#impulsively decide to run away with crow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kythed · 3 years

Text

“almost funny”

synopsis: suna rintarou thinks you’re out of his league, and you think he’s out of yours.

tagged: general dumbassery, fwb-to-lovers, some profanity, sexual references but nothing explicit.

commitment level: 5.6k words.

It’s almost funny, really. It’s funny how what started out as a purely physical transaction has now transformed into a one way ticket to Simpville with the name Suna Rintarou stamped on it in big red letters. Suna runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he stares down at your sleeping form, curled up in his SF Giants tee that fits you like an oversized nightgown. He loves how you look there, wearing his clothes, bed head resting on his pillows. It’s almost embarrassing how much he loves it. How much he might love you.

He doesn’t really remember when he started seeing you as more than a good fuck. Maybe it was that time you told him he looked pretty with your lipgloss smeared across his mouth.

“That’s a nice shade on you,” you’d laughed as he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “You should wear it more often.”

Then, before he could respond, you’d yanked him back in by the collar, licking into his mouth, deep and dirty. He shivers now even just thinking about it, recalling the taste of that lipgloss. Strawberry lemonade, the sort that comes in little bottles at the dollar store. However “pretty” he might’ve looked in that moment, he’s sure you looked a hundred times better. You always do, and you don’t even have to try. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even in your worst moments.

Or maybe it was the time you remembered his birthday when no one else did. January 25th; all his friends had taken off on their ski trips or tropical vacations, but you showed up to his apartment toting a cupcake and a single candle, belting a loud, out of tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ until he shut you up with an impulsive kiss on the lips. You’d been surprised, but not so surprised you couldn’t kiss him back. Suna’s pretty sure most friends-with-benefits don’t do that sort of thing. They don’t sit across from each other at the kitchen table, splitting a vanilla cupcake and laughing over matching frosting mustaches. They don’t hug each other goodbye after two hours of scrolling through YouTube and nothing else, content to linger in that air of tentative familiarity and pseudo-friendship.

Whatever the reason, whenever it happened, all Suna knows now is you’re more than just a fuck buddy. He doesn’t even want to associate the term with you — it feels disrespectful. He wishes he could just stop pretending. Stop pretending he doesn’t want you to be his.

“Hey.”

Suna grins at your low, throaty morning voice. It’s cute.

“Hey,” he responds, reaching forward to flick your shoulder. “You slept in.”

“Did I?” You blink the sleep from your eyes and squint at Suna’s bedside clock. 9:06. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

You fly out of bed, wiggling into your jeans and tossing your hair into a careless ponytail before frantically scanning the room. “Have you seen my sweater anywhere?”

Suna exhales through his nose before getting up and walking over to his closet. “I hung it up last night so it wouldn’t be wrinkled.”

You freeze in your tracks, slowly turning with a teasing grin plastered on your face. “Oh? How considerate of you.”

Suna shrugs, avoiding your gaze. He feels a flush rise to cheeks and desperately hopes it doesn’t show. “Just being polite.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a little crush on me,” you crow before taking the sweater from the hanger and slipping it over your head.

“You wish,” he snorts, but all he can think is you’re absolutely right.

You ignore him and begin shoveling all your things into your purse: a compact mirror, lipstick, house keys. You glance at the clock again. “I’m gonna be so late to this lecture. Damn. Maybe I can text Aiko and ask her to record the first part for me.”

Suna raises an eyebrow. He remembers your friend Aiko from a party last year, before you and he began your… arrangement. She’s outgoing, friendly, and probably the flakiest person he’s ever met. “She’s not gonna do that. Just let me drive.”

“No, it’s fine,” you automatically brush him off, heading into the bathroom to splash your face with lukewarm water. “You probably have your own shit to take care of.”

Yeah, you, he thinks, but instead he says, “Not really. Plus, you’ll probably miss the whole thing if you try to bike to campus. Let me take you in the car. I’ll strap the bike onto the back.”

You give him a look. “Are you sure, Rin?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he says, throwing on a shirt. “Outside in five, and I’ll have you there by 9:30, easy.”

After a few more weak protestations, you finally agree, and as he drives you to your university, he lets himself pretend you’re his girlfriend sitting there in the passenger seat. He turns on your favorite artist’s Spotify mix on the aux and smiles to himself when you hum along, watching the city fly past out the window. What he wouldn’t give for that reality, one where he can love you without all these restrictions, these tricky boundaries between friends and lovers. When you jump out of the car, calling a cheeky “I’ll text you!” over your shoulder, he pretends it’s an affectionate “I’ll see you for dinner tonight!” instead. He pretends that instead of rushing to get away from him and into the lecture hall, you kiss him on the forehead and squeeze his shoulder, reluctant to leave.

“Fuck me,” Suna says angrily before slamming his palm into the horn, scaring a few freshman walking to class. “And fuck you too!”

He’s not sure who “you” is. Maybe the universe.

No, Suna Rintarou doesn’t know why or how it happened, but he’s in too deep now. And he’s pretty damn sure you’ll never feel the same way.

You slide into your seat beside Aiko just as the guest lecturer pulls up his power point, breathing out a sigh of relief. Aiko shoots you a grin, waggling her eyebrows. Suna? she mouths, and you roll your eyes, nodding nonetheless. Aiko can hardly wait until after the lecture to start pestering you about it.

“So,” she says as you leave the auditorium together. “Did you tell him yet?”

“Tell him what?” You dig in your bag for your water bottle, groaning when you remember leaving it on the edge of Suna’s sink last night.

“Tell him that you’re in loooooove,” Aiko sings, nudging your shoulder.

You scoff. “Okay, first of all, I don’t love him.”

“But you like him,” Aiko persists, and you hold up a finger.

“And second of all, even if I did, I would never tell him.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes before realizing you hadn’t taken your makeup off and thus probably have awful raccoon eye bags. “He’s so out of my league it’s not even funny. It’s kind of pathetic for me to think he’d ever like me back.”

Aiko scoffs. “If anything, you’re out of his league. You could pull any guy you wanted to. And when I say any, I mean any. Like, I bet you could even get Jake Gyllenhaal.”

You laugh. “Why specifically Jake Gyllenhaal?”

Aiko shrugs. “Dunno. Just the first hot guy that came to mind. But forget him. My point is, Suna Rintarou is definitely yours for the taking. All you have to do is —”

“I know, I know,” you interrupt. “All I have to do is confess.”

“Exactly,” says Aiko. Before she can open her mouth again, you cut in.

“Okay, but listen, Aiko,” you say. “Suna’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let himself get attached. He fully admitted to me when we first hooked up that he’d never had a girlfriend. And that’s obviously not from lack of female interest. It’s because he doesn’t want one.”

“Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t found the right person yet.” Aiko starts heading towards the campus coffee shop, and you follow her.

“Sure,” you say, getting in line. The cafe is crowded with students getting in their daily caffeination, inhaling sugary lattes and bitter espressos just to stay awake through their next class. Ah… college. “Or maybe he just. Doesn’t. Want. One.”

Aiko keeps arguing all the way up until you reach the cash register, where you realize you haven’t even decided on what to order yet.

“Hey there,” says the cashier, smiling sunnily. “What can I get for ya?”

You blink. He’s attractive. Very attractive, actually. Bleach blonde, a crooked grin that screams trouble in the best sort of way. Miya, says the little name plate pinned to his shirt. “I, uhh…”

“Take your time,” he says leaning forward like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Between you and me, we have an excellent mocha latte. Not too sweet, y’know?”

You find your manners. “Oh, um, yeah. That sounds great, actually.”

“One mocha latte, then?” he asks, picking up a cup, and you nod. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of serving today?”

When you tell him your name, he smiles to himself and scrawls it on the cup. “Pretty.”

You flush and pay, hands shaking a little when you slide your card down the side of the machine. The cashier notices and shoots you a knowing look. Five minutes later, when you pick up your drink from the other side of the counter, you see not only your name written on the lid, but a phone number, too, along with a tiny winking face.

“What’d I tell you?” exclaims Aiko shrily when you leave the shop. “Any. Guy. Period.”

You shake your head in exasperation, but you can’t help but throw a final glance over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of the cute cashier one more time. Maybe Aiko does have a point.

That weekend, Suna’s stretched out on his couch, dangling his feet over the armrest and staring up at the ceiling. It’s one of those lazy Saturday afternoons, and usually he’d be enjoying his alone time. Not today, though. Today there’s something — someone — on his mind, and that someone is spelled y-o-u. His phone pings, and he snatches it up with embarrassing speed, groaning when he sees it’s just Atsumu.

“Bastard,” he mutters, not even bothering to open the message. Probably just asking for the O-chem lab answers.

Suna rolls over onto his stomach, pulling up your contact name. What he really wants to do is see you, but how is he supposed to do that without sounding weirdly desperate? Hey, he types out. Wanna come over and watch a movie? He pauses for a moment before adding, Pizza’s on me.

He buries his face in his hands and deletes the text. That makes it sound like he’s asking you out. Well, that’s what he does want to do, but you can’t know that. He’s fairly certain if you knew how he felt about you, you’d freak out. Girls don’t like to be tied down, he reminds himself. Suna groans again, grabbing two fistfuls of hair in irritation.

“Why are women so complicated?” he says aloud, letting the words echo in his empty apartment. He takes a couple seconds to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and unlock his phone again, this time settling on a simple Come over. Short, sweet, and to the point. Well, not exactly. That makes it sound like all he wants to do is sleep together, when he’d really rather just… talk. Spend time with you.

“Oh, God,” he mutters. “I’m so done for.”

It takes what seems like forever for you to arrive, breathless from biking, hair slightly mussed. Suna grins, biting his lip. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. Even if all he can get is the sex, then he’s sure as hell going to appreciate it. You smell like lavender laundry detergent, he notices when you press yourself into him, fumbling to close the door behind you without breaking the kiss.

“Well, hello there,” you laugh when he finally breaks away and draws in a shaking breath. “Somebody’s eager.”

Suna rolls his eyes. “As if. You just took so long to get here.”

You cock an eyebrow. “You texted me like half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, and you’re half an hour too late.”

You snort and hurl a pillow from the sofa at him. He catches it and smiles, taking your wrist and drawing you in for another messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Sorry that I don’t have the power of teleportation,” you quip, laughing when he pulls you into the bedroom. Suna resolves to take his time with you today, undressing you carefully, trailing his lips down your sternum and collarbones, grinning to himself whenever you gasp. He almost catches himself saying “I love you” at one point as you cling to him, mumbling his name, but he placates himself with kissing you extra hard at the end instead, pulling you into his chest and falling back into the pillows.

Usually, you’d take a few minutes to lay in silence, tracing shapes in his skin, and he’d lean back with closed eyes, imagining what it would be like to be loved by you. Slow early morning kisses, skin on skin, whispering and giggling and everything cheesy he used to hate but now wishes he could experience with you. Today, though, you peel yourself off of him and grab your phone as soon as it buzzes, fingers flying in response to whoever had texted you.

“New boy toy?” he jokes, almost choking when you don’t immediately say no. Oh, shit. “You’re kidding.”

“Just a guy I met the other day,” you say casually. Suna stares, slack jawed. “Works at the coffee shop near the quad.”

“Coffee shop?” He furrows his brow. Doesn’t he know someone who works there? He internally scowls, digging into the back of his brain. Aran? Osamu?

“Mm,” you say, suppressing a smile as the nameless suitor sends another text. “His name’s Atsumu Miya.”

Suna’s heart nearly falls right out of his chest and cracks at his feet. “No.”

You look up, raising an eyebrow. “No?”

“Not him,” Suna says, forgetting himself, forgetting the nature of your relationship.

“I didn’t realize you were in charge of who I can and cannot be interested in,” you say bitingly.

Suna sits up. “I’m not. It’s just, Atsumu… he’s not your type.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah,” Suna says, thinking back on his days observing the Miya twins’ antics. “He’s not your kind of guy, trust me.”

“Pray tell then,” you say. Oh, fuck. You’re irritated. “Who exactly is my kind of guy?”

Me, he thinks. I’m your kind of guy. “I don’t know. Just trust me though, okay? Atsumu… he’s difficult.”

“Thanks, Suna,” you say, tone tinged with sarcasm. Suna cringes. You only ever call him by his surname when you’re upset with him. “But I think I can go out with whoever I want to go out with.”

“Fine.” The word tumbles out more harshly than he’d meant it to.

You stare at him in disbelief. “What, are you mad at me or something?”

Suna exhales heavily. “No, I’m not mad. It’s not like we’re dating or anything. I just wanted to give you a little guidance. As your friend.”

“As my friend?” you repeat. “My friend?”

Now it’s Suna's turn to be confused. “Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, Suna,” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, pulling your clothes on. “You tell me.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say here,” he says, watching as you struggle to pull your shorts back on. He knows what he wants to say. No, we’re not friends. We should be together. Isn’t it obvious?

You huff, grabbing your bag and the water bottle you’d left behind the other day. “You know, I don’t really know either. Forget I ever said anything. I guess I just thought…”

You trail off and shake your head, heading towards the door. Suna scrambles out of bed to follow you, pulling on his pants as he hops down the hall on one leg. “What’s that?”

“I said forget it,” you call over your shoulder, trying to slam the door, but Suna catches your wrist. As you stare up at him, he thinks he sees your lip quivering, eyes shining with half-formed tears. “Let me go.”

“I’m serious,” Suna says. “What did you think?”

You draw in a deep breath, and for a second, Suna thinks you’re about to say the words he’s always wanted you to say. Then you look away. “Let. Me. Go.”

Slowly, Suna releases you from his grasp, and you stumble backwards, wiping your eyes on your sleeve.

“Don’t call me.”

“Wait, no —”

“Don’t call me, Suna!” you say loudly, before turning on your heel and speed walking down the stairs.

Oh. Oh. Suna stares in shock at the place you were just standing on his doorstep. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

When he heads back inside, head empty but for the single thought, I’ve just lost the best thing that ever happened to me, he glances at his phone on the counter. In an instant, he’s opening up his messages, pulling up Atsumu’s.

Met a cute girl LOL. Gonna bring her to that party on Friday.

Then, in a separate bubble — Btw: chem answers?

“And then he called me his friend,” you say angrily, handing Aiko the box of Oreos. The two of you are sprawled on the floor of her dorm room. “Just like we were two bros who got together to play XBox every once in a while, instead of two people who had literally just banged.”

Aiko takes a cookie before handing them back to you. “Asshole.”

“I mean, I know technically we were ‘friends with benefits,’” you say, stuffing an Oreo in your mouth. “But I guess I thought we could be something more. I thought there was no way he could kiss me like that, look at me like that without feeling something. Guess I was wrong.”

“Screw him,” Aiko says. “You’ve got boys lined up around the block, and he thinks he can treat you like rubbish? Absolute bullshit.”

“I don’t have boys ‘lined up around the block,’” you remind her, smiling regardless. “Just one.”

“And that one is hella cute!” Aiko says. “You’re way too cool to pine over some guy who thinks you’ll just answer his every beck and call without even committing to a relationship.”

You sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… ack. I don’t know. Am I jumping to conclusions? He seemed like he wanted to talk to me more, but I kind of stormed off without saying anything.”

“Seems like he was pretty clear,” Aiko says with a shrug. “Your call, though. If I were you, I’d forget about him. Plus, you have Atsumu now. That’s a promising route.”

You smile down at the Oreos, thinking about the cheery bottle blonde. “Yeah… he invited me to a party this coming Friday.”

Aiko gives you a look and nudges your knee with her own. “You’d better wear that black dress.”

“You think?” you laugh, momentarily forgetting about Suna.

“Oh, definitely. Gotta look your best on the first date.”

“Right, and then after that I can just dress like a bum,” you joke. You purse your lips. “Rin might be there. Apparently he and Atsumu are pretty close.”

“Even better,” insists Aiko. “Make him suffer a little bit. He won’t like seeing you all dolled up on Atsumu Miya’s arm.��

“I’m not gonna try to make him jealous, Aiko,” you say, and Aiko shakes her head.

“No, I just think he needs to understand what he lost,” she says. “You don’t even have to pay attention to him at all, though. You should try and get to know Atsumu a little better.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, before reaching down for another cookie. “Oh. We’re out.”

“Gas station run?”

“Gas station run.”

When Friday rolls around, you’ve successfully managed to avoid thinking about Suna the entire day. You have a calculus exam in the morning, and then a club meeting in the afternoon, and by the time you get done with everything it’s already time to get ready to leave for the party. It’s across town at someone’s loft apartment, so Atsumu offers to give you a ride, rolling up in a shiny Lexus, a sharp contrast from Suna’s old Chevy.

“Hey,” he says, getting out to open the door for you. “You look great.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say. “Although, I might prefer the work uniform.”

“Oh, please,” Atsumu says with a grin. “That apron does nothing to flatter my figure.”

“Mhm.” The ride there is a slightly awkward one, but that’s normal, you tell yourself. You’ve gotten so used to the easy, teasing camaraderie you and Suna have that you’re rusty in regards to flirting. Atsumu has a different sense of humor, too, nothing like the dry sarcasm Suna’s such an expert in. You shake your head. Stop thinking about him.

Even sitting next to a new guy, you can’t help but run last weekend’s drama over in your head. The past few months have been a jumble of mixed signals, and last Saturday was no different. How he tenderly brushed your hair from your face as he hovered over you, how he pulled you into his arms afterwards … how he seemed almost jealous when you mentioned Atsumu. Was it really jealousy? Exactly how much does Suna Rintarou care for you? You roll the numbers inside your head, trying to quantify the soft touches and lingering stares. He’s not easy to read; trying to understand Suna is like trying to decipher Greek without ever taking a single class.

Even trying to get a measure on how much you care for him is difficult. You definitely like him as more than a friend. The only reason you agreed to the whole friends-with-benefits thing in the first place was because of a little crush that grew, that fed on that intimacy… but you’re not so sure now.

“Here we are,” says Atsumu, jolting you from your contemplation as he pulls up alongside the curb. When you climb out of the car, he takes you by the hand, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart trips over itself, and you smile back. “Let’s do this.”

Suna doesn’t show up to the party. He spends most of Friday busying himself at home, paying off a couple electricity bills, cleaning out the fridge. He even does a load of laundry. That’s how bored he is. By the time the clock strikes eight, he feels as though he’s Swiffered every single kitchen tile, folded every shirt, and wiped down every counter in the entire apartment, all to avoid stewing over you and him and all the ways he keeps messing up. But after doing everything on his to-do list and watching a movie and cooking his own dinner (unheard of!) he finds himself pacing around the living room, biting at his nails and thinking about you. More specifically, you and Atsumu. He hopes you’re not wearing that little dress you wore to the club with him a couple months ago. Not that you don’t look great in it — you do, and that’s the issue. The better you look, the more likely Suna will never get a chance to be with you again.

To be fair, he’s not entirely sure how much of a chance he’s ever had with you. You’re incredible, plain and simple. Gorgeous, intelligent, the best player two on every video game he’s ever played with you. You’re not especially adept at the games themselves; no, there’s just something about you. There’s always just been something about you he can’t seem to find anywhere else.

“Damn it,” Suna grunts aloud, flopping down on the couch. It’s nearing half past eleven now. He wonders what you’re doing. Dancing to some shitty music in some crowded living room. Sipping a can of cheap liquor. Letting Atsumu touch your waist, his hand dipping lower and lower until —

Suna buries his face in the couch cushion. He’s usually not one to let his imagination run away with him, but tonight seems to be one of many recent exceptions. If only there was a way to know where he stands with you, or at least where you stand with Atsumu…

Well, there is a way, actually. Almost of its own accord, his hand inches towards his phone, sliding it open and somehow finding its way into his Snapchat. Fingers shaking, Suna clicks on Osamu’s story. It’s dimly lit, a mass of bodies, loud, drunk guys and scantily clad girls. The music is too loud, even through the phone. Suna squints at the screen — there’s Aran, even Kita’s there, quietly sitting in the corner, but no sight of — Suna’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Because there you are, and you’re not alone. You’re sitting on Atsumu’s lap, but he can’t see your expression because Atsumu is kissing you sloppily, and — oh, God — it looks like you’re kissing him back.

And you’re wearing the fucking dress.

“Damn,” Osamu says in the background. “Looks like he’s getting some tonight.”

Suna throws his phone across the room like it’s a grenade, staring down at his empty hands in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Not to him. Not to you.

For the first time, Suna Rintarou thinks he understands what it really means to want someone. Not in a sexual way, but in the deepest sense of the word. Want. He wants you, and he’s pretty sure he’s never wanted anyone or anything quite so much in his life.

All of a sudden, before his brain even has a chance to catch up, Suna finds himself shrugging on a jacket and snatching his keys from the table, dashing out the door like he’s being chased. If he leaves now, he thinks, starting the car and nearly slamming the door on his foot, he can get to the party before you leave. And then, well, then he’s not quite sure what he’ll do, but he’ll do something.

Again, though, it seems as if the universe might be against him, because there’s an accident on the highway and it takes twice as long to get across town as it should. Suna cusses loudly over the incessant honking and chews on the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. When the traffic lets up and he finally pulls up to the apartment complex, parallel parking in a spot that’s probably illegal, he races up the stairs and into the loft, grabbing the first partygoer he sees. The poor kid’s plastered beyond belief and stares at Suna like he’s an extraterrestrial, eyes glassy.

“You see a girl leave here? ‘Bout this tall, probably left with some douchey looking blonde dude?”

The kid blinks, hard and slow, before nodding. “Yeah, man, you just missed her. That your chick or somethin’? Because she was sucking face with —”

Suna spins on his heel before the kid gets a chance to finish his sentence. He’s lucky Suna doesn’t deck him the head, he’s so irritated.

“Sucking face,” he mumbles, climbing back into the car. He has the route to your house memorized (although he’s not sure how), and he’s pretty sure he breaks about twenty traffic laws trying to get there, so it takes significantly less time to arrive, but to Suna, it feels like an eternity. How did he ever sleep soundly at night knowing other guys had a shot at you before this? He doesn’t know, and he hopes he never has to worry about it again. Not after tonight.

He gets there just as Atsumu’s pulling out of the driveway. Suna flashes him a mental middle finger and resolves to kick his ass later. No time for that right now. You’re still standing on the front porch, and when Suna stumbles out of the car, you turn towards him, mouth agape.

“Rin? What are you—”

“Give me a chance.” He’s breathless, eyes wide and hair whipping around his face in the cool breeze. His heartbeat pounds in his ears like it’s about to burst blood vessels.

“Huh?”

“Give me a chance,” he repeats, reaching forward to take your hand. Your palm is cold against his. “I can do so much better, I promise.”

You furrow your brows. “What in the world are you talking about, Rin?”

The dam breaks. The dam breaks, and everything — the longing, the frustration, everything — comes pouring out in a waterfall of rushing words he doesn’t even have time to think over before they splash at your feet.

“I can do so much better than Atsumu. He doesn’t know you. I know you, and I, well, I’ve liked you since forever, okay? I know your favorite color and your birthday and which Chinese place you like to get takeout from on Saturday nights.” Suna clears his throat. “I know that you like to be hugged from behind and that you hate it when people see you cry. I know so many things about you, and I want to know more.”

“Rin—”

He holds up a hand. “Just listen. I know we’re just fuck buddies, or friends with benefits, or whatever the hell you want to call it, but I want to change that. You mean so much more to me than the sex. God, even if we never slept together again, I would still love you.”

You stare at him. “Love?”

Suna swallows hard. “Yeah, fuck it. Love. I love you. Whatever that means to you, it means to me. I love your stupid jokes and your stupid laugh. To be honest, I’m so in love it feels like I’ll never love anyone else.”

He stops to take a deep breath and a shaky laugh. “Pathetic, right? I know it is. I can’t help it. I’m well aware that Atsumu is way more charming and outgoing, and I was probably wrong when I said he wasn’t your type… but I just need to know if I have even the smallest chance of winning you over.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then another one. You’re gazing at him, head cocked, and the seconds tick by. He still has your hand in his, growing warmer via body heat. Suna feels himself grow increasingly nervous at your expression, curious and almost apathetic — until a wide smile breaks across your face. You laugh, and he thinks it must be the best sound he’s ever heard.

“You weren’t wrong.”

“What?”

“He’s not my type,” you say. “We didn’t click.”

“But — I saw, uh — Osamu’s story,” Suna stammers. “Sucking face.”

“Sucking face?” You squint in confusion before chuckling again. “Ah. Yeah, I kissed him. It was part of some stupid game. He’s kind of bad at it.”

“Atsumu’s a bad kisser?”

“Well,” you say, drawing the word out. “I wouldn’t say bad. It’s just… you’re better.”

Suna’s silent for a second, letting the words ricochet around his brain. He’s better. He’s a better kisser. It was just a game. You’re not into Atsumu. “So… does that mean…?”

“I love you, too.” You smile, and it’s not like your usual cocky grin. It’s sweet and almost… shy.

“You love me, too?” Suna repeats in utter shock. He hadn’t expected to get this far.

“That’s what I just said,” you say. “What are you, a parrot? Speaking of which, though, I think that whole speech was the most I’ve ever heard you talk.”

Suna doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step closer and pulls you in for a hug. A real hug, not like the hesitant embrace you’d given him on his birthday, or the side hug he gave you after running into you at the grocery market a few weeks ago. No, this is a true, bona fide hug, and he translates everything he’s ever wanted to tell you but couldn’t into his arms wrapping around your waist.

“So… wanna come in and watch a movie?”

A little while later, Suna’s stretched out on your mattress with you between his legs, chin resting on the top of your head. You’ve changed out of your dress and wiped the makeup from your face, and Suna catches you yawning in the corner of his eye. There’s a trashy romcom droning on your laptop at the foot of the bed. To any outside onlooker, the scene is mundane, just a typical couple enjoying each other’s company. To Suna, though, this is paradise.

It’s almost funny. It’s funny how, a week ago, Suna was a boy pining for a girl he thought he had no chance with. He looked at you and saw something unattainable, someone who would only ever want him temporarily. (And, unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way.) He experienced an overwhelming amount of want, heart knotting in on itself and twisting and turning until it pushed him over the edge, forcing him to confront his own desires. His own inadequacies.

It’s funny how love is what everyone longs for, but it’s also the hardest reward to earn. It’s the most uncomfortable, heart-wrenching, nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing pathway to happiness Suna’s ever seen. But still… he’d do it all over again if he had to. The months of headaches, the overthinking. It’s worth it. You’re worth it.

Oh, well. What can he say? Suna leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your temples, and you tilt your head up to smile at him. Love’s a funny thing.

Fortunately, Suna’s always down for a good joke.

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

Note

I read the Diavolos ball and angsty stuff, can I please please please get a happy ending to go with it?

This has been a highly requested and I must give my poor followers comfort after this straight up angst

So everyone, let's get into it! Some hurt and comfort to soothe your hearts

Warning: angst, long

I'll be putting this under readmore as it is long and I have had someone before say they wanted me to add it on long posts, I never really got any feedback about what I could do better and how this will help with people's viewing but I understand why, long posts can be annoying

If you guys think I should do this with all my long posts please comment or dm me or even state it in asks/requests - I wanna do what I can to make things enjoyable for people

Part 1 - beginning

Diavolo's ball aftermath

It's been a few days since they've seen you; they expected to find you in the dorm. Some fear you went back to the human world; there was no messages, no note - there was nothing. You were completely gone.

Everyone was losing it. The brothers got more aggressively with each other, no longer able to have you come between them. Your presence was so soothing to all of them but now you were gone. As soon as they realized you were gone the whole air of the dorm shifted. It wasn't right.

Mammon got desperate to know where you were. He handed one of his crows a necklace he got you, you promised to never take it off. His heart shattered when he saw it was on your desk. He wasn't sure what he did wrong - why did you take it off? What happened to you?

It wasn't long before the crow came back to the devildom; reporting that you were in fact in the human world. The brothers were devastated. They had to tell the others and they had to watch the hopeful shine in their eyes die.

They could all feel thankful you were unharmed but you were so far. You did this to get away from them. You didn't even leave a damn note!

Diavolo ordered everyone to go to the human world. They all split up into different parties to get you, whoever could get you first had to interrogate you. It didn't take a genius to understand that the Noble told you something horrible - why else would you have such a reaction? Barbatos was tasked to 'calmly discuss' that night with said noble but regardless of how rough and merciless he was; he refused to talk.

It was wasting time and energy. If he wasn't going to talk then they had to get the answer from you. A few were able to gather the gist of what he told you from your conversation before you disappeared; you were convinced you were being used and just a replacement, a pawn to them.

They wanted the full story. The whole reason. Anything! Just to understand why you would push them away and disappear like this. What have they done to make the nobles words feel so real to you? They needed to fix it.

The demon brother's split into a team of two; eldest and youngest, the royals stayed together and the elder exchange students were a double team aswell.

The crows lead the teams their way, splitting up to different routes to see if they could circle you so they could talk to you even if you decided to run.

In the end they found you, you were across the pavement, a train coming. The pedestrian stop dinged as it commanded people to stop but the men couldn't help themselves.

"(Y/N)!!!"

You whipped around, shocked. You thought your ears were playing tricks on you but there was the boys. Your boys. Tears bubbled in your eyes. You couldn't believe it. They followed you to the human world.

The world slowed down; the wind blowing against you as your eyes widened at the sight of them. They looked exhausted, some even with tear streaked cheeks. The more impulsive bunch being held back so they don't go running towards you. The street lights illuminated all of you; their appearance looked just as broken as their hearts.

The train rammed itself between you all. Disturbing the moment with its blaring horn, the screeching wheels ringing in your ears. It was the second you had to decide; do you run? Or do you stay?

To let them get you and finally face your emotions or run away, avoid everything and keep letting despair consume you.

You stayed. You couldn't move at all. It was if you were glued to the spot. But you knew it was just your heart aching for them; desperate to hold them and cry out your pain.

As soon as they could, they all rushed to your side. Hugging you, grabbing at your arms and head to pull you close to them. You choked on your tears as you let the 11 men hug you and check your face and clothes. All just wanting to make sure you were really there and unharmed.

You missed them all dearly and you were so happy they missed you too.

But then the big question was asked.

"what happened that night?"

"he said he was happy to meet me...asked for a dance and I said yes, I never should of, he kept telling me I was just Diavolo's pawn, Lilith's replacement and convinced me none of actually cared for me....I believed him.....I felt so unsure and he knew so much about us I just couldn't stop the doubts in my head....I'm so sorry-!"

Lucifer:

He couldn't believe that noble said that to you

He hastily grabbed your face, wiping away your tears

"You will never be and never have been her replacement, you are your own person, your connection to our sister means nothing other than comfort that she was able to be happy and that's it - I apologize if we have made you feel like you are a replacement and have compared you to her.... please understand we just miss her very dearly but we all want you in our life more than anything."

You buried your face into his shoulder

Sobbing your heart out as you kept chanting apologies and gratitude in a broken voice

He silenced you, holding you close

The prideful demon hid his face as best as he could and let tears drip down his cheeks

He was so relived to have you back

It seemed that noble wasn't only going to be visited by barbatos

Lucifer was not known for being merciful

Mammon:

He grabbed your arm and hastily tugged you towards him

His other hand cradled the back of your head

"Don't ever run away again, you understand?! I'm supposed to be the one protecting ya and how am I supposed to do that if you're off running in different realms without telling anyone??!! That noble doesn't know anything! I don't know how he knew about Lilith but you ain't her, you're (Y/N) And that's it! You are your own person - you gotta call out my dumbass-ary if I compare or make you feel that way, I would never do it on purpose! I like you and only you! I can't lose you again!"

He pushed his forhead against yours

A shaky exhale leaving him

You tried to apologize but he cut you right off, hugging you closer

He was going to make that Noble pay for ever making you doubt yourself like this

To doubt how much he loves you

Levithan:

He was already crying

He was crying before you even considered crying

He rushed to you and grabbed your hands

"I got so scared I did something, Don't listen to that normie! Normies are losers for a reason! There's no one else I would want as my best friend - no one will ever be a better game partner than you! You always make me feel happy and proud to be me-! I couldn't ask for anything more from you! I miss Lilith but I miss you even more! You're my favourite person, you're not some replacement, you're you! You're my player 2-! I'm sorry if I made you feel like you're not as amazing as you are, please don't leave again!"

It wasn't long after his speech he hugged you

Squeezing you tightly as he relished in having you back in real life 3D

since you were gone he kept playing as your game avatars

Using ai set ups to feel like he was with you again in VR

That noble will not stand a chance against his fury

Satan:

He wasn't sure if he was mad at you or himself

It was most likely both - mad you left and let someone just destory so much work and progression in one meeting

But mad at himself for not making you feel secure

He couldn't bring himself to hug you but that was because he was scared he wouldn't let go

"I knew that Noble was nothing but a menace-! You can't listen to people like him, he's just trying to get to you and tear us apart - I don't know why he would do that but he isn't right, he will never EVER be right! You are yourself and never will be Lilith, I didn't get to me her or really know who she was but I do know you will never be her and never were her! I care so much about you and I will make sure to keep my stupid brothers to never make you feel that way again, I've missed you so much (Y/N)."

In the end, he fell into your arms

Holding you tight as he let out his tears of frustration go

You apologized but he just told you to shut up, he didn't want you to be sorry for being the victim

He already had plans on what he's going to do to that noble, trying to push those thoughts away

Focusing on how wonderful it is to have you close

Asmodeus:

As soon as he could reach you, he pulled you into an embrace

Shaking his head as tears streamed down

His makeup already starting to to drip along work his tears

"No! No! No! Noooo!! Don't listen to that horrible noble! He isn't right at all, he doesn't know anything about us or you! He obviously doesn't know how much we care about you and like you as your own person, I never meant to make you feel as if you were some sort of replacement! Lilith was her own being and so are you, your connection means nothing! I i will always be happy knowing my sister got to live the life she wanted but you aren't apart of that, your life is your own and you are nothing like her! I love you because you're you! I couldn't imagine ever loving someone as much as I love you, please come back to the devildom!"

He nuzzled his cheek against yours

Thankful to have you back in his arms again

He didn't like getting his hands messy but no one was going to make you feel that way ever again

He didn't care about that demons status

Beezlebub:

His hand landed on the top of your head

You flinched not expecting such a gentle pat but it only broke his heart more

"That noble knows nothing about you or any of us, he's turned my sister into an enemy to our relationship and I will not let that go on for any longer! You are not her and not her replacement, how dare he make you feel that way! you're apart of my family and I'll have it no other way, I really love you and missed you everyday you were gone - I was scared I'd never feel full again, you make me feel complete and when you disappeared I knew I wouldn't be able to protect you, I would of never forgiven myself if you got hurt! I want to always be able to protect you and have you by my side and make you feel happy - I promise I won't fail you again."

He almost fell to his knees once he was done

He was ready to swear to you on one knee, like a true knight

But instead hugged you

Mindful not to squeeze too hard but let himself be selfish and hold you tighter than he would normally dare to

He was one prone to be violent unless it was in sports or he was starved - the Noble starved him of your touch and kindness

He'll break more than just rooms once he gets his hands on that Noble

Belphegor:

He spun you to face him

Demanding

Needing your attention on him

It was only a few days but it felt like forever since he's had your eyes on him

"You're no pawn and no replacement, you are you and that's all I want, I don't want any one else, I know I've made you feel like a replacement - i did something horrible to you and then tried to make it seem like it was all okay after, I'm always trying to make up for that day but I know that is something that will always effect us! I missed you so much....you are your own person and you've helped me be a better person, come back home and let me make this right......you're all I want and need."

He broke down crying

Hanging his head low and it dropped onto your shoulder

He loosely held your waist whilst you gripped onto him tight

If everyone thought choking you was bad, just wait until they see what he plans to do with that noble

He couldn't stand seeing you so upset anymore

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

He gently held your arm

Giving it a small squeeze as tears built up

"He said all that? I'm sorry he made you feel like that, to feel such confliction and dread, You are never will be or were my pawn, you're a fantastic student and wonderful person who's did more than I've ever imagined Someone could do, if I could have asked you myself properly to be apart of the exchange program I would of but the world is not yet ready to merge and be aware of our existence.... please you have my deepest apologies and regrets that you felt this way and I've allowed such a person in my court, I will do whatever I can to make this right."

The tears finally fell and he became selfish

Hugging you tight against him, his fingers brushing against any skin he could touch

He couldn't dare to think how he'll be when you finally do leave the program

But until that time comes he needed to make it a good experience for you

If what barbatos did to him wasn't enough to convince him then he will not go back on his word

He'll fix this and do whatever he can to make all the pain stop

Barbatos:

He sighed in relief seeing you in the flesh

Knees buckling as he stood before you

His knuckles bloodied and bruised under his gloves

"I should of been more comforting when I found you, if I had known that was what he said I would of never let him be apart of the lord's court or be at that party, believe me when I say you are not a pawn or someone's replacement - you are so much more than that, you are you and someone that's made me feel closer to the present, to act quicker and stop using endless time as a excuse, I will fix this and make him regret ever uttering a word to you, I promise you."

Your touch was as gentle as ever

He caved, leaning against you

Happy to be able to make amends and fix the situation

The nobles dealt with him once and no matter what he did it wasn't enough

But he was merely holding back to be a gentleman, even if that noble now looks like a beaten raisin

It seemed he will have to do much worse to send everyone's message across

Solomon:

His face was gentle yet scolding

He gently brushed your cheek, wiping away a stray tear

"don't run off next time something like this happens, your life is so short and I hate to think would could happen if I lost you because you felt isolated even from me, you though you could find solace as both of us are humans but I was slow to understand your needs - you are deeply loved by everyone, I envy how much love you get and that's why I can't stand to see you run! I also love you and your presence, you have been so kind to me and I still have so much to teach you- please believe me when I say you're no one's pawn or replacement, you're important because you're you."

You crumbled completely

He hugged you as you apologized, calling yourself an idioit

But it only made him tsk, rubbing your back as he filled your ears with praises

He was sure the demons were going to rip that Noble to shreds but he couldn't help but desire his own revenge

Seeing you like this hurt him so much

Simeon:

He was so quick and gentle you could of mistaken him as a feather

He embraced you, cradling your head and rubbed soothing circles between your shoulder blades

"I was worried about you, I took you home and then I learn you've completely disappeared! No warning or note behind, you ran away - your feelings are extremely valid and I understand why you did this, It must of been so conflicting and you needed space to think and reflect, you're so strong (Y/N)! but you are also smarter than this, I feel ashamed knowing I haven't showed you how much I appreciate you being in my life and make sure you feel secure in the Devildom, I want to look over you but I've failed you already, that Noble does not know what he's talking about regardless of the information he has! I would never let anyone use you or let anyone treat you as some replacement, we all care so much about you."

He slightly swayed with you in his arms

Overwhelmed by his fears and the emotions that were rushing through him

He promised to never harm an innocent soul

That noble did not have one

He will leave the more physically destructive rage to the others

Wanting to merely talk and show the noble the error of his ways

Bonus:

You were back in the Devildom, Everyone was making sure to spend extra time with you. So happy to have you back and wanting to work on making you feel more secure. You couldn't stop how fast your heart was beating from all the overwhelming joy you felt.

It felt so good to be back. But you nagging worry remained in your head; what was going to happen to the Noble? you wished you could go up to him and yell at him. Prove him wrong and make him regret ever making you spiral like that.

When you brought up the idea, the men all looked at each other. A knowing look in their eye.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N) but I think it's best you don't see him but rest assured, we've dealt with him on your behalf and understand your wishes - let us know how we can help you feel resolved from that situation if this is unsatisfactory."

Diavolo answered. If it weren't the state the noble was in they'd happily let you chew him out but your heart and mind have been through enough already. No need to add on to the hurt with seeing what was left of him. They couldn't stand to see you upset again.

But you agreed, thanking them for their support and handling the situation. Unaware of their true actions. They all wished you a great day before going back to their own private meeting.

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caffeinatedrogue · 4 years

Photo

@captainsaku since you so dearly asked I’ve made a bit of a Noam Adaar, lord of the dumbasses, masterpost because I am weeeak it’s long and has pictures so I’m putting a / read more

Noam Adaar

Age during Inquisition: 30 Gender&Sexual Orientation: male, bi - mostly into men tho Class - mage (preferred- fire, sigils, battle magic /specs as knight enchanter) Traits: charismatic, witty, open-minded, hedonistic, sassy, free-spirited, good-hearted, extravagant, dramatic. Weaknesses: elusive, feels veeeeeery intensely but hides his feelings behind the mask of the charmer, because he’s convinced everyone he cares about will leave him at some point. Tendency to self-destruction and addiction. Mood swings, impulsive. Will punch a dickhead if he has to. Star Sign - Acquarius sun, Leo Rising Likes - overly obsessed with his hair, likes fancy clothes and expensive goods, antivan leather, ancient history, everything about sailing and the sea, white wine, cocoa, sunny weather. Values loyalty (he will respect someone who stands by their word, even if it’s an opposite faction that clashes with his interests), cleverness and people who live according to their own moral code. Likes intensity, in people and situations. Dislikes - Southern weather, orlesian cuisine, a lack of sense of humor, unopinionated people, moderation / lukewarm stances on problems. Is used to low-key casual racism but hates being overtly fetishized or dehumanized, like getting called ‘exotic’. Keepsakes: wears his first coin earned as a mercenary, one of Vic’s rings and a golden bauble on a string around his neck. Wears a white sort of Vitaar although mostly for aesthetic reasons, when he feels like it

Main Party in game - Dorian/Iron Bull/Sera -- alternative either Cass or Varric

Early life - Parents - Sylas /formerly Beresaad; Lumen / formerly Tallis (not that one of course, just a qunari assassin) - Tallis/lumen is tasked with a mission in the south alongside Sylas/Beresaad - but they fall in love full southerner way, with the addition that Sylas has been pulling an Iron Bull and eventually decides to leave the Qun, while Lumen’s feelings for him make her question but ultimately decide to remain loyal. However she’s preggo and thus our boy Noam is born under the Qun. After being assigned to Seheron and burning out, she is reassigned as a Tamassran and among the kids she’s overseeing, she recognizes him straight away and they share a special bond. At just 4 Noam shows signs of magic and she knows that there’s no way she’ll let him end up a Saarebas. She smuggles him out back to Sylas (congrats on being a single dad, Syl), now a mercenary, before turning herself into re-education as a last attempt to staying loyal. After years she realized that her faith is compromised beyond repair and finally escapes to the south, looking for them. Bonus pic of squishy cheeks baby qunari

Little Adaar grows up among mercenaries, living an adventurous, albeit tough, life. Sylas does a stellar job as a father figure, but never reveals to Noam that he is his actual father, thinking it will make it easier on him when they eventually have to part (narrator: it did not). As Noam’s magic keeps developing, Sylas knows he’s not equipped for it and has to leave him with a group of hedge mages in the Marches that accept to train him. He eventually goes off on his own as a mercenary, joining groups or ...freelancing. After a disastrous time in post-blight Ferelden, he decides to move his ass up to Antiva, looking for a sweeter life- and better weather. (bonus glow up pic)

The antivan days: And off to Antiva Noam goes, where he falls in love with the place - his favourite place in Thedas and where he hopes to return someday - and with Ludovico ‘Vic’ of the Malaspina, crimelord and leader of a special ‘family’ that runs shady business for the Crows in the Market district. Think Peaky Blinders, make it Antivan, and you get the picture. Noam walks his drunk ass into one of their operations, risks getting killed, ends up working for them and finding his ragtag niche in the chaotic antivan society. I was writing a fic about all this that I’ll never finish because a. I’m not a native speaker b. I can’t write for shit, but maybe someday.

Anyway, much pining, much love, much wine, much crime. Noam is living his best life, until something happens that I won’t tell because of the aforementioned fic that I’ll never finish and Vic vanishes into thin air, leaving him severely heartbroken and depressed, and leading him to return to the Marches where he eventually finds a good time and good coin with the Valo-Kas. Until the Conclave blows up, of course.

Inquisitor Adaar, or ‘what the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here - oh wait there’s wine over there, I’ll be fine’

Noam resents the title of Herald of Andraste until he realizes how fun it is to make everyone in the Chantry clutch their pearls, though he’s clear with his inner circle that he doesn’t believe he is, or in the Maker and all that jazz. However he finds out he has a knack for politics, and after a life spent dodging responsibilities and generally feeling like a stray dog, he loves having agency over himself and the world around him and works hard for it. And for the perks, like the fancy dresses, and the comfy humongous bed. Sides with the Mages and allies with them, manages to outsmart the orlesian smartasses, prefers Leliana-style subterfuge to displays of power to solidify the Inquisition’s power.

He’s very much a people person that can easily find something to relate to,and a charming man at that, so he get along well with most of the companions. While he likes the company of the more down-to-earth/outcast types and getting shitfaced at the tavern, he will not miss a wine night of reminiscing of Antiva and gossiping with Josephine.

As for Vic, he was supposed to be a backstory character but I just fell in love with his grumpy Scorpio ass so he makes a comeback after being Through A Lot ™ , and Noam is so Not Over It ™ - hence there’s more pining and fluff until they ride off into the sunset (well no, because Noam doesn’t disband the inquisition, but they’re pretty much joined at the hip). Will Noam punch Solas? So many questions!

(AREN’T THEY CUTE THO)

#adaar tag #this is LONG #ocs #dragon age #inquisitor adaar

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starshine583 · 3 years

Text

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself.

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that.

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys.

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present.

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!”

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed.

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel.

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing.

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?”

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.”

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance.

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch.

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were.

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?”

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars).

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside.

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.”

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking.

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person.

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien,

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!”

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her?

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

#felinette #Felix Culpa #Marinette #New Girl on the Block #Rosemary AU #Quantic Kids

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Stiff Peaks and Soggy Bottoms

mood board by: @knightfall05x (wuv you)

summary: You, Tim, and Kon try to bake. It ends well.

A/n: Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @multifandomgirl-us for proof reading. I was watching Kitchen Nightmares while writing this. I am surprised how fluffy this came out. You can blame my need for more poly and this piece by @symeona. I have not shut up about this piece 50 years later (Hi Sym *waves*-Fish). I forgot to mention that reader is more or less gender neutral or I attempted.

warnings: Terrible cooking

masterlist

Kon yawns, scratching at his broad chest and running his hand through his tangle of curly black hair. He blinks one eye open successfully to the dim light flooding into the end of the hall likely coming in from the living room. The lights dance, glowing softly with faded color against the dark glossy wood of the floor.

Kon’s first sleep-addled thought is, Oh, Aliens. Ok, cool.

It takes his brain a full minute to realize how much that doesn’t make sense. The apartment is dead silent, lacking the telltale whirring most spaceships give off when they’re hovering, the sounds of nervous fingers tapping against a stack of papers echoing in the mostly empty space. Kon strained his ears trying to focus on the other sounds flitting in the room. He can hear the steady calming beat of your heart come off rhythm, jumping a fraction of a beat faster. It wasn’t fast enough to say you were in danger. It was just fast enough to tell that you were extremely engaged in whatever was occupying your attention. Kon thinks it over. The last time he checked looking over papers- lab reports, especially- was the bane of your existence. He listens again. This time making out the voices coming from the TV. Kon wasn’t awake enough to understand what they were saying.

5:47 AM

Kon groans trying his hardest not to laugh while he stares at his phone. You are an actual psychopath. Who wakes up at 5 AM? Villains that’s who. Did you even sleep? Why do you and Tim hate sleep so much?

Stepping into the living room as quietly as he can, he finds you huddled against the right side of the couch far away from the TV, your thick wool comforter draped over your head and shoulders making a fluffy tent. Strands of your messy bed head sticking out and swaying as you rock on your heels. Your stack of papers long since abandoned on the arm rest beside you. Kon can’t help but smile at how adorable you looked, still sleep rumpled and red-nosed from the cold.

Eyes glued to the TV, you pull up your knees to your chest revealing your fuzzy Red Robin socks. Kon frowns then makes a mental note to get you some Superboy socks later. You curl deeper into your comforter, easing and pressing into the armrest. All of your apprehension fading and relaxing as the rest of the world melted away. Kon smiles devilishly at your inattention. He tiptoes towards you which was entirely unnecessary because it didn’t matter that Kon was about as stealthy as a disco ball not when all of your attention was directed at the TV.

Kon launches himself at you too quickly for you to even react or comment or throw a pillow at him. You shriek as he lands on you, his muscular body squishing you into the couch. You wince hoping the neighbors didn’t hear. You’re not too worried about Tim waking up considering how tired he was.

“Morning, gorgeous.” Kon greets, winking and wrapping his arms around your waist. The audacity. You groan attempting to glare at him. He simply gives you a dopey smile. You have to blow out a raspberry to keep yourself from smiling back. You strain your lips into a flatline. The crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes betray you though. The corner of Kon’s mouth twitches, those big baby blues shining even in the dim light. He knows he’s won you over.

You’re too petty and sleep-deprived to give in. You roll your eyes at him, lips still wobbling and tingling from the effort of maintaining your unimpressed frown. Still, without resistance, you shift the comforter and refold yourself to accommodate his intrusive form. Large arms wrap around your waist tighter as he lays his head in your stomach. How he finds this position comfortable for his neck is beyond you but you do appreciate the warmth. Kon’s smile widens as he looks up at you. It looks positively smug. Your nose scrunches up bracing for whatever Kon is about to say.

“Aw, baaabe, it looks good on you~” You look down at the oversized Superboy hoodie you’re wearing which was two times bigger than it needed to be as was standard of your hoodies. You mutter a curse. Kon had been pestering you to wear it. It’s not that you didn’t want to. It’s just that you had a soft spot for the Impulse hoodie Bart got you a few years ago which meant it was your got-to-hoodie despite the fact that it was fraying. It was in the wash so you decided to give this one a try and honestly, it is really fucking comfy and more importantly warm. You huff at him, feeling your cheeks color. You glare at him, his dopey smile still plastered on his face. You make the executive decision to ignore him.

This decision does not last long.

About two minutes into your silent treatment, Kon whines and pouts weaponizing those baby blues. “Aw come on, gorgeous, you can’t stay mad at me forever.” He nuzzles into your stomach tickling your drawing a smile out of you. He grins at you and finally, you let yourself smile back fully. “Asshole.” You grumble. He knows you can’t resist him when he’s being cute and calling you ‘gorgeous’. That is just plain cheating. Still, you relent. You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders, running your hand gently through his dark hair allowing your fingers to tangle in his curls. The arms around you tighten a little pulling you closer to him.

Kon doesn’t need a reminder of how absolutely adorable you are but it is very much appreciated. Kon loves looking at you as the soft glowing colors flash across your face highlighting your features and softening them. In the dim light of the room and under the blankets, you press closer to him all the sharp edges of Gotham's alleys stripped away leaving you sleepy-eyed and very huggable. Between you and Tim, you were the one people pointed to when they thought Gothamite but that was the fun of it. He and Tim, they were the only ones who got to see this softer you. The you that you let get enraptured by hobbies and dumb little things. Kon held you close, relishing your presence. This was the version of you they got to keep for themselves and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

-------

Tim shifts feeling either side of him vacant. Tim rolls over, arms searching for either you or Kon as his mind catches up. The warm sunlight brushes over his skin as he rolls over once again, stirring him from his sleep. Tim blinks, eyes adjusting to the morning light.

9: 10 AM

He groans, shifting up and burying his head under the pillows hoping to once again fall asleep.

“Oh no no no no!”

“Shush! Don’t jinx it!”

Tim’s eye cracks open. He lifts his head a bit tilting it to find the bedroom door open, your voices filtering in like dust in a sunbeam, pleasant but ultimately not helpful.

“I can’t jinx a pre-recorded show, genius!”

Tim sighs. Sleep was, inevitably, lost at this point. Tim debates on whether to keep himself under the covers and finally be able to hog the thick blankets. Or he could, possibly, investigate the commotion happening in your shared living room and risk freezing. Sadly, he chose the latter.

Blearily, Tim searches the room for a shirt only to find one of Kon’s discarded on the floor. Well, it’s not the first time he’s borrowed one of Kon’s shirts.

Tim wasn’t surprised to find you out of bed. After all, the idea of sitting still ate you alive. You were always, always the happiest when you were in motion when your hands were working to make something like some part of you was constantly vying for the chance to be something instead of just being. Tim completely understood the feeling.

Kon had once accused you of being a workaholic when in truth at the moment you had been avoiding work by doing one of your side projects. He had also accused both of you of being sleep allergic which is probably true but at least, Tim’s drink (read: poison) of choice was tea and not a cocktail of monster energy drinks and misery.

It was odd to find Kon out of bed though. Kon could laze around in bed for days if you let him, so his being up was worth investigating if only to make sure the apartment didn’t burn down.

“Look what you did!”

“It’s prerecorded, jackass!”

“You cursed him and gave him a soggy bottom”

Tim can tell just how long you’ve been glued to the T.V. based on the way your vowels slant to mimic that of the hosts. Tim’s slightly chapped lips curl as he shakes his head at the way you and Kon cock your heads towards the T.V., attention completely captured by what seems to be a cooking show. You held your breaths, waiting for the judge to say something. Kon shifts up, leaning his head against your shoulder. Your limbs were tangled loosely against each other. It was a rare, lazy sort of affection that never failed to make Tim smile.

“Ok, no. That’s just mean.” You huff into Kon’s hair, looking absolutely petulant and cute. Tim works to stop an ‘aaaaawww’ rising from the back of his throat lest you throw a pillow at his head.

“Babe, it’s Paul Hollywood. What were you expecting?”

“Human decency. She worked hard on that.” You whine, genuinely looking upset.

Seeing, your reaction Kon relents burrowing himself closer to you for comfort. “True.”

Tim turned his attention to the T.V.. What he found made his brow shoot up.

“Great British Bake Off?” Tim asks, sliding into your left side and placing his head on your shoulder. There is a reason you guys bought an L-shaped couch. Said reason was named Conner Kent who liked laying on top of people. Those people being either of you. Tim snuggles into your side, earning him a kiss on his nose. His nose scrunches feeling itchy. He lets out a small sneeze into the back of his hand. You blanch at him while Kon snorts, throwing him a box of tissues from the coffee table.

“Mornin’, Space Case.” You mumble giving him another kiss, this time on the corner of his lip. Tim blushes, his face brighter than the sunlight outside your window. Tim is, sadly, incurably adorable.

Kon smiles at both of you smugly for what neither of you has any clue. Not until you see what Tim is wearing and not until Tim sees what you’re wearing. You groan and Tim blows out a breath through his nose while Kon presses his positively glowing smile into your hoodie. He’s not going to shut up about this anytime soon or ever.

“Do you two even know anything about baking?” Tim asks, crossing his arms over his chest and smoothly changing the subject.

You and Kon share a look.

“Nope”

“Yes”

“Microwaves and watching this show doesn’t count.”

“Ooook, fine. I don’t. Buuuuuut considering none of us can-”

“I can cook.” Tim defends, clipped. You roll your eyes dramatically. Kon smirks, also doubtful. You flicker your eyes to Kon to meet his and with the brief contact, you know you’re on the same page.

“Microwaves don’t count, Tim.” Kon shoots back, pulling himself off you so he can show Tim the full extent of his Cheshire smile. You can see Tim drawing his hackles up, so both of you, being the little shits you are, continue to goad him.

“You can cook in theory,” You drawl, letting the challenge embed itself into the syllables. Tim cuts you a look. You simply look at him innocently. Tim knows that you’re baiting him. He definitely knows this and yet…

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. We’ll even make something from the show!”

“Even chocolate eclairs?” Kon says a little too eagerly. You were just gonna say meringues but chocolate eclairs sound fantastic.

Tim throws up his arms and exasperates. “Sure! Why not?”

You and Kon share a dopey smile, smug and preening as you look at him. Tim groans, placing his head in his hands. He knew this would happen. He knew. You and Kon high five and make a little “yeah!” noise in celebration.

This will not end well.

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

You twitch your lips staring down at Tim’s phone, deleting and retyping the message for the third time. You weren’t sure how to explain this without having Jason falling to the floor laughing. Your eyes stung from the smoke so you decided to just send him your third try.

Tim: Hey Jason, theoretically, say your oven caught on fire like via laser beam or something, do you just pour water on it?

You wait a few minutes, watching the three dots indicating he was typing only for him to stop typing without replying. You make a small noise, which was thankfully lost to the bickering behind you when Jason’s phone number flashed on the screen. You’re always nervous about talking to Tim’s family. Tim had once assured you that you were overthinking it but still. To be fair, it was easier than dealing with Kon’s. Actually, no. No, it wasn’t. Both were intimidating but in very different ways. You do have to say that Jason, scary as he was, was easier to approach than say Bruce.

“Baby bird,” Jason says, the edge of a wheeze gripping his throat. Clearly, having just recovered from laughing his guts out. He breathes, hand slamming against what you suspect was either a kitchen countertop or a workbench or both knowing Jason. “Ok, ok, I’m good-” He clears his throat. “Kay, tell me what happened.”

You flick your eyes toward the fire and your boys who were more or less still bickering, their voices tangling with the crackling of the flames. You’re mildly surprised that neither of them is on fire but you’re not holding your breath. They’ll probably be somehow combust in the next five minutes. You love them but they’re disasters.

“We were trying to bake- shut up-” Jason does not snort any quieter. “And well, Tim thought-”

“It was Kon’s idea!”

“You let me!” Kon defends sounding utterly betrayed.

You groan and Jason snickers. “What do we do?”

“Have you tried apologizing to it?”

“Jason, I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Now, apologize.” You sigh exasperatedly. Waynes are assholes.

Tim raises a brow at you and you give him a shrug not really knowing what to tell him. “Apparently, we need to apologize to the oven.” You deadpan, immediately regretting even relaying it. How have you never decked Jason? It wasn’t fear. After all, you’ve decked Batman. Ok, in your defense lack thereof, that one was by accident or moreover reflexive.

“Hey Kon”

“Both of you have to apologize too!”

“First of all, I was in the bathroom getting towels when you two chucklefucks decided to use laser vision to preheat the oven.”

You hear Jason fall out of his chair. Distantly, you hear someone calling Jason an idiot but you weren’t too familiar with the voice. You instantly thank yourself for not turning on the camera considering what state you three were in. Kon was covered in chocolate, your hair-as well as your poor phone- was caked in batter, and Tim? Tim was covered in everything but mostly flour which keeps making his nose twitch like a rabbit. Though, you wouldn’t be surprised if Kon’s already taken a few pictures. You yourself have taken a few.

“Ok but seriously what do we do?”

You hear some rustling and a chair squeaking back into place.

“No…”

“First off, did you close the oven?” Your eyes flicker to them. Placing Tim’s phone between your shoulder and ear, you mime the advice. Tim frowns skeptical but Kon kicks the oven closed anyway.

“Ok, it’s closed now. Should we put water in it?”

“NO. Have you never put out a kitchen fire before? How do you three eat?”

“We live in the middle of downtown, what do you think?”

Jason sighs disbelieving and finally sounding appropriately exasperated. You could see him running his hand over his face. “Who let you three live together?” This made your lips twitch up. “I dunno. Kon and I just started mooching on Tim and then suddenly we each got a key to the apartment.” It was an oversimplification of events but there was a fire and you had to get at least one joke in.

“Do your neighbors have- Wait, don’t you have a Kryptonian clone with freeze breath?”

You blink and slap your palm against your forehead. The other two seemed to get what you had just remembered and act appropriately with Tim looking defeated and Kon finding the situation hilarious.

“Thanks, Jay.” You mutter wanting the Earth to swallow you whole. Esme, your chubby rat, squeaked nuzzling against you as she wormed her way out of your hoodie. She may or may not have been the primary reason for the size of your hoodies. She smiles at the phone, wide-eyed and happy as if she could see Jason. You hear a soft laugh coming from Jason’s end.

“Is that Esme?” Your brow ticks up not quite sure how to answer. “Uh yeah.” You answer dumbly, giving Esme little scritches that she leaned into happily making all her little happy noises.

“Give her a cuddle for me.” You give Esme a kiss on her nose and she snuggles in reciprocation. Kon pouts face still full of chocolate, “Where’s mine?”

“You’ll get one once our apartment isn’t about to burn down.”

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

Fresh out of the shower, you plop down next to Tim letting your wet hair flop onto his face and his fuzzy Wonder Girl sweatshirt. Tim huffs at you taking another bite out of the hot fresh-ly ordered stuffed crust pizza. The cheese was still gooey and molten. It made your stomach rumble like nobody’s business. You whine childishly trying to get Tim to hand you one. He looks at you, mouthful of pizza, and grabs one only to hand it to Kon. You gasp at him. You stretch your legs over their laps in protest only to retract them immediately after Kon pokes at your feet a couple of times tickling you.

You hide behind Tim, glaring at Kon and sticking your tongue out. Tim, the traitor, moves out of the way letting Kon’s long arms capture you. You shriek almost sounding like Esme as he pulls you in sitting you in his lap. You sigh in defeat as Kon places his chin on your head. You don’t even want to see the triumphant smirks on both their faces.

You grab a slice and through the mouthful of cheese and grease, you murmur “We really need to learn how to cook.” Tim hums in agreement, leaning against Kon, aka the cuddliest heater in the world. You lean back into Kon as another signature bake is brought up to the judges. You all watch with bated breaths as you wait for the results.

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

You marvel at the fresh ingredients laid before you and the posh man standing in your kitchen rolling up his sleeves.

“Hey, Duckie, are we in trouble?” Kon whispers from behind you. He’s got your back, he said.

“Kind of?” Tim bleats, his voice a little high.

You snort raising an eyebrow at him hiding your smile behind your hand. “Timmy, what does kind of mean?”

“I can hear you.” Alfred deadpans. You and Kon stiffen. You’re pretty sure even Tim straightens up, probably out of habit.

“Do any of you know how to cook?” Alfred asks in the primmest sounding accent you’ve ever heard.

“Nope, we live downtown for a reason.” You snark reflexively. Tim glares at you and hisses silently. You shrink and mutter an apology which Alfred takes graciously.

“I am assuming you don’t then. Well, it’s lucky that I have a free afternoon.”

Tim eyes him suspiciously. “What happened to B?”

“Your father can take care of himself.”

“You sure?”

You think you see Alfred smile at that.

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Thanks for reading!

tag list: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell

#timkon #tim drake imagines #Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #conner kent x reader #conner kent imagine #conner kent #tim drake x reader x conner kent #timkon x reader #polyamourus pride #my writing #dc reader insert

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restlesshearts · 2 years

Text

dylan o'brien, cis man, he+him, 30 // i think gavin lancaster just walked by, a dylan o'brien lookalike. they've been here in rocky view for about ten years, and seem to hang around paws and claws animal rescue a lot. i've also seen them working at crow's veterinary clinic as a vet tech. when asked to describe themselves, they're likely to say the smell of burnt coffee, the sound of a book falling from a shelf, and the feeling of an old, worn out leather jacket.

(please note, the following contains mentions of bullying and death)

STATISTICS:

basics.

full name: Gavin Andrew Lancaster

hometown: Peabody, Massachusetts

age & DOB: 30 / October 27th

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

children: N/A

animals: a golden retriever puppy named Torrance

occupation: vet tech at crow’s veterinary clinic

relationship status: single

sexual orientation: heterosexual

appearance.

fc: dylan o’brien

hair color: brown

eye color: brown

height: 5'10"

build: athletic

piercings: n/a

tattoos: a small raven on the back of his neck, paw prints on the left side of his chest

personality:

positives: captivating, imaginative, passionate, flirtatious & hard-working

negatives: tactless, impulsive, indecisive, sarcastic, meddlesome

personality type: ISFJ

hogwarts house: Gryffindor

theme song: Beat the Devil’s Tattoo by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

BACKGROUND INFORMATION:

As if growing up a short distance away from Salem, MA wasn’t weird enough for Gavin, his parents owned their own funeral service. While his mother was the mortician, his father was the funeral director. To make matters worse, they made their home in the upstairs of the same building they ran the funeral home out of.

With all of that given, Gavin didn’t exactly have the easiest time growing up. He was bullied a lot for being the ‘weird’ kid constantly surrounded by death. His interests didn’t make it any better. He poured himself into the works of Stephen King, Edgar Allan Poe, R.L. Stine, and Christopher Pike. He believed in all the spooky things - the ghosts, the vampires, the werewolves. It was all real in his mind.

He didn’t exactly have many friends growing up, so he poured all of his free time into caring for animals. In between spending time with his childhood best friend (a black cat named Shadow), and volunteering at the local shelter, it was clear what Gavin was going to do with his life.

The moment he graduated from high school, he enrolled in college and set forward on making his dreams of being a vet tech a reality. He performed extremely well in his studies and graduated on time.

Shortly after graduation, he decided to seek adventures elsewhere and moved to Rocky View to live with his extended family (maternal aunt’s family). The change in scenery was exactly what he needed.

In Rocky View, he was able to start over and make a name for himself. No longer was he the weird, harbinger of doom that his peers in Peabody made him out to be. In Rocky View, he could be his kind, nerdy self.

While he’s living the life his younger self dreamed of, he just couldn’t leave the past in the past. Hence why he runs a paranormal and true crime podcast with his friend Carmilla.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

COUSINS:

FLING/FLIRATIONSHIP:

EX-GIRLFRIEND:

BEST FRIEND:

DRINKING BUDDY:

COWORKERS:

OWNER OF HIS FAVORITE PATIENT: (this person’s pet has really captured Gavin’s heart and he’s made it a point to befriend them just to get extra time with the animal(s).)

#rockyviewintro #bullying tw #death tw #death mention tw #gavin.#gavin:bio.

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liam-cadmus · 3 years

Text

ANBU

Sasuke grits his teeth, hiking Neji higher on his back. He’s thanking Kami that the Hyuuga is light— the fact should be worrying, if they’re not unconscious and bleeding right now. The omega has a loose hold around his neck, his black cloak enveloping Neji enough that the warmth of his back is keeping him cold. He tries to hold Neji as securely as he can with one arm, the other supporting Shikamaru.

His hawk summon, Aya is guiding him through the forest outside the walls, slowly walking closer the gate. Their shadows isn’t seen in the dark, his mismatched eyes looking around in case they get ambushed again. Wet plops of mud can be heard from his footsteps, dragging Shikamaru with him. He ignores the shaking of his hands, ignoring it to move faster, despite the protest of his wheezing breaths.

He feels Shikamaru waking up from where he’s supporting him with his left arm, the beta thankfully— awake. “Deer, wake up.” he says quietly, still pulling the other teen along, “It’s just a bit from here, just open your eyes please.” He pleads, no matter how it hurts his pride, but his emotions are haywire— sometimes being an Uchiha has it’s downsides— and his anxiety is high-strung. His alpha instincts making his ears ring, the overwhelming impulse to protect the people important to him.

Shikamaru blearily opens his eyes, making him sigh in relief seeing familiar chocolate brown eyes. “You with me?” he asks, one brow raised. “Barely.” Shikamaru mumbles, the Nara inhaling his alpha scent, the toasted almonds and smokey cinnamon pheromones helping the beta gather his thoughts. He breathes out slowly, gritting his teeth at the bones in his ribs grating against each other, shivering as the cold wind hits his bare chest, his clothing around the two males he’s with to keep them warm. Shikamaru moves to pull away, making him click his tongue in annoyance. “Deer, stay close.” he tugs the beta closer, Shikamaru’s arm hitting his rib by accident, making him hiss in pain. Shikamaru, only pulls away more when he hears the hiss, attempting to wrench free of his hold. He would be amused if he his instincts aren’t screaming at him to not let go any of the two. His hand grips Shikamaru’s waist tight — making sure that the beta can’t be separated from him.

The beta male just narrows his brows, titling his head, licking his dry, chapped lips. “Why do you keep pulling me?”

He shakes his head, pretending to shrug, before leaning on the wall, relieved to see they’re in the outskirts. He stops in his tracks, leaning on the wall with his dislocated shoulder, his chakra exhaustion finally putting a toll on his battered body. “Just don’t walk away, you might pass out, you hit your head pretty damn bad earlier.” he rasps, while lowering Shikamaru on the ground slowly, the Nara sinking on the muddy grass below him, blinking repeatedly to fight the sleep away.

His body aches for carrying the two for so long, for once thanking Kami for being an alpha, even if omega genetics is the major second gender running in Uchiha Clan. “Kakashi,” he calls out, mismatched eyes staring at the lone dark grey eye in front of him, relief flooding his whole being at seeing reinforcements arriving.

“Kid, how are you still standing?” his sensei asks him, sturdy hands holding him up while Wolf carries Neji from his back, Sasuke falling forward to Kakashi’s chest. “5 soldier pills, 3 adrenaline shots and pure sheer will.” he snaps, exhaling shallowly. “Crow, Wolf, we need to shunshin these three to the hospital.” The two other ANBU scouts carry his team on their backs, Itachi and Kiba staring at him with worry. He waves a hand dismissively, smiling in satisfaction when he sees Itachi’s red eyes glaring at him. “I’m fine, aniki.” he answers, letting Kakashi support him as they shunshin, arriving in the hospital, nurses and doctors alike walking out of their way.

Kakashi drops him to a bed, Sakura slamming the door open with Ino, Tsunade coming in last, the woman glaring at him. “Brat, what mess did you get into?” she pursed her lips, her eyes looking over the obvious bruising by his ribs, and the shudders going through him.

“Obito is with Shisui finishing the mission, they’ll arrive using the Kamui in a bit.” he croaks out, reassuring Kakashi and Itachi for their lovers.

Tsunade rolls her eyes at him, fondly scoffing a ‘tch’ under her breath. “I question myself why you’re my favorite Uchiha.” she says at him, earning a shallow breathy laugh from him, “It must be my charms, a lot of people say so.”

He drew in a large breath when Tsunade moved his bones back into place, the action making him choke on his breath, coughing wetly. “What happened, Uchiha, you’re only supposed to get intel.” Sparrow asks him, making him look up from where he’s staring at his bloody knuckles.

“Kiri ANBU, three teams, ambushed us.” Several winces comes from the other ANBU scouts, Kakashi’s lips pressed to a tight line. “Obito’s fine, old man.” he teases, patting Kakashi’s arm with his unoccupied hand. Tsunade decides to click his shoulder back in that exact moment, making him slap the arm in accident. He bit his lips enough to draw blood, turning to the woman with his eyes whirring, glare in place. “That was uncalled for.” Tsunade looks at him, before her hands glow in green chakra, healing the muscles and tissues around the socket on his shoulder, humming. “You should’ve paid attention then, brat.”

He rolls his aching shoulder blades as he leans back on the hospital bed, inhaling the scent of antiseptic and white sheets. He looks at his shivering pale skin, while wrapping his ankles together, whistling, “Thank you, mom.” he says, watching as Tsunade fondly pats his leg. “Try not to get hurled across the field next time.” she jokes, if only she knew. “You should tell that to Shika.” he points to the half-asleep Nara, the beta opening an eye to glare at him. “No, but really, you were thrown across the field.” he says in a firm voice, knowing the beta didn’t remember it, “Kami, my heart stopped beating for like, minutes.” he admits, crossing his arms. “Glad to know you care for me, Uchiha.” Shikamaru yawns, pillowing his head on his folded arms. “As if carrying you two across a whole damn forests isn’t caring, I don’t know what it is.”

He moves to stand, bare feet planting on the cold ground, stubbornly ignoring the protests of the others telling him he’s healing. He opens the bathroom before looking at them flatly, over his shoulder. “I don’t want to sleep from getting doused on the rain.” He gestures at his bare chest before turning to Shikamaru, “No matter how lazy you are, you better take a shower or else,” he threatens, narrowing his eyes, “I won’t hesitate to drag you to the shower, wounded or not.” The Nara sighs in defeat, before dryly answering. “Yes Captain.” He closes the door, turning the knob to the hottest setting, pleased when he sees three folded clothes on the shelf, amused that the three of them already have a separate room from the other patients.

He walks out the shower, steam billowing by his ankles, drying his wet dark locks. He chuckles watching Shikamaru dragging his sleepy form in the bathroom, throwing his towel to the back of the brunette.

The brunette glares at him, before picking the towel off the ground, closing the door behind him. Sasuke fixes their masks by the bedside table, collecting their discarded uniforms to the hamper on the corner, separating his cloak and placing it on the back of a chair.

Sasuke moves their beds beside each other, gently rousing Neji awake, “You need to take a bath,” he tells him, the Hyuuga sleepily walking to the bathroom, while he lays down face down on the larger bed, listening to their humming.

He lays still while the two males drop to either side of him, a thought on the back of his mind nagging him if the his brother and the others are still in the room, but he’s too tired to care. He reminds himself to tell the others of his relationship, tired of being professional in front of them.

He rolls tiredly, looking up to Neji peering at him with white eyes, staring at his very soul. He huffs a quiet chuckle when he feels Shikamaru laying down beside him, an arm moving across his stomach, the rise and fall of his chest comfortable to Sasuke’s side, his arm wrapping around his shoulders.

Neji doesn’t break eye contact, blinking at him softly, the Hyuuga content on switching his gaze between him and Shikamaru. Shikamaru opens his eyes slowly, nuzzling him softly, “Neji, just fucking sleep.” he grouses, letting out a faint brown sugar and coffee scent.

Sasuke snorts, before pulling Neji down, tucking his head to brown locks, inhaling honey — the scent pleasing to the nose even if he hates sweets.

He kisses their temples, looking at their intertwined hands over his stomach. Shikamaru leans over to kiss Neji on the lips, nudging their noses together before laying down again, muttering ‘how troublesome it was to lean over’.

“Ah, sleep, I’m tired, you’re both heavy.” he complains, his eyes already drooping. “Ji, you heard that?” he listens as Shikamaru mockingly whispers, the two of them talking about how he’s the heaviest out of the three of them, which is untrue — he has the lightest steps, Shikamaru is the heaviest out of the three. He cuts in, “I’m not the heaviest, I just happen to be the one strongest to carry your two sorry asses across the forest.” “You love these sorry asses though.” Neji teases, white eyes in mischief. “Damn right I do, now sleep.” he kisses their lips, before pulling the covers over them.

The silence is comfortable, the warm sunlight through the curtains lulling them further to sleep, their scents mingling, the combination fitting so perfectly, their chests breathing in the same rhythm.

“Baby Uchiha!” Obito greets quietly, making Sasuke scowl at him in irritation, not appreciating woken up from his sleep. He glares, feeling his drowsiness slip away from him, making him grumble. “We still need to do the report.” Obito reminds him, still standing in his uniform. Sasuke stares at him, glancing from his mates to Obito, and back again. “Fine.” he answers blankly, separating his limbs from his lover’s, pushing the two together. Sasuke sighs at the sleep he just lost, before securing his boots, murmuring how it’s unfair he can’t rest after bringing two people on his own.

“Sas, why’re you leaving?” he glances back at Neji’s sleepy mumble, making his features soften.

“Just report, I’ll be fast.” he reassures him, closing the door when the omega tucks his head on Shikamaru’s chest.

“So, that’s your lovers?” Obito teases, throwing an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair.

“No, that’s just my teammates who just likes to cuddles.” he retorts dryly, pushing Obito’s hand out of his now unruly hair.

“Maa, maa, you’re so agressive.” Obito mimics Kakashi, making him puff out a laugh. “Come on, I still need to sleep.” he tugs his cousin to run faster, the two of them on the way to the Hokage Tower.

(A very short AU prompt, soooo.....it’s a Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies....with A/B/O dynamics and Sasuke has the Rinnegan, cause I want to. I would’ve wrote this better if I wasn’t so damn busy...so excuse me for the OOC moments..)

#shikasasu #shikanejisasu #shikaneji #sasushika #sasuneji #sasunejishika #nejisasu #nejishika #nejishikasasu #anbu sasuke #anbu neji #anbu shikamaru

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

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

Pairing: Suga x reader

AO3 Link Here:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'So do I', Ume says. So do I’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Holy shit, that was so manly?!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She passes her exams too, tops her cohort even.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Eh?' Yamada glares down at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Mm?’ He tilts his head at her.

She smiles shyly. ‘Thanks’.

He smiles back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(For chasing too many dreams?)

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

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

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

‘As if it’s so easy!’

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

‘Ugh, spoilsport’, he pouts at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'And they lived happily ever after' Ume agrees.

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

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

Third years are released from school for self-study.

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

(Her heart clenches. It starts to ache.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh.’ he breathes. ‘Oh’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Her heart clenches. She does not break.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daichi grunts something unintelligible through a mouthful of pork bun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

The puzzle pieces fit. It finally clicks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is he going to do about it?

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

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

But what can he do about it?

Not very much, as it turns out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He starts seeing the ghost of her everywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eh. At least that was worth a try.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their eyes meet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pukes at her feet and promptly passes out.

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

What happened last night?

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

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

- You have 7 messages! -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He groans. ‘I’m so sorry’.

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

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

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

‘Mm?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh', she breathes. ‘Oh’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hopes she’ll say yes.

(She does.)

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