#no tea and coffee do not count because they are made with water

[quinncadens]

I'm a bit zooted and really just wanna yarf up some word vomit over Scaramouche

CONTAINS 3.3 SPOILERS FOR INTERLUDE QUEST

So, I love that Scara has had so many identities through his lifetime - most of them ending in tragedy and him being controlled and manipulated. By erasing himself from Irminsul, he is able to be forgotten and finally be free. It was awesome to finally see someone obtain a vision on screen, and Anemo is so fitting for his character.

He has mellowed out a bit which is good to see, and I am so glad that MHY did that without making him into a nice guy all of a sudden. He's still a sassy ass who comes off as more "I'm gonna fuck with you just to fuck with you" rather than actually malicious.

Hopefully we can see the relationship between himself, the Traveler, and Nahida develop into something good - he deserves to have a second family type situation.

ALSO!!!! Did you catch that any voicelines other characters have about him disappear after he removes himself from history?? Childe and Ei have nothing to say about him anymore. I love that detail so much.

[auras-moonstone]

how you get the girl — ethan landry

word count: 3,654

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: because of ethan’s reputation as a man-whore, y/n doesn’t believe he wants a serious relationship with her. so, ethan and chad make a list so that he can get the girl.

warnings: fluff.

author’s note: i’ve been reading lots of hockey rom-coms, so i needed to write about it. i’m obsessed with ethan as a hockey player😫

ETHAN DIDN’T KNOW HOW BADLY HIS ACTIONS WOULD COME BACK IN THE FUTURE TO BITE HIM IN THE ASS. Being captain of the Blackmore hockey team and certified pretty boy, girls were practically—and quite literally sometimes—throwing themselves at him, and he would lie if he said he didn’t love the attention. It would be easier and shorter to name the girls he hadn’t hooked up with than naming the ones he had. That gained him the reputation of being a playboy, and he didn’t mind being called that, to be completely honest. Or at least, he didn’t until Y/N came into his life.

She was Tara’s best friend, and since said girl started dating Ethan’s best friend, Chad, the four of them began spending lots of time together. At first, the boy flirted with Y/N because hitting on attractive girls was like second nature to him, but then he got to know her better and the unexpected thing happened—Ethan was swept off his feet. But his reputation was his karma, and Y/N didn’t think he was being serious with her. She would laugh and brush it off because no matter how gorgeous Ethan was, playboys weren’t Y/N’s type, so she would decline every attempt of him to make her go out with him.

“Why not? Just one date” Ethan said on his fifth attempt of the day. They were on the Blackmore hockey rink, and instead of using his break to drink water and rest, Ethan went to talk to Y/N.

“Exactly. You want just one date, get me inside your bed and tomorrow you’ll move onto some other girl. I really like you” she said, and before he could smirk in victory she added. “But why ruin the friendship we have for sex? Besides, one night stands aren’t my cup of tea.”

“Then let’s make it an every day thing” Ethan said.

“Nice try, Eth. We know you don’t do repeats” she stated.

“I could!” he argued. “And besides, I’m not asking for sex—I mean, at the end of the date, if you want to, I’m not gonna reject the offer—, I’m done with hook ups, I want something more.”

Y/N laughed “Okay, try it, but not with me. I’m sorry, Eth”

The girl stood up and made her way towards the exit of the rink, leaving a disappointed Ethan behind. She would lie if she said she didn’t want to try things with him, but the truth also was that she didn’t trust him when it came to relationships and she didn’t want to get her heart broken by him.

Chad got off the ice to find his best friend sitting on the bleachers, gaze fixed on the stairs, looking like a sad kicked puppy. It’s not a sight seen often, Ethan was usually an over-energetic puppy, always happy and with a smile on his face.

“Hey, man. What’s wrong?”

“Y/N rejected me.” Ethan played with his hockey stick, not wanting to meet his best friend’s eyes.

“I’ve never seen you like this after a rejection” Chad frowned.

“Well, not to brag, but it doesn’t usually happen.” he said, making Chad chuckle. “But it’s different this time. Y/N is not someone I want for one night, or for something casual. I want everything with her.”

“Wow” Chad took a breath, shocked by the confession. “And she said no?”

“She says she doesn’t want to ruin our friendship” Ethan said.

Chad scoffed “Why would that happen?”

“She doesn’t trust me and thinks I’m not boyfriend material. I really am serious about her, Chad. I swear. I would never hurt her. I wish she could read my mind”

“Don’t you dare give up, then. Words aren’t enough, show her you really like her”

“How?”

Chad smirked. “Grab a pen and a napkin, we are going to make a list so you can get the girl.”

one: get her favourite coffee

ETHAN WOKE UP A BIT EARLIER THE FOLLOWING DAY TO GO TO Y/N’S FAVOURITE COFFEE SHOP AND GET HER ORDER. He convinced Tara to drag Y/N straight to class, not letting her get the coffee, and to text him once they were in the classroom. Once he got the text, Ethan entered the class, all eyes on him, and set the cup in front of Y/N with an adorable grin.

“Good morning. You look gorgeous as always” he kissed her cheek and simply left the room.

Y/N stared at the drink completely astonished, ignoring the glares coming from the female population and the smirk her best friend was giving her. There was something scribbled with black sharpie—it was simple, but it made her stomach combust. Have a great day, beautiful! Love, Ethan. And three hearts poorly made—which she thought was utterly adorable—next to his name.

“You got him in a leash” Tara laughed.

“Don’t be silly, we know what he wants” Y/N brushed it off.

“Come on, Ethan doesn’t do romantic stuff for anyone, not even to get laid.”

“It’s just one coffee, Tara. Let’s not be dramatic.”

But Tara knew, and Y/N too, that the little gesture was a lot when it came to Ethan Landry. Yet, a coffee cup wasn’t enough to gain the girl’s trust.

two: show her you’re interested in her interests

WHAT IS THE THING Y/N ENJOYED THE MOST? EASY: BOOKS. Ethan knew exactly which one he should start with. In fact, he had bought it the first time Y/N mentioned it. He didn’t know what it was about, but he was sure it was a rom-com that referenced other rom-com movies.

“Ethan!” Chad said in a loud voice, startling his friend. Ethan looked up to find his best friend, Tara and Y/N staring at him. The latter had her mouth wide open.

“What?” he asked absentmindedly. He had been so immersed in the book he hadn’t heard them arrive.

“We called your name countless times, man.” Chad laughed.

“Sorry” Ethan closed the book and looked at Y/N. “Um, I may have a man-crush on Wes Bennett.”

Y/N chuckled, sitting in front of him and ignoring the way her heart was beating rapidly. She wanted to take a picture of Ethan with the book and set it as her lock screen “Welcome to the club.”

“I can’t stand it anymore, I need them to kiss. I need Wes to get the girl” he groaned.

A grin took over her features “Which part are you at?”

“They are going to hang out at Michael’s house” Ethan replied, which made her smile wider. “What’s that smile for? Oh god, what is going to happen?”

“I’m not going to spoil it! Just want to say… buckle up”

“You can’t say that! I can’t continue reading until tomorrow, I have a test!” Ethan panicked.

“Look at you, invested in a rom-com” Chad bumped his shoulder.

“I just wanted to see if it lived up to Y/N’s hype” Ethan said, making her turn into a blushing mess. “It does.”

“You aren’t even finished” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Did you know there’s a sequel coming? And its playlist isn’t very optimistic”

“What?! You just ruined my day. I don’t want to read it anymore” he crossed his arms.

Wanting to mess with him, Tara grabbed the book. “So you wouldn’t mind if I-“ she stopped talking when the boy took the book from her hands.

“Yes, I would mind”

“Wait, are you annotating it?” Y/N said when she saw the colourful post-its.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. Anyways, I have to go to class, see you later at practice?”

“See you” Chad said. Before leaving, Ethan kissed Y/N’s forehead.

“What is going on with him?” Y/N asked.

“Showing you he’s serious about you. What are you waiting for, Y/N/N? I thought you liked him” Chad said.

“I do, a lot. But I’m not sure I’m really what he wants. What if he’s just interested because I’m the only girl who has rejected him? What if I finally say yes and then that interest is gone? How am I supposed to recover from that?”

“Y/N…”

“There’s nothing I’d like more than to call him mine, Chad. Trust me. But being just another girl on his list would kill me. I don’t want to lose him, okay? I don’t know if I’m willing to risk our friendship.”

three: woo her with your hockey skills.

WHEN PRACTICE WAS OVER AND CHAD AND ETHAN DIDN’T LEAVE THE RINK, Y/N WAS CONFUSED. The boys skated towards the bleachers Tara and her were sitting in and smirked at them. Chad grabbed a bag from a corner and gave it to them.

“Put the skates on, ladies”

Y/N wanted to laugh when Ethan grabbed her hands and guided her around the ice, but she thought it was so cute that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she knew how to skate perfectly well.

“Okay, I think you’re ready to do it on your own, but go slowly” Ethan said as he finished explaining her how to slide in the ice.

“Losers don’t do it slowly, Landry.” Y/N scoffed.

“You will hurt yourself, Y/N/N. Don’t be stubborn, it’s dangerous.” Ethan sighed.

Y/N smirked “Oh yeah?” she skated flawlessly towards a corner, and came back with a winning smile. She even did a little spin to show off.

“H-how?” he asked breathlessly, frozen in place with a look of shock.

“Took skating classes when I was little” she explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I was blabbering instructions like a fool”

Y/N shrugged “I couldn’t, you looked so excited”

“You’re evil” he shook his head as he let out the cutest laugh Y/N had ever heard. God, her infuriation was just getting worse with every little action he did. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to contain herself. She needed him to stop.

So her face turned serious “Ethan…”

Ethan fluttered his eyes close and then looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please don’t. I know what you’re going to say. Just hear me out. I know that my reputation is horrible, and I get why you don’t trust me. But I have never been more serious about something the way I am about you. I really wish I could erase every hook up, but I can’t and I don’t want my past to define my future. I know it’s hard to believe, but I haven’t been with anyone since I fell for you. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since I fell for you. I want to keep showing you how much I like you.”

Y/N was speechless. He had known Ethan long enough to know he was being serious and completely honest with his words. Maybe she had judged him too much, maybe he had truly changed. And now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him with a girl in ages. Maybe diving into a relationship wasn’t the safest option, but it was worth the try.

four: get her flowers

DURING HER LUNCH BREAK, Y/N WAS SURPRISED BY THE HOCKEY PLAYER, who on one hand was holding red tulips and on the other one food. Like always, his presence brought attention and whispers, but none of them cared. Something had shifted between them since that afternoon at the rink, and they both could feel it.

“Thank you, Eth” she smiled gratefully. “You know, I had a feeling you would bring me lunch, so instead of bringing mine, I brought yours. I owe you flowers, though.”

“Thanks” he laughed. “Do you like them?”

“They are beautiful” she nodded, her cheeks the same colour as her flowers.

“When you get home, you should look for the meaning of red tulips” he winked.

For the rest of the day, Y/N had been in a haze. Every time Ethan crossed her mind, blush appeared on her cheeks and the corners of her mouth lifted up.

“My god, was I that annoying when Chad and I started talking?” Tara asked when they entered their dorm.

“Yes, you were, T.” Y/N chuckled, remembering her best friend’s love-sick smile every time Chad texted her. “You still are, by the way.”

“Anyways, I love seeing you like this. And I’m glad you’re willing to give Ethan a chance.”

“Me too. I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit scared that he’ll get bored of me, but I’m really determined to risk it.”

“He’s not going to get bored of you, Y/N/N. He doesn’t like you because he’s into the whole ‘Only girl who had ever rejected him’ thing. He’s into you because you don’t see him only as a hot hockey player, but you also see how sweet and caring he is. You’re not interested in using him to become popular, you see that he is much more than his popularity. And that is why he likes you.”

“Well, shit. Now I feel bad for rejecting him multiple times.” Y/N slumped to the couch.

Tara laughed “Don’t. It’s understandable why you were cautious with your feelings. He knows that he isn’t a saint. By the way, did you know that Chad and him made this list with things to do to win you over?”

“Really?” Y/N laughed. “That makes sense, he’s being really sweet this week. Well, more than usual, because he’s always super sweet.”

“I found it on their fridge, they are so silly. It’s called ‘Ethan and Chad’s infallible list on how to get the girl’. I took a picture”

Y/N took Tara’s phone and laughed at the list. There were a couple of items crossed out and with a tick, and the one that said ‘Woo her with your hockey skills’ had a little note to the side that said ‘Backfired. My girl is a skating genius, made me look like a fool’, which made her laugh. Then, on the ‘Give her flowers’ there was an explanation note that said ‘My pick: red tulips. Means declaration of love’.

“Fucking hell, he’s so… ugh! I really want to kiss him”

“Lucky for you, that’s item six” Tara said over her shoulder.

“The thought of them brainstorming and writing this down is adorable” Y/N laughed.

“It really is” Tara nodded. “You should wear Ethan’s jersey to the game tomorrow. You don’t know how many times he told us he has dreamt about it.”

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering. Ethan had shown her how much he liked her, and she thought it was time to show him how much she liked him. “You know? That’s an excellent idea.”

[💖]

five: publicly state you’re only into her.

ETHAN KNEW THE BEST TIME TO EXECUTE ITEM FIVE WOULD BE THE NIGHT OF THE GAME. The ideal scenario would be to get that puck on the net and dedicate it to Y/N, and if he wasn’t that lucky, he would settle with blowing kisses and winks at her. Though when he went out on the ice rink and he caught sight of her, his mind went blank, his body stopped working for a couple of seconds and if it weren’t for Chad steadying him, he would’ve collapsed to the ice.

He quickly skated towards her seat, which was in the first row, right behind the glass. “Beautiful, you can’t just come here in my jersey without any warnings. You want me to have a heart attack?”

A sweet laugh bursted out of her “Sorry. Red tulips are your way of declaring your love, I thought wearing your jersey could be mine.”

Ethan’s breath hitched “Um, I’m about to jump up this glass so that I can kiss you.”

The girl shook her head and laughed “After the game, pretty boy. If you win, you might get an extra reward.”

And hell if those words didn’t encourage Ethan to play his best. The game was brutal, both teams were acing it and the match was about to end in a tie, until Ethan scored the winning goal a few seconds before time was over. The Blackmore bleachers erupted in screams of triumph, and the players united for a group hug.

Tara and Y/N instantly went looking for their boys. The last one scowled as she saw a puck bunny making sexy eyes at Ethan and she clung to his arm. The boy couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable, he pulled his arm away, only for the girl to find another way of touching him.

“You have been acting so hard to get lately. Don’t you think a winner deserves a kiss?” Y/N heard the girl say.

“You’re absolutely right. Now, back away so I can kiss the hell out of him.” Y/N said, throwing daggers at the girl, who looked at her in a mix of surprise and annoyance. “And can’t you get a hint? He’s uncomfortable.”

Ethan gaped at her. She had never looked so hot—standing there with his number on the back of the jersey that fitted her like a dress, knee-length boots that weirdly turned him on, and with a scowl on her face as she got all territorial on him.

“And who are you?” the puck bunny scanned her up and down with a frown.

“His girlfriend. Now, can you leave? I have to congratulate my man” she said harshly. As soon as she said that, Ethan was sure he was about to drop onto his knees and let her do whatever she wanted to him.

“Girlfriend?” Ethan smirked as the puck bunny left. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good” Y/N smirked back, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now, are you ready to cross out items five and six? You know, one bird two stones.”

“Hell yes”

Their lips moved hungrily, and the kiss was way too heated and inappropriate considering their surroundings. But they couldn’t stop it, their desire was diesel and they had been playing with fire for months.

“I promised you a reward if you won, right?” Y/N said against his lips.

“Isn’t this the reward? This is more than I could’ve asked for. You, finally being my girlfriend and kissing me while wearing my jersey.” his eyes were dark and lips swollen. His beauty was out of this world.

“You scored the winning goal, babe. You deserve a special reward” she licked her lips. “Let’s go to your car.”

He nodded eagerly, and as they reached the car, he dared to ask “What do you have in mind?”

She opened the back door. “One kiss isn’t enough. How much time do you have until you have to go to the bar with the guys?”

“What guys? What bar? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he acted clueless and she let out a giggle. “In fifteen, but they’ll survive if I arrive a bit late. I want to be with my girl for a while.”

“Okay, then get in the car so we can make out.” Y/N bursted out laughing as Ethan carelessly threw himself on the backseat of his car. “You need to learn about the art of subtlety, Eth.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the girl who attacked me in the middle of the arena.” he said grabbing her waist to guide her to his lap.

“Attack you? That’s not what I did” she scoffed.

“Yes you did. You attacked me with a kiss and then you led me to my car to corrupt me” Ethan said in a fake innocent tone.

“Corrupting the former man-whore?” Y/N arched an eyebrow.

Ethan’s eyes darkened “You’re right. Maybe I am the one corrupting you. I mean, you couldn’t even wait for us to get home to attack me again?”

“You’re insufferable. You’re so lucky you’re hot.”

“I am hot?”

Y/N nodded, looking at him. His muscled arms were spread on the top of the seats, grin plastered on his face and cheeks still rosy from the cold temperature of the arena.

“The hottest. And the best thing? That you’re mine.”

“Just yours, love.” he smiled sweetly, resting his forehead on hers.

“That list of yours is pretty… infallible, right?” Y/N joked.

“I can’t believe you know about the list” Ethan hid his face on her neck.

“You sticked it on the fridge and Tara took a picture” Y/N replied.

“Fucking Chad” Ethan groaned. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, it worked, right? You got the girl.”

“Yes, I did” he smiled hugging her tightly. “Should I do one on how to keep the girl?”

Y/N laughed “I don’t think you need that. Rumour has it, she’s totally in love with you.”

“Oh yeah? Lucky me, because I’m totally in love with her too.”

[navybrat817]

How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺

I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂

Sick Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.

You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.

Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.

“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”

You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.

He had nothing to worry about though.

“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.

A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”

You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”

“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.

“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”

Why is he getting himself worked up?

“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”

It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.

“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”

“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.

He didn’t need your tears on top of that.

But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”

God, I love this man.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.

Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.

“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”

Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.

“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”

“We'll watch whatever you want.”

You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”

You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”

You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.

Which was exactly why he called you down there.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”

“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.

You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.

“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”

You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”

He also had a cold.

Oh, no.

“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.

“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”

Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.

“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”

Oh, Bucky.

You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.

“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”

Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.

Maybe both.

But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.

When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.

“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”

You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.

And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.

“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”

“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.

Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Oops.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”

“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.

Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.

You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”

He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.

“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”

Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”

True.

“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”

Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.

And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.

Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 7

pairing:max Verstappen x single mom!reader x logan sargeant {masterlist}{prev} {next} warnings: cursing, minimally proofread Summary: you can start a family who will always show you love, you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own word count: 4.7k auth.note: this was supposed to have smut in it but the smut gods have abandoned me spotify: i made a playlist

He was watching her.

She swallowed anxiously as she poured water from the kettle into the mugs. Of course he was watching her. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since she'd opened the apartment door. And of course she was making tea, because it was too late for coffee, and she also knew he hated coffee.

You're just a coworker.

Except he wasn't. He never had been, not since taking it upon himself to show her son cars at the factory. Not since he'd listened to her like no one had before. Not since…

He'd so seamlessly stepped into her and Kevin's lives, helping without being asked, and asking nothing in return.

Licking her lips as she watched the tea steep, she closed her eyes.

She could still taste him.

Gentle, tender, everything he never showed the world. As though she was precious and perfect. As though her lips were his place of worship. Her lips parted to gasp, surprised, and—

He shifted and her eyes snapped open. He was still there. In her kitchen, leaning against the counter just a few feet away. Her heart hammered in her chest as she picked up a mug after stirring in a little sugar and held it out to him.

"Y/n," he whispered.

"I'm not allowed to kiss you."

He'd said that weeks ago. Over a month ago. She sucked in a breath and finally turned to face him. "What changed?"

To his credit, he didn't play stupid. He took a sip of the tea and turned the mug in his hands. "Nothing changed."

"How can you say that?" Gripping her mug, she forced herself to take a sip.

"I'm sor—" Max cut himself off and pressed his lips together. "No, I'm not sorry. I've wanted to do that since… Since I met you."

Y/n took another sip of her tea. It wasn't sweet enough, but she couldn't bring herself to move to get some sugar. All she could do was stand there, holding her mug tightly and sip, staring at him, floored by the revelation that he'd wanted to kiss her for months. "You said you couldn't," she whispered.

"I still can't." His voice was strained, as though it hurt him to say it.

"Jesus christ," she groaned. "Max—"

"You're with Logan."

She froze, slowly raising her eyes to his. "Yeah," she whispered. "We're… Figuring it out as we go."

He winced slightly. "What's there to figure out?"

"God, Max." Why did he care? "Everything."

"Little mate worships him."

She shouldn’t say it. Don't say it don't say it don't say it don't— "He worships you, too."

Max shook his head. "He—"

"He called you Daddy. He's never even…" She reached up, angrily brushing the tears from her eyes before they could fall. "He's never cared about not having a father until recently. He asked months ago why he doesn't have one and I told him not everyone does and he was okay with that. Until…"

He stepped closer, taking her mug and setting it with his on the counter.

"I've fucked it all up," she gasped. "I've done the worst thing haven't I?"

"Y/n, no," he murmured.

"I'm supposed to protect him from heartache and pain. But I let him get close to you and you…" She couldn't finish the thought, much less the sentence. If there was one thing she was sure of in her messed up world it was that Max would never hurt Kevin. She wasn't stupid, she had put together the pieces and figured out that he'd been abused as a child, whether he saw it that way or not. But he had only ever treated her son with gentleness.

"I won't hurt him," Max whispered, and she sensed rather than saw the tremble in his fingers as he brushed her tears away. "I could never…"

"I know," she breathed.

"Don't…" His fingers lingered on her cheek, and the look in his eyes was almost desperate. "Don't lock me out, y/n."

"Have you met my son?" She sniffled. "He'd tear the door down for you."

He smiled sadly. "Would you let him?"

"Yeah," she said after a moment.

"You haven't fucked it all up," he murmured.

"I feel like I have." His fingers were still on her cheeks, even though for now there weren't any tears. But she didn't mind. They were warm and tender, almost lovingly caressing her. And she wondered what it said about her that in this moment she didn't care about anything or anyone else.

"Mama?"

Max's fingers stilled on her cheeks at the sound of Kevin's voice. Before either of them could move she heard the patter of Kevin's feet entering the kitchen.

"Mama, I—" Kevin gasped. "Mister Max?"

He pulled back and turned. "Hey, kleine maat… You alright?"

Kevin rubbed his eyes as he shuffled over. "Had a bad dream," he mumbled.

Y/n was half a second too late to scoop him up, and she looked on as Max lifted him up. Reaching over, she smoothed her son's curls. "You wanna talk about it, doodle bug?"

Kevin shook his head, settling comfortably against Max's shoulder. "'M'okay, mama," he promised.

Max shared a look with her over the top of Kevin's head. She could practically read his thoughts – he's alright – and nodded. He rubbed the boy's back in a soothing manner and she let herself enjoy the quiet warmth of the moment. Standing close as Max held her son, she listened to him gently murmur comforting words while she continued to smooth his hair, smiling fondly as she felt Kevin relax.

She felt a flicker of hesitation when Max offered to tuck him in, but didn't object. Leading him to the bedroom she shared with Kevin, she opened the bathroom door when he murmured he had to go, leaning in the doorway while Max set him down by the toilet.

No wonder Kevin looked to him as a father figure. He was so natural at it, so patient and kind.

Everything a father should be.

He carried him into the bedroom, squatting down next to the toddler bed to settle him and tuck him in. "Welterusten, kleine maat," he whispered.

Kevin blinked at him. "Is that goodnight?"

Max nodded. "Welterusten."

Y/n picked up her son's stuffed Snoopy and leaned to place it next to him while he practiced saying the word.

"Welterusten, Daddy. Goodnight, Mama," Kevin murmured, eyes already closing. "Love you."

"Goodnight, sweetie. Love you," she whispered, blinking back tears.

Max seemed frozen for a few seconds, but he finally straightened, dragging a hand over his face as he left the bedroom. She followed him out a moment later, pulling the door almost completely closed behind her. Pausing outside Ellie's door, she continued through the apartment to the kitchen when she heard no sign of her friend being awake.

He was leaning against the counter, his expression troubled.

"Max," she whispered.

"Where's his dad?"

Surprised by the question, she paused, rubbing her hands over her thighs before stepping over to pick up her tea. "I don't know."

"Does…" Max exhaled harshly. "Tell me it's none of my business."

How could she tell him that? "It's not, but… If Kevin's tearing the door down for you, you should know, I suppose."

"Does his dad know about him?"

"Only that he exists." She couldn't have this conversation standing. Motioning for him to follow her, she headed into the living room, sitting in the corner of the couch after he pushed away from the counter. "He wanted nothing to do with a baby."

Max made a face of discontent but said nothing as he sat next to her.

Holding her tea with both hands, she pulled her knees to her chest. "He wanted me to have an abortion. And I was going to… I was still on the outs with my mom, working two jobs to pay my bills, I couldn't afford a baby. But – and this is gonna sound so crazy and stupid."

"Tell me," he murmured.

Y/n sighed. "I had a dream about a baby and it—" her breath hitched. "—it felt so real and in the dream I felt whole, like some missing part of my soul had found its way back to me. I woke up craving that feeling, and well, I decided against the abortion."

Max was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke, she could see him fighting a smile. "You're right, that does sound crazy and stupid."

Groaning, she lowered her head. "I know. I know. But—"

"Making life decisions because of a dream is—"

"I know, Max, god you sound like my mom."

He paused, his smile fading. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"That was it. I chose to have the baby. Josh refused to have anything to do with me or him. I haven't seen him since I told him I wasn't having an abortion." She refused to go into how much that had hurt. How stupid she'd felt as the pregnancy progressed, things still strained with her mom, only Ellie to lean on for emotional support.

"He doesn't support him?"

"I refuse to ask him for anything. Kevin's better off without him in his life. Ellie's been more of a father than he ever could have." She finished her tea and set the mug aside. "He knows that he exists. I sent word through his sister, and I've had no contact with anyone in his family since. It's like they don't care. It hurt at first, but now I know it's better this way."

"I'm sorry, y/n."

She shook her head and tucked her chin on her knees. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

He sighed. And she felt him relax for the first time since he'd set foot in the apartment. The quiet stretched until it was almost uncomfortable, then he exhaled softly and reached for her hand.

"I don't mind him calling you daddy," she whispered as their fingers weaved together. It wasn't a conscious movement, and she felt as though her fingers already knew how to slot around his. Just as they did whenever her hand found Logan's.

Logan. God. How could she feel the same but different for two men?

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Maybe it's just a phase. Maybe he has some anxiety because all his new friends have dads."

"He…" Max cleared his throat and when she glanced at him she saw him staring at their hands. "He asked me in Montreal. Mentioned Laura."

Y/n smiled. First Kevin had been over the moon that a driver shared a name with him, then had fallen sort of in love with the older Kevin's daughter.

"He said you told him not everyone gets a mum and a dad. That he loves you."

She swallowed hard, nodding. If ever she was unsure of everything else in her life, she would always know her son loved her.

"Then he said—" Max sighed. "He asked if I thought Logan would be his dad. And you like mama."

She jerked her head up. "Did he ask you—"

"No. But I think he was going to."

What would you have said, how would you have answered him. And would you, Max? Would you be his dad? Would Logan? She closed her eyes, fighting the wave of questions she longed to ask, her feminist rage rising. He doesn't need a dad, damn it. He's perfectly fine without one. He's well rounded, intelligent, and empathetic. Having a 'dad' would ruin him—

"Y/n."

For fuck's sake. "Nothing changed," she reminded him. "You still can't."

"Doesn't mean I don't want to."

"I'm dating Logan."

"Is it serious?"

Yes. No. She didn't know. Logan didn't talk about that sort of thing. Still figuring it out. Still learning to show he cared. "Max, don't make me do this."

He squeezed her hand. "I'm not asking you to make a choice. I… We couldn't be open like you and Logan are."

It wasn't as though she and Logan were public. She was sure they'd been spotted together but it wasn't as though they were in each other's social media posts. "Because you'd get into trouble."

Groaning, he tossed his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You would lose your job."

Not him, though. Because he was the world champ. The dominant force to be reckoned with. Everyone on the Red Bull team would be fired before they let Max go. The realization annoyed her, even though she understood the reasoning. In the grand scheme of things she was nothing, a minor cog in the workings that could easily be replaced. But really what annoyed her the most was—

"I can't be the reason you lose your job, y/n."

Goddamn him and his nobleness. "Then… What are we even doing?" she sighed, moving to stand, trying to slip her hand free of his. But he held fast, pulling her back down.

"This," he whispered, raising his other hand to her cheek.

"But we—"

"Tell me no," he breathed as he dipped his head.

Her breath stuttered and she moved her hand to his neck, felt the muscles tense beneath her fingers. "Max…"

"I'll go. Just… Tell me you don't want this."

His forehead was against hers and his hand was sliding into her hair and she couldn't have told him no. Tilting her head, she let her lips brush over his, whining softly at the sensation. "I shouldn't," she whispered. And, god help her… "But I do."

He exhaled into the kiss, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her. So gentle, so tender, she almost cried.

The last rational part of her brain screamed what about Logan and she pulled back slightly, eyes widening in panic. "We shouldn't."

He nodded. "I know," he murmured, pulling away.

"I want to," she blurted. "But…"

"Logan," he said flatly. "I thought you were figuring it out."

She ran a hand over her face, trying to ignore the tingling in her lips and the longing to slide back into his arms. "Would you want me to see him if I was figuring it out with you?"

He met her gaze and seemed to search her eyes for a long moment. "I would want you to do whatever it took to find happiness."

And she could tell that he meant it. She wished this was the Max that the world saw. The understanding, gentle Max that he rarely showed publicly. "Even if it was without you?"

His jaw twitched and he slowly drew in a breath. "Yes."

"I like him, Max. And I like you too."

Apparently, meeting on the track was now their thing. Max found he didn't mind so much this time, and decided he didn't want to investigate why. It wasn't as though he disliked Logan – in fact he liked him quite a bit. He just had let his own jealousy cloud his behavior. And now… Well, now things were different.

Logan fell into step with him and they chatted about the weather and y/n and Kevin and the burn was still there, eased a little by memories of silky lips and soft murmurs.

"How's your car looking?" Max asked, changing the subject as they walked along the track.

"I don't know, honestly. Do you ever just…" Logan sighed and shook his head, shoulders rounding. "Nevermind."

God. Max opened his mouth to tell him to go on, ask whatever it was that was on his mind – just get fucking on with it – but decided against it. Not everyone said what was on their mind. Not even him, some days, depending what was on his mind. He'd learned to bottle a lot of things, even if people thought he had no filter.

"I like him, Max. And I like you too."

How can you like us both?

He knew how. He just didn't know why. Why did she like him? He was the opposite of her precious American.

Logan cared. About everything. He cared too much. What people thought, whether he was doing well, how he carried himself. He was gentle and – damn it, caring – towards everyone, from a little boy with no father to people who didn't deserve a second thought.

Whereas he was… Gruff. An asshole on a bad day, a jerk on others. He did care, but he was selective. And he had learned at a young age that being gentle, being caring, led to being hurt and disappointment.

Gonna cry, boy?

"You have to stand up for yourself." The words came out of his mouth and hung in the air, too cold and brisk for the man walking next to him. "Sorry."

Logan drew in a breath. "Max—"

"Actually, no I'm not sorry." How many times had he said that in the past week? Twice. Which was twice too many. "It's true. You can't let them walk all over you. Because they'll do it until they find another pushover."

"They're not renewing my contract."

Well, fuck.

"They haven't said it. James is giving me the runaround every time I bring it up." Logan kept his eyes straight ahead and so did Max, not sure he wanted to see whatever emotions were showing. "But I know it's coming."

"He's such a spineless cunt," Max muttered.

Logan sputtered on a laugh. "Jesus," he chuckled nervously.

"He is." Max glanced at him. Swallowed down the little bit of bitterness. "You deserve a team that believes in you."

He nodded. "I know. But I don't have that."

"Don't give up hope," he said, the words surprising even him. "There are teams with vacant seats next year."

"I'm American. Hope's all I got," Logan said without enthusiasm.

Max chuckled softly. "Sometimes it's all you need."

As if he would know.

"I appreciate it, Max. Really."

"I can't give advice." He grimaced. "I suck at it. But I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

Even though he wasn't looking at him, he saw Logan's smile. "Thanks, mate."

Mate.

For once it didn't sound weird when Logan said it.

A win in Barcelona and, somehow, y/n found herself in the VIP section of a club with several drivers and a few girlfriends. No one seemed surprised or upset by her being there, and she laughed and drank a little, enjoying the downtime. Logan pulled her into a dance and she felt…

Happy.

Taking a break, she got another drink and found herself next to Max while he talked to Charles about someone she didn't know. A few moments later Charles was dragged away by his girlfriend and she was, relatively, alone with Max.

Max leaned close, speaking directly into her ear, loud enough to be heard above the music. "I can see why you like him!"

Her brow furrowed at his words. "You can?"

He nodded, leaning back to take a swig from his drink. "He's nice. Looks at you like you put the stars in the sky."

"Max," she murmured in surprise, her expression softening. She looked past him to where Logan was laughing with Lando and Oscar.

"See." Max chuckled next to her as Logan turned to look at her. "If he looked at me like that, I'd fall too."

A surprised laugh bubbled up. "Max! Are you drunk?"

He shook his head. "Not even close."

The coloured lights flashing around them pulsed faster and she watched him finish his drink. "Max–"

"He's in love with you." Max's face was serious.

She nodded, because suddenly she couldn't speak. If she did, she might tell him things she should never say. Nodding again, she looked down at her drink. Logan had all but said I love you to her. He'd said he loved being with her, loved hearing her voice, loved spending time with Kevin, but hadn't said he loved her.

"We have that in common," Max said, and she barely caught the words, his voice was so low.

Jerking her head up, she blinked. "What–"

"Hey babe."

A long arm snaked around her and she was pulled back against Logan's chest. Confused to see Max grinning, she wondered if he was drunk, because he usually looked annoyed whenever Logan was around. Well, not as much this past week as he had before, but…

Logan bent down, lips brushing her ear. "Having fun?"

She nodded, unconsciously stroking the arm around her as she sipped her drink. "It's a little noisy," she said loudly. "But fun."

He squeezed his arm around her. "Let me know when you're ready to go?"

She patted his arm and nodded again, smiling as he slipped away to go talk to Oscar.

Max tipped his head thoughtfully. "You're shit at lying."

"No I'm not?" She frowned at that. "I'm not lying."

"You're having fun?" he asked, arching his eyebrow.

She delayed answering by taking a sip of his drink.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "You'd rather be at the hotel, wouldn't you?"

She made a face. "Yes. But—"

He grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him, stopping to speak to Logan. They were right under a speaker so she couldn't hear what he said, but she saw Logan's concern as he nodded. Confused when he leaned to press a kiss to her cheek, she opened her mouth to say she was fine, but no one seemed to hear her above the thudding music. Logan didn't seem bothered by Max holding her hand and she remembered that she'd talked to him about it, that he was weirdly okay with her exploring her options as he'd put it—

Logan's lips moved to her ear. "I'll see you later, babe."

"Max what are you doing?" she asked a few moments later when he guided her out a side door of the club. Despite the heat outside it felt cooler than the club and she breathed in a lungful of fresh air.

"Taking you to the hotel," he answered simply.

She blinked as a car turned down the side street – alley? she wasn't sure what to call it – and stopped in front of them. Turning to him, she pinched her brows together. "You're supposed to be celebrating your win."

Max shrugged. "I can celebrate anytime."

With that, he opened the back door of the car and motioned for her to climb in. And she couldn't argue. Well, she could but it would be pointless. Arguing with Max was much like arguing with Kevin. It would lead nowhere except to a headache, she was sure. Settling in the backseat, she opened her handbag to get her phone, checking to make sure Ellie hadn't messaged her with an emergency.

"Je bent mooi," Max murmured once the car was in motion.

She could barely see him but she looked at him anyway, watching the passing lights flicker across his face. "Thank you," she whispered, remembering what the words meant.

You're beautiful. Not you look beautiful, that dress looks great on you. You're beautiful. She wondered if he understood the difference and thought that he might when his hand found hers.

It had been just over a week and it was still so new, so unexpected, the secret looks and touches. The stolen kiss that morning, the quick hug in the post-race confusion. All weekend she'd kept waiting for someone to notice, to say something, but no one had.

"When's your birthday?" she asked suddenly.

"End of September… Why?"

His thumb was tracing the back of her hand, making it hard to concentrate on her thoughts. "That's… Right after Singapore right?"

Max hummed. "Yeah I think a week after?"

"Well what are you doing to celebrate?" she asked, shifting so she was facing towards him.

He chuckled, and in the flickering lights she saw him shaking his head. "I don't celebrate birthdays."

"Max…"

"Y/n…" he mocked.

"You have to celebrate," she sighed.

"Uh, no, I don't have to."

"Didn't you love birthday parties as a kid?" she asked as the car stopped. Glancing out, she realized they were parked behind the hotel. She kept forgetting that Max could do things like that.

He thanked the driver and climbed out, turning back to help her out. "I didn't celebrate them much as a kid," he finally said.

"Oh," she said softly.

Max groaned, guiding her through the door, nodding to the hotel security. "Don't."

"I didn't—"

"You're not throwing me a birthday party," he insisted with a shudder.

"But—"

"It's just another day."

She scrunched up her face as he guided her onto the elevator. "If you'd let me speak—"

"No, because if I do it'll end with me wearing a stupid pointy hat and you blowing confetti in my face," he muttered.

Y/n huffed. "I wouldn't blow confetti."

He turned to look at her.

"I wouldn't!" she insisted. "I'd blow noisemakers—"

"No."

"You really don't want to celebrate? Cake? Friends? A few presents?"

"I don't like cake, if I want to see friends I do, and if I want anything I buy it." He tipped his head. "I don't need a party for any of that."

"It doesn't have to be a party," she persisted as the elevator stopped.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do," he said, glancing left and right before steering her towards her room. "But I don't see any reasons to celebrate."

"It's a special day, Max."

"You're not going to let this go are you?" he sighed as they stopped at her door.

She shook her head, opening her handbag to get her keycard. "Nope."

Max rolled his eyes and took the card, unlocking the door for her and following her inside. "Why is it so important to you?"

Slipping off her heels, she pushed them next to her suitcase. "It's a time to celebrate… To reflect and appreciate what you've been given."

Leaning against the dresser, he set the keycard down and folded his arms. "You don't think they're childish and unimportant?"

She looked up from gathering her pajamas to change into. Frowning, she shook her head. "That's your father speaking, isn't it?"

His eyes shuttered and his stance grew tense. "I'm not…"

"Is he why you didn't celebrate?" she whispered.

"My mom tried," he said after a moment of tense silence. "She'd make a cake or get me a little something. But…"

He pushed away from the dresser and walked across the room. She sat back on her heels, watching him pace before he stopped at the window. Heart breaking for the little boy inside him, she pushed to her feet and walked over, tentatively sliding her hand over his.

"We didn't celebrate. Even when I won." His voice was hoarse, as though it hurt him to say the words.

"Oh, Max," she sighed. She hesitated, still not used to this sort of closeness, and finally leaned her head against his arm.

He let out a shuddering sigh and she realized he wasn't used to it, either. Slipping his hand free, he wrapped his arm around her slowly and cautiously, as though afraid she was going to push him away.

"Can I throw you a small party?" she asked after a moment. "With just a few people who care about you?"

Groaning, he pressed his lips into her hair. "If you must."

"Who would you want to invite?"

He snorted. "You and Kevin." Tucking his chin on the top of her head, he wrapped his other arm around her. "You can invite Logan, too."

Surprised, she leaned back, heart skipping several beats. "Logan?"

"He's special to you and Kevin. You and Kevin are special to me." He paused, eyes meeting hers. "So he's special to me too, I guess."

"Max," she whispered. "You mean that?"

"Don't say it like that, don't make it—"

She leaned up, silencing him with a kiss. Don't make it weird. But it already was.

And she kind of loved it.

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[finelinevogue]

pancakes for two

summary - seeing your niece for the first time

word count - ~1k

pairing - husband!harry x reader

You made pancakes for breakfast on a Saturday.

It was a routine at this point and would be rude not to have pancakes after your morning jog with Harry.

Harry tended to make himself banana pancakes, because he hated not having some fruit in there somehow, but you were all for the nutella and other loaded toppings.

You had both just finished your pancakes, dirty plates on the coffee table in front of you and cups of tea to hand as you watched ‘This Morning’ on ITV.

Even after having been on a run and eaten pancakes, your day was about to get so much better.

“Remind me that I need to pick up more loo roll the next time I go to the shops.” You said to Harry.

“Thought we bought loads?”

His free hand rested on your ankle from where your legs were stretched out on his lap.

“Yeah, but we gave a lot to Gem remember?”

“Oh shit, yes. We can go later if you want? I’ll take you?” He offered.

“The last thing I want to do is leave the house on the one day where you’re not busy preparing for baby number 4.” You laughed, taking a sip of your Yorkshire Gold tea.

“Baby number 4?” It was Harry’s turn to chuckle.

“Album? Baby? Same thing. They’re all your children.”

He tapped your ankle playfully.

Harry had been working so hard on planning for the next phase of his career and you were so happy to see him get excited and creative again.

Music is where he thrived and it was a joy to watch him work. However it did mean he was gone more than you wanted him to be, so quiet weekends like this were absolutely necessary.

Harry missed you just as much and he was constantly lucky that it was you waiting for him at home.

He’d been working so hard that he hadn’t even had a moment to see his sister since she gave birth.

It was only a week ago, but Gemma was still recovering and requested that the three of them just had some quiet time to let the new reality to settle in.

Now, Harry was restless to see his niece.

You scrolled through your phone when it suddenly made a Ring doorbell noise.

“Yes! I bet that’s my Waterstones parcel.” You said excitedly, sitting up and setting your tea on the coffee table.

“Another one?”

You hit Harry’s thigh playfully, “Shut up!” Although he did have a valid point.

You waited for the doorbell to ring, before jumping up and making your way to the front. You made a note to shout at Harry for - yet again - leaving his coat on the banister and not put back on coat rack.

You unlocked and opened the door, expecting the delivery guy but were met with Gemma, Michal and baby instead.

“Oh my God!” You shouted, cupping your hands over your mouth in shock.

“Surprise!” Gemma laughed, baby carrier on Michal’s arm and baby bags too.

You started tearing up then, emotional over how beautiful Gemma was after recently giving birth. She was glowing and looked incredible. They both looked so happy too.

“Y/N/N?” Harry called your nickname.

He rounded the corner only to stop short.

“Look who showed up.” You allowed the tears to drop down your face.

“Hey, bro.” Gemma smiled.

“Hi, H!” Michal smiled at Gemma’s smile.

Harry, ever the emotional man, broke down in little sobs then. He pouted when he cried and probably had the same thoughts as you initially did.

“Come in. Come on.” You ushered them in.

You gave Gemma a big hug first, squeezing her but not too tight, and kissed her cheeks.

Then you hugged Michal, careful to avoid all his extra baggage.

“How are you?” You asked Michal, as Gemma went over to speak and probably console Harry.

“Tired, but never been happier.” He genuinely smiled.

“Can I take anything from you?”

“No, I’m just going to dump them here if that’s okay?” He motioned to the space in the hall.

“Of course, go ahead.”

“You want a tea? Coffee?” You offered.

“Coffee, please. No sugar. Gem will probably just have water.”

You nodded and walked through the hallway and into the kitchen. Gemma and Harry were still hugging, softly talking to one another. You left them to it, not wanting to disrupt the siblings reunion.

You wiped your own tears with your sweater, before pottering around the kitchen.

“So let me see my niece then!” You demanded as Michal placed the carrier on the kitchen island.

He opened the visor and you had to choke back a sob as you saw how small your new niece was - your new best friend.

“Oh my God.” You whispered.

“I know. I keep having the same reaction, even now.” Michal chuckled.

Gemma and Harry walked in a few seconds later - Harry with red eyes and Gemma smiling like a madwoman.

You leaned forwards and brushed your finger over your nieces tiny bunched fist. Her skin was so soft and she didn’t budge at all with the tap from you.

“She’s beautiful, guys.” You whispered.

“She really is.” Gemma agreed.

“She’s a Styles if I ever saw one. No offence Michal.”

“None taken.” Michal genuinely didn’t seem offended.

You stepped back to let Harry have a gaze over his new niece, wrapped in her blankets and knitted bonnets. There were so many blankets you wondered whether she was cooking underneath them all!

It wasn’t your turn to know anything about kids or parenting though, yet, so you weren’t going to question anything.

Harry approached his niece and softly caressed over her small hand and over her quite chubby cheeks.

You cupped a hand over your mouth as you teared up from watching Harry interact with a baby.

“It’s too much!” You cried, laughing like an idiot.

Gemma and Michal watched you with soft expressions.

Harry moved towards you then, “Hey. What’s up?” He asked, pulling you in for a big hug. The best hugs.

“I think i’ve got a heavy case of baby fever right now.”

Harry pulled you away a bit to read your face, “You do?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay.” He smiled.

“Okay, what?” You stepped back.

“Let’s try. For a baby, I mean.”

“Really?” You eyes filled with tears. “You mean it?”

“A baby with you? It would make all those birthday and shooting star wishes come true.”

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟏)

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader

word count: 9.4k words

summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), explicit language, some angst

author’s note: i had the idea for this lil two part mini series (and have been working on it on and off) for like a thousand years at this point and i'm so glad and excited that it's finally free from the jail cell that is my google docs lol. i really really wanted to finish this and have it up before this year was over, so part two is coming new year's eve<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

For the first time in the past two weeks, you were early. Granted it was only by two minutes, but you still counted that as a win. 

You stepped out of your car and headed to where the other parents were on the sidewalk, waiting for school to be over and the kids to come out. You inwardly ran through the list of things that you still had to do today— on a Friday that should’ve been calm, but instead, it had been pretty hectic. 

It felt like pure luck that you were able to step away from your coffee shop for thirty minutes to pick up Oliver from school. God bless Jude for being willing to take over the rush that was happening. She was your favorite employee, and you knew that she definitely deserved a raise for being able to effectively keep up with the insanity that the last two weeks brought.

That transition from summer into the beginning of the new school year was harder than you had anticipated, and you knew it was mainly because this time last year you weren’t running a business full-time when Oliver had been starting Kindergarten. Instead, the coffee shop was still just an idea, a dream, that felt like it solely lived in your head; even though it had actually been in its final stages, and with each passing day, you only got closer and closer to that October opening date. And when the long-awaited opening finally came, it actually didn’t alleviate an ounce of your stress; instead, it was only increased practically tenfold. 

You’d never say it out loud for fear of being deemed as a bad mom, but it was so fucking hard juggling everything and trying to handle it all.

However, somehow, you were doing it and you were actually doing it pretty well. Although at most times it felt like you were so close to drowning, for the time being, your head was completely above water.

You kept running through your mental to-do list as you waited for the time to go from 2:29pm to 2:30pm, indicating the official end of the school day.

Call the vendors that supply the coffee beans and teas and see if they can change the next delivery date, finalize the work schedule for next week, prep the ingredients for the pastries that will be baked tomorrow—

Your eyes instinctively went to check the time on your watch right as the first handful of kids came barreling out of the front doors. 

When you saw Olly, you waved until his eyes landed on you and he immediately smiled. 

Suddenly, you couldn’t care less about the time and the rest of the shit that you needed to do throughout the day.

“I made a new friend!” Were the first words he said to you when he came over to where you stood.

“That’s awesome!” You kneeled down so that you were pretty much at eye level with him. Hearing him say that made your heart feel so happy. You knew how shy he could be and he rarely ever talked about any kids that he was friends with, especially not with this much enthusiasm. “Who is it?” 

“Maddie,” He answered and then pointed in the direction of where you assumed the girl was standing.

There were a handful of kids standing with their parents in the direction Olly was pointing to about ten or fifteen feet away, but when he further specified that she was “the girl holding the blue lunchbox,” you saw her. A girl with brown hair who was smiling at her dad who was smiling back at her and holding a hand up so that she could give it a high five. 

You recognized him immediately.

In your mind, his name was “the worst person in the world.” In reality, his name was Steve Harrington. 

You didn’t really pay attention to him until this past January because your kids weren’t in the same Kindergarten class. You actually didn’t even learn that he was the only other single parent in the grade until then. 

It was one of your New Year’s resolutions to become more active and involved in school activities, PTA meetings, etc. Mainly because you knew that the other Kindergarten moms were judging you for barely doing anything aside from the occasional bake sale and the school was way too small for you to slip under the radar and not be noticed; those moms noticed everything. 

Therefore, on the first meeting back after the Winter holiday break, you were there— five minutes late, but there nonetheless. Although, it could’ve been assumed that everyone thought you were an hour late with the amount of withering looks you received when you entered the gymnasium. 

You offered a small apologetic smile and made a mental note to never be even a minute late again. 

Leslie, the PTA president, was droning on and on about what big things were planned for the second half of the school year— somehow dragging out a short list of things that you thought could’ve been simply sent out in a mass email— when Steve walked in fifteen minutes after you. You fully expected him to receive the same type of annoyed looks that you had gotten, and maybe even more because he showed up later than you, but he got nothing but happy smiles from the majority of the moms. 

That complete opposite reaction severely confused you and you wondered how he was able to receive such niceness when all you got was the coldest of shoulders. 

Meeting after meeting it was continuously proven that he was the favorite among the moms, and it didn’t take you too long to learn why. He was a charmer, which everyone absolutely loved, and he seemed to effortlessly throw money at any school activity or fundraising event, another reason why he was so goddamn adored. 

You were probably the only one that didn’t give a fuck about his charming personality, and instead, you would inwardly roll your eyes or scoff at pretty much anything he’d say and how easily the moms ate it up. Because when you really looked at it, you two were pretty much doing the same exact things— only moderately participating in events, showing up to the big monthly meetings instead of the weekly ones (and he was still always late to them), and not signing up for fields trips or activities that happened during school hours because of how overly demanding your jobs were; you’d learned from one particularly chatty mom that he worked at a pretty intense marketing firm. However, there was such a stark difference in treatment because he was the “hot single dad that gave a lot of money;” all of the moms practically fell at his feet and seemed to only tolerate you.

Maybe it was a hint of jealousy talking, but he still always managed to piss you off and you didn’t like him at all. It was an animosity that was perhaps just one-sided, and you hated yourself for caring so much, but that changed in April; during a moment where if the circumstances were different, it would’ve felt like some sort of romcom-esque “meet cute.” But, you basically despised Steve, so instead the whole situation just made your blood boil. 

It was a Thursday at almost five o’clock during parent-teacher conference week; it was the only day that could work in your insanely busy schedule and you managed to get the latest time slot with Oliver’s teacher. You were pacing in the hallway where all three of the Kindergarten classrooms were; a coffee in one hand, because it was the only thing keeping you going that late in the day, and your phone in the other as you texted back an employee who was having problems with the oven. You were seconds away from calling him— because you knew that the issue would probably be solved quicker if you did so— but before you could, you were bombarded by someone who was quickly coming around the corner and they crashed into you. The abrupt collision was forceful enough to make your drink spill on you and your phone slip out of your hand. 

You glanced down at your now coffee-stained white shirt and then up at the person who had caused this mess, and of course, it was Steve Harrington standing in front of you. You had to fight the immediate urge to roll your eyes. 

“Oh, shit. My bad,” He quickly said. “I’m minutes away from being late for my parent-teacher meeting, so I was rushing from the parking lot. Now it really does make sense why teachers always said no running in the halls, right? Because something like this can happen.” As he rambled, you picked up your phone off the ground, glad that it wasn’t broken, and then you tossed your now mostly empty coffee cup into the trash can nearby. When you looked back at him, you saw that he was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “Anyway, maybe I can pay for your dry cleaning? Or so you can at least get another coffee later or tomorrow?”

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve thought that the gesture was nice. But, since it was coming from Steve Harrington it only pissed you off because, of course, money was his immediate thought solution.

That time it was too difficult to not allow yourself to roll your eyes at him. “Y’know, throwing money at everything doesn’t make you a good dad. It actually makes you kind of an asshole.” 

You knew that you were being a little too harsh, but it was still too hard to feel completely regretful about your words; you were pissed at this current situation that was fully caused by him and you were also pissed simply because he was him.

You weren’t sure what you expected Steve to respond with, but he easily matched your angry energy. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Well, at least, I can do something. You barely show up to things and can’t give money to make up for it, so how much of a ‘good mom’ does that make you?”

Before you could say anything in response to that— a response that probably would’ve started and ended with a simple “Fuck you”— you heard your name being called from behind you by Oliver’s teacher. With everything happening with the man in front of you right then, you’d almost forgotten the meeting you were at the school for in the first place. 

Instead of saying anything to Steve, you simply buttoned up the black cardigan you were wearing to cover the majority of the coffee stain on your shirt and then walked away from him, putting on a smile and greeting Miss Wilson.

It wasn’t outwardly stated right then, but it was pretty much sealed then that this disliking could no longer be confused for being something that was one-sided. You two hadn’t said any words to each other since that moment in the hallway, and instead only annoyed looks and glares were shared anytime you saw one another; which lucky for you, actually wasn’t too frequent. 

On the first day of school, you learned that his daughter was in the same First Grade class as Oliver due to the emergency contact form all the parents had to fill out, which was then condensed into one sheet and shared among everyone for “just in case” purposes, and Steve’s name and number was on there. You really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal because you could still avoid him like the plague that he was, and that was exactly what you’d been doing for the last two weeks. 

However, you did not think that your kids would become friends.

“Can we have a playdate tomorrow?” Oliver asked. 

You racked your brain for a response; a way to say no without actually saying it because you really did hate disappointing him. “Oh, um, this weekend is gonna be really busy. But, maybe soon though, okay?” 

He frowned a bit but still nodded. “Okay.”

You held out your hand so that he could slip his in and then you started heading to your car.

“We have to go back to the coffee shop for a few more hours before we can go home. But, how does pizza for dinner tonight sound?” You asked as you buckled him in his car seat. The offer was an attempt to cheer him up and you hoped it worked; probably like every other six-year-old, Oliver loved pizza.

He smiled at that. “Ooh, yeah, that’s good.”  

You smiled back at him and inwardly hoped that this playdate idea would blow over over the next few days. And that the thought of you having to spend any sort of willing time with Steve Harrington would become a scary thought that only occasionally haunted your dreams, instead of it being something that actually became real.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Of course, it did not blow over. 

Excuse after excuse would fall from your lips, but Olly was determined and your words of “Today’s really busy” or “This weekend probably won’t be good” didn’t discourage him from continuing to ask. 

As the days came and went and a week passed with Olly asking the same question each day, you were so close to sucking it up and calling Steve and finally setting something up, but you were still way too fucking prideful to do so.

That didn’t stop you from thinking about doing it most days, though. But it was easier not to think about it when you were busying yourself at the coffee shop, and it was almost too easy to make yourself busy in some way there. And that was something that didn’t change on this Friday.

Oliver was sitting in his favorite booth working on homework and you were behind the counter, making a simple hot chocolate for the older woman who would come in almost every afternoon, typically around four o’clock. 

“Enjoy,” You said with a smile as you handed her the drink. 

Things in the coffee shop were calm and quiet, and you were about to go see if Oliver needed any help with the worksheets he was doing, but then your phone started vibrating in your back pocket. When you grabbed it, you saw that it was a random number calling, and maybe you should’ve thought about that fact more before answering, but you didn’t. 

“Hello?”

“Has Oliver asked to have a playdate with Madeline?” You quickly recognized Steve’s voice.

You let out a small sigh. “At least once a day since last Friday.”

“Same here with Maddie,” Steve said and then let out a sigh of his own. “We need to let this happen. I don’t think either of them are gonna let it go.” 

At first, you didn’t say anything in response to his words. You wanted to disagree with Steve, but you knew that you couldn’t because it was the truth. And then there was the fact that every time you gave some sort of fake excuse to Olly, you would feel like the worst parent ever, so maybe it would be best to just finally let this happen. “You’re right. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes,” He answered. “We can just do a quick thing at the park if that’s good?”

That was exactly what you were about to suggest, but you didn't tell him that. “Yeah, that’s fine. Is twelve okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to you and instead simply ended the call there. The lack of an actual goodbye almost made you want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you didn’t because you knew that you probably would’ve done the same thing to him. 

You put your phone back in your pocket and walked over to the two-person booth Oliver was sitting at, sliding in across from him. “Hey, bud, I have really fun news. You and Maddie are finally gonna have your playdate tomorrow.”

Seeing the elated grin immediately take over his face made the fact that you’d be spending a few hours with Steve Harrington tomorrow worth it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You never thought you’d witness a moment where Steve was actually on time for something, but for once he was. When you pulled into the small parking lot of the park, you already saw him sitting on one of the wooden benches that surrounded the playground watching Maddie go down a slide.

Moments after the car was put in park, Oliver was unbuckling himself and rushing to get out so that he could head over to where Maddie was. You could only smile at his enthusiasm before telling him to slow down and be careful.

You took your time walking over to where Steve was because of how much you were dreading it, and for a moment you debated whether or not you should sit next to him or go to the bench that was empty and a few feet away. Ultimately, you decided to just sit next to him; you could be civil for a couple of hours. 

“Hi,” You said as you sat down on the wooden bench.

He looked at you just for a second before turning back to the playground. “Hey.”

“How are you?” You asked. It was always easy to go into the mundane small talk you’d have all day with customers; aside from the ones that were the regulars that you knew too well and couldn’t simply ask how they were doing without actually meaning it.

“Good,” Steve responded. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You answered with a small nod. 

A silence that could only be deemed as awkward began to linger in the air because it felt as if there was absolutely nothing else to say. If he was a customer, you would’ve simply taken his order and he would have walked away by now, but obviously, this wasn’t that kind of interaction. The only sound that could be heard was the handful of other parents with their children and your own kids looking happier than ever. 

It could’ve been easy for you to make some joke to Steve about how weird this entire situation felt because of how much animosity you had toward each other and now there you two were on a sort of playdate of your own because of your kids. And then the two of you would have laughed about this current set of circumstances, and maybe that would’ve allowed things to actually start to feel somewhat okay. But, it just felt way too hard to let yourself actually be civil toward him, even though you had told yourself that you would be.

“I’m very surprised you’re actually on time for something. After all the PTA meetings, I thought you were incapable of it,” You said, still staring straight ahead as you then took a sip from the water you had in your hand. 

“And you’re late, which is not surprising,” He told you with a small scoff.

Aside from that first time you had been late for the meeting, there was one other time where you were late again and, of course, that was also the one time where Steve managed to be a little bit earlier than you. Given that he had been late countless times, you felt that it was both stupid and unwarranted for him to use the single time he saw you late against you.

“Whatever,” You said as you rolled your eyes. “Not that I even owe you an explanation for being only five minutes late today, but the coffee shop was starting to have a rush right before me and Olly were about to leave, and I didn’t want to leave my employee right then to completely fend for himself.”

“That’s interesting because every time I drive by the place, it looks the complete opposite of busy.” 

Perhaps this entire conversation immediately taking the shittiest turn was your fault because you “fired the first shot,” but his words felt equivalent to a low blow. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected by them and tried your hardest not to recognize the slight validity behind them— the coffee shop had its peak times and also its deserted moments, and maybe sometimes it did feel a bit more deserted than not, but you were surviving and right then that was all that mattered you.  

You glared harshly at him although he wasn’t even looking back at you. Muttering a “Fuck you” was right on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back and instead got up from the bench and started moving to an empty one. Steve didn’t say anything else to you and instead seemed completely unfazed by you walking away from him. 

You watched Oliver and Maddie talking and laughing at the top of a slide that was big enough to fit both of them and they went down it together. Seeing how happy Olly was and knowing that this was the first friend he actually wanted to spend time with outside of school, made dealing with Steve’s bullshit right then completely okay with you. 

When two o’clock rolled around, you were waving Oliver over to you, much to his dismay.

“I know it’s time to go, but can we all get food together?” He asked when he walked over to you.

For once, the excuse for saying no that you were about to tell him wasn’t a made-up one. “We gotta go pick Eddie up from the airport, remember? Also, he told me that he has a bunch of cool stuff to give you from California.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said, a smile taking over his face. “I almost forgot he was coming today.” 

He went over to where Maddie was now standing with Steve and he gave her a quick hug goodbye before running back over to you.

Instead of giving any sort of verbal goodbye to Steve, you simply gave him a small wave. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you’d now probably have to see him more often than not. With how happy Oliver and Maddie looked playing together, you knew that today definitely wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.

Somehow with the wave Steve gave back to you, you could tell that he knew that too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were in no way related to Eddie Munson, but he felt more like family than your actual family. 

He was the first person you met when you moved to Hawkins three years ago. After going through a messy divorce that felt like it had actively taken at least ten years off of your life, it felt so goddamn nice to immediately make a friend in this town that was completely new to you.  

Coming from Chicago, a city that had always felt way too big for you, any small town sounded perfect in your eyes, and you were able to find a cheap-ish house in Hawkins, so it was the winner.

You met Eddie at a grocery store a week after you’d moved in. It was also your birthday, a fact that three-year-old Oliver didn’t fail to tell Eddie when you accidentally bumped into him— quite literally crashed your cart into the guy— in the bread aisle. 

“Happy birthday,” He had said to you and you gave him a small smile before proceeding to say another sorry for bumping your cart into him. He then looked at Oliver. “Are you gonna bake a birthday cake for her?” 

Oliver visibly brightened and turned to you. “Ooh, yeah, can we bake a cake?”

“Sure,” You nodded and smiled at his eagerness. 

He smiled widely and then looked back at Eddie. “Can you come over and help us make it?” 

“Oh, um…” Eddie’s eyes met yours to see what you wanted him to say. 

“You can, if you want,” You told him and you genuinely meant your words. He seemed normal, and even though this was a small town, he was the first person who had been so outwardly nice to you and Olly. 

“Okay, yeah, I’d love to help,” He said with a nod. “I’m Eddie, by the way.” 

You told him your name and then gestured to Olly. “And this is Oliver.” 

“Sorry for suggesting this idea and contributing to the sugar high that will probably be happening tonight,” Eddie told you as you moved to the next aisle where all of the baking stuff was, you were giving Oliver full reign over what cake mix you got. 

“Apology not accepted,” You responded but still smiled at him.  

Many hours later, when the cake was baked and Oliver was tucked away in bed after having two pieces of it, you pulled out a bottle of wine for you and Eddie to drink. And then because of the wine and because of the fact that birthdays always managed to bring something severely melancholic out of you, you started crying to him about your divorce that had just been finalized, the affair that your husband had with his coworker being the catalyst for said divorce, and how you felt so weirdly alone in this new town but also not at all alone because you had Oliver. 

Somehow none of that managed to scare him away— even though you would’ve been completely understanding if it had— and a friendship had been cemented ever since. 

Eight months ago, he moved to California because of a huge opportunity he got with his music; it was something he had been waiting for for so many years. You had called it a “big break,” but he thought that sounded too pretentious. 

You hadn’t really wanted him to leave, he was your best friend— your only friend in this town— but you were also so happy for him. And the distance actually managed to feel somewhat okay because you two would talk all the time and he’d visit every few months.

Oliver especially didn’t mind the distance because whenever Eddie did come back to Hawkins for a visit, it always meant that he’d get some cool new toys from him. And this time proved to be no different. 

The three of you were in the coffee shop. It was quiet right then— you didn’t think about Steve’s words from earlier— and you watched Eddie smile at Oliver as he animatedly talked about something, you assumed he was telling Eddie about Madeline.

Moments later, Eddie walked over to where you stood behind the counter, beginning the clean-up process because you were closing in about an hour. 

“It’s really nice seeing how fucking– I mean fudging,” He turned around to see if Oliver heard what he’d just said, but Olly was too busy playing with his new red toy car to hear anything. “Happy he is. All he’s been doing is rambling about his new friend.” 

“Yeah, it’s really great,” You said, smiling as you thought about how happy he had been at the park earlier. You then thought about Steve and inwardly sighed. “Well, for the most part.”

“Why? Is she a bad influence or something? I didn’t think there could be bad influences in first grade,” Eddie said and then laughed a bit. “Actually, scratch that, I was definitely a bad influence in first grade.”

An amused look crossed your face. “You talk a lot about this “bad boy persona” you used to have, but I don’t know if I really believe it because all I see is a guy that actually enjoys buying toys for a six-year-old.”

He smiled at that. “I changed. Turned over a new leaf.”

“Mhm, got it,” You responded, your voice slightly sarcastic because it was still hard to imagine Eddie as anything other than the nice guy who baked a cake with you and Oliver on your birthday. “Anyway, though, it’s not the girl that’s the problem; she’s really sweet and nice. It’s her parent that’s the worst person in the world.” 

Eddie nodded. “Okay, tell me all about this mean mom drama.”  

“It’s a dad, actually,” You said and then started explaining everything that you had never said aloud before. You told Eddie all of it— how Steve was so easily able to throw money at anything the school needed, how he was basically treated like a King among the other moms because of that, the incident that happened last year during parent-teacher conference week where everything between you two fully came to a head, and the shitty conversation you had with him at the park only hours earlier. 

“Wow, I’ve missed a lot. I can’t believe you have a nemesis, and I also can’t believe you never told me about him.”

“He’s the last thing I ever want to think about, let alone talk about. If it wasn’t for Oliver becoming friends with his daughter, you wouldn’t be hearing about him. Also, I feel like “nemesis” is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“I can call him your mortal enemy, if you want,” Eddie said with a teasing smile and you only rolled your eyes in response, refraining from flipping him off. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him. Aside from you, people rarely ever move to this town for fun, so he’s probably been here his whole life.”

You actually never thought about the potential of Eddie knowing Steve, although it was completely plausible given the reason your friend just mentioned. 

“Steve Harrington.” 

“Oh.” 

From Eddie’s reaction, the answer to your next question seemed pretty obvious but you still decided to ask it. “You know him?”

“Yeah, we were in high school at the same time.” 

“Okay, what was he like?” 

“All the typical high school stuff. He was a popular guy, played sports, was kind of a jerk but pretty much all of the girls still loved him.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “That sounds very accurate.” 

“By the end of it, though, he seemed like somewhat of a changed guy. Got his heart broken by the nice girl, and then became friends with actual good people,” Eddie told you, and that was the one part of his description of the Steve that he had known that managed to actually surprise you. “I didn’t know he had a kid now.”

“Yup, and he’s also changed back into the jerk that you originally knew him as in high school,” You said. “And the most fuc— fudged up part of it all is that we should be friends. Which probably makes me sound crazy because of everything I just said, but it’s true. Me and him are basically in the same boat— the only single parents in the grade, we both have time-consuming jobs, and now even our kids are friends with each other. It would just make sense if we were actually friends too.”

“I mean, you still could be, right?”

You immediately shook your head. “Wrong. There’s no way that could ever happen.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The rest of September and most of October flew by with what felt like an abrupt kind of quickness. 

Absolutely nothing changed between you and Steve, even with Eddie’s idea that maybe it could. The only time the two of you talked to each other was if it involved your kids and if you were setting up the day and time for another park playdate, which quickly managed to become a weekly thing because of how adamant Oliver and Madeline were— just like you assumed they’d be. 

It may have seemed a little weird, these brief conversations you’d have with one another that were nothing more and nothing less than transactional, but it worked perfectly for you two. 

“This weekend is gonna be pretty busy for me, so is tomorrow after school good?” You asked Steve. A PTA meeting had just ended and you and him were lingering by the same exit that the kids would come out of when school was over. 

You were pretty close to not showing up to this Thursday night meeting, but you knew that you had to because it was about the Winter Carnival happening in December. It was a huge event that would be an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, which was why they talked about it so far in advance and why attendance at any meeting discussing it was pretty much mandatory.  

Steve shook his head at your question. “I have this big work thing tomorrow, so I have to pick up Maddie and then drop her off at the babysitter before rushing back to the city.”

You nodded understandingly at his words. A part of you knew that you should have left it at that, because you tried to set something up and that should’ve been more than enough of an effort, but instead, you found yourself saying, “I can pick her up and take the two of them to the park tomorrow if you want.”

Steve was quiet and your words simply lingered in the open air. You almost regretted making the suggestion because you felt as if he was somehow going to find a way to be a dick about it, but then he looked at you curiously, and another look that you couldn’t decipher crossed his face too as he said, “You sure?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah, it’s really no problem.” And it honestly wasn’t a problem in the slightest; Madeline was the sweetest girl ever. She reminded you nothing of Steve, so you assumed that she got her personality from her mom; you still had no idea what that entire situation entailed. “What time will you be done with work?”

“Hopefully around five or six,” He answered. There was still that look on his face, which you still couldn’t tell what it said, but you really wanted to know.  

“Okay, after the park, I can take them back to my house and you can pick Maddie up from there when you’re done with work,” You said, only a little surprised at how easily this idea came together. “Olly’s been wanting to show her his new fish, anyway.”

“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned his fish to me probably a thousand times. It’s blue and purple, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a betta fish; Barnaby.”

“Barnaby?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea how Olly came up with that name, but I will admit that it does sound more like the name of an old sailor lost at sea rather than a fish. But, in some weird way, both of those things are actually kind of related.” 

Steve laughed at that and somehow it didn’t sound the least bit mocking or condescending, it was more amused. Hearing that sound coming from him shocked you as much as it, surprisingly, made you inwardly smile. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The amount of dark clouds in the sky didn’t necessarily faze you until a raindrop hit your cheek as you sat on a park bench watching Oliver and Madeline on the playground. It was a light drizzle that transformed into something heavier in a matter of minutes and you realized that you probably should’ve been more mindful of what the weather was going to be today. 

Neither of the kids really minded the rain putting an end to their time at the park though, because Oliver was happy to go home so that Maddie could finally see the fish.

They bounded up the stairs to Olly’s room the second you unlocked the front door, and you headed to the kitchen, sending a simple text to Steve in the process. 

You: Had to leave the park because of the rain. We’re at my place now

At first, the lack of a response from him didn’t surprise you because it was only around four-thirty and he was probably busy. He was also Steve Harrington and he rarely ever responded to you in a timely manner. 

You heard the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs and you looked up from your phone, after checking it for probably the hundredth time in the past hour, to see Olly and Maddie coming into the kitchen.

“Can you convince my dad to get me a fish?” Maddie asked as she and Olly joined you at the small dining table. 

You smiled and nodded at her. “I can try.” 

“Thanks,” She said, smiling back at you. “The only time I get to see any pets is at my Aunt Robin’s house. She has a golden retriever.” 

“Oh, that’s really cool. What’s its name?”

“Willow. She’s a girl.” 

Oliver looked at you. “Can we get a dog next?” 

“Let’s just worry about Barnaby for now,” You told Olly, giving him a small smile. You could only imagine how much more hectic your life would become if you two got a dog anytime soon. “I was thinking about doing dino nuggets and french fries for you guys for dinner. How does that sound?”

They both perked up at that and nodded and you got up to turn on the oven, purposefully leaving your phone on the table because you wanted a break from impulsively checking it every few minutes. It slightly annoyed you that you heard nothing from Steve yet, and it annoyed you even more that the lack of a response felt personal. You wondered if he actually hadn’t seen your message yet, or if he was simply being an asshole and not responding with a simple “Okay” or even a thumbs up to it on purpose. 

It wasn’t until the time was a little after six, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Steve, that your initial annoyance toward him not responding to you and not giving you any sort of updates on what was happening with him over the past few hours, morphed into something that resembled worry. 

You walked out of the living room and into the kitchen and pulled your phone out of your back pocket so that you could call him. Your gaze moved toward the window as you pressed your phone to your ear; the weather outside still looked pretty shitty. The call went straight to voicemail and you sighed as you waited for the beep. 

“Hey, um, it’s me. That’s probably very obvious. Um, anyway, you said you’d be done with work around five or six, but I haven’t heard anything from you in the last couple of hours… I hope everything’s fine. Um, any sort of update would be really nice. Call, or at least text me, whenever you get this. Okay… Bye.”

You hung up and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

It was an obvious fact that you didn’t like Steve Harrington, but that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him. 

The only thing that managed to not make you feel completely worried was that Maddie seemed okay and not worried at all. Instead, she and Olly were in the living room playing in the fort you made for them out of couch cushions and throw blankets.

You went back into the living room and sat down on the small loveseat that was the only piece of furniture that still had its cushion left. 

“You guys okay in there?” 

“Yup!”

“Yes!”  

Hearing their chorus of happy “yeses” made you inwardly sigh in relief and lean back into the chair, letting your eyes shut just for a second and muttering to yourself that everything was and would be fine. 

Your phone was still glued to your hand as you grabbed the remote with your other and turned on a random Disney movie for the kids to listen to as background noise and for you to take your mind off of Steve, even though all you were waiting and hoping for was for your phone to vibrate in your hand with a call or text from him. 

You didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep in the chair until you were startled awake by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The abruptness of it actually managed to scare you, so much so that you could immediately feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears when you opened your eyes. 

The second Lilo & Stitch movie was now playing on the TV and through your half-awake haze, you found the remote to pause it. You then peeked inside the fort and saw that Olly and Maddie were asleep. 

As you rubbed the slight tiredness out of your eyes and got up from the couch, you checked your phone and saw that the time was 8:11pm. The doorbell rang again as you unlocked the door and the first thing that you noticed when you opened it was that it was no longer raining, you were unsure when it had finally stopped. 

“Hi.”

Seeing Steve standing in front of you managed to immediately wash away the worry you had been feeling for the last couple of hours. And it was quickly and completely replaced with the annoyance you’d initially felt. “What the hell happened?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Hearing a genuine apology come from Steve Harrington’s mouth actually managed to baffle you. “My meeting at work ran over, and there was no way to get out of it, not even for a second. And then there was a ton of traffic because of the rain, so a drive that typically only takes thirty minutes took longer than an hour. Also, I have the worst and probably oldest phone in the world because it never holds a charge anymore, and it was plugged in during the entire drive but didn’t turn on at all. So, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been able to call or text or anything. These past few hours have been hell.” He let out a sigh and then looked at you, concerned. “How’s Maddie? Is she okay?”

There were a lot of words that had been thrown at you during Steve’s ramble, but hearing his full explanation and how apologetic he was made your annoyance with him dissipate into nothing just like your worry did. Instead, you felt a little bad for him because of all the shit he had to endure in the past few hours. You pushed the door open further to fully let him in. 

“She’s good. She’s okay. She and Olly are sleeping in the living room. I made them a little fort,” You told him as he walked in and you pointed to where the kids were in the living room, and he nodded when he saw the construction of couch cushions and blankets. 

You looked at Steve and hesitated for a moment. You knew that this was where the goodbyes for the night should’ve started, but it didn’t feel right to have him leave just yet; he still seemed sort of frazzled and stressed about everything that happened. You started heading toward the kitchen and he followed you. “Do you maybe, uh, want something to drink?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Okay, I have water and juice boxes,” You told him and turned around to meet his eyes, he was leaning against the small island. “It’s moments like these where it sucks being the “good influence/leading by example” parent because I can’t offer you something fun, like a soda.”

Steve laughed a bit; it still felt so foreign hearing that sound from him. “A juice box is fine. That’s probably all that lives at my house too.”

You grabbed one from the fridge and then closed it. “I hope you like apple.”

“My favorite, actually,” He said as you handed the drink to him, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you didn’t have enough time to really ponder that before he completely changed the subject. “How was Maddie when you picked her up? When I told her about it this morning, she seemed excited about it and about hanging out with Oliver after school too, but was she really okay?” 

You nodded at his question. “She was great. They both had fun at the park and didn’t even mind the rain because they really wanted to come here and see the fish.”

He smiled and you could see the immediate relief wash over his face. “Okay.”

“She also wants me to try and convince you to get her a fish.”

“Of course she does,” He said before taking a sip from the juice box. You had to admit, it was a little funny seeing a man wearing professional clothes, that were probably so expensive, drinking from a tiny juice box meant for little kids. 

“I’m honestly kinda surprised that you pick her up every day,” You told him as you turned and went back into the fridge to pull out a water for yourself. “Given your job, I thought you’d just have a babysitter or someone pick her up most of the time. I had no idea it was half an hour away.”

“I didn’t used to do it… Her, um, her mom would,” He said and you could tell by the way he said those words that whatever happened involving Maddie’s mom was a touchy subject. It sounded similar to how you’d usually sound whenever you talked about Oliver’s dad— a little sad and a lot like you’d rather talk about anything else. 

Your mind started desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject; it was what you would’ve wanted him to do for you if the tables were turned. But, before you could say the first thing that came to mind, which was, “So, I wonder if it’s gonna rain tomorrow too,” Steve started talking again. 

“It had become a routine because of how hectic my job is. She’d always drop Maddie off and pick her up. But, she, uh… She left last year, so that changed everything,” He told you. You closed the fridge and turned around to face him; you forgot to grab your water but that was the last thing on your mind right then.

This conversation suddenly felt like completely uncharted territory between you and Steve because you two did not talk about touchy subjects— you and him barely talked about anything at all. But, for some odd reason, you didn’t necessarily mind the serious turn to the conversation because maybe it was a shit ton of honesty that was needed for you two to actually, finally, not dislike each other.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and pulled his eyes away from yours. He instead fixed his attention on his juice box in hand. “It happened around this time in October. She dropped Maddie off at school, but didn’t pick her up.” 

Hearing him say that surprised you as much as it confused you because you had absolutely no idea that happened last year. But with how busy you’d been then, and since you weren’t friends with any of the “gossipy” moms that somehow always knew everything, it did make a little sense why you knew nothing. 

“Maddie was waiting in the office for about two hours after school was over before I could get there because I was in a meeting and didn’t see the calls coming from the school. She didn’t really know what was happening, but she was still so sad and I think that somehow a small part of her did know.” He shook his head and sighed, a look that could only be deemed as melancholic crossed his face. “I never want her to feel abandoned like that again, so I always make sure to drop her off and pick her up now.”

As he said his last words, something managed to shift inside of you in a matter of a split second. Suddenly, his name was no longer “the worst person in the world” in your mind. 

In all of your months of having this “nemesis relationship” — as Eddie would call it— with Steve Harrington, you never thought that your opinion of him would ever be able to change. However, in this moment of you two standing across from each other at your small kitchen island as Steve held a freaking juice box in his hand, it finally did. He was a good person, a really fucking good person.

You were able to see it so goddamn easily then— the exact ways that he and Maddie were just alike. She got her personality from him, you were now quite literally certain of it. And you immediately felt bad for ever thinking differently.

“I’m sorry about what I said last year during conference week,” You told him, suddenly ready to give him your own burst of honesty. “I was pissed that you spilled my coffee all over me, and I was even more pissed because it was you, and you annoyed me so much. Because even though we’re kind of in the same boat with the amount of “active” things we do for the school, all of the moms love you so much and I swear they hate me, and it’s just so annoying.” You let out a small sigh and then met his gaze before saying the words that you didn’t think you’d ever say to him. “Anyway, you’re a really good dad, and I’m so sorry for telling you differently.”

“I’m sorry for what I said that day too. You’re a really great mom,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it slightly shocked you how much hearing that meant to you. Aside from Eddie, you couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to you. “And I don't think the moms at school actually like me. I think they just pity me because of everything that happened, and how they basically saw it all blow up in real time. Since pre-school, Maddie’s mom was dropping her off and picking her up, and suddenly one day she was completely gone. I swear the number of times I got phone calls that were a bunch of them saying, “We’re here for you,” but they really just wanted to get the full story about what happened, was insane during those first few months.”

“Jesus, small town moms are the worst,” You said as you shook your head. “Or, at least, ours are.”

You looked away from Steve and turned around, finally going back to the fridge to grab a water. “Oliver’s dad was kind of the same way. He left too. Or maybe it’s actually not the same because I made him leave— he was having an affair with his coworker. But, he also wanted to leave and be with her, so maybe it actually is a little similar. Sorry, now I’m just rambling about that asshole,” You said and rolled your eyes at yourself. You weren’t sure why you even decided to circle the conversation back to your exes.  

“Do you and Oliver ever see him anymore?” Steve asked, and when you closed the fridge and turned back to face him, you shook your head at his question.

“Not since we moved here. He does the bare minimum and sends Olly checks for his birthday and Christmas. Which I think is dumb because no kid wants a check as a present; even I would rather get an actual gift than a stupid check,” You told Steve as you opened up your water. “Does Maddie ever see her mom, or does she ever come around sometimes?”

With the way she left, you were almost certain that the answer was no, but you were still curious.

“No, she hasn’t, and I don’t think she would ever want to,” Steve answered and you gave him a small nod of understanding before he continued. “I remember about a week after everything happened, and after avoiding my many calls and texts, she finally called me. She was really apologetic about the way she decided to leave, but she said that she just couldn’t do it anymore because none of this life that we had here was making her happy, and she didn’t want me to try and convince her to stay. When she said that, it made me realize that the smallest part of me knew that this would eventually happen. Maddie was completely unexpected and our relationship had already gotten pretty bad before we found out, so neither of us was remotely ready to be parents, but we still decided to do it and try to make it all work. Right when I saw Maddie for the first time I knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and that never changed. But, it wasn’t the same way for her mom, and sometimes it seemed like she felt the complete opposite way. So, in a way, I can understand why she knew she had to leave. I hate the way that she did it, but ultimately I understand that this wasn’t the life she wanted, and she’d never want it.” A sad smile took over his face.

“We don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t want to,” You told him, suddenly feeling bad that you had been the one to bring the conversation back to this in the first place. “We can change the subject to anything else. Maybe the weather? I wonder if it’s gonna rain again tomorrow…” 

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said. “I really never thought I’d say this because we’ve never had a real conversation before, but I think I actually like talking to you.” He shook his head at his words. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds fucked up.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I feel the same exact way. Ten minutes ago I couldn’t really stand the thought of having any sort of conversation with you, and now I feel like an idiot for hating you all this time. So, this is insanely fast progress,” You said and then immediately thought of something. “Wow, I really wish I had some alcohol for us to drink right now because us actually not despising each other anymore is a milestone that truly should be toasted to.”

Steve laughed a bit; it was nice hearing that sound after all the sad stuff that had just been shared by both of you. He raised his juice box toward you a bit. “This will have to do, I guess.”

You raised your water and “clinked” it with the juice box. “Cheers to… whatever we are now.”

It didn’t feel entirely like a friendship, but it, at least, felt like you two could actually be nice to one another and not feel pained to do so. 

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a quick nod and then finished off the rest of what was left in his small juice box. “I should grab Maddie and head home. She has dance class at eight in the morning. She hates it for the most part, but she has a recital next week and I told her that she should push through until that and then we can quit. A part of me is kind of glad that she hates it, though, because classes are insanely expensive.”

“Olly’s starting soccer at the end of the month,” You told him. “It’s for boys and girls. You should see if Maddie wants to do that.”

“If Oliver’s doing it, she’ll probably say yes.”

You nodded at that and how true it was on both sides. “I’ll text you the information.”

“Thanks,” He said and smiled.

You followed him as he walked into the living room to get Maddie. She was still fast asleep as her arms circled around his neck when he picked her up. You grabbed her bookbag that she and Oliver left by the front door and helped Steve hook one of his arms in it.

Somehow something was silently exchanged in that last look shared between you and him before you said your final goodbyes for the night, and you softly shut and locked your door behind him. It was a look that expressed that you both were glad about what happened in the past twenty minutes— the honesty-filled conversation that led to you two finally understanding one another and realizing how you were actually more alike than either of you had ever thought. 

It was a realization that was simultaneously surprising and refreshing. 

“Goodnight,” You said, giving him a small smile and he smiled back at you. 

“Goodnight.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

PART TWO

let me know ur thoughts<333

[tickettride]

A good dad || J.D.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is johnny davis x wife!reader

in which your daughters want to keep the stray puppy they've found outside, and you have to convince Johnny that it's a good idea. it is, right?

word count: 2,2k

warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, allusions to sex, Johnny's such a grumpy dad, sixties relationship clich��s?

A/N: : while I’ve convinced myself numerous times that writing one-shots isn't for me, Benny and Johnny have stuck in my mind and never left. why shouldn’t I fantasize about them and share these moments with you?

English isn’t my first language, but I’m having fun and that’s the most important <3

(my gif)

“Oh, your dad’s gonna be pissed,” you sighed, eyeing the girls as they watched you back with cute pouts. 

Maybe cute, but not enough to make you fold. That puppy right there, at your feet, wouldn’t be part of the family for long. You remembered broaching the subject once, trying to convince Johnny that having a dog could only be good for the girls. Running low on arguments, his response to you was just a look with a serious ‘What the fuck would we do with that?’. You had never talked about the idea again.

“We told you he was near the trash cans,” Lynn, your eldest, nearly burst into tears at the thought of letting go of the dog. “All by himself.”

The dog nudged your bare legs, tail wagging. You took a step back, knowing it would be harder to leave him at the vet if you only stroked him once. You were too damn kind for these kinds of things, and the girls knew it damn well.

The brown fur went to nuzzle against Joan next, who scratched him with more intensity than necessary. Her smile was huge, and her little giggle of happiness nearly melted you on the spot.

You shut your eyes for a second. Focus.

“Look at his ears!” Joan squealed, comparing her small hand to his head. 

“Careful, baby,” you warned her, willing yourself to have some sort of authority back. “Don’t scare him off.”

“I want to keep him!”

“And who would be feeding him when you’re at school?”

Your question raised a moment of silence you had expected. It made you sigh loudly again, leaning your back against the kitchen table. 

“That's what I thought. You exhaust me, you two,” you said in a breath, watching the girls hustling back to the living room on a mission to find the little beast a name.

You were fucked. All of you. 

Rolling your shoulders back, you spun around and ignored the noises above your head. You were fairly certain a family of mice had taken up residence in the walls, but it didn’t matter. You had greater issues as of now, starting with the dog jumping around the girls.

While their laughter filled the house, you finished pouring boiling water into your cup and dunked a teabag inside, watching the clear water turn a bloody red. What could you even tell Johnny? Maybe you could lie and tell him the girls’ new school project was to take care of a puppy for a few days. Make them more responsible. After all, your neighbor's son had taken care of a guinea pig once. 

No, you scoffed at yourself. Your husband was more clever than that. He would see right through you and ask for the truth that you would deliver because you were like that. You hated lying to him, just as much as you hated him lying to you. 

Ten minutes later, your eyes were focused on the tea between your hands. You almost jumped out of the armchair when you heard the jingle of keys being thrown into the drawer in the hallway.

The front door closed with a thud and the girls looked up at you, waiting for any instruction. 

And here you were, sacrificing yourself again for those two little monsters. Setting your cup down on the coffee table, you tried to appear as serious as possible and pointed a finger at them.

“Don’t move, okay? Don’t move and keep the dog with you both.”

“‘Kay Mommy,” Lynn grinned up at you, stroking the dog’s head resting on her lap. 

You gave them a brief nod and cursed at yourself when you stepped across the dolls lying on the carpet, those poor things looking as crazy as you. So you quickly smoothed down your hair and waltzed to the kitchen, where Johnny was removing his leather jacket and boots. Seemed like he had finally heard after all those times you had yelled at him to stop getting the floor dirty with soil and grease. 

“Darlin’?” 

Johnny snapped his neck to face you with that charismatic smile he was always giving you, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. He was always making your heart flip too.

You crossed the room in no time, wrapping your arms around his neck. Sometimes you just greeted each other with a quick peck, and that was okay too. But you had missed him more than usual today, huddling up to shed warmth. 

“Hi,” you whispered, hoping you looked as innocent as you sounded. 

His forehead knocked against yours, and you could feel the love rolling off him in waves when he pressed a quick kiss on your mouth. And another. His face went to the crook of your neck, pressing into the sensitive skin as he pulled you as close to his body as possible. So he had missed you too, maybe more.

“We just had dinner,” you muttered, breathing in the scent of smoke clinging to his skin. “Didn’t know when you’d be back.”

“It’s okay,” Johnny’s lips grazed your cheek. “I’m not hungry tonight.”

“You’ll change your mind when you get a taste,” you grinned, pecking his lips and forgetting for a second about the dog taking shelter in your living room. “C’mere.”

Johnny’s steps were heavy behind you, trailing to the kitchen counter. His body nearly collided with your back when you faced him again, lifting a wooden spoonful of tomato sauce to his mouth and thumbing his bottom lip gently. 

“How’s that?” you asked, biting down on your lip.

“You know it’s fuckin’ delicious, as usual,” Johnny hummed, giving a smile that made you smile too. "Love it."

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” his hand slithered back down your pants, steering around your backside and fondling you. 

A small chuckle escaped your lips, happy to be still feeding your man after six years of marriage. It was almost unimaginable how after all these years of being with him, you still wanted nothing more than to be close like a lovesick teenager.

“Where are the girls?” Johnny asked before he could do anything to you, licking his lips as he stole a glance toward the living room. 

That’s when the dog decided to bark. A low, high-pitched bark that made you want to kick him out yourself.

“Shit.”

Johnny stared back at you, no trace of that amused grin anymore. “What’s that?”

But he was already making a beeline for the other room, and you beat him to it to block his way. 

“Listen to me first,” you ordered, pointing that finger again at his face and swallowing when he looked down at you that way, the same look he gave in bed sometimes. “Alright? Listen. Joan found a puppy in the garden earlier, and I’ve told the girls we can't keep it.”

“And?”

“And they–well, they were waitin’ for you to come home,” you chickened out, making him huff. “C'mon, what was I supposed to do, hmm?”

Johnny scowled, staring impassively at you and skirting past your figure to have a look at the intruder. 

Mumbling another inaudible curse, you dared to look at the scene too. The dog was now curled on Joan’s lap, sleeping softly. They all looked so damn cute. Meant to be, you could say, if your husband didn’t look so unpleased.

“You’re kiddin’ me,” Johnny’s eyes widened at the sight and darted back to yours. 

“We asked everyone around if they knew him and they said no,” Lynn explained enthusiastically. “That means we can keep him. He must have lost his parents.”

“They did ask,” you muttered, though only Johnny heard you. 

“He's gonna be sad if we abandon him,” Joan was now the one gazing at you both dramatically, giving those sad eyes that usually made her father change his mind. 

Johnny stared at the moonlight slanting through the blinds. Ten seconds felt like forever. And eventually, he retreated to the kitchen. 

“Take him back where you found him.”

The girls' protests were in vain. Both were already calling for you, sniffling tearfully while the dog snored like a little king on his throne. They begged you to do something, and you knew you had to try. You hated fighting with Johnny, but you hated your daughters’ heartbreak even more. 

“Honey,” you started smoothly when you found him by the front door, wide shoulders and thick arms, a cigarette dangling between his lips. 

At least he had opened the door to let the smoke out. 

“Hmm?”

“We need to talk about this.”

“We don’t,” Johnny sounded casual, as though the matter was already settled. 

Angry, it was now your turn to scowl. You were already getting upset at his close-mindedness. Your dad had been like that–talking to your mom like she couldn’t have an opinion. Johnny knew you despised that attitude, and you certainly wouldn’t be the one to let a man get in your way. Even less when it came to the kids. 

You stepped closer to him, speaking lowly so the girls wouldn’t eavesdrop. “So you’re the only grown-up making a decision here? Is that it? You’re being selfish and… and clearly blind. You know how happy it makes them.”

Johnny’s eyes met yours, a breath of smoke separating you for a second. 

“You want the dog too?” his tone was dry. “Keep it then.”

“Hey, you’re acting like a jackass right now,” you snapped, so close to his face you could feel his breathing over your nose. “It’s a decision we both have to make. I’ve never seen the girls looking so excited by the same thing, Johnny. Taking care of that dog would give them a memorable childhood. Like mine.”

He let out a dry laugh, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Playing with my feelings now, aren’t you?”

“I don’t care,” you almost whined, so tired that the discussion wasn’t going anywhere yet. “Do you fear dogs? Is that why you don’t want it?”

“What?” Johnny scoffed. “No. The tiny shit isn’t goin’ to scare me anytime soon.”

“Tiny shit,” Joan sing-sung lowly, making her way toward you both. 

Beside her, Lynn was covering her mouth to suppress her giggles. The sisters exhanged a glance, more hopeful than you really were. 

“Bad word, Joan,” you warned, glancing down at the dog she was struggling to cradle in her arms. 

Deciding any of this wasn’t worth a fight, you let out a sigh and wordlessly turned your back on Johnny, kneeling before your daughters. 

“You’ll have to leave him at the doorstep, baby,” you said quietly, brushing a strand of her hair out of her forehead. “We’ll find him a new family tomorrow, okay?”

“Why?” Lynn asked, a sob catching in her throat. 

Joan was already tearing up, holding on to the oblivious dog like it would kill her to let go. You had no doubts she would be sad for an entire week, if not more. She was too kind, too. 

“We’ll talk about that in the morning,” you nodded at them, waiting for a nod back. When they did, it was truly the saddest thing you had ever seen. It nearly made you cry, too. 

That night, it was Johnny’s turn to tuck them in. You heard his voice from across the hallway, telling his girls he loved them. Small voices said I love you back. 

You walked from the bathroom to the bed silently, Johnny hot on your heels. 

“How long are you gonna be mad for?” his raspy voice broke through your inner thoughts, bringing you back to the present.

You slipped beneath the white comforter, a foot bumping into his.

“I don’t know,” you shuffled, turning your back to him and burying your head in the pillow. “How long are you gonna be an ass for?”

You had been expecting a response, but nothing came. Just a slight touch over your stomach to test the waters, slipping under your top when you didn’t tell him to stop.

“He’s downstairs,” Johnny muttered, clearly fighting to keep his eyes open.

“What?”

“The dog,” Johnny moved your hair so he could kiss your neck lazily. “He’s downstairs.”

Out of instinct, you tilted your head, allowing him to devour the side of your throat. It was hard to stay mad at him. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on his warm fingers. 

“How long for?”

“A week to start with,” Johnny replied, though you knew the dog was part of the family now. A week would turn into two, and then he would just forget about it. “Longer if he’s not a pain in the ass.”

You tried hard not to smile out of victory, reminding yourself how hard he had been to deal with. And how he was a pain in the ass.

Johnny's hand slipped over your hip when you rolled over to face him, a hand beneath your pillow. 

He swallowed, not quite smiling but not frowning either. You knew he was feeling guilty, always wondering if he was doing the right thing. If he was a good man. A good dad. Yet, you couldn't think of any man who would sacrifice himself like he did. Johnny never hesitated to work overtime and make sure you had all you needed, just like he had promised you all those years ago.

Your lips neared his, a bit bashful, just wanting him to know he could be forgiven easily. It was he who made the final leap by pressing his mouth to yours. His large hand filled the dip of the small of your back, remnants of the cigarette he'd smoked on his lips. A shiver trembled down your spine as your hand stroked his cheek gently.

"Don't sideline me," you pulled away, keeping him close to you. "Please. I know what's good and what's wrong for them."

"I know, darlin'," Johnny muttered back. "I wasn't implyin' that you didn't."

You nodded, keeping your eyes on him. “I’m sorry I got upset. I've had a long day."

Johnny’s lips turned into a smile. “And I’m sorry your man’s a jackass.”

You chuckled, eyes boring into his. “Yeah. Yeah, he is. But he’s a good dad.”

He nodded at your words, kissing your temple and holding you as though he would burn down the city for you. Another kiss was pressed on your forehead and all you had to do was drift asleep peacefully, hoping that dog wouldn't betray you.

[lightseoul]

prove it

synopsis. bakugou katsuki starts acting differently after your last conversation. you finally arrive at an agreement. (part 1) (part 2)

cw. fem!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~24 yrs old), lots of cussing

word count. 3.6k words

a/n. the last part of the series! thanks so much for all the love on the first two parts, everyone! i had such fun writing this <3 again, reblogs, tags, and comments will be highly appreciated!

You barely slept a wink that night.

After that exchange with Bakugou, you immediately left his office, not even bothering to greet his secretary (partly because you couldn’t bear the possibility of her overhearing), and headed straight to your desk.

A feeble attempt at going back to work was made, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you actually got something done.

Even as you commuted your way home and got ready for bed, your brain wouldn’t stop replaying the conversation, lingering especially on his loaded confession.

He still loves you.

What now?

Sadly, just because you're marred by sleep deficit and boy problems doesn't mean you get to miss out on work. You now walk down the hallway of your floor on the way to the break room, desperate to inject some caffeine into your system to get you through the day.

And to help you focus and get your mind off of Bakugou fucking Katsuki, thank you very much.

You’re one foot into the room when it suddenly dawns on you how you consumed the last pod of your favorite brew yesterday (before all the shit went down), which means that you’re now out and caffeine-less.

Fuck.

“Well, don’t you look like shit.”

Mikuri hums from her favorite spot on the sofa, a cup of what you think is green tea in her hands.

“Thanks?” you mumble begrudgingly as you plop yourself across from her, mood growing sourer by the minute.

“What’s up with you?” she sounds amused, a brow quirked in question.

You sigh, smoothing the wrinkle on your blazer you didn’t have the energy to iron out that morning. “Am sleep-deprived and out of coffee. Not everyone can be chipper like you on this fine day, I guess.”

“No, you’re not?”

You sit up, eyes narrowing, “You mean to say I look like shit normally and not just because I didn’t get enough sleep?”

She frowns, “You know that’s not what I mean. What I meant is that no, you’re not out of coffee.”

“Look,” she gestures to the beverage area with her free hand.

Your brows shoot up in response as you take in the freshly stocked shelf.

Weird, you think to yourself.

You were normally the one to restock on that specific flavor, being the only one on your floor who is partial to it.

Unless…

You shake your head to rid yourself of the unwelcome thoughts, willing to crush the butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Mikuri doesn’t get the chance to comment on your unusual behavior because the Performance Management head of your HR team pops in through the door, a grin adorning his face.

“Good morning, boss! See you in 15.”

Yamakawa, the Recruitment head, rifles through her documents before standing up to distribute them to you and the other sub-department leads.

She goes around the room to hand you what seems to be a substantial amount of pages, “Here’s the status report on Bakugou’s new sidekick.”

“Already?” you splutter, gaining the attention of your direct subordinates. You straighten up, slightly embarrassed. “I thought they’re just starting today?”

“Yeah, well. We figured you’d want to hear it,” Yamakawa says as she gets seated and goes through her copy.

“Get this,” she continues, “he’s way more cooperative than we predicted him to be. Moriyama-san, or Water Jet Hero: Aqua Girl, is already in his office, discussing—” she glances at the report, “—battle strategies and joint training schedules as we speak.”

The others hum in acknowledgment as you sit there, still struggling to wrap your head around what was just said.

“And no one coerced him to do this?” Tanaka, the Performance Management head, pipes in. You whip to look at Yamakawa, anticipating her answer.

“Apparently, he emailed Moriyama-san yesterday himself to set the meeting.”

Delighted noises erupt across the room as you stare at the Recruitment head in disbelief.

“This is great news, right?” the Socialization head exclaims. “If we’re talking long-term, Bakugou’s workload will definitely lessen with a good sidekick around, meaning we’ll get fewer angry outbursts and a more decent-to-be-around boss!”

You know they’re making sense, and that this is supposed to be amazing news to hear as the HR department head, but you can’t help the tinge of anticipatory dread rising in your gut.

“Why don’t you seem happy?” Tanaka asks you, before turning to the others. “Hey, why isn’t Y/N happy?”

The unusual events don’t end after that.

To your surprise, Bakugou starts to attend meetings that concern him, instead of the usual—letting Kirishima do all the coordinating with you and your department. He’s even offered to help you with your analysis report on his new sidekick (quite awkwardly, at that), which you so quickly and frantically declined in front of everyone.

You suspect your subordinates are starting to deem you as weird, too.

If they only knew.

Regardless, with each passing day, you seem to be seeing more and more of him around the office, and needless to say, it’s messing with your head.

The always-stocked shelf of coffee isn’t helping either.

It’s gotten to the point where it’s starting to affect your sleep as well, with how much you overthink these sudden changes in his behavior.

In an attempt to get your mind off him and the confusing mix of hope and dread circling your stomach, you start to drown yourself in work.

Ah, your ever-trusty friend: avoidance.

You stand by the coffee machine as it does its magic, your foot tapping against the floor impatiently. You glance at the wall clock, which reads 8:01 PM.

You sigh, grabbing the freshly brewed beverage not even a second after the machine dings.

It’s been two weeks since that heated conversation with Bakugou, and one since your self-mandated oath to bury yourself with work, at least until your thoughts get a little bit less muddled and Bakugou stops acting differently.

“You’re still here?”

You startle from your absentminded stirring and look toward the source of the voice.

Speak of the devil.

Seeming as though he’s fresh from a shower, you stare at Bakugou as he stands by the doorway of the break room.

You eye the duffel bag that’s slung over his shoulder.

“You’re leaving already?”

Fuck, you think to yourself. Now you feel like a creep for knowing that Bakugou leaving two hours after his shift is considered early in his dictionary.

And now you feel stupid for answering his question with another question.

What’s gotten into you?

“Yeah,” he answers curtly, not offering much of an explanation. “What’re you doing working overtime?”

You place the mug on the marble countertop and cringe when it makes a loud, clashing noise.

You turn back to face him. “Have to work on the biannual report.” You shrug, as nonchalantly as you can, “It’s due soon.”

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgment, shifting on his feet.

“Well, thank you for your hard work,” he offers. “And for—uh—helping me choose my sidekick.”

Your stomach whirls in delight despite yourself.

You clear your throat, “Again, I was just doing my job.”

At that, he deflates ever so minutely, so you follow it up with: “But you’re welcome. I heard you’re thinking of hiring another one?”

“Yeah, just to help with the workload,” he nods. “I met him yesterday.”

“...You’re right, by the way,” Bakugou adds after a few seconds pass without you saying anything.

“Huh?”

He looks away, breaking eye contact. “I don’t like how similar we are. But he’s good.”

You have no idea how he knew you said that.

Scratch that—it was probably Kirishima.

Damn that meddler.

You clear your throat again in an attempt to change the subject and drop the conversation in its entirety.

“Well, I hope you have a good rest of your night.”

Bakugou meets your eye again, and for a moment he looks like he’s about to say something, then hesitates.

He opens his mouth ever so slightly before closing it again, eyes still fixed on you, before simply saying: “You too.”

At that, he turns on his heel and trudges towards the elevators.

Once you’re sure he’s out of sight and earshot, you bring your hand up to clutch at your heart, which is going at an alarmingly fast rate.

“Shit.”

You can’t still be in love with him?

“What?!” Mina hops on her feet, almost knocking your glass of iced tea off the table.

“Dude, you’ve got to stop doing that,” you seethe, looking around your go-to café. It’s unusually barren on a Saturday afternoon.

You look back at her, “People stare, you know. And besides, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL?!” she parrots incredulously.

“Just—” you scramble for words, “please sit back down?”

At your pleading tone, Mina finally gets seated, but her pinched eyebrows tell you she’s far from being done with the conversation.

“Fine,” she relents, “but you’ve got some explaining to do, missy.”

You sigh, “Okay. What do I have to explain to you?”

“Wha—” she starts, aghast, “I mean—first of all, why the fuck are you asking me to contact your blind date when three weeks ago, you were practically disgusted with the idea of going on one?”

“We talked,” you shift your eyes away from her. “Bakugou and I.”

Mina snorts.

“Let me guess. You realized you still love him?”

Your head whips to look at her, “Mina!”

“What?” she spits back. “Don’t use that accusatory tone on me.”

“I have the right to use this accusatory tone on you. I have a feeling a certain someone broke her promise about not saying anything about our last conversation with Bakugou.”

At that, Mina visibly cringes.

“In my defense,” she starts, voice raised, “it was only because that cemented how you’re both still into each other!”

You scoff.

“Aren’t you?” she presses, shooting you a pointed look, “Still into him?”

“I—I don’t know okay,” you raise your voice, inadvertently catching a few café-goers’ attention. You sink back into your seat in embarrassment.

“All I know is that the circumstances between us still haven’t changed. And that this shit is confusing—he’s confusing.”

You wave your hand around vaguely, “He’s been acting all weird and stuff.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters…”

“Hmmm…”

“What do you mean, hmmm?” you ask, exasperated.

She rolls her eyes at you, “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that he’s trying to prove you something?”

At that, your heart leaps in your throat. You push it down, though, as best as you can. Crossing your arms across your chest, you huff.

“If he thinks restocking my coffee for me is proving something, he’s got another thing coming for him.”

Mina guffaws, and you can’t help the smile that creeps on your face. Once the laughter has died down, though, she eyes you for a moment before sighing in resignation.

She picks up her phone and thumbs out something on her keyboard.

“Well, you’re in luck,” she starts, “Daichi-san is still interested in meeting you.”

You don’t know whether to be annoyed at Mina for ignoring your earlier request to cancel or be grateful for indulging you on your current one.

Not wanting to change her mind, you merely opt for mumbling a quick ‘thank you’, glancing at your phone as it dings with a message from her containing the engineer’s number.

You look around the interior of the restaurant, past the windows of the private room you’re in where a beautiful traditional garden lies, illuminated by the dim orange outdoor lighting.

You chance a peek at Daichi, who is already looking at you when your eyes meet.

Embarrassed, you look down at your ridiculously elaborate main course, finding yourself grateful that you opted for the fancier of your two dresses earlier this evening.

“So,” he breaks the silence as he pours you a glass of wine whose name you can’t even begin to pronounce. “Ashido-san told me you work at the Ground Riot agency?”

“Yes,” you smile gratefully as you bring your glass to your lips and take a sip. “I’ve been working there for a year now.”

“Must be exciting, huh?” he adds pleasantly, “working for top Pro Heroes?”

Man.

You purse your lips together, not wanting to seem stilted by the question. “It is. It can get quite hectic, though.”

He hums in agreement, “I get that.”

Daichi then proceeds to talk about the agency where he works, and normally you’d be kind enough to actively listen and throw in some follow-up questions, but your mind is now drifting towards Bakugou and your last encounter at the mention of the Pro Hero.

What did he want to say to you?

“L/N-san?”

“Huh?”

Daichi chuckles awkwardly, “I was just asking if you wanted some spice on your salmon."

Spice.

Bakugou would’ve wanted some.

Bakugou, you think to yourself.

Bakugou.

“Bakugou?”

You gape at the figure looming over your dining table.

The very man is standing there in his regular clothes that would’ve disguised his identity if it weren’t for his distinct blonde hair and hulking figure.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I need to talk to you.”

You nervously glance at your date, who seems to be starstruck by the Pro Hero in front of him.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something?” you whisper-shout.

Bakugou barely pays him any attention—gaze remaining on you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think an unspoken ‘please’ lies at the tip of his tongue.

You shake your head in bewilderment, or in an attempt to shake off these thoughts—you don’t know.

“Don’t you have the night shift? And how’d you know I was here?”

He exhales heavily, jaw tensing.

“I had Kirishima cover for me. And…” He looks away for a brief moment, before turning back and fixing his gaze on yours. “I asked Mina, and she told me you’d be here.”

You don’t know what comes over you, but at that, you stand up on your feet and stare him down.

“You can stop now, Katsuki,” you hush, wary of your date eavesdropping on your conversation. “Quit wasting your time on me just to prove a point and go back to the agency. You’ve done enough.”

His eyebrows furrow in what you’ve grown to identify as defiance, but he doesn’t make a move to fight back or leave.

Instead, he says through gritted teeth: “I’m not just trying to prove a fucking point, Y/N.”

“Then what are—”

“Excuse me?”

You both whip your heads in the direction of the voice, only to see Daichi sporting a sheepish look on his face as his eyes dart between the two of you.

A pang of guilt courses through you at the sight.

He clears his throat, “Do you guys need a minute alone?”

“No, we’re just—”

“Yes.”

You turn back to look at Bakugou in angry confusion. To your astoundment, he leans in ever slightly, mouth nearing your ear. From how close you are, you see how his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps before speaking.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he says: “I can’t pretend that this isn’t bothering me.”

You jerk away at the sensation and take a step back, flustered. Before you can even gather your bearing, Daichi speaks up again, albeit quite hesitantly.

“I know I’m supposed to be the one leaving here, but if you want some privacy, this restaurant has a private patio right to your left.”

“I can’t believe you interrupted us like that,” you spew as you step out into the restaurant’s patio, which is fortunately empty except for the two of you.

Bakugou follows behind you, trying to catch up as you speak.

“I just needed to talk to you.”

At that, you spin around to face him, and he halts in his step in front of you.

Incredulous, you stare at him for a few seconds.

“Talk,” you finally command.

His eyes widen in surprise, and you can tell he didn’t expect this conversation to arrive at this point so soon.

A moment passes, but not a single word is uttered. Bakugou’s mouth opens and closes, opens and closes, as he attempts to get a word out but to no avail.

“What, now you don’t have anything to say?” you ask pointedly, irritation bubbling in you by the second.

You wait for a few more, excruciatingly quiet seconds before huffing in defeat. And disappointment—you finally admit to yourself.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you turn on your heel, “I have a poor date to return to.”

You start to head for the restaurant’s back door when Bakugou makes a grab for your hand, spinning you around to face him.

“Just—wait.”

His voice is pleading now, frustration and desperation evident in his tone. You’re itching to yank your hand back, which is getting alarmingly clammier by the second, but you fight the urge.

The pained look on Bakugou’s face is enough to freeze you solid.

This time around, you patiently wait for him to gather his words with his hand still wrapped around yours and your heart betraying you, beating at an abnormally fast pace.

What feels like an hour goes by before he finally manages to speak.

And what comes out of his mouth throws you right off.

“I strengthened our coordination with the other agencies around the district.”

“...What?”

You absentmindedly touch your face with your free hand.

You can’t be having a stroke right now.

Bakugou shifts on his feet, a nervous tic you’ve noticed developed over the years.

Okay, if you’re coherent enough to observe that, maybe you’re not having a stroke.

“I mean—” he scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “—Shitty Hair and I, we clarified jurisdictions around the area so that the two of us won’t be the go-to contact every time there’s a villain around.”

“I’m still not following, Katsuki.”

He ignores your comment, choosing to continue on his tangent instead.

“And I started seeing my therapist again. That damned hag went on telling me she was glad I’m getting help again like she was my mother.”

You blink at him as the gears start turning in your head.

Jurisdiction.

Less overtime.

More sidekicks.

Therapy.

Communication.

Suddenly, everything clicks.

“Maybe I am trying to prove a point,” Bakugou mumbles, more to himself than you.

“But it’s not just that,” he continues, looking back at you and not letting you get a word in.

“I’m here to tell you that I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect. Despite all the adjustments I’ve made, there are still gonna be days when I have no choice but to prioritize my duties as a hero over you.”

He looks down at your joint hands and squeezes, “Over us.”

“But I’m trying my best,” he declares with such certainty it knocks the wind off your lungs. “And I’ll keep doing so, if you’ll give me a chance to prove to you that I can do it.”

A million questions race through your mind. Why couldn’t he have done this for you the first time around? How is this time going to be any different? Are the changes going to be enough?

But he’s staring at you with such longing and hope and determination that the only thing you can think of is: How can you not?

Dizzy from the revelation and robbed of all words, all you can do is nod in affirmation as the tears you didn’t even notice were there start falling down your cheek.

A sigh of relief wracks Bakugou’s body as he scoops you in his arms, engulfing you in an embrace that has you sobbing even more on his shoulder.

The wet sensation spreading on your bare shoulders tells you he’s crying, too.

After what feels like an eternity of shedding tears and being wrapped in each other’s arms, Bakugou finally moves to unwrap his limbs around you, now holding you at an arm’s length.

Now not in spite of yourself, your hand shoots up to wipe off the tear streaks on his face, which he leans into.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” he whispers after a moment.

Your hand freezes in its track. “For what?”

“For not being able to immediately answer back when you asked me if you loving me changed anything.”

He looks down at his feet, uncertain. “I think—I just—” he stutters, “Fuck.”

You can’t help but chuckle in response, and he looks up at your face at the sound. He’s trying to playfully pout, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s feeling the farthest from playful.

Flashing him what you hope is a reassuring smile, you reach for the hand on your shoulder and squeeze it. “Go on, Katsuki.”

He sighs for the nth time at your coaxing, the slightest bit of relief flashing across his features.

“At that moment,” he finally continues, voice raspy, “I guess I was just scared shitless. I was paralyzed with doubt—in myself, in my capability to not mess up the second time around.”

He huffs, eyeing you, “Didn’t occur to me how stupid that was until I was walking home later that night.”

You’re about to reassure him when he snorts. “The fuck am I saying—I’m still scared.”

At that, you audibly laugh, running your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. He visibly softens at the gesture, lids fluttering shut for a moment. When he opens them, you then look him straight in the eye—the laughter long gone, now replaced with a palpable seriousness.

“I’m scared, too,” you say, voice quiet. “But we’ll try and make things work. Right, Katsuki?”

He nods vigorously, hand clenching yours and his crimson orbs filled with nothing but sincerity that all the apprehensions floating in your mind suddenly disappear.

“We will.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @bakugouswh0r3 @poemzcheng @lovra974 @jasmixs @xoneaboveallx @bontensh0e @kooromin @sirenmoi @buzzbuzz-hm @xzsanaa @baddecisionsworld @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @i-simp-to-much @goldenglow149 @fixed211 @zenxvii @roses-arerosies @tiredjuniper @curbstompedrice @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @bkgnotsuma @6423btw @kaeremin @ghastly-san @jasmixs @javochqaa @nnubee @just-ambxrr @idk-sam @dream-walker-cat @kitthepurplepotato @endlessfreaky @myrunawaysweets @bxbyyyjocelyn @smolbeannnn @seabass17 @serendipitous-fernweh @the-weeping-author

[piastriesque]

stuck on us fa14 x reader

⤷pairing: fernando alonso x reader

⤷warnings: none

⤷summary: fernando struggles after you both broke up

⤷word count: 731

note: sorry for any mistakes!

Fernando sighed. Why did he have to wake up just at that moment? He knew that even if he succeeded in falling asleep, he wouldn’t return to that pleasant dream. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall the scene. The man sighed once again. He stared at the left side of the bed. The mattress didn’t bend from the weight of someone's body. He moved a little closer, as he usually did, to kiss you good morning. Unfortunately, there was no familiar face resting on the pillow. Nor was there a trace of your scent. The only noticeable, albeit subtle, smell was that of washing powder. He still couldn't get over the fact that for some time your face had only haunted him in his dreams.

After he finally managed to get out of bed, he decided to make himself a coffee. You didn't like coffee, you preferred tea. Even so, you only drank a glass of water in the morning because you had read that one shouldn't drink caffeine right after waking up. You were selective regarding healthy habits, but you stuck to that. In the morning, you cooked breakfast together. Now and then one person would cook to surprise the other, but you usually got up at a similar time. Then you ate together, discussing your plans for today and joking around. Sometimes he was the only one who ate if you had to get up early that day because you weren't able to swallow anything before 8 am. In this case, he made sure you took food with you to work. Sometimes… Damn, Why was he doing it again? Why did he keep bringing it up, why did he keep thinking about it? Who cares what you had for breakfast? He certainly shouldn't anymore. Maybe at that very moment, you were having breakfast with your new, stupid… You were probably smiling brightly while… Ugh.

After morning coffee and breakfast, Fernando was about to take a shower. He was choosing what to wear. He was just about to grab a random black T-shirt when he saw one with an Aston Martin logo. It wasn't his, but yours. It was a little too big for you. You wondered if he purposely picked such a size, but he always evaded the answer by laughing. (It didn't matter now, but he could admit that he did it on purpose. He knew you would look great in it.) Why didn't you take it with you? What should he do with it now? Fernando sat in an armchair and stared at the T-shirt for some time, immersed in his thoughts. He finally got up, threw it in the closet, and went to wash up, hoping the hot water would clarify the situation.

Fernando headed towards the living room in search of something, unfortunately, as soon as he crossed the threshold, he forgot what. He stood in the middle of the room and looked around with the false hope that he would remember why he had come here. Instead, he thought about how empty the place seemed after you moved out. All the decorations, the flowers in pots and vases, the hair ties you left in random places, after a while ceased to attract his attention, they were something ordinary to him. Now that you took them with you, he realized how positively they contributed to the atmosphere of the house. Sure, it was still nice and well-kept, but it wasn't a home. Just a house.

The Spaniard wondered what you were doing now. At this point, he regretted that you were a very private person, and he couldn't check social media to find out anything. If the situation were reversed, you would have no problem learning something about him from the internet. He wondered if you were thinking about him too. At least occasionally. Even if you didn't miss him, maybe, at least out of curiosity, you occasionally looked at his Instagram. Or perhaps you've closed the chapter completely and haven't looked back.

Isn't it strange that someone who at one point was in every nook of every word, every page of your story, is now just a previous chapter? It seems that the only thing that is forever is change. He laughed lightly at what cheesy sentences were coming into his mind.

“Happy anniversary, I guess,” he said to himself.

[bellasprettywords]

So High School pt. II (Spencer Reid x Reader)

a/n: This little one shot is the continuation for So High School, I really hope you guys enjoy it

As always, this is not proofread because of who I am as a person

My masterlist

Warnings: Just fluff and kissing

Word count: 813

y/n – your name

Part 1

Saturday finally came around, and you were a little too excited about your date with Reid; you finished tying up and prepping the living room, making sure you had enough blankets, cushions, and snacks, so everything could go perfectly. Once again, the feeling of being sixteen, and having your first hang out after school with the guy you were crushing on invaded your whole body, and made your stomach flutter with excitement, when suddenly, you heard a buzzing from the intercom.

“Hi, y/n, this is Spencer… Reid!” you heard the young doctor stutter nervously, and the butterflies in your stomach went crazy

“Hi, let me buzz you in, and you already know the way up” you said trying to sound cool, and collected, but pretty sure that the huge smile on your face sounded through the intercom. After a couple of minutes, you heard a soft knocking on your door, you opened it and the gorgeous Doctor was leaning over the door frame, holding a small cardboard box.

“I brought pie! You know, because we are watching American Pie, I’m not sure what the movie is about, but if it’s about pies we are prepared” Spencer said, handing you the little box with a huge grin, with his cheeks turning bight pink

“Thank you, wow, that’s lovely, although there are not that many pies in American Pie… it actually the expression… well, you’ll see, please come on in” you said chuckling. Gosh! He really was the sweetest man in the whole world, and you just couldn’t believe that you’d have him all by yourself for at least a couple of hours

“Please take a sit wherever you’d like” you said motioning to your couch, “And, would you like anything to drink? I’ve got water, soda, tea, juice, and coffee, although it may be kinda late for coffee, you know?” you asked Spencer walking into the kitchen

“Actually, coffee was great, I’d take it with five sugars, please” he said, taking a look around your apartment living room, making you a little nervous about him profiling you through the stuff that’s lying around in the room

“Damn Doctor Reid, and you wonder why you can’t stop shaking” you said chuckling to hide the fact that you were nervous about having your crush at home. You sat down on the couch handing Spencer his coffee, and trying to shake away the nervousness that the situation created for you: you were alone, in your apartment, with the guy you’ve been crushing on for the last two years, but you were always too shy to admit it.

You played the movie and for the first fifteen minutes the two of you were completely immobile, but as the jokes progressed, you could feel Spencer and yourself moving closer and closer to each other. In the blink of an eye, you were cuddling under a blanket with your face leaned on Spencer’s shoulder and his arm was wrapped around you, softly caressing your arm.

“Do you know what this reminds me of?” you asked, looking up at the guy whose arms you were wrapped on

“Tell me” he said, looking into your eyes sweetly

“This date definitely reminds me of high school dates, you know, just hanging out watching a movie, although, those date usually ended with heavy make out sessions” you said jokingly and Spencer gulped loudly

“I… I wouldn’t know, I graduated from high school at 12, so I didn’t really have any dates with my peers” he said looking a bit embarrassed maybe?

“Oh, well, you didn’t miss much, I mean, dates pretty much went like this, although…” you said sitting up straight on the couch and Spencer gave you a puzzled look; you knew this was your chance, and you were going to take it. You leaned slowly towards Spencer, caressing his cheek with your hand, as you felt him leaning closer to you

“Is it okay if I…?” you started asking, but were quickly interrupted by Spencer’s lips, merging sweetly into yours. You moved your hands to his head, where you caressed Spencer’s curls, and you felt him placing his hands to your waist, making you sit closer to him as the kiss progressed. Spencer swiftly pulled you over his lap, and you gave a small bite to his lower lip, which gave Spencer the green light to insert his tongue into your mouth and move his hands from your waist, to your lower back

“Thank you” Spencer said in between kissed, which made you pull away from him to understand what was going on, so he went on “You know, for giving me the High School experience I missed out on” he said with a small smile forming into his lips

“You don’t have to thank me, but I’ll take another kiss” you said jokingly and Spencer leaned once more, kissing you tenderly

[g1rld1ary]

hi baby !! 🧡

im sick rn and ive looked alllllll over and i couldnt find anything could you write a sickfic for luke from jatp where the female!reader gets sick ? reader is his girl 😽

im doing the same prompt on my blog because im so obsessed with the idea of sickfics and im such a luke girl

so you probably wont have much trouble figuring out who sent you this later if you look it up LMFAO 😍😍

pshsshssh thank you !! 🌼🌼

sick days ; luke patterson x fem!reader

➻ synopsis: you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

➻ word count: 1905

➻ content: established relationship, implied aged up to early 20ish, pet names (love, baby, my girl), tooth rotting fluff

➻ obsessed with this request!!! i've never written a sickfic before so hope this is ok!! hope ur feeling better lovey xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your body ached. That was the only thing you could feel. Actually, that was incorrect; you also had a headache and a snotty nose and you were pretty sure your temperature could boil water. In essence, you felt awful. You’d toughed it out for as long as you could, making yourself a steaming hot tea and cozying into the sofa for the night. It wasn’t making you feel any better. So, in a last ditch effort of saving your night, you dialled your boyfriend.

You smiled as his croaky, half-asleep voice came through your phone, murmuring your name.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, brows furrowed as you checked the time, gasping when it read 1:45am. You thought it was still closer to eleven.

“Don’t worry about it, couldn’t sleep anyway,” Luke lied and you frowned, though he couldn’t see it through the screen.

“No, it’s dumb. I’m sorry I woke you up. Night, Luke.” You moved to hang up when Luke interrupted you.

“Baby, wait! Clearly something’s bothering you. What’s up?” You smiled despite your discomfort, your boyfriend always boosting your mood without even trying.

“Nothing,” You pouted in your puddle of blankets, “Just feel sick.” You could feel Luke’s pity without him saying anything and weren’t sure whether to be indignant or grateful.

“Can you stay awake for twenty more minutes, love?”

“I guess so, why?” You asked, turning the TV back on as something to keep you from sleeping.

“I love you,” Was all he said, hanging up on you abruptly. You smiled softly to yourself, willing your eyes to stay open as you tried to focus on the sitcom in front of you.

You were just dozing off when you heard your apartment door unlocking and the brief shuffling of feet in the entryway. Your grin brightened, the familiar butterflies returning to your chest, even after months of being with Luke. The man in questioned approached you quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked up at him.

“Luke, it’s 2 am, what are you doing here?” You asked despite the obvious answer, opening your shield of blankets for him to crawl onto the sofa with you. He made you wait, tipping out his reusable shopping bag onto the coffee table in front of you. There lay a pint of ice cream, tea bags, painkillers, and your favourite chocolate. Suddenly you weren’t sure if the heat on your face was fever or blush. Silently you held your arms out, and Luke dove into them with all the enthusiasm of a child, peppering your faces with all the kisses he could manage.

“Couldn’t let my girl be sick on her own,” He mumbled, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, eliciting a bout of giggles from you.

“My very own Prince Charming,” You grinned, pecking his temple. After a gratuitous moment of cuddling Luke peeled himself off you, taking on the role of concerned caretaker. He was quick to dart into the kitchen, turning the kettle on for your tea and grabbing a spoon for the ice cream he’d bought. Sitting himself in the vacant spot next to you he fixed his focus onto the TV.

“What are we watching?” He asked, pulling the lid off the ice cream tub for you.

“How I Met Your Mother, I’ve just reached season seven.” Luke gasped dramatically, holding his hands over his chest in faux outrage.

“You continued without me? How could you?” You laughed at his accusatory tone, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Lukey. You have to forgive me though, I’m sick,” You punctuated the statement with a pathetic cough, smiling as Luke easily settled down.

You watched in silence for a bit, both giggling at the stupid jokes. After a while you felt Luke looking at you seriously, but chose not to think much of it, continuing to tune in to the show. When he pulled out a thermometer, you raised an eyebrow. Luke wasn’t usually one to be so prepared, but you let him rest it on your tongue nonetheless. When it read a concerningly high number Luke frowned, silently popping the painkillers out of their packaging, feeding you with the insistence of a fed up mother hen.

“Why aren’t you a nurse?” You joked, swallowing the medication with a mouthful of melted ice cream, “Rockstar be damned.”

“Only for you, love.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you fretting over Reggie,” You laughed, and Luke couldn’t help but join you.

“That’s fair. You’re my favourite, though.”

“How unexpected.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to his jaw, revelling in the dumb grin that crept onto his face.

You both settled into silence, you leant into Luke’s side, his hands rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You could feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, never quite able to stay in it for one reason or another. The blanket was too hot, you were cold without it, your head hurt. Nothing was quite right and all you wanted to do was sleep for as long as humanly possible.

“Luke?” You whispered, in case he was already asleep.

“Yes, love?” He replied, shifting his position to look down at you. You faltered for a moment, overwhelmed with the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Will you play for me?” Luke was up in a second, arranging you on the sofa. You giggled as he manhandled you, lying you down and wrapping you tightly in your blanket so you couldn’t escape. You teased him about being his captive audience as he tuned his guitar quickly, never being so grateful for his perfect pitch.

Without anymore holdups Luke began to play, plucking softly at the strings to create a melody that filled the air of your little apartment. His playing was like a siren call, pressing weights on your eyelids until you could barely stand to keep them open. You watched him while you could, admiring the way the faint light from the kitchen lamp made him look like an Adonis, his hair illuminated in gold and his features accentuated by the shadows. You couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Luke Patterson, heartthrob of Julie and the Phantoms was your dorky, adoring boyfriend who would make supermarket trips in the middle of the night for you. Who had your favourite ice cream memorised and your key attached to his, so he could come see you whenever he missed you (which was pretty much always).

Despite the various aches and pains that had overtaken your body, the only thing you could feel as you drifted off to sleep was the burning ball of light in your chest, a chemical mixture of joy and love and gratitude, overtaking your senses one by one until you were asleep, dreams filled of beautiful images of your boyfriend.

When you woke up the next morning, you figured out it wasn’t morning at all. Luke had evidently switched off your phone’s alarm after you’d fallen asleep, and it was well into early afternoon when you’d arisen. To his credit though, the sleep had done you some good, and you felt much less like walking death after an intense sleep.

You untangled yourself from the knit blanket, your feet wobbly on the hard wood floors. You had serious post-nap daze, and wandered through your flat looking for your boyfriend. The poorly made sheets on your actual bed told you where Luke slept last night — or this morning, more accurately — you smiled at the way he’d arranged your stuffed animals.

Stuck to the fridge under your New York City magnet was a note from Luke, explaining he had to go to rehearsal but he’d be back later to check on you. You pulled the paper off, travelling back to your room to put the note in your ‘Luke’ box, adding to the collection of notes and drawings he’d given you inconsequentially that you’d held onto.

As the afternoon ticked by you’d gotten onto your computer, figuring that although you were still ill you should try and get something productive done. You were armed with your box of tissues as you got started on an assignment you had due at the end of the week, and slipped your headphones on to get into the headspace.

You screamed as a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, quickly dissolving into giggles as you realised it was only Luke, back from rehearsal.

“Your voice still sounds scratchy, baby, how are you feeling?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Better, promise. Tomorrow I’ll probably go to class if I get another good night’s sleep.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, and you felt your insides melting all over again. You closed the laptop, knowing you weren’t going to get much more done now that Luke was with you.

You spent the evening together, ordering in pizza from the place around the corner and getting slightly wine drunk as Luke told you all about his earlier rehearsal and the antics of his band. He sang you part of the new song he and Julie had written and you applauded dramatically, only stopping when you broke into a coughing fit.

“Wanna watch something?” He asked when you grew tired again, cuddling up to him like a cat.

“Barbie?” You asked hopefully, looking up at him with wide eyes. Luke sighed dramatically, but you knew he was just pretending not to like the animated movies you’d grown up on.

“Only if it’s Island Princess,” He offered and you nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you settled in for the movie night, Luke getting much more into the movie as it went on, as he always did. By the end you were singing duets — your voice considerably less pleasing than his, especially due to your illness — Luke taking on the role of the prince letting you be Ro.

As the credits rolled you felt your eyes closing again, and you felt eerily like you did as a younger girl, falling asleep on the couch after a Barbie movie. This was better though, because now you had Luke next to you. He’d taken his role as big spoon extremely seriously, and had all but become one with the couch, pressing into the back as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You shifted your position to face him, watching his face relax into contentedness as he tried to doze off to sleep. Feeling you watch him he cracked one eye open, mouth producing a dumb grin that made butterflies erupt in your chest.

“What?” He asked, but you got the distinct impression he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Nothing,” You lied, but gave in easily, “You’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty too. Now go to sleep.” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Kay, goodnight Lukey. I love you.”

“Love you too, my girl. So much.” His answer was muffled by him pressing his face into your hair to pull you closer, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even as sleep enveloped you.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

[malusmagpie]

Driven To You

Pairing: AU!CarGuy!AnakinxReader

Summary: Y/N has a small crush (obsession) with a car guy in her class and is so wrapped up in avoiding him, she doesn’t realize she might have actually caught his eye.

Directly inspired by the photos of Hayden driving/being around cars bc mmmmmmm delicious.

A/N: IM BACK BABY. SORRY FOR BEING GONE SO LONG I LOVE YALL. ENJOY! P.s. THE TITLE IS CHEESY AND THE WRITING IS EVEN CHEESIER. SORRY IM FEELING ROMANTICAL. This is a slow burn and i intend to do more parts!!!

Word Count: 6.9k

There was a sense of dread that always came over you upon waking up. You’d immediately think of all the things you had to achieve in the day. The thought alone would make your sheets feel all the more inviting whilst making fibres of the carpeted floor in your bedroom look like searing hot needles. This morning though, as you poured the boiling water from the kettle into the cheap insulated mug your college had given you as an acceptance gift, you smiled to yourself. Your roommates were still asleep. You had chosen your courses too late to be picky about what time slot you’d be scheduled with, and the quiet in your little apartment made plenty of room for you to listen to the music you had blasting through your headphones. You stirred your coffee and placed the lid on the tumbler before picking up your bag and keys. You slipped on the shoes you’d meticulously picked the night before and headed out the door, making sure to lock it twice. The dodgy door had a lock that wouldn’t properly latch unless you pulled it whilst locking it — but it worked, is what your landlord had told you and your roommates.

You stared down at your outfit while you walked. When you applied for a fashion degree, you hadn’t quite had the forethought to realize you not only needed to be good at what you did, you had to look like it too. It wasn’t a school mandated rule but it was some sort of unspoken requirement amongst your peers. You’d never been good at making friends and the treatment you had been getting from dressing comfortably during your first semester wasn’t helping your case. Now, dressing well was all you ever did. Leaving the house in clothes that weren’t carefully picked made you almost uncomfortable, even just going to the convenience store on the corner was a mission. You decided to stop hyper-fixating on whether or not the pattern on your skirt was vintage in a cute way or vintage in a grandma way because either way, it would be considered better than leggings and a big sweater.

“If it gauges a reaction, it’s fashion.” Is what your professor always told you. You were careful to only step on the tiles of the sidewalks, never the seams, and you always waited a second after the crosswalk signal went from red to white, just incase some insane city driver forgot what a red light meant. You’d narrowly avoided cars a handful of times during your walks to campus and learned it’s better to be patient.

As you walked you wondered if you’d see him today, the blond boy with the loud car and even louder friends. He was the reason Wednesdays were less daunting to you. It was the one day a week you had a class with him. He seemed kind and quiet which was a vast contrast when you looked at who and what he surrounded himself with. He had an odd name too. You only knew that because you both took the same boring and useless elective course. You didn’t shake away the thoughts, the feeling of a crush always made you excited. Making up stories about them in your head and fantasizing about how they liked their tea was all good fun to you, especially when you knew you’d never speak to the person.

You felt around the outside of your bag on your side until you felt the spirals on your hard covered sketch pad and let out a small sigh when you were reassured that you brought it with you. Your head whipped around at the sound of a loud exhaust coming your way and you smiled to yourself while thinking about how you were psychic and manifesting him, completely ignoring the fact that he was in the class you were making your way to. The yellow car came into view and you prayed it would make it past the yellow light ahead of you. The car was fast enough to do so but you’d never seen him drive fast before. That was another interesting thing to you. A car guy who doesn’t drive like an asshole was almost unheard of.

Your eyes flickered over to the now red light as you saw the car slow down right in front of where you were to cross the street to access the campus. You almost debated walking to the next cross walk and doubling back to avoid walking in front of him. You looked at the time on the giant clock on the front of the campus building and sighed. You couldn’t be late during mid term season. You waited a second when the crosswalk signal switched from a red hand to a walking figure. Your eyes, hidden under sunglasses, watched him in his car. His arm was rested on the door panel and he was biting his thumb nail, looking ahead of the wheel with his other hand lazily draped over it. He either hadn’t seen you yet, or he didn’t care to look at you. Both options seemed to relieve you as you walked. You shook your head to hide your face with your hair and pretended to text somebody on your phone, in reality you were simply typing gibberish into your notes app. You were sure he had seen you for the small duration that you’d walked in front of your car and the thought made you speed up your strides.

As you walked across the grass and towards the door you heard his car drive in to your left and park where he always parked. You smiled to yourself, thinking of the mild annoyance he must have faced when he saw a rusted Prius parked in his spot just a few days ago. It was perfect for you though, from where he was forced to park you could finally see the front view of his car perfectly through the window you always sat at and it made for a decent addition to your sketchbook. You blushed to yourself when you realized just how many sketches you had of his car. You didn’t even like cars, in fact you had sneakily walked behind his car in the parking lot once just to see which model it even was. You just liked him but drawing him seemed far too delusional, even for your liking. Besides, you were never good at drawing faces anyways.

You pushed the large door to the lecture hall and it swung open with ease. You greeted your professor who was nose deep in her kindle at her desk, she barely even muttered a response back. You smiled to yourself when you realized you were the only other person there. It was a smaller class but this gave you time to sit and sketch an outline of your muse, to be completed later. You settled down in your usual spot and snapped a quick photo to reference later before opening your sketchbook. You flipped to the back of the book where your secret drawings were. Not very well kept but nobody was looking through your notebook anyways.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw a figure move outside the window. You watched through your peripherals as Anakin slid out of his car and closed the door. He adjusted his pants, which looked about four sizes too big, and locked the car before walking out of view toward the building. You squeezed your eyes in embarrassment and placed your pencil within the spirals, shutting your book slowly. You’d been so eager to draw the stupid car you didn’t check to see if he’d left it yet. You hoped to whoever was listening, whatever greater force there was, that he didn’t see you taking a photo.

You sat there in silence, staring at the wall and jumped when the door opened even though you were entirely aware he would walk in at any moment. You didn’t look at him. You placed your fist under your chin and stared down at your cellphone as he walked to his normal spot. Four rows to your left and two rows back. He sat right in the middle of the back of the class. You wondered what kind of person that made him. Clearly he wanted to be seen by the teacher, but maybe he sat at the back because he wasn’t eager to participate.

You milled the theories over in your head as other students began to file in. You noticed Anakin had come in alone. He usually had his friend with him but today, his friend came in late. He chucked a wrapper of some sort at Anakin and sat next to him. Anakins soft laugh made your heart do a flip and you leaned further into your hand. His voice was deep and it carried quite far even though he was speaking softly to his friend who made no effort to use his inside voice. You didn’t even notice the time fly by as you gazed at the chalkboard behind your professor, watching as the words she wrote turned into jumbled letters from staring for too long.

The bustling of people around you getting up to leave caught your attention and you began to pack up your things with haste. You picked up your bag and pulled it over your shoulder, taking care not to trip down the narrow and steep stairs of the lecture hall. You noticed Anakin and his friend sitting at their seats. They were deep in conversation as they moved at a snails pace to pack up their things. You, on the other hand, were itching to go home to watch whatever dumb show your roommate had on and eat.

The sun was bright when you pushed open the door that led you to the parking lot, causing your eyes to squint. You pulled your sunglasses off their perch on your head and placed them snug on your nose before you heard the door swing open behind you. Your head just barely turned but the sound of a man’s voice calling your name made you swivel on your heels.

“Hey, Y/N.” Anakin said as he approached you. His keys that hung from his front belt loop jingled with each step he took and you looked at him dumbfounded. The class was small but to know your name, that took a little bit of effort surely. “You forgot your charger. At least I think it’s yours. You’re the only one who sits by where it was.” He held out a small white block attached to a matching white cord. You held your hand out with an appreciative smile and he dropped the charger in your palms.

“Yeah it’s mine. Thank you.” You spoke as you shoved the cord into your over stuffed bag. His head moved in a nodding motion.

“No problem.” He said curtly. Your eyes trailed him over for a second before you decided that was likely the end of the interaction and you began to turn.

“Do you like cars?” He asked. You began to panic as you thought of the embarrassing photo you’d taken earlier. You desperately clambered your brain for an answer.

“Not really. Why?” You realized your words seemed a bit harsher than intended and you threw in a polite smile to soften the blow.

“Oh no reason.” He shrugged. You weren’t sure if you were just trying to relax yourself or if he truly hadn’t watched you snap a photo from the large, untinted window of the lecture hall. “There’s a car meet tonight. Just wanted to know if you’d be interested.” He finished and you looked at him. You tried to understand exactly what was going on and why it was going on but your brain left you with no answers.

“No that sounds fun.” You answered before you could think but his eyes lit up ever so slightly and your heart pounded a little louder than usual.

“Oh cool. It’s kind of like a super hushed thing though, a lot of these cars are technically not allowed to be on the roads.” He started and you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, shifting your weight. “You’ll see what I mean. I can pick you up or did you want to meet there?” He leaned against the wall behind him.

“Pick me up. 42 Queen, apartment 215.” You smiled. “I’m not gonna get arrested right?” You asked and it pulled a laugh from Anakin. He shook his head and you revelled in the way his hair flopped over his head.

“Not on my watch.” He said through a straight teethed smile. “42 Queen. 215. Got it. I’ll be there at around nine.”

You looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Nine? My bed time is ten. I have class in the morning.” You said only partially joking. Anakin rolled his eyes, a disbelieving smile on his face.

“Car meets like this don’t happen before sundown.” He crossed his arms over his chest and you sighed dramatically. Despite your internal panic you kept your composure quite well. For that you commended yourself.

“Fine. I’m doing this for the promise of fun. So I better have fun.” You stated as you began to step back from him. He smiled at you, a knowing smile that signalled that you wouldn’t be disappointed. You took your leave, bidding him goodbye with a nod before walking as fast as you could to your apartment. He watched you scurry away with his hands shoved in his pockets before pushing himself off the wall and heading to his car.

When you got home you went straight to your room and sent your roommate a text, briefing her on the news of today. An excited smile was seemingly permanently plastered on your face. You laid your things on your bed and grabbed your sketchbook before making your way to your small desk. You heard a knock on your bedroom door as you began to sketch away at the drawing of the car, this time it included Anakin sitting inside. The photo you took captured it perfectly. You mumbled for whoever was at the door to come in. Your roommate Jean cracked your door open.

“Busy?” She asked as she entered the room fully, closing the door behind her. You pulled your headphones off one ear and turned to her with a shrug.

“Just drawing.” You muttered as she walked over and looked over your shoulder at the sketch. She knew about Anakin, all three of your roommates did, but she knew about absolutely everything. The drawings included.

“God, you’re insane.” She said jokingly with her eyes peering over your shoulder and you threw your pencil at her. She laughed and picked it up off the floor before placing it on your desk. She leaned against the surface and crossed her arms. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N/N.” She smiled down at you and you wrapped your arms around her waist with a smile. She uncrossed her arms to run her hands through your hair gently.

“Thanks, Bean.” You fondly used the name Bean for her, she wouldn’t dare let anybody else call her that. her boyfriend tried it once and she shot him a death glare so intense he apologized profusely. She was a bit intimidating. Tall, black dyed hair, piercings and tattoos. The whole nine yards. You pulled away from the embrace. Her hands held your hair as you retreated and dropped it gently before returning to their crossed position over her chest.

“Your hairs getting so long.” She was in school for cosmetology and was usually the only reason you looked presentable. You looked down at your hair and nodded.

“I guess it is.” You sighed. You knew she could tell that there was something on your mind and you sighed again. Her blue eyes felt as though they had pierced into your soul and you looked up at her.

“So a date… You never mentioned how it happened.” She sat down on the floor beside your chair. Her arms crossed over your knees as you turned to face her and she rested her chin on her folded limbs, eyes staring up into yours in excitement.

“Not a date. He never explicitly said that. That being said, I left my charger in class so he came and gave it to me and we just talked for a minute.” You smiled and she laughed in disbelief.

“So you didn’t talk to him first. What are the chances? Maybe God does exist.” She mused and you rolled your eyes, your hand reached for a pen on your desk and you clicked it before beginning to colour in one of her tattoos.

———

The hours went by slowly, probably because you were watching the clock every chance you got. You had already changed, and then changed back into what you had on before as not to look like you were trying too hard. You’d redone your makeup and fixed your hair. You brushed your teeth and ate. You even finished an assignment and it hadn’t even struck 7pm yet. You groaned as you walked out of your room. Your roommate was sitting on the couch in front of the television, her eyes flicked over to you with a smirk upon her features.

“Antsy?” She questioned you and you pouted as you approached the fridge, looking for a snack to pass the time.

“Only a little.” You rolled your eyes as you sat the the kitchen bench with a banana. Her hand raised with the remote as she switched from Netflix to Spotify. You watched as she put on a playlist before coming to where you were sat in the kitchen. She reached under the counter into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of cheap champagne. The sight made you nauseous. Last time you’d seen that type of bottle you were face down in a toilet by midnight. “No.” You started and she laughed.

“Just a few. You’re wound up too tight right now. One or two drinks over the next two hours won’t kill you.” She smiled, waving the bottle in your face and you groaned again. With a hesitant hand you reached out and grabbed the large glass bottle from her. She turned around and opening the fridge with an excited squeal as she grabbed the orange juice. “Mimosas make everything better.” She smiled.

You took the liberty of grabbing two of the delicate glasses she bought for these kind of drinks and placing them on the counter. Jean was a bartender at a fancy golf course so she always had the means to make a good drink at her disposal. It almost worried you sometimes.

“Mimosas feel like a brunch thing.” You mumbled as she poured the glasses 3/4 of the way with champagne and topped them off with what seemed like two drops of orange juice. She smiled, her head tilted as she looked at you.

“Mimosas deserve to be enjoyed all day, any day.” She slid the glass to you carefully and held her own in the air. “To Anakin, I guess.” She said with a shrug and you raised your own glass, clinking it gently with her own before downing half the drink. It was cold and refreshing, and surprisingly, if you hadn’t known it had alcohol in it you never would have noticed.

She was right, the next two hours were spent talking about Anakin. You showed her his instagram where he had no pictures of his actual face. She theorized on how he likely had a crush on you, and you brushed it off. It wasn’t long before you found yourself at the bottom of your second drink and heard a knock at the front door. Your eyes widened as you stared at her and she laughed.

“Go open it before he leaves.” She whispered and you scrambled off the couch and walked over to the door. You unbolted the locks and cracked the door open.

You saw his tall frame stood in front of you, hands shoved in his pockets as per usual. You smiled and opened the door fully.

“Hi.” He said with a soft smile. His eyes moved around your apartment and landed on the bottle of Prosecco and orange juice on the counter. “Pregaming I see?” He asked, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

You heard your roommate speak from behind you and you could have jumped out of your skin. She was always such a quiet walker.

“Just a little. I’m Jean.” She stuck her hand out and you watched as Anakin shook it.

“Anakin.” He responded.

“Have her home by one.” She smiled as you slipped on your shoes. You rolled your eyes and looked behind you, shooting daggers at her and she shrugged. “Keep your location on.” She said and you groaned in response.

“Okay. I love you.” You mumbled and she responded with the same words back before you ushered Anakin out of your apartment. You heard the door lock behind you and you sighed. “Sorry she’s just like that. All the time.” You laughed gently and he smiled.

“No she seems cool.” He nodded. The two of you walked down the corridor and into the elevator silently before you piped up.

“So what exactly is a car meet?” You asked, your head turned up toward the boy who stood tall next to you.

“It’s when people with cool cars meet up.” He said, he looked down at you with a smile and an embarrassed blush rose to your cheeks. Seemed clear enough.

“Right. Just making sure.” You nodded and he smiled as the doors of the elevator opened. You followed him out as he led you to where he’d parked. You felt a sense of anxiety surrounding the situation, a new place with a new person made you feel a little uneasy.

When his car came into view you felt your heartbeat quicken and when he opened the door for you, you could have sworn you felt faint.

Anakin leaned on the door panel as you got in before shutting it once he saw you were completely settled. He walked around to the front of the car and sat in the drivers seat as you looked around the vehicle you’d only ever seen from the outside. It felt surreal. The small amount of alcohol in your system was nice but it wasn’t helping much as you watched him settle in the seat and turn the key in the ignition.

His hand pushed at the shifter and the car began to move. “I might have to drive a little faster. Turns out it started at 9 so we’re technically late.” He mumbled as he drove out of the parking lot. You stared out the windshield.

“As long as you don’t kill us.” You smiled and you heard his laugh in return.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckled again as he turned onto the road. He began to speed up and your feet pushed against the floor mat to steady yourself. The roads were mostly clear which was good, you weren’t in the mood to swerve through traffic today. The car was loud over the music playing in his car and your eyes scanned over the radio to see what the song was called. You’d never heard of the artist but it was definitely something you’d listen to. You made a mental note to save the song to your phone as he drove quickly and carefully at the same time. It surprised you how effortless it looked and felt.

“Who taught you how to drive?” You asked when he came to a red light and he placed his hand on the shifting knob, wiggling it left to right as he waited for the light to change.

“I did. My dad owned a shop and would let me drive the cars to and from the lot. When i learned the basics I would take the cars out at night.” He smiled fondly at the memory, causing a smile of your own to creep onto your lips.

“That seems nice.” You responded. “I never learned.” He looked at you for a moment as he sped down the brightly lit streets of the city.

“I could teach you.” He shrugged and you looked at him for the first time since being in the car with him.

“I couldn’t ask that of you.” You shook your head and he shook his right back at you.

“No it would be my pleasure. I like doing this. I’d love to teach somebody else how to do it.” As he spoke, a car head began to take a left turn before he was able to make a right turn and he laid his hand on the horn for a second and the other car stopped to let him go. “I’d love to teach you so I could know you were aware of who has the right of way when making a left. Jesus they just give licenses out to anybody these days.” You laughed gently at his passive comment to the other driver. “I swear I only encounter scary drivers when I have somebody else in the car.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you’re the bad driver.” You said jokingly and he smiled, his eyes shined under the street lamps.

“Yeah, maybe.” He mused as he pulled into a parking lot. It was full of cars and you could hear bass heavy music playing in the distance. He parked his car next to the rest of them and you watched as people glanced over, taking notice of the new vehicle in the parking lot.

“See? It’s literally a meet up for cars.” He said with a grunt as he pulled his emergency break up as high as it could go before turning the car off. The two of you exited the vehicle and he locked it before walking over to your side.

“I see that.” You responded and he smiled sheepishly.

“It’s kinda lame. Just didn’t wanna come alone and you seem nice enough to fall for it.” He said, a joking tone laced his voice. You let out an exaggerated breath and shook your head.

“You were right to think so.” You looked around at the cars around you. There was no more than 50 but you’d never seen this many people and cars in one spot.

He spent the night showing you around, explaining what cars he liked, asking you which ones you liked, and stopping to say hi to people briefly. About an hour in you began to understand why this could be fun, people were doing drifts and burnouts in the empty side of the parking lot and truth be told it was interesting to watch, especially when you knew you could never do that. It seemed he was well known in the community, that would explain why people stared as he drove in.

“Do you still race?” Anakin was talking to yet another guy who was standing by his own car. Anakin shook his head.

“Not since I got that ticket.” He responded. The guy laughed.

“You’re better than the rest of us. I think I have three tickets now.” He chuckled and Anakin rolled his eyes.

“If I was living in my moms basement with a job at the pizza shop I’d have three tickets too, man.” He laughed and the other guy laughed in unison. Anakin pushed his fist against the other ones and began to walk away. You chuckled and he looked down at you. “What’s funny?” He asked curiously.

“Nothing. I would have taken what you said personally but he just brushed it off like it was nothing.” You smiled and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t you recognize him? He’s my buddy from the class we’re in together.” He said with a smirk and your eyes widened.

“Oh my god, it was. I didn’t even notice. I should have said hello.” You groaned and he laughed again.

“Now you’re the rude one.” He said with a tilt of his head and you sighed.

“I guess I am.” You responded. You walked next to him, glancing over at cars. You learned you had an affinity for Miata’s. Almost ever car you liked tonight had been a Miata. “You raced?” You asked.

“Yeah. It was fun. I’m gonna do it again soon, just wanted to lay low after I got booked.” He shrugged, his hands found their way into his pockets again. You nodded. You always had an idea of him, and he was proving those ideas to be wrong. You couldn’t help but like the truth of the matter just a little better than the fantasy version of him you had made up.

“Damn, Marty’s here.” He grinned as he pointed to a hot dog stand in the distance. “Honest to God he makes the best hotdogs you’ll ever have. Let me get you one. Have you eaten?” He asked excitedly and even though you had, you couldn’t help but enable his excitement.

“I could eat.” You smiled and he beamed, making a bee line for the hotdog stand.

“Good ‘cause I’m starving.” He called over his shoulder and you sped up to keep up with him. A laugh escaped you as you noticed how fast he was walking.

“Slow down.” You laughed as you reached for his arm. You caught him and grabbed him gently to pull him back. He stopped to let you catch up and looked down at you.

“Maybe you should speed up.” He looked down at you while your hand gripped his arm. Your stomach did a flip as you stopped in your tracks, looking up at his eyes. You’d never noticed how blue they were. The two of you stood silently, looking at each other, before you heard the sound of his stomach grumbling. Your laughter wasn’t easily contained when he looked down at his stomach.

“Yeah let’s get you your hotdog.” You smiled, he chuckled and let his arm drop down just far enough where it grazed your hand and your entire arm erupted in goosebumps. Your hand instinctively went to grab his hand. Your fingers twitching to hold his hand made his hand stop and slowly intertwine with yours. You never broke the eye contact and you felt as if you could hear him speak through just the emotion in his eyes. You had to breathe manually when he started walking toward the hotdog stand again.

He ordered two, one for both of you and pulled out his wallet to hand Marty a bill. He had to let go of your hand to do so but the warmth in your heart bloomed when he went to hold it again as soon as he put his wallet back in his pocket. A small blush rose to your cheeks. He told the man to keep the change and handed you one of the hotdogs. The two of you took turns using the condiments on the side of the cart before sitting down on a curb right next to it.

“How is it?” He asked, his mouth half full. You smiled as you finished chewing.

“Really good. Haven’t had a hot dog in forever.” You smiled and he nodded, humming in agreement. You noticed people begin to leave and you pulled your phone from your bag and noticed it had only been two hours. “It’s not even that late yet.” You said and he looked around. You followed his gaze to red and blue lights flashing in the distance and he stood up.

“Time to go.” He mumbled as he threw the last bit of his food away and you followed him, throwing yours away as well. Your chest began to fill with a small sense of anxiety, you’d never dealt with the cops before. You’d been relatively well behaved your entire life so situations like this were alien to you.

He walked calmly toward his car and you stuck to his heel. As you approached the yellow vehicle he pulled his keys off his belt loop and unlocked your side, opening the door and allowing you to enter fully before shutting it and walking over to his own side.

When he got in the car he placed the key in the ignition and glanced over at you. “We haven’t done anything. My car, while extremely modified, is almost perfectly legal.” He smiled assuringly and you nodded before realizing he said almost.

“Almost?” You asked and he shrugged as he began to push the car into gear.

“Yeah. Almost. Nothing big. If I get out of here now they won’t bother ticketing me.” He mumbled as he checked his surroundings before finding a gap between the other cars that were leaving.

You held onto the door panel tightly as he drove, anxiety bubbling up more every second. You were always prone to freaking out. He took a right from the parking lot and began to drive with the other cars around him. They were definitely all doing speeds that would get them in trouble on the small backstreet. You looked at him again and he glanced into his rear view.

“See? It was only one cop car and now it’s stuck in the parking lot.” You turned your body to glance out the back windshield and slumped back into your seat with a huff, followed by a small laugh.

“I was really freaking out for a minute.” You mumbled causing Anakin to let out a short belly laugh.

“Yeah. You should see how it feels to be booked during a race. That’ll get your blood pumping.” He had a tone in his way of speaking that made you think that one day you might experience exactly what he was talking about. His words almost distracted you from his fast driving.

As he turned down your neighbourhood he slowed down. There was no more cars with you guys and he seemed to relax in his seat.

“Sorry for that.” He started. “And for cutting the night short.” He smiled apologetically, only letting his eyes leave the road for a moment to flash it at you.

“Oh it’s fine.” You mused. “It was kinda fun.” You smiled back at him and your grip on his door loosened. You watched as he pulled into the small crescent driveway of your apartment building and parked the car. “I’d like to do that again, and maybe watch you race one day.” You finished as you collected your purse from its spot at your feet.

“I’d like that too, only if you’re being serious. I can’t tell with you.” He smiled and you rolled your eyes.

“I am.” You insisted as you plopped the purse in your lap and looked at him. “I see you drive every Wednesday. I’ve never seen you drive like that before, though.” You mentioned and it raised a hum from him.

“I only do it when I need to. Sometimes when I want to. Driving to school doesn’t exactly ignite my excitement.” He shrugged and you sent him a playful look.

“What warrants your excitement then?” You asked, leaning your elbow on his centre console and placing your chin in your palm.

“Ah the usual, cars, racing, pretty girls in grandma skirts.” He shrugged and your mouth dropped, a mix of a gasp and laugh flew out of you as you rolled your eyes and lifted your head.

“I like my grandma skirt.” You mused. His compliment settled in your stomach, making it so somersaults.

“I didn’t say I don’t.” His voice was quiet as he looked at you and a blush rose to your cheeks. His hand reached out to brush against yours and you let him grab it.

He brushed his thumb along the back of your hand as the two of you sat in a silent tension. The air in the car seemed thick during the silent conversation you had with your eyes. He cleared his throat, averted his gaze and dropping your hand before pulling his keys out of the car.

“I’ll walk you in, it’s late.” He mumbled as he reached across you and pushed your door open. You couldn’t help but feel mildly disconcerted at his reaction. He seemed so confident in his ability to flirt with you. You couldn’t pin point why he didn’t kiss you, it was one of the most obvious opportunities you’d ever seen. Regardless, you stepped out of his car.

“Sure.” You called behind you as you shut the door. He met you at the front end of the vehicle after locking it and walked next to you. The automatic doors of the building opened and you led him to the elevators. His hands were in their usual place, deep in his pockets as you pressed the button. You looked at him from your peripherals, agonizing over the suddenly awkward tension that filled the air between you two.

As you waited in the elevator you sighed. He looked at you, you pretended you didn’t notice, and the doors opened. The small hallway revealed itself through the elevator doors and you stepped out before him. He was hot on your tail when you finally approached the door and pulled out your keys.

“Can I get your number?” He asked from behind you and you froze, your key only inches away from the lock. You turned to him and nodded, stating off your number. You watched as he typed it in and turned his phone to you, you smiled when you saw your contact name had a grandma emoji next to it and nodded, confirming that he put the number in correctly. Your feelings were in a constant state of fluctuation. You couldn’t pin point whether he didn’t like you, or if he was just an awkward individual. Surely, somebody who looks like Anakin could never be so socially inept. Stranger things have happened, though.

He placed his phone in his pocket before letting his eyes fall on you again, your heartbeat raced as you waited for him to say something. Your eyes searched his desperate to find a hint of what he was thinking but you couldn’t pin point anything.

“Thank you.” He whispered. “For coming with me. It was really nice.” He continued and you nodded your head again. It seemed that was all you could do. You tried to push out some words.

“Me too.” You said and furrowed your eyebrows in embarrassment. “I mean. Sorry. I meant to say no problem. It really was fun.” You scrambled for words to avoid looking like an idiot. He smiled, his hand reached up and rested on your cheek. Your breath stopped for a moment as he used his hand to raise your face toward his. His lips brushed softly against yours and your eyes fluttered shut.

It was over before you even got to understand what happened and he dropped his hand gently, stepping back. He placed his hands back in his pocket as your eyes opened again. You could have died right then and you’d die happy.

“Sorry. Should I have asked before I did that? I feel like I should have asked.” It was his turn to ramble and you laughed gently, shaking your head.

“No it’s okay. I was waiting for you to grow a pair and do that.” You smiled as you turned around to unlock your door.

“Well good thing I grew a pair, huh?” He asked and you turned to him as you opened the door to your dark apartment. Your roommate was likely passed out after finishing the rest of the bottle.

“A great thing, really.” You whispered and he shot you a smile.

“Well, get some rest. I’ll shoot you a text later.” He whispered back as he began to back himself down the hallway again. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled.

“Goodnight, Anakin.” You responded before you stepped into your apartment and locked the door behind you. You hadn’t even gotten your shoes off before your phone buzzed in your purse.

“Hi. It’s later. Wanna do this again soon?” The text from an unknown number read. You laughed quietly to yourself as you typed in a quick response.

“Yeah but you’re gonna have to pick me up until I get a license.” You responded.

“I have 0 issue with that. Besides. I told you I’d teach you how to drive. :)” You laughed at the text as you entered your room for the night.

“Deal. Goodnight. Drive safe.” You responded, your tired body and mind didn’t even let you change or wash your face as you laid in bed. Your eyes fell shut as you heard another vibration come through on your phone but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at it. You told yourself you’d take a look in the morning, but the longer you went without seeing the text, the more antsy you got.

“I’m gonna have to. Gotta take a pretty girl on another date soon. Goodnight.” The text sat in front of your eyes and you let out an excited squeal before tossing your phone on the bed. You cuddled into your sheets and let yourself fall asleep, only hoping to dream of him just so you could see him again.

[harrysmimi]

Gotchu!

Synopsis: YN pranks Harry after he's returned home from the gym

Idea courtesy to @vrittivsanghavi

Series Masterlist | More of my work

It was a day off for YN, so she decided to spend it at home.

She has been making a crochet bag for her mother-in-law for her birthday which was coming up soon. She cosied up on the sofa with a cup of tea with a rerun of her favourite show on, taking in some alone time. She had dropped off Milo to the vet for his checkup, surgery and vaccine updates this morning, he's due pick up in the evening. And she went grocery shopping for few things she needs to try out this new baking recipe.

Though Harry will be home soon, he had to rush to a quick meeting and then he went to the gym for a little. He came home way too soon.

YN heard the door open and close as Harry walked in dressed in his workout clothes and cup of coffee in his hand. His tote bag hung over his shoulder.

"Hey baby." He smiled at her, "I'm just gonna go take a shower real quick and be with you, yeah?"

"Hi, yes of course." YN nodded, and sat there starting on her new project.

Anne loved one of YN's bag she made and wore on one of their girls day out, since then YN's been wanting to make one for her. Her birthday was coming up so it was the best occasion to take advantage of. Gift giving is really nit her thing, so this was a golden opportunity for her there.

Harry's been jealous. He wants one too but he steals her bag everytime so he doesn't really know how to ask for one. He felt stupid. But at the same time it warmed his heart to see how the women who raised him get along so well with the woman he fell in love with.

He's honestly got to up his game of birthday presents for his mum after this. It's always been his forte, but a handmade gift has special value to it to everyone.

YN had been asking him what colour he thinks his mum would like the bag to be. It was a tricky choice to make without letting Anne can not know about this. It is a surprise.

"It's coming along right?" Harry asked he sat next to her, freshly showered and shirtless with droplets of water still shining on his shoulders and chest. YN rught away snuggled to his side.

"This is the last square for the bag." She said as she continued to crochet.

"That colour looks very pretty by the way." He added.

"Yeah? I'm making you one too." She beamed at him in excitement, "you can take this one and I'll give Mummy Anne the other one."

"Oh, thank you love." He chuckled watching her go back to do her thing, "I've been wanting to ask you to make ine for me, but didn't wanted to bother you."

"Please, you're never a bother to me." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah--" Harry realised something, "baby, where's Milo? He's usually attacking my feet by now." Harry asked looking around.

YN was too busy counting up the stitches on the crochet piece, or was she? Actually she was cooking a plan to prank him in that moment. She's the bored okay!

"He's in the Man Cave you built you or he must asleep in some nook." She shrugged, which had Harry immediately jumping up to go look for their fur baby.

"Did he eat McFish--" he checked the aquarium but the fish was the swimming around with the secure lid still on. "No, baby, did he fell into toilet bowl again?"

"You just came from the bathroom, didn't you see?" YN called from him as he frantically ran to their only bathroom to check.

Milo was just learning to adjust to the closed litter box, which was kept in the bathroom obviously and being the cat he is, he jumped on the box and accidentally falling into the toilet bowl. It was his fault that he didn't closed the lid.

YN had to bathe him twice after that, because well he doesn't let Harry give him the baths. Yeah, he's that spoilt. But Harry still loves him, he's just grown to bond with Milo. Even though the kitten always tries to trip and make him fall the best he could, or when he just attacks his dad's toes for no apparent reason. No, no, he doesn't do that to his mum, he's in fact very cuddly and sweet with her. Well, occasionally the cat likes to cuddle with Harry but that's very rare. That doesn't change the fact he loves that cat to bits.

"He's not there." He announced, "baby can you please put that down? We can find the cat!"

"Check in his man cave, dude!" She tried to break out laughing the best she could, acting nonchalant as Milo does like to be on his own sometimes.

Harry walked upto the little-- well it's not very little box fixed seven feet above the ground for Milo to sit in and rule over his kingdom along with wooden steps and comfiest bedding inside. The cat even sleeps in it at night. Harry had it custom made for just him, with facy ass design and his name plate on the front. Harry called it: Milo's Man Cave.

News flash, Milo isn't in his man cave.

"We have the balcony all netted and shit, where is he?" Harry was stressing out now. "Did you leave the door open by any chance?"

"Uhhh, no..." YN tried to act like she is not very sure and surprisingly it worked.

"Baby, no don't fuck with me like that!" Harry gasped as he ran into the bedroom to grab a shirt. He was soon heading out the door to check but YN's phone started ringing so he stopped thinking someone might have found him. He's microchipped, and got a collar with his name YN's number on it (not his for his privacy and as a prevention from getting his number leaks). He was teary eyed by now.

"Hello Ms. YLN, this is Amy from Medivet. How are you doing today?" The girl on the line spoke.

Now YN doesn't have her phone on speaker but Harry could hear the girl speaking through. It was Milo's vet. But he's still anxious.

"Hello, I'm good, thanks and you?" YN said politely.

"I'm doing fine. I've called you to let you that Milo is ready to be taken home, so you can come pick him up." The girl sounded very upbeat.

Harry immediately pulled out his phone to check, it was Milo's appointment day and his turn to tak him there. Fuck did she just pranked him?

"Yeah, I'll come pick him up in fifteen. Thank you, Amy." YN spoke before the girl was bidding her bye and hanging up.

"That was not good." He sniffled as he went on to grab his car keys with a puppy face on.

"Harry, I'm sorry!" She cooed rushing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Got anxious!" He sighed, "he's just too little."

"I know, I'm sorry, don't cry please." She tried to hug him.

"God my heart in beating fast," he sat down on the dining table chair.

"Hey, I'm sorry I was just trying to prank you." She felt embarassing now as she now hugged him. With her hand rested on his chest she could really feel how fast his heart was beating then which made her feel even more mad and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Hazza."

"Just don't." He gently pushed her away. "This isn't funny, YN."

"I'm sorry." She repeated herself, now with her own eyes getting teary and a puppy face on she stood there in the corner.

Now, Harry doesn't usually get upset. He's just that caring and understanding but when he rarely does, he gets really badly upset. This seemed to be one of those rare times and he used her first name in ages. She just grabbed her car keys and slipped on her slippers to go pick up the baby.

"Hey, hey, hey, I was just kidding!" He rushed to pull her back giggling, "gotchu!"

"God you little shit, can't just turn this around on me!" She whined now crying like a baby in defeat.

"Don't you cry now." He wiped off her tears, "not going to lie, you did get me until I heard Medivet. Got you back though." He seemed proud of himself as he tightly hugged her.

"No, go away!" She tried to push him off but he barely budged.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"No, move, I have to pick him up." She now managed to pull away.

"Hey come on, this is not fair!" He whined, "well... Baby I'm sorry." He grabbed her face cooing as he placed sloppy wet kisses in her cheek and mouth. It took him a second to realise that. "You sit and relax, I will make the trip to get him."

"Okay." She nodded.

"Am I forgiven?" He asked, to double check.

"Am I?" She countered.

"Of course you are, my darling." He placed another kiss on her mouth and got one right back.

"You are too then." She finally smiled.

"Okay, bet back in thirty, yeah?" He placed a few more kisses on her face.

"Yeah." She nodded.

"I love you!" And she recieved another kiss.

"I love you too!" She reciprocated, "now go bring our son home."

"Yes, yes." He quickly put his shoes on before he was headed out, "oh, keys!"

"Here." She handed him her car key as she was holding it, with that he was heading out again.

......................................................................

N O T E :

This is not how I intended it to go but dayummmm this is hilarious!!!!!! *cries"

......................................................................

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[ataraxiaspainting]

Sweet Hibiscus Tea.

Yan Shalnark x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a day of finally trying to face your social anxiety, you walk home alone. The roads are empty, quiet, and eerie. But you are almost home now, aren’t you? You are not going to cry anymore. Just when you think life is starting to turn around for you, it goes in the exact opposite direction. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, misogyny, not SFW implications, psychological horror elements, manipulation, panic attacks, Shalnark being an asshole, unhealthy relationships, and stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

Can be considered to be within the Hier Encore universe.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham

Things She Said by Chris Garneau

Baby Bride Rag by Roar

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Appetite of a People-Pleaser by Ghost and Pals

Valentine, Texas by Mitski

I’m Yer Dad by GRLwood

Cry Baby by Melanie Martinez

Freaks by Surf Curse

Neighbour by Mother Mother

“You stay soft, you get beaten; only natural to harden up.” — Mitski, Stay Soft

*~*~*~*

Regardless of how much time has passed, this convenience store always remains the same.

There is always the familiar, tired face of the clerk behind the cash register, her gaze never on you or any other customer who walks in and out of the doors, a simple, muted hello being the only proof that she noticed you.

The lights dim and blink without fail, fading from white to a shade of daffodil to dark flaxen before disappearing and resurfacing yet again as alabaster. No matter how black the night sky is, the less-than-bright illumination never changes.

Neither does the rest of the scenery.

Next to the payment area are two vending machines, with one not functioning. It is dead, with the glass broken by a punch that left a large gaping hole in the dead center. Once when you accidentally touched the front wall while bending down to get your can of lemonade from the working one, it left a sticky residue that had you rubbing your palm on your sweater for what felt like an eternity. It somewhat helped, you guessed, but it also stained your clothes. The vending machine to its right was always out of most sweet drinks, often leaving you with the choice of coffee, lemonade, green tea, or water.

You don’t buy any snacks aside from strawberry Pocky and, if you are lucky, a chocolate bar.

But you do buy meals here because it is cheap. Usually fish with miso or a salad, but there have been times when you can find a premade sandwich.

The total cost comes to between 500 to 1000 Jenny. There is always a poster that claims the cashier is the employee of the month, though you are certain that she is the only one who works there.

The only thing that ever changes is the calendar behind her. The past dates are crossed out in red ink that is in the form of thick, scraggly lines. They remind you of the drawings you used to make as a child when your father was too busy screaming outside your door and your mother was too powerless to do anything but cry and yelp as he hit her. One time you drew them fighting, and when one of your maids saw it, it inevitably found its way to his desk.

Needless to say, he was not happy by any means.

*~*~*~*

The calendar behind the worker reads the 17th of April, 1998. On this day in 1985, your first and only ever friend, the head gardener’s apprentice, went missing. When you eventually gathered up the courage after waiting for hours outside, you went to your father’s room to ask where she was.

“She has been removed from the premises for distracting you instead of doing her job.” The answer you got was to the point, because when has he ever been warm to you? “I made sure that she had learned her lesson before she died. She was in pain the whole time. It was a shame to put a bullet between her pretty eyes. But at least she had a bit more use to me beforehand.”

You cried and cried until you threw up.

That is when your mother, the usual bandage over her left cheek this time, came in and sat on your bed gently, sadly.

She patted the area next to her and slowly you stood up from the floor where you kneeled as you sobbed and went over. She asked you if you wanted a hug and you said no. She responded with a simple nod, respecting your answer. But then what she said next turned your tear-stricken face into a glare.

“She’s alive.” She muttered, along with thanks to God and a hold of the cross on her neck. 

“...What?”

Your mother shushed you when she heard footsteps coming to the door. When the sound eventually leaves further into the hallway, she leans into your ear while pointing to your vanity. Your gaze leads you to the dusty cat statue made of garnet.

It got shattered a little while ago when a maid cleaning your room accidentally made it fall to the floor. You felt bad for her as she was a new hire, so you never told anyone aside from your mother. You knew that if your father, the head of this household, ever found out he would punish her severely, even when he did not care for the statue at all. You got to choose, if you were lucky, which part gets whipped or cut off.

“Yes.”

Her short answer leaves you almost jumping up out of your seat. “...Huh?”

“At last week’s banquet, she caught the attention of your father’s wealthiest business partner.” She turns to the curtains covering the lone window in your room, her back now facing you. “She was tricked into boarding a car when the driver claimed you were inside waiting for her. To the partner in question, she is nothing but another pretty face to add to his collection.”

At the slight turn of the doorknob next door, you two go as still as wax people in a museum. “Why did he lie to me?”

“Why? Well, he certainly did not want you rebelling against his decision.”

“But I have never rebelled against him before.”

“I know.” Your mother lets out a sharp laugh, salty and sour. “I know you are always trying to be good, trying to stay under the radar. I know, I know because you are a lot like me. but now I am going to teach you a lesson about your father and the world at large. Remember that a man’s resentful attitude will always result in a woman’s agony, physical or otherwise, always. However, when things go right for a man, a woman is either praised like a dog or ignored until something goes wrong because it is never enough.”

You can’t breathe. “But why? Why, why, why? What did I do wrong? What could I have done right?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do or could have done. No matter what, your faults will always be found. That is how most men are raised, to find, and how most women are raised, to hide.”

“...”

“Men’s hearts are such cruel, small things. Oftentimes they can only fit themselves in them, but there have been times where even they cannot fit.” She is still holding onto the cross charm on her gold necklace, firmer than she has ever held you. “They are cold, are or are almost dead. There is no room for people like you and me. No room at all. All they see us as is something to own, something with no feelings whatsoever, and whose only purpose is to please no matter the cost. Such pigs, all of them.” She murmurs some prayers that you cannot hear. “I want you to be better. I want what is best for you, what I never have been able to accomplish; run and live.”

She opens the drawer beside your bed, and you don’t do anything to stop her. It is not like you can hide anything, from her or anyone else in this house. Whatever is buried eventually resurfaces. She pulls out your rarely used bible, a thick layer of dust on the leather cover. It smells and makes you cough. She doesn’t though.

“At least your father does not force you to read this day and night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It is one of the few things I appreciate him not doing, I do not want you to grow up hating the church.”

“I know.”

“He has made you hate a lot of things already.”

She turns the pages, dust flying around the cold air.

“He made me hate a lot of things too. Blankets, steaks, cameras. The color white, the color black, the color red. The sounds of belts unbuckling, the sound of laughter, the sounds of doors opening and closing and locking.”

You don’t say anything, only looking at her hands. Only in the dark can you not see her scars, her blooming wrinkles, and the bruises that are always fresh. 

You don’t say anything, because you have learned from a very young age that you are her only listening ear. You are the only one who keeps her head on her shoulders. You don’t say anything, because she is right. He has made you hate plenty of things. But, but, but. But you can’t hate him, and you can’t hate your mother.

You can’t hate her, because who knows what she would do when she finds out that no one cares about her pain in this hell?

“Mother.” You mutter, putting your head on her shoulder as you scan the text on the page that she selected. She does not stop you. 

“Yes, [First]?”

“Do you hate me?” You ask, trying so very hard to not let her see the tears that threaten to come out of your eyes. “Because�� because… if I wasn’t conceived, you wouldn’t be here hurting, would you?”

You could swear that you heard her heart skip a beat.

“...I would not be here, yes.”

She is honest, for once. You know at least some of this situation is all your fault.

“Do you hate me?”

“...”

“Mother, please answer me.”

You hear a sniffle as she starts mumbling the words written. “‘A gracious woman gets honor, and violent men get riches.’”

You choose not to press on the subject. You don’t want her to suffer anymore.

*~*~*~*

You buy an orange-flavored Ramune soda, a pack of pork ginger instant ramen, and strawberry Pocky.

The total would come to about 600 Jenny if your quick calculations are right. You could get something extra, like a topping for your ramen or some chips. But would it be wise? You have never been someone who finishes their plate after you had ran away, so what if you just waste your money?

So, you decide not to get anything else.

You walk to the cash register.

You hear an explosion from the back of the building. Small sparks of white and orange. The lights go off before you can place your chosen items down, and you can hear the employee cursing under her breath. The breaker. What happened?

“Damn it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” She grumbles, putting her thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of her nose, rubbing. “No raises whatsoever. Only one here. Without me, this place wouldn’t be working, ungrateful pricks.”

Fighting the way your heart rate shoots up, you decide that talking to her would be best. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone aside from your boss, right? 

Maybe your anxieties would quell, and you can eventually graduate to talking to your co-workers, that would be a dream come true for you.

You haven’t had a friend, a real friend, ever since Rose was taken from you all those years ago. You still cry whenever you think about her. You miss her. Is she dead, is she alive?

You still blame yourself. If only you hadn’t talked to her, maybe she would still be with you. What kind of adult would she have been? A kind one, a responsible one? You would still be friends at least, wouldn’t you? Or would she grow to hate you, if she didn’t already?

You keep telling yourself that she wouldn’t and didn’t, but that is not what your mind tells you.

Is she dead?

You could picture a rotting corpse six feet under. An unmarked grave. Glassy, dead, amber eyes looking upward to anyone who looks down, helpless, pleading. You always liked them, always complimenting them much to Rose’s shy chuckles. She was so pretty, that much was true. You could only imagine how beautiful she would have been as an adult.

Her looks were a personal gift from God, the heavens, and the angels.

But if she didn’t have them, would she not have been treated like she was in the estate?

“Erm, excuse me,” You mutter, taking a few steps forward. “If you want I can go check it out.”

It is what Rose would do. She always liked helping others. You just wish that people would have appreciated it more and seen past her appearance. It was a double-edged sword. It helped her become the head gardener’s apprentice but also caught the attention of both your father and his business partners. You felt bad for her, and still do.

The employee turns around, her confusion prominent despite the dark. 

“Erm,” You mutter, looking down at your hands and entangling your fingers in one another. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

It takes a few moments to respond. Her surprise was unexpected, as you never spoke to her outside of asking her if she had change or telling her you hoped that she had a good night. Rose would be better at this kind of thing. You once had a dream that at a fast food joint, an adult her would order for you and correct the staff when they put pickles on your burger. It’s what could have been, funny moments like that. She had always been the one to take charge, you following her like a lost puppy.

You miss her so much.

So much.

The worker slowly nods. “...Okay.”

“...It’s in the back, right? The breaker.”

This is so awkward. Rose would be better. You wish she was here. Or your mother. Anyone.

“...Uh. Um… I like your eyeliner.” As soon as you say that, you curse at yourself, not wanting to sound like a creep. The woman’s confusion becomes even more prominent.

“...Thanks, and yeah, it’s in the back.”

“...Okay.” Jesus Christ. You turn away from her, the heat on your cheeks hot enough to be mistaken for a fever. This is not what Rose would have done.

“...You can leave your stuff here.” She says, and you quickly spin your heel and put your items on the counter. “It’s not like they are going to grow legs and run off, so relax.”

“...” You both chuckle, and you feel slightly better. “...Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“...” You start walking. “Wrong way.”

You stop.

It takes you a few seconds for you to move back to first base and go off in the opposite direction. As soon as you open the creaky steel door, strong rain and cold wind greet you, along with a loud clap of thunder and lightning.

Perhaps you could go back and get your umbrella from the stand by the door. But that would be even more awkward.

“Stupid. Stupid.”

“If we are lucky, the wind simply detached it or something. Not the best at this sort of thing, though.”

“I don’t think breakers detach.” You could picture her shrugging and scoffing at your murmur. “Sorry. Sorry. Just… sorry. I’m the best at this sort of thing either.”

You close the door behind you and start looking amongst the pitter-patter of the raindrops and gusts that nearly make you fall over. 

Stupid. Why do you make everything so weird? Rose would have been so much more charismatic. It was one of her strongest traits after all.

Stupid.

It’s hard to see. Trying not to trip over stones and cracked cement, you grip onto the wall and walk forward. Soon, you feel something.

“Ew, ew, ew!” You cry out, quickly moving your hand away from the slimy slug. “Ew!”

“You okay?”

“Uh, nothing. Just a bug. Yeah, just a bug.”

You hear a chuckle. Stupid.

“Sorry!” You exclaim, almost bowing your head. “Sorry! Really!”

Making sure you don’t touch the slug again, you keep moving.

Eventually, you find the breaker. But it wasn’t what you were expecting by any means. The damage almost looks like it was done on purpose, the way it was open and covered in soot. Did something get to it?

The breaker that exploded was a mass of melted metal that had been blown apart from the intense amount of heat and pressure. It was now barely recognizable as a single unit–parts of it scattered across the cement path and others having been fused and becoming something else entirely. The metal had been melted and blown upwards in the sheer force of the explosion, coating parts of the wall, wet grass, and roof with small, solidified droplets of metal. The ground around the remains of the breaker is burnt and scarred with traces of the immense fire that had consumed it.

It seems the rain put it out.

“No hope for this, huh?”

“Hey,” The employee calls out. “How bad is it? If there is nothing you can do, come back inside.”

So, you do.

The way she turns at you is robotic almost. A smile is on her face that was not there before. She nods when she sees you. Something tells you to not approach.

“It exploded into molten metal.”

“Oh well.”

Under the stormy skies, her gaze turns pale. Her eyes, seemingly captivating, lack any hint of vitality, while her lips curve in a disarming and saccharine manner. A shiver runs down your spine as you meet her gaze, every fiber of your being urging you to flee. Deep within your primal instincts, an innate awareness stirs, recognizing the smile as a charade, a mask of humanity that ventures into the realm of unease: akin to an artificial being adorned with synthetic flesh or a wax figure encased in glass. Those lifeless, white eyes, coupled with a forked tongue and an unsettlingly beautiful countenance, leave you with an undeniable sense of mistrust.

“You’re not mad? Really? Um…”

Something is off. What happened? She looks more like an imposter than anything else. But if she is, where did the real cashier go?

“Don’t worry.” She says, her voice oddly chipper and no longer confused by your awkwardness. “It’s fine. I’m quitting anyway, so it’ll be my boss’ problem.”

You turn your head. “Really?”

She nods. Something is off.

“Like really?”

You blink multiple times and you don’t think she does. She just stands there. Slowly, she nods. Something tells you to run yet again.

“Um… um… okay. Okay. I’ll just pay and leave. How much does it come up to?”

She shakes her head.

“Um. I have to pay. It’s thievery if I don’t.” You get closer. “It’s the law.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can’t just not pay.” You say, taking out your wallet from your sweater pocket. “That’s stealing. It’s wrong.”

Every action she takes is measured and precise, and she seems to move like a machine rather than a person. It’s as if she’s been programmed to act and talk in a certain way, and she doesn’t seem to have the ability to break out of that. She simply stares at you, not speaking.

Run.

You undo the metallic button, hearing the shuffling of paper Jenny within your wallet. “Um. Let me pay. Please.”

She simply shakes her head again.

“It’s fine.” The employee says, the smile still plastered on her face. There is quite more than a hint of blankness and detachment in her expression. She speaks in a mechanical and emotionless manner, her words delivered as though repeated from a script of carefully chosen sentences. Her movements are quick and precise, putting your chosen items in a plastic bag. There is no life or energy in her actions, instead, she moves like a mindless machine, performing her tasks before her without showing any personality of her own. Is it better to just accept it?

What should you do? What shouldn’t you do? Is she joking? Should you leave?

What would Rose do?

One of her hands grasps onto the plastic handles and she holds it out before you. There is no authenticity or warmth. Her eyes are blank. What happened? Should you ask? Should you just take the bag without saying anything further?

“Okay,” You murmur, obeying her silent command. “I hope you don’t get into any trouble though.”

*~*~*~*

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Did you find anything?

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Feitan found her heels nearby along with some blood, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.

You (9th May 1996 17:45)

Nothing yet

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

Try checking the stores nearby.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

From the blood trail, she is most likely injured from running and trying to fix herself up in some sort of shelter.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:48)

She may have also discarded the rest of her clothes, not just the heels, and is currently wearing something else.

You (9th May 1996 18:15)

I found a dress and jewelry at the bottom of a lake

You (9th May 1996 18:18)

(image sent)

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

That’s it.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

Disappointing. I’ll send over Pakunoda to ask people nearby.

You (9th May 1996 18:20)

K

You (9th May 1996 18:21)

Don’t cry, I’m sure we’ll find her soon :) 

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I wasn’t crying.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I just thought she came around already.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:23)

This will set our heists back weeks.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:24)

She has planned this out for more than a year, it seems.

*~*~*~*

Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. You can’t hear anything else. The sounds sting your ears like an aggravated hornet. 

The darkness around you is solid, more so than the cracked, aged concrete path beneath your shoes. There is a tiny light in the distance; a streetlamp.

Silence.

“...”

“Have a good day!”

“...Thank you.”

Let there be light.

“Um…” You can’t see anything. The sounds… stopped. “...Time to go home.”

But the pain stays. 

It feels like a drill. 

It hurts.

“...” You feel deaf and blind. No, maybe something even worse. “...”

You turn around, to the dark convenience store, and you see the cashier still staring at you. “Have a good day!”

“...”

“[First]?”

…How does she know your name? Did you say it to her in the past?

When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

“[First], dear.” She starts waving as you look at her. “[First]. [First]. [First]. [First]. [First]!”

There is nothing but emptiness. Is your name all she can say? What happened to her? It is like she has regressed. Like a storm cloud in summer, you do not wish for this pain. Now you feel deaf and blind and mute now. 

You almost wish that you were dead. All there is is pain. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Interruption. The sounds returned. Is this good? Is this bad? Does it matter at all? 

You walk. You don’t speak. Only walk. You can’t breathe. You can only move. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. 

Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

A hand clamps over your mouth.

You drop the plastic bag from shock, and then you finally hear something other than those sounds; glass shattering.

“Sh…” A voice, calm, along with the smell of oranges. “It’s okay.”

“...!”

“Don’t scream.”

The touch of lips, a man’s lips, on your ear, thin and hard. 

“Breathe. Just breathe for me, okay?”

But you can’t. The wind goes down your throat. It is suffocating. You can’t breathe. You smell oranges and something rotting, blood.

It stinks. It fucking stinks.

Christ. Get away. That stink. That fucking stink. Your body rejects it by continuing to not breathe.

“Sh… Breathe. Just breathe, for me, for you, for us.”

“...St… Sto-”

“Sh…” The voice is sweet, not at all sour, like candy. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Just breathe. You’re going to pass out.” The lips and the scent of his breath are like salted leather in a butcher’s shop, stinky and rotting. “Calm down. Don’t worry.”

“...Sto… Si-”

“Breathe. Sh… It’s okay. Breathe.”

“...Ge… Sti…”

“Sh… Breathe. Breathe, [First]. Breathe. [First]. Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. Don’t worry about all this. Breathe.”

When you finally do, you gasp, desperate. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

Get off of me, I can smell you. 

“There we go!”

Your vision clears up a bit. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

“Just keep breathing.”

“...Huff…”

You can smell him. You can practically taste him, with his mouth so close to you.

“Whew! That was a close one!” The man exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

Pain. Get off of me. I can smell you, I can hear you, I can taste you. Get off of me. Please.

The pain still stays, in your chest and your ears, and your head. Oranges. Blood.

Get off of me.

Please–

A pain in the back of your neck and you go limp.

Darkness. Then pain again. You can’t move. You can only breathe. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

*~*~*~*

SAINTSHORE SPACE THEATRE

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF RANDOLF URASLEF, GRETEL JAMES, AND QUINCEY J. ORATICE

PAUL DONSHEL CELESTE BAKER   ANNE CROAKS

AND

THE GREAT COMET THEATRE COMPANY

SWAN LAKE

ADAPTED BY MUSIC WRITTEN BY PYOTR ILLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

INSPIRED BY THE CHOREOGRAPHY OF JULIUS REISINGER

WITH THE WONDERFUL CAST OF

(IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)

Odette, the White Swan………………………………………………………….JEAN YVETTE

Odile, the Black Swan……………………………………………………………...JUNO LILOU

Prince Siegfried……………………………………………………………(the name is illegible.)

The rest of the list’s names cannot be read just like Prince Siegfried.

“She is simply beautiful. Just so beautiful. Simply wonderful, perfect.”

As the spotlights ignite, their scorching beams engulf you, causing you to shield your eyes with futile resistance. The sheer force of the light overwhelms your feeble defense. An ethereal audience erupts with exuberant cheers, applause, and whistles, resonating from vacant seats. Champagne flutes collide, men erupt with hearty laughter from their very core, and women unleash piercing screams akin to banshees.

The temperature rises and the noise intensifies, repeatedly, enveloping you in a symphony of overwhelming sensations.

Onlookers casually share their thoughts.

“Get off the stage, we want to see the play, not some stagehand!”

“Boo!”

“Fuck off!”

You run off crying.

“Where is that Odile girl?”

You run into a dressing room. One used by a woman wearing a black dress. She is so pretty. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls off her bare shoulders, clearly just done with a flat iron. There is a burning smell in the air. Smoke. When her gold eyes meet yours, she marches towards you and slams the door shut.

You can almost hear sobbing coming from the other side. Cries.

“So lonely…” The woman mutters. “When will it ever be enough?”

The voice sounds familiar. Her eyes. Her hair.

Nostalgia. Memories you would much rather forget. The basement. The imaginary ripping of clothes and tears and men’s laughter.

“I can’t do this much longer…”

Someone else knocks on her door. You want to scream.

“Come out, dearest.”

The devil. Tall with curved horns and a forked tongue. You want to warn her. 

You want to save her. “I’m not going to harm you, I am going to make you happy.”

You are so focused on whether the woman opens the door or not that you do not notice what happens next until it is too late. A clawed hand on your mouth. A tongue licking your ear. Tasting your sweat. Your tears. Laughter. The rest of the world disappears, and the only one there aside from you is the one behind you.

Sh… Sh… Sh… Sh… Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Get off of me. Please.

“Breathe. It makes things more fun for me.” The voice echoed like you two are in a cave.

You gasp for air, and the smell of blood and oranges fills your nostrils.

“...Huff…”

“That’s better.”

You turn around. There is a body of a man. 

But the scaled, furred, horrifying face of a demon.

“Good.” He says, smiling his sharp teeth. “Deep breaths, in and out, come on.”

You do what he says. He praises you again, you think. But you can’t hear it. Either that or you simply do not pay attention to it. What happened to the woman? 

“...”

“We should go.”

The woman. The devil, this other… thing.

“...Rose…”

The demon laughs.

“Wake up.”

*~*~*~*

The first things you hear come from a happy man’s voice. “My boss’ girlfriend ran away more than a year ago you see, and he’s been heartbroken ever since. I want to prevent that kind of loss from happening to me. Real pretty one, too! He didn’t expect it, but I don’t blame her. After all, she’s been held captive for more than a year, she had to try to escape eventually.”

…The first thing you feel is lace on your neck. A collar.

It does not tickle or hurt. It itches. 

A cold hand plays with it, and it almost chokes you. At your discomfort, the man laughs.

“You are so cute.”

Something metal is on the collar, and it blinks a small red light.

[yoongiseesawmp3]

cherry wine - seungcheol

summary: country boy!cheol. a small country town, a kind man with loving eyes, and a beautiful woman who carries around all her memories in a notebook. you're in love with cheol even if you can't admit it, and he has something he so desperately wants to tell you. but you both stay quiet, thinking that's what's best. you have no idea how wrong you are.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: vague mentions of a car accident/memory loss, afab reader, ummm the end made me cry? so.

masterlist

it's tuesday. tuesday is the day your yard guy comes by. his name is seungcheol, but he likes to be called cheol. he's got coffee brown eyes and a sweet smile, and he talks about his fiancée so much it's almost annoying.

you have to remind yourself of these little facts about everyone in your life. you have to remind yourself of these little facts about your own life. you have a little yellow notebook you keep all your information in, and you leaf through it several times a day hoping it will jog your memory. the sticker of a honey bee on the front is already worn down from hours of you stroking it soothingly as you try to memorize the contents. you're reading through it now, reminding yourself that you and cheol have known each other for years. you went to school together, and you remember being little kids running around your house with him and some of the other neighbors.

the sound of cheol's truck driving down your gravel driveway pulls your attention from your little yellow notebook, and you head to the porch to wave to him like you do every tuesday. he waves back, hopping out of his truck with a happy smile on his face. he's early today, so you assume the joy in his eyes is residual from spending the morning with his beloved fiancée. you don't know much right now, but you do know one thing: you hate this woman.

whoever she is, whatever she does, you hate her. hate the way she makes cheol feel. hate the way he seems so thrilled to talk about her, to share stories of her so openly with this hopeful look in his eyes. you know that look. it's the same look your sister had before she got married, like she had the rest of her life ahead of her. cheol has that same look in his eyes today, and it makes your chest ache because you feel like you're running behind.

ever since your accident, you've felt that way a lot. you're behind in your recovery. you're behind on bills, the envelopes from the hospital piling up on your kitchen table. you're behind in life, this stupid injury leaving you with a life you need to rebuild and no idea how to do it.

after you wave to cheol, you shuffle back inside, the distant sounds of him pulling his lawn equipment from the bed of the truck soothing somehow. you like keeping a window open while he works, even though he scolds you for it. he tells you that you're letting in pollen and grass and dust, but you don't mind. you like the slow hum, and the smell of freshly cut grass has always made you feel at home. you wonder which cheol would prefer today, lemonade, sweet tea, or just plain water, and you head back to the porch to catch him before he cranks up the lawnmower.

he stops when he sees you waving for him, your hair blowing into your face at the last minute with a strong morning breeze. you're glad cheol came early today. it's gonna be a hot one, so hopefully he can finish up with your lawn quickly before the sun gets to be too much. he takes a few steps closer to your porch to hear you clearly, and he admires the way a soft southern accent adds a lilt to your words as you ask, "water, lemonade, or ice tea?"

"water today," he tells you. "extra ice."

"you got it," you nod. "it'll be on the kitchen table, just knock before you come in. i've got some cupcakes for you too, make sure you stop by on your way home so you can take them to that fiancée of yours."

"sure thing," he smiles back at you, the smallest pang in his chest at your words. he shakes it off quickly, the first drop of sweat trickling down his back sending him into motion. he gets to work, going over your yard once with the lawnmower before moving on to the weedeater. your house is one of his easiest stops, not just because he's been doing work for you and your family for years, but because it's so compact. easy to mow, so uniform when it's done. he always admires his finished work, standing by his truck when he's done and doing a once over to make sure he got everything. more often than not he catches you staring at him through your open window, and when he turns to the house to come claim his drink of the day he smiles to himself knowing you saw him catch you.

he packs up his equipment and then does the final part of his routine here. he stops by the sunflower patch just outside your bedroom window, and he picks the brightest flowers to bring inside and refresh the vase you keep by the door. it was something he did for your mom when he first started his business, and she just loved it. he knows you do too, so he hums a happy little song as he brushes his hands over the sunflowers, deciding on the best.

as promised, he knocks before entering, taking in a deep breath as he pushes through the screen door to the welcoming honeysuckle scent of your home. this is where you grew up, inheriting your parent's place once they became too old to care for it anymore. they're not far from you, and cheol is surprised he doesn't find your mom in the kitchen with you for once. after changing out the flowers by your door, he comes into the kitchen. he smiles and mumbles his thanks as he reaches for the frosty glass of water, taking a look around before commenting, "you've painted in here?"

"yeah," you confirm, following his gaze around the kitchen as you both stare at the newly yellow walls. "dad kept suggesting it, and we found this color the other day when i took him to the store for chicken wire."

"i can't believe your dad still keeps chickens at his age," cheol laughs, and you join him.

"believe me, it's fun to watch," you giggle, the sound like the tinkling of your wind chimes by the back door. "but i don't think that man will ever stop working on his little projects. he's going to keep farming or building or painting until his body gives out."

"i hope i'm in that good of shape when i'm his age," cheol says, and you smile. not wanting to keep him from his other jobs, you perk up when you remember the cupcakes.

"here, before you go," you say, and cheol takes one final gulp of water knowing this is you telling him to leave, "i put the cupcakes in an old cooler, so don't worry about bringing it back. i just hope they don't melt in the heat today."

"thanks y/n," he says graciously, taking the small cooler from your warm hands. "i really appreciate it."

"let me know if you like them," you demand as you see him out. "tried a new recipe, so."

"i bet they're perfect, as always," cheol compliments, and you hate the way it makes your cheeks splotchy with a girlish blush. you say your goodbyes, and you close the door behind him with your heart beating quickly in your chest.

yeah, you really hate his fiancée.

-

cheol comes back to return the cooler the next day, even though you told him not to. you were in the middle of a meaningless task for work when you heard that familiar sound of his truck in your driveway, and for a split second you have a flashback to this exact moment. you, at your desk in your office, somehow expecting the sound of cheol's truck outside. you shake it off, sure that it's just one of those phantom memories your doctor told you about. or it could be a memory of any other tuesday, who knows. what you know now is that cheol is knocking at your front door, hand pressed to the speckled glass and eyes peering into your home. he smiles when he sees a flash of your hair, then the smile widens as you open the door with a confused look on your face.

"what are you doing?"

"came to return this to you, miss," he says in an overly polite tone that you hate yourself for giggling at. he motions to your house and you welcome him in, watching him move through your living room to your kitchen like he's done it hundreds of times before. you follow him, leaving the door open to let in the almost autumn breeze. he's standing by your fridge, carefully taking something out of the cooler with his tongue poked between his lips in concentration. "where should i put this? can you open the fridge?"

"what is it?" you ask cautiously, knowing whatever is in there was most likely made by her. you don't want it in your house, but you can't let cheol know that. you have to be polite, so you rush to help him, opening the fridge as you take a look at the container.

"it's banana pudding," he replies. "i seem to remember this is somebody's favorite dessert."

"you get your information from a reliable source," you tell him, taking the container from his hands completely. screw it, even if his angel fiancée made this you could at least give it a taste. you can't resist banana pudding, after all. "so did you like the cupcakes?"

"did i?" he laughs, rinsing his hands at your sink. he notices there's no towel on the rack, yet somehow he knows where you keep the fresh ones, reaching into the nearby drawer to grab a fall themed cloth to dry his hands. weird, you think, but not weird enough for you to comment on it. he goes on, saying, "it's a good thing i do manual labor for work, or i'd have to move in at the gym to get rid of the mess all your sweet treats seem to put me in."

"oh please," you scoff. "you'd be fine either way." he would, you think. he's so muscly, naturally strong but toned from years of hard work. his thick arms and broad chest make you wonder what it feels like to be held by him, your head resting just above his heart as you fall asleep...

"good to know," he says softly, pulling your mind from that strange place of deja vu you seem to keep traveling to. he watches you, unsure of what to say next, and you worry that you've made him uncomfortable. thankfully, he changes the subject, motioning to the dish in front of you to ask, "you're not gonna try any?"

"oh, um, well i was," you start off, and he watches you like he's hanging on to every word. "but i was going to wait until you leave. i don't need you to see me eating this straight from the dish you brought it in."

"be my guest," he smirks, again so seemingly comfortable in your kitchen as he reaches into the correct drawer to retrieve two spoons. he hands you one and he looks at you for permission before taking a scoop out of the corner closest to him. he hums at the taste, one eye on you as you do the same. he sees the recognition cross your features and waits.

suddenly, you don't want to eat this banana pudding. it's making you sick, the taste so familiar to you it has your stomach turning. this is your mom's recipe, you'd know it even if you closed your eyes and plugged your nose. what is cheol doing with your family recipe? better yet, what is his fiancée doing with your recipe? does she not have her own family she can mooch off of, she has to come to yours instead? cheol watches these conflicted emotions cross your face, and he calls your name quietly. again, to save face and be polite, you look up with a forced smile and nod, assuring him that it's delicious.

"so good," you lie. "my compliments to your fiancée."

"oh, sure," he nods stiffly. the mood has changed, it's gone from comfortable to awkward, and you watch cheol quickly clean up after himself so he can leave.

"really, thank her for me," you say as cheol dries his hands on his pants while he walks back to the front door. "and thank you for bringing the cooler back, you didn't have to."

"it was nice coming by for a visit," he says quietly, a sort of sad look in his eyes.

"i hope this wasn't out of your way," you tell him, and he shrugs.

"i like your company."

"oh," you whisper. cheol lets out a low whistle as he pats his pockets for his keys, and then his hand is on the door. "um, cheol?"

"yeah?" he asks, turning around quickly to find you worrying the bracelet around your wrist. a gold chain with a single charm: a little honey bee. his eyes flick from the bracelet back to your face as you continue.

"um, where'd your fiancée get that recipe for the pudding?"

"it's a family recipe," he replies. "she got it from her mom."

"that's nice," you nod, looking at cheol and not wanting him to leave. "well, thanks again. see you next tuesday."

"next tuesday," he nods, closing the door behind him and letting out a deep breath as he walks to his car.

-

your mom is reading in her garden when she sees cheol's truck coming down the driveway. even the sound of the engine is tired, so when cheol emerges with a worn look on his face she sighs knowing that his visit today didn't do the trick.

"how did it go?" she calls as cheol gets out of his truck. he shrugs and walks toward her with something in his hand. when he's close enough your mom realizes it's sunflowers from your house.

"i think it just upset her," cheol says sadly, and your mom's heart constricts. he hands her the flowers anyway, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her cheek in greeting. "it was a good idea though."

"aw, sugar, i'm sorry," she sighs, returning the kiss on cheol's opposite cheek. "i'll stop interfering, i'm afraid it always makes things worse."

"no ma'am," he shakes his head. "if you think of anything that can get her to remember me i need to try it. i want my girl back."

"we'll get her there," your mom reassures him. "i'm not due for any yard work, so did you come over just to give me these flowers?"

"no, i'm being a little selfish," cheol says as he shuffles his feet in the pebbled path. he keeps staring at the rocks he's pushing around as he says, "i don't have any other jobs today, but i don't want to go back home yet." he looks up at your mom then, lopsided smile on his face. "i miss her so much. figured seeing you and dad would make me feel better."

"bless your heart," your mom coos, patting cheol's cheek. "dad's out in the shed if you want to go do something manly."

"yes ma'am," he nods happily before loping off to the backyard.

when you and cheol first started dating, your parents were your biggest cheerleaders. they've loved cheol like their own since you were kids, so when you two became a couple it's like fate was taking its course. he took care of you, protected you, and worked hard to give you the life you deserved. you looked out for each other, your love so sweet it could rot the teeth of anyone watching. it broke your parents' hearts almost as much as cheol's to watch you forget him.

at first you didn't recognize him after the accident, asking who he was in the hospital and nodding in understanding when he answered. then one day you called your mom in a panic that there was a man in your house. it was cheol getting ready for work, but you sounded so scared everyone thought it was best for cheol to head back to his parent's for a little while. the doctor said this was normal, that it was best to be patient and wait for you to come around.

it's been weeks since that happened, and cheol is getting tired of it. your mom is tired of it too, sick of this limbo she knows you're in. that's why she suggests little things, like sending cheol over to you for yard work, house work, and sometimes just to jog your memory. that's what the banana pudding was for, but she's got a lump in her throat ever since cheol said it made you upset. she'll keep thinking of ways for him to stop by and check on you, and hopefully one day soon it'll all click.

-

since the accident, you haven't had to go into the office much. they've been really flexible with you, helping you get set up with a home office and transitioning a lot of meetings to virtual so you can be there. every once in a while you do have to go in, and usually your parents are able to take you. today though, your boss asked you to come in last minute and you don't want to bother anyone with this. it is a tuesday, which means you won't get your weekly cheol visit. oh well, right?

except you're running late, an old habit your memory problems have not interfered with. you're on your way out the door when cheol pulls up, and he looks happy to see you. it makes your heart flutter, but you can't get distracted now. you wave to him like always but continue on your way to your car parked under the big oak tree next to your house. you're busy balancing everything into one hand so you can unlock the door, so you don't see cheol rushing up behind you.

"hey y/n!" he calls, a nervous lilt in his voice. "whatcha doin?"

"hey cheol," you greet him politely. "sorry, i'm running late for work. i owe you two drinks next week."

"you're driving there?" he asks, hoping he sounds casual and that you can't tell his heart is racing. the last time you drove was the day of the accident, so understandably the idea of you behind the wheel distresses him.

"yeah, figured it was time to start getting back to normal," you say as you turn to fully face cheol. he looks concerned. "why, what's up?"

"um, nothing," he replies, looking between you and his truck.

"really cheol," you push. "i know you. you look worried. what's wrong?"

"let me drive you," he says, and before you can even protest he adds, "it's not an offer, y/n. i'm driving you."

"no, cheol, that's too much to ask-"

"stop it," he shakes his head. "your yard doesn't need work today anyway. consider this my job for the morning."

"fine, but next week i owe you two drinks and a meal."

"sounds perfect," cheol smiles at you, grabbing your work bag so you can carry your coffee. he leads the way to his truck, opening the door for you with a flourish. you can't help but giggle, an extra pep in cheol's step as he crosses to the driver's seat. once you're both settled, cheol hands you his phone to put in the directions and you notice his homescreen. it's a picture of his hand holding one slightly smaller with the most beautiful engagement band on the ring finger.

"pretty," you acknowledge, and cheol smiles awkwardly. "she must love it."

"yeah," he nods curtly. "it was her grandmother's, so it means a lot for her to have it. meant a lot for me to propose with it, i think it was a sign that the family really accepted me as one of their own."

"that's sweet," you nod back, handing him his phone with your work address pulled up. "um, quick question though, if you're taking me to work, how am i supposed to get home?"

"i'll come get you," he shrugs. you watch him curiously as he looks back to reverse, and you admire his jawline long enough that he catches you staring. "what?"

"nothing, i just...won't your fiancée mind?" you ask. "i can just call my mom-"

"i can pick you up," cheol repeats, holding your gaze for maybe a moment too long. you look away with a blush, and you two sit in silence for a while as cheol follows the directions on his phone. you get a couple miles down the street before he says, "you can play the radio if you want. or a cd, i've got some in the glovebox. whatever you want."

"ooo, i wanna know what you listen to," you decide, leaning forward to dig through cheol's measly cd collection. you only crack a few jokes, overall pleased with his choices, until you come across one of your favorite cds. "oh my god."

"what?" cheol asks with concern in his voice. he looks over to find you staring at him, mouth agape, and he laughs. "what?"

"this is my favorite cd," you tell him, and he hums. "no, cheol, this is my favorite cd. and my copy of it has been missing. are you stealing from me?"

"no," he laughs again, keeping one hand on the wheel as he grabs the case from you to put the cd in. "this is, um, this is my fiancée's favorite album, so i keep a copy of it in here for her."

"she has good taste," you tease, turning the volume up. cheol hands the case back to you, and you stop. you joked about him stealing from you, but now you think he's lying. the back of the case is cracked and taped back over, and you have a vivid memory of stepping on this very cd and freaking out thinking you'd snapped the disc in two. you shake it off though, wondering if somehow you'd lent cheol your copy of it. anyway, cheol singing along to one of your favorite songs distracts you. he's trying to hide a smile as he sings, glancing at you to make sure you're joining him. he even starts beating his fingers in time on the steering wheel, and you think going in to work every day wouldn't be so bad if this is how you got there.

-

while you're at work, there's an awful rainstorm. the parking lot at your office floods a little it's so bad, and cheol calls to check in with you halfway through the day.

"hello?" you whisper, trying to keep your voice low to not disturb your coworkers.

"what's wrong?" cheol whispers back, and you laugh.

"nothing? you called me, what's wrong with you?"

"no, why are you whispering?" he clarifies with a chuckle. "they holding you hostage at this job of yours?"

"no, i might actually get to leave early," you tell him. "the storms are so bad my boss wants us all to head home during the lull in the forecast soon."

"how soon?" he asks. "i can leave now and be there when you're ready-"

"no, cheol, i'm not letting you drive in this rain," you cut him off, and even though you can't see him you imagine him shaking his head, which is exactly what he's doing. "one of my coworkers offered to drive me, she lives pretty close-"

"y/n, no way," cheol cuts you off this time. memories of your accident flash through his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. he's not letting anyone except himself drive you in these conditions. "no. i'm coming to get you. just tell me when you're almost done and i'll head that way."

"fine," you sigh. "i'll text you, but it'll be about two hours."

"i'll be there," he says, and you can tell he's smiling. you let your cheeks warm and heart pick up speed knowing he cares for you so much. you hang up with a giddy feeling in your chest and your eyes glued to the clock until it's time to leave.

-

a man of his word, cheol is waiting for you when you get off work. despite the rain, he runs out of his truck with an umbrella to meet you at the door and walk you to the passenger side. in the chaos of the pouring rain you miss the happy stares from your coworkers.

"all good?" cheol calls over the pitter patter once you're seated in the truck, and when you nod he closes the door for you before rushing to the driver's side. "this rain is awful."

"yeah, and nobody knows how to drive in the rain," you commiserate. you don't see the way cheol's hands tighten around the steering wheel, and you can't notice the way his heart speeds with nerves as he carefully drives you home. a ways down the road you chuckle at him, his eyes never straying from the road but a curious raise of his eyebrows prompting you to say, "you're being so careful, cheol. you can drive a little faster, i'm sure you wanna get home to your girl."

"i'm in no rush," he mumbles, intense focus never wavering. it's a longer, quieter ride than this morning, but you enjoy it nonetheless. cheol looks so handsome when he drives, and the way he's so focused makes him clench his jaw in a way that makes your stomach flip. you take turns stealing glances at each other, never once catching the other's eye. cheol looking to make sure you're alright, you committing the slope of his nose, the plump of his lips, every single eyelash, all to memory.

finally, you make it back to your house. thankfully, the rain let up at the end, but cheol lets out a low whistle when he sees the state of your yard after all the rain and wind.

"good lord," you mumble yourself, getting out of the truck to land directly in a puddle of mud. you whine loudly, cheol rushing to your side and trying to hide a smile when he sees your predicament.

"oops," he teases, and you reach for him to help steady you.

"these are brand new shoes," you grumble, stepping out carefully so you don't lose them to the mud. with your hands in cheol's you look around at your yard and sigh. "the storm did a number on me, didn't it?"

"sure did," cheol nods solemnly. "guess i'll have to stop by tomorrow to check on everything. i'll pick up some of these branches too."

"you have time for that?" you ask him, and he nods.

"always have time for my favorite customer," he smiles, squeezing your hands as he says, "now let's get you inside and wash those shoes off."

cheol leaves you on the porch to rinse everything off with the hose, ducking inside to bring you a towel. you forget to tell him where you keep the bath towels, but he comes out with a clean one anyway. you take it graciously, drying yourself as you look sadly at your shoes.

"i'm afraid they might be ruined," you pout, and cheol picks one up to inspect it.

"nope," he shakes his head. "they just need to dry and then maybe get a shine and you'll be alright."

"you think?" you ask, assessing them yourself. you shrug and decide it's a problem to deal with later, because you catch the time on your phone and gasp. "oh my god, it's past dinnertime. cheol, i'm sorry i kept you so long!"

"don't worry about it," he shakes his head, deciding then to test the waters a little more. "i'm, uh, i'm flying solo tonight, so all you're doing is keeping me from an empty house."

"oh, really?" you ask, and he nods. you can tell something changed in the way he's looking at you, but you don't want to pry.

"yep, it's just me and my books tonight."

"what have you been reading lately?" you ask him as you gather your things to head inside. he holds the screen door open for you, following you inside like a lost puppy, eyes big and adoring. "the doctor told me i should try reading again soon, said it might help with my focus and retention or something."

cheol has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying, yeah i remember that, but he's able to hum in agreement and explain the plot of the book he's reading instead. it's one of your books, a story he remembers you talking about for months after you read it. he keeps talking as you flit around your house, his eyes never leaving you as he speaks. cheol finishes once you've put all your things away, and now you both stand awkwardly in the living room.

"well, if it ends up being good you'll have to bring it to me," you tell him, and he nods sadly, if that's possible. he sucks a breath in and pats his legs, his usual sign that he's about to go. something inside you tells you not to let him leave, so as he turns, a goodbye on his lips, you call out, "cheol, wait!" he whips around, heart in his throat as he waits for you to say what he's wanted to hear for so long. "don't go, stay."

"st-stay?" he stutters out, and you nod.

"yes, please stay for dinner," you continue, and cheol visibly relaxes. he doesn't know how he'll react when you finally remember him, but every glimmer of hope you've given him always makes him tense up just to be let down. he smiles regardless, replying, "i'd be happy to."

you figure having cheol for dinner will be thanks enough for his help today, but he's proving to be a bothersome guest. well, it's not a bother, really. he just keeps trying to help, offering to chop for you, to clean the chicken, to do anything you might let him. you try bumping him out of the way with your hip, but he just bumps you back. he won't leave your side, and you don't mind per se. there's just something nagging at the back of your mind, and it won't let you enjoy this moment fully.

you try shaking it off anyway, holding a spoon out for cheol as you ask him to taste. your heart skips a beat watching his lips wrap around the spoon, your hand below his chin to catch any drippings. his eyes flutter closed at the taste, and when you ask if it needs anything he assures you it's perfect.

"i love cooking for you," you tell him as you start turning everything off, getting ready to serve. "no matter what it is, you always make it seem like the most delicious thing you've ever had."

"because it always is?" he replies, and you roll your eyes.

"go sit at the table, i'll bring the food over."

"i'll get the drinks," he ignores you, opening the freezer to bring out an ice tray before finding two glasses. you smile at his choice, your favorite cups in his hands. one is printed with sunflowers, the other with a honey bee. they weren't made together, but they match somehow. you don't use them often, only bringing them out when your parents are over, because you don't like to separate them. cheol catches you smiling at him, and you're surprised to see him blush. he clears his throat as he asks, "um, sweet tea or...?"

"sweet tea," you confirm as you place some of the food on the table. cheol set it for you already, a plate for you at your mom's old spot and a place for cheol at your dad's. cheol brings the drinks over then, pulling your chair out for you as he says he'll bring over the rest of the food. you start dishing out food to him first, and he makes a precious sound when he sees the piles you've left for him.

"you think i eat like a caveman or something?" he jokes. "this is too much."

"too bad," you shrug. "you can take home what you don't eat," you tell him, but you both know he'll end up with a clean plate pretty soon. you eat in silence for a while, and it makes your heart hurt when you realize how nice this moment is. how nice it must be to share dinner with someone you love every night. you're pulled from your thoughts by cheol asking something, and you have to get him to repeat himself before it processes.

"what's that?" he asks again, nodding toward the chair at the end of the table. there's obviously a large bag sitting in it dauntingly, and you swallow hard before explaining to cheol what it is.

"it's, um, it's all the things i had with me in the crash. dad finally got it from the junkyard a couple weeks ago, but i haven't been able to go through it yet."

"that must be hard to think about," cheol says, and you nod.

"thankfully, i don't remember much from that day, but i do remember being scared," you say as you stare at the bag. "i guess i'm just afraid to look through everything because it might make me remember things i'd rather stay forgotten."

"um, i could help, if you ever decide, um, to go through it," cheol says carefully. "i could be here for moral support, you know."

"thanks, but i think i need to do that by myself," you smile at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand without thinking. you stare at your hand on top of his, eyes flitting nervously until you catch sight of his plate. you pull away and reach for it, asking, "guess you don't need to take anything to go, huh?"

"you were right, i did need all that food," cheol agrees. "chicken and dumplings is one of my main food groups, so i should've known i'd finish it all."

"i'll remember that," you nod as you take his plate with yours to the kitchen. "i'm sorry i don't have any dessert but i could make-"

"oh hush," cheol scolds. "you must be tired, don't even think about doing anything else." he stands and brings your cups over, taking one last sip out of the sunflower glass before he says, "i should really get going though. don't wanna get caught in the next storm."

"sure," you agree, hyperaware of how close cheol is to you. if you really wanted, you could reach out and brush his chin, bring his lips down to yours...

"so i'll be over around lunch tomorrow to check on your flowers and everything," he says and you nod while he adds, "and don't think you need to repay me with a cake, or a five star meal, or-"

"i get it, i get it," you laugh. "i'll have a glass of something cold ready for you though."

"looking forward to it," he smiles.

-

after cheol left, you thought it might be nice to read for a little bit with the sound of the rain in the background. before that though, you get out your little yellow notebook and jot down cheol's love for chicken and dumplings on one of the earliest pages in the book. you look over the information again, all of it seared into your memory. it was hard to read at first because you were unfamiliar with the handwriting, and you initially worried maybe yours had changed after the accident. then you remembered your mom encouraging you to use the notebook more, and you just assumed each page was started with her filling in the information. once you finish writing about cheol, doing this now more out of habit than anything else, you close the notebook and stroke your thumb over the worn honey bee sticker on the front. you eventually put it down and pick up your book, determined to read until your eyes get droopy.

you get comfortable on the couch, an old quilt made by some family member draped around you, the perfect reading condition. but you can't stop thinking about the bag with all of your things in it, waiting for you, staring at you from across the room. you try focusing one last time, but you end up huffing your way back into the kitchen to grab the bag and bring it back to your couch. with a few deep breaths, you carefully peer in, and you see a few bits and bobs that must have been loose in your car. old lip gloss, half used hand sanitizer. so far it's not too bad, just proving that you maybe need to be a tidier person going forward. there's a crumpled up t shirt that you lift to reveal a purse you recognize as yours, and you hold your breath as you lift it out. you clear everything else from around you, organized into piles of trash and things to keep. so far so good, you think.

the purse in your lap is another story, though. a quick look at it reminds you of the crash, trying to tug it free from deep within the wreckage to find your phone. the strap is broken because of that, some scratches to the leather too that show its history. all of the important things had been recovered when you were rushed to the hospital, your phone and wallet mostly the only items of concern. as you go through the purse, you unravel every receipt, every movie ticket, each one showing proof of two meals, two tickets to the same theatre, all things that confuse you at first. you could've gone with friends or family, so that's not too strange.

you keep digging, humming in confusion when you pull out a loyalty card to a men's hair salon. it's just down the road, past cheol's house, so maybe you went there a few times to save yourself a trip into town? who knows. you toss it into the trash pile, continuing on. next is a note, signed by cheol, saying something about the yard. he must have stuck it in your mailbox one day when you were gone, because it starts out "sorry i missed you..." the message itself isn't weird, it's the handwriting that catches you off guard. it's the same as the handwriting that started each page in your yellow notebook. but it couldn't be...could it?

you find loose coins, way too many empty gum packets, and discarded mints. your purse is almost empty now, most of its contents just trash that's accumulated on your coffee table. you hoist your purse over the pile, shaking it upside down to get out the last few stragglers. what falls out makes your blood run cold, the purse falling from your grasp to the floor below. you'd found a couple pieces of stray jewelry, so the ring that fell out shouldn't be a surprise. but it is. it's familiar in a way that makes you feel sick, a memory from earlier today crossing your mind.

why do you have cheol's fiancée's engagement ring?

you pick it up tentatively, afraid somehow the metal will burn your fingers, but it's just cold to the touch. you hold it carefully, letting it shine in the light as you stare at it, worried. you trace the diamonds, fingers catching on the gold detailing. you wonder briefly what it would look like if...no. you can't put it on. it's not your ring! and yet, when you slip it over your ring finger, hand extended in front of you to admire the way it gleams, your mind flashes back to dinner tonight, your hand on top of cheol's. that image in your mind looks awfully similar to cheol's lockscreen, the photo of his fiancée's hand in his, this ring on her finger.

with shaky hands, you reach for your phone and make a call. you need answers, and you need them now.

-

the next day, you're anxious as all get out waiting for cheol to come by at lunch. he promised he would, so you know not to expect him any earlier or any later. you can barely focus on your work, eyes constantly checking for a truck on the horizon and ears hyperfocused for any sound outside that could be cheol.

finally. finally, a little after one, you hear the familiar sound of cheol's truck rambling down your gravel drive. you can't help it, you don't want to wait. you rush to the front door and tear it open, bare feet hitting the stairs and then the ground fast and hard as you rush out to meet him.

cheol sees you running, a frantic look in your eyes, and he stops the car immediately, jumping out to see what's wrong. you reach him halfway up the drive, chest heaving, eyes sparkling, and something glinting on your hand in the sunlight. cheol stares at you, not able to stop and ask what's wrong because you crash into him, making him stumble back and bump into his truck. your arms wrap around him in a vice grip, like you'll never let him go. cheol is confused for a moment, but then he melts into your touch, tears shyly reaching the tips of his eyelashes as he realizes what's going on.

"cheollie," you whisper into his neck, and his heart bursts with joy. cheol squeezes you back just as hard, if not harder, lifting you up into his arms so your legs have to wrap around his waist. you nuzzle your face into his neck, the warmth of his skin feeling like home. you press your lips against his skin, whispering, "cheol. cheollie. my cheol."

"my honey bee," he whispers back, tears freely falling now as he pulls away to reach for your chin. he pulls your gaze up to his eyes, smiling so hard his face might split. "my girl. you're back."

"i never left," you reply, nudging his nose with yours.

"i missed you terribly."

"then come home," you tell him, and he crashes his lips into yours, the kiss a mess of tears and happy laughs and teeth.

cheol can't believe it. he's got his honey bee back, and you've finally got your sunflower.