#and the part towards the end fucks me up as well

[thebibliosphere]

My dad was a bit of a tearaway growing up. He still would be if it weren't for the advancing arthritis and my mother holding him back by his shirt collar for the last 50 years.

They both grew up in the slums of post-WW2 Glasgow. My mother talks about living in damp, mold-ridden basement flats and her mother owning multiple cats to keep down on the rats, while my father likes to recount how he grew up every night looking at the stars... through the hole in the roof.

He was also best friends with my mother's brother, which was how they met at the tender ages of 9 and 11 and got married ten years later. But before that, my dad was in a gang. They'd cut about the back streets with skinned knees, hand-me-down bikes rattling over cobblestone streets away from the polis. Mucky boots full of holes thudding over the tin roofs of the outhouses as they hopped the walls to avoid getting caught smoking—a habit my father laments he picked up at age 11 and has never been able to shake.

One time, in his mid-teens, my dad saw another boy getting the shit kicked out of him. Not an unusual site in that part of Glasgow back then, especially when the football was on and the bars spilled out into the streets with the drunken malevolence of festering religious bigotry that still, sadly, prevails to this day. But this was no honest scuffle. This was five to one, ten to one, depending on Dad's mood when he tells the story. And for all he was a scruffy wee toe rag who was no better than he ought to be, my dad had a firm sense of fairness, and the fight in front of him was not fair. So he jumped in and started battering the fuck out of people.

It's worth noting that my dad and I share many traits. Our humor, our love of words, and most notably, our height. My dad is 5ft 2 on a good day, 5'3" at a literal stretch. It earned him the nickname "wee barra," a name that's stuck to this day, even as my father shrinks with age and begins to resemble a Norman Rockwell-esque grandpa: silver-haired, red-faced with a smile that makes you think of Christmas.

Anyway, turns out the boy he rescued was the son of a reasonably well-known crime lord. The kind of mad cunt who'd give you a Glasgow Smile if you cut in front of him at the post office but who also donated to charity, loved his kids, and could be very kind and generous to a boy in over his head who saw an unfair fight and moved in to break it up.

I wouldn't say they became friends. More acquaintances you could nod at in the street. And when the time came for my dad to get down on bended knee and ask my Mum to marry him, that passing familiarity meant they got a discounted price at a local pub venue to host the wedding festivities. All proper posh and swanky. Or as posh and proper as a pub in the 70s could be.

Sadly, in the literal weeks running up to their wedding, my Mum's father grew sick and died. Lung cancer. It'd been eating away at him for years, and nobody knew. So while my mother sat by her father's deathbed, nursing him to the end, my father had to reschedule their wedding and help plan for a funeral instead. It was with no small trepidation he showed up at the pub and was led into a back room to say, "er, very sorry, but, er, we won't be going ahead with the wedding, er, would you mind waiting for the rest of your money... please?"

And this crime lord, this terrifying figure of a man, humphed and grumped and said, "very sorry to hear that, lad. Did things just not work out?"

So my dad explained about his future father-in-law, the funeral, and needing to help look after his future mother-in-law, and he recounts how the room got very still and quiet, and after a pause, this monster of a man renowned for violence turned toward the safe behind him, reached in and pulled out an envelope—the one my father had written "wedding deposit" on—and handed it back to him.

"Away and take care of your family, son," was apparently all he said, and my dad, clutching the envelope to his chest, nodded, said thank you about a million times, then legged it out the door.

I remember thinking the first time I heard this story, probably about the age of 9 or 10, still fully entrenched in the moral parables being taught to me every Sunday in a dusty church basement, that there was some higher moral to impart. Like how even the most monstrous of men could be capable of kindness and good and redemption. Upon voicing this, my dad laughed so hard that he inhaled his cigarette.

"Christ, no. Don't be daft," he said, between hacking coughs. "The lesson is don't owe money to the fucking mafia."

Anyway, that's the man who taught me right from wrong and how to read, write, and tell stories. It should probably help explain some things.

And today, we found out the cigarettes finally caught up with him. Lung cancer. We don't know what stage yet. He says he can breathe just fine, which is funny because I feel like I'm suffocating.

I don't know what to do.

But at least I don't need to tell a crime lord I can't pay him the rest of his money. Small mercies.

[misaerabl]

Beso De Tres

ellabs x reader

CW: three-way kiss, ELLABS MAKING OUT (insert loud, unhinged cheering), sexual tension, oral sex, threesome, sexual exploration between "friends", orgasm

The thing about Ellie and Abby is that they’ve always had… a thing.

Not the romantic kind. Not even the flirty kind. But something crackling and combative, loud and close enough that it loops back around into intimacy if you tilt your head and squint.

Right now, that something is echoing through the Airbnb’s living room. You’re all post-beach lazy — still sun-warm and sandy in clothes that don’t quite belong to any of you. Abby’s tank clings to her back, damp at the spine. Ellie’s wearing your shorts.

They’re arguing again.

“Just say it,” Ellie says, smirking over the lip of her beer. “You were wrong about the fight choreography.��

Abby rolls her eyes. “No, I said it looked good. I didn’t say it made sense. A guy doesn’t just get up after taking a rebar to the ribs.”

Ellie shifts where she’s sitting on the couch, her knee pressing into yours as she turns toward Abby. “Jesus. It’s a movie. Suspend your disbelief for five seconds.”

You snort. “Okay, mom and mom, calm down.”

They both look at you. Their brows raise in almost-perfect sync.

You grin, a little tipsy, a little mean. “I’m just saying… if you fight any harder, you’re gonna end up making out.”

There’s a beat.

Then Ellie huffs, looking away, but not before you see the way her ears turn red. Abby’s expression shifts. It was faint, but noticeable if you know where to look. Less annoyed. More… curious.

You sip your beer again, lips tugging upward. “Honestly? Just kiss already. Might shut you both up for once.”

Silence.

Then Ellie looks at you, eyes narrowed. “Don’t be weird.”

You shrug, fully leaning into it now. “What? You don't think she’s a good kisser?”

That earns you a scoff from both of them. Abby leans forward, her forearms resting on her thighs. “You really want us to kiss? Is this like… a fantasy thing for you?”

You blink. “I was joking—”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Ellie mutters, watching you over her bottle. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“That one.” Her voice is quieter now, but not softer. Her eyes flick down to your lips.

Your stomach flips.

“I dare you,” you say, tone light but heartbeat anything but. “Prove me wrong.”

More silence. Tension thick enough to swim through.

And then Abby turns to Ellie. “Well?”

Ellie licks her lips. She looks between the two of you. Her eyes dark, unreadable. Then she mutters, “Fuck it,” and leans in.

Their mouths meet in a kiss that’s not tentative, but not gentle either. It’s exploratory. Firm. Abby’s hand moves up to cradle Ellie’s jaw, her thumb brushing the edge of Ellie’s cheekbone. Ellie lets out a soft noise — surprised maybe — and tilts her head.

It’s a real kiss.

And your throat goes dry.

They pull back slowly. Ellie’s lips are pinker now. Abby doesn’t move her hand.

You can’t breathe. You’re flushed down to your toes.

Then Ellie turns to you. “Still think it’s just arguing?”

You blink. “I mean—”

Abby moves first. Her hand drops from Ellie’s cheek and brushes your thigh instead, featherlight. Her gaze is unreadable, curious but restrained. “You’re the one who brought this up.”

You look between them. The air feels different now. Not heavy, exactly, but charged. The room tilts on its axis, slow and sure.

You swallow. “You don’t have to—”

Ellie cuts you off by crawling toward you, closing the space so naturally it barely registers as a decision. “You think we haven’t noticed how you look at us?” she asks quietly, face so close you feel her breath.

Abby’s behind you now, knees pressing in at either side, her warmth steady at your back.

“You’re not that subtle,” she murmurs against your neck.

You let out a shaky exhale.

“I—” you start, but Ellie kisses you before you finish the sentence.

Her mouth is warm and insistent, lips parted just enough that you fall right into the rhythm of it. Your hand flies to her waist, holding tight. Her kiss isn't slow nor fast, just close.

Then Abby’s mouth brushes your shoulder. You shudder.

And when Ellie pulls back slightly, Abby tilts your chin toward her and kisses you too.

It’s different. Heavier. She tastes like citrus and sunscreen. Her hand cups the back of your neck and holds you in place like you’re something precious... or something she’s finally allowed to touch.

You’re breathless when she pulls away.

They’re both watching you now. Ellie’s thumb is stroking lazy circles along your thigh. Abby’s lips ghost your jaw.

You barely have time to catch your breath before both of them lean in.

Their mouths find yours at the same time. Clumsy at first, but eager. It’s heat and breath and the low sound of someone moaning into someone else’s mouth. You can’t tell who.

You’re caught between them. One hand in Abby’s hair, the other gripping Ellie’s arm. Their tongues brush over yours, over each other’s. It’s messier than you expect, wetter, hotter, and entirely consuming.

You lose yourself in it.

You’ve kissed people before. You’ve even been reckless before. But never like this. Never sandwiched between two women who had wanted to fight just to get here.

And somehow, despite how chaotic it all feels, the three of you fit.

Like the kiss had been waiting for an excuse.

You don’t know whose hand moves first — Abby’s, maybe — brushing under your shirt, fingers skating over your ribs like she’s mapping new territory. You suck in a breath, your back arching into her touch. Ellie shifts closer, sliding between your legs, her knee pressing up and into you just enough to make your thighs tighten.

It’s dizzying. Their mouths trading places, Abby kissing down your neck while Ellie finds your lips again. She kisses softer this time. Focused. Like she wants to memorize the shape of you.

Your hands move without thought. One buried in Ellie’s hair, the other splayed on Abby’s thigh behind you. It’s instinct, to hold, to anchor but it only fuels the fire spreading beneath your skin.

“You’re warm,” Abby murmurs into your shoulder, voice low and wrecked. Her teeth graze just beneath your collarbone. “So fucking warm.”

Ellie’s hands are bolder now, dragging up beneath your borrowed shirt, her shirt. Until her thumbs brush the underside of your bra. She waits, watching your face. When you don’t stop her, she slides her palms up, cupping you over the fabric, and you gasp into her mouth.

“You good?” she asks, voice barely audible.

You nod — desperate, breathless. “Yeah. Please—”

That’s all they need.

Ellie tugs your shirt up and over your head, her knuckles brushing your sides, and Abby makes a soft sound when she sees you, equal parts reverent and hungry.

“You’re beautiful,” she says. Quiet, but certain.

Then her mouth is on you, open and slow, kissing over the top of your breast as her fingers work the clasp of your bra. Ellie’s still between your legs, still watching, her hands smoothing up your thighs.

The moment your bra slips off, Ellie leans in, kissing just above your sternum, her breath hot as she moves lower. Abby's mouth moves to the other side, and suddenly you’re surrounded. Lips and hands and heat everywhere at once.

Your head tips back. Your hips rock forward without meaning to.

And they groan. Together.

Ellie hooks her fingers into the waistband of your shorts and glances up. “Can I?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “God, yes.”

They undress you slow, like they’re savoring the process. Like every new inch of skin is a reward.

Ellie leans in to kiss the inside of your thigh, and you twitch, the sensitivity already unbearable. She smiles against your skin.

Abby slides a hand between your legs, cupping you through your underwear. “So wet already,” she says, almost to herself. “Shit.”

You whimper when she rubs slow, teasing circles against you and your hips lift, chasing more.

“Lie back,” Ellie murmurs, her voice soft but commanding. You do. You’d do anything right now.

Abby shifts beside you, kissing your temple while her hand slips beneath your underwear. Ellie lowers herself between your thighs, exhaling hard the second you’re bare to her.

“Fuck,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to the crease of your thigh. “You smell so good.”

Then her tongue is on you, slow and deliberate. One long, flat stroke that has your whole body tensing. Abby kisses you to swallow the moan that escapes your throat.

“Relax,” she whispers.

Ellie eats you like you're the answer to her hunger, her hands gripping your thighs to keep you still. Abby’s fingers find your breast again, rolling your nipple between her fingers while her other hand strokes your hair, her lips never far from yours.

You writhe between them, pleasure building fast and thick in your stomach.

Ellie moans against you, the vibrations sparking through your core and you cry out. Your hips buck, your thighs shake, and Abby holds you tighter.

You’re so close you’re barely breathing.

“Ellie—” you gasp, but your voice is gone.

She looks up, lips shiny, eyes dark. “Come on.”

Then she sucks your clit and you fall apart.

Your whole body locks up, white heat pulsing from your core outward. You cry out something. Maybe a name, maybe both. They keep going, slow and gentle now, drawing it out, letting it crest and fall and bloom again in aftershocks.

You’re floating. Boneless. Sweaty and trembling and fucked-out in the best way.

They kiss you after — Ellie from below, Abby from the side — their lips soft now, reverent.

You taste yourself on both of them.

Eventually, Ellie flops beside you, her hand finding your waist. Abby curls against your back, wrapping her arm over your stomach.

None of you say anything. You just breathe.

And smile.

[lvrclerc]

LET'S (NOT) TALK ABOUT IT

summary: max verstappen never gets too drunk, except the one time he does. and it's your turn, his best-friend, to take care of him! but vodka doesn't mix well with the unsaid and max ends up spilling more than just a drink on his shirt, including the tiny, insignificant little fact that he has been hopelessly in love with you for years.

F1 MASTERLIST | MV33 MASTERLIST

pairing: max verstappen x best friend!reader wordcount: 4.8K content: alcohol, drunk confession, best friends to lovers, angst if you squint, mention of vomiting. note: requested here! lei you sent this AGES ago and i forgot about it..... but here it is! hope you'll enjoy it because it was definitely a very fun bit to write, and you know i always love writing for max ‹𝟹 fun little one before the next bible i'll put out!

KNOWING MAX EMILIAN Verstappen for as long as you had, you were well-acquainted with his irritatingly specific alcohol preference, honed through your blossoming epoch of shared adolescence and reckless partying, when he had the time. You mostly blamed his upbringing: he didn’t like anything too sugary, outright refused crémant while holding an enduring love for champagne, and sporadically drank “casual” alcohol like vodka and tequila but looked down on it when it was pure. Not whiskey, though. Never whiskey.

So, given how ridiculously finicky he was with booze, you genuinely couldn’t figure out how Max had gotten this drunk at a club only serving badly mixed, downright diabetic cocktails.

His arm was slung clumsily around your shoulders, and the full weight of his body leaning into yours made it significantly harder to drag him along the road leading to his apartment. Monaco still breathed the leftover heat of the day; the tiled streets were warm under your bare feet, each step further tattooing the memory of the sun into your skin. Drunk stragglers littered the road, trading laughter for the beating of a heart.

The muffled thump of music spilled from nearby clubs, weaving in with the distant hush of ocean waves. Trees along the French Riviera swayed lazily with the tepid breeze and amid all that balmy, quiet mess, your hand stayed firm against the sweat-slicked fabric of your best friend’s back.

“You’re heavy as fuck, you know that, right?” you huffed, the damp heat of his shirt clinging to your side.

Max mumbled something, low and gravelly, just clear enough to make through his inebriated haze. “You didn’t complain when I carried you out of that party in Miami…”

“You were sober then,” you shot back with amusement. “Now, you’re a glorified sandbag.”

“This sandbag won four championships!” he announced proudly, albeit loudly, stumbling a little as you adjusted your grip to keep him steady— and to avoid the perfidiously placed lamp post in front of him.

You snorted at his antics and at the little stagger in his steps as he walked. No matter how long you’d known each other, or how close you were, it was rare to see Max Verstappen—the Dutch Lion, Mad Max himself—in such a state: vulnerable and unguarded, with his emotions laid bare in the crack of his tone and the gleam in his eyes. “This sandbag,” you said, “is about five seconds away from face-planting into the gutter. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘champion’ to me.”

Max turned his head toward you, and only then did you realize how close he actually was. His nose grazed yours as you looked up at him, his breath, warm and laced faintly of citrus and tequila, ghosted over the indents of your lips. His hair was a tousled, sweaty mess of dirty blonde clinging to his forehead, and his gaze half-lidded, but still intense enough in the way the blue of his irises traveled from your eyes to your lips, sparkling with mischief as his mouth parted in a lazy grin.

Your heart wavered. So did your steps. 

Max was a good-looking man; this was never up for debate. But still, he was your Max.

You whipped your gaze forward again as his laugh split through the night air. “And yet, you’re still carrying me.” His tone was dipped in the same bratty, I-told-you-so lilt he used whenever he beat you at trivia games, almost child-like.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re not in the capacity to actually make it home by yourself.”

He gasped. Gasped, with his hand on his chest and everything, and you really, really had to concentrate not to burst out laughing. “You could’ve left me,” he said with mock offense, “if I were too inconvenient. I am… plenty capable.”

Something scrunched up in your face at the notion. You gave him a look. “Max, you’re drunk, not stupid. You know damn well you’re not an inconvenience to me. If you were—” you hoisted him up straighter on your side, pausing at a crosswalk. The red light bathed the pair of you in a soft, hazy glow. “ —I’d have dropped you when we were 18 after you threw up in my kitchen sink, and made me tell my parents it was me.”

“That was an intense party,” he mumbled defensively. “And I didn’t wanna make a bad first impression on your dad.”

You hummed. “It’s true that blaming me for projectile vomiting into our plumbing system is just so much better.”

“Your mom said the sink could handle anything!” Max dared to actually look offended.

“It’s a sink, Max. She meant, like, vegetable scraps. Not whatever diabolic thing you decided to ingest that day.”

Another laugh escaped him, this time soft as silk sliding over bare skin, and you found yourself punctuating his fit with a chuckle of your own. The memory was grotesque, sure, but it was something entirely yours. One of many.

When the laughter faded, the silence left behind was mellow. Without thinking, as some kind of reflex, you murmured. “You know I’d never leave you.”

And even though you can’t see his face, you know the usual sharpness in it has softened by the way his fingers loosen their grip on your shoulder, or how his body leans a little further into yours as the red light finally flickers to green. You’d mapped him out years ago.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he mutters back, and it almost feels like a secret he’s sharing with you, if there was any left to share. Something that said, Hey, I trust you. I know you. I know you wouldn’t leave me behind. 

And with Max Verstappen, trust has always been the rarest thing of all.

He exhales, letting his head fall on top of yours— well, more like it bonks it. You hiss in pain, but a laugh bubbles out of your lips before you can stop it. 

“God, I love your laugh,” Max whispers, as if to himself. Then, quieter, “I love you.”

Your thoughts all reels to a halt, leaving the words to seep into every crevice of your mind until it reaches your heart. They echo with painful precision: love, love, love, hammering in your chest so hard you could double over with the pain of your ribs breaking, a mantra trying to root itself into the space it left.

I love you.

He stumbles again, like the words cost him balance, and you barely manage to catch him in time. The wind brushes your skin, colder now, hitting you with a reality check: Max was drunk out of his mind. Nothing he could say right now would hold up in a court of law, much less in the court of morning light. Why would it matter?

You try to swallow it down as his apartment finally comes into view. The words you’d longed for years had been said. But they’ve been slurred, not meant. 

Such sweet hypocrisy. 

“...Right,” you mutter. Your finger flexes on the small of his back, trying to grasp something so desperately out of reach. “Let’s get you home.”

If carrying Max from the club to his home was an arduous task, getting him into bed was something of a Herculean effort. 

First, he became physically incapable of taking off his own shoes, preferring to sit inert on the shoe rack, rendered useless by tequila. Obviously, you had to crouch down and untie the shoelaces of the sneakers he refused to let go of. His only contribution was to absentmindedly play with your hair, twirling strands between his fingers with all the grace of a tipsy toddler.

“You have such pretty hair,” he’d mumbled, brushing a piece off your forehead and tucking it behind your ear. The movement was clumsy, somewhat hesitant, but so tender that the heat in your cheeks flared in your entire body, and had nothing to do with the sun that filtered through the open blinds all day. 

“I love it,” he continued, with the confidence of someone discovering poetry for the first time. “They’re so soft. It— it… flies. When you walk.”

You blinked up at him. “That’s the wind, Max.”

“No,” he squinted back at you. “You’re the wind.”

Right. Good luck figuring out what the hell that meant.

Then, no matter how sticky he was, he categorically refused to even look at the bathroom. You reminded him multiple times that he was coated in a ridiculous amount of glitter and sweat, and that he reeked like the obscure depths of a frat party, but it fell on deaf ears.

“If I go,” he said solemnly, placing both hands on your shoulders, “Will you go with me?”

Your eyes had shot wide open. “Max. I am not showering with you. Jesus. How many grams of alcohol are you operating on?”

He sighed and collapsed against your shoulder, completely defeated. “Then I don’t want to. I love being with you. I don’t want to leave.”

Classic Max Verstappen. Relentlessly stubborn, whether drunk or sober, so you dropped the issue. Arguing with him in such a state wasn’t a hill you were willing to die on. 

Every attempt to get Max to cooperate came with a new confession. You opened the door of his bedroom, something you’d done more times than you can count, and he loved that you always knew your way around his place. You dropped him onto the mattress, and he grinned up at you, told you he loved that you didn’t even need to ask what side he slept on. Apparently, post-drinks Max had an unlimited supply of love to give, as well as no filter. He loved your eyes, he loved your laugh, he loved your presence.

Not the kind of love that truly mattered, though, but you weren’t quite ready to pull that thread apart. 

You turned to grab a clean shirt from his closet and, behind you, all sense of gravity seemed to escape Max as he flopped onto his back, limbs starfish-spread. The mattress groaned under him in protest. You had to keep yourself from sighing.

“Max,” you called, holding up the soft white tee, “take off your shirt.”

He pushed himself up onto his elbows with the last of his strength. He tilted his head, a slow smile appeared on his lips, warm and undeniably pleased with what he was about to say.

“You do it.”

It wasn’t crass, nor was it sexual: the smile wasn’t a smirk, and his eyes didn’t dart at the hem of your skirt that rode up higher than necessary due to your efforts. Instead, something almost tender pulled at Max’s tone. All of a sudden, his room felt too intimate for the space taken by the friendship you spent a lifetime not to ruin.

Still, you sat down next to him. He was all obstinate limbs, you thought to yourself. There was no need to argue with him longer than necessary. You wouldn’t win this fight.

The bed recognized you out of muscle memory, sighing under your weight and the covers pooling around you like it memorized your shape from the many times you’d spent your nights next to him. You were close enough so that your knees brushed with the hesitancy of teenagers. In the charged quiet that settled between you, your pulse beat loud enough for two.

You reached out, silent, fumbling slightly with the first button of his shirt. The fabric was warm with the heat emanating from his body, and the soft linen slipped between your trembling fingertips.

Max didn’t move. However, his breath hitched when your nails grazed the skin of his neck, as if you’d burned him. His gaze was locked on your face like you were a shooting star in the middle of his ceiling, reminiscent of the glowing stars on yours when you were a child. His lips parted at your every movement, his intakes of air slowing down to match the motion of your fingers. You were sure he could hear your heart. That he could feel the hesitation shaking in your knuckles every time you brushed over a parcel of skin.

The second button took longer.

Max cocked his head, brows drawn together like he was trying to decipher you. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered. This time, he took his time enunciating it: none of the syllables were slurred, and each of them echoed clear as day in the hollow between your ribs.

You shook your head. “And you’re so drunk.”

His brow furrowed further in sheer incomprehension. You made your way to the last button as he struggled with words, opening and closing his mouth around silent consonants. Frankly, you didn’t want him to speak. You wanted him dressed and gone to sleep, so you could put all this false hope to bed with him.

You slipped the blue button up from his broad shoulders, careful about keeping your eyes away from his bare chest, but a small pressure on your wrist stopped you in your movements.

“You don’t get it,” Max insists. You froze at the intensity of his voice, the unbuttoned shirt slack in your hands. You could feel his frustration mounting—not at you, but at the way the words tangled before leaving his mouth.

“You don’t get it,” he repeated, slower now. “You’re so, so pretty. Like— you’re the wind.”

This time, an audible groan slipped past your lips. “Not this again.”

“Can you just— listen? For once?” he said, waving a hand as if you were the one interrupting. “I’m trying to tell you something very important right now.”

Knowing him, you knew that restless mind of his wouldn’t shut off until the thought clawing at his throat was out in the open and landed somewhere, preferably with you. With a soft sigh, you tossed the bundled-up linen shirt to the side, folding your arms across your chest as you gave him a single, begrudging nod. “Okay. Go on.”

He sat a little straighter, seemingly preparing for verbal battle. His spine wobbled with the effort. “Okay. So. The wind,” he stated, very seriously, and you had a hard time believing this metaphor was about to change your life.

“You are the wind.” Encouraged by your stunned silence, Max continued. “Like, you move through people. And places. You always belong everywhere and… and you make everything feel lighter, easier.” He waved his hand in a vague circle, trying to manifest the image. “You made me lighter, I think.”

It made some level of sense, albeit stumbly. Still, Max wasn’t done.

“I’m— fuck,” he curses, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been carrying this around since I was seventeen, this feeling. It’s stupid. It’s heavy. You’re just— you’re there, all the time, and it’s a lot—”

“Thanks, Max.”

“No! No, not in a bad way. It’s— God. You’re so pretty,” he murmured, and his voice broke on the word. “And you’re kind, and smart, and you make me laugh, and you make me better, and— tonight, you carried me home and helped me take off my shoes and you’re literally changing my fucking shirt and I’m so in love with you it’s making me useless.”

Max leaned forward, forehead gently pressed to your collarbone. His breath was hot against your neck, his hand lax at his sides. He hadn’t noticed you had frozen still, or maybe he did but just didn’t care, too caught up in his own thoughts.

Slowly, almost sheepishly, his arms wound around your waist. His fingers, rough and calloused, found home brushing your sides and resting against your lower back, palm pressing delicately as if he was afraid you’d break. You couldn’t move: the thing you’ve been trying not to want for years was suddenly happening, it felt bittersweet, and you didn’t know how to breathe around it.

Max’s voice came muffled against your collarbone. “Can you stay?” Your heart gave a traitorous lurch. Faced with your silence, he continued, quieter. “Just like this.”

You exhaled a laugh, wet and shaking. The humor was barely present in it. “You’re going to regret this in the morning.”

“No I won’t.” There was the stubbornness you had grown to love, turned childish by the tangy aroma of mixed liqueurs. “Let me have this one.”

His earnest tone did something to your chest. A small stab blooming into a blood-colored rose.

You hesitated a second longer. You let your body move before your mind could catch up: softly, you maneuvered both of your bodies to fit into the middle of the bed. Reaching for the light covers bunched near the end of the bed, you tugged them over both of you with one hand while the other found its place on the slope of his shoulder. Max shifted so his arms swallowed your waist entirely, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and it felt like somewhere you should have been a long time ago.

“Five minutes,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He was already half-asleep when he answered. “Five.”

But neither of you moved again. Not in five minutes, not in ten. Sleep came slowly, and you couldn’t recall which one gave in to the weight of the night first.

Max crossed the threshold of his bedroom door, looking like a man who had narrowly survived war. His hair stuck out at angles defying gravity, his under-eyes bore the haunting hollowness of the dehydrated, and the single second a shard of sunlight brushed his cheekbone, he physically recoiled.

Still, even in his pitiful state, he’d managed to throw on the clean t-shirt you had gotten out for him last night and a pair of sweatpants, presumably after successfully peeling off whatever clothes he’d passed out in. You noted, with quiet amusement, that his shirt was inside-out. Baby steps.

You, on the other hand, had been up for hours.

Waking up in Max’s arms had been… something. The blinds you forgot the shut had lit up the room bright orange too early, and the sudden feel of his arm still slung protectively around your waist had sent you into tachycardia. You’d disentangled yourself as gently as possible, pulled on some of his older clothes from the drawer he kept aside for you, and set about pretending the night before never happened. 

You made coffee and laid out the Ibuprofen, waiting for him to wake up like he was a ticking bomb.

Now, Max collapsed onto the couch with a groan, dropping his full weight into the cushions. You approached him quietly with a mug and a pill in hand, wordlessly handing them over, which he accepted without a hint of grace. He swallowed the tablet with a sip so long and grim you thought he might weep.

“I’m never drinking again,” Max muttered hoarsely. 

You snorted, easing yourself down next to him on the couch. “You sound like a broken record.”

He lifted the cup halfway to his mouth and, behind the rim, smiled.

You stared at the motion longer than you meant to. Your fingers twisted at the hem of his sleeve you were wearing. “Well,” you said, eyes fixed on the swirling steam of your untouched cup, “you’ll probably forget about that promise, like you forgot everything else about last night.” You offered it with a little shrug and a chuckle like it was nothing, while your heart thudded unevenly in your chest.

You were probing for answers, so you peeked at him.

Max was staring at the floor, his fingers tight around the coffee mug. His brows were pinched, like he was either trying to solve a complicated equation—or simply trying to wrestle down the lingering effects of alcohol amidst the fragments of last night. For a moment, you were sure he didn’t remember.

You braced yourself. It was fine. It was better like this, truly.

“Actually, uh,” he spoke up. “I do.”

Everything went quiet.

“I remember all of it.”

The cup between your fingers almost slipped from your grasp.

The words had the same effect on you as an earthquake would have had. It messed with your balance, breath catching with your throat as you catched Max’s eyes. You searched it, desperately, for a joke, or maybe something akin to regret. Yet, he simply looked back at you, with the same resolution he always seemed to carry.

You laughed, a tight, high-pitched sound that didn’t sound like you in the slightest. Carefully, you placed your coffee mug on the table. It clicked too loudly against the wood.

“Okay, don’t worry,” you began, waving a hand toward him to dismiss… whatever that was. “I know you were drunk and—”

“Y/N—”

“—you don’t have to feel bad or embarrassed, really, like, we all say dumb shit when we drink—”

“Y/N.”

“—I mean, God, remember that one time I told Willem Jansen I wanted to go on a date with him even though I only wanted to ask him the time and I panicked—”

Max’s fingers found your wrist, overly delicate, and all the memories of barely a few hours ago flashed before your eyes, snapping your mouth shut. The world stilled around his touch, anchoring you right in that little pocket of feelings you’d been avoiding. His thumb brushed over your pulse.

His eyes were clear of any haze this time around.

“I meant it,” Max said, voice low. “All of it. Drunk, sober, it makes no difference. I think the same thing.”

Your eyes searched his face, terrified of what you might find and even more terrified of what you wouldn’t. Max just held you like he was afraid you might be the one disappearing next.

And in the face of what you’ve been waiting to hear for years, all you could muster was a downright pathetic, “Oh.”

Max hummed, a small noise of acknowledgement. He probably expected more, or maybe he expected even less. You couldn’t know, but “oh” was all that could leave your lips at the moment. The silence that followed stretched long and tight, just a few seconds shy of turning awkward. Your fingers tapped once against the side of your cup. His did the same against the arm of the couch. 

Finally, Max broke the quiet.

“I think I drank more last night because it’s been a while since we went out together,” he recalled. “My schedule and all. And you looked…,” he paused, shaking his head. “Beautiful.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “And I’ve, you know. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while. Years, actually. The feeling had just doubled. I thought if I drank enough, I’d stop thinking about it,” he lets out a sheepish laugh. “And if I stopped thinking, I’d stop wanting to kiss you.”

While your body was as stiff as a rock, your mind was the tornado centered around it. A whiplash of years spun through your head: the late nights, the race weekends, your shoulder against his on hotel couches, the way he always found you first in the crowd, how you’d make fun of all the older drivers scared of a teenager. The times you spent trying not to fall into the delusion that it might not be as unrequited as you made it out to be.

All those emotions, swirling and fighting, slipped out in a fashion unique to you. “You’re a twenty-seven-year-old man,” you blurted, tone more incredulous than scolding. “You’re pushing thirty. Wasn’t there a more mature way to… I don’t know, process that?”

Max barked out a full-bodied laugh, the ones you didn’t see all that often on camera. It was unashamed, not even a tad surprised or bashful, twisting a warm sensation in your stomach just because he looked so at ease.

“Well,” he said, turning his head to face you properly now. His mouth was curving in a way that made him even more stupidly handsome, and soft, just for you. “We met when we were seventeen, and I’ve loved you ever since. So I guess I tend to revert back to that when it comes to you.”

There it was.

Love, love, love. This time, the words thrummed behind your skin, rushing in your bloodstream and mixing with oxygen feeding into the beating of your heart. It got you drunk in a way alcohol never could, and there was the irony of it: it was the clearest confession you had gotten, from the most sober version of him. I love you. The unadulterated truth. It rendered you speechless.

Max mistook it for hesitation. You couldn’t blame him, you’d try to backpedal to save your dignity too if he had pulled the same move on you.

“I’d understand if you don’t feel the same,” he rushed out. “Yesterday must have been a lot for you. It won’t impact our friendship, I just wanted to be upfront with you—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

You launched yourself toward him with a force that made him grunt as you collided, lips meeting with such strength it sent him sprawling back against the couch. His hands instinctively gripped your hips to steady both of you, but the momentum had already taken over. You were practically straddling him now, your hands cupping his jaw, threading into his hair, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

And Max. He kissed you back like a man starved, as if the last ten years had been a long inhale and you were the only thing that could let him breathe out. It wasn’t clean, or practiced. You were both messy and desperate, all tongues and teeth trying to scrape the part of the other that didn’t already reside in you. Max tasted like coffee, and you needed him like an addict.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were flushed and panting, foreheads pressed together because parting seemed inconceivable.

“Don’t even think about implying I don’t feel the same,” you breathed out.

Max grinned, both smug and dizzy. “Jumping on me like that erased every other possibility. Even though my headache got worse.”

You let out a short laugh with the little air you could gather. You smacked his chest. “Being that hungover was not the perfect setting for a first kiss. You’ve only got yourself to blame.”

“Okay, yeah,” he winced playfully, thumbs rubbing circles into your waist. “Maybe not how I planned it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You had ten years.”

“Fine, I didn’t exactly plan it,” Max admitted. He had given up all subtlety, his eyes flicking down to your lips. You couldn’t be more grateful for it. “But it’s fine. We can retry.”

He kissed you again, slower, more carefully. You savored the sensation of his lips gliding against yours as if it would be the last time, and quietly cursed him out when he stopped.

But soon enough, his lips found your flushed cheeks. “And retry,” he murmured.

This time, he pressed a kiss to your neck, just beneath your jaw. “And retry.”

You exhaled a shaky breath. Everything felt so much— his lips lingering on your skin, the way you were practically draped across him, your heart pounding. “Damn Max,” you whispered, the corners of your mouth pulling up as your fingers brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “Take me out on a date first.”

“That’s a yes,” he states.

You huffed out a laugh, unable to help how your cheeks warmed. “It was a yes, just prefaced by human decency. You know, food, a table… clothes, even.”

He groaned in protest. “Max!” you snorted, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You were now fully lying on top of him, his arms wrapped around you. The smell of him grounded you. Warm skin, lingering traces of cologne… it was him, who was yours, now.

You felt his smile pressing against the top of your head. “I’ll take you out, you can name the time and place.”

“Tomorrow,” you said without hesitation. “The restaurant by the beach.”

There was a beat of quiet during which you both cradled the other’s presence like something breakable, as if the wind could break it. You figure you’d outgrow that phase, one day. Just not today.

The wind.

“Though,” you broke the silence. “One of the conditions is that I get some clarification about the wind metaphor.”

Max groaned, and hearing him just like that felt like you had physically wounded him, arms tightening around your shoulders in protest. You laughed, giddy, love stretching across your entire chest and further out, enveloping you both. You pressed a kiss to his neck.

Max could explain it to you later. Maybe over pasta, or wine, or whatever your mind will set upon as you hold his hand next to the menu and salt shakers. There’d be a plethora of other kisses and shared mornings, with no hangovers in sight, with plenty of other metaphors that made more sense waiting to be invented or unraveled.

Maybe he’d explain it to you tomorrow, or even the day after. You had a lifetime to figure it out, now. You were patient to wait for ten years, you could be a patient a little while longer.

©LVRCLERC 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[aernx]

IT'S A WRAP ! ⌗ 이희승 ( oneshot ver. )

synopsis ⟢ wrapping is easy when it comes to dumplings. but when it comes to your feelings…not so much. after getting separated from your childhood nemesis, lee heeseung, you think your life will go smooth like butter (js like what BTS sang). but fate has other plans when he was forced to help around in your family’s dumpling restaurant.

◌ wordcount﹒ 13.1k

◌ pairing﹒ lee heeseung x fmr

◌ genre﹒ childhood enemies to lovers, hs au, takes place in their summer break, reader is taehyun’s (txt) older sister, tbh no srs hating js silly rivalry, crack , heeyn parents r silly

◌ featuring﹒ txt, chaewon lsrfm, enhypen, brief mentions of seventeen (ily joshua n hoshi)

◌ warnings﹒ profanities, harsh language, jealousy, heeyn hating eo, kissing, fluff, heeyn silly stuffs, denial, i think that's it, oh probably bad and inconsistent grammar at times, miscommunication (that shiii)

aerinotes ⟢ u guys don't know how much i giggled at the screen when i write this 😁 THIS FIC MEANS SOOO MUCH TO MEE I HOPE U GUYS GIVE IT SOME LOVE 💗💗💗 also MY FIRST EVER LONG FIC??? aerin long fic debut!!! so im sorry if there r lots of mistakes n it's kinda messyy n if the pacing is badd !! i'll improve next time guys TRUST‼️‼️

this was previously a smau but now the smau is discontinued. i can finally say goodbye peacefully to my heeyn 🙁 i’ll miss them <3 hope you guys enjoyed this! be sure to leave a like, comment n reblog to let me know watchu think abt it !! ENJOYYYY

"MOM YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT!?" It’s only been a week since you returned from your exchange student program in Japan yet your mom was quick to throw you a bucket of ice water on a hot summer evening.

“Which part of it is not clear, dear? Heeseung is going to start working in our dumpling shop this in this last month of summer and I want you to be his mentor tomorrow.” Excuse me what? Mentor?? “You know, teach him how to use the register, how to serve the customers, and later how to wrap the dumplings.”

No way there was no chance in hell that you were going to do this. Become Heeseung’s mentor? Hell no! You would rather give Taehyun your first born privileges.

Okay, maybe reasoning with her would opt her to change her decision. “Yes, I heard you for the first time but I can’t really place the reason why you want me to do this, mom. You know that we don’t…get along that well.”

Don’t get along that well? You scoffed internally at your choice of words, it was clearly an understatement, your mother knew that too.

You and Heeseung never got along. At all. Your mother and his mother were the best of friends so ultimately that means that he was there for good and you could not escape him. At first, mini-you was glad at the thought of having a childhood friend. Maybe you two could replicate the friendship of your mothers.

Yet at the age of five, where the two of you met for the first time and he stole your toy and decided to hide it from you, you knew from that moment that you would never get along. That first impression only triggered the competitiveness in you and it became a never ending game of chase. Of course, your mothers showed disappointment with the fact that their children did not enjoy each other’s presence, hoping that as they grow up, you and him would learn to overcome this little feud of yours.

Oh how they were wrong. Along the years that follow, your hatred towards each other only grew. Even though you both hated each other, he was still a big part of your childhood. And him being your neighbour didn't even help. You were so fucking bored of that face of his.

Eventually everyone got used to this relationship you shared with the boy and both parents didn’t try to do anything about it anymore. After all there was no point.

Although your feelings towards Heeseung were more on the negative side, you adored his parents, and your parents adored him too. Your families were close but you two weren’t. When you were younger, you would make it your life mission to get Heeseung to cry and he made it his to make you irritated. But as you both grew into adolescence your behaviour began shifting.

Now, instead of sitting by your side to provoke you, he would sit the farthest from you at the dinner table and you would do your best to ignore him at every family event. This never changed, even when you got into highschool. Both of you would try your hardest to let the other’s presence turn to ghosts, yet the tension around you remains haunting.

“Come on Yn, I know you don’t have the best relationship with Heeseung, as you guys are always fighting like cats and dogs,” Your mother muttered the last part quietly. “But I trust you with him, dear. Even though you both hate each other, you’re the one that knows him best there and I feel like he’ll focus more under your gaze instead of anyone else.”

Gosh why was your mother so persistent? “Mom, have you met us?” You can hear your mother’s snicker. “Then you should know that he won’t listen to me! There’s a reason why we don’t get along, mom. He’s gonna cause so much ruckus if I become his mentor. I find no problem with asking Taehyun to guide him instead.”

Your mother knew that you didn’t want to go forward with this. But it was really a last resort of sorts. And a little part of her wished that maybe this occasion would end your feud with him because she and Mrs. Lee always wanted their kids to get along well, just like them.

“Initially, I thought about that too. But Taehyun already has a lot of plans for tomorrow and you just went home like a week ago so you have lots of free time before your senior year starts.” She pointed out.

“Who knows maybe Heeseung changed these past six months without you. Maybe he even misses fighting with you everyday.” Chuckling, your mother gave you a knowing look as your face scrunched at the thought of that.

Hah! He? Missed you? There was no way. Heeseung was probably glad you were gone for six months. In fact he probably wished you were gone forever.

“Come on, my Yn. We’ll go shopping together with Aunty Lee and I’ll get you those concert tickets for that group you like so much. I’ll buy 4 for Chaewon, Yeonjun, and Soobin too. So you guys can watch it together.”

Your eyes lit up as her offer ringed your eardrums. One day of mentoring Heeseung for shopping sprees with your mom and Aunty Lee PLUS concert tickets for you and your friends?? Sounds like a fair deal.

“Ah…you know me so well, mother. You know I will never decline those.”

“You know it, darling.”

*

“You want me to-what?!” Disbelief, Heeseung stood from the couch and turned towards his mother who was currently sitting cross legged on her armchair.

“What did you expect?! I told you to stop sneaking around all the time and this is final! You are working in MANDU4U, Yn’s family dumpling shop tomorrow.”

Spending his summer break working? Are you fucking kidding?

“Bu-”

Mrs. Lee stood up from her chair, levelling her gaze with her son. “No buts! I already talked to your Aunty Kang and all you have to do is show your ass over there and work.” From the tone of her voice, Heeseung knew that he messed up. It was bad, like REAL bad. Maybe he should’ve listened to his friend's advice to NOT sneak out.

Mrs. Lee shrugged before continuing. “Think of this as a new experience. You’ll be learning new things and you’ll be earning money. I see nothing wrong with this. You don’t have any right to complain, young man.”

As much as Heeseung dreaded it, he knew no point in resisting. He was at fault and if it was in other circumstances he would stand his ground but he knew better. Oh well, at least she didn’t forbid him to hang with his boys.

And besides it’s not as if he’s going to meet her. He’s aware of the fact that she went back from that program a week ago. Of course he was, his family insisted that they also accompanied picking up Yn from the airport.

Did he come along? Yes. Did he have the option not to? Also yes. Did he know why he came along? Not really. Maybe he missed her and their fights just a little bit. Or maybe not. That question remained ominous as he himself didn’t even know the correct answer.

But was he glad with the fact that she was gone for the past six months? Of course he was! Well it was a bit more quiet than usual but hey! Quiet is good right? Yeah of course. Now that she’s back does he still hate her guts? For sure, yeah definitely.

“Also Yn will be your mentor and I want you to be on your BEST behaviour and do whatever she says.” Mrs.Lee abruptly added before striding out of the room trying her best to contain her smile.

“Mom WHAT?!”

*

You idly stood on the gazebo of your family’s shop, glancing back and forth towards your watch as the digital digits morphs into what seemed to be eight past twenty. Heeseung was supposed to be here at eight sharp but here you were, still waiting for his stupid ass to come.

It was only five minutes after that, the sight of Lee Heeseung appeared in your line of view. Fucking finally. “Heeseung, you’re late.” You aligned your body opposing his, blocking the entry of the door with your figure as he tried to brush himself through.

“Tch, it’s whatever. Let’s just get started.” His hand longed for the handles but you were quick to stop him. “Drop that attitude, Heeseung. I don’t want this as much as you do so you better not make this any harder on me.” Your grip on his hand opted him to fix his gaze with yours.

You tighten your grip on his wrist. Not caring whether it hurted him or not–which it probably didn’t. “Use that tone on me one more time and you’ll be scrubbing the bathroom floors instead of working behind the cash register.”

Heeseung clenched his fists in between your grasp on his wrist, a low attempt of wanting to break free. “You’re not my mother, you can’t tell me what to do.” He gritted as an annoyed expression washed over his features.

“You’re right, Seungie. I’m not. I’m your employer. And you-” Your point finger shoved his chest “-have to do exactly what I say."

*

Lee Heeseung hated it–hated this. That helpless feeling of not being in control. Especially when his arch enemy is the one stringing him like a puppet.

Kang Yn loved it–loved this. How couldn’t you when your arch nemesis had to grovel in submission for the sake of punishment from his mother. It’s fun really. It's like having a maid–you mean– personal assistant of your own.

“No Heeseung, that's not the right way!”

“Be more thorough when checking someone’s order!”

“Gosh this is tiring. Heeseung, get me a coffee.”

*

Ignoring some mistakes made, the first day of work went surprisingly fine. You taught him various things. Starting from how to work the register and basic manners to serve customers and he was actually going along with what you instructed. Gee, maybe your mom was right all along–you could be really intimidating sometimes.

“This is it for today.” You said, handing him a pen to sign his attendance. “Okay, Thanks.” He calmly received it before signing under his name. Along the string hours of work between you and Heeseung, the atmosphere remained tense. But much to your surprise (and a certain part-timer named Sunoo who went to your school) the both of you endured the entire shift without biting each other’s head off.

Sure there were some occasional fights here and there but the graph always dies down after, returning to its normal wavelength as the days progress. And you were quite happy with the outcome.

One; you did not let the intrusive thoughts win and slice his throat when he was on his break and two; you did not embarrass yourself in front of the customers by screaming frantically at him (although you did do it in private) You could say that this day was a success and you were proud of yourself. Ah you were finally free from him.

Or so you thought.

*

“So you’re telling me your mom told you that you’ll be mentoring Heeseung for the rest of the summer break?” Soobin questioned, making you groan against your pillows. You raised your head towards the window still, the sight of the moon greeted you in an instance, gracing your room with its incandescent glow.

"She made sure to leave that part the first time she mentioned, alright." You grumbled under your breath.

Chaewon patted your head as she noticed your current distress while Yeonjun and Soobin looked at you with sympathy laced upon their irises. It was currently near twilight in the nearing end of summer. From a distance, you can hear a few neighbours that stood up late making BBQ in their backyards, while some of the houses remained still and quiet.

The light on your window was like a singular lamp amidst a dark room to your unlit neighbourhood. It was summer break so your parents didn’t mind you staying up late. They even let your friends stay over with the exception of Soobin and Yeonjun sleeping on a spare mattress on the floor.

“Yn, I knew it was too suspicious that your mom was offering you THAT much just for one day of mentoring!” Yeonjun pointed out from his mattress below before joining everyone on your bed.

“At least you’re getting money out of this, am I right?” Chaewon said after smacking the poor boy with her elbows, triggering a laugh from Soobin as he saw Yeonjun’s current state.

“-Ouch! Gosh Chae that hurt!” He threw her a nasty glare and Chaewon stuck her tongue out in response. “Plus the fact that Mama Kang AND Mama Lee promised to take you shopping makes it too good to be true to just make that a one time thing.” Yeonjun shrugged before dodging another hit from Chaewon.

“Ugh I hate it when you’re smart sometimes, Junnie.”

“Don’t forget the fact that your mom promised to buy us all concert tickets!” Soobin reminded. “Work your ass off Ms.Kang. We would be thanking you for your services!” He stood from the bed, bowing 90 degrees to you causing the room to erupt in laughter.

“You all better be thanking me for this! I don’t know how I'm going to handle him for the rest of the summer! He’s literally my neighbour! I see him everyday. I can even see him across my window!” Once more, you buried your head on the pillows, gaze unconsciously averting to the blinds covering the glass panels.

“But you hadn’t seen him nor contacted him for six months right? Surely he changed.” Chaewon pondered earning a scoff from you. “Girl let me tell you, he did not.” You answered, emphasising the “not”.

Yeonjun laughed at your misery, opting you to throw a pillow at his face. The room had gone through its nth time of laughing fit before you all started to calm down.

As the room went down from its climax, Soobin’s question seemed to pique everyone's interest. “By the way if it’s okay to ask, how did you and heeseung hate each other like this? I mean the two of you never got along. Everyone knows that but like you both definitely seem more intense now like ever since you got offered to join the exchange student program.”

You sighed before answering. “Well it’s a long story but-”

*

“-I was supposed to get the offer to join the exchange student program.” Just a few meters from where you and your friend gathered, Heeseung and his friends were doing the exact same thing you were doing.

They all gathered on his mattress, sharing stories as the moon reaches its peak of serenity. “Ohh i get it, so from your point of view, it seemed as if she “stole” your future.” Jay nodded at his friend as the room was filled with collected hums and a few shocked faces.

“No lie I would’ve hated them too if someone did that to me.” Jake added, agreeing to his friend’s current situation."

Heeseung only shrugged and buried himself in the comfort of his pillows. “So what are you gonna do now, hyung?” The youngest of them questioned. “I don’t know. I mean there’s no point in defying my mom when she’s persistent. So I guess I’ll just go with it.”

“Do you still hate Yn because of it now? I mean it’s been six months.” Jungwon tilted his head, curious. “I…I don’t know. We’ve never gotten along since we were five so I don’t think our relationship changed a lot.” Heeseung raised himself from his pillows, now sitting upright.

“But it's not entirely her fault, is it? If you had been a better option for the program you would still be chosen regardless.” Jay knocked some sense into his friend.

“I guess I just blamed her for being better.” A strain smile settled on his lips.

“But to be honest I don’t really care about it anymore, you know? If i really did get that exchange student program, I would've missed so many moments with you guys, including how Niki literally got a girlfriend?? Earlier than me??” Their hearts warmed to Heeseung’s statement before laughing at his last.

The night on both sides of the window ended after crescent smiles and glee surrounding the atmosphere as the sun began to rise causing them to go to a much needed slumber.

*

“Hey, Noona. Looks like you're in a good mood.” You entered the shop with a smile as you greeted the smiling Sunoo. “Yes because you're the first person I see here, and not that brat.” You whispered the last part.

“Quite the charmer you are, Yn.” A familiar voice rang your eardrums. Speak of the devil. “Right, I was praying you would forget this whole thing and just go sulk in your room all summer.” You grumbled, not bothering to avert your gaze to align with your nemesis behind you.

You feel his presence drawing closer and closer before halting just a few inches from your back. Sunoo is long gone now, opting to prepare some stuff in the storage room.

“And make you look good, whereas I look like the rebel child? Keep dreaming, Kang.” He whispered, voice dripping with mirth.

You scoffed rolled your eyes in response, moving forward towards the register, leaving Heeseung to fend for himself at that moment.

This is going to be a long day.

*

One week has passed and you are now used to seeing Heeseung lurk around the area. Now that he’s already familiar with the register and serving people you have to go to the next step: teach him how to make dumplings.

At first, you were against the idea. But your mom insisted that Mrs.Lee wanted Heeseung to be more adapt than any other employee. Hence why he needed to master more than one skill to manage. So, you gave in.

Heeseung was ready to start his new routine. Coming to the shop everyday (excluding Sundays and Saturdays) at 8am and start preparing the register and other things before opening at 9am. He’ll be honest, the first few days, he was dreading it. But eventually, being surrounded with the busy yet calming atmosphere of the shop feels so comfortable? Or maybe because he was spending his summer productively.

But yesterday, Yn had messaged him to arrive at the shop an hour earlier than usual. Seven am?! That’s basically dawn in Summer! Heeseung dragged his feet towards the welcoming door, the sun greeted him with a morning glow as he slowly entered his demise.

“Morning, sunshine. Are you awake?” Sitting in one of the chairs, you chuckled, amused at his hunched silhouette.

“You’re crazy for forcing me to work this early on. This is basically child labor!” He sat opposing you, hands folded above the table as he buried his head in between his arms.

“Well your mother consented to this. Get up.” Your request was left hanging as Heeseung replied an audible “no”, prompting you to leave the boy behind.

Droplets of water trickled to the back of his neck, stirring him awake before he-hold on why was he wet? His fingers touched the source of coldness, his head jolted up meeting your gaze. ”You’re fucking crazy!”

“Thanks, baby. Awake now?” The smirk on your lips is evident and Heeseung swore that he was going to rip your face off.

*

“What are we doing?” Instead of answering, you hand a slightly-damp Heeseung an apron and ushered him to wash his hands before starting. “Just go wash your hands first.” He rolled his eyes before complying to your demands.

After finishing with such tasks he returned to his position beforehand. “All clean now.” He dangled his palms to align with your vision. Now that the two of you are clean it's time to start this mission. Wrapping dumplings.

Heeseung eyes lingered on the swift movement of your fingers. Quick hands easily wrap the ball of meat between a thin layer of dough. He shifted his attention elsewhere for a second and when he returned, you were already done with the process. The perfectly wrapped mandu sat in the heart of your palms, sitting proudly before him.

“That doesn’t look hard, let me do it.” The boy shrugged, earning an amused scoff from you. He took the initiative to try it for himself, but before he could reach the layers of thin dough, he felt a slight sting lingering on his arm. “Gosh! What was that for?!”

“Do you ever pay attention? Lace your hands with some flour before taking the dough so it’s not sticky, bambi.”

Bambi? Did you just refer to him as a Disney cartoon animal?! Well sucks to be you at least he was a Disney character. Not some meaningless being.

“Crazy bitch.”

“What did you say?!”

“I said I got the hitch!” Was hitch even a word? Probably. Or not. Heeseung grudgingly dipped his fingers into the bowl of flour before spreading a light amount in his palms. He then took a thin layer of dough and a little ball of minced meat mixed with onions and other dumpling stuffings(?). He placed the ball in the center of the surface before…before…uhm what was the next step again?

His hands froze mid air for a second. Should he ask for help? Oh and get roasted for not paying attention again? No thanks, his ego was too big for that. Right he’ll figure this out. This is Lee Heeseung we’re talking about. Lee Heeseung vs dumpling, let’s see who’ll win this game.

The tall boy recalled your hand movements, trying hard to remember the steps you did. Right it was uhm….take the left corner, then the right, unite them to the center? Yeah that right. Next is…squish the edges! He’s too smart and talented for this. Heeseung 1, dumpling 0.

The satisfied smile he wore was so apparent. The tips of his finger lightly pressed onto the dough in an attempt to link them together. Except it was not sticking. He kept on applying pressure, more and more as the seconds tick. Once he thought that it would hold, he settled the…ill-shaped dumpling on the table. With his hands on his hips, he turned to face your observing stance. Not bad for his first try. Or so he thought.

Five seconds of victory was cut short when the dumpling slowly–but surely–unwrapped itself from the shape Heeseung molded it to. Heeseung 0, dumpling 1.

The guise of his face showed it all–his mouth hung open, eyes deadpanning the dumpling like it was his sworn enemy–it was so hard not to erupt in laughter. You covered your mouth to contain your glee. This was too funny.

Your oddly timed coughing shifted Heeseung’s gaze to yours. At first the look in his eyes reeks of annoyance but the sound of your echoing laugh was enough to leave a ghost of a smile on his face. You didn’t get angry, that was a first.

Heeseung was shocked to see how calm you were after witnessing his failure. (except for the laughing part) “I would be a hypocrite if I got angry at you.” You started. “The first time mom taught me how to wrap these, I would always rip the dough.”

“Oh.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat. “Let me repeat the steps again, slowly this time.”

The clueless boy watched your movements distinctly. He noticed how eased you were as you did the task at hand, focused yet you were doing it so effortlessly. He also noticed how you poke your tongue slightly when your fingers pinched the perfectly folded dumplings’ little details, and the little specks of flour that landed on the tip of your nose. There was something about you today that he couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung looked at your current expression, and suddenly you both were five again. You were sitting in his living room with a crayon tucked in between your fingers, your tongue slightly stuck out as you avert your attention to your drawing as your mothers chatter dissipates in the back.

Twelve years have passed yet you still look the same to him. The first girl that entered his life other than his mother, the first girl he fought with, and the first girl he ever loved. Not that he was ever going to admit that. But perhaps just for today, he would forget your fuse with him and pretend that everything is okay

“That’s how you make a perfect dumpling.” The curve of your lips was so warm and inviting and he felt a suspiciously warm feeling slowly settling on his chest. Well that was new. Maybe because it was too early in the morning that’s why Heeseung felt so out of it today. “Ehem, okay. I should be able to do it now.”

*

“Mom, I’m back!” You enter the living room, goals set to lay comfortably down at the soft cushions of your couch. “In the kitchen, sweetie! Come Yn, Aunty Lee is here.”

The smell of homemade cooking dragged you to your mother. “Hi mom, hi Auntie Lee.” Eyes crinkled as you smiled widely at the two most important figures in your life.

“Hey, honey. Hope Hee hasn't given you a hard time.” Mrs. Lee softly smiled. “Do you really need to ask that to know, Auntie?” Your joke (not) prompts the two middle aged women to laugh. “Jokes aside, I guess he's tolerable when he shuts up.”

“Yn!”

“Kidding, mom!” Not really.

“Anyways, we owe you a shopping spree. Let's go this weekend. Your shift ends at noon right, darling? What do you say?” Your eyes lit up at the offer.

Who were you to refuse?

*

Smell of dumplings and busy chatters crowded the shop, sunlight beaming through glass tinted windows as customers took over the vacant seats available. “Here’s your freshly steamed mandu, Auntie Park.” Mrs. Park was a regular, don’t get me wrong, she was lovely, but she could be a little…nosy.

“You’ve gotten much more beautiful since coming home from Japan.” She smiled knowingly. “Tell me, have you found any Japanese boyfriend, dear?”

Your eyes widened–not expecting her direct question. “ I can assure you, auntie. No boyfriends here.” The curve of your mouth formed upwards. “Is that so?” She squinted her eyes in suspicion, eyes darting to follow Heeseung’s moving figure a few feet away. “I see that Ha-eun’s boy is here helping. Is that one your boyfriend?”

Heeseung? You boyfriend? You grimaced at the thought. You would rather eat a raw dumpling.

“Oh auntie, literally anyone but him. Besides, I’m too busy studying and helping with the shop while dad is busy planning on opening other branches.” You chuckled, denying her assumption.

“What a perfect daughter you are! I bet Ha-yoon and Ji-woo are proud to have you as their daughter.” You were about to leave before hearing her continue. “You know, I have a son your age. You should know him, he goes to Decelis too. Park Jeongsong, are you familiar? Maybe I should set you guys up.”

She lifted her point finger to her chin. “I think you guys are compatible, he's mature….”

Park Jeongsong. Of course you were familiar. He’s one of Heeseung’s close friends and the only one that you tolerate. To be honest you were quite tempted at her offer. Jay’s got it all. Perfect looks, ridiculously sharp jawline, and most importantly manners (one that Heeseung lacked for sure). You scoffed mentally at the thought. But unfortunately, you were not looking for anyone to date for the time being.

“I’m sure he’s great, auntie. I’m just focusing on myself right now.” You politely turned her down. “Enjoy your dumplings, please tell me if you need any assistance.”

“Yes, thank you dear. I hope I wasn’t being too nosy. I’m still working on that.”

“Don’t worry about it, auntie.”

*

Mrs. Lee and your mother promised to pick you up right after your shift ends. It’s been two weeks since Heeseung’s arrival and you notice that he’s becoming accustomed to the work before him. Given so, this was your first time leaving him alone in the shop. Even though there were other workers, you still hadn’t completely trusted the boy.

“Double check the orders, got it.”

“-And shut the blinds when closing.” He repeated after you.

“Honestly, why are you so anxious? I’m not going to bomb this place when you leave, Yn.” Heeseung crossed his arms. “Don’t trust me enough, flower?” His glint is mischievous, teasing apparent in his tone.

“First of all, don’t call me that.” You shudder at the nickname. “Second of all, no I don’t trust you. What if this place turns to ashes when I return.”

“Okay, flower.” He was playing with you, you knew that. “I’m not even in charge of the kitchens, I promise I won’t blow this place down.”

“Hmm, okay.” Your pupils shifted left and right–as if you were looking for someone. “Sunoo, watch over him for me when I’m gone.” You untie your apron from the nape of your neck before nearing the exit earning a nod from the young boy.

*

The shopping spree was fruitful, they really went all out on this one. Insisting on buying you dresses, cute tops, pants, shoes, as well as a few accessories. You were grateful–of course–but you would be lying if you said it wasn’t tiring. Though as tiring as it can be, you were having fun.

You entered your house with shopping bags occupying your upper limbs, the weight heavy on your arms. Your mother had a few of her own too and you wonder how she was carrying them with grace. You both dropped the bags on the floor before entering the empty living room. “Huh, I guess Tae and your father have gone to sleep.”

To be honest, any sane person would. It was almost twilight. The three of you found a night market on your way back, compelled by the mannequins and price tags, the two women dragged you out of the car to have a look around.

“So, Yn, now that we’re alone.” Your mother settled on the couch. “Tell me-”

*

“-how’s everything going on in the shop?” Lee Hae-in met her son still sitting in the lounge room upon her return, his eyes glued to the show on tv. But now, the dark screen reflected two figures sitting on the cushions, a mother with the son she grounded.

“It’s not that bad, I guess.” Heeseung started. “At first it was-”

*

“-dreadful. I hated mentoring him. He did everything wrong and would make annoying expressions everytime I corrected him. I felt like I wanted to pull his hair out!” Your hands went up to your head in frustration triggering a laugh from your mom.

“Is that so? Now that we’re basically halfway there,-

*

“-How do you think about her now? About all this, I mean.” The Lee woman questioned, ears perked as she listened contently to her son before her. “Uhm, I guess we’re getting along more? I mean we don’t fight that often anymore. A few insults are thrown now and then but that’s just how we always are at each other.”

“That’s good to hear.” A satisfied smile graced the older Lee. “How about the shop? Are you doing your tasks well, dear?”

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

The two older women were happy at their children’s answers. Just two more weeks or so and maybe just maybe this will mark the end of awkward dinners and uneasy tension.

“Heeseung, honey, I know you were upset with Yn after she won the exchange program instead of you. However, you’re almost an adult now. I think this is bothering her as well, why don’t you two take some time to talk about it?”

Heeseung pondered before answering his mother. Even though the tension has resided between you two for the time being, it was mostly due to professionalism to maintain poise in front of other employees and customers. If he wanted this to remain forever (or at least longer than the summer break) he would have to clear the air.

“I’ll think about it, mom.”

*

“Heeseug, I told you to be gentle with that!”

“Yn, I’m doing it exactly like what you told me!”

Shuffling noise and exclamation marks were the first thing Taehyun heard as he entered the shop at the break of dawn. “Gosh it's six am, they better not be fucking.” He grumbled under his breath before going into the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing?” Body leaned at the doorway, Kang Taehyun watched his hyung and noona–who claimed they hated each other–wrapping dumplings (more like wrapping each other) in a very close proximity.

Ha! Two weeks in, and they’re already getting closer. He was right. Now mom and Auntie Lee owe him so much cash for this.

You were quick to add some space in between you. The blood rushed to your face resulting to a pinkish hue. “We’re just preparing the mandus for today.”

“Riight. I’ll be at the register if you need me. Which you probably won’t.” He turned his back from the seniors behind him, the smirk on his face widened as he imagined how much money he’ll receive upon winning the bet with his mom and Heeseung’s.

flashback (few weeks ago)

Rays of sunlight occupied each corner of the living room as the songbird sang its morning praises. It was a perfect day to relax. Lee Hae-in and Kang Ha-yoon sat amidst thick cushions as they waited for their steamed milk buns to cook.

“You know, that was cheeky of you when you suggested this summer activity for Heeseung.” Ha-yoon started earning a light giggle from her dearest friend. “I have the biggest opportunity laid bare in front of me! I couldn't resist even if I could help it.”

“How long will it take for them to warm up to each other?”

“Two weeks.”

A familiar voice urged them to snap their heads in its direction, only to find the youngest Kang standing with his hand crossed over his chest.

“How are you so sure, Taehyunnie?” His mother questioned. The Lee woman also looked reluctant. “They've been hating each other for years, Tae. I don't think they will get along in two weeks.”

“Are you willing to bet on it, Auntie Lee, Mom?” His challenging tone was inviting. Who were they to deny a bet? Without a second doubt, the two women nodded their heads and smirked. “You're so on.”

*

With a final click!, the shop was officially closed for the day. Heeseung handed the key to you before taking something from his bag. “Yn, hold on.” His hand is placed on your shoulder, urging you to turn towards his direction.

“Hm? What’s wrong? You tilted your head, confusion written all over your face. The boy released the light grip he had on you before lifting up his free hand and unfolding his wrapped fingers.

A gasp escaped your lips at the item he held before you. There it was, a small lego figurine sitting on the center of his palm. And it was not just any figurine, but it was your favorite back when you were five. Your eyes wander into his own, the small smile adorning his face along with the swirl of emotion pooling in his vision.

You remember the day you lost it. How the world seemed to crumple beneath your feet as you lost–no–Heeseung stole the main character of your ultimate favourite lego friends set.

“Missed her?” He nudged the figurine towards you, a sign for you to take it and you did just so. “So you did steal her, huh. You denied it so much back then, I still remember.” You bite your lip in effort to suppress the curve that was slowly creeping in, but seemingly failed as you examined the small toy in your hands.

The plastic was old and details were worn out due to aging but aside from that, all the parts remained intact and well kept. Heeseung did not break it nor ruined it like you thought he would. Instead he took great care of it. Why?

“I recall, it was the first time we met. We were at my housewarming party and I really wanted you to play with me and Tae, but you didn’t.” The raven haired boy reminisced, the smile still etched on his face. “You kept playing with this lego set without any bother in the world. I really wanted to play with you but all you do is ignore me.”

“So you stole the figurine to get my attention?” You raised your left eyebrow, an attempt to guess where he was going. A small chuckle rang through your ears. “Well, it worked I guess but not in the way that I hoped. After that I just–I don’t know–kept annoying you because that’s the only way you’ll ever pay attention.”

His words settled heavily on your heart. All this time, your feud growing up was just a matter of attention. Guilt crawled from the depths, slowly leaking through your eyes. Heeseung was quick to notice. “Yn, that was so long ago, no need to be guilty.” His hands went back to your shoulders. Somehow, the warmth radiating from him felt nice–comforting.

“We could’ve been those childhood friends.” You whispered, rewriting memories inside your head. Echoing a “what if” scenario if you got along from the beginning.

“We could be now, if you want.” Dozens of stars are reflected in the dark pupils of Heeseung’s doe eyes and you can’t bring yourself to look away, not even if you tried. Your gaze shifted to his lingering hand on your scapula before urging closer in his embrace. Arms wrapped itself around his body, your movement slow and careful, giving him space to walk away. But he didn’t. He enveloped you further into himself. Your face is pressed against his chest, eyes closed. No words are spoken but the gesture speaks volumes.

“I’m sorry, Yn.” Heeseung broke the silence between you. “For everything I did to you since we were five.” He whispered, fingers trailing the strands of your hair. “And more importantly, for taking out my anger on you when you got accepted to the exchange program instead of me.”

“I’m sorry too.” You replied, head turning up to meet his waiting gaze. “I joined the program to spite you. Didn’t think I would get it, but I somehow did and made everything worse.” You unwrap each other from the embrace, solemn looks embroidered on your faces. A gulf of harsh wind swept through you, your body shivered slightly at the impact, instantly missing the warmth from the previous action.

“You deserve it, Yn. I was jealous, I could admit that now. If I had been the better choice, I would still be chosen regardless.”

“Oh, Heeseung.” Your frown is evident, denting your features and the boy before you feels the urge to wipe it off so badly as if it had no right to tarnish your perfect face.

“It's all in the past now, flower. We're good now, right?” Heeseung smiled and after, you feel a hand slip itself into your own, relinquishing the comfort from the hug. You looked at your entwined hands before offering a small nod.

“It’s getting late. Let's walk home together, yeah?”

*

A week has gone by in a blur of routine. Summer break is ending and no amount of complaints is going to stop the time from running. Heeseung now stands right in front of your door, heart palpitating and hands sweaty. It's been 5 minutes now and he's still contemplating whether he should knock on your door or just leave at this point.

After that night, your relationship with him began to shift. As you arrive at your designated homes, you two meet again across the windows of your rooms. Exchanging waves and passing short notes through the glass barrier before bidding good night. It was like straight out of a Taylor Swift music video.

Heeseung caught a smile corrupting his features before closing his mouth in shock. Did he just smile at the memory of you?? What. The. Fuck. He shook his head abruptly from side to side, almost as if he had a goal to remove something from his mind.

Just as he was doing so, the door suddenly swung open. “Heeseung?” A voice called out, confusion lacing her tone. “Auntie Kang, Hi!” The boy offered a flashy smile, almost blinding the middle aged woman. “What are you doing here, Hee?” The woman smiled at the sight of him and raised her eyebrow in amusement at his…enthusiasm?

Heeseung was happy in the early morning. This was a first.

“Are you okay? Why do you seem so happy? Too happy maybe.” Her eyes squinted in suspicion. “Whaaat? Nothing, Auntie! Just excited because dad said I could use his motorcycle today.”

Your mother hummed in understanding. Muttering how kids these days are so funny before asking the bambi-eyed boy, “What are you doing here thou-”

“Hee, you're here!” An excited voice called out, prompting the two figures on the doorway to look your way.

So this is what it's about. Mrs.Kang bit her bottom lip to contain the smile from seeping through. Noting the interaction in her mind to tell Heeseung’s mother for their planned brunch in a few hours.

Your mother wasn't oblivious, something clearly changed between you too. Gone were the two kids that used to chase each other in the courtyard, sabotaging each other’s items for revenge. You’re all grown up now and Kang Hayoon almost felt a tear drop from her left eye.

Call her dramatic but hey, Heeseung is as much like her child as you are. Just like you are a daughter to the Lees. And these two children used to be muttering curse words why chasing each other.

Kang Hayoon felt a wave of surging proudness. While your father is busy taking care of building another branch for the restaurant, you offered to manage the current one for the summer so your mom could rest. Even with your position as Heeseung’s mentor, you still insist doing so with the excuse that Heeseung is already well adapted with everything now.

You reached the door, giving your mom a quick kiss on the cheek and a goodbye before leaving with the boy. “Bye mom, it’s almost eight. We’re going to the restaurant now!” You greeted her from the motorcycle seat. “Bye, Auntie! We’ll be careful, don't worry!” He smiled once more and with a final wave, the two sped away from the driveway leaving the smiling woman on her porch.

“Hae-in needs to hear about this.” Your mother giggled before calling Heeseung’s mom on dial and closing the door as she decided that she could not wait for brunch to tell her.

*

To say Sunoo was shocked was an understatement. He stood behind the register, preparing the cash for change as he was met with his boss (you) and the intern (heeseung) got out of a motorbike together. His eyes were like saucers and his jaw was wide open. He’s so used to seeing you both fight in the mornings that it felt so…weird seeing the two of you all smiley.

“Fuck, I owe Taehyun 5 bucks now.” He whispered lowly, silently cursing at the bet he lost. The boy smiled and greeted you as well as Heeseung before returning to his current task, not forgetting to make those classic Sunoo bewildered faces behind the register and away from your prying eyes.

Taehyun arrives later with some special premade dumplings made by your mother. Passing by Sunoo as he received the cash with a swift motion in triumph. You and Heeseung are both too easy. He thought, suppressing the singular curve forming on his lips.

*

The restaurant thrives under your management. You silently thank your dad for teaching you these skills since you were little. Heeseung is currently working as a waiter (because you think he is still wonky at wrapping dumplings), busy tending to curious aunties with his charm. After your little heart to heart, you start to see him in a different light. The way his smile deepens as he is asked about his interests, the politeness seeping through his crinkled eyes when he excused himself and moved closer to you-wait what??

“You think I wouldn't notice you staring, flower?” You grimaced at the decor beside you, finding any mistake palpable in your surroundings, and ignoring the way your stomach fluttered at the nickname he just called you. Heeseung chuckled at your antics, finding you adorable.

“Staring? Hah! You’re so full of yourself, Heeseung.” Your false laughter echoed through the restaurant, turning a few heads from other workers before you threw them a glare to go back to work. “That was Jay and Jake’s moms. They were wondering how I’m doing.” You scrunch your eyebrows at his explanation. “Okay? I didn’t ask what you were doing, Lee.”

“Back to last name basis? You wound me, baby.” The bambi-eyed boy placed his hand on his chest, feigning a hurt look on his face. You rolled your eyes at him (and that ridiculous petname) before shoving him lightly. “Go back to work, employee.”

“On it, boss.” He replied, not forgetting to throw a wink at you before opting back to work. Fuck, what was he doing to you?

*

You’re pacing back and forth across your room, hands on your hips, and hair all disheveled. Chaewon laid comfortable on your mattress, elbows supporting her upper body as she watched your distressed state with amusement. “Yn, you’re going crazy.”

Tonight was an overdue girls night, meaning Chae is over at your house for the weekend. This day also marks the second last week of summer. That means one more week ‘till you are back to textbooks and exams. You groaned at the thought (and at Chaewon) before inching towards the window. Your eyes subconsciously reached the house across yours, revealing your beloved neighbor–shirtless–his ridiculously sculpted figure standing there on the other side of his window for the whole world (you) to see as he held what looked like shirts on his left hand and his phone on the right pressed on his ear as if he was calling someone.

“Uhm Yn, you’re gawking.” Your best friend peered behind you. Her hands on your shoulders as she took a peek of the sight before you. You hurriedly closed the blinds in reflex. “Damn okay, you don’t want me looking at your man. I’ll be respectful.” A sheepish smile kissed Chaewon’s face before turning her back on you and jumping back into bed.

“Chae, something is wrong with me.” You fall face flat to your bed, right beside your girlfriend. “Everytime I see him, I feel this weird feeling in my chest–and no it’s not the urge to pull out his hair.” You murmured, flipping your body to align with the ceiling before continuing. “Which is really weird because I used to always feel that way.” You pointed out, index finger up to enhance your stance. “But now everytime I see his face I just want to-want to-”

“Kiss him?” Chaewon’s smirk is glowing in her features, fully dripping with mischief. You sat up at her reply before turning your head towards your best friend, your expression shaped in disbelief. “Chaewon, what the hell.” You grab your nearest plushie–one that you stole from Taehyun’s best friend, HeuningKai–before (affectionately) beating the brown-eyed girl with it.

The sound of laughter filled the room like oxygen. “Yn, you can hit me all you want but you can’t deny it.” The raven haired girl said between her fits of giggle. “After that little apology session, you just want to kiss him pretty.” The wiggle of Chae’s brows urged you to throw the plushie right at her face. Your friend groaned at the impact before recovering as if it was nothing.

Suddenly, everything comes crashing down like an airplane with a failing engine. You paused abruptly, a huge thought bubble forming above your head. Fuck did you like him? Like, like–like him?? No, you can’t. You can’t be catching feelings with the boy you just made amends with a week ago. The boy you swore to hate since you were toddlers.

Chaewon read the expression on your face like an openbook before opting to sit across from you. “Yn, for what’s worth, he’s a really nice person. And he’s practically already family.” Her hands made their way to your shoulders. The feeling is familiar but different. Chaewon’s arms are lighter and more poised in contrast to Heeseung’s warm touch. Your head darted to your covered window, curiosity pooling in your heart at what he was doing and what he would think of this–of you.

“Imagine telling your family that you and Heeseung are a thing.” Your best friend started. “Auntie Lee and Auntie Kang are going to start jumping in glee and start preparing for your wedding with an eight week honeymoon plan to the Bahamas.” You rolled your eyes at Chae’s daydream. Though deep down, your heart swelled at the thought, offering a silent prayer as hope for the future.

“Ever since that day, he’s been, I don’t know, different.” Distress is evident in your sigh, storms of doubt clouding your thoughts. “Maybe I’m getting attached to him, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m spending too much time with that guy.” You place two hands on Chaewon’s shoulders before shaking her. “Chae, baby, loml, cleanse me, like right now.” Chaewon nodded at the request like a diligent soldier before shaking you with much more intensity.

“All cleansed now?” She asked, before stopping the vast movement. Your head is spinning, figuratively and literally, and you raised both of your thumbs toward the raven haired girl. “Fuck, I like him. I like Lee Heeseung.” You confessed against a pillow you found beside you, banging your head at the soft cushion before muffling your exasperated scream as Chaewon sat behind and patted your back in reassurance.

What a way to start girls' night.

*

Heeseung thinks you’re acting weird. You’ve been avoiding him lately–more than usual. Was it because he’s not improving with his dumpling wrapping skills? Or was it because that stunt Jake convinced him to pull, ending with him shirtless before his opened window across your own as he pretended to call someone, looking all important, while it was Jake on the other end, fully assuring him that this plan is foolproof. That it will make you go all drooling on him and finally fall in love.

The bambi-eyed boy mentally cursed at Jake. His plan definitely made you think Heeseung was some weirdo. Fuck, he just ruined all his chances with you and it’s all because of that stupid Austrilian.

Heeseung came true to his feelings one random night in the middle of a night ride with you. You both just finished closing up the shop, bidding farewell to your other workers before logging off for the night.

The boy noticed your tired demeanor, immediately slipping your hand in his before leading you to his bike. “What's the hurry, Hee?” You giggled softly at his antics, the sound speeding his drumming heart ever so slightly.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” He unclasped your joint hand, and the warmth soon returned as he fixed your helmet on your head before adjusting his own.

Heeseung drives at a medium pace. Not too slow to bore you but also not too fast to risk your lives. The bambi-eyed boy passed your houses, earning a curious look from you. You watch as you exit the suburbs to a little road near the highway. The view from above was breathtaking, city lights cover the vast land like pieces of your lego city collection. You gasped at the beauty ahead of you. The dark haired boy stopped at the hook of the road, taking off his helmet and yours as his steps started inching towards the railings of the empty road.

You follow closely behind, basking on the beauty of the night. The city is still lively–it always is. A contrast to the sleeping stars that hung on the horizon, blinking in haze as humans are left to wonder from below.

Your hand is placed beside his on the railing. Gentle wind kissed the tip of your nose with grace, prompting you to close your eyes to enjoy the serene moment. “This is nice.” You whispered, releasing all the stress harboring on your shoulders and Heeseung hummed in agreement, his head turning in your direction.

The boy watched the sight before him with much intent. His focus shifted to the details of your skin, blurring the busy city’s whispers. Remnants of neon lights were reflected on your face below the moonlight. He noticed your lids fluttering before gazing at the stars above. “What a pretty view.”

Heeseung’s eyes remained on you, the city and sky distorted as he pinned his vision on you. “Yeah, it’s breathtaking.”

The two of you went home in comfortable silence. Your head slowly drowsing on his back before you fix your position to sit upright. Heeseung chuckled at your sleepy state before muttering, “You can sleep, flower. We’ll be home in no time.” His tone is soft on your ears and you hummed at him–too sleepy to voice a proper reply. And before you know it, two arms wrapped itself around Heeseung’s waist, prompting his heart to stop for a second before running at a faster pace. You settle comfortably behind him, your cheek pressed on his back as he drives with such carefulness and grace to your homes.

After returning to his own room, we wasted no time to call his closest friends, confiding to them about his newfound realization. He was in love with you, so badly.

*

Today was the day. The day where Heeseung is going to confront you. He’s tired of having to walk around eggshells around you, he wants to make things right, clear out any misunderstandings (and maybe confess if it all goes right). You texted him yesterday that you won't be needing a ride from him as you had to tend to other matters earlier than usual. As much as it disappointed him, he had no choice but to comply, not wanting to push past the boundaries you built.

Heeseung arrived at the restaurant much earlier than usual. He glanced at his watch, the time read 7:30. Seven fucking thirty. Gosh it was dawn for holiday mood Heeseung (even though it was 30 minutes earlier than his usual routine, BUT that was 30 minutes of sleeping wasted) The things he’d do for you. The boy sighed, fumbling with a copy of the key you gave him before.

He inserted the key towards the hole, turning it to the left in an attempt to unlock the door but failed in doing so. Heeseung paused before examining the handle, confusion glazing his features as his hand grabbed the knob before slowly pulling it down and opening the door with success.

What? Did you forget to lock the door before closing yesterday? No, he was sure you didn't. You were never that irresponsible. In fact you were probably never irresponsible at all. Did someone break in? There were no signs of force breaking in so that was not possible.

An echo of laughter rang through his ears, stopping Heeseung from his tracks. He peered his eyes at the sound that seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Slowly, the boy made his way towards the source, curiosity tugging his heart.

The kitchen light was on and through the window, Heeseung could perfectly see two people standing at the dumpling-making-table-thingy. His eyes widened at the revelation, there was you talking to another man beside you. He's seen him before, but he just can't quite place who. It’s one of those boys you hang around with. Soobin and Yeongjum? Whatever it was.

The boy squinted his eyes, trying to make out who exactly was this person beside you. A distraction to suppress the gnawing feeling pooling in his chest as another line of laughter escaped your lips.

His heart ached when your laugh settled on his mind. A pang of jealousy hit him across the face. You never laughed that much with him. Well maybe it was due to your past rivalry, but it's all gone now, right?

Well maybe he was wrong because your words proved him otherwise.

“By the way, Yn.” The man before you called out, prompting you to hum in reply. “How's everything, you know? With the Heeseung thing and all.”

“It's been really tiring. With school coming soon and everything, ugh.” You sighed, the crease in your eyebrows deepening and Heeseung felt the urge to kiss it away. Though he grounded himself at his position, still behind the walls as he listened to your conversation.

“I’ve been avoiding him lately, Junnie.” His ear perked up at your confession, subconsciously leaning in to hear you more clearly. Ah yeah, Yeonjun. That was his name.

“Why?” Yeonjun asked, confusion wrapping his tone as his hands skillfully wrapped the dumpling before him. Your lack of answer shifted Heeseung's focus to the ridiculously perfect dumpling sitting proudly on Yeonjun’s hand and how quickly he moves on to the next one, wrapping with such professionalism as if he's been folding dumplings since he was born.

Heeseung’s annoyance was cut short as he heard your answer. “I don't know. I just…don't want him to get the wrong idea.” Your voice is small, barely heard, but Heeseung could hear the words clearly.

You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. That was it, that was basically a rejection. You don't feel the same. The bambi eyed boy felt his heart sinking in his chest. The same organ weighs fifty thousand pounds heavier than it usually was, dragging him down with it.

“Anyway, you're driving to the concert, right?” You questioned, tone picking up ever so slightly.

Heeseung furrowed his eyebrows. Concert?

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He heard Yeonjun reply. “You've worked so hard to earn these tickets, we’ll have the best time there together, Ynnie.”

The boy behind the kitchen window resisted the urge to scoff. So that's it? You agreed to mentor him for a stupid concert date? Jealousy was a drug and Heeseung dwelled in it with no hesitation. He ignored the way his heart clenched at the thought of losing you. Well, you were never his in the first place.

They boy left the restaurant in the same manner he went in but with more passive aggression. Taking the keys with him before driving off back to his house. Fuck this stupid mentoring shit and Fuck these stupid frelings.

You remained unaware of the tragedy that happened outside as you continued to focus on preparing the delicacy. “Yn, you have to tell him.” Yeonjun’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You still, knowing exactly what he meant, while hands are still moving–folding the dough as if it ran an automatic program. “I don't know, Junnie. What if he doesn't reciprocate my feelings?”

“He would be stupid not to.”

*

Yeonjun was right, you had to be true to your feelings. Your friend left after he finished helping you with the dumplings, leaving you alone amidst your thoughts as the workers arrived one by one. You watch by the front door carefully, eyes focused to find a certain bambi-eyed boy. Concern clouded your mind, the clock strikes nine and Heeseung has yet to make his appearance.

This was weird, he was never late (save the first day). Well maybe because you’ve been going here together for the past few days, but he was never late even at the beginning. Did something happen to him? “Sunoo, have you seen Heeseung?” You turned your head towards Sunoo behind the register, eyebrows furrowed in question. The boy shook his head in response and you ignored the way your heart sank.

You grab your phone from your pocket, muscle memory automatically hovering towards his contact. These past few days you and Heeseung’s been texting more often, and though you hate to admit it, the feeling made you giddy to the heart. Your fingers typed on the keypad in a swift move, texting a quick “where r u it’s late” and a “r u okay?” right after.

The boy in question was laid in his bed. Back against the mattress as he wallows in heartbreak songs all morning. The ping from his phone urged him to open the screen, his chest heaved heavily upon seeing your messages. Why do you care? He scoffed after reading the message mentally. Just let that Yeonjun replace him or something. Heeseung suppressed his impulsive thought to type that in and settled with a lame excuse instead. “not feeling well, won’t come today. sry." Before turning up the volume as Mr. Loverman comes to play.

You frowned at his reply, a worried expression taking over your features. “oh no :( get well soon hee.” Your fingers moved before you could control them. “rest up. I’ll come over after my shift.”

Heeseung widened his eyes as he read your reply, clearly not expecting your last statement. He quickly sat up, thinking of yet another lame excuse to avoid you seeing him. Fuck this was bad, his plan surely backfired on him. “U CANT! Uhm it’s infectious, don’t come near me or u’ll get sick.”

Infectious? What? Is Heeseung okay? You spent the whole week maybe even month with him lately, and whatever it is he caught, there’s probably a big change you’ve caught it too. “Did u get covid or smthn?” You typed in, concerned for yourself too slowly creeping in. It’s been years since the pandemic, you were even surprised it was still a thing. “does it mean I cld have it too? Shld i get tested? Yk what imma get tested rn.”

“It’s not covid!” His reply made you pause on your tracks. “It’s nthn srs, u don’t have to come. Js focus on the shop.”

“Will u return tmrw?” You questioned, no effort in containing your curiosity. “Idk, we’ll see.”

Yeah right, “we’ll see.” Heeseeung scoffed at his own text. He’ll see if he recovered from heartbreak enough to be able to see your stupidly beautiful face. The boy locked his phone before opting to throw it to his bed as he continued to blast to a thousand more sad songs. Fuck you and your perfect self. Why don’t you just go take care of Yeonjun when he’s sick of something.

*

Friday comes in a flash. The sun has set twice since Heeseung’s disappearance and he thinks two days are enough time to sulk and return to his current summer disposition. It was his last day here anyways. After this, school will return and you both will just pretend the other doesn't exist as usual.

He makes his way past the front doors, mind unfocused as he ventures inside the restaurant. His tired eyes met yours, and for one second Heeseung forgets everything he eavesdropped that morning. “Heeseung.” You called out, surprise laced on your tone, clearly not expecting his return after disappearing from the face of earth. The boy resisted the desire in his heart to just run and hug you until you suffocate. But the remnants of your voice that haunted him till this day pulled him back. “I’ve been avoiding him, Junnie. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Right, you don’t like him that way. He has to remind himself of that and drill it onto his brain. “Heeseung?” You draw closer at his silence. Your hand slowly made its way to his arm, touching the skin slightly before the boy nudged back, avoiding your grasp.

Oh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, whatever. I’ll just go to work now.”

You don’t know what’s going on, you don’t know what’s wrong. His tone is indifferent, cold, and weaved with a harsh emotion you can’t quite place. The boy passed by you, accidentally bumping your shoulder before starting his usual routine. You could almost hear your heart breaking in your chest, the feeling dragging you down as rain started to pour, the clouds diminishing the ray of sunlight left in your eyes and the sky.

*

The rest of the day is filled with awkward tension and forced professionalism. Heeseung is aware of his status in the restaurant so he maintained his poise. Though he can’t help but steal glances of you, managing the schedule and tending the customers with such light in your eyes, contrast to his gloomy vision. The pain in his heart is subduable but he hates it. It was stupid of him to fall for you in the first place. You were always there, not even 200 meters away from him everyday, yet why do you still remain so out of reach?

Yellow hue dissipates into serene blue, the stars finally waking up to light the dark night. Heeseung waits behind, leaning on his motorcycle as you close up for the day. This was it, his last shift and probably his last one-on-one interaction with you.

As much as Heeseung wants to avoid you right now, he doesn’t have the heart to make you walk back alone. After all the past two days has been enough.

The ride back home was quiet, awkward silence cut through the tension like knife slicing though a piece of room temperature butter. The boy stops in front of your driveway, waiting for you to remove your helmet before parking the bike in his garage.

“Thank you.” Your whisper graced his ear, your gaze finding him like a pirate longing for her lost treasure. “For the ride…and for everything.” Was what you said before turning your back on him and reaching towards your front door.

Heeseung was quick to return home, not forgetting to wipe the strain tear that escaped his right eye as he reached the comfort of his room. Gosh was he stupid.

*

“Babe, do you think Hoshi is going to notice me if I use this top or the other?” Chaewon stands in front of the full length mirror, opting two tops each on her left and right hand. The question rang pass through your ears, your focus all poured towards your window, gaze stuck on the glass panels across your own, his midnight blue curtains covering the interior, screaming at you like it held a “MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS” sign right on your face.

Your best friend turned her head towards you at your lack of reply, eyebrows furrowed as she noticed your current predicament. She was quick to move towards your window and closed the blinds, bursting the rain cloud forming above your head. “Yn, spill the beans.” Chaewon’s voice is serious and compelling, and just like that, words start spilling from your mouth. You told how gentle and considerate he’s become for the past week, the occasional night rides, the conversation that continued till midnight, the little notes you passed from your window, and the fact that he suddenly started to act cold and weird on you since Wednesday.

Chaewon listened with much intent, her hands moved quickly to wipe your damp cheeks as the tears fell without any warning. Well good thing you haven’t started your makeup. “You have to talk to him, baby.” She started, hands gentle on the crown of your head. “I’m going to beat him up for making you cry.” She whispered lowly, triggering a chuckle from your throat.

“How? All he does is avoid me. I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

The raven-haired girl hummed in response, the gears of her brain spinning. “Don't your families have a joint dinner together every last Sunday of the month?” You nodded slowly at her question, mind deliberately following where she was going. “That’s tomorrow, you’ll talk to him then. Steal him away after dinner or something.” She lifted up her arms to your shoulders before shaking them hard. “Let me cleanse you. For now, let's have fun, look at hot men dancing and doing fanservice. Forget ALL the drama.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as the light made its way back to your eyes. She’s right. Today you’re going to forget about Heeseung and that stupidly pretty face of his. Tonight you’re going to go to that SEVENTEEN concert and occupy your mind with Joshua Hong.

*

Family dinner is awkward as usual. Well for you and Heeseung, not for your parents and brother. Taehyun talking about something with your parents as you sat across the boy that’s been avoiding you. You dismissed the desire to look at his face because right now you are stuck in a perplexity. You don’t know if you want to punch him or you want to kiss him. Well you do know that you want to do it hard, either of the options doesn’t matter.

Your mothers left the dining room to prepare dessert and Heeseung excused himself to go to take something from his room. You took this as an opportunity, muttering “I need to go to the bathroom real quick.” before exiting the space to follow after him. Missing the way Taehun spoke to your dad and Heeseung’s. “50 bucks say that they’ll make out in his room.”

You sped towards the hall, taking his hand as you pulled him into his chambers. The bambi eyed boy felt like an intruder at his own living quarters, his eyes widened in shock, not expecting your actions. “Heeseung, let’s talk.” You start, voice sturdy and serious, cornering the boy before you with an arm beside his shoulder to block any escape route, his back pressing against the wooden door.

“What…what do you mean? Th-there’s nothing to talk about.” The boy grumbled, trying his best to not fluster under your gaze. Gosh why were you so close? Heeseung’s breath became shallow and quicker, the tips of his ears morphed into a crimson shade as he noticed your proximity.

Your eyes squinted at his sheepish reply. “Don’t act stupid, Lee. You’ve been avoiding me all of a sudden with like absolutely no reason!” A polished finger made its way to the dark-haired boy’s chest before he felt a light pressure at the contact. “You disappeared from the shop for two days–you’re welcome by the way for not telling our parents–and started acting like I don’t deserve your time or something.” You shove repeatedly at the same point, frustration swallowing you entirely and Heeseung? He just braced the impact like it was nothing to him.

Heeseung stilled as he waited for you to calm yourself, his gaze tenderly settled on you, in contrast to the emergency sirens that’s swarming his head like a busy ER hospital. Fuck, what was he gonna tell you? That he overheard you and Yeonjun and that he avoided you because he can’t handle a little jealousy and perhaps competition? Were you and Yeonjun even a thing? His mind is in scrambles and he can’t seem to get anything out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” You peer towards the floorboards, features flushing scarlet as guilt wraps the previous emotion away. Your finger is still on his chest and before you can lower it down, a warm hand enveloped your knuckles. Chocolate colored iris melt into your own letting a thousand emotions seeping through like an overflowing glass of water akin to an eternal fountain. “Yn, let me explain everything.”

So he did and you let him. Heart echoing in sync against your ribcage, his hand not leaving yours anytime soon as he rubs soft circles. You almost melt in his touch. Keyword: almost. Gosh Yn were you that touch starved? Or did you really miss him that badly?

“I overheard your conversation with Yeonjun last Wednesday morning.” He confessed, thumb caressing your skin in a gentle motion. You can hear the gears of your brain spinning before wondering, “Last Wednesday…Yeonjun…What? It was like half past seven, how were you there? You said you were sick.”

“Yeah, let me continue first.” You nodded at his statement. “I wanted to, uhm I don’t know, like surprise you by going there early?” Heeseung paused, silently questioning his past self. “Oh, I also got curious why you didn’t want to ride together that morning.” The boy spontaneously added. “First when I entered I was confused why was the door unlocked but then I heard laughs–your laugh from the inside and I guess I wanted to know who made you laugh like that.”

You soaked his words like a sponge’s first contact with running water. The pattern of his thumb movements is still softly caressing your epidermis, offering you a peace of mind as you sink in his explanation. “Then I saw you with Yeonjun all comfortable and I got jealous. I realise you never smiled at me like that or laughed that much with me around. I got so jealous that I just couldn’t see you or I’ll burst in frustration.”

He stopped stroking your palm and instead squeezed it firmly before fidgeting it with both hands. “I also heard about the concert date. So I found out you mentored me for a month to get a concert date with another man. He must be pretty special, huh.” His movements went to halt and you hate how your heart seemed to ache for more–more of his touch.

“Yeonjun and I are just friends.” Your whisper is gentle upon his ears, the implication of another statement relieved his whole body. You’re still single. “He was helping out because he lost a bet and well he was damn good at wrapping dumplings too.” You chuckled, mind drifting to that particular moment and as if on cue, Junnie’s wise words echoed through your mind. You have to tell him how you feel, Yn.

“Yn I-”

“Heeseung-”

You both started simultaneously startling each other with the synchronisation. “You go first, Hee.”

“Are you sure? You can go-”

“You look like you need to get something out that badly.” You attempted to joke, lifting up the heavy mood that surrounds you like a thick fog.

Heeseung took a deep breath as he stepped closer towards you. His back is not leaned against the door anymore and his gaze is stuck on yours. “Yn I…I like you. Fuck, I love you, even, probably, I don’t know.” The boy pulled your still joint hands, lifting it up before kissing the skin in a gentle manner, one that leaves you yearning for more.

“But I want to…figure it out. With you, if you don’t mind.” Your connecting gaze doesn’t break. You breathe in his confession like a drug, addicted to the true sound of his heart. The light in his eyes dimmed at your lack of reply. But before he could turn away, a force pulled him down from the nape of his neck as warm lips pressed against his own, soft but also fierce, not lacking of passion. Almost as if you’ve been waiting to do this.

The boy doesn’t wait to reciprocate, one of his hands slithered on your waist like it was meant to be there as the other cups your cheek, angling it sideways to deepen the kiss. You could feel it, all the raw emotion rushing through the action. And right now, this is all that matters. His lips are gentle on yours, moving with such care like you were the most precious thing in his possession. Years of tension and harbored feelings melted into the kiss, you pulled him even closer to you, like you can’t handle any remaining distance between you.

Heavy breaths echoed across the room as your faces deepened into five shades of maroon, your past actions finally settling into you. You couldn’t believe it. You just kissed Lee Heeseung. And he kissed you back. If you were to tell this moment to your five year old self, you swore she was gonna punch you in the face for having Heeseung’s cooties.

“So…uhm, I like you too?” You sheepishly smiled, still enveloped in his embrace. The warmth excluding him started to feel like home.

The boy before you mirrored your smile before quickly pecking your lips. You both laughed at the carefree moment. Finally after a decade and two years of constant fighting and suppressed feelings, you both came true to another.

“Come and give me another kiss, girlfriend.” Heeseung felt the corner of his mouth curling up, eyeing his love. The newfound status rolled out of his tongue like it was second nature, like he had practiced it a couple hundred times before.

The butterflies swarming your stomach still continued to linger and even increased tenfold. The tips of your ears showcasing the color of your favorite fruit–strawberries. But instead of melting into a mush (like you would prefer to tbh), you hummed in thought, leaning backwards with his hands wrapped on your waist supporting your back before replying, “Girlfriend?” Your eyebrow shot up. “Maybe after one date, then I’ll consider.”

Heeseung harbored no other emotion in his gaze rather than one reeking of amusement and love as he kissed the tip of your nose, amplifying the crimson shade of your facade.

"Okay, next Saturday, 7pm. Wear something nice, baby."

BONUS:

You and Heeseung made your way back to the dining table with flustered faces, (slightly) swollen lips, and a suspiciously good mood. Taehyun raised his eyebrows at the two older people before him, his gaze later shifted to the side, making eye contact with your dad and Hee’s before receiving two fifty bucks under the table.

Ah, what a good day. Now he just needs to collect the remaining money from Auntie Lee and your mom’s bet.

Kang Ha-yoon and Lee Hae-in watched as their children exchanged sheepish glances instead of muttering curses at the other, a surging proudness fills the air like oxygen, letting the two woman finally breathe in the air with no cut throat tension radiating from you and Heeseung.

They might’ve lost a hundred bucks and may or may not owe Taehyun a new PS5, but as awkward dinners turn into lively conversations (without any passive aggression lacing in your tones) the two women send knowing smiles to each other.

It seemed as if their plan had worked. A little too well maybe but hey, maybe they'll officially be family if this continues. After all, your mothers have always secretly fantasised about yours and Heeseung’s wedding without any knowledge that there is a bigger chance of it coming true.

The private pinterest board rotting in your mother’s account may be for good use after all.

Fin.

TAGLIST -> @jiwuu @xylatox @ttulixia @iboughtnjz @bubblytaetae @wintereals @manuosorioh @ddolleri

AERNX 2025

[moonstruckme]

please give us another part of gentleman Steve!!! So so sweet I need to see what happens when they confess their feelings for each other or he asks her out on a date !! I can picture him making a big deal out of “doing it properly” - getting her favourite flowers and asking her out super formally

I'm glad you liked it angel! Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Whoa.” You raise your eyebrows as Steve comes around to open your car door, though you’ve already opened it partway yourself. “Chivalrous.” 

Steve rolls his eyes but can’t suppress a smile. You can tease him all you want. He is feeling very fucking chivalrous tonight, and proud of it. 

You’re getting the entire first date experience. Steve picked you up at your house, rang the doorbell and everything—a notable improvement from his teenage self, who would’ve just honked. Your sweet little gasp at the bunch of flowers in his hand confirmed that he’d remembered correctly; azaleas are your favorite. You acted shy and flustered, and Steve had been gallant and as charming as he could manage given how pretty you looked. (You’d think he’d be used to you by now, but no. It seems like he might never stop being bowled over by you.) He’s taken you to dinner—where you argued vehemently against him paying the bill—and now a to movie. 

If he’s lucky, Steve hopes you’ll let him drag you out for ice cream after this, or else sit in his car parked in front of your house and keep talking for a while. You can spend a whole day together, and Steve still won’t want to let you go at the end of it. 

He’s too chicken to put his arm around you as you walk into the theater. He can’t remember ever being this nervous on a date before. Steve wonders if he didn’t really care on all the previous ones, or if it’s just that he cares so much more now, but the difference is palpable. His stomach is in knots. He’s very conscious of his hair, which he’d spent time on before coming to get you only to have you mess it up with a fluff of your hand and a you look nice tonight, Stevie. As you approach the concessions, you’re the brave one, taking Steve’s hand to pull him towards the line you deem shortest. 

“What’re you gonna get?” you ask him. 

“I don’t know.” Steve’s heartbroken when you drop his hand, but he tries to put on a brave face. “What’re you thinking?” 

You nibble your lip. Steve feels like his insides are under attack. “I’m thinking…I can’t decide between something chocolatey and something not. Would you wanna split?” 

“Sure,” he says thoughtlessly. Your lip comes free, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t collapse with relief. “But I want junior mints.” 

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “You’re fucking sick. Junior mints?” 

“Hey, a lot of girls have approved of my choice of junior mints,” Steve says, then wants to die. Jesus Christ. He could not have said anything dumber. 

Not only to lump you in with all the other girls he’s gone out with, but—he has no idea if you’ll be kissing later. He doesn’t want you to think that he cares, or that he’s thinking about it, even if obviously he’s going to be thinking about it. Steve doesn’t know if you’re the type to kiss on the first date. It’s a weird thing to think about, because he knows you. Steve feels like he knows you inside and out, better than almost anybody, but he has no clue what you’re like on a date.

“Well, maybe you just attract sick freaks who like toothpaste-flavored candy.” You shoot him a sideways look, teasing. “Forget splitting, though. I’ll get my own.” 

“More for me.” Steve shrugs. 

At the counter, you fall into the same argument you had at dinner. 

“Stop,” you laugh, trying doggedly to hold your money out to the cashier while Steve blocks you and counts out his own cash. You’re surprisingly strong when you want to be, but not strong enough to move him. “Steve! This isn’t fair.” 

He can’t help laughing a little with you. “Just leave it.” 

“No! You got dinner, it’s my turn.” 

“I’m getting both.” 

“Since when?” You start trying to reach over him, pleading all the while with the cashier to ignore Steve’s money and take yours. You’re acting crazy; it probably makes Steve even crazier that he finds it cute. 

Steve pays. You’re still fighting with him about it as you walk up the stairs in your theater, looking for seats. Steve starts towards the back of the room, but you shoot him a confused look, detouring towards your normal seats in the middle row instead. Again, he wants to hit himself. 

“This is misogyny,” you whisper as you make your way down the row. “What, you think I have to let you pay for everything just because you’re a guy?” 

“I’m paying because I’m the one who asked you out,” he says. “Not because I’m a guy.” 

You stop. Steve thinks you mean to sit down here—it’s not nearly as centered in the row as you usually like to be, but whatever—but when he starts to lower himself into a seat you grab the front of his shirt, keeping him where he is. 

“Steve,” you say, the shifting colors of some ad casting themselves over your face, “is this a date?” 

Steve’s heart falls through his stomach. 

“I—shit. Isn’t it?” he asks, breathless. He feels like he’s had the air knocked out of him. 

For a stretch of seconds, you only look at him. Your mouth tightens and parts; your brows twitch closer together; your tongue pokes into your cheek. Then you say, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Steve echoes dumbly. 

“Yeah. I mean…” You shrug, doing that thing where you smile with just a little bit of your mouth and a lot of your eyes that landed Steve with this godforsaken crush in the first place. “It’s nice. I’m glad we’re on a date, I just wasn’t expecting it. But I’m happy.” 

“But you didn’t know,” Steve says. You shake your head. “How did you not know? I asked you if you wanted to go to dinner and a movie on a Friday night.” 

You look at him like he’s lost it. “I thought we were just going to dinner and a movie. We get food and watch movies all the time, don’t we?” 

“Yeah, but not together. Like, dinner and a movie is a thing. It’s a known thing.” 

You appear dubious of this. Steve lets out an appalled breath, sinking down into his seat. 

“What about the flowers? And I picked you up at your front door. When have we ever done that?” 

“I thought you just felt like being extra nice.” You sit down next to him, getting situated with your drink in the cupholder and the popcorn in your lap. “You’re kind of moody, you know.” 

“I am not,” he grumbles. 

“You so are.” You laugh, eyes twinkly in the low light. It softens Steve some. You look at him, and your expression does that shifting thing again, like you can’t quite decide how to feel. “Hey, are you mad at me?” 

“No.” 

“Really?” 

“No, I’m not mad.” Steve reaches an arm around your shoulders, rewarded when you lean into him comfortably. He does mean it; he’s a bit indignant that all of his romantic efforts went unnoticed, but at least you’re here. You’re here, and you’re happy to be on a date with him. Now that you know you’re on one. 

It’s a few moments of easy silence like that before you sit up abruptly. “Oh. Were you trying to go to the back row? Like, as a date thing?” 

Steve’s face flushes hot. He’s grateful for the darkened room. “No.” 

“No, you were right.” You start picking up your snacks, standing from your seat. “Let’s move.”

[jikookncity]

Jaehyun x Reader (smut)

WC: 2.2k, VERY SMUTTY, Dom jae, unprotected sex, dirty talk, degradation, car sex, tad bit of exhibitionism, yn is oiled up, 'winner gets the girl' (fully consensual, this is like a cheesy porno)

part 2 includes oral sex, exhibitionism, consensual video recording of oral sex, link is at the end of this post!

Jaehyun makes a bet with the president of his rival frat that if he wins the football game, he gets the rival frat's cheer captain (y/n) for the night, what he doesnt know is that y/n has wanted this for so long...

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

The annual rivalry game between Eastview’s Sigma Chi and Westbridge’s Delta Tau was more than tradition—it was war. And for Jaehyun, president of Sigma Chi, it was personal.

Especially this year.

Especially with her in the picture.

Y/N, Westbridge’s cheer captain, had been haunting his every thought since the summer. He'd seen her at a joint university party—tight top, short skirt, glossy lips—and she’d dismissed him with a roll of her eyes and a patronizing smile.

Since then, Jaehyun made it a mission to beat Westbridge in every way possible. On the field. At parties. In every way that counted. But when the pre-game tailgate rolled around, he decided he wanted something more.

He wanted her.

So when Westbridge’s frat leader, Ethan, swaggered up, shit-talking and puffed up like always, Jaehyun smirked and made his move.

“Let’s raise the stakes this year.”

Ethan arched a brow. “What? Loser chugs a keg?”

Jaehyun leaned in. “Loser gives up their cheer captain. One night. No rules.”

Ethan blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”

Jaehyun’s smirk widened. “I’m serious. You win, you get Mina. I win…” He nodded toward the field where Y/N stood, stretching under the sun, her skirt barely covering the tops of her thighs. “I get her.”

Ethan glanced at Jaehyun like he’d lost his mind—but the challenge in Jaehyun’s eyes was too hard to resist.

“Deal.”

---------

Jaehyun was glowing—sweaty, flushed from the win, still buzzing from the final touchdown that sealed the game.

He’d dominated the field, shoved the rival team into the dirt, and—more importantly—he’d won the bet.

What no one knew—what even Jaehyun didn’t know—was that Y/N had heard the bet. And instead of being offended… she’d gone still. Then hot. Then embarrassingly wet.

Because she wanted him. She always had.

So when Jaehyun, still high on adrenaline and swagger, strode out to the parking lot after the post-game chaos, the last thing he expected was to find his car door cracked open.

He frowned slightly, approaching—only to freeze the moment he peered inside.

“Holy… fuck.”

There she was.

Face down, ass up on the back seat. Dressed in nothing but strappy, glistening black lingerie—oiled, glowing, thighs parted slightly, hips arched like a gift.

Y/N didn’t even look back. She was trembling, moaning softly against the leather, like she’d been edging herself just waiting for him to find her.

Jaehyun's cock twitched instantly in his shorts. He blinked slowly, that devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, opening the back door fully and leaning against it with his forearm. “Looks like the prize delivered herself.”

Y/N gasped when he smacked her ass without warning—just once, hard enough to leave a mark, his palm sliding after from the oil.

“You oiled yourself up for me?” he asked, voice dripping in amusement. “Knew I was coming to collect, huh?”

She whimpered, face buried in the seat. “I—I heard the bet.”

“Oh?” Jaehyun climbed in, straddling her thighs, grabbing a fistful of her ass and spreading it, groaning deep in his chest. “And this is you protesting? God, you’re so fucking filthy.”

He leaned down, his chest pressed against her back, whispering into her ear with a grin.

“You let the whole campus think you’re innocent, all sweet, sassy and stuck-up,” he chuckled. “But here you are. Face down in my car. Oiled. Lingerie. Just waiting to be used.”

She moaned, hips grinding back into him. He laughed.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? Little cheer captain with a big, dumb crush on the guy you pretend to hate. You couldn’t wait to get fucked like a slut by the guy who won you like a trophy.”

“Jae—please…”

“Oh, no no no,” he grinned, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back slightly. “You’re gonna hear everything, baby.”

His lips brushed her ear.

“You’re my prize now. My dirty little cheer slut. Oiled up, spread out, shaking for me ‘cause I won a fucking game.”

She whimpered.

He pulled her panties to the side and dragged two fingers through her folds, groaning when they came back soaked.

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing slow circles against her clit. “You’re dripping. You got off on this, didn’t you? On the bet. You were hoping I’d win so I could claim you like this.”

Her thighs trembled. “I wanted you to win…”

Jaehyun growled.

“You wanted to be bent over and filled like this?” He slid his fingers into her, pumping slow and deep while watching her squirm. “Wanted to be my dumb little reward?”

“Yes—yes, Jae—”

He laughed again, fingers curling inside her. “God, you’re disgusting. And you’re perfect.”

He pulled his fingers out and popped them in his mouth, humming like he was tasting something expensive.

“You taste like you’re ready.”

And just like that—he pulled his shorts down, lined himself up, and gripped her hips like she was his.

“You gonna take this like a good little cheer slut, baby?” he whispered, cock pressing at her entrance.

Y/N just nodded frantically, back arching even more.

“Say it,” he demanded, breath hot against her neck.

“I’m your prize,” she moaned. “Your slut. Please, Jaehyun—fuck me.”

And with a growl that sounded downright feral, he slammed into her.

Jaehyun drove into her like he owned her.

His grip bruised her hips, his cock hit so deep it made her legs shake, and every time she whimpered, he laughed—a dark, amused sound that vibrated down her spine.

The windows were already fogged up, car rocking slightly with each thrust, but they weren’t fully tinted—and Jaehyun? He didn’t give a fuck.

“God,” he groaned, pulling back to watch her ass jiggle with each slow, punishing roll of his hips, “you look so fucking good like this, baby. Oiled up and folded over for me.”

Y/N cried out, cheeks flushed, body arched and trembling. The seat leather squeaked beneath her as she tried to stay upright, the car cramped and hot and filled with the sound of skin slapping skin.

Then they heard it—footsteps outside.

Laughter.

Voices.

And Jaehyun grinned.

He leaned down over her, still thrusting slow and deep, lips brushing her ear.

“Oh yeah,” he whispered, smug. “People are walking by.”

Y/N gasped, eyes wide, face buried into the seat again.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what this looks like,” he went on, hips grinding into her with a filthy wet sound. “My car’s shaking. Windows fogged. And everyone on campus knows this is my ride.”

Another loud slap of his hips against her ass.

“And after that bet? They know what I won.”

Y/N whimpered, legs trembling as her hands clawed at the seat. Her entire body arched on instinct, even as she tried to hide her face.

Jaehyun reached forward and grabbed her ponytail, yanking her head back gently.

“Nuh uh, Princess. Don’t hide. Let me see that pretty fucked-out face.”

She moaned louder, lips parted, mascara smudged, eyes barely able to stay open.

“You hear that?” he growled in her ear. “They know. All those footsteps? All those voices? They’re looking right at the car and thinking, ‘Jaehyun’s in there—fucking the cheer captain stupid.’”

He slapped her ass again—hard.

“My cheer captain,” he added, panting. “My flexible, oiled-up slut, putting on a whole fucking show.”

She was unraveling now. Every word made her clamp tighter around him. Her thighs shook violently, back arching even more, like she wanted to be displayed.

“Arch more,” he ordered. “Wanna see how deep I can get in this position.”

Y/N sobbed as she bent even further, face down, arms stretched forward, back curved until her ass was fully tilted up, thighs spread wide.

Jaehyun groaned like it physically hurt. “You’re unreal.”

He grabbed her hips and started fucking into her faster, rougher, each thrust hitting harder, sloppier, the car rocking now, seatbelt clinking against the door.

People walked right past, their laughter getting louder.

And Jaehyun just grinned, never once slowing down.

“They all know,” he moaned. “They know what a filthy little thing you are for me.”

Her moans went higher, hips jerking back against his every thrust.

“You close again?” he panted, voice rough. “Gonna cum for me while people walk past and listen?”

“Jae—I can’t—” she whimpered.

“Yes, you can,” he growled. “You’re gonna cum again. Let everyone hear who you belong to.”

He reached down, thumb circling her clit fast and tight, her body immediately bucking.

“I said cum, baby. Show them what my perfect little prize sounds like when she breaks.”

Y/N screamed, back arching to the max as her orgasm hit—wet, shaking, loud. Her whole body spasmed under him, hips twitching as she sobbed into the seat, falling apart completely.

Jaehyun moaned deep, grabbing her waist and pounding through it, chasing his own high.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re so tight like this, fuck—” His rhythm faltered as he buried himself one last time and came hard, groaning through his teeth as he spilled inside her, grip bruising.

They stayed like that, panting, stuck together with sweat and slick, the windows nearly dripping now.

Jaehyun leaned over and kissed her shoulder lazily, still grinning like the devil.

“You realize,” he murmured, “you just made half the campus jealous.”

Y/N moaned weakly, unable to even speak.

And Jaehyun?

He just looked at her ruined body—oiled, arched, used—and smirked.

“My perfect little trophy.”

Y/N was shaking. Her body was limp and slick, thighs trembling, her mind floating somewhere between overstimulated and absolutely starved for more.

But Jaehyun wasn’t done.

He’d dragged her on top of him in the cramped backseat, leaned back, and spread his legs wide like a throne. And now?

His arms were behind his head—not touching her, not guiding her, not even pretending to help.

“Go ahead, Princess,” he smirked, eyes lazy and gleaming. “You wanted to ride me so bad. Let’s see how bad you really want it.”

Y/N whimpered, already dripping down his length as she slowly, painfully lowered herself onto his cock again, thighs sliding from all the oil coating her skin. Her body naturally split, legs falling into a near-perfect straddle split over him.

Jaehyun groaned low.

“Shit. That flexibility…” He grinned. “You don’t even realize how fucking pornographic you look like this.”

Her hands flew to his abs, trembling fingers splayed against his firm stomach as she tried to stay upright—slipping, whining, fighting to control the angle as she began to grind her hips in shallow, shaky circles.

But Jaehyun didn’t help. At all.

He just sat there—smug and completely unbothered—arms still relaxed behind his head, cock buried inside her while she squirmed and gasped, barely able to move.

“You look desperate,” he laughed, watching her ass slip every time she tried to roll her hips. “Can’t even ride me right ‘cause you’re so fucking oiled up and ruined.”

“Jae—please—” she moaned, leaning forward, forehead resting against his shoulder as her hips rocked in slow, shameful waves.

“Mm-mm,” he clicked his tongue. “Back up, baby. I wanna see those tits bounce while you struggle.”

She cried out as she straightened, every muscle shaking, her hands now roaming frantically—over his arms, his chest, his abs—trying to grip anything while she kept herself upright. Her thighs kept sliding wide in the splits, body dripping and overstimulated, every grind of her hips pushing her closer to the edge.

Jaehyun’s head tilted back with a groan, jaw flexing as he watched her fight to move on him, her stomach clenching, tits jiggling every time her knees slipped.

“You are the dirtiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, dark and reverent. “Look at you—split on my cock, moaning and panting, holding onto me like I’m the only thing keeping you alive.”

“I—I can’t—” she sobbed, hips faltering again.

“You can,” he growled, eyes blazing. “You’re gonna keep going until I say stop. That’s what good girls do for their boyfriends.”

Her eyes snapped up.

“Boyfriend?” she gasped.

He smirked, thumb dragging across her trembling lower lip. “What, you thought I’d let anyone else see you like this? See you dripping, spread in full splits on my cock, touching my abs like a desperate little nympho?”

She whimpered. Her hands flattened against his chest, her nails scraping down his stomach as her hips stuttered.

“That’s it,” he moaned, licking his lips. “Ride it. Show me how pretty you look when you fall apart again. C’mon, Princess—put on a show for me.”

Her pace quickened, sloppy and uncoordinated, body nearly collapsing every few thrusts—but the angle was deep, and she was so far gone that every bounce had her gasping louder.

Jaehyun leaned in, just a little, finally bringing a hand to her throat—not squeezing, just holding.

“You’re gonna cum for me in this position,” he whispered, hips tilting up just once, hard, making her cry out. “Then I’m gonna keep you right here and fuck up into you until you do it again.”

“Oh my god—” she sobbed, full-body trembling, nails digging into his shoulders now.

“You wanted this,” he growled. “You wanted to ride me so bad, so fucking do it. Ride me like a good little cheer slut and cum.”

Her eyes rolled back, moans turning into raw sobs as her thighs clenched and her orgasm ripped through her, hips twitching violently in the splits as she shook all over him.

Jaehyun grinned.

“Atta girl.”

------

Want part 2 with more smut? Subscribe to my patreon here or read the full story here. You can leave a tip here too!

Part 2 sneak peak:

“Keep it cute, Princess. Back arched, ass up. Don’t get lazy now.”

She whined through her teeth, back arching deeper, her body bending so perfectly it was almost showy. 

“…You like this.”

She froze.

“You do,” he said, grin slow and devilish. “You’re getting off on me sitting here doing nothing while you bounce on it like a bitch in heat.”

Y/N moaned louder, unintentionally grinding harder—and that’s when he reached forward and casually rolled the window down halfway.

---------

“Baby,” he said, tone mock sweet, “you wanna do something fun for me?”

Y/N blinked up at him, still sucking gently, and nodded with his cock still in her mouth.

Jaehyun bit his lip, groaning. “Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

He opened the camera, hit record, and angled it down: the perfect view.

Her on her knees in the backseat. Face flushed, tits glistening, lingerie strap slipping down her shoulder. Her lips stretched around him...

to continue reading, click the link above the sneak peak ^^

[yellowsheart]

MY BIG BOOB’S GIRLFRIEND 2

this is for my big boob's girls! Hope you like this! Sorry for the grammatical errors, but English is not my main language!

FIRST PART

themes: big boobs, erection, suggestively...All the characters are at the legal age!

YN - pink!

Katsuki - red!

Others - green/yellow!

After weeks of grueling training, the guys finally gets a well-deserved break at the hot springs. But what should’ve been a peaceful moment turns into a steamy disaster when YN accidentally ends up in the same bath as Katsuki Bakugou—completely naked. And when they try to hide in a side room to avoid getting caught, things only get hotter.

After this, Katsuki can't stop thinking about it! He's so in love with YN, but difficult admit it!

It was a quiet evening in the U.A. dorms, at least until Bakugou spoke up. Sitting in Kirishima’s room, the three boys were relaxing after an afternoon of training, between chips, drinks, and boyish chatter.

-“…And then this idiot trips on the fucking step and falls on me.”-

Katsuki was sitting with his legs crossed, his eyes half-closed as he tried to tell the story without getting angry. To no avail.

Kirishima’s eyes widened. -“Wait wait wait… let me get this straight. YN. She fell on you. Naked.”-

-“Completely.”- Katsuki waved his hand, as if to say I can’t believe it either. Denki, lying on the bed, sat up suddenly. -“…Wait. Wait. Are you saying your face was—”-

-"BETWEEN HER BOOBS."- Kirishima burst out laughing so hard that he knocked the can over. -"Bro! WHAT THE ASS IS YOUR LUCK?!"-

-"FUCKING ASS! I WAS ABOUT TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT!"- Katsuki clutched his hair, his face red with frustration. -"And she even said I was 'hot.' What the fuck does that even mean?!"-

-"You were, man!"- Kirishima laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. --"Literally and more!"-

Denki, on the other hand, was much less cheerful. -"…I want to die."-

-"Huh?!"- Katsuki glared at him.

-"I mean…boobs in your face, bro. I'd pay for something like that. In fact, I'll volunteer if it ever happens again."-

-“I SWEAR I’LL EXPLODE YOUR HEAD, PIKACHU!”- Katsuki jumped up, a vein pulsing in his temple.

Kirishima was laughing too hard to stop them. -“Come on, come on! It was just an accident, right? But tell me the truth… did you think about it afterwards? Like… even for five seconds?”-

Then he turned around, slowly.

-“No.”-

-“You’re lying.”-

-“NO.”-

-“You’re lying like a stinker. You had your face between the boobs of the girl you like and you tell me that you don’t—”-

-“NOT TRUE, ASSHOLE!”-

Bakugou threw a pillow at Kirishima. Denki caught it and curled up like a puppy, sad.

-“I want tits in my face too…”-

Kirishima laughed even harder. -“You look bad, bro. Really bad.”-

Meanwhile, Katsuki sat back down, muttering through gritted teeth. -“It’ll never happen again anyway.”-

-“Mh-hm. Yeah, sure. Until she trips again, maybe when you’re alone in a room, and—”-

-“I SWEAR, IF YOU KEEP TALKING, I’LL MELTING YOUR TEETH INTO THE FLOOR!!”-

But underneath all that anger, there was a small, barely visible smile. That Kirishima noticed right away.

And Denki, between sighs, just said: -“Lucky are those with lucky faces…”-

Since that cursed night at the hot springs, something in Katsuki Bakugou had changed.

Not in the way he spoke. Not in the way he acted towards her (always grumpy, always rough). But in the way he… looked at YN.

More precisely: where he looked.

The first episode happened three days later. YN was bent over a desk, talking to Momo, while wearing a shirt that was a little looser than usual, but with a soft neckline, from which a suggestive view of her breasts peeked out.

Bakugou noticed her. In fact, he saw her immediately.

He remained still, his brain disconnecting for 0.7 seconds. A flash. A memory. His face buried in the soft warmth of those boobs.

Katsuki swallowed. -“Tsk.”-

He started to turn around. But his gaze? No. His gaze went back down, mercilessly glued to his cleavage.

Then there was that time during lunch. YN was sitting right in front of him. Her shirt was a little too tight because of the backpack on her shoulder.

Gaze. Straight. Again. Katsuki’s eyes went there without a filter, as if his brain had been left at the spa.

YN noticed. He slowly blushed. And she muttered, without looking at him: -“…If you want a photo, it lasts longer.”-

Katsuki spat out his rice. -“SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT!”-

One night in the dorm, Kirishima caught him staring at YN from afar, her laughing with Mina in a very thin tank top.

-“Bro. You are still looking at them.”-

-“NO.”- -“Yes.”- -“NO, I SAID!”-

-“Bro. You have that ‘I’ve been there’ look.”-

-“I SWEAR I’LL EXPLODE YOU!”-

The truth was simple. Once he saw her, once he got his face stuck in her… Bakugou couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The way they bounced slightly when she laughed. The way they swelled when she stretched. The way the water had caressed them that damned night.

And the fact that, every time he thought about it, his brain became a flock of chaotic explosions.

One night, as YN was adjusting her sweatshirt with only a sports top underneath, Katsuki looked at her for a second too long.

She crossed her arms, blushing. -“Are you still thinking about that time?”-

Katsuki whirled around, muttering in a hoarse voice, -“I’m thinking about blowing you up, for sure.”-

She smiled. And deep down, she knew full well that she was lying.

It was afternoon, in the dorms. Katsuki had just come back from training, his muscles tense and his anger at 120%. He had just sat down on the couch, when Denki Kaminari looked out with a look like a cat who saw fish in the sink.

-"Yo, Bakugou…"- -"What the fuck do you want now."-

Denki smiled, leaning overly nonchalantly against the back of the couch. -"You know, I was thinking about how much you've changed since… that night at the hot springs."-

Katsuki didn't answer. Just a withering look. But Denki wasn't intimidated.

-"You're… different. Like… you're absent. Absent-minded. Do you know what you look like?"- He paused dramatically. -"Someone who went nuts over a pair of boobs."-

Silence.

The explosion came. -"FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!"-

Denki burst out laughing. -"Come on, bro! I'm not saying it's a bad thing, eh! I'd switch tomorrow, I swear! But it's a fact! You've become… how shall I say… a walking boobs' addiction!"-

-“I’M GRENADEING YOUR ASS, KAMINARI!”-

-“You can’t deny it, huh! Every time YN talks to you, your laser eye goes up your cleavage! Your brain is fried, bro!”-

Denki laughed, bent over. -“All you needed was a bubble in your nose while you were drooling!”-

-“FUCK YOU! I’M NOT DROOLING! I’M NOT LOOKING! I’M NOT THINKING! IT WAS A FUCKING COINCIDENCE!”-

Kirishima, who was passing by with a snack, stopped. -“Uh… technically, your face was planted between—”-

-“SHUT UP TOO, TOMATO HAIR!”-

Denki, at this point, had tears in his eyes. -“Bro, admit it: you’re possessed by boobs. It’s legitimate. I would be. Actually, I am, without even having it in my face…"-

-"YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN A DUMMY, KAMINARI! I'M NOT LIKE YOU! I HAVE… DISCIPLINE! CONTROL! DIGNITY!"-

-"And two big boobs imprinted in my brain forever."-

-"FUCK YOU!"-

Denki raised his hands innocently. -"Okay, okay. But… if it ever happens again… you'll let me watch, right?"-

Katsuki stood up. His gaze was pure fire. -"I'll rip your eyes out of their sockets and fry them in a pan, okay?! If anyone besides me looks at YN—"-

He stopped. Denki stared at him with raised eyebrows.

-"…Besides you, huh?"-

Silence. Katsuki realized too late. Then he turned abruptly and walked out of the room, muttering,

-"Fuck you, you didn't hear shit!"-

Denki watched him disappear into the hallway, then said to Kirishima, -"It's official. He's gone. Kaput. Boobs: 1. Bakugou: 0."-

Kirishima smiled. -"I think he's even happy about it."-

[kedreeva]

No problem! I went back outside and took pics of the in-progress tower I have in the yard, since it's a little easier to see the guts of it.

this is what my towers look like completed and installed in the barn:

They're small, roughly 30x20" floor space or so. Coturnix should not be housed in rack systems at a housing density LESS than 1 quail per square foot; housing them less densely than that can lead to territorial aggression issues. There are some people who say they can be housed at 3 per square feet, but I find that as adults, they don't hold feather condition all that well when they're housed like that, so my max is generally 2 per square foot on adults (the babies like it a bit more crowded for sleeping piles). These are big enough to hold 8 adults that way, but more typically they hold 4-6. I found this smaller size to work better for me because I like to use single males instead of 2-3 for larger groups.

It's also just plain old easier to clean. At 5'3" I'm not super tall, and pulling a 3 foot by 2 foot floppy tray with poop (and potentially liquid shitwater if the quail have been messy with the water cups) and trying to maneuver it was a fucking nightmare. Which just led to me not wanting to do it as often. These trays are MUCH more manageable, and because I can maneuver them easily, it's easier for me to psych myself up for dealing with a bunch of poop.

Sark found this post and sent me the link to the Opti-cutter site!

So that the post doesn't get toooo long, I'll put more photos below the cut.

Here is the tower from the rear, without the top or back panels

The doors were. not measured correctly this time, so there's a gap between them that isn't there on the main towers. But here's the front view of them. There is a piece of wood screwed into the inner edge of the right door, to close the gap (and I'll be adding another to the left door, the doors should touch). There is no middle brace for the doors to latch to, they both open completely up for cleaning and quail catching.

Side view of one level of it. You can see the tray that serves as the floor is on a VERY slight slant, which is what allows the eggs to roll out

You can also see the wire is just a simple little panel. Really easy to cut out and staple in. You can also juuuust see the lid of the cage under it is the same wire. Some builds just allow the poop tray to sit on top and serve as a ceiling. I hated that. When I remove the tray, there's way too much of a chance they could flush up and out. So i wired it. But you technically don't have to, if you want to save a buck.

here you can see that the "floor" of the thing is its own separate entity not a part of the main frame ladder. These are built separately from the frame, and applied at the end. Building them like this means that you can REMOVE (and even replace JUST) them if they break, wear, or get too dirty. The screw forward of my finger is what holds it to the frame, along with the one forward of that on the same side of the wood. The one next to my finger to the left is part of the floor frame. If you look toward the far side (the front) you can see the floor frame is pressed right up against the bottom of the door.

The wire MUST RUN FRONT TO BACK ON TOP

We fucked this up TWICE during the original builds and ended up recycling the floor frames to be grow out cages, but my god. It seems like such a simple thing and it is not. our brains did NOT want to help us in this endeavor, because you are stapling it to the bottom of the frame, but it's "on top" when you're stapling and. just be careful. ALSO get help with stretching the wire. If it's loose, the rollout opening may be big enough for quail to fit through.

Door. We put the wire on the inside, I've seen people put it on the outside, I don't think it particularly matters. We did wire inside because we use j-feeders through the doors, so that they're on front where I can feed them without moving anything. The racks themselves only fit perfectly in the spot I wanted them to go if we didn't have the feeders on the side BUT lots of people put them on the side for whatever reason.

Hope that helps!

hey guys i've been doin' a bunch of research on raising and keeping quail (specifically coturnix quail) and I want to start putting down plans for building an elevated hutch

what I want to know- for anyone who currently takes care of quail- what building material, wire gauge for standing on, sand/dirt, etc is ideal for adult quail? Like things I wouldn't easily find out about while searching online (I know that they have to be built smaller than 18 inches or taller than 6 feet)

also i'm open to learn more in general if anyone has niche tips for quail care 👀

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI tags: @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @illiana-mystery

AN: Inspiration taken from this post from @loversrocktvgirl2 and @hurtspideyparker Hope you don't mind but it gave me an idea I couldn't shake.

warnings: swearing, mention of violence

"So I heard you like My Chemical Romance." I said, leaning against the door to Bucky's room. He looked up at me, face guarded but eyes curious.

"What's it to you?" He asked. His hand inched towards his phone where his headphones were connected. "Got a problem with it?"

"No." I shrugged. "Just thought you'd like to expand the palette." I smirked as he looked from his phone to me.

"What's that mean?" Bucky asked. I smiled as I entered the room and kicked the door shut.

"I'm glad you asked." I said as I held my hand out for his phone. Bucky handed it over reluctantly. "They're not as emo as My Chem but..." I typed away at the screen. "By the way you really should put a password on here. Anyone can get into it otherwise." Bucky rolled his eyes as he moved over on his bed. I sat down and passed him an earbud. "Give this a listen." Bucky hesitantly put it in his ear before scrunching up his face.

"What the fuck is this?" He asked. I smiled because the earbud was still firmly placed in his ear.

"American Idiot by Green Day." I shrugged. "Punk rock. Rebel against authorities, the assholes and whatnot." Bucky stared at me a beat.

"This explains why you are the way you are so well." He said. I laughed and shrugged.

"What? The punching Nazis in the face and spitting on Valentina?" I asked. "That should just be common decency. Hell I would expect you to get the whole thing. Being from literal World War II." Bucky nodded slowly as the next song started playing. "I'm the song of rage and love..." I sang quietly, watching as Bucky's face relaxed. We sat in silence as the rest of the song played. Bucky pulled the earbuds out of the headphone jack and leaned back against his headboard as the song kept playing.

"I like that one." He murmured as he closed his eyes. I smiled softly as I looked at him. "Somehow remind me of...deconditioning." I gently patted his leg. Bucky opened his eyes and looked at me. Jerking his head, he patted the space next to him. I crawled up his bed and sat next to him. My head ended up on his shoulder as I put his phone on my leg. Bucky leaned his head against mine. "They do swear a lot." I started laughing.

"Newsflash Buck. So do you." I teased, tilting my head to look at him. Bucky shrugged.

“I was a fucking soldier. I kind of have an excuse.” I rolled my eyes as the album kept playing. “What’s their excuse?”

“probably the way they grew up.” I said. “If you really like them, I can show you some interviews. Like you, they have their own stories to tell.” Bucky nodded.

“I’d like that.” He said. The album came to a close and Bucky handed me his phone. “They got any more stuff?”

“oh yeah.” I laughed. “They’ve got a lot.” I typed in another album and pressed play. “I do hope you know we’re going in order of my favorites and not like release.” Bucky laughed.

“oh I’m well aware.” He said, reaching for my hand and squeezing. “Thank you. For sharing this with me.” I nodded at him with a smile.

“of course.” I said. “Bob may have told me about the whole my chem thing. And how much you liked them. He was really proud of himself afterwards. For like weeks. It was his own personal high. So when he mentioned it…”

“You’re gonna tell him about this so he knows he can share more.” Bucky said. I nodded.

“it’s not just me sharing a small piece of me with you. It’s giving bob permission to give us little pieces of him. Become part of the team. Properly. And not like just our chore manager or something. Fucking glorified housekeeper.” Bucky tilted his head to press a kiss to my temple.

“Look at you. Plotting on the shadows.” He teased.

“shut up asshole.” I laughed gently shoving him. Bucky laughed as we settled into silence, enjoying the rest of the album.

[greyyson-but-wrong]

ALIBIS; part two

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: typical marvel violence, airport scene, swearing, hydra mention, canon-adjacent civil war + post credit scene

summary: captain america vs iron man, was it ever going to go well? but now, with a chance to prove bucky innocent via a talk out with t'challa, freedom is right around the corner. the conversation ends better than you thought it ever could.

author notes: oopsie, it took me so much longer to get around to this than i thought it was... we've got a heatwave over here in the uk and my cat has fleas so ive been very very busy :/ hope you enjoy this and if i'm being 100% transparent, timelines get confusing towards the end and i forgot about the hint at them fucking previously so as far as everybody is concerned, they aren't together/haven't confessed yet (call it a fwb situation i guess...)

word count: 5.1K (the most i've ever written for fanfiction L)

There was no way on this holy Earth that all of you were going to make it out of this fight. The airport was a mess, crushed infrastructure, planes broken in two, cars and trucks chucked every which way. Even broken concrete from where Wanda and forced Rhodey into the ground earlier on. You weren't the most skilled here with combat, I mean, you were up against the likes of Iron Man and Vision, you were simply Hydra's brains, they hadn't put much effort into the little combat training they gave you. But you had the serum, only two other people here had it, and they were both on your side.

This fight was not the priority, everybody on this side knew it. The need to save people from the other group of Winter Soldiers was more important than this petty argument. The other team disagreed greatly and as a result, this fight was happening, and no change was being made.

A distraction was needed. You and the others had figured out that in order to win this fight in the end, some of you would have to lose it. Steve and Bucky were priority, they knew where to go, what to do, and were the strongest — you were not priority. Even though Bucky would rather die than to have to leave you behind, there wasn't any other way this would work. Those two would have to go to Siberia and figure it out, you and the rest would receive penance, probably prison, maybe something worse. Maybe you would finally tell them your name — they would find it out somehow, eventually. If you were losing Bucky either way, you might as will give the rest of yourself up.

Rhodey blasted you, arm held up and pointed directly at you. You launched yourself out the way, rolling against the concrete so the blast when above and over you. Semi-automatic pointed towards Rhodey, you shifted, intentionally missing and hitting the truck he was placed in front of.

He turned, laughing under the mask. "You missed."

"Did I?"

The bullet had lodged itself into the engine of the truck, but it wasn't just any other bullet. You turned, sprinting as fast as physically possible away from the vehicle. The truck blew up in five seconds, launching Rhodey into the ground, the explosion ricocheting into the nearby building, windows smashing and walls falling. You didn't wait around to see what Rhodey would do, instead running away from the explosion and towards the fight currently between T'Challa and Bucky. It was this argument that could be easily settled, perhaps even without fighting.

But you knew grief, you understood it better than most people, and anger was something that many couldn't combat when it stood alongside grief. It's a difficult thing to overcome, especially when the person his anger is directed towards was standing right in front of him.

Index finger up to your ear, you spoke. "Any update on that distraction? Steve and Bucky, you need to get to that carrier."

"It needs to be something big." Steve spoke, through the comms. You turned to see him throw his shield at the kid in red that you hadn't yet been acquainted with yet, all you knew was that he was young and on Iron Man's side, which meant he would do anything stop you and the others. "Has anybody got any ideas? "

"I'd blow something up but we need to keep debris at a minimum." You murmured, launching yourself at T'Challa and knocked him off of Bucky who seemed just as confused as the king did.

"Something big you say? " Ant-man, or Scott as he had introduced himself, came through on the comms from far across the runway.

T'Challa landed like a king, running towards you and leaping, claws sharp any ready to inflict pain when needed. Seeing him coming for you, you rolled to the side, letting him crash into the concrete floor, you grabbed the gun at your hip and shot, knowing that while the suit was made of vibranium and bullets would do nothing, the distraction meant that Bucky could get away.

"I might tear myself apart but hey, what a way to go…" Scott mumbled on the radio.

You tried looking around for him, but with no luck, opting for a finger to your ear again. "Scott, whatever it is, do it. We need to get these two out of here, stat." You had T'Challa on his back, super solider strength keeping him against the concrete as you watched Bucky run across the runway, towards the hanger. He was shouting something, but you couldn't hear what. He met with Steve, and then a second later, Scott went through with his plan.

From a small, Ant-like being, he enlarged, becoming a literal giant.

"Fuck—" You couldn't help but laugh.

The other team was very much distracted, the plan went perfectly. You spotted Bucky, jaw agape as he watch Scott become this giant, his eyes trained upward at the man, a slight sense of fear instilled. There wasn't long. You ran, just about making it towards him before anybody noticed. He saw you, hands flying to your cheeks to check you were okay. Fuck. This was going to be very very difficult. Reaching up to your cheek, confusion worked its way into the roughness of his face and you pulled it down, entwining your fingers with his. He didn't wait for you to say anything, just followed you as you started running towards the hanger.

Just a couple meters away, Steve was running too. Bucky had clocked back into reality and didn't need your hand to run anymore. If the three of you didn't make this, then everything would be over. Everybody would go to prison, Zemo would get to the other Soldiers, then chaos and power would unveil.

Someone shot at the building, brick and metal beginning to creak and fall under the pressure. You all picked up the pace a bit. Then the rubble stopped moving, held in mid-air, giving you and everyone else more time to get through and to the hanger. Footsteps echoed behind you, the best you could guess was T'Challa and maybe Black Widow. A scream reverberated across the runway, and the brick stuttered, readying to fall onto you.

Just as Wanda was forced to let go, the three of you slid underneath the rock and infrastructure, only being able to hear it crash behind you, not whether all of you made it though.

Did he make it through?

Is he alive?

You scrambled onto your feet, spinning to spot him. Just a couple meters along from you, he was lying flat on his back, groaning. A metal pipe was pressing into the bicep of his metal arm, so while you were able to sigh in gratefulness, you moved quickly, using your strength to lift it off him. He caught your eyes as you did so, but you barely saw, the only thing in your head being get him free.

His eyes were trained on nothing but you. He caught onto your black eye from the run in with Black Widow earlier and was filled with such an immense sense of guilt at being the fault of your pain, that the second the pipe was lifted away from him, he launched himself at you, arms around your torso, face squished into your neck. "I'm sorry—"

Hands palming against his shoulders, you furrowed your eyebrows and pushed him away. "What?"

"This is all because of me."

"Buck—"

"You're in danger because of me."

"That's not—"

He shook his head, palms against your cheeks, eyes closed as if he was training himself to remember your face without it being directly in front of him. "I should have never brought you into this mess, I can't— I don't wanna lose you, I—"

"James—!" You grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, forcing him to open his eyes and listen to you. "I decided to be brought into this mess when we met in Romania. I remembered you, and trust me, I was in this mess long before I met you, okay? We're doing this for you, yes, but we're also doing this for the people that are gonna die if we don't stop Zemo."

"But you're hurt."

"And so is everyone else." You spoke, voice soft now as you let your grasp on him go. "You have to get onto that carrier."

He was in your peripheral, the Black Panther, who had launched himself into the air, in yours and Bucky's direction, claws once against ready to cut anybody who got in his way. You grabbed Bucky's shoulders, pushing him away from you and towards Steve, who was ready to, pick the solider up and direct him towards the jet. Arms out, you braced for impact, your horizontal arms blocking his vertical. If his weapons were anything but his claws, it wouldn't have worked and you'd be dead meat.

He shouted, clocking onto what had happened, and you pushed him, manoeuvring yourself somehow so that you were now on top of him, keeping him from moving.

From across the hanger, you could hear Bucky shouting.

"I'm not going without her, Steve!" He cried, fighting Steve's grasp on his arm, shaking the captain away from him. "I can't— I won't do this without her. I lo—" Steve had no choice but to intervene. There was a plan, and that plan meant only him and Bucky going, leaving you here. You had already dealt with that reality, you knew it would be a struggle to convince him.

The Captain groaned. "Buck, this was the plan, we don't have long. Come on."

You turned your head, looking over toward them, shouting. "James! Go! I'll be okay, go save those people, get them out, stop Zemo!"

He turned, that same fear carved into the blue of his eyes as he found yours and simply stared at you, not knowing nor understanding how and why he had to deal with leaving you. "I can't leave you— What if it goes wrong and one of us— I might never see you again!"

"That's not going to happen." You smiled, pushing down that lump in your throat at the hypothetical he was bringing up. "And if it does, I'll find you. I always will."

Bucky visibly gulped, fists clenched at his side as he quickly turned back to Steve who was waiting in the back of the carrier. He turned back to you, eyes wide and looking as if he was beginning to lose any hope he had managed to keep. "You promise?"

You nodded, taking in a deep breath. "I promise."

He nodded back at you, the storm behind his eyes calming as he turned and ran towards the jet, joining Steve. They fired up the power, and soon enough were flying off and away to Siberia, straight into danger but straight into a possible safe future.

Knowing Bucky was away and safe, you let go of the pressure you were putting on the Wakandan King, who pushed you off of him at the released. Your back hit the concrete harshly, grunting out as reality of the situation hit you. "Listen, I know your mind is being messed with as you grieve your father, but I swear to you, on everything that I am, he didn't do it, your majesty."

"Tell me then, if you're so sure they didn't do it, why are they running?" He panted, lifting himself up to stand at full height, and offering you a hand.

You took it.

It had been two days, you think. Apparently, T'Challa had pulled some strings and gotten you a different cell to the rest of them. Yesterday, he had come and spoken with you, saying that there were a group of people wit files and information that needed to talk to you. Romania. Your people, who had been tirelessly working away in the lab to get enough evidence to prove Bucky innocent, and they had come through. So you told T'Challa that's what they were here for, and he had agreed to hear you out.

And so, the files were tucked under your arm. Every single detail needed to prove Bucky innocent, that you would be able to show T'Challa and he would accept. Hopefully. But the point was that this was your oppertunity, and you had to take advantage of that. Your people back in Romania had really come through, and had been able to get every piece of evidence to the Avengers warehouse, or whatever that was becoming now that the Avengers had partly disassembled.

T'Challa was already in the room when you opened the door, accompanied by two guards, standing either side of you. The room wasn't anything special, two chairs and a table. That was all it needed to be.

You smiled at the King, partly out of politeness, but mostly out of understanding and the kindness of your heart. You knew what he was going through, and that's what was important in this situation. Understanding. Of both sides, of both people, of both stories. He was hurt, but so was Bucky. He returned the smile as you took your seat opposite him.

"Good evening." He greeted, accepting the file as you slid it over to him. "I hope you're well."

Nodding, you shrugged and pulled open the files. "As well as one can be when certain government bodies are keeping the whereabouts of her best friend a secret."

T'Challa chuckled a little, eyebrows furrowed and a glint in his eyes. "Best friend?"

"What else?"

"You two are not an item?"

"I— uh." There was nothing you could say.

Because, yeah, you would like to be. You couldn't act as if the idea hadn't swirled around your mind a couple times. That your eyes hadn't strayed to Bucky's lips and perhaps even further downward in the year you shared a living space. But it was so complicated. Hydra had broken the both of you so much, then built you back up again just to break you down once more. Neither of you were in the right state of mind to even think about a relationship, especially not in the current climate and the brainwashing technology still murmuring inside the both of you.

T'Challa shook his head, holding a hand out for comfort. "Do not worry about it. Forget I said anything. How about we move onto the evidence?"

"Yeah." You nodded, pulling the endless documents and photos so that they faced the both of you, visible to all. First was a photo a Zemo, and his file. "This is Helmut Zemo, he's Sokovian and he's done this all in order to break apart the Avengers and, ironically, avenge the lives of those lost in the Sokovia battle."

The King nodded, lifting up the photo to get a close look. "If this was all him, why did our security footage show Barnes at the scene?"

Flipping a couple pages, you opened the file onto the one that described the technology that Zemo used. It included a detailed description, and photos of the different tech that your team had gotten both in person and from different sources (you avoided the fact that you had stolen a lot from government files). "He's been developing this tech over the years, facial stuff, it can make him look like anybody he wants to be, and he chose Bucky."

He was believing it. "What are his backgrounds?"

"Military. He's technically a colonel." You spoke, flicking through and past a couple pages. "Has a lot of connections, that without, he wouldn't be able to achieve what he has."

T'Challa sighed, reading over a couple lines. "What were his exact plans?"

"That's what Rogers and Bucky are dealing with now, or have dealt with." It was only the beginning, there was a lot to explain. "While Bucky is the most well known Winter Solider, he wasn't the only one. They're all in cryogenic chambers in an old Hydra base over in Siberia, but since Zemo was able to awaken the Winter Solider in Bucky, that means he can awaken the others. We estimated about a dozen, from this data—" you pointed towards a particular graph that you remembered making back under Hydra's view. "and if Zemo can control them, he can control anything he wants to."

"Hence the urgency."

You nodded. "Yeah."

A moment of silence wavered over the room. Then, he spoke again. "He still killed a lot of people."

"His body did." You answered, almost too quickly. You had to act as if you didn't know someone was going to say that along the lines. "His mind did not. Please, your majesty, you have to understand what Hydra did. We have more proof. Images of him being tortured, of me being tortured, of the tech, mission repor—."

He held a hand out, pausing your speech. "I understand, believe me."

You nodded. "Thank you."

"People still died at his hand."

"I understand that."

"The brainwashing is still a part of him, you say?"

"Yes."

He took in a deep breath, raising a hand to his chin as he ran through the different options for going about this. All you could do was sit there and watch, maybe ponder as to what the different options could be. Prison? A cabin in the middle of nowhere? A psych hospital? Surely the government has some form of charity of formation that was made to deal with cases like you and Bucky. That would probably be the best option.

It was difficult. Both Ross and T'Challa had refused to tell you where Bucky was. As far as you were concerned, he could still be in Siberia. He could be dead. No. It was Bucky, he would survive out of anything. And you promised you would find him, you never broke a promise. Especially when it came to Bucky. You pushed the thought of him being dead far out of your mind.

T'Challa let out his breath. "How would you feel about staying in Wakanda for a couple of years?"

"As… a prisoner?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head. Your confusion and answer had amused him. "No… as a citizen, or guest. My sister, Shuri, I think you would get along. You're both creative, brainy people."

It seemed to good to be true. "Is this a trick?"

"No." He repeated, leaning forward to sit up straight, hands clasped atop the table as he looked towards you. "Barnes is currently being kept in a forced coma inside the walls of Wakanda. The American Government handed him over when their officers found him at the scene in Siberia yesterday. We may have the technology and ability to rid his mind of the Winter Solider once and for all, but we were unsure on whether to go through with it. We were waiting for your evidence."

He wasn't dead. He was safe. For the most part.

You dragged a hand down your face. "So what's going to happen now that you have the evidence?"

"Once his arm has healed properly, which shouldn't take long due to the serum advanced healing, we will wake him up and begin the journey of removing the brainwashing tech." He spoke, as if the concept of getting rid of the Winter Solider was like going to the shops and getting a loaf of bread. Normal. Expected. Unsurprising.

Truly, you had no choice but to pause him. "What do you mean letting his arm heal properly?"

He shrugged, clearly unsure as to how you would react to the information. "We have removed the metal arm Hydra gave him. In it's place is a short metal stump that, if needed, can have another arm attached to it."

"You've made him a new arm?"

"Vibrainium." He spoke, lips curling upwards slightly at the joy carved into your features at the news. "Lighter, easier to maneuver. But through the journey we think it would be best if he learnt to live without the arm. It will disassociate himself from Hydra and his past the the Solider."

You nodded, practically ecstatic. "I couldn't agree more."

"So you would like to join us in Wakanda?"

Taking in a deep breath, you looked down at the desk, and the endless files that had cluttered the entirety of the surface. A photo of Bucky had fallen out from somewhere, one from before the war, before the Winter Solider. He looked so soft, so unaware. It would have been nice to know him back then, but this was your Bucky. Your James. You wouldn't trade him for the world. You looked back up to T'Challa again. "I would be honoured."

It was warm. Not an overwhelming, sweltering warm but a settled, comforting warmth. The sun was high in the sky, laying a golden glow across the horizon as the sunrise came to an end and the day hit late morning. Beneath your feet, the grass was warm, the blades of green tickling your feet ever so slightly as you watched onto the two young boys running across the field. You didn't know them very well. Hell, you hadn't even been here very long. But they were nice boys, funny, mischievous, a bit hectic, but a sense f goodness in this hard hitting world.

You'd spent the past month with Shuri, in the lab, in the city. T'Challa had been right, you did get along, very well. Both of you enjoyed gossiping too much, messing with new inventions and ideas, spending endless nights brainstorming different concepts. It had been fun, and a great contrast to the dull experience your lab in Romania had been.

Then news had came that Bucky's arm would be completely healed and it was time for you to move. The plan was for Bucky to start his journey just outside of the city, by a set of small huts, one for Shuri, for Ayo, one for you and one for Bucky. Apparently Shuri and Ayo had a bet going that your hut would not be used as much. T'Challa had obviously passed on the information of your feelings onto his sister, who, like the gossip she was, passed them onto everyone else.

It had been a lot. The change, the differences. Preparing for what it would be like when Bucky woke up. Would he like Wakanda? Would he even still want to see you anymore?

No, he would. Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

Then, after a long night with Shuri in the lab, she convinced you that once he was awake and ready, you would tell him about your feelings. She settled your nerves, and offered up the idea that if he didn't reciprocate anything, you could just move back into the city. Wakanda was big, it didn't matter. So that's what you planned on doing.

Now, you were sat outside his hut, of which he was fast asleep inside, let out the coma but retracted from it in a way where it would just feel like he had been asleep. The grass against your feet and the sun on your face made the scene picturesque, as if there wasn't going to be a better time than this. Everything was grounding you, because everything was real. Nothing was holding you back, nothing was telling you what you could be or what you couldn't be. This was the realest things had ever felt for you, and in truth, you accepted the fact that you were content. This could be a good life, life could be enjoyed.

You turned, briefly, to where Shuri was stationed outside of his cabin. She grinned, holding two thumbs up and mouthing over to you, he's waking up, and you let a small smile paint itself on your lips and the concept of seeing him again.

The sun hit your face as you turned back around.

There was a crackle behind your, feet against bark, then you heard Shuri speak. "Sergeant Barnes, good morning. How do you feel?"

A pause. Then— "Good." Though he couldn't see you listening in, you were. A sigh left you at the single word he spoke, knowing that he felt safe and perhaps for the first time in a while, understood. "Where— where am I?"

You didn't need to listen as Shuri explained what happened and where he was. She went through what the plans were, who was going to be involved and what happened after the airport situation, having been filed in by both you and T'Challa. Bucky simply listened. That was one of the things he was good at, listening. Always intently, always letting you finish before he offered his own opinions or thoughts. His silence as Shuri spoke was all you needed to just be able to sit contently where you were. Against an old tree log, looking out over the lake, then the fields behind it, smiling at the sheer tranquility of it all.

When she stopped speaking, not much was said. Bucky processed, looked around, then caught the image of you, sitting on the log, your body silhouetted against the late morning sun. "Is that…?"

"She's been waiting for you to wake up."

"Can I?"

Shuri laughed, you heard it even from where you were sat. "I think she'd kill you if you didn't."

Hesitantly, but so insistent that he had to talk to you, the solider slowly padded through the grass, in your direction. You listened as his footsteps disrupted the silence, he grass crunching slightly under his weight, though much less now, without the arm. Soon enough, you could feel his presence behind you, his comfort, his warmth, his love. Slowly, you lifted yourself from the lo, a soft smile on your lips as you turned to face him. He looked good. Like really good.

For the first time in years, he looked healthy, well. Hair freshly washed, now nearly down past his shoulders, a lighter brown than usual due to the sunlight and half of it tied up in a bun behind his head. No cuts on his face, no bags under his eyes, no bruises. Shoulders not tensed but instead relaxed, calmly expanding then retreating along with his breath. And there was a glint in his eyes, one you had only seen a couple times, during late nights on the sofa back in Romania, that soon ended as the reality of your situation settled into the both of you. But that wasn't the case anymore. This was the reality. This was your new home, with new opportunities.

The blue that was staring back at you shined in the sunlight. "Hi."

"Hi." You repeated, your own shoulders relaxing at the sight of him alive and safe. But he didn't respond, instead choosing to simply keep staring at you, his breathing steady and lips parted ever so slightly. You laughed a little. "James?"

He hummed, "Hm?" But his eyes were still trained on you.

You broke out into a full grin, then. "Guess what?"

"What—?" He finally came back down to Earth, catching your eyes properly this time, his smile mimicking yours.

Your eyes darted downward for just a second, to his lips, parted and pink. Oh, the amount of times you had dreamt them pressed up against your own, but without the actual capacity to let yourself truly indulge in him. Yet, now, everything had changed. The two of you were safe, for the first time in 70 odd years, there was nobody chasing after any of you, no bounties, no missions, nothing to do and nowhere to go. Now, there was only each other. So, moving up onto the tips of your toes in order to reach him, balls of your feet still pressing into the dirt and grass below, you let your hand press up against his cheek. He didn't see it coming when you leaned forward, pressing your lips against him.

But just because he didn't see it coming, doesn't mean he didn't react well.

You felt him breathe in through his nose, lips moving against yours. Not hungry, not needy, not aggressive or rough, but instead a softness that you had never really seen from him before. The shift of his two lips pressed between your bottom lip, calm, smooth, everything that James was and nothing that the Winter Solider used to be.

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you taught against him. You half expected the other arm to meet his hand at the small of your back, but he didn't have it anymore. You didn't even know whether he had realised he didn't have his metal arm at the moment. But did you care? No. Of course, you didn't, because James Barnes was kissing you like it was the only thing that could keep him going. Like it was everything he's ever needed and everything he ever will need. So, no, you didn't care about his metal arm being gone. You didn't love him for his arm, you loved him for him, not some harsh reminder of trauma and pain.

You sighed as he pulled away, lips tingling and aching for more. He chuckled a little as you settled back down fully on your feet, hand never leaving where it was pressed against the small of your back. He smiled. "You have no idea—"

"Shut up." A hand to his mouth, you silence him, catching his grin and practically plastering it onto your own face at his reaction. "Because I have wanted to do that since the first time you stepped foot in my apartment in Romania, okay?"

"Okay—" He mumbles into your palm, the words muffled by your skin.

And you giggled, removing your hand from against his face, feeling no less content as you had ten minutes ago when you had sat down in front of the lake. You brushed a hand across his chest, the robes he wore soft against the skin of your palm as your hand slid upwards and towards his shoulder, feeling the metal encasing that T'Challa had warned you about. His face dropped as you did so, but that didn't stop you leaning forward and pressing a kiss against the area, resting your forehead against his collarbone and breathing him in.

He was safe. He was happy. The two of you had a future that didn't show death seven feet ahead of you. Soon enough, he would be rid of the Winter Solider and some form of… normality could be found.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, smiling up at him.

He grinned at you, taking in a deep breath then looking out into the open lakes and fields in front of you. "I haven't got a left arm anymore."

You laughed.

a/n: hope you enjoyed!! pls support I beg I swear I'll write more I just aah yeah. I promise? lmao

[chrisfawns]

𝜗𝜚 ɞ⊹ how fluttershy!reader and frat boy!chris met

you gulped, twirling a lock of pink hair around your finger. you knew you shouldn't be here. the pi kappa alpha house was the last place people like you belonged. the walls of the dilapidated house were packed, body to body, with sweaty college students; screaming, laughing, singing, twerking, and smoking without a care for how packed the space was.

somehow, you'd let your best friend, hannah, convince you into finally coming to a frat party. you'd specifically avoided the things for years, just the thought of all the people making you slightly nauseated. you much preferred your friday nights to be spent with a good book and a cozy blanket.

speaking of which. . .you turned to find your friend, only to find her swept into the sea of people. you knew it would be practically impossible to find her in the mass of girls wearing nearly the same cutoff shorts and crop top outfit. you, on the other hand, were so out of place it was almost painful. your pink and yellow sundress fluttered around your thighs, sticking to your skin thanks to the layer of sweat that the white cardigan on your shoulders had created. for some reason, the hoards of girls you had seen on your walk to the house didn't clue you in to the dress code.

mary janes squeaking across the sticky, beer covered floor, you moved through the crowd of bodies towards the stairs, hoping to find some solace in a quieter part of the house while you waited for an uber.

though still filled with people, the upstairs was like a breath of fresh air from the level below it. most of the rooms were either open and filled with people or closed with obvious hookups behind them. that was, until you reached the end of the hall. you pressed your ear to the wooden doorframe, letting out a thankful sigh when you didn't hear anyone behind it.

stepping in, you realized it must've been the master bedroom. it was nicer and bigger than the others, a boston celtics and lil skies poster decorated the walls and the bed was surprisingly made. you closed the door and sank to your feet, leaning against the wood. finally, you could hear yourself think.

you clutched the plush my little pony keychain that you kept on your purse to your chest, trying desperately to fight tears. you were alone in a house full of people you barely knew. so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn't notice someone exit the en suite bathroom until he was towering over you.

"kid, what the fuck are you doing in here?" chris asked, case of busch light tucked under his arm.

you hastily wiped your eyes, looking up at him and cursing to yourself when you felt your tummy drop. he was gorgeous. soft, brown curls were visible under his backwards hat and you didn't miss his piercing blue eyes or the stubble that decorated his chin when he swiped a hand over his face.

"your friends here?" he questioned again, figuring you were just drunk and out of sorts.

"can't find her." you finally whisper back, keychain still clutched to your chest.

chris can immediately tell you're not drunk and in fact, stone cold sober. he sighs, sinking to the floor beside you and abandoning the case of beer. he may be a fraternity president, but he's not a monster. he can't just leave a crying girl alone in an unfamiliar house. "well, you are kind of in my room."

you just blink at him, mumbling out a tiny "sorry". you go to stand up, but chris places a large hand on your arm to keep you sitting down, making you practically curse when you feel a jolt of warm electricity run through you; he's got nice hands.

"you're not ready to go back out there," chris says, knowing you're nothing like the other girls that attend pike's parties. "you smoke?" he asked, pulling a cart and a vape out the pocket of his baggy jeans.

you shook your head, to which chris shrugged and mumbled a "more for me". as he takes a hit of the vape, blowing the smoke towards the ceiling, you have the sudden urge to crawl into his lap and stay there. maybe you'd run your fingers through his hair or he'd trail his fingers down your spine. stopping yourself there, you remind your brain that you're definitely not his type.

chris still barely knows anything about you besides the fact that you're the girl who's hiding out in his bedroom and missing her friend. however, he finds himself not wanting to rejoin the party downstairs. he'd rather stay here and try to figure you out. what's a sweet, shy girl like you doing at a place like this? he finds himself speaking before he can even think twice about it.

"you can stay up here as long as you want."

© chrisfawns

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[the-daughter-of-a-wolf]

Some more 2 Old 2 Guard thoughts, having calmed down a little (but not a lot)

Spoilers galore, obviously!

Okay so I'm gonna sort this vaguely by character in hope of some semblance of cohesion. It's probably not gonna be that cohesive anyway because my thoughts bounce around a lot but ah well!

Andy & Quynh

Charlize Theron continues to be incredible, I really loved her performance in this movie.

Also the lesbian mullet. Woooweeee. That was hot.

I really liked the dynamic between Andy and Quynh. I had been really worried about how they would handle that, because obviously Quynh was going to be really angry, and possibly a li'l bit insane after what she's been through, and I wanted that to be explored but also obviously I was rooting for a reunion and forgiveness in the end. Their arc more or less gave me what I wanted. I feel like they could've gone deeper into Andy's experiences after losing Quynh and why she eventually stopped looking, because that can't have been easy, and if I were Quynh I would not have been satisfied with the explanations that were offered for that.

I do wish they hadn't returned Andy's immortality before Quynh even got a chance to learn about her mortality. I think it would've been juicier for Quynh to injure Andy and realise oh shit she's not healing, and have to grapple with losing the person that meant the most to her but also who she was really angry with, and also with having limited time to fix things between them. Either make them both mortal or leave it as just Andy, if you ask me.

The toxic yuri fight moments did give me life, though. And the beginnings of reconciliation towards the end! Those were lovely!! Honestly for the most part this plotline was a huge positive to me!

BUT on the flipside the return of Andy's immortality was a HUGE MISTAKE in my opinion. Really took the bottom out from under everything that was discussed at the end of the last movie and in the first half of this one. Having her grapple with losing her immortality means nothing if it can just be handed back to her! AND okay fine if they end up doing that like they did, THEN HAVE HER AND BOOKER DEAL WITH IT AND NOT JUST (presumably) KILL HIM RIGHT AWAY! Have Andy say "hey Booker, you're doing that thing again where you presume to know what I want with my life and immortality! Did we not talk about this last time! And actually maybe I didn't want my immortality back, which you would have known if you'd ASKED ME!" It steps on her agency so hard to do this, and that at least merits a fucking discussion!! Now they just never did anything with it. Because the movie didn't have an ending. Sigh.

Booker

I really really liked how they added Booker back into the squad. I think it was inevitable, and I very much like that Joe was the one to break first and reunite with him. I also think his conversations with Andy were really good, those were some of my favourite moments in the movie.

I also think the way Booker acted after learning about Nile's "destroyer" ability was very in line with his character, and incredibly well acted.

The scene where he sparred with Nile was also one of my favourites in this movie. It was incredibly juicy. Aside from the fact that I LOATHE the whole concept of "newest immortal can take away immortality and then you can pass it on to anyone you fucking like without their consent", Booker was the correct character to put in that situation.

But crucially I DON'T THINK IT SHOULD HAVE WORKED. I think Booker should've done all he did, fight Nile and then send Andy out to fight thinking she was immortal and himself out to die and THEN REALISE IT DIDN'T WORK. AND THEN THEY WOULD'VE HAD TO DEAL WITH THAT. How does Nile feel about Booker using her essentially to self-harm/kill himself? I would've liked to see that explored! How would Andy feel about the fact that Booker's trying to decide for her again and that despite everything they went through, he's still willing to hurt the others to end his own immortality? I WOULD'VE LIKED TO SEE THAT EXPLORED. (OR, and this would've made less sense for his character, but HAVE HIM NOT BE ABLE TO GO THROUGH WITH IT AFTER ALL! Like, he's like oh hell yeah gonna give up my immortality and give it to Andy and then realise he can't get himself to do it! That would've been interesting!) Instead he just martyrs himself like an idiot, and if we're to assume he's actually dead (well, either way because that third movie is NOT happening), these things will NEVER be explored! I'm truly so mad at the wasted potential here.

Joe & Nicky

I would've like to see more of them! Obviously! I'm biased! But I feel like they set up a lot of interesting things for them that never got explored. (Like most things. Because this movie was MISSING THE LAST QUARTER TO THIRD OF IT. AAUUGHHHHHHH.)

I liked some of their lighter, goofier moments, some not so much. The car chase felt a bit dumb and I didn't like the cartoony thumb and ankle gore, it was silly and gross. I did like their drunk antics, that was cute. I like that they get to be funny and weird sometimes! But I would've liked a bit more dimensions to them beyond that.

For example! I was honestly SO ON BOARD with the "oh I want to spend some time by myself" situation and the following Booker conflict! That shit was juicy! I want to explore their differences and disagreements as well as all the happy lovey stuff! But that didn't really go anywhere after the first discussion, which was a bummer. Obviously I don't want anything permanently detrimental to happen to my boys, but I want them to have complex inner lives of their own! I feel like they conveyed that so concisely and well in the first movie, with just few key moments of dialogue and acting, and here they were mostly relegated to the background and I was bummed about that.

The love declaration speech vol 2 was adorable and very touching, but because there was no follow-up to any of it (BECAUSE THE LAST ACT WAS MISSING), it ended up feeling a little tacked on. Like, okay foreboding sense that their time is coming to an end! Where's that going!! I WOULD LIKE TO SEE THAT!

Also not enough cuddling and no kissing. What's up with that!!

Nile

I am so frustrated about how little Nile got to do in this movie! Because it basically should've been her movie. And would've been, HAD THEY BOTHERED TO FINISH IT. I can't believe that in a movie mostly centered around Nile's role in the group and abilities, SHE NEVER GOT TO LEARN ABOUT HER ABILITIES. What a clown show.

First of all she shouldn't have that power to begin with, the whole concept was a load of crap. But if she had to have it, MAKE HER GRAPPLE WITH IT. How the dynamic between the group would immediately change. Are they gonna be careful around her and scared of her? Are they gonna want to use her powers to end their immortality? Does she get a choice? What about her own immortality? Is this not what the movie should have been about, if that element had to be introduced????

Also I'm annoyed that they brushed off that whole "hey, are you suddenly okay with all this excessive violence" thing. I'm glad it was brought up, but the fact that she was like "nah it's for the greater good, it's fine" did not feel in line with her character, or at least felt like something that should've been explored further. Like yes, I remember that in the last movie she came to the conclusion that the work they do is important enough to justify the violence, but honestly I feel like in this movie it really wasn't. Like okay, arm dealer bad, gotta kill him, fair enough. Gotta kill DOZENS AND DOZENS OF HIS STAFF AS WELL? How does that sit with the soul, I wonder. It felt gratuitous to me so I think it might've felt gratuitous to Nile as well. But nah who cares.

I would've liked more discussions about how Nile is settling into the immortal life in general.

But anyway Kiki Layne is hot as fuck and Nile is so cool and I love her <3

Tuah

idk it's really weird that he exists

I liked him fine as a character, but you can't just be adding random immortals willy-nilly like this! That really stepped on everything we thought we knew about how the immortals worked and who they were but okay then.

He should've just been a cool librarian dude, I wish they weren't all warriors!

He was cute and I liked his interactions with the main crew well enough. But again, the character existing is a big problem for the lore, so that kinda got in the way of my enjoyment.

Discord

Literally the biggest problem of this whole movie to me (aside from all the other stupid lore shit they changed).

There should not be an older immortal than Andy. And if there was, THEY SHOULD ALL KNOW ABOUT IT, WAS THAT NOT HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO WORK?!? And since Tuah is suddenly someone Andy also knows, would this woman's existence not have come up?? Somewhere in the past several hunderd/thousand years??

NO, see what I think they should've done is either A) just make her a mortal?? Maybe a mortal who's conned everyone into thinking she's an immortal and is playing the rest of the team against each other in hopes of gaining immortality! That could be juicy! But a greedy mortal all the same! or B) make her someone who's gotten her immortality more recently! Like idk, if she knows about this stupid-ass ✨LEGEND✨ that's so convenient, she should've gotten her immortality by somehow having someone else lose theirs! Make her a mortal who knows about the immortals and this fuck-ass legend and have her manipulate Nile into injuring Booker or Quynh or something idfk and have her gain immortality that way!

Then the movie would've been about the old immortals who are So So Tired and Andy - who is the oldest - having lost her immortality, and these newbies/mortals being like OOH IMMORTALITY GIMME IT. Wouldn't that have been something to build a movie around?? (idk. like. the first movie. which explored this theme with great success and thematic cohesion...)

I do think there's thematic potential in a super ancient immortal who's NOT tired of life as opposed to the main squad, many of whom really are, but I don't think the way they approached it here made sense. Partly because adding her to the canon as the oldest was so stupid and bad to begin with. Also if they wanted to explore an immortal wanting to keep their immortality... make it Nicky and Joe? Like, when confronted with the Magic Immortality Cure Stabby, have Booker be like YEEHAW, have Nile and Andy grapple with it, and have Joe and Nicky say actually no thanks we want to keep going? Wouldn't that have been interesting??? Idk man, they could've gone so many ways with this, but I am not a fan of what they went with.

Uma Thurman is cool though, not gonna lie.

Anyway I guess that's most of it for now! There were individual moments I liked, the acting was excellent across the board, and I was so happy to see my blorbos again. But they retconned WAY TOO MUCH of the lore that made the first movie so interesting and impactful, and there's just no getting around the fact that THIS MOVIE WAS NOT FINISHED. It wasn't even sequel bait, it was an unfinished movie. That's such a shitty move, especially after such a long wait, and I'm very pissed off about it.

I doubt I'll watch this movie again, but I hope that at least the first one will remain untarnished in my heart and mind even with all this clownery 💔

[simmerandwrite]

surface tension (part 1) - highway

Pairing: mechanic!Bucky Barnes x reader​

Series summary: When your fuck buddy Billy Russo won’t come to your rescue, the grumpy mechanic Bucky will. And it turns out, as is inevitable in your small town, you and Bucky may already be intertwined. 

Chapter summary: You really needed new tires. You find out the hard way. But luckily, Bucky Barnes and a towtruck come to your rescue.

Content warning: general fuckboy warning (Billy Russo), mentions of alcoholic parents, divorce, getting together, a meet cute that is more awkward than cute

Wordcount: 4k

Notes: thank you for reading!!!! please enjoy this grumpy, awkward Bucky with an equally awkward, uncertain reader. but reader is working on herself!!! three parts planned for this one :)

Series masterlist

---

You were due for a bad day. Things had been going almost too smoothly for you lately, so the surprise flat tire felt like the universe evening things out.

A flat tire you could handle. There was a compressor hiding in the back storage shed at the office and you were more than competent enough to put air in it. When you came back at the end of the workday to find it flat again – you knew it was probably done for.

So, a few phone calls, some annoyingly helpful advice from your mother’s husband and the rest of your freedom money later – you returned to the auto-shop down the street from your work to retrieve your tire.

It took everything in you to open that shop door. You prayed to the universe to throw you a bone and have someone new at the front desk. To his credit, the guy who helped you out earlier that morning had been very nice. But you didn’t want to face him again after you cried about the whole situation.

Crying. Over a stupid rubber circle.

God, what was wrong with you?

Luckily, the handsome blond was not behind the desk. An eager young teenager named Peter helped you out, then said someone would bring your tire out.

You stood outside your car, waiting to open the hatch. In your pocket, you could hear your phone buzzing occasionally. Likely just follow-up texts from your mother about when you were heading to her house.

Across the parking lot, a side door to the garage opened. Holding your tire with one hand, like it weighed nothing, was an alarmingly attractive man. You blinked a few times as he walked towards you, momentarily distracted and confused because how was he real? Did this shop have a policy about only hiring male models?

Maybe you were going to cry again – because you got to see Adonis in a full jumpsuit. You really needed to get it together.

He didn’t say anything as he walked towards you, though you did hurry to open the back of your car, so he’d have somewhere to put the tire.

“Thank you,” you mumbled out as he placed it in. Once his hands were free again, he took a step back, tilting his head to look at your car.

“You need new tires,” he said simply, stepping to the side to look at your front end.

“Yes, that’s why I got—”

“All your tires. The tread here is practically gone. It’s not safe. One rainstorm and you’ll be sliding out.”

“My budget kind of only permits one car emergency every few months..”

“Steve said you told him you have someone who can install your new tire?”

Ah, Steve. The polite gentleman who handed you a tissue earlier.

“Yes, my mom’s husband. He’s a car guy but obviously couldn’t seal the rim to the tire so..”

“Well, tell your stepdad he should move your back tires to the front and put the new one on the back instead.”

“Not my stepdad,” you interjected, following the man around your car. He was crouched down and feeling the tread on your back tires. “Sure, yeah, he married my mom, but the dude has only been around for a few years and certainly never parented me. So, he retains the title of my mother’s husband out of politeness when truthfully, I’d rather just call him the piece of shit who drinks too much.” You let out a long breath, closing your eyes. “Sorry, that was.. I will let him know. Thanks for the advice.”

The man stood up again, sweeping a hand through his hair before he walked towards the front of your car again. “Your bumper is barely hanging on.”

“Yes, well, that’s also not in my budget. My insurance company made me go to that godawful place on Roosevelt to get it fixed after an accident and I swear they put it on wrong but when I went back there they blamed me and quoted me another 2k to fix it. So. That duct tape solution is gonna have to do.”

You almost missed it, but the man’s jaw ticked slightly. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Listen, if the ‘piece of shit who drinks too much’ can’t put that tire on, bring it back here, and we’ll do it. Or if you want a new quote for this.” He tapped your bumper with his boot. It shook probably too much. “It won’t cost two grand, I promise.”

“Well, thanks..” You finally looked at his jumpsuit, where a name was embroidered across his chest. “..Bucky. That’s a nice offer. But every time I go anywhere with my car, some know-it-all man has something condescending to me and I never know if I can trust them.”

“You can trust me.” His reply was so simple and earnest. Admittedly, there was something about him and his coworkers inside that made you feel like perhaps they weren’t trying to hose you for all your money. “Here.” He handed you his business card, where he had scrawled out a phone number on the back. Then, he nodded and turned to head back to the garage.

“Bucky?” You called after him, taking a step forward. “Thanks. And also, tell your coworker thank you too. He was very patient when I was crying this morning.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth curved upwards into a small smirk. “I will let him know. Have a good day.”

–

“Well, it’s not my fuckin’ fault you turned down the same highway you always do and seemed to forget how to drive.”

You didn’t want to cry again, and yet…

“The game just started. I can’t leave. I’ve got a huge stack riding on this.”

With a steady voice, you tried to reason. “Billy, please. Both the tow truck places I called can’t make it for hours and—“

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do about this?”

You wish you had been fast enough to tell him off before he hung up on you. Fuck. Sure, you and Billy weren’t dating - this was a situationship at best, though you knew he’d describe it simply as ‘occasional fuck buddies’ or maybe ‘friends with benefits’. 

But even friends wasn’t an accurate term. 

Because surely a friend would at least help you out when you slid off the road in the rain in the middle of fucking nowhere. Were you that naive to think he actually cared enough to help you when you were in distress?

You grumbled and smacked your steering wheel. Your cousin Leo wasn’t much help either but you gave him some grace at least. He was working and recommended a tow truck company. That didn’t work out but he did more for you in a few texts than anything Billy said. 

Letting out a frustrated groan, you dropped your phone into the passenger seat and gave yourself a few moments to just breathe. You were safe, you were dry. You could figure this out. Sure, it was raining, and you had skidded off the road – just like the guy at the shop said. And now you were stuck, but at least you were somewhere with a cell signal.

Wait. The guy at the shop.

Bucky.

You fished around through the pile of receipts and other things you abandoned in your cup holder, retrieving the business card from the garage.

Truthfully, you had thought about your interactions with Bucky since last week. Although he had been perfectly kind and professional, something about your conversation had been bothering you. He barely managed to make eye contact. You usually didn’t take that personally but for some reason, it had seemed strange.

You ran your finger along the edge of the card. It was a shot in the dark, considering they didn’t have a 24 hour service number listed. But he had scrawled another number down, so that seemed promising.

Worst case scenario he didn’t answer. Or he answered and offered no help. Your situation wouldn’t change, really. So, you decided that sure, fuck it. You’d call.

After two rings, you heard a voice on the other end. “Hello? This is Bucky.”

“Ah, hi. Hi, it’s uhm..” You gave your name, first and last. “You might not remember me, at the shop the other day – I had a tire and the—”

“The taped-on bumper.”

“Right. Yes.” You sighed. “Sorry to call you so late – I know you guys don’t do emergency service, but do you know any tow truck companies or—” You didn’t mean to yelp when a crack of thunder sounded out, but apparently your body wanted to betray you. “Fuck.”

For some reason, his tone shifted. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

You laughed. “Oh, yeah. I’m just.. I did in fact slide off the road because of my shitty tires so.. I think I have another flat and I’m definitely stuck in some mud. I’m off Hawkeye Road, past the highway turnoff. I called Crawford Towing but they quoted me a three hour wait. Thought I could ask around..”

You swore you heard him grumble now. Christ, you had clearly ruined his night with your phone call. “You know what, sorry I called. I’ll just wait—”

He said your name before you could finish. “Sorry, that was frustration over Crawford. They’re useless. I have, uh.. I know someone with a tow truck. Would you mind sharing your location with me?”

“Oh. Uhm.” You considered his question. Okay, yes, you didn’t know him. But you knew where he worked and you’d have to share your location with a tow company anyway. You went to your phone location services and shared. “Alright.”

“Thanks. Stay in your car. I’ll text you with an ETA.”

--

Bucky knew you from somewhere. He just couldn’t pinpoint it. There was something about your face and your inflection. It had lingered with him ever since he had delivered your tire to the parking lot. 

He knew it wouldn’t have been appropriate to look into your customer file for his own personal curiosities so he tried to let it go. And yet, you crossed his mind again and again. It didn’t help that he found you particularly nice on the eyes, too. 

Even though giving you the business card and his phone number felt like an unnecessary move, something in him hoped you might have reached out. Actually, given the state of your car and wheels, he had been more than hopeful. At the end of the day, helping ensure their customers were safe was the most important value of their work. Your car definitely needed some work just to come up to proper safety standards.

And when you called, in the middle of a rainstorm on a Friday night, his stomach had twisted with concern.

Bucky had been in the middle of binging through some new historical tv series, his cat Alpine curled against his lap, when you called. And two additional phone calls later, he was headed your way with a tow truck from Wilson’s. 

Sure, it meant Bucky owed Sam a few favours now, but he didn’t mind.

The rain let up enough for the road conditions to clear, though it was still drizzling. When Bucky finally pulled up ahead of your car, very stuck close to a ditch, under a struggling streetlight, he hoped it would be a quick and easy job.

Bucky got out of the truck, popping open an umbrella as he walked towards your car. Your guess had been right - you had another flat and your back tires had gotten stuck in a particularly bad mudded area. But, he’d get you out.

He walked to your door, grabbing the handle to open it.

“Hey.” He extended his hand to help you out. You blinked twice before taking it, grabbing your purse as you stepped out.

“Do you need help with the–”

He shook his head, motioning to the front of the truck. “Go wait in the cab.”

Bucky gave you the umbrella too. When you tried to protest, he insisted. “Thank you.” 

After he saw you climb up safely into the truck, he adjusted the hood of his raincoat and got to work. 

It wasn’t easy to diagnose your car in the dark evening light but the flat tire was clear enough. And if he had to guess, you might have thrown your alignment off too. He rigged the car up to the chain system and slowly eased it into place on the back of the tow truck. 

Once your car was secured, he returned to the driver’s side door. You gasped when he opened it, tightly gripping your phone. 

“You alright?” He asked. “Is it warm enough in–”

“Can I see your wallet?” You cut him off with your question, eyes blinking as he sat back. 

Bucky pulled down the hood of his jacket and closed the door, head turned towards you. “Sorry - what?”

You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes. “I just need to see your license, actually. Not the whole wallet.”

“Need to?”

“I just..” You let out the breath you were holding. “My cousin is insisting. If I don’t text him updates, he’ll freak out and assume I’ve been murdered and.. We watch a lot of Criminal Minds together. He just wants to know who I’m getting into a truck with.”

Bucky blinked a few times as he took in your words. Christ, he wasn’t any kind of predator and prided himself on his customer service and hard work. Your request was kind of ridiculous but… harmless, he supposed.

“Okay.” He just shook his head and pulled out his wallet. Once he retrieved his license, he handed it to you. “Sure.”

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, taking it and quickly snapping a photo. “I mean it, thanks. For… doing this. I didn’t think you’d be the one driving the tow truck.”

“We work closely with Wilson’s,” Bucky said, returning his license and wallet back to his pocket. “I’m going to just take this to the shop. Unless you had somewhere else to drop the car?”

“No, uh..” You finished sending a text then turned your attention back to him. “I have no plans or thoughts about what happens next so. If you guys can fix whatever is wrong… your shop is good.”

Bucky started the engine up again and pulled off back onto the road. “Do you live out here?”

You looked out the front window. “Oh, no. I was just coming back from.. Over in Cambridge, watching a movie. At their old movie theatre, the Paramount”

“Sci-fi Fridays?” Bucky asked.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, eyes wide as you looked in his direction. “Wow, I didn’t think anyone else in town knew about that. You-” You cut yourself off. 

“Don’t seem like the type?” Bucky filled in again. “What was playing tonight?”

You seemed hesitant to answer but you pushed through. “Tonight was uh, THX 1138. It was okay, not a new favourite for me but had really cool visuals.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, but you kept going. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… judge, or anything. I’m not some, like, gate keeper of sci-fi movies or.. Yeah, sorry. Why wouldn’t you be familiar? I hate when people judge me for it and yet..”

Bucky noted how you trailed off, typing feverishly into your phone before sighing. You muttered something under your breath but he couldn’t quite catch it. 

There was a reason he usually exclusively worked in the back of the shop - customer service wasn’t his forte. Sure, he loved to talk but sometimes he didn’t know what else to say. 

A few moments passed. The only sound in the vehicle came from the tinny radio and windshield wipers. 

Then, you spoke up again. You were looking at the photo of his license. “Wait. James Barnes.  Are you Becca’s brother?”

—

James Barnes. Of course. Had you really forgotten what it was like to be back in your home town? Where everyone seemed to be connected? 

You had played on the same soccer team as Rebecca Barnes when you were a kid. Then, you had crossed paths again in high school. A friend of yours had dated a friend of hers and well, that was just how friend groups overlapped. 

Despite time and distance, you had kept up a digital friendship with Becca. It wasn’t much but occasional memes and Instagram conversations had helped you maintain a relationship over the years. 

“You know Becca?”

Bucky replied without looking your way. Smart, considering the ever changing state of the highway ahead of you. 

“Yeah. From years ago now. We played soccer together when we were younger.” Nostalgia hit you like a wave. Then, the tidal wave of shame washed over you too. 

You sucked in a breath. No, no. You were working on this. You powered through. 

“The Bluebirds?” Bucky asked, finally glancing your way. 

You smiled, mostly to yourself. “Yes. I wasn’t very good - not fast or agile or… anything. But your sister was so nice to me. We all had to play goalie once or twice and I was so bad. I cried after the third goal went in. And Becca played defense just to hang out with me. She made being a Bluebird fun.” 

You gulped, eyes squeezed shut. “Your mom always used to wait with me when my parents were late to pick me up. She even drove me home a few times.” 

Now that the memories were coming back, you remembered that sometimes Becca’s older brother would be sitting in the back of the van, too. 

Bucky nodded slowly. “Did you - did we all go for ice cream together once? I remember some sort of milkshake incident—”

“Milkshake explosion?” You couldn’t help but laugh. That was a warm memory. You and Becca decided to mix your milkshakes to form some sort of ‘super chocolate’ creation and made a huge mess. The laughter had filled you both up more than the milkshake.

“I learned that day why my ma always keeps an extra towel in the car.” Bucky was grinning now and truthfully, it was kind of mesmerizing. “Do you, uh, still play?”  

“Soccer? Oh, no. Definitely not. My career started and died as a Bluebird.” Power through. “My parents officially divorced around that time so things went a little… off the rails.”

The rain started coming down harder again and you both fell into silence. You were grateful for the rain - because it felt like perhaps you had overshared. 

Your phone buzzed in your hands. Billy. You mumbled out a sideways apology to Bucky then answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“What?”

“Frank said he’d come pick you up.”

“I’m already in a tow truck, Billy. So tell him thanks but–”

“Okay, well, excuse me for trying to help. Christ. Are you coming over tonight at least?”

You sighed. “I’m not sure how you expect me to do that when my car is literally on a tow truck right now.”

“Well, that fucking sucks. I wanted to see you.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. That was code for ‘I want to have sex’ despite him trying to sugarcoat it. 

Why did you do this to yourself?

Chewing on your lip, you continued. “You can come over to my place?”

“I guess. Are you gonna be bitchy if I don’t stay the night?” 

Chist, you didn’t want to deal with him any longer. “Nevermind. I’m hanging up now, Billy.” Usually, you were weak and tangled up in your confusing feelings enough to just give in, even when Billy was acting this way. But his asshole attitude was bleeding through too much already.

You shoved your phone into your purse, silenced, then swallowed another sigh. Luckily, it seemed you were getting closer into town and Bucky’s shop.

“Was that Billy Russo?” Bucky’s question barely surprised you, but you still didn’t rush to answer. Your hometown wasn’t particularly big, there was a lot of overlap for who knew who. Plus, the company Billy’s family owned and your place of employment, Anvil Construction, was very well known across the county. 

Slowly you turned your head to look at Bucky. He was still looking forward on the road, slowing down at an intersection.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He was just loud.”

“It was.” You sighed. “And he does have a certain unbearable volume at times. How do you know Billy?”

Bucky hesitated - which immediately annoyed you. He was the one who started this conversation. You held back saying anything in response until he replied.

“We, uh, went to high school together.”

Part of you wanted to pry out more information - given that Bucky could identify Billy from hearing his voice through your phone. But, god, what did it matter? You had only been back in town for a year and you were constantly reminded about the dramatics of social circles like this. You didn’t need more information, not now.

Luckily, Bucky was pulling up to the shop.

“I’m going to just leave the truck and your car here until the morning. Then I can assess what’s going on and I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Okay. Thanks. I didn’t think you were open on Saturdays - your website hours said otherwise.”

As he parked the truck and cut off the engine, Bucky rolled his eyes. “Our website is very out of date.”

“No kidding. It looks like it was built in 1999. It would be really easy to upgrade the whole interface. You could actually even add in a widget that lets people book appointments on the spot, with an itemized list of..” You trailed off. That was enough. You really had to reign yourself in. “Sorry - I just.. Work in digital marketing, so..”

Bucky laughed, though. It wasn’t mean or judgemental either, but complimentary. “It probably was built in ‘99. I know we could do better.” 

You moved from the tow truck to Bucky’s car that was parked nearby. He insisted you use the umbrella again. You paused as you grabbed the door handle. “You know, I can call an Uber if it’s easier. I’m not far.”

“There’s nothing hard about me driving you home. C’mon.”

Bucky’s car was pretty nice - vintage, maybe. It was older than yours but certainly in better shape. He glanced towards you before he shifted into drive. “What’s your address?”

You sighed. “You won’t believe me but it’s 1729 Bluebird Lane.”

“You’re kidding,” Bucky laughed.

“Some twist of fate, I guess. That whole neighbourhood has seriously cute street names though. They must have wanted a rainbow theme. There’s Marigold and Roseway, too.”

Your conversation returned to Becca again. Bucky told you she was working as a nurse now. You mentioned how you had run into her a few weekends ago at a grocery store and how it felt like you immediately picked up where you had left off all those years ago.

“She even invited me to her birthday party next weekend?” You tried to remember what Becca had told you. “Insisted I attend, actually. She said it would be a good, ol’ fashioned house party.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, though you could see his eyes lit up when he talked about his sister. It was kind of charming. You weren’t surprised though - you had very fond memories of feeling a twist of envy about the Barnes family and how they interacted. The way Mrs. Barnes waited with you after all those soccer games - it was a kindness you’d never forget and something you knew your own mother would never replicate.

When your house came into view, Bucky slowed down. When he stopped, you both clocked the black car in your driveway.

“Roommate’s car?” Bucky asked.

You didn’t even have a chance to answer before the owner of the car got out. Billy. You watched as he popped open an umbrella and walked towards Bucky’s car. 

As you pushed on the handle, Billy grabbed it from the outside and fully opened the door. 

“What’s up Barnes?” Billy greeted Bucky after he said hello to you. “It’s been a while.”

Bucky nodded once. “Russo.” 

The energy between them wasn’t lost on you. “Uhm. Well, thanks for rescuing me on the highway and for the drive home, Bucky.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Bucky nodded again then quickly added: “About your car.”

“Right. Thanks again.”

Billy said your name, voice already laced with annoyance. “C’mon. My shoes are soaked.”

Crouched under the umbrella with Billy, you looked back and offered Bucky a final wave as he drove off. He returned it with a small smile then he was gone. 

Once you were inside, finally fully safe from the rain, you shrugged off your coat. Billy was doing the same, abandoning his shoes and umbrella on your front porch. 

“How do you know Bucky?” You asked.

“We met in high school. Then he married my cousin.”

“He’s married?”

“Divorced now. Huge mess. The guy barely shows his face anymore, thank god.” Billy laughed, then reached for the hem of his shirt. “Enough about Barnes though, are we doing this?”

–

Coming up next: Becca’s birthday houseparty

[croquettish]

Can we talk about the conversation you can overhear in the yard in Raborsch between Hanusch, Dadzig and Dry Devil?

Dadzig is really trying to push Hanush in the right direction during that conversation I feel.

He is advocating for Hans big time in that convo, saying he is an adult and is taking responsibility and reminding Hanush that he said he would forgive him (even though there is not much to forgive honestly).

I mean he does mention that Hans would benefit from a firm womans hand. I know he says woman, but Henry fits the bill quite nicely.

It's more than obvious that Hans is always looking to Henry for tough decisions and trusts him completely. Henry is the firm hand that is guiding Hans in the right direction, but is still always prioritizing his wellbeing and happiness.

Ahhh, makes me think Dadzig would 100% approve of their match if it weren't for the little fact that we are in medieval Bohemia. Oh well.

Oh man, that conversation. I absolutely agree with you that Dadzig is trying to urge Hanush toward leniency. And honestly I think one reason that he's trying so much to advocate for Hans there is because Henry isn't there to do it. Henry would have done an expert job at it, not only because he's great at standing up to authority and advocating for Hans, he knows that Hans didn't actually do anything wrong.

The worst things that Hans did (decide to take a dip in the lake, punch a city guard, divorce himself from Henry, get into another fist fight to defend Henry) are all things that, within the context of the story, have already been put behind them. In no way did Nebakov happen because Hans messed up. But he's still there blaming himself for the failed defense of Nebakov fortress and him getting captured. And he still goes out of his way to apologize for "fucking everything up" even though he didn't. A part of me has to wonder what would have happened if he hadn't admitted to fucking up in ways that he actually didn't.

All that aside, I absolutely agree with you that Henry is that firm hand for Hans already. If he'd been there, I don't think Hans would have gotten betrothed. And isn't that just a fucking tragedy.

I do love that you brought up the possibility of Hans marrying Henry if he was a woman. This is actually a thought that occurs to him in my hansry fic. Marriage was very closely tied to the status of the respective parties, and so women of lower status were often deemed concubines instead of wives. If Hans decided to court Henriette, he'd be fighting his uncle for the right to properly marry her instead of taking her on just as a side piece.

Hilariously, Radzig of course recommends a "firm hand" to Henry at the end of the game as well, where he urges him to get with Katherine even though, as Henry says, she's old enough to be his mother. According to Radzig he could use some mothering. I spy a trend!!!

[singerwriter04]

The Moment - Spying & Fighting Series

Pairing: Yelena (White Widow) Belova X Fem! CIA agent Reader

Category: Fluff, slight Angst, fighting, found family, hurt/comfort

Summary: After a heavy breakup-non-breakup, you end up adopted by Sam Wilson & Bucky Barnes, and then see Yelena again months later, when you're doing an assignment to help Sam & Bucky out. While you & Yelena realize that your love for each other is actually worth fighting for (literally).

Word count: 1426

Notes: finally giving y'all a happy fic! This was so fucking fun to write, I really hope y'all love it as much as I did!

It’s been a year since you last saw Yelena, but you’re on a small assignment at Valentina’s building for Sam & Bucky, and are getting ready to scale down the building, so you can get in through the window, and try to find evidence against Valentina. 

“Y/N, you good to go?” Sam asks over comms, and you sigh, double-check how tight your harness is, and then breathe as you get yourself ready, “Yeah, I’m about to head down. You two prepared me horribly for this.” you groan, and hear laughter on the other side of your coms, “You’re also stubborn as fuck, dear, so we couldn’t do much” Sam sighs, and you roll your eyes, and mutter, “here goes nothing” as you descend down the OXE building, and momentarily panic as you realize how fast you’re going.

“D-dad!- I AM GOING A LITTLE QUICKER THAN PLANNED-” You scream as you’re descending faster than anticipated, and hear scrambling on the comms, “Kid, what do you mean?” you hear Bucky ask on the comms, and you just—momentarily ignore it, as you kick in the window once you reach the correct floor.

And proceed to do a somersault so you can catch your balance as you hit the ground.

“Well—I made it—I just—went a little too fast, but I’m mostly–” You begin, and then look up, locking eyes with Yelena, “..fine” you manage to get out, and can hardly make yourself breathe. Everything comes back to you once you see her again, all the heartbreak, betrayal from being unable to handle everything she was dealing with, the unspoken words for months on end, literally everything slams into you like a ton of bricks.

“..Y/N?” She asks, and you look down while biting your lip, slightly ashamed, and flustered all at once. Because it’s not helping anything, seeing the woman you fell in love with, literally holding a guinea pig in her arms. “...Y-Yelena?” You still are in shock, and think to yourself before adding, “When di- Wha- Why are you here?” you ask, mostly for yourself, in all honesty, “I could ask you the same thing, why are you here, Y/N? You said, you’d never work for someone like Valentina..” She points out, while walking toward you, and putting the guinea pig somewhere safe, “I could ask you, the same thing, Lena, and I’m not working for Valentina, I’m here because, my adoptive dads,  Sam Wilson & Bucky Barnes asked me too” you explain, and the pain in your eyes is an understatement for how you feel right now. Even though, part of you doesn’t feel like it’s deserved.

You finally start hearing the comms again, and hear, “Y/N, fucking answer, why did you say ‘Yelena’? Is she there?” Bucky asks, and you can’t bring yourself to answer, but force it out, “..yes, yes she is..” and you can see the shock building on her face, “Dads? They—adopted you? When did that happen?” she questions, and you take a deep breath while swallowing, before responding, “A few months ago.. It’s—fairly new..” you explain, and she shakes her head in understanding, “You know I can’t let you leave with anything here..” she mutters, and you shake your head in understanding, while pulling out your batons, “I’m so sorry, Lena, but I have to” you breathe out, as you get ready, “I’m sorry too, Y/N” she sighs as she kicks away one of your batons before you’re ready, and uses the momentum to punch you square in the face, while you grab her available hand and kick her forward.

“Lena, please, just let me get what I need to get, and I’ll go” you plead, right as she uses her widow bites to electrocute you a bit, “I can’t, I’m sorry, I want too” she breathes out, before knocking you flat onto the ground with a ground-leg spin that took out both your legs.

Eventually, Yelena gets you in a choke-hold, and asserts, “Go, before I make you go, Y/N, I do not want to hurt you further.”, and you struggle against her grasp before agreeing, “Fine, I’ll leave, just promise me you’ll get away from Valentina.” you plead, and she breathes while nodding, before letting you go, and as you’re walking away, she grabs hold of your arm, and pulls you in for the second most passionate kiss you two have ever shared. “I’ll find you again, someway, somehow, I don’t want us to end, not like last time.” she expresses, and you can feel your heart beating out of your chest as you nod, “I’ll find you”, and feel it as she lets go when you connect yourself to the harness, and fall back out of the building, but activate your parachute in time. So now, you’re just floating, free as an eagle, through the streets of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and finally get back to listening to your comms.

“Dads- I’m back—My bad” you mutter as you get off of your parachute, “‘my bad-’?! Are you– Dear, you went off comms with us—and all we got to hear was you getting your ass beat by a Widow.” Sam expresses, very clearly frustrated with you, and you just sigh, “I know Dad, I’m on my way back home, don’t let da leave for any congressional out-of-state shit before I get back, okay?” you ask, as you hop on a last minute flight to New York.

As you head back to New York, you stare out the plane's window, and smile as you see that building's floor explode, and you know exactly who did it. And mutter, “I love you Lena,”

*********

As you walk through the front door of the apartment you live in with your adoptive Dads, Sam & Bucky, you can hear them both rushedly get up.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks you, and you breathe before nodding, “I missed her so much dad & da, seeing her again like that just–” you start, and they both run over and hug you, and you lean into it.

“We’ll figure it out, you’ll see her again, even if we have to use our connections.” Bucky says, and Sam nods into you, “That, and I’m still slightly upset she beat you up, even if deserved” and you huff in shock, “Dad, what the hell? You’re supposed to be on my side!” you complain, and they both chuckle, “I am, but we also know how hard that whole breakup-non-breakup was on you both.” Sam points out, and you move your head side-to-side while agreeing, “..that’s fair..”

*******

A few days pass, and you’re watching the news with Sam, and beg him to let you go downtown, because you can’t handle just sitting back & watching. Yelena’s down there, and hell is literally breaking loose.

“Fine, just be safe, I would like you & your father to get home in one piece.” He grumbles, and you smile as you nod, and run downtown.

When you get down there, it’s as the void is taking over, and you see Yelena step into it, and nearly run for her, before remembering what you promised Sam, and that makes you run over to where Bucky is, and you see him look around to you when he’s dealing with everyone else, “Kid, what’re you doing here? Wait- Did you-” he starts and breathes deeply as you nod, “I saw, go save the world, Da,”.

Once you leave the void, you see Yelena, and run over, before stopping short when you see how she’s acting with the new guy, and your heart breaks a little.

As they’re all headed to deal with Valentina, you see the new guy see your face, and you both lock eyes, and the understanding is immediately understood, which causes him to make it very clear that there’s nothing romantic there, they’re just best friends.Shortly after the press conference, you pull Yelena to the side, and—she doesn’t even wait a second before kissing you deeply, and passionately, “Thank you for being there, that day, and all the others. What happened—doesn’t take away from those moments. I want you, solnyshko (little sun), for as long as you’ll have me,” she expresses, and all you can do is smile, and cup her face, “Of course I will, you were my first thought as this shit happened. I want you, and I want us.” you state, and the two of you just stay there for a few moments. "You're mine, for forever now" she mutters, and you chuckle, "You're mine for forever, too."

[outlcws]

She took it surprisingly well. Most people he shouldered off, they took genuine offense — outrage, even, and given that anger was the primary color and emotion that daubed and bled through every corner of his life, Boris had no qualms taking it or dishing it out. He supposed that the shine he took to Tessa wasn't for the small acts of kindness at first — she was an untameable spirit the first night they met. In the light of day and a hangover, she was a bird in a gilded cage. With a glossary of tragedy, he didn't believe in the poetic fantasies or high romance — whatever shoved them together was probably another lame illusion, like those mirrors in carnival fun houses, but he enjoyed the ride well enough. Thus, a little taken back to be met with anything more placated than a hiss for his dismissive grousing, he parted a faint chuckle in reply to her rhetorical question. Stealing another drag from the cigarette, he eventually answered, "Got me there."

Boris fell silent, regarding her with another blank stare — the resting bitch face was a default, however, he was listening, her sales pitch of a joke managing to earn a couple minutes of his attention. "Mm. Sounds..." He struggled with a word that wasn't backhandedly insulting her. Did people always do this? Unfortunately, he'd been shitty with people before he'd ever been touched by the corruption of the capitalist cog. "Hopeful. Of you. The govnyuk who come in here fucking annoy me, anyway." Wrinkling his nose, he turned his head toward an available ash tray, tapping the end of his cigarette. Her cause was noble, though it didn't urge him to overshare. He could take apart a highly dangerous weapon of his own design set to explode a hell of a lot faster than he could describe his own feelings, and that was without opening the taped up boxes of shit memories. "I don't need anything."

Any other night, that would be that. Or had she been any less polite, he probably would've told her to get the fuck away from him. The pyrotechnics expert sat with his elbows on the counter, shoulders hunched over it, and nursing the cigarette that was deftly dwindling to a pathetic stub. Glancing at her out of his periphery, the smoke billowed from his nostrils, scoffing. "I don't know shit about these devushkas... Young ladies." Boris chose the word politely, the pause to translate in his head minimal, tapping his short fingernails against the counter. "So I'm not the guy to ask. My wife used to work here." If anything, he had probably been sitting in that same exact spot, drinking vodka or whiskey, and paying no attention until she spoke to him first. "'Less the timeline is all the same to you."

She could taste the bitterness that reeked from him on her tongue like a sour candy, one that was so covered by the stuff it made you want spit it out on the ground and rub your mouth clean with a soap if you could but Jasmine never backed down from those people; the ones who needed someone, anyone to care about them this wasn’t going to be able her story anymore she wanted to see if she could just help ease some of the pain. Slipping the notepad back into her purse and sliding the pen behind her ear, looking at the bartender she ordered a dirty Shirley ( she hated the taste of liquor but who said you couldn’t enjoy getting a little buzzed )

She shook her head with a gentle smile coming across her face, waving her hand in a gesture that meant ‘nevermind all of that.’ She was used to surly people, people that had given up on the world and had spat in its face every chance they got, it reminded her of her older siblings and how cold they turned after well everything that happened.

“I can tell you don’t work here, I’m pretty sure they don’t employ fully dressed, drinking types?” She tried to joke but fell a bit flat- tapping her hands on the side of her glass as she took a sip of the sickly sweet drink she glanced up at him once more. “ I was writing a story about the women of this club, trying to give them back their image with how the men treat 'em in this town.” she paused for a moment trying not to get worked up again. “but you seem like you could use an ear more than a question- and I’ve been told I’ve got a great one.”