summary: In Iwaizumi’s heart of hearts, untouched by time, they are young and alive, burning with the hearth of home and bright as winter light. Unbreakable. Invincible.

♡♡♡Something Borrowed

Word count: 16k

Summary: In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

‘Til Infinity

Word count: 2k

Summary: “Hey,” he says, “that cloud looks kind of like a dick.”

Quote: “I got you ladybug”

♡♡♡ You Set Off a Dream In Me

Word count: 15k

Summary: In which Oikawa is 41 and ready to retire. He's at the top of his game and ready to find a new challenge. Turns out his new challenge is pretty familiar. It's high school, round 2.

Quote: A past with an Iwaizumi that wasn’t on the opposite side of the net, monsters on all sides, guiding a setter that had lived the dream left behind in the ruins of Tooru’s past self.

Canon Divergent

a world alone

Word count: 60k

Summary: Iwaizumi has his medical books on the musculoskeletal system. Oikawa has his research papers on parallel universes. It isn't until much, much later that they realize they have each other.

♡Almost a Stranger

Word count: 16k

Summary: Iwa-chan's leaving Kapan. Tooru's not sure he can forgive him, but he's not going to admit his long-held feelings, either. A trip to Miyajima complicates everything.

Quote: There are only two things that have ever broken Oikawa Tooru’s heart. Iwa-chan would say Tooru has no heart to break, but that’s simply untrue.

Count your blessings, it goes 1,2,3, me

Word count: 7k

Summary: He's unsettled by the undefined boundaries of their relationship so it's all his luck that he accidentally wins three wishes to be granted just for him, and all that comes to mind is Iwaizumi.

Quote: Now, as an adult, past convenience of circumstance and the haze of hormonal lust, exactly none of his feelings have worn off

♡♡♡the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle

Word count: 66k

Summary: Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

♡days fall away

Word count:17k

Summary: Except now he’s back home, so close to his old haunts and to Oikawa himself, and it's—weird.

Quote: “You and Tooru,” he begins, and then shrugs. “I was just thinking, you look at each other a lot.” And he walks away, leaving Hajime winded, and sort of aching, somewhere deep in his chest. Whatever that means.

♡here comes your man

Word count: 8k

Summary: Iwa-chan, it reads, Have a good day today! Good luck! <3 <3 <3 Suga chokes. It’s hard to imagine anyone calling the scowling and fierce Doctor Iwaizumi “Iwa-chan.” But marriage probably comes with all sorts of liberties. Doctor AU

♡♡In damp earth my body

Word count: 15k

Summary: Onscreen, the nation’s favorite setter has arranged himself so that he’s bowing, forehead pressed to the court, like he’s thanking everyone for their kindness thus far, like he’s asking for forgiveness. Hajime thinks: shit, it’s really happening

In the Business of Love

Word count: 22k

Summary: Meet Oikawa Tooru: He's a best-selling shoujo manga artist, a hardcore romantic and you won't believe where he's getting his lovey dovey fodder from...Enter Iwaizumi Hajime: He's Oikawa's best friend, a realist who also happens to be a wedding magazine writer despite not believing in romance...

Quote: A flare of pride lit in Oikawa as he watched Iwaizumi's eyes crinkle with mirth and in that yawning second, it bloomed into a warmth that bordered on a burn, forcing a bittersweet inhale.

it's been so long (nobody knows me the way you do)

Word count: 8k

Summary: Tooru hums, only half-listening. Somewhere along the way, Hajime’s palm has settled itself over the curve of Tooru’s cheek, thumb tracing over the line of his jaw.

Quote: Iwaizumi blushes even more. “That you’re here, I mean. I’m happy that you’re here. With me.”

♡♡♡Mint

Word count: 19k

Summary: It's the December after Iwaizumi’s last year in university when Tokyo welcomes him with a new ad campaign for Bright Days toothpaste, and Oikawa Tooru—fresh off a run at the 2016 Summer Olympics—has decided to grace the city with his signature grin, a flip of his wayfarer sunglasses, and the most irrepressible tag line for the signboard above.

Quote: "To be able to tell him, in the new year."  This comes under Oikawa's breath, so low that Matsukawa and Hanamaki can't hear, and the game continues.

Six-Month Lover

Word count: 89k

Summary: Iwaizumi barks out a laugh. “I’m still trying to get over the fact that you made a PowerPoint presentation about why we should date.” Oikawa doesn’t tell him the file has existed for the last twelve years, constantly receives updates, and that the original copy contained almost a hundred slides before he forced himself to get a grip.

Special Relativity

Word count: 22k

Summary: Time moves differently for people in different inertial reference frames. Oikawa goes on a two-year exploratory mission in space. Iwaizumi's been waiting for a lot longer than that.

♡♡sunset towns

Word count: 33k

Summary: In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

♡♡Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad)

Word count:     19k

Summary: It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.

Quote: Oikawa’s grin in  the last set of the morning’s game. Oikawa’s grin as they sat on their asses on a golf course. Oikawa’s grin when they were in college. When they were in high school. When they were twenty-two, seventeen, fifteen, twelve, six.

High School

Bet On It

Word count: 13k

Summary: Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week.

Quote: The whole instant-compliance thing was seriously creeping him out. Oikawa from a week ago would have made a crack about how if he'd wanted something cold, he could have just put his face on Hajime's shoulder.

Betweens

Word count: 2k

Summary: Iwaizumi is asleep in the club room. Oikawa is blindingly awake in the club room. The sun moves slowly across the sky, and Iwaizumi’s skin is gold underneath it. Oikawa watches the changing shadows on Iwaizumi’s face and thinks about nothing in particular.

Don’t think too much

Word count: 6k

Summary:  In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have a confusing, drunken encounter and then deal with the (sticky) consequences.

Quote: As soon as that thought crossed his mind, though, Oikawa did what he always did:  exactly the opposite of what Hajime wanted

Gates

Word count: 12k

Summary: The day after their graduation ceremony, they drive to the beach at Shirahama. Iwaizumi drives, because it’s his car, and as he has told Oikawa on multiple occasions, he’d rather die than let him touch the wheel.

Quote: ‘Yeah,’ he says, because they’re on a beach, and they’re supposed to be on a metaphorical journey, and they’re supposed to be growing up, and completing rites of passage, so it’s honesty, today - just for today, at least.

♡♡i sing the body electric

Word count: 8k

Summary: It was never part of the plan, falling in love with his best friend, but then again, most things in Iwaizumi’s life that involve Oikawa rarely unfold the way he thinks they will.

Quote: But Iwaizumi thinks about Oikawa laughing with that girl in the low light of the gym, a particular kind of quiet intimacy that Iwaizumi’s only ever read about in books hovering in the air, and all it makes him feel is small and petty and spiteful.

it’s better than words

Word count: 3k

Summary: [ or : oikawa makes iwaizumi participate in three bonding activities for new friends, and iwaizumi just wants to know why oikawa's being so weird about this]

Make sure you cross the line

Word count: 4k

Summary: With graduation just around the corner, Iwaizumi knows he has to gather the courage to really ask Oikawa out.

Quote: He’s been asking Iwaizumi to go out with him every single day this past week, increasingly panicked about getting his time and attention now that they’re nearing the end of this season of their lives.

Only the jellyfish know

Word count: 6k

Summary: Their third and final year at Aoba Jousai has come to an end, and the guys decide to go to the beach the day after graduation. That day, the ocean water is salty, the watermelon is sweet, and the people are sweeter.

static

Word count: 6k

Summary: Being snowed in with all of Seijou volleyball in his childhood home brings back a lot of memories for Iwaizumi, because it's kinda Oikawa's childhood home too.

Quote: It's fate that brought them together and choice that keeps them that way. The closest description in Hajime’s vocabulary is partners, but only because Oikawa taught him what its true definition is.

Told before and told again

Word count: 3k

Summary: This is how Hajime and Tooru fall in love, through the accounts of those around them.

Quote: When Oikawa lets out a long, heavy breath, Iwaizumi looks up at him and frowns, and flings a towel over Oikawa’s head to cover his face. Then, he tugs, once, on Oikawa’s fingers, and leads him down the hallway, Oikawa walking quietly in tow.

♡we can do better than that

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.

Quote: Because Iwaizumi’s known Oikawa nearly all his life and never felt anything more than vague affection usually followed by intense irritation for him. But then suddenly at eighteen years old and nearly two weeks into a very badly planned road trip, it’s like someone flipped a switch somewhere inside Iwaizumi

♡when it starts to rain, they go inside

Word count: 33k

Summary: “Where?” starts Iwaizumi.“ My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?” OR: Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.

reassemble it

Word count: 15k

Summary: When Tooru was six years old, he discovered—unbeknownst to him at the time—two of the most important things in his life: volleyball and Iwaizumi Hajime. It was ironic that he had stumbled upon them hand in hand—quite literally, too.

♡things that change, things that stay the same

Word count: 8k

Summary: Oikawa realizes he's in love with his best friend; it sucks for a while. (But only a while.)

Quote: Iwaizumi’s expression right now is less terrified than it used to get back then, but he’s tight-lipped with concern, and his broad body blocks out other passengers as if their stares might be a danger to Tooru too.

University AU

An Archaeology of Affection

Word count: 23k

Summary: For Hajime, it is a riddle and simultaneously so evident. It fills his chest, surging like water, paints heat up his neck. In retrospect, it eats up his days, makes them its own until it feels like his heart has always been in his throat at the smile thrown over Oikawa’s shoulder, the stilling of his fingers on Hajime’s sleeve.

closure

Word count: 22k

Summary: In his first year of university, Oikawa builds a new friendship and upgrades an old one. Or: Ushijima is not a great wingman, but he tries his best.

Quote: “On the first day of his university career, Oikawa Tooru walks into his dorm, spots his assigned roommate, and turns one hundred and eighty degrees and walks right back out. He dials a familiar phone number - the first one he ever memorized - and starts complaining before Iwaizumi even gets the chance to say hello. “Iwa-chan,” he says, “tell me why Ushiwaka is in my dorm room.”

♡♡♡galaxies, within you

Word count: 21k

Summary: Hajime and Tooru move in together at the start of university. Too bad they’re stuck with the two gremlins that haunt their apartment.

Quote: I AM A HEADASS

Hands to yourself

Word count: 11k

Summary: He missed his parents, and he missed Takeru, and Takeru's badly behaved puppy. He missed Aoba Jousai, and he missed the volleyball team. He even missed Karasuno and Shiratorizawa, just a little.

Home, and how we made ours

Word count: 3k

Summary: “No, I like it here.” There’s a rustling as Iwaizumi shifts, inching closer. “I like it here, as in this crappy apartment—with you.”

Quote: “Do your fights end up being like—you know, about actual things and then extending into toddler days and suddenly you’re accusing Iwaizumi of kissing the girl you used to like in preschool?”

in progress to you

Word count: 6k

Summary: The eventuality of Oikawa and Iwaizumi falling toward each other is dramatically lackluster. Still, it's a process to go through.

Quote: “But what if you didn’t eat my pudding all the time?” Iwaizumi asks flatly, ignoring the way Oikawa is slapping his thigh to get out of his chokehold. “Do you think I buy them for you, huh? I buy them for me, you turd.”

Like we’re made of starlight

Word count: 6k

Summary: (a look into iwaizumi hajime’s journey of falling in love with oikawa tooru, from when they’re babies meeting for the first time to young adults moving in together.)

Ninety nine percent

Word count: 14k

Summary: more than anything, oikawa tooru wants to be with iwaizumi hajime, but he's only ninety nine percent of the way there.

Quote: Their ace was lining up for the ball, knees bent and arm pulled back, just as Tooru tosses the ball……to Hajime.

no sleep in the city

Word count: 7k

Summary: Along their journey to find Tokyo's best ramen, Iwaizumi finds himself asked again and again why Oikawa is still single.

Quote: “I was only telling Hanamaki literally yesterday that your personality isn’t as vile as before,” Iwaizumi informs, slightly stiff from the way Oikawa’s got an arm looped through his own. “Why do you make me such a liar to people I care about?”

Out of nowhere

Word count: 8k

Summary: They move in together after graduation and it's doing weird things to Iwaizumi's heart. He's a little in denial about it.

Quote: Oikawa excitedly ran up to him when Iwaizumi came home with groceries the other day. Not about the food but just to say how boring everything is when Iwaizumi's not there, eyes shining, and he couldn't meet his gaze after from blushing down to his neck. He doesn't know how much more he can take.

♡♡shiver

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

Quote: “I’m in love with you,” Oikawa tells him three days after they graduate junior high, head in his lap and hands gently folded over his chest and completely and totally unconcerned that he’d just shattered Hajime’s world.

Terpischore

Word count: 38k

Summary: They’d ended up going to different universities, Tooru and he. The distance was good for them. The confession Hajime dropped in both their laps wasn’t. That’s how it’d ended – a lifetime of friendship crumbled to dust in the space of five minutes. (Or, a lesson in learning to move on from things you can't have, in finding old loves in new ways and in understanding that life is never truly simple... till it is.)

terrarium

Word count: 11k

Summary: At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

these foolish things (remind me of you)

Word count: 3k

Summary: Oikawa helps Iwaizumi move into his new college dorm.

Quote: He’s desperate for something to happen. It must show on his face because Iwaizumi blushes and looks away. The thing is, Oikawa always looks at him like this when Iwaizumi isn’t paying attention.

They say it rains diamonds on Jupiter

Word count: 35k

Summary: "You're in love with him. "Hajime considers denying it. "Yeah," he says instead.

Quote: “Share the weight of your feelings with me, Hajime wants to beg when he hears Tooru's first hitched breath. Let me carry some of your burdens”

to be first, to be best

Word count: 26k

Summary: Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks “I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren't I?”

Undecipherable

Word count: 4k

Summary: "Koi no yokan," he says. "The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love."

Quote: Because for all the bravado, for all the flaunting Oikawa does, he wants Hajime by his side, and no one else.

♡we shine like diamonds

Word count: 26k

Summary: "You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."

Where you are (I’ll be)

Word count: 6k

Summary: Theirs is a love that starts out like a seed and it takes two sets of hands tending it for a shoot to appear. There are no dramatic declarations of love, only a pair of hands that find each other again and again and again.

Quote: Oikawa broke off into giggles as Hajime slowed the descent of his hand from a slap to the back of Oikawa’s head to a gentle ruffle of the taller boy’s hair

♡♡with every second that you could give

Word count: 9k

Summary: The journey of Iwaizumi and Oikawa going for gold.

Quote: He knows they’re too close. Iwaizumi knows it too, and they both decided to move in together anyway.

Your love is sunlight

Word count: 6k

Summary: It's Iwaizumi's birthday, and they have a talk about the future.

Quote: But Hajime doesn’t think any present could top this: them, kissing in a sun-dappled bathroom, Oikawa’s skin warm under his hands, and the promise of a life together stretched out before them.

#haikyuuweek2020 #iwaoi #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #i spent more time on this than all of my edits combined pls appreciate this

[theteacupgypsy]

An Ace up your Sleeve

The Universe and our guides give us signs every day. Sometimes its a “gut feel”. Other times it’s seeing the same sequence of numbers in random places. For others, it’s a feather in an odd place where there is no way that a bird could have been. In some instances, it’s synchronicity with another person, a little voice in your head that tells you to look up at a specific time or sometimes, it’s the feeling to just stop for a moment. Sometimes we take note, other times we walk straight past them because we are in our own repetitive loop that has given us tunnel vision. Whatever the sign though, if you DON’T listen, the Universe and your guides have an amazing way of getting the megaphone out to make sure you hear it eventually.

I would like to share with you one of the clearest signs I have ever received from my guide to tell me that everything would be ok. It was on this day I realised how much I needed to start listening.

Its no secret that I live with mental health issues. I think as an empath, it almost comes with the territory. We feel so much, we can feel others pain, we can get overwhelmed when there is too much energy. For me, it manifests in the form of Anxiety and Depression. I have learnt to live with them and I have come to accept that they have helped shape the person I am. I have learnt to manage them in such a way that I live a happy and fulfilled life with minimal “episodes” without medication and ongoing external treatment (Disclaimer: I did once need these things and there is no shame or judgment if this is where you are with your journey). I have learnt that whenever they start to overpower me and I feel like perhaps things are no longer manageable, I seem to get out of that situation or state like I have an Ace up my sleeve. Sometimes I follow my plans and other times, I don’t quite know how I do it, I just end up being ok.

Following a painful relationship breakdown in 2019, I decided to get my first tattoo at the age of 32. Some girls change their hair, I handed in my “clean skin” club card. The tattoo of choice, was a small letter A with a love heart under it on my left wrist. It reminds me that no matter what happens in life, I always get out of bad situations like I have an Ace up my sleeve. Since I was going through a rough time, it seemed fitting. I love it.

Around October of 2020, when things were looking up for me, my mental health, out of nowhere, took a downward turn. This particular episode lasted about 6 weeks and I couldn’t work out WHY I was feeling so down. Nothing bad had happened but I just couldn’tt pin point why my mental health was playing up.

One day on my way to work, I prayed. I prayed to my guide, to ArchAngel Michael and to the Universe for help or even a sign that things were going to be ok. I shed a tear in traffic and prayed my little heart out for something.

I parked my car at work and gave myself a minute to collect myself to pretend that everything was ok. When I was ready, I got out of the car and started walking. As I looked down at the ground to step up on the curb, something caught my eye. In a patch of dead leaves… one of these leaves was NOT like the others…. One of these leaves was an Ace of Hearts!!! Just laying there! No other cards around it, nowhere obvious where people may have been playing cards. Just sitting there in leaf litter on a pathway waiting for me to find it.

This was it. This was my sign. I asked for it and the Universe, my guide and ArchAngel Michael gave me my sign.

Just in case the Divine timing and personal meaning wasn't enough, when playing cars are used for divination, the Ace of Hearts shares the same meaning as the Ace of Cups. The meaning of the Ace of Cups in the Rider Waite Smith Tarot is joy and inner peace from friends and family.

Since then, whenever even a smidgen of doubt creeps into my mind that I am alone, I think of this card and how it was divinely placed in front of me in my time of need. I still have it and hold it in my book of shadows. I can still envision my Gypsy guide, arms folded with a smug grin on her face saying “there’s your sign, still think you’re alone?”.

That day the Divine spoke to me clearer than I have ever heard. In hindsight, it has always spoken to me in some way but I just didn’t always listen. Perceptions changed and gratitude grew. I’m proud to say that I am forever grateful and never alone.

#gypsymagic #gypsyheart #gypsysoul #gypsywitch #tarot #aceofhearts #aceofcups #spiritualsigns #spirituality #spiritualguides #dancetothebeatofyourowndrum #theteacupgypsy

[dweetwise]

i can’t remember the last time i wrote a proper date, this was a joy to work on and i hope you enjoy <3

ship: felix x ace warnings: none word count: 3740

[previous] [next]

Where there’s smoke, there’s fire (part 5)

Felix despises meeting clients.

They're entitled, they're whiny, and in this particular case, they're obnoxious and unwilling to compromise.

It takes half an hour of their appointment to even get to its point, the client and his associates preferring to engage in pointless small talk, as if this small talk was worth Felix’s 18-hour flight. Still, he puts on his business face and laughs his polite fake laugh to humor them, since the project is important to Lauren.

When Felix finally gets to presenting his studio’s offer to the group, there's an influx of stupid questions that he hadn't prepared for. He improvises the best he can and ignores the rude comments about Lauren's design style, trying not to let the annoyance show on his face.

The hours tick by and his clients don’t seem to be in any sort of hurry, content to keep bullshitting and dragging out the appointment. Felix’s pulse is racing and he almost feels like he’s about to be sick, nerves mixing with dread as he realizes he’s going to be late for his date with Ace.

When he's finally allowed to leave, five excruciating hours and way too many fake laughs and handshakes later, Felix is almost ready to kill someone.

Instead, he calls Ace as soon as the office building’s doors close behind him.

“Hello?” Ace's voice sounds annoyed, and Felix doesn't blame him in the slightest.

“I'm sorry, my meeting ran late,” Felix apologizes hurriedly, checking his watch to notice it’s already six o’clock. “Do you still want to meet?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure!” Ace's voice perks up, his words difficult to make out through some strange background noise. “Don't worry about it, I kinda lost track of time too.”

“I can come straight from the office, I'll just get a cab,” Felix says, looking around the street for signs of a taxi.

“Uh, alright!” Ace’s voice sounds surprised. “There's this Italian place just a few blocks from the hotel. I can be there in twenty, I'll text you the address.”

“Sounds good,” Felix sighs, already feeling calmer now that he knows he didn't mess up his chance with the man.

Somehow, despite the taxi getting stuck in traffic for minutes on end, Felix arrives at the restaurant before Ace does. He hovers near the entrance awkwardly, not sure whether he should go inside to wait.

He decides to stay outside on the sidewalk, hoping the fresh air will soothe some of his overwhelming nerves. Standing there in his work clothes, clutching his briefcase and repeatedly glancing at his watch, Felix feels utterly ridiculous and is already starting to regret the entire thing.

Ace is either ten minutes late or is standing him up. Is it revenge for Felix neglecting to contact him earlier? Was Felix imagining the connection between them? Felix really shouldn’t have come; he's completely drained after the meeting and would much rather curl up in his hotel bed—

And then he spots Ace making his way over, and as soon as their eyes meet the doubts fizzle out and disappear.

“Hey, handsome!” Ace greets with a radiant smile, and Felix is instantly ready to forgive him. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” Felix lies, not wanting to sour the other's permanent good mood.

“I'm glad!" Ace says. “Hope you're hungry, because I'm starving,” he smiles, reaching for the restaurant door and holding it open for Felix.

Almost as soon as they step inside, Felix’s anxiety decides to flare up. The place looks more casual than he'd pictured, and he feels way too overdressed, his stiff suit and tie surely standing out among the crowd.

“Sorry I didn't have time to get changed,” Ace apologizes, coming up beside him. “I was planning to wear something nicer for you.”

Felix realizes Ace is in the same clothes as earlier today, apart from a blazer he's slung casually over his shoulder. It's reassuring to know Felix isn't the only one worrying about his outfit, even if Ace's patterned button-up seems much more fitting for the occasion.

“It's fine, I also would have preferred not to wear my work clothes,” Felix says, discreetly starting to tug off his tie to attempt to make the look more casual.

“Well, I do love a man in a suit,” Ace says and shoots him a wink, and Felix decides he definitely needs to remove some layers if he's going to survive the dinner without sweating buckets from the flirty attention.

While Felix is shrugging out of his suit jacket, a waiter comes to greet them and Ace effortlessly takes over, making small talk while they're shown to a table and given their menus.

"You got any wine recommendations?” Ace asks the waiter.

“Our house wine is a light chardonnay that goes well with most of our dishes.”

“Perfect,” Ace says, before turning to Felix. “You wanna share a bottle?”

“Yes, please,” Felix says, relieved at the chance to get some alcohol in his system. Maybe it’ll finally make him stop fretting so he can focus on their date.

As the waiter leaves to get their drinks, Felix follows Ace’s example and familiarizes himself with the menu. They make some small talk about the dishes, most of them unfamiliar to Felix, prompting Ace to make a few gentle suggestions. Following the advice, Felix settles on chicken risotto while Ace goes with some sort of seafood pasta that sounds way too adventurous for Felix’s taste.

The waiter returns to pour their drinks and take their orders, and Felix tries not to cringe in embarrassment as he butchers his dish’s pronunciation after Ace fluently orders his own.

“So, um…” Felix starts once the waiter leaves with their orders. “What do you do? For a living?”

The question feels clunky on his tongue, but isn't that what people ask on first dates? Felix takes a bigger gulp of wine than is appropriate to wash down his embarrassment.

“Straight to business, huh?” Ace says, his voice teasing, before taking a sip of his own wine. “You could say I'm a professional poker player.”

The surprise must be clear on Felix's face, because Ace chuckles.

“Not the most conventional gig, I know,” Ace offers good-naturedly.

“That sounds… interesting,” Felix says, realizing that somehow, the job makes sense. He should have guessed the strange man would have an unconventional occupation. “What is it like?”

“Unpredictable, risky and infuriating,” Ace huffs, before grinning. “But I love it.”

Felix nods in acknowledgement and stays silent, wordlessly encouraging Ace to go on.

“It’s just…” Ace eagerly continues. “The feeling of winning a high-stakes game? The anticipation and nerves when you don’t really have a good hand but have to keep going anyway, and finally manage the card you need at the very last round? Nothing else even comes close!”

Felix happily listens to Ace talk, enraptured by his ever-growing smile and eyes shining with pure, childlike excitement. He always enjoyed hearing people share their passions in life, and it sounds like cards are to Ace like architecture is to Felix.

“So I might be known to take a few more risks than most players,” Ace adds with an impish smile. “But it mostly works out—I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been told I’m quite lucky,” he says, shooting Felix a wink.

Felix chuckles against the rim of his wine glass, enjoying the attention even if it makes his cheeks feel warm. He can’t deny Ace took a gamble by approaching him, though he wouldn’t necessarily attribute the success of that gamble to luck.

Speaking of gambling...

“Is your name a coincidence, or…?” Felix asks.

“Oh, funny story, that!” Ace chuckles. “I actually had it changed because of a bet.”

“I—excuse me?” Felix says.

“I was on this insane blackjack win streak in Vegas,” Ace says. “Got to play at the high rollers’ table; big bets, even bigger wins. It got to a point where people were crowding around the table, the other players dropping out just to make wagers on when I’d finally lose.”

Felix leans closer, listening raptly as Ace tells his story. He’s never been one for gambling, but he can almost see the scene play out in front of him; others looking on in awe and horror as risky bets were made, Ace reveling in the attention in the middle of it all.

“So, eventually, I bet everything on a single round,” Ace grins. “Crowd gasps and cheers, guy next to me says I’m a complete dumbass for pushing my luck.”

Felix can’t help but agree with the nameless player, but he bites his tongue.

“And wouldn’t you know it, I get a hard ten and the dealer gets a twenty,” Ace says. “Crowd’s cringing, guy’s laughing, saying there’s no way I’m getting a blackjack. So, I announce that if I get an ace, I’m legally changing my name to that.”

“And?” Felix asks, sounding more eager than he means to when Ace pauses for dramatic effect.

“Dealer hits me with an ace, jaws drop to the floor, I make a dent in the casino’s profit that night,” Ace smirks victoriously. “Got my name changed within the hour—good thing paperwork’s easy in Vegas.”

“That’s… wow,” Felix chuckles, taking a sip of his wine while he lets the incredulous tale sink in.

“Told you I’m lucky,” Ace says. “The money might not have lasted long, but I got a kick-ass name and good story out of it! Actually, there was this other time…” Ace suddenly trails off and glances to his right.

When Felix follows suit, having been completely immersed in looking at Ace, he notices the waiter approaching with their food.

Felix gives a polite nod as his order is placed in front of him. The appearance of the dish isn’t the most appetizing, even if the chef has clearly tried to pretty up the chicken and rice with some garnish. However, the smell is absolutely delicious, making Felix eager for a taste.

“Thank you,” Ace smiles up at the waiter as he receives his own serving.

The waiter is off with a polite “enjoy your meals” and Felix’s stomach rumbles in return.

“Well, bon appetit!” Ace offers, thankfully not seeming to have heard the sound.

“How do you say it in Italian?” Felix asks, wanting to acknowledge Ace’s roots.

When Ace looks up in surprise at the question before smiling brightly, Felix gives himself a mental pat on the back for accidentally being smooth.

“Buon appetito,” Ace says, looking at him warmly.

“Buon… apetito?” Felix tries his best to repeat the sentence.

“That’s it,” Ace encourages, happy with his attempt. “Now dig in, before it gets cold!”

Felix doesn’t need to be told twice. He scoops a small bit of the mushy rice and some chicken onto his fork, careful to avoid a piece of mushroom sitting on top as a garnish.

As suspected, the food tastes just as good as it smells. The rice is creamy and the chicken is tender, a strong flavor of cheese and herbs accompanying the taste.

“What’s the verdict?” Ace asks playfully, having apparently paused his eating to watch Felix slowly chew through his food.

“It’s very good,” Felix praises, going to scoop a bigger piece onto his utensils. “And yours?”

“Really nice!” Ace says, returning to his meal. “It’s been a while since I had this dish. Can’t really go wrong with it.”

Felix nods in acknowledgement and takes another bite of his food, this time accompanying it with a sip of wine. Ace seems happy to follow suit, and there’s a beat of comfortable silence as they enjoy their meals.

“So…” Ace speaks up, turning his attention back to Felix. “I realize I kinda went off earlier, only talking about myself.”

“I don’t mind,” Felix reassures. “It was a good story.”

“One of my favorites,” Ace grins. “But what about you? What do you do?”

“Me?”

“I mean, I only heard you bitch about your clients last night,” Ace says, and Felix is embarrassed to realize that he's right.

How on earth Ace not only dealt with his awkwardness, but also listened to him whine about his work and still decided to approach him is beyond Felix’s understanding.

“Which sounds totally justified, by the way,” Ace reassures with a grin when Felix internally panics instead of replying. “I just never caught what it actually is that you do. I've been guessing between law and marketing.”

“Sorry," Felix says, giving an apologetic smile for talking Ace's ear off the other night. “I'm actually an architect.”

“Oh, neat!” Ace exclaims. “I should've known you weren't just a pretty face,” he offers with a wink over the rim of his wine glass.

“It's not nearly as complicated as you seem to think,” Felix says, fidgeting from the praise.

“Modest, too,” Ace grins.

Felix doesn’t know how to reply to the compliment, so he opts to take a big bite of his food instead.

“Anyway, I promised to take your mind off work, huh?” Ace says. “What do you do for fun?”

Felix falters. He always dreads the hobby question, since his job pretty much is his entire life. Obsessively checking work emails or drinking until he passes out surely don't count as hobbies.

“I usually read architecture magazines or go jogging,” Felix lies.

Ace doesn’t reply, only quirks a skeptical eyebrow through a mouthful of pasta.

“Ehm… what?” Felix asks, suddenly self-conscious.

“This isn't a job interview,” Ace snorts in amusement. “I asked what you do for fun.”

“Ähm, sorry,” Felix apologizes, looking at the tablecloth in embarrassment.

“I'll start!” Ace decides. “I like to laze around and watch shitty 3PM telenovelas.”

“Telenovelas?”

“Oh. Latin American soaps,” Ace explains with a smile. “They're tacky and predictable but remind me of home.”

Felix returns a small smile, finding the thought of Ace watching cheesy afternoon TV oddly endearing.

“I guess I enjoy quiz programs,” Felix says. “And… maybe get a little frustrated when the participants get the obvious ones wrong,” he confesses.

“I bet you’d do great in one of those,” Ace says. “You’re so smart.”

“I’d probably swallow my own tongue from the nerves,” Felix mumbles, poking at his food.

“Oh, right,” Ace hums in thought, followed by another smile. “God, it’s so funny that a gorgeous guy like you is so shy,” he chuckles.

“It’s embarrassing, I know—” Felix starts.

“It’s endearing,” Ace corrects, and Felix swears his heart skips a beat.

“Do you have any other hobbies?” Felix asks, feeling like he needs to contribute to the conversation.

“Do lame card tricks count?” Ace grins. “If not, I sometimes play guitar—badly, I might add.”

“Both of those sound like a lot of fun,” Felix says. “I’ve never played an instrument.”

“It’s fun if you don’t take it seriously! You should try it, if you ever get the time,” Ace encourages.

They finish the rest of their meals while chatting pleasantly. Felix finds it easy to open up, Ace’s warm smile and relaxed demeanor putting him at ease. At the same time, he’s eager to learn more about Ace, every small detail he hears only serving to make him even more fond of the man.

When Felix eventually finishes his dish, save for the mushrooms and some questionable greens he doesn’t recognize, Ace has the audacity to look at his plate with a knowing smirk.

“What?” Felix says, although suspecting he already knows the answer.

“Nothing!” Ace says. “I’m just happy I got a picky eater to… almost finish his plate.”

“For the record, I liked the food,” Felix argues, bantering along. “It’s much better than the idiot sandwiches I had for lunch.”

“Uh… idiot sandwiches?” Ace asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh, eh…” Felix falters, feeling stupid for resorting to an inside joke the other obviously wouldn’t understand. “That’s what my business partner calls the stale snacks that are served in meetings. Like sandwiches and quiche and the like.”

“I… see?” Ace says, obviously still confused.

“You know… like in the joke?”  Felix explains, but Ace looks even more lost, cocking his head in curiosity. “With the bread,” Felix says, placing his hands on the side of his head in a poor imitation of the video Lauren showed him once.

“I've gotta confess, I'm not great with tech,” Ace finally admits in defeat.

“Well, at least you know how to use a smartphone,” Felix says, recalling Ace effortlessly texting and exchanging their numbers.

“Okay, I'm not that old,” Ace jokes and kicks him playfully under the table.

While they’re sharing a chuckle, the waiter comes by to collect their plates.

“Did you enjoy your meals?” he asks.

“Absolutely!” Ace says.

“It was very good,” Felix agrees.

“I’m glad,” the waiter says with a smile.

And as he leaves with their plates without further blabbering, Felix makes a mental note to tip him well for making the evening such a pleasant experience.

“So,” Felix says, eager to return to the conversation with his date. “How old are you?”

It’s only when Ace quirks an amused eyebrow that Felix realizes his mistake.

“Sorry, you don't have to say,” Felix says, nervously wringing his hands under the table for being so rude.

“Naw, I don't mind,” Ace says with a smile. “I'm forty-eight.”

“Oh,” Felix says, not sure how to respond to the predictable answer. “I’m thirty-seven. You, um. You look very good,” he settles on, feeling his neck heating up from the awkward compliment.

“Not so bad for an old coot, huh?” Ace jokes, but something about it doesn’t sit right with Felix.

“What do you mean?” Felix asks.

“I mean…” Ace says, his smile finally faltering. “'You look good' doesn't really have the same ring to it when it's always followed by 'for your age',” Ace admits, staring into his wine glass thoughtfully.

The earnest confession takes Felix off guard; so far, he hasn't seen Ace display any signs of insecurity.

“But hey, that's life!” Ace immediately perks back up, offering a smile that doesn’t seem entirely genuine.

“I didn’t mean for your age,” Felix feels the need to clarify. “I think you’re, ehm. Very handsome,” he mumbles, and by now his face must be bright red.

But it’s worth it, because Ace’s smile softens into one that finally reaches his eyes.

“Thanks,” Ace says, before clearing his throat. “I mean, I don’t really let stuff like that bring me down, but… it’s still nice to hear, you know?”

“I do,” Felix says, deciding he should try to take a page from Ace’s book and be freer with his compliments, awkwardness be damned.

The waiter chooses that time to return to their table, not an entirely unwelcome distraction from the sudden feelings blooming in Felix’s chest.

“Would you like to order dessert? Coffee?” the waiter asks.

Ace only smirks and looks at Felix mischievously.

“I had something else in mind,” Ace says, his voice sounding deeper than before. “What about you, babe?”

Felix flushes both at the nickname and the reminder that for all intents and purposes, he is the dessert.

“I'm good as well, thank you,” he manages with a surprisingly steady voice, gulping down some more wine.

“We'll probably just finish up the wine and take the check,” Ace offers to the waiter with another pleasant smile.

“Of course,” the waiter says and is off with a polite nod.

“Wow, I didn't even realize the time,” Ace says, glancing at the clock over the bar counter.

Felix's gaze follows suit, and he sees that they've apparently been in the restaurant for over an hour.

“Time flies, huh?” Ace grins.

“Indeed,” Felix agrees.

He feels much more relaxed than when they arrived; the wine, good food and cozy atmosphere surely all have played a part in making him feel comfortable.

But not nearly as much as the company.

“Here you go, gorgeous,” Ace says, smiling as he refills both of their glasses with the remaining wine.

“Thank you,” Felix says, the cheesy compliment no longer making him fluster.

Instead, there’s a warm fluttering in his gut, fondness for his date mixing with anticipation of what’s to come.

It’s only when the waiter returns to drop their check on the table and Ace immediately reaches for it that Felix wipes the lovestruck smile off his face.

“You’re not paying,” Felix protests, reaching his hand over the table towards the bill.

“Oh, I think I am,” Ace says, lifting the small folder out of Felix’s reach. “I was the one who asked you out.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Felix argues. “It’s my treat.”

“Hmm, let me think about it,” Ace says, pretending to mull over the suggestion. “Nope!” he grins.

“Ace,” Felix says, exasperated but not able to stop the corner of his mouth from twitching up.

“Felix,” Ace counters with a shit-eating grin, and Felix snorts an ugly chuckle at the other’s ridiculousness.

After a few minutes of playful arguing, Ace begrudgingly agrees to split the bill.

But Felix adds the tip money before Ace has a chance to, much to the other’s annoyance.

“It’s not splitting if you pay twenty bucks on top of half,” Ace argues when they’re making to leave.

“You didn’t mention the tip, so it’s only fair,” Felix points out, smiling smugly as he rebuttons his suit jacket.

“Where’s this sudden sass coming from?” Ace exclaims in mock shock, a hand over his heart. “I’m starting to think the shyness is an elaborate act,” he teases.

And then he, once again, holds the door open for Felix as they exit the restaurant.

“You got me,” Felix says sarcastically. “I’m actually a stand-up comedian, not an architect.”

Ace laughs warmly at his joke, and something in Felix’s heart clenches.

He doesn’t know what comes over him. In one instant, Felix is watching Ace’s smile as he keeps playing off of the joke, and in the next, Ace is freezing mid-sentence, eyes momentarily widening in surprise as Felix has grabbed his hand with his own.

Felix already has an apology ready on his tongue for his embarrassing lapse in judgement, but Ace apparently has other ideas. His hand returns the hold on Felix’s as he resumes the conversation right where they left off, taking Felix’s clingy gesture in stride.

And Felix doesn’t remember when he’s last felt as happy as when they walk the few blocks to their hotel making stupid jokes and holding hands.

#felix richter #ace visconti #riconti #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #felix x ace

[trainsinanime]

Let’s talk about railway electrification systems; not so much because any of you care but because I want to talk about it (and because I talked with some people about it on Twitter recently and had a lot of fun with that).

There are four main voltages that overhead lines for european railroads can have (and most of this translates to other countries as well):

1500 V DC

3000 V DC

15000 V AC at 16.7 Hz frequency

25000 V AC at 50 Hz (aka normal) frequency

These are generally divided along country lines; every country has one (or somtimes two) of these that it uses, usually chosen without any regard for what their neighbours used. Why?

Well, because back at the start of the 20th century, everyone had different ideas and different trade-offs and different decisions, and those choices made sense to them at the time. Many of these factors have changed since; for example, after World War 1, France explicitly decided on 1500 V DC so that german locomotives (running on 15 kV AC) could not run into the country. It made sense then, it’s a pain in the butt now.

But why those values in particular, and what were the tradeoffs?

The Motor

The key for that is the “Universal Motor” (for my german-speaking followers: Einphasen-Reihenschlussmotor), a type of electric motor that was the standard for electric railways and many other applications from the first electric locomotives until 1980.

I’m not going to go into details; the important part is that this motor is essentially a DC motor, but due to its wiring, it can also run on AC. There’s a bit of an issue, though: Powerful universal motors don’t really run well at industrial frequencies (50-60 Hz); they prefer lower ones. Other than that, the motor is bulletproof and powerful and easily the best thing that doesn’t require computer control.

Your standard railway spec motor, small enough to fit comfortably into the running gears of a train, will take somewhere between 600 V and 750 V (with quite a wide margin at either end). To this day, most streetcar systems, subways, and some odd commuter rail lines (in particular most of the south of England) use just those 600-750 V directly, as DC current, because the motor runs better that way.

More Power

But low voltage means low power. Power is voltage times current, and more current means generating more heat in the overhead power lines. For a given level of power, having more volts means needing less current, which is better for the power lines. And any design of power line will have a hard limit of how many amps of current you can send through it before it’ll melt. You can build lines for more current, but that’s expensive.

The low power does not only mean that each individual train gets a low amount of power, but also that the number of trains in a given section has to be low. So you need a lot of power supply stations (substations).

So the first idea was to connect two universal motors in series. That takes 1500 V, and you get either twice the power at the same current, or need half the current for the same power. That is what is used for example in the Netherlands, France and Japan.

1500 V is still fairly low, though, so why not double that? For 3000 V DC, you connect all four motors in your typical four-axle train car in series. Again, more power, less current. That system is used in Belgium, Spain, Italy, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, former Soviet Union and a couple of others.

You can’t really go beyond that, though, at least with 1920s tech. Your modern USB charger is actually an incredible feat of engineering; it took decades to reach that level. At the time, if the DC voltage you got out of the power station didn’t match your needs, then there was no easy solution.

Transformation Sequence

This was not true for AC power, where you can use a transformer, an incredibly simple piece of technology. With AC, you can essentially use as high a voltage as you want. The limit here is insulation: The higher the voltage, the more space you need to have between the roof of the locomotive and the wires, and between wires and bridges and so on. The European countries that went that route settled on 15000 Volts as a good compromise.

The problem with that is that the universal motor doesn’t like 50 Hz (or 60 Hz) frequency that you get from the normal grid. The solution is to run the whole thing with less frequency. That’s why the frequency in the line is 16.7 Hz (originally 16 2/3rds Hz). This system, 15000 V AC at 16.7 Hz, is used in Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Norway and Sweden (but notably not Denmark), and it has stood the test of time well. For the Americans reading this, the 12 kV at 25 Hz used in the north-east by the Pennsylvania and Reading railroads is essentially the same thing, just slightly different values.

The problem with this thing is that you absolutely need that transformer. And, for reasons that I don’t quite understand, the lower your frequency, the larger your transformer has to be. 16.7 Hz is fairly low, so you need a very heavy transformer. Compared to a low-voltage DC system, you need fewer substations and a less expensive overhead line, but you need more expensive and heavier locomotives. That is a very real trade-off: Many of the DC countries have a long history of small, quick EMUs, while it took much longer for AC systems to develop those; they required heavy locomotives or much heavier EMUs.

Trade-offs

In the 1920s and 1930s, when the foundations of modern electric networks were laid, these were the systems and considerations available, and given the train performances at the time, it’s hard to argue that anyone really choose wrongly. I keep saying that 1500 V means low power, but the french reached a world record for high speed trains at 331 km/h (a bit over 200 mph) in 1955 with that system.

High Frequency

In the 1930s, hungarian engineer Kálmán Kandó, already an incredibly important figure in the development of modern electric trains, developed phase converters for railway use, which changed the game completely. These things were at the time heavy mechanical devices that combined a motor and a generator, and could transform any sort of electricity into any other. This means you can use the normal 50 or 60 Hz power that comes from the national grid, and then transform them into something else in the locomotive, instead of using some weird 16.7 Hz thing. This means cheaper lineside equipment and smaller transformers. You need the converter, but that pays off almost immediately.

(I'm over-simplifying here; there is a number of technologies and types of motors that allow using 50 Hz; the phase converter was the first, but is far from the only.)

Railways at the time were very interested in that, but then there was a whole second world war, which put everything on hold for a while. After the war, engineers in various countries perfected it, and along bumped up the voltage to 25000 V for more power with not that much more insulation required (the one exception to this is Japan, which went for 20000 V instead). This 25 kV at 50 Hz (or 60 Hz where applicable) is nowadays generally considered the best system if you can choose freely.

All countries that have 1500 V or 3000 V also have more or less extensive networks with 25 kV 50 Hz; sometimes just for high-speed lines, often for about half the country. A number of countries that started electrification comparatively late only have 25 kV 50 Hz. The countries that already have 15 kV 16.7 Hz have stuck with it, though; 25 kV 50 Hz is better, but not so much better that it justified all the expense of adding a new system.

(Exceptions exist but are very rare; feel free to ask me about the Rübelandbahn.)

Modern Locomotives

On the locomotive side, things have drastically changed starting in the late 1970s. Thanks to modern microelectronics and modern power electronics (sadly nobody calls them macroelectronics), phase and voltage converters have become small, lightweight and incredibly versatile; they’ll convert anything to anything else and back if you design them properly. That makes it relatively simple to build a locomotive or EMU that can use all of these different voltages, something that used to be quite a major engineering feat.

The default approach as of right now is that you have a big transformer (no way around that, for now) for AC voltages, with different output settings for 15 and 25 kV (this was always easy). It has to be the 16.7 Hz size, sadly. The output voltage in the 1500-3000 V range gets turned to DC. If you’re running under DC, you just use that DC directly. No matter how you got that DC, you’re now putting it into another converter (typically one per wheel set or one per bogie), which turns it into three-phase AC, at a frequency that corresponds to the speed you want to go. This sounds complicated, but works well in practice, to the point that all new locomotives nowadays support either both 1500 V DC and 3000 V DC, or both 15 kV AC and 25 kV AC, or all four. You can’t get a new e.g. 15 kV AC locomotive anymore. Even ones that are designed just for one country and advertised as doing only 15 kV will actually be able to run with 25 kV, just because nobody thought it worth the effort to design a 15 kV only transformer.

(This is not true for EMUs, since those are designed to run mostly locally instead of through the entire continent. You can get them in multiple voltage, but most are designed for just one.)

Where do we go from here?

The current system is a mess that is interesting to me, but a bit of a problem for railroads. In the olden days, you’d just change the locomotive at the border anyway, so it didn’t matter much; but nowadays you want to run your freight train from Rotterdam to Genua non-stop if you can. While multi-system locomotives have become a lot cheaper than they used to be, the whole thing is still very annoying for cross-border traffic. It's not the only annoying thing about european cross-border rail traffic, but it's a factor.

Also, train sizes, speeds and power requirements have increased drastically (air conditioning in passenger trains is actually a big deal in terms of power use). AC systems have been able to cope; DC systems less so. Both Belgium and the Netherlands have quite a lot of diesel locomotives pulling freight trains on electric lines, because they can simply produce more power. One manufacturer offers electric locomotives (the Stadler Euro9000) that have a diesel motor to boost the power under DC (and for shunting on tracks that have no overhead lines). Clearly, the old DC system needs to go.

But that’s easier said than done. Converting a line to 25 kV is quite expensive. You need new insulators at every single overhead line mast, but even more importantly, you need to check for safety clearance at every bridge over the railway, and, if necessary, raise bridges or lower tracks accordingly. Tunnels get even more fun. And, of course, all line side power equipment needs to be swapped out. This isn't impossible, but it is very expensive, and while it has happened in some places, it hasn’t happened a lot.

The Netherlands, for example, are currently running on 1.5 kV DC and did consider switching to 25 kV AC. All modern equipment there actually has a bit of empty space where you can fit a transformer. But the cost of upgrading the lines was judged too high. Right now ProRail, the company in charge of the network, is proposing upgrading from 1.5 kV to… 3 kV DC, of all things. It seems like a minor deal, but it still allows doubling the power output, for much less cost. Will it happen? No clue.

Meanwhile, in France, there is research going to make use of the new electronics. Researchers there figure that 9 kV DC is something you can do very well; modern electronics should allow stepping that down even more efficiently than a big 50 Hz transformer could. This seems to be mainly because the government does not want to pay to change the 1500 Volt lines there to 25 kV.

On the other end of the spectrum, the topic of 50 kV AC keeps popping up every now and then. A few lines like that already exist, most notably a large one in South Africa. In the US, the Black Mesa and Lake Powell railway used this system and ran coal trains from a mine to a power station; it's closed since 2019, because the power plant closed, because shale gas and renewables are just plain cheaper than coal. It's an interesting bit of railway history lost, but definitely a net win for the planet.

From a technical point of view, there's nothing particularly difficult about this. The Black Mesa and Lake Powell actually used a number of locomotives built for 25 kV and just changed the windings in the main transformer. The big problem is safety distances, which are much bigger than for 25 kV. There is no mainstream push for 50 kV at the moment, but it keeps coming up in discussions about "should US railroads electrify their lines" as a possibility.

Finally, in the 15 kV countries, there is some thought about 15 kV at 50 Hz. In Germany, the idea is to use this for short recharging sections for electric trains with batteries. Using 50 Hz saves the expense of a frequency converter. Personally, I don't see why those sections couldn't be 25 kV, but I guess it makes things a bit cheaper (EMUs, unlike locomotives, still come in 15 kV only versions).

In the US, this is actually already a thing; some lines in the North-East (I think primarily for New Jersey Transit) were changed from 12 kV 25 Hz to 12.5 kV 60 Hz when the 1920s era line-side equipment needed replacing. For the newer trains there, this requires at most a software update.

So… that’s the current situation. It’s not likely to get better any time soon, and if the french 9kV DC plans go through, it may actually get a bit worse, but modern locomotive technology has evolved to cope. There’s no point to this post, I just think it’s fun.

#railroads #trains #rail electrification #voltage #overhead line #locomotives

[mendespideys]

room service | s.m.

summary: y/n can’t stop thinking about the man she met in the lobby and it seems like he can’t stop thinking of her either

a/n: when i posted this on my shawn blog, lots of people wanted a part 2 so i delievered! hope it’s not as disappointing to you as i feel it is 

Your eyes flickered open before your alarm and the exaggerated groan leaving your lips echoed throughout the empty room. Mindlessly, you fumble around for your phone, finally finding it hidden away in the bottom shelf of the nightstand. The room was almost gloomy and you realized when staring at your (very) bright phone screen that you had yet another three hours before you had to wake up. Attempting to ignore the ache in your lower back, you sat up, running a hand through your unkempt hair.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize that sleeping in the bed right next to the AC unit would be impossible, so you had reluctantly gotten comfortable on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Well, comfortable was an overstatement. Your entire body felt stiff and you suspected the backache wouldn’t disappear anytime soon, but you had been able to get at least a couple more hours of sleep. You stretched animatedly, your stiff limbs cracking at the sudden movements.

A few minutes later, you found yourself in a steaming hot shower, desperately hoping the warm water would aid in loosening up your rigid muscles. As the water soaked your hair and body, doing its job of warming up the cold blood coursing through your veins, you began planning your angry complaint. After washing your hair and body, you still hadn’t made it any further than ‘Either I get a refund or I speak to your supervisor’ and you desperately wished you had taken Shawn up on his offer.

Your mind wandered to the previous night (early morning?) immediately as soon as he entered your stream of thoughts. Soon enough, that was all you could think about, the rant long-forgotten. Shawn’s tired, yet glimmering eyes seemed to be the main attraction of your thoughts. There had been something swimming within them that you hadn’t been able to place, but that you desperately yearned to explore. Despite not knowing him, there was something about his whole persona - and his cozy outfit - that made you want to cuddle him and talk about life’s big questions.

Only when the water got colder did you realize how long you had been in the shower. Turning off the water, you grabbed the provided hotel towel and stepped out. Eventually, you were finally dressed and ready to go, still with another two hours to spare before your meeting. You were debating whether to take advantage of the free, but limited hotel breakfast or talk to the working receptionist when your stomach cried out, easily making that decision for you. Snatching your phone and keycard off the nightstand, you headed toward the front door, hoping the breakfast they offered was better than their customer service. You were about to open the door when a knock echoed throughout the room.

Opening the door suspiciously, you weren’t sure how to react. A man stood outside, a cart decorated with various dishes in front of him. As he smiled down at you, you caught a whiff of the food hiding underneath the small, silver dome, increasing your hunger instantly. You had a nice job that paid decent money, but never had you bothered paying the extra money for room service at a hotel. The delicious smells that entered your nose made you wish you had, though. You were about to tell him that he more than likely had the wrong room when he said your name, wanting to confirm that the right person would receive the food that had been ordered.

After a minute of interrogating from your side, you were left alone in your room with a cart full of breakfast options as your only guest. You maneuvered it over to the bed, your eyes hungrily scrambling over the food displayed out on the cart. Plopping down on the bed, you reached forward to uncover the food, only coming to halt as something tickled your wrist. Realizing it was a folded piece of paper, your fingers let go of the cloche, reaching for the note instead. For a reason, unbeknownst to you, your heart began thumping louder in your chest as you fumbled with the paper, finally being able to open it.

got you some breakfast so you have the strength to stand up to the hotel bullies. hope your meeting goes well x - shawn

By the time you were finished reading the sweet, short note, there was an undeniable grin playing on your lips. You placed it on the bed, not wanting it to get lost before your hunger took control of your actions. Removing the only obstacle between you and the food, you leaned in closer, your mouth watering at the sight. You assumed he had ordered various dishes because he wasn’t sure what you liked, which made the whole thing even sweeter - if even possible. There were waffles, toast, fruit, quinoa; the options were endless and apparently, so was your hunger.

When you were done indulging in the food, you had less than forty-five minutes until your meeting. Knowing how crazy New York traffic could be, you hurriedly shoved the basic necessities into your purse and grabbed the required papers, before practically leaping through the door. While the hotel might have held back on their service, your job certainly didn’t. When you reached the lobby, there was a man waiting, holding a sign with your last name on it. He led you to the car and held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat. Once the basic introductions between you and the driver had been made, you fished your phone out your purse, knowing it would be at least a fifteen-minute car ride.

It happened mindlessly. One minute, you were unlocking your phone and the next you were about to text Shawn to thank him for breakfast. That’s when you realized that you had never gotten his number because you had been too much of a chicken to ask. Sighing, you navigated your way to Instagram instead, merely liking photos and not reading captions. It went on like that for a few minutes, your thoughtless scrolling occasionally interrupted by your driver cursing someone out. It all came to an abrupt halt, however, when you scrolled past a post from your company. It was a photo of Shawn, you recognized him clear as day, and suddenly all the pieces connected in your head.

The Shawn you had met in the lobby was Shawn Mendes. The pieces puzzled themselves as you replayed the night; his hood, hesitating to give you his name, the room service. It made sense now how he had been able to afford it. You remembered how he had told you about not being able to sleep and you assumed he had just gotten back from a show. It was all right there and you felt so incredibly stupid for not noticing. You knew who he was, sure, and you had heard his biggest hits on the radio, but you didn’t know much about him. Still, you’d think you would be able to recognize him, right? Maybe the sleepy haze you had been trapped in was too thick or maybe you had realized but didn’t care.

“Miss?”

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh? What?”

“We’re here,” the driver informed politely, nodding toward the window.

You nodded. “Right. Uh, thank you. Have a nice day.”

Gathering your things, you thanked him again while exiting the car. Not knowing how long you had been staring at your phone, you moved hastily through the small crowd, almost tripping as you made your way up the stairs. The building was beautiful, but you didn’t have much time to admire the architecture before Viviana from your company flagged you down. The two of you engaged in mindless chit-chat as you made your way to the elevator.

Her ongoing story about her flight to New York became nothing but background noise as Shawn entered your thoughts again. It was ridiculous, really, how you hadn’t realized. As the conversation the two of you had shared replayed in your mind, you recognized the fact that he had seemed grateful you hadn’t. It made sense, you supposed, that a celebrity of his status wanted relationships based on an actual interest in him and not his fame. In your case, it had definitely been an interest in him.

Eventually, you have made yourself comfortable, making sure to find a seat opposite of Viviana. She was nice and you had met her a few times before, but she just didn’t know when to stop talking. Knowing the two of you would more than likely share lunch after the meeting or definitely a ride back to the hotel, you decided you needed a small break. If she was able to talk your ear off just within the walk to the elevator and into the conference room, you had to prepare yourself for lunch. You were flicking through your prepared notes when loud voices entered the room, one of them sounding very familiar.

Immediately, you looked up to inspect the owner of the voice, your papers falling back down on the table as your eyes landed on the six-foot-something singer you had met the night before. As if the universe had planned it, he glanced in your direction simultaneously, his eyes widening with recognition. His pink lips stretched into a smile that you couldn’t help but return as the older man behind him ushered him to sit down. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and before you had a chance to do either, the meeting started.

Turns out that the client your company would be working with for the next campaign was Shawn. It made sense now why the coverup name used in the emails was SM. Your company had created the policy of using pseudonyms when exchanging emails in the very unlikely case it would be hacked. It wasn’t a dumb idea, but if often lead you to be somewhat unprepared. This was one of those times. Normally, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, but you were barely able to concentrate, continuously sneaking glances toward Shawn the entire time. Viviana had to repeat your name twice for you to present your notes and this didn’t go unnoticed by Shawn.

The meeting drew to an end and you exited the room with a majority of the team involved as Shawn and a few others stayed behind to discuss details that were probably above your paygrade. You were itching to talk to him - to at least thank him for breakfast - but a nagging voice at the back of your mind kept saying he wouldn’t want to see you. Though you couldn’t know for sure, there had been a look in his eyes that convinced you the voice was wrong. Viviana disappeared, mumbling something about using the restroom, so you leaned up against the wall while waiting for her.

“Y/N!” you turned around immediately, seeing Shawn almost barrelling down the hallway. He stopped in front of you, the curls on his head bouncing as he did so. His eyes traced your figure quickly. “Well, that’s a fancy wardrobe upgrade.”

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“How did your intervention with the hotel bullies go?”

“Didn’t have time,” you admitted with a shrug. “Too busy getting fat off of room service. Thank you, by the way. You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I’d pay you back, but I’m pretty sure it cost more than my last paycheck.”

He swatted at the air. “Don’t mention it. Barely made a dent in my wallet.”

You paused momentarily at his words, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was weird how quickly you forgot who he was when you were around him. His words were cocky, sure, but you could tell it was nothing more than a joke to him. It wasn’t an attempt at boasting about his fame and fortune. Briefly, you found yourself wondering how many people had tried to take advantage of his selflessness, wanting to personally kick all of their asses.

“Were you ever planning on telling me that you are the Shawn Mendes?” you accused, rolling your eyes at his statement.

He chuckled, a sly smirk dancing across his lips. “Possibly. Be a bit hard without your number, though.”

“Is that your way of— smooth, Mendes, smooth,” you jested, shaking your head as a quiet laugh escaped you.

“So,” he started, his brown orbs widening with curiosity. “Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered teasingly, extending your arm. “Hand it over.”

He immediately placed his phone in your hand and you effortlessly punched your number in, taking note of how big the phone felt in your hand compared to how small it looked in his. A quick flashback of a meme your friend sent you once about large hands popped into your mind and you quickly saved your number under ‘lobby girl’, a small smile appearing on your face as you did. A laugh fell from his lips when you returned the phone and his eyes traced the letters.

“Lobby girl, huh? Clever,” he joked, slipping the phone back into the pocket of his black skinny jeans. “I have a feeling it won’t stay like that for long, though.”

Before you were able to question his little confession, his name was called. The two of you searched for the source of the voice and you found the man that had been in the meeting earlier. You realized that he must have been Shawn’s manager and just as you pieced this together and returned your attention to the young Canadian in front of you, you were met with a solemn look. Your stomach filled with disappointment, knowing that the two of you would have to go your separate ways once again. Despite having a means of contact this time around, it didn’t make it any easier.

“Guess it’s time for you to go back to the rockstar life, huh?”

Shawn nodded slowly. “Guess so.”

You weren’t sure if it was the sudden adrenaline pumping through your body or the fact that you had no idea when you would see him again, but you had him wrapped in a hug before you could process your actions. He hugged you back immediately, his arms snaking around your shoulders so effortlessly that he seemed like a professional. In a sense, you guess he was, hugging fans day in and day out. The man called Shawn’s name again and the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other, a sheepish smile plastered on your face. He returned it immediately although his appeared more genuine.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, throwing a look over his shoulder as he walked away. “Good luck with the hotel bullies. Talk to you later, Y/N.”

You offered him a meek wave as he disappeared through the door, Viviana appearing on your side out of the blue. She opened her mouth, apparently having seen the encounter, and you shook your head before she was able to ask. You had barely accepted the fact that you had exchanged numbers (and a hug) with Shawn, so you definitely weren’t in the mood to explain it to someone else. Not to mention that this would bring up the run-in in the hotel lobby and for some reason, that was an intimate memory you wanted to keep to yourself.

The two of you silently - well, the silence was mostly from your side - made your way back down to the main entrance. The same car and driver were waiting outside when you entered the busy New York street. You let Viviana climb in first before quickly following, slumping back into the backseat of the Audi. Just as you buckled and the car pulled away from the curb, your phone buzzed against your leg from within your purse. It took a few seconds of intense rummaging before you were able to fish it out, just in time for another text to come through.

i have my last show in ny tonight. would you maybe wanna go? i can get you front row tickets

it’s shawn btw

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n #reader x shawn mendes #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn fluff #shawn x reader #reader x shawn #repost

[yuiana]

college tips pt. 1

I saw a post on Instagram a few days ago about tips for college and decided to share some of my own tips based on my experiences.  For reference, I am an American college sophomore about to start my second semester.

My first tip would be to understand what works best for you.  

While this seems like common sense, a lot of people might try to create their class schedules based off other people’s recommendations and experiences (such as whether to take mainly morning or evening classes) but everyone is different and it is best to plan according to what would be best for yourself.  You should take in consideration things like commute, class length, work load, how much time you would like for break between classes, etc.  If you know that certain subjects are more draining for you than others, it might be good to schedule a break afterwards.  Don’t try to have back to back classes just so you can get your classes done and over with.  Not only can this be mentally draining, but its good to have time between classes in case something happens.  You might need to go to the library to print something out, finish some last minute homework/studying, or visit your prof during office hours.  Things happen and its better to have some time available.  

If you can, I would recommend using your first semester as a time figure out what class times best work for you.  You might find that morning classes aren’t as bad as you thought they’d be or that late night classes are too inconvenient.  You might like having a spaced out schedule with a couple hours between your classes to rest and work on assignments.  Maybe you’d be okay with having shorter breaks between classes and you can handle longer classes.  Some people are okay with having a class that meets once a week, while others prefer to meeting multiple times.  

Consider commute time and factors that could change the total time such as traffic and bridge openings.  How much of an impact will it have on your commute time if you wake up late?  Will you get stuck in a morning rush? If you live on campus, know how long it takes to walk to your classes from various buildings (dorm, library, dinning hall).  It might benefit you to stay in nearby buildings between classes instead of going back to your dorm.  

Before the semester/classes start, take some time to explore campus.  Familiarize yourself with where buildings are and how long it would take to travel between building when you are walking casually.  This is especially important in regards for your own classes.  This can help minimize the chances of you getting lost.  If you do, don’t be afraid to ask someone for help.  You could also use something like Google maps.  I personally used it when I was exploring campus for the first few times.  

After you are familiar with campus, it might benefit you to find shortcuts.  Cutting through a building might be quicker than walking around it.  There might be other paths you could take get to class that might be quicker than the one that you usually use.  Cutting through buildings can also be a way to escape the weather.  During the winter, I liked to walk through as many building as possible to avoid the cold winds on the way back to my dorm, especially at night.  You could also use this as a safer alternative to walking around campus at night.  Of course the building will eventually close, but if its daylight savings and its dark af outside at like 6 then you might feel safer walking though a building instead alone through a dark campus. 

Always check the weather.  Check it the night before. Check the morning of.  Know what the temperature is going to be like throughout the day and what the chances of rain are.  Is it going to be windy? Humid?  Take all of this into consideration when planning your day.  Heavy rains could lead to slower driving, so if its going to rain the next day you might want to leave earlier than normal.  Its okay if you end up arriving earlier than normal, its better to be safe than sorry.  

Knowing the forecast for the day is also good for planning outfits because you don’t want to be wearing your favorite shoes only for you to step in a puddle because of rain or wear a cute dress and have it keep blowing up because of the strong winds.  Its good to always have an umbrella just in case.  Have a small one in your bag because sometimes it might rain earlier than expected.  It’s also nice to always have a sweater with you.  Even if its hot outside, the AC could be blasting in the buildings.  Having water with you can also be beneficial.  Refilling water bottles is free and its better than wasting money by having to buy new water all the time.  Its also more convenient because you won’t have to go out of your way to buy water.  Most if not all buildings should have a water fountain where you can refill your bottle at, and some might even have designated places to refill your water bottle (those automatic water things that count how many plastic water bottles that aren’t being used by the amount of water that it has refilled).

#college #collegetips #freshmanincollege #college freshman #college sophmore #things to keep in mind #tips #school #schooltips #college advice

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 19: Leonardo Makar Jakoby

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sweating,”

“We’re sweating,” Nick snorted.

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

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

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

“You’re gonna give yourself lethal heartburn,”

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

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

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

“No one is doubting that,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was too good.

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

It was all too good.

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

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

“You’ll be home for dinner?”

He nodded, exclaiming sorely once standing.

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

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

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

“Good. Keep him in there until tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow?” her brows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Seeing as that's our last hope.

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

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

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

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

“Even-”

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

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

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

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

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

↠

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She glanced at her phone, noting the time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But here came another one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 I need Nick. She needed her rock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh,” he groaned, moving around again.

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

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

 Gotta cover all your bases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This couldn’t end here.

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

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

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

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

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

 Breathe in- out, breathe- breathe in-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would Leo even have that much time?  

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

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

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

She looked up, scanning the living and dining room.

Would this be enough to bring him into the world?

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

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

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

Without Nick?

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

Cal answer me please

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

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

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

“I texted you like a hundred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sangui,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laying down was murder, but so was standing up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Homemade salsa,” Nick grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Breathe breathe breathe and again,”

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

There was a popping sensation, some slight relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay hun, one more time,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t expect hair,” he snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heeey,” Rosie answered nonchalantly.

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

There was a pause. “What did you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Leonardo Makar Jakoby

July 19th | 10 lbs 4 oz | 21 in

Born to proud parents Calista & Nicholas

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😍Expect a lot of secret drawings of Leo now😍

#morphituu #exophilia #monsters #orc boyfriend #monster lover #nick jakoby #nick and callie #bell peppers trilogy #orc #writing #netflix #ao3 #archive of our own #romance #adventure #angst #magic #love #pregnancy #orc x human #bright #fantasy #fanfiction #milagro #feels #monster boyfriend #fluff #nick jakoby fanfiction #halfling

[mediocrebutworking]

A(n) (Un)Broken Promise by Hana Afifah Nuraini

Sunray was breaking through the leaves of an old white oak, flooding its somewhat-finger shaped leaves with abundant energies. Birds chirped, sang their orchestral concert with rhythm. Blue sky with the dense of leaves became their backdrop, no less interesting with the luxurious curtain in concert halls. From afar, the buzzing sound of a lawnmower aired. The laughter of a bunch of children in the neighbourhood, with them lively playing, gave a joyous scenery.

Little Lucy, with teddy bear swinging in her grip, stared those kids from inside her cupboard. She knew them: her neighbour’s children. Following the way they ran and hid, she knew that they were playing hide-and-seek. Pouty lips appeared; she always wanted to play together with them. But that pouty lips immediately gone, knowing that she would play in this cupboard under the old white oak, their hangout, with her lovely twin: Rosy. A huge, childish smile spread on her face.

“Rosy!” shouted the little girl inside the opened cupboard. She saw her twin, hugged a bunny doll, and ran all the way to her. Mother and Father stood in the veranda of their American typical house, observing the little runner. Rosy’s wavy hair ricocheted funnily as she ran with wide steps. Lucy looked at her twin carefully; Rosy wore a little pink gown with a bow on her back. That was in contrast with her clothing, as Lucy wore a little blue gown and bow. Their hair was tied with the same colour as their gowns. Lucy waited for her twin to arrive.

“Lucy! Huh… huh…” Rosy panted as she didn’t usually run. Her body was weaker than Lucy’s who were more athletic.

“Calm down, Rosy. Here, sit here and take a rest.” Lucy shifted a little so Rosy could sit near her inside the opened cupboard.    

“So… What are we gonna do today? I see those kids are playing hide-and-seek,” Rosy followed where Lucy was looking at.

“Mm, I don’t feel like doing hide-and-seek right now, Lucy. Too much running for me,” Rosy took teddy bear and hugged it. Teddy bear and bunny collided in her hug. “Sorry,” her eyes glanced to Lucy.

“Never mind, we can play tea party like we usually do. Now come on,” Lucy grabbed Rosy’s hand and took her to the bench near the cupboard. On the table lied many cups and a teapot, completed with artificial cakes and biscuits. Then they played as two princesses having a tea party. Mr. Teddy Bear and Mr. Bunny also attended it. In the middle of role-playing, Rosy suddenly asked, “Lucy, is it possible for us to stay the same?”

“Huh? What do you mean? I guess we will be taller in some years ahead, wouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, I mean can we keep being together like this?” Rosy stared deeply into Lucy’s eyes. Lucy smiled sweetly.

“Of course my sister, we will be happy together as always…”

_______________________(^`*’^)__________________________

Twelve years later

Lucy looked at her clock in panic. The long needle pointed at four while the shorter needle pointed at eight. It was ten minutes until the first period and Lucy hadn’t found her History notebook yet. Frantically she searched all over her desk and bookshelf, but she found nothing. Lucy stopped for a while, thinking where last she put it.

Dad’s car honked from outside. Not too long she heard him calling her. “Come on Lucy! We’re almost late!”

“I’m coming, Dad!” Lucy looked out her window to find her father stood next to the car and a girl crossed her arms with boredom. The girl looked straight at her. Her gaze as if said, “Why don’t you learn?” Seeing it, Lucy squinted and continued her searching. Her eyes shone brightly as she found the target. Quickly she grabbed her green History notebook, which was under her rug. Of course, she couldn’t find it easily. She quickly got out of her empty house. Mom had left to her restaurant.

Dad and the girl were already in the car. Lucy opened the door to the back seat and got in. Quickly the black car speeded up to their school.

“What’s wrong Lucy? You used to be quite early before going to school,” Dad asked while waiting for the traffic.

“I lost my notebook, Dad. Today, I have a History exam in the first period,”

“I see. I recalled that you already had it, right Rosy?”

The girl, who was very similar to Lucy, nodded her head. “Yeah Dad, last week. It was a piece of cake, I’m telling you, Lucy. Wanna know the questions?” Rosy smiled wittily.

Lucy snorted, “No, thanks. I’m good,” She then drowned herself on her notebook, trying to memorize the subject matters. She secretly disliked that trait of Rosy who liked to offer exam questions to her. Lucy knew that Rosy wouldn’t tell her the real question though; she just teased her. If she did tell the real questions, Lucy wouldn’t take it. Simplicity from a rival was never warmly received by Lucy.

That was right. Rival. Lucy considered her twin as a rival in achievements academically. They went to the same school from kindergarten, which was Mason Bread Schools. This school ranged from kindergarten to senior high, making rivalry between Lucy and Rosy never ended. Despite the fact that they were twins, they were quite different in terms of attitude and achievement. Rosy was like a princess, graceful, and quite polite. She was also accepted in grade A class, which explained why she already had her exam before Lucy had. She always aced every competition in their schools, whether it was Mathematic Olympic or Science Fair since they were in primary school. Her reputation as the smartest student since kindergarten was inevitable. Rosy’s positive aura always made everyone liked her, even the fierce school janitor, Ruby, really liked her. Name other positive traits, and most of them would suit with Rosy. In a shorter way, Rosy was almost perfect.

The only weakness of Rosy would be that she was weaker than Lucy. Her weak immune system often made her visit the hospital. She had to take medicine routinely to keep her health. Dad and Mom, of course, paid more attention to Rosy mainly when her schedule was so packed with competitions and exams. It was the time when Rosy would likely to get ill. Lucy didn’t have any problem with the division of attention from their parents to Rosy and her. Only that sometimes she felt a little bit lonely if the three of them left to the hospital and she was home alone.  

Lucy, on the other hand, was mostly on the second place. Either it was coincidence or not, Lucy was accepted in the regular class. That explained why her exams later than Rosy's, since the pace in A class was very fast. Previously Rosy and she enrolled for the same class: A class. It turned out that only Rosy who was accepted. To make it up, Lucy also joined the same competitions as Rosy did, but she always lost from Rosy. They always competed for their achievements, but mostly the result could be predicted: Rosy the winner and Lucy the runner-up. One plus point from Lucy was that she was more creative and artsy than Lucy, proven by many drawings she hung on their room’s wall. Other than that, Lucy always got a higher score for P.E than Rosy.

Different from her twin, Lucy had a slightly less positive aura than Rosy. Since they were kids, Lucy always acted fiercely, moreover when there are some idiots who were quite brave to annoy Rosy. She wouldn’t hesitate to beat those bullies until they collapsed. The rumour spread around the school made gangs of bullies scared to get closer to them, but still, there were some who got the nerve to face Lucy. Her sharp yet cold gaze made Lucy’s aura became more menacing. They labelled Lucy as Princess’ Bodyguard. Of course, the princess was Rosy. Lucy never burdened with that role, though. Instead, she was proud to be admitted as a strong person. Her slim but firm-built also proved that nobody didn’t want to mess with her.

Rosy was a princess in the spotlight, where everyone was cheering on her and took many pictures of her. She laughed happily with the crowds. Whereas Lucy was behind those crowds, far away from being the centre of attention. She was always enveloped by darkness. Nobody stood beside her. She was alone and lonely.

This kind of illustration in her mind made her thinking bad. Am I not good enough to be loved?

Now that Lucy entered a higher level of education, she wanted to change Rosy’s dominance. She used to be cheering on Rosy’s victory whenever she won something, and she was quite lazy to join competitions. But now, she decided to change. She wouldn’t give up. Enough with being the second as always. It was her turn to be number one.

She thought for a while. At the same time, there was a traffic jam. Many cars honked impatiently to others, asking them to move faster. Dad sighed on the front seat and Rosy just stared out of the window’s car. Lucy stared at the tree on the right side of the car. There were so many branches, making as if the tree wasn’t focused on one point. Like an abstract painting. At that very moment, she realized it.

She was just focused on academic matters when actually those weren’t her expertise. She worked very hard for Science Fair, mathematic Olympic, and biology class while actually she was better in Art class and P.E. Not that the hard work was in vain, it was just that she focused on Rosy’s abilities and forgot her own potential skills. Just like the tree she looked at, the branches were everywhere and they didn’t focus on one direction. Her laziness for not joining any art competitions or sports competitions resulted in fruit of guilt for her.

She sighed. I have wasted so many years and not proving my worth to Dad and Mom.  

After thinking for a while, Lucy finally decided. It will be quite hard to beat her academically. Maybe I’ll go with non-academically like painting or race. I can only do those kinds of things. I’ll just wait for any competitions, whether it is art or sports, it doesn’t really matter to me. I’ll just wait for my chance.

Finally, they arrived at school. The twin walked to the main building. As they walked in, the hall was quite empty. It was 8.30 sharp, time for the first period to begin. They parted in the hall.

“Break a leg, Lucy” Rosy smiled sweetly.

“Yeah, you too,”

Rosy went to the second floor to her A-class while Lucy went to the south of the hall, to her regular class. When Lucy entered her class, all the kids were already there. She looked at the surrounding and found no teacher in front of the class. She instantly remembered that Mr. Hawkins was always late in his first period.

She walked slowly to her seat and continued to read her History notebook. The noisy sound of the class as the soundtrack didn't distract her. She had just tried to catch what happened in 1492 in North America when she heard a voice.

"Morning, Lucy. You got a minute?"

Lucy lifted her head, and she found a pair of greyish eyes stared deeply into her chestnut brown. A pair of greyish eyes that she adored for so long, was in front of her. She was so still as if the black hole in those greyish balls absorbed her consciousness. Lucy's expression remained blank until three seconds later. Quickly she got back to normal.

"Morning, Oliver. What?"

"Uhm, I was wondering if you could teach me about subjects for today's examination,"

"...yeah, sure. You have just got here?”

“Yeah, I overslept again hahaha,” He stroked his blonde hair. He then fixed his posture on his turned-to-behind chair, ready to be taught.

Lucy rolled her eyes and smiled. She started to read the explanation in her notebook as normal as she could. It was Oliver Craig, her crush since she was in grade 5. They went to the same kindergarten and primary school and ended up being in the same class. Although she had known him since they were toddlers, she couldn’t stop her skipping-beat heart whenever he got too close to her. She tried her best not to sound trembling while Oliver scrutinized at her.

“Aah, I see it now. You know, I prefer to be taught by you rather than understanding Mr. Hawkins’ presentation. Yours is understandable while his is so confusing,” Oliver nodded his head after Lucy read and explained to him her note. In response, Lucy just smiled.

“Anyway, Lucy. Have you heard about the painting competition?”

“What painting competition?”

“Painting competition held by this school. Every year this school conducts art competitions, like dancing, band, sculpting, and painting. I know that you are great at painting, that’s why I recommend you to join it!” Oliver's eyes shone brightly. Lucy assumed that he wanted to join that competition as well.

“And you? You’re great at painting too, Oliver,”

“Definitely! I’ve been waiting for this since I was in junior high. Man, I’m aiming at the prize!” He shouted excitingly and punched the air.

Oliver’s spirit was contagious to Lucy. Lucy started to smile again, “What’s the prize? If it’s cool then I’m in,”

“One day trip to the Philadelphia Museum of Arts! There will be free tickets for both museums and planes and if I’m not mistaken, free dinner too! Isn’t it awesome?”

Lucy’s eyes widened. Philadelphia Museum of Arts was one of her dream places that she wanted to visit. Lucy once asked Dad to go there, but he couldn’t make it as it was quite far and he didn’t have time. And did Oliver mention about dinner too? Man, that’s great.

Mr Hawkins eventually came to the class. Oliver fixed his chair position to face the front. All kids in the class suddenly were quite. Lucy checked her watch. Mr Hawkins was late for fifteen minutes. He seemed like recovering from a bad hangover, with his eye bags which were getting darker and his exhausted face.

“Good morning, all. I’m sorry for being late. There’s some business I should take care of… And now, you guys will have an exam. Don’t worry, there will be only three out of five questions. I discount it as my apology. Now, frontier, please give these sheets to friends behind you,” Mr Hawkins said that while yawning like a cat in his table.

This is the chance that I’m waiting for, she thought to herself.

And so, when the exam was over and everyone was moving to the next class, Oliver dragged Lucy to information boards. Their eyes scanned every poster with ‘painting competition’ terms on it. Oliver’s pointed finger touched the posters on his right.

“Here it is, Mason Bread Painting Competition 2020. Let’s see… the prize… Museum and dinner, oh, it’s only for the first and second places! The third place… 24 colours of watercolour set plus sketchbook,” Oliver frowned. “Last year’s participants…. Oh my God, 157 participants? Sure this is tough,”

He crossed his arm. “What do you think, Lucy? It’s quite hard, I guess. But the prizes are worth the challenge,”

Lucy seemed determined. “I guess we have the chance, Oliver. I really want to visit the Philadelphia Museum. It has always been my dream place to visit,” She turned to Oliver. “I want to enrol to Mrs Lawrence on the second moving later. How about you?”

“I don’t know that you could be this excited,” Oliver laughed a little. “Alright, it is settled then. You and I, enrol to Mrs Lawrence on the second moving class,” He nodded, then smiled widely. “Maybe we really can visit the museum! Be prepared, Lucy!”

“Of course,” Lucy smiled. She had many hopes in her heart.

That day, she couldn’t focus on lessons after enrolling herself and Oliver to Mrs Lawrence, the Art teacher. Both of them had been Mrs Lawrence’s pets since the first meeting, and that old lady really supported them to win the competition.

“Alright, good luck you two,” said Mrs Lawrence after typing their names on the participant list.

Yeah, good luck for us, Lucy thought to herself and she unconsciously smiled. She could imagine vividly the announcement day that she won first place and Oliver got second place. They visited the museum, and strangely there were only two of them. They strolled over the museum and adored those masterpieces, with Oliver grabbing her hands. And Lucy didn’t know where the manga-ish pink and glittery atmosphere did come from, as if they were on her favourite shoujo manga. Lucy’s vast imagination suddenly brought her to a fancy candlelight dinner near the shore, with Oliver looked at her adoringly.

Lucy closed her eyes. What a view. It was so nice until she forgot that she was already in the car with Dad and Rosy. They were heading home.

Rosy, who caught her smiling, whispered, “Is there any good news?” Lucy opened her eyes and she stopped smiling. Blush on her cheeks faded instantly, and she made her face looked tough as usual.

“Nah, I just feel like I succeeded in beating Hawkins’ questions,”

“Yeah, I know you can do it,” she said so while leaning her back.

In her mind, Lucy began to plan the concept of her painting as well as the medium she wanted to use. Once they home, she went straight to their room and began to doodle on blank papers. She spent one hour to think about her painting design, and she tried to paint it with her watercolour. She was quite satisfied with the result, although it was only a rehearsal. She stared at her drawing of a golden-feathered eagle carrying an olive branch and many flying doves, carrying the same plants, surrounded it. It was relevant to the theme of the competition: “The role of Mason Bread in keeping the peace of the world”. Her school had been known to the world in educating many peacekeepers, like armies, doctors, and medical supports, as well as other great people who had a major role in peacekeeping. The golden eagle acted as the leader of the pigeons, and it was the same as Mason Bread which became the frontier of high-quality educational institutions.

Lucy smiled. This rehearsal and its philosophy might be enough for the competitions. Enough to win the first prize and win Oliver’s heart. Lucy blushed shyly while thinking like that. She couldn’t wait for the D-Day of competition.

-----000-----

Finally, the D-Day came. Lucy had packed her stuff in her backpack and was ready to leave. She looked at her twin who slept on her bed peacefully. She then closed the door and walked quietly to school. Dad couldn’t take her since he went out of the town to do research. Mom was busy taking care of her restaurant since there was a celebrity reviewing her workplace. The only choice for Lucy was to walk to school.

When she arrived, there are so many people there. The banner entitled “Mason Bread Creative Week” was hung on the gate. So many people carrying their art equipment: wooden log, canvas stand, and so on. She searched for the painting room amongst the crowd, and she found Oliver standing next to it. She hurried up to catch him.

“Oliver!”

The boy turned his head. “Oh! Finally, you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you. Now let’s go, they will open the competition,”

Lucy smiled. Knowing that Oliver was waiting for her warmed her heart.

The two then entered the room and sat in their seat according to their number. There was a blank, A3 sized white paper on every table. Lucy put her backpack next to the table and started to imagine her rehearsal drawing vividly in mind. The committee waited for all first group participants to enter the room. Since there were 168 participants, the competition would be held twice, in the morning and afternoon. Lucy and Oliver were registered as the morning participants.

When all morning participants were already in the room, the committee, Mrs. Lawrence started to speak with a microphone.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, since all the participants have assembled here, we are about to open the competition. Remember, you guys have 2 hours to finish it. Don’t forget the detailed requirements about the painting, like the theme, philosophy, and the medium. Well, I wish nothing but break a leg to you all. Now… begin!”  

Together with the echo of Mrs. Lawrence’s voice, Lucy focused on her drawing. Her eyes were firing with determination. She smirked.

You will see me, sister.

-----000-----

Three days passed and the announcement day came. Lucy couldn’t focus on every teacher’s speech. She couldn’t wait for the announcement after school. She prepared her heart for two possibilities. If she won, she would hug Oliver and kiss his cheek. She laughed a little while imagining it. But if she lost… Lucy changed her face to normal. She stopped smiling.

If I have to lose, that’s fine with me. As long as I don’t lose to her.

But her bad prediction was, unfortunately, right.

There, in the information boards, many people were gathering. There were so many people until Lucy had to push herself a little so that she could see what was happening. Oliver was in the crowd as well, but Lucy didn’t pay attention to him and focused more on the board. On the very recent posters glued by Mrs. Lawrence, there are three names of the champions. Lucy scrutinized every name.

In the third place, there was her name: Lucy-Ann Thompson.

In the second place, there was her crush’s name: Oliver Craig.

And in the first place–Lucy couldn’t believe her eyes–was her twin’s name: Rosy-Anne Thompson.

What?

“Huh, isn’t it Rosy? Congrats, Rosy, you won again!”

“You fool, that’s not Rosy,”

“Huh, you mean, it’s Lu–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–,”

“So, Rosy won again, huh? She is indeed splendid,”

“Yeah, and look at the third place, it’s her twin!”

“Wow, I didn’t expect that the bodyguard will finally got the place. I mean, she’s not that ski–,”

“Ssshh! She can hear you!”

And many more comments about Rosy’s victory and her position in the third place.

Lucy couldn’t stand there any longer. She turned around and ran. Oliver who saw her running calling her. But Lucy wouldn’t stop her legs from meeting with Mrs. Lawrence. She needed to know how Rosy could win the painting competition. She rushed to Mrs. Lawrence’s office and she found no one. Instead, she found a list of painting competition participants. She read it carefully. Her name was on number 11, and she found her twin’s name on the second paper. Her twin’s number was 156. So basically Lucy was the morning participant, while Rosy was the afternoon participant.

Lucy stared at the list, still not believing that her twin really joined the competition. She never showed any ability related to art, moreover to painting. Lucy was so curious, was Rosy’s painting indeed that great until she won the competition? But only thinking about that, Lucy became so dizzy. There were too many feelings and thoughts in herself.

Well, I guess I’m not hugging and kissing him.

Lucy went straight home, without waiting for Dad to pick her up. She walked fast through little alleys and spoke nothing to anyone. She didn’t want to meet anyone, especially Rosy.  She just wanted to be alone. Once she reached home, she directly went up to the attic. The attic had been her private place when she was sad and angry. The absence of parents for taking care of Rosy made her rely on herself, including when she was down.

Lucy hugged her legs and cried in silence. Her tears wetted her knees. She still couldn’t believe that she lost to Rosy again. The worse was, she was not in second place, but in third place. Lucy wiped her tears. She thought she could beat her this time. She thought she had exerted all her abilities in art to defeat Rosy. The fact that she couldn’t go together with Oliver on the museum trip made her sad even more. It was Rosy who would go together with Oliver on that trip, not her. But still, she couldn’t believe this kind of outcome.

Why? In all possibilities, why it should be her, God? Is there any chance for me? Just a chance…

Lucy stayed still for a while. The idea of switching places was impossible. They never did it since Rosy was a sportive kid and she hated any kind of cheating act. She was rigid with rules. For her, rules existed to be obeyed. She would get what she earned, and the one who would enjoy the result was herself, not the others. So, Lucy started to believe that indeed it was her twin and her crush, who would go to the museum. There was a huge denial in her heart, but she knew that it wouldn’t help the situation became better. So she took her phone out and activated it. She inactivated it to avoid bomb chats from her parents. Soon a dozen messages popped out, and she just ignored it. She typed a message to Mom without replying to her worried messages, saying that she was sorry for not attending celebration dinner and she would come home late.

Lucy headed to a café in the area she didn’t know. It was still around neighbourhood, only that she never explored the area before. A cup of chamomile tea lied on the table and she just stared blankly at the live music. The band was good; the singer could hit the note perfectly. She was about to order another cup when she heard a voice.

“What is the bodyguard doing here without her princess?”

Lucy turned her head to the voice source. Becca, her classmate, sat not too far from her table. Her blue eyes stared Lucy haughtily. She formed a humiliating smile. “Is she fired from her job?”

“Shut up,” Lucy responded shortly and cold. She didn’t want to talk about Rosy or anything related to her. Her purpose to go there was to forget her sadness and her failure. Remembering Rosy just risen up her wound.

Becca still smiled. “May I sit there?”

“Whatever, just don’t annoy me,”

She dragged a chair in front of Lucy. “I know what you are thinking right now,” Lucy stared at her sharply. “It hurts, I understand. Knowing your crush will be going with his girlfriend–oh yeah, you can call her girlfriend–is just… pain,”

Lucy squinted. “What do you mean?” Other than that, how could she know that Oliver was her crush? And did she mention “his girlfriend”? It means… Rosy was Oliver’s girlfriend?

Becca laughed. “Come on, I know that you like him. Oliver Craig, right? I can read your expression, though. Under that thick face, I know you blushed like a soft girl,” She continued, “Unfortunately you always lose from her, even in the love life,”

Lucy gave a glare to Becca. Before Lucy hit her, Becca took out her phone and put it on the table. “Check these out,” Lucy grabbed it and she went speechless. There was a photo, and in it, she saw Oliver grabbing a girl’s hand. They smiled at each other. Swiped left, she saw Oliver kissed the girl and in the other pic, Oliver hugged her. Lucy felt like looking into a mirror when she saw the girl’s face. Who else had a similar face like her if it’s not Rosy.

“Are you kidding me?” Lucy’s voice trembled. She couldn’t believe what she saw. “How could you–“

“I took these photos yesterday. They visited a park near my house. And these are real, I’m not faking it,”

Tears were falling down from Lucy’s eyes again. How could this happen, and I know nothing about this? For how long?

“How?” Becca smiled, but there was something in her smile. Something Lucy didn’t know.

Lucy was silent for a moment.  A second later she rose up.

“Enough. What do you want from me? If you just want to mock me like that, you better get going now or I won’t restrain myself,” Lucy cracked her knuckles, staring at Becca fiercely. The addressee stared back at her without fear.

“I’m not mocking you. Instead, I want to offer you cooperation,”

Lucy’s eyebrow rose. “Cooperation?”

Becca smiled cunningly. “Yes, cooperation,”

-----000-----

Lucy stared at her twin who laid unconsciously on a white bed. She stood up next to the bed and observed her twin’s situation. A breathing apparatus was attached to her face and body. Rosy slept like a princess. Her sleeping face seemed sluggish, but still, her innocent aura came out as if she was still so alive.

Lucy looked at her surroundings. A nurse who periodically checked Rosy’s condition had done her job and she smiled at Lucy and her parents. She passed Mom and Dad who blankly stared at Rosy. Mom’s eyes couldn’t get more swollen; she cried for about four hours until tears didn’t come out of her eyes. Dad leaned his back to the sofa and seemed so tired. At a glance, Lucy got the impression that her parents were getting older. Lucy sighed.  

The atmosphere of this room was gloomier than Mr. Hawkins's eye bags.

A vibration in her pocket shocked Lucy. She took her phone and there was a name on the screen, calling her. She looked at her parents and got out of the room. The phone kept vibrating until she reached the hospital’s balcony and picked it up.

“Hello,”

“How’s her condition?”

“You knew it. I don’t need to explain it,”

“Hahaha, it’s good then. Are you happy, Lucy? Everything went according to the plan,”

“Well, I…” and with that, Lucy’s mind flew to a few days earlier.

-----000-----

Lucy stared Becca in doubt. “Tell me what you mean,”

“Simple,” Becca said. “Let’s work together to put her to death,”

Lucy gasped. “Isn’t it too harsh?” Killing someone was never in her option when it came to hate someone.

“No,” Becca leaned her back and stared Lucy deeply. “It’s worth what she did to us,” A few seconds later Lucy caught a sorrow in her eyes.

“Lucas was my boyfriend,” Becca said before Lucy asked. “He really loved me until he met Rosy. Since their meeting, he gradually left me,”

There was silence. The music from the band filled up the gap, but the love song meant nothing to two broken-hearted girls.

“Until one day, Rosy left him. He still chased Rosy to reconcile, but Rosy didn’t want him anymore. He was so stressed and I was there for him. I tried to ensure him that she had lost her feelings to him, but he didn’t listen to me.

Next thing I knew, he died. Committing suicide. Lucas’ mom blamed me for his death. I tried to explain it to her, but she didn’t want to listen to me. She never knew that I wasn’t the cause. She never knew that her son betrayed me and I tried to keep him alive. Rosy didn’t come to his burial and she never apologizes to me or to Lucas's mom, until now,”

Becca took out a cigarette and lighted it up. The smoke flew passed Lucy’s shocked face. She finally knew that the boy named Lucas was Becca’s boyfriend. Indeed Rosy once told her that there was a crazy boy called Lucas chasing her. She recalled the shy smiles and blushing in Rosy’s face. She never knew that boy committed suicide since Rosy never told her. Lucy looked at Becca who was smoking casually. She thought for a while.

Rosy had taken her happiness. She took Mom and Dad, her friends, and her crush. She made her as if she was the unwanted child in her own house. She made her feel bad about being herself. But those pain that she felt were nothing compared to Becca’s. She never knew that Rosy, behind her good reputation, could be very cruel. She stole another woman’s man, caused him to death–indirectly–and she didn’t even apologize. She made Becca’s image very bad. Rosy… Rosy deserved to be punished.

“Alright,” Lucy eventually said. “How do we do it?”

Becca smiled. She took something out of her pocket after she turned off her cig. She clenched her fist. “I knew that you went here alone, and I decided to follow you, carrying this around.” Secretly she put it on the table with her handkerchief as the cover. It was a little glass bottle with little chunks of meat in it.  Lucy kept her posture erected. She had the feeling that the contents were forbidden and she didn’t want to make others suspicious if she looked at it closely.

“There are some tiny pieces of puffer fish’s heart in this bottle. They are very toxic, the second most powerful toxin in the world. I got it from my father’s lab. I took the one which got the least number of heart pieces of all bottles, so they didn’t notice it. Yeah, I guess,” Becca explained, seemed didn’t care.

Lucy looked at the bottle in amaze and fear. “Just put a few of these bad boys on her food, and they will put her to comma before she dies,” Becca looked at her. “Can you, Lucy?”

Lucy widened her eyes and shifted her view to the bottle. This little thing was a killer. Would she have the heart to kill her twin with this?

“Think about the pain she made for you. How she took all of the things you’ve always wanted,” Becca said while staring deeply at Lucy. “And imagine being blamed for someone’s death and being hated for it,”

Lucy thought for a while. Basically those were Becca’s problem, but she couldn’t stand what Rosy did to Becca. It was just too cruel of her.

“Follow the instruction I wrote in this paper, and you’ll be safe,”

Becca then rose from the table, and without waiting for Lucy’s agreement, she disappeared after she got out of the entrance door. Lucy stayed still in her chair. She read the little paper which was tied up with the bottle. Her eyes moved along Becca’s handwriting. She closed her eyes and opened them. Slowly she stood up and walked out of the café.

“Time to go home,” she said to herself. She had one job. Slowly she patted her pocket, where she kept the bottle.

After arrived at home, she did precisely what Becca had written. Before that, she made sure that everyone was already sleeping. She cut the heart into smaller cuts and inserted them into Rosy’s favourite wheat bread. The thickness of the bread really helped Lucy to hide the chunks. She put them inside the very upmost stack of bread; Mom had a habit to give Rosy the first and second stack of bread. Lucy could guarantee if that habit didn’t change since she had been seeing that as long as she lived in this house. Carefully she finished her job and cleaned the tools she used as clean as she could. She washed the bottle and covered it with a cloth. She would destroy it later and she had burned down the instruction paper. Quickly but quietly, Lucy went to sleep. She was both thrilled and afraid to see what would happen the next day. Obviously, she was happy to imagine Rosy and Oliver’s trip to the museum was cancelled.

She couldn't believe that she was enjoying every scene of Rosy’s poisoning the next morning.

-----000-----

“Hm? What is it, Lucy? Come on, just admitted that you’re happy,” a voice on the other side sounded to hold her laughter.

Lucy didn’t reply. She just smiled. “Four hours later. Am I right?”

“Yeah. Let’s say our last goodbye to her,” Lucy could hear a maniac laugh following that utterance.

Lucy hung up the phone and put it in her pocket. A view on the 7th floor of this hospital was amazing. She could see her house as well as the old white oak tree and their childhood cupboard in the backyard from this altitude. She stared at the cupboard and the bench.

Two little girls in blue and pink gowns were playing tea party and laughed happily. Lucy smiled hollowly.

“Of course my sister, we will be happy together as always…” said the girl in blue gown.

“Right, Rosy?” Lucy climbed the thick glass fence in that balcony. She smiled with her tears falling down. “You were happy, and I am happy,”

A second later a girl’s body landed on the boulevard with a loud crash. Blood flowed out of Lucy’s body.

#stories sadstory love childhood collegestuff task shortstory

[sleepymccoy]

Still Waking Up

It didn’t happen often, but when it did happen it was… strange.

Aziraphale had noticed the pattern. It had taken some work, but he’d figured out a few key things. The first time he’d only recognised in hindsight, the second time as well, really. He wondered now if it had been the first time or if he simply hadn’t caught it earlier.

He had been dusting the shop calmly, more moving about the space than really working when he’d decided the windows needed some attention. He didn’t bother with humans things that afternoon and simply focused a few extra eyes on the window, studying the grime and dust there to best decide how to tackle cleaning it. As he looked he fancied he saw some red hair across the street, just for a flash between cars.

He stilled, standing a few meters from the window despite his close study, and looked harder. A break in the afternoon traffic told him what he’d thought, Crowley was sitting on the street bench across the road, sunglasses on, just looking at the shop.

Well, that was uncommon but not unnerving. Perhaps he was finish a thought and would come in shortly. Aziraphale got the kettle going and put his cleaning equipment away in preparation. It would be good to see Crowley, it had been a few days and he’d missed the company somewhat. However, he swiftly got engrossed in a book and didn’t notice that Crowley didn’t actually come by until the next morning.

Crowley was attentive the next day, he complained of being a touch tired and not inclined to talk, but was happy to listen so Aziraphale thought nothing further of it. Everyone has their quirks, ageless demons perhaps more so than most.

The second time was very similar to the first. Aziraphale was in his shop, to any onlookers he would have seemed to be moving about somewhat aimlessly but he was in fact enjoying an extraordinarily slow rendition of a gavotte. He didn’t have the exuberance or company for a proper effort so he walked slowly, at a speed slower than any dance normally encouraged let alone a traditionally fast one, and placed his feet correctly. He read as he went, disregarding the formality of the arms of the dance in favour of holding a book to his face. It was absent minded as an action, but he found it pleasant.

It was night this time and he glanced out the window as he turned in a slow arc, his leg extended. There, again, at the bench. Crowley. Aziraphale looked away as casually as he could manage without being obvious and blushed. He stopped the gavotte, a silly thing to be doing alone and slowly, simply self indulgent.

He walked quickly to the couch and sat, far from the window, and busied himself in his book, ready to pretend he had been doing no kind of a dance when Crowley arrived.

Again, he grew engrossed and didn’t notice until Crowley turned up two days later that he hadn’t come in that night. Aziraphale decided with some humiliation that his foolishness must have been noticed and Crowley in his generous nature had decided not to comment. He was grateful, of course, but he also wished Crowley had just stopped by for a chat. It had been a lonely week. Many of his weeks were lonely on this side of the apocalypse, even with Crowley’s presence. Aziraphale had no direction or performance to maintain and found himself aimless with many hours to waste and he found he missed something.

In his distraction and relief at some company he did not notice that, again, Crowley was quiet, kept his glasses on, and sat really very close to him.

Of course these were not the only times they saw each other, Aziraphale was smart and observant and would have picked up on the oddities if this had been the extent of their interactions. But no, these two events were weeks apart and he often saw Crowley upwards of three times a week, and for quite an extended period when they did, and he was his usual self most of the time. His usual self being as varied as it was, it was difficult to spot the pattern. But Aziraphale, as is known, is smart. Therefore on the third occasion, he grew suspicious.

Two weeks after the gavotte incident, Aziraphale was re shelving. It was close to dawn and he was considering opening the shop today. He would have to go through the papers, count the till, remove the book he had been restoring on the coffee table- oh, perhaps it was too much work for one morning. He could prepare today and open tomorrow.

He turned to place a book in its rightful spot on a shelf by the window when he noticed Crowley. He quickly made sure he didn’t look with his human eyes and instead kept busy, kept casual. He opened an extra couple of eyes and watched keenly.

He was just sitting, but not like he usually did. He wasn't ramrod straight exactly, but he did look tense, nervous. Aziraphale shimmied a few books on the shelf for a full minute, eventually returning them all to where he’d picked them up because they had been originally correct.

Crowley didn’t move. Aziraphale thought about the last two times he’d seen him, his posture was similar at a glance but Aziraphale hadn’t studied him very closely those times so he couldn’t be certain.

Well, he definitely wasn’t opening today. He would sit in the chair by the window and keep a floating eye trained on Crowley to see what he would do.

He did so and two hours passed. Aziraphale did not get involved in his book this time, he didn’t read a word.

As he was beginning to wonder if he should do away with the pretense and invite Crowley in, Crowley moved for the first time.

Aziraphale stiffened, watching closely with his back to Crowley. Crowley yawned, stretched an arm, craned his neck, yawned again, and stood. Aziraphale waited, wondering. Crowley left, walking off in the direction of his flat.

No car, Aziraphale realised.

Aziraphale waited another hour, keeping an eye on the street as the day began in earnest, but there was no further sign of Crowley.

The next morning, at an extremely appropriate brunch-type of hour, Crowley arrived with almond croissants in hand and his glasses on.

Aziraphale cataloged everything, deeply curious and a small bit concerned.

“How are you, dear?”

“Eh,” Crowley shrugged. He closed the door behind him and left the croissants on the counter. He continued to stand next to Aziraphale rather than make his way to the kitchen for a coffee or the couch for a sit as Aziraphale would have thought.

Aziraphale thanked him for the treat and went to the kitchen. Crowley followed.

“I haven’t seen you for a few days,” Aziraphale said, keeping his back to Crowley, trying to hide his small anxiety at asking. “What have you been up to?”

“Jus’ sleepin’,” Crowley said.

“Sleeping,” Aziraphale repeated. “How is that going?”

Read the rest on AO3

quick tagging stuff, altho check the fic tags if you want more details: discussions of trauma, some accidental triggering but it’s handled gently, trauma recovery, communication, confronting past abusers, bedsharing, first kiss, i love yous, general soft tone and efforts to love and support, no sex but its not ace

word count comes in at a whopping 31,153 which i think is my biggest boy yet

#good omens #good omens fic #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands

[badboy-mysweetboy]

Crazy Ace

Joker x reader? Kinda.... you’ll understand once you read. I don’t wanna spoil

Jared Leto joker is so fucking....yum. I love Harley just saying this now. Warning this does get....graphic about wounds. Random tags: @missmarrinette​ @jokeresques​@jokerimagines​ @suicidesquadimagines​ @pindragon13​

A series of small beeps could be heard from a distance before heavy cement is rubble on the ground.

Turning on my heel my henchmen form in costumes all overtaking the asylum. Arkham Asylum.

They say Harley Quin and the Clown Prince is here. Good.

The henchmen in teddy bear costume on tables shooting the guards aimed to kill. It was a blood bath, all for my doing. All at my pleasure.

Skipping down the halls as my eyes scan the area locating the criminal lockup, music blasted from every speaker. With every time my foot connects to the ground, another 5 bodies hit the floor. Hiding my pales skin with layers of black and blue, my lips followed words of the song without effort. 

The tattoos that are drawn on my skin prominent against the harsh paleness of my skin. The streak of the speaker idolized the end of the song, dead silence. A foul smirk overcame my bored expression as one of my boys opened the door for me. Walking in, there they were. In large cages. Harley cornered herself as Joker watched curiously.

My henchmen stood frozen waiting for my next move, nodding towards the girl they immediately got to work. My stare held close to his, approaching his cold bared solitude. The dark hair covered most of my eyes until looking up, “Well, look at you Harley. All grown up after being a stripper. Must have... grown out of it.” Switching my focus to her. Who I came for. “Me? Not Mista J?” She quirked in confusion. “Give me my package boys then roll out.” Almost within seconds, she’d retrained on her way to my mansion. Turning to meet blue eyes once again, “Let him out after I’m gone.” I wave off my last few men before walking out. 

The only sound heard was my boots meeting the groud as a cold tune of whistling left my lips leaving Joker to rethink everything over.

Joker sat looking around before my men released him, smirking he got up and strolled passed the guards. A firm hand to the Clown Prince's chest stopped him before the door. His cold stare meets a card. A black ace turning it over in front of Jokers' face his eyes now meet with a location. Then they left.

Joyriding around the city, weaving between the traffic with sirens blaring behind me. Music screaming from its speakers as I jerk the wheel to my will. After losing them, which took way to long my eyes gaze upon my place of crime. 

Meeting me at the front door the henchmen welcome me back, “Wassup Shaggy! Got my toys?” Talking to the leader of my boys, Shaggy. He smiled, yes he was older than me. Yes he’s 25 and I’m 15 but he’s my homie. “Yes, Miss Quinzel is in the playroom. Do you need anything?” Shaking my head I headed down to the playroom, skipping 4 steps at a time. The concrete echoed my boots as a curling whistle left my lips once more, one that terrified Harley to her core. 

The door opened, to meet her tied and gagged in a steel chair bolted to the ground. Pure anger took over my expression but a grin found itself on the corners of my lips. “This should be fun.” Shaggy ripping off her gag from her, questions flew from her like a child on crack. “I will gag you again, but with a needle and thread this time.” Immediate silence came from her. Shaggy’s pocket vibrated as he left to take it. 

I stalked her, walking around her like prey. Slightly playing with her pigtails. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you Harley. And then when you’re barely there, I’m going to stop. Then I’m going to tell you why you’re here, and I’m gonna keep you here. Joker can’t save you, because of what you did. You are sitting there for a reason, you put yourself there Dr.Harleen Quinzel and you didn’t even know it.” A menacing laugh erupted from my mouth before going to look at my toys. 

Fingers dancing over the many toys before deciding on my blade, holding it up, admiring it I spoke up,” Do you know why this is my favorite blade Harleen?”

Her head shook violently, “Now let us use our words Harleen. Is that the way you speak to me after I broke you out of that place? Ungrateful.” Approaching her she squeaked out, “I’m so-sorry. W-why is i-it your fa-avorite blade?” Smiling I level my face with hers, “You see, this is the blade that I killed my adopted father with. I stole it when around 7.” Tracing her cheekbone with the old blade leaving a fine line across her face as she whimpers. Smiling I continued drawing in red, her screams filled my ears as I covered every inch of her pale skin. 

Letting out a dramatic sigh, “I’m starting to get bored. How about you Harleen? Are you bored?” Searching her eyes, “Now, now, now Harleen. We spoke about responding.” Not leaving her stare, the knife plunged into her leg with a scream, “I’m sorry! No, I’m having fun. Please, why are you doing this?” A whisper left her lips, smirking leaning into her ear. “That the question isn’t it?” 

“Hey Boss, The Joker is here.” Shaggy pronounces, standing straight a look of hope gleamed in Harleen’s eyes. I too smiled. “Awww that’s cute, look at that Shags, she thinks he’s here for her. No, honey, I gave him my location. Stay here honey I’ll be back!” I yell pass my shoulder leaving the room. Checking my watch, “Ah ya see, he’s late Shagster. People have no sense of respect nowadays.” Walking up the final stair the green-haired Crime boss stood, “Why am I here Ace?” He grumbled, smiling I walked to him. “Where’s the fun in that?!” Skipping away to the staircase and whispering to the men on top of the stairs, they quickly went down as I returned to the clown. “Come on we don’t have all day.” Leading to my office deeper into my home. The massive gold doors opened to reveal my business room. 

Harleen was sitting in the middle of the exquisitely expensive room. “Ah! You’re here! Shag, what would I do without you.” Exclaiming punching him on the shoulder, the doors shut behind Joker as I hopped on to my chair sitting particularly strange to most. 

Watching the scene unfold, Joker eyed me cautiously. “Puddin’! Ya here to save me! I love ya so much! Baby!” My ears were ready to fall off, “Harleen shut up!” My voice boomed over the room, “Slightly better, if ya kept going I was going to throw up. Now here comes the best part of the story.” I eyed Joker than the chair, he placed himself in the chair. Standing from my chair and circling in front of Harleen. “Ok now, you’re probably thinking, ‘hmmm why am I in a nice ass house in front of a 15-year-old crime boss like myself?’ well I’m going-well Harleen is going to do us that favor.” Turning my heel I re-level myself with her face. 

She shook with fear as I got closer to her, it clicked. “Dr. Harleen Quinzel, you are the doctor who took care and loved the Clown Prince over there. La-la lovely Dovey shit later Dr. Harleen Quinzel helps Joker get out, and continue Doc. Why did you really help him out?” Turning to met jokers face before sitting back into my chair. She shifted before gulping. “Harley.” Joker's voice was stern, she looked at the floor. 

“Today Junior! Speak puppy, speak!” I yell as she jumped at my voice. “Well Puddin’ ya see when I was helping you in the Asylum, and during one of-of our sessions I started getting sick.” Joker’s eyes widened, sitting forward. A smile came over my face, “Yes come on keep going, 7 months forward!” I place my chin on the chair waiting for the story to continue. “Puddin’ you said ya didn’t want any kids so when I got pregnant I ditched it and came back to ya baby!” He growled before I jumped in, “Where did ya leave her Harleen? Where did ya leave it? A fire station?” 

“No.”

“Oh, then an orphanage?” “No.”

“Then possibly a random doorstep?” “No! Stop!”

“Then where did you leave her Dr. Harleen Quinzel?! Where did you leave this perfectly and completely innocent baby in the dangerous streets of Gotham?!”

Silence followed, the air thick in tension. “Where did ya leave her Harley?” The Joker spoke up, even she didn’t meet his eyes. Finally, she spoke but never looked up, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Joker repeated himself, Ya know ya club, I may or may not have put the baby in one of the dumpsters before rejoining you at the Acid storage factory. When you fell in love with me baby.” 

Joker stood and looked away from the woman, I smile letting out a sigh. “Wasn’t that a lovely story! But, I know the sequel. Here sit down, I’ll let you know the ending. Sit Mr. Joker, please I insist.” I jump up and offer his chair with a glass of Jack, he takes it and sits. “Now let us wrap this up with a bow, Once upon a time a little girl was born, born in a very dangerous place but this baby believed in the trust of her beloved parents even though her father never known of her existence. But instead was left in a dumpster to die outside a Crime Bosses night club, until a druggy-acholic found her when he was dumpster diving for some heroine. He brought her home, not to love her and to take care of her. No, he saw something to raise into the perfect slave for any need he may have. No censor bars there sweetheart. Take that any way you want, or how dirty you want because it happened. When she was 7 she killed the horrid man, then she found someone to help her-” Shaggy had a sad look over his face, but met my eyes when I spoke, “He helped her grow and learn what happened to her, he helped me become the biggest Crime Boss there ever was. Even bigger than you Joker. The End! What a beautiful story don’t you think, Harleen? Well, that’s all I wanted. You can leave goodbye.” 

Walking out of the room and into the kitchen while my boys made sure Harleen left in one piece with Joker. “I wonder how it will go? How about you Shags?” He sat across from me as he handed me a drink, “Well by his reaction, I believe he will get rid of her by tomorrow or the next hour. How are you?” Chewing on the straw a muffled,” I’m fine, really actually. How about you, shagster?” He thought while standing next to me. 

“It was hard not to kill her right then and there but this plan of yours should work perfectly, it always does.” Patting my shoulder before the door sung its normal melody. “A lot sooner than expected.” He mumbled before the Joker came in and passed the henchmen. They detained him, “Hey. It’s okay to let him go. Come and sit. We have milkshakes and alcohol for all mental fun.” 

After they let him go he sat on the patted stool, “So, I’m guessin’ the story was bout you?” He finally spoke up after a short silence. I chuckled, raising my hands. “How’d ya guess? I thought I told the story for the plot twist.” I chuckle but mumble the last part. He chuckled too. Our eyes meet once again like the first time we meet, the same icy touch and the paleness of our skin made us right out of a comic book. 

“So, Ace. is that your real name?’“ 

“No Jack, It isn’t.” His eyes widened and stayed on me for a while. “How’d you--?” 

“I won’t tell anyone but 21 and Me. Man those ads always get me. But my name Y/n. After Shagster's mother. But people call me Crazy Ace”

#joker x reader? #joker x reader #angst #fluff #mood #suicide squad #jared leto #jared leto joker #joker #joker imagines #jared leto imagines