#I should take a queue from Belle and sleep

[sunschay]

An Unwanted Guest || Natasha Romanoff x Male Reader

You return home after two years serving in the American army, having been forced by your father to enlist. But you didn't expect to have another stepmother in such a short space of time.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Inappropriate language, swearing, sexual tension, age gap (Reader is 21, Nat is 42, she's a milf ugh), Bruce is a terrible and disrespectful husband. *

Also, this is not fully proofread yet, so it may contain some minor spelling errors.*

Word count: 10k

You wake up to the sound of banging pots and pans and a loud bell ringing in the back of the dormitory. It must be about five in the morning, but that's the time everyone here is obliged to wake up anyway, as early as possible. Sleep isn't important, but your work and your duties? Without a shadow of a doubt. You hear the recruits getting up from their bunks and putting on their uniforms, berets, boots and belts before retiring to the mess hall. You get dressed as well, brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face and almost jump with fright when you turn around and see a man standing in front of you.

“Private Banner. There's new mail for you at the post office outside the base.” Sam Wilson says, almost like a robot, the dark circles around his eyes giving away his bad sleep during the night.

“Thanks, Wilson.” You press your lips together and nod, retreating to the cafeteria.

It's an ordinary cafeteria, at least 30 to 40 square meters, with 25 tables and chairs scattered around. The canteen is a rather small kitchen that houses large pots and pans, two built-in stoves with four burners each and a huge fridge taking up almost half the space. The soldiers form a queue with trays everywhere to eat.

“Combatant Banner, how's your day going? There are three letters and correspondence from Mr. Banner waiting for you.” Your most familiar and talkative friend, Steven Rogers, greets you with the same smile as every day.

“Hey mate! Thanks for that, really. How's your day going?” You reply and give him a brief hug. “Good so far, no women around unfortunately.”

Steve is a good man, he's also an excellent and extremely competent soldier, unfortunately life (in this case, the top lieutenants) has placed him as a letter carrier indefinitely supposedly because Rogers doesn't reach the level of skill and strength as other recruits. But he's still a nice guy with his straight-edged blond hair, his friendly smile, his blue eyes and his pumped-up muscles.

“Thanks for this, Steve. I bet my old man is just asking me how things are going. He should know by now that I'm coming home tomorrow.” You snort and pick up the thick envelopes, seeing that the other letters are from your 13-year-old brother, Derek.

It was probably one of his drawings that he's always sent you since you joined the army.

“I hear you've got a new hot stepmother- I say, I hear you've got a new stepmother, comrade. You know, Derek tells me everything. I love that kid.” He gives you a nervous wink and you choke on air.

“Stepmother!? Wait, bloody hell! That's the fourth woman my old man's taken in two whole years.” You shake your head in disbelief.

“Come on, Y/n. He's single and still a bit young, a man should celebrate his freedom as he sees fit. But sometimes, with a new woman comes new problems.” Steve laughs lightly, finding your nervous expression amusing.

“The thing is, he's been having fun with several women for a long time, Steve, and he always gets into trouble with all of them because he doesn't know how to deal with break-ups. I bet she's a bitter old woman with a bunch of kids. Thanks, man, I'll have to accept another little woman wanting to boss me around anyway. See you in the cafeteria.” You roll your eyes and say goodbye to Steve with a high five.

After picking up the tray, you sit down and start opening the cards, barely touching the food in front of you. As soon as you finish opening the first letter, a long sigh leaves your lips before you start reading.

"Hey, my firstborn, how are things going over there? If I remember correctly, you're just finishing your service and will be going home soon. Derek misses you, I helped him send you his many drawings of dinosaurs and of you painted next to him in a soldier's uniform. He can't stop talking about you. I've also heard that you're as strong as a big Nutcracker doll. That's my boy. On the other hand, I imagine that Rogers has already told you everything. Son, yes, I'm in a relationship with another woman. Natasha is the most incredible and fascinating woman I've ever seen, and it's the best thing that could have happened in my life, I think you'll like her. We can't wait to see you, firstborn, come home soon."

Running your hands through your hair, you let out a heavy, tired sigh, taking a few bites of the not-so-juicy apple on the tray and looking at the mashed potatoes mixed into a soup with a strange texture. The food isn't always the best, but there's nothing to complain about, at least you have something to eat.

“I told you, new stepmother, new problems.” Rogers giggles as he enters the cafeteria and then laughs when he sees your frown.

“At least I hope this one doesn't try to burn our house down.” You say with a frustrated half-smile, eating with some effort.

“Relax, she must be a good woman.” Steve places the tray on the table, looking away for a moment.

You continue eating and frown when you see that he's practically drooling, staring in the opposite direction. Your head turns slowly and you see Second Lieutenant Stark and Agent Carter enter the cafeteria, walking together as they talk. She's pretty, with short brown hair, light eyes, a light button on her lips and a military uniform, wearing high boots. Agent Carter is actually the first General of the United States Women's Army, so basically, she's a well-known woman around here and sometimes makes a visit to the men's military base to do "research", evaluations and things like that.

“I'm going to have to get a bigger bucket if you keep drooling over her like this.” You smile, feeling Steve throw a stuffed potato at you.

“Ew, I wasn't even looking like that. Mind your own business.” He scolds you, fiddling awkwardly with his food.

“Oh, the one who spoke is no longer here.” You laugh and finish eating, getting up when the lieutenant calls you to run around the courtyard.

This time, you wake up before the bell rings and the noisy pots start banging to wake up the rest of the soldiers. Today is "vacation" day, if you can call it that. You're coming home after two years away. Finally. You'll be able to sleep when you want, when you want, drink, do all the rebellious shit you share with Steve. As you enter the bathroom, you pick up a razor and fit a new blade into the razor, washing your face with warm water and spreading shaving foam over your face as you shave. After removing the loose hairs from your face, you wash it thoroughly and face the new pencil moustache covering your skin, all the rest of your skin shaved and clean.

“It's not so bad.” You whisper, running your fingers over the moustache.

As soon as you've finished the rest of your hygiene, you pick up your farewell uniform, putting on your camouflage collarless shirt, pants and boots. You run your fingers through your black hair and comb it gently until it's neatly aligned, then you put your beret on your head. When you return, the dormitories are already empty and the commanders take the rest of the conscript soldiers outside to catch the bus home. You wouldn't take a bus home if Bruce came to pick you up, but with a brainless father like him, it wasn't good to risk being late. You stand in the queue and immediately feel someone tugging your ears back slightly, turning to see Steve right behind you.

“Hey, buddy, you look like you've just stepped off a modeling cover. If I were a woman, I'd be wet just looking at that moustache.” Rogers jokes and you roll your eyes, joining in.

“Yeah, and you look like a nomad with that much beard, the girls will love that.” You put your hands behind your back and he sighs. “I wish.”

“Private Y/n Chase Banner, 21 years old, British, sergeant correspondent. You may board.” The man hands back your papers.

“Sometimes I forget you're British. It's a bit ironic, you don't even like a cup of tea.” Steve says, straining his accent and making you laugh. “Why tea when we have whisky and beer in America?”

Steve laughs and takes the documents out of his pocket, handing them to the driver. Quickly all the soldiers board and you press your head against the hard seat, looking out of the window as the base slowly moves away and the bus accelerates. You hear Steve chattering non-stop next to you about Agent Carter, saying how divine and beautiful she was, and saying how much he wished he had a chance with her. The trip from Kentucky to Washington DC would take at least 8 hours and something more, it was still early in the morning and you'd be arriving in the afternoon or even evening, so you just answered Steve with nods and brief 'um, yeahs' as you drifted off to sleep.

“Hey, buddy, this isn't bedtime! Wake up!” Steve shook you, making you jump in your seat slightly.

Your fingers rubbed your eyes and you shook your head, gradually adjusting your vision. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, delivering a warm and muggy evening, the clouds gradually disappearing as the larger group of soldiers began to get off the bus at the Washington terminal. Steve laughed as he commented on your sleepy face and you grabbed your backpack, following him off the bus. It was clear that Bruce hadn't made any effort to come and see you in Kentucky, so it annoyed and irritated you at the same time, but there was no point in wasting time with your grumpy old dad.

“You're coming to dinner with me. That's not a request.” She joked with him as they started walking together.

Your house wasn't three blocks away, it wasn't that far, so it would be nice to walk.

“If it's to meet your hot stepmother, I'm always up for it.” He said and you punched him in the bicep.

“How do you know she's hot and not some old lady with a herniated disc who's obsessed with plants?” You opened a packet of mints, handing him another.

“Derek told me she's not old. And I know Mr. Banner doesn't date old ladies. Come on, Y/n, it's only been three times.” He replies, making you let out a laugh.

“Three times describes my father's character very well, Steve. Well, let's face it, there are a lot of hot old ladies out there.” You blink, feeling his critical gaze on your back.

“You're a fucking pervert. I didn't know you liked old ladies, man.” He laughs, pushing you slightly.

“I didn't say I liked old women! I'm just saying that there are some older women, in their forties and fifties, who are hot, depending on the individual. There was a friend of my father's, I think her name was Wanda, something like that, and she was in her late thirties or early forties. She looked like she was in her twenties, I swear to you, she was crazy as hell! Of course, not all women get to that age looking good, it's a question of grooming and vanity, you know.” You explained, kicking a few stones along the way.

“To me, that's like saying: 'I'm definitely into fucking an older woman's brains out', there's no limit to that, bro, you're an adult and single.” He winks and you laugh out loud. “Wait, why do I feel like something happened between you and this Wanda?”

“She gave me head in the bathroom at her nephew's birthday party. If that answers your question.” You smile mischievously and Steve shakes you like he's made a great discovery. “I knew it, you tricksome pervert! If she really is that hot, then I understand you.”

“You say that as if Carter wasn't a little older than you." Your eyes narrow and he shrugs.

“That's another matter, Banner.” He smiles smugly.

As soon as the two of you arrive, you stop to look around the house. It looks the same, but at the same time it looks like a different house. As if you didn't belong here. The house is still surrounded by orchids and tulips that you planted years ago in memory of your mother, something you did every year to remember well what she liked to do when she was alive. The house had worn-out paintwork, ajar windows and a tall lawn, which made you wonder if Bruce was so useless as not to mow a simple garden lawn. You walked up to the front door and knocked lightly against it, hearing some loud voices talking from inside.

“Just a minute!” A female voice shouted from inside and you slowly turned to face Steve, who had a small smile on his lips. “Time to meet Mom, Banner.”

You rolled your eyes deeply and tried to ignore him, scratching your moustache nervously as footsteps approached the door.

When the door opened, the first thing that came into your mind was that Steve was probably right. She wasn't old at all. Or she was Bruce's own age and she was fucking well preserved, which you thought, fuck, that's got to be it. The vision lit up before you, with a redhead opening the door of your own house with sweet wavy red hair down to her shoulders, big curious green eyes analyzing you as if she already knew who you were before you even said a word, her face as delicate as pieces of porcelain, her nose turned up and the most beautiful lips you could find. She was much shorter than you and than Steve, which meant that you had to look up to meet your eyes and that you had to move your head down to see her.

A black dress falls over her body with delicacy and a deafening elegance. There are a few buttons from the opening, which shows a little of her pale neck, to the middle of her waist, which has a belt around it. It's a simple garment. But it doesn't exude any kind of vulgarity, although this woman... she exudes lust through her eyes. She has slight expression marks under her eyes, almost imperceptible, but which give away the fact that she is much older than you. And she hasn't even said a word to you. A pearly necklace is around that elegant slender neck and you hold your breath, locking your jaw before you speak.

“May I ask who you are?” Your whisper is precise and firm, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that her cheeks are flushing.

“Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. You must be Y/n. I'm your father's wife.” She answers you just as firmly, although her nervousness shows through a little and Steve's eyes widen behind you.

You would never have thought that your father would get married so quickly, even if it was his way of getting into bed with any woman for one night and then telling you that he was in a relationship with her. But he had married her! That was too much.

“It's me, yes.” That's the only answer that came out of his mouth and Natasha seemed to swallow with some bewilderment.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Romanoff. I'm Y/n's friend, Steve Rogers. I hope you don't mind my presence, it may have been a little unexpected.” Steve greets her with a light handshake.

“It would never be a bother to receive you, please, the house is more yours than mine.” She smiles and turns to you.

Without a word, you lean in as Steve pulls away from her hand. Her nails are painted a bright red, which contrasts with her red hair. Your hand brushes against hers, which makes Natasha almost gasp and electricity runs through her body when your hand gently squeezes hers. Without further words or affirmations, this is much more than Natasha would have expected to feel. You raise your head and she quickly moves to the side, making room for you and Steve to enter.

You won't admit it, but you're fascinated by Natasha's beauty. You also know now that you were wrong to think that she was older than Bruce, he only went out a few times with some noble ladies full of money with arrogance stamped on their faces.

“Y/n!” A weak, childish voice shouts at you, and you laugh as you feel little arms go around your legs. “Hey, big boy.”

You greet Derek, feeling him cling to your neck and hug you tightly, as if he hasn't seen you for decades. Well, he hadn't seen you in almost three years, so it made perfect sense.

“Doesn't anyone miss me?” Steve mocked. “Stevie!”

You laugh and let them talk, quickly answering a few of Derek's questions before seeing Bruce off down the stairs. He's got his black hair tangled and all out of order, his glasses are crooked on his face and he's wearing a white coat, with a scruffy beard. He looks a mess, with dark circles under his eyes and a breath of something like campari. You look him up and down with judgment and press your hand on the strap of your backpack.

“Hey, big boy.” He approaches you and gives you a firm hug.

“Hey, old man. I thought you'd see me at the Fort.” You say, frowning with annoyance masked as irritation.

“Well, you're already a big man, Y/n. Not to mention I was looking after your brother, he needs to brush his teeth and do his homework.” He says, turning away and fixing his glasses.

“Of course, you're always worried about my brother stinking of pure alcohol.” You say firmly, your jaw locking with some force.

“Is that any way to talk to me, kid?” He looks at you, slowly approaching as Natasha comes back into the room.

“Oh, I believe you're both hungry. I'm making an apple pie before dinner, love, can you help me?” She grasps Bruce's shoulders, who turns away from you. “Of course, darling.”

Your eyes roll back and Natasha gives you a look as if she's analyzing you. It's a fact that, although much older, Bruce is shorter than you, and his bone structure is even smaller, as if you were the older one here. You cross your arms earnestly, feeling the tension start in your broad shoulders and work its way down your burly biceps. Yes, you really have become an even bigger man than your father and Natasha seems to be looking at this before turning her face away and entering the kitchen.

“Hey, man. Relax, let's just enjoy the night.” Steve grabs your arm, visibly tense, and pulls you over to the sofa.

You sit down with him, try to relax but it's almost unavoidable. Bruce Banner has always been the kind of guy who is a compulsive alcoholic. He goes to support groups every weekend to try to get some support from other people who suffer from the same problem, but he keeps drinking as if he depended on it. He wasn't exactly a friendly father to you, it's as if he was always there but absent. He didn't teach you how to shave, so you learned on your own – with support from Steve who has a great dad – he didn't teach you how to pick up girls or how to flirt or how to drive, let alone how to listen when you had any doubts. He's like a ghost who breathes, eats and sleeps. But he's never really there for his children.

That's probably why your mother divorced him in your teens before that accident. Bruce is a difficult person to deal with, something you clearly took from him, but you're completely different. You're a good man, you're there for Derek, you're good with children, you're civilized, patient – when you want to be – and you're everything your father would like you to be.

“Look, I drew a picture of my school friends, Uncle Stevie and Y/n/n!” He says, handing you a drawing.

In it, Derek is drawn wearing the same blue sweatpants and plaid shirt at the actual moment. His hair is messy and slightly disheveled, his round glasses are crooked and you straighten them on his pale face, seeing that there is a blond boy next to him and a girl in a pink dress with long red hair.

“Who's that, little guy?” You ask as you stroke his hair.

“That's my friend, Emily!” He says between jumps and Steve looks at you with a smile. “Friend, huh?”

“Do you fancy her, mate? It's okay to talk to us, it's boy talk here, we won't judge you.” You ask and then smile, listening to Steve chatter something. “Fancy? Is that any way to say you're into a girl? You Brits are funny.”

“Give it a rest, Steve, it's noble English. You can talk to me, mate." You stroke Derek's hair and he laughs nervously.

“I think so... Dad says that when you like a girl a lot, you start admiring her, praising all her tastes, her hair, her expressions and everything about her, I see Emily like that. But I'm afraid she likes another boy.” He closes his expression into a sad little beak and you lift him onto your lap.

“Listen, you're a young boy. You're handsome, you've got nice hair like the bloke here.” You look at Steve who starts bragging and you interrupt him. “Maybe Emily is your first love, but you're still very young, you've got a lot to live up to. You've got to finish school, get a good job, make new friends, find a hobby, something you enjoy doing. Life isn't just about girls or love, it's about you and how you want to live it. And if Emily ever lets you down with another bloke, send her home to the grumpy toad.”

“What's the Grumpy Toad's house?” Steve blinks in confusion and you lean in to whisper. “A polite way of telling someone to fuck off. He can't swear because he's still a polite little boy.”

“You're unpredictable.” Steve laughs, disbelieving what he's heard.

The conversation between the two of you continues between laughter and irresponsible advice from Steve, who makes you laugh every second at the absurdities he tells you about past relationships, and from Derek, who starts showing you a folder full of his drawings. Lovely doodles. Natasha enters the room after a while, pressed between the doorway and shyly clears her throat.

“Hi guys, I don't mean to interrupt, but dinner's ready.” She says and you stand up, ruffling Derek's hair. “Go brush your teeth, kid. Girls don't like guys with breath.”

Derek mumbles something but climbs the stairs to the bathroom, determined to follow any of your advice, because you're the oldest and he sees tremendous wisdom in you. When you enter the kitchen, you sit down and Steve sits right next to you at the square table, and Bruce is there, scribbling something down. Always working, never with time for his children. Or too drunk to care.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He says, and barely blinks as Natasha places a plate of food in front of him.

“No problem, my love.” She says and her gaze settles on Natasha, who moves gracefully.

Is it wrong to be completely attracted to an older, more experienced woman who is unfortunately your new stepmother? Most likely, but you can't help it. Everything about Natasha is too sexy. Her light-lipped smile, her curves, which even covered by that very covered dress, manage to be somewhat naked. Her legs, the way her knees bend to grab something from the tallest cupboards in the kitchen. You can imagine the way her knees can bend in front of you... and fuck. Stop it, you tell yourself.

“How was your time serving, Y/n?” She asks you, and seems to be talking, or trying to.

“Same as always.” Your answer comes, it's short, but not rude, just disinterested.

The best thing is to look like you're disinterested in her. Not out of rudeness or rebelliousness. But because you feel the adrenaline in your veins that tells you it's dangerous to be so enamored of your stepmother, knowing that this is also something immoral and incorrect. You don't want to lose control.

“Men giving orders. Proud men doing what they want to do. Discipline masquerading as arrogance.” You prolong your answer, and you don't expect Natasha to understand, after all she is a woman and has never been in need of serving her country.

Natasha, on the other hand, is struggling to stay focused on getting more plates and cutlery to distribute to you and Steve during dinner. She's fascinated. Shocked. Silently drawn to you. The difference between you and Bruce is glaring. While he seems sloppy and uncivilized, you speak so calmly and politely that you don't even sound like his son. You're both very similar in appearance, hair, face, expressions, eyes a little, but the difference in size from your father to you is absurd. You're like a wall of muscle compared to him, who clearly makes sense as a fatally alcoholic and careless man.

She rubs her thighs discreetly as she places a plate in front of you and fork and knife on either side of the embroidered plate, hoping you haven't noticed her indecent act, but you're even watching the way her throat moves when she breathes. She feels impure, filthy. She shouldn't look at her husband's son as prey, as if she had never seen such a beautiful and majestic man, a man who, as soon as he entered the house for the first time, left her breathless.

No, you were younger. Perhaps more naive, too young. And you were her husband's son. Her stepson.

“If I may ask, does that make you uncomfortable? Taking orders?” She asks, placing her plate and cutlery in front of Steve.

You lick your lips slowly. Natasha stares at you. She likes that. An act so simple and ordinary that it made her almost drool all over that table. She was a depraved and incorrect woman at that moment. Natasha loses herself in you at that moment. The intense green gaze flees from your calm lips to your drawn jaw, sculpted beyond her comprehension. Your eyes are wild yet calm, they exude...a hard life. A life full of challenges. They're dominant and Natasha doesn't like the way they intimidate her without you even realizing it. But that's you, a mystery to her, silent and solid. A black ocean with no comprehensible answers.

“I only do what I'm asked. It's my job.” Her whisper comes, quiet, yet icy.

“A man who works without complaining becomes a good worker. I think that's what I taught you.” Bruce speaks for the first time, taking a bite of his food.

In front of you, the smell of food fills your stomach and you barely notice Natasha serving you as you are busy facing even the worst fears of her soul. Your hands move nimbly and you cut off a piece of meat, putting it in your mouth and chewing slowly. It takes her a few seconds to realize it's a stew and the salty broth with potatoes, carrots and peas melts in her mouth perfectly.

“First of all, you cook perfectly well, that's great, Natasha.” You say as she sits down to eat and you see her pale cheeks develop a slight blush. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

No one had talked about her food in a long time, not even your father.

“Secondly,” You take a few more mouthfuls, managing to eat half the stew in minutes, and then look at Banner with a certain disgust. “Is that why you sent me to the army? To teach me your own kind of passivity?”

“You seem to like offending me sometimes, kid.” He laughs dryly, helping Derek to sit down and assemble his plate. “What's wrong with being passive?”

“Nothing, nothing wrong with it. Except that whenever someone confronts you, all you know how to do is roll over and show your belly like a puppy.” You cluck your tongue, listening to Bruce grumble.

“I think we'd better calm down a bit here-” Steve begins, still starting to eat when you cut him off. “No, I won't calm down.”

“I sent you to the army to control your rebelliousness and lack of control!” Bruce replies, starting to get upset.

“My rebelliousness? Don't fuck with me, Bruce.” You spat, completely disbelieving that you had heard such a thing.

“You've always acted in a problematic way, breaking laws, coming home late without giving explanations, disrespecting your own father! What did you want me to do? Shake your hair and tell you how to act, as if you were actually going to listen to me?” He shouted back, pointing a finger at you.

“You never cared about me yourself. You send me to the army to control me by saying I'm a rebel and all that shit and now you treat me like some fucking bum you don't even know. You sit on your ass here all the time, you only go out to work or to drink like you always have, you think you're an example of something?” Your hand hits the table and Steve gets up next to you, trying to stop anything worse from happening.

“You shut up when I talk to you, kid!” He growls and Natasha grabs him by the shoulders. “Bruce, please, let's put this aside. Derek's here, sweetheart.”

“Enough, please, let's calm down, man.” Steve puts his hand on your arm, suddenly getting serious.

Your chest is rising and falling through the camouflage uniform, hitting your ribcage with some violence. Natasha is frightened, even though she tries not to show it, it's quite transparent. She's heard Bruce's stories about you, that you had the same explosive temper as him even though you were different, that as a teenager you got into fights frantically and that you were suspended from school for 'vandalizing' the bathroom walls and things like that. Most of that was true, but the only friend you had was Steve, you were both often chased by the good-looking guys and bullies for being "skinny and weird" and ended up being extremely excluded and beaten up at the time. As if the confusion came to you both on purpose.

In any case, Natasha didn't know you and became involved with Bruce shortly after you officially joined the army, where you were promoted to the rank of Private E-2 a year later. Although Bruce was her husband, he generally behaved unpleasantly some of the time, especially when he got drunk in front of Natasha, which also discouraged Derek and made him sad, wishing he had more time with his father. She wanted to get to know you better, she felt that you had a good heart and she didn't really want to believe all the absurd stories that Bruce told her as if he wanted to make you a bad son for his wife.

“I wish I didn't have to look at your face.” Your answer came, harsh, indifferent.

Bruce didn't move, however, as if it hadn't hit him. He really didn't care about you at all. You felt an extreme pang of guilt when you saw Derek at the end of the table, hunched over with his hands on his head. He hated arguing and shouting, and it often happened between you and Bruce, but you avoided fighting in front of the boy as much as possible to prevent that kind of thing from happening to him there.

“All right, darling, come here.” She called to him, hugging him and trying to calm him down.

The rest of dinner was a terrible, deathly silence that pressed down on her throat, absolutely wanting to break Bruce in half. But you wouldn't, you already felt bad enough for scaring your little brother. When you'd finished eating, feeling Steve stare at you in fear of another fight breaking out, you got up and put your cutlery and plate in the sink, emptying a glass full of orange juice that you'd barely touched minutes before.

“Oh, Y/n, you don't have to do that, I could really do it-” Natasha intervenes, but you respond subtly. “It's okay, I don't mind.”

She stops in place, her lips parted in shock. It was rare for a real man to be there to do something as simple and minimal as washing dishes without her having to ask. Because for that very reason, Bruce wouldn't do it on the grounds that 'he worked too much' and Natasha had to take care of the cleaning and everything else in the house on her own. But it weighed on her, she felt alone there, even if it seemed silly. Bruce Banner described himself as an old-fashioned man, but something about him pointed more towards a misogyny hidden under the carpet. You really were different from the man she married.

“Oh, all right.” She sighs, the corner of her lips curving slowly.

Putting a little detergent on the yellow sponge, you subtly scrub the plate and then the cutlery and glass. You turn on the tap and wash everything silently, watching a few bubbles of foam disappear down the drain and everything become clean, then you take a dry cloth and dry everything, placing it inside the cupboard in the proper places for each object. You knew how to do everything apart from washing dishes. Washing your father's rusty car, cleaning the whole house, absolutely everything that would be considered 'women's chores' that your mother taught you before she died. And he silently despised you for it, but it didn't matter, because there had been a helpful and very useless man in this house and now that man was back.

“Are you staying for dessert?” Natasha asks as she watches you dry your hands and Steve also wash his dirty plates and cutlery quickly.

“No, Steve and I are going to stay in my room for a while. We can eat later if there's anything left, thank you very much.” You shove your hands in your pockets, watching her nod a little tensely and pick up all the remaining dirty dishes when Steve gives her a nod.

The two of you climb the stairs and soon reach your room. It's not a small room, but it's spacious enough to hold everything you like. Philosophy books, art books, porn magazines that you used to swap with Steve when you were teenagers, – yes, this is kept secret – some toolboxes in case you needed them when something broke in the house, a collection of old CDs by the Beatles, Led Zeppelin and a thousand other bands and singers from the 70s and 80s. The room is still tidy, with a single bed lined with thin blue sheets and a gray pillow. There's also a desk and a medium-sized cupboard in the corner next to an old window.

The smell of your room and nostalgia is cozy, almost intoxicating.

“Hey, man, do you really keep them all? No kidding!” Steve laughs, picking up the magazines with the half-naked women on the covers.

Although you didn't have an addiction to this kind of thing, you and Steve were once two curious teenagers with hormones running wild in the middle of puberty. You'd get excited and buy these magazines on the sly, but even so, you weren't the type who needed to see a naked woman's body to get completely turned on. No, you were better than that, and you knew that real bodies worked better, were beautiful and much more objective.

“Of course, I left the army and ended up forgetting all this garbage.” You laugh, opening the drawers and leafing through some superhero comics, watching Steve laugh as he sees a cover with a blonde woman on one of the covers wearing pink lingerie. “No, no! Fuck, man that was the worst, I remember you gave it to me with the pages sticking together, you fucking pervert!”

“Sorry, man, I couldn't help myself! I still remember the look on your face when you got it full of life.” He says and you rolls your eyes.

“Jesus, that was disgusting. I'm going to throw it all away anyway, unless you want to keep it as a souvenir.” You laugh quietly and he makes a vomiting noise.

“No, thanks.” Steve shakes his head, walks over and picks up some comics to read too.

You put on a band CD while you lose yourself in conversation with Steve, remembering everything. You both laugh out loud when you remember the time Steve put a live frog on the head of a girl who was terrified of frogs, because she just thought it was funny to make fun of your worn-out shoes and said you couldn't afford new ones. He's never been so furious, no one could mess with you, only each other and all in jest, of course.

It was a great pastime for you to play pranks on bad students and grumpy teachers, or to skip important classes to drink cheap beer while listening to a small radio given to you by Steve's father. Those were incredible times, which only got old in the best way when Steve and you decided to enlist for the first time at the age of 18, getting kicked out because of arguments you had with some of the lieutenants. Anyway, you both found a way to get into the American army through the Kentucky fort, and obviously, together.

So Steve and you knew each other practically from your mother's womb. Joseph and Bruce met during high school before they got involved with their respective wives. They both served in the army, but only Mr. Rogers decided to make it a career, although he didn't succeed and decided to go into medicine. They were extremely close throughout your and Steve's adolescence, until one day they drifted apart over a mysterious fight in which you never really found out the motivation.

Even so, you and Steve could fight for centuries and still remain good friends.

“Hey, there's someone at the door.” Steve yawned, signaling the light knocks on your bedroom door.

With a light sigh, you put your comic aside, turning down the volume of a small, still-functional radio that was playing Black Sabbath in the background. When you opened the door, you saw her again.

Natasha. Your 'lovely' stepmother. She was standing right in front of the door, with two pieces of pie on a large plate and a tense, apparently shy look on her face. You still didn't understand why she looked at you as if she was going to dismount at any moment. She was wearing a beige apron over her dress and her hair was now slightly wavy at the ends, her face flushed.

“I know you may not be that hungry anymore, but I can't help trying. The pie is still warm, it's apple with caramel on top and blackberries and you know, I'm sorry about Bruce. Your father didn't have a good day, Y/n.” She sighs, looking away for a moment.

“Did I hear the word pie!?” Steve jumps out of bed already excited.

“I appreciate that. I'm sorry about the argument. I think he always tries to take it out on me, but that's okay. How's Derek?” You blink slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of Natasha staring you down to the core.

“Fine, I guess. I fed him dinner and some pie, got him to brush his teeth and now he's sleeping like a newborn after reading your stories about bigfoot.” She laughs softly, making you smile.

“He'll end up having nightmares about it. Thank you, Mrs. Romanoff.” You say, your voice already husky and slightly sleepy.

“Natasha, call me Natasha. There's no need for formalities here.” She replies, licking her lips slowly.

“Natasha.” You whisper back, hearing Natasha's breathing increase as you spell her name perfectly on the tip of her tongue.

“Have a good night. If you need anything you can call me and I'll be in the next room.” She says, almost stuttering, and nods as she walks away. “Good night, Natasha.”

“God, I thought you were going to eat each other and leave the pie behind!” Steve grumbles, picking up a piece with one of the forks and takes a bite, closing his eyes. “Wonderful!”

“Bloody hell, Steve, she's my father's wife!” you laugh incredulously, taking a piece of the sweet pie. “It's really good, it's fucking delicious.”

“But I know that. She's still got the hots for you, don't you see?” He shrugged, starting to devour the pie in seconds. “And even if she wasn't your father's, it must be worth losing yourself...you know, in that woman.”

“You're absolutely shameless. And I would never do that, no matter how much my father deserves it.” You roll your eyes, taking another piece of pie and Steve smiles. “I'm paying to see how badly this goes.”

Your wristwatch reads at least 6:10 in the morning. You don't know why you woke up so early on a Monday when you were on vacation from work, so to speak. Perhaps waking up at 5 a.m. every day at the Fort to paint walls and curbs, patrol, and other exhausting military services has made you accustomed to waking up at those times as if you were an uncontrolled robot. So you took a shower, brushed your teeth and ate an apple before going to Steve's house to pick up some cans of paint.

Your house was in a deplorable state, with the paint on all the walls outside peeling off, the garden with its extremely high lawn dirty with leaves thrown over it since last fall, dead plants and flowers everywhere and the appearance of the house itself sad and gray. You had to do something about it, since Bruce hasn't done it in two whole years.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, the clock now reads 7:19 in the morning. You finish running the roller full of paint up to the top of the back wall of the house, not even needing a ladder because you're so fit. In an hour you've managed to paint the whole house and now you're going to rip down the wooden fences and put up new, clean ones.

“Y/n! What are you doing? It's so early and it's roasting hot out there!” You hear a familiar feline voice and drop the paint roller on top of the empty can.

You step away from the can and container and wipe the excessive sweat from your chest, your skin was probably all sunburnt, exposed to the bare torso and shapely legs on display. Natasha is at the door, dressed in a red sweater. Holy shit. You turn your face away, feeling deeply warmed, and run your paint-smeared hands over your face, clad only in baggy shorts and barefoot.

“I'm painting the house, Natasha.” You answer simply and matter-of-factly, watching out of the corner of your eye as she puts a thin blouse over it, certainly embarrassed.

“At 7 in the morning! You must be dying of heat! Have you applied sunscreen?” She asks, approaching quickly.

You missed the maternal concern and affection, but considering the current situation, it was totally inappropriate.

“We didn't use sun cream during our time in the army. Especially during patrols on the patio with direct contact with the sun, or anywhere else where it was necessary. They simply didn't hand out sunscreen to us.” You say and shrug, discarding the empty tin and the rest of the used items.

“That's horrible, you could get serious burns!” She replies and puts her hand to her head, making you laugh. "I'll be back in a minute."

Natasha leaves and you wash your hands in a sink at the back of the house, removing as much of the gooey paint as you can and wetting your head and chest to try and cool off. As soon as you've finished, you go down to the basement and get a box full of new fences that haven't even been used before. First you get the rest of the tools and put everything in the garden, then you get a lawnmower, which luckily isn't rusty.

You push the lawnmower as soon as the blades shoot out, starting to cut the grass quickly. Your hands are steady and nimbly, you're finishing off the first row of grass. Pressing the button on the side of the mower, you snort and sigh deeply, resting your hands on your waist.

“I'm going to melt like this, my Lord.” You say to yourself with a laugh.

Going round to the back, you find a sack and a shovel and start gathering up all that grass and throwing it into the sack. It could be useful or reusable at some point.

“Hey you! All right, take a break from that and come and eat properly.” Natasha appears as soon as you've collected all the grass in the sack and walks over to you gently.

She's now wearing a black tank top, which emphasises her perfectly marked collarbone and her pale neck, which is as delicate as any detail can be. On her legs are a pair of denim shorts, neither short nor baggy, but you can still see how her shapely thighs look so perfectly...thick in them. And she looks so natural, nothing forced, just there, for you, carrying a plate with a cut sandwich, a glass of juice and a bottle of water. I mean, your father was lucky but he was an idiot, why on earth would he deserve someone like that?

“Natasha, really, you didn't have to do that. I don't want you to bother with me.” You say, feeling your face very red, from the sun - and from a certain effect it has on you - and sweaty.

“I'm not bothered at all. I'm not going to let you die of dehydration in this heat, it must be 30 degrees or more!” She exclaims and you carefully pick up the plate, cautiously dropping the other equipment. “Wait, open your arms a little, don't let go of the plate please.”

You frown and open your arms, pushing the plate as far away from your torso and body as you can. Natasha approaches you, taking a plastic bottle from the pocket of her shorts and opens the lid, pouring some kind of cream onto her fingers. You stare at the words written in blue and white, trying to decipher the smudges, and your jaw drops in disbelief. It was sun cream.

“Natasha, look, it's okay, I've got used to the sun-” you say, but it's too late.

The woman is smearing sunscreen on your face, and you're so red that even under the sunscreen, you can see how flushed and hot you look. Oh, shit.

“The sun doesn't get used to any of us, though. Once when I was half your age, I went to a beach in Miami, Florida, with my parents and some friends. I slathered sunscreen all over my body except my buttocks and um... I definitely couldn't sit up straight for a week after that, the burns weren't kind to me and it wasn't the sun's fault.” She laughs lightly, gently rubbing the sun cream into her cheeks and forehead.

The heat in your cheeks spreads even more violently and you gently bite your lower lip, something that Natasha notices and strangely makes her legs wobble. I wonder what else makes her unable to sit down for a whole week. Fucking stop it, you cut off your thoughts before they spread, but they're dirty all the same.

“That must have been hard.” You answer, and your voice slowly begins to die.

What is she doing now, my Lord?

Natasha finishes spreading the sunscreen on your face and neck, her fingers still smeared with protector trailing down the start of your chest. Your skin is burning, but that's not what fascinates her, it's the hard, burly, extremely rock-hard flesh of your pectorals, covered in a very thin, sparse line of hair. She gasps as discreetly as she can, trying her best not to grab his every muscle and touch and squeeze. In fact, she knows now that you look like more than a wall, it's as if you were made completely of muscle and only a little 'skin' covering everything.

Romanoff's hand slides to the end of your chest on the right side, and she doesn't even know what she's doing, for her, she's just spreading the rest of the sunscreen on her fingers. But you feel it, you feel her grip, her electrifying, mundane, specific touch, as if she wanted to scratch every part of your skin as well as touch it, as if she wanted to do everything you could imagine there.

“I'm sorry.” She says, swallowing dry and trying to swallow her own shame as well.

But she still feels your warmth. She feels your minty fresh breath, pleasant and peaceful, she feels how affected you were by a single touch of her delicate, soft hand. You want more and maybe she knows it, but that's wrong, it's inappropriate.

“You can leave the sunscreen somewhere, I'll put more on after I've cut everything here.” You say and she nods quickly, hugging her own body.

“This is going to be a lot of work.” She says and you nod, taking a bite and moaning slightly.

The sandwich is a spicy mix of tomato, toasted wholemeal bread, smoked turkey breast, mayonnaise, a little mustard, bean sprouts, cheese and a spicy dressing. As well as being kind, intelligent, seductive, completely attractive, the woman cooks like hell, what more could Bruce want? Absolutely nothing.

“Fuck, this is fucking divine, the work will be worth it. Thank you so much.” You thank her without knowing what else to say, the scouse accent making Natasha wince.

She had time to notice your accent and your voice as soon as she arrived with Steve at the residence yesterday. She, however, had no idea that you were British or anything. Not least because all Bruce ever really said about you were the most unpleasant compliments in the form of criticisms. He proved to be a good father to other people, but it was different with you. You could see why.

“No need to thank me, really. I hope you didn't forget your sunscreen.” She says, raising an eyebrow as she tries to look serious and you laugh. “Sure, no problem.”

Your bites are precise and hungry, and you can tell that a single apple an hour ago would never have satisfied you. You finish eating, drink all the pineapple juice and hand it all to Natasha, taking the sunscreen again and spreading it on your fingers, your hands flying across your sweaty pecs, ribs and abs. Natasha walks away towards the house, her gaze lingering on you several times.

She's a married woman. Married to your father. That's not right, it's far from it.

But just taking a look is okay, right?

You hurry, organize everything and start up the machine again, cutting another row of grass. Then another, another, until you've finished with all that tall grass that could end up with some animal hiding there. You put all the grass in two sacks and put them in the corner of the garden, then you start to remove and tear down the old, dirty and soft wooden fences, which are practically falling apart.

After marking out the right height for the fences with lines and stakes, you make a quick calculation and grab a spade, digging the holes where the picket panels will be. It takes about some hours, between quick breaks, your feet are dirty with dirt and now your body is really bathed in sweat, but after lining up the pickets, checking that they're all in the same vertical position, digging non-stop and cleaning dirt off your grass, everything looks perfect. You even do a quick and precise finish, and smile when you see that your work has turned out perfectly.

“Great. I just need to replant the plants soon.” You whisper, feeling tired.

After putting away all the equipment, cleaning up all the grass and briefly painting the fences, you walk away and enter the house, dripping with sweat from head to toe. You wipe your feet on the carpet, imagining that Natasha is the kind of woman who will freak out if you get dirt all over the house and yell at you for hours. Now, however, she's sitting in the living room, with Derek by her side as she appears to help him with his homework.

“Looks like I'm late.” You smile, adjusting the black cap on your head and her gaze quickly falls on you.

She has to control herself, she has to. She's in front of a child.

But it's inevitable.

Bruce would probably show off if he looked like that too, but he's got the typical 40-something dad-beer-belly physique. You, on the other hand... you're majestic, even though you're completely sweaty and give off the classic manly odor of a man who does everything for his family, your muscles being highlighted by sticky sweat, probably swollen from working outside the house. She is silently awestruck, the heat rushes through the blood in her cheeks and her thighs rub together painfully.

“Y/n! Nat said you were painting the whole house.” Derek jumps up, running to hug your legs and you wave.

“I just went to give this house a new look, it was looking sloppy and abandoned. I painted it, put up new fences and now it looks decent, all that's missing is a few details on the inside. And you, big boy, go back to Aunt Nat and do your homework.” You kiss his forehead and the boy runs back to the woman.

“Aren't you hungry? It's practically lunchtime.” Natasha starts talking, looking tense.

“Maybe I'm a bit too hungry, but I need to take a shower and get rid of that skunk smell. Where's Bruce?” You cross your arms, looking around the house for your old father.

“He's gone out to sort out 'work matters', he said he'll be back in the afternoon. You can take your shower, when I've finished here I'll make you something to eat.” She says, smiling gently and you sigh.

You're definitely not used to this motherly treatment. You've always looked after yourself, but Derek first, and Bruce second. You always prioritized family, but that didn't mean you were at ease with Natasha doing it all for you. After all, you've never had anyone really care like that. Natasha seemed to want to take care of you like a newborn baby and that seemed strange, but you didn't want to give her so much trouble. You could look after yourself, so why worry so much?

You didn't want to be so close to her either. You were afraid of what might happen when you were alone, because that sexual tension was evident, it was dry and eager. She looked at you the way you looked at her, with silent desires that even without emitting sound, understanding, could be understood just by looking at you, by searching for you.

The warm water falls over your body, relaxing every tense muscle from your back to your exhausted chest. You lean your forehead against the wall and relax for a moment, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of relaxation and calm.

“Fuck.” You whisper softly, feeling a wave of warmth hit your body.

No. No dirty thoughts about an older woman. The problem wasn't that she was older, it was that she was your stepmother.

The foam-filled sponge glides over your stiff, tense body, your eyes closing as you imagine... Natasha on her knees, or lowered to the floor, or bent over with her face buried in the pillow as she smiles at you. A grunt leaves your lips and the blood rushes violently to your semi-hard member.

“Jesus, no.” You say, washing yourself and running some shampoo through your slightly overgrown hair, wiping away all that sweat.

After taking a few more minutes in the shower to get rid of a possible erection, you wash your face and leave the bathroom, drying yourself with the first towel you find there. You're still hot, but you have to control yourself. You want to take her right now, admit it. Your head shakes and you climb the stairs to your room with the towel around your waist, hoping you've been unnoticed, and enter the room, drying yourself quickly.

Passing through the open door, you put on sports shorts and boxer shorts underneath, quickly finishing drying your hair while putting on a tight compression T-shirt. Just wearing it makes you realize how much you've really grown physically.

“Hey, it's time to take Derek to school.” Natasha says as you walk down the stairs with running shoes in your hands.

“Sure, I can do that without any problems, my dad didn't use the car to go out today. Are you coming?” You ask, trying to understand the blush on her cheeks.

“I'd love to. I'm just going to finish tidying him up.” She smiles tensely, and you see your brother waving frantically as Natasha changes his clothes.

Derek then turns around, his hair combed back like his mother used to do with hers, the backpack a little bigger than him slung over his back and wearing a simple blue shirt and shorts, the sneakers identical to yours. Well, Natasha really was a good stepmother. You just couldn't see her the way you were seeing her, because that was incorrect and dirty, but it was almost inevitable.

“Ready?” You lick your lips and the two of you nod quickly. “Good, let's go.”

The road is quiet, peaceful. Natasha tells you where Derek goes to school because he was transferred not long ago and you drive along calmly, listening to them chatting about random, common things. Your hands turn the steering wheel skillfully, and through the rearview mirror you feel Natasha's gaze on you, although you can't say why.

The car stops and you park it in a wide parking lot, turning off the engine and taking off your seat belt. Stepping around the car, you help Derek out of his seatbelt and open the door for Natasha, who looks ecstatic about something but climbs down next to your brother, stroking his hair.

“Professor Carter!” Derek says, and runs out to a female figure standing a few meters away near a silver golf.

Natasha closes the door, giving you a grateful look, and the two of you approach the scene gingerly. Derek is hugging an older woman, she wears a long dress just below her knees in a wine color and her hair is straight blonde and well aligned, her brown eyes surprisingly calm, welcoming the boy and leaning down to hug him back. She... She's familiar to you.

“Hey, pretty boy, how are you? Natasha, good morning. Oh.” She greets the redhead and then looks at you, a surprised look filling her face.

More than a few years ago, you and Sharon Carter had a little fling together. You grew up together and had a lot in common. Steve introduced you to her at a party when you were 16 and she was 19. She's not that much older than you, and that didn't seem to be a problem, until Sharon said she'd fallen in love with you. And indeed, Sharon has fallen in love with you.

But you were the classic bad boy who liked to drive without a license, who spent the early hours of the morning away from home because your father constantly found any reason to fight with you, to complain about you as if it hadn't been his choice to have a son. You weren't the typical nice guy Sharon needed, like Steve for example, and you didn't know if you were in love with her, but you two had sex often, and that made her even more attached to you.

When you disappeared with the simple warning that you were going to serve in the army and didn't know if you'd be back any time soon, Sharon was disappointed. She wanted to spend time with you more than anything, but you had gone to serve your country and she had a career ahead of her, which she chose to become a teacher even though she wanted to be a psychologist. She liked you, she really did, but sometimes you acted like a bomb about to explode, just like Bruce did.

“Surprised to see me? Yeah, I knew you were going to become a teacher, Sharon. You always knew how to get along with children.” You say and squeeze Sharon's hand with a gentle but firm touch, which she blushes at before replying.

“I thought you were going to spend even more time in the army, Y/n. It seems to have done you a lot of good.” She says, biting her lip discreetly and smiling.

Natasha crosses her arms, an impassive expression on her face. She can already completely tell that the two of you know each other, that's for sure, but for some reason, the way Sharon looks at you and acts towards you makes Romanoff feel a big pang of discomfort in his stomach.

“Teacher, I have to show you my new drawings!” Derek says excitedly, hugging the woman tighter by the legs.

“Of course, darling, I'll look at them all, okay?” She says, running her hand over his bangs. “I thought Bruce was coming today.”

“You know how he is, always 'sorting out work stuff. Thanks for taking such good care of him, Sharon.” A minimalist smile curves your lips without showing your teeth and Sharon nods.

“No need to thank me, apart from being my job, it's a pleasure to look after this little one. We should have a coffee together one day, perhaps.” She says and makes you sigh, grabbing the car keys and giving Derek a kiss on the forehead.

“Yeah, maybe one day. Good morning, have fun, we'll be going for now, see you soon.” You nod and she agrees, expecting more from you, but turns and walks into the school with the boy.

As soon as you get into the car, put the key in the ignition and adjust the windows, Natasha gets in. Her face is slightly twisted with frustration, perhaps? That, and a hint of discontent. It looks like someone has stepped on her toes, but why?

“So, you and the teacher...” She says calmly, although her eyes seem distant and indifferent to you.

“What?” You turn the wheel, steering the car out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

“There seems to be something between you.” She replies and you laugh awkwardly, shaking your head.

“There's nothing between us.” You say and look at her out of the corner of your eye, Natasha's face turned completely towards you.

“She made it sound like there was, you know.” She shrugged, seeming not to want to bother you with the subject.

“Steve and I have known her since we were teenagers. Teenage parties, drinking, drugs, you know. Sharon was a fling of mine. If I can call it that.” Your voice answers quietly and you look at Natasha discreetly.

"Well, she doesn't seem to have forgotten you. You know how it is, when a woman loves, she's willing to do anything to make up for lost time, but it doesn't just depend on her." She says relaxed, still trying not to let her jealous face overflow.

“Sharon isn't in love with me. At least I don't think so. Even if she was, I'm not what she's looking for.” You say and on the one hand, Natasha reassures herself.

“And what is she looking for?” Romanoff looks at you from the passenger seat.

Her lips are pressed together, her breathing seems slightly unregulated. She's frustrated, yes. She's jealous, yes. She hated the way Sharon looked at you as if you were a toy she could ride on top of. Absolutely. Yes. But why should your stepmother be jealous of you? That was wrong, immoral, maybe a bit problematic, she'd only just met you anyway. It made your skin hot, but the hairs on the back of your neck were rising and your fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road before your eyes.

“What most women are looking for, I believe. A protective, self-assured, confident man. She wants a man who is one hundred percent there for her at all times. I didn't learn to be like that.” You brake at a red light and buckle up, your head resting against the seat.

“Don't you think she's the right woman?” Romanoff swallows, trying her best not to sound intrusive.

If anyone else were asking you these questions, it would be a different story. But her, she brought you comfort. She was...good. She was a good woman, as Steve assumed.

“I'm not in love with her, Natasha, even if she was right, what good would it do?” You look at her, and she nods quietly.

You've never found someone who makes your heart soar as if you were in one of those cheesy movie clichés, who makes time stand still around you, who makes you feel like the luckiest man in the world. No, you've never experienced any of that. You've only had nighttime adventures with older girls or even girls your own age, adventures with kissing, sex without commitment and conversations thrown away to be remembered. You never knew what love was.

And the only person who could teach you that was right there beside you, annoyed for some reason at the possibility of you falling in love with someone other than her.

“All right.” That was the only answer Natasha gave you, watching the car pull into the driveway of your house.

When you got in – and there was still a certain murderous silence in the air – you just took off your shoes, sat down on the sofa and picked up the remote control, looking for a live American soccer program, trying to distract yourself. Natasha went into the kitchen to do something, and the door creaked open a few minutes after you arrived, revealing Bruce's early arrival. He looked at you, but overcome by pride, said nothing and passed through to the kitchen.

“Hi, darling. How was work?” Natasha's distant voice said to him, who caught her kissing him, answering disconnectedly. “It was business as usual. I've never waited so long to get home and have my wife all to myself.”

You rolled your eyes, lay back on the sofa and turned up the volume slightly, watching two American league teams fight for a title. For some unusual reason, the sound of wet kissing bothered you deeply. You shook your head and tried to focus on the match, then you heard footsteps approaching the room and Natasha's warm hand touched your shoulder, making you turn almost instantly.

“Hey, do you want something to eat?” She asked, her lips slightly swollen and her face flushed.

You'd love to see her like that, but you'd love it even more to have that effect on her.

“No, thanks, Natasha. I'm going to take a nap, you can relax.” You replied and she nodded, smiling slowly before heading up the stairs, Bruce right behind her.

Your head pressed into the pillow and you let out a short curse, feeling uncomfortable and disgusted by the situation. It was your father's house too, but you were still there. Anyway, you forced yourself to sleep and it worked, your eyes became heavy and you completely relaxed your muscles against the not-so-spacious sofa, knowing that you would wake up with a sore neck as soon as you woke up.

“Fuck.” You cursed, rubbing your tired eyes.

The house was the same, but the afternoon was beginning to fade, making it clear that it would soon be dark. You grabbed the black clock on the table, seeing that it read 5:48 in the afternoon. There was still an hour or so before Derek would be released from school, so you were relieved to see that you weren't late to pick him up.

“What?” You sat groggily on the sofa, listening to a lot of noise coming from upstairs.

There were sounds coming from upstairs, and at first you thought there was something wrong there, since you were still groggy from sleep and tired. But gradually you noticed. The creaking of Bruce's bed, the loud sounds of skin hitting skin, of the headboard hitting the wall. They were having sex.

“Fuck, holy shit.” You say, completely lost in disgust and cover your head with your hands. “This can't be serious.”

But you could still hear it. It completely disturbed you. But it was also wrong, being jealous of your stepmother when she's married to your father. It's not as if Natasha hadn't been upset with Sharon about you too.

But she was married, you weren't. Still, that seemed contrary to morality.

“Fuck.” You cursed to yourself, getting out of there and going to the kitchen.

There was a case of beer in the fridge. You hated looking like your father, because whenever something bothered you or upset you, you always drank too, but not like him, he was worse. You grabbed two bottles and opened the caps with your teeth, spitting them into the trash can. Five minutes passed, and you emptied half the bottle of beer, lying on the sofa when Natasha came downstairs.

Your head turns subtly in the direction of the stairs and there she is, walking down the steps like an art exhibition that could never be bought. A misunderstood muse. Yet not something that could be conquered, but touched, felt. A woman, with a deceptive young girl's face, with an older woman's mature soul with gifts you could never guess. Married to your arsehole of a father. He didn't deserve her, that much was clear, but what could you do, if not mourn in the corners of the house, silently wishing this woman was yours?

Her skin was pale, although tanned by her own sweat. Her impeccable red hair was now dishevelled and out of order, falling in light waves to her shoulders. Her body, which could reveal to you many dangerous curves and paths to the most silent sin, was covered in a long black dressing gown, and you could see that she was wearing a baggy T-shirt that wasn't hers on her body. Her lips were swollen, dry. You could see a glimpse of her shapely legs, and wow, what legs. Although you knew exactly what she and your father were doing up there, she didn't look pleased. Her eyes looked confused, troubled, even sweaty, she was unhappy. And how could she not be unhappy with Bruce Banner?

But you couldn't look away. She was so well preserved, my goodness.

“I'm sorry, Y/n, I thought you were still asleep. I didn't want to appear like this, I must look like an unnatural stepmother.” She laughs, and it's so natural that you want to hear that sound more often.

“Yeah, well, I just had a nap anyway. It seems my father didn't take care of his work properly. I heard it, without meaning to, but I heard it.” You say, and as soon as you realise what you've said, you swallow bitterly.

Natasha looks at you deeply, she doesn't feel offended. But embarrassed? To the extreme. Bruce doesn't even look after the house, imagine if he could handle wife when they're in bed? He was an arrogant arsehole – and sometimes you were a bit arrogant yourself – but he was terrible at a lot of things. That made him a complete failure.

“Y/n. I wish you wouldn't comment on my sex life with your father.” She says, and she's not blunt, but firm and offhand, even.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to.” You reply calmly but you want to say much more to her.

Yeah, if I had you, you'd really moan, Natasha. In fact, you wouldn't even be walking unless your legs were completely weak and you wouldn't even be thinking. That would be having a real man.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you grab it, seeing messages from Steve inviting you out for a drink at a newly opened bar. It didn't sound too bad. And you weren't going to stand there listening to your incredibly hot stepmother having sex with your slacker father who didn't even know how to treat a woman. You answer Steve quickly and grab a camouflage jacket, put it on over your shirt and change your shorts for trousers and shoes before heading back down to the living room.

“I'm going for a walk with Steve, we're going to a pub with an old high school crowd. When I get back, I'll probably bring Derek from school. So don't worry, I'll take care of everything.” You say and walk across the room, but Natasha holds your arm.

“Hey, don't drink too much. You're driving and you're bringing your brother, Y/n.” She says, her green eyes clouded with worry.

“I won't. You can relax.” You whisper firmly, and the smell of her sweat hits you.

It's something like vanilla, but at the same time mixed with a specific sweet, fruity flavour. Delicious. She's delicious. Even when sweaty, her scent remains impeccable, and you've noticed it ever since you first saw her. You see a slight bite mark on her neck and you want to touch it, but something bothers your stomach, because you know it's not you who's caused it. And you can't. Natasha sighs, she knows you're so close that just by looking at you she could stop breathing, because you're like a masterpiece hidden deep inside her genius mind.

“I get it. You take care.” You say, forcing yourself to get away from her before you do something thoughtless.

Natasha regrets your departure. She wants you to stay, but it's your choice and you want to be with your old friends, it's your right, so she just watches you walk out the door. Your words are still jumbled and struggling in her mind. Bruce really wouldn't know how to satisfy her. But what about you? How deep could you go for her?

The place is cosy like being in an old cottage in the middle of a field away from everything, but it's a pub nonetheless. A pub, with the appearance of a pub, of course. With lots of chairs and tables spread out in an orderly fashion, with decorative signs with drink brands, with people laughing and exchanging small talk with each other, with a woman carrying more mugs of frothy beer than you can count. The smell is pleasant, a mixture of burning wood and live alcohol seeping through the walls, as well as jazz and blues playing in the background. Now that should be a lifestyle. You stick your hands in your pockets and catch up with Steve, who is chatting distractedly to Private Wilson, none other than Maria Hill and James Barnes, a school friend who has disappeared from your sight to go live with his parents in Germany.

Maria was a great friend of yours and Steve's, and he even told you that she liked you a lot, but you only saw her as a sister, something that annoyed her, but she would never push it.

“Hey, look who's here! When Steve said you looked like a wall, I couldn't believe it, I had to come and see for myself.” Barnes laughs and hugs you, patting you on the back. “And you look great, mate, if you were blonde you'd be considered a German citizen straight away.”

“You're impossible.” Maria laughs and hugs you too, as tightly as if she hadn't seen you for years, which was true.

The five of you get lost in conversations between the past and the present. Maria, who was a classmate at the school where you and Rogers studied, had completed her studies and was studying law for some time, something she was very proud of. Barnes, who was now living in Germany but took time out to see old friends, had opened a workshop in Stuttgart, one of the country's most influential industrial cities. Wilson was certainly in the army, as you already knew, but according to him, he planned to finish another year of service and open a carpentry shop to honour his late father's memory. Even Steve was planning to leave the army, he said he'd like to become a 'police chief', which didn't sound too bad. You, on the other hand, weren't even sure what to do.

All you knew was that you wanted your own car, to move out of your grumpy father's house and find a place of your own, even if it wasn't in the city centre.

But you would still happily visit Derek as often as you could.

“Hey, baby! Why don't you come round and give us a bit of attention? Let's have some fun!” A bald guy with yellow teeth exclaimed from the table a few metres away from yours on the left.

This guy was with two other men at his table, one of them had spiky hair and wore dark glasses, the other had gel-slicked hair and blue glasses. They were all wearing jackets and dark clothes, with helmets on the floor under the table where they were standing. They all looked fucking weird, though, and were already staring at Maria in a completely uncomfortable and sexual way that was putting you off. She paid no attention for the first few minutes, of course, trying not to care, but they were becoming increasingly unbearable to put up with.

“Hey, mate, stay cool. She's with us.” Steve said, noticing your shoulders tense with nervousness.

He didn't want to risk it, he knew you had a certain problem with anger but Steve was a man of order and hated arguments unless he felt it was 'necessary'. You, on the other side, had already downed three shots of straight whisky and were ready to blow the ugly faces off those ogre bikers.

“And who said I asked you anything, hero hair?” The frizzy-haired guy asked and stood up, passing behind Sam and subtly squeezing Maria's shoulders, who was startled. “Could you please take your hands off me?”

"You don't like it, do you?" He laughed and approached her.

You practically jumped out of your chair, using both hands to push the man's chest, who staggered backwards with your violent force and almost fell to the floor. He growled a dry laugh and approached you again, punching you in the air as you nimbly sidestepped him. Your group laughed and whistled in your direction, making him even angrier, and you drove your fist straight into his nose, hearing something break and fresh blood splatter on your skin.

“She said to let go of her.” You grunted, hardly caring about the pain.

“What the fuck, man!” One of them shouted and you felt the thud of something glass against your face. “Y/n!”

You punched the same man and kicked him in the stomach, hearing a loud grunt of pain, blood staining the refinished wooden floor. The second man approached and you head-butted him hard, feeling his blood splatter on your forehead and nose. The bald man pushed you, making you stumble with a bleeding part of your face, noticing that he had smashed a fucking glass bottle over your head. Fortunately, there was a single deep cut on your eyebrow going halfway down your pale cheek. He nearly blinded you. Steve pushed him hard and kicked him in the stomach, and you elbowed the third man who approached you in the face.

“That's enough! Out of my pub, NOW!” A middle-aged man with a full moustache said and Steve and the others pulled you out.

“Bloody hell, mate, you nearly fucked your face up for that! That was insanely crazy!” Barnes shouted, trying to analyse your bruise.

“It's okay, it's just a bit of blood.” You sighed heavily.

“What were you thinking! Jesus, Banner, you could have hurt yourself badly or something worse!” Maria grabbed your shoulders, visibly worried.

“Exactly! We need to take care of this.” Steve pointed to your bruised face.

“I wasn't going to let that disgusting worm harass you, Hill.” You whispered furiously, your fists shaking.

“And I didn't want you to get hurt because of me, Banner! God, you're so impulsive.” She shook her head.

“All right, Hill, I'll take care of it from here. Don't worry.” Rogers touched her shoulder and Maria nodded nimbly.

“Wilson, Barnes and I were thinking of going to a party a few blocks from here, are you coming? It's a friend's birthday.” She asked, brushing a lock of her fringe out of her face.

“I can't right now, I have to pick Derek up from school. I hope you have a good time, though.” You say and pull her into a tight hug, which she returns.

“And I'll be keeping an eye on this tough guy. Good night, take care, gentlemen and...lady.” Steve says goodbye to them and you look at him out of the corner of your eye. “Don't give me that look, you know I won't let you drive alone in this state.”

And Steve does. He drives to school as soon as you've said goodbye to the rest of the group, looking at you every five minutes as if you might jump out of the car if you had a mental breakdown. You were still bleeding, no matter how hard you tried to stop the bleeding, the cut had left a wide scar on your eyebrow sliding in a crooked loop to the beginning of your right cheek. It stung like hell, even, and there might have been a few shards stuck in there, but you'd convinced yourself to put up with as much pain as possible and Steve not to drag you to the nearest hospital.

“Stevie! Y/n!” Derek ran towards you both, hugging you and jumping into your arms.

“Hey, little brother.” You ruffled his hair, hearing voices all over the car park, parents gathering with their children and kids everywhere.

“What happened to your face?” The boy held your chin, his black eyes wide.

“Well, what can we say, mate? Your big brother took on a bad guy to protect a friend of ours and ended up with a war wound.” Steve smiled, crossing his arms as he looked directly at you.

“Hey, that's an honourable act. Let's just say it's what separates the men from the boys.” You shrugged, opening the passenger door for your brother and sitting him down, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

“In other words, he's a tough guy.” Steve laughed briefly, getting into the car and you patted Derek on the shoulder. “And we say...”

“We should always protect and look after women, sir.” The boy said before you could even think and you nodded positively, sitting down next to him and pulling on your seatbelt as Steve started to drive. “That's my boy.”

The journey home is a bit hectic. Derek tells you and Steve that the girl he's supposedly tremendously in love with, Emilly, has taken a liking to a guy who certainly loves to pick on him. She also seems to be ignoring him. You and Steve try your best to comfort the boy, who is quiet for a few minutes only until you mention that Natasha must be preparing something for him to eat when he arrives. The boy jumps out of the car as soon as you park it and helps him with his seatbelt, and you joke about it with Steve as you approach the house after locking the car.

“You're here, baby! How was class?” You hear Natasha's voice from inside and sigh.

The first thing that unfortunately crosses your mind is that she literally fucked your father while you were awake listening to everything.

But it's okay, because apparently Bruce didn't get the job done, but he should be calmer now.

“It was great, Nat! Emily kicked my arse, but it's okay because Stevie told me I'm a big guy who deserves better things and now I'm starving. Look at that, Y/n's got a new war scar!” He exclaims, pointing at you as you enter the room.

Natasha is now wearing neutral-coloured baggy trousers, a striped T-shirt and slippers that you've never seen before, but which make her even more adorable considering the situation. Her red hair is tied up in a messy bun and a few strands fall across her face, making her look completely and fucking ten times hotter than before. But no, you shouldn't see your stepmother like that, mate.

“What? My God, Y/n! What's happened?” Natasha moves away from the cooker where she was standing and switches off the fire, running over to you.

“Natasha, it's no big deal, just-” You try to explain yourself, but Romanoff is quicker.

“Oh, God. What's wrong? I told you not to drink, especially as you had to bring Derek back home! Say something, how did this happen?” She exclaims, practically on the verge of collapse.

You almost laugh at the situation, because you find the way she cares for you subtle and kind, but your smile falters when Natasha is so close that her breath brushes your face. Her fingers are on your jaw, some run over your ears, and you smell her, feel how close she is now, and her touch is simply the icing on the cake. It lights you up.

“It was just a silly bar fight, Natasha, it's fine. Steve and I were with some friends, Maria, our friend, was being bothered by some weirdos and I had to take action.” You explain, swallowing.

“And by that he means: he took on three men practically on his own and got his head bashed in. That's why he's bleeding.” Steve commented, not looking threatened by your fatal stare.

“Jesus Christ. You've got to be out of your mind, you should be in hospital right now! Hang on, I'll take care of it.” Natasha said, moving away to rummage through the cupboard drawers.

Just then, Bruce appeared, coming down the stairs. He had his glasses in his eyes, his hair crumpled and dishevelled, a crooked posture and a grumpy, grey look in his eyes. He didn't look very friendly for someone who'd had sex this afternoon. Well, it's not as if he's the type who knows how to leave a woman satisfied. It seemed to make sense.

“Leave the boy alone, Natasha, he can look after himself, he's practically a grown man.” He said and she replied. “No, he's bleeding, he won't know how to look after himself.”

“You're stubborn, just go and serve the dishes and stop voicing your opinion-” Bruce said rudely, but she cut him off.

“Shut up, Bruce. Sit down. I'll take care of Y/n's wound first.” She practically grunted, bringing with her a first aid kit.

Bruce looked static, probably furious that his wife had hit him for the first time, but he went to sit down at the table and remained silent.

“Natasha-” You sighed, feeling her sit you down in the living room armchair and shake her head.

“No Natasha, Y/n. You're hurt, the least I can do is clean it up and hope it gets a bit better, but if you were in hospital, you'd probably need a few stitches.” She shakes her head, opening the small suitcase. “And that's going to hurt a bit.”

You close your eyes and shake your head subtly, trying to ignore the way her breath was practically in your face and judging that her full breasts were so prominent inside her striped shirt, she was probably without a bra. Fuck, don't look over there, kid. Natasha takes a piece of gauze, her hands already clean and sanitised, and presses it gently on the cut, trying her best to stop the bleeding without hurting you.

“You know, I was a nurse when I was about your age. For a few years. I served in the army in Manhattan. I was good at what I did, but I didn't think it was for me.” She whispered softly, her eyes fixed on every part of your face.

“Can't stand the smell of blood?” You asked rhetorically.

“Not just the smell. I don't like seeing the consequences caused on the body of a man who is trying to defend his country. I didn't have the stomach for it.” She swallowed dryly and you nodded softly.

“What do you do now?” The question escapes her mouth faster than she realises and Natasha pulls out the bloodstained cotton wool, fiddling absent-mindedly with the case.

“I make cakes, sweets in general, it's been a long time since I married your father. I was unemployed anyway, so as I'm almost obsessed with baking, I put one thing together and that's what happened.” She replied, bending down to wipe the dried blood from her brow.

“Do you make them and have your own shop or?..” You stared at her.

“No, well, I cook them and prepare everything myself. Young Thor, from next door, delivers them on his bicycle, and I pay him accordingly. He's a great kid.” She says simply.

Your jaw clenches, the fingers of your hand squeezing the seat cushion indiscreetly. Annoyed? Certainly. But why? She's your stepmother, she's married and well-off, even though she has your idiot father for a spouse. Apart from that, you shouldn't be jealous of her.

“Got it.” Your eyes flash dangerously and Natasha suddenly blushes, looking away.

“I'll put a saline solution over the cut to make sure it's cleaner. Then I'll cover it with gauze, but please make sure you go and see the doctor, Y/n, I don't want you to get an infection or anything.” She asks and you nod.

Romanoff leans over and with a new piece of damp cotton wool, she dabs it over his still open cut with the utmost caution, cleaning the area as best she can. A grunt comes out of your mouth as the wound burns all over, the blood running cold through your veins. Natasha notices and pulls her hand away slightly, feeling your gaze on her.

“It's all right. Take a deep breath.” She says and you do as she says, your chest rising and falling.

She moves closer again, and feels your hand on her wrist, which makes her breathing increase slightly, intimidated by you. But you follow her every move, and she cleans the wound as much as she can, pulling away when she's finished. With a clean towel, she carefully dries around the wound and takes a piece of gauze, making a few improvised cuts because of the angle of your wound. She quickly covers the area and sticks the cotton fabric there, making sure it sticks well but also doesn't cover or obscure your vision.

“Thank you. That wasn't necessary.” You say, your heavy accent making Natasha's legs tremble discreetly.

“It was necessary. And please don't get into any more fights if you want to kill me and your father with worry.” She says, and her hand accidentally brushes against your broad shoulder.

“I'm sure he doesn't mind, but I really appreciate it, Natasha.” A crooked smile curves her lips.

“I care about you.” She says simply.

Natasha's gaze on you is surreal. Everything about this woman is surreal, her eyes, her voice, her completely gentle and naturally full demeanour. Fuck, she should be unwanted here, but you're starting to completely ignore the very rules you've built behind the wall you're hiding behind, because deep down, you want this woman in every way possible. It doesn't matter if she's your stepmother, or a forbidden woman.

“Aren't you coming round for dinner?” Natasha smiled softly, a bite on the lower lip being enough to end your evening.

[mclarensangel]

Wedding Bells

please pretend that all the dresses are the same, that the skin colour and other items match your own and that the men look like max. I love you all.

All photos are from Pinterest. All usernames were made up on the spot I don't actually know if they're real usernames or not. Might make this a series, let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged!

warnings: weddings, nerves, money, some suggestive comments.

Max Verstappen has posted

maxverstappen1: Today I finally married the woman of my dreams. I have never felt happier or luckier. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you Schat. my vrouw. forever and always

ynverstappen: I can't put into words how much I love you. I am so happy to have become your wife. I will hold the name Mrs Verstappen so dear to me forever.

-> maxverstappen1: I love you so much, Mrs Verstappen. jij bent mijn wereld.

-> lewishamilton: congratulations to the pair of you, your gift should be there soon!

-> maxverstappen1: thank you, Lewis! Enjoy the Almave at the bar!

-> ynverstappen: Cheers, Lewis! And thank you, Roscoe, for coming!

-> roscoelovescoco: woof woof!🐶

landonorris: congratulations mate! I'm so happy for you!

-> maxverstappen1: cheers mate! enjoy the open bar!

-> landonorris: Oh I will be!🍻

maxslefteyeball: I can't believe Max got married and there's not a single redbull item in sight

-> ynverstappen: trust me it was a fight to have the only Red Bull thing be at the bar

-> maxverstappen1: I'd do anything for you schat

-> ynverstappen: awww maxie

-> landonorris: get a room you two🤢

-> maxverstappen1: oh we will be!

-> ynverstappen: MAX!

ynverstappen has posted!

charles_leclerc: Félicitations max and yn!

-> ynverstappen: thank you charlie x

-> maxverstappen1: thank you charles!

ynverstappen: officially changed the name! couldn't be happier to marry the love of my life. I love you so much Maxie, and I can't wait to love you for the rest of our lives. mijn man.

maxverstappen1: I will never get sick of calling you my wife... Mrs Verstappen. ik hou van je, mijn vrouw

-> ynverstappen: ik hou van je

-> landosmiamiwin: congratulations to my parents!

-> Yabadabadoo: when will it be my turn

valteribotass: sleeping on the highway tonight

-> landonorris: same

-> sweetcornsbestie: LANDO?💀

carmenmmundt: Estoy muy feliz por ti, tu boda fue hermosa. mi mejor amigo

-> ynverstappen: gracias mi hermosa mejor amiga. Te amo. Thank you for being my MOH

-> carmenmmundt: yo también te amo <3 It was my honour

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alexandrasaintmelux: Félicitations belle fille!

-> ynverstappen: Merci mon ange! Thank you for being my bridesmaid!

-> carlossapendix: I'm gonna need these wedding photos ASAP

-> maxverstappen1: they're coming just wait!

If, at 18, you had been told that you would be marrying the Formula One driver you were obsessed with, you would have laughed. But here you are at 25. Surrounded by your friends and family, as you get prepared for your wedding. Carmen, your maid of honour, was currently in the makeup chair, whereas your mother was in the hair chair. One of the photographers was capturing moments between some of the bridesmaids. And one of the videographers was interviewing one of the bridesmaids for the wedding video. You were sat in a comfortable armchair watching it all happen around you. You weren't nervous to marry Max, you were however nervous about everything going right. And as if she could sense your anxiety, one of your bridesmaids, Alexandra, came over to sit in the chair next to you. She already had her hair done, and was next in queue for makeup.

"feeling anxious?" she asks, taking a sip from the prosecco glass she had been holding in her hands.

"I'm not nervous to marry Max, it's something I've been waiting for this day since he proposed. I just want everything to go right. And I'm really hoping that Max doesn't have some Red Bull uniform on underneath his tux" you giggle, taking a small sip of your water.

"If Carmen has anything to do with it, everything will go perfectly. I think even the wedding planner is scared of her" Alex responds, the pair of you glance towards the planner who is hurriedly writing something on the checkboard she was holding whilst repeatedly looking up anxiously at Carmen. Both of you look back at each other, before bursting into laughter. Silence falls comfortably between the two of you as you sit and absorb the atmosphere. And before you knew it, you were in the hair chair, whilst Alex was in the makeup chair.

shootingstarphotography has posted!

shootingstarphotography: here are some getting-ready shots for our clients Mr and Mrs Verstappen! Enjoy

-> ynverstappen: thank you all so much! These photos will be posted all over our house!

-> maxverstappen1: I agree with my wife, thank you both so much. I'm going to get ALL of these framed.

-> shootingstarphotography: thank you for having us, the food was delicious as well!

ynverstappen and maxverstappen1 have shared a post!

iamstupid: these are so beautiful I'm actually going to cry.

-> lilysgolfclub: RIGHT! I'm obsessed, look at her!

ynverstappen and maxverstappen1: we wanted to show you some more of our photos. If you would like to see more, we're more than happy to show them!

oscarpastyboy: I didn't think I could become any more obsessed with these two, but then they posted these photos and I'm in love

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the moment you began walking down the aisle to Max, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of love that radiated not just from him but all your guests. Your parents were walking you down the aisle, and Max was standing nearly in tears at the end of it, his best man, Lando, stood just behind him smiling and his groomsmen were behind him, their smiles almost as big as the grooms. Your bridesmaids were waiting for you, each and every one looking stunning in their dresses as a light breeze passed through their hair. Your maid of honour, Carmen, was standing nearest to where you would be stood, the proudest smile on her face. As the music began to play, everyone let out a soft laugh. Max had believed you were coming down the aisle to one of Charles's piano songs, however, you had worked with him to have the F1 theme tune played on the piano to make Max feel happier. You smiled at Max, before placing a hand in the elbow of each of your parents as you made your way almost too slowly down the aisle. You wanted to run, to get down there and marry the man as quick as possible, but you remained in your parent's embrace until the end, when both parents kissed your cheek before taking a seat.

Handing your bouquet to Carmen, you turned and grinned at Max. And the tears in his eyes, made you tear up too.

"you look beautiful schat" he whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

"And you look so handsome, Max" you responded.

"I can't wait to show you what I've got on underneath" You smirked at the teary-eyed man forgetting that you both had mics attached to you. Max's eyes widened before squeezing your hands, trying to stop the flush from his cheeks being too obvious to the crowd.

shootingstarphotography has posted!

shootingstarphotography: with the consent of our stunning clients, we have decided to post some more photos of the Verstappen wedding. Enjoy!

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ynverstappen: we can't thank you enough for these beautiful photos!

-> maxverstappen1: you will always have consent to post the beautiful photos of my gorgeous wife

-> landonorris: simp 😬

-> maxverstappen1: says the single man.

-> ynverstappen: TELL 'EM MAXIE

-> hulkenboy: your honour, I love them

Before you knew it, You and Max were walking back down the aisle, ready to sign the wedding certificate, with Carmen and Lando as your witnesses. You were officially Mrs YN Verstappen. Your dreams have come true in the best way possible.

"What are you thinking about schat?" your husband asks

"how unreal all of this feels. I can't believe you're my husband. I remember the very first time I met you when you were the second driver for Red Bull" You responded turning to face him. He laughed, responding "Don't remind me of those days"

"you'll always be the number one to me" you spoke, leaning up for another kiss before the wedding planner or someone else would pop up to take you away to somewhere else.

shootingstarphotography has posted!

shootingstarphotography: as mentioned beforehand, here is a continuation of our most recent client, part one of their reception

comments have been limited on this post

landonorris has posted!

landonorris: congratulations to one of my best friends, on the wedding, their reception and on their love.

comments on this post have been limited by the user

ynverstappen: thank you Lan, enjoy the party!

-> maxverstappen1: she's the only one I'm ever going to marry, so I had to make it perfect. Thank you for coming mate, and thank you for being my best man!

-> landonorris: I'd do it all over again for the pair of you

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As you and Max sit at the sweetheart's table, you're able to overwatch everyone. Everything had gone perfectly, the cake cutting, the entrances, even the speeches. And it was nearly time for your first dance with your husband. What everyone didn't know, not even the maid of honour or best man, was that you both had been going to dance classes to make this perfect. The pair of you sat there, content, holding one another hands as you absorbed everything in.

"I'm surprised you haven't had a Red Bull yet" you teased.

"Who said I haven't?" he joked back. He opened his mouth to say something else before he was cut off by the announcer.

"I would like to welcome Mr and Mrs Verstappen to the dance floor for their first dance. The music will be played live by Charles Leclerc and it is a song written especially for this moment" The man spoke loudly despite the microphone in his hand. You turned your head quickly to look at Max, as this wasn't the song that you had prepared. "don't worry schat, I made sure whatever song we practised to was the same tempo, it's going to be as perfect as you" he spoke calmly before standing up and offering you his hand. You graciously took his hand, smiling at him as he led you to the dancefloor. Once the pair of you stood in the middle, the piano began to play, filling the room with its soft notes.

This was perfect.

maxverstappen1 has posted!

maxverstappen1: final post for today. Here is the final moment of our first dance. I will treasure you always my love. thank you for marrying me. forever and always.

ynverstappen: thank you for marrying me, mi corazon. forever and always.

comments on this post have been limited.

whos next???

[yatsurinamikaze]

Ch 3. Feel it Still.

Summary > One > Two > Three > Four

Aomine Daiki x Reader [MDNI]

Aomine groans as he wakes up, stretching his arms, Well no practice at least. He rubs and squints his eyes as he sees a tail wagging at the edge of his bed. Wha- “I was wondering you could take care of Tetsuya 2 since you won’t be playing for a couple of days.” Kuroko talks calmly, looking up at him in anticipation. “Yeah sure.”

The bell goes off in Aomine’s head, Wait a second. His brain short circuits, as he looks between Kuroko and Tetsuya 2 subsequently. ”What-how- WHEN DID YOU GET IN.”

Kuroko just smiles and puts Tetsuya 2 on Aomine’s lap. “Thank you.” Momoi speaks from the other end of the room,”Riko said you should still be there.”“ Aomine short circuits again, “You are here too?!!”

Momoi giggles as Aomine grumbles, “Remind me to change my locks.”

“You will be there right?” Momoi Satsuki, who is the chief analyst of the Basketball Association, studies his expression tilting her head. Normally Aomine would have skipped, since what’s the point of going if you can’t play ball but your pretty face pops into his head and he responds, “Yeah, whatever.” As he scratches the back of his neck.

To his dismay, you don’t show up at the practice, something about recovering from jetlag and sleeping in late. To his further dismay, he was now the errand boy for the group.

“Hey Mine-chin, can you get some fruit chuppets for me? Im not feeling it without ‘em today. And since you’re not doing anything..” Murasakibara trails off in his usual jarring tone. “And if you’re getting those, can you also get some Sparkling Water, Aominechhi?” Kise peeps from behind Murasakibara. Aomine gives them the death stare and soon, there’s a list of errands he has to run for everyone.

He groans and starts dragging his feet to the supermarket along with Tetsuya 2. Upon paying for all the things he just bought, his phone dings. “Can you get my knee pads? - My apartment is on the way. The door code is 458902” - Kagami. Great. Him too. He rolls his eyes. Just keeps getting worse this day.

He starts making his way with the little pup following him enthusiastically.

Meanwhile, at your place, you step out of the cold shower with a towel wrapped around yourself, the ends of your hair still dripping wet. You finally feel better from sleeping in late and taking the cold shower. You blast music on max volume, Feel it Still playing as you rock along the beat.

You start grooving to the music, your feet and body moves animatedly pretending to be a sexy dancer. You bend down and pick up your panties from your suitcase, you get up sexily with your hips moving in circular motion, you do a final hairlip as you get up.

You flip around to your make-believe audience, with your left hand on your waist and right hand raised holding your panties. You scream in shock as you see the same blue-haired male standing in front of you, same shock etched on his face, his mouth open in bewilderment.

Your mind is racing like the wind and face is getting red in embarrassment. You watch him slowly close his mouth and gulp. You both look at each other in stupor, unable to form words.

As the music dies down, the silence pierces through the room, breaking the stupor. Your eyebrows start scrunching up in anger, and he takes it as a queue to look away from you, you can see a red hue forming on his cheeks. You fold your arms, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I uh-“ Before he could finish, he’s interrupted by a loud shriek, he looks back at you only to find you on top of the coffee table pointing at Tetsuya 2, “What the hell is that?” You notice the little pup and start freaking out, you have never been a dog person, and are scared shitless of them.

Tetsuya 2 on the other hand just wags his tail and pounces around the coffee table trying to get to you. Aomine starts laughing looking at the scene in front of him, his eyes forming tears.

“What the hell are you laughing at” You scream as you jump from one couch to the other. “Take it back!!”

At this point Tetsuya 2 manages to jump on your couch. Shrieking, you jump from that couch to the one near Aomine, but right before your take off, Tetsuya 2 bites down on your towel.

Aomine’s eyes become wide as you jump onto him, completely naked, shrieking and putting your arms around him, his basketball reflexes catching you bridal style. He freezes as he looks down at you, naked, drenched, and in his arms. Your hair dripping water onto your soft body. You are breathing hard, your eyes are closed in fear.

Aomine chuckles and commands Tetsuya 2, “Hey 2, sit.”

You open one eye and see the pup sitting down, wagging his tail, no longer jumping on you.

You sigh in relief and look up at Aomine, still in his hold, and then back to your body. You shriek watching yourself completely naked and get off Aomine in a hurry. “S-stop looking!”

Aomine turns around trying to control his laughter, he walks to the pup taking the towel clutched between the pup’s teeth and handing it you, with his back still turned towards you. You quickly take it and wrap it around yourself. He picks up Tetsuya 2 in his hands.

“And what exactly are you doing here?” You walk back to your suitcase. “Don’t look.” You pick up a sweatpant and a loose hoody.

“I came here to get Kagami’s knee pads. He forgot ‘em here.” Aomine states with his back turned to you. You quickly put the clothes on you. “Im done.”

Aomine turns around to look at you, little pup smiling in his hold. “Aomine Daiki”

“Y/n L/n.” You open the drawer and toss the knee pads at Aomine.

He catches ‘em,”Nice to meet ya.” He says with a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, whatever. Close the door on your way out.” You speak calmly, trying to act cool, as if nothing happened.

He walks towards the door, when he turns around, “Im uh-..Im sorry about the..whole thing”

“Cool.” You shrug looking away.

The door clicks as he exits.

“Ughhhhh” You groan loudly and lie face down on the couch, burying your face in the pillow. You’re embarrassed as hell, and start screaming into the pillow, “The fuck! The fuck! The fuck!” You groan once more.

You hear someone clearing their throat, and you look up from the pillow, your eyes blowing out of their sockets. He’s still here. Just kill me already.

“I-uh. I forgot to take the groceries.” He says with the shit-eating grin.

“Just leave.”

He quickly picks up the groceries and winks at you before turning back to open the door.

“And never come back again.”

“Sure thing.” He says while leaving. You can feel him grinning and are staring daggers on his back. The door clicks shut.

You groan, “I hate this life.” And bury your head in the pillow again.

~

Summary > One > Two > Three > Four

Author’s Note:

- I hope it came out as hilarious as I imagined it in my head. :D

- Interaction is my motivation juice. Taglist is open.

[fearlessword]

I’ll meet you in my dreams - Chapter 3

Summary: You dreamed of the boy who played piano before you knew who he was. Humming the melodies you heard in your sleep brought BTS into your life and you thought it was just meant to be.When you finally have the chance to see him perform live, you realize that the dreams you have are more than a coincidence. You hope he dreams of you too.

Slow burn/ Slow build/ canon divergence/ d-day tour / soulmate- ish

Pairing: Idol! Min Yoongi x Reader

Ongoing

Masterlist

Author’s note: You are the kindest readers! Really! My phone kept lighting up with notifications of your likes and even some comments! Thank you so much! I am currently writing chapter 6, I wanted it to be ready before the 13th, but it may take longer than that. Chapters 1-5 are already posted on AO3. Thank you for the love and I hope you like this one! See you soon!

“You’ll never see, you sing me to sleep every night from the radio”

March 1st, 2023

Your hands were tied now. You got waitlisted, Cami got waitlisted, the other coworkers without a membership didn’t stand a chance. You are sure a code isn’t a guarantee that the tickets would be yours. The only hope was a friend of one of the teachers at the school, that was the only person you knew that had the code, and well, maybe you have a new ARMY friend now.

Just the fact that someone got the code was a relief. The downside was that there’s nothing you can do, and, considering you were a control freak, having no other option but wait was enough to make you freak out.

To be honest, everybody was freaking out, from your roommate to your co-workers and even the principal, everyone knew how important this was to you because you were acting crazy and anxious, everyone signed for the pre-sale (even if you knew that people without memberships wouldn’t stand a chance). Today, of all days, you felt cared for by everyone around, who made a point to check if you were okay.

So, when the afternoon came, and the bell rang announcing the end of the school day, you bid your students farewell and immediately opened twitter on your laptop, just to check how things were going. There was nothing you could do on the Ticketmaster website, your account wasn’t linked to a code anyways.

“You know, refreshing twitter 1000 times per minute won’t make it any easier. I’d say it will make it worse.” Camila’s voice echoed behind you.

“I know, I know. I just need to know. It’s my first time doing this, and I’m not actually doing this and it’s driving me insane!” You retorted standing up and pacing.

“Woah, have you thought about calling her? I’m sure she’s nervous too”

“Don’t you think that’s too controlling of me to do that? We kind of talked about the seats we want and the other options in case they sell out. I’m so obsessed with this man it’s probably not healthy.”

“ I mean, you are a fan and it means something to you and it’s obvious you have a connection of some kind with him because you keep dreaming about him which is weird and interesting at the same time” she rambled “But, you are also paying and you are a fan, so, I know this is important to you, and not too much at all, just facetime her!”

You stared at your friend and smiled. Then, grabbed you phone in your bag and called Natalie, your newest ARMY friend.

“Hi, ________! I was about to call you”

“No way!”

Cami looks at you with arched eyebrows, amused.

“ Yes! You know, we both want the Saturday show, but I was thinking that maybe I should try the queue for Wednesday or Thursday too. Just in case. Many people will want to go on Saturday cause it’s the weekend, I want to make sure I can get us tickets”

“Uh, sure, I mean, Saturday is ideal, but I also don’t want to risk it” You answer.

“Alright, any minute now. Floor as close as possible or any of the side lower bowls right? I don’t know why I am asking, we talked about it. I’m so nervous” she lets out a nervous laugh and you laugh as well. At least you’re not the only one.

“ It’s gonna be okay, I’m sure we’ll get great seats” You don’t know if you’re telling this to her or to yourself, still, you try to believe it.

“We will. It 's time! Wish me luck”

“Good luck, Natalie!”

“_________, the page is refreshing! Oh God! I hope the school’s wifi is good enough” At exactly 3 p.m Natalie's nervous face gives space to focused features. You held your phone tighter and sat on your desk, shaking your legs while silently watching the woman’s face through the screen.

“ More than 2000 people in front of me, what the fuck” Your heart stops at the same minute, even if you could get to the map page, the chances of getting a great seat seemed far away now.

“More than 2000 for the one on Thursday too… Come on!” She paused and then screamed “Oh my God, 200 people before us for Wednesday”

“God, Natalie! I was about to cry here”

“Don’t fail on me, Ticketmaster.”

Your free hand runs through your hair, making a mess of the long curls. You wonder how many of your students are probably going through this same process right now, and you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“It’s my turn… let me see. We want the floor… _________, floor is general admission, are you okay with that? It’s the soundcheck too.”

“Yes. I’m good with that, yes”

“Okay, selecting… Your credit card number is on my account, right, let’s get it, please ticketmaster work for once in your life, let me get it”

At this point, you didn’t even want to look at the screen, you knew how this website was tricky on pre-sale days, especially after the whole fiasco with the Taylor Swift Tour. You hoped the website wouldn't break down on Natalie’s turn. It felt like time was passing slower than it should, your legs hanging from the desk couldn’t move more, and you were scared of having the chance just so to have it taken away from you.

“Yougottheticketslettheanticipationbegin, __________!!!!! We are seeing him”

“Did it work?” You look at the screen and she’s showing you the confirmation page.

“It worked! Oh my God! I can’t believe it actually worked. Oh fuck it’s on a Wednesday, my poor students. Oh God, we are seeing him”

“Are we truly seeing him?!” Excitement was an understatement, you squeaked and jumped from the desk and smiled so big your cheeks hurt.

“____________, I’ll talk to you later, maybe I can still talk to the HR and tell them I’ll need the day off, make sure to do that too, okay?”

“Natalie, I can’t thank you enough. Thank you so, so, so much!”

“No worries, I can’t wait to scream with you during the show”

You put your phone away and look at Camila, who was watching the whole scene silently with a smirk on her face.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream”

“It’s not a dream, amiga. You’re seeing the guy from your dreams so soon now”

“This does not feel real. It was so fast.”

“It was meant to be. I feel it.” You cover you tearing eyes with both hands and and giggle as you hear your best friend saying that.

“I'm seeing Yoongi”

“About that, now that you got a ticket for the concert here, I should give you this” She took a folded sheet of paper out of the back pocket of her jeans and handed it to you.

“And that is?”

“Just unfold it and see”

And so you did, and looking at the paper, you couldn’t help but shed some tears.

“Is this what I think it is?

“If you think it is a confirmation email for a ticket of one of the shows in Korea, then yes, yes it is”

“Cami, how did you do this?”

“You forget that you made me get a fan club membership, so I wanted to make sure you saw him.”

“In Korea?” You say in a high-pitched voice.

“It’s not that difficult to stay up and buy tickets in the middle of the night, when you have a real purpose. I mean, I got a nosebleed, I hope you don’t mind, I guess the time difference and lack of practice count when doing this, but I got it and it’s during Summer and you don’t have school as an excuse for not going, so you better get your savings for your Korea trip and actually buy flight tickets to go to Korea and see your dream man there.”

“You are the craziest person I’ve ever met” You hug your friend tight, not knowing what to do with the tsunami of information that came in your direction in the last 15 minutes.

“Besides, I think that your dreaming about this guy is weird but I also feel there’s something there and I know you won’t do anything about it if there’s no push. So here’s your push, consider this an early birthday gift.”

“I don’t know what kind of ideas you have about this, but they are just dreams.Thank you. Hell, I’ll see him twice”

“Yes, _________, yes, you will”

🪷🪷🪷

April 21st, 2023

The first thing you did when your alarm went off was to grab your phone and open the Youtube app. Thankfully, the miniature for the music video was already on your home page, so you lost no time and just played the video.

To say you were mesmerized and entranced by the music video and the song playing was an understatement, you were so impressed by the lyrics and the two versions of Yoongi you were seeing, everything looked so perfect, and that was enough to make you excited to listen to the entire album. But it was when Yoongi pulled a cigarette out of the box with his teeth that you let out a loud squeal, that made your roommate come check on you.

“Are you thirsting for the BTS guy at this time in the morning?”

“He just smoked a cigarette in the MV”

“You hate those things!"

“He made it look really hot”

Cami rolled her eyes and dragged herself to your bed.

“Come on, I wanna see it”

You both get comfortable on your bed and you restart the video. Your roommate watches attentively, and teases you, elbowing you slightly everytime a cigarette appears. You end up watching the rest of the video together and you barely have words when it comes to an end.

“He is really an artist” that’s all you can say.

“I saw what you meant with the smoking thing, nice song, he’s just not really my type”

“And what’s your type?”

“A tall brunette with a buzzcut and very, very handsome, but also nice and kind and good with his words. He could also be a doctor, maybe, I don’t know”

“That’s oddly specific”

“Well, maybe you get to meet him soon”

“I get to WHAT?”

“We need to get ready, we are teachers and we can’t really be late, come on”

“Camila, get your ass right here” you scream as she runs through the door. “This is not over!”

You laugh as you get ready to work. You decide to listen to the album after you get home, to actually pay attention to the lyrics. As you walk to the subway station, you make sure to run your lesson plans for the day through your mind, taking the time to also plan the Friday night ahead of you.

Your work day goes by slowly, like every other Friday. At this point of the school year, with Summer Vacation approaching, your students don’t want to have classes anymore and, if you’re being honest, as much as you love your job, you weren’t fond of teaching at this time of the year either. So you did your best to make your lessons light and fun, for them and for you, eventually taking some time to talk about topics that were interesting for all of them.

When the bell rings, you wish a great weekend for everyone and pack your things as quickly as you can to walk to the subway station. As usual, you stop at Times Square, but instead of changing trains, you decide to walk around the small Bryant Park. You buy yourself the sweetest and creamiest cold brew. The cold coffee was not the best idea, considering the city was still chilly, but it was your favorite, and it was your way of treating yourself after a long hard week of work. You people watch for a while, taking in the groups of tourists walking on 42nd street, from where you assume was Grand Central, in the direction of the outdoors on Times Square. You see people talking, sitting around the tiny green tables, you observe the empty carousel, and the outfits of the women walking around (those were always nice to watch). You observe the mix of trees and the buildings all together and the food trucks around and although this area of the city was incredibly chaotic and not your favorite to walk around, you were glad you could sit and appreciate the beauty in this chaos.

After taking the Q train and arriving in your apartment, you take a long relaxing shower and wear your most comfortable set of PJs. You feel inspired to cook a nice dinner to watch the documentary with. As you get the ingredients to make your favorite pasta dish, you hear the door open.

“I beat you home today” you sing from the kitchen.

“I had some papers to grade and decided to follow your steps and not bring work home. I hated it. My bed is a much more comfortable grading spot” your roommate answers.

“Are you having dinner here?”

“Yes, give me a minute to shower and I’ll help you out”

But dinner was so easy to make that, by the time Camila was back, you’re already done. You put the creamy pasta on plates and take them to the living room, opening the Disney + app to find Yoongi’s documentary.

“I’ll only watch it with you because I’m a great friend” you hear your best friend say and you look at her with an amused smile, knowing well she wouldn’t watch anything she was not interested in.

And so you watch the documentary and see how this album started. You are washed with a sense of deja vu when you see a scene of 2020. Differently from the In The Soop cuts, this time, what you see is exactly like your first dream and you pay attention to all of the details to make sure you’re actually watching it. How could you forget your first dream with him? This time, thanks to the subtitles, you could actually understand what they were talking about and your heart skips a beat when Yoongi tells Jimin about the amygdala, explaining how this is a part of the brain that processes trauma, and telling his friend about the song. You vaguely remember thinking about how you wanted your brain to process your trauma better and wishing for it to just work right before dreaming of Yoongi for the first time. And as the performance of the song goes, you take in the lyrics.

It's no news that you identify yourself with BTS songs. But this one felt different. As he raps and unfolds each of his traumas you can't help but think about your own traumas and how you did that too three years ago.

You can feel Camila’s eyes on you. And you know she knows what you are feeling and she knows that you dreamed about this. You feel like you should comment on it, but saying it out loud sounds like madness, because this time, you actually know that it happened in real life too.

The movie continues with his trips and his writing process and you try to let your deep thoughts go to watch it properly. It is your first time listening to the songs of the new album, and you can see that all of the effort shown in the documentary was worth it, the songs and the performances were more than anything you were expecting and you couldn't wait for the tour.

"You and this guy are so similar." Camila says when the documentary is over.

"I guess I can relate to him a little bit" you say. "Now, I need to start practicing these songs for Wednesday"

"You cooked, I do the dishes" your roommate announces when you both stand up.

"I won't argue you with that"

You say goodnight before walking to your room, where you get your airpods and get ready to listen to the D-DAY album, in sequence, of course. With the lights out and cell phone in hand, you search for the translation of each song as you listen to them. You observe every figure of speech, every rhyme, all the story telling, and you repeat, inside your head, the scene from your dream, the one you just watched on the TV. How could someone on the other side of the planet think in the same frequency as you and describe your feelings so well? You didn’t want to get obsessed with the idea of it, because it gets crazier with time, but you can’t help but feel like, somehow, the universe brought you Min Yoongi because it knew you needed someone to relate to.

You listen to AMYGDALA once again, and another time, wishing you could take the pain away from someone that didn’t even know you, and with Yoongi’s voice singing in your ears, you fall into deep sleep.

🪷🪷🪷

When you gain consciousness again, it’s dark and pouring. You find yourself in front of a beautiful house that looks like it just came out of a movie set. Its light colored bricks (you couldn't possibly identify the color in the dark) were covered in vines, the only illumination surrounding you is the warm yellow light that comes through the windows.

You run to the porch to avoid getting even more wet. The hiss of the wind is loud and the cold early spring air embraces you as tiny droplets of water touch your skin, making you shiver uncomfortably.

You look at the imponent maroon door and entering the welcoming house sounds like the perfect plan right now. It’s obvious you are dreaming, there are no houses like this in New York City, so worst case scenario, it’s a nightmare and you’ll wake up regretting your decisions. This, or you’ll freeze to death and then wake up. Either way, you’ll end up in your tiny apartment anyway, might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

The door opens at the same time you raise your hand to give it a knock. You take a step back and take in the scene. Nobody is on the other side. Weird.

A mass of warm air touches your face gently when you step into the living room. The smell of coffee, cinnamon and vanilla flies around and makes you look straight to the kitchen and dining room to your left, but they are empty, so you walk to the fireplace in front of you, taking a moment to appreciate its coziness while getting warm.

You decide to walk around and explore the other levels of the building, which, from what you saw until now, has no furniture except for the old blue Victorian couch.

Holding the rail, you go up the stairs, and see that the walls are filled with beautiful, but empty frames. At this point, you don’t even bother finding it weird anymore, after all, it’s a dream, but you wonder why there are no pictures and why your mind decided that the only pieces of decoration you see in this house of stone are simply not serving their purpose.

As you walk down the aisle of the first floor, you see 4 doors. Slowly, you try to open the first one to your left, just to find out it is locked. You try the one to your right and the two other doors after that. All locked. You huff.

“Why is this too boring?” you say out loud, as you turn around and direct yourself to the stairs to go to the second floor, only to hear a muffled female voice upstairs. Curious as you are, you run up in the direction of the voice, just to find the same set up of the floor below you, with the exception of a pulled down ladder at the end of the corridor, that led to what you can only assume is an attic, where the sound and the voices come from.

You walk with caution to the ladder and the sound is louder, but not clearer. It takes climbing the steps to realize that the female voice that is now screaming, is actually your own. You stop midway, your upper body just past the attic door,and search for the source of your own voice, just to realize a video is being projected on one of the ceiling walls. You recognize the scene of that dreadful day so many years ago when you got home after an early dismissal day, just to find your ex boyfriend with your best friend. This time though, you could see it through a different point of view, the exact moment when you started packing your bags to leave your old apartment.

“Where do you think you are going? Hey! Stop! We can talk through this” your ex said, while dressing himself up. You hear your old self let out an ironic laugh after that. You look at her, the shorter curly hair was a mess, the red eyes burning with anger and disappointment.

“Talk through this?” Past you screams, opening another drawer and just throwing clothes in a suitcase. “You must think I’m really that stupid to give you the time of the day after this. I don’t want to hear from you, I don’t want to see you. I wanna pack my things and go to the farthest place from you”.

“_________, this is your home. Calm down.”

“My home? My home? You should’ve thought about that before cheating on me at my fucking home on my fucking bed. I’ll come back to get the rest of my things when you’re not here.” You close your suitcase, and direct yourself to the front door. You turned, just in time to catch a sight of him and your so-called best friend getting dressed as well. "Please, don’t even bother, just keep doing whatever you were doing before. I’ll make sure I won’t interrupt you ever again.” And you walked out.

The video stopped after that and you were stunned. Talk about a dramatic event. You don’t understand why your subconscious wants you to remember that, especially now that you are actually healing. Maybe this is in fact a nightmare, and you were supposed to keep rewatching that infernal scene until you wake up.

You decide to go up the rest of the steps either way, whatever comes next, can’t be more painful than what you just watched. As you step into the room at the same time someone stands up and comes in your direction.

“What the hell?!” You exclaim.

“Hm, this never happened before” The one and only Min Yoongi mumbles, staring at you.

Right, you have never had a conscious dream about him where you could actually talk to him. But, considering that his documentary was the last thing you saw, it seems like his presence in your dream this time is not that weird. You stare back at him, his dark messy hair, puffy cat eyes and black hoodie. Your heart jumps through your shirt and that unexplainable feeling comes again.

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Did you watch all of it?” You ask.

“I did. I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped when I saw what it was”

“I mean, it’s not actually your fault. It’s my subconscious.”

“Still…”

“It 's fine.” You look around, finding the film projector and another film reel on the side. “Interesting. What’s in the other film?”

“I don’t know. I only set the one we just watched.”

“We should watch the other one”

“I don’t know, I’ve already seen too much”

“It’s not like you are real”

“Not real?”

“Besides, I don’t think there was any other moment of my life more traumatic than that one. I’ll be fine” You say while taking the other film reel out of the projector and putting the new one. Yoongi doesn’t look too sure, but he directs himself to the pile of pillows on the floor and waits for the projection. As it starts, you sit by his side and focus on the wall in front of you.

It is a cloudy day and the dirty atmosphere of the city makes the scene look even grayer. You try to recognize the place, but it takes seeing a tall black haired boy to see that this wasn’t about you.

“I shouldn’t be seeing this” You say and make the mention of standing up before dream Yoongi holds your wrist gently and pulls you back.

“It’s only fair.” he says.

So you sit down and watch it with him.

A younger version of Min Yoongi leaves the door of a restaurant with bags of food on his hands, then proceeds to put the bags inside of a delivery box on a motorcycle. He wears his helmet, jumps on his bike and rides it around the city. He stops once. He stops another time. And you know what is coming, because you remember when Yoongi had the surgery, you remember seeing videos of him dancing in pain and you remember the lyrics of Amygdala, even if you only listened to that song a couple of times since the documentary release. You know the feeling of wanting your brain to erase the memories you so want to forget in order to move on. And even if it’s all in your head, it hurts to think of what happened to a human you love so much.

You stare at the dream version of Yoongi sitting by your side who has his glistening eyes fixed on the scene projected on the wall. With his lips closed in a line, he swallows thickly and you turn your attention to the movie again. And that’s when the scene unravels: The rain starts to pour and, as he is turning, a car hits young Min Yoongi, who falls on the road. You can’t help but feel your heart breaking into pieces as you watch the rain touching his face, it feels even worse when the scene is cut just to be substituted by flashes of Yoongi crying, in pain, and taking what seemed like an unhealthy amount of pills. If only you could change the past to comfort him. You’d do anything so he wouldn’t have to go through this kind of pain again.

“Was that what really happened?” You question, almost whispering.

“Exactly like that” the man by your side responds, then proceeds “What I saw... Did it really happen to you too?”

“Yes, but, for what is worth, you really helped me through it, it doesn’t hurt anymore” you look at the version of Min Yoongi in front of you, and think of everything you’ve learned about him through his songs and through the documentary of the day before. You are conscious this is not real, even if it feels like it, but you also know you will never have a chance to say to the real Yoongi what you wish to say, so you take a chance in this parallel dream reality, or whatever this is.

“ I know this is all in my head, and there are so many things I’d like to say, but, I just want you to know that if I could go back in time and help you through all of the pain you felt, I would. I know it doesn’t change it, but I really wish you’d know that. I wish I could’ve saved you, too, Yoongi” you stop and see the corner of his lips curve slightly. “I guess this was a weird thing to say out loud” cover your face with your two hands and a muffled groan leaves your lips.

“No, no, no… it’s not weird” He turns his body completely to you. “I don’t know if you’d believe me, or if anyone would believe me, but you did.”

“I did?!”

“You saved me in so many ways”

Your head turns in the direction of his voice immediately. And all you can see is a kind smile and bright eyes. You can’t help but feel that old familiar warmth all over your body, and as much as you wouldn’t like to indulge in delusion, at that moment, you pretended it was all real.

And just like it started, you’re pulled from deep inside your subconscious to you tiny apartment in New York City, where the ringing of your alarm clock announced the start of a new spring day.

To be continued…

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (AO3)

[gabapentinblues]

journal update 6.16.2025

slept in, having coffee. not sure how im feeling today. i can tell my lungs really need a break, i feel short of breath and like everything is just constricted, so im going to put my vape down for a while.

i think it's going to be nice summery weather this week. i'll probably go to the beach again. maybe finish a painting and start writing again. ive been taking so many break from writing instead of doing a little bit every day like i told myself i wanted to.

this has also been a weird month though, coming off my prescription meds pretty much entirely unmonitored. my vertigo is getting a little better but im still nauseous all the time. im trying to control my appetite, thats still not totally right and neither is my digestion. my mood is like fine i guess, i mostly feel dissociated. i had an easier time sleeping last night which was good.

need to make sure i pay my phone bill today and see if i have enough money to go to the dispencary. wanna pick up some gummies somewhere. gonna have to get gas today to on my way up north. so yeah i'll have to check my money situation. need to shower and it would be nice if i put my clothes away too but we'll see.

there's a lot of leftovers from a family thing yesterday that i didn't go to, so that could be like breakfast/lunch. not gonna worry about counting the calories rn, its whatever.

im just glad my period is ending and my mood and my body will be leveling back out to normal. i'll shower and get clean and get dressed and get my things together to leave again, make another good queue of songs. the drive back last night was really nice. i just cruised while the sun was going down and listened to my music, i drove slower than normal.

today my friend wants to work on music stuff and just like art stuff in general, so i might write some lyrics, we'll see. im just not feeling super inspired but i know i should try. we're practicing as a band tomorrow most likely.

i can't believe how much vaping has fucked up my lungs in such a short period of time. like i just feel disgusting. im hoping is clears its self up in a few days easily bc it sucks so bad.

went to see my friends band play saturday night, we got drinks beforehand in the afternoon and all drove out together to the show. it was really nice. the show was great, it was a good time. then we had to drive back and my friend and i rode bikes to taco bell and finally went to bed at like 3am.

then we spent the whole day together yesterday, had coffee and wake n baked and yapped, i got to explain my whole casual situationship thing i have going on to her. we played video games, took a walk and went to the beach. the day passed really fast. and now im here again.

feeling greasy and not the freshest. a shower will be really nice. spending more time with friends should be good. im going to measure out my mushrooms into microdoses and tripping doses and see how much i have. i'll probably try my first microdose today.

i guess im feeling pretty okay about everything. just a little tired and like physically not the best. but it should be a decent day.

[thisisjustforfunval]

Belle really loves the new throw

[yrthr]

☾ PERFECT PLAN ? ; PARK GUNWOOK

gunwook masterlist / zb1 masterlist ; wc 0.76k

➛ genre / trope ; shy cofident ➛ warnings ; cursing , mentions of food

“ PLEASE. “

“ no. “

“ PRETTY PLEASE ? “

“ no. “

yuqi shook your arm back and forth using her whiny baby voice while you gave her a judgemental yet unimpressed look.

she pouted , letting out a small puff of frustration as she laid her head on your shoulder.

“ i’m not that mean , plus i’m waiting for him to make the first move. “

“ yeah by the time he does we’d might as well marry each other and have kids. “

you looked down at her , “ i’m down. “

the bell rung. the end of recess.

yuqi chuckled sitting back up straight and putting both of her hands on your shoulders , giving you her best serious face that she could muster up.

although that just made her look like an angry cat.

“ my dear child , i might separate from you once again to enter the gates of hell which you may know as chemistry. i trust thou will know what to do when the time comes. “

yuqi gave your shoulder a firm hard pat before picking up her things and leaving your classroom with a ‘ cya ‘

“ … what the fuck yuqi. “

after she left it got you thinking… should you carry out this elaborate yet stupid plan.

both you and yuqi were aware that the class president , and seat-mate , gunwook had a massive crush on you.

to be fair , he wasn’t very good at hiding it.

it started from casual talk when you became seat-mates then texting , passing notes and cute doodles during class , copying his homework , him borrowing your items , you borrowing his jacket to sleep on. [ he tried to discourage you from this activity but he couldn’t help but take this chance to admire your features as you slept. ]

overtime you noticed the small little details such as him blushing whenever you accidentally brushed fingers or the frequent glances he’d give you.

this was confirmed when another one of your friends , gyuvin , asked gunwook in which he went on a full tangent on his small [ big ] crush on you.

you easily fell for the class president too , just that you were way better that hiding it.

after weighing the pros and cons you decided to go through with the plan , after-all the worse thing that could happen is embarrassing yourself and having to drop out of school to not show your face in school again.

plan recap : ask who is crush is , he wouldn’t say who it is , you reveal it , confess and he confesses and boom. easy.

you took a deep breath mentally preparing yourself for the incoming events. which just on queue , the wooden doors slid open revealing the man himself.

“ hey ! you didn’t go to the cafeteria today soo i got you a small snack. “

gunwook pulled out a egg and mayo sandwich , offering it to you.

you smiled thanking him placing the sandwich on your desk.

“ also i have to ask you something. “

“ yeah ? “

“ do you have a crush ? “

you saw his eyes slightly widen and the way his shoulders tensed up a bit. a small blush coated his puffy cheeks and he started fiddling with his fingers.

‘ he’s more shy than i’d thought he’d be ‘ you thought , fighting the urge to giggle.

“ yeah , its you. “

gunwook looked at you with a sudden surge of confidence , he maintained eye contact his body now leaned back onto the chair with his arms crossed. [ although the blush still remains on his face ]

that.. did not go according to plan.

“ wait wait do you not feel the same way ? oh shit i’m so sorry ! gyuvin told me to just say it whenever the day comes but like oh my god why did i listen to the guy ?! “

“ no ! i… do feel the same way it’s just , wow , i didn’t expect you to be so straightforward. “

his face instantly relaxed as he let out a few embarrassed yet amused chuckles.

“ so… you like me too ? “ he asked all smily and giggly seemingly unable to revert back to a resting face.

“ was it not obvious ? actually yours was way obvious. “

“ no it wasn’t , i hid it well. “

“ oh please the whole school probably knew “

the playful banter continued and underneath the tables his hands reached for yours , intertwining them in a perfect fit.

“ OH MY GOD LOOK GYUVIN THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS ! THEY’RE— “

“ JESUS SHUT UP YUQI THE HALLWAY ISN’T SOUNDPROOF. “

“ SHUT UP LET ME HAVE MY MOMENT. “

“ ITS THEIR MOMENT ? YOU’RE JUST CREEPILY STARING AT THEM FROM THE WINDOW. “

“ YOU’RE DOING THE SAME ? “

divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

©️ yrthr 2023

[sfwregressionfanfictions]

Discovery (Eddie x Little! Reader)

Summary: Dropping hints and trying to read between the lines.

A/N: Do I have a queue of requests I should be working on? YES. Did the dopamine tell me to write an agere fic for Eddie Munson? Also YES. So I lived by my motto: follow the dopamine. Sorry for the long delay, I’ve been going to the doctors for a month now to deal with chronic joint pains! I am still trying to go through requests, just really needed to write this story.

TW: Mentions of drugs, Mentions of alcohol, Friendly teasing, Big-headspace, Anxiety, Stress, Lying, and Negative talk. Also, Age Regression, don’t like, don’t read.

Words: 2969

Eddie Munson was sat at the ‘Freak’ Table, a rather sad sandwich in front of him. Gareth was the only one at the table with him at the moment, (Y/N), Jeff, and the freshman were caught up doing only god knows what. Eddie was huffing and sighing, obviously deep in thought about something that was bothering him.

“Hey man, are you okay?” Gareth asked mouth half full with mac and cheese.

“I- Yeah, It’s just that-” Eddie wasn’t sure how to tell his friend what he was thinking, “Well- Remember how I told you I wanted to take care of someone?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Gareth stopped, quickly shifting to a whisper, “Where you want to take care of an age repressor.”

“An age regressor…” Eddie corrected. In all honesty, Gareth wasn’t meant to know, however, Eddie got a little too drunk and high one hangout. “And you know how I’ve been seeing (Y/N) for about a month right?” 

“Yeah, we all do,” Gareth said sarcastically.

“Well, I’ve been trying to drop hints and see if maybe she’s an age regressor.” Eddie sounded so frustrated.

“Have you found anything that indicates she might be a- that?” Gareth asked, head tilted and tray pushed away from him slightly. Eddie had his undivided attention.

“Well- nothing yet really… They have stuffies on their bed… But that isn’t proof! They are super clingy when they are tired, but that isn’t anything either. I just need to find proof, like a paci or sippy or blanky…” Eddie grunted unhappily.

“So you have to snoop around their room.” The sentence was a mix of a question and statement, “OR you need to get them to regress in front of you accidentally.”

“Or that…” Eddie quieted, this time he was thinking. ‘How do I get proof of their regression?’

His thoughts were short-lived, as the table was soon swarmed by Dustin, Lucas, Jeff, Mike, and (Y/N). Jeff was carrying their trays. (Y/N) most likely almost spilled it on him earlier. They sat right next to Eddie.

“Hi, Eddie!” (Y/N) still sounded shy and like a school kid with a crush while talking to their boyfriend.

“Hey! How is my baby today?” Eddie didn’t mean to talk to them like they were little but he couldn’t help it. The way their eyes began to sparkle when he babied them and was overly affectionate, made him start to do it unconsciously.

“I’m good!” They shouted out before they realized how loud they were and whispered an apology. (Y/N) began to pull on Eddie’s sleeve to get him to lean close to listen to their murmurs, “Can you come over tonight? I’m gonna be all alone, and I don’t want to have to sleep all alone. I was left money for pizza and movies! I also have enough for snacks! Please Eds please!”

Eddie didn’t waste any time pressing his hands to their cheeks, looking into their lightly moist eyes, “Oh sweetheart, I will come over tonight. How about I drive us after school? We can stop by my house, then family video, and if you want a convenient store!”

“Really?!?” (Y/N) bounced in their seat, overjoyed. 

Eddie chuckled and kissed their forehead, “Now eat, we have class soon.”

Lunch went smoothly, the Hellfire boys mainly talked about new characters for new campaigns or about new dice. (Y/N) listening contently, and asking if they could fill out a character sheet. They were already an honorary member, however, was too nervous to play up until this point. Eddie decided they would fill the sheet later, at their home. 

Soon, the bell rang meaning lunch was over. The group split up, (Y/N) heading one way, Eddie carrying their bag along with his, and the rest of the group exploding rushing all different ways. (Y/N) had to go to their history class, while Eddie had to go to English (which was on the opposite side of the school). When they arrived, Eddies kissed (Y/N)’s forehead and stroked their cheek. Both quietly wished each other a good day and promised to meet at his van. 

(Y/N) sat next to their friend Robin, slumping in their seat. Robin was not great with social cues, but was quick to notice this and assumed the worse. Robin turned to her friend looking panicked, “Are you okay? Please tell me you aren’t slipping right now. Cause I wouldn’t know what to do or how to get you out of here without-”

“Robin, I’m fine. I’m not slipping.” (Y/N) promised turning their attention to the teacher, who was now putting on a history documentary. This class would be smooth, now to get through the other 2 classes. 

“Then what’s wrong?” Robin pushed, curious at this point. 

“I just can’t figure out if Eddie would want to take care of me when I slip, like be my caregiver… I tried to drop hints, I introduced him to Mr. snuggles and he didn’t pick up on it! So then I tried to figure out if he was a…  you know, by watching him and just seeing, ya know?” They whispered, frustration evident, “It’s just he makes me want to regress around him, how he talks to me and always makes sure I’m okay… I don’t know.”

“Maybe you need to just talk to him about it. I mean- c’mon- Eddie can’t judge you, he wouldn’t!” Robin says, “or you could snoop, that would be easier.”

“Hmmmm… He’s sleeping over tonight maybe I could snoop in his van, and then drop hints when we pick movies and snacks?”

“Good idea!”

They both dropped into a comfortable silence, learning about the renaissance through a terrible documentary. The rest of the day was a boring blur, of information and teachers’ lives. Luckily, the final bell rang, meaning it was officially the weekend. (Y/N) stopped at their locker before making their way to the parking lot. The sun blinded them as they search for Eddie’s beat up old van. It was easy to spot, especially with music blaring from inside, as Eddie made it to the van first. (Y/N) started bounding to the vehicle, their backpack bouncing against their back. Eddie spotted them as he stepped out to greet them properly.

“Hey Baby, how was your day?” Eddie asked as he wrapped his arms around their waist lifting them off the ground slightly. 

“It was good, D-” (Y/N) quickly caught their slip up and interrupted themselves, “In history, we watched a movie!” 

“Wow baby, sounds like you had quite the day! Maybe you can tell me more about it during the car ride?” Eddie smiled, walking them to the passenger seat and opening the door for them. Watched as they climbed in, in case they needed help getting situated.

“Can I pick the music?” They were met with a nod and a point to the console full of cassette tapes. Eddie walked, with a passion to the other side, not wanting to leave them in the car alone for any longer than needed.

Once sat in his seat, Eddie looked at (Y/N) digging through his music, not yet buckled in. Soon ‘Love Gun’ by KISS was playing, and Eddie was leaning over to buckle them in, before taking off (not buckling himself in). “So tell me more about your day, Prince(ss).”

“Oh! So in math, we played a quiz game, and if you got the question right, you got candy!” (Y/N) said, pulling candy out of the pocket on their bag.

“Woah, my baby is so smart! How many questions did you get right?” Eddie smiled, similarly to the Chesire Cat. 

“I got all 10 right! So I got extra for getting all of them!” The praise was nearly enough to make them slip, however they fought it off.

The pair's first stop was at Eddie’s trailer. (Y/N) stayed in the car, as requested by Eddie. They took this opportunity to snoop around his van. Opening the middle console, the console in front of them, and eyeing the back of the van: nothing. All he had in the back was a small mattress and posters, similar to his bedroom. Soon the door flung open and Eddie was throwing a duffle bag in the back, hopping in.

“Now let’s go get some movies baby,” Eddie said.

“How was your day?” (Y/N) finally asked, feeling big enough to remember their manners.

“Amazing, now that I’m with you,” Eddie replied cheekily, pulling their hand to kiss the back of it.

“I’m glad we can have a sleepover tonight…” (Y/N) said, Eddie was caught by the wording. Most teens would say ‘I’m glad you can stay over’, avoiding the word sleepover. The word feels childish and innocent.

“I am too,” Eddie wanted to say more, but they were at the store. So he decided to jump out and ignore his urge to ask stupid questions. He opened the door for (Y/N), holding their hand as they hop out as well. 

Walking into the Family Videos, they were expecting to see Steve, however, were met with Keith’s unwelcoming face. Rather than starting a conversation with the unhappy man, the pair decided to wander until they find something. The couple started in the horror section but quickly moved past it, (Y/N) not wanting to watch a scary movie while so close to slipping. Shortly they found two comedies, and a thriller, and (Y/N) grabbed a kid’s film and claimed it was their favorite as a child. 

“Hmm... I’ve never watched that, maybe we can grab a few more and watch stuff from our childhood all night?” Eddie asked gently, prompting them to grab another movie, Sleeping Beauty.

“I have some movies at home too…” (Y/N) managed to mumble out, staring at the two movies they were holding: a carebears movie and a Disney one. They wanted to giggle at the fact they were getting away with getting them on account of them being part of their childhood.

“Okay, Sweetpea,” Eddie bit his lip to stop himself from smiling too wide. This had to be a sign of them being a regressor. It just had to. 

Eddie walked them to the counter putting the five movies on it. Eddie was quick to pull out his wallet, paying to rent the movie onto his account. He wouldn’t be caught dead letting his baby pay for anything, even if he had very little money. Luckily, he had enough to pay, and even enough for some snacks for the night in also. Thank goodness for the Jocks throwing a rager the week before and going to him for… Party favors…

Eddie led (Y/N) out of the store carrying the movies for them. They assumed since his hands were full they should go and open their own door only to be met with Eddie loudly demanding they get their hands off the door handle. Once he put all the movies in one hand, he pulled open the door for them and helped them in, and placed the movies at their feet. As he walked around the van to get in, he grumbled about how they were trying to steal his job. When he finally got in he jokingly wagged his finger at them shaking his head, although laughing slightly. 

“Now, do you want to head home, or stop for snacks?” He asked, buckling up and watching as they did the same this time. 

“We can head home, we have snacks at home…” They said while smiling, “Even got your favorite!”

“Oh, did you know? Had this all planned out before you even asked me, huh?” Eddie teased, one hand moving towards them as he began to drive.

“NO! Wanted to have it for if you ever wanted to hang out!” (Y/N) giggled out as they were poked at. 

“Hm, guess I will believe you,” Eddie glanced at them. They looked slightly fidgety, gnawing at their bottom lip, “Baby, that lip isn’t food.”

The comment made them immediately stop chewing their lip. They realized how close to slipping they were, all because of how well they were being taken care of. Tonight was going to be a challenge, how were they going to stay big the rest of the night, if they couldn’t for a simple car trip. Usually, they would be able to stay big for a very long time, even when he babied them, today was different. It was like Eddie had taken everything up a notch. 

They were so deep in thought they didn’t realize Eddie got out of the car to help them out. They were startled when their door was flung open, they recovered quickly. Unbuckling themself, they turned towards the door, Eddie grabbed their waist and helped them down (You know what I’m talking about like he lifts them, and it's so cute!!!). Eddie then grabs his duffle bag and the movies.

The two walked up to the door where (Y/N) realized they have to find the key in their bag. After struggling and fumbling for way too long, they found the key ring. Unluckily, there were multiple keys on the ring, causing another struggle, this one was short-lived as Eddie took the keys and unlocked the door quickly for them.

“Thank you,” They mumbled walking in, and closing the door behind them. 

“No problem baby,” Eddie said kissing their head, dropping the keys in the bowl by the front door before following them to the living room.

Eddie was obviously snooping, looking at pictures and random nicknacks in the room. He almost bounced in joy when they pulled them towards their room, saying they want to change but don’t want to be alone. When the got to the room, he saw a (What your room looks like)  room. He was soon snooping through their dresser feeling the fabrics of their clothing, before covering by saying which they should wear as its super soft. Once (Y/N) was out of the room, just in the bathroom right next door, Eddie jumped to look in their closet and under their bed to find a “little” box.

Soon Eddie came face-to-box, with an ordinary-looking shoe box, the only shoe box in the room. With a quick glance around, he throw the box on the bed and opened it. BOOM! This is the proof he was looking for! The box contained crayons, coloring pages, and a paci (and/or chewie, depending on your little age). Too busy soaking in his find, he forgot to pay attention to the door.

(Y/N) entered the room ready to jump on their boyfriend, but was cut short by the sight of his shocked face and their secret box. They needed an excuse, he looks shocked… ‘Maybe it isn’t shock, maybe it’s disgust! SAY SOMETHING, LIE’

“What are you doing?” Was all they managed to let out, their voice caught in their throat. Eyes began to glaze with tears, regression was creeping in from the back of their mind.

“Oh, I’m just looking in your box! You draw so well Baby!” Eddie said entirely genuinely, however to them it seemed to be a taunt or tease of them.

“IT’S NOT MINE I PROMISE!” (Y/N) cried out, tears still yet to leave their eyes. They were slowly trying to back out of the room. Maybe they could run, at least then they can be free from this torture.

“Then who’s is it?” Eddie asked, smirking, too caught up to realize their distress, “Come over here.”

“N-No! Ou don like me an more!!!” They yelled, stumbling towards the stairs.

Eddie quickly realized he didn’t deal with the situation correctly, rushing to keep his little one away from the stairs. Luckily as they were partially regressed they were moving slower than he was. He caught them easily, hands catching their armpits and picking them up. Once they landed on his hip, they tried thrashing. Eddie was hit in the face once or twice before they were placed on the edge of their bed.

“Stop,” Eddie commanded. This caused their kicking and flailing to stop, but their tears continued. Their sobs ripped through his heart.

“I Sowwy!” They said wanting this to be over, wanting him to say he thought they were gross or whatever else he had to say.

“Baby, thank you for apologizing. I am sorry for scaring you, and looking in your box.” Eddie said hands stroking the sides of their face, “I’m also sorry for not realizing you were upset, I was just so excited that you were a regressor that I missed your queues!”

With big teary eyes, (Y/N) blinked in realization. Tears changed from sad to happy cries, “Weawwy?”

“Yes Baby, I am so excited to see you little and help take care of you!” Eddie said, a smile of pure joy. He quickly remembered they didn’t agree to him being their caregiver, “That is if you want me to be your caregiver?”

“YESSSS!!!! PEASE!” (Y/N) jumped on him, tears left to a sniffle.

“Good, 'cause that means I can go put on a movie for you and get some yummy food, and then take care of you all night. How about you pick a paci, stuffie, and blankie?” Eddie asked grabbing their box so they can pick a paci.

“Seep down’taiws?” (Y/N) asked, picking a paci.

“Yes, we will sleep downstairs.” Smiling as they start trying to grab blankets and pillows, “And I will get everything for our sleepover, you are far too little to carry these!”

Eyes wide, staring at their new caregiver, their hearts swell. He was so good at taking care of them, “Okie Dada!”

[aliwritesss]

~ Labyrinth

Pairings: Eric x reader

Genre: fuckboy au!

Warnings: angst, slightly suggestive, slow burn, swearing

Based on this AU! Highly recommended to read it before you start the series, but can be read alone.

1/? Masterlist

-“… And remember! The deadline for the essay is in three weeks.”- You hear your History teacher’s voice but no one listens to him. The bell just ringed and that meant freedom.

-“ It’s Friday!!! Let’s do something fun.” You hear Kevin’s voice next to you. You thank the heavens and stars to have him in your life, you don’t know what you would have done without him all this time.

-“ What are you thinking?”

-“ Well… You know, everyone’s been on the edge these past months with the exams and all. So Juyeon thought I’d be fun to do a small gathering, only close friends.” He says with the smallest voice and you feel all your body tense up. If you knew one thing is that you couldn’t go to parties, not yet. Not when it’s been so long since you’ve seen him and you’re actually starting to move on. To wake up and not think of him.

-“ It sounds fun! But I think I’m gonna pass this time, I better start working on this assignment.”

-“ Cmon (Y/N), it’s been a month. You gotta go to your old self, I miss you. I miss us having fun.” It pains your heart to hear Kevin, you’d love to have the balls to go to their dorms and be yourself, to dance again till you can’t stand up, to laugh freely but you feel that the spark inside of you has died and you’re afraid that if you go, it won’t light up anymore.

-“ I promise you I’ll go back to my old self. You’ll get back your partner in crime, my little moon.” You say hugging him and exiting the class. -“ Just give me a little bit and you’ll get back your star.”

-“ The world better get ready once the moon and star duo comes back.” He says giving you one of his best smiles and you feel a little bit better. You’ve known him for so long and clicked since then. One day you two were in class and someone said you looked like the team rocket from Pokémon, always together being mischievous. And since then you baptized your friendship as the moon and star duo.

As you walk outside you feel his comment nag you in the back of your head. “Why do I have to feel so bad when he’s doing fine? Was everything a lie? Did he truly love me?” These thoughts have been bugging you lately and you’re starting to get annoyed. You thought you were doing fine but sometimes these dark clouds will come and shake you down. And it seems like today was one of these days.

“ So… Juyeon is doing a gathering huh? Do you realize that it means half of the campus is going, right?”

-“ Yeah… We told him only close people and Changmin said that meant around 50 friends.” He says, rolling his eyes. -“ Thank god we have Sangyeon and Jacob to keep him in check or else It’d be a nightmare.” And that makes you laugh because it’s true, you remember one night you were staying the night in their dorms and suddenly Sunwoo and Chanhee started arguing about the smallest thing. Sangyeon only needed to look at them to make them stop. It was so funny, you don’t want to mess with an angry Sangyeon to be honest.

-“ And… Here we go. I knew it.” You hear Kevin’s annoyed voice. -“ They’re asking me to buy drinks, it seems like more people are coming tonight. I have to go now bubs, but we should do something fun this weekend okay? Just the two of us.” He says while hugging you and you nod. Maybe that’s what you need, to start slowly coming out of your cave.

You start making your way to your dorm thinking about the million things you have to get done in these two weeks and you can feel your anxiety already coming. The pressure you’ve been feeling these past few days it’s getting worse everyday. And the worst of it, it’s that you don’t have anyone to talk about it. Unconsciously, you touch your necklace, feeling a little bit better. You look down to the tiny shiny star and remember the night he gave it to you.

-“ I’ll be your star, ready to guide you even in the darkest times, even when there’s no moon shining.” He said softly in your neck. You smiled at him and looked at the charm. It was a little star filled with crystals. Stunning.

-“ When you feel like giving up, remember that I’ll be here with you. Faintly.” Eric said, touching your necklace.

“Where are you now? Where are you now when I need you the most?” You think for yourself, It’s not like you weren’t starting to move on from him, which you are doing. But you were not forgetting him, and you wish you could.

You wish you could erase all these sweet moments, act like nothing happened. Act like him, cold and unbothered. Why did him have to play you? Was everything a lie? Everything he said, was just a trap to only have fun with you? You couldn’t trust your memories, it seems like you only could remember the good ones.

But what about that night you two had a fight on a party because he was with this girl, laughing and talking the whole night while you were alone? You still remember his words: “ Stop being a pain in the ass, if I wanted to hook up with her dont you think I would have already done it?”. And you being a silly naive girl in love, acted like it didn’t hurt you. Like he didnt had the power to destroy you in matter of seconds if he wanted.

And that was the reason you broke up with him.

Everyone knew you were his girl and god forbid anyone who dared to touch you. But that’s it, you were only that, his girl. He didn’t bother to put a label, you were there for him and that was enough.

-“ Eric what are we doing?”- You asked him the night you two broke up.

-“ What do you mean?”-

-“ What are we doing together? What is this? Are we exclusive? Are we truly in a relationship?”- You asked trembling, you weren’t ready to hear his answer.

-“ Not this again (Y/N). I told you I don’t want to talk about it and you keep bringing this up. I said you are my girl and that should be enough.”-

-“ But it isn’t. It isn’t when there’s a queue of girls waiting for you to get tired of me and drop me like a toy. And I had enough, I need to know what I am to you.” You said sitting in his bed.

-“ You are making me tired with all these questions. I said drop it, (Y/N). You know how I am and still chose to be here with me.”-

-“ I chose you bc you said that you couldn’t do this without me, Eric! You told me that I was special and-.”

-“ So? That gives you the right to be called my girlfriend?”- And that was the last straw. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, it’s like someone snapped you back to reality. Like you just woke up from a beautiful dream and got hit with the true world.

He loved you, but not in the right way.

He cared about you, but not enough.

You got dressed and started to pick yoiur things while crying. You needed to get out as soon as possible, even if it was 3 in the morning.

-“Cmon (Y/N) don’t be like this. I got mad and you know I say things I regret later. Please let’s talk in the morning when we are calm, okay? Babe please-“

-“ Don’t touch me, Eric. I’ve had enough. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep falling in love with you more and more when we are not in the same page. Not even in the same book.”- You said putting on your sweatshirt, well, his sweatshirt now yours.

-“ Are you serious? Are you going to be like this? After all we’ve been through?”-

-“ Exactly, after all we’ve been through you still think I don’t deserve to be your girlfriend. And let me correct you, you’re the one who doesn’t deserve to be my boyfriend. I’m tired of your shit.”

-“ I know you’re angry (Y/N) but I swear if you leave this room that’s it.”- He said staring at you. You gave him one last smile and closed the door. It was so late at night and you decided to bring this topic up… That was a stupid move of you to be honest, but it needed to be done.

You can feel your vision getting blurry with all the tears falling but you don’t care anymore.

-“ Star? Is everything ok?”- you feel Kevin’s sleepy voice coming from the other side of the hallway and you let out a sob. -“ Hey, Hey. What happened bubs? Why are you crying? Where’s Eric?”-

-“ I… I- I think we just broke up.” You said hugging him and starting to sob even harder.

- “ Oh gosh…” He said quietly while stroking your hair.

And after that everything was a blur, you only remember him and Haknyeon taking you to your dorm and sleeping there. Everyone knew what happened because they heard you two arguing but no one could bring the topic up. It was typical of you two to argue, but in a matter of hours everything was cleared. But this time was different and both of you knew it.

This time the damage was done and there was no going back now.

A/N: So it’s finally here!! The first chapter of this little series. Thanks to all of you for liking so much the AU and for telling me what you preferred to see on this series. It’ll be after the break up, but I thought it’d be nice to have a little context of why did the discussion happen and to see the dynamic of the relationship. Honestly speaking, I love Eric’s fuckboy vibes so much.. But still it pains me to see him acting this way :( I apologise for any typo or mistake! And remember you can ask in the comments or dms to be tagged and that requests are open!!

TAGLIST: @asherbl @fairycob @givememunjang

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 4)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~1.7 words)

Warnings: questionable fidelity, angst, but otherwise tame

A/N: There isn’t a lot of action in this chapter but a whole lot of feelings.

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

-

You awoke to the sound of Iwaizumi’s careful shuffles around your bedroom as he got dressed for the day. Rising slowly to a sitting position with a stretch and a yawn, you noticed he was a little more dressed up than usual, his usual polo shirt and khakis replaced with a pair of sharp trousers, a nicely pressed shirt and a tie.

“Good morning, baby,” you murmured, voice still heavy with slumber.

Iwaizumi’s eyes shifted from their focus adjusting the sleeves of his shirt and smiled as he watched you rub the sleep out of your eyes, walking around to your side of the bed to kiss you on the forehead - a soft brush of the lips.

“Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

The smell of a gentle cologne drove you forward, intending to lean your face against his chest, but he was already back to his side of the bed to gather his things before setting out for the morning.

“I did… I can make breakfast if you’re not in a hurry!” You offered, eyes following the young man as he quickly exited the room.

“I’m alright!” He called, voice distant now. You could tell he was already rummaging around in the kitchen, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted in your nostrils in sharp contrast to the toothpaste you were using to rid yourself of morning breath once you trailed behind him.

You glanced at the time on the wall clock, leaning against a wall opposite the inlet to the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly late for work, but he was rushing out faster than usual. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice was muffled between spittle and mild concern.

He glanced at you, hesitating for a split second before smiling. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” he replied without answering your question, and then the door closed behind him.

There was a subtle sense of your blood cooling very slightly, a tinge of worry settling in your chest. Venturing back into the bathroom, you finished brushing your teeth, paying exquisite attention to your tired eyes in the mirror as though your reflection was the issue. 

Maybe you were overreacting. Things had been a little tense since your argument, but it was nothing that couldn’t be smoothed over. 

It was only after you’d settled back onto your side of the bed with your open laptop and your screen flickered on to display your ex’s Instagram page that your heart started to race.

You closed it shut again, wincing.

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t have. He would have said something. The argument would have started right up again. It wouldn’t have ended until one of you was sleeping on the couch or you were sleeping in each other’s arms.

You let out a deep breath, taking a few moments to let your self-defensive thoughts sink into your skin. It was nothing serious after all.

Overreaction after overreaction. The only thing that mattered right now was that you opened your laptop and spent your Friday off of work on getting ahead.

---

As luck would have it, Iwaizumi was stuck in traffic.  Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that he’d wanted to escape your apartment as soon as possible and make it out early. He’d actually intended to leave before you woke up. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was still angry. 

Not at you. Never at you. At himself.

He remembered the words he had said to you at the start of your relationship, what felt both like just yesterday and ages ago.

Use me if you need to.

He gripped the steering wheel and grit his teeth, trying to maintain composure despite the fact that he’d been in the same spot on the road for the past ten minutes and people were laying into their horns around him.

What kind of stupid shit was that?

It had sounded good to say it at the time, like most things a guy says to woo a pretty girl. Use him. You’d fall in love with him later, in due time. He believed it was true then.

He hated that he was starting to lose faith in that now.

He hated the idea that someone else, who really wasn’t doing anything but simply existing in proximity to you was doing such a number on him. He couldn’t fault him either. Ushijima had loved you first. 

Did it matter if Iwa loved you more?

---

You’d given yourself that you weren’t allowed to leave your apartment until you got your work done, lest you come up with another excuse not to finish, which meant by the time the clock neared six p.m., you had laid sprawled in nearly every corner of your apartment typing and by now were cross-legged on the kitchen counter, your laptop balanced on your knees.

But you were finally done.

You sighed with excitement. Now to put that behind you. 

Saving your work, you slipped off of the countertop and back into your pair of slippers, moving back to your bedroom to change into a just as comfortable but more presentable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

You were running out of snacks, as evidenced by the frequent trips to the kitchen over the past eight hours. What better way to treat yourself for a job well done but with a walk down to the convenience store to stock up?

Maybe you’d grab Iwa a bag of his favorite chips as a peace offering on the way too. 

---

“We’re already out, young lady!” the cashier teased the moment you crossed the store entrance, setting off the bell. 

You pout but still glance over to the row of baked goods, where your precious melon bread is normally stacked neatly in clear packaging, waiting for you. It’s a little bit embarrassing that he knew you would never pass up on it, but you’d lived here long enough that it wasn’t inconceivable that it’d become your defining trait.

“I’m absolutely devastated, sir!” You called back dramatically, making your way to the back for ice cream instead. They had what your favorite in stock, plus a limited edition flavor so you had more than enough consolation.

Satisfied, you closed the freezer door after picking your selection only to meet eyes with Ushijima, whose hand closed tightly around the handle of a fridge door. He stood a good distance away, but his eyes had been on you and remained so; the very slight part of his lips betrayed the fact that he had been trying to come up with something to say for the past couple of minutes.

He did say your name, something like a greeting, out loud, and you reflexively looked away, heart pounding. Granted you didn’t own this corner of town, but what were the chances he’d only chosen to go here?

Quickly realizing you still weren’t interested in talking, Ushijima pulled out a large bottle of water and closed the fridge, deciding not to bother you further.

It was suddenly a good thing that a text message to you on his phone was in drafts only, him not having the heart to send it. It wasn’t for a lack of courage… it was more so due to shame. Even if he felt like he had to apologize, there wasn’t much he felt he could say that would make it better, not worse.

His shame and your discomfort only intensified as he ended up queueing up behind you. Timing was never on his or your side it seemed.

Ushijima watched you tense up ever so slightly, your shoulders hunched as your arms overflowed with snacks, including the freezing tub of ice cream. Normally he’d offer to help with your load, given that he wasn’t carrying much more than the water but again, boundaries.

He’d set that distance himself.

In reality, he probably should have chosen another running path to discharge energy after practice had ended early today. However, it had been long enough that alternative courses didn’t come immediately to memory and he’d been willing to take that chance.

And here you both were.

He hated this, the obvious residual feelings bubbling to the surface after having been repressed for so long, the fact that he couldn’t justify any of his actions, the fact that he hated older him.

The fact that you won’t even look at him. 

Just say something. Anything. 

Is closure every really needed, or is it just an excuse to refuse to move on?

He opened his mouth to speak, yet again, but you beat him to it.

You turned towards him, smiling, albeit a weak imitation of what you’d always offered him, back when you loved him recklessly, with your whole heart.

“I… um, don’t want it to be awkward,” you said in a small voice. The sound of your voice, directed finally to him, unprompted made his own beat speed up.

Was this an olive branch you were extending that he didn’t deserve? He pondered this, steeling himself for the worst.

You kept your friendly expression as steady as possible. You weren’t sure what you were trying to prove, to yourself and to Iwa.

You didn’t love him. And for that reason, you had no right to be bitter or cold. Right?

“It doesn’t have to be awkward,” you continued.

Ushijima was at a loss for words now, watching you carefully with his normally sharp, hawk-like eyes but now more like the hawk’s prey, assessing the threat before it. Could he get his hopes up? “We can be friends,” you decided.

It’ll only hurt for a short bit of time, you told yourself. And soon things will be back to normal. As they should be.

A part of Ushijima wanted to reply, I don’t want to be friends. He’d finally realized this, no matter how selfish of a thought it was. However, he was content to nod only and swallow that thought. 

“I’d appreciate it.”

He watched you pay for your items and leave, unsure of what friendship would entail.

---

As you dug into your tub of ice cream a couple hours later, you realized you weren’t so sure what that entailed either.

If only to make it worse, then came the buzz of your phone with a single message, I miss you.

[jungwoniics]

: ̗̀➛ we get along just fine | nr { part 1 }

↦ pairing: nishimura riki / niki x reader ↦ genre: angst ↦ w/c: 1270 ↦ requested by: -

- y/n pov -

“class, we have a new student joining us from now on,” ms maeng announces. she gestures towards someone standing outside the classroom, and the girl emerges and stands next to the teacher’s desk.

“would you like to say a few words of introduction?”

“okay uhm, hi everyone! i’m eunji and i just moved here this weekend. it’s nice to meet all of you!” she says enthusiastically, contrasting to the shy vibes she gave off when she stepped in.

ms maeng gestures for her to take her seat next to me. she walks over to my table, slipping into her seat. “hi,” i greet her with a smile.

“hi!! wow, i love your bag! it’s so pretty,” she tells me as she looks at my bag.

“oh thanks.”

✦❘༻{ 𝐄𝐍– }༺❘✦

the bell rings. everyone rushes out of the classroom, hoping to get their food before the queues in the cafeteria get long.

just as i was about to leave the classroom, i notice how eunji seemed to be taking her time to pack her bag. “hey, uh, do you have anyone to sit with for break?” i ask her, walking back to our seats.

she shakes her head, clearly embarrassed. “no. people find me annoying and overly enthusiastic.”

“oh, that’s not true. being enthusiastic is a good thing anyway. besides, you’d love my good friend. he’s extremely enthusiastic. you’ll know it once you meet him. so come on,” i pull her up to her feet, rushing to the cafeteria.

✦❘༻{ 𝐄𝐍– }༺❘✦

“y/n!”

i turn around swiftly, making eye contact with a boy in the distance. “oh there he is!” i pull eunji through the crowd of students. we quickly take a seat at the table before another person could push us.

“oh hi!” the boy greets eunji. she just waves, unsure how to react.

dusting off my skirt, i clear my throat. “oh eunji, this is sunoo. sunoo, this is eunji. she’s new here.”

“ooh, welcome! hope you’ve had a good experience so far,” sunoo tells her with a wide smile. “yep!” she nods.

before any of us could say anything else, a couple of students leans against the table. we look around, noticing how the middle space was cleared and the students had all moved to the sides. even the students seated were now standing up.

“oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” i roll my eyes.

“what’s going on?” eunji asks me.

“it’s just this boy. he’s so-called the ‘popular’,” i tell her.

“judging by how everyone’s reacting, he must be really popular. what made him so popular even?”

“there was just this stupid dance competition and he participated. he showcased his ‘top-notch dancing’ and ‘stole the hearts of many’,” i explain, unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “at least that’s what i heard.”

and at that moment, he emerges. nishimura riki. he was my best friend. before the stupid dance competition. and the ‘top-notch dancing’. and the stealing of hearts. ugh. i used to call him niki, but now i don’t.

why?

because it used to be my nickname for him. me. it was a unique thing that kinda symbolised our friendship. but everyone calls him that now. it doesn’t mean anything anymore.

“did something happen between you two?” eunji suddenly asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“what? noooo don’t be ridiculous. i just don’t like guys who gets over their heads because of their fame,” i lie, faking a scoff.

at least it was partially true.

…

okay fine, here’s what happened.

- flashback -

“oh my god, niki, look!” i wave the paper in front of his nose.

“i can’t look if it’s that close to me!” he exclaims, snatching the paper out of my grasp.

“oh oops,” i just shrug.

we remain silent for a couple of moments as he read the contents of the poster. he puts it down, but doesn’t say anything. i had expected him to be more excited. way more excited.

“well? are you gonna take part?”

“uh… i don’t know, y/n… it says “best of best”. i’m not even one of the best,” niki says, placing the paper on the table.

i gasp at his response. “who are you?”

“oh come on,” niki rolls his eyes playfully.

“no, you come on,” i push his shoulder slightly. “when has being the best ever mean anything to you? you dance because you love it, not because you wanna be the best. i mean, sure, that comes along in the process. but that’s not your goal.”

i go on, and on, and on about how he should join the competition, not caring about the exasperated looks he was giving me. when i finally lose my breath, i stop.

“are you done?” niki asks, his eyebrow raised.

“no, but seeing that i’m out of breath, you may speak,” i say as i take a big gulp of water, making a lot of noise in the process.

“look, you made your point. i’ll sign up, but you have to come to watch me perform,” he whispers as if we were carrying out some illegal business.

i place my bottle on the desk, “what’re you whispering for? and obviously i’d come. watching you dance is my therapy.”

niki gives me a look of disgust and amusement. “niki, i’m joking. i don’t need therapy. i’m completely fine.”

✦❘༻{ 𝐄𝐍– }༺❘✦

[ two weeks later ]

it’s finally the competition day. niki has been practicing every day for the past two weeks. and i’ve told him every time that the choreography was perfect. obviously, he still insisted on practicing more. he even made me stay with him. that literally caused me to miss my bedtime like seven times. SEVEN.

YES I CHERISH MY SLEEP IS THAT SUCH A PROBLEM?

moving on…

it’s finally niki’s turn to perform. he walks up to the stage. although he was extremely tall for his age, he looked extremely small from here. he remains calm as he waits for the music to start. and as soon as it does, i could see the change in his expression which could only mean one thing.

he was ready.

i’m not even kidding when i say he rocked the stage. his performance was lit. and i couldn’t stop telling him that. everyone was at the edge of their seats as we waited for the winner to be announced.

“and in first place… NISHIMURA RIKI~”

the place erupts in claps and cheers for niki as he made his way up the stage to receive his trophy. “oh my god, it’s so cool,” i exclaim when niki lets me hold the trophy.

as amazing as it looked, it was really heavy. for a girl at least. and niki seemed to realise i was struggling with it because he immediately grabs hold of the trophy before it could pull me down.

✦❘༻{ 𝐄𝐍– }༺❘✦

monday came in a flash. and everything changed. the halls grew quiet as niki stepped into the building. before i could make my way to him, he was surrounded by the other students. everyone suddenly wanted to be his friend.

days passed, and i constantly spotted niki surrounded by a big group of students, mainly the other dancers. and i found myself distancing myself from him.

while he gained many friends that week, i lost the only friend i had.

- end of flashback -

anyway, that was when sunoo came into the picture. we were assigned partners for a geography project, and that allowed us to get to know each other better and we eventually became good friends.

✦❘༻{ 𝐄𝐍– }༺❘✦

・❥・ written by lia┊part 2┊ending

・❥・ enhypen masterlist┊blog navi┊❦ 7 hearts ❦

➵ taglist status: open — send an ask or comment!

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone, Chapter 2

A/N I should really think of story titles with fewer words in them, huh?  Thank you so much for the warm reception to the first chapter of my latest fic!  Of course, we all want to know what caused Janet to force Jamie to seek out grief counselling services.  But before we get there, I think we need to know a little bit more about the good doctor herself.  So no Jamie in this chapter, but never fear, he’ll be back in the next one!   Trigger warning for fertility issues.  The working chapter title is “Psychiatrist, Heal Thyself”.

Friday evening arrived, announced by two days of nearly pristine pages in her planner.  Exhausted by the work week’s hectic schedule, Claire stood ambivalently at the doorstep of each dawning weekend.   It wasn’t that she minded the time alone.  Quite the opposite; she was fond of her own company.  But a quiet mind was a mind open to whispers of the past, and those she couldn’t abide.

“What are yer plans fer the next twa days, then?” Geillis asked as she locked the office door.  Her friend was well-versed in Claire’s many coping mechanisms, even the ones Claire barely acknowledged herself.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replied as they got into the lift.  “A few classes at the gym, tidying my flat, maybe a run.”

“Christ, tha’ sounds like a punishment, no’ a break!  Ye need tae recharge, Doctor Beauchamp.  Would ye stop tae smell the flowers, jus’ fer a second, fer me?”

Watching the floor numbers slowly tick down, Claire considered her friend’s oft-repeated counsel.  It wasn’t that she doubted the sincerity or sense behind the plea: clinically, she knew the healing power of relaxation, of doing something for the sheer pleasure of it, or of doing nothing at all.  She had been on the treadmill of mindless momentum for so long, though, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to to step off.

The bell dinged and they walked together across the lobby.  Everywhere, people were milling about, rushing with a mobile tucked between chin and shoulder, meeting friends for an après-work drink.  They reminded Claire of ants, engaged in alien activities she could only interpret from a distance.

“I’ll take it under advisement, Geil,” she placated.  They had reached the pavement outside their office, where each weekend they parted to go their separate ways.

“Alright, hen.  Call me, if... weel, ye ken ye can always call, right?”

The back of her throat constricted, squeezing moisture towards her eyes.  Rather than risk speaking, Claire nodded emphatically, gave her friend a quick hug, and walked away without a backwards glance.

***

The next day dawned with a moist crispness to the air.  Having lived in the capital long enough to know that any pleasant weather might be short-lived, Claire threw the windows of her flat open to the timid breeze.  Pushing her utilitarian furniture against the walls and rolling back a threadbare Oriental carpet she’d inherited from her uncle, she proceeded to mop and then wax her floors.  Curls restrained in a kerchief, she’d donned her oldest yoga pants and sweat top for this Saturday morning cleaning ritual.  The kitchen was next.  By the time she reached the bathroom, she was perspiring and a number of ringlets had escaped confinement.

After a much-needed shower, she decided to apply a hot oil treatment and throw together an egg-white omelette.  She ate on the couch, the morning paper balanced on her knee.

Ten o’clock.  Only twelve more hours to go before bedtime.

***

Emboldened by the continued clear skies, Claire decided to try a new running route after lunch.  She usually ran the perimetre of Holyrood Park before finishing up with a hard sprint to the rocky nub of Arthur’s Seat.  Today, she took the tram to Corstorphine Hill, the site of an under-visited walled garden according to an article she’d read online.  Dirt paths meandered the park,  entering and leaving oak woods whose grassy skirts were embroidered by sunlight and bluebells.  It was all quite enchanting, and by the time she came across the walled garden, her heart beat with a long-lost weightlessness.

The garden itself was a pocket wonder; tiny but bursting with botanical life.  And while she didn’t literally stoop to smell any of the vernal blooms, she thought Geillis would be quite satisfied when they shared their usual Monday debrief of their weekend activities.

Walking downhill in search of a water fountain, a muddied roar travelled on the springtime wind.  It took a moment to place it, but she recalled that Murrayfield Stadium was located just to the south of the park.   Never a huge sporting enthusiast, she hadn’t been aware that a Scottish national rugby match was being played that afternoon.

Thoughts of rugby called to mind her newest patient.  With his height and bulk, she could imagine him following the sport, if not playing it himself.   Reason enough, she mused, to wander past the stadium as she cooled down.

With her mind pre-occupied, she completely missed the queue of people until it was too late.

“Frank!” a shrill voice broke her reverie, sending an icicle of dread down her spine.  Her heart kicked back into high gear, while her eyes scanned about for an approaching threat.  A tow-headed boy ran past, chasing a squirrel.  She stepped automatically out of his way, but managed to stumble over a tree root in her haste.

“Franklin!  Come back here this instant an’ apologize tae this lady!  Ye near knocked her o’er.”

Turning round, Claire was confronted by a hugely pregnant pale-haired woman, presumably the mother of the young boy who was now scuffing his feet through the leaf litter on his reluctant return.   She looked for a quick escape, but there were families everywhere.  She’d completely forgotten that the Edinburgh Zoo shared the hill with the park.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the mother offered.  “He’s sae excited tae see the pandas, ye ken.  An’ I canna chase after him as I used tae.”  As she spoke, the woman rubbed the globe of her belly, her eyes alight with the mysterious joys of impending motherhood.  It suddenly hurt to breath.

“No... errr, it’s fine, really,” she stammered.  “No harm done.”  Which was patently untrue, but the damage was pre-existing and beyond repair.  “Congratulations,” she choked out, the word like chalk in her mouth.  

The woman seemed eager to strike up a conversation. With a mumbled apology, Claire took off at a run, weaving down the path to the pavement, turning east and sprinting back to the safety of her flat, nearly three kilometres away.

***

As the evening wore on, it became impossible to overlook the truth of the day’s events.  No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Claire still wasn’t recovered from the ordeal that befell her over two years’ ago.  The irony of being a grief counsellor who couldn’t manage to overcome her own grief was bitter on her tongue.  What right did she have to counsel others in behaviours she couldn’t master herself?

She didn’t begrudge Frank his happiness, but she envied him greatly.  Their inability to conceive had torn a fatal wound in their relationship.  Both of them had suffered, both of them had lost a spouse.  But where Frank had quickly moved on to find another, more fertile partner, Claire felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-blame and contempt.  No matter how far she ran or how diligently she planned the tidy compartments of her life, the anguish found her.  It was a corrosive shadow that dogged her days, always ready to darken her brightest moments.

It was well past eleven o’clock and she lay watching the flare of headlights chase each other across her bedroom ceiling.  A bottle of prescription pills promised sweet oblivion from inside her night table drawer.  She resisted for as long as she could, but as the minutes crept by, weary resignation won out.

Swallowing two of the capsules dry, she lay like a corpse wrapped in an Egyptian cotton shroud.  Slowly, the dry ice fog and discord of approaching sleep pulled her down, down, down below the waves of consciousness where nothing could harm her.

[yuzukult]

—saccharine

pairing: seokjin x reader word count: 2,319 prompt: seokjin doesn’t believe in love at first sight. so... what’s this feeling that’s churning in the pit of his stomach when he meets you for the first time? warnings: none. minor cursing. fluff attack. a/n: to celebrate my follower milestone! thank you all for supporting and reading my fics, it means a lot to me!

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle. 

First, the alarm rings. Then, he slams the snooze button on his phone before resuming into a light sleep for another eight minutes. The annoying horn sings again, and a wash of regret hits from never changing it out of the default, so he finally accepts this by getting up and sliding his feet lazily into a pair of slippers by the side of his bed before making way into the bathroom.

His hair is a mess. But it’s a mess everyday. Life has gone to the point that even brushing his teeth has become a dreadful chore. Shuffling through his bin of hair products, he finds the mousse he consistently loses and finds on repeat and then slaps a boatload of it onto his head.

This is basically a day-in-the-life of Kim Seokjin. Except it’s everyday. It’s never ending. It feels like one of those time loop movies where when he ends his day, it starts back off exactly like it did yesterday. 

To be fair, he can’t complain. He’s got a roof over his head, an apartment all to himself (that means without a roommate), plus a well-paying full time job. It’s hard to whine and cry about how his life seems to have no excitement, other than the occasional meeting with his friends, but contrarily… there’s not much to look forward to.

It’s the same mundane activities. Opening the cabinet above his kitchen counter as he usually does at this time, he grabs his favorite Cheerios. Good starts with happy hearts, as their commercials say, but Seokjin isn’t entirely sure that’s true. 

He’s a “cereal first and milk last” kind of guy. Not that he judges those who do it backwards, but he thinks if anyone does the routine in the opposite order, they might actually be backwards. It’s a condition—he makes it seem, and it’s a rather controversial topic for the guy.

Nonetheless, he enjoys his bowl of breakfast goods. He reads the news on his phone, and when the reminder on his watch dings, Seokjin rushes to put his dishes into the sink and hauls himself down the hall, in direction to his walk-in-closet that evidently is just too big for it being only himself. It’s a constant indication that he’s alone. 

By the time it’s 8:30AM, he’s dressed in his suit and tie, hair slicked back, and has a satchel slung over his shoulder in preparation of yet another day at the office.

But maybe he’d stop by that new place this morning. Change of pace. Maybe it’ll liven up his day and give him something to look forward to. Maybe he’d like it.

The place is around the corner, less than a three minute walk the moment he leaves his apartment building, and if he timed himself, it probably takes longer to leave his home and out of the building. The shop is cute; decor stickers are laid out delicately along the windows, the walls are painted a pretty blush pink, and there’s smiles on all the workers’ faces as if they enjoyed being there.

There’s a smile on your face in particular that captures his attention.

Seokjin is a relatively kind guy, or so he thinks he is. He’s never pinned over girls like those shows he’s seen on TV, but he’s had his fair share of relationships. He’s not shy, but he’s also not outgoing. He has an abundance of friends but only a few are ones he trusts. 

And the girlfriends he had were great but… no one really appreciates his generosity as much as he’d like.

He thinks he’s crazy at this moment, quite frankly, because he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. It’s this theory and idea that writers of a romance genre film and story that people whipped up together to make it seem more appealing to their audiences. But he doesn’t actually think it’s true.

Or is it?

Hair up in a messy bun, there’s a swipe of flour that coats your one cheek, and a smile that dresses your face so beautifully. You’re in a simple outfit that’s a combination of a white tee and blue jeans with the shop’s apron on top, while running around to keep up with all the orders coming through. He has hearts brimming in his pupils and he can’t seem to stop the way his chest tightens the second he lays his eyes on you. Is this what love at first sight is?

Seokjin doesn’t only regret not changing the default ringtone of his alarm this morning. He also regrets not asking for your number.

When he reaches his office, he realizes he forgets to ask for cream and sugar at the bakery. The dark, warm liquid glides down his throat with some difficulty; the bitterness layering his tongue but the memory of you sparks sweetness from within. Who were you? He doesn’t even know you and you’re on his mind like crazy.

Now, Seokjin has seen How I Met Your Mother. He’s watched the nine seasons, totaling out to two-hundred and eight episodes, so needless to say, Seokjin knows what goes on in that show. And ironically, he hates Ted. The guy is a hopeless romantic that thinks every girl he has his eyes on is ‘the one.’ Seokjin refuses to become like Ted, and he would be caught dead replicating those same actions.

Then why the fuck is he caught up on a girl he’s seen once? 

The second time Seokjin comes by the bakery, it’s a hell of a lot less busy. In fact, it’s only three people that man the storefront, rather than the six that he saw the first time he stopped by. He has his fingers crossed behind his back as he waits in the queue patiently, hoping you’d be the one taking his order this time around.

Luck must be on his side because you’re greeting him with those pearly white teeth. “Good morning, nice to see you. What can I get for you today?”

Abort, abort! He can’t talk. He swears that his heart has found its way up into his throat, and he can’t get any words to come out.

You blink. Those gorgeous long lashes brush your cheeks so deftly, and it swells his heart that’s now lodged in the path of his airways. “Sir?”

Seokjin swallows. “Oh—yeah, sorry sorry. Uh, can I get a medium hot coffee? Cream and sugar, please. Forgot to mention that last time and I almost died from the bitterness.” Was that an appropriate comment to make? Did it make you laugh? Or were you offended that he just insulted your workplace’s coffee

He cheers in success on the inside when a soft chuckle escapes from your lips. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear. I guess we should have also done our part and asked if you wanted any. Did you want to order anything else?”

Ah. Was the conversation already ending? But it’s so soon! He barely held the dialogue for a couple seconds, and since he’s got your attention, he can’t let go now. Quickly, his eyes skim the menu and the display case full of baked goods. “Uh, what do you recommend?” He asks, gesturing to the sweets. 

You wave your hand for another coworker to take the next customer’s order. Walking over to the sweets, Seokjin trails over as well, observing your expression. You’ve got your brows furrowed, deep in thought with a quirk of the side of your lips, engrossed with the plentiful of options. “Do you like tarts?”

—

Seokjin is a regular now. 

Whenever the clock strikes 7:30AM, he’s already in his work attire, hair at its best, and has checked his face in the mirror for the fiftieth time. Then, he’s on route to the corner bakery.

He wants to look good before he meets you. Handsome guy for a pretty girl. It’s only right.

The bells at the front door of the shop ring loudly the moment he enters in, and immediately his ears are filled with that beautiful laugh of yours, but you’re not alone. It’s accompanied by someone else’s, a voice that doesn’t match any of your other coworkers and his jaw clenches at the thought. Who is this male that claims to be the purpose of your giggling with a mop he calls hair on the top of his head?

“Oh!” You beam, lifting up the cup of hot coffee in hand. “Seokjin! Come here, I have a new pastry for you to try, and your daily caffeinated beverage to pair it with. Plus, I want you to meet my friend.”

His name is Taehyung. The freaking guy looks like a model, strutting into the café like it’s his runway, and when his gaze meets Seokjin’s, it makes Seokjin feel small.

Seokjin likes you, if the amount of times he comes in a week is evidence for it. He doesn’t just do that either; he often stirs up a conversation, asks how your day is going so far, and even goes out of his way to remember small details so he can bring it up next time. But he can’t help but wonder—do you have a boyfriend? Are you being kind only because Seokjin is a customer? Or are you normally this sweet as those raspberry filled pastries you set him up with? 

And those questions are only emphasized when Taehyung smiles, extends his hands and offers Seokjin a firm shake. “I’m Taehyung.”

Seokjin’s entire work day has gone to shit. All he could think about was who Taehyung was and why you were so adamant about Seokjin meeting him. 

After taking the last bite of the delicious pastry you packed for him (free of charge, too), it hits him. 

If Seokjin liked you, he should just confess his feelings, no matter what the consequences. Instead of sitting here with his shoulders slouched, eating this treat you gave him with a pout upon his lips, he shouldn’t continue waiting around and feeling sorry for himself anymore. Why would he make himself suffer like this when there’s a way to end this vicious cycle? 

Seokjin concludes that he’s going to confess tonight. 

—

What Seokjin learns about you is that you are by far not close to his ideal dream girl. 

You’re the “milk first, cereal last” gal, and he believes you’re ass backwards. You like consistency, and your favorite ringtone is the sound of those stupid horns he has for alarms in the morning. You enjoy the first few hours of your day, basking in the routine that you’ve put together yourself, including the one that had recently involved seeing Seokjin’s face. 

And although you’re not his dream girl, you’ve become it.

“I like you,” He finally confesses, a bouquet of flowers in his hands that match the decor stickers plastered on the shop's windows. “Would you… go out with me?”

Seokjin isn’t here in the mornings like he normally is, opting that since this is definitely a change of pace, he might as well go all out. Maybe this will be different. Maybe he’ll be happier.

Stunned, your mouth drops open. You’re stuttering over your own words, practically malfunctioning like a machine. “Wha—Like—what? Like… you like me as in like… a woman? More than a friend? You want to take me out?”

“Uh,” Seokjin scratches behind his ear anxiously. Was his plan backfiring? “Yes? I… like you. As in, I come here in the mornings for coffee, yeah, but I mostly came to see you. I enjoy hearing your laugh, seeing your smiles, and listening to you talk about these pastries like they’re your world and I—“ He pauses, inhaling a sharp breath, “—then you introduced me to this really good looking guy named Taehyung and I didn’t know what my chances were with you anymore, so here I am. Confessing.”

You’re silent. Truthfully, Seokjin’s not feeling good about this. His palms are sweaty, his heart is racing, and you still haven’t said a word and he’s sure that over thirty seconds have already passed by.

“What—“ You start again, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. “Thank god, really.”

The front of Seokjin’s brows dip in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

You laugh, combing your fingers through your loosened locks. “I’ve been trying to tell my coworkers that I had this stupid crush on you since you first came in. You’re such a great listener, you’re handsome, and fun to talk to. They think you’re too good to be true, so they thought you wanted to be my gay best friend. Hence… the Taehyung test.”

“The Taehyung test?” Seokjin reiterates. 

Chewing on your bottom lip, your eyes are swirls of apologies. “He’s cute, right? Either you’d get jealous that a guy like him has my attention and you like me, or you like him and you’re jealous that he’s making me laugh instead of you.”

Seokjin’s shoulders drop in relief. “So… does that mean you’ll go out with me?”

You smile softly. “Of course, Jin.”

He doesn’t think those mundane activities he identified before are boring anymore. No, not with you, they’re not. He doesn’t mind watching you pour milk instead of cereal first in the mornings because he’s glad he gets to be the one who pinches your side teasingly and call you a weirdo. He doesn’t hate the sound of the horns—okay, a lie, he hates it so much, but they’re bearable when you’re around since you don’t hesitate to shut it off the minute it rings, and immediately hop out the bed, without using the snooze button. Brushing his teeth is a delight, especially when he sees your toothbrush sitting in your own designated cup on your side of the sink.

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle. 

But Seokjin doesn’t mind those things if it’s done with you. 

[mymoonagedaydream]

Home (Part 1)

Summary: Two years ago, you’d left behind your hometown and the love of your life to pursue your dream career, but returning for Christmas really made you start to second-guess that decision.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: A Christmassy one for ya’ll! This story is inspired by the requests above from @shawnie--jo, thank you for those and for the inspo! I couldn’t fit everything into a oneshot, so this may end up being three or four parts.

---

You stuffed your bag into the overhead locker and collapsed into your seat, completely exhausted.

Some chaos was to be expected when travelling so close to Christmas, but still, you really could've done without the three hour check-in queues and the chorus of screaming babies.

Leaning back in your chair and pulling on your headphones, you squeezed your eyes shut and just tried to think about all the things that would make this journey worth it, all the things you’d missed about Christmas with your parents.

The excitement on their faces as they greet you at the airport, your mother’s incredible home-cooking, your father’s insistence on playing charades three or more times a day. It was your first time visiting home since moving away two years ago, and you wanted the whole cosy, corny nine yards.

There was just one teensy little caveat to your relaxing family holiday- two years away from home meant two years since you'd seen Bucky.

You were childhood sweethearts, head over heels in love with each other for as long as you could remember and best friends for even longer. When you were offered a job across the country, you wanted so much for him to move with you, but he’d already promised his father that he’d take over the family car-repair business. 

It was the most difficult decision of your life, but eventually the two of you agreed there was no choice but to separate. 

Being away from him tore you apart for the first few months, but now you'd finally gotten back on your feet, and you were ready to come face to face with your past again.

Or so you thought.

---

Your parents pulled you into a tight bear-hug as soon as you walked through arrivals, taking your bags, talking your ear off and quickly ushering you to the car.

Amongst all the excited babbling, you just about managed to discern that they’d planned a welcome home party for you that night with half the neighbourhood, an announcement which triggered a mix of dread and excitement to begin churning in your stomach.

You were looking forward to seeing your oldest friend again, you just hoped to god that things wouldn’t be weird or awkward between the two of you.

After a short drive, the car pulled up outside your childhood home. Just seeing it from the outside made you feel all warm and cosy but, as soon as you glanced through the door, those feelings were amplified off the charts. 

The place looked incredible. Your mother had obviously put so much effort into making it look cosy and festive, you even felt yourself tearing up a little when you stepped inside. It was so elaborate, you had half a mind to interrogate her about a possible Christmas with the Kranks scenario going down prior to your arrival, but you decided it was probably best to just keep your mouth shut.

After you’d looked around properly and unpacked, it was only a matter of hours before the first guests started arriving.

You downed two beers to loosen yourself up a little. Each time the bell went, your eyes snapped towards the door, the sound making your heart leap out of your chest. It felt like you were waiting to find out whether that hard mass in the bottom of your stocking was a big-ass diamond or a lump of coal. 

When Bucky finally appeared in the doorway, your jaw almost hit the shag carpet. The last two years had been unreasonably good to him, he looked like James Dean but somehow even more buff. 

The boy you'd left behind had become a man in your absence and sweet Jesus it was really making you feel some kind of way. 

His eyes were frantically scanning the room but he hadn't spotted you yet, so you took the opportunity to sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.

‘Hey, stranger.’

He swivelled round, his eyes lighting up when they met yours. Before he said a word, you were pulled into a tight hug, audibly gasping when you were lifted clean off the ground.

‘Where the hell you been, Lilypad?’

You burst out laughing, remembering falling into a pond on your seventh birthday and him never, ever letting you live down. A wave of happy memories flooded your mind, making you smile widely as he set you down.

‘Still the same old Yucky.’

‘Hey, we agreed you wouldn't call me that anymore.’

‘I'll stop calling you Yucky when you stop calling me Lilypad.’

The corners of his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘Never.’

And just like that, it felt as though you'd never left.

You were excited to be with your old friend again, you were happy that there seemed to be no awkwardness between the two of you, and you were really doing your very best to suppress all the other intense feelings that had surfaced as soon as he’d walked through the door.

‘Come on, I'll get you a drink.’ You grabbed his arm and dragged him through to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge while he leant against the counter next to you. ‘Are you still working for your dad?’

‘Yep. He's hoping to retire in the next few years, so I'll finally be taking over.’

‘That's so great, you're pretty much set for life with that place.’

He nodded faintly, burying his hands in his pockets and flicking his gaze down to the floor. ‘So how, uh- how long are you back for?’

‘I'm flying back early on the 31st.’

‘You’re not even staying for New Year?’ The hint of disappointment in his voice made you immediately stop what you were doing and look over to him, his face going a little red as he shifted around awkwardly. ‘Ah, I bet you got loads of invites to big, crazy city parties.’

‘If you call staring at a computer screen until 3am and slowly spiralling into madness a party.’

You passed him a beer, his eyes staying fixed on the bottle as he mumbled. ‘All the work will be worth it one day though, right?’

‘I hope so.’

Your eyes locked, a heavy silence falling between you. This was exactly the kind of uncomfortable atmosphere you were dreading.

Panicking a little, you vaguely gestured towards the living room. ‘I should probably, y’know, mingle.’

‘Sure. I'll find you later though Lilypad, we gotta catch up some more.’

You gave him a warm smile and nodded, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

The next couple of hours seemed to blur together. You made meaningless small-talk with people you barely knew, all the time just thinking about Bucky, about how quickly things had gone from fun and light-hearted to incredibly tense.

You just hoped you could get things back on a good track before you had to leave, losing him completely was the very last thing you wanted.  

Shuffling into the kitchen to grab yourself another drink, you noticed him duck out the back door. He must've hit his socialisation limit. The two of you used to reach that point around the same time at parties, so you'd slink out together and share a cheap cigarette.

Abandoning your freshly opened beer on the counter, you followed him out, finding him tucked away around the side of the house.

‘Right on time.’

His head snapped towards you, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth as he shot you a wide smile. ‘Am I that predictable?’

‘I just know you too well.’

You leant against the wall next to him, hugging your arms tight as you felt yourself start to shiver, cause you were the kind of idiot that went outside in December wearing short-sleeves. Bucky noticed straight away, letting out a gruff chuckle as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it round you.

‘That cushy city life has made you soft.’ He rubbed your arms a little, trying to warm you up, before eventually bringing his hands to rest on your shoulders and fixing his gaze to yours. ‘I'm really glad you're here, Lilypad. I've missed you.’

‘I've missed you too, Buck. I've missed a lot of things about this place.’

‘So why don’t you stay longer?’

‘Believe me, I was lucky to get this much time off.’

His eyes narrowed slightly, a concerned frown spreading over his face as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘Is everything alright? I haven't heard much about this job but so far it's pretty much been all negative.’

‘Oh, I do love it, honestly I-’

‘Why would you even try lying to me? You know I can always tell.’

You couldn’t help cracking a slight smile at his smug expression. He was right, the last time you’d managed to successfully lie to him was in first grade when you told him you didn’t know where his crayon sharpener had gone, knowing full well it was stashed in your pocket.

‘It's just a lot.’ You rubbed your forehead exasperatedly. ‘Apart from the few hours of sleep I get each night, I'm pretty much constantly working. You asked earlier if it was worth it and, to be honest, I really don’t know.’

He nodded faintly, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, before opening his arms towards you.

‘C'mere.’

You didn't hesitate. Launching yourself towards him, you let him enclose you, squeezing your eyes shut and wrapping your arms around his neck.

‘You'll figure it out.’ He mumbled into your neck. ‘You always do.’

‘Thank you, Buck.’

After a minute or so, you both pulled away slightly, stopping when you came face to face. A lot of things about home had slipped your mind whilst you’d been away, but you’d never forgotten how gazing into Bucky’s piercing blue eyes made you feel. 

That feeling had never changed, and you were sure it never would.

You dropped your hands to rest on his shoulders, your eyebrows shooting up when you noticed how rock-hard they were. ‘Jesus, Buck. I’ve only been gone for two years, have you been at the gym that whole time?’

‘Nope, just been working hard at the garage.’ What absolute bullshit. ‘But feel free to keep the compliments coming.’

You smirked and feebly shoved him away, turning to head back inside but stopping suddenly before taking a step. ‘Oh, you better pick that cigarette butt up or my mom will go ape shit.’

‘Good call.’

You slipped through the back door, passing his jacket back when he followed you in. The two of you couldn’t have been out there for more than a few minutes, but it seemed as though the crowd inside had really started thinning out.

Bucky’s parents strolled over when they spotted him, informing him of their intent to leave pretty soon too, so he gave you a long hug goodbye and made you promise that you'd see each other again before the end of the holidays.

The two of you had parted on a good note, which was all you’d wanted going into the party, but now you found that you were pretty keen to squeeze as many more good notes out of these next few days as you could. 

It was probably best not to delve too deeply into the feelings behind that sentiment. So you didn’t. 

You helped your parents tidy up, your eyelids drooping as the exhaustion from a long day of travelling and socialising finally set in. Just as you were about to head upstairs, your mother piped up, using her expertly crafted trying to appear casual despite being really very invested in what I’m asking tone.

‘It must've been nice seeing Bucky again.’

‘Oh yeah, definitely.’

‘He must've changed quite a bit since you were here last.’

You chuckled to yourself. ‘Physically, yeah, but he's still the same goofy dumbass he's always been.’

‘It's always a treat when he pops round, he's such a nice boy.’ A suspicious eyebrow crept up your forehead. ‘And he's still single y'know, he hasn't-’

‘Alright. That's my cue to go to bed.’

Your dad strolled over and gave you a firm pat on the back. ‘Good idea, sweetheart. Get out while you still can.’

‘Thank you. It's nice having one sane parent.’

‘Although, I do have to say, he has been very good to us since-’

‘Dad!’ He raised his arms in surrender, using one hand to zip up his mouth. ‘Lord help me. Goodnight, crazies.’

You quickly escaped up the stairs. Stumbling into your room and pulling on your pyjamas, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows and letting out a long, exhausted sign.

As you drifted off to sleep, all the stress of the day melted away, leaving a single thought to echo around your mind.

You’d really overestimated how over Bucky you were.

---

Part 2

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---

[klaus-is-the-real-number-1]

Tongue Tied (Number 5 x reader)

Ask: ahh I love the way you write for 5!!! I'm binge reading all ur fics rn but I thought of this while at work- what abt 5 x Griddys donuts waitress! reader?

A/N: Hope this is decent! The reader and five are both 16/17 so take it as you will. Im still getting back into writing so hope this is what you wanted! this is like griddys waitress! reader and five + a first date... i could do a pt 2 maybe?? also five does have powers but hes tryna be normal ya get me so like a pt 2 could be y/n finding out and then Fives fam finding out abt him and y/n?

Words:1090

Joyful chatter echoed throughout Griddys as the lunchtime rush hour started, people from all over the city came for the fresh homemade donuts, most of them on their lunch breaks the others just passerbys. It was the peak of summer, due to the summer holidays you were able to pick up shifts nearly every day. The uniform wasn’t bad either, just a simple pink 50′s style dress and even though it was 2019 the aesthetic was well received by the city.

At exactly 1:31pm the bell chimes and in walks Five, dressed as he always was in his crisply pressed uniform even if it was the middle of summer, whenever you asked he always just dismissed the question, simply saying he went to a private school. Everyday, just like clockwork, he would walk in at the exact same time, sit at the counter and drink a coffee, black. 

Over the past 2 months of this routine he’d really warmed up to you, greeting you with a warm smile and asking about your day as you poured him his coffee, his eyes followed you as you spoke, listening to every word you said with a small smile on his face. He only ever stayed for 25 minutes, his eyes would lazily follow you round the diner and he’d take any opportunity to start up a conversation.

“Hey, y/n,” Five was getting ready to leave. “I’m going to be gone the next couple of days, you should text me.” He gently placed the napkin with his number scrawled messily on it, you pick it up from the counter and place it in your apron pocket, when you look back up he’s gone. You smile to yourself as you finish your shift, checking your apron pocket to make sure that napkin was still there. 

As soon as you got home you typed the number into your phone and just stared at it, you weren’t even sure what to put or how to phrase it. You opted for a simple ‘Hey, it’s y/n’ and within seconds you heard a ping from your phone, which started a stream of conversations, Five hardly waiting seconds before sending a response.

Even though you didn’t see Five for the next couple of days, you texted in every possible minute you could, he’d even randomly text you in the early hours of the morning, leaving messages for you to wake up to. He’d often complain about his family, but in a way which suggested that deep down he really cared for them.

‘Are you at work tomorrow?’ Five was always so formal with his texts, it made you smile but also made you fully aware of how bad your texting was. You sent a quick one back about how it’s your day off and seconds hardly passes before your phone vibrates and Fives name flashes on the screen as he rings you.

“We’re going out tomorrow, if you don’t already have plans that is.” Five spoke quickly.

“You know, I think something has just came up.” You say with a cheeky smile on your face, even though you knew Five couldn’t see. You heard him do a disappointed sigh. “I’m joking, I have no plans so I’m yours for the day.”

Five continued to talk about your day tomorrow and all sorts of other things,  about his week, wanting to hear about your week and just in general, you both went on for hours. Before you knew it, it was well past midnight and a yawn wracked through your body.

“I’m going to go to sleep but I’ll see you tomorrow Five.”

“Night y/n.”

Nervously, you waited where Five had asked you to meet, aimlessly fiddling with the strap of your bag that was loosely slung across your body. On queue, Five came around the corner, his face lighting up when he saw you. This was the first time you’d seen him without his uniform and slicked back hair, instead he left his hair ungelled and was wearing just a casual jeans and jumper. 

“Hi,” You smile at him as he approaches you. “It’s so strange not seeing you in that school uniform of yours.”

“I could say the same to you about your Griddy’s uniform.” You laughed at his words as you started walking, you weren’t really sure where you were both heading but you followed his lead, weaving between the busy pedestrians on the street.

Five had led you to the very edge of town, you had both been talking about anything that came to mind, familys, hobbies, interests and you even dared to ask about this private school Five goes too, but you didn’t really get too clear of an answer from him. You’d both been walking and talking for so long you hardly noticed where he was actually taking you until you’d reach the top of a hill and onto a clearing that looked over the whole city.

“I like to come here a lot, just to get away from everyone.” He sits down with his back against a rock and gently patted the spot next to him. You sit down next to him, taking in the view of the city as the sun sets behind it.

“It’s beautiful.” You say as you look out at the horizon.

“Yeah.” His eyes never left you as he answered.

As the sun set, you both sat in silence, admiring the peaceful atmosphere. A shiver shot through your body as the cold breeze of the night danced around your bare arms. Without hesitation Five had already peeled his jumper off himself and handed it to you. 

“You don’t have too!” You say quickly, a sense of guilt filling you.

“Don’t worry about it, I insist.” You hesitantly took it from his hands before putting it on, it ran big on you, falling past your hands and covering them. Taking your now covered hands, you wrap them around his arm, softly resting your head on his shoulder as the sun sunk into the unknown, disappearing into the night.

“I’ll walk you home.” Five pulled you up and interlocked his fingers with yours, making small talk as you both made your way down and back into the city, making your way back to your neighborhood. Finally reaching your front door.

“I’ve had such a good night y/n-” Before he could continue you pressed your lips against his while holding his face in your hands, you felt him wrap his hands around your waist as you pulled away.

“Thank you, Five.”

[amjustagirl]

The sky of the sky (of the tree called life)

Pairing: Suga x reader

AO3 Link Here:

Summary: She doesn’t take much notice of him at first, not when he’s one of thirty nine faces that greet her with varying degrees of interest when their teacher introduces her to the class.But then he hits her in the face with his friendship and she starts to get to know him - through the smallest things, in the littlest ways.

Author’s Notes: This is the first fic I wrote and initially posted as a lone (AO3 link (was still getting the hang of Tumblr lol). Lifted the title from ‘I carry your heart’ by E.E. Cummings. Anyways - this is my humble attempt at a fic, my love letter to one Sugawara Koushi. 

Ume doesn’t take much notice of him at first, not when he’s one of thirty nine faces that greet her with varying degrees of interest when their teacher introduces her to the class. She doesn’t take much notice of anyone really, not when her mind is consumed with thoughts of college prep and exams and chores, so he remains a stranger, even after weeks of sitting next to him in class.

Still, he greets her every morning with a pleasant ‘Ohayo’, and doesn’t take offense when she merely responds with a small smile. He offers up his notes without comment when she asks to check her English notes against his, and even occasionally slips her a banana from the stash he always seems to be carting around. His grades are decent and his homework is always submitted on time so he’s popular with their teachers, even though he seems to spend most of his break time sketching what looks like volleyball plays or buried in heated discussions with Sawamura.

Overall, he seems like a nice boy - if a little obsessed with volleyball.

She looks at her lunch box in dismay. There should be food in it, rice and tamago and fish that she most definitely packed last night, but her lunch box sits on her desk, clean and empty. She groans, glancing at the clock. Five minutes after the lunch bell. She ponders on whether to wait until dinner or be jostled to death by a thousand teenagers, but then her stomach growls, loud enough for Yuna-san in the front row to turn and stare at her, so she supposes there isn’t much of a choice.

As she approaches the canteen, she can hear the usual bustle and sound of too many students trying to feed themselves in too small a space - but then she hears a shrill shout - ‘cream buns for sale’, and the immediate cacophony of excited shouts that follow makes her think that her chances of getting food in the next half hour plummet to precisely zero.

Her assessment is right, but that doesn’t stop her mouth from dropping in horror as the canteen practically descends into a warzone, her schoolmates collectively losing their minds. The girls’ tennis team looks like they’re leading a charge through the left, but they’re being resisted by the concert band. The volleyball boys’ team seems like they’re causing plenty of chaos down the centre. Sawamura-san, engaged in a vigorous shoving match with the basketball captain, and Azumane-san - the large, quiet boy she shares home economics class with, cowering while trying to swim through the crowd with a feral looking boy perched on his back.

She apologises silently to her stomach and turns to head back to class.

‘Imai-san!’ Sugawara waves at her from the back of the crowd. ‘I’ll help you get some buns! What do you want!’

‘Oh – two buns, any flavour?” she calls back, a little dazed. He answers with a cheerful thumbs up.

She watches bemusedly as he expertly weaves his way through the crowd to Azumane-san, gesturing wildly to the little boy on her back, before combining forces with a bald boy to shove Azumane-san bodily through the crowd to the front of the queue. The boys grab armfuls of buns each, elbowing the displeased soccer team in the face.

Sugawara spins around, and there’s a glint in his eye that she can recognise from far away (courtesy of being an older sister to two troublesome younger brothers), but her legs don’t move despite her mind hollering at her danger, danger, Imai Ume, even as he raises his arm to toss the buns to her.

One bun lands neatly in her hands. The other smacks her right between her eyes.

She yelps, hands clapping over her face, checking to ensure her glasses are still in one piece. A curry bun may be relatively light and fluffy, but it still hurts when used as a flying projectile.

She hears footsteps clatter towards her. ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry - please don’t cry!” Sugawara says, his voice high pitched in worry, hovering next to her awkwardly. “Daichi will never let me get over it if I make a girl cry.’

She snorts despite the sting between her eyes. “It’s fine, Sugawara-san. Thank you for helping get some food’.

‘Are you sure? Maybe we should go to the nurse’s office just in case!’ he fusses, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other nervously, ‘I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I missed that toss, I should just resign from the volleyball team already - ‘

‘Eh eh eh? Suga - what’s this talk about resigning from volleyball!’ The small, feral boy from earlier leaps onto Sugawara’s back.

‘How can you resign? This is the year we’re making it to Nationals!’ the bald boy rounds up the rear, yelling at Sugawara indignantly.

‘I missed a toss at my classmate, I’m no longer qualified to be a setter.’ Sugawara wails, unfazed by the weight of his two juniors on his back. ‘I should just die now’

‘YOU THINK YOU’RE ASAHI NOW EH, DRAMA QUEEN!’

She takes advantage of their chaos to slip back to class. They don’t get a chance to speak to each other again for the rest of the day, kept busy with classes on calculus and chemistry for the rest of the afternoon. But the next morning he crows a loud ‘Ohayo’ at her, and she smiles at him, wider than she did before. 

----------------------------------- 

Spring passes into summer surprisingly quickly, and Ume slowly, but surely, gets used to hearing the song of the cicadas in evenings instead of the rumble of cars in the streets, to the uphill bike commute she takes to ferry both herself and Yuji to school and kindergarten respectively.

Becoming accustomed to something doesn’t mean liking it though. She remembers her mother saying that things would be easier when they move to Karasuno from the city. That living with family in a close knit community like Karasuno means more hands on deck to keep their family afloat. For the most part, Ume supposes her mother’s right. Her grandparents are sweet and try their best to help out, if a little too old to chase Yuji around the house or fetch him up and down the mountain to preschool every day. Their neighbours always offer them too much food, and their grandchildren provide Yuji with enough entertainment most evenings for Ume to catch up with schoolwork and revision.

But sometimes, after she’s corralled an unruly Yuji to bed, and shooed a sullen Keiji to sleep, and she herself can’t fall asleep because the cicadas are too damn loud, Ume wonders if her mother uprooted them to Karasuno so she could run away from the fact that she’s stuck raising three children alone, disappearing off on such long business trips that Yuji doesn’t even ask her anymore if their mama’s coming home.

Thankfully, Yuji, with the short memory of a six year old, finds living in the countryside a joy. He joins the neighbour’s children in catching cicadas, and when she tells him that it’s cruel to catch animals for sport – even ones as annoying as cicadas, he laughs and promises that he always lets them go.

Keiji, though, remains quiet and withdrawn, hiding in the bedroom whenever he’s home from school. She tries chatting with him at the dinner table but her efforts are usually met with the surly silence of a thirteen year old. So she doesn’t push him too much, too fast - she already asks too much of him as it is, sharing most of the chores and supervising Yuji so they don’t become a burden to their grandparents.

So it’s a surprise when Keiji asks if they can head to the park for a picnic on a clear summer’s day, but she agrees immediately, swallowing her shock, making sure to pack onigiri and fruit and strapping Yuji to her bike. It’s strange when Keiji drags them all over the park looking for the perfect picnic spot. It’s even stranger when he decides that the playground, full of shrieking children, should be the appropriate spot for a picnic. But there’s a tree for shade and it’s convenient enough for her to watch Yuji while he runs loose in the playground, so she holds her tongue and spreads their picnic mat on the floor.

‘Can I get us some ice cream?’ Keiji asks.

She’s about to tell him to wait til he has proper food in his stomach before moving on to dessert, but catches sight of Keiji staring at the ice cream stand intently, hands in pockets, cheeks flushed pink. She follows his gaze. The ice cream stall looks fairly old, run by an oba-chan and a young girl with short hair and a cheerful smile. Oh.

‘Why don’t you go get an ice cream for yourself? Yuji and I can get some later’, Ume replies, busying herself with the picnic basket to hide her smile.

She settles on the mat, back against the tree, setting her textbook on her lap. The summer air is crisp and cool, and the sunlight shining through the leaves dances on her skin.

‘Hey Imai!’ Suga stops to greet her, hand raised in a friendly wave.

‘Hello!’ she waves back. ‘No volleyball practice today?’

‘No - we have a mandated break on Saturday afternoons’, he walks over to her. ‘Despite what my unruly kouhai think, overtraining causes injuries. Besides, we need time for summer homework’.

She nods, noticing the stack of books under his arm, and before her brain processes her sudden impulse fully, she asks ‘Do you want to join me? We can share the mat’.

He blinks at her, and she cringes internally, expecting him to politely decline. He may chatter at her absentmindedly about his team, and she may share her notes with him when she notices he’s distracted, but it’s not as if they’re friends outside of school. To her surprise though, he agrees easily, kicking off his shoes to join her on the mat. They sit together in silence, absorbed in their respective work. The sun is warm but the breeze is cool and crisp, so it’s comfortable and altogether pleasant.

‘Onee-chan’, Keiji calls, running back over. He raises an eyebrow when he notices Suga and drops into a slight bow before turning to his sister. ‘Can I have my onigiri? I want to pass it to my friend.’

She opens her mouth to nag him to make sure that he has lunch, but promptly shuts it. Instead, she tosses him two onigiris - hers, and his. ‘Make sure you eat, Keiji’, she calls, and he’s off, running with the wind.

‘Hey, Imai, I packed too much food. Share some of it with me?’ Suga offers mildly. She’s about to say no, thank you politely, but her stomach growls - traitor, and he just chuckles at her, snapping his lunchbox open and pressing half his sandwich into her hands. She thanks him, taking a bite and has to stop herself from moaning in delight because it’s full of egg mayo and chicken katsu and it’s so, so good.

‘It’s delicious, right?’ he says, grinning around a mouthful of his half of the sandwich. ‘You can’t study on an empty stomach, that’s against the law’.

She laughs at that and splits her stash of strawberries and watermelon with him.

Later, she shocks herself again when she tells him as he’s about to leave that she’ll probably be at the park again next Saturday - and he’s welcome to join her if he pleases. She wonders if he can see the uncertainty in her eyes, but he shoots her another smile and agrees.

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

She packs two extra onigiris next Saturday, and the Saturday after that. She also starts including peaches from her grandparents’ farm because she learns that he has a weakness for them.

Keiji ignores Suga for the most part, leaving for the ice cream stand as soon as they arrive in the park. Yuji, on the other hand, soon learns he can get Suga to do whatever he wants if he pouts long enough. Suga, for his part, does not help, often buying the little boy far too much mochi and ice cream.

‘Stop it Yuji.’ Ume says wearily. ‘Suga needs to study and you’re distracting him’.

‘But he’s the only one I know who can push me hard enough on the swings’, Yuji whines, scruffing his shoes into the ground.

‘It’s fine, I’ll take it as my break’, Suga says, smiling kindly down at the little boy. ‘Shall we see how high you can fly, Yuji-chan?’

She watches, shaking her head as Yuji cheers, dragging Suga off in the direction of the playground.

‘You seem good with kids’, she remarks when he returns - thankfully after a short while since Yuji, with the typical attention span of a six year old, is quickly distracted by the other kids playing a game of tag.

‘You think so?’ Sugawara responds, turning back to his books. ‘That’s good to know. I’m planning on going to college to train to be a teacher.’

The image of him dressed in a rumpled shirt and tie greeting his class with a cheerful ‘Ohayo’ every morning flashes in her mind. She imagines him smiling wide and indulgent at his student’s pranks, listening patiently to his students’ questions and problems, diligently pouring over his students’ assignments late into the night.

For some reason, her heart clenches. She doesn't know why.

----------------------------------- 

‘Tohoku Medical school?’, he asks, eyeing the flyer sticking out of her bag.

‘Mm.’ she mumbles, distracted by the peach juice running down her hands. Then she realises what he’s just said and wrinkles her nose. ‘The entrance exam is hard though. Not a lot of people pass.’

‘Ugh, stop that, your grades are so good- negativity begone!’ He nudges her teasingly with his elbow. She rolls her eyes at him in response.

‘Why, though?’ he asks, before quickly adding. ‘If you don’t mind saying’.

She’s about to rattle off her prepared answer of heeding the noble calling of saving lives and making a difference one person at a time, but for some reason, she doesn’t.

Instead, she jerkily answers - ‘My dad was a doctor’.

She can feel him raise his eyebrows at her use of past tense (and not present tense) and suddenly the peach in her hand doesn’t seem as appetising as it was before.

‘Cancer’, she finds herself saying. ‘Last year’. She looks down at her feet, refusing to see what she expects will be pity in his gaze.

But he doesn’t say anything. He leans his shoulder against hers, and they stay that way for a while.

She doesn’t protest this time when he comes back from the ice cream stall with far too much ice cream, and the tightness in her chest dissipates as she watches him let Yuji flit between his chocolate and vanilla cones like a honeybee, even though she knows she’s going to have a hard time putting the little boy to bed tonight.

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

'I like Suga-san very much.' Yuji declares later as she tucks him into bed.

'So do I', Ume says. So do I’.

The call of the cicadas don’t seem as loud, and she falls asleep easily that night.

 -----------------------------------

‘You should be studying’, she reminds him, playfully rapping on his knuckles with her pen.

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, looking up from his sketches on volleyball plays. ‘A couple more minutes and I’ll get back to work’.

She shakes her head indulgently at him. ‘You spend far too much time on volleyball as it is’.

‘I suppose I do’, he hums, busy drawing indecipherable pictures in what she’s termed his volleyball notebook.

She’s suddenly reminded of Yamada and Takashi, the two basketball idiots in her class, goading Suga about ‘being a loser for losing his starting position to a first year’. Sawamura usually erupts in anger when he hears them as he’s wont to do whenever he encounters the basketball club, but Suga, for his part, only responds with a serene smile.

‘Is it worth it?’ she asks, before she can stop herself. ‘Sorry’ she says frantically, as her brain catches up with her mouth. ‘That was rude of me’.

He breathes a rueful laugh through his nose. ‘It’s fine, I’m not offended’. But he stops his scribbling, and his mouth slants downward in a way that Ume doesn’t quite like.

‘It’s worth it’, he then says, voice quiet but full of conviction. ‘It’s worth it to play with my team. I want us to keep getting stronger, I want us to keep playing together, and I want us to go to Nationals and win’. He gazes into the distance and smiles, bittersweet. ‘And everything else doesn’t matter’.

It’s her turn to lean into him with her shoulder.

‘I’ll bring Yuji to watch you at the finals’, she says. ‘And we’ll watch you at Nationals on our TV’.

He laughs and she smiles, wide and bold and bright.

---------------------------------- 

Sugawara spends their lunch breaks talking about his team’s latest exploits all the time. She laughs when he tells her about the hijinks that the team constantly gets up to, from setting fire to the Vice Principal’s very obvious toupee, to an all out prank war with the basketball team featuring copious amounts of dead fish and paint bombs. She particularly enjoys Suga’s impression of Nishinoya’s ‘rolling thunder’ war cry, and rather suspects the whole team is intent on driving Sawamura into an early grave.

Despite having a tendency to smile indulgently at his team’s penchant for chaos and hellfire, it’s clear that Suga cares deeply for each and every one of his teammates. He broods about Tsukkishima’s lack of ambition and desire to bond with the team, Yamaguichi’s lack of confidence, Kageyama’s and Hinata’s inability to communicate like regular human beings. Even when he jokes about Ennoshita’s latest attempt to evade Sawamura’s talks about ‘passing on the captainship’, she can sense the undercurrent of worry and concern.

Perhaps that’s why she volunteers to give tutoring Tanaka and Nishinoya a go, after he explains that they’ll end up missing the Tokyo Training Camp that Takeda-sensei went through so much trouble to arrange. She also tells herself that the reason she’s doing it is because Second year Math is covered in the university entrance exams - and absolutely not because Suga practically lights up with relief when she waves his thanks away.

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

Tanaka and Nishinoya remind her of Yuji and even Keiji (well, before), rowdy and loud and full of boyish mischief. They fall out of their chairs when they notice Kiyoko-san walk by the classroom deep in conversation with some boy, and she has to rap them on their knuckles with a pen to get them to focus on solving question number two - please and thank you - before they settle back down.

Still, they’re surprisingly attentive and almost respectful even when she’s trying to impress upon them the dryer points of Math, so it’s easy to become fond of them. They get through vectors after she likens the trajectory of vectors to the movement of a volleyball. Statistics were a struggle, but fortunately, volleyball statistics save the day. Calculus seems to be the biggest hurdle, but she’s hopeful they’ll get it, once she finds a way to relate it to volleyball or better yet, convince them that differentiation and integration are very, very manly pursuits.

That said, it doesn’t help that the basketballers in her class seem to have a deep rooted grudge against the volleyball team - though from Suga’s stories, the animosity is probably mutual. Yamada in particular seems to take special pleasure in taunting the two boys.

‘Eh, Baldy! Y’all lose another game yet? I saw you guys crying the other day after school’.

‘They’d probably win more games if chibi-chan here grew a few inches’, Takashi, his fellow basketballer sniggers.

‘Ignore them’, she tells the two growling boys firmly. ‘You don’t need to get kicked out of your team for starting a fight with these guys’.

‘Awww… are you two kouhai hiding behind your female senpai? ’ Yamadai jeers, leering at them. ‘What losers, just like your Suga-senpai. Heard he got turfed out of his starting position by a first year’.

At that, Tanaka and Nishinoya practically levitate out of their seats as one, snarling ‘Huh?!!! You fucking -’

‘Bit rich of you to pick on them, eh Yamada?’ Ume interrupts. ‘I heard Ono-senpai say last week that if you fail your tests one more time, you’re going to get kicked out of the basketball team. Who’s the loser now?’

‘Bitch!’ Yamada growls, hands slapping his desk.

‘Maybe you’d have a better shot at passing your exams if you spent your time studying instead of disturbing others - who unlike you are actually working hard,’ she adds, smiling at him sweetly.

Thankfully, Takashi has some sense of self-preservation and drags Yamada kicking and screaming out of the door. Tanaka and Noya swivel their heads towards her, twin expressions of shock on their faces.

‘Holy shit, that was so manly?!’

‘Imai-senpai, you’re almost as cool as Kiyoko-senpai!’

‘Yeah - almost as good as the time she ignored us when we asked her to marry us.’

‘No - better, but not as good as the time she slapped me’

‘Thank you’, she responds dryly. ‘Can we get back to differentiation, please?

‘Yes, Imai-senpai!’ They snap into a salute.

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

‘I hear from Tanaka and Noya that you’re very manly’. His eyes twinkle at her.

‘Psh’, she says airily. ‘They exaggerate’.

But she laughs when he slips her half his sandwich as thanks.

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

Noya and Tanaka pass their exams (by some miracle, thank god), and they graduate from her tutoring sessions.

She passes her exams too, tops her cohort even.

Her classmates start to take more notice of her, requesting for copies of her notes and tutoring sessions on topics they don’t really grasp. It's not really that much of a problem to just have an extra set of notes for her classmates to copy (she learnt her lesson when Takashi spills juice all over her precious biology notes - an accident, of course), and extra tutoring sessions are a good way for her to revise what she previously learnt - so she doesn’t really mind.

Of course she knows they think they're picking her brains and hard work, but it's not as if she minds. They're reasonably polite when they approach her, and she can pretend she doesn’t hear them gossip about her behind her back (that her parents are rich enough to send her to not one, but two cram schools, that they must know the principal who leaked the exam topics to her somehow).

Still, she can’t help but feel a spike of irritation when Yamada manages to corner her alone in class one day after school.

‘Oi, Ikai. Can you give me a copy of your math notes? I hear they're pretty good.'

She blinks innocently at him. ‘My notes cover whatever sensei taught in class if you were listening’. Which he probably wasn't, considering he seems to spend most of his time tossing spitballs or bouncing a basketball obnoxiously against the wall.

‘Tch.’ He leans towards her. ‘Come on, don’t be a stingy bitch. Just lend them to me for a bit.’

She narrows her eyes at the audacity of this bugger. 'No.' she says simply.

'Eh?' Yamada glares down at her.

'Did a basketball hit you too hard in the head yesterday? I said no.' She turns her back on him, packing her school bag, keeping her sharpest pencil in her hand, just in case.

He takes a step closer towards her, both hands heavy on her desk. 'But you share your notes with everyone else!’

‘Well, yes - but that’s because they're tolerably polite when they ask, and unlike you, they actually get my name right.’

He slaps her table hard with his hands. ‘Stop being a bitch, just give me your notes already'.

She should just give him what he's asking for or placate him with the promise that she'll give him a copy tomorrow - but she suddenly feels so sick and tired of giving more and more of herself - to her mother, her brothers, her classmates, and now this rude asshole - and she's so done, goddamnit.

'No.' She snaps, lifting her chin defiantly at him. 'What are you going to do about it?'

He snarls, grabbing hold of her wrist. 'Stubborn bitch, just give me the notes already!'

'Let go, pig!', she shouts, trying to wrench her wrist away, mind whirring to calculate the force and speed needed to shove her pencil into his face. His grip tightens, and he digs his nails into the thin skin of her wrist.

He smirks down at her. She tries not to flinch.

'Hey, Imai. Got worried about you when you didn’t turn up at the library.' Suga calls out, loud and clear from the door. Ume exhales a breath she didn’t even know she was holding as he walks deliberately towards them.

‘Yamada-san. I always knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t know you stooped so low you’d bully a girl’.

Yamada takes a half step back, but does not release her hand. 'Piss off, Suga. It’s none of your business'.

‘Perhaps’, he responds, humming diffidently. ‘But I thought I should remind you that if you get just one more strike on your disciplinary record, you’re off the basketball team’. His mouth stretches into a semi feral smile. ‘For good.’

Yamada coils back, looking as if he’d like nothing better than to strike Suga in the face, but then, seemingly thinking the better of it, he drops Ume’s wrist and smirks again. ‘We were just having a friendly discussion, eh Imai?’

‘Remind your thick skull to keep it that way.’ Suga says, meeting Yamada’s glare with an even gaze of his own.

Yamada looks away. 'Tch. I can't be bothered with you dumbasses', he sneers, stalking out of the class.

‘Are you ok?’ Suga asks her immediately, glancing at her once over, stopping short when he spots the red welts ringed around her wrist. ‘Did he do that to you?’ he asks, voice dangerous.

‘I’m fine.’ She follows his gaze and yanks her sleeve down, hiding the marks from view. ‘It’s nothing.’

He opens his mouth, about to insist that it is very much not fine, but she cut him off quickly. ‘Really! It’s my fault he got annoyed with me. He wanted a copy of my notes and I was very rude and didn’t want to give them to him,’ she laughs awkwardly. ‘Besides, it’s a good thing you stepped in when you did, or I’d have gotten into more trouble - because I was about to stab him with my pencil’.

Suga’s mouth drops open. ‘With your what?’

She unfurls her palm to show him her pencil, pink and sharp but altogether unconvincing.

He bursts into cackles, wheezing. ‘Maybe Tanaka should’ve taken his time to get me. I would’ve liked to see you try to fight Yamada with that’.

She snorts. ‘I’m just glad Tanaka showed some self-restraint and didn’t jump Yamada himself.’

‘Well, I’m pretty sure that’s because Ennoshita was there to stop him.’ Suga says wryly. He drops his gaze back to her wrist. ‘But seriously, if I’d known he hurt you, I’d have jumped him too’.

She looks at him sharply. ‘Suga… If any one of you get suspended, you can’t play in the Inter High Preliminaries.’

‘Not if we don’t get caught for it’. He gives her a zen smile as she splutters in shock. ‘Anyway, don’t you usually leave school to pick Yuji-chan up by now?’

‘Oh no, Yuji’s probably waiting for me!’ She cries out in alarm, dashing across the classroom.

At the doorway, she comes to a pause and turns around. ‘Suga!’

‘Mm?’ He tilts his head at her.

She smiles shyly. ‘Thanks’.

He smiles back. 

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

She ends up preparing a copy of her notes for Yamada anyway. He’s stubborn and stupid, and she figures that Suga’s interference, while welcome in the moment, is only likely to spur him on to pester her again. But when she walked into class the next morning, Yamada is nowhere to be found.

‘Did you hear Yamada-kun got caught with the vice principal’s burnt wig in his locker?’ she hears Yuna whisper to Mizuki before the bell rings.

‘Oh no! Is he in a lot of trouble?’ Mizuki gasps.

‘I don’t know, but I heard from Takashi that he’s been suspended from the basketball team indefinitely!’

‘No! Don’t they have a game next week?’

Ume looks over her shoulder at Suga, sitting with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

‘I may have mentioned to Noya what happened with Yamada-san. Tanaka, of course, was very happy to help out’, he says simply when she corners him after school.

Yamada does return to class eventually, but he refuses to even look in her direction for the next month. She figures she’d much rather not press for answers she suspects she wouldn’t like. Instead, she spends the night cutting out twelve crow charms from black felt with the help of a very eager Yuji, hand stitching each member’s number in white thread and leaving them in Suga’s bag for him to find.

 ------------------------------------

She sneaks Yuji with her when the school buses students in for Karasuno’s match with Shiratorizawa.

They all watch with tears in their eyes when the final whistle blows and the boys win.

‘Congratulations, Suga’, she tells him the next day and adds. ‘I think Yuji’s found a new way to fly’.

He grins at her, his eyes burning proud and bright.

 ------------------------------------

Fall fades into winter. The days start looping, one after another.

Wake up. Get Yuji to kindergarten. School. Homework. Pick Yuji up. Make dinner. Pack leftovers for lunch. Do laundry. Revision. Tuck Yuji into bed. More Revision. Sleep.

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

She curses when the cock crows every morning, and falls asleep before her head hits the pillow every night, so she wonders how he manages to survive with practices lasting daily into the night. Or maybe he doesn’t, she thinks to herself, watching the shadows beneath his eyes grow, grey and dark.

‘Is it worth it?’ she asks. (Do you ever regret it, she implies.)

‘Yes.’ he says. (At least I hope I don’t, he sighs.)

 ----------------------------------

 She notices immediately when his seat is empty. Sawamura tells her it’s to be expected, Suga always catches a cold in winter.

‘I don’t mind helping to bring his homework to him’, she volunteers. ‘You’re going to be staying late in school for practice anyway’. She avoids Sawamura’s knowing look as she writes Suga’s address down, his homework tucked safely into her bag. 

His mother beams, surprised and delighted when she appears at their door. She’s promptly shooed upstairs, and Yuji is lured into the kitchen with promises of mochi and ice cream. She knocks on the open door. He’s crouched on the bed, watching a replay of Karasuno’s finals match against Shiratorizawa.

‘Hey. I brought your homework.’ She frowns, noting the paleness of his face despite the redness of his cheeks. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’

‘I’m watching the match to fall asleep!’ he says defensively.

‘The match is at least two hours long! If you’re well enough to watch the match, you’re well enough to do your homework’.

‘Give me a break’. He groans, sneezing into the crook of his elbow. ‘I’m dying here’.

‘I’m pretty sure you can’t die from a common cold’ she says dryly.

‘Says the one who wants to be a doctor’, he playfully responds.

She rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t argue with me. Get some rest. You don’t have much time before you head off to Tokyo for Nationals, and the Center Shinken* is just after that’.

His smile drops, and he suddenly looks troubled. ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’

(For chasing too many dreams?)

She blinks, confused by his change in mood. She glances at the Miyagi University of Education pamphlet pinned to his wall - only one in three applicants get in. She furrows her brow, thinking about him spending every lunch break, every afternoon and night in their rundown school gym, even as everyone else is spending their days buried in schoolwork and revision.

But then she hears the echo of his words - It’s worth it. I want to play with my team, the cries from the huddle of boys, the memory of him holding a trophy under bright lights and her face softens.

‘Where’s all this self-doubt coming from?’ she says lightly. ‘You already achieved your dream of going to Nationals with your team. Now all you have to do is pass one exam.’

‘As if it’s so easy!’

‘Well, it’d be easier if you rest up so you can get back to work faster!’

‘Ugh, spoilsport’, he pouts at her.

‘Onee-chan’, Yuji pipes up, poking his head into the bedroom. 'Obaa-san said it's time for Suga-san to eat his medicine and take a nap.'

‘Hello, Yuji-chan!’ Suga waves at Yuji, who gives him a gap toothed grin in response.

‘You should tuck him in and tell him a bedtime story’. Yuji tells his sister seriously. She chokes and thinks she should have taken the chance to dump him under a bridge when he was a baby.

Suga laughs so hard he wheezes. 'I won't mind a bedtime story' he chokes out.

Both boys turn to look at her expectantly. 'Fine.' she says, relenting. 'I’ll tell you a bedtime story if you promise you'll try your best to go to sleep'.

They grin and settle down, Yuji on his sister’s lap, Suga laying against his nest of pillows.

She begins telling them a story she’s told Yuji many, many times these past months - about a kind-hearted Prince in a kingdom troubled by a yearly winter plague, who set out to find the cure for this illness, flowers that bloom on the highest of mountains in the deepest, darkest winter days. A Prince who tries to scale the mountain to find the cure, year after year, but is thwarted by blizzards and avalanches and snow monsters.

A small smile grows on his lips as she describes the Prince’s companions - the stalwart captain of his guards, the burly woodcutter with a heart of glass, and he stifles a laugh when she recounts how the Prince manages to trick his frosty hearted little brother to join them along the way. His breath evens out when she reaches the end of her tale, when the Prince and his companions scale the mountain and look down on a field of flowers, green and gold.

'And they lived happily ever after?' Suga murmurs, half asleep.

'And they lived happily ever after' Ume agrees.

She pulls his blanket up under his chin as he slips into sleep, hesitating as warmth furls and unfurls in her chest, before brushing her hand tenderly against his cheek.

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

Third years are released from school for self-study.

She works alone at home. The winter days grow long and dark and hard.

(Her heart clenches. It starts to ache.)

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

They graduate on a spring day, a shower of pink and white petals blessing their way. He catches up to her in the hallway after the graduation ceremony, hand at her sleeve.

‘Congrats on Tohoku’, he tells her, bright eyed. ‘I knew you could do it’.

‘Congrats on MUE’, she responds with a laugh. ‘See - you weren’t crazy after all’.

‘I suppose I’ll be seeing you around Sendai City? Your campus isn’t too far from mine.’

She opens her mouth to tell him not to be silly - Sendai City is nothing like Karasuno town, a million people within its bounds, and the probability of them meeting randomly on the streets is very, very small, but her throat suddenly becomes dry.

‘Suga’ she begins, balling her hands into fists.

‘Mm?’ he beams at her, brighter than the sun, and it’s all she can do to not to look away.

‘Thank you’, she says quietly. ‘For bringing some light into my life’.

‘I should be thanking you’, he replies earnestly. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me this past year. I don’t think I’d have passed my exams without you’.

“No, Suga,’ she says. ‘I mean - I like you’.

‘Oh.’ he breathes. ‘Oh’.

‘I like you’, she repeats, her voice growing stronger. ‘Because you were kind to me when there was no reason to. You bought bread for me, even if you ended up throwing it in my face. You stole and burnt a wig for me, just to put Yamada in his place. You spent your summer days buying Yuji too much ice cream, swinging him so high he thought he could touch the sky.’

‘I like you, Suga,’ she says finally. ‘Not just as a friend - but as a girl likes a boy.’

He stares at her, eyes wide. A few beats of silence pass.

‘I’m sorry’. He grimaces. ‘I don’t know what to say’.

‘It’s fine’, she finds herself saying. ‘It’s ok’.

(Her heart clenches. She wills it not to break.)

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

Ume does not look back. Her bag is packed, and she leaves for Sendai City that week.

Her apartment is small, but she shares it with a few other girls. At night, she re-acquaints herself with the sound of cars rumbling on the street. The song of the cicadas haunts her in her sleep.

(Her heart clenches. She does not break.)

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

Suga prides himself on being relatively observant and good with things like subtlety and tact and feelings - things that volleyball obsessed idiots like Daichi wouldn’t even notice if it hit him in the face.

He observes people and notices things, the way Kiyoko isn’t as indifferent to Tanaka as she seems, the way Yamaguchi’s serve suddenly improves when Yachi shouts ‘Gambatte’, the way Yui’s vocabulary immediately regresses whenever she’s talking to Daichi - though to be fair, he’s certain the only person in their level to not know about Yui’s crush on Daichi himself, so maybe that doesn’t count.

(‘I like you, Suga,’ he hears her say. ‘Not just as a friend - but as a girl likes a boy.’)

But then his brain short circuits and stutters to a stop, and it’s all he can do to watch dumbly as Ume turns on her heel and walks off, head high, back straight, he wonders if he’s not much better than the rest of them after all.

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

‘Imai Ume said she likes me’. He finds himself telling Daichi, as they walk home from school, pork buns in hand, for the very last time.

Daichi grunts something unintelligible through a mouthful of pork bun.

‘Use your words, Daichi’. Suga can’t help but snark. Daichi grumbles and swallows.

‘Yes. I knew that already’. Daichi says simply. He starts on his second pork bun.

‘What?’ Suga retorts. ‘What do you mean you know? How did you know?’

This time, Daichi chews and swallows before he responds. ‘It was obvious to me.’ He turns to look at Suga squarely. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

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

(‘I’m Sugawara Koushi! But everyone just calls me Suga’. // ‘Imai Ume. It’s nice to meet you.’)

To be honest, he didn't think much of her at first when she joined their class. She had a habit of keeping to herself, never lingering in class before or after lessons, eating lunch alone at her desk, nose buried in a book, but he was brought up with good manners - so he kept greeting her every morning until her small nods turn into quiet smiles.

Of course, he just had to embarrass himself by hitting her in the face with a curry bun (Noya and Tanaka will never let him live it down), but in hindsight that probably kickstarted their friendship. And he’s very grateful for it. She's always passing him copies of her notes for lessons he’s missed or summaries of exam topics she thinks might come in useful, all painstakingly handwritten and colour coded - and even gives him the go-ahead to share it with Daichi. She volunteers to tutor Noya and Tanaka, and he’s sure that it’s in no small part due to her effort that they pass and get to attend training camp.

Yet he’s never considered her more than a friend. Right?

Right?

If he analyses the case of how he feels about one Imai Ume carefully, sifting through the puzzle pieces one at a time, he realises that he's not quite right.

There are little things that come to mind. Like his heart skipping a beat when he hears her laugh for the first time. The flush of his cheeks when he finds out she actually brought Yuji to watch their games. The rush of pride and joy when she tells him ‘I think he’s found a new way to fly’.

And maybe there are bigger things. Like the burst of blind panic in his chest when he hears Tanaka shout for him. The burning urge to break Yamada’s jaw and wipe that smirk off his ugly face when he sees red marks marring her skin. The cold satisfaction in his chest when he (and half the volleyball team) strike that bastard exactly where it hurts.

He remembers the sunshine dancing on her skin, the warmth of her shoulder pressed against his. The touch of her hand ghosting against his cheek. The faint memory of a fairytale about a Prince who gave his all and finds everything he set out to seek.

('And they lived happily ever after?' he asks // 'And they lived happily ever after' she agrees.)

The puzzle pieces fit. It finally clicks.

‘Shit,’ he swears, dialing Daichi’s number.

‘It’s midnight’, Daichi mumbles, voice rough with sleep. ‘What could you possibly want from me?’

‘I like Ume’, Suga says - and just saying it feels right. ‘I like her, Daichi’.

He hears an almighty yawn - and then he can almost see Daichi smile.

‘So what are you going to do about it?’

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

What is he going to do about it?

Get hold of one Imai Ume and tell her that his mouth moved faster than his brain (and heart), of course. 

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

But what can he do about it?

Not very much, as it turns out.

For starters, he realises they’ve never exchanged numbers. He never felt the need to, they were classmates, no, seatmates, so she was always there, like the sun and stars in the sky.

He tries to find where she lives by asking around but soon meets a dead end. Karasuno Town isn’t large by any measure, the main shopping street fanning out into a smattering of small rural neighbourhoods. But he knows for a fact that Ume stays with her maternal grandparents, and she’s never once mentioned their surname, so he’s left with little to go on.

‘At least I know she’s moving to Sendai City’, he mopes to Daichi over a steaming bowl of ramen.

Daichi, probably tired of the number of times he’s heard him repeat this, just slurps his noodles noisily.

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

He and Daichi rent a flat from a little old lady who pats their chests and pinches their cheeks. It’s halfway between their schools, five minutes from the convenience store, and the rent is pretty cheap.

They soon settle into the rhythm of university life. They cycle to school in the mornings for lectures, struggle with tutorials, and fight over chores. Their social life isn’t too shabby either - they both make plenty of friends and even join volleyball teams.

Still, Suga can’t help feeling like something’s missing. ‘Someone, not something, you dolt’, his inner voice tells him, sounding suspiciously like Daichi.

He starts seeing the ghost of her everywhere.

He stares when he sees the slant of her shoulders in his classmate in the front seat. He crashes into Daichi when he thinks he hears the birdsong of her laughter float down the street. He picks up a habit of doing a double take at almost every girl he meets.

‘Stop it’, Daichi tells him crossly. ‘People are going to think you’re some kind of freak or pervert.’

He tries, he really does. But then months pass, and he starts to think that maybe Sendai City, with its million residents and a million more trees, might have hidden her out of his reach.

 ---------------------------------- 

Summer arrives, and he returns home to Karasuno. He and Daichi and Asahi find themselves back in the school gym often, and he finds himself being dragged into practice match after practice match with his unruly kouhai. It’s a good way to spend his holidays, but he can’t help thinking if there isn’t a route he hasn’t explored yet.

‘No, Sugawara-kun, I can’t give you the contact details of our alumni, even if they’re your old classmates’, Takada-sensei says indignantly. ‘And don’t even think about breaking into the staff room at night!’

Eh. At least that was worth a try.

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

Tashiro senpai means well, he really does. But Daichi lets it slip that he’s been moping over some girl (‘For months!’, he roars), so on a Friday night, Suga finds himself thrust head first into a party at Tashiro’s apartment, surrounded by way too many people and not enough food. Daichi’s chatting with Yui (Go, Yui!), and he doesn’t know anyone else, so he doesn’t say no when Tashiro pushes cans of beer and cups of cheap spirits into his hands.

He’s a few months short of being able to legally drink, and it’s the first time he’s drinking outside his family home - but well, what Daichi doesn’t know won’t kill him. Soon though, the living room feels far too warm and the music is far too loud, so he figures he may as well seek fresh air and whatever refuge he can get on the cramped balcony beyond the kitchen.

He leans his forehead against the bannister. Gah. His head hurts. His stomach churns.

A raindrop splatters on to the back of his neck, then another, and soon he can hear the gentle patter of rain against the roof. He rights himself with a groan, and begins to head back inside. As he slides the glass door open, he turns and sees the silhouette of a girl emerge into the balcony, two apartments down, clearing her clothes from the laundry rack.

He stops. He can almost hear Daichi roaring at him at the back of his mind, but Suga can’t help but stare and think ‘there’s something awfully familiar about that girl’, but then - hasn’t he thought that about almost every girl he’s bumped into these past few months?

She takes a step forward and her face is lit by cheap fluorescent lights. He can see her clearly now, recognises the tilt of her chin, the curve of her cheeks and - by god, it’s her. His legs move and he lurches to the edge of the balcony, shouting her name like a loon.

Their eyes meet.

She yelps. And promptly drops her laundry basket, scrambling back inside.

He dashes back into Tashiro’s living room and trips into the corridor, ignoring Daichi’s shouts as he slams his fists into her front door. Her door remains stubbornly closed, and he keeps yelling, keeps beating her door. He can hear Daichi follow him, and he’s certain he’s going to get a bollocking tomorrow morning, but he doesn’t care, he’s finally found her in the midst of a million people and a million more trees and nothing else really matters.

The door swings open, and Imai Ume stands in the doorway looking livid. ‘My roommate is this close to calling the police,’ she hisses.

Daichi yanks him back with his shirt and snaps into a low bow. ‘Sorry for the trouble caused’, he says, and adds - that sly dog, ‘He may have drank a bit too much Umeshu’.

‘For God’s sake, Sawamura’, he faintly hears her squawk. ‘Can’t you take care of him a little better? He looks like absolute shit’.

Suga stares at her glassy-eyed. All he wants to do is to take her hand and tell her all the things he’s dreamt of saying these past few months (starting with I’m sorry I was an idiot- and ending with I missed you) - but his mind is suddenly foggy and his ears are ringing and his stomach keeps bloody churning and he suspects his body might have just given up on him completely.

‘I told you’, he manages to say. ‘I told you we’d see each other again’.

He pukes at her feet and promptly passes out. 

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

When he wakes up, the sun is high in the sky, and he knows because he’s pretty sure it’s trying to stab him between the eyes. He flops over to his side.

What happened last night?

He cracks an eye open. He’s pretty sure he isn’t wearing his own pyjamas. The sweatshirt he has on is a touch too snug, the pants a touch too short - so definitely not Daichi’s either. He can’t be in Tashiro-senpai’s room either, because one, he’s pretty certain floral bedsheets aren’t his thing, and two, if he squints, he can see a pile of medical textbooks in the corner that definitely does not belong to him.

He groans, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, groping bleary eyed for his phone.

- You have 7 messages! -

[Daichi, 12.48am]: You are a very lucky man [Daichi, 12.48am]: Imai didn’t call the police on you [Daichi, 12.49am]: I had to clean up your puke [Daichi, 12.49am]: Wanted to lug you home but you’re heavier than you look [Daichi, 12.49am]: So she said to leave you and walk Michimiya home [Daichi, 12.50am]: Figure you’ll thank me anyway [Daichi, 12.51am]: Stay safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

‘You have got to be kidding me’, he moans. Fuck. His head still hurts.

Ume pokes her head into the room. ‘Oh, you’re awake. Feeling better?’

He snaps his head up and immediately regrets it. ‘Ow’, he whines, dropping his head in his hands.

‘I guess not’, she says. ‘Here’, she pokes him in the side. ‘Spare toothbrush. Wash up, and I’ll get breakfast ready so you can eat some meds’. She tugs him to his feet and pushes him into the bathroom.

This isn’t how he imagined meeting Ume again would be like. Getting piss drunk, puking at her door, and passing out in her bed? He’d take getting arrested over this any day, he thinks, moping to himself. Not to mention Daichi's probably going to kill him when he gets back. He shudders, then winces as he splashes cold water into his face.

Ume waves him into the kitchen. ‘Sit’, she says, and so he does. She sets a bowl of rice and fish and miso soup in front of him. ‘Eat’ she says, sliding a bottle of aspirin and a cup of hot tea at him. His stomach still hurts, but he's not about to let her effort go to waste.

‘Ittakimasu’, he says, putting his hands together, inclining his head slightly. Ume nods and sits across him, sipping her tea.

‘Thank you’, he says contritely. 'I'm sorry for the trouble I caused last night'.

‘It’s no problem. I managed to convince my roommates you were just a drunk ex-classmate, not some rapist or serial killer so they let you in', she hums, amused.

He groans. ‘I’m so sorry’.

'It's fine', she says, waving him away. 'I think Sawamura was a lot more mad than my roommates, since he had to clear your mess and then wrangle you into clean clothes’.

‘Well I think Daichi got to walk Michimiya home last night, so I don’t think he’ll be too mad’, he says drolly. She laughs at that, turning to clear the dishes into the sink.

‘Hey, Imai’. He takes a gulp of his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

‘Mm?’

‘'I - I missed you - you know, as a friend', he stammers at his hands. 'And I’d like to see you again. Maybe we could catch up over dinner sometime this weekend?'

She stills for a few seconds. 'I don't think it’d be a good idea to do that', she finally says.

His heart clenches. He wonders if he’s too late - if the distance that Sendai city with its million people and a million more trees has put between them is too great, if she no longer remembers their shared smiles and golden summer days. But then he sees the stack of blankets tucked into the corner of the couch, sees the food she must have woken up early to make, and wonders how his past self could have been so blind.

‘Imai’, he says. She keeps her eyes resolutely on the dish sponge in her hands. He exhales, and tells himself that it’s his turn to be brave. He takes a step towards her.

‘Ume’, he repeats, taking her hands into his. ‘Look at me’.

‘Stop it Suga! My hands are soapy’, she cries.

‘Nevermind that’, he says stubbornly. ‘Listen - I’m an idiot - and a coward. I meant it when I said I missed you, but I didn’t mean it as a friend’.

‘Wha-’, she begins to say but he cuts her off.

‘I like you, Imai Ume’, he breathes, bringing her hands close to his face. ‘I really like you - as a boy likes a girl. I want to keep holding your hands. I want to see you again - see you everyday, if you’ll let me'.

Her eyes widen, then she blinks slowly - once, twice, thrice.

‘Do you mean it?’ she asks, her eyes meeting his, and he’s struck by the thought that the stars in her eyes are so bright they can light up the night sky.

‘Why would I lie?’ he answers. ‘I’ve been looking over my shoulder every day for the past six months, hoping desperately to see you again.’

‘Oh', she breathes. ‘Oh’.

She gives him a look so full of affection and warmth - like sunlight breaking through the rain - that he knows he was right to be brave, knows that the past six months of searching and dreaming and longing hadn’t been a waste.

‘So… I take it you want to see me again?’ he asks cheekily.

‘Maybe’, she says, but her voice is teasing and she leans on to her toes to press her lips gently against his cheek.

‘I - I take that as a yes?’ he stutters and hates himself for flushing a bright pink, but refuses to release her hands.

‘Let me wash my hands first. Then - yes’, and she laughs, wide and bold and bright. 

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

Coda

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

 He opens the door and smiles at what has become a very familiar sight these past few weeks - Ume fast asleep at the kitchen table next to a half empty pot of tea, head pillowed against her textbooks. Usually, he’d just scoop her up and put her to bed, but they’ve not had much time together this week, what with him running all over the prefecture with his fledgling team for practice matches, and she with work and exams, so he decides to be a little selfish.

‘Ume’, he calls, shaking her shoulder gently. ‘Dearest. Wake Up.’

‘Mmph. Five more minutes. Go away.’ She mumbles, pushing his hand away.

‘Ume. Ummmeee,’ He drags out her name, finding extra syllables where there were previously none until she stirs, grumbling incoherently and he has to stifle a laugh when she swipes her hand across her mouth.

‘Oh! It’s you. Welcome home’, she folds herself upright, rubbing her eyes slowly. ‘Where’s Yuji? How was the match?’

‘Of course it’s me – who else would it be?’ he chuckles. ‘I dropped Yuji off at Kei-kun’s place for a sleepover with the team, they promised not to stay up all night eating junk and watching crappy movies but I don’t believe them. The match was great - we won! Yuji-chan did really well, he earned quite a few points and saved a few balls. You would’ve been proud of him. I know I was.’

‘That’s good, I’m sure he’ll tell me all about it tomorrow when he’s back.’ She nods towards the fridge. ‘I made mapo tofu for dinner – not too spicy though, your stomach will thank me after that long bus ride back.’

He hums a thanks, sliding the plate into the microwave, narrating a play by play of their match today, stopping only when he hears a loud yawn.

‘Go to bed, Ume’, he frowns at the lines of exhaustion on her face. ‘I shouldn’t be keeping you up, you have a morning shift tomorrow.’

‘Mm – I will, later. Was waiting for you. Mm’ not that tired,’ she protests, but then yawns again so widely he’s pretty sure he hears her jaw crack.

‘Bedtime, sleepyhead’, he says teasingly, lifting her into his chest.

It’s a testament to how tired she is when she doesn’t try to swat at him as she usually does, choosing instead to wrap her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. His breath hitches, and he wants nothing more than to hold her close and hide in bed preferably forever, but reminds himself that they’re adults now (with awful things like jobs and responsibilities and worse, bills to pay), so he settles her onto their bed, tucking the pillow beneath her head, the sheets under her chin.

‘Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll catch up properly on the weekend’, he whispers, pressing a kiss into her dark hair.

‘Mmph, love you’, she mumbles, half asleep.

‘Love you too’, he shuts the door with a click, a soft smile on his face.

He’s mentioned off-hand to her before that they’re lucky to be this happy.

‘It’s not all luck’, he remembers her replying. ‘Happiness isn’t easy to come by. It’s a choice. It takes effort and hard work to earn that choice, and you need to take the time to build it up, brick by brick, piece by piece.’

He used to wonder what she meant by that - but six years in, and he thinks he finally understands what she means.

She’s meticulous in the way she makes him happy - the way she catalogues his quirks and deals patiently with his follies. How she knows to always leave food in the fridge for him after work so he won’t get cranky. How she tries her best to stay up and listen to him complain about his frustrations with pushy parents or irresponsible kids, how she tries to watch every one of his (and Yuji’s) games should time permit. He can see it even in the way she smiles indulgently when she sends him off with Daichi and Tanaka for izakaya and drinks.

For his part - he wonders if he does enough. He wakes up early most mornings to hitch a ride with her to work so they get a chance to chat about their day. He buys flowers from the florist down the street for her every week, and slips sandwiches and post-it notes in her work bag when he knows she’s had a long shift. He holds her close when she collapses on the couch, boneless and exhausted from a hard day.

He thinks about the life they share - weeknights spent sitting together, him sketching lesson plans and volleyball plays and she reading up for exams and work cases, weekends spent in grocery stores and parks and volleyball games. Six years together - they’re happy, and they show it in the quietest of ways.

They’re driving back to Karasuno this weekend - ostensibly to celebrate Keiji’s birthday and meet a couple of friends. But he’s conspired with Keiji and Yuji so he can sneak her away to the park for a picnic under the tree where they share memories of long, quiet talks and golden summer days. He’s hidden her ring in a picnic box full of homemade onigiri and sandwiches, strawberries and peaches.

He plans to go down on one knee and ask if she’d like to continue working on being happy with him forever.

He hopes she’ll say yes.

(She does.)