#i remember being in kindergarten and hearing all my classmates talk about how excited they were for the show back before it first premiered | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

The sky of the sky (of the tree called life)

Pairing: Suga x reader

AO3 Link Here:

Summary: She doesn’t take much notice of him at first, not when he’s one of thirty nine faces that greet her with varying degrees of interest when their teacher introduces her to the class.But then he hits her in the face with his friendship and she starts to get to know him - through the smallest things, in the littlest ways.

Author’s Notes: This is the first fic I wrote and initially posted as a lone (AO3 link (was still getting the hang of Tumblr lol). Lifted the title from ‘I carry your heart’ by E.E. Cummings. Anyways - this is my humble attempt at a fic, my love letter to one Sugawara Koushi.

Ume doesn’t take much notice of him at first, not when he’s one of thirty nine faces that greet her with varying degrees of interest when their teacher introduces her to the class. She doesn’t take much notice of anyone really, not when her mind is consumed with thoughts of college prep and exams and chores, so he remains a stranger, even after weeks of sitting next to him in class.

Still, he greets her every morning with a pleasant ‘Ohayo’, and doesn’t take offense when she merely responds with a small smile. He offers up his notes without comment when she asks to check her English notes against his, and even occasionally slips her a banana from the stash he always seems to be carting around. His grades are decent and his homework is always submitted on time so he’s popular with their teachers, even though he seems to spend most of his break time sketching what looks like volleyball plays or buried in heated discussions with Sawamura.

Overall, he seems like a nice boy - if a little obsessed with volleyball.

She looks at her lunch box in dismay. There should be food in it, rice and tamago and fish that she most definitely packed last night, but her lunch box sits on her desk, clean and empty. She groans, glancing at the clock. Five minutes after the lunch bell. She ponders on whether to wait until dinner or be jostled to death by a thousand teenagers, but then her stomach growls, loud enough for Yuna-san in the front row to turn and stare at her, so she supposes there isn’t much of a choice.

As she approaches the canteen, she can hear the usual bustle and sound of too many students trying to feed themselves in too small a space - but then she hears a shrill shout - ‘cream buns for sale’, and the immediate cacophony of excited shouts that follow makes her think that her chances of getting food in the next half hour plummet to precisely zero.

Her assessment is right, but that doesn’t stop her mouth from dropping in horror as the canteen practically descends into a warzone, her schoolmates collectively losing their minds. The girls’ tennis team looks like they’re leading a charge through the left, but they’re being resisted by the concert band. The volleyball boys’ team seems like they’re causing plenty of chaos down the centre. Sawamura-san, engaged in a vigorous shoving match with the basketball captain, and Azumane-san - the large, quiet boy she shares home economics class with, cowering while trying to swim through the crowd with a feral looking boy perched on his back.

She apologises silently to her stomach and turns to head back to class.

‘Imai-san!’ Sugawara waves at her from the back of the crowd. ‘I’ll help you get some buns! What do you want!’

‘Oh – two buns, any flavour?” she calls back, a little dazed. He answers with a cheerful thumbs up.

She watches bemusedly as he expertly weaves his way through the crowd to Azumane-san, gesturing wildly to the little boy on her back, before combining forces with a bald boy to shove Azumane-san bodily through the crowd to the front of the queue. The boys grab armfuls of buns each, elbowing the displeased soccer team in the face.

Sugawara spins around, and there’s a glint in his eye that she can recognise from far away (courtesy of being an older sister to two troublesome younger brothers), but her legs don’t move despite her mind hollering at her danger, danger, Imai Ume, even as he raises his arm to toss the buns to her.

One bun lands neatly in her hands. The other smacks her right between her eyes.

She yelps, hands clapping over her face, checking to ensure her glasses are still in one piece. A curry bun may be relatively light and fluffy, but it still hurts when used as a flying projectile.

She hears footsteps clatter towards her. ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry - please don’t cry!” Sugawara says, his voice high pitched in worry, hovering next to her awkwardly. “Daichi will never let me get over it if I make a girl cry.’

She snorts despite the sting between her eyes. “It’s fine, Sugawara-san. Thank you for helping get some food’.

‘Are you sure? Maybe we should go to the nurse’s office just in case!’ he fusses, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other nervously, ‘I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I missed that toss, I should just resign from the volleyball team already - ‘

‘Eh eh eh? Suga - what’s this talk about resigning from volleyball!’ The small, feral boy from earlier leaps onto Sugawara’s back.

‘How can you resign? This is the year we’re making it to Nationals!’ the bald boy rounds up the rear, yelling at Sugawara indignantly.

‘I missed a toss at my classmate, I’m no longer qualified to be a setter.’ Sugawara wails, unfazed by the weight of his two juniors on his back. ‘I should just die now’

‘YOU THINK YOU’RE ASAHI NOW EH, DRAMA QUEEN!’

She takes advantage of their chaos to slip back to class. They don’t get a chance to speak to each other again for the rest of the day, kept busy with classes on calculus and chemistry for the rest of the afternoon. But the next morning he crows a loud ‘Ohayo’ at her, and she smiles at him, wider than she did before.

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

Spring passes into summer surprisingly quickly, and Ume slowly, but surely, gets used to hearing the song of the cicadas in evenings instead of the rumble of cars in the streets, to the uphill bike commute she takes to ferry both herself and Yuji to school and kindergarten respectively.

Becoming accustomed to something doesn’t mean liking it though. She remembers her mother saying that things would be easier when they move to Karasuno from the city. That living with family in a close knit community like Karasuno means more hands on deck to keep their family afloat. For the most part, Ume supposes her mother’s right. Her grandparents are sweet and try their best to help out, if a little too old to chase Yuji around the house or fetch him up and down the mountain to preschool every day. Their neighbours always offer them too much food, and their grandchildren provide Yuji with enough entertainment most evenings for Ume to catch up with schoolwork and revision.

But sometimes, after she’s corralled an unruly Yuji to bed, and shooed a sullen Keiji to sleep, and she herself can’t fall asleep because the cicadas are too damn loud, Ume wonders if her mother uprooted them to Karasuno so she could run away from the fact that she’s stuck raising three children alone, disappearing off on such long business trips that Yuji doesn’t even ask her anymore if their mama’s coming home.

Thankfully, Yuji, with the short memory of a six year old, finds living in the countryside a joy. He joins the neighbour’s children in catching cicadas, and when she tells him that it’s cruel to catch animals for sport – even ones as annoying as cicadas, he laughs and promises that he always lets them go.

Keiji, though, remains quiet and withdrawn, hiding in the bedroom whenever he’s home from school. She tries chatting with him at the dinner table but her efforts are usually met with the surly silence of a thirteen year old. So she doesn’t push him too much, too fast - she already asks too much of him as it is, sharing most of the chores and supervising Yuji so they don’t become a burden to their grandparents.

So it’s a surprise when Keiji asks if they can head to the park for a picnic on a clear summer’s day, but she agrees immediately, swallowing her shock, making sure to pack onigiri and fruit and strapping Yuji to her bike. It’s strange when Keiji drags them all over the park looking for the perfect picnic spot. It’s even stranger when he decides that the playground, full of shrieking children, should be the appropriate spot for a picnic. But there’s a tree for shade and it’s convenient enough for her to watch Yuji while he runs loose in the playground, so she holds her tongue and spreads their picnic mat on the floor.

‘Can I get us some ice cream?’ Keiji asks.

She’s about to tell him to wait til he has proper food in his stomach before moving on to dessert, but catches sight of Keiji staring at the ice cream stand intently, hands in pockets, cheeks flushed pink. She follows his gaze. The ice cream stall looks fairly old, run by an oba-chan and a young girl with short hair and a cheerful smile. Oh.

‘Why don’t you go get an ice cream for yourself? Yuji and I can get some later’, Ume replies, busying herself with the picnic basket to hide her smile.

She settles on the mat, back against the tree, setting her textbook on her lap. The summer air is crisp and cool, and the sunlight shining through the leaves dances on her skin.

‘Hey Imai!’ Suga stops to greet her, hand raised in a friendly wave.

‘Hello!’ she waves back. ‘No volleyball practice today?’

‘No - we have a mandated break on Saturday afternoons’, he walks over to her. ‘Despite what my unruly kouhai think, overtraining causes injuries. Besides, we need time for summer homework’.

She nods, noticing the stack of books under his arm, and before her brain processes her sudden impulse fully, she asks ‘Do you want to join me? We can share the mat’.

He blinks at her, and she cringes internally, expecting him to politely decline. He may chatter at her absentmindedly about his team, and she may share her notes with him when she notices he’s distracted, but it’s not as if they’re friends outside of school. To her surprise though, he agrees easily, kicking off his shoes to join her on the mat. They sit together in silence, absorbed in their respective work. The sun is warm but the breeze is cool and crisp, so it’s comfortable and altogether pleasant.

‘Onee-chan’, Keiji calls, running back over. He raises an eyebrow when he notices Suga and drops into a slight bow before turning to his sister. ‘Can I have my onigiri? I want to pass it to my friend.’

She opens her mouth to nag him to make sure that he has lunch, but promptly shuts it. Instead, she tosses him two onigiris - hers, and his. ‘Make sure you eat, Keiji’, she calls, and he’s off, running with the wind.

‘Hey, Imai, I packed too much food. Share some of it with me?’ Suga offers mildly. She’s about to say no, thank you politely, but her stomach growls - traitor, and he just chuckles at her, snapping his lunchbox open and pressing half his sandwich into her hands. She thanks him, taking a bite and has to stop herself from moaning in delight because it’s full of egg mayo and chicken katsu and it’s so, so good.

‘It’s delicious, right?’ he says, grinning around a mouthful of his half of the sandwich. ‘You can’t study on an empty stomach, that’s against the law’.

She laughs at that and splits her stash of strawberries and watermelon with him.

Later, she shocks herself again when she tells him as he’s about to leave that she’ll probably be at the park again next Saturday - and he’s welcome to join her if he pleases. She wonders if he can see the uncertainty in her eyes, but he shoots her another smile and agrees.

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

She packs two extra onigiris next Saturday, and the Saturday after that. She also starts including peaches from her grandparents’ farm because she learns that he has a weakness for them.

Keiji ignores Suga for the most part, leaving for the ice cream stand as soon as they arrive in the park. Yuji, on the other hand, soon learns he can get Suga to do whatever he wants if he pouts long enough. Suga, for his part, does not help, often buying the little boy far too much mochi and ice cream.

‘Stop it Yuji.’ Ume says wearily. ‘Suga needs to study and you’re distracting him’.

‘But he’s the only one I know who can push me hard enough on the swings’, Yuji whines, scruffing his shoes into the ground.

‘It’s fine, I’ll take it as my break’, Suga says, smiling kindly down at the little boy. ‘Shall we see how high you can fly, Yuji-chan?’

She watches, shaking her head as Yuji cheers, dragging Suga off in the direction of the playground.

‘You seem good with kids’, she remarks when he returns - thankfully after a short while since Yuji, with the typical attention span of a six year old, is quickly distracted by the other kids playing a game of tag.

‘You think so?’ Sugawara responds, turning back to his books. ‘That’s good to know. I’m planning on going to college to train to be a teacher.’

The image of him dressed in a rumpled shirt and tie greeting his class with a cheerful ‘Ohayo’ every morning flashes in her mind. She imagines him smiling wide and indulgent at his student’s pranks, listening patiently to his students’ questions and problems, diligently pouring over his students’ assignments late into the night.

For some reason, her heart clenches. She doesn't know why.

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

‘Tohoku Medical school?’, he asks, eyeing the flyer sticking out of her bag.

‘Mm.’ she mumbles, distracted by the peach juice running down her hands. Then she realises what he’s just said and wrinkles her nose. ‘The entrance exam is hard though. Not a lot of people pass.’

‘Ugh, stop that, your grades are so good- negativity begone!’ He nudges her teasingly with his elbow. She rolls her eyes at him in response.

‘Why, though?’ he asks, before quickly adding. ‘If you don’t mind saying’.

She’s about to rattle off her prepared answer of heeding the noble calling of saving lives and making a difference one person at a time, but for some reason, she doesn’t.

Instead, she jerkily answers - ‘My dad was a doctor’.

She can feel him raise his eyebrows at her use of past tense (and not present tense) and suddenly the peach in her hand doesn’t seem as appetising as it was before.

‘Cancer’, she finds herself saying. ‘Last year’. She looks down at her feet, refusing to see what she expects will be pity in his gaze.

But he doesn’t say anything. He leans his shoulder against hers, and they stay that way for a while.

She doesn’t protest this time when he comes back from the ice cream stall with far too much ice cream, and the tightness in her chest dissipates as she watches him let Yuji flit between his chocolate and vanilla cones like a honeybee, even though she knows she’s going to have a hard time putting the little boy to bed tonight.

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

'I like Suga-san very much.' Yuji declares later as she tucks him into bed.

'So do I', Ume says. So do I’.

The call of the cicadas don’t seem as loud, and she falls asleep easily that night.

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

‘You should be studying’, she reminds him, playfully rapping on his knuckles with her pen.

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, looking up from his sketches on volleyball plays. ‘A couple more minutes and I’ll get back to work’.

She shakes her head indulgently at him. ‘You spend far too much time on volleyball as it is’.

‘I suppose I do’, he hums, busy drawing indecipherable pictures in what she’s termed his volleyball notebook.

She’s suddenly reminded of Yamada and Takashi, the two basketball idiots in her class, goading Suga about ‘being a loser for losing his starting position to a first year’. Sawamura usually erupts in anger when he hears them as he’s wont to do whenever he encounters the basketball club, but Suga, for his part, only responds with a serene smile.

‘Is it worth it?’ she asks, before she can stop herself. ‘Sorry’ she says frantically, as her brain catches up with her mouth. ‘That was rude of me’.

He breathes a rueful laugh through his nose. ‘It’s fine, I’m not offended’. But he stops his scribbling, and his mouth slants downward in a way that Ume doesn’t quite like.

‘It’s worth it’, he then says, voice quiet but full of conviction. ‘It’s worth it to play with my team. I want us to keep getting stronger, I want us to keep playing together, and I want us to go to Nationals and win’. He gazes into the distance and smiles, bittersweet. ‘And everything else doesn’t matter’.

It’s her turn to lean into him with her shoulder.

‘I’ll bring Yuji to watch you at the finals’, she says. ‘And we’ll watch you at Nationals on our TV’.

He laughs and she smiles, wide and bold and bright.

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

Sugawara spends their lunch breaks talking about his team’s latest exploits all the time. She laughs when he tells her about the hijinks that the team constantly gets up to, from setting fire to the Vice Principal’s very obvious toupee, to an all out prank war with the basketball team featuring copious amounts of dead fish and paint bombs. She particularly enjoys Suga’s impression of Nishinoya’s ‘rolling thunder’ war cry, and rather suspects the whole team is intent on driving Sawamura into an early grave.

Despite having a tendency to smile indulgently at his team’s penchant for chaos and hellfire, it’s clear that Suga cares deeply for each and every one of his teammates. He broods about Tsukkishima’s lack of ambition and desire to bond with the team, Yamaguichi’s lack of confidence, Kageyama’s and Hinata’s inability to communicate like regular human beings. Even when he jokes about Ennoshita’s latest attempt to evade Sawamura’s talks about ‘passing on the captainship’, she can sense the undercurrent of worry and concern.

Perhaps that’s why she volunteers to give tutoring Tanaka and Nishinoya a go, after he explains that they’ll end up missing the Tokyo Training Camp that Takeda-sensei went through so much trouble to arrange. She also tells herself that the reason she’s doing it is because Second year Math is covered in the university entrance exams - and absolutely not because Suga practically lights up with relief when she waves his thanks away.

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

Tanaka and Nishinoya remind her of Yuji and even Keiji (well, before), rowdy and loud and full of boyish mischief. They fall out of their chairs when they notice Kiyoko-san walk by the classroom deep in conversation with some boy, and she has to rap them on their knuckles with a pen to get them to focus on solving question number two - please and thank you - before they settle back down.

Still, they’re surprisingly attentive and almost respectful even when she’s trying to impress upon them the dryer points of Math, so it’s easy to become fond of them. They get through vectors after she likens the trajectory of vectors to the movement of a volleyball. Statistics were a struggle, but fortunately, volleyball statistics save the day. Calculus seems to be the biggest hurdle, but she’s hopeful they’ll get it, once she finds a way to relate it to volleyball or better yet, convince them that differentiation and integration are very, very manly pursuits.

That said, it doesn’t help that the basketballers in her class seem to have a deep rooted grudge against the volleyball team - though from Suga’s stories, the animosity is probably mutual. Yamada in particular seems to take special pleasure in taunting the two boys.

‘Eh, Baldy! Y’all lose another game yet? I saw you guys crying the other day after school’.

‘They’d probably win more games if chibi-chan here grew a few inches’, Takashi, his fellow basketballer sniggers.

‘Ignore them’, she tells the two growling boys firmly. ‘You don’t need to get kicked out of your team for starting a fight with these guys’.

‘Awww… are you two kouhai hiding behind your female senpai? ’ Yamadai jeers, leering at them. ‘What losers, just like your Suga-senpai. Heard he got turfed out of his starting position by a first year’.

At that, Tanaka and Nishinoya practically levitate out of their seats as one, snarling ‘Huh?!!! You fucking -’

‘Bit rich of you to pick on them, eh Yamada?’ Ume interrupts. ‘I heard Ono-senpai say last week that if you fail your tests one more time, you’re going to get kicked out of the basketball team. Who’s the loser now?’

‘Bitch!’ Yamada growls, hands slapping his desk.

‘Maybe you’d have a better shot at passing your exams if you spent your time studying instead of disturbing others - who unlike you are actually working hard,’ she adds, smiling at him sweetly.

Thankfully, Takashi has some sense of self-preservation and drags Yamada kicking and screaming out of the door. Tanaka and Noya swivel their heads towards her, twin expressions of shock on their faces.

‘Holy shit, that was so manly?!’

‘Imai-senpai, you’re almost as cool as Kiyoko-senpai!’

‘Yeah - almost as good as the time she ignored us when we asked her to marry us.’

‘No - better, but not as good as the time she slapped me’

‘Thank you’, she responds dryly. ‘Can we get back to differentiation, please?

‘Yes, Imai-senpai!’ They snap into a salute.

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

‘I hear from Tanaka and Noya that you’re very manly’. His eyes twinkle at her.

‘Psh’, she says airily. ‘They exaggerate’.

But she laughs when he slips her half his sandwich as thanks.

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

Noya and Tanaka pass their exams (by some miracle, thank god), and they graduate from her tutoring sessions.

She passes her exams too, tops her cohort even.

Her classmates start to take more notice of her, requesting for copies of her notes and tutoring sessions on topics they don’t really grasp. It's not really that much of a problem to just have an extra set of notes for her classmates to copy (she learnt her lesson when Takashi spills juice all over her precious biology notes - an accident, of course), and extra tutoring sessions are a good way for her to revise what she previously learnt - so she doesn’t really mind.

Of course she knows they think they're picking her brains and hard work, but it's not as if she minds. They're reasonably polite when they approach her, and she can pretend she doesn’t hear them gossip about her behind her back (that her parents are rich enough to send her to not one, but two cram schools, that they must know the principal who leaked the exam topics to her somehow).

Still, she can’t help but feel a spike of irritation when Yamada manages to corner her alone in class one day after school.

‘Oi, Ikai. Can you give me a copy of your math notes? I hear they're pretty good.'

She blinks innocently at him. ‘My notes cover whatever sensei taught in class if you were listening’. Which he probably wasn't, considering he seems to spend most of his time tossing spitballs or bouncing a basketball obnoxiously against the wall.

‘Tch.’ He leans towards her. ‘Come on, don’t be a stingy bitch. Just lend them to me for a bit.’

She narrows her eyes at the audacity of this bugger. 'No.' she says simply.

'Eh?' Yamada glares down at her.

'Did a basketball hit you too hard in the head yesterday? I said no.' She turns her back on him, packing her school bag, keeping her sharpest pencil in her hand, just in case.

He takes a step closer towards her, both hands heavy on her desk. 'But you share your notes with everyone else!’

‘Well, yes - but that’s because they're tolerably polite when they ask, and unlike you, they actually get my name right.’

He slaps her table hard with his hands. ‘Stop being a bitch, just give me your notes already'.

She should just give him what he's asking for or placate him with the promise that she'll give him a copy tomorrow - but she suddenly feels so sick and tired of giving more and more of herself - to her mother, her brothers, her classmates, and now this rude asshole - and she's so done, goddamnit.

'No.' She snaps, lifting her chin defiantly at him. 'What are you going to do about it?'

He snarls, grabbing hold of her wrist. 'Stubborn bitch, just give me the notes already!'

'Let go, pig!', she shouts, trying to wrench her wrist away, mind whirring to calculate the force and speed needed to shove her pencil into his face. His grip tightens, and he digs his nails into the thin skin of her wrist.

He smirks down at her. She tries not to flinch.

'Hey, Imai. Got worried about you when you didn’t turn up at the library.' Suga calls out, loud and clear from the door. Ume exhales a breath she didn’t even know she was holding as he walks deliberately towards them.

‘Yamada-san. I always knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t know you stooped so low you’d bully a girl’.

Yamada takes a half step back, but does not release her hand. 'Piss off, Suga. It’s none of your business'.

‘Perhaps’, he responds, humming diffidently. ‘But I thought I should remind you that if you get just one more strike on your disciplinary record, you’re off the basketball team’. His mouth stretches into a semi feral smile. ‘For good.’

Yamada coils back, looking as if he’d like nothing better than to strike Suga in the face, but then, seemingly thinking the better of it, he drops Ume’s wrist and smirks again. ‘We were just having a friendly discussion, eh Imai?’

‘Remind your thick skull to keep it that way.’ Suga says, meeting Yamada’s glare with an even gaze of his own.

Yamada looks away. 'Tch. I can't be bothered with you dumbasses', he sneers, stalking out of the class.

‘Are you ok?’ Suga asks her immediately, glancing at her once over, stopping short when he spots the red welts ringed around her wrist. ‘Did he do that to you?’ he asks, voice dangerous.

‘I’m fine.’ She follows his gaze and yanks her sleeve down, hiding the marks from view. ‘It’s nothing.’

He opens his mouth, about to insist that it is very much not fine, but she cut him off quickly. ‘Really! It’s my fault he got annoyed with me. He wanted a copy of my notes and I was very rude and didn’t want to give them to him,’ she laughs awkwardly. ‘Besides, it’s a good thing you stepped in when you did, or I’d have gotten into more trouble - because I was about to stab him with my pencil’.

Suga’s mouth drops open. ‘With your what?’

She unfurls her palm to show him her pencil, pink and sharp but altogether unconvincing.

He bursts into cackles, wheezing. ‘Maybe Tanaka should’ve taken his time to get me. I would’ve liked to see you try to fight Yamada with that’.

She snorts. ‘I’m just glad Tanaka showed some self-restraint and didn’t jump Yamada himself.’

‘Well, I’m pretty sure that’s because Ennoshita was there to stop him.’ Suga says wryly. He drops his gaze back to her wrist. ‘But seriously, if I’d known he hurt you, I’d have jumped him too’.

She looks at him sharply. ‘Suga… If any one of you get suspended, you can’t play in the Inter High Preliminaries.’

‘Not if we don’t get caught for it’. He gives her a zen smile as she splutters in shock. ‘Anyway, don’t you usually leave school to pick Yuji-chan up by now?’

‘Oh no, Yuji’s probably waiting for me!’ She cries out in alarm, dashing across the classroom.

At the doorway, she comes to a pause and turns around. ‘Suga!’

‘Mm?’ He tilts his head at her.

She smiles shyly. ‘Thanks’.

He smiles back.

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

She ends up preparing a copy of her notes for Yamada anyway. He’s stubborn and stupid, and she figures that Suga’s interference, while welcome in the moment, is only likely to spur him on to pester her again. But when she walked into class the next morning, Yamada is nowhere to be found.

‘Did you hear Yamada-kun got caught with the vice principal’s burnt wig in his locker?’ she hears Yuna whisper to Mizuki before the bell rings.

‘Oh no! Is he in a lot of trouble?’ Mizuki gasps.

‘I don’t know, but I heard from Takashi that he’s been suspended from the basketball team indefinitely!’

‘No! Don’t they have a game next week?’

Ume looks over her shoulder at Suga, sitting with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

‘I may have mentioned to Noya what happened with Yamada-san. Tanaka, of course, was very happy to help out’, he says simply when she corners him after school.

Yamada does return to class eventually, but he refuses to even look in her direction for the next month. She figures she’d much rather not press for answers she suspects she wouldn’t like. Instead, she spends the night cutting out twelve crow charms from black felt with the help of a very eager Yuji, hand stitching each member’s number in white thread and leaving them in Suga’s bag for him to find.

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

She sneaks Yuji with her when the school buses students in for Karasuno’s match with Shiratorizawa.

They all watch with tears in their eyes when the final whistle blows and the boys win.

‘Congratulations, Suga’, she tells him the next day and adds. ‘I think Yuji’s found a new way to fly’.

He grins at her, his eyes burning proud and bright.

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

Fall fades into winter. The days start looping, one after another.

Wake up. Get Yuji to kindergarten. School. Homework. Pick Yuji up. Make dinner. Pack leftovers for lunch. Do laundry. Revision. Tuck Yuji into bed. More Revision. Sleep.

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

She curses when the cock crows every morning, and falls asleep before her head hits the pillow every night, so she wonders how he manages to survive with practices lasting daily into the night. Or maybe he doesn’t, she thinks to herself, watching the shadows beneath his eyes grow, grey and dark.

‘Is it worth it?’ she asks. (Do you ever regret it, she implies.)

‘Yes.’ he says. (At least I hope I don’t, he sighs.)

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

She notices immediately when his seat is empty. Sawamura tells her it’s to be expected, Suga always catches a cold in winter.

‘I don’t mind helping to bring his homework to him’, she volunteers. ‘You’re going to be staying late in school for practice anyway’. She avoids Sawamura’s knowing look as she writes Suga’s address down, his homework tucked safely into her bag.

His mother beams, surprised and delighted when she appears at their door. She’s promptly shooed upstairs, and Yuji is lured into the kitchen with promises of mochi and ice cream. She knocks on the open door. He’s crouched on the bed, watching a replay of Karasuno’s finals match against Shiratorizawa.

‘Hey. I brought your homework.’ She frowns, noting the paleness of his face despite the redness of his cheeks. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’

‘I’m watching the match to fall asleep!’ he says defensively.

‘The match is at least two hours long! If you’re well enough to watch the match, you’re well enough to do your homework’.

‘Give me a break’. He groans, sneezing into the crook of his elbow. ‘I’m dying here’.

‘I’m pretty sure you can’t die from a common cold’ she says dryly.

‘Says the one who wants to be a doctor’, he playfully responds.

She rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t argue with me. Get some rest. You don’t have much time before you head off to Tokyo for Nationals, and the Center Shinken* is just after that’.

His smile drops, and he suddenly looks troubled. ‘Do you think I’m crazy?’

(For chasing too many dreams?)

She blinks, confused by his change in mood. She glances at the Miyagi University of Education pamphlet pinned to his wall - only one in three applicants get in. She furrows her brow, thinking about him spending every lunch break, every afternoon and night in their rundown school gym, even as everyone else is spending their days buried in schoolwork and revision.

But then she hears the echo of his words - It’s worth it. I want to play with my team, the cries from the huddle of boys, the memory of him holding a trophy under bright lights and her face softens.

‘Where’s all this self-doubt coming from?’ she says lightly. ‘You already achieved your dream of going to Nationals with your team. Now all you have to do is pass one exam.’

‘As if it’s so easy!’

‘Well, it’d be easier if you rest up so you can get back to work faster!’

‘Ugh, spoilsport’, he pouts at her.

‘Onee-chan’, Yuji pipes up, poking his head into the bedroom. 'Obaa-san said it's time for Suga-san to eat his medicine and take a nap.'

‘Hello, Yuji-chan!’ Suga waves at Yuji, who gives him a gap toothed grin in response.

‘You should tuck him in and tell him a bedtime story’. Yuji tells his sister seriously. She chokes and thinks she should have taken the chance to dump him under a bridge when he was a baby.

Suga laughs so hard he wheezes. 'I won't mind a bedtime story' he chokes out.

Both boys turn to look at her expectantly. 'Fine.' she says, relenting. 'I’ll tell you a bedtime story if you promise you'll try your best to go to sleep'.

They grin and settle down, Yuji on his sister’s lap, Suga laying against his nest of pillows.

She begins telling them a story she’s told Yuji many, many times these past months - about a kind-hearted Prince in a kingdom troubled by a yearly winter plague, who set out to find the cure for this illness, flowers that bloom on the highest of mountains in the deepest, darkest winter days. A Prince who tries to scale the mountain to find the cure, year after year, but is thwarted by blizzards and avalanches and snow monsters.

A small smile grows on his lips as she describes the Prince’s companions - the stalwart captain of his guards, the burly woodcutter with a heart of glass, and he stifles a laugh when she recounts how the Prince manages to trick his frosty hearted little brother to join them along the way. His breath evens out when she reaches the end of her tale, when the Prince and his companions scale the mountain and look down on a field of flowers, green and gold.

'And they lived happily ever after?' Suga murmurs, half asleep.

'And they lived happily ever after' Ume agrees.

She pulls his blanket up under his chin as he slips into sleep, hesitating as warmth furls and unfurls in her chest, before brushing her hand tenderly against his cheek.

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

Third years are released from school for self-study.

She works alone at home. The winter days grow long and dark and hard.

(Her heart clenches. It starts to ache.)

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

They graduate on a spring day, a shower of pink and white petals blessing their way. He catches up to her in the hallway after the graduation ceremony, hand at her sleeve.

‘Congrats on Tohoku’, he tells her, bright eyed. ‘I knew you could do it’.

‘Congrats on MUE’, she responds with a laugh. ‘See - you weren’t crazy after all’.

‘I suppose I’ll be seeing you around Sendai City? Your campus isn’t too far from mine.’

She opens her mouth to tell him not to be silly - Sendai City is nothing like Karasuno town, a million people within its bounds, and the probability of them meeting randomly on the streets is very, very small, but her throat suddenly becomes dry.

‘Suga’ she begins, balling her hands into fists.

‘Mm?’ he beams at her, brighter than the sun, and it’s all she can do to not to look away.

‘Thank you’, she says quietly. ‘For bringing some light into my life’.

‘I should be thanking you’, he replies earnestly. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me this past year. I don’t think I’d have passed my exams without you’.

“No, Suga,’ she says. ‘I mean - I like you’.

‘Oh.’ he breathes. ‘Oh’.

‘I like you’, she repeats, her voice growing stronger. ‘Because you were kind to me when there was no reason to. You bought bread for me, even if you ended up throwing it in my face. You stole and burnt a wig for me, just to put Yamada in his place. You spent your summer days buying Yuji too much ice cream, swinging him so high he thought he could touch the sky.’

‘I like you, Suga,’ she says finally. ‘Not just as a friend - but as a girl likes a boy.’

He stares at her, eyes wide. A few beats of silence pass.

‘I’m sorry’. He grimaces. ‘I don’t know what to say’.

‘It’s fine’, she finds herself saying. ‘It’s ok’.

(Her heart clenches. She wills it not to break.)

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

Ume does not look back. Her bag is packed, and she leaves for Sendai City that week.

Her apartment is small, but she shares it with a few other girls. At night, she re-acquaints herself with the sound of cars rumbling on the street. The song of the cicadas haunts her in her sleep.

(Her heart clenches. She does not break.)

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

Suga prides himself on being relatively observant and good with things like subtlety and tact and feelings - things that volleyball obsessed idiots like Daichi wouldn’t even notice if it hit him in the face.

He observes people and notices things, the way Kiyoko isn’t as indifferent to Tanaka as she seems, the way Yamaguchi’s serve suddenly improves when Yachi shouts ‘Gambatte’, the way Yui’s vocabulary immediately regresses whenever she’s talking to Daichi - though to be fair, he’s certain the only person in their level to not know about Yui’s crush on Daichi himself, so maybe that doesn’t count.

(‘I like you, Suga,’ he hears her say. ‘Not just as a friend - but as a girl likes a boy.’)

But then his brain short circuits and stutters to a stop, and it’s all he can do to watch dumbly as Ume turns on her heel and walks off, head high, back straight, he wonders if he’s not much better than the rest of them after all.

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

‘Imai Ume said she likes me’. He finds himself telling Daichi, as they walk home from school, pork buns in hand, for the very last time.

Daichi grunts something unintelligible through a mouthful of pork bun.

‘Use your words, Daichi’. Suga can’t help but snark. Daichi grumbles and swallows.

‘Yes. I knew that already’. Daichi says simply. He starts on his second pork bun.

‘What?’ Suga retorts. ‘What do you mean you know? How did you know?’

This time, Daichi chews and swallows before he responds. ‘It was obvious to me.’ He turns to look at Suga squarely. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

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

(‘I’m Sugawara Koushi! But everyone just calls me Suga’. // ‘Imai Ume. It’s nice to meet you.’)

To be honest, he didn't think much of her at first when she joined their class. She had a habit of keeping to herself, never lingering in class before or after lessons, eating lunch alone at her desk, nose buried in a book, but he was brought up with good manners - so he kept greeting her every morning until her small nods turn into quiet smiles.

Of course, he just had to embarrass himself by hitting her in the face with a curry bun (Noya and Tanaka will never let him live it down), but in hindsight that probably kickstarted their friendship. And he’s very grateful for it. She's always passing him copies of her notes for lessons he’s missed or summaries of exam topics she thinks might come in useful, all painstakingly handwritten and colour coded - and even gives him the go-ahead to share it with Daichi. She volunteers to tutor Noya and Tanaka, and he’s sure that it’s in no small part due to her effort that they pass and get to attend training camp.

Yet he’s never considered her more than a friend. Right?

Right?

If he analyses the case of how he feels about one Imai Ume carefully, sifting through the puzzle pieces one at a time, he realises that he's not quite right.

There are little things that come to mind. Like his heart skipping a beat when he hears her laugh for the first time. The flush of his cheeks when he finds out she actually brought Yuji to watch their games. The rush of pride and joy when she tells him ‘I think he’s found a new way to fly’.

And maybe there are bigger things. Like the burst of blind panic in his chest when he hears Tanaka shout for him. The burning urge to break Yamada’s jaw and wipe that smirk off his ugly face when he sees red marks marring her skin. The cold satisfaction in his chest when he (and half the volleyball team) strike that bastard exactly where it hurts.

He remembers the sunshine dancing on her skin, the warmth of her shoulder pressed against his. The touch of her hand ghosting against his cheek. The faint memory of a fairytale about a Prince who gave his all and finds everything he set out to seek.

('And they lived happily ever after?' he asks // 'And they lived happily ever after' she agrees.)

The puzzle pieces fit. It finally clicks.

‘Shit,’ he swears, dialing Daichi’s number.

‘It’s midnight’, Daichi mumbles, voice rough with sleep. ‘What could you possibly want from me?’

‘I like Ume’, Suga says - and just saying it feels right. ‘I like her, Daichi’.

He hears an almighty yawn - and then he can almost see Daichi smile.

‘So what are you going to do about it?’

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

What is he going to do about it?

Get hold of one Imai Ume and tell her that his mouth moved faster than his brain (and heart), of course.

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

But what can he do about it?

Not very much, as it turns out.

For starters, he realises they’ve never exchanged numbers. He never felt the need to, they were classmates, no, seatmates, so she was always there, like the sun and stars in the sky.

He tries to find where she lives by asking around but soon meets a dead end. Karasuno Town isn’t large by any measure, the main shopping street fanning out into a smattering of small rural neighbourhoods. But he knows for a fact that Ume stays with her maternal grandparents, and she’s never once mentioned their surname, so he’s left with little to go on.

‘At least I know she’s moving to Sendai City’, he mopes to Daichi over a steaming bowl of ramen.

Daichi, probably tired of the number of times he’s heard him repeat this, just slurps his noodles noisily.

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

He and Daichi rent a flat from a little old lady who pats their chests and pinches their cheeks. It’s halfway between their schools, five minutes from the convenience store, and the rent is pretty cheap.

They soon settle into the rhythm of university life. They cycle to school in the mornings for lectures, struggle with tutorials, and fight over chores. Their social life isn’t too shabby either - they both make plenty of friends and even join volleyball teams.

Still, Suga can’t help feeling like something’s missing. ‘Someone, not something, you dolt’, his inner voice tells him, sounding suspiciously like Daichi.

He starts seeing the ghost of her everywhere.

He stares when he sees the slant of her shoulders in his classmate in the front seat. He crashes into Daichi when he thinks he hears the birdsong of her laughter float down the street. He picks up a habit of doing a double take at almost every girl he meets.

‘Stop it’, Daichi tells him crossly. ‘People are going to think you’re some kind of freak or pervert.’

He tries, he really does. But then months pass, and he starts to think that maybe Sendai City, with its million residents and a million more trees, might have hidden her out of his reach.

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

Summer arrives, and he returns home to Karasuno. He and Daichi and Asahi find themselves back in the school gym often, and he finds himself being dragged into practice match after practice match with his unruly kouhai. It’s a good way to spend his holidays, but he can’t help thinking if there isn’t a route he hasn’t explored yet.

‘No, Sugawara-kun, I can’t give you the contact details of our alumni, even if they’re your old classmates’, Takada-sensei says indignantly. ‘And don’t even think about breaking into the staff room at night!’

Eh. At least that was worth a try.

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

Tashiro senpai means well, he really does. But Daichi lets it slip that he’s been moping over some girl (‘For months!’, he roars), so on a Friday night, Suga finds himself thrust head first into a party at Tashiro’s apartment, surrounded by way too many people and not enough food. Daichi’s chatting with Yui (Go, Yui!), and he doesn’t know anyone else, so he doesn’t say no when Tashiro pushes cans of beer and cups of cheap spirits into his hands.

He’s a few months short of being able to legally drink, and it’s the first time he’s drinking outside his family home - but well, what Daichi doesn’t know won’t kill him. Soon though, the living room feels far too warm and the music is far too loud, so he figures he may as well seek fresh air and whatever refuge he can get on the cramped balcony beyond the kitchen.

He leans his forehead against the bannister. Gah. His head hurts. His stomach churns.

A raindrop splatters on to the back of his neck, then another, and soon he can hear the gentle patter of rain against the roof. He rights himself with a groan, and begins to head back inside. As he slides the glass door open, he turns and sees the silhouette of a girl emerge into the balcony, two apartments down, clearing her clothes from the laundry rack.

He stops. He can almost hear Daichi roaring at him at the back of his mind, but Suga can’t help but stare and think ‘there’s something awfully familiar about that girl’, but then - hasn’t he thought that about almost every girl he’s bumped into these past few months?

She takes a step forward and her face is lit by cheap fluorescent lights. He can see her clearly now, recognises the tilt of her chin, the curve of her cheeks and - by god, it’s her. His legs move and he lurches to the edge of the balcony, shouting her name like a loon.

Their eyes meet.

She yelps. And promptly drops her laundry basket, scrambling back inside.

He dashes back into Tashiro’s living room and trips into the corridor, ignoring Daichi’s shouts as he slams his fists into her front door. Her door remains stubbornly closed, and he keeps yelling, keeps beating her door. He can hear Daichi follow him, and he’s certain he’s going to get a bollocking tomorrow morning, but he doesn’t care, he’s finally found her in the midst of a million people and a million more trees and nothing else really matters.

The door swings open, and Imai Ume stands in the doorway looking livid. ‘My roommate is this close to calling the police,’ she hisses.

Daichi yanks him back with his shirt and snaps into a low bow. ‘Sorry for the trouble caused’, he says, and adds - that sly dog, ‘He may have drank a bit too much Umeshu’.

‘For God’s sake, Sawamura’, he faintly hears her squawk. ‘Can’t you take care of him a little better? He looks like absolute shit’.

Suga stares at her glassy-eyed. All he wants to do is to take her hand and tell her all the things he’s dreamt of saying these past few months (starting with I’m sorry I was an idiot- and ending with��I missed you) - but his mind is suddenly foggy and his ears are ringing and his stomach keeps bloody churning and he suspects his body might have just given up on him completely.

‘I told you’, he manages to say. ‘I told you we’d see each other again’.

He pukes at her feet and promptly passes out.

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

When he wakes up, the sun is high in the sky, and he knows because he’s pretty sure it’s trying to stab him between the eyes. He flops over to his side.

What happened last night?

He cracks an eye open. He’s pretty sure he isn’t wearing his own pyjamas. The sweatshirt he has on is a touch too snug, the pants a touch too short - so definitely not Daichi’s either. He can’t be in Tashiro-senpai’s room either, because one, he’s pretty certain floral bedsheets aren’t his thing, and two, if he squints, he can see a pile of medical textbooks in the corner that definitely does not belong to him.

He groans, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, groping bleary eyed for his phone.

- You have 7 messages! -

[Daichi, 12.48am]: You are a very lucky man [Daichi, 12.48am]: Imai didn’t call the police on you [Daichi, 12.49am]: I had to clean up your puke [Daichi, 12.49am]: Wanted to lug you home but you’re heavier than you look [Daichi, 12.49am]: So she said to leave you and walk Michimiya home [Daichi, 12.50am]: Figure you’ll thank me anyway [Daichi, 12.51am]: Stay safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

‘You have got to be kidding me’, he moans. Fuck. His head still hurts.

Ume pokes her head into the room. ‘Oh, you’re awake. Feeling better?’

He snaps his head up and immediately regrets it. ‘Ow’, he whines, dropping his head in his hands.

‘I guess not’, she says. ‘Here’, she pokes him in the side. ‘Spare toothbrush. Wash up, and I’ll get breakfast ready so you can eat some meds’. She tugs him to his feet and pushes him into the bathroom.

This isn’t how he imagined meeting Ume again would be like. Getting piss drunk, puking at her door, and passing out in her bed? He’d take getting arrested over this any day, he thinks, moping to himself. Not to mention Daichi's probably going to kill him when he gets back. He shudders, then winces as he splashes cold water into his face.

Ume waves him into the kitchen. ‘Sit’, she says, and so he does. She sets a bowl of rice and fish and miso soup in front of him. ‘Eat’ she says, sliding a bottle of aspirin and a cup of hot tea at him. His stomach still hurts, but he's not about to let her effort go to waste.

‘Ittakimasu’, he says, putting his hands together, inclining his head slightly. Ume nods and sits across him, sipping her tea.

‘Thank you’, he says contritely. 'I'm sorry for the trouble I caused last night'.

‘It’s no problem. I managed to convince my roommates you were just a drunk ex-classmate, not some rapist or serial killer so they let you in', she hums, amused.

He groans. ‘I’m so sorry’.

'It's fine', she says, waving him away. 'I think Sawamura was a lot more mad than my roommates, since he had to clear your mess and then wrangle you into clean clothes’.

‘Well I think Daichi got to walk Michimiya home last night, so I don’t think he’ll be too mad’, he says drolly. She laughs at that, turning to clear the dishes into the sink.

‘Hey, Imai’. He takes a gulp of his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

‘Mm?’

‘'I - I missed you - you know, as a friend', he stammers at his hands. 'And I’d like to see you again. Maybe we could catch up over dinner sometime this weekend?'

She stills for a few seconds. 'I don't think it’d be a good idea to do that', she finally says.

His heart clenches. He wonders if he’s too late - if the distance that Sendai city with its million people and a million more trees has put between them is too great, if she no longer remembers their shared smiles and golden summer days. But then he sees the stack of blankets tucked into the corner of the couch, sees the food she must have woken up early to make, and wonders how his past self could have been so blind.

‘Imai’, he says. She keeps her eyes resolutely on the dish sponge in her hands. He exhales, and tells himself that it’s his turn to be brave. He takes a step towards her.

‘Ume’, he repeats, taking her hands into his. ‘Look at me’.

‘Stop it Suga! My hands are soapy’, she cries.

‘Nevermind that’, he says stubbornly. ‘Listen - I’m an idiot - and a coward. I meant it when I said I missed you, but I didn’t mean it as a friend’.

‘Wha-’, she begins to say but he cuts her off.

‘I like you, Imai Ume’, he breathes, bringing her hands close to his face. ‘I really like you - as a boy likes a girl. I want to keep holding your hands. I want to see you again - see you everyday, if you’ll let me'.

Her eyes widen, then she blinks slowly - once, twice, thrice.

‘Do you mean it?’ she asks, her eyes meeting his, and he’s struck by the thought that the stars in her eyes are so bright they can light up the night sky.

‘Why would I lie?’ he answers. ‘I’ve been looking over my shoulder every day for the past six months, hoping desperately to see you again.’

‘Oh', she breathes. ‘Oh’.

She gives him a look so full of affection and warmth - like sunlight breaking through the rain - that he knows he was right to be brave, knows that the past six months of searching and dreaming and longing hadn’t been a waste.

‘So… I take it you want to see me again?’ he asks cheekily.

‘Maybe’, she says, but her voice is teasing and she leans on to her toes to press her lips gently against his cheek.

‘I - I take that as a yes?’ he stutters and hates himself for flushing a bright pink, but refuses to release her hands.

‘Let me wash my hands first. Then - yes’, and she laughs, wide and bold and bright.

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

Coda

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

He opens the door and smiles at what has become a very familiar sight these past few weeks - Ume fast asleep at the kitchen table next to a half empty pot of tea, head pillowed against her textbooks. Usually, he’d just scoop her up and put her to bed, but they’ve not had much time together this week, what with him running all over the prefecture with his fledgling team for practice matches, and she with work and exams, so he decides to be a little selfish.

‘Ume’, he calls, shaking her shoulder gently. ‘Dearest. Wake Up.’

‘Mmph. Five more minutes. Go away.’ She mumbles, pushing his hand away.

‘Ume. Ummmeee,’ He drags out her name, finding extra syllables where there were previously none until she stirs, grumbling incoherently and he has to stifle a laugh when she swipes her hand across her mouth.

‘Oh! It’s you. Welcome home’, she folds herself upright, rubbing her eyes slowly. ‘Where’s Yuji? How was the match?’

‘Of course it’s me – who else would it be?’ he chuckles. ‘I dropped Yuji off at Kei-kun’s place for a sleepover with the team, they promised not to stay up all night eating junk and watching crappy movies but I don’t believe them. The match was great - we won! Yuji-chan did really well, he earned quite a few points and saved a few balls. You would’ve been proud of him. I know I was.’

‘That’s good, I’m sure he’ll tell me all about it tomorrow when he’s back.’ She nods towards the fridge. ‘I made mapo tofu for dinner – not too spicy though, your stomach will thank me after that long bus ride back.’

He hums a thanks, sliding the plate into the microwave, narrating a play by play of their match today, stopping only when he hears a loud yawn.

‘Go to bed, Ume’, he frowns at the lines of exhaustion on her face. ‘I shouldn’t be keeping you up, you have a morning shift tomorrow.’

‘Mm – I will, later. Was waiting for you. Mm’ not that tired,’ she protests, but then yawns again so widely he’s pretty sure he hears her jaw crack.

‘Bedtime, sleepyhead’, he says teasingly, lifting her into his chest.

It’s a testament to how tired she is when she doesn’t try to swat at him as she usually does, choosing instead to wrap her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. His breath hitches, and he wants nothing more than to hold her close and hide in bed preferably forever, but reminds himself that they’re adults now (with awful things like jobs and responsibilities and worse, bills to pay), so he settles her onto their bed, tucking the pillow beneath her head, the sheets under her chin.

‘Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll catch up properly on the weekend’, he whispers, pressing a kiss into her dark hair.

‘Mmph, love you’, she mumbles, half asleep.

‘Love you too’, he shuts the door with a click, a soft smile on his face.

He’s mentioned off-hand to her before that they’re lucky to be this happy.

‘It’s not all luck’, he remembers her replying. ‘Happiness isn’t easy to come by. It’s a choice. It takes effort and hard work to earn that choice, and you need to take the time to build it up, brick by brick, piece by piece.’

He used to wonder what she meant by that - but six years in, and he thinks he finally understands what she means.

She’s meticulous in the way she makes him happy - the way she catalogues his quirks and deals patiently with his follies. How she knows to always leave food in the fridge for him after work so he won’t get cranky. How she tries her best to stay up and listen to him complain about his frustrations with pushy parents or irresponsible kids, how she tries to watch every one of his (and Yuji’s) games should time permit. He can see it even in the way she smiles indulgently when she sends him off with Daichi and Tanaka for izakaya and drinks.

For his part - he wonders if he does enough. He wakes up early most mornings to hitch a ride with her to work so they get a chance to chat about their day. He buys flowers from the florist down the street for her every week, and slips sandwiches and post-it notes in her work bag when he knows she’s had a long shift. He holds her close when she collapses on the couch, boneless and exhausted from a hard day.

He thinks about the life they share - weeknights spent sitting together, him sketching lesson plans and volleyball plays and she reading up for exams and work cases, weekends spent in grocery stores and parks and volleyball games. Six years together - they’re happy, and they show it in the quietest of ways.

They’re driving back to Karasuno this weekend - ostensibly to celebrate Keiji’s birthday and meet a couple of friends. But he’s conspired with Keiji and Yuji so he can sneak her away to the park for a picnic under the tree where they share memories of long, quiet talks and golden summer days. He’s hidden her ring in a picnic box full of homemade onigiri and sandwiches, strawberries and peaches.

He plans to go down on one knee and ask if she’d like to continue working on being happy with him forever.

He hopes she’ll say yes.

(She does.)

#haikyuu #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyu x reader #sugawara #sugawara fic #sugawara headcanon #sugamama #haikyuu fluff #karasuno #haikyuu fic #sugawara x reader #suga

170 notes · View notes

magicflowershop · 4 years ago

Text

❁ every 12.30 pm

➳ timeskip!sugawara x reader oneshot

➵ fluff, heart-warming, cute kids

✿ you found a cute teacher in your niece’s school, so maybe picking up a kid from school everyday isn’t such a bad idea.

❀ // hi! i’ve been gone for so long and finally i finished this after weeks of letting it rot in my drafts,, i don’t wanna delete this bc it feels like i’ll foresaken my angel Suga so here i hope you all enjoy my first oneshot :>

word count // 3,257

of all days, you picked this day as the day to slack off.

there was no reason to doll up, you reasoned. this was your rest day. no plans were made and no places you needed to go, so you went and picked up your sister’s kid wearing your house clothes.

no biggie. a few blocks distance wouldn’t hurt your sense of insecurity. a kindergartener’s teacher also wouldn’t possibly judge how you look when you’re only out to pick a kid up from school.

today, however, was different.

everything became instinct. your fingers went up the center of your jacket, to zip it up entirely. your hands then reached down to your sweatpants, checking if you were wearing it the right way. to your hair, if there are hair strands that are where they’re supposed to be. everything became instinct so you don’t look so much like a mess

in front of this fine preschool teacher.

“i’m Futaba’s guardian.”

your throat let out the softest, shyest voice you could ever project. you found yourself shamelessly, and instinctively, acting cute in front of this fine preschool teacher.

how else were you supposed to react? his beautiful gray hair enticed you, with a fringe softly parted on the center of his forehead. his porcelain skin that put Snow White to shame, his round, brown eyes that reflected every star in the galaxy, and his smile that could win a boxing match against the sun. not to mention, the mole under his left eye definitely hit the mark.

“good afternoon, Futaba’s guardian-san.”

hearing his voice for the first time, you’re decided. it was a crush.

perhaps it was superficial of you. you claim to fall for a guy you don’t know only for the fact you found him cute. you thought looking at him, admiring him like this was enough however when his angelic smile brightened at the sight of the children waving bye-bye to him and him waving bye-bye back. when he went down on one knee in front of your sister’s daughter, politely asking her she has to stop playing with her classmates because you have come to bring her home. when Futaba spread her arms and wrapped them around his neck, telling him a lispy see you tomorrow.

how dare you face someone like him looking like this.

on the way home, you were dead-set on asking your sister to let you bring your niece home every schoolday. seeing him once was not enough. something about him gravitated you to wanting to see more of him.

you remember the name written on his nametag when you caught the last glimpse of him.

“Sugawara”

his name reminded you of grass fields, as it is what it meant. it was perfect for him. the aura he emitted was rather calming. people must like having him around for he’s a breath of fresh air. he really was a perfect kindergarten teacher.

“how was school, Futaba?”

your niece skipped as she walked, visibly excited to talk about her day. “it was really fun! my classmates and i had a tea party earlier! Futaba almost spilled the cup because it was too hot.”

“what about your teachers?” you wanted to smack yourself for squeezing information about a guy from your 5-year-old niece. it is a desperate move however, which else choice do you have?

“ah! Sugawara-sensei read us a beanstalk story before nappy time.” Futaba put a finger on her chin as if to think about what else happened. she had no idea how hooked she got you to listen to her story. “then, then Sugawara-sensei helped Futaba with her clay family!”

you then considered yourself lucky.

“do you like Sugawara-sensei?”

and pushed the topic about the man further, seeing the sparkles in your niece’s eyes and how she skipped even happier. “yes! yes! Futaba’s favorite teacher is Sugawara-sensei,” she declared and continued shyly. “he helped Futaba talk to her crush Kaito-kun.”

when you said you were dead-set, you are dead-set for real. what’s there to lose? kids love him, including your own niece. he’s beautiful. he has a gentle voice. he probably smells like daisies. you just have to befriend him and get to know about him some more before introducing him to your parents-

as a friend.

right?

“for what? did you find a cute guy there or something?”

it sucked your sister knew you too well.

that day, you invited yourself in your sister’s room the second she got home from work. the sly yet desperate move visibly annoyed the older so much that she knew you had something up your sleeve to even dare show up in her room.

“no. just that, it’s a good way to take breaks from the café. plus, i get to hang out with Futaba.” you explained as simply as you could, even though your sister literally can see right through your lies.

she hummed and replied with, “you never get out of the house unless it’s absolutely necessary. when i asked you to take Futaba home from school yesterday, you hated it because your break time from café is ruined. please. find someone else to fool, y/n.”

you soon admit that you truly are dumb. that, however, did not stop you from redeeming yourself to your sister; that being telling the truth and not exactly redeeming anything. you told her the man you set your eyes on in Futaba’s school. you jokingly told her it was love at first sight even though you never believed of something as ridiculous as such.

besides, your sister has no room to reject. you aimed at two birds with one stone. not only do you get to see more of the guy, but you will do your sister a favor of taking care of her daughter for free.

she sighed, finding no way to deny this. “i hate to say it but your timing is too good. i was thinking of finding a babysitter for Futaba since both of us are busy. but if you insist, who am i to decline?”

so this side job began the following day.

thirty minutes spared during your break before you engage yourself to war. you decided to spend those thirty minutes to rearrange yourself. you would rather not switch into your house clothes like you did yesterday, would you? this time, you chose carefully. you didn’t want to look like a floor rag but you didn’t want to look like you went there to go on a date either. even to contemplate whether or not you must add a little more blush on your cheeks to look lively.

you changed into a casual fit. a plain shirt, denim shorts and a pair of slip-on sandals. it was an attempt to not look like you were trying too hard. not with those clean ponytail and tinted lips.

“good afternoon, i’m Futaba’s guardian.” you told yourself a good job that you remembered to greet today.

but Sugawara wasn’t the one you directed that to.

he wasn’t around. you sneaked glances left and right to see if he was playing together with the other kids, but alas.

you walked home with Futaba, holding her hand. you try to match the child’s mood as she was very elated to talk about her day. on the other hand, you; Sugawara could have been busy. you can still see him again the following day.

the following days, you lessened your get up from your first attempt. he was present, but the greetings were the same as first day you met.

what the hell are you supposed to do now? do you start conversations? well, of course, you told yourself, since you’re the one who wants something from him. but how? what should you talk about? your day? his day? the kids? his job? what?

“thank you for taking care of Futaba.”

“hm? it is my job though.”

there goes your little motivation to initiate conversations with people you’re interested in.

you hear him chuckle at you, which added to the embarrassment you had from your statement alone.

today was parents’ day. the kids were asked to bring their parents to school to have a little meeting with the rest of the class. it worried you that Futaba only had you as her guardian to go with her, not her mother, but you see the kid in her high spirits since this morning you didn’t want to ruin that for her and apologize on her mother’s behalf.

you think this as you lean against the wall at the corner, until you notice Sugawara stood beside you. so much so, you spoke absent-mindedly.

you should have kept your mouth shut.

“is Futaba’s mother doing okay? we haven’t seen her since a week ago.”

or maybe you don’t have to keep your mouth shut after all. you turned to him, stunned. like, goodness, he’s starting a topic with you himself. how can you not be stunned.

“o sorry. is it a sensitive topic? i’m sorry-”

“no!” you said audibly. too audibly. you clamped your mouth, worried if you took the children’s attention away from the kids who are presenting in front. you continued in a whisper, while he still chuckled at you, “Futaba’s mom recently switched work schedules that clashes together with the kid’s school. she wasn’t allowed to take a leave today, so i’m here in her place.”

geez, were you talking too much?

“i see.”

you probably were talking too much.

“you two are siblings, no?”

“uh, yeah. we are.”

he nodded to himself, turning to the kids presenting again. a silent heave of relief escaped you while you leaned comfortably against the wall again. guess that was enough interaction for the day.

“i guess, we’ll keep seeing Futaba’s guardian-san from now on.” he gave you a gentle smile, leaning a bit closer to you from the half-feet distance.

“you don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“my apologies. what should i call you?”

“y/n.”

“y/n-san then.”

he gave you one last boyish smile before walking off to his station.

hold up.

did he just come here to ask for your name? did he trick you into telling him your name?

you and Futaba went home happily. literally, the both of you had a great day in school. here, you were giggling like a kid who just got noticed by her crush. but you could be wrong. it’s only natural of a teacher to learn one of his student’s guardian’s name. he cannot be interested in you.

on the other hand, he did start a conversation with you.

don’t get ahead of yourself, you thought. you cannot help but still think about it.

the traffic lights flashed a green color.

days went on. you stayed as the one bringing your niece home safely every afternoon while the mother is busy. the relationship and trust you built with the child strengthened. your heart swell each time you see her jumping in joy whenever you show up after school. when you thought that alone will bring you happiness everyday, Sugawara greets you everyday with the same boyish smile.

each day pass, soon you become close friends. this made Futaba happy as you two are two of her favorite people.

until one day, the teacher called saying Futaba got sick.

worry engulfed you. you wondered what could’ve happened for the child to get sick, when she was fine earlier before her and her mother left together. could your sister not have noticed? or did it happen during school? more and more questions took shape as you frantically closed the café and ran to the school.

you rushed inside the nurse’s office, panting profusely. your eyes first caught your niece lying on the bed unconscious, and Sugawara sitting by the bed, placing a damp towel on her forehead.

“good morning, I’m Futaba’s guardian.”

Futaba’s teacher explained the situation to you. the kids were outside playing in the playground when Sugawara saw Futaba drenched in one hidden part of the garden. you see another kid standing beside the teacher. the kid gripped the hem of his shirt tightly as if he wanted to rip it off. the scowl on his face says enough of why he was here.

“i didn’t do it.”

the teacher continued, “ever since parent’s day, apparently some students have been picking on Futaba for not having her mother around.

“i’m terribly sorry. i’ve helped Futaba in ways i can. even i wanted to call you for this, but when i told Futaba i will, she begged me not to tell you because you and her mother are both busy with work.” she nudged the kid beside her, “isn’t there something you need to tell Futaba’s guardian?”

the kid averted his eyes. you figured there was no reason squeezing an apology from stubborn children like him. you kneeled before the kid to be at the same level as his eyes.

“what’s your name?”

he spent a few seconds quivering his lips before speaking, “Sora.”

“Sora,” you held his shoulder gently, looking into his eyes. “you’re very lucky to always have your mother by your side.”

tears formed in his innocent eyes.

you went on. “always remember to tell your mom that you love her, long as you still have her around, so she will stay. okay?” you finished, smiling at him as bright as you could.

Sora erupted into tears, storming off out of the nurse’s office and yelling his apology.

kids.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make him cry.” you reasoned, when you know full well you did it on purpose to put that kid into a guilt trip for messing with your niece like this. the teacher said it was fine, that she could’ve done it the same thing but a different way.

ignoring that, you turned to Sugawara, who you forgot was there the whole time, “i’m sorry for the trouble. i’ll be taking her home now.”

“i can help you bring her home.”

Sugawara stood up from his seat. this startles you because you also forgot you had a crush on him. you try to decline his offer, reasoning that your house is nearby and that you can carry a kid no problem.

but the Futaba’s teacher helped insist, “Sugawara-sensei should help you look after Futaba… uh, y/n-san was it?” you nodded, dubiously. “it was also said by Futaba that you’re working alone in your house with no one to help you. so please.”

you couldn’t decline when you saw Sugawara already carrying the kid behind his back. so you went home together with him, big deal. you felt embarrassed after getting your background get found out like that. guess Futaba is too honest of a kid, but not honest enough to tell her family that she was bullied at school.

“here will do.”

the two of you finally stood in front of your father’s café. the walk was silent, but you believed it was enough interaction for the day once more.

“you weren’t kidding when you say it was nearby, huh?” he said, looking through the glass windows.

“well. yeah.”

“that’s too bad,” he says, still carrying the kid on his back. he looks back to you. the smile appears again, “aren’t you going to open the door?”

you unlocked the doors. then, it hit you. what did he mean by too bad?

after taking Futaba up to her room and tucking her in bed, you went back down to the café where you found Sugawara idling about. “you can rest yourself on one of the booths. let me brew a drink for you.” you took your apron and hurried behind the counter. meanwhile, the man stood up perhaps wanting to leave.

“oh, you don’t have to make me a drink. i should be leaving.”

this confused you. really, what was that too bad for?

“you went all the way to our café. it’s only natural i made a drink for you.” you try and justify yourself. also, you already pressed the espresso machine. there’s no reason to waste a cup of espresso.

“if so, must i stay?”

this was the second to the last straw.

you stood there, one hand holding the ice scooper and the other holding a grande-sized cup, while staring at him straight into his bright eyes. those orbs must be telling you something. there should be a secret hiding within those eyes. for example, an answer to his question.

“do you want to stay?” you first broke the gaze.

“i’m the one asking you, y/n,” he said with a chuckle.

once again, you hesitated. “sure.”

the café flooded with silence while you made an iced latte for him. you trailed your gaze to the top of his head as he sat on one of the booths. concerns arise from the pit of your mind. nothing seemed to be happening. then, what is he here for? if he stayed, what will happen? is this all on purpose? should you put your guards up?

are the green lights alit again?

you put the iced latte on his table when he spoke. “i’m quite worried about Futaba with what happened to her.”

“well, she did a good job hiding the truth from us.” you say as you sat across him. “she’s a strong kid. i’m more worried if she will continue hiding her pain from the people who care about her.”

maybe you shouldn’t start such a touchy subject like this, yea? Sugawara landed his eyes at you but you avoided it and stood up. you have no idea what’s going on. if anything, this is not the right context of when something will develop. both of you just brought home a sick kid, for Pete’s sake. must you really take advantage of this?

“anyway, i’ll tell my sister what happened. she can help Futaba better than i-”

“i wonder if i’ll still see you every afternoon.”

his honesty astounded you. Sugawara’s pale face flushed from shame. guess he didn’t mean to say that. this means, if you weren’t getting ahead of yourself again, it’s how he actually feels.

you tried to lessen his embarrassment, “of course you will, who else will pick Futaba up from school?” so you played dumb.

“if your sister knew about the situation, she might switch her schedule.”

what was he trying to say?

“she can’t do that easily, you know.”

“there will still be a possibility.” he rested his chin on his palm, smiling at you, “which reminds me, i have been looking for a part-time job around here. is your café looking for more workers?”

“you wanna work here?” you ask as you went and flip the sign to open, since you’re already back for work.

“sure,” he picked himself up from the booth and walked towards you. “but i think i should follow someone’s footsteps first and make an impression. you know, you’re going to be my boss. i should meet you with casual clothes, not with a track jacket, sweat pants and unkept hair. what do you think?”

you flipped the sign to close. “are you mocking someone here?”

he tried to not make himself laugh at you. “i’m just saying i shouldn’t half-ass it if i’m looking for another job, y/n.”

“doesn’t sound like you’re actually looking for another job though?”

“i’m not,” he admitted. “i’m only looking for a reason to see you more. every 12.30 pm isn’t enough.”

the traffic lights said go. it is now 12.31 pm.

#walk in my garden #flirty suga is canon for me #watch me flourish this hc #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! drabbles #haikyuu!! smau #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! x reader #sugawara #sugawara koushi #koushi sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara x y/n #karasuno

75 notes · View notes

eury--dice · 4 years ago

Text

glitter and tree branches

happy (belated) holidehs, @singtomeinstead! thank you so much for your wonderful prompts and your even more wonderful dedication to this beautiful @sincerely-us gift exchange. hope your 2021 is off to a good start <3

(ao3 link in the notes!)

It all starts in Ellison Park.

Maybe that is the one thing, across any universe, that stays the same - that cannot change. No matter how you slice their story, it all starts in Ellison Park. Whether that beginning is a fall from a tree, a single form illuminated against the endless expanse of pink morning sky, or -

This.

It all starts in Ellison Park, 2006, when four families tangentially decide a trip to the park is the perfect spring activity, bundle up their five-year-olds and head off.

The Murphy’s arrive early. Larry guides the car over gravel until stopping, Connor and Zoe’s cheers from the backseat audible to everyone outside. Larry and Cynthia share a tight grin over their excitement, eyes pulled taut from lack of sleep.

“Ice cream!” Zoe shouts, eyes catching on the closed Dell’s lemonade cart just outside the gate. Connor is already chanting “le-mon-ade,” albeit much quieter than his sister. Cynthia raises a hand to massage over her eyes.

“It’s 11 am,” Larry points out. “No ice cream yet, sweetheart.”

“No!” They wail in perfect synchrony, only to promptly forget about sweets as soon as they’re unbuckled from the car and tearing off to the park. Cynthia sighs, gesturing for Larry to follow them while she gets what they need for the day.

Six-year-old Evan Hansen is decidedly a morning person. He has been a morning person since the day of his birth, and he will be one for the rest of his life. So while kids his age nod off against their parent’s shoulders on park benches and in their booster seats, he presses his nose against the window of the car and lets his breath fog it up even though he knows his father will scold him for the messiness later. As soon as they step into the park Evan’s vision tunnels into everything around him, sheer joy taking over as he pulls his hand from his mother’s and takes off towards the nearest tree.

“Evan!” she yelps, momentarily distracted from her argument with Mark. Since Evan normally never darts away from her, she’s caught off guard by his sudden energy, her heart rate skyrocketing with Mark’s words intangible in her ears. But Evan pays her no heed; he just runs, his parent’s arguing fading into the background for the first time he can remember. He stops at one of the trees, laying a palm against it and closing his eyes. Through his fingertips, it’s like he is rooted to the ground; like he himself is steady, consistent, and ready to provide comfort.

Heidi stops in her tracks once she can see that he’s safe, turning to Mark with an “are you seeing this?” expression, but he staunchly refuses to return her gaze.

Jared Kleinman is distinctly not a morning person, much to his friend’s dismay. Their parents always joked about it when they were little more than babies sharing naps in the Kleinman’s living room; Evan fussing at the first sign of light while Jared took more than a fair bit of commotion to so much as stir. So the Kleinman’s amble into the park a little after the Hansen’s, a still sleepy Jared leaning between his moms like a tiny labored soldier. He perks up on hearing Heidi’s voice, attuned to trouble as always, but his mom tightens her grip on his shoulder before he can run forward.

“Plenty of time for that,” she said in an undertone. “I don’t want you bonking your head because you’re sleepy.”

“I won’t,” Jared insists, offended at the mere notion he could mess something up.

His mother studies his eyes for a moment before relenting. “All right. Go see your friend.”

Jared takes off at once, a direct beeline to Evan - so direct that he doesn’t see the child-shaped obstacle in his path, immediately bonking heads and falling back onto his butt on the pavement, two glasses clattering noises filling his ears. “Oh my god,” he hears his other mom groan.

“You should be more careful,” a voice says, little-kid saccharine but mature beyond its years. “You’re Jared, right?”

“Alana! Are you okay?” a man calls at the same time Jared’s mom calls, “I told you!”

Jared hadn’t expected to see Alana Beck from his kindergarten class there, but he did all the same.

“Are you okay?” She says before he can respond. “My head hurts a bit. Does yours?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jared says. “A bit.” He reaches blindly for the first pair of glasses he can vaguely see, but when he puts them on his vision explodes and contorts.

“Are these yours?” they say at the same time, so Jared guesses she must have picked up his. They swap, and Jared frowns at a long scratch in his right lense before putting them back on.

“That’s why you need to look where you’re going,” Alana says, noting his frown. “My grandma says people get hurt when they’re not aware of their surroundings.”

“I guess.” Jared feels a little stunned into silence, even as their parents come over to check them. But finally, he manages to say “Do you want to come play with me and Evan?”

Alana scrunches up her nose, her glasses following. “Evan Hansen?”

“Yeah.”

She thinks on it for a moment, then throws a look to someone who must be her younger sister. “Okay,” she says, and that’s that.

The three unite by Evan’s tree, though Evan is a squirrel so he climbs nearly all the way up while Jared and Alana watch. Alana talks enough for all three of them, jabbering on about her family and what she misses from school now that they’re older, and that seems to ease Evan’s discomfort around a new person. He’s content to climb while they carry the conversation.

All three of their heads turn at the sound of a sudden splash followed by the shouts of two dismayed children. Jared laughs reflexively at the sight of horror on their nearly-identical faces, freckles elongated with their widening mouths. Evan drops down nimbly from the tree almost at once.

“Dad!” the boy calls, hands flying to his short curls to tug, and after a moment they recognize him as another classmate - Connor Murphy, in a different section, known to dominate the monkey bars at recess. “Why’d you throw it in the lake?”

“Emergency landing,” a man with graying hair replies, a little ways off from where Evan’s parents had settled. “Sorry, Con.”

While a few of their parents chuckle, neither of the kids appears sated; in fact, both look close to tears. The three by the tree exchange a look.

“Should we?” Alana says, and Evan nods, Jared already setting off towards the lake.

“What was it?” he asks loudly, once they near the two who lean over the surface of the lake longingly.

Zoe, who he only knew through Connor’s sharing time about his family, shot him a watery glare. “A airplane,” she bites out.

“An airplane,” Alana corrects, though she quiets when she’s on the receiving end of Zoe’s glare.

“We don’t have an airplane,” Evan says, looking between Alana and Jared for confirmation. “But, um…you can play with us?”

The two stare at each other for a beat, still working back tears, before they sigh.

“Not even one airplane?” Connor asks.

“Not even one.”

“My sister might have one,” Alana puts in. “I can ask?”

Connor eyes them warily for a beat before sighing again. “Fine. Zoe?”

“I guess so,” she says, voice small.

Friends acquired…apparently.

***

Most of the time, Zoe wishes she and Connor are real twins.

They feel enough like it - given that they almost always just played with each other - and even looked enough like it, if random people in the supermarket’s judgment could be trusted. People sometimes said they were Irish twins, which Zoe never quite understood, even after Cynthia sat her on the couch and explained the concept to her. Being Irish twins is fine and all, even though only their dad was even a little Irish (thanks, Murphy surname). But it isn’t as good as being a real twin, sharing the birthday she so desperately wants, sharing the grade above her own.

Instead, she’s stuck, out of the loop and behind. Alana comes over in the lunchroom on the days where she can, seemingly only willing to break the rules that keep her separated from everyone else due to grade. Zoe gets quite used to the sight of Alana beelining across the cafeteria, her star-patterned lunchbox unzipped and held to her chest as she weaves around students and faculty alike with a grace that Zoe assumes comes from dance. And she gets used to Alana parking herself right across from her, unzipping a small ziplock bag of baby carrots around the surprised looks of elementary school underclassmen, and saying something along the lines of “did Mrs. Gould teach you about magnets today?” And Zoe takes the offered baby carrot, puts away the felt-tip pen she’s been doodling with, and smiles.

She drags the other three over one day, though Connor’s lips set in annoyance over having to babysit his little sister and Evan’s set in something that looks closer to anxiety, casting anxious glances over to the faculty presiding over the lunchroom. Jared simply throws her an amused smile, squeezing between her and her friend from class and cutting Zoe off with a loud “Howdy!” before she can apologize for his behavior. Evan takes the unoccupied space on her right, his fingers messing with the clasp of his lunchbox. His eyes jump across the faculty members even as Alana and Connor sit across from her. She’s so used to seeing both of them across from her that it takes a moment for her to remember how different they usually are. Alana only ever looks like this, separated by a grainy plastic table and fluorescent lights, but normally she sees Connor under their warm kitchen lights and the honey-colored wood of their kitchen table.

“You don’t have to come over here,” she says quietly, words muffled into the collar of her sweater.

Alana just smiles and launches their normal lunch routine, this time with the added chatter from Connor and Jared, before Evan’s face shifts and Zoe lifts her eyes to see a faculty member appear just behind Alana.

“Aren’t you all at the wrong table?” They say, and the five scatter as quickly as they can, hoping to avoid docked recess as punishment. On the playground, Evan bites the corner of his nail nervously and Connor refuses to look in Zoe’s direction, staring instead towards the faculty hovering by the fences.

So much for trying to spend time together.

Out of school, though - out of school is equal for everyone, regardless of grade. No time to share, no privacy for their conversations, no good locations for their games.

“We should have a secret hiding spot,” Alana declares later that same day. Even from her position hunched under the bunk bed she shares with her younger sister, her voice carries such a sure tone that no one could even disagree.

“Should we all join you?” Jared quips. Connor responds by smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

“Not in my house,” Alana says, and for some reason, Zoe expects an eye roll or something of the sort, but she’s Alana so of course there’s only confidence and surety. “Do you really want my dads hearing everything?”

“We don’t have secrets,” Evan points out from his spot on the floor between Jared and Zoe. His sleeve brushes against Zoe’s when he fidgets, his hands moving his shoulders.

“We could,” Jared says. “How else are we going to steal all the Jell-O from the cafeteria?”

“I think you’re the only person who actually likes that Jell-o,” Zoe says, before immediately regretting it. The words slip through her teeth, liketh thad dell-o, rounded and off compared to all of her friends. Evan’s arm brushes against hers again.

“Of all the criminal plots, Jared,” Connor agrees.

“It’s gross,” Evan adds in an undertone, and Zoe is pretty sure she’s the only one who can hear it.

“But it would be a secret!”

“We’re not going to do that,” Alana says; words getting caught in a sigh. “But wouldn’t it be nice to talk without-”

As if on queue, her younger sister bursts into the room, catapulting herself onto the top bunk with a frightening speed. Evan falls into Jared as she hurtles over them, and Connor jumps practically a foot in the air.

With a comical precision, almost like something actually out of a comic in the paper that Larry loved to hand them on Sunday’s so they could “learn to read a newspaper,” they turn to look at Alana.

“Like I said,” she says, assuming her teacher voice.

“…Well, where?” Jared finally replies. “Our houses don’t work too well.”

“Outside?” Evan suggests hopefully. “Maybe the park?”

“It’s too cold, and our parents can’t always drive us there,” Alana says. “But maybe…hm…

At once, Connor and Zoe’s heads swivel towards each other.

“We have a place,” Connor says slowly, reading understanding on Zoe’s face. “Or…we will.”

Larry has passions that ebb and flow just like Cynthia, and for once Zoe is certain she and her brother are thinking of the same thing; the influx of wood he’d been purchasing recently, the power tools they heard whenever he was off work, the constant questions over whether they wanted to help.

A week later, the five stand in the Murphy’s backyard. Cynthia and Larry observe at a distance, their faces careful as they watch the kid’s reactions but obvious joy in the lines of Larry’s tiny smile.

“Oh my God,” Jared breathes. “Is it real?”

“No, dummy,” Connor says, voice filled with a pompousness that Zoe hates. “We bought a treehouse decal and spent all night getting it up there just to play tricks on you.”

“Don’t be mean, Connor,” Zoe says with the snobbiness she knows he hates. He sticks his tongue out at her in return.

Evan steps forward first, laying his palm against the tree trunk and staring up with a reverence Zoe never expected. He smiles gently, the light brushing his cheeks like burnished bronze, and Zoe looks away with a smile similar to her father’s.

“Well, let’s go,” Connor says, and Evan must take his words as invitation, because he forgoes the ladder and chooses instead to scale the tree limbs until worming his way in through the “window” of the treehouse. Zoe heard something like a fond laugh behind her, most likely her mother’s doing, before she raced off to the tree herself. She did opt for the ladder, however. Connor follows Evan’s dramatics, and Alana and Jared are close on Zoe’s heels.

“Woah,” she hears Alana breathe, and, well. Woah was right.

The treehouse isn’t very large, but to a bunch of elementary students it certainly feels like it. The smell of fresh pine assaults her nose, dust still floating around and tickling her eyelashes. The late fall light streams in through the slats and windows, leaving a gold-washed tint around the treehouse and all of her friends.

Connor wanders over to a small platform, and she follows, letting her other friends scatter about the room, chattering idly about the treehouse. Zoe leans her head on Connor’s shoulder, but just as she does Connor nudges Zoe with his elbow. Uncaring to her yelp, he asks “Do you have the thread in your room?”

“Thread?” She repeats, as it takes her brain a moment to catch up. “Ohh. Yeah. I think so.”

“Want to go grab it?”

“Why?”

He motions to his wrist and then to the group as a whole.

“Whyyyy me?” She says, the y drawing out into a whine in a true younger sibling move.

All the same, she’s on her way back up the treehouse with a tub of bracelet thread tucked under her arm five minutes later. Maneuvering up the ladder with it tucked under her arm proved to be a bit of a challenge, but nothing Zoe Murphy can’t handle. She does throw it through the window before her, though, which (by Connor’s horrified yelp) isn’t the brightest move. When she reenters, Connor is already gathering up thread and shaking dust out of it.

“Oh, yes,” Jared says, surging forward and grabbing a green and purple thread from Connor’s hands. He sits heavily on the ground, immediately beginning a complicated braid without any prompting. He looks up at their surprised faces a moment later. “What? I learned at camp this summer.”

“Did you learn, Evan?” Alana asks, likely remembering they went to the same camp.

Evan looks away, one hand reaching to pick at an imperfection in the wooden wall. He shrugs. “‘M not very good,” he says, and Zoe can’t help but remember the snatches of conversation she remembers overhearing accidentally from her parents - she had to drive down and couldn’t handle it and maybe talking to the school counselor came to mind.

She crosses to him without thinking, grabbing his hand. “I’ll teach you,” she blurts without thinking. Connor hands her her favorite colors without prompting, and Zoe begins a tri-color braid that’s probably more complicated than Evan needs, but he catches on easily enough after a few minutes, twisting the blue and purple and pink together into something beautiful.

They pass their first hours in the treehouse like that, singularly focused like only little kids can be, and when Zoe’s parents bring up pizza and Sprite they pause only to admire their fine work. Several bracelets adorn each of their wrists, each twisted by someone else and infused with why Jared jokingly called the power of love. And the sun sets on them all together, smearing grease across their faces and throwing loose bits of thread across their haven in the sky, and Zoe smiles.

***

It was nearing dinnertime, far too cold and far too quiet to be in a treehouse.

Connor and Zoe took to hanging around the treehouse even when their friends weren’t there, much preferring it to their former hiding places within the house. As the winter wore on and the days grew shorter, so did Murphy tempers, and cabin fever mixed in only made enclosed spaces more liable to combust. So, with the treehouse available, Zoe tended to grab Connor and the ukelele she’d just begun learning to play and sneaking out the sliding door into their backyard. That particular evening, the layer of fluffy snow that had just fallen masked their escape and allowed them entrance to the treehouse and cushioned any residual noise left from the kitchen. They still were bundled up, however, their parkas and hats pulled tight. Both had forgone gloves, however; Zoe felt her fingers stiffen and slip on her ukelele strings, while Connor seemed unperturbed by the cold while he sketched in his brand-new sketchbook. Save for her muffled ukelele noises and the faint rustling of small creatures in the snow and Connor’s pencil etching against paper, all was still.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to bring string instruments into the cold,” Connor said, breaking the silence. Zoe responded by strumming an e minor chord more aggressively.

They fell back into their rhythm, and Connor started to hum along to her strumming just as the pinks and purples broke through gray winter sky.

“We have a project,” a voice declared. startling both of them out of their individual reveries. Alana’s head popped up in the treehouse window, a giant pom-pom hat perched precariously over the intricate braided bun Zoe could remember seeing at school that day.

“Jesus Christ, Alana,” Connor said, sounding very much like a kid who was trying his hardest to get a handle on cussing and sounding cool. “How did you get here?”

Alana blinked, righting the large box she held in her hands. “Your parents said you were here.”

Connor stilled abruptly, while Zoe’s foot started bouncing. “You talked to them?”

“Yeah,” she said, and as if she knew their next question - likely because she did, from years of experience - “They seemed like they were calming down.”

“Good,” Zoe said quietly.

Impervious to the Murphy siblings’ shifted expressions, Alana dropped the metal box to the floor and followed it, dropping to the frosty pine boards like there was nothing else she’d rather do. “Anyway, we’re making a time capsule!”

“We are?” Zoe said, feeling amusement creeping into the edges of her voice.

“Yes. You’ll thank me in ten years.”

Zoe and Connor shared a look. Connor cut off the awkward silence that suddenly descended. “The ground is frozen. How are we going to bury it?”

Alana grinned over the lid. “My dads were talking about the thaw later this week.”

“No snow?” added a new voice. Evan popped up barely a moment later, likely having taken a wild path up the tree rather than using the ladder like anyone else, even when ice coated to every nook and cranny of the bark. “Already?”

“Apparently,” Zoe replied.

“Won’t it get all covered in mud?” Jared added, and Zoe spun her head around to look at Alana, fixing her with a sharp look.

“Did you invite everyone over to our house?”

Alana shrugged. “This is important. And there isn’t that much mud if you dig deep enough, Jared.”

“Again - why?” Connor interrupted.

“Because she says so, and it’s a kick-ass idea,” Jared said.

“Didn’t expect you to latch onto sentimentality, Kleinman,” Zoe muttered, startling a laugh out of him.

Alana pulled a binder free from the backpack she’d slung to the ground. “C’mon - what do you want to add?”

“Cheerios,” Jared said at once, earning a scowl out of Alana.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, Jared-”

“He’ll shut up,” Evan rushed to cut him off. “So not food items?”

“More sentimental, I think,” Connor said.

“Exactly.”

Under Alana’s direction, they did just that. After a successful thaw later in the week Zoe took a shovel from the garage and helped them dig and re-bury dirt in the Murphy’s backyard, marked by a small stake Connor painted with acrylics from their mom’s craft supply.

“Now we wait,” Alana said.

***

Somewhere along the line, things get… tense.

Zoe reads the self-help books and watches the videos her teachers play on VHS tapes during their “health” classes. They all describe the same thing, a switch flipping with no warning once elementary school draws to a close and sixth grade begins. Admittedly, she watches them a year later than everyone else, forever cursed to be a year behind. But she knows it’s coming all the same - fault lines crackling out through the earth and darting between their feet, setting them all adrift on different paths, thunder drowning out their words where there used to be laughter.

Nothing could have prepared her for the actual occurrence, though.

The treehouse really is their de facto hangout spot, given the Murphy’s lasé-faire attitude towards where their children were and the complete privacy it afforded. With their newly-acquired Jazz Band extracurricular, Zoe and Jared always arrive late, normally to the sight of Evan and Alana reading and Connor drawing or some other combination of their group’s preferred activities. But when they climb the ladder to the treehouse that day, the air is…stilted, like Zoe has grown to expect inside the house. That kind of expectant anger, like you know something is going to go wrong but aren’t sure what it is yet.

Evan sits, his eyes darting between Alana and Connor and over to Jared and Zoe as they walk in like he can sense a disaster brewing. Jared flounces over to Connor, sprawling, earning himself a glare.

“Can I help you, Kleinman?”

He nods to the sketchbook in Connor’s hands. “Might want to clean up those lines.”

It only gets worse from there - cutting barbs thrown this way and that, all ready to strike and hit. Nothing too bad, at least not until Connor says get the fuck out of my house and Jared says at least I have other people who will take me and Alana says honestly can’t you two even try to act mature and Zoe hears herself say at least we’re not miserable all the time before she realizes that’s - patently false. And one by one, they storm away, hopping down with practiced agility they no longer have reason to use.

And there Zoe sits. Shutting down, like she always does.

***

Connor felt like he was suffocating.

Everything was aggressively there-every word spoken grating his ears, every shadow a little too dark and every light a little too bright, every glance so heavy it weighed on his chest. He felt uneven and on edge, like one loud noise would send him spiraling off of a cliff and bursting into tears.

“Zoe,” he’d said, coming up behind her as she stood at the counter. Maybe if he’d looked he would have seen how her shoulders tensed as soon as she heard his voice. Maybe if he’d listened he would’ve heard how Zoe’s breath hitched and how she quickly ran a hand over her face. Maybe if he’d paid attention he would’ve noticed how her hands clenched around her mug and she steeled herself. Maybe the glint of pain and fear and loneliness nestled deep within her eyes before she put her shields up as she turned around would’ve stood out to him. But he couldn’t even handle analyzing himself, and there was no hope for understanding Zoe.

“What?” She said, and even in his funk he noticed how her words appeared differently than normal. Maybe, if he’d taken a moment to think, he would have identified the source-fatigue, cutting through each letter. There was none of the venom they’d grown used to hurling at each other and pretending it didn’t burn once it touched skin. She sounded tired.

He rubbed the edge of his sweatshirt sleeve with us thumb, trying to pull an excuse out of nowhere. In reality, he just needed something to anchor him to Earth, but he couldn’t say that to her. “Could you paint my nails?” He bit out, risking cutting his gaze up to her face. Her eyes had widened slightly since he last looked at her, eyebrows lifted silently with them. She pulled her bottom lip between her front teeth, and she looked down and away, foot tapping some unfamiliar rhythm against the tiled floor. Silence hung between them, dark and heavy, nearly drowning out the tap tap taptap tap of her foot. He looked back up towards her, not quite meeting her eyes, perhaps a bit more expectancy in his gaze than he would have liked.

She shook her head slightly, ring finger tapping against the side of her mug. “Why?” She said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

“Why am I asking…?”

“Yeah,” She said, same fatigue in her voice. “Why are you asking me? When this is the first time you’ve talked to me in…what, four months without being forced to?”

Connor shrugged a little, taken aback by this reaction. A soft, incredulous laugh built in Zoe’s throat.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, voice choked. “I don’t understand. You’ve broken down my door twice. I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. Why would you want me to…”

“I don’t know,” Connor said, voice uneven. Zoe shook her head again.

She stared evenly at him, and maybe if he’d been paying better attention he would have noticed the thin sheen of tears in her eyes as he raised his eyes to meet hers. “What color?”

“What?”

“Nail polish. If I painted your nails. What color would it be?”

Connor resumed rubbing his sleeve. “Black.”

She bit her lip again, the edges of her mouth curling into a bitter smile, words sounding just as bitter. “Damn. I’m out of black.”

The edge of Connor’s mouth twitched even as he felt something sink inside of him. “I see,” he said, a touch harder than the previous words had been.

Zoe shrugged, hand still wrapped around her mug, as she pushed her hip against the side of the counter to launch herself away from it. “That’s that, I guess.”

“I guess so,” Connor responded, voice hollow.

Maybe, if he’d looked up instead of locking his gaze on the floor, he’d have seen the tense hold of Zoe’s shoulders, the moment of faltering before she continued walking.

“I guess so,” she repeated faintly, all edges gone form her voice and tiredness abundant.

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, she was completely gone from the kitchen. He gazed around for a moment, letting the view of the kitchen wash around him.

Oh, how the mighty fall.

***

Zoe is desperately glad she and Connor are only Irish twins.

Distance - distance is what she needs more than ever. She’d hated it, that chasm between her and everyone else, but of course she couldn’t have known just how wide that chasm could get. Would get, with time and urging and their circle falling apart under the right amount of pressure.

The right amount of pressure, she thinks, poised to flee on her kitchen chair, leg bouncing and heart coiled, for Connor to come home. He does, of course, sullen and tired, but in front of her eyes all the same. It’s only been a year since they reached critical mass in the treehouse, but the shift in all of them came quickly and without mercy. Alana buries herself in more work than Zoe had ever thought possible, always hurrying away whenever Zoe tries to get a word in edgewise. Jared just darts his eyes around like a caged animal, calculations churning behind his eyes as though searching for his best way forward. Evan she still sees somewhat regularly, making sure that her parents still drive him home and letting him crash on their couch when Heidi works too late, but she’s seen him retreat into himself too often to think he’s okay. And Connor…

“What are you doing up?” he whispers, the sound traveling across their kitchen table.

“Waiting for you,” she responds in a similar hiss, snapping her laptop shut.

“You should’ve just gone to bed, Mom’s gonna be pissed if she sees the li-”

“When she sees her son walk through the door at-” she lifts her phone dramatically, searching for the little time symbol. “1:12 in the morning?”

“Well she won’t see it if you just go to sleep-”

“What are you even doing?” she says in a normal tone, though she recoils and presses a hand over her mouth when Connor’s eyes widen in warning. She and Connor freeze with their hands stifling their breathing, trying to hear any shifts from their parents upstairs with their identical eyes wide. After a beat of nothing but the house shifting in the wind, she lowers her hands, swiping up her laptop with the one closest to the table. “You don’t need to be out this late, Con.”

His eyes flash over to her, then back up to the ceiling. “You don’t need to stay up for me.”

“Oh, sure, I’ll just stop worrying, I’ll just go to bed and dream sweet dreams when you’re doing hell knows what-”

“I didn’t ask you to fucking worry about me!” He cuts out. “I don’t need your pity, Zoe!”

She balts, shakes her head, feels her braids sliding against the material of her jazz band sweatshirt. “Pity?” she repeats.

Connor holds his jaw, looking away.

“Pity,” she says, then laughs a single time, too loud, but she’s past the point of caring. “I don’t know where you got pity from in the last fourteen years, Connor, but none of it is coming from me, that’s for sure.” She brushed past him. “Fine. You don’t deserve my worry anyway. I’ll tell mom in the morning if you’re so insistent.”

Connor’s footsteps hurry after her, until his fingers wrap around her wrist. She jerks it away as soon as he makes contact, “Don’t. Please.”

“You want me to stop worrying?” she says lowly, dangerously. “Fine. Then I’ll make sure you can’t do anything that worries me. See how you fucking like that.”

It was like a switch flipped in Connor, like as soon as their group fell apart so did he, growing more liable to shut down and ramp up at once. But he just leaves her grasping at straws always, never able to say anything right.

Middle school bleeds into high school, the chasm and pressure growing between them, small disagreements exploding into screams and something valuable shattering. Doors they’d never closed before close with racorous clangs, and Zoe grows tired of sleeping outside of them and waiting for him to open them up.

You don’t need to worry about me, he’d said, and she can’t ever stop, really, but she can ignore him until the worry clawed at her a little less urgently.

Try as she might, she couldn’t just forget all those years, especially when she saw reminders of them all around school - flashes of Jared’s shirts, an edge of Alana’s backpack, a flicker of Evan’s eyes. She still goes to the treehouse, sometimes, but mostly she keeps to her room, her guitar, the things she knows.

Her phone buzzes one night, and when she sees Evan Hansen flash across her screen she picks it up without a moment’s thought.

“Hello?”

“Zoe?” Evan says, voice breathy in her ear.

There’s a beat. “Yeah,” she finally says. “You okay?”

“I’m - yeah, um, I’m fine, it’s all - uh, my mom is pulling a night shift.”

“Oh?” She says, barely a hum.

“Yeah. She - look, this is, um, really dumb, I know, but can I - can I stay at yours? Tonight? I know it’s been, um, less than ideal, I can just-”

“Yeah,” she says, again without thinking. She squeezes her eyes shut, forces enthusiasm into her voice. “Yeah. ‘Course, Ev. I’ll - you need me to pick you up?”

“What? Um - no, I’m - I’m at the park, actually, walking is…fine.”

Her eyebrows pull closer together. “It’s late.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Really.”

Ten minutes later, Evan is on their front porch. Cynthia greets him with a warm smile, and Zoe leans against the doorway of the guest room while he sets himself up.

“Are you okay, Evan?” She hears herself ask.

His head jerks up quickly, locking eyes with her. “I-I’m fine.”

Zoe shakes her head, letting out a but of air through her nose. “What’s up, then?”

His hands still over his backpack, and he looks just past her head to the hallway. “I couldn’t be alone in that house.”

She hesitates for a moment, nods, looks to the corner of the room. “I get it.”

“Do you?”

Her eyes snap back over to him. “What?”

“Do you - have you been alone, Zoe, through all of this?”

She snorts. “Good as.”

“But never actually-”

“Loneliness isn’t always distance,” she spits out. “But if it was you’d be all set, given how much you run away from all of us.”

Time slows to a crawl; Evan lets his hands fall to his sides, eyes wide and searching on hers.

“I’m,” she begins, the word getting stuck in her throat. She looks towards her feet. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, but before he can say anything she says “I’ll drive you in tomorrow” and is gone, set off down the hallway.

The next morning she gets to her car early, knowing, somehow, he’ll climb in with enough time to get there. And he does so wordlessly.

Somewhere, on the way to school, he murmurs, “I’m sorry for pulling away.”

She taps her index finger against the wheel, looking out towards the road rather than him. The scene is desolate, still early-morning and deserted with the yellowing pools of light from streetlights that have yet to switch off. “Yeah, me too.”

Every day, he swings by her house - a long walk, making his day longer, but he’s always been an early bird - to get a ride to school. Connor joins them occasionally, but mostly he arrives by his own means that Zoe isn’t too interested in learning. He talks to Jared, little by little, and she sees Connor and Alana in the library and Jared and Alana with their heads bowed together at lunch. She finds a picture of them in the treehouse and texts it to them as a group, and things feel a little closer to okay.

After high school, things start to calm down, like an inflamed cut that needs to be soothed. She and Connor stand in each other’s doorways until they have the courage to walk inside, and their newly-reinstated group chat keeps a steady flow of bad memes and musical theater jokes. It’s easier to breathe when she’s at school, easier to move and be. She’s used to being alone in a house full of people; being alone in a city of lonely people is close enough that the transition is almost nothing.

She misses everyone, though. Evan texts her pictures of the trees back home and around the community college, and Connor snaps Jared and Alana when they’re around. She’s the only one who left, this time around. Removed by physical distance rather than a measly year.

She gets home for winter break halfway through December, and an unusually warm one at that. Connor follows her up to her room, watching her unpack likely half in an attempt to give her some privacy from their parents.

“You seen Evan yet?” He asks at some point, once he’s grown bored of watching her fold clothes.

“No, not yet,” she replies with saccharine sweetness.

“You should,” he mocks in a similar tone of voice.

“I will.”

Their ridiculous miming comes to a halt when she withdraws a rattling bag from her backpack and throws it onto her bed. Connor dives forward, grabbing at it. “Is this-did you just throw nail polish?” He demands.

She looks him dead in the eye and does the same with her other bag.

“Dishonor on you,” he mutters, already unzipping it and rifliging through the colors with a clink each time. “Want me to do your nails? They’re looking…” he trails off, eyes dipping to her unpainted and bitten nails, worn down by her guitar strings.

“I could say the same to you,” she says. “Stones and glass houses, dear brother.”

“Point taken.”

They take the time to paint each other’s nails after dinner, sitting on their living room couch. Connor opts for a dark blue instead of his gala black, and chooses gold glitter for the upcoming holidays for Zoe.

“Please don’t get nail polish on the couch, Zoe,” her mother says as she passes by to go to the kitchen, and she and Connor lock eyes. He rolls his; she smiles tightly.

“You’d think she say it to me, given that I live here,” Connor whispers.

Her phone bzzs in her pocket, and instinctively she reaches for it, noting the way the golden glitter glints against the denim of her jeans.

Evan Hansen: gonna leave mom’s for a walk, you tied up?

She feels the corners of her lips twitch involuntarily. Yes, please. Ready in 10?

“I’m gonna take a walk,” she announces loudly enough her parents should be able to hear it from the next room. “It’s just Evan,” she adds in an undertone to Connor. “Want to come along?”

“Nope. Have fun, though, I guess.”

“So enthusiastic.”

Evan is waiting outside, bundled up in a scarf and parka. His eyes pinch at the edges like they always do when he’s tired; she surges forward and slides her arms around his neck, colliding with him softly so he lets out an oomph. She feels a kiss pressed to the top of her head a moment later.

“Hey,” she says, muffled into his coat. “You’re overdressed.”

“You’re underdressed.”

“Fleece is never wrong.”

“…I suppose you’re right?” And then, with some trepidation, “oh no. Not again.”

“I’m always right,” she says lightly, throwing him a smile so he knows it’s a joke. She reaches for his hand, tugging him forward lightly. “Heidi‘s doing well?”

“Well as always, yeah. Your family?”

“All…fine,” she says. “Just, y’know…stressed.”

“Mhm,” Evan hums, and she can tell he’s trying to say something, so she just squeezes his hand lightly and falls silent.

“Dad wanted me to go h–to Colorado,” Evan blurts. “For Christmas.”

She pauses a little at that, tugging his hand closer. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He swallows gently, watching the sky with a ferocity she can barely remember him having. She sees the stars shine in his deep brown eyes, though they seem a little too starry to be reflection alone. He blinks rapidly. “Mom encouraged me,” he adds, “but I–Zoe, I couldn’t.”

“I don’t blame you,” she says, letting out a jet of breath. “I wouldn’t be able to either.” She lets her eyes drift upward and pulls him a little bit closer to her, wrapping her free hand around his arm. “Can’t,” she amends, all breath.

“He still doesn’t care,” Evan says, almost to himself. “He knows what I fucking celebrate, and he still doesn’t–care.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a dick,” Zoe says before immediately wishing she could take it back. That kind of bluntness helps her and Connor, but never Evan.

But Evan surprises her all the same. “You’re not wrong.”

A laugh bursts from her chest, and after a moment Evan joins her, albeit hesitantly. “Like I said,” she repeats, “never am.”

Evan’s ghand remains chilly in hers, despite his best attempts to keep warm with his jacket; she brings his hand over to hold it in both of hers, wincing a little as his cold fingers meet hers.

“How are you so cold all the time?” she murmurs, massaging over his knuckles with one hand.

“How is it for you?” He asks suddenly, his brain taking him in a whole new direction. Zoe isn’t phased by the topic change.

“It’s…like it always is,” she admits, her voice low. She pulls Evan’s hands closer to her heart, trying to convince herself it’s just to warm him up. “Better with Con, I guess. But it’s still…” she swallows roughly. “I feel like I can’t…breathe, sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Evan says quietly. “It can be hard.” He frees his hand, only to wrap it around her shoulders. She steals his other hand as soon as they get situated in a good walking pace.

Almost nothing about Evan is calm, but he’s calming all the same. He’s all Zoe can think of as they turn in front of Ellison State Park.

Evan stills, and Zoe keeps walking forward for a moment, accidentally tugging at their conjoined hands. She looks back at him immediately, tone filling with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Is that…” he mutters, before surging forward and pulling her rather than the other way around. “Alana! Jared!” He calls, uncharacteristically loud. And sure enough, in the distance, she can see Alana and Jared leaned over something just inside the bronzed gates of Ellison Park.

“Evan!” Jared calls, only to immediately get shushed by an old couple taking a walk around the park.

They hurry across the street, waving wildly to the single car that seems perplexed by their crossing, and Alana passes something to Jared before pulling them both into a too-tight hug that reminds Zoe of her mother.

When they pull away, she ruffles Zoe’s hair like she’s a little kid again. “There’s our city girl.”

“You should’ve joined me!” Zoe protests, already moving over to Jared to hug him.

Jared looks like he might shy away for a second, but he relents only a second later, a hug almost as tight as Alana’s. Zoe’s pulled away by a pressure at her leg, something soft poking through the tears and a panting noise. When she looks down, the downy face of a dog stares back up at her, tail wagging and tongue hanging out. Without thinking, she drops to the ground, offering him a hand as she balances on one knee. He nearly knocks her over a moment later when he bounds forward to lick her cheek and request pets. She looks back up at the obvious joy on Alana’s face.

“You adopted a dog??” She asks, remembering the powerpoint Alana made in middle school trying to convince her parents.

“Yes! We just got him this weekend and he’s already the best boy.”

The golden glint of a collar tag catches her eye. “Archibald? Well, aren’t you just a joy, Archie!”

“He doesn’t like Archie” Alana says a bit curtly, mid-coaxing the dog back towards her. She flips a few braids that had escaped her ponytail over her shoulder just in time for the dog to make a grab for them. She grins down at him before looking back up towards Zoe. “Is Connor around? I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Yeah,” Zoe says. “Here, I can…” She pulls out her phone to tell Connor to join them, making a silly face when the dog makes a u-turn to lick her cheek.

Connor Murphy: are you and hansen bein gross

Zoe: alana and jared are here dork

Connor: with archibald?

Zoe: how. how did you know this

Connor: lana and i have a snap streak of 150k. keep up

Zoe: side note do you know why she named her dog after an elderly british man

Zoe: and won’t let me call him archie

Connor: says archie’s a dumb name and she “thinks its refined”

Zoe: lmao k

“Connor should be by soon,” she relays, smiling back down at the dog. He takes a particular liking to her; she can’t quite get used to it. “You’re a good baby, aren’t you?”

Something occurs to her all of the sudden, and she pulls her phone back out.

Zoe: WAIT are you still by the house

Connor: just leaving why

Zoe: …yknow that old time capsule?

Connor: are you going to ask me to dig it up in mid december while you’re hanging out with our old friends so i can bring it to the park

Zoe: yes

Connor: you were put on this earth to test me

Connor: be there in 15

“He’s bringing something,” she adds, and ignores their curious looks in favor of the dog.

When Connor’s shape finally appears, it’s carrying a bag rather than a box. “It was shot,” he explains in an undertone once he gets close enough for Zoe to hear. He reaches out a hand and lands a spare pat to Archibald’s head. “Had to improvise.”

“Hey, Connor!” Alana says, almost too cheery. Connor raises a hand, plopping the bag in the middle of their circle but out of Archibald’s reach.

“We don’t want your weird sex stuff, Connor,” Jared says, and Zoe shoots him a glare.

“It’s the time capsule, actually, but thanks for the input,” Connor says before Zoe can speak.

A beat passes, no noise but Archibald’s panting.

“Oh,” Alana says after a moment. “Your parents let you keep that?”

“They didn’t know,” Zoe and Connor deadpan at the same time. Jared stifles something that sounds like a cough but is probably closer to a laugh.

Zoe looks at Evan and reaches out to lace their fingers together again. He looks around the group, studying each person’s face. “Should we…”

Jared reaches forward and overturns the bag.

Glitter is the first thing Zoe sees; she hears Evan hiss “shit” as it explodes everywhere over the grass. It’s green, which makes that portion of grass look unnaturally healthy and shiny. Jared looks up; some had reached his glasses lenses, as he was the one to set the glitter loose.

“Alright,” he says. “Who put the glitter in?”

Alana grimaces and holds Archibald back from the pile of glitter. “I’m pretty sure that was you, Jared.”

“…Oh.”

Zoe leans forward, picking through the cacophony of items and silently handing them out. A few purple, pink, and blue friendship bracelets find their way throughout the group, and Connor even puts one on to a joke from Zoe about stealing the bi colors. Jared reclaims a few of the Connor has to make a quick grab for a few sheets of paper in the wind that turn out to be filled with his sketches. Zoe picks up a purple ukulele pick, feeling it slide between her calloused fingertips. She hands Evan an outdated pamphlet from Ellison State Park about their rangers program to Jared’s exclamation of “That’s what you put in??” and throws a few ballet ribbons and a small journal in Alana’s direction.

Jared’s makes her pause, and he takes advantage of the lull to surge forward and snatch the object from her hands. The silicone abides easily. “So that’s where I put my iPod!”

“Why did we let you do this?” Zoe says. “Why did your parents?”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Jared admits, examining it for quality. He looks up and around their assembled group. “I forgot about it immediately after burying it.”

Alana laughs first, and then she sets everyone else off, a group of college-age kids giggling over a pile of glitter and their childhood treasures in the park where everything began. Evan falls into Zoe’s side, unable to curb his laughter; she buries her own in the top of his head, his curls tickling her cheeks and making her laughs worse. And as they get dirty looks from everyone around them, the night only feels like another beginning.

#sincerely us #deh #dear evan hansen #bandtrees #evan hansen #zoe murphy #alana beck #connor murphy #jared kleinman #mine #deh fanfic

30 notes · View notes

flutistbyday-1 · 4 years ago

Text

Simple Man Part I

This is a Supernatural AU, featuring an OFC (reader). The reader meets Dean in high school, and they face challenges together. They’re separated and reunite after the reader hears Dean sing a song that they wrote together.

Based on the song, “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd, but inspired by Jensen Ackles’ version, WHICH I HIGHLY RECOMMEND LISTENING TO before reading this! If you’re a sucker like me, it’ll make you cry.

TW: angst, cussing, mentions of sex (this is probably one of THE tamest things I’ve ever written!!) May make you cry if you’re a weenie like me.

Tags at the bottom. Want to be added to my tag list? Go here.

Characters: Dean x OFC (reader), Sammy Winchester John Winchester(mentioned), Mary Winchester

Part II soon!

Word Count: 3,113

Credit for the image here.

PART I

Dean Winchester remembers his fourth birthday like it was only yesterday. On said birthday, Mary Winchester, belly swollen with Dean’s little brother, patted the couch beside her.

“Come here, baby,” she had said.

Dean can still remember how pretty his momma looked with a baby in her tummy. He padded over to here, and less-than-gracefully clambered onto the couch. Mary pulled him into her lap, cradling him close. Dean was careful not to hurt his momma.

“I want to talk to you before your little brother is born, Dean. I want you to know that your daddy and I will always love you and that nothing will ever change that, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Okay, momma.”

Mary smiled down at her son. “Pay attention, Dean. This is important.” When she knew she had Dean’s attention, she continued. “I want you to promise me when you’re older, you’ll find someone to love as much as I love your daddy.”

Dean looked up at his mom, hanging on to every word.

“You’ll have troubles, but they won’t last, okay? There’s more to life than money, Dean. Remember to pray. Remember to never take anything for granted, and never be greedy for money. Be a simple man, Dean, and you’ll never want.”

Dean Winchester would never forget the speech his mom gave him.

Dean was three months shy of five when his mother died in a fire. She sacrificed herself to save his little brother, Sammy.

“Take your brother and run Dean!” she yelled at her eldest son, and that’s what he did. He didn’t stop until he was three houses down.

Mary Winchester was dead before the firefighters arrived.

Dean crawled into the crib that a local church had provided for Sammy that night. He bit John when he tried to remove Dean.

“I gotta protect him, Daddy!” Dean screamed at his father. John never tried to pull Dean from Sammy’s crib after that.

John remembers Sammy’s first word—he was nine months old, playing with his older brother. The word spilled out of Sammy’s chubby-cheeked smile quickly, almost like he’d said it a hundred times. Sammy reached over and tugged on his brother’s shirt.

“Bean,” Sammy said.

Sure, it hurt John to not be Sammy’s first word, but the love in Dean’s eyes as he scooped up his brother made John smile.

Dean Winchester cried on his first day of school—not because he was scared, but because he didn’t want to be separated from Sammy. He had just learned to walk, and Dean always watched Sammy like a hawk, picking him up and encouraging him to try again when he fell.

Sammy loved following his big brother everywhere and didn’t understand why he couldn’t stay with Dean. “Bean?” he’d ask his brother.

“I don’t want to go, Daddy,” Dean protested, alligator tears streaming down his face. John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know, Dean. But you have to go to school.” John’s voice was reserved. He’d had this fight every day since he told Dean about kindergarten.

Dean held Sammy closer to his chest, turning so his back was to his father, acting more like a twenty-five-year-old than a five-year-old. “Who will watch him while I’m at school?”

“I will, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes, once again acting twenty years older than he was.

John had no interest in being a father. A cool uncle, maybe.

Dean was the primary caretaker of Sammy—fed him, changed him, bathed him.

John provided housing, clothing, and food.

Dean’s teacher came over and knelt to his eye level.

“It’s okay to be scared, Dean,” she said. “Your brother will be fine without you. You’ll be home before you know it.” Her smile was warm and Dean almost felt better. He handed Sammy over to his father and took Miss. Lenhard’s hand. She guided Dean to his seat, but the boy didn’t take his eyes off his father and brother until they were out of sight.

After Dean started school, something changed in John, and his depression began eating him alive. He could barely be bothered to make sure there was enough food on the table, let alone wake up in time to take Dean to school. John didn’t know or care that Dean’s shoes had holes in them, or that Dean’s jacket was tight around the shoulders, or that the onesies were getting too small on Sammy.

John only cared about numbing the pain in his heart with liquor.

So Dean took it upon himself to be a father. He learned how to pickpocket at six—he never once got caught—and used the money to buy shoes, food, and clothes.

His dad taught him how to play and hustle billiards when he was seven. Dean was a natural. It was one of the last times Dean saw a glimpse of the father he remembered.

He’d used the money he won hustling for food, clothes, and even helped his dad pay some bills. Dean never told his father how he and Sammy always managed to have new clothes, but John didn’t care.

When Dean was nine, he held Sammy’s hand until his little brother pulled away from him to meet his classmates. For the first time in four years, he felt at ease. Two meals a day and he didn’t have to worry about his dad neglecting Sammy.

One day, John dropped them off and Dean heard a teacher say, “Good Lord, look how filthy those boys are!” The first thing Dean felt wasn’t anger at his dad for letting them leave the house like that, but fear that he’d be taken from his dad, and therefore, Sammy.

So, Dean got himself and Sammy ready every day— he took his dad’s alarm clock to his room and set it for 6:50 AM— dressed, then got Sammy ready, fed them both breakfast, and woke his dad up to drive them to school. He did this five days a week until Sammy could wake up himself, but he still made breakfast and made sure they were presentable for school so that they wouldn’t be taken away from John and separated.

Dean took shears to Sammy’s hair in an attempt to tame it and he did okay. Dean got better at it over the years, and once Sammy was old enough to cut Dean’s hair, he got good at it, too.

When Dean Winchester was 15, he got his first job and could put food on the table—legally, at least. He got hired on as a mechanic at a local shop. The only time John had paid him any attention as a child was when they worked on the Impala, so Dean was good with cars.

He had been taking care of Sammy for 11 years and thought he was doing amazing, thank you. He was happy. He didn’t take anything for granted like his mom had made him promise.

So when Y/N walked into his life at 16, he was unprepared for how much he had to learn.

******

It was your first day at Lawrence High, and you were nervous. You had transferred from a small town called Arlington, Kansas. Your class had been all of 20 people whom you’d grown up with your entire life, and you didn’t know how to feel about being dropped into a school full of strangers. You were 16, in your second semester of junior year, a band geek, and totally lost.

You groaned, looking over your schedule—homeroom was in five minutes and you had no idea where to go. You turned, desperately searching for clues as to where to go when a wall of a boy ran into you.

You went down in a tangle of limbs and backpacks.

“Oops, I’m sorry—”

“My bad—”

Both of you tripped over your words as he picked himself off the ground. You rolled over to your backside and sat up.

“It’s okay,” you said, shaking your head and smiling. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

He offered you his hand, and you took it gratefully.

“Thanks.”

You looked up at him—he had to be almost six foot. He was well built for his age, and even though he was on the skinnier side, you could still see his muscles. His eyes were bright green, and freckles danced on his face. His smile was killer, too.

“So, where ya headed?” He asked as he situated his backpack on his shoulder.

You shook your head. “I don’t really know. It’s my first day and I’m lost.”

The boy chuckled. It wasn’t a mean sound, more like amused. “Who’s your homeroom teacher?”

You shoved your schedule into his hands and he examined it. His face lit up, and you couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. “Mrs. Lanning. Me, too. Let’s go!”

He tugged on your hand and took off running. You laughed as you tried to keep up with him—he was almost a full foot taller than you. You kept up, though. You were both out of breath by the time you reached room 207.

The two of you darted into the classroom just before the bell rang.

“Just in time,” he grinned.

You shook your head but returned the grin.

He made a point of sitting near the back and placing his backpack on the empty seat next to him while you approached the teacher to introduce yourself.

Mrs. Lanning smiled brightly as she signed a piece of paper indicating you showed up for class. “It’s great to have you, dear.”

You returned the smile. “Thanks.”

You awkwardly made your way to the back of the classroom and sat at the desk with the boy’s backpack.

“I’m Dean, by the way.”

You didn’t hear him right and you knew it. “Bean?” you asked with a teasing smile.

You could see the wheels turn in his head. He was sad for half a second, but the mood was fleeting. He shook his head and returned his own cheeky smile.

“Dean,” he repeated, emphasizing the D. “Dean Winchester.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Mrs. Lanning shushed the class and you tried to pay attention, but you felt two green eyes boring into you for the entire period, making it hard to concentrate.

When the bell finally rang, you looked at your schedule again. Math was next, room 412. You groaned.

You stood and gathered your things, noticing that a certain someone was waiting for you. He looked relaxed and at ease with his body, things you were definitely not.

“Where’s your next class?”

“Math with Mr. Alan.”

Dean smiled again. “Me, too.”

You laughed, calling after him as you left the classroom, “Come on, Bean.”

You and Dean got along great. You had three out of seven classes a day together—four out of eight on days with homeroom—and he lived just down the block from you, so he offered to drive you to and from school every day.

Dean teased you relentlessly about being a band geek, but when you started dishing it back about him being a jock—a football player—he dialed it back just a little. Sammy took to you immediately—you bonded over nerdy things like math and history, making Dean roll his eyes. Sam listened to you and soon gave you just as much affection as his brother. You quickly became the mother figure he had to grow up without.

You helped Sam—and Dean—with their homework, helped Dean come up with age-appropriate punishments for Sam when he misbehaved (he was only twelve, regardless of how mature he acted), and taught Dean how to cook something besides meals that came in a box. You even taught Sam and Dean how to cut their hair in a more age-appropriate style.

You didn’t think twice about taking Sam and Dean in—you loved and trusted them both with your life after just one afternoon. It was second nature for you to want to care for them, and boy, did they need you.

Dean Winchester had known you all of three weeks before he knew he loved you.

Dean was careful not to take you home. He didn’t want John seeing you, talking to you… Or scaring you away. He didn’t want you to see the dark, dirty secrets of his life. He worked really hard to make sure that nobody saw what happened behind closed doors. And he wasn’t about to let you see.

Your mom was a nurse who works nights, so you and Dean were in the same boat. Your mom wasn’t absent, though, just busy.

Dean and Sammy spent a lot of time at your house when Dean wasn’t at work. They came over after school and did homework, you would make dinner for them and your mother, and you and Dean would sit down at the piano after dinner was put away and homework was finished. You would play, Dean would try to play, but the two of you sang together.

While you could play the piano, Dean could play the guitar. He loved singing with you—your voices complemented each other. Sammy would always stop whatever he was doing to listen to you sing.

One day, Dean came over with a notebook full of empty sheet music and asked for a pencil.

“Sit at the piano, would ya?” he asked, not even paying attention to you.

“Would it kill you to use manners?” you joked as you sat at the piano bench.

Dean looked up at you and gave you a cheeky smile. “Please?”

You rolled your eyes but turned to the keys. “What am I doing?”

“We are writing a song.”

“Oh, really, now?”

Dean nodded. “You have a better ear than I do, so I’ll sing a note and you’ll match it.”

“And what’s the name of this song?”

A blush crept over Dean’s face.

“I don’t have a name yet, just a few words.”

“Okay. What are they? Start singing, Winchester,” you mock ordered.

He sat down next to you, notebook in hand.

He began strumming his guitar, and the chords pulled on your heartstrings. The words were achingly beautiful, too. He began to sing, a beautiful tenor, almost bass voice coming from the boy who was on the cusp of being a man. You could tell he was trying to keep his emotions in check as he sang, his voice wavering occasionally. He got through two verses before he had to stop.

“Oh, take your time, don't live too fast

Troubles will come and they will pass

You'll find a woman, yeah, and you'll find love

And don't forget son, there is someone up above"

“And be a simple kind of man

“Be someone you love and understand

“Baby, be a simple kind of man

“Won’t you do this for me, if you can”

The words tore at your soul. You didn’t have to pry to know that song was about his late mother.

You easily matched the pitches and rhythms of his tune and helped him write it down. By the end of the day, you only had one verse done, but you could tell Dean had poured his heart into this song. That was the day things changed for you.

Dean, sitting there, writing a song about his mother, was the tipping point in your relationship with him. It was that day you knew you loved Dean Winchester and would never love another man as much as him.

Eventually, Dean started spending less time with you. You felt hurt and upset, wondering what you did for him to pull back. When you confronted him, you were not prepared for his response.

“I’ll tell you after school,” he said. He looked up at you and his green eyes were dark with grief. You pulled him into a hug and waited for him to hug you back. He squeezed you eventually and you let go.

That day after school, you were anxiously waiting with Sammy in ‘your spot’ that you and Dean had claimed. When Sammy spotted Dean, he ran over and hugged him. It was odd for a 12-year-old to show so much affection, especially to another male, but you just figured that they were really close.

You offered your hand to Dean platonically. You found comfort in his warmth, and he found comfort in your friendship. The three of you started walking towards Dean’s car.

“It’s not gonna be easy for me to tell you this,” he said quietly. “I’m only telling you because I trust you. And if you tell anyone, I swear—”

“I won’t tell anyone,” you promised quietly.

Dean nodded as he looked at Sammy.

“My dad, uh… well, when Sammy was a baby, my mom died. My dad tried really hard to keep himself together… And he did. For a little while.”

Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

You didn’t say anything.

“But when I started kindergarten, something changed. I mean, I guess I always took care of Sammy. I changed his diapers and fed him when Dad was at work, but when Dad came home he would help. When I started kindergarten, he stopped caring. I had to learn how to fend for myself. And Sammy.“

Your heart broke. You looked over at Dean, tears threatening to spill. Dean glanced at you briefly and you could see that he had tears of his own. You reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“I did OK. I really did. But Dad‘s been acting really weird lately and… He’s not working as much as he used to. I got a job a few months ago and it helps, but my dad takes my paycheck and buys liquor instead of food. I got into a fight with him a few days ago about it and he left. Haven’t seen him since.”

You gasped.

“How long?” You asked quietly.

“Three days,” Sam answered vehemently.

You turned and looked at Sammy. No tears in his eyes, just hate. You looked at Dean again, and his face had hardened.

“Oh, Bean,” you whispered.

“Is it wrong that a part of me wishes he would leave us alone for good?”

You didn’t have an answer. The rest of the car ride was silent. He had just delivered such an emotional blow and you were reeling. Your head hurt a little. When Dean pulled up to your house, you looked over at him, then at Sammy.

“If you need anything,” you started. Dean just nodded. You made eye contact with Sammy and he just gave you a tight smile.

Your heart was heavy when you fell asleep that night.

PERMA//FOREVER

@kingliam2019

@glaimtruelovealways

@drakewalker04

@kimmiedoo5

@imthequeenofcordonia

@texaskitten30

@dcbbw

@cordonia-gothqueen

@custaroonie

@shz256

@hopefulmoonobject

@sanchita012

@bebepac

@ac27dj

@we-lazystudent

@losingbraincellseveryday

@mom2000aggie

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural dean x reader #spn dean winchester #spn dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #spn au #supernatural au #flutistbyday

9 notes · View notes

suchdan-veryphil · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Be In Touch- A Dad!Ben Solo Imagine

Request:

Anonymous said: hi idk if ur taking requests atm but i absolutely loved ur dad ben solo fic i always re read it. Could u do another dad!ben solo where he’s like a single dad and the reader is his child’s teacher and he gets all flustered at a parent teacher conference cos he’s like woah?? thank uu

Word Count: 1,976

Trigger Warnings: I don’t even think there’s swearing here. Pure floof.

A/N: I LOVE DAD!BEN SOLO !!!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST! Also I’m trying my best to make some of these more gender-inclusive. If there is anything that I can do better, please let me know!

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

Ben’s POV:

If it were up to me, I’d get a long note in the mail about how Maya is doing in class. But, here I was waiting on the world’s smallest chair to meet with her teacher. I looked around and down the hallway, the walls covered with drawings and pieces of art by the children. Curious, I stood up and walked across the hall to look at the hand turkeys on the wall.

I looked closer at all of them, looking for Maya’s name on one. When my eyes landed on it, I knew it was hers. The black scribbles covered the page and she decorated it in blue and purple stars. My lips curled into a smile as I compared it to the other kids’ pieces that were splashed in neat bright colors. I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped me.

Definitely my kid.

I was brought back to where my feet were by the sound of a couple being escorted out by Maya’s teacher.

“Thank you, guys! I’ll see you at the family game night!” their voice was soft and gentle, but also full of excitement, catching my attention. I turned to face them, knowing my time-slot was next.

I looked down expecting to see a 72-year-old grandmother hunched over a cane, wearing some reading glasses. I was pleasantly surprised as my eyes were met with a young adult, shorter than me, with a smile that blinded me. I felt a pull at my chest that I hadn’t felt since I met Maya’s mother 8 years ago. I stayed quiet as I walked closer, unsure of what I would even say. I forced a smile that I’m sure came out as more of a grimace, and I instantly regretted it. Rarely did I leave my house except to go to work and go shopping with my spunky 5-year-old so human interaction was not my specialty.

“Mr. Solo? Maya’s dad, right? Come on in!” They turned to walk into the classroom and sit behind their desk. I looked around at the walls and tiny tables, all decorated in bright colors, broken crayons, and welcoming feelings.

“Take a seat! Make yourself comfortable,”

I sat in the only other adult-sized chair in the room across from the person who hung out with my kid 5 days a week.

“Mr. Solo-”

“Ben, you can call me Ben,” I cleared my throat as I crossed my ankle over my knee and made my best effort to make eye contact with them. They smiled at me and nodded.

“Ben, thank you. You can call me Y/N, then. Thank you for being on time, a lot of parents are rolling in here five or ten minutes late,” they smiled at me and pulled a folder off of the top of a pile.

“Oh, yea- well I usually try to be a few minutes early to everything to avoid … being la- being late...” I mentally slapped myself as I cleared my throat.

Idiot... Just focus on Maya.

I watched as they smiled and nodded at my comment. “That’s a sturdy plan, Ben. So, I guess I’ll start with Maya’s strengths in the classroom and then we can move into some challenges and any questions that I have or that you have, okay?”

I nodded and leaned in as they opened the folder and took out a few worksheets. “So, in kindergarten reading levels is really what we focus on and Maya is a very strong reader. I can see her moving into the first grade level before the year is over!” They took out two pieces of paper from the folder and placed them in front of me.

“She loves reading non-fiction, and she will memorize a book before she puts it down,” Y/N said as they chuckled a little. I smiled and nodded, knowing exactly what they meant.

“Yea, well, I blame myself for that. I did the same thing when I was little. I still do it sometimes, it’s weird. But, there are lots of useless facts up here, thanks to that weird …. thing …” I stopped myself and laughed a little as I read over Maya’s reading scores. I couldn’t prevent the smile of pride that spread across my face as I read the comments on her persistence and positivity.

“Well, I personally don’t believe in useless facts, Mr. So-Ben,”

I looked up and smiled at them before I put the paper back on the desk.

“Her math is a little bit more of a challenge for her, I’ve noticed. She wants to know, and she wants to learn but I find that when she doesn’t understand after a few tries, she gets frustrated and needs to take a break, which is completely encouraged except she doesn’t want to return to the task at hand.”

I nodded my head and shifted in my seat a little bit.

Stop fidgeting, they’re gonna think you’re weird.

Focusing back on Y/N, I looked at the papers they were showing me. They continued to go into detail about how Maya is a great student and that she just needs help with being persistent. Although, I would be a hypocrite if I said that I didn’t also have a short fuse at times. I was fully aware of how similar my daughter and I were, from our temper to our preferred activities but I was proud of myself and of her.

“How is she doing socially?” I asked and sat back.

“She is thriving socially, Ben. Your daughter is the cutest little munchkin in the mornings. She stands right where you’re sitting and she’ll greet every single one of her classmates by name. She’s quite the charmer.”

“Really? That’s too funny. She talks about her two best friends, Jordan and Tia. She told me how she likes to sit with Tia on her right and Jordan on her left because the two of them like to talk to each other and she doesn’t want to be distracted, so she separates them,” I chuckled at the thought of my 5 year old plopping herself between two other tiny humans to prevent them from distracting her from the coursework.

“Oh Tia and Jordan. The three of them are something else. I had to separate those two one time and Maya has taken it upon herself to be the peacekeeper ever since. It’s very sweet. It seems like you’ve got quite the leader on your hands,” Y/N smiled as the words flowed.

It was refreshing to talk to someone who wasn’t my mom about Maya. I truly had a lot of pride in the way I’ve been raising her despite my struggles. To hear that she was doing well and was a pleasure to have in class took a weight, that I wasn’t even aware I was carrying, off of my shoulders.

“That’s Maya...” I trailed off and bit my lip as I thought about it.

“Did you have any questions for me, Ben?” They asked as they began to pile the papers back into the folder.

“Um...” suddenly every question that I had for Y/N was gone. I sighed and shook my head. ‘They’ve all left me,”

They chuckled and nodded their head. “That’s okay. Do you want to take down my cell number? Some parents use it for really urgent questions or updates on their kiddos during a hard day,”

For some reason, I could feel myself get giddy over the fact that they were offering me their personal number.

Don’t freak out, they just said that other parents have it, too. Get it together, Ben.

“Sure, that would be very helpful. You don’t mind if I text you if I remember those questions?”

“Not at all, that’s what I’m here for,”

It took me a second, but I finally went fumbling for my phone to take the number down. I handed it over so that they could just plug it in and I could save it. When I got it back, I noticed that they had texted themselves a quick message saying, “Ben Solo’s number”. I slid the phone back into my pocket, trying to hold back the smile that was beginning to pull at my face.

“Perfect, so uh... did you have any questions for me?” I asked, unsure of what to say now.

“I don’t at the moment but if I think of anything, I’ll shoot you a text,” They seemed so confident when they spoke, which was not helping my growing-by-the-second crush on them.

“Perfect, so then I’ll be in touch. Thank you, Y/N,”

“Of course, any time Ben.” With that, they handed me the folder with Maya’s work in it and smiled as they stood with me to escort me out.

“Talk to you soon,” I mentally slapped myself again. I really couldn’t just shut up for an entire thirty seconds.

“I sure hope so. Have a good night and tell Maya I said hi,” they stopped at the doorway and bit their lip gently as I turned to face them. I wasn’t sure if I was being flirted with so I just smiled and waved.

The entire ride home, all I could think about was how absolutely ridiculous I must have sounded during that entire twenty minute meeting. I also questioned whether or not we were flirting or if they were just the nicest person on the planet.

I parked in the driveway and as I turned off the engine, I could see Maya run out to the front yard.

“Daddy! You’re home!”

I smiled wide and climbed out of the vehicle to meet her. She continued to run towards me and I picked her up as soon as she got close enough.

“I miss’t you daddy,” she said as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“I missed you, too, ewok,” I squeezed her a little to let her know that I meant it before looking over to see my mom standing with her hands on her hips.

“She is exactly like you were as a child, stubborn and charming.”

I smiled and nodded my head as I walked towards her, Maya still snugly hanging onto my body.

“I know, but where do you think that I got it from?”

“Your father,” Mom didn’t miss a beat, and I didn’t argue with her. “How was your meeting?”

I suddenly felt awkward again as I recalled my interaction with Y/N. “Fine.”

“How’s our little one doing in school?”

“Nana I am doin’ amazing, I read and I write,”

“And she needs help in math, isn’t that right kid?” I looked at her with a small smile before I kissed her cheek and started walking into the home.

“Well that’s good. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” My mom held the door for me and Maya before making her way to the kitchen. “I was just finishing up dinner,”

I sat on the couch with my little rebel and rubbed her back as she sat contently with me. My phone chirped in my pocket and I reached in to grab it before it went off a second time. Confused, I took a hard stare at it.

Y/N: I have a question. -5:23PM

Y/N: Are you free next weekend? -5:23PM

I didn’t even realize what my face was doing until Maya poked my cheek. “Daddy, you’re happy! Who is that?”

I locked my screen and put my phone down calmly before I shook my head. “A friend, sweetie, that’s all.”

“Do they want to eat dinner with us?”

I laughed a little and shrugged. “I don’t think Nana made enough for that many people, maybe another time.” I chuckled and rested my cheek on top of her head, just thinking about Y/N and asking myself how in the galaxy did they not find me absolutely weird.

But, I wasn’t complaining.

#ben solo #ben solo imagine #kylo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren imagines #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fluff #ben solo x reader #ben solo one shot #ben solo deserved better #star wars imagine #star wars #Star Wars Fic #kylo ren one shot #ben solo fluff #dad!ben solo #dad!kylo ren

114 notes · View notes

queendice98 · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter One: Misfits meet Mutants

Sixth grade, one of the most awkward and biggest turning points in any youth's life. Everyone is going through puberty, long-time friends are beginning to fight each other over petty things, and anyone that has problems at home feels even more helpless and lost. The last part couldn't be more true for childhood friends Maggie, Maddie, and Ash. It's hard enough that they're undergoing puberty, but on top of that their home lives are less than ideal for moody preteens.

Maggie has a decent relationship with her father; her mother, on the other hand, is another story. Her mother is not the nurturing type. Some would say that perhaps her mental health was to blame but that is certainly no excuse for the way she treats her daughter. It doesn't help Maggie's mood that her parents are always fighting, leaving the poor girl feeling alone and unstable.

Maggie sluggishly gets ready for her first day of 6th grade, not that she's really looking forward to it, she just wants to escape the shitfest she calls a house. The brunette brushes her hair and teeth before changing into a baggy black hoodie, jeans, and an old pair of tennis shoes. She swings her large backpack on and grabs whatever looks edible from the fridge before leaving her house and walking to the bus stop nearby.

Maddie had to wake up much earlier than her friends so that she had enough time to feed her two younger siblings and send them off to the bus stop. Being the responsible older sister she is, she always took care of her siblings. Her mother often chose sleeping over care of her younger children, leaving her eldest to do all the work. The young girl sighs, grabbing a Mountain Dew and a packet of Pop-Tarts before going to the bus stop. She texts Ash to see if her friend is awake yet.

The girls have known each other since kindergarten, they had gone through so much in elementary school and every experience made their bond much stronger. Maddie is happy to have a friend like her, she has no idea how she would have survived without Ash. Lord knows they'll need each other as they go through the very early stages of puberty. She climbs onto the school bus, texting Ash after sitting down.

Ash texts Maddie that she's awake and getting ready for school, trying desperately to drown out her fighting parents. The kind girl is used to hearing them fight every morning before they go to work. It's gotten to the point that she no longer needs an alarm to wake up. She stays in her room until they finally leave for work giving her a chance to grab something for breakfast. Quickly settling on a day-old seven-layer burrito from Taco Bell, she heads out the door, happy that summer is over and she's back in school.

Ash has been in a bad home for as long as she can remember, her situation only worsening when her mom met Gavin and later married him. When he came into her life, she stupidly fooled herself into thinking he was different from all her mother's other relationships. Now he's proven himself to be nothing more than an overweight, alcoholic, smoker that spends most of his time drinking and belittling her. What Ash wouldn't give to get rid of that asshole once and for all, then maybe she'll have her mom back.

All three girls have no idea that they're in for a surprise when they get to school. Maddie and Ash meet up in the cafeteria, easily spotting Maggie by her lonesome. "Hey stranger." Ash says as she and Maddie sit with the young Wiccan.

Maggie smiles at the two girls, remembering them from fifth grade and how kind they were to her. "How you girls doin'?" Maggie asks as she drinks some chocolate milk.

"Eh, kinda glad to be at school. Least I'm out of that damn house." Maddie shrugs while sipping on her Mountain Dew.

"I was at camp over the summer. It was definitely better than being at home all day." Ash adds, eating an apple.

"Sounds like y'all had fun. I was stuck at home all summer." Maggie scrolls threw her phone, absentmindedly looking at some memes.

Ash glances up, noticing her new neighbor in line to get breakfast. "Oh God, of course that idiot would be here." Ash groans, praying that she doesn't have any classes with him.

Meanwhile, the Hamato boys are in the car heading to school, "I can't wait! We're finally going to public school!" Mikey shouts while practically vibrating in his seat.

"Calm down Mikey, you're going to scare everyone." Raph grouches to his younger brother, still grumpy from waking up early. Leo was almost neurotically making sure he had everything in his backpack. Donnie surprisingly was the most calm during the car ride despite being extremely excited about getting to go to public school. He was focused on how he can learn far more under the instruction of qualified professionals than he ever could have while homeschooled.

Splinter is glad his boys are excited for their official first day of school. Although they had a rough summer moving from New York to Fort Worth, Texas, he was sure it was for the best. After all, being here would hopefully be good for his boys. Maybe Splinter will benefit from this as well. Once at the school, the boys rushed to get out of the car. "Have a good day, my sons!" Splinter exclaims, feeling a bit emotional watching his boys go inside.

The hours go by as well as expected on the first day; the usual confusion of finding one's class, the principal trying to be cool as she greets the student body over the intercom, all the cliche drawn out 'getting to know you' activities. The girls were separate most of the day, finally reuniting for gym class. "Hey, y'all heard about the four turtles that moved here?" Maggie asks as they change into their gym clothes.

"Yeah, I think I had one of them in my math class earlier." Maddie saw one of the Hamato boys in her class. The blue clad one if she remembers correctly.

"I saw them in the hall between classes, the one with an orange bandana is loud as Hell." Ash finishes changing and leads the three girls out of the locker room only to see the four turtles in their gym class.

"Great." Moaned all three as they sit as far away from everyone as possible.

"Okay guys, my name is coach Dianne and I will be your gym teacher for the next three years. It's our first day, so we're just going to do some stretches before we play dodgeball!"

Mikey looks around and sees the three girls sitting by themselves in a corner while they did some stretching. He stared, curious as to why they were so far away from everyone else.

Leo took notice of the scrunched up face his brother was making, "What are you looking at Mikey?" He follows his brother's gaze only to blush dark red. He hadn't expected to see Maddie in gym class with him. The poor guy hasn't realised he is slowly developing a crush on the short haired brunette, a bit clueless about things like this because of his isolated upbringing. Raph laughs quietly while watching his oldest, 'most mature,' brother turn redder than a ripe cherry at seeing a pretty girl.

Before Mikey could get the chance to walk up to the girls to say hi, the coach began splitting everyone up into teams so they could start playing dodgeball. Unfortunately for him, they are on the other team. Mikey tries to get struck out along with the girls, really wanting a chance to talk to them.

In spite of his brother's efforts, it is Donnie that gets struck out first. Being the tallest of his classmates makes him an easy target. Ash gets hit not long after by a lucky shot, despite her doing an amazing job at dodging due to her small stature.

She sits near Donnie, grabs a book from her backpack and begins to read. Donnie notes that she's reading Macbeth and can't resist but get a little closer to her. "So, um, I see that you're into Shakespeare. I like his work too." He says in an attempt to make small talk.

She glances up, surprised that someone actually wants to talk to her. Hardly anyone talks to her. "It's okay, not one of my favorites. I'm just reading ahead for my English homework." Ash replies to the tall nerdy terrapin, blushing as she takes a good look at him. He's pretty cute for a mutant turtle. An adorable gap between his teeth and enchanting red-brown eyes are two things she spots off the bat.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Donnie." The shy boy extends a large three digit hand, shaking Ash's far smaller one. He's blown away by how beautiful she is. Extra long espresso locks, soft pale skin, sweet sensitive brown eyes, she's an absolute angel.

"I'm Ash, it's nice to meet you."

Leo is next to get hit and forced to sit on the bleachers. His sapphire blue eyes widen when he sees Maddie get struck out and begin walking in his direction. He wants to talk to her, but he has no idea what to say. "Um, hi." Leo says, his voice squeaking a little. He brushes it off the best he can, especially now that he's gotten her attention.

"Yes?" Maddie questions, wondering what this nerd could possibly want from her.

"I, uh, saw you in math class, and I want to get to know you a little better." Leo fidgets awkwardly under her harsh gaze. With her standing in front of him, he can really admire her better. Short, honey-brown hair frames her face perfectly. Her face and arms are splattered with adorable freckles. But, it's her eyes that fluster Leo the most. They're a beautiful blue-green. The shades shift depending on how the light hits them.

"Uh okay, what do you want to know?" Maddie asks, not knowing why Leo wants to talk to her but open to talk. The fact that the blue clad turtle is fairly handsome may have slightly opened her up to discussion. Pine green skin and sweet round sapphire eyes? Swoon worthy.

"So uh, Mr. Evans is a nutcase huh?" Leo chokes out. Jesus, he sucks at flirting. Just being social is a struggle when you've been isolated for so long, how is he supposed to hit on someone? Everyone that was watching them could see he was struggling like Hell.

Raph and Maggie are soon struck out. The red banded turtle watches Maggie sit down and curl in on herself. He is pulled in by how mysterious she looks. Raph has no idea that in reality the young woman is a small angry gremlin. He swaggers over to her, in reality looking like a fucking idiot, "Sup! How are ya?" Raph asks the young Wiccan.

"Hi?" Maggie responds hesitantly, unsure why he's talking to her.

Suspicious of new people, she stays curled into herself. This doesn't exactly hide her as much as she wishes it did, however. Long, dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing and enchanting hazel eyes as she peers up at the intruder to her personal space.

"So how's your day going?" He asks, noticing that Maggie seems to be a bit wary.

She decides he's not posing a threat, at least not currently, "Eh it's what you'd expect on the first day of school." Maggie shrugs, humming non-committedly. She is just a bit unsure how to react now that Raph is talking to her. The two continue chatting about classes, Maggie letting Raph lead the conversation for the most part.

Finally, Mikey gets struck out of the game. "Hey guys!" The youngest turtle shouts, curious as to what his older brothers are doing. His face absolutely lights up when he sees that the girls he wanted to talk to earlier are now talking with his brothers.

Leo sees his baby brother making his way towards him and Maddie, he prays that Mikey doesn't embarrass him. Maddie sees the excitable turtle braces for herself. He seems nice but at the same time she's not sure if he's really friendly. "Maddie, this is my baby brother Mikey." Leo introduces the two, knowing Mikey wants to talk to her.

Mikey excitedly shakes Maddie's hand. He can't believe he has a new friend. "I love your hoodie! I'm a fan of My Hero Academia too!" Mikey exclaims, happy someone likes the same show he likes.

"Yeah? I just got into it recently. It's awesome!" Maddie says as she begins to talk to the orange clad turtle. Leo can't believe that Mikey took Maddie's attention away from him, then again, he should have expected this from his baby brother.

Casey spots Ash on the bleachers and heads over. He's eager to get to know his next-door neighbor, "Hey there, how's it going?"

Ash looks up at Casey and groans, why does he have to be her class? "Hi, I'm okay." Ash replied curtly.

Donnie wonders how they know each other. "So um, how do you two know each other? Do you have a class together or something?"

Ash shakes her head, "No he's my next-door neighbor, he moved into my neighborhood during the summer." She has nothing against Casey. It's just that he seems to follow her wherever she goes. Before they could have a chance to really talk, the bell rings for lunch. Ash sighs in relief as she grabs her things and Maddie so they can get away from all of these people. Maggie follows them, overhearing that they're going to hide out in the art room. Being in a quiet spot is better than being in the loud cafeteria.

The three girls wait in line to get some food, blissfully unaware that Mikey is planning to get the three girls to become his best friends. "So, you two gonna join any clubs or something?" Maddie asks as she grabs a tray of food and some milk.

Maggie grabs some food as well, sticking out her tongue at the choices, "I'm probably gonna join the band or something."

"I might join the cooking or arts and crafts club." Ash says, not caring how long she stays after school. It's better than being at home.

The boys are looking around for a place to sit only for their baby brother to drag them to the art room. "Mikey, where are you taking us?" Leo questions. Mikey doesn't answer, but his brothers have no choice but to follow him to make sure that he's okay. Casey goes with the turtles. He just feels like they may be fun to hang around. As the girls get settled in the art room, they hear muffled voices in the hall. They share confused looks until Mikey bursts through the door and sits down. The girls are startled and a bit nervous, but choose not to question it.

"Hi! I'm Michelangelo, but you guys can call me Mikey. I saw you guys in gym class and wanted to get to know you." Mikey bounces excitedly as he sits in front of the girls.

Once they enter the art room, Leo, Donnie, Raph, and Casey stop to catch their breath. Leo and his other two brothers begin apologizing for Mikey's behavior. Unlike the orange clad baby, they could recognize he was acting like a total stalker. The girls accepted their apology, seeing that Mikey means no harm. And who could say no to his adorable face? Especially when he just wanted to make friends!

"So uh Mikey, what elementary school did you and your brothers go to?" Ash asks as she eats her Burger.

"Oh we've been homeschooled until we moved here in June." Mikey replies as he eats his tots.

"Yeah, we're actually from New York. But Dad wanted to move here so we have a better education." Donnie adds as he peels an orange.

Maddie is stunned, "We don't usually get a lot of people from up North, they think our weather is too crazy."

"Yup, Texas has crazy weather." Maggie adds.

"No kidding! How can you survive in this weather? How do you walk around in the summer heat without dying?" Leo asks, amazed how anyone can stand the heat at all.

"We were raised in it, that's just how we are." Ash says as she doesn't think that heat is that bad.

Maddie and Leo blush when their eyes meet. They can't help but glance at each other, finding each other cute. Mikey notices their stares as he talks to Ash and Maggie, he's definitely going to tease Leo later.

"So what was it like in the Big Apple?" Maggie questions curiously.

Raph was happy to answer that question between bites of his burger. "It was okay, we mainly stayed in the house. Dad was paranoid about something happening to us."

The girls were surprised. Not only did they not see much of New York, but their dad was concerned enough for their safety that they moved so far away. "It's pretty cool, I want to go back when I get older." Casey stuffs his face with soggy tater-tots, continuing the conversation by telling them some stories he had from the few years he lived in the big city before moving.

The tweens continue talking to each other, and the girls are pleasantly surprised that they are having fun with these New Yorkers. The three girls are used to living in solitude and only talking to others when they have to, so this is a nice change. Mikey is just happy to have made some new friends on his first day of public school. Everyone is enjoying themselves as they chat among each other until lunch is over and they must go to their next lesson.

Donnie and Ash blush when they see they have the same science class. Ash thought she's the only one in the honors courses, unaware that Donnie is just as big a nerd as she is. The rest of the day goes by fairly well, the bell promptly releasing the students from class. The day is over, and they're free to go home.

The Hamato boys patiently wait for Rat Dad to come and pick them up. Mikey sees Ash and Maddie are waiting for their late bus and waves at them. Smiling when they wave back at him.

Leo soon sees Rat Dad's car, "C'mon Mikey, Father's here!" He shouts. Raph, seeing Mikey had seemingly completely ignored Leo, grabs his baby brother's arm and yanks him into the car.

"I assume you boys had a good day at school?" Splinter questions hopefully as he watches his boys get into the car.

"We had a great day Papa! I made some new friends!" Mikey shouts as he puts his seatbelt on.

"Yeah, we met them in gym class. They're really nice." Donnie says, a bright blush on his face.

"They're nice girls." Leo adds, getting Splinter's attention.

Splinter is apprehensive that the first friends they made were girls, though knowing his youngest he has no reason for concern. Mikey just wants to be friends with anyone and everyone. The more Splinter listens to what Mikey tells him, the more he relaxes as he can tell that Mikey is just trying to be friendly. Rat Dad is relieved that his boys had a good day at school, he had worried that moving here wouldn't turn out the way he had hoped. Thankfully Fort Worth seems like a great choice for him and his boys so far. If only they knew this was just the beginning of their new lives.

10 notes · View notes

ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 5 years ago

Text

Shaking at the Knees

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Warnings: brief description of a car accident, deaf!Peter Summary:

This is a different take on a soulmate type of verse. People paired together can hear their person's musical adventures, the songs in their head, the ones they're listening to when they're listening to them.

It takes Tony 21 years to finally hear a song in his head, then a few years later - the songs suddenly vanish.

Or, the one where Peter loses his hearing and confuses the fuck out of Tony Stark for ten years.

This is part one of the Thunderstruck series - you can find them all on AO3: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

For the longest time, Tony loved music. He can still remember his very first time hearing a vinyl record. The scratch of the record when the needle first dropped always made his ears prickle and tune in. Then, oh man – the instruments would drop, and the lyrics would start – voices like Bob Seger, AC/DC, and Led Zeppelin washed over him and he got a little lost – every single time. After a bad day at school, he could come home and put on his favorite record and just – let go.

Tony wasn’t really the most – normal kid. His above average intelligence alienated him from his peers in a way that was hard for a 10-year-old to understand. The fact that he could repurpose an engine and understand his father’s blueprints wasn’t nearly as impressive to the kids in his class – no matter how proud Tony actually felt about it. When the need to be accelerated in school happened, he figured he’d finally start to fit in a little better – but being the youngest and smartest kid wasn’t much easier.

The hardest difference to swallow, the thing that made him feel the weirdest was the fact that he hated heard from his soulmate, yet. Tony’s mother died pretty early on in his life, so his father didn’t spend much time talking about her or their soulmate connection. Tony always had music playing around him whenever he got the chance – and hadn’t really thought about the lack of background music in his mind. Thunderstruck always seemed to be playing around up there, but he also loved that song and didn’t have a singular problem playing it over and over – no matter what his father said. By the time he turned 13 and some of his classmates were already starting to pair off – the panic set in. Well, not really panic. More like – dread. What could that possibly mean – the fact that he’d never heard a peep from this person that was supposed to be fated for him? The mere thought of being defective, of not being good enough to have that person settled in – slowly invading most avenues in life. Especially the thirst music used to bring about in him.

Graduating from high school before 15 left Tony with a few choices – all of which included working in his dad’s shop. Stark Industries specialized in restoration of vintage cars, each one with custom engines, transmissions, and body work. The further Tony pulled away from others around him, the further he allowed himself to fall down the rabbit hole of being in the garage until the haze of sleep couldn’t be ignored anymore. The better his skills got, the higher the caliber of jobs Tony got access to. His father’s private garages were beautiful, stocked with the best tools, and parts galore. It also came with a silence that the main garage would never be able to manage. Over the next couple of years, he became used to silence, even seeming to flourish in it. When it came time for college, Tony figured exploring mechanical engineering was a must – but also found himself taking interest in ASL – so he pursued both. Staying in New York allowed him to work in his father’s garage while diving headfirst into all things academic.

Then, something crazy happened. A particularly long night turned early morning – one of which Tony found himself slumped against his workspace – he awoke suddenly. The blare of something that sounded like The Wheels on the Bus sounded in his head. His hands slapped to his head, the man wondering if he’d had a bit more whiskey than he meant to the night before – but the top of his mouth didn’t taste like the bottom of his shoe like it normally would. No, the sudden awakening resounded in his head, he knew the second he blinked himself awake to be coherent. What the fuck was that – he thought, sleep glazed eyes looking around the garage one more time before he sighed deeply and waited for another sound, another sign of life. When he heard the same tune a little later, he let himself smile. For the first time in all of his 21 years, he could finally hear something. He tried hard not to think about the fact that the man (he knew it was a male, he’d checked out enough asses to know) was probably not a man at all, but a young boy – one small enough to still be interested in songs that repeated ‘round’ and ‘round’ like a mantra. A small piece of him couldn’t help but feel a bit of reluctancy at the obvious age gap. On the other hand, he couldn’t stop himself from being excited by the fact that there was at least someone on the other side of the line.

Later that night, Tony fished out his favorite AC/DC record, his fingertips brushing across the cover in a solemn sort of reverie. When the music washed over him this time, after so many years of a heavy silence, Tony felt the magic again. He relaxed into it, the smoothness of the sound something he couldn’t recall missing as desperately as he felt in that moment. Settling into his favorite chair, Tony picked up his feet and let them rest on the wooden coffee table before him. Though he’d never tell, he fell asleep that night humming the soft melody of that silly children’s song.

----

One of Peter’s earliest memories is the beating of drums. Until he learned how to block it out, Peter would get so distracted by a pretty constant thump. There were words of course, but the boy was too young to recognize most of them. He understood what the thump was, though. Many times, he’d been lulled to sleep by the sound of it – the steady repetition like a lullaby. The first time Peter recognized one of the songs in his head, he’s in kindergarten. His dad always dropped him off, but that day – his mother was home from the hospital early enough to pick him up excitedly when he ran out of his room at her – the two sneaking off together a few minutes earlier than usual to share a customary pancakes and sausage at their friendly neighborhood McDonald’s. Rides with his mother were always considered special, since she worked the night shift and seemed to be the most tired right as Peter was waking up. Not only was his mom one of his favorite people, things with her were so different than they were with his dad. Peter loved them both equally – well, as equally as any five-year-old could – but he cherished the time with his mother more.

The stereo always thumped really loud whenever he was in the car with his mother. She liked different things, including music and entertainment. Growing up in the 70’s must’ve been something, if all the bands and movies she liked had anything to say about it. They’re pulling out of McDonald’s when a recognizable thump is heard. For a second, he thinks about all the different thumping beats he’d heard recently and this one matched – but it seemed like it was surrounding him, instead of playing in his head. The young boy looked around, then smiled – his mother was drumming the familiar beat on the steering wheel in her hands. “This is AC/DC, Pete,” she said around a smile, her eyes glowing in a way that only happened when she looked at Peter. “Thunderstruck is arguably one of their better songs,” his mother managed to get out before she started to sing. Peter felt his breath catch in his throat, the younger boy overcome by the music that surrounded him – that wasn’t in his head – and the depth of happiness on his mother’s face. He now had a connection to the songs and when he heard them in his head later in the evenings, he found himself singing along (all the wrong lyrics, of course) the same way his mother did – comfortably and with a small smile on his face.

The next couple of years, Peter absorbed as much of the music like the stuff he heard in his head as he could. Initially approaching his mother for more songs made him nervous. The young boy hadn’t heard much about soulmates yet, other than the fact that they existed. He didn’t yet understand that most people could hear songs in their head – that you were listening to your other half’s vocal delights. He eventually managed to stutter through an explanation, the now seven-year-old way more invested in the music now that he could hear it in his head and – well, not. After looking at him with confusion for a minute, his mother shook her head and pulled him into her arms. She kept him pressed tightly against her for a couple of moments, the woman enjoying the fact that her son still allowed her to do something like this. Despite him being so young, Peter was so very smart and growing up so damn quickly.

“Oh boy, you’re hearing things already, huh? That, my sweet boy, is your soulmate. Those songs playing in your head are that special person’s favorites – what they’re listening to right now. Here,” she said in a thick voice – her body moving before she could let herself even think. Peter could only hear a fumbling sound for a couple minutes, then his mother came back with a small square thing attached to some headphones. A thick stack of something was in her other hand. When she kneeled back in front of him, Peter could see a couple of wet streaks on her face. “Try these. If he’s a fan of AC/DC, I bet he likes these bands, too. See this,” she asked, pulling the tape out of its case, “you put this where the cassette player opens.” Peter watched avidly as she slipped the tape inside and handed the player to him. “Put those headphones on and it’ll be like you’re right there with them.” Peter looked at the player for a second before he bolted forward, his little arms wrapping around his mother’s neck tightly. “Thank you, mama,” Peter mumbled, his nose pressed into the fabric of her shirt. “Thank you.”

From that point on, Peter carried the cassette player with him wherever he went. The now well-known lyrics were a comfort that the boy couldn’t even describe. Sometimes, the music was the only thing that got him through the day. School wasn’t the easiest for him – it could be said that he got picked on pretty ruthlessly. Peter liked school and understood what the teacher was talking about way quicker than the rest of the people in his class. No matter the generation, the smart kids always kind of suffered a little bit. It didn’t matter, though – his parents were amazing, he was starting a new Lego build that evening, and his music never left him. For the most part, things weren’t too bad.

Things changed the day Peter forgot his headphones. The entire day, everything seemed to go wrong for Peter. He’d forgotten to study for the pop quiz in his math class, left his lunch on the counter and had to buy from the cafeteria – all on the day he forgot the most important part of his key to comfort. By the time he was waiting in the line to go home with the rest of the third graders, Peter felt drained, sad, and ready to curl up with his cassettes on either of his parents’ laps. Seeing his mom and his dad in the car when it was his turn momentarily changed his mood – Peter felt his face break into a smile when his mom rolled her window down and waved, her happiness contagious. He climbed into the back of the car without another thought, his smile widening when both his parents greeted him, his father’s hand coming back to squeeze at his knee. It took him a second to get buckled and then they were off – his mom explaining that she switched her shifts and they were going out to celebrate. The promise of Peter’s favorite restaurant had the young boy relaxing into the booster he still needed to sit in – though, he could buckle it himself. The next thing he knew, Peter’s eyes were blinking awake – the sound of a loud crash scaring the crap out of him. He couldn’t remember if he screamed himself, but he can still vividly remember hearing the high pitch of his mother’s voice before things went black for him again.

The next time Peter woke up, his Aunt May and Uncle Ben were by his bedside. He looked around frantically, not understanding why his parents weren’t there, too. He spoke out – and all the sudden realized he didn’t hear himself. His eyes met with May’s when he tried again, the obvious terror in her eyes adding to the panic that was quickly overwhelming him. Small hands moved up to his ears, though they never made it – his Uncle’s hands engulfing them, instead. The panic took him over completely, then. Both of the people around him were crying and he couldn’t hear a single thing. Where were his parents? And why did his head feel like it’d been cracked open? He felt the tears fall down his cheeks, though never heard the whimpers that fell from his lips as the confusing, emotional tsunami wiped him completely out. It took both May and Ben holding on to him to get him to calm down. He clung to them, so confused but needing the comfort that his other favorite people in this world could bring to him.

A while later, May sat down next to him again, this time armed with a pad of paper and a pencil. Peter didn’t understand what was happening, his body hurting and his ears still not hearing anything – it was all so overwhelming. Her soft hand had him looking up, the pad out in front of him. Learning that his parents were dead and that he’d lost his hearing from that stupid notepad seemed like the ultimate ending to what would always be the worst day of his life. He barely survived the accident that took both his parents. When the car rolled, Peter’s booster seat kept him from leaving the seat – but the force smashed his head against the window. The blackout caused by the concussion probably saved his life – if that was any consolation prize.

Two nights later, after being brought to May and Ben’s place, Peter laid in bed, tossing and turning until he finally heard the music in his head. The sadness of the collection of songs matched the situation perfectly and only then was Peter finally able to fall asleep.

----

Soon after hearing a song for the first time, Tony felt the best he could ever remember feeling. His academic studies were going well, so well in fact that he sailed through his first set of degrees and was taking an internship with a sign language interpreter. When he first brought the concept up to his father, Howard Stark looked at his son with something that he could only describe as confusion. Tony wasn’t shy about his brilliance and excelled substantially in the garage. Howard hadn’t said anything to his son yet, but he’d slowly been handing over big accounts – the youngest Stark basically equipped to take over the business, despite not being aware of that fact. Yet, Tony couldn’t help but smile at the little hint of pride his father hadn’t ever been able to conceal from him, despite his best efforts. The hours for his internship would barely interfere with his duties at the shop, so he got to take the position with his father’s blessing. For the first time in a while, Tony felt happy with himself and the relationship he was slowly cultivating with his father.

Things stayed decent for Tony for a few years. He managed to get enough field experience with sign language interpretation to get some exposure and spent a good majority of his time split between the garage and his interpreter gigs. He enjoyed the ability to get lost in the silence of the garage, then put significance to someone else’s silence through his ability to translate and be a voice. For some reason, Tony felt some unidentifiable need to pursue that path – and wouldn’t be deterred by anyone that didn’t understand his desire. He didn’t really understand it much, either. Most of his adult life, he felt compelled – compelled to do well, compelled to be able to help – hell, compelled to be the best version of himself. Since his change in consciousness happened right around the time he started to hear his music, Tony figured he could contribute at least a bit of his success to the person behind the soothing tunes. Tunes that were surprisingly starting to sound just like the music he played whenever he was by himself. Either the kid had good taste, or Tony taught him right before anything else could taint his musical perspective. Hearing the hum of Old Time Rock & Roll early in the morning wasn’t the worst way to wake up, after all.

Tony got to coast for a while, even enjoy himself a little bit. Most of his twenties were spent in the garage working on his own creations, or out in the community – doing sign language interpretation for big community events, or personal interpretation for the people that needed more of a singular touch. He appreciated both aspects of his work and spent most of his free time trying to find ways to make both worlds meet. By 27, Tony made enough money to build another addition to the Stark garage that would allow him to create, fix, and reinvent engines, parts, and whole vehicles that would slowly start to put him on the tech industry map. With the new addition came the need for new employees – and Tony knew all the best people for the job. He’d been working closely with Happy since their joint internship after graduating from college. The man didn’t know a thing about cars and their parts but could keep Tony running like no one else could. Happy spent a good majority of his life with his hearing, so he kept Tony on his toes both with his big personality and his ability to transition from ASL to speaking without much of a thought. Tony couldn’t imagine running the aspects of his shop without the other man. Bucky and Steve came along a year or so after Tony got his new garage built. They were a little older but gave Tony a run for his money in terms of their engine knowledge and ability to spend hours at a time under a car instead of with other humans. Yeah, things were going well for Tony Stark – so well, in fact, he was impatiently waiting for the other shoe to drop like it did so many other times throughout his life.

That shoe finally came dropping a couple months after his 28th birthday. For all intents and purposes, Tony was already running the Stark Industries garages. He hired a new person to manage payroll when he opened his own garage, took on a cute red headed assistant named Pepper Potts – who could sling business talk and fire all in one sentence. Tony even went as far as to start planning upgrades to the main garages to make more room for their ever-increasing stock of parts and pieces that were needed to do the job the Stark Industries way – with utmost perfection. It shouldn’t have been such a shock to him when the company officially became his. Yet, Tony found himself drifting about nonetheless. The death of his father that ultimately put the company securely and singularly in his hands hit him much harder than Tony anticipated. The last few years, Tony actually broke through his father’s shell and seemed to even earn some pride from the old man. Before he passed, Howard actually gave Tony a hug – one that he never expected and couldn’t recall often enough. He felt a little guilty that their best days spent together were some of his father’s last – but then again, he wouldn’t change that fact for anything. At least he’d been able to make something of himself before the old man passed and for that – Tony couldn’t help but feel grateful. If he was going to spend the rest of his life as an orphan, at least he knew that someone had been proud of him – even if that someone wasn’t around anymore.

The first few months after his father’s death were rough. Tony wasn’t used to not being able to sequester himself away in his garage and resented the change. The resentment started to seep into his performance and before long, Pepper was pulling him aside – her eyes trying to portray gentleness, regardless of the fact that the situation now called for a little bit of a reality check. “You look like shit, Tony – and everyone is noticing,” she started, her arms crossing over her chest to assume a more defensive stance. “You’ve got to get your shit together. Or at least pretend.” Tony knew the woman was only trying to help – that Pepper was one of the only people keeping him and the business running. Stark Industries needed him to not only be the genius behind all of the masterful art they created with cars, but the face of the company as well. He wanted the silence back – even if just for a minute. The silence always left him to his will, never interrupted or expected. He could be himself with the silence. That didn’t matter, though. His father’s legacy demanded his attention and Tony Stark would never not rise to a challenge presented his way. “You’re right, Pep. Sorry, babe,” he replied with a painted-on smirk, the corner of his lips coming nowhere close to his eyes. “I’ll be better. Pinky swear.”

Then – things got a little worse. After attempting to get his shit together, Tony finally had things figured out enough to delegate tasks, attend meetings, and still spend most of his time in the garage. Between Happy and Pep, Tony got all the things he needed and could still claim to be running a successful business. Tony still craved the silence – the beauty of being by himself and the simplicity of the times when he didn’t have to answer to anyone. It wasn’t coming back, he reminded himself – he worked his ass off to get to this level of success. Yet, he couldn’t help but yearn.

And then – the silence came back.

Not the silence of a private garage like he wanted. Not the silence of getting to spend forty-eight hours up to his elbows in engine grease. No, the silence that haunted him as a child – the absence of sound in the back of his mind – that returned with a vengeance. One day, he was jamming along to Stairway to Heaven in the back of his mind and the next – the next, it was all gone. This time, the sound felt like an input cable had been torn from the player – the absence of sound so deafening – so final. Tony couldn’t understand it. There’d been so much life on the other end not even twelve hours before the total silence. He could even feel the joy radiating on the other end – though, Tony didn’t know if that was real or his own personal projection of feeling. Now, there was nothing. That sent a bone-tingling chill across the surface of Tony’s skin. He still didn’t know much about this soulmate connection of his – he’d never really understood it. Yet, he knew enough to know that having sound, then losing sound – well, that couldn’t be a good thing. Tony couldn’t imagine the possibilities, couldn’t understand the implications of something like this. He just lost his father – now he had to deal with losing this person, too? Not only did he not know what happened to the poor kid, he didn’t have the distraction of his sounds, either. The classic rock and small amounts of current pop was one of the things Tony always looked forward to relaxing into. He got through meetings thinking about what song would pop up next, or what mood his person would be in depending on the type of sound coming down the connection. Without it, what the hell was he supposed to do? The thought of going back to how things were before he heard the fucking wheels on the bus – he couldn’t fucking stand it.

A couple days later, when nothing came back across the connection, Tony finally let himself wallow. His favorite whiskey, which he usually savored for all that it was, remained clenched in his fist throughout the first couple hours of his self-pity. Tears fell as he pulled from the bottle, each tug sending a warmth through him he never really thought he’d be able to feel again. Little by little, he let the tears fall and all of the terrible feelings get lost in the bottle that was frankly starting to get a little too empty for Tony’s taste. The drunker he got; the more Tony felt his heart break at the absence of sound in his head – so he tried to make up for it. All of his favorite records were lined up behind his vinyl player, Tony indulging in them whenever he got the chance. Instead of pulling AC/DC towards him, Tony flipped through the rest of his collection until he found the perfect mood music. The sound of Ann Peebles and I Can’t Stand the Rain washed over the room and Tony felt himself sigh. The sound was reassuring, even if it didn’t resonate from the back of his mind like it usually did – he let himself drown in it, get lost in the lyrics and the soothing sound of Ann’s voice while she sang about sweet memories and sounds she can’t stand. The perfect harmony to the misery that Tony couldn’t and wouldn’t pull himself out of for a long time.

----

The first year or so after losing his hearing, Peter struggled. At first, the death of his parents overwhelmed him. Aunt May and Uncle Ben were great – they truly were. They were so supportive and without them, he wouldn’t have survived. The custody ruling went pretty smoothly since May and Ben were already named his guardians, anyway. Though he’d been staying with them since after the accident, Peter officially moved into a room when it became apparent that their place was now his place – that home wasn’t the two-story with a pool he’d shared with his parents anymore. May and Ben lived in an apartment in Queens – the place very small but roomy enough to not make it feel like they were living on top of each other. Little by little, Peter found a way to make himself comfortable in the little bubble of the room they put together for him. Sure, they’d decorated in a similar nature to his room back home and he appreciated that. He found comfort in the small picture of him and his parents that sat right next to his bed so he could look at it when he jumped awake panicked after a crazy nightmare that ended with the same crash and scream every single time. They were trying to make their place a home for him and he loved them for it – but there were things missing and his little heart couldn’t put forth anymore energy to pretend, even if that meant making his aunt and uncle feel just a little bit better with the situation. The only thing that provided him real comfort, even if he couldn’t actually hear the music, was the cassette player his mom gave him what felt like so long ago.

The transition from being a completely hearing child to not being able to hear and communicate brought Peter way down. May and Ben allowed him a couple of weeks to heal before they started to demand things from him. First, it was appointments with a hearing specialist. Then, when they found out his hearing was not only gone, but gone for good, Peter went for ASL lessons on a daily basis. Because he wasn’t in any shape to actually attend a public school, Ben took to teaching things to Peter. It wasn’t well known that Ben was one of the smarter people in the world. The mediocre job Ben held at Stark Industries didn’t do justice to the amount of talent and initiative the man possessed – but he enjoyed getting to spend time with his wife and Peter, so he settled. Peter found himself slightly surprised by the fact that his uncle was that damn intelligent, the small boy not really paying attention to things like that before the accident. Now, though – Peter never felt more grateful for his uncle’s hidden talents. The man was intelligent in all ways, too. Whether it was book knowledge, or hands on knowledge, Ben had an example and explanation for everything. Once the bridge of learning how to communicate was crossed, Peter found himself slowly starting to recover – in all the ways a small child of trauma needed to. He mastered ASL a lot quicker than anyone suspected, much to the relief of both May and Ben – and when they figured he was ready, Peter was enrolled in Midtown School for the Deaf.

Slowly, Peter started to make his way back towards the happy kid he’d been for such a long time. At the ripe age of 12, Peter started to work in the garage with his uncle. Their daily lessons didn’t stop after he started attending his new school, either. In fact, Peter would bring home loads of interesting topics that they would delve further into. They would talk with rapid fire hand movements, Peter working on his signing and learning more about all the things that he thought were so very interesting. They would pass tools back and forth silently, Peter becoming more and more familiar with the parts and pieces the longer they spent in the garage together. Ben took to having Peter around as a son the same way May took to protecting the boy. Between the two of them, Peter knew everything he needed to and then some. He worked on his lip reading with May while they watched Gilmore Girls with the closed captioning – and learned lots of things about soulmates and love and happy endings from her, too. In the days after his recovery, Peter worried he wouldn’t be able to hear the songs anymore, simply because he couldn’t hear at all. The days passed, though – and not much happened. The songs would occasionally get very somber and emotional, but Peter appreciated them all the same. The company those songs provided was something the boy desperately needed and couldn’t see getting from anyone else. May and Ben were so good to him, so involved in all the parts in his life that needed to change drastically – but they didn’t quite know. There wasn’t a way to describe what losing his hearing was like. There probably weren’t enough words to get across the intensity of the loss. The music, though – even if he didn’t know who was on the other side of the line, the music made it seem like things were normal. Hearing those songs, even as randomly as they’d appear, they made Peter feel like he could hear again.

So, Peter clung to all of the things that were familiar to him. His daily garage hangouts with Uncle Ben had him working his way around all the parts and pieces of their ’65 Mustang so easily. He felt so familiar with it, Peter figured he could put the engine back together with his eyes closed. That passion only seemed to grow the longer he spent learning his way around and getting his hands dirty. Ben, in his never-ending quest to teach Peter everything he possibly could, started to take him to the Stark Industries garages. He didn’t work the grandest of jobs there, but the garage he could access had plenty of tools and spare parts – all a little different than the ones they’d been using in the garage. Like a fly to honey, Peter absorbed as much as he could about everything thrown his way. His fingers knew their way around a manual transmission, the young boy able to change it out in a way that was both quick and efficient. The job didn’t take much communication with others and allowed Peter to get lost in what he was doing – lost in the knowledge of how the parts worked by themselves and how to put them together to make the most out of their functions as a whole. Peter understood so much about the different types of engines and was even able to make corrections that made the part work a little better. A part of Peter hoped that Mr. Stark would see him and realize that he was worth offering an internship position to. Ben mentioned it every time they walked into the garage, so many times in fact – Peter felt a bit of hope bloom in his chest. In all the time Peter got to hang around in the Stark garages, he’d never seen the illustrious man.

To fill the void between trips to Stark Industry, Peter made friends with one of the workers at the junk yard not too far from his home. For whatever reason, Ned took him under his wing and let him peruse the huge piles of car parts that were always sitting around. Peter would muddle through conversations with him as he cleaned the parts off to put them in his backpack to take home. After a while, Peter stopped by the yard not only to grab the parts, but work on them there, too. It seemed like, for the first time in probably his entire life, Peter Parker made a friend. A guy that wasn’t much older than him that was slowly learning his way through sign language and dreaming of being a computer genius – a guy that didn’t judge Peter for something he couldn’t really help. Peter appreciated the guy and wasn’t afraid to crack a joke or tell him about things he never thought to tell anyone else. Slowly but surely, Peter was growing into himself – something he didn’t think would happen so easily or without him really noticing.

By the time he turned 16, Peter was finally finished with his completely rebuilt car and ready to actually be able to drive it. Ben let him drive all the time after they finished up at SI’s garage or home from school when Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to make the bus on time. Yet, he hadn’t been able to drive his own car yet – Ben insisting the first time should be when he officially had his license in his back pocket. When the day finally came around, Peter started up the Charger, his eyes closing as he sat in the seat, the vibrations running through his chest making his heart pound. The only time he got this type of feeling, classic rock songs were floating in the back of his subconsciousness. He let the engine run for a while longer, the purring vibration an addicting feeling now that he’d gotten used to it. It didn’t hurt that he’d managed to create that vibration – that every single piece of the car he compiled together with his own two hands – from rusty frame to the freshly painted outer body. Opening his eyes after a few minutes, Peter glanced at the clock and put the car in reverse – he’d need to go a little faster on the highway to get to the garage before his Uncle Ben got off work (which, he couldn’t honestly complain about, if he were being honest). With a rumble, Peter put the car in gear and started towards Stark Industries.

What happened next would forever be something that changed his life – Peter not really understanding the entire extent of it until much, much later.

Upon pulling up to the garage, Peter beamed when all of Ben’s coworkers walked out to check out the car. He parked quickly, then hopped out to pop the hood – his smile growing at the thought of showing off all his hard work. The customized engine allowed for better gas mileage and the configured transmission changed gears so fluidly that its lifespan was a few years longer than a normal transmission. He felt pride in his craftmanship as the men took in all the work, some of them not even understanding what the heck he was saying and signing as Peter explained all the different things he did putting the car together. His uncle patted him on the shoulder a little while into his explanation, the man’s smile almost as big as Peter’s own. The squeeze that came next told him his uncle was proud, and the punch to his opposite shoulder told him Ben was so excited to see all the work he did for himself, too. Peter smiled at the man, then went back to watching all of the people he’d grown up around ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ at the work he did – at the machine he put together and all the things he managed to accomplish while doing it. All of a sudden, people stopped what they were doing and turned to look in the direction behind Peter – even Ben seemed to stand at attention. Slowly, Peter turned around and smiled – his obvious naivety not recognizing the man standing in front of him. No one said anything, Peter could tell through the close eye he kept on the people around him. A little bit confused, Peter shifted until he could see Ben, his hands moving quickly to ask what the heck was going on. His uncle didn’t reply, his eyes bulging a little further in response instead. He followed the path of Ben’s eyes until once again, they were staring in the direction of the man now standing a little bit closer to Peter than just moments before.

Peter finally turned his full attention to the man behind him – the older guy so shockingly handsome, it was a little bit distracting. His goatee was neatly trimmed, the hair on his head a dark brown – the locks a little on the longer side and done in a way that made it look like the perfect sort of roll out of bed messy. His dark eyes were looking directly at Peter and it took him a moment to realize that the man was moving his hands – the signs flowing seamlessly from him – as if ASL was as natural to him as it was to Peter. Dumbfounded, Peter smiled and signed back “You took me by surprise. I didn’t see what you said, can you repeat it?” He felt his smile grow when the other man nodded, the fingers of his right dropping to tap on his own chest – gesturing to himself. “I’m Tony Stark – they all probably stopped because I haven’t been in this garage in years. It’s nice to meet you.” Tony’s lips moved at the same pace as his hands, the man obviously familiar with both ASL and spoken language. When he was through signing, Tony held out a hand between them – a smirk on his lips. Peter took it quickly – the spark zinging between them making his heart race in a way that he didn’t quite understand. He clenched his hand for a second, the pulse in his palm so fucking distracting. “I’m Peter – and holy shit – you’re Tony Stark. I love this garage, Sir. You have the best equipment,” Peter signed back, his voice already overworked from all the talking he’d done earlier. A part of him wanted to see how good Tony’s signing was, too – but no one needed to know that.

The older man smiled, a hand going to cover his heart in a gesture of thanks. “Thanks, kid – you haven’t even seen some of the coolest stuff.” He stopped then pointing over Peter’s shoulder. “That looks like someone rebuilt that from the ground up. Was that you?” Tony signed excitedly, a weird look of excitement and passion flashing across the older man’s eyes. The look was intoxicating, drawing Peter in without a second thought. This guy looked like he was about to drool over the work that he’d done – what kind of dream was he in right now? This opportunity probably wouldn’t come around again, so he jumped on the chance. Peter moved to stand by the hood – his hands moving quickly as he too started to excitedly describe the modifications he made and the process he used to put the engine back together. He almost forgot that many people were around them watching this exchange – watching, for the first time in most of their careers, Tony Stark use sign language to have an over-excited conversation – probably the first time they’d genuinely seen Tony Stark in the flesh, honestly. The same squeeze of his uncle’s hand brought Peter back from his ramble – a blush slipping over his cheeks the instant he realized he’d gone off – the exhilaration of it all something so overwhelming, he didn’t really understand it. “Sorry,” he signed, his shoulders shrugging as he did. “I got a little carried away. It’s pretty cool, though, right?”

The exchange didn’t last much longer after that. Tony complimented his craftmanship, shook his hand again, then shot him a smirk before turning away and catching up with the guy Peter knew to be Happy standing over by the front door. The entire drive home, Peter caught himself smiling at the memory of the interaction and the reverberation of the song playing in the back of his mind over and over again. The person on the other side of the line must’ve been pretty happy if the repeat of Faithfully had anything to say about it.

Later that night, while listening to the song in the back of his mind, Peter let himself get lost in the music, then right before he fell asleep – he finally let himself think about Tony. The smirk on the older man’s face burned into his memory.

----

To say that Tony felt a little off his game the first time he interacted with Peter Parker would’ve been a total understatement. When Happy told him a crowd was gathered around a good looking car, Tony couldn’t help himself. There weren’t a lot of cars many of the people around the garage hadn’t seen, so something that brought about such a reaction had to be worth his time. Especially since they worked with luxury cars on a daily basis – this vehicle had to be interesting, maybe interesting enough to give Tony something to be excited over. Striding out of the building after a silent conversation with Happy, Tony took the walk through a couple different garages to get to the front of the building. He watched from the window of the waiting room for a couple minutes, looking around until he found the person in the middle of the commotion. Or, he supposed he should call the guy a kid – the young person no older than 16 or 17 at the maximum. His eyes beamed with a brightness Tony couldn’t recall ever seeing, and his smile took up his entire face. Round cheeks were stained with a red that probably painted them whenever the kid was happy, or sad, or embarrassed – and for a second, he wondered how far down the color actually went. Shaking his head of the stupidly inappropriate thought, Tony finally pushed his way out of the building. It was only when he got a little closer that he recognized the kid’s movements, his fingers forming signs flawlessly, perfect red lips were moving, but not often making complete sounds – like his lips moving was secondary to the fluid nature of his hands. That sight made his gut clench, a soft smile pulling across his lips before he could will it away. For whatever reason, he instantly felt a connection to the kid.

It didn’t take long for everyone gathered around the admittedly impressive car to turn and look at him, his entry into the space not nearly as smooth as he hoped it might be. Funnily enough, the kid was the last one to turn around, the same shy smile on his lips still firmly there, cheeks still cherry red with whatever emotion that seemed to be coursing through him. Tony watched with interest as the kid turned towards someone, his hands rapid fire signing – the man he was talking to obviously comfortable with this sort of exchange. When it was obvious there wasn’t going to be an answer, Tony couldn’t help the smile that slipped across his own face when the kid turned back his way – a curious look in his eye. Deciding at that moment to take this into his own hands, Tony started to sign, the words coming out of his mouth at the same rate he could make his body move through the signs. The look on the kid’s – Peter’s – face made his heart pound for a moment, the obvious surprise something that shouldn’t look as cute as it did. The closer he got to the other, the more of the car he could see and man – it was fucking impressive! The engine rebuild look flawless and he could already see the function of some of the obvious additions to the transmission. The kid had talent – an eye for this sort of thing, even. Something told him Peter did all of the work for himself, too. The kid obviously smart, obviously passionate about this sort of thing – his eyes on fire the entire time he talked about it. The whole thing was intoxicating to Tony, totally overwhelming in a way that Tony didn’t think he’d ever experienced. In all of his 37 years of life, he’d never felt a spark of connection the way he did with Peter – whatever the hell that meant.

After a quick exit and promise to himself to learn more about the kid, Tony got behind the wheel of his Audi – the itch to listen to music heavy the second he got into the seat. Happy shot him an odd look for a second, then smiled with a shrug – Tony listening to music was a rare and magic thing these days, so who the fuck was he to ruin it? Instead of saying anything, Happy let Tony fuck around with his phone – Tony’s fingers flying over the keys in search of one of his all-time favorite songs. Faithfully started over the speaker system and for the first time in a really long time, Tony let it wash over him. Since losing the song in his head, music didn’t hold the same place in his heart the way it used to. He couldn’t get through his time in the garage without it – the company of AC/DC something he’d gotten too used to over the years. Yet, he hadn’t let himself connect with anything since Ann Peebles soothed him to sleep almost ten years ago. It didn’t feel right, enjoying something the way he once did – feeling any sort of connection with sound when the person on the other side of his connection didn’t or couldn’t anymore. The resonating feeling Tony felt after his interaction with Peter, though – that felt like something to celebrate with some of his favorite tunes. He didn’t think too hard on that fact, simply allowed it to happen.

Getting back to the garage a few hours later, Tony went right to the computer and started to do some research. Finding Peter’s connection to SI wasn’t very hard – a simple search of his last name pulled up the name Ben Parker. He’d been working in the same garage for the past ten years and seemed to be pretty efficient in his work – and very invested in Peter – if the visitors log had anything to say about that. One Peter Parker started visiting the garage a whopping four years ago and Tony never even noticed. Of course, he didn’t spend much time thinking about anything other than his own work and the stupid schedule Pep put together for him. It seemed that the narrow focus he liked to have kept him from discovering this kid’s talent a lot earlier. A few runs through some of the recent security footage showed an incredibly talented Peter Parker doing a lot of the work under the hood or on the bench with one of the parts – taking it apart, then putting it seamlessly back together with hands of an expert, not those of a 16-year-old boy. In that instant, Tony knew he needed to do something for this kid – especially if his talent was to truly be believed. He could use someone with a mind not far from his own to help around the garage – to work with some of the more delicate parts that Tony wouldn’t trust to just anyone. With that decided, Tony made a few phone calls, getting the clearance from Pepper before calling the Parker residence to extend an internship to Peter Parker with his very own garage manager Steve Rogers.

Over the years, Tony taught most of the people on his staff at least a few signs so they could talk easily with Happy – and hoped he’d done enough to make Peter feel safe in the family that he created over the years of misfit mechanics and weirdos like himself. For some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, Tony felt compelled to take care of Peter Parker. Maybe it was the kid’s brilliance, or maybe it was the obvious talent that radiated off of him – whatever it was, Tony knew Peter was going to be special. If he could have a part in that, well – there wasn’t much anyone could do to stop him.

----

The next time Peter went into Stark Industries, he picked up his very own employee badge. Though he’d been in the garage for years, he never thought he’d get the opportunity to actually work in THE GARAGE. He hoped, silently, that someone would see his potential and scoop it up. In his wildest dreams, he never truly thought it’d be Tony Stark. His first day in the garage turned into the ultimate adventure. Being in the garage his uncle worked in, Peter saw lots of cool stuff. Walking into Tony’s garage, that was like walking into a completely different world. There were lifts he’d never seen before and a 3D printer in the corner that probably did a lot of their mockups. The tools were shiny and the sheer quantity of them made his mouth water. Peter spent time in a junk yard and still hadn’t seen that many things at his disposal. Getting the hang of communicating with Mr. Rogers was a little frustrating – the man going back and forth between talking to loud at him and muddling through signs – but at the end of the day, Peter knew his way around under the hood and didn’t need much direction. With all of these parts and pieces at his fingertips, Peter couldn’t wait to explore and experiment. The transmission in his own vehicle ran so much better than what they put into Uncle Ben’s and if he could adjust it to be universal, well – he could probably save people a lot of money.

Peter settled into his position pretty easily – his ability to work hard and think quick on his feet a cherished thing around the garage. Steve, or Cap, as people so fondly liked to call him, found a way to bridge the communication gap and became one of Peter’s biggest fans. While Cap had an abundance of hands-on experience, Peter had a mind made for solving puzzles and making pieces fit together in the best possible way. During their first engine rebuild, Steve didn’t have the right pieces, and instead of putting the job on pause – Peter hand crafted the piece himself, a smile on his face the entire time he puzzled together the singular pieces into the perfect part. In the matter of a couple hours, Peter won Cap over – and immediately had a great ally on his side. The hands-on things Peter didn’t know or understand, Cap taught him in the best way that he could. Like his Uncle Ben, Peter understood the other man in a way that not a lot of people did. It seemed to Peter that Bucky and Mr. Stark were the only ones that could really crack the older man’s shell. Now, he got to count himself a part of that illustrious group, too.

Working in the garage not only gave him access to the best materials, but the best mind in the car business, too. Tony didn’t spend a lot of time in Peter’s part of the garage – when he did, though, he worked closely with him. Tony always seemed to have a new project for the two of them to work on together, the older man so encouraging in the way he gave advice or taught something that not even Cap really understood or knew how to do. Peter found himself drawn to the older man in lots of ways, many that were probably too inappropriate to really think about – yet, he couldn’t help himself. For the first time in his life, Peter felt a sort of comfortability with another person that he couldn’t even claim to have with Ben or May. Tony’s grasp on ASL and inherent need to be helpful let Peter talk about whatever he wanted and ask all the questions his mind could come up with. His time spent with Tony taught him so much about his passion, the man’s knowledge of cars and the garage environment really was valuable, but his view on life and thoughts about whatever stupid shit came to his head were also so important to Peter. The boy felt like himself around the man and craved the connection between them whenever they weren’t together. He thought for a while that hero worship played a part in the way he felt. Peter did look up to the man for most of his life, after all. Yet, when he thought about the particular feeling that he hadn’t been able to chase away, it didn’t start until Tony started to open up to him – until the older man truly attempted to get to know Peter a little more.

The day of Peter’s 18th birthday stood out in his memory as THE turning point in their relationship. They were working on a new engine design, both gathered around the big computer in Tony’s home lab. They’d been meeting at Tony’s place for a while by then. The first time happened by accident. Elbow deep in grease, Steve suddenly remembered that he left an important receipt for one of the parts on Tony’s counter earlier that day and didn’t have time to get it – so Peter was sent on the errand. The property Tony built his house on felt so grand, Peter pulled into a driveway that reminded him of those fancy roundabouts in front of castles. Yet, it was delicately understated all at the same time. There weren’t huge marble statues or ostentatious lawn ornaments – simply a huge house flanked by a garage that could probably rival what they worked in back at SI. He looked at it with awe for a couple minutes before he decided to break his solitude. He took one more deep breath and enjoyed the vibration of the engine beneath him for another second, then turned the car off. It didn’t surprise Peter a single bit when he spotted Tony leaned against the doorframe of his front door, arms crossed in what he now knew to be what the older man considered to be his most relaxed pose. A soft smile pulled at the other man’s lips, the depth of the smile pulling the cute little lines at the corner of Tony’s eyes to the forefront. Peter returned the look without thought, his hand raising in greeting. Peter forced himself to take another deep breath – the roaring crush he had on the older man decided to peak its head out at the worst possible times. He thought he’d gotten the damn thing under control – but who the fuck was he kidding? A simple smile from the older man made his heart beat hard against his chest, the heat gathering from the force of it dripping into his stomach until he could hardly bare it – his focus completely shot the second he let the feeling overwhelm him. Standing in the man’s driveway was not the place to feel the steady thrum of familiar heat – so he quickly took the stairs to the front door. Tony placed a hand on the small of his back and suddenly the heat took off on its own – fire overtaking every inch of him. After that visit, Tony’s place became a little bit of a sanctuary for Peter, a place he could not only enjoy his time with Tony – but also a place he could give himself just the slightest bit of hope.

The invite to Tony’s place on his birthday didn’t surprise him – the man hosted parties for all his close friends and coworkers at the gorgeous house all the time. The fact that they snuck away from all the people gathered to head to the garage wasn’t all that off the charts, either. Peter spent as much, if not more time in the garage than Tony did – and when they were together, the time seemed to slip away – like nothing else existed but him, Tony, and whatever part they were working on. This time wasn’t any different, either. They were finally able to get his transmission modification generalized and the hope of all three of the cars they’d been working on performing was the final leg to their research. When all three of them struck and managed to switch gears simultaneously, Peter pumped both fists in the air – his excitement crackling in the air around him. He felt Tony wrap an arm around him and tap his shoulder three times – their little silent signal of praise. Despite Tony being able to communicate with him perfectly, Tony still seemed to prefer silence in the garage – especially when Peter was around. They would sign here and there, but there wasn’t a lot of exchange throughout their time together – a thought that at first freaked Peter out, then after some thought fit him just fine. All his life, people expected him to find a way to receive things from them and return the signal their way. Tony didn’t pressure and respected whatever mode of communication Peter felt willing to give and in return, the younger man did the same. The touch lingered for another couple of seconds before Tony pulled away and started walking across the garage. The man had a huge smile on his face when he turned to face Peter again, his hands moving for the first time in a while “This seems like the perfect time for some of the classics,” Tony signed, his hands moving restlessly as he then walked over to a glass cabinet Peter never really paid attention to. With the door open, Peter could see the collection of what he knew to be vinyl – his uncle’s own collection pretty impressive, especially if you asked the man himself. Peter hadn’t ‘listened’ to music since he lost his hearing – but he could remember the sound of all his soulmate’s favorites – the songs way more consistent now than they’d ever been. He wandered over towards the older man, his eyes wide when he saw the cover art for his favorite AC/DC album. “I haven’t heard this album since I lost my hearing,” Peter found himself signing, the boy not mentioning the fact that hearing in his head and hearing with his ears were too totally different things. “I love their stuff. Really miss it, actually.” Peter smiled with his last sign, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

Tony didn’t miss a beat – the next second, Peter found his hand being pressed against the speaker. The point of contact between them felt so warm – that all too familiar zing between them settling itself on the surface of Peter’s skin. For a second, he didn’t even think to look towards Tony, Peter’s eyes drooping instead so he could take in the way it felt – to be touched by the very person he craved so badly. When he eventually looked up, Tony was watching him closely, the older man’s gaze a mixture of things Peter didn’t really know how to name. He kept his hand there a second longer, then Tony pulled back and started to sign “Close your eyes and feel the beat. It’s like when you sit down in the car and start it up for the first time – that vibration. Get lost in that heavy thump – I bet it’s almost like hearing it again.” When Tony finished, Peter nodded and closed his eyes. He could immediately feel the vibration Tony was talking about and let the feeling of it pass through his chest. The steady beat changed, picking up a little the closer the song got to the chorus. All of the sudden – Peter could hear the tell-tale sound of Thunderstruck in the back of his head – a soft smile already pulling across his lips, this was one of his soulmate’s favorites. Then, like he was back in his mom’s car all those years ago, Peter felt the song surround him, only this time – it was in his head and below his hand, the drum beat of the song unmistakable now that he was really focusing. What the actual fuck – Peter thought to himself, his eyes flashing open. Quickly, he pushed against Tony’s shoulder – the man halfway through an air guitar riff – the touch eventually getting his attention. “What song are we listening to, Tony?” Peter signed, his sign for Tony emphasized. Tony tilted his head, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Thunderstruck, Pete. One of my all-time favorites,” Tony signed back, his eyes closing again as the powerful ending to the song crept closer.

It took Peter the rest of the song to put the whole thing together. After a considerably long time in the garage together, a delirious Tony told Peter that he couldn’t hear his soulmate anymore. The information came out of the blue – though Peter learned over his time spent with the man that many things were fighting for dominance in the man’s head and he didn’t always have control of what came out. While he told the story, Peter felt his heart breaking ever so slightly – a part of him hoping that maybe – well, that didn’t matter. Watching the person he’d come to love more than anyone in the world break down over something so gut wrenching was absolutely terrible. The man told him how long he waited to hear from that person at the beginning of life, then Peter listened while Tony told him how long ten years felt without the songs he’d come to really count on. The worst part was the sudden nature of it, or so Tony said, anyway. He didn’t know what happened to his person, but he felt a loneliness that most people probably couldn’t understand. Peter couldn’t say anything, so he didn’t – he simply wrapped the man in his arms and pulled him close. If nothing else, Peter understood the silence – the overwhelming need to hear something – anything again.

The suddenness of realizing that Tony stopped hearing his soulmate because his soulmate lost their hearing kept him motionless – the boy still long enough for Tony to look at him weirdly, the older man’s hand coming out to shake his shoulder slightly, even. “You alright, Pete?” Tony said, both his hands and mouth moving this time around – worry evident in his facial expression. Peter nodded, but still felt a little overwhelmed – this realization huge and still entirely too one-sided. “Tony, when did you stop hearing from your soulmate?” Peter signed frantically – his fingers moving fast enough for the signs to seemingly blur together. Tony’s face dropped slightly, his shoulders slumping just from mentioning the situation. It looked like he wasn’t going to answer, but then his raised his hands and signed “ten years.” The look on his face made Peter’s stomach clench despite what Peter now knew. “My soulmates favorite song is Thunderstruck. I’ve been listening to it since I was a child, Tony. That drumbeat – I’ve been listening to it in my head since I can remember,” Peter spoke this time, his voice a little rusty from a lack of use. “I lost my hearing ten years ago. Fuck – Tony, you didn’t lose your soulmate. I – I… just haven’t been able to listen to music – I haven’t had a song in my head in ten years.”

----

Tony could feel the kid’s eyes on him – the sheer magnitude of Peter speaking to him not getting lost in all the mess of translation. His heart thumped incessantly against his ribcage – the sheer force of it making him feel like it might beat right out of his chest. A part of Tony knew – knew that for whatever reason, Peter was put in his path and belonged there. He didn’t quite understand the way he belonged there for a long time. At first, Tony felt like a mentor, like he could share his knowledge with the kid and help make him better than even Tony could hope for himself. Peter was young and impressionable and Tony felt like he could do some good – he had a lot to offer to someone that could keep up with him. Subtly, that feeling started to change. The more time they spent together, the closer Tony drifted. Peter provided a sort of comfort and excitement that was unnamable and indescribable. Being an almost 40-year-old man feeling butterflies in his stomach for the first time seemed silly, but Tony didn’t think he could name them as anything else. Between his brilliance and ability to pull a laugh from the older man at the drop of a hat, Tony was hooked – and honestly didn’t feel all that bad about it. The realization, thankfully, didn’t come until Peter was almost 18 so Tony didn’t have to feel like he groomed the kid. The natural order of things was slowly starting to work itself out, despite Tony not understanding it completely.

So, Peter’s words weren’t the biggest surprise. Especially after he felt the vibration of the music run through him after he pulled away from Peter. The second the kid’s eyes closed, and he started to feel the music, Tony felt the same sensation – the realization of what that meant something he didn’t want to even think about. What if that wasn’t the case? What if Peter didn’t have a fucking clue what Tony was even talking about? Peter was way too important to the ins and outs of Tony’s everyday life and he would never risk that by making a grand assumption – or scaring the shit out of a young man that could have any person on the planet, regardless of the soulmate situation. But – Peter took the entire ordeal out of his hands and figured it out first. The kid really was much smarter than Tony and not for the first time, he felt so insanely grateful for that fact. He took a second to collect himself, his entire body so overcome that he felt like he might actually faint right then and there. Only after blinking the little black dots from his eyes did Tony even think to reply – his eyes already watery from the stupidly huge magnitude of emotions smacking him in the face. Waiting 39 years for this moment made it feel monumental – yet, the fact that Peter ended up being the one for him – it all sort of made sense, made all of the pieces finally fit together. For someone that spent his entire life putting shit back together, it took him a long time to add himself to that category. It was worth the wait, though – how could the beautiful man in front of him being anything else?

“I didn’t – I mean, I never thought to ask anyone about it. I didn’t know that was a thing and when I met you, our connection seemed so natural that I didn’t question it. Not even a little bit.” Tony said, his lips and fingers moving while the words spilled from him – his eyes still threatening to drip tears the entire time. “This is happening, right?” Tony’s smile was sheepish, but the question so legitimate. The wait for something like this seemed like forever and it felt a little like too good to be true – but also perfect all at the same time. Peter didn’t bother to answer, the younger man’s arms moved to pull him close, instead – their proximity making Tony feel so fucking weak. The perfection of their closeness made him feel a little crazy and his previous question all of the sudden felt silly. This – the connection between them now that they were pressed together so tightly, it felt right. “You’re my soulmate, Pete. Holy fuck,” Tony signed quickly before his hands became otherwise occupied. Both of Tony’s calloused palms cupped Peter’s cheeks, his long fingers found their way into the scruff of hair he could reach on the other. Then, only after Peter looked up and their gazes connected – Tony finally closed the distance between them, his lips sealing over the younger man’s in the most perfect first kiss. His eyes slipped closed and for the first time in his entire life, Tony forgot everything but the feeling of Peter pressed against him and the wet heat of their lips slipping against each other’s.

The kiss lasted until they were both pulling away gasping, Tony’s chest heaving from the lack of oxygen. The pressure on his chest reminded him it was real, though – the flush of his cheeks and the hard hit of his heart in his ears kept him level and in the moment. The moment in which Tony finally found the person on the other side of the line. He kept the grip on Peter’s cheeks for another moment, using it to press their lips together another couple of times before pulling back – needing the use of his hands. “I love you, Peter Parker. Something always told me never to give up, and when you came into my life – the something was so loud. I’m so glad it’s you, Pete.” Slowly, he rubbed across his heart, then finger spelt Peter’s name – the older man changing the sign for Peter right there in front of his eyes. “Mine,” Tony mumbled, his free hand holding both of Peter’s tight.

Peter pulled his hands away and Tony looked up, confusion etched into his brow for a moment, then a smile drifted across his lips when Peter caressed his cheek, a small thumb running across his lips teasingly. “I love you too, Tony. My whole life, I’ve loved you.” Peter said the words, his hands occupying themselves in the depth of the hair on the back of Tony’s head – the younger man’s slimness pressing against him ever so slightly. “I’m glad it was you, too.” The last words were spoken against Tony’s lips, the remnants of them stolen by the kiss that followed shortly after.

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #ironspider #tony #peter #deaf peter #mechanic tony #marvel fanfiction #marvel #fan fics #fics #thunderstruck #no better love

38 notes · View notes

avengers-hamiltrash · 4 years ago

Text

‘Scaredy Cat’

Prompt: November 14, ‘Scarecrow’

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k (thank you, brain)

Warning: None :)

A/N: Happy reading!

Kindergarten

It was your first field trip of the year. You were going to a pumpkin patch with a bunch of classmates you barely knew.

The worst for you was the fact that you had to use the buddy system. You wouldn't be bothered by that fact if you got to pair with your friends. But no, you had to be paired up with the only kid you hadn't talked to yet. Peter Parker.

A lot of the girls in your class had considered him the cutest, you were just disgusted by the fact that they had a crush.

Now that everyone was set up with their buddies, everyone had been instructed to race through the corn maze. Neither of you cared if you won or not, just that you didn't want to spend any more time with each other than you had to. Then you heard a girly shriek. You looked over and saw Peter standing next to a scarecrow with a weird look on his face.

"Scaredy cat," you muttered loud enough that he could hear.

"Am not."

"Are too." And with that, he started chasing you through the maze - determined to catch the girl who made fun of him.

That day a friendship bloomed, a friendship that would last through the darkest nights and the brightest days.

6th Grade (Middle School)

Every year since kindergarten, May and your mother would take you to the pumpkin patch in the fall - to keep up with tradition. Of course, each year you would go into the corn maze and make subtle insults about each other to recreate your first time there.

This year you had a challenge to add to pumpkin carving. You wanted to carve each other into the pumpkins. This obviously went very poorly, considering you both had the art skills of a drunken parakeet.

While laughing, you started to see him in a new light. How he scrunched his nose when he laughed. The way he looked whenever he got so excited. The way he cared about everyone so close to him.

Oh no. You have a crush.

Freshman Year

You had recently taken a liking to the crime-fighting superhero of Queens, Spider-Man. Peter almost said something every time you brought him up. Until you started rambling for around fifteen minutes about something to do with the web-fluid mechanism.

"You know, I feel like I know more about Spider-Man, so I think I'm right about this one, Peter. Honestly, you just got to admit you're wrong sometimes-"

"I'm Spider-Man, so I think I know how it's made." He realized what he had said the second it came out of his mouth. You just stood in your room, mouth open in shock and eyes-widened.

"I swear to God Y/N if you tell anyone I will never talk to you again!"

"But my best friend is the Spider-Man! How am I not going to tell everyone?!" He looked at you desperately. He just wanted to walk over and slap a hand over your mouth.

"Fine, fine. But you definitely need to show the web-fluid mixture sometime." He just chuckled and changed the subject.

"You know we don't have any classes together this year, right?"

"Yeah I know, but we each have a few classes with Ned, so that's a plus."

"I also have every class with Liz, so hopefully something happens." There was nothing at that moment that you wanted to do more than fall to the floor and cry. How could you forget about Liz? The one girl you had always been jealous of just so happened to catch Peter's eye. You waited until he left to cry. To let all your emotions float through the room. You wished you could move on, but he just had to keep being the amazing person he is, didn't he?

Senior Year

There were only two things you were looking forward to this year: pumpkin patch with Peter, and graduating from this hell-hole building called 'Midtown High School'. But when you asked about it, he apparently had other plans.

"When are we going to the pumpkin patch?" A guilty look immediately washed over his face.

"I kind of already went with MJ." In that moment you felt like had lost your best friend. The one thing that you had left with him, and he just threw it out the window.

"Oh, well, that's okay. We always have next year." When you said it, you knew it wasn't true. You felt yourself start to tear up. You kept composed, even though you just lost the boy who had stolen your six years ago. You started to drift away and definitely separated when you graduated.

He felt a hole swell in his heart. Like he was missing something. Then it hit him like a freight train. He knew what was missing: You.

College: Freshman Year

It had been a while since you had even thought about your 'best friend'. On the other hand for Peter, you hadn't left his mind for a second.

You weren't looking in front of you as you walked around campus, which led you to run straight into someone.

"Peter?!"

"Y/N..."

"It's been so long!" You said as you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. You start walking and talking about what has been going on in your chaotic lives.

"How is your Aunt May?"

"She's good. How are your parents?"

"Uh, my mom is sick right now but otherwise okay." You ended up walking to the campus diner.

"Well, we might as well go in," he said quietly, "I seem to remember you are a milkshake addict."

"Ah, your memory is doing quite well I see." You two talked until it was pitch black outside and you were being shooed out of the restaurant.

"Hey, do you need me to walk you home? I don't want you to get hurt or anything."

"Oh, no it's okay. I can just call my boyfriend." This time it was his turn to be heartbroken. He held the same brave face you had all those years.

The only good thing for him was being able to finally talk to you again.

College: Senior Year

You both finally graduated, and neither you nor Peter were dating anyone. Now it was just time for one of you to man-up. You had decided to get homemade presents for each other. You made a scrapbook from kindergarten to now.

He was shaking out of nervousness. He didn't exactly want to give you your present. He was putting his heart out there to take if you wanted to. He was about to throw it away and get something else when he heard a knock at his door.

"How about you open mine first? Just so we get the cringe over with." You say excitedly. He grabbed it from you with no hesitation and ripped away the paper like a kid on Christmas. A tear almost fell down his cheek as he relived the memories.

"This is... Wow, it's amazing! Mine is horrible in comparison. You probably just shouldn't even open!" He rambled on.

"It can't possibly be that bad, Peter." When you took the present, he felt as if he was going to cry - knowing you weren't going to feel the same way.

You the small box and were greeted with multiple letters, starting with:

These are little notes of all the things I've ever wanted to say to you, so please don't hate me if you don't feel the same way!

Love, Peter

It was love letter after love letter. You let a few tears shed knowing you couldn't stop them even if you wanted to. After reading them, you basically pounced on him - not knowing how to express your love the same way he did.

"I was always just scared you weren't going to feel the same way," he muttered quietly.

"Scaredy cat," you said looking back at the memory.

#peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #spider-man #avengers-hamiltrash

5 notes · View notes

mccartneysbass · 5 years ago

Text

run for your life

pairing: kai parker x reader

word count: ~2k unedited so excuse mistakes

summary: snapshots of Kai and reader throughout their childhood.

warnings: possessive Kai; Kai being Kai

Idk what this is, I was just watching tvd and this popped into my head. I might make this into a full-fledged fic with chapters but for now, it can be a stand-alone. BUt y’all can expect more Kai related stuff soon.

1978

You huffed as you ran after Kai who had once again run away from you. For along as you could remember Kai had always been a part of your life, being next-door neighbors and part of the same coven helped in that aspect. When you first met Kai, he had originally pushed you away and went to go sulk while ignoring you and Josie.

You couldn’t help but feel the need to get to know him. You were relentless, always pulling him to play with you and even when he antagonized you by pulling your hair or pushing you, you never let him go. Eventually, he gave in and did not push you away as much as he used to.

Wherever Kai was it was almost guaranteed that you were not far behind.

“Kai!” You screeched out, before tackling him onto the leaf-covered forest ground.

“You promised you would play with me,” you whined out. He squirmed underneath you, “Leave me alone, YN. I don’t want to play with you.”

“Come on Kai, I’ll give you some of my magic if you play house with me.”

“Fine, but I am not playing the puppy again.”

1979

It was the first day of kindergarten and you were increasingly getting nervous as you got closer to the school. You wouldn’t know anyone and you were especially nervous that Kai wouldn’t be in your class.

“You’re going to make a lot of new friends YN, it will be fun,” your mother tried to reassure you.

“I don’t want new friends I have Kai,” you replied back.

“I know honey, but you can have other friends too,” Your mother, just like the rest of the coven knew about Kai’s abilities and did not want you to be so close to him. She had tried to keep the two of you separated but you would always throw tantrums; you were still young and couldn’t properly control your magic it would send things flying, the aftermath was like the wreckage of a hurricane. Since then your mother wasn’t as vocal in separating the two of you.

During recess, Kai was beginning to get annoyed that his shadow wasn’t with him. For as much as he claimed to dislike YN, he didn’t dislike her as much as he hated his classmates. You were at least tolerable to him. He always hated when you ignored him and played with his sister or the other neighbors, you were his toy and no one else’s. Which was why he was currently on the lookout for you, he didn’t want you playing with anyone but him.

He could hear vaguely you sniffling, wondering why you would be crying if he hadn’t done anything to you today. When he saw you on the floor surrounded by some other kids, he felt himself get angry. Only he was allowed to torment you, balling up his fists he stomped over to where the group was. He picked up a broken tree branch and swung at the ring leader. YN was surprised that he had actually helped her, knowing how finicky he could be. He continued hitting him with his makeshift bat until he got bored and instead shifted focus on you.

“You need to stand up for yourself,” Kai scolded you while helping you get up.

“Thank you, Kai.” You replied back sniffling.

Later that day, Kai’s parents weren’t surprised that they were called in for his behavior. They knew he would constantly lash out and isolate himself from others. Kai was sitting in one of the chairs, stone-faced with Y/N in the seat next to him, teary-eyed and holding on to his arm.

Seeing his parents you quickly stood up, “Don’t be mad at Kai, please. He was only helping me. They were being mean to me.” You didn’t want him to get in any more trouble than he usually was, you knew his Father was often cruel to him for his abilities.

“Thank you YN, we will keep this in mind. Malachai, we will talk about this when we get home.” Mr. Parker sternly said.

1980

The past week he had been feeling down, he hadn’t explicitly mentioned it but whenever he was in his moods it was always evident when he pushed you away even more so than usual.

You had stayed over at Josie’s birthday slumber party, Kai had been throwing a tantrum that Josie was stealing his friend. For you to hear Kai refer to you as his friend, sent you over the moon.

“Mom, I want to bake cupcakes for Kai,” you yelled out to wherever she was. Without waiting for a response you began to gather random ingredients that you found throughout the kitchen, not exactly caring what they were.

“Well unless you want the cupcakes to be inedible, you should put the cayenne spice away, honey,” With that you spent all morning trying to make chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. By the end of it you were proud of your creations and were excited to gift it to Kai, later tonight.

During the slumber party games, you sneaked away to Kai’s room, where he was still reeling from his earlier tantrum. He barely looked at her before dismissing her away, “Go back to Josie, I know she’s your favorite, just like everyone else.”

“You’re just mad. You know you’re my favorite twin,” you said scooting closer with every word. Once you were next to him you reached over into your bag and took out the tupperware, that held the cupcake and a single candle.

Offering the cupcake, “Happy Birthday, Kai!” You could see his lips twitch almost turning into a smile. He took the cupcake, “YN—”

“Wait—take my hand,” he furrowed his brow in suspicion before following your request, “Siphon me,” he didn’t have to be told twice. With the magic he received from you he lit up the single candle and smiled at you before blowing it out.

1984

During lunch Kai was beginning to get annoyed, thinking that you had finally decided to abandon him. You were the only one that didn’t call him an abomination or look at him with pity in their eyes. When Kai wasn’t forcefully siphoning magic from his younger siblings he received it willingly from YN, they had become one of the two people he actually held a soft spot for and he wasn’t going to let you get away from him that easily.

As he peered through the hallway looking for you, he noticed you standing off to the side with two other girls. He hated them, they were annoying and talked even more than him, which was saying something. He muttered out an “invisique,” with the magic he still had in his system and got closer to hear the conversation.

“Stop hanging out with that freak, Malachai, YN.” The taller of the two said.

“You don’t need him, you could do so much better. Hang out with us,” the other continued.

“Shut up. Don’t talk about him like that,” YN fumed.

“He’s a total lose—” she didn’t even finish her sentence before the hallway lights burst. YN pushed the taller one into the lockers.

“Because I’m in a good mood today, I will let this go, but if you ever talk about him like that I will make sure that pretty face of yours isn’t so pretty anymore,” they threatened while caressing girl’s face.

“Do you understand?” YN asked forcefully. The girl nodded, looking to her friends as if to ask for help.

“I said: Do you understand?” YN snarled, roughly grabbing her face so she would be looking at them.

“Y-Yes, I’m sorry.” The girl squealed out.

“Good, now get out of here before I change my mind.” The girls ran away, wanting to put as much distance between them.

“That was really hot,” Kai said aloud as he undid his invisibility spell.

“Eh, what can I say? You’re starting to rub off on me.”

1989

Despite constantly being by Kai’s side, you had been invited to the biggest house party thrown every year by the captain of the football team. You had mentioned it to Kai, save for the part of the captain— you knew how much Kai despised them and didn’t want to set him off before you had even reached the party.

You had lost track of how many tequila shots he had taken, you could tell he was drunk because he was much more smiley than usual and physically more affectionate. “YN, look!” he screeched out from the top of the table as he did the running man and his odd version of what seemed to be the sprinkler. He had gathered a decent-sized crowd and brought up other people to dance with him.

Oh how you wished you had brought your camera, you quickly went over and coaxed him down to where you were sure he wouldn’t be a harm to himself. He put his arm around your waist and was trying to kiss you, “Kai, you’re drunk. I don’t want to do anything you will regret. Stay here I’m going to get you some water.”

You gently eased him onto the couch, before disappearing into the crowd.

To Kai, it felt like you had been for far too long and quickly went stumbling after you. When he caught up to you in the kitchen he sobered up quickly when he saw the captain of the football team putting his hands on you.

His hand rested on your hip, he could feel himself growing angrier every second. He stomped over to where the two were and roughly pushed him away before punching him in the face. Kai could only grin when he heard a crunch and feel a warm liquid covering his knuckle. He knelt to where the captain was on the floor, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, “If you ever touch her, no if you ever look or think about her again, I will kill you.”

1990

“You need better music taste,” Kai continued to dismiss the records and CDs you had organized on your shelf.

“Hey, the Beatles changed the game. Don’t disrespect them like that,” you said throwing a pillow at his head.

“Not my fault you can’t appreciate real talent like Nirvana and Pearl Jam.” He threw back the pillow aiming for your face, “Speaking of, I made this for you,” he continued, pulling out a mixtape he had made.

It was labeled, get some actual taste in music, in his messy scrawl. You could feel your heart flutter and a slight blush overtook your face. You weren’t sure what the two of you were, ever since the party last year, your relationship had been more than friends, but you never officially established what the two of you were. The whole school was convinced the two of you were together, and why wouldn’t they? You were constantly together, whether it was studying, ditching, or just sitting at lunch where one was the other was never far behind. You were the only one who could put up with Kai’s constant chatter, not to mention keep him from constantly being in a mood. Even Josie, Kai’s twin, was convinced that you two were together.

You put the mixtape on and moved to where Kai was standing.

“Thank you, Kai.” You muttered out, hooking your arms around his neck. You pulled him onto the bed and kissed him. With each kiss you could feel him siphoning you, he deepened the kiss and flicked his arm out, shutting the door. You broke away from the kiss and placed your forehead on his and whispered out, “I want you, Kai. Only you, be my boyfriend?”

“I thought you’d never ask."

#kai parker x reader #kai x reader #kai imagine #kai parker imagine #tvd x reader #tvd imagine #my writing

318 notes · View notes

dc41896 · 5 years ago

Text

First Day

Hey guys! So today was the first day of school for kids in my hometown (not for me though since I don’t have to worry about school for a while lol), and I thought of this cute imagine idea and just wanted to write it really quick, if you guys don’t mind :). Also, since it was a last minute idea, I hope it makes sense and doesn't sound terrible. For anyone that follows me or sees this and you’re going back to school/college, good luck, you got this, and I wish you much success this year/semester and for all those that come after!! <3

Warnings: None (just fluff!)

Word Count: 1,707

“Wake up Mama, Tata! It’s the first day of school!,” your five-year old son, Atlas, shouts, jumping on your bed. “Sweety, remember I said I was gonna come in and wake you when it was time?,” you yawn turning over towards your very hyper child.

“I know, but I’m excited!,” he answers plopping down beside you to hug your neck just as your alarm chimes and vibrates your beside table. “Tata!! Wake up! The alarm said so!,” he exclaims now climbing on Florian’s abdomen and poking his cheeks.

“But I don’t want to,” he groans pulling the covers up closer to him and covering Atlas’ head, which made him giggle. “Nooo I’m the one going to school, you have to take me!,” he corrects removing the sheet from his head and scooting closer to his father’s face.

“I know I know I’m just messing with you my sweet prinţ,” Florian smiled picking Atlas up and holding him in the air as he sat up, causing his giggle fit to return. Fully awake now from your adorable wake up call, you and Florian both got out of bed to begin getting ready for the day.

You tried not to think too much of it, but watching your son play as you made breakfast started to make you more emotional as time passed. It seemed as if it was yesterday that you brought him home from the hospital, bundled up in a small white blanket.

Now was his first day of kindergarten and you didn’t know how you were going to make it without crying every 10 minutes. If only you could turn back time to where he was a baby again, and freeze it so you could keep him that small forever and cuddle him.

“Mama look! I look like Tata!,” you heard Atlas say, taking you out of your thoughts. “Ohh you do love! You look so handsome!,” you smile bending down to kiss his cheek.

Last night, Florian said that he wanted to dress him for his first day, which made you figure that he would have something up his sleeve, but you couldn’t figure out what until now. Wearing his school uniform of khaki’s and a navy blue polo shirt, he also had on white Air Force 1s and a gold cross chain Florian recently bought him.

“Babe are you sure you want him to go to school in his chain? What if something happens to it?,” you ask walking with Atlas to the table to help him sit in his chair to eat. “It’s the first day, my boy’s gotta look fresh!,” Florian responds lightly pinching his cheeks and making him giggle. “Plus if anybody messes with you, what did Tata teach you to do?”

“Punch them in the face!,” your son responds with a mouth full of waffles, standing up in his chair to throw air punches. It amazed you how much he was like Florian.

Atlas might’ve looked just like you, but from his green eyes to his mannerisms and facial expressions, he was definitely his father’s child. “Alright Mike Tyson, sit down before you fall,” you laugh grabbing his backpack to put his lunch in as well as some of his supplies. “What did mommy tell you to do though if someone messes with you?”

“To first tell the teacher and then if they put their hands on me, that’s when I punch them,” he answers sitting down and finishing his breakfast. “Exactly,” you wink at Florian, in turn making him playfully roll his eyes at you as he sat down to eat his food.

Once you and Florian were dressed, and double checked to make sure Atlas had everything, you all left to drop him off at school. You were glad that Florian drove, because the closer you guys came to the school grounds, the more emotional you could feel yourself getting.

You thought about all the what ifs that could happen while he was away from home, like someone picking on him or him getting lost trying to get to the library, for example, and having a meltdown. As if he could sense your nervousness, Florian softly squeezed your hand as he brought it up to his lips, which was his way of telling you that everything would be okay.

“Eww!,” Atlas said from the backseat with a giggle as he covered his eyes. “Hey you’re gonna have a girlfriend that you’re gonna do that with one day,” Florian smiled peeking at him through the rearview mirror.

“No I’m not, girls are icky,” Atlas replies playing with his Woody and Buzz Lightyear toys. “You say that now, but once you’re a teenager you’ll be saying something different,” you softly laugh turning around to tickle his legs.

Now you were thinking about him being a teenager in high school and then going off to college, which made you want to sob even more.

__________

Walking up to his classroom, you told yourself you needed to keep it together not only so you wouldn’t look like THAT parent, but also so Atlas wouldn’t start getting emotional himself and not want to go. Although he didn’t seem like he didn’t want to go in, you could tell that he was nervous about this new environment from how close he held yours and Florian’s hand to his face, almost shielding his eyes.

“Hello, I’m Mrs. Bloom,” a short, middle-aged woman with long red hair cheerily greeted as you three walked into the classroom. “And who might you be young man?”

“Atlas Munteanu,” he shyly answered from behind your leg. “His name is actually Florian Atlas Munteanu, but having two Florian’s in one house can get confusing so he goes by Atlas,” Florian answers with a small laugh, playing with one of Atlas’ curls.

“Ohh such a pretty name for a handsome boy! If you want, you can go find your seat and talk with the other kids while I talk with your parents,” Mrs. Bloom smiled, bending down to talk to Atlas. Looking up at the both of you, he squeezed your hands a bit tighter, signaling how he didn’t want to move from his spot between you and Florian.

“It’s ok love, you can go find your seat,” you smile squatting down next to him. “Remember what we talked about last night.” “That everything will be ok,” he responds looking down at his feet. “But what if they don’t like me?,” Atlas whispered in your ear, nearly making your heart break and take him home at that moment, forgetting about the first day of school.

“Then they’re crazy because you are the smartest, funniest, kindest, and coolest kid that they’ll ever meet,” you smile as you whisper back in his ear. Appreciating your mini pep talk, he hugs your neck and kisses your cheek before turning to Florian to do the same and going to find his desk.

“I take it you must be Florian 1,” she smiles shaking Florian’s hand before turning towards you. “And your name dear?”

“Y/N. Nice to meet you Mrs. Bloom,” you smile shaking her hand as well. “Nice to meet you both! Just to let you know, today will be pretty light as far as teaching, and homework is rarely given unless it’s unfinished classwork,” she explains taking turns looking at both you and Florian. “Were there any questions you had for me, or any information I needed to know about Atlas?”

“I don’t think we have any questions, but I do have a list of secondary phone numbers just in case something happens and for some reason you can’t get either one of us,” you mention handing her the folded up sheet of paper from your pocket. “And these are 2 of his uncle’s numbers too if you can’t get anyone on the list,” Florian adds handing the teacher a piece of paper with Masias’ and Sandro’s number on it.

“Ok thank you, I’ll keep these in his file. I guess if there’s nothing else then I’ll see both of you this afternoon!,” she smiles before you all say your goodbyes. Taking one last look at Atlas before you guys leave, you see him sitting at his desk talking with one of his classmates and coloring.

“Just wait until you get to the car, then you can cry all you want,” you repeat to yourself trying to hold back your tears. Holding onto Florian’s arm as you guys walk out the classroom, you hear a light knock on the window causing both of you to turn around to see Atlas holding up a sign that he colored saying “I LOVE YOU!,” and waving at the both of you.

Waving back at him, you wait until he turns around to go back to his seat and continue his conversation with his new friend before you bury your head in Florian’s chest, fully sobbing in the middle of the hallway. “It’s ok love, we’ll see him in a few hours. Please don’t cry,” he whispers as he rubs up and down your back trying to soothe you.

“First drop off?,” you hear a man ask Florian to which he nods, still holding you and rubbing your back. “I understand, been there three times,” he softly laughs before handing Florian tissues and patting him on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright guys.”

Thanking the man, you expected for Florian to hand you the tissues, but was caught off guard to hear his sniffles and him blowing his nose. Looking up, you see him wiping tears from his red eyes and off his equally red cheeks making your heart melt.

“Aww babe, you’re crying too,” you softly laugh wiping the drops of tears that still sat on his beard. “Yea I know I’m a big softy,” he lightly chuckles wiping the tears from your eyes as well.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re my big softy and I love you for that,” you smile taking his hands to kiss his knuckles. “I love you too. Now we might want to leave before Atlas sees us, or we get judged more than we already have been,” Florian laughs as you both walk out of the school hand in hand.

Translations:

prinţ: prince

Taglist: @honeychicana @melinda-january @crushed-pink-petals @themyscxiras @lady-olive-oil @lovelymari4 @ellixthea @fumbling-fanfics @jojolu @jnk-812 @sheabuttuhbby @captainsamwlsn @nina-sj

If anybody else wants to be added to the taglist, or you’ve requested to be added and don’t see your name just let me know! :)

#florian munteanu #florian big nasty munteanu #florianxreader #florianxblackreader #florianxWOC

152 notes · View notes

ashleyh713 · 5 years ago

Text

“His Reasons” Ch1

Hello! This is my ongoing MHA fanfic called “His Reasons.” There are many chapters so far but I thought I’d post the first one here. If this interests you, links to the full fanfic are below. I am very proud of this fanfic and I hope you will give it a chance, even if it may sound generic at first. Trust me, it isn’t.

Todoroki X OC

Sibling Bakugo as well

Feels, angst and character development a plenty. Not your typical OC story.

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

Katsuki Bakugo was born at 1:10AM on a rainy Friday morning. When they weighed him he turned out to be irregularly strong for the newborn.

His parents cried for joy but soon realized everything was not over.

Amari Bakugo was born at 1:20AM and right away they noticed a drastic change between the two infants.

Where as Katsuki was abnormally strong, Amari appeared weak and stick thin, almost purple and blue around the sides of her face.

The doctors noticed this and sprang into action quickly, grabbing the child and attaching all sorts of tubes and wires while she remained silent.

The parents raced forward and asked what was wrong but the doctor were too busy trying to keep the newborn alive.

That was the start of Katsuki and Amari Bakugo’s very different lives.

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

After they stabilized her, Amari was forced to stay in the hospital so that doctors could monitor her health. It seemed her body was extremely unstable, and they knew exactly why. They didn’t talk about it though, especially in front of Katsuki.

Katsuki himself was stronger than ever though, living his life like a normal preschooler would. He didn’t pay any mind to his sister and just lived as he pleased.

He would sometimes visit her though, mostly because he was forced by his mom.

His mother pulled him inside the building, practically dragging him. “Now listen here young man! You are going to visit your sister and you are gonna like it!”

Although Bakugo had other plans. “Ugh I don’t want to! It’s gonna be so boring and she just sits there not doing anything. I’m supposed to go play with my friends! Let me go!”

But the woman wouldn’t budge and soon enough they were face to face with Amari. She just smiled but he couldn’t help but notice the tubes and machines hooked up to her. “Brother!”

Bakugo scoffed as his mom pushed him into the room. “Tch.”

Pulling him even further, his mom smiled back. “Hello sweetie, how are you feeling?”

She looked down for a moment before nodding her head, pretending to flex her non existent muscles. “I’m good mommy! Soon I’ll be all better!”

There was sadness in their mother's eyes then. “Of course you will. Now, mommy’s gonna go downstairs and get you something delicious, okay? Katsuki, watch your sister.”

He grumbled at this. “Ugh. Do I have to?”

This caused her to narrow her eyes. “Katsuki..”

Rolling his own eyes, Katsuki scoffed again. “Fine, just hurry up.”

Seeming happy with that, she left the two kids alone, hoping that this time would be good for them. They were practically twins after all.

Once the door shut, Katsuki strolled up to Amari and put his small boot on her bed, looking rather annoyed. “So what’s your deal? Why are you stuck here?”

Putting a hand on her IV, Amari just sighed. “They said I can’t leave.”

Being a young kid, Katsuki didn’t understand her statement. “So you can’t even go outside or anything? What about go hunting for beetles or play superhero games?”

Amari shook her head. “No, the mean doctor said I have to stay cause I could get hurt real bad.”

Crossing his arms across his chest, her replied. “Ahh how boring. So what do you do in here then? Just stare at the walls?”

She seemed to find this funny. “Sometimes. Sometimes I think about what my quirk will be.”

This got him excited. Extending his legs, Katsuki stood on the chair next to him, his fists out in exhilaration. “I already know my quirk is gonna be the best so don’t even think you can beat me! I’m gonna be the best of the best, like All Might!”

At the name, Amari perked up. “You know All Might?! I see him on TV all the time. Brother it would be good to be like him!”

He nodded his head in agreement. “Hell yeah! I’m gonna be the best!”

Laughing maniacally at his own statement, their mother peaked in and couldn’t help but smile at the two. It seemed she was worried for nothing.

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

A couple years later, Bakugo was sitting in kindergarten when he felt a small spark ignited from his fingertips.

All of his classmates turned and gasped in awe at what they were seeing, even the teachers seemed impressed. “Oh! Congratulations Bakugo, you got your quirk, and a wonderful one it is.”

Looking down at his hands, the entire class cheered and he felt amazing. Finally, after all these years he was finally going to be the best.

Then, he remembered something he once heard in class.

Leaning over to his teacher, Bakugo questioned. “Teacher, is it true that twins get their quirks around the same time?”

She looked confused but answered anyways. “Uhh yes that is true usually. Why do you ask Bakugo?”

It was obvious she didn’t know about Amari. Heck, no one knew about her. It wasn’t really something he brought up in class and because she was in the hospital that meant she basically didn’t exist in the outside world. “No reason.”

But internally, he was excited to show off his new quirk to his family, silently hoping that what the teacher said was true. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so weak.

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

Rushing to the hospital, Bakugo threw the door open and Amari just looked confused. “Brother? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t seem any different from usual but that didn’t phase him much, instead running up to him and shouting. “Amari! Look, I got my quirk!”

He let his palms ignited with sparks and her eyes went wide. “Whoaa, cool! That’s so cool brother!”

Nodding his head at the ego stroke, her brother stood proud. “Right? Now I can be the best of the best, the most powerful!”

Amari smiled happily for her own brother but it didn’t last long. Her eyes then shifted from him to her very skinny arms, muttering under her breath. “I wish I could get my quirk too.”

He stopped then, racing towards her bedside. “I heard my teacher say that twins get their quirks around the same time. If you really focus, I’m sure you’ll get yours also!”

Seeming rather uncertain, Amari raised her brow. “You sure? The doctors said…”

But Bakugo just cut her off. “Screw what they say! You’re my sister which means you also gotta be strong! Just try!”

A moment of silence filled the air and Amari thought about what the doctors told her, that she might never get her quirk because of her weak body. But on the other hand, she didn’t wanna disappoint her brother who had never come to see her willingly before this.

Nodding her head, Amari squeezed her eyes and tried to focus, willing her quirk to come to the surface. She didn’t know exactly how to do it but all she could think about was making her brother proud.

Suddenly she felt an odd heat in her fingertips and looked down to find them glowing a swirling gold color. This wasn’t the power her mother or father had.

Eyes widening, Amari gasped and got her brothers attention. “Brother, look! I did it! I got my quirk!”

Bakugo just stared in awe at her power and watched her laugh, a small tear coming to her eyes. “Does this mean I can be a hero too?”

Her brother was about to smile when something unexpected happened.

Amari’s eyes grew panicked as she began coughing excessively, heaving heavily and curling over her sheets in desperation. The glow in her fingers was gone and Katsuki didn’t know what to do. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

She didn’t answer though as she put a shaking hand to her mouth only to find blood on her palm.

Suddenly, a dozen doctors and nurses came running in, dragging huge machines with them and rolling them to the side before eyeing the girl. “She seems to be having an attack. We need a C34 now”

They began hooking up a ton of wires to her while her body shook and seized underneath them, her small hand grasping the railing for deal life.

Now noticing the boy, one of the doctors put his hand out in anger. “Someone get this boy out of here! We need to operate!”

Bakugo felt a hand on his arm, pulling him away from the scene but he wasn’t having it, choosing to curse at the woman. “Hey, what are you doing?! Get your hands off of me!”

But given his small size, he was easily pushed out as the door locked behind him.

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

After about thirty minutes, his mother showed up looking panicked and the doctors pulled her into a private room so they could talk.

Young Katsuki couldn’t live with that though and quietly followed his mother so he could hear the conversation the two were about to have, although knowing what he knew now, he wished he didn’t back then.

His mother put a hand to her mouth, whispering out her words. “How is she?”

The doctor picked up a file from his desk and opened it carefully. “It seems we were able to stabilize her condition finally. Her attack was caused by her quirk awakening.”

She eyes grew wide in shock. “Isn’t that a good thing though? You said she might not ever get her quirk.”

Shaking his head, the doctor sighed. “Normally yes, getting a quirk is a wonderful thing but in Amari’s case it’s very dangerous.”

Not understanding, his mother spoke up. “Dangerous, how so?”

Pulling out another file, he showed the woman the statistics. “In order to be able to sustain your quirk, you must have a strong body, the more powerful the quirk, the more the body must work to maintain it so it doesn’t shut down. In Amari’s case though, her body was so weak from birth that using her quirk could potentially end her life. That’s why we didn’t want her to have one.”

Katsuki remained frozen at his words. What did he mean his sister couldn’t use her quirk? Just because she was so weak?”

His mother made a choking sound with her throat and put a shaking hand to her forehead. “Oh god, so that means she can’t ever use her quirk?”

The doctor just simply shook his head. “I’m afraid not. As you know, Amari was born weak because in the womb, Katsuki took most of her energy and nutrients. It’s a sad fact but it’s not uncommon with twins. One just comes out stronger, and that one happened to be Katsuki. His quirk will surely be extra powerful because of that.”

Leaning against the wall, Katsuki seemed dumbfounded at what he was saying. His hands grew unnaturally numb as the boy tried to process everything.

The reason that his sister was like that was because of him? No, that wasn’t his fault. Yet it seemed like all the pieces were slowing sticking together.

The reason she couldn’t step foot outside, the reason she couldn’t play with anyone else and the reason she couldn’t even use her quirk, there was no mistaking it, it was because of him unknowingly. His sister was sick because of him, because of his need to be better than everyone. The very realization made him sick inside.

Feeling the bile in his throat, Katsuki ran away from the conversation, unable to hear anymore and fell to the ground, heaving at the reality that had smacked him in the face.

Time and time again he made fun of her for being stuck in the hospital and being weak but the ugly truth was, he was the one that made her that way. Everything was his fault.

A couple nurses came rushing to him and asked what was wrong but Katsuki couldn’t hear them over the sound of his own despair.

What had he done?

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

Because Bakugo got sick, his father picked him up and brought him home, although the child had far too many other things on his mind.

He didn’t eat much dinner and just crawled to bed without any resistance which was rare for him. Usually his parents would have to fight him every night to go to bed.

Laying down, all he could think about was Amari. Katsuki wondered silently if she would be okay. He hoped so, or else he didn’t know if he could live with himself.

If only he wasn’t so stubborn in the womb and didn’t take all of Amari’s strength, then she would be able to run and jump and go outside like everyone else. It seemed almost selfish that he bragged about his life to her, knowing everything now.

Gritting his teeth, Bakugo sat up from his bed, throwing the sheets off of him and stood up, a new sense of passion burning in his eyes.

He then realized that since he took all of Amari’s power that he wouldn’t let it go in vain. He would use that power to protect her and become the strongest number 1 hero the world has ever seen

Throwing the window open on the right, Bakugo sucked in a deep breath and screamed and the top of his lungs, all the pain and regret flowing out all at once. “I’M GONNA BE NUMBER 1 DAMN IT! I WILL BE THE NUMBER ONE HERO!”

He knew he had to, for her, and for himself.

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

Shortly after that night it was announced that Amari would study in America so that she could get away from everything and hopefully have a new start. The medicine over there was also better for her sickness so everyone thought it was best.

Bakugo hadn’t seen her since that night and he wanted to keep it that way. He much rather shoved her existence and the guilt so far down until he could hardly see it. Yes, this was better.

Although one day, Bakugo and his friends were playing near his street when they caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of blonde hair watching them.

He turned to her and that sickening feeling rose up again in his stomach, all the painful memories and guilt rushing back.

One of his friends seemed to notice her as well and pointed. “Hey, who is that? She looks just like you Bakugo!”

Another friend snickered at her appearance. “Yeah expect she’s like a twig. Are you related?”

The two twins stared at each other for a couple moments and Amari opened her mouth to say something when Bakugo cut her off. No, they couldn’t know about what he did. “I’ve never seen her before in my life. You really think I could be related to someone that weak? Let’s just go.”

Then, he turned his back on her and walked away, not bothering to see her expression. He didn’t want to see the damage he caused.

His friends also agreed. “That’s true. Besides, Bakugo is an only child, remember?”

Nodding his head, the other friend understood. “Yeah that’s true. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s go play superheroes!”

Then they all hurried behind their leader and left the street, leaving Amari alone once again.

And that was it.

That was the last time that Bakugo last saw Amari,and the last time he had to worry about her. To him, she was just something that didn’t exist.

Or so he thought.

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

10 Years Later

Kicking off her shoes, Amari raced into the house and past the dorm leader who shouted at her angrily. “Amari, slow down! You are going to push yourself too hard!”

Amari just looked back and smiled at the leader before putting her hands up in forgiveness. “Sorry Vanessa but I got something waiting for me!”

Turning the corner Vanessa just sighed. “This girl, I swear..”

Running down the hall, Amari stopped when she reached her destination, the mailbox.

She then took the key out of her pocket and started muttering. “Please please please please let it be here please please…”

Amari put the key in the lock before opening it slowly, squinting her eyes in case she didn’t want to see.

She paused for a moment when she saw a white envelope with a red seal on the back. Amari squeaked in delight at this, shouting happily. “IT’S HERE, OMG IT’S HERE AHHH.”

The rest of the dorm shushed her but Amari didn’t really seem to care, just putting her paper to her lips and smiling.

Then, ripping open the paper, a little hologram message popped up with All Might shouting gleefully.

Hello young Amari Bakugo. It is with great excitement and pleasure that I welcome you to U.A. Being one of the five recommendations this year, we expect great things from you. But remember it isn’t just about status but rather heart and determination. That is all, can’t wait to see you there Alright, transmission out!

The transmission then cut off and Amari couldn’t help but smile gleefully. Finally, she was going to U.A.

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

Where to read the rest of the fanfic (Goes until S4 as of now and is updated every couple days)

Quotev: https://www.quotev.com/story/12212516/His-Reasons/1

Watt pad: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/202689789/write/792330223

Fanfic.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13405192/1/His-Reasons

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22762864/chapters/54392668

#MHA #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #feels #Fanfic #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #todoroki #todoroki shoto #todoroki x oc #sibling Bakugo #sibling #deku #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #AshleyH713 #HisReasons

4 notes · View notes

split-n-splice · 5 years ago

Photo

I have nothing to say until the A/N at the end of the chapter. :T

[Chapter Guide]

Chapter 2 - Consideration

“I’ll give you time to think about it. If you need me…”

Shego was handed a business card when they pulled up to the curb outside her home in the suburbs.

A stranger knowing exactly where she lived – and an alleged criminal at that – was concerning, but she decided not to make a scene about it. If he turned out to be trouble, and it was his genuine business card in her hand, then it would be a piece of cake to track him down and bust his sorry butt.

There were bigger things to worry about than a stalker now anyway.

She saw the upstairs lights flicking on in the dark house then and knew it was only a matter of time before someone else made a scene. She almost requested he keep driving, but she beat back her reluctance to return home and stepped out of the SUV, only to turn around and pause.

Shego stood staring into the dark vehicle she found herself itching to jump back into. She kept her feet planted firmly in place though and fidgeted, brushing her fingers through her hair and nodding down to the card in her hand. Even from the road, she could hear heavy feet stomping down the staircase and knew it had to be her father or big brother, and the temptation to get back into the stranger’s car was almost irresistible when she still wanted to be anywhere but here.

She cleared her throat and took a tentative step back, pulling herself away from something she’d surely regret in the morning. “Thanks for the ride. And the, uh, offer, Doc,” she said carefully. “I’ll sleep on it. See you around.”

Just as Shego shut the passenger door, the front door to the house behind her was thrown open. “Where have you been, young lady?” ground out a low voice she’d been dreading, and her escort took his cue to hit the gas and speed off into the night.

She quickly tucked the business card down her shirt and into her bra, somewhere hopefully no one in their right mind would violate just to steal.

Reluctantly, she turned back to the house and her family congregating around the door – the whole gaggle of them.

Her youngest brothers were still in their first year on the team, restricted to training only as they were barely out of kindergarten, but were so excited by it that they even had Team Go themed pajamas. The sleepy little twins clung to their eldest brother’s legs now, with the middle child still caught in the crosshairs of puberty peeking out from behind the herculean figure. At the head of the family stood their father, hands on his hips and frown firmly set on his mustachioed face. The man was laughably smaller than her big brother.

Unlike her elder brother, who only wore a look of worry, this man was steaming . He barely kept a lid on it. “Shilo, do you have any idea how late it is? It’s five hours past curfew! Who was that?” the scolding tumbled out, and she had to be assertive to get a word in edgewise lest she not be given a chance to defend herself at all.

“Don’t blow a gasket,” she carped when she reached the steps. “I went after a crook and had to call Priscilla for a ride home.”

The older of her younger brothers scoffed. “Priscilla, your best friend you haven’t talked to in four years? That Priscilla?”

“You should have just let them go!” interjected their red-faced father before she could spit a retort at the skeptical boy. Team Go’s overstressed and ill-tempered pop was practically quaking with frustration, just barely keeping his voice down at an acceptable volume for 2AM in the suburbs. “You know I don’t like you out past nine, and yet you—”

“I got hogtied in the back of a van,” she continued lying flawlessly, her temper reinforcing her unwavering scowl. It was late and she’d had a long day. She didn’t have the patience to put up with this. “It’s not like I could just drop what I was doing and come home.”

Her bluff shut him up fast. The man was still peeved, sure, but he hadn’t yet constructed a response before her big brother stepped between the two. “Was it the fiends from raid attempt at the college earlier?” he wondered quietly, stern but full of worry. Gullible Hugo. “Are you alright?”

“Yes – they didn’t hurt you, did they, Shilo?” urged their father, as if he could personally hunt them down to teach them a lesson.

Shego – or rather, Shilo – had always found it hard to look at him when he showed that brand of concern. It was aggravating. She was stronger and tougher than him, and had been for a while now. There was no reason for him to worry about her with her firepower and training, yet he did. The man had an inferiority complex and he was losing the upper hand of parental authority on his superpowered children these days, making him ever harder to live with. Overbearing was a gross understatement.

Pushing her way through her family, she grumbled, “I’m going to bed,” and left it at that, giving a cold shoulder in response to any more questions that might have followed her in.

And she did have every intention to hurry up and get herself into bed, or at least the comfort of her own room with the excuse of sleep so no one would bother her. So after a shower and a plate of leftover macaroni to alleviate her hunger pangs and chase a pill, she found herself on the edge of her bed in the dark, scrutinizing the little slip of paper by the glow of the streetlight filtering in through her window.

Dr. Drakken, Weaponry and Robotics Specialist, it read, simple and to the point. A hand-written throw-away phone number followed. It featured his portrait as well, though it might as well been a mugshot. Somehow, she’d missed it on the ride, but she was surprised now by the distinct blue complexion in the portrait. She turned on a lamp to be sure, staring at the tiny picture with a raised brow. The only people she knew with an unnatural hue like that were herself and her brother Milo, and maybe another villain or two who’d undergone some mutations.

She lay back with a puff in her soft blankets and stared at the ceiling for a moment before studying the card again. This Dr. Drakken guy – was he anything like her? She could only wonder. He was blue, so maybe he had super strength like her big brother? Did he have a glow?

Shaking her head, she decided maybe finding others like her wasn’t what she really wanted. Why would she want to fit in when she could stand out? That was what she told herself anyway, and usually it worked whenever she felt a little down about being a mutant freak.

Either her medication or the fatigue was making her eyelids unbearably heavy now.

Shilo tucked the card in her pillowcase to save for later and decided that tomorrow would be a new day and she would have forgotten all about the stranger’s offer. Her family wasn’t so dysfunctional she would really turn her back on them, she assured herself. They meant well. And having a good reputation marred with some rebellious teenage years wasn’t the worst thing in the world. This was everything she’d ever known, and just leaving it on a whim was out of the question.

Whatever she’d told herself that night was a big fat lie. Regardless of the hour she’d come in, she was still expected to be up bright and early to take her younger brothers to school, her father pounding on her door to remind her it was still her turn. The new school year had only started up a couple weeks ago, and she was still having trouble readjusting. She herself had recently made it out of the drudgery of high school, and it was unfair to have to continue the same routine as if she hadn’t accomplished the feat at all.

“It’s always my turn! Why can’t they just catch a bus like normal kids?” were the first words out of her mouth that morning, and they were all but screamed. Not to say she didn’t scream into her pillow afterwards.

“Don’t you give me that tone,” chastised her father, and she heard his feet shuffle away down the hall. He had his own business to attend to on the other side of town.

Secret identities could be such a pain. It was ridiculous for the boys to be enrolled in private school clear across the city, but it was the only one in town approved by Global Justice. For Shilo, it had meant another bogus uniform and another way her gift proved itself a nuisance, as if being ostracized by classmates for a jaundice-like hue wasn’t bad enough. To top it off, ever since “Lady Fate” graced them four years ago, it had been up to Shilo almost exclusively to get everyone to school on time. The chore bothered her more these days, especially today when she’d had so little rest.

Normally, the daily agenda would begin with ensuring her younger brothers were up, fed, and dressed, but seeing as she’d slept in, they’d taken that upon themselves – and done a poor job of it at that. By the time she entered the kitchen, they were wolfing down bowls of fruity cereal like animals, and afterwards she was left to clean up the mess while they dressed themselves. She still had to stop the twins on the way out the door to fix their buttons, tuck their shirts in, smooth their collars, and tie a shoe.

“Let’s go, mom,” Milo droned from shotgun of the Aerostar, and she locked him in a venomous glare as the twins clambered into the back of the van. Just as she’d backed out of the driveway and into the street, he looked over at her and said idly, “Your eyeliner’s smudged.”

“Ugh, what?” she uttered and reflexively checked herself in the rearview mirror before remembering she hadn’t had time to do herself up today. She scowled. It was too early for this. Her little brothers giggled, but suddenly the dumb little prank was of little concern.

She tried not to glance over her shoulder so as not to draw attention to it, but parked at the corner at the end of the street was the same shiny black SUV from last night, she was sure of it. The tinted windows served their purpose well. She couldn’t make out the figure behind the wheel, but somehow she just knew the stalker was there, waiting.

“Whoa, I was only kidding,” Milo apologized, pulling Shilo’s focus away from the SUV behind them. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, sis.”

She mumbled a feeble undeserved apology and continued on her way. She didn’t see the SUV again all through the suburbs, but that might have been because she was too focused on not pelting her brothers with blunt plasma to end an armpit fart contest that she knew they were only having to bug her. They were halfway across town by the time she spotted the suspicious vehicle again. Upon seeing it, she nearly rear-ended the hatchback ahead of her.

“Careful!” the twins gasped in unison.

Gripping the handle above his door, Milo shot his big sister a troubled scowl. “What is with you today?” he barked.

“What’s with you?” she snapped back.

“You’re the one driving like a ditz! Maybe I should drive. You’re too spacey today. Are you high?”

Maybe she’d have a clearer head if she’d been allowed to get her rest, but no. “You don’t even have your permit yet,” Shilo reminded tartly, just a little smug he had failed every attempt to date.

“Well by the looks of things, you should have your license revoked,” the boy sneered back, not realizing he was plucking at her last nerve.

“I’m clean,” she swore.

Her sibling was rightfully skeptical. “We’ll see about that.”

But it was the last straw. Suddenly Shilo unbuckled her seatbelt, hands up in forfeit. “Fine. Fine, you want to be so independent and actually lug your own weight? Here you go. Take the wheel. Have fun.”

“Yeah, that’s mature, Shi—hey! Where are you going?” he shouted after her.

Her brothers gawped at her as she stepped out into the traffic jam they’d found themselves in. The twins whined her name. Back to the van, she crossed and uncrossed her arms, shook her head, and hid her face in her hands as she suppressed a scream of frustration. Sometimes, she just needed a breather – even if it was in the middle of traffic. Then she realized she was being watched and took a sweeping glance around, not quite realizing it yet that she was looking for anything in particular until she saw it.

Her gaze locked on the black SUV idling several cars back in the lane over, almost completely obscured behind a moving van.

For a fleeting moment, she knew she should be unnerved that she was being stalked by some stranger. But right now, that stranger held more appeal than sharing the same air as her obnoxious siblings for another moment. She’d been listening to their banter about farts and burps and smelling it too the whole ride until now, and she’d had about enough of it.

Fists balled at her sides, she stalked towards the SUV. Cars honked persistently and she received a couple hollers of indignation as she abandoned the family van in the street.

The second she heard the side door slide open, she whirled and pointed sternly. “Get your little asses back in your seats!” she shouted over the rumble of stalled traffic. The two little boys ducked back in obediently, and Shilo spun back around.

She stalked up to the creepy stalker’s vehicle and didn’t care to double-check if it was really Dr. Dragon or Dr. Kraken or whatever he called himself. She did breathe the tiniest sigh of relief to find she had the right man, though.

He wasn’t alone this time. The three goons she’d caught trying to steal computers from some nerd lab at an unimpressive local college occupied the back seat, and they all flinched away from her when her gaze swept over them. They had good reason to. They sported an array of bruises and welts as she’d taken out a full month of pent-up energy on them, taking it as far as she could without hospitalizing or flat-out killing one of them, and she’d only decided she’d had enough when she’d taken that three-story fall with a damn oak tree to soften the landing.

Shego climbed in without even requesting permission. “Hi, how’s it hangin’?” she asked dryly, plopping herself down.

“Family troubles?” bravely ventured one of the bruised thugs in the back, tipping her off that they’d been watching.

She hooked an arm around her seat to turn a scrutinizing scowl back at them. “These are your best?” she wondered to the frowning blue driver. “They’re a bunch of pansies in spandex.” The men winced at her remark.

“We’re trying our best—,” one began pathetically, but Dr. Drakken shot him a stern glare through the rearview mirror. The goon cleared his throat and shifted. “We’re just a little rusty.” Dr. Drakken gave the henchman a tiny nod of approval in the change of tone.

“So, family troubles,” Dr. Drakken echoed, shooting a glance at the brooding young woman sitting shotgun. “Who doesn’t have them, am I right?” He feigned a smile, but saw it wasn’t helping, so he dropped it.

The cars in their lane began to creep forward. Shego hoped desperately it would pick up the pace in time so she wouldn’t have to suffer the stares of her brothers for long. Or so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty when she saw their panic. She almost considered crouching on the floorboard to hide.

“I think those twerps need you,” Dr. Drakken went on as they approached the abandoned van.

Shego glowered at him and tried not to let herself get too distracted by his peculiar blue mug. “Why should you care?”

“About the children? I don’t. But I do care about seeing how well you can handle your responsibilities.”

Oh, he did not go there. “What are you, my dad?” she spat. Gesturing at the van, which her violet-hued brother was standing outside of looking rather frantic now, Shego let out a loud scoff. “I’ve been taking care of their sorry asses since—” since our mom flaked out on us. She bit back the detail. “Since forever. I’m tired of being responsible for them,” she explained in exasperation.

She had to look away from Milo anxiously searching for her, his hands cupped around his mouth as he called for her. She couldn’t hear him. The SUV must have been just shy of sound proof. She could imagine his voice getting thick, though, because he looked like he was about to cry, and that just made her squeamish.

“If you’re ready to join my cause, I can drive on past them,” Dr. Drakken offered solemnly. “But if you aren’t yet, I understand. My offer still stands.”

The SUV pulled to a pause beside her family van, just as she’d dreaded. Through the heavily tinted windows, she might as well have been invisible. “Okay,” she said grudgingly, swallowing the bile as she reached for the handle. “I’ll see this one through, Doc, but this is the last time.” That’s what she told herself anyway. She wasn’t convinced though.

The idea of a last time made her stomach flip.

“Atta girl.”

At that remark, Shego had to suppress an irritated groan as she made her exit.

Her ropy brother met her halfway in the street with a silent gawp that demanded answers, and as soon as the twins saw her appear, they crammed into the driver’s seat to lean out the window and wail for her like the small children they were. She greeted them with a snappy reprimand, “When did I say you could unbuckle yourselves?”

“Shilo, who was that?” pried Milo, practically following her into the driver’s seat as she shooed the twins into the back. If the black SUV wasn’t already a block away now, he may have gone to meet the driver. “Isn’t that who dropped you off last night? Since when do you have friends? ”

The idea of the acquaintance being called a friend so readily made her skin crawl. “Since when do you care about my social life?” she retorted.

“Uh, duh, we’re family,” he scoffed, and then he pounced through her window, jeopardizing his secret identity by shrinking slightly to froggishly bounce over her and back into his seat. “We are your social life.”

She clutched the wheel tightly and narrowed her eyes at the little white hatchback ahead. “You aren’t the center of my universe.”

“Is that your new boyfriend?” giggled Wesley from the back, and Willow elbowed him.

“No, doofus, it’s Priscilla.”

“Priscilla drives her dad’s old Jeep and doesn’t talk to us anymore,” Milo recalled, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “You might fool pops, but you can’t fool us.”

“I need you all to shut up,” Shilo snapped abruptly, turning a harsh glare on her passengers. “No talking to the driver. And you – you little freak, if you cause trouble for me with Dad, I’ll tell him about your horsey collection.”

Milo’s shade changed to pink and he gulped. He resigned himself to sulking for the duration of the car ride for the sake of his Breyers.

Meanwhile, the twins were content to play hangman behind her back and were sent to school with ink scribbled all over their hands and arms. Shilo wanted to turn a blind eye to it once she finally noticed, but she ordered Wesley and Willow to wash it off in the restroom anyway before they got in trouble or else she’d hear about it later. Regardless of her chiding, they hugged her waist tightly in goodbye and she smoothed out the redheads’ hair for good measure.

She thoughtfully observed the cheerful little boys for just a moment, and for just a moment she wondered if she would miss this.

Sure they were a pain, but they were her family.

Family that was holding her back and restricting her every move and suffocating her, though they weren’t solely to blame.

Shilo watched their backs as they hurried off, and then took a careful glance around the school parking lot, scanning the street too, for the black SUV. As she stood there, she caught herself wondering now if Hugo or her father could even make time for her baby brothers if she were to just vanish from their lives today.

Traffic was in her favor for once, but Shilo wasn’t even sure if she should consider herself lucky. She could have used the extra time to reconsider. She briefly debated going straight home, but before she fully realized what she was getting herself into, she’d taken a detour and found herself at a quaint café.

No matter how much she dreaded the process of getting them, she needed answers. So she pulled into the parking space beside her big brother’s unassuming secondhand Sloth, and gave herself one last moment to change her mind before stepping out.

She found Hugo sitting at a small table inside, reading the morning paper and sipping his favorite coffee that his favorite barista whipped up special for him every day. It rubbed her the wrong way that he could be so casually loitering in a café while the women’s work was delegated to her. It should have been all the answer she needed, yet it wasn’t enough.

Shilo ordered herself a simple mocha and came to sit across the table from her brother, but he didn’t seem to notice her.

The paper, thankfully, didn’t feature yesterday’s vigilante blunder nor any paparazzi shots of her trivial misdeeds. If it had, she might have burned it on impulse with zero regard to the witnesses in the café.

Still, she frowned at the paper for a moment too long before reaching over it to snap her fingers for her sibling’s attention. Blue eyes glanced up to her and then back down, and since that didn’t do the trick, she smirked deviously. “So when’re you gonna ask her out?” she teased quietly with a nod to the barista, and she watched him choke on his drink. It pushed a button, though the effect was brief.

“Who? Stacy? No, no, no. I’m not— she’s taken,” he sputtered.

“Oh. That’s a shame,” Shilo said dryly, failing to feign sympathy. She crossed her legs and sat back in her hard metal chair, stirring her mocha with the straw.

What was she even doing here? This was ridiculous. If she was going to take the plunge into a life of crime, then wouldn’t it be eviler to simply walk out on them without warning? Shouldn’t the feelings and wellbeing of others should be the last thing on her mind?

If only it were that easy.

Hugo tried to go back to his paper, but set it down after a minute to eyeball the young lady sitting across from him now. “What are you doing here, sister?”

Shilo realized she’d been stirring her mocha for a while now and stopped, but didn’t look up. She wasn’t sure if she was really going to go through with her bluff – she only wanted to know his response – but the words spilled out of her mouth before she could think of a better way to say it. “I’m moving out.”

“Huh?” He cocked his brow at her, leaning forward on the table now. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m moving out,” she repeated with just a tiny bit more conviction. She took a sip and avoided looking him in the eye.

Her brother blinked like a big stupid gorilla before fixing her in a firm scrutinizing stare she refused to so much as glance at. “And how are you going to afford rent, or groceries, or – or anything else?” he wondered, at a loss. “You can’t make it on your own at such short notice. Big Brother cut your paycheck when you quit, remember?”

Shilo’s brow furrowed at the codename. The Global Justice organization overseeing the young superheroes still had leverage in her life. Hell, she was even on special sleep aid they’d developed just for her to neutralize her so she wouldn’t burn down the damn house in the throes of a nightmare, but they’d snuck in the lasting side-effect of twisting a biological valve to dampen her flame. She was a hazard, plain and simple, and the suppressant was for the safety of others, so she took it religiously.

It still pissed her off to be under their thumb.

She shook her head. “That’s for me to worry about, not them, not you, so don’t,” she dismissed.

“Oh, I’ll always be worried about you,” her brother laughed quietly, albeit nervously. By the way his eyes were burrowing into her, he was having a hard time reading her.

“Forget about me. Will you guys will be alright?” She took a long sip of her mocha and tried to focus on the sweetness to smother her worries and the bitter aftertaste of the nightly pill. She didn’t want to care as much as she did, but that was just impossible. She wasn’t some totally icy-cold heartless psychopath yet. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be, but time would tell.

Her big brother furrowed his brow, frowning down at the newspaper now. He scratched at the nape of his neck. “Well it’s not like you haven’t already quit the you-know-what,” he muttered.

She grimaced at the pang of guilt and reiterated, “I mean, the household isn’t going to fall apart without me, is it? You’ll all do okay, right? You can handle raising the boys yourself? Because you know Dad won’t. He’s too busy working. Life of a security guard and all that.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

At the mention of their siblings, a new realization flashed in his eyes, and it looked to her that he was starting to grasp what her departure would entail. Clearly, the thought of taking on the duties that had been forced upon her was daunting. He gaped like a fish for a moment, rubbed his neck again, glanced down to the paper, gawped at her some more. “I-I'm… You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking,” he whispered, unease thick in his voice as he leaned back across the table. “Are you sure about this? Where are you going?”

She didn’t have those answers, so she shrugged nonchalantly to cover up the fact. “I said don’t worry about me. I’ll come back if it doesn’t work out,” she promised, and all at once the prospect of leaving seemed all the more real. Was she doing this? Was she actually doing this? Pride urged her not to go back on her word now.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little excited.

“You can’t,” Hugo uttered in disbelief.

As if on cue, something that was becoming all too familiar caught her attention out of the corner of her eye: a shiny black SUV cruising by the glass storefront. Shilo caught herself staring past her brother, and he twisted to see what had her so transfixed but the ominous vehicle was gone by then.

“Well, tough luck. I am,” she said absolutely. “I gotta go. Talk later.”

She rose before he could object, swapping the keys in his back pocket to leave him the minivan. She didn’t stop to hear out his complaints or protest.

A/N:

I tried avoiding using names, but calling them by aliases felt too unnatural, so I caved and settled on Hugo (HC: secondary leading reason for the -go suffix), Shilo, and Milo. Wesley and Willow break the pattern, but together they make a we-oh to keep the theme. Personally I like how it worked out, even if it seems like Sheila is the fanon for Shego.

I’ve been trying to use Shilo while civilian, and Shego in any instance she wouldn't want someone knowing or using her real name. Is that hard to follow? I don't know.

#Drakken #Shego #Kim Possible #fanfiction #Devil Wears a Suit and Tie fic

4 notes · View notes