#and i get that it's probably more convenient then saying 'mom and step dad' but i like the wholesomeness vibes

[thirteendaysintaunton]

something about percy referring to paul blofis as 'my parents' in tlo really does something to me and by something I mean brings tears to my eyes

[hellodragonkit]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Opinions and Points.

SPOILERS... obviously.

Ok I watched the movie, and ... some things that are my own personal thoughts and possible points I noticed. And some things I have seen others point out to where this is just my over all opinion and its kinda long.

The backstory lets not forget beetle is a unreliable narrator as proven by the first movie as Julliard and Harvard did not exist while he was alive, and unless he was possessing someone when they graduated its unlikely he said the truth. - so I don't think he gave us the full backstory. Maybe yes he did marry her, but given he never dies on screen and previously stated point. I just find it hard to believe that he drank a poison then had enough strength to chop her up as much as she was, if it was actually effecting him. i find it far more possible he had already been poisoned so often he was immune at that point. and was just pissed his new wife tried to do him in. Also in first movie it was suggested with the red mark he hung himself... maybe he tried to take over the death cult and had to do himself in for a quicker death?

the Newspapper. Yes it did say people were falsely accused of offing themselves at death, I think this was to help clear up the plot hole that would have been with Astrid's dad. And maybe be a red haring for Beetle. Next few points are BeetleBabes related so if you don't like the ship, please move on.

He gave her autonomy in his power. During the therapist scene when he "sewn" her mouth shut, it was less truly sewn and more duct taped. She had the ability to remove it, yeah he had it stick long enough for a gag, but not much more. He didn't force her.

The Contract and Nullification of it. Beetle wrote the contract, and he worked as a dead con man for years, he knew the handbook inside and out. He wrote up the contract for Lydia to sign and save her daughter, knowing there was a Massive Loop hole. even blowing a hole in the "back door" of the Neither to insure the loop hole was as big as it could be the second he had her sign, obviously with a bit of theatrics for both signing and explosions. But would we expect anything else from him?

Delia calling him: when Delia died, she called him asking to go to Lyd's wedding. He did so no questions no strings. Any other deal he always asked for something in return but for Lyd's step mom he didn't charge a dime, possibly because he felt Lyds would be upset if she missed it, and didn't get to say good bye.

Rory Beetle obviously didn't like him, could tell he was scamming Lyds, and yeah he probably could have sent him off but instead had to prove to Lydia why that guy was bad, hence why he used truth serum. He need to make sure she wouldn't go back to that guy once he was gone again. It was even hinted he heard her talking in the graveyard rushing to the church that she was not ready to marry.

He planed to go away. His song at the end, was not one of love and togetherness. MacArthur Park is more of loss and remorse. He was saying Goodbye to Lydia! Not permanently anyway

He set up sending away Deloris and helped the contract become Null When Deloris burst in through the door, the wind didn't effect Lydia, or Beetle, or Delia but the book slid to Astrid as easily as it had moved away, He moved it to her, conveniently on the page to summon sand-worms and how to brake the contract.

He stalled for the cops I find it funny how in the first movie he summoned a Man of the cloth and the guests. But this time he had both, and unlike the first time he wasn't rushing... he took his time to sing a whole song and to let the Neither cops show up, possibly also baiting Deloris to take care of her but I'm still not sure on that bit. ether way He had won, he had Lydia, the pastor, and guests. But instead he did a song and dance, a song that I already pointed out was one more of goodbye.

He let Lydia send him away. Beetle loves to make a entrance, he also may love to make a exit. he has also shown he can silence someone for just saying his name once. But instead of silencing her or taking over her voice as he had before. He started a dramatic plea, showing her he was getting sent away, showing her he was going to let her send him off.

The ending given the fact he may have over heard about Rory, And all the other notes, he could probably see Lydia wasn't wanting marriage at that time. But I also feel... he just likes the chase. What fun would it be if the Coyote already caught the road runner? he didn't mind her sending him away, because it means he could keep trying to get her to call him willingly. Over all this is just my ramblings that I don't have any friends irl who may appreciate them or be able to properly counter lol And if you made it this far thank you. And I hope you liked the movie as much as I did.

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Seven - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, and Chapter Six! Masterlist :)

Chapter Seven - Playin' Games

After driving for a half hour, your stomach decided to make an appearance by growling loudly just when the radio was switching songs. Your arms immediately covered your stomach, not like it mattered, you both knew where the gurgle came from. 

“Food is only five more minutes away, think you can last that long or will you wither away into nothing?” He asked, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. 

“I think I’ll be okay,” you said, rubbing your belly, “I’m not sure about my stomach though.” 

As soon as you rounded the corner, there was a cute little red barn-shaped building next to a little convenience shop. The outside sign read ‘The Barn.’

“Is this where we’re eating? It barely looks like it would fit 50 people!” You said, sitting up in your seat. 

“Yep! My mom and I used to come here when I was a young kid and get breakfast on our way to Wyoming to watch my dad in one of the rodeos out there,” he said, “He started my love for riding but after so many accidents I had to switch to tornadeos.” 

“We’ll have to go to one sometime, there’s plenty of them down in Salado,” you said, “They use one of my parent’s bulls.” 

Once he parked, you opened your door and slid out of your seat. 

“Little lady you get back in the truck and let me open that door for you!” Tyler said in a rush, getting out of the driver's side and jogging around the front of the truck to grab the door. 

“Ty, I’m a grown woman and can open and close doors all by myself,” you said, patting his chest and walking by him. 

“But I’m here so that means you don’t have to,” he said, catching up to you while you walked into the little diner. 

“Let me be independent while also being a gentleman,” you said. 

“Hello, kids! C’mon in and sit where ever you’d like!” The waitress called from behind the small wall of delicious pies. 

Tyler led you over to a booth near a window, rolling up the shade slightly. 

Another waitress came over with menus, silverware, and glasses of water.

“Howdy, my name is Brandi and I’ll be your server, is there anything else you’d like to drink besides the water? We have lemonades, sweet teas, and Coke products,” she said while setting everything down on the table and taking out a notepad. 

“I’ll have a sweet tea, please,” you said, picking up the menu to start mulling over your options. 

“I’ll do the same, thank you,” Tyler said, rubbing his foot on yours under the table. 

“Comin’ right up, sugar,” she said and walked off to the counter with a little too much pep in her step. This started a little fire inside of you that you didn’t know could be lit. 

Tyler saw your facial expression change over the top of the menu as you gave Brandi a slight glare. 

“Calm down, baby girl,” he said softly, reaching across the table and putting a hand over yours, “You’re all I have eyes for.” 

You sighed, looking up at him. “What are you getting?” 

“Well, probably a burger,” he said, glancing down at their menu. 

“I’ll probably do the same,” you said, closing the menu and setting it at the front of the table, “Burgers are usually my, what I call, safe meal. It’s hard to mess up on a burger and fries.” 

“I get that, as a kid my meal used to be chicken tenders and fries,” he said, taking a drink of his water and looking at the menu.

The waitress came back over, setting the teas down on the table, “Alright you two, here are those teas and what can I get started for you?” 

“Let my wife order first, I usually wait to see what she gets before ordering as I most times end up switching because she says mine looks better,” he said gesturing to you with a smile. 

Hearing him call you his wife shocked not only you but the waitress as well. You looked over at him and he winked at you. 

“I’ll have a California burger with no onions, fries, with a side of ranch please,” you said, trying your best to remain calm after being called Tyler’s wife when you two aren’t even dating. 

“And for you sir?” The waitress asked, keeping her eyes on her notepad. 

“I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger with fries,” he said, “Along with a slice of apple pie for us to share, it’s her favorite.” 

“I’ll put your order in and it should be out in 10 minutes, would you like whipped cream on the pie?” She asked, grabbing the menus off the table. 

“Honey, what do you think?” He asked, grabbing your hands on top of the table.

“I would love some, thank you, Brandi,” you said, smiling up at her and rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. 

“Will do,” she said and walked to the kitchen. 

“Your wife?!” You whisper shouted at Tyler. Granted, you didn’t fully mind as Mrs. (Y/n) Owens had a ring to it, but it was more so unexpected. 

“I didn’t like how upset you got by her callin’ me sugar, so I had to improvise and that’s what I came up with,” he said, “Are you sayin’ you wouldn’t want to be married to this teddy bear?” 

“Only time will tell, Owens,” you said, taking a drink of your tea. 

“Playin’ games, are we now, honey?” He asked, leaning onto his elbows that were resting on the edge of the table. 

“No, but need I remind you that this is technically our first date?” You asked him quietly. 

“Nope, I just love seein’ you blush,” he said, reaching over and pinching your cheek softly. 

You slapped his hand away playfully, “Okay Grandpa, you can quit pinching me.” 

“But why? Your cheeks are just too cute,” he said, making his voice sound like he was 40 years older. 

“Oh stop it, baby,” you said, noticing how smoothly that slipped off your tongue. 

“See honey, by the end of the day you’ll be calling me hubby and all will be well in the world,” he said, a cheesy smile coming to his face. 

“Don’t test your luck, Owens,” you said, wagging one of your pointer fingers at him. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up as a surrender. 

“Bacon cheeseburger for you sir,” Brandi said, sliding a basket in front of Tyler. 

“That looks good,” you said, ogling over his burger. 

“See? In five minutes we’ll have different baskets,” Tyler joked with the waitress. 

“And a California burger with fries and ranch for you, ma’am,” she said, “I’ll be over with the pie in a few minutes. Is there anything else you two need?” 

“This will be all, thank you,” he said, looking over at you and then at the waitress. 

As she walked away, Tyler looked at you practically drooling over his burger basket. 

“Do you want to trade?” He asked, nudging the basket towards you. 

“No, no,” you said, “That’s what you ordered, I’ll let you enjoy it.” 

“If you say so,” he said, taking a big bite of the burger. 

You grabbed a few fries and dipped them in the ranch, then stuffed them in your mouth. As you chewed you did a slight wiggle in your seat. Tyler watched you do that while taking a few fries and eating them. 

“Do you always wiggle after you eat fries with ranch on them?” He asked, using a fry to point to you, the fries, and the ranch. 

“Just think of it as the negative, hangry mood leaving my body per se,” you said, taking a bite of your burger. 

“Is it because you love fries and ranch?” He asked, smiling slightly. 

You nodded and grabbed a few more fries while you finished the bite you just took, not wanting to look like you were starving and shoveling the food into your mouth faster than you could chew. 

“I’ll remember that,” he chuckled, taking a big drink of his sweet tea. 

“Here’s that warmed apple pie with whipped cream on top for the lovely couple,” the waitress that originally greeted you said as she placed the pie with two spoons in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you said after swallowing your bite. 

“Is there anything else I can get you, or is it alright if I grab the tab?” She asked, “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like to keep out of the Oklahoma heat.” 

“Maybe a box and to-go forks for the pie? The burgers have been more filling than I think either of us realized,” Tyler said, patting his stomach. 

“Let me go put it in the container for you, hon,” she said, grabbing the plate and walking to the kitchen. She came back two minutes later with the pie in a styrofoam container, two plastic forks, and the tab. 

“Thank you so much, we appreciate it,” you said, finishing the last of your burger. 

“Of course, sugar! Thank you for choosing The Barn, please come back anytime!” She said, walking back to the kitchen. 

Tyler left cash on the table for the bill and put his hat back on, then slid out of his seat after finishing his tea. He stood up straight, grabbed the container with the slice of pie, and then held out his hand for you. You sucked down what was left of your tea and grabbed his hand while sliding out of the booth. 

“Have a great day!” The older waitress called out as you both walked out the door.

“Damn, you must have scared off the other waitress by calling me Mrs.Owens,” you laughed, “She never came back.” 

“Good!” He said, giving you a wide grin while holding the door open. 

Want more? Here's Chapter Eight!

Taglist: @fanboyswhore9 @faith719

[lunarubra]

Ari!! These last two days I sent asks to my moots asking them about their ocs and Christmas.

I'm not entirely sure if Jiyan celebrates Christmas (probably not, but she's Italian, so I don't know) if she does, how does she celebrate? But if not, what she and Cillian do during holidays? Apart from being adorable together ❤️. Any special meal? Is he fan of Christmas?

Whatever you want to tell us, I'm here to read it 😌❤️.

@justrainandcoffee Hey Flor <3 Sorry it took me a couple of days to reply! :)

Apologies in advance because this was supposed to be a short reply, but every day I added something new, and now it’s a whole monster.

So, Jiyan is both Italian and Kurdish. She grew up embracing both cultures and celebrating all their traditions. As a kid, she loved having more celebrations than her Italian peers—it made her feel special in a world that often looked down on her for being Muslim.

Her father’s family wasn’t religiously tied to Christianity or the Church, but they still loved celebrating Christmas. For them, it was more about reuniting the family, especially after Jiyan’s parents split up. To Jiyan, Christmas wasn’t just about the holiday itself; it was a rare chance to have her mom and dad in the same room.

It was always a simple, cozy affair—a typical family lunch, as we do in Italy, with way too much food. There’d be both Kurdish and Italian dishes, and it was a day filled with warmth and quality time.

As she got older and started university, Christmas began to lose some of its importance. Neither Samiah nor Kareem celebrated it, so there were years when it was just a convenient time to catch up on schoolwork. Sometimes, the three of them would use the break to travel around Europe or take trips, so Christmas became less of a tradition and more of a pause from everything.

After Samiah’s death, though, everything changed. The holidays became a dark, heavy time. Everyone knows how the holiday season sees a spike in suicides, and for Jiyan, Christmas turned into a painful reminder of losing her best friend. What was once a quiet moment of rest became an emotionally charged time of year.

This year, with Cillian, things will start to shift. I don’t want to spoil too much because I’ve already got a plan for the story, but this will be the first time Jiyan begins to reclaim some peace with Christmas. She won’t look forward to it, not yet, but she’ll start to find some joy again.

For Cillian, Christmas has always been a rare time where he could step back from work and just be himself. Now, he loves that he can share it with Jiyan. He’s sensitive to how triggering it can be for her, so while they’ll spend Christmas Day with his family, he’ll also plan a trip somewhere warm to help her get through the harsh Irish winter.

I won’t say more because I don’t want to give away what I’m working on for Christmas. Let’s just say it’ll be a journey for both of them, and I can’t wait to share it with you!

[kenyauslander]

Fic title: How To Say Goodbye

(deciding to write a short story for this one, I love this title so much and there are so many avenues I can take with it, fic will be trimmed for user convenience)

How to Say Goodbye

"Well, today's the day, isn't it?" The text reads. I look over to my closet and see the cap and gown hanging up on the door. I sigh and reach for my phone, texting Hayden back.

"I guess so." I reply back, setting my phone down on my nightstand again. I take a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh. Who ever said graduation would be the easiest and most non-emotional thing in the world? Nobody, apparently. I lay in bed for a while longer before deciding to be a functioning member of society today. Well, I'd have to be, if I'm attending my own high school graduation.

I roll out of bed and stretch a bit. Every single joint seems to pop and crack at once. I blink and wipe away some tears that I should be saving for graduation. I hear some commotion in the hallway, and there's a knock on my door.

"Liebling, can I come in?" Mom asks.

"Yeah. Just waking up." I reply, watching the door open and seeing my mom step in, holding a few beautiful bouquets of flowers.

"These are for you, liebling. This one is from Hayden's grandparents, Victoria and Victor, this one is from Mrs. Stein and Mr. Hyde, and this last one is from everyone in the family. Me, your father, Jess and Keiko, all your aunties and uncles, your cousins and your grandparents on both sides of the family." Mom says, handing me the bouquets, mainly comprised of roses, baby's breath, and phlox, which are my personal favorite. The bouquets were already in a vase of water, so that helps me a lot.

"Thank you, mom. I'll get going on those thank you notes. Promise." I reply, setting the vase on my vanity.

"We also sent a bouquet to Hayden, just letting you know now." Mom replies, before exiting my room and keeping the door slightly ajar. I see Keiko peek his head in. I gesture for him to come in. He walks in, dressed and slightly cologned.

"So, sister, I hear you are graduating." Keiko says, walking right up to me.

"Yes, Keiko. I'm graduating. Next year is your graduation." I reply.

"Affirmative. I would like to extend my congratulations in the form of human contact otherwise known as a handshake." Keiko says, sticking his hand out for a handshake. I shake his hand.

"Thank you." I reply. Keiko actually smiles back at me, and it's not one of those forced smiles he's notorious for doing. He turns around and walks out of my room. Well, at least he didn't say anything too weird, I think to myself.

Some time passes, and I put on my cap and gown to take some pre-graduation photos with Hayden. Why? Memories, our parents say. Can't blame them though, their parents were probably the same way when they graduated. But, will there be as many tears as I think there will be? I hope not, because my mascara is not waterproof. I make sure I have everything I'll need. My small purse, phone, wallet, gum, earbuds, mini tissues, lipstick. I'm set. I zip up the gown and walk out into the living room. Mom looks up from her sudoku and gasps.

"Liebling, you look so precious!" Mom exclaims, standing up from her chair. She comes over and fixes my hair, and my cap. She smiles so big.

"Wow, you clean up nice, kid." Dad says, the first words he's spoken all day. He goes back to his newspaper, doing the crossword. Jessica looks over and claps excitedly.

"You look so cute, Cyn!" Jess exclaims.

"You sure about that, Jess? It's a literal graduation cap and gown. How is it cute?" I ask. I raise an eyebrow and wait for an answer.

"It just does. I can't wait to graduate. You think I'll fit in your gown? Oh wait, I wouldn't, I'm a little more well-"

"Jessica, can it." Dad warns. He rolls his eyes and goes back to his newspaper once again. I swear I heard him mumble something akin to 'Damn kids' in Russian, but who's to say? Jess rolls her eyes and goes back to whatever she was doing. Mom looks back over at me and smiles again.

"You ready to go take the photos?" Mom asks. I nod, and she nods in response. She gets up and grabs her purse and camera. I head out the door and hold it open for her.

"Thank you, liebling." Mom replies, as she shuts the door behind her. I start heading next door. Hopefully Hayden is ready and not deciding what kind of shirt he's going to wear underneath his gown. I told him we should match, but is he going to listen to me? Of course not. He cares more about Malcolm's opinion than anything. I go up to the door and knock.

"Come in, Cynthia! Hayden, Cynthia is here to take photos! You ready?" Mrs. Stein asks. She opens the door to see me in front of her. She smiles so big and hugs me.

"You look so adorable. You really do. It seems like just yesterday you were graduating kindergarten... and look at you now. Such a sophisticated young woman." She says, still hugging me, her perfume rubbing off onto me. Still one of the best feelings in the world. She lets go and lets me into the house. I walk in and do not see Hayden right away.

"Mrs. Stein, where's Hayden?" I ask.

"Oh, he's choosing a shirt to wear with his gown." She replies, picking up Alicia from her spot on the floor. I nod and head to Hayden's room. I knock on the door and enter his room. He looks over to see who it was, and waves. I walk in and stand in the doorway.

"So, help me pick out a shirt. The white one, the yellow one, or the Hawaiian shirt?" He holds up three shirts, comparing them against his white tank top.

"Yellow shirt." I reply, almost deadpan. Hayden tosses the white shirt back into his closet and holds up the yellow shirt and the Hawaiian shirt.

"I'll ask Malcolm." Hayden says, pulling out his phone to text Malcolm. I roll my eyes. Hayden texts Malcolm, and his phone dings quite quickly. He checks his phone, and tosses the yellow shirt into his closet.

"Let me guess, he said the Hawaiian shirt?" I ask. He nods and puts the shirt on. He then puts the gown on and zips it up. He puts the cap on and fixes his outfit.

"Alright, let's get these photos over with. Then off to actual graduation to sit and wait for our dinky pieces of paper." Hayden says, letting me out of his bedroom first, to be chivalrous. I leave first, and head to the living room. Hayden follows me, and we both wait for our moms to stop talking and reminiscing. They see us and start taking out their phones first.

"Go over here," Mom says, gesturing for us to move. Hayden and I side-step over to where she says. "Nope, nope. Over here," She points. We move. "Ach mein Gott, no, follow my finger." We finally move and she gives us the thumbs up.

"Alright, lieblings, get close to each other. Act like you love each other," She says, holding her phone up. Hayden and I get closer to each other. "Come on. I know how close you two are. Closer." Mom commands. Hayden puts a hand on my shoulder and gets closer. He whispers something funny in my ear, and I start chuckling a little.

I hear the shutter click, and the first photo is taken. Then I pull Hayden in closer and strike another pose, just as the shutter clicks again.

(these are their pre-graduation photos)

Some more time passes, and now I'm sitting in my chair, waiting for my name to be called so I can get my diploma and get dinner at Riverpoint. They're still in the Cs still, so Hayden has to wait a while as well. I glance at the program, and realize I have a long time to wait. I'm after Saoirse and Declan, but before Concerta and Octavia. Not many of us with last names beginning with S in the senior class, I see.

Pretty soon they get to the Hs, and I think Hayden is the only one.

"... Hayden Lee Hyde-Stein." The announcer says, as Hayden walks to the stage. Multiple whispers of "his middle name's Lee?" occur. Not surprised. I watch as Hayden walks across the stage and accepts his diploma. I hear "YEAH HAYDEN!" in the crowd. Five bucks it was Mrs. Stein, or my mom. There are loads of applause. Hayden starts walking back to his seat after shaking hands with what seems a million people. I think about it for a minute, and how many germs that must transfer. Not to be a germaphobe like Keiko, but yuck. I find some hand sanitizer under my chair (big thanks to the whole school system for providing that) and apply some. I wait for it to dry, and it does. Quite quickly in fact.

Even more time passes, and soon I'm going to be getting up, walking the stage to get my diploma, and then waiting for this to be over. Saoirse is called, then Declan.

"...Cynthia Jade Silver, graduating with honors." I stand up and start making my way to the stage as the crowd erupts into applause, my family and Hayden's family making all the noise. I walk onto the stage, receive my diploma, and shake hands with everyone who is on stage, the principal, superintendent, some town representative, and the mayor. I stop and pose for the forced photo of me holding my diploma and go back to my seat as they call Concerta up to the stage. I finally sit down. I open my little frame my diploma is in and smile a bit. The worst is finally over. I have persisted over the horrors. I close the frame and watch as the ceremony goes on.

Another half hour passes, and the ceremony is finally complete. The group of us students (former, I guess) all stand and chat with each other and teachers, congratulating each other. Hayden flags me down after talking to Eulalia and hugs me tight.

"I know about the bouquet," He mumbles, his voice breaking a bit. "I just wanted to come hug you for the last time."

"It's not the last time, I promise," I mumble back, holding him tight, my own voice breaking a bit as well. "don't say that, Hayden."

"Well, I mean, it's the last time we're going to hug each other as high school students." He laughs a little, not letting go of me.

"You scared me a bit," I reply, hugging Hayden tighter, acting like I'm not going to be going out to dinner with him in twenty minutes. "I thought you were going to tell me you were moving or something." Hayden and I finally let go of each other.

"If I was moving, I would've told you before today, silly." He laughs, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close.

"I know." I reply, as we walk a bit, trying to catch up with our respective families.

"You know I just suck at saying goodbye." Hayden says, still having his arm wrapped around me as we walk. I can see some tears rolling down his face, as he can probably see it on my face too.

"I know, it's hard to say goodbye. It's even harder to figure out how to say goodbye." I say, my voice breaking even more.

"Well, you'll never have to worry about that," Hayden replies. "because you and I will always be together forever. No matter how far apart we drift, our friendship will always stay strong." He pulls me closer one more time, savoring the moment. We walk to our families, and we all walk away into the sunset.

[pollyna]

Navy regs are in books that quote books that quote books. Ron has all of them somewhere in the house, with Tom's precise handwriting pointing out all the spelling issues and doing the theoretical maths his degree didn't help him to understand. In a less neat calligraphy, in some pages, Nick's notes are mixed with doodles and his own notes. Of Annapolis he will forever remember the heat and the hours in class, before their callsigns, when Nick used to make him late because he had to kiss him one minute more and Tom had the most convenient, and convicing, excuse for them.

(Maybe he could find some of those books and show them to Bradley the next time he's going to come around. He could probably appreciate them? Or maybe he should ask Maverick?)

Regs say no tattoo, but regs say a lot of shit Ice used to correct back then and that he corrected during the years. Regs say no tattoos, and Tom said they were stupid, so Ron got his first, then his second, and half of his right sleeve. The only people who know of them are his friends, his doctors, his mirror and his tattoo artist. Having to wear a shirt all day, and a jacket for most of it, has its advantages, even if he fucking hates being an admiral most of the time. But it's almost time; another couple of years, and he's going to retire and never again put a foot on a Navy base.

The studio isn't the biggest in town, but Ron knows the artist and their dad, and they are both the best for what he needs. He's so focused on the piece of paper between his hands that he almost misses two young women saluting him, with a half-panicked Adrmial Kerner, sir!

At ease, Lieutenants, glad to see someone knows where to get good ones. He smiles because he knows they shouldn't be there, but he shouldn't be either, so it's not really a problem. He's going to add something when something, someone, hugs his leg and has all his attention. Oh, who do we have here? George? You're so big now, boy! he picks up the kid. Mom is waiting for you! he points towards one of the rooms, and, in less than five steps he takes, George tells him all he can fit in, and it's a lot.

(Ron finds himself wondering if Bradley was the same at that age.)

So you're already back for the next piece, uhuh? a voice asks. You know, I can't live without you, hon, he answers, laughing loudly. They laugh with him, but it dies when he passes them the piece of paper. I'm so sorry, Ron, they murmur, and he finds himself smiling lightly, trying not to cry again, thank you Carly.

He takes off his jacket and then his shirt, and his right arm is colorful but not whole. Are you ready, big guy? they smile, dipping the tattoo gun in the red ink as ready as I was the first time he answers. Carly draws and talks, asking questions about the kid (he's a man now and he's almost as tall as me), about the kids (if they destroyed the base while I was gone, at least they're going to let me retire), about Tom and there, Ron has to take a breath because it fucking hurts. He doesn't know if it's the point they're working on or missing Tom or both, but he has to ask Carly to stop for a minute. (He was-the last few days were the hardest. Did you know he used to write mathematical formulas when he was bored during lessons? He and Nick were good friends, Tom was the reason behind the Mother Goose. I miss him. I miss them all Carly). Almost five hours have passed by the time it's done, and by that point they're humming random songs and listening to the description of the rock George found outside his school that same morning. All done, Admiral. You already know what you have to do, right? I'd like to see you next week to check on some of the edges around the elbow, but it's already looking pretty great. Ron barely hears her because he's so intent on looking at his arm, where now Tom's name is adorning his arm, just inches away from Nick and Carole's. Yeah, yeah whenever you want Carl'.

(It's seven in the evening and the cemetery is empty. The bouquet is a happy one, and his shirt leaves are already up. It's done, I finally finished it. He starts and you're here all together now. I miss both of you. I hope Tom's there too. I hope you're all okay now.)

The regs say no tattoos, and Tom said fuck 'em all, and now they are all there while he flies and teaches and lives another day, under his uniform and out in the open.

[furiousgoldfish]

I don’t really know if my experience was abusive or not…. My home life was kinda all over the place growing up. My mum was initially a single mom but got married and had another child when I was 7. I sorta got pushed to the side at that point. My mum was busy with my younger sister and step-dad worked in camps for weeks on and weeks off, but even then I never really liked him that much. I learned how to get my own food, tuck myself into bed, entertain myself very quickly. I have a fear of showing pain or injury now because when I got hurt when I was younger I was often scolded and made to feel it was my fault. Got bit by the dog? Well what was I doing!? I shouldn’t have done that!! My little sister had an ear infection and was scolded (ie yelled at) because she didn’t say anything earlier and it was the weekend now and they can’t do anything about it (walk in clinics closed).

Growing up, my mother was always very strict about friends and play dates because they were apparently a lot of work. A friend would ask if I could come over after school and I would be so terrified to ask my mother I would near cry. I would ask and get scolded because “we don’t have time for that” or it’s “too last minute.” And I was always a very quiet child so I never pushed back, I just gave in and told her she was right.

When I expressed anxieties, or that I was really stressed and it was making me feel unwell, it was often ignored or flipped so that it was something I was doing wrong. And maybe they were right?

I would say I’m scared to do something or that something stresses me out and my step father would tell me to get over it because it’s life. When I had to change my diet for health reasons, he would say he checked packages that they were okay, but he didn’t and then I would feel unwell, and he wouldn’t believe me.

Basically, my parents were either not existing in my life, yelling at me for being hurt or being mad because something was going to cost money (and making me feel reallllyyyyy bad about it which has resulted in it being very hard for me to ask for things I needed), my parents also argue a lot, which always seriously stressed me out. Also a lot a lot a lot of shame about wasting from my step dad which has now led to me feeling sick to my stomach everytime something is slightly wasted, thrown out or not recycled.

But at the same time, as I got older I got Kinda closer to my mum?? But she was still very strict on friends and I knew that if I let her know most things that she would be mad, even though I was a textbook student. All this also paired with my grandmother’s constant dieting and telling me that I put on weight.., and patting my stomach. And then apologizing. And then when I try on clothes telling me I’m too too heavy… idk. I present a LOT of trauma symptoms, but I have lived a relatively blessed childhood.

Also probably important to note that I am suspected OCD or other anxiety disorder but undiagnosed.

Thank you for your blog and your time, both are incredibly helpful and I am very grateful.

That's really heartbreaking neglect, they couldn't even comfort you when you were in pain or injured, and you had to figure out everything yourself, like you had no parents at all. Yelling at children for being sick and injured is like kicking down someone who is asking you for help, it's despicable. I'm so sorry, that is absolutely abuse, and a serious case of neglect.

You were demanded to be a convenience and as little work as possible, to a great price for your childhood, you can't have a kid and then ask them to 'not be a lot of work' for you! It's not called work, it's raising your own kid! Besides, what kind of 'work' is a friend coming over, you have to say hi and maybe offer a snack? What kind of person considers that too much for their child's friendships?

Your parents are not right to blame and shame you for your anxiety and stress, they were supposed to help you feel better, comfort and reassure you, not make you feel worse and force you to doubt whether you're allowed to feel your feelings at all.

I'm so sorry for all they put you thru. It makes complete sense your stomach feels sick, that is so much violation and hate directed at you. You're more important than food. You're more important than your weight or whatever else they tried to make you feel horrible about. These people don't know you and have no right to comment on anything on you. They already hurt you enough.

I hope you get diagnosed and your struggles get a bit easier once you're sure of it and find more people you can relate to. Your childhood isn't blessed, it's already tainted with so much abuse, neglect, violation and hate, you have actual trauma symptoms. Trauma isn't a small issue that can be brushed aside. Your story is painful and it's not fair for you to have to live thru that.

And also, thank you for the kind words, I appreciate them.

[starylust]

A Team of Lies⍨ Part 2.

part 1

➙  synopsis - being the team manager for karasuno was really fun overall, but when you forget your phone in the gym and head back to get it some things were said that maybe you shouldn’t have heard. or maybe it was something you should’ve heard.

➙ pairing -  tsukishima x fem!reader ; hanamaki x fem!reader

➙ genre - ANGST, fluff:)

➙ word count - 1641

a/n - sorry i took a little to write this i had a few things going on. also dont mind how i completely changed the color scheme to my profile. anyway i hope you guys like this part:)

The weekend went by pretty fast you may say. Although it was mostly just you laying in bed caught up in your thoughts, with red puffy eyes and a wet pillow, it did go by fast. 

Monday came and you did not want to go to school. So you told your mom you didn’t feel good. The next day comes by but you suddenly don’t feel well again. You had now missed school for a week.

No one knew where you were. No one knew if you were okay. But no one even bothered to stop by your house to check. No one came looking for their missing manager. Was it cause they already had two other ones?

What hurt most of all is one person didn’t even try and search for their girlfriend. The one who was supposed to love and care for you didn’t even try to make an effort to make sure you were okay. How were you supposed to feel?

As the weekend came by again you sat your mom down and had a talk with her. You explained how you didn’t feel comfortable going to Karasuno anymore and how you refused to go.

You didn’t go into much detail but by the expression on your face your mom could already tell something wasn’t right. She gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Although taking this offer would leave your mom all alone staying here would’ve been much worse.

As the weekend passes you have your stuff packed. The forms you needed were filled out and the bags you needed were already taken to your dad’s house. 

Your mom dropped you off with all your things giving you an apologetic smile. She wished she could’ve helped you through whatever it is you are going through. You gave her a nice long hug with a squeeze before thanking her for doing this for you.

You told her you’d try to visit as much as possible and that you’d miss her so much.

-

Laughter filled up your ears as the people around you laughed at the joke Matsukawa just made. Everyone had now calmed down a bit, a few giggles here and there but nothing much.

The Aoba Johsai boys made you laugh, they made you feel safe. They protected you against anyone who tried to step near you.

-

A month or two had now passed since you moved in with your dad. He happened to live near Aoba Johsai, so that is where you went since it was the most convenient. 

You had now become their manager since you needed a club to do. The Aoba Johsai team was so different from Karasuno you thought. Although they were similar in many ways they were way calmer. 

You had gotten real close with the third years of the team (especially makki!) He was so sweet and so caring towards you since the day you two met. When he first saw you he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

The thought of having someone as beautiful as you as their manager made him really nervous. He thought maybe you’d be judgemental or mean, but you were none of those things.

You cared for the team as though they were your own family. Always checking up on them, bringing them snacks. You did whatever you could to help.

Even though you had managed to catch Hanamaki’s attention he had no clue he had caught yours too. You loved the way he smiled or the way his hair moved when he jumped.

The little things about him suddenly made you forget anything that happened a couple months ago. 

As time goes by your feelings for each other keep growing stronger, but none of you made a move. That is until Hanamaki got tired of holding back and confessed to you.

He gave you one of the cutest and sweetest confessions you had ever seen. Although it wasn’t much the letters, flowers and food were enough to make you say yes. You would’ve said yes even if he had just asked you with nothing in hand.

-

The day finally came to where you would have to face your old school again. The one where you felt like everyone was just playing with you, only using you for their own good. 

Not only that, how would they react when they see you? You had just disappeared out of nowhere and didn’t say a single thing to anyone. Hanamaki saw the nervousness on your face and walked up to you.

He grabbed your chin in his hand and tilted your head up. You looked at him with a tiny pout of your face from the anxiety creeping in. He gave a gentle kiss on your nose before pulling you into a hug.

“It’s alright love. You have us now and if they dare try anything all four of us will get them.”

You giggled into his chest as what he just said. You fell into his embrace and wrapped your arms around his torso and snuggled even more into his chest. You heard him slightly laugh at the gesture you just did, which he found adorable.

He pulled away giving you a quick peck before heading back to the courts. Before leaving though he reassured you that everything was going to be fine. As long as you didn’t overthink everything that was happening everything would be fine.

Your nerves had now calmed down a bit. Unfortunately they had risen back up listening to the gym door open. You saw as an orange haired boy basically sprinted through and placed his bag down near the bench. 

Your breathing now became irregular and you felt kind of light headed. A few seconds after Hinata walked in the rest of the team followed. The team did not make eye contact with you which did calm your nerves once more.

They had been too caught up in warming up that they didn’t even notice you. You were glad but also sad that they didn’t even see you just standing there. You brushed off those thoughts as soon as you heard footsteps running towards you.

You head flicked over into the directions to see Hanamaki running towards you. He put his hand near the bottom of your waist and pulled you in close. 

“You okay?” He asked looking down on you.

You gave him a slight nod saying yes. He smiled at you and gave you a kiss on your forehead. He unwrapped his arm from around your waist to head back to the courts. 

When he tried going back he felt a hand tug onto his wrist. He turned back to see you looking at him, but this time with a smile. He smiled back at you. Before any of you said anything you jumped onto him and put your arms around his neck.

“Good luck Hiro,” you whispered into his ear. A bright red blush appeared on his cheeks as you whispered into his ear. He smiled so brightly anyone looking could’ve sworn it was as bright as the sun. Before jumping off of him you gave him a nice kiss on the cheek for good luck.

All while this was happening though Karasuno had finally noticed you. Their eyes all widened at the affection you were giving Hanamaki. You and Tsukishima had never officially broken up so why were you in the arms of another guy?

The whole team stared at you before slowly turning their eyes to Tsukishima. They all saw the same stoic expression across his face. Was he not bothered by this?

Tsukishima was also staring at you with the rest of the team. His expression remained the same while his heart felt a strain. It felt like a knife had just pierced his heart and stayed there. 

The pain he felt was immeasurable to what he’s ever felt before. Was this what a heartbreak felt like? You disappeared out of nowhere. No goodbyes, no check ups, nothing. And now you were found here. Kissing another man infront of him.

He was so baffled but kept his same careless expression. If anyone looked close enough they could see the pain that filled his eyes. But he wouldn’t let someone that wasn’t you get that close.

Tsukishima wondered if you ever figured out he cheated. You probably just since you left without saying a word and disappeared. Had you known the team was keeping the secret from you as well? Is that why you ghosted all of them? 

Or he won’t anymore. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way. Wasn’t he the one who cheated on you. Who thought you were a nuisance and thought you were annoying? So why did it pain him so much to see you with him.

You looked so happy. Happier than you’ve ever been with him. He never got those tight hugs and goofy smiles you showed to Hanamaki. Why was that? Did you ever really like him in the first place?

Tsukishima was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard his teammate yelling at him. The game was now starting. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and Hanamaki though.

Hanamaki set you down onto the floor and moved your hair away from your ears. He moved his head next to your ear and returned a whisper.

“Thank you beautiful, I’ll be playing even better knowing a pretty girl is watching.”

He pulled back to see that you looked a little shy and embarrassed. Before you knew it you watched up walk off onto the court. Once he made it on the court he made eye contact with you and gave you a wink.

It’s surprising how he made you forget all about the team who treated you so poorly.

next part:)

taglist: @fernandaweasley2 @nachotrash @buttrflyboy

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part One

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: I’ve written a decent portion of this but know I won’t keep writing it or post it unless I hold myself accountable and get it out there in the first place 🙈 I haven’t written much for Marvel yet but I’ve read plenty and have written for other fandoms in the past (not to mention the writing degree on my wall lol). I’ll try to post every 2-3 days to keep this moving! And if you like it and want to, buy me a coffee!

No one knew Tony Stark had a daughter. No one but Tony Stark and his daughter. Well, and her step-mom Pepper. And her godfather Rhodey. And her uncle-not-uncle Happy. But no one in their everyday lives knew. She was given her mother’s maiden name and kept a secret, even when she turned 17 and moved to a small apartment near NYU’s campus (with Happy stationed right next door, of course) to start life as a truly normal adult, or as close to normal as an undercover Stark could be. When she graduated with her PhDs in robotics and electrical engineering at 25 — proving brains really do run in the family — she moved into her own apartment in Manhattan, funded by her father under the pseudonym “Michael Myers.” Subtlety was never his strong suit.

Fortunately for you, growing up without the Stark name let you live a relatively normal life. It also allowed you to apply for a position within Stark Industries without being ushered past any red tape because of who your father is. Outside of the financial advantage you had, you worked for your spot in a STEM career. You suffered through every man in your field belittling your work despite knowing less than you. You dealt with the constant interruptions and “well, actually” because of your gender. You powered through late nights and early mornings when your mind was flowing too smoothly to quit.

The last thing you wanted to do was have all that work disregarded because you shared a name with genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. So you filled out the application, sent in your resume and cover letter, and attached three letters of recommendation from your professors. You went through hours of interviews, background checks (conveniently redacting your father’s name), and polygraph tests until that offer letter showed up in your email. You even had to sign the Non-Disclosure Agreements that would bar you from discussing *anything* work-related with anyone outside of your department.

You spent your first year in the weapons analysis department, evaluating alien weaponry and determining how it worked and how to disable it. You had your fair share of mishaps, of course. Holes blasted into walls, fried robot dummies, even burnt animal carcasses. By the end of your first year, your supervisor sent a commendation and proposal for you for an undisclosed promotion. After Pepper Potts “thoroughly examined your resume, cover letter, and accomplishments during your tenure with Stark Industries,” as the letter read, you were awarded a position working on the Avengers’ weapons as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist. You’d never see a fight in-person, but you were assigned to work on advancements and post-battle repairs for everyone, from the Winter Soldier’s arm to the Falcon’s wings to Vision’s... everything. The only heroes you wouldn’t work on were Iron Man and War Machine (those were your dad’s territory) and Spider-Man.

On your first day in your new position, the one and only Pepper Potts showed you to your new lab on the 47th floor. It took all your willpower to look your step-mother in the eye and say, “Wow, Miss Potts. This is amazing. It’s such an honor to meet you,” with a straight face to convince any passerby that you had no outside affiliation with her. Even if her eyes stayed steady on you, you could see her mentally rolling them.

Once you were alone behind the doors of the elevator, conversation changed course.

“You’re going to be sharing a lab with someone else,” Pepper said.

“Sweet. As long as they’re competent, that’s fine by me,” you shrugged. Part of earning your degrees was learning to share a workspace with others, even those who bumbled and fumbled with no idea what they were doing. You’d had more hair singed by nearby explosions than you’d like to admit.

“He’s still in college so he’s not here as often as the others. Most of his work will be on Spider-Man’s gadgets and suit, but you can use him for any help you need.”

Walking past the familiar faces of Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho in their respective labs, Pepper ushered you into your lab, where you were met by your father and put on the same excited facade you did with Pepper.

“Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark! This is incredible! It’s such an honor to meet you, sir!”

He shook his head at you and reluctantly accepted your outstretched hand. Oh, the jokes you’d be making at family dinners.

“Yeah, anyway, this is your new lab, Miss [Y/L/N]. Make yourself at home. This lab rat over here is mister Parker. If you have any questions, he can at least bullshit an answer for you.”

The young man on the other side of the lab perked up at the sound of his name. He tugged the goggles off his face and set down his soldering rod to rush over to you.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you, lab partner.”

He looked to be a bit younger than you and at least relatively smart, if the MIT sweatshirt peeking out from under his lab coat said anything. If your dad gave him an internship like this, you knew you shouldn’t question it. He had to be a genius.

The kid just smiled at you, continuing to shake your hand past what most would deem socially acceptable.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony said, pushing on your joined hands to separate you two. “Mister Parker might be in and out of the lab from time to time. He joins the Avengers on the occasional recon mission for immediate repairs but since he’s on break from classes, you’ll see him more often than not. Play nice.”

When he noticed you surreptitiously looking Peter up and down, he added, “Remember, no fraternizing with coworkers.” He pointed a finger directly at you before he spun and pointed to your fellow lab mate, realizing he should warn Peter too to save face.

“All the blueprints you need for the Tin Man’s arm are in the system. We’ll have you start on that and see what you can do about minimizing the sound that thing makes. Any other questions, give Pep a call.”

“Thank you, mister Stark. I really do appreciate everything,” you said genuinely.

“Yeah, well… don’t let me down,” he replied, patting you on the shoulder on his way out. Pepper followed close behind, leaving you alone with Peter Parker.

“So Peter,” you started, sliding onto the lab chair next to where he remained standing, “tell me about yourself.”

“Uh… what do you want to know?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“How old are you?” you asked immediately.

“I’m 21.”

Only four years younger than you. So you’d probably get along just fine.

“I assume you’re at MIT?” He nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biomolecular and mechanical engineering.” He said it so casually, you’d think he was talking about the last song he heard on the radio.

“Damn,” you responded, eyes wide. “I thought robotics and electrical engineering was wild but fuck, that sounds like hell.”

He laughed and nodded, letting a bit of the tension in his shoulders fall. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it’s worth it.”

He shot you a small smile before gesturing back at his project. “I should probably get back to work and let you get started.”

For the rest of the day, you familiarized yourself with the Winter Soldier’s arm to figure out how to… turn the volume down? You assumed it was the gears inside causing the noise, but part of you wanted to outfit an audio jack and speaker just to fuck with your dad.

You and Peter worked in relative silence, aside from the playlist he had quietly playing through the lab sound system. When lunch rolled around, however, you finally spoke up.

“Hey Peter,” you called, his eyes flicking from the chemical beakers in front of him up to you. “First of all, what are you doing?”

“Um, it’s Spider-Man’s web fluid. Just trying to find more durable combinations.”

“Interesting.” As much as you wanted to touch the stringy substance, you knew better than to fiddle with someone else’s lab work. “Okay so second thing, in my last position, I’d just order food and have it brought to my floor but now that I’m on an exclusive floor, what do you do for lunch?”

“Oh, there are a couple security guys who have clearance to come into this floor. They just can’t get into any rooms so you’d have to meet them at the elevator. But I usually find something in the kitchen down the hall.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks!” you said as you made your way out the door. Before you could fully exit, you turned back to see if Peter wanted you to grab anything. Once he promised he’d take his own break ‘once I get this one thing figured out,’ you continued to make your way to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to the doorway, you could hear three voices speaking over each other. They didn’t sound angry, but they were definitely arguing. You opened the door anyway and almost immediately froze in your tracks. The Falcon stood with one hand on his own head and one on the Winter Soldier’s head while Captain America rolled his eyes before those same eyes landed on you, along with the rest of the room.

“Perfect,” Sam started. “Hey new girl, between the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, the Soldier, and the Captain, “who has the best hair?”

“First of all, my name is [Y/N]. Second,” you continued, making your way past them to the fridge you hoped your dad kept stocked with goodies, “that’s an unfair question.”

You grabbed a soda and popped it open before turning back to the three men. “Your hair suits each of you. Cap wouldn’t look good with Winter Soldier hair and Falcon wouldn’t look good with Cap’s hair.” You took a few steps closer, leaning against the island counter between you and eyeing each of them. Your eyes settled on the Winter Soldier, unashamedly flitting across his face and admiring the sharpness of his features. “You,” pointing at him, “could probably pull off either of their looks, though.”

Bucky smirked at you, but his rosy cheeks gave away a hint of embarrassment at your compliment. Steve and Sam, on the other hand, weren’t taking it quite as gracefully.

“What?!” Sam shouted. “Okay, now I know you’re lying. I could pull off Cap’s hair for sure.”

“You know, I think shaggy hair would really suit me,” Cap said, only half sarcastically.

You giggled to yourself as the three of them started talking over each other again, all dead set on their own hair being the best of them and positive they could pull off the others’ looks. While they bickered, you searched the pantry until you found a snack to at least get you through the remainder of the day.

“Alright boys, it’s been fun but I have work to do,” you said as you walked past them again. “Actually, wait. Bucky — can I call you Bucky?” He nodded even though you continued anyway. “If you could stop by lab six today, I’d love to check out your arm in person. The digital renderings aren’t quite the same.”

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’ll find you,” he said quietly.

“Sweet, thanks!” And with that, you skedaddled back to your lab.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 5

“Girls,” why don’t you finish your homework and set the table while dad and I talk for a minute?”

“Can daddy stay for dinner?” CeCe reached for his hand and looked up at you, a sweet but pleading smile on her face.

“Can’t actually, honey,” Luke informed. “I’ve got somewhere to be, so--this has to be quick, unfortunately.”

“Great,” you nodded, bitterness laced through your words. “Girls, just give us one second, okay?"

You made eye contact with Maeve, communicated a look that said please bring your sister inside. She did, she pulled her by the shoulder and offered to let her fold the napkins--her favorite part.

You shut the door one they were back in the house, turned to Luke and crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“To visit.”

“Okay, well, where have you been for the last six months? My dad died--you didn’t think to visit when they lost their grandfather?”

“I’ve been busy,” he whined, letting his hands slap against his legs as if you were nagging him unnecessarily. “Better late than never.”

“Not how that works, but okay.”

“Y/N--can I just come in, hang out with them for a bit?”

“You can’t just come in and out of their lives, Luke, whenever it’s convenient. You either show up with some consistency or you don’t show up at all.”

“So you’d rather them not have a relationship with their father than have one that’s maybe not up to your standards?”

You were back in your marriage, suddenly, back to the fights and the frustration that became a dance you knew all too well. “They’re kids, Luke! Their parents got divorced and then their grandpa died and we moved and now you’re just here on my doorstep. Where’s your girlfriend, anyway?”

You looked past his shoulder--his car was parked on the gravel, apparently he remembered the entry code for the gate. The blonde woman who dangled from his arm on Facebook and the motorcycle he rode were nowhere to be found.

“She’s at home. And she would love to meet the girls, you know.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“You can’t just show up with no notice and take them to meet some random woman you’re sleeping with.”

“Well, do we have to get lawyers involved in this, then? I’m pretty sure I deserve some level of custody over my own children.”

“Now you want custody? I mean--you literally didn’t reply to my calls about settling that in court when we actually got divorced so forgive me for thinking that meant you didn’t care.”

“I want to be able to see my kids, Y/N.”

“Okay--well maybe you can call me in the morning and we can schedule something instead of you showing up at my house.” You turned around to grab the doorknob, but before your hand landed on it, the door pulled open and Harry was stood on the other side with intrigue in his eyes.

“Harry--” you were about to tell him to go inside and stay out of it, but he stuck his hand out in Luke’s direction and smiled.

“Luke--nice to put a face to the name.”

Luke shook his hand but narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Harry.”

“You look familiar--” Luke mumbled this to no one in particular, but his eyes caught yours when you offered him a small smile.

“He’s a client of Jeff’s--he’s a musician.”

Luke made a face at that. “Okay--why are you here?”

“I live here,” Harry said. “With your children and ex-wife.”

“Harry,” you said his name again in warning. He didn’t even look at you, kept his eyes trained on Luke’s as if this was some sort of show down.

Luke nodded slowly, brought his eyes to you. “So our children can’t meet my girlfriend but they can live with a stranger.”

“He’s not a stranger, Luke. He’s known Jeff and the Azoffs for years--he knew my dad.”

“You didn’t think to ask me if that was okay?”

“You never returned my texts about my dead father or asking if you wanted to see them, so, it didn’t really cross my mind.”

Harry took a step in front of you. “Why are you here, man? I think that’s a better question.”

“I could do without the attitude, dude, okay? I can come to see my children if I want.”

“Just curious, since we’re about to eat dinner and I know Maeve’s not done with her homework.”

You rolled your eyes at that--an obvious flex that Harry was more in the know about your kids than he was. Your heart beat was rising, eyes flickering between the two of them.

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to see my own kids.”

“You don’t need mine, but maybe actually co-parenting with Y/N would be a good place to start.”

“Oh so she’s got you playing by all her rules, too?”

“Luke--”

“If you want to call her rules stability, for your children, then sure.”

“So you think you can move in here and just take over as father or something, is that what’s happening? Is there something going on--”

“No--I’m not their father, but I know that Y/N is an incredible mother--”

“Harry, please.”

“So you’re sleeping with this guy and he moves in and that’s fine but they can’t meet my girlfriend.”

“No one said we’re sleeping together, Luke,” you made a face at that, crossed your arms over your chest again and watched him with narrowed eyes.

“Are you?” He looked between the two of you, waiting for an answer like he suddenly had a right to know that information.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “S’none of your business.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, good luck with her, maybe one day she’ll divorce you and then tell you that you can’t see your own kids--didn't know I married such a control freak.”

Harry swung before you could even process the insult, his fist collided with Luke’s face and you let out a gasp. “Harry--are you fucking insane?!”

You rushed over to Luke, now clutching his face on the ground as he swore to himself. “Fucking fuck, that’s a perfectly clear answer, dude--good to know you’re sleeping with her.”

The door had already pulled open again, both Maeve and CeCe looked out into the evening air with wide eyes, uncertainty on their faces when Harry turned around to see them. “Go inside,” he said.

“Why?” Maeve shot this back with a prickly attitude. “What’s happening? Why is dad on the ground?”

“Just go inside,” Harry said it again, his words more stern.

“You’re not my dad, Harry, you can’t tell me what to do!”

Now was not the time for Maeve’s theatrics.

Luke shot back to his feet and lunged towards Harry, words interspersed between grunts when his own fist grazed the side of Harry’s jaw. “Don’t tell my kids what to do!”

Maeve pulled CeCe inside and shut the door quickly, some kind of instinct taking over her when you yanked at the back of Luke’s shirt. “Luke, get the fuck off of him!”

Harry shoved him back, he lost his footing and fell to the ground again but was quick to get up and brush the dirt off of his hands. You stood in front of Harry, who now rubbed at his jaw and looked more dejected than before, green eyes more somber when you shook your head.

“Both of you need to grow the fuck up--you just tried to beat each other up in front of the girls.”

Harry dropped your gaze and moved his jaw in circles, Luke glared with resentment, but they were both quiet.

“Go, Luke--you can’t show up and pull this shit, okay? We’re not doing it like this.”

“So now I don’t get to see my kids because your fucking boyfriend punched me in the face?”

“I didn’t say that!” You shouted, your volume making both of them flinch. “I never said you can’t see them but you certainly can’t just show up and expect me to take that well. We’re not talking about it now, so please, do everyone a favor and get the fuck out.”

He thought about it for a second, reached up to touch his cheek--already swollen and bruised--before he let out a sigh and looked at Harry. “Fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you too,” Harry said quickly.

“Go inside,” you said to Harry, a hand on his chest. “And ice that.”

Luke scoffed at your attempt to aid him, but when you turned to see him, he shrunk under your gaze.

“Get out!”

He turned and mumbled, “my lawyer will be in touch.”

“Mine looks forward to that call,” you said sweetly. He climbed into his car and pulled the door shut, Harry stood behind you, feet glued to the front step until Luke’s car pulled out onto the road.

When he was gone, you turned around. He hadn’t budged, he waited for you to say something, but you pulled your phone out and dialed Jeff’s number before you even addressed him.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hi--can you please come get the girls and take them out for dinner or something? Luke just showed up at my house and Harry punched him in the face and then Maeve and CeCe saw Luke try to punch Harry. So--I’m going to need some help. Immediately."

You could hear him grab his keys, he was in his car before he hung up and when you ended the call, the door had been pulled open again.

Maeve stepped out but closed it behind her. “I turned the stove off and CeCe’s watching TV. But I’m not going to lie, she’s suspicious.”

You let out a sigh that turned into a laugh, brought a hand up to your face. You didn’t know if you were mad or sad or amused or terrified. A mix of emotions when she looked up to Harry.

“Did you punch my dad in the face?”

He looked to you, eyes wide as if he needed your help to get out of this one.

You shrugged, not going to save your ass.

“I lost my temper and that was not okay,” he said.

“But then my dad punched you.”

More hesitance, but he nodded. “Right.”

They both looked to you. Quiet for a moment--was Maeve’s childhood shattered here in front of the house, broken atop the gravel that crunched under Luke’s tires when he drove away?

Hopefully not. Hopefully this wasn’t the moment she’d recount in adulthood, a therapist’s office somewhere on the East Coast, my mom let a pop star move in and then he punched my dad in the face.

“Uncle Jeff is coming and is going to take you and your sister out for dinner.” You didn’t know what else to tell her.

“Okay,” she accepted this, something told you she knew that this was serious and this was not something to ask a thousand questions about. “Can I say something?”

“Sure.”

“I think dad’s probably jealous because it’s obvious you guys like like each other.”

You watched her for a second, unable to piece together a rebuttal. So instead of replying, you told her to get her shoes on, tugged Harry inside and sat him at the island.

A bag of frozen peas was pressed to his jaw when Jeff showed up. Maeve and CeCe were in the living room with the TV on, both of them sat on the couch under a thick layer of tension.

“What the fuck happened?” Jeff asked quietly, car still running outside.

“You’ll have to ask your friend,” you said, scooping the uneaten dinner you’d made into Tupperware. “But maybe you can ask him later so I can yell at him first.”

Jeff smiled in your direction, approving of your reply. He looked to Harry, “don’t be an asshole.” He walked over to the living room without a word from Harry and greeted the girls.

“Be good,” you told them. They were quiet, waved goodbye and faded into the driveway once Jeff shut the door.

Silence, except for the crunching from the frozen peas when Harry shifted the bag against his jaw and tried not to wince in pain. He looked at you, guilt creased in his forehead.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

He sighed, dropped your gaze. “I’m sorry I punched your ex-husband in the face.”

“How about the fact that you came out there and got involved in the first place?”

This got him riled up. “Well I didn’t know what to do, Y/N! Maeve said you were talking to him and I wasn’t about to leave you alone with him.”

“I was married to him for 10 years. I know how to be alone with the guy.”

“I shouldn’t have punched him,” he admitted quickly.

“You shouldn’t have.”

He stood from the stool and set the peas down. “But I hated what he said about you--acting like you’re the bad guy here. You’re not.”

“I know I’m not, I didn’t need you to defend me!”

A step closer to you. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders, looked away for a second like he couldn’t say it. What was he supposed to say? I like you? I have feelings for you? Did he? You were just as confused as he looked.

“Because I feel like we’re a family, in a weird way, the four of us.”

Just as it always had, the word anchored itself beneath your ribs, made it hard to breathe when you tried to define it in your head.

A family? People related by blood. People who live together. People who love each other. You didn’t have the time or the patience to define it right now with him still looking at you like your silence hurt his feelings.

Maybe it got under your skin and maybe it warmed your heart at the same time. It was at least enough reassurance that you weren’t crazy, and you weren’t imagining all of this. Maybe he did have feelings for you in some way, maybe he did belong here somehow.

“I can’t believe all of that happened,” you said this seriously, but when you looked up at him again you couldn’t help but laugh. How idiotic--your ex husband and your ex-boyband house guest duked it out on the front lawn. Tristan was right, your life had suddenly become a trashy romance novel and that realization brought humor to an otherwise horrendous evening.

“What?” His lips tugged into a smirk.

“Am I going to get blacklisted for causing an injury to your perfect face? Is Jeff going to murder me when he brings the girls home?”

He rolled his eyes at your joke but smiled. “I’m the idiot that thought it was a good idea to punch the ex-husband of my--”

Your breath hitched in your throat, you let out a sigh when he shrugged and offered a verbal pivot. “It was stupid--you didn’t cause it.”

There was still an awkward amount of space between you. He’d stood up like he wanted to move closer to you instinctually, comfort you or touch you. But now you twisted a ring on your finger and didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll apologize to the girls, tell them it was wrong of me and talk to them about it.”

You nodded, was that appropriate? Should you be the one to discuss this with them? Where did you even start in regard to addressing Maeve’s comment at the front door?

“I think maybe I should talk to them.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Maybe I should clear it up with Maeve too, you know, just what she said about us.”

“Right--what are you going to say?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

He took a step closer to you. “You could tell her that she’s right.”

You looked up at him, eyes on his for a second like the world had been paused. You’d been speechless before. Maybe not often, and maybe not for reasons like this, but when you didn’t say anything, he took a step back.

“Sorry--you’re right. Best to not involve them.”

Your voice came out in a squeak, insecure and lacking the confidence you’d tried so hard to build. “You think?”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s what you were going to say, right?”

Was it?

“Yeah.”

He scratched at the back of his neck, slid the peas forward on the counter. “Thanks for these. I should probably shower.”

“Okay.”

A hesitance in him, you could see it. He took a step towards the stairs but kept his hand on the counter, a quick glance over his shoulder. “Are we alright?”

“Yeah, yes.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Certain. Goodnight, Harry.”

**

Jeff wasn’t mad at you about Harry’s face. If anything, he was mad at Luke for being an asshole and mad at Harry for being stupid enough to get involved. You didn’t dare tell him about the things he’d said in the kitchen when you were home alone.

Harry’s ego was bruised almost as bad as his jaw, which seemed to turn a darker shade of blue-ish yellow the next day.

Maeve was sat at the dining room table, eyes fluttered in annoyance when CeCe climbed into her seat and then looked at you. “Sorry,” she said. “I had to go pee.”

“That’s okay,” you nodded, letting out a sigh when you looked between them. “So, I called a family meeting because I wanted to talk about what happened the other day when dad was here.”

“When is he visiting again?” CeCe smiled, distracted by the mention of her absent parent.

“Not for a while,” Maeve answered with an eye roll. “He punched Harry.”

“They punched each other,” CeCe corrected with an attitude.

“Exactly, which is the problem, because as you both know we don’t use our hands to communicate in this house. We use words.”

“Well why didn’t Harry use words to tell dad that he likes you?”

“That’s not what was happening, Maeve.”

Was it wrong to lie to her? She rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe you, like your words were just a cover up for whatever was really happening--you bit your lip when you realized that they were.

“Then why did they fight?”

“Because,” you said, exerting your mom-power. “They disagreed about something. Just like you two disagree sometimes.”

“We’re eleven and six,” Maeve made a face at you. “It’s age-appropriate for CeCe to pull my hair.”

You stared at her blankly--she was too smart for her own good. “But it’s wrong, any type of violence is wrong.”

“So is daddy coming to visit again or no?” CeCe was probably having trouble keeping up, she looked confused but invested when you smiled at her.

“Maybe--him and I still need to talk about that.”

“He never comes to see us!” Maeve complained, frustration in her voice when the front door opened. Harry--hair pushed back with a headband, curls escaped on the side and a dewy layer of sweat on his forehead--apparently he’d gone for a run.

The bruise on his jaw was visible. “Hi,” he looked around, solemn. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You said dad was going to visit us still when we moved here but he hasn’t!”

You turned back to Maeve, parenting duties outweighed your desire to take in the sight of Harry post-workout.

“I can’t control your father,” you reminded her. “We’ve talked about this--he loves you, but he…” you felt awkward saying it in front of Harry, a watered down version of the truth. “He’s not good at managing his time. He forgets things and he gets distracted. But he loves you.”

“Then why doesn’t he come visit?” Maeve asked, arms crossed over chest. She wore a purple shirt, one that you’d gotten at the Gap and that she used to say she hated, probably just because you said it looked nice on her.

Her voice was softer now, less angry and more confused, a tinge of sadness when Harry walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. Another thing he probably hadn’t planned on: witnessing uncomfortable family meetings where you tried to explain to your children why their father doesn’t keep in touch.

It was a fair question, you couldn’t blame her for asking and wondering. Why didn’t he reach out more? Why didn’t he make an effort to see them?

You couldn’t admit your own confusion to them. “He’s just busy, honey. He loves you both a lot, I know that. But I can talk to him and see if we can schedule a time for him to come see you.”

Harry paused at that--far away in the kitchen, glass to his lips when he stopped sipping and looked in your direction. When he noticed he’d been caught, he cleared his throat and headed out to the patio.

CeCe looked up at you with big eyes. “Can daddy come for my ballet recital?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. “I can ask him.”

That seemed to be good enough for them. Maeve was eager to head out to a friend’s house when her ride showed up and CeCe was more than happy to play in the backyard by herself.

Harry was stood on the patio still when CeCe ran to the swing set, glass of water still in his hand as if he hadn’t a clue what was going on. His eyebrows raised when you stood in the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he turned to see you, hand on his hip. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to burst in there.”

“It’s fine, I think they get it. I mean, I don’t know, as much as they can, I guess.”

He nodded, stared at the ground when he spoke. “You know, I was thinking on my run--if this is too much I can talk to Jeff about staying at his. I don’t want to make--”

“No,” you shook your head, probably too quickly. Surprised by your own reply, you crossed your arms. “I mean, it’s fine. I just think maybe we should take a minute to figure out--”

“Right,” he nodded, cutting your sentence down to a half-formed thought. “Understood.”

He looked away at that, glanced down to his running shoes before he kicked at the patio slate beneath them.

You bit at the inside of your cheek, cursed yourself for how stupid you’d been. This is why you shouldn’t have let your guard down in the first place. First Luke, then your dad, now this type of stress all under one roof was possibly too much for everyone involved. The last 12 months had already snowballed into a mess of emotions and you should have known better.

As the adult in the equation, you were sure that this was all your fault.

And yet you wished it wasn’t--something in you wanted to walk over to him, wrap your arms around his middle and feel comforted by his touch. He brought his eyes to you and was about to speak when the alarm beeped. The front door opened, Tristan appeared through the glass doors and waved when CeCe ran over to see who the visitor was. Conversation effectively over.

“Hi,” he greeted with a smile, completely unaware that he’d just walked in at the worst time. “Glad I caught you both here. Sorry to barge in but I wanted to confirm details about the launch party so we can get it squared away.”

Harry stood awkwardly still, weight shifting on his feet when Tristan pulled out his phone to decline a call but kept talking. “I talked to Helen and Kira, the restaurant’s booked and the headcount is confirmed so we’re pretty much good to go.”

Right, the body wash debut and the celebratory dinner that Tristan had insisted on having. It was more than just the body wash debut: a celebration of how much Luna Skincare had grown, the launch of a whole new product line, a pick me up to try to make you feel less stressed, as Tristan had said.

Harry was confused, Tristan looked between the two of you. “Oh--did you...not tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

“About the dinner, the party we’re having,” Tristan shrugged and watched you, confused as to why you hadn’t looped Harry in.

It wasn’t purposeful. You’d spent countless showers contemplating if and how to invite him. Was he your date? Was he just a friend who was coming? Would he sit beside you or beside Jeff or was it better to leave him out of it altogether to avoid the questions and overthinking that had already saturated your brain before the event?

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know about it.”

Great, now you looked like an asshole. You laughed awkwardly to try and brush it off. “Well, we were still planning, I was going to invite you, of course. It’s for the body wash debut.”

He nodded, having gathered that much already.

You cleared your throat, the invitation a clear backtrack. “You should come, it’s just a dinner at La Cava. The team that worked on it, Jeff is coming, Zoey, some of our friends.”

He hesitated, glanced over to Tristan like he didn’t know how to reply but then looked back to you. “I thought we just said we--”

“It’s fine,” now you cut him off, a wave of your hand when you turned back to Tristan. “It’s gonna be great--do we have to finalize a menu?”

“I’ll have it on your desk by Tuesday morning.”

“Great, do you want to stay for dinner?”

He looked between the two of you, somehow aware of the tension that hovered above your backyard. “Can’t,” he said slowly. “I have a date, actually.”

“Oh, okay. Who’s the guy?”

“Someone I met online,” he shrugged. “Check my location and if I’m not home by midnight, please call the police.”

You laughed, “will do.”

He kissed you on the cheek and then waved to CeCe when she screamed BYE TRISTY!!!

Harry said something about taking a shower and seeing a friend that night, he dipped out the backdoor before dinner and you had no clue what time he got home. But that was for the best, right? You needed to take a step back to get your feet back on the ground.

You didn’t need to concern yourself with where he was or what he was doing--and the tiny voice of anxiety in the back of your brain reminded you that you definitely didn’t need to know who he was with.

Doing so had only made your emotions more jumbled. You’d been stupid enough to think there was something here, think that all of this meant something. And maybe it did, in moments. Harry had been the one to say that Maeve was right, but where did that sentence end? Maeve was right and: I have to go on tour, I’m too young to be a step father, I’m not looking for a serious relationship, I’m too busy for all of this.

The sentence likely ended with a fiery crash into flames and embarrassment.

Whatever was going on between the two of you--between the four of you, even--was a momentary blip on the radar of life. An extra set of hands when you needed them, someone to help things settle back into place after your life had been shaken up like the contents of a snow globe.

But somehow, eventually, things had to settle. You were only upset that it had been rattled again, by fists and bruises and angry words, before you were finally able to see that it was time for things to calm down.

He knew this too. He pulled back over the next week, spent less time downstairs and when you found yourself in the kitchen with him one night after the girls were asleep, a general sense of unease seemed to blanket the room.

Your phone dinged on the counter in front of him when he forked into a bowl of leftovers.

“Oh, you--uh--it’s a message from Luke.”

You were bent over at the dishwasher, the final plate tucked inside when you stood up, a wrinkle in your forehead at his words.

“Luke?”

He slid it over, took another bite and pretended to be disinterested.

Luke (9:24pm): Been thinking about it. Once every two months would be great. Don’t want to get lawyers involved--call me next week and we can talk about when to schedule something. Sorry about punching your friend.

You let out a breath you hadn’t meant to hold, licked at your lips when your eyes welled with tears. You looked up at Harry--who’d apparently been watching you. “Sorry, I’m fine, I just--”

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s fine to only see the girls every two months and we can talk about scheduling. And he apologized for punching you.”

Harry let out a sigh at that, his shoulders slumped like they’d been tense. “I mean--I think I did more damage to him, but, s’fine.” He brought his eyes up to meet yours and smiled a bit. “But that’s good--if he wants to see them there should be some type of predictability to it.”

“Right,” you agreed, a beat of silence. “I should probably feel bad for the girls that their father only wants to see them six times a year but I’m honestly just relieved at this point.”

He held back a quiet laugh. “I don’t blame you. Don’t need any more fist fights.”

You looked up at him, bit back a smirk and tugged at the necklace around your neck. “Definitely not.” Another beat of silence when he looked down at the countertop, his lips were parted like he wanted to speak, but then he sighed again.

The sadness on his face tugged at your heart, you spit out words if only to fill the air between you.

“I’m also sorry that he punched you. You shouldn’t have punched him first, obviously, but, he’s an idiot. The father of my children, but an idiot nonetheless.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I overstepped, so, I’m the one that owes you an apology.”

You nodded. He wasn’t wrong. He did owe you an apology despite the fact that he’d already said it that night. But you didn’t want it to feel as awkward and uncomfortable as it had been for the last few days.

Maybe the girls didn’t sense it, Harry was still teaching Maeve guitar and he still chased CeCe around the backyard, tossing her over his shoulder when he finally caught up. But instead of sneaking into your room at night he shut his bedroom door quietly and you pretended you didn’t watch to see when he finally turned the light out.

“By the way, my house is coming along. They said I can move in sometime in the next two weeks probably.” He nodded like this was a business meeting, neat and tidy information that he presented on top of the island like there wasn’t any weight to his words.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah--so, I’ll keep you updated, I guess.”

In a year of uncertainty and with a thousand twists and turns, something about Harry made you feel like your path was straight, like no unexpected bumps or roadblocks could throw you off course. Somehow, he’d simultaneously been the one to make things fall into place and stir up emotions inside of you that you forgot existed.

But the mere thought of that brought on so much judgment and self-doubt. You'd been desperate and pathetic and searching for anything that would keep you upright, then Harry showed up with a suitcase and a heart of gold.

It wasn’t his fault that you fell for him. There was no one to blame but you.

He saw the look on your face, one of swirling thoughts and anxiety. He cleared his throat. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

You looked up at him sheepishly, like you’d been caught in your own internal monologue of a shame spiral. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

He laughed, reached for glasses above the stove and poured.

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AN: this one was a bit shorter--but don't worry, everything happens for a reason.

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[coexiising]

Good Neighbors - Chapter Two

SUMMARY ✦ Your parents host a dinner party for the new neighbors. 

WARNING(S) ✦ Nothing

MASTERLIST ✦ Here. 

It had been three days since your last encounter with Anakin Skywalker. Three days since you could’ve sworn he winked at you. Not that you were counting . . . No, you were most definitely not doing that.

Since then you had been doing, well, essentially nothing but thinking back to that moment of the two of you talking. And it was probably stupid, since it was just two neighbors talking to each other. He was just being nice to you and that was all, there was nothing to think more of. There were way better things to keep your mind on, like going to your part time job and focusing on finishing up your classes to get your degree. You were busy, but that didn’t stop you from stopping whatever you were doing and glancing through your window to see if you could catch a glimpse at your new neighbor.

You blamed it on stupid infatuation. He was incredibly attractive and you were bored, and you weren’t the only one to think so, since your mother the other day said something about inviting your new ‘attractive neighbors’ to dinner one night. You hated how quick you were to say it was a good idea.

One thing that you learned was that your window was right across from your neighbor's master bedroom, which meant that when the curtains were drawn back, you could see right into their room. Which really wasn’t often, since it was only a side window and they had a much bigger window in the front of the house that was open way more often. But sometimes, if you looked at the right time, you could see Anakin or his wife walking around or talking with one another.

You wondered what she was like. She was very beautiful, with coffee brown hair that stayed in natural curls. She also had a good sense of style, always looking classy and elegant that made you feel out of place every time you and her were outside at the same time for whatever reason. It was wrong to be comparing yourself to her, you shouldn’t, and again blamed it on some stupid fantasy you had made up in your head. It was childish, sure, but it wasn’t like anything was ever going to happen.

You could hear him now, downstairs in the open hallway leading to your kitchen and dining room, talking to your mother about something you couldn’t quite make out. It was later in the evening, almost seven, and your family decided to give the courtesy of inviting the Skywalkers to dinner tonight, something you had been looking forward to since your mother informed you a day prior. Splaying your hands on the front of your black dress, you made sure that there were no creases, looking in the mirror to do one final once over of your appearance. You looked nice, maybe nicer than your family were going for, but no one would comment on it anyways. There was a golden necklace around your neck that had been given to you for your birthday a few years ago, which accented right off of your chest. Once you were satisfied, you opened the door to your room and walked down the steps, getting closer to the voices of your parents and your guests.

The second you got to the ground level of your home and saw the backs of both Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala, you made a beeline for the other direction, deciding to make a detour to the kitchen, stumbling over your feet. You didn’t see all of him, but you could see that Anakin was wearing a dark navy blue dress shirt and those black pants that he was always in, the ones that you always ended up looking at for more than the normal amount of time. Pressing your palms into the countertop, you took deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. This shouldn’t be so hard, you were making a big deal out of this . . . Right? You once again had to repeat to yourself that he was married and there was no way that anything could happen, even though deep down you wished that something would.

“There you are, why didn’t you come down earlier?” Your mother asked, walking into the room and heading for the oven, the smell of something cooking taking over your senses and taking you away from your thoughts. “Anakin was asking about you.”

You almost choked on the air you breathed in. “He was asking about me?” Your tone was a little too questionable and she turned to look at you behind her shoulder, her eyebrow raised and a tiny smile on her face. “I mean, why was he asking about me?” You asked, attempting to save yourself.

“I don’t know, something about a ball and his kids, did they almost hit you or something?”

Oh, right. The incident at the barbeque. Of course that’s why he was asking, that’s probably the only time he had thought about you.

“So, anyways, go out there and be a charmer. Your brother is terrible at it and you know your father is probably boring them with business stuff,” She said, going back to the meal she was preparing. You nodded, deciding it was finally time to face them and get your own awkwardness out of the way.  The walk to the dining room was brisk and you saw that your father was, in fact, talking about something business related. Padmé seemed somewhat interested, but Anakin was definitely not listening by the way he stared down at the table. You almost laughed, before realizing that your father was talking to you now and you had no idea what he was saying. You were too busy looking at Anakin, seeing his blue eyes dart to your own the moment you walked in the room.

You faltered for a moment. “What’d you say?” You glanced at your dad.

“I was just saying that you finally joined us!” He said, giving you one of his kind dad smiles. You flashed one back, meekly sitting in the only seat that was open at the table, conveniently right next to the person you were trying to keep your distance from. As you pulled your seat out and sat down next to Anakin, your father started talking to Padmé again. You were glad that the attention had seemingly been taken off of you and you could try to keep yourself together for the rest of this dinner.

Though that didn’t seem to be in your favor.

“Luke wanted me to tell you that he was sorry about kicking that ball again, he seems to be really broken up about it, not sure why,” Anakin said to you, turning his head to look right at you again.

You laughed, looking down at your hands in your lap and shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know, you may be hearing from my lawyers soon,” You joked, facing him and seeing a grin on his face. “But you’re one, right? So you should be good.”

“I’m not sure, you have a good case,” He joked, taking a sip of his wine. “I haven’t seen you around in a while, still picking up shifts for your friend?” He remembered.

You nodded. “Yeah, but I’m all done now. We get off for the Fourth tomorrow anyways.” The summer holiday had come quickly this year, but it was still something to look forward to. You loved all the fireworks and the food that came with the celebration. In addition to that, it was your family’s favorite holiday as well, meaning that everyone would go out to celebrate like you always did with the traditional block party that the Skywalker’s would now be invited to. It was as if Anakin would never get out of your life no matter how much you wished to avoid him.

Perhaps it was silly, this whole idea that you could have some type of romance with him. He was married, and it seemed like they were happy together. They had two beautiful children together, nothing could ever change that fact.

“That’s good, your mother was telling us all a while ago about the party. You guys sure love to throw them,” Anakin teased, taking a sip of his glass of wine. You watched his lips meet the glass, noting how pink they looked in the correct light. It took you a moment to compose yourself, looking down at the table and taking the biggest breath you could take without him noticing.

You gave a nod, opening your mouth to say something but being greeted by your mother walking in the room with different pots in hand. Finally, a good distraction that could get your mind off of the hunk of the man beside you. Padmé said something about the food that you couldn’t quite make out, reaching to grab one of the serving spoons while you grabbed for the other. Right as your hand hit the wood handle, Anakin’s own hand came down on yours, him not knowing that you were going to reach for the same one.

“Sorry,” You said, hoping that he would mistake your blush from the contact for embarrassment. Luckily, he only gave you a glance and pulled his hand away.

“You first.”

You took some of the food onto your plate, looking down at it until you were sure that the blush had diminished. The room was so hot at this point that you thought that it was possibly on fire. But it wasn’t, it was all because of how close you were to your neighbor, so close that you could feel his presence right next to you and you could smell the cologne that you had smelled the first day that you met him, bringing you back to the moment you looked into his eyes for the first time. You were sure that if you thought about him any more that you would combust right then and there. So you focused on eating, staying silent while the others made small talk.

Minutes passed by and you felt somewhat comfortable again, reaching beside you to grab your phone to check it under the table. Messages blinked up at you, almost illuminating your face as you read: Y/N! Please pick up. I left my computer at work and my brother has my car. I need it tomorrow so that I can work on my thesis, please, please, please can you get it? It was your best friend. Your heart practically thumped out of your chest at the opportunity to get out of this whole ordeal, where you could take your time to get the computer as long as the Skywalker’s would stay over. And then you would have an excuse for your mom instead of just sneaking off to your room.

“Mom, it’s Julia,” You said, holding up your phone so that she could read the text. “I’m sorry, I really need to stop by work and get her computer. It’s important.” You knew that she wouldn’t be happy about you leaving, but nonetheless she said you could go and you were already halfway out the door when you heard your father shouting your name.

Turning around, you saw that he was standing up with Anakin, a firm hand on your neighbor’s shoulder. “Anakin has offered to drive you. It’s late, you know how bad those roads get at night and I would feel more comfortable if you went with him,” Your dad said. You didn’t really have much room to object, since Anakin was already walking into the entrance area and putting on his coat, a black one that matched the same ‘put together’ style that he always seemed to have.

“Okay,” You said, feeling your nerves turn you almost inside out.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Anakin said to everyone, walking behind you out the door and closing it.

You walked to the car alone with Anakin, basically jumping out of your seat in joy the moment you sat down.

[yeoandmoon]

you are now listening to graceland too by phoebe bridgers! ( yeosang x f!reader )

fluff, burnout!yeosang, bassist!yeosang, writer!reader, childhood friends 2 lovers but also idiots 2 lovers, yeosang and reader run away, seongjoong are engaged, wooyoung + yeonjun have a band, there is only one bed, yeosang has a nose ring, it’s implied reader has a bad relationship with her mother, wc is 3.1k

NOTE: happy yeosang day! this was a doozy to write, but i hope you all enjoy it! its based off one of my favourite phoebe bridgers songs! :)

There’s a mural on the wall of the hotel lobby. It’s a warm toned painting of a forest, with a hint of a bright blue sky peeking out from the top of the trees. There’s a moose standing at the forefront of the mural, and a little fox sleeping on a rock towards the bottom, surrounded by colourful flowers and leaves.

The mural confused you, if you were being honest. The hotel you worked the night audit at was situated in the busy downtown centre of the city you lived in, and there were barely any forests for miles around the city - let alone any wildlife, like moose or foxes. Hongjoong said it was to make guests feel more ‘in touch with nature’ and to help people forget about the ‘problems of the real world’, while Yeosang claimed it was ‘just another scam in the tourist trap’.

You, on the other hand, was sure the mural was put there to torture you. You would spend nights having staring contests with the moose (which, to your surprise, you always lost), or you would spend hours on Google with Hongjoong trying to find out what species of fox the sleeping fox was (you were sure it was a cape fox, while Hongjoong swore up and down that it was a gray fox). The blue sky between the trees teased you; a reminder that most of your days were spent in the library at your university, or in this dimly lit lobby.

Sometimes, it felt like the only time you saw the sunshine was when you were with Yeosang.

Despite the occasional burnout and the lack of seeing sun most days, you didn’t mind the job. You were always more of a night person, and your classes were always later in the day so you did manage to pull in some sleep. Due to the late hours, you usually only dealt with customers in the first hour or two of your shift, and most of that was just directing confused Ubereats delivery people and pretty Tinder dates to hallways and rooms. It was the perfect job to work on your writing, and get your school work out of the way without listening to your mother cry about how you’re throwing your life away like your sister.

Plus, you could think of a hundred worse people to spend the night shift with than the nighttime valet, Hongjoong. Hongjoong often kept you occupied with his latest reforms and art projects, and stories about his fiancee, Seonghwa & their friend, Yunho (who he kept insisting you needed to go on a date with).

“Your emo boy is coming.”

Well, you could think of ninety-nine worse people to spend the night shift with than Hongjoong, who sat next to you at the check-in desk.

You scoff, “He’s not my emo boy.” You mumble, glancing at the street entrance to see Yeosang walk in with an ice coffee on hand.

Despite your words, Kang Yeosang was your person (you wouldn’t quite use the term ‘emo boy’, even if it did fit), and he had been since your family moved in next door to his family when you two were children. Although your friendship lately had been reduced to these late night meetings while you two were on break on your respective graveyard shifts (you at the hotel and Yeosang at the convenience store down the block, of course) and occasional meetings in the garden when you were both running errands for your families, you still considered Yeosang one of your dearest memories.

It was hard not too, you suppose. He had been there for many of your firsts, and was always cheering you on. Yeosang always made you feel powerful and important - like a powerful heroine, and not his bratty next door neighbor who cried on his doorstep after being dumped by her first year partner. He always made you feel wanted.

Yeosang grinned at you as he stepped into the lobby (if your heart fluttered in your chest, you ignored it). He had on a backwards dad cap, and he had recently changed his nose ring out for the gold hoop San had bought him for his birthday. You could just faintly see his birthmark peeking out from where his bleach blonde hair curled under the hat.

“Hello, Sunshine.” He greets you, setting the coffee down on your desk.

You set the pen you were holding down, “Hi Yeosang.”

Upon first glance at Yeosang, you can tell he’s buzzing about something. He’s leaning over the check-in counter and chewing on his lip while making small talk with Hongjoong about the tourist season.

You raise an eyebrow, sipping your coffee as Yeosang turns back to you, “Do you remember Wooyoung and Yeonjun?”

You nearly choke on your coffee at the mention of your other neighbor and ex-boyfriend. Wooyoung had moved onto your street a few years after you had, and quickly became apart of the little bond you and Yeosang had formed. He moved to the coast with Yeonjun, your ex, the first chance they had gotten, but Wooyoung’s family remained in the neighborhood.

“I babysat Woo’s brother the other day…” You watched your friend, “Did something happen? Mrs Jung didn’t say anything the other day.”

Yeosang grins, and it’s his scheming grin, “Their band got signed,” He tells you, “They need a new bassist, and Wooyoung showed them that video you took of me from that show last month. Their label wants me to come down; play a few shows with them, record a couple demos. See if we have chemistry, basically.”

Your eyes widen - both out of excitement and fear. You were happy and excited for Yeosang! This is the opportunity he had been wanting for years, but you were also terrified.

You were terrified in a horrible, selfish way because you knew if Yeosang left to join Wooyoung and Yeonjun, he’d never come back to you.

“That’s… That’s great, Yeo!” You manage a grin whilst trying to shove the selfish thoughts away, “When do they want you there?”

Yeosang’s smile falters, just for a moment but you still catch it, “Monday.”

“F-Five days?”

He nods, “I’m leaving Saturday morning, so I can be there Sunday afternoon.”

You can see it in his eyes; he’s terrified too.

Before you can say anything else, Yeosang leans over the check-in counter and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I have to get back to work, Sunshine.” He tells you, his voice quiet as if he’s giving you a secret, “I’ll see you later.”

He’s already halfway down the lobby when you swear and move out of your chair, you quickly call his name as you move out from behind the desk. You rush over to where he’s standing, and look up at him. He’s confused.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when you pull him into a tight hug, “I’m proud of you, Yeo.”

Yeosang wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His chest is warm, and you’re sure you could spend hours here. He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head, “I know, Sunshine.” He pulls away, his hand on your arm, “I really do have to go, though. I’m already late for work.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around your torso as you watch him leave the hotel and turn down the street to go back to the convenience store. When you turn back around, Hongjoong is watching you with an amused look on his face.

You glare at him as you walk back to the desk, “Don’t you have a fiance to call, or something?”

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

You were tired.

Friday nights were always busy, but tonight was draining and loud and you could only take so much of Miss Liu’s incessant phone calls about mundane things at 3am. All you wanted to do was go home, and fall into your bed and sleep for hours.

Hongjoong didn’t help your mood either. It was an innocent question about Yeosang, asking if you’d seen him since he visited you on his break but it pushed your mood down to a low point. You had been so busy the past few days, and if you were being honest with yourself, you had been avoiding Yeosang.

You weren’t ready to see him leave. You knew it was selfish, but you figured avoiding Yeosang was easier than admitting you didn’t want him to leave you behind. You would just simply watch his life through Instagram and consider the ‘what-ifs’ in your life.

You shouldered your tote bag after clocking out before yelling a good-bye to Hongjoong. You could see the beginning rays of morning sun hitting the other buildings in the downtown core as you stepped out the employee doors, and then you were hit by the sight of Yeosang leaning against one of the pillars.

Your eyes widen, “Yeosan-”

“Come with me.”

You stop. Your words are left in your throat, “W-Wh… Go with you? To the coast?”

Yeosang nods, “Come with me,” He steps forward, taking your hands in his, “What do you have here? A degree you don’t care about? A job you hate?”

You frown, running over his words in your head, “I-I have my mom. And… I have Hongjoong!”

He raises an eyebrow, “Y/N, Sunshine… Your mom will barely notice you’re gone, and Hongjoong can visit us.” He cupped your cheek.

You’re so busy having an internal crisis you hardly notice the usage of ‘us’. You’re considering the logistics in your head. Yeosang was right; you didn’t care about your degree, and all it would take was an email saying you quit for them to find a new front desk person. Your mom would be upset for a few weeks. She’d probably make some passive aggressive Facebook posts about you before acting like your best friend again.

“Yeosang…” You look up at him, your hand coming up to circle around his wrist.

“Your sister is there, and you could write everyday.” Yeosang adds on, “I did the math, Y/N. Between the two of us, we’d have 6 months to figure it out. 6 months, and we’ll come back here if nothing works out.”

You stay silent for a moment.

“Sunshine, I promised I’d show you the stars, didn’t I?”

You gasp at the promise. It was a silly promise he had made when you were both kids; something you’d almost forgotten about.

It hits you quickly: there’s no one else you’d rather run away with. There’s no one else you’d trust to run away with.

You look up at Yeosang, “Yes.”

He grins, “Yes?”

You nod, “Yes, Yeo. I’ll go with you.”

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

An hour. An hour was how long it took for you to turn your life upside down for Kang Yeosang.

In an hour, you had emailed your program advisor and told them you wouldn’t be returning for the next semester, and you had called your manager and told them you wouldn’t be coming in for your next shift, or any shift after that (which was promptly followed by a phone call from Hongjoong, who seemed more excited about this than you were). You had packed up most of your clothes and important belongings, and they were loaded into the back of Yeosang’s shitty car. You left a note for your mother, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the passenger’s seat of Yeosang’s car.

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

You had fallen asleep barely an hour into the car ride. 

The rolling hills and fields outside your window made your eyes feel heavier, but you tried staying awake to keep Yeosang company.

“Go to sleep, Sunshine.” He tells you, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Yeosang’s promise was all it took for you to succumb to your exhaustion.

You don't usually remember your dreams. Though today, there are flashes of a beach, and a smile that takes your breath away. There are blue skies and if you try hard enough, you can just faintly smell sea salt.

You wake up hours later, smiling. True to his word, Yeosang is still there when you wake. He’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, and tapping his fingers to the beat of the song on the radio.

Yeosang smiles when he notices you’re awake, “I talked to your mother.”

Your eyes widen, “You talked to who?”

He laughs, “You didn’t answer your phone, so she called me.”

You frown, glancing at your phone in the free cup holder. You could imagine the amount of calls and texts that were in there.

“She wasn’t very happy.” Yeosang continues, “She wants you to call her when we get there.”

You nod, “Thank you, Yeo.” You say softly, looking over at him.

Yeosang throws you a smile, “Of course.”

“Not just for talking to my mom…” You watch him, “For not leaving me behind, too. Thank you.”

Yeosang reaches over, taking your hand, “I’d never leave you behind, Sunshine. You’d have to try really hard to get rid of me.”

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

The car ride was long, and full of Yeosang’s early 2000s emo playlist & fast food. You called your sister, who was ecstatic to hear about your plans and had immediately offered you and Yeosang her beach house. She made a comment about how ‘she always knew you two would end up together’, and it made your heart flutter when you glanced at Yeosang.

Yeosang told you about Wooyoung’s band, and how excited he was to play with Wooyoung. You smiled, listening to him fondly talk about your old friends and their music.

It was getting late though, and you could see it in Yeosang’s face that he was getting tired.

“We should stop for the night.” You tell him, “You’ve been driving since 6am, Yeo.”

He huffs, “We could drive through the night.” He proposes, “We’d make it to your sister’s place in a few hours.”

You frown, “Or... We could stop for the night, shower, and then leave first thing tomorrow morning. We'll get there by noon tomorrow.”

Yeosang glances at you, going to protest. He ends up yawning instead, his nose wrinkling slightly, “Fine.” He pouts.

You laugh, reaching for your phone to google the closest hotels. There's a comfortable silence in the car, filled with the occasional beat of Yeosang’s fingers on the steering wheel. You feel at ease, even if it's just for a moment.

“There’s a motel off the next exit.” You tell him, stifling a yawn of your own.

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

Sure enough, there had been a motel off the next exit. It was small and slightly rundown, but cheap and had an available room. You waited in the car while Yeosang went into the check-in office, promising to be back in a moment.

He came back dangling a key in his hand, and a slight frown on his face as he opened the car door to let you out.

“So... There’s only one bed.” He broke the news, a blush growing up his cheeks, “It’s all they had, unless we wanted to drive another hour down the highway.”

Your eyes widen, “O-Oh.” You glance at the key, and then back up at Yeosang, “I’ll sleep on the floor, or something.”

Yeosang frowns, shaking his head, “We can share for one night, Sunshine. I think it’ll be okay.”

Which leads you to here; lying almost nose to nose with Yeosang. Your hair was soaking wet from a shower in the tiny bathroom and the small motel bed wasn’t comfortable, but you didn’t seem to mind as you took in the man in front of you. You pushed the strands of bleach blonde hair out of his face, and your fingers softly lingered on the birthmark next to his eye.

His breath stuttered, “Y/N,” He says, his voice a mere whisper, “We’re free.”

You let your hand rest against his cheek. Your eyes lingered on his lips before you caught yourself, moving your gaze back up to his eyes.

Yeosang only smiled at you. He gently held your wrist as he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on your palm, “I’m going to kiss you now, Sunshine.”

“Yes please.”

You felt every nerve in your body light up when Yeosang kissed you.

A small part of your brain told you that this is where you’re meant to be: in Yeosang’s arms.

You felt this way the first time Yeosang had kissed you too, all the way back on that roof in 11th grade. You two had been talking about the future; about your writing and Yeosang’s music. You looked up at the hazy night sky, and you asked Yeosang if you’d ever get to see the stars.

He smiled at you, telling you that he would show them to you one day before he kissed you so sweetly.

Yeosang still kissed you sweetly. He kissed you like you held the secrets of the universe in your hand for him to take.

You pulled away, “I think I love you.”

He smiles against your lips, rubbing soft circles into your wrist, “I think I love you too, baby.”

—————-

You had this assumption that the next morning would be awkward; that you would be stuck for the next 6 months with someone you could barely look in the eye because of a late night confession.

Instead, you awoke to Yeosang kissing your head and placing a bagel & ice coffee down for you. He had quickly ushered you into the shower, before you put on a change of clothes and were quickly led out to the car between bites of your bagel. This all happened over Yeosang telling you how you only had a few hours before you reached your sister’s beach house, and he wanted to try and make good time so you could enjoy the beach today.

You giggled at his antics before settling into the passenger’s seat for the last few hours of your journey.

You sipped your ice coffee as you watched out the window. The countryside on the highway zoomed by you, and the car was full of sunlight from Yeosang’s sunroof being open. There was a Fall Out Boy song on the radio, and you felt a sense of calm brush over you as Yeosang took your hand in his.

The sunshine had never felt so nice on your skin as Yeosang pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

taglist: @vanishingboots @sunsethw4​ 

[staticscreenwriting]

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 7

SEVEN - SERENDIPITY

Trigger warning: Alcohol, food

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

“Okay, that’s ridiculous!” Bucky mumbles around a spoonful of fruit loops.

“What is?”

“This,” he responds and points his now empty spoon accusingly at John Cusack. “This whole fate thing. The book, sure, might happen. But the dollar bill? Never!”

(Y/N) puts her empty bowl on the couch table, turning her body towards Bucky and sitting in a criss-cross style. “You telling me you don’t believe in fate and soulmates and that some people are destined to be together.”

“No,” Bucky retorts in a tone that implies it was a silly question to even ask him. “I am 106 years old. If those things were true you'd think I would've found my destined partner by now."

"Maybe you have" (Y/N) shrugs. "Maybe it's Leah. Have you called her anyway?"

Bucky looks down sheepishly into the colorful milk swirling through his bowl. "No."

“ What? Why not? “

“Because it hasn’t — oh I don't know. It just hasn’t felt right.”

He’d been debating on giving her a call many times, never actually going through with it. At first, it was for a fear of failure, rejection. Now though, Leah doesn’t cross his mind as much as before. His thoughts, he noticed recently, are occupied by another person. And it wouldn't be fair to Leah or himself to try and build something on shaky ground at best.

“ Dude, I’m educating you on romance and you are too afraid to call this girl? “

“ Educating me? You are forcing me to watch rom coms. “

“ Forcing you? “ (Y/N) gasps and dramatically slaps her hand to her chest right above where her heart is. “ Are you saying you’re not having fun? “

There’s a smirk on her face, tiny and barely there but he notices it anyway. He’s started noticing the small things. Like how her nose scrunches up when she smiles and how she twiddles with her fingers when she’s nervous.

“ If I didn’t have fun I wouldn’t be here. “ Bucky replies and bumps his leg against her knee. Truth be told, he’d be here anyway. Even if she’d make him watch the most boring movie in the entire world he’d stay right there with her. Sometimes the world doesn't seem so rough and ruthless when she’s there beside him. Sometimes he feels like he could genuinely be happy.

“ Good, “ (Y/N) responds and places a quick kiss on his cheek that very nearly gives him a heart attack. Soft touches are something she grants him every so often and while he is getting used to it, it’s still foreign. It’s something he enjoys quite a lot though.

“Anyway, soulmates finding their way back to each other despite all odds is such a rom-com stable. Like the kiss in the rain or the airport chase or the top-of-the-stairs-moment.”

“ The what ? “

(Y/N) scoffs at him as if she’s never been asked a more ridiculous question in her life.

“ The moment when the girl gets a makeover or she dresses up in some ballgown and her love interest waits at the bottom of the stairs for her and when he sees her he’s so enamored and enchanted by her and ideally there’s some cheesy 90s love song playing in the background. And she meets him at the bottom, walking in slow motion obviously, and they don’t kiss or anything but the looks they share are enough to let the audience know what they feel for one another.”

Her words are heavy with passion and longing and magic and for a second Bucky wishes, he could be the one to give her that moment.

“ But okay, grumpy. You go on not believing in soulmates. I’ll change your mind one day, trust me.”

He doesn’t doubt it for a second.

They sink back into their blissful calm as John Cusak and Kate Beckinsale reconnect on the ice rink in front of Rockefeller Center as an ocean of Christmas lights twinkles in the background.

“ I’ve never been ice skating there. Been living here for so many years now and that’s still something I’ve never done. “ (Y/N) pipes up, a longing swinging alone with her words. “ Have you? “

“ Mmmh. Used to take a lot of girls on dates there. “

“ Oh sorry, I forgot you were a big charmer back in the day. “

“ Saw the first-ever Christmas tree getting set up in 1933. '' he continues to say. Sometimes talking about the past makes him sad. It’s a time he will never be able to go back to. A man he will never be again.

But sometimes, like today, he’s able to recall little snippets of memories and remember how he felt in that exact moment. And those are worth all the pain that thinking about the future might bring.

“ That — is weird flex but actually really cool. “

Bucky doesn’t think of himself as cool. He’s a grumpy 106-year-old who is completely disillusioned with the world around him. If (Y/N) thinks so though, he’s not gonna try to change her mind.

She snuggles back into him, body leaning against the smooth vibranium arm. A part of him he never felt really belonged to himself. Something he had been given to kill, to defend, to fight. If something so dangerous can be a place of comfort to her, Maybe, he thinks, it’s not so bad after all. Maybe sometimes you just have to let go of the part and change your perspective of things.

For a while, they get lost in the movie, in the fictional love of two strangers. He remembers the romance novels his mothers used to read. The way she would get lost in them. Maybe to escape her own life for just a second and follow along with the stories and the people that seemed so much grander than her own existence as a housewife stuck in a life that seems too small to contain her in all her wonderful glory. His mother, Bucky always knew even at a young age, deserved more than she had been given. She was smart and funny and she loved her kids as much as a heart could love another. But her days were dull and her marriage was one of convenience more than anything. She had ideas, beautiful stories swirled around her head, and she’d tell them to him and his sister before she’d tuck them into bed. And yet that is where they stayed, in her mind and in her children's memories. She was never resentful though. She took things as they came and she made them beautiful.

He wonders sometimes, what would’ve come from her ideas if she had been given the chance to tell them to a bigger audience. She could’ve put those rom-coms to shame.

A knock on the front door startles (Y/N), making her get up from the couch and follow LAdy towards the entrance. There’s a definite lack of warmth where she used to be and Bucky feels himself missing her already.

“ It’s probably Robin, she left her favorite jacket here the other — mom? “

The air fills with a chaotic mix of several voices one speaking over the other while the charm on Lady’s collar underlines it all with a jingling sound like that of a small bell.

Before he can even think about how to react, (Y/N) steps back into the living room followed by two more people. A woman who looks like an older version of her and a man. They seem lost in conversation still, talking about their travel to NYC and the fact that the man, who Bucky assumes is (Y/N)’s father, refused to ask for directions.

That’s until their eyes fall on Bucky. The woman regards him with a gentle smile on her face, polite and warm as mothers usually are. The man though. There’s something in his eyes, in his demeanor, that changed once he set sight on Bucky and it doesn’t feel good. Bucky knows what it’s like to be recognized. People see him and then they see all the bodies left in his wake, all the blood on his hands, all the pain and the suffering and the —

“ Sergeant Barnes. “

They used to call him that in Wakanda, as a sign of respect, he believes. To make him realize that they do not see him as the thread he used to be but the man he once was. Other than that it’s been a long time since people referred to him as Sergeant Barnes. It’s a title he takes pride in, something he worked hard for. It also belongs to a man he isn’t anymore. Bucky isn’t sure he still earns it. Still owns it.

“ Uh — hello. “

“Dad, “ (Y/N) says and pushes past her parents to stand next to Bucky. Her hand rests on his arm as a sign of comfort and reassurance. He appreciates it very much. “ Mom. This is Bucky. “

“ I can’t believe it. “ her father exclaims, still not taking his eyes off of Bucky.

“ Dad. “

“ I can not believe it. I can’t believe you! “

There it is. Although Bucky has always been very aware that he wasn’t nearly worth (Y/N)’s time, having it thrown in his face hurts more than he likes to admit.

“ Dad … “

“ You know James Barnes, and you tell me nothing about it? (Y/N) I’ve — I’ve spent so much time researching this man revising all the information people before me have gathered and making sure his legacy and his place in Steve Rogers' life get acknowledged and now I’d have the chance to ask him personally and you — you keep it a secret from me? “

Wait … what ?

“ Bucky, “ (Y/N) says and looks up at him with her gorgeous eyes that never seem to fail at calming him down. “These are my parents and as you can tell, my dad’s a big fan of yours. “

The next few minutes are a chaos of handshakes and nice-to-meet-yous and hugs. Her mother hugs Bucky real tightly, the way mothers do when they know someone needs a hug. And she doesn’t flinch when she feels the metal arm. She just hugs him a little tighter.

“ Why are you guys here? “ (Y/N) asks as her father throws an arm around her shoulder

“ Well, you asked us to look after Lady while you’re gone. “ her mother replies as if it’s the obvious answer.

“ Yeah, but we don’t leave until Friday afternoon. It’s Thursday. “

“ That is truuuue. But dad and I thought we’d surprise you and take you out for a nice dinner since we won’t be spending Christmas together, we thought we could at least try to make up for it. “

(Y/N) shakes her head at her mother’s words. “ I told you guys, it’s not a big deal. You go enjoy your cruise. “

“ And we will but you’re our girl and we want to take you out for dinner. Give your old parents that much, will you” her father jokes and ruffles her hair as if she was just a little girl and maybe she is in that moment, wrapped in his arms.

“ I uh — Bucky and I had plans. “

“ What plans? “ her mother asks, eyebrows raised.

“ Watching movies. “

“ Oh, those aren’t plans. Go get dressed! “

“ And James will obviously come with us, “ her dad adds “ I am not done asking him questions. “

It’s not December yet but the restaurant is already decked out in Christmas lights and tastefully placed sparkly ornaments. The soft lull of Christmas carols being played on a piano flows through the room and Bucky is thankful to discover that while so much has changed, many of those songs have stayed the same. Maybe things aren’t all different right now. Maybe the fundamental things have stayed the same. Like the feeling of being with your family sitting by the tree, singing songs that have been passed down from your parents to you.

(Y/N) sits next to him, lips painted the exact same shade of red as her slouchy knit sweater. She looks so cozy and comfortable and soft and if he’s being really honest with himself, all he wants to do is hold her tight and get lost in her warmth. But this is good, as good as it can ever get, really. Sitting next to her, across from her parents who have been nothing but kind to him. They’re eating good food, drinking delicious drinks and her parents are sharing funny and slightly embarrassing stories about (Y/N). This is the first time he’s meeting anyone’s parents as the man he is now. And even back in the 40s things weren’t this calm and easy. If you went to meet a woman’s parents you better came prepared. This feels nice. Like he gets to be part of a family for just a teeny tiny moment.

“ So, how long have you guys been together? “ her mother asks around a fork of tiramisu. While Bucky only looks at her with wide eyes, (Y/N) almost chokes on her wine.

“ Mom, we’re — not. We’re friends. “

“ Oh,” her mother replies, looking unconvinced as her eyes move back and forth between (Y/N) and Bucky “ I guess I must’ve read that wrong. Shame, you would make adorable babies. “

“ Mom!”

Bucky’s sure his cheeks are the same color as her sweater and her lips and her fingernails. A beautiful bright red. Like a Santa’s hat.

“ I know, babe. You’re an independent woman who makes her own decisions and if you decide not to have babies that’s alright with us. As long as you are happy, so are we. Lady makes for a wonderful substitute grandchild. Just sayin’ if you were to have babies with Bucky they would turn out really cute. “

“ Okay, how about we stop talking about my imaginary potential future children, huh? You go tell me more about work, dad. How about that? “

As her dad starts talking about some history classes he teaches and the students, Bucky notices the change in (Y/N)’s demeanor. Her laid-back ease is gone. She keeps fidgeting with her hair and the rings on her hand. Without really thinking about it, like his body is working on autopilot, Bucky reaches out and grabs her hand under the table. It’s still weird, touching soft skin with his metal hand without the intention of inflicting pain. It’s nice though. It’s wonderful.

She doesn’t let go for a long time.

Restrooms in restaurants are places where time is slightly altered. You’re sheltered from the noises of the main room but they’re still faintly audible through the door. The clinking of glasses and cutlery, the laughter, and the voices as they flow together like waves in an ocean.

It feels like you get a break from the real world for just a moment. To catch yourself. To take a breath. To look at yourself in the mirror and decide your next steps as the music sounds from the overhead speakers in a duller version as if someone wrapped the lyrics in thick cotton padding.

(Y/N) washes her hands while looking at her reflection. Today’s a good day. It’s not going the way she has expected it but it’s a good day nonetheless. Bucky and her parents get along like a house on fire. It’s a nice feeling but it also makes her so acutely aware of all the what-ifs floating around her head and her heart. Would it feel like this if she and Bucky were more than friends? Would it feel this — right?

Before her mind can come up with an answer to her own question, the door to the restrooms swings open letting in a sliver of the noise outside. Her mother steps in and looks at her with that signature mom smile. Like she knows you better than you know yourself. And maybe that isn’t entirely wrong.

“ Your dad and I are going to take a cab to the hotel. We’ll come over to yours tomorrow before you leave. Is that okay? Bucky said he’d walk you home.”

Of course, he’d say that. He’s a gentleman. He’s Bucky.

“ Sure that’s fine. I’m glad you guys came a day early. I missed you. “

“ We missed you too, baby,” she responds and pulls (Y/N) into a hug.

“ Now tell me something,” she says and takes (Y/N)’s face in between her hands. “ You and Bucky. There’s something there. “

(Y/N) shakes free from her mother's touch and faces the mirror, leaning both hands against the marble sink. “ Mom, can you leave it. “

“ I see the way you guys look at each other. I — you haven’t been this happy in so long. He makes you happy. “

As she lifts her head and looks into her own eyes in the mirror, (Y/N) feels a flood of emotions wash over her. Emotions she’s tried so hard to suppress and others she wasn’t even aware were there in the first place. And it’s all comes crashing down pulling her under and spitting her back out.

“ So what if he makes me happy. We’re not gonna happen. I can not lose a friend and he can’t either. It would kill us both. “

“ Oh honey, “ she goes to pull (Y/N) into another hug but she just shakes her head in response.

“ No. No, mom. It’s okay. I’m okay with it being the way it is. “

“ Are you sure? “

Is she? (Y/N) looks back at herself. You think you know yourself and what you want and how you feel and then someone asks you, truthfully asks you if you’re sure. And you can only stare and wonder. Well, are you?

And sometimes it’s way easier to lie, to both the other person and yourself, than to really face your fears and your feelings and everything you do or don’t understand about yourself.

“ Yeah. I am sure. “

It’s true. New York City never seems to fully go to sleep. There’s always a light on somewhere, guiding you through the dark, guiding you home.

It doesn’t fully go to sleep but it slows down. The air gets heavier, the noise gets quieter.

(Y/N) and Bucky slowly make their way through the familiar streets of their neighborhood as the city lights and the stars fight over who gets to shine more brightly upon them.

It’s a chilly evening, winter is truly just around the corner, and the air feels pregnant with the promise of snow and yet (Y/N) feels a warmth course through her that is unlike any other. A warmth that can only be brought on by being with your loved ones.

“ It’s a lovely night,” she says as her heels create a clip-clap sound against the pavement.

Bucky has his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket and his ever-present scowl decorates his face and yet, even Bucky can’t deny that it is a lovely night. One with so much potential. For — for lovers.

“ It really is.”

“ If life was a movie, “ (Y/N) says “ this would be when we realized that we're in love"

Bucky only raises his eyebrow at her, pushing her to elaborate. And maybe it’s a bit selfish. Maybe he just wants to hear her entertain the thought of them two as something more for just a little bit longer. Even if it’s just pretend.

“ We’d get a montage of some quirky dates that we didn’t realize were dates. Then the camera would pan down on us tonight, walking underneath the stars, the city lights glowing around us. There’d be some piano music in the background to set the mood. We’d have a deep talk about our fears or messed up childhoods or the meaning of life. And then you’d make me laugh and I’d accidentally hold your hand. You’d drop me off at my door, think about kissing my lips but then end up kissing my forehead. Once you leave I’d lean against my door, sink down to my floor, and grin like a fool because that’s the moment I realize I am in love with you and the audience would sigh in relief because they knew all along. “

“ That sounds nice,” Bucky replies, eyes staring into the distance as he tries to picture it all, safe it as a mental snapshot to go back to in quiet moments.

“ Yeah, well what a shame life is not a movie and we’re not in love. What a waste of a lovely night. “

“ Guess it’s perfect for a couple, huh? “ Bucky has to agree with her.

“ Mmmh. Or at least someone not in heels, “ (Y/N) jokes looking down at her shoes.

“ You want me to find a couple? Gift our night to them ? “ Bucky asks as they continue their journey down the Brooklyn streets.

“ Absolutely not, sir! “ (Y/N) responds and links her arm with his as she pulls him along. “ I like our night. I want to keep it for ourselves. “

And so they continue their walk home. Words that want to be said, that need to be said, hang heavy in the air, and yet they both decide to stay quiet and just enjoy the silence and comfort of their lovely little night.

The door feels like mocking her as it comes into view, cutting their moment short, putting an end to this blissful night.

She doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t want to go inside and quite literally close the door to all the possibilities this night seems to hold out to her. If she was just brave enough to reach out and grab them.

(Y/N) unlock the door and turns back around to face Bucky. Something seems to hang in the air right between them and that feeling only gets stronger as their eyes lock. For a moment all there is, is silence and an abundance of unspoken words. And a fear that comes with speaking them. Of messing something up. Of being vulnerable.

Bucky smiles at her then. She loves his smile. It’s so rare but it’s so beautiful to look at. It gives you the feeling of having done something right.

“ Thanks for today, “ he says as if there’s anything to thank her for.

“ For what? “

“ Letting me be a part of your family. Thought maybe you didn’t want your parents to know about me. Thanks for — not being ashamed of me or anything. “

“ Oh Bucky, “ she says and grabs his hand, “ You are my friend and I love you. I’d never be ashamed of you. If anything I’m a little embarrassed by the way my dad kept pestering you with questions. Uh — why are you looking at me like that. “

“ You love me? “ his voice comes out but a mere whisper and his eyes are wide in shock.

“ Yes. You’re my friend, I love you. Bucky when — when was the last time someone told you they love you? “ (Y/N) asks as her hand softly strokes the side of his face.

“ 1942 “

“ Well, guess I’ll have to keep reminding you then, make up for lost time. I love you, Bucky Barnes. “

She can’t even blink before she’s wrapped up in his arms. Despite what one would think, Bucky is always warm. Even the vibranium arm. Everything radiates warmth and comfort. She could stay here forever.

Slowly he pulls away, looks deep into her eyes, lowers his head, and places his lips against her forehead. “ I love you too. “

He smiles at her once more then leaves. And while she won't admit it to anyone, ever, (Y/N) goes inside, leans against her door, sinks to the floor, and doesn't even try to suppress the foolish smile spreading on her lips.

Robin’s laughter fills the halls of the beautiful Inn where just tomorrow she’ll say I do.

“ This was your doing! You scheming little shit.” (Y/N) grumbles from the corner of her mouth as she slides up to Robin.

“ It wasn’t, “ the red-haired girl laughs “ but I wish it was. It’s hilarious.“

Redstone Lodge is a beautiful Inn located in upstate New York. It looks out onto a lake and is surrounded by lots and lots of Christmas trees all year round. It’s made of bricks and big wooden panels. Very rustic and yet cozy and elegant. In the yard, there’s a huge tent with a wooden floor and a see-through roof. That’s where the reception will be held tomorrow.

Redstone Lodge has 35 rooms all of which have been distributed to the various guests. They’re beautiful rooms with nice decor and comfortable beds. Well — a bed. One. Singular.

“ This is like some fanfiction trope, Robin. There is only one bed? “

“ Look," Robin says and pulls (Y/N) closer “ if you want to switch, find someone to switch with. I’m sure someone is willing to. But I’m just saying that if you two are friends, shouldn’t you be able to sleep in a bed together and not make it weird? “

She has a point and she knows it and she also knows that (Y/N) knows it.

Huffing a breath of annoyance (Y/N) grumbles an “okay fine” before letting Robin be taken hostage by yet another overly excited aunt and returns to Bucky’s side as he stands on the front steps looking out into the vast area. It really is a beautiful place to get married.

“ Hey so uh — bad news is that this is the only room they have so we’ll have to share a bed. Good news is they got some movies to take up to the room and I found some really dope rom-coms. “

“It's okay, don't worry. I promise I won't hog the blanket,” Bucky says and nods his head into the direction of the lake “ wanna take a walk? “

“ Sure. Yeah, why not. “

In all honesty (Y/N) isn’t the biggest fan of walking around the woods with no particular destination in mind and yet she can’t help but feel a sense of happiness fill her as she links her arm with Bucky’s once again.

She realized a while ago that she tends to gravitate towards his left side. It isn’t a conscious decision but maybe it’s a good one nonetheless.

Maybe it’ll show him that every part of him is worth loving, even the ones he doesn’t love himself.

“ When was the last time you did something crazy? “

He doesn’t like the way those words sound tumbling from her lips. He does, however, like very much how her eyes sparkle in the light of the setting sun. Their walk had turned into a bit of a hike and by the time they’ve finally made it back to the lake, the sun is about to set. Everyone seems to have retreated back into the lodge, maybe to sit by the big cozy fireplace or up to their room with their several beds. More than one. plural.

Bucky doesn’t want to let go of their time together though. Not yet. Just a little bit longer. And if that means agreeing to one of her weird ideas, so be it.

"Uh well, I fought aliens a few months ago."

"Huh … well see that's not an answer I was prepared for I mean more like, when did you last do something stupid but fun?"

“Like dancing in the middle of a street or having a cake fight in a parking lot?”

“Yeah …. like that.”

She looks at him again with that mischief and that softness. Like a mix of all things that make you feel alive shine back at him from her eyes.

“Wanna go swimming?” (Y/N) asks and smirks at him.

“Now? It’s freezing.”

“ I know,” she replies and shrugs her shoulders “ and I know it’s silly and dumb and we’ll probably get sick but I kinda wanna do it anyway. Wait … can you get sick?”

“Huh?”

“Because of the serum.”

“You know, they didn’t exactly give me a manual when they injected it so — guess we’ll have to find out.”

“So you’re in?”

Bucky only nods his head in agreement. She doesn’t need to know that he’d agree to anything she suggests. Any little thing.

The woods around them are dark and thick and where they probably should be scary they are comforting now. They’re a shelter from the eyes of onlookers. A safe roof and walls to keep their little bubble safe and hold their moment tight and safe.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” (Y/N) hisses through clenched teeth as the water reaches up to her shoulders, the straps of her yellow bra the only colors shining through the dark night.

Don’t think about it. He has to tell himself. Don’t think about the fact that she’s only in her underwear. Don’t think about her soft skin and her smile and what her body feels like against yours. Don’t!

He doesn’t have to scold himself for too long before a cold splash of water hits him right in the face.

“Oh, you made a mistake” Bucky calls out to a laughing (Y/N) who tries her best to tread water and get as far away from him as possible but fails to do so, being wrapped up in his arms only seconds later.

For the next few minutes, they splash around like children at the neighborhood pool.

The cold of the night and the lake rattle their bones but neither of them seems to care as a familiar warmth wraps itself around their hearts.

It’s really fascinating how the little moments can become so meaningful. How one person can mean so much so quickly. How drastically your life can change just because of one single person and their kindness and their love.

“Oh-oh!” (Y/N) exclaims excitedly and lays little enthusiastic slaps on Bucky’s shoulder “let’s do the dirty dancing lift. You can lift me, right?”

“I have a vibranium arm…”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

Bucky places his hands on her waist and pulls her a little closer, trying to ignore the incessant thumping of his heart that feels like it wants to break out of his chest. “Okay on 3.”

“One”

Her eyes look deep into his as if trying to search for something in them. Secrets. Hidden feelings. The truth.

“Two”

And when she smiles, almost shy, it seems for a second that she’s found whatever she’s been looking for. He hopes she likes the secret she uncovers. He hopes it doesn’t scare her off from loving him.

“Three”

In a swift motion, he lifts her up above his head, holding her strong and steady as drops of water, cold as ice, rain down on him while (Y/N) laughs and stretches out her arms.

“We did it! I’m flying, Jack!”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She retorts and lets out another laugh. Yeah, maybe he’s freezing his ass off but to hear her laugh like that, makes it all worth it.

He doesn’t let her fall over like they do in the movie, instead, he grips her waist tighter, slowly and gently lowers her back into the water. And when she’s back right in front of him, chest against his, he should be letting go of her, but he doesn’t.

While his head keeps screaming at him to just let go, his heart tells him otherwise, makes him stay right there.

(Y/N)’s arms move across his chest and gently wrap themselves around his neck before her fingers start to delicately play with his hair.

He wonders if any person has ever felt the way he does in that moment. He wonders if maybe a poet or a writer or a musician has and if maybe they wrote a poem or a book or a song about it. Maybe that would help him understand. Maybe he could read it or listen to it and keep this moment captured in that piece of art forever. Because he fears that no memory can ever do justice to the way he feels when she moves closer.

When her hand cups his face when her nose nuzzles against his so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll pull away any second.

It’s just them and their wildly beating hearts and the woods providing them shelter and the water setting the scene and the stars shining down upon them.

It’s just them — until it isn’t.

“(Y/N), Bucky? You guys out there?” Robin's voice calls out into the night as her silhouette appears against the light coming from the porch of the Inn.

“Yes, it’s us. We’ll be right in.” (Y/N) calls back, having moved away slightly. The spell is broken and Bucky lifts his hand off of her, immediately missing the contact.

“It’s freezing, we should probably go inside.” She says and grants him a smile, though it doesn’t entirely reach her eyes and he can faintly see her shivering.

“Yeah let’s go. Get you warmed up.”

They don’t talk about their moment as they head inside and get swallowed by the group of people all hyped up with excitement for the coming day.

Bucky is sure though that as long as there are stars in the sky, he will not forget this moment however fleeting and insignificant it might seem.

TAGLIST FORM (fill this out to be added)

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynyierulez - @je-like-you - @dracoxxyoflam - @jackiehollanderr - @majo240820 - @kay-gilles - @booksb4looksstuff - @jckie94 - @charmed-asylum - @shawnie--jo - @yllwtaxi - @tailsoflightning - @giuliarogers - @mangoogirl - @gerim-1995 - @elen-alambil - @threeminutesoflife - @writeroutoftime - @buckybarn3s - @rosaline-black - @kenziekugler22 - @vghz82 - @frnkensteingrl - @lovefreylove - @cherryofdeath - @bluemoon-icecream - @mariusprincess-blog -

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pause, m | myg | 2

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; emotional manipulation; gender stereotyping; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

The music reader listens to is inspired by Frederic, specifically their songs ‘oodloop’, ‘OWARASE NIGHT’, and ‘Kanashii Ureshii’ and you can look up the MVs on YT. They have subs, yes the lyrics inspired certain scenes, no I have no idea what is going on, and I don’t know why they’re dancing like that lol

–

1.

-

She slapped him across the face.

You froze.

The cassette smashed.

“I hate you, Min Yoongi!”

She shouted it so loud that you heard it over your music. Your finger instinctively went to your earbud and tapped it, pausing the sound. You couldn’t believe your eyes. What had this guy done? What had this guy done to be yelled at like that the second he stepped off the night train to stand in front of his girlfriend?

“Useless piece of trash, always fucking late!”

Slapping him over and over, so loud because the train station was completely empty except for you and these two, yelling obscenities and the guy was just standing there, taking it, saying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry for what? Why did she keep hitting him? Why? Stop it. Stop hitting him.

“Such a fucking waste of life, I can’t believe I have to be your girlfriend!”

Stop it.

“No one will ever fucking love you, you shithead, so I’m stuck with your stupid self!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Mumbles. Fear.

Stop it!

“You think anyone will ever do anything for you the way I do? I’m all you have!”

Within two seconds, you crossed the space between you and them.

You smacked her hand away from him.

Pause.

You hesitated to press play. Standing in front of this random guy you didn’t even know, fury in your chest so strong that you forgot you were a stranger, glaring at this scowling, rage-filled woman with vehement disdain. You had no idea what the fuck was going on, you had no idea why he was being slapped so much, you had no idea why this woman was so angry and maybe there were very good reasons for it all, but somehow.

Somehow you didn’t think so.

Play.

“Stop it. He said he was sorry,” you barked, narrowing your eyes.

Her pretty face twisted with rage. “Who the fuck is this bitch, Yoongi? A whore you picked up?”

“I… I don’t know her…” the man behind you rasped, trying to move around you, but you kept yourself between the two, shouldering your backpack.

“I don’t know him. I just know you shouldn’t be hitting someone like that.”

The woman snapped at you, rising to her full height, challenging you. “This isn’t any of your fucking business. This is between me and him and doesn’t concern outsiders. Tell her, Yoongi.”

But you didn’t let Yoongi tell you, cutting him off as he tried to speak.

“This isn’t my business, but I’ve seen enough examples to be able to spot domestic violence when I see it,” you growled.

The woman scoffed, flipping her hair. “Domestic violence,” she snorted. “He’s a man. It’s not like I hit him that hard. I’m a woman.”

You curled your hands into fists.

“You stupid bully.”

The woman looked taken aback. “What?”

“I said, you’re a stupid fucking bully,” you snarled, taking a step forward and forcing her to take one back. “You think this is nothing, until you have children and your children have to watch this shit over and over, every night, thinking it’s right, thinking it’s the way it should be, but you’re fucking wrong, because this is not a relationship, this is not love, this is fucking bullying and you are a stupid, dumb bully who can’t admit you have an inferiority complex and your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example, so do me a fucking favor and get the fuck out of here and leave this guy alone, because you are an absolute sewage of a human being.”

She gawked at you, slack-jawed, probably never been talked to in such a forceful manner before, but you didn’t care, because you didn’t spend years in therapy to watch this shit happen right in front of your face.

Never in your entire life had you ever been so angry at a stranger before.

The woman seemed to gather her bearings and spat at the floor, staining the concrete with her spit. You raised your eyebrows, unintimated. She stamped her foot at your lack of reaction, pointing accusingly at Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t you ever think about coming back home. I’m burning all your shit.”

She turned her heel and stomped away.

You almost expected Yoongi to run after her, but he didn’t. He just stood behind you and breathed laboriously. You suddenly realized that you might have done something mildly insane. She said she was going to burn all his shit.

“Hmph,” you heard the mumble behind you. “All I had was clothes anyway.”

You turned around. He wasn’t looking at you. His black hair was all over his face, and his face mask was half-pulled down, revealing his red cheeks. You looked away quickly, taking a step back.

“Are you… okay?” you asked quietly.

You saw his eyes shift around. He didn’t actually respond. Just shrugged.

You bit your lip.

Silence.

“There… are no more trains,” the Yoongi guy whispered.

“Y… Yeah.”

Silence.

The lights above you were harsh, casting large shadows all over the concrete. Nothing but the sounds of the city and the darkness above, the moon witnessing it all.

He turned away from you, walking over towards the benches. Walking away. The crumpled paper of a man, shrinking as he took one step, then another, farther and farther away from you, and you opened your mouth to shout after that black back, extending your hand in the air.

“H-Hey!”

Pause.

He turned his head around to look at you with broken and lonely eyes.

“If you want… I have a couch and some blankets.” You swallowed, knowing how crazy it was. “Because… You shouldn’t go back. I…” Don’t want you to end up like my dad. “Even if it’s one night.”

I want to break this cycle.

“Just one.” You lowered your hand, holding up one finger. “One.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

Only turned around wordlessly and walked back to you, stopping in front of you. Saying nothing.

He didn’t say anything the entire walk.

Didn’t say anything as you opened the door and gestured him inside. Showed him the couch, got him the blankets. Asked him if he wanted anything else. He shook his head instead of talking. You ran to your room and got him a spare pillow. Held it out to him. He took it silently. Ran off again and got a new toothbrush from your stash of toothbrushes. An unopened travel toothpaste. Asked him if he wanted anything to eat. A glass of water. He shook his head.

Showed him the bathroom. A shower?

Shake, shake.

Okay.

You told him if he was cold to let you know. You would find another blanket.

Yoongi said nothing.

You nodded and turned away, letting him be. It was hard to look at him. You didn’t want him to think you pitied him or anything. But he reminded you too much of your dad if you stared at him too long. You had gotten him everything you could think of and let him know that if he needed anything to tell you.

You went to your bedroom and let out a big sigh.

No dance party tonight.

You went to your computer and opened Spotify. Put your headphones on and listened to the music, letting it carry you away. Before you knew it, one song flowed into another. You slowly began to bounce your head to the music, the cheerful, quirky beats making you smile, your hands moving on their own, lip-syncing the lyrics.

A happy tune with sad lyrics, but it made you smile at the same.

You failed to notice Yoongi appear at your door, holding his phone. He needed a charger. Did you have one? And then he saw the back of your head, bouncing along, headphones on.

He retreated back to your living room, clutching his phone. Decided to go to sleep instead.

Hours later, you finally decided to sleep, placing your headphones down. Was Yoongi sleeping? You padded over to the dark living room, seeing a bundled form on your couch. His coat was over the blanket. His head was under the blanket. Was he cold? You went back to your room and collected a pink knit one. Walked back to the living room and moved his jacket aside onto the armchair, putting the extra blanket on top of him.

His phone was on your coffee table, flashing. It was low on battery.

You checked if it was Android or iPhone. Android. Good, because you didn’t have a lightning cable, although you would have gone to the twenty-four-hour convenience store nearby to get one if he did have an iPhone. Back to your room. Got a charger and struggled to find an outlet in the dark. You’d think you would know where your own outlets were, but apparently you were too sleepy to remember. You felt around in the dark and poked at an outlet, stabbing the wall repeatedly before plugging it in. Maybe you should have turned a light on, sheesh.

You snaked the cable around and plugged his phone in. It vibrated approvingly and you gave it a thumbs up, even though it was an inanimate object.

Let’s just say living alone made you weird.

You let out an exhale and wandered off to brush your teeth.

Not noticing Yoongi had woken up and been watching your struggle. Saying nothing.

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Morning.

You yawned and nearly jumped when you saw the unmoving pink blob on your couch. Oh, right. You were surprised he wasn’t awake, but you shrugged. The blankets were over his head, blocking out the sun. You tried to stay quiet, opening your fridge, staring at the contents.

Staring at it with a million question marks.

You had… kimchi. Eggs. Cheese. Definitely expired take-out. You took that out and dumped it in the trash can, grimacing at it. A stranger didn’t need to see how disgusting that was. You went back to your fridge. Um. It wasn’t that you couldn’t cook, it was that you didn’t have jack shit. And if you cooked on the stove, you would definitely wake up Yoongi.

Your stomach screamed in rage.

Feed me!

Ah, well. Sorry Yoongi. You settled on a kimchi-egg-cheese pancake thing. Was it going to be good? Sure. Was it not the most elegant thing in the world? Maybe. What can you do?

You began to chop the kimchi.

-

Yoongi turned over on the couch, groaning. He heard the sizzle of the pan. Smelled spice. Eggs. The world was unfamiliar. No one was yelling at him to get up. No one was doing the blankets off of him and calling him a lazy pig. 

"Motherfuc–!"

A female voice cursed in a loud whisper. You cut yourself off, muttering.

"Stupid oil, ugh."

Not his girlfriend. 

Slowly, Yoongi pulled the blankets off his head. An unfamiliar scent, different laundry detergent than he was used to. The sofa smelled different too, like vanilla with a hint of stale popcorn. Probably from being dropped in the cushions and forgotten about until months later. 

His stomach growled. 

The smell of the food enticed him. He got up, seeing you at the stove, wearing black pajamas with the sleeves rolled to your elbows, and a cream scrunchie holding your hair up. You made a face at the pan and scolded it. 

"Who's the boss here?" you hissed hotly at the sizzling food. "That's right, me, because I'm about to eat your ass, so simmer down and stop trying to singe my arm hair off."

Yoongi blinked. 

He got off the couch as you continued your quiet tirade, shoving your hand into a bag of cheese and sprinkling it on top, laying down a generous layer. 

You should cover it, Yoongi thought. To let the cheese melt. 

You grabbed a pan lid, and covered it. The lid definitely went to a separate set because it was a different shade of silver, but it didn't matter. You mumbled triumphantly at the pan. 

"Ha, take that, you stupid eggs, who's in the hot seat now, eh?"

Yoongi stared.

You lifted the lid and checked the cheese. A billow of smoke floated out. You seemed satisfied and turned off the gas. Lifted the pan and spun around. 

Froze. 

Yoongi blinked at you. 

Your eyes were wide, still holding the hot pan. 

Silence. 

A good ten seconds past. 

You slowly put the pan on the cork potholders at the counter. Two plates were at the counter with two sets of chopsticks.

"Uh... I made a kimchi-egg pancake t-thing..." you stuttered. "With cheese on top. You don't have to eat it. But I'm not going to poison you or anything. Er, well, that's something a someone who would poison you would say, huh? Oh, maybe I should have checked the expiration date on the kimc–"

"Why do you talk to your food?" Yoongi asked pointedly.

You turned bright red. 

"Um... bad habit. 'Cause I live alone..." You shifted your eyes. "No one... to talk to."

Yoongi stared at you. 

You turned around abruptly and grabbed a knife. Took off the pan lid. The kitchen was suddenly filled with the delicious smell of eggs and kimchi. The cheese bubbled as you cut it into pizza-like slices.

Yoongi sat down at the barstool, staring at it. He was the one who usually cooked. He hadn't had a home-cooked meal by someone else in forever. Not since he lived with his parents. 

That was a long time ago. 

"I seasoned the eggs beforehand and poured it on the sautéed kimchi..." You placed a plate with a pair of chopsticks in front of him, ears still red. You avoided looking him in the eye, scratching your cheek. "I, uh, have to go grocery shopping," you mumbled, taking a slice. "Sorry it's not that fancy..."

Yoongi picked up the chopsticks and took a slice. He blew in it carefully and took a small bite. Spicy, savory, delicious. He took another bite. And another. The food was hot, almost burning the roof of his mouth. This must be a dream. He wasn't in his nightmare. He wasn't going to question it. 

As long as he wasn't in his nightmare, he could pretend this was reality. 

Yoongi didn't notice you watching him with relief. 

He took another slice. The meal was quiet, but not suffocatingly so. It was calm, only interrupted by chewing. You reached into the cabinet below you and produced a water bottle. Put it next to him. Didn't say anything. Yoongi are three more slices, throat prickling with the spice, lips puffy, before he opened the water bottle and drank from it.

"If you want, I can direct you to a shelter."

Yoongi put the water bottle down. Stared at his stained, now empty plate. 

"Or you can call a friend to shelter you," you continued. "You can even get a restraining order if we involve the police–"

"No."

He said the word with harsh finality. 

"It's not that bad."

It wasn't. He was just being a child, running away. 

"... Okay."

Yoongi looked up. For a split second, there was immense pain in your eyes. Why? None of this was happening to you. You didn't know anything. You were just some stranger. Why was he even here? Why had he come here to sleep on some random couch? So dumb. Some random woman couldn't save him from his problems. 

... Your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example...

Yoongi stilled as he remembered your words from last night. That was far too specific. His brows furrowed. You let out a sigh and took his plate.

"Do you want a shower?" you asked. "I have spare towels."

Yoongi tilted his head. "I don't have a change of clothes." He stared at the hardwood floor. "And my other clothes are probably burned by now."

You placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them. 

"We can go buy some. I need groceries anyway."

He didn't understand why you were being so nice to him. It was strange. You didn't know him. Well, actually... he didn't even know your name either. 

"Uh..."

You looked up from the dishes, hands covered in soap. Yoongi did all the dishes at home. He did all the housework, in fact. This was weird, watching another person do housework. His voice was quiet, timid, crumpled like a piece of paper. 

"What's your name?" 

-

"Do you want white or black?"

You held up two multi-packs of t-shirts in his size.

"Uh... Black."

You dumped the black in the cart and put the other back. Yoongi stayed behind you, not picking out anything. You were wearing your backpack, a black cap, red wide-knit sweater, and black jeans. Black combat boots, the familiar staple for you. The two of you are standing in an aisle at the local convenience store. Yoongi was still wearing the same clothes from last night – black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black face mask. 

He mostly stared at the floor, following your boots. 

"White or black?"

Yoongi looked up to see you on the other side of the cart, holding two multi-packs of underwear. White briefs and black boxer briefs. He felt his cheeks heat up as you blinked at him. Instead of speaking, he grabbed the black boxer briefs from your hand, intending to chuck them into the cart.

Except his jacket sleeve caught a strand of your red sweater, the Velcro sticking to and unraveling it, so that when he twisted his hand to throw the plastic pack into the cart, the yarn tangled around his fingers and got caught, rapidly getting pulled around. Your eyes widened, gasping as the red string was yanked from your sweater. 

"O-oh!"

"Fuck!"

His hand was tangled in it and the part around your wrist tightened, the missing yarn causing the constriction. Yoongi cursed again, trying to shake free, panic rising. Oh no, fuck, what if you got angry? What if you started yelling at–?

You laughed. 

You started laughing. Yoongi froze, slowly lifting his head to witness your laughter. Your shoulders shook, shaking your head, big smile on your face. The yarn hung in the air, shaking a little.

The red string connecting you to him. 

Yoongi stared. 

At you.

His heart thudded in his chest. 

Thump. 

"Hold on," you chortled, reaching over and following the red yarn.

Thump.

His heart was like a bass drum. Consistent and loud, rhythm in his own ears. You untangled the mess slowly, carefully, wrapping the exposed end loosely around your wrist. Finally, it was off his fingers. Your fingers were centimeters from the back of his hand. You grasped the red yarn tightly. Yoongi looked at the end, trapped in the Velcro of his parka.

Thump. 

A fleeting feeling. 

Happiness.

You ripped the red yarn off, the end frizzy and scraggly. 

Another fluttering feeling. 

Sadness. 

You backed up, going back to the cart, tucking the end in next to your wrist, all chuckles. Thump, thump, thump. He couldn't breathe. It was impossible. What was going on? Why did he suddenly start shaking all over?

"I'm sorry," he blurted, breathless in panic. 

You shook your head, waving a hand. 

"Don't worry about it. This thing is old anyway." You pointed to the rack. "Is four enough? Or do you need more?"

"U-uh..."

"Let's get one more. I can always return it if you change your mind."

-

"Do you have a job to go to? Because I have to go soon," you were saying as you shoved the groceries into the fridge. Yoongi was unwrapping the plastic and cutting off the tags from the few clothing items you two had bought. 

"Um... yeah, I work at a music studio..." Yoongi mumbled. "I make my own hours."

"And it ends right before the last train, right?" you affirmed, nearly dropping the green onions and making a mad dash for them before they touched the ground. Whew. You shoved them back in your fridge. You didn’t really have an organization system. You probably should. Being an adult was hard.

"... Yeah."

"Cool, you should take a shower now then. I'll get a towel, hold on!"

You scrambled out of the kitchen to find a towel in the linen closet, the fridge door still open. 

"... Alright..."

-

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Yoongi spent the entire train ride tense. You sat in your usual spot, humming along, bobbing your head to your music in your earbuds. Neither of you attempted to sit next to the other. Yoongi fully expected his girlfriend to be there as he stepped out of the train, at the last stop. He thought he was going to get yelled at once again. He thought she would be there to smack him upside the head again. He braced himself as the doors opened, exhaling deeply as he walked out of the sliding doors.

"Ugh, I need some energy," you mumbled behind him, yawning. 

No one was there. 

The bright streetlamps only illuminated the concrete. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

He turned his head to see you tilting yours. 

"You coming?"

You bounced on your heels. He remembered your usual routine. 

"Wanna race?" you asked with a big grin. 

-

Morning. Night. Morning. Night. 

Empty station at the last stop. No one but you and him getting off. 

Morning. Night. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

Morning. 

"You coming?"

Night. 

“Wanna race?”

Repeat.

The cassette tape replayed over and over, flipped around in the stereo, day in, day out, stuck on replay, a weird reality that wasn't his until it became his, seeing your face when he woke up, watching you cook breakfast in the morning, chastising inanimate objects when you thought he wasn't looking.

Your lips asking him once again. 

"You coming?"

Then you and him, breaking out into a run, racing to your apartment. 

At first, Yoongi didn't smile. 

Then one day, he did. 

And he kept smiling, smiling as he ran breathlessly with you. 

-

"What are you doing?"

You froze. 

Literally one second before you heard those words, you had been wiggling your arms like an octopus in front on your full-length mirror, flapping the long sleeves of your over-sized blue sweatshirt, your billowy knee-length gray shorts following suit. You reached up to your Bluetooth headphones to take them off.

And realized, with heated cheeks, that the music was not coming from your headphones, but the Bluetooth speakers on your desk, blaring the odd twangs of guitar and quirky drum beats, paired with whiny, almost nonsensical lyrics. 

You turned around. 

Yoongi stood at the entrance of your bedroom door, staring. He was wearing a black t-shirt. Black sweatpants that were slightly too short, exposing his pale ankles. 

The song went into the guitar solo. 

He blinked at you. 

"Uh... dancing?"

Blink. 

Normally after work, Yoongi would either be asleep or watching television in your living room. You told him cable came with the apartment and you never watched TV, so he should at least watch some in your stead. You usually went to your room. The first couple nights, you only danced in your chair. Then you got up and danced next to your desk, and then you were back to your wacky mirror dancing, thinking that if it was though headphones, then Yoongi wouldn't notice. 

But, of course, you had disturbed him with your music blasting through the speakers, which had never been disconnected all this time because, well, how were you supposed to know? They must have connected because your over-ear headphones died.

"That was dancing?" Yoongi echoed.

Your eyes shifted. "Er... it's stress relieving?"

Yoongi stared at you.

Blink. 

The song changed. One of your favorites. 

Your shoulders began to bounce. Your head tapped to the beat. Then your heel. 

Blink. 

"Are you possessed?" Yoongi asked with a deadpan look. 

The tune was getting to the good bit with the xylophone. Fuck it. He had already seen you octopus it up. You began to bob your head from side to side, breaking out to a big grin, shooting him some finger guns before going back to your full-body jiggle and arm flapping, singing along on the top of your lungs, prancing around your room, Yoongi staring at you the entire time in mild shock. He probably thought you were psychotic, but who cared, because you were clapping along to the snare drum, skipping in circles, pointing at him at certain parts in the lyrics and playing air guitar. 

His normally downcast cat-like eyes were huge.

You grabbed his hands at the guitar solo and he yelped, his arms rippling as you swung them around, you stumbling through the lyrics, singing the absurd words, and Yoongi gawking wide-eyed.

The song went to the final chorus and you wiggled like a fucking squid. 

Only to see Yoongi burst out laughing and wiggle his arms with you, tiny wiggles compared to your full-blown tentacle swings, but it made you laugh too, because it was all stupid and ridiculous and very embarrassing. 

With a start, you realized you had seen Yoongi laugh. 

And he looked so wonderful laughing, perfect teeth and pink gums, huge smile and scrunched-up face, black hair falling back from the strength of his chuckling, revealing his lovely fair-skinned features and those cat-like eyes sparkling.

Sparkling with brightness. 

The song ended and you were panting breathlessly.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows in disbelief, half-smirk on his lips. 

"Your music taste is nuts."

You smiled as the next song started. 

"Nah, this is just my nighttime dance party music. It's supposed to be crazy."

You flapped your sleeves to the beat of the drum. Grinned at him. 

"Because every night should be a dance party."

And you started dancing again, Yoongi watching you and laughing, even joining in sometimes. 

From then on, every night was a dance party. At one point, Yoongi started to bring you songs and weird beats he discovered for you to dance to. He even said a few times, "Hey, I made this. Can you make a dance from it?"

You'd dance to anything. 

You weren't great at it. 

But it was always hilarious. 

And it was always worth it, watching Yoongi laugh all night. 

-

Pause. 

Fast forward. 

Wait. Are you sure?

You can always rewind. 

You don't have to press play. 

Pause.

Play. 

-

“Do you like rap?”

You were sitting next to Min Yoongi on the night train. There were still people around, not yet the last stop. He was clutching his phone, face mask on his chin. He looked a little nervous.

“Yeah, of course. I like all music,” you said cheerfully. “Something you want me to dance to?”

Yoongi chuckled a little, giving you that little half-smirk. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a… music producer. And I… I make music. And I wondered if you wanted to listen to a little bit my mixtape.”

“I do.”

Yoongi looked taken aback. You grinned.

“I definitely want to listen to it.”

You connected your earbuds to his phone and listened carefully. His words, his beat, his rhythm. Yoongi sat beside you, wrapped in his black parka, looking nervous as he chewed on his lip, but you didn’t notice, bobbing your head to certain bits, mouthing the chorus, raising your eyebrows as he altered the framework of a traditional song. He had only five tracks on the playlist, but you listened to them all, holding his phone. When the playlist ended, you clicked back to your favorite parts and replayed them, over and over, listening to his strong, raspy voice.

Yoongi sounded confident when he was rapping.

Like he was meant to do it, perfectly expressing himself with his simple words and elegant phrasing, his anger, his sorrow, his hopes. You could tell there was an underlying theme, an uncertainty about the future. As if he was taking steps to an invisible, unlit path, and he wasn’t sure whether to run forward without a guiding light or go back to all he knew.

You handed him back his phone with a smile. You understood him a little better now.

“Well?” he asked, still biting his lip.

“I really like it,” you said. “Especially your vocals. It’s different from other voices I’ve heard.”

“… It’s not that–”

“And I like your lyrics. They’re simple, but they pack a punch and make you think.” You smiled widely. “I like music that makes me want to listen to it over and over again. That’s how your rap makes me feel.”

Yoongi looked stunned.

You pointed to his phone. “You could release it just like this, if you wanted.” You tilted your head. “Hm, maybe a few more songs though. It seems like you’re trying to tell a story.”

He blinked rapidly, putting his phone in his pocket. “Y-Yeah… I’m working on a few more that I want to add.”

You nodded. “That’d be awesome.”

The train screeched to a halt. There was no one in the car. That was your cue. You stood, stretching first and then shouldering your backpack. Yoongi stood as well, pensive and silent. The train doors slid open. He walked out first and you followed. Streetlights harsh and bright on the concrete. Yoongi did his usual routine of looking to the edge of the train station.

Both of you froze.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

You recognized her. She might be wearing a different dress and a different coat, but it was the same woman all right, with the same harsh scowl.

“I knew you wouldn’t be a man and face the music. Instead, you went off prancing with some whore.”

“She’s not a whore,” Yoongi muttered, pulling up his face mask.

You didn’t say anything. There was a sudden pressure on your chest, an overwhelming, tense heaviness, because you knew what was coming.

“Are you telling me that you’re not going to come home to the woman you supposedly love, the one you were supposedly going to marry and give a comfortable life to?” the woman accused. “Are you telling me that you can’t take responsibility for your actions? That you’re not a man, but a child?”

Yoongi took a step towards her.

The weight in your chest felt like a ton of bricks crushing you.

Another step.

“Yoongi.”

He turned his head, dark brown eyes flickering to you.

You smiled.

Smiled even though the moment was killing you.

“I… I have to finish this,” he mumbled, the sparkle in his eyes dulling with every passing second.

You kept the bright smile on your face.

Like a cheerful-sounding song with sad lyrics.

“Okay.”

Pause.

You wanted to rewind. You wanted to rewind so bad, even if it was only to ten minutes before this painful moment. With a shaking hand, you pressed play.

“My door is always open for you, Yoongi.”

He made eye contact with you. He nodded.

“Goodbye.”

You turned and ran.

Ran and ran, hoping he was running after you, but you knew he wasn’t, you knew he was walking towards that toxic woman and you could do nothing about it, you couldn’t care, you just had to keep running, running and running until you hit your front door, fumbling with your keys and running inside, slamming the door closed.

You froze.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you ran to your room and threw up a specific playlist, a playlist full of cheerful-sounding songs with agonizing lyrics, hopeful beats tainted by upsetting words, and danced the night away, danced and danced. Not wanting to think about the blankets on the couch, the suitcase you had dragged out to let Yoongi borrow and put his clothes in, not wanting to think about his toothbrush on your bathroom sink, not wanting to think about all those nights dancing stupidly in this bedroom with him, and focusing only on dancing alone, singing the night away, on and on and on until you couldn’t stand anymore, couldn’t sing anymore, and you just fell on your bed and passed out, completely drained.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Empty.

-

3.

--

masterpost

[dearkusuo]

Ch. 1 ☆ Last Christmas

Synopsis: You were intent on avoiding your ex-boyfriend all of winter break, however, your mom and her best friend had other plans lined up for you.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x reader

Tags: college au, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2.7k

m.list ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 1 ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 2

Thick clouds painted the darkening sky a dull grey while streetlights began to glow over the horizon. The cold air bit the skin on your cheeks, tinting them a shade of red the moment you stepped out of the car you parked by the curb. Your fingers fumbled to button up the coat you wore as a chill ran down your frame. 

You opened up the trunk to take out your belongings stored inside, promptly closing it shut soon after. The siren of your vehicle went off once as you locked it up, and you trotted to your porch, suitcase trailing behind while you dragged it along. 

 Flashy decorations were displayed all over your front lawn, and colourful lights were strung on the tiles of your roof. You resignedly shook your head at the extravagant presentation. 

Your parents tended to be overly zealous when it came to Christmas decorations. You’ve known that for as long as you can remember, but it didn’t make you any less hesitant to see the setup they arranged for the interior. 

Your hand drifted over the doorbell, leaving it extended in the air for a long moment. You hoped they remembered that you no longer have a house key and got home from work early. The sound of the bell rang aloud as you pressed the buzzer.

You instinctively flinched back when the door flung open seconds later. Your mother let out a squeal, wrapping her arms around you in excitement while you returned the tight embrace, a small grin gracing your lips. She hastily pulled you inside when a gust of wind passed by, causing you both to shiver. The change of temperature warmed your frigid body.

 The living room was lavishly accentuated with festive ornaments, just as you thought. Silver tinsel outlined the furniture while a heavily adorned Christmas tree noticeably stood at a corner of the room. Red stockings and green holly wreaths hung on the wall and the smell of gingerbread filled your nostrils.

Your brows lifted in surprise when you spotted your next-door neighbour sitting comfortably on your couch.

“This is unexpected,” you uttered.

Your mother’s best friend, Mrs. Saiki, stood up and ambled her way to you. She took your palms in her grip and greeted you with a hello.

"How long has it been?" She wondered.

"About a year," you answered plainly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

She brought both her hands over her lips to cover up a gasp. "It’s been that long? You really should come home more often."

A deep hum left your throat as you courteously nodded along in agreement. You turned your attention to your mother with a puzzled look on your face when she lightly tapped your shoulder 

“Before you arrived just now, Kurumi and I were thinking that it would be a great idea for us to spend the holidays together, so we decided to have a small party on Christmas Eve,” she mentioned cheerfully.

You gave another nod and replied casually, “Alright.” The two women often spent time in each other’s presence, so it wasn't unusual for them to plan on spending Christmas together. It was probably just a get-together they were having with the rest of their friends. “You two have fun then.”

“Actually, it will just be both of our families attending,” your mother corrected.

Your tone dropped an octave lower, “Oh?”. The implication that you had to be present heavily dripped from her words. Were they really expecting you to tag along with them?

"We thought it would be a great idea since you don’t come home a lot, and all of us hardly see each other anymore."

“Kusuo just returned from college this morning, and even Kusuke is visiting for a while,” Mrs. Saiki blurted out excitedly.

"It'll be like old times," your mother added.

Like old times. When your families always spent time together. When you were together. 

It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your mother and her friend happily beamed at each other, oblivious of your deteriorating mood. The turn of events left you unwilling to participate in the conversation any longer.

"I gotta go unpack,” you announced. 

“Of course, you must’ve had a long day,” Mrs. Saiki exclaimed.

“It was nice seeing you again,” you conceded, keeping up a polite smile. She gave your hand a final pat before you retreated.

"Your dad is upstairs. You should go see him first," your mother suggested.

You mumbled an acknowledgement as you marched up the second floor with your luggage in tow. As was requested, you gave a quick greeting to your father before you entered your room.

The familiar space was left in a spotless and tidied condition that led you to believe that your parents regularly dusted and maintained it in your absence. Your bedsheet was neatly tucked in without a wrinkle to be seen, and your shelves were conveniently organized. Frantically, you went through your desk drawers to check if they had snooped through your personal belongings. 

You faltered once you opened the last compartment. The sight of a wrapped present left untouched caused you to momentarily pause in shock. Your handwriting was scribbled out in black sharpie on the gift wrap, addressing it to Saiki Kusuo. 

You never did get the chance to give it to him. Closing the drawer, you made a mental note to throw it out when you got the chance. 

 You looked out the window in musing. He must’ve known that you were coming back today. The dark, dull sky was tainted white by the snowflakes that began to descend to the ground.

You padded down the stairs late in the morning. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. Your father sat on the couch, watching the broadcast that was showing on the TV.

"Hey," he said with a wave of his hand. He briefly looked at you before returning his attention to the news channel. You gave a simple greeting in return.

"I made plans to meet with Chiyo and Kokomi today. We're eating out, so I'll be back in a few hours," you explained, already halfway to the exit.

"Alright,” your father responded idly, keeping his eyes trained on the screen. “Your mom and I made plans with the neighbours as well. We might not be home by the time you get back."

"Got it," you called from outside the door frame. You made your way to your car, hopping on the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life with a twist of the ignition.

The drive took a little longer than it usually would have, as the weather from the previous night left a thin layer of ice covering the road. Fortuitously, you had snow tires installed on your automobile beforehand, ensuring that you made it to your destination safely.

Your friends were already occupying a booth by the time you arrived at the diner. They bombarded you with conversation the moment you sat down, anxious to know what you’ve been doing for the past few months. You apprehensively informed them of what your mother and her best friend had planned for Christmas Eve.

"That's not gonna end well," Kokomi remarked.

"Tell me about it. What were they thinking?" Chiyo griped. "You’d think they’d know how awkward it would be for you and Saiki since you two are, you know, exes."

"I don't think they care," you grumbled in a distressed tone.

You crossed your arms over your chest, brooding over the unwanted encounter that was sure to happen.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Kokomi asked.

You shrugged wearily before responding, "I’ll probably stay for a bit, then dip whenever I can." 

There was a high chance that you’d somehow get roped back into the party, but you currently didn’t have any other solutions to your dilemma. Anything was fine as long as you could spend as little time with him as possible.

A ruminating silence fell between the three of you.

“When did you guys break up again?” Chiyo inquired.

“Last year, on winter break. Around this time of the season.” 

You directed your focus on the plate of food you ordered as memories of the previous December flooded your mind. Your nose crinkled in concentration.

“It must’ve been hard for you guys to be in a long-distance relationship,” Chiyo pronounced with a long sigh.

The distance was never an issue for the two of you since he could teleport to your location anytime.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

 Towards the end of the relationship, it felt like you were the only one who cared enough to keep things afloat. You gave it your all while he usually lacked the initiative to make an effort out of the limited time your college workload would allow.

But it’s not like everything was his fault. You had to admit that you often pushed past his comfort zone when he was content with just spending the day peacefully at home with you.

It was your dynamic that ultimately convinced you to break up with him. The two of you simply weren’t compatible together. 

You quietly chewed on your food as you listened to the carefree chatter of Kokomi and Chiyo.

You parked the car by the curb of your house. Snowflakes fluttered to the ground once again as you stepped out of the driver’s seat. You hurriedly walked to your front door, eager to get out of the freezing weather. 

There was no response when you rang the buzzer.

You let out a frustrated groan as you remembered your dad saying no one would be home when you returned. They didn’t even bother to leave a spare key for you.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts to seek temporary shelter from a friend. Chiyo would only pry into your love life again, and you didn’t like running into Kokomi's brother. 

At this point, your best option was to stay in a random store for the next couple of hours. Your teeth began to chatter as you walked back to the front gate, ready to start your car once again.

"Oh? Look who we have here."

Your head intuitively whipped around to the source of the voice. A man with pale blonde hair strode towards you. The headgear on his head strikingly stood out.

"Kusuke? What are you doing here?" you queried.

He cocked his head to one side at your bewildered gaze.

"Did nobody tell you I was visiting for a few weeks?” 

Your eyes widened in realization as you recalled the previous night when Mrs. Saiki passingly declared that her eldest son would be returning for the holidays.

“Are you locked out?" he probed, observing your shivering frame.

You nodded timidly, unconsciously pulling your coat tighter over your torso.

"Why don't you come stop by for a bit while you wait for your parents?"

You grimaced. Knowing Kusuo, he was probably at home, minding his own business, and an interruption from both you and his brother would only put him in a foul mood. Likewise, you’d rather avoid him if you could help it.

"No, that's fine. I'll just wait at a friend's house," you insisted, shaking your head in refusal. 

"But I'm guessing none of your friends are available."

You gritted your teeth. It was always difficult to break free from Kusuke’s snare. Judging by the smirk that crept on his face, he knew that his assumption was correct. Reluctantly, you let him usher you into the Saiki residence.

Kusuke offered you a cup of tea while you patiently sat on the couch. The heat it emanated warmed your numb fingers back to life. Your eyes roamed the living room that was decorated so extravagantly, it rivalled your own. At the back of your mind, you wondered if Kusuo had teleported someplace else while you remained in his house.

 Kusuke asked you simple questions about your college experience, people you met, and your part-time job. He was being polite enough that you almost felt bad for anticipating he'd ruin the moment by being his usual overbearing self.

"Are you seeing anyone at the moment?" Kusuke inquired.

There it is. 

You didn't see how that was any of his business. A short pause lingered between you two as you kept your mouth shut. You quirked an eyebrow up in bewilderment, waiting to see where he was getting at.

"Why don't you consider going out with me?" He grinned mischievously.

"That's a lame joke, even for you," you retorted.

"How can you be so sure that I'm joking?"

You scowled at him. Kusuke didn't like people. That was enough for you to believe that he was fooling around just to get a reaction out of you. 

'What do you think you're doing?' a familiar voice rang in your mind, provoking your muscles to tense up and your jaw to lock.

He appeared out of thin air. The sight of green lenses and antennae poking out of pink hair caused you to internally panic.

"Kusuo, I was just having a chat with our lovely neighbour here." Kusuke gestured to you.

'Seems like harassment to me,' Kusuo scoffed.

"Don't be like that. It’s not like I had any ulterior motives." Kusuke chuckled. He turned to you again and imparted with a smile, "Don't take anything I've said to heart. I was just teasing you."

You figured as much, but you still couldn't help the annoyed huff you let out. 

"Did you come down here because you were feeling left out? Do you wanna join in?" Kusuke asked his little brother in a disdaining tone.

Kusuo glared at the blonde man as he quipped, 'No. I’m here to tell you to be quiet. I can hear you from upstairs.' He shifted his attention to you. The blank expression on his face caused you to fidget under his gaze.

"I got locked out of my house, so Kusuke invited me to stay here while I wait for my parents to come home," you rambled, glancing down at your lap. Although he probably already knew that.

'I'll unlock the door for you.' 

Kusuo's footsteps lightly echoed off the wooden floor. You looked up after a few seconds to see him waiting expectantly for you by the exit.

Placing down the unfinished cup of tea on the coffee table, you scrambled up from the couch. You waved goodbye to Kusuke before following his younger brother outside, softly trudging on the snow beside him.

“You look well,” you commented.

Kusuo only gave you a curt nod, a strained silence following soon after.

What did you expect? He wouldn’t bother wasting time on small talk with his ex when he was already so eager to kick you out of his house.

Both of you halted when you reached your porch. The sound of a click went off as Kusuo's hand hovered over the lock.

“Thank you,” you politely murmured, letting out a sigh in gratitude. You brazenly stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye. Kusuo's lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were downcast, as though he were contemplating deeply. You thought nothing of it, returning your gaze forward.

Twisting the knob, you pushed the door open and stepped inside your home. You turned your head over your shoulder to say a coy goodbye, but no words escaped your lips.

He leaned into you, stopping a few inches from your face. Your breath caught in your throat at the intense look he gave you. Your heart skipped a beat as your body ignored your brain’s protests telling you to move.

‘Are you doing alright?’ he mused.

You could only nod in reply.

‘I see.’ 

His brows furrowed the slightest bit as he pulled back. If you hadn’t known him for years, you might not have noticed the flickering emotion on his face. You turned your body around to get a better look at him. 

Was he worried for you? It was a possibility. The two of you left on a bad note after all, and Kusuo never liked hurting someone’s feelings. Even if he didn’t care for that person anymore.

‘That’s not the case.’

"Huh?"

He vanished before your sight, leaving you standing by the door frame. The cold air breezed into your home as you wondered what he meant.

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Recently saw a tiktok that was like "if you ship [toph and zuko] than you have issues or you see something galaxy brained that i havent" and stumbled upon the concept of aroace Zuko and i concocted this idea ages ago so im posting it now: the epic Toph x Zuko Marriage of Convenience 

Okay what you are all thinking of is book 3 Toph and Zuko, which totally dont have romantic chemistry and with the added age difference is prob why no one ever considers this ship. Four years when you're a teenager is a big difference. Four years when you're in your twenties and beyond isnt that big a deal. So they're adults and they've been friends for years at this point.

You also gotta sit back and look at what they are. Toph is the only child to a very rich and very well known Earth Kingdom family. Her family name in general is huge and carries a lot of weight but you also got her own accomplishments: Master Earthbender, the Creator of Metalbending, the Avatar's Earthbending teacher, and shes a war hero. Thats big. And then you got Zuko, who at this point is the Fire Lord. Zuko himself comes from a prominent Fire Nation family, seeing as he's royalty. He's also descended from a Avatar, but i dont think thats all that well known. Zuko is a Master Firebender, the Avatar's Firebending Teacher, and a war hero. On top of being famous both these people have credibility to fall back on.

So what im leaning into here is not exactly a marriage alliance seeing as the Earth Kingdom has its own royalty but its definitely a political move

Anyways Zuko has a lot on his plate, dismantling his dad's empire and all that. When he's nearing 30 the council is all like "you need to find a bride". Zuko writes up his ex-girlfriends and finds out they're either married or he just cant bring himself to trap someone into a marriage with him after knowing how it destroyed his mom. So he's stuck with no one of his own choosing so the council and high up nobles are trying to fix him up and not-so-subtly set him up with their daughters. Half of Team Avatar comes and visits (lets say Toph, Aang, and Sokka) and witness the behind the scenes of all this. They're having tea with Zuko and two people come in at different times and try to casually talk about the marriage thing. Toph can hear things that happen in the hallways too. Zuko is all "noooooooo guys why is this happening to me" and Sokka probably finds it funny but also a little sucky, and Aang probably hates it because "Zuko should marry for love!". And Toph is all "I know right" because she can totally relate. Her parents were looking for matches for her since she was born, and now that shes visiting again they've started back up again. Her and Zuko start swapping match-making stories ("so i come home and this boy and his father are there and my mom is all like 'Toph have you met __'" "I'm in the throne room for a meeting on road construction and this guy derails the whole thing so he can introduce his niece to me"). Later on after Toph has been listening in on the palace for a few days now and shes starting to really feel sorry for Zuko. Sokka just keeps making jokes until Toph snaps at him. Aang is pretty oblivious and probably spends all day at the market looking for souvenirs to bring home for Katara. And one night while Zuko is up late doing paperwork by candle light Toph stops by because her body cant sleep at night sometimes and they get to talking and Toph jokingly throws out "what if we just married each other? Then everyone will get off both our backs!" and they're laughing and after they've calmed down Zuko has a light bulb moment and he's like "wait, that might not be a bad idea". They spend all night working out the details to their hypothetical wedding and a day later decide to actually go through with it. Theres uproar from the council of course because Zuko didnt choose their pick Toph isnt Fire Nation nobility. And then Zuko starts listing all her family's importance and stuff and the council is forced to admit to themselves its not actually a bad idea. Plus marrying Earth Kingdom would make the Fire Lord more relatable to the colonies where theyre having a lot of problems with people of mixed heritage right now. Sokka and Aang hear rumblings of this because palace servants gossip and they're debating wether or not to believe these rumors when they run into Toph and just ask her and shes all like "yeah we're talking about it" and they boys flip out. Aang still maintains that everyone should marry for love but Toph and Zuko won't budge.

Over in the Earth Kingdom Toph's parents are ecstatic because the only better option Toph could marry was Earth Kingdom royalty. They completely endorse it and only argue to not seem like pushovers and when topics revolving money come up (ex. dowery). The Earth King gets in on this because its too good a opportunity to not capitalize on it. The Earth Kingdom is abuzz because a foreign King is marrying one of their own. Everyone is hyped and Team Avatar are the only ones who find the whole situation weird because to them its not a fairytale its their actual friends.

All-in-all they get married in the Fire Nation and the guest list was awful to make but people from all over the world are there. Toph's mother freaks out the whole time because "what if Toph falls down all those steps!" The wedding is mostly all Fire Nation tradition but Toph wears a Earth Kingdom wedding dress because everything is political now. Toph and Zuko have a relatively fun night and Sokka has the time of his life. And their marriage actually really works out for them because they're friends. They make fun of fancy people and rant to each other in the evenings. Toph is still running metal bending schools but either now they have to come to her or she gets stuck with a Fire Nation security team for like 3 months of the year she spends in the Earth Kingdom and she gets flashbacks to her childhood. And Zuko is sometimes all "i miss my wife" and the servants are all "awwww they're so in love" but the truth is he wants to talk sh*t with her and because shes blind he always has to write letters with the interpreter's opinion/gossip in mind. Toph still sneaks out all the time because shes not giving up her independence willy-nilly and is not above pulling the blind card to get out of things, which irritates Zuko sometimes because that means he has to deal with boring meetings by himself. They gaang visits all the time and by the time Republic City rolls around Toph manages to get herself sent as a "ambassador" (her and Sokka have some fun their shared meetings) and then to stay on to help set up the police force, which is a little dicy since shes representing the Fire Nation but also shes teaching only metalbending so its a controversial thing. This also gives Zuko a excuse to visit Republic City more often so he can see everyone since they settled down there.