#I need to talk to her. but we’re like halfway through the semester and I sit in the back with my obnoxious friend Owen From Band

[27-royal-teas]

there is this one VERY pretty very emo girl who sits two tables away from me in my health class and she has the prettiest hair that i want to touch and gorgeous makeup and always is listening to music and doesnt give two shits about me. im in love. i dont even know her name

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 4)

In which Harry and y/n like going to used bookstores together and kissing (in secret).

+++

Harry’s coat is soaked, his curls matted to his forehead and his eyes squinting from how rainy it is. He barely had time to pack up his stuff, let alone grab his umbrella, before darting out of the Literature building. His boots splash loudly in the puddles, wetting the hems of his trousers as  he runs across the street.

“Y/n!” he calls out, his his chest rising and falling heavily. After two weeks of ditching his office hours and running away from him after lecture, he’s finally caught up with her, “come on, we need to talk.”

A quiet rumble of thunder shakes the air around them, and y/n reluctantly turns around. She’d been avoiding this conversation – didn’t want to be lectured by Harry about how bad of a decision it was and that it never should’ve happened. She knows that already, and she doesn’t need to hear it again from him. It would hurt even more, coming from the same lips that she’d been so excited to kiss. 

“What’s there to talk about,” she mumbles, her eyes downcast to the floor, watching the rain splatter against the pavement. Her hair is wet, drops of water dripping down her forehead, over the slope of her nose, and landing on her pretty lips. They get caught in the dip of her cupid's bow, and Harry watches painfully as she licks it away. 

It’s a painful experience, to have to remain so composed and put together, when he wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her again. His eyebrows are pinched, and his lips part as if he’s imagining what it’d be like to feel her lips between his again. He can’t help himself from staring down at her lips like a puppy yearning for a treat.

“We– we can’t just… ignore what happened,” he says, pushing his wet hair out of his face. He licks his lips nervously, and his fingers twitch at his side. 

“Yes we can,” she responds quickly. “Listen– I know it was a bad idea. You don’t have to like… lecture me about it. We can just move on."

“But– wait, no. I don’t want to just move on.” Harry blinks quickly, half because of the rain and half because he’s confused. 

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” she says quietly, toeing at the ground and wishing it would open up and swallow her whole. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She looks like she’s about to cry, and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t lean forward and hug her the way he wants to, he can’t even rest a hand on her arm. He watches sadly as she just wraps her arms around herself, a pathetic cardigan wrapped around her frame – as if that would do anything to protect her from the rain. How could this girl be so smart when it comes to school, he thinks to himself, but so utterly stupid when it comes to rainy days. “Let me drive you home, and we can talk about it.”

She shakes her head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea–”

“Come on,” he pleads. “It’s pouring, and we’re both getting soaked. Just let me drive you. Please.” His eyes are wide, and his hands are lifted up halfway, resisting the urge to reach out to her.

Thunder crashes loudly again, and y/n gives a silent nod. She follows him quietly to his car.

+++

“Did you regret it?” Harry asks at a stoplight. 

Y/n shrugs quietly. Not really an answer, but she doesn’t have the heart to vocalize her feelings. Of course she doesn’t regret it– she’d had a crush on him since the very beginning of the semester. But she knows that he probably wishes it never happened. So a shrug suffices. 

He sighs heavily. Her reluctance to talk to him is eating away at him, and he doesn’t know how to handle the situation. “Well I don’t,” he announces loudly. “I think you’re pretty, and kind, and sweet – and I enjoyed kissing you.” He peaks over at her through the corner of his eye, but she shows no outright reaction to his declaration. She just stares down at her fingers, tangled in her lap.

Okay, well now he feels silly for saying all that. 

He turns back to face the road, and the two of them are suffocated in the silence. The rain patters against the roof of his car and the windshield wipers rhythmically clear the glass. Y/n watches a single raindrop’s path down her window, following as it slides down and collects all the other drops of water on its way. 

Then she asks quietly, “You aren’t worried about getting in trouble?”

His eyes flicker to her. “S’not as big of a deal as you think it is, bunny. S’not like I’m actually your professor. We’re both still students.”

She’s silent again. Harry pulls up in front of her apartment, but she hesitates to unbuckle her seatbelt. He looks at her quizzically.

“So it’s not against the rules?” she asks once more, nervously.

Harry shakes his head. “No school policies against it.”

Her voice is quiet. “...and you don’t regret it?”

“Not at all.”

Silence again. She sits in his passenger's seat thoughtfully. They are both still very much wet from the rain. 

“I’d invite you up–” she suddenly says. “But, I have a roommate. And, um… if anything else were to happen… I still wouldn’t want anyone to find out. Even if it’s not against the rules.” She turns, her eyes wide and glimmering hopefully. She’s suddenly filled with excitement and confidence.

Harry nods understandingly. “Nobody has to know.” 

She still doesn’t leave his car, staring at him. “So… if we were to do anything else, it’d have to be off campus. And not at my apartment.” 

Harry’s lips part, and he nods again, slower, “I see… so, if we wanted to do something else… we should probably go to my apartment instead…” 

Y/n only realizes how much she missed the dimple in Harry’s cheek when he smiles at her for the first time since that day in his office.

His tone is teasing, “And… if I wanted to kiss you… then I should probably wait until we get to my place?”

Her eyes sparkle, “exactly.”

+++

On the way to his apartment, he warns her that it may be messy, and he also warns her about his precious little cat (a pretty white haired kitty with piercing blue eyes named Princess, because that’s the name the shelter gave her and he didn’t have the heart to change it) who would probably be meowing at their feet as soon as they walk through the door. 

Y/n doesn’t have much time to look around his apartment and assess the messiness though. As soon as they get out of his car and into the elevator, she finds herself unable to stand more than three steps away from Harry. She follows closely behind him, grabs onto his firm bicep as he types in the code to his apartment. He turns to her with a smirk – it’s endearing how eager and affectionate she is, looking up at him with stars in her eyes. She’s got a look on her face, like a kid on her way to Disneyland for the first time – except Disneyland is actually just Harry’s bed, and the rides involve a lot less clothes than Splash Mountain. 

He tests the waters. He spends a few seconds staring in her eyes, reveling in the palpable tension between them, and then he flickers his gaze down to her pretty lips. He dances between her eyes and her lips for a bit, his hand still on the doorknob but too distracted by her to turn it all the way. Instead, he leans forward, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips pressing against hers. It’s so nice to kiss her again, it’s everything he could have ever wanted.

She’s ready for it this time, eager for his kiss and not caught off guard on the floor of his office. She leans up on her tippy toes immediately, puckering her lips against his and kissing that boyish smirk right off his face. Her hands hold onto his biceps, and slide up to his shoulders, and she tilts her chin upwards to kiss him properly. 

Harry lets his tongue slip out, sliding it between her soft lips and grazing it against hers, warm and slick in her mouth. It makes her breath catch in her throat – he’s just so hot, and his tongue is in her mouth right now, and it’s all just so perfect. Harry actually lets go of the doorknob, forgetting that they’re still in the middle of his hall, and turns his entire body towards her instead of just his head turned towards her. The hand that had been on the door makes its way to her hip, and he towers over her, leaning forward and backing her up against the wall right next to his door. It feels like he’s a foot taller than her when he’s kissing her like this, pressing her against the wall and sliding his fingers into her hair to manually tilt her head back. 

He bares her throat to himself and tilts her chin upwards, all so that he has easier access to her pretty little mouth. Sliding his tongue against hers erotically, nipping at her lip and squeezing her hip tightly. He’s so soft and gentle and romantic – but he’s also taken full control, leaving her at his mercy. He tilts her head whichever way he wants with his grip in her hair, scratching at her scalp so she’s weak in the knees. It makes her whimper and keel, her heart racing in her chest like an overexcited little bunny. 

Harry smiles into their kiss when she feels him pawing at her, her frigid fingers pressing against his firm abdomen and gripping the fabric of his shirt, still partially wet from the rain. If she’s getting handsy, he better open the door and get her into his bed. But he can’t bring himself to break their kiss – so with his eyes still shut and his lips still tangled with hers, he uses a hand to blindly twist the doorknob and push the door open. They stumble in uncoordinatedly, and y/n doesn’t even have the chance to see if Harry was lying about having a messy apartment. She’s just trying to kiss him as much as she can, get as close to him as physically possible. She’s forgotten about how uncomfortable her wet jeans are, or how cold her fingers are after spending so long in the pouring rain. All she wants is to get into Harry’s bed. 

He guides her towards his bedroom, and peeks a nervous eye open to make sure that his room isn’t a horrible, gross mess, a sigh of relief leaving him when he confirms that it’s in an acceptable state to show this pretty girl. He’s tugging off his coat and letting it plop wetly onto the floor and undoing the buttons of y/n’s cardigan, when his sweet little kitty finally makes an appearance. 

A simple quiet meow is all they hear, followed by the gentle scratch of her claws tugging and pulling on Harry’s trousers. Harry giggles, and pulls away from y/n to stare down at his cat, who’s sitting ever so politely at his feet with one paw raised to rest on his trouser. She’s the cutest little cock blocker and she’s also his little baby. “Hi princess,” he coos. 

Y/n, with swollen lips and bated breath, is honestly a little jealous of how this cat must get so much attention from Harry, and how sweetly he just bent down to pick her up. She wants Harry to do that with her – to coo at her and lift her up and press a kiss on her forehead. She then scolds herself for being jealous of a cat.

The kitty, all fluffy with hair as white as snow, gives a big yawn and a sudden shake of her head that makes her collar jingle prettily. Harry smiles. “Let me just go get her some food n’then she won’t bother us,” Harry says to y/n. The implications of not wanting to be bothered makes y/n’s heart flutter, and she nods eagerly with wide eyes. 

He runs back quickly, and shuts the door behind himself, so that even if Princess finishes her food, she won’t be able to wander in randomly. Then he’s pulling the cardigan off of her, throwing it on the floor, and unbuttoning her jeans, all while re-initiating their kiss. He walks them backwards slowly, until the backs of her legs meet his bed and she’s falling backwards with a soft laugh. He smiles into their kiss as he tugs her jeans off – a slight struggle considering that the denim is all wet and sticking to her thighs, but he just laughs with her at the awkwardness of having to peel off each other’s wet clothes. With her jeans also on the floor, she’s left in a basic and plain pair of light gray underwear, and the white baby tee that had been underneath her cardigan. Her shirt has ridden up, revealing her ribs and her soft stomach, and he wants to just lean down and kiss all over her body. Her thighs, her belly, her neck. He can see her pulse racing in her neck, and wants to rest his lips over her chest and feel her heart pounding right against his lips.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, her legs spread at the edge of the bed with Harry standing between them. He’s smirking down at her, taking his time as he undresses himself, making her ache. His hair that had been soaked in the rain has dried up a bit, his curls fluffier and messier than usual. It’s his natural hair, the curls that form when he’s straight out of the shower and hasn’t had the chance to style them with his curl cream. It’s endearing. His fingers, so thick and long and manly, are insanely slow as he finds the buckle of his belt and undoes it. The sound of the buckle clanking makes y/n swallow thickly, and the sight of him standing at the foot of the bed, towering over her with a belt in his hand is so arousing for some reason. Her eyes flutter, but she forces herself to keep her eyes open as he buttons his trousers and steps out of them smoothly. Neither of them are saying anything, despite there being so much they want to say to each other. They just take in the moment, take in each other. There’s a tattoo on Harry’s thigh that y/n never would have expected, a tiger that looks so intimidating and regal on him. His thighs are thick and strong – it’s head spinning to finally see him undressing in front of her when she’d accidentally done it in her head so many times in his office hours. It was never an intentional decision to sit in his office hours and imagine what it’d be like to see him undressed – to imagine what he’d look like if she ever got the chance to suck him off, or how he’d sound. But it always ended up happening… he was just too hot. 

His fingers now undo the buttons of his shirt, another white button up (his work uniform, apparently) that he slowly opens to reveal a broad chest, filled with tattoos. Y/n’s mouth drops open. Never in a million years did she expect her sweet, smart, and flirty TA to be covered in ink, a sleeve of black drawings lining his left arm and decorating his abs. It’s insane. He is so hot. Harry just smirks.

Her eyes are wide and she looks dumbstruck, mouth open as she just stares at him, her chest rising and falling heavily. She feels herself clenching, her eyes roaming all over his body… his chest and the swallows on his collarbones… the butterfly on top of his defined abdomen… the ferns on the hard lines that lead down into his briefs. Her eyes flicker up, and she flushes knowing that Harry’s been watching her drool over him for the past minute. She can’t be embarrassed about it though, and finds herself staring at the hem of his briefs… and then just a little lower at the bulge. Her mouth waters without her consent. His big hand cups the bulge and he squeezes himself. She nearly passes out. 

She sits up fully so that she’s no longer half lying on the couch, and instead she’s face to face with his cotton covered cock. Not even trying to be hot or sexy or minx-like, she looks up at him through her lashes, silently asking for permission. She’d never admit just how often the thought of sucking Harry off had crossed her mind. Sometimes when she was in his office hours, she’d zone out while he was talking to her and just stare at his big hands – dreaming about feeling them at the back of her head, pushing her down to get his cock further down her throat. And other times, in class, when Dr. Richmond was lecturing on and on about god knows what, she’d find herself staring at Harry, sitting politely in the corner of the room, his legs spread naturally. She’d feel so dirty in class, imagining what it’d be like to sit between those thighs, rest her cheek on his leg while pumping his cock, when he was doing nothing to prompt such sexual thoughts. All he’d do was sit there, and she’d be thinking about laving her tongue around his cock-head, tasting him as he’d cum down her throat. 

“Go on then,” Harry grunts, tucking a piece of y/n’s wet hair behind her ear. She’s eager, licking her lips like she’s about to have some dessert, her eyes glittering and darting all over his face. She tucks her fingers into the hem of his briefs and pulls them down, revealing the bottom half of the ferns and a dark tuft of hair. She pulls down further and further, exposing his shaft, and pulls some more until she frees the head and his cock comes bouncing out of its confines. It’s large and nearly smacks her in her face, and she’s like a confused little bunny staring at it swinging in front of her. He can’t help but smile down at her fondly, his hand cupping her jaw. “You want t’suck me off, bunny?”

She nods, hypnotized but unable to make a first move. She’s too intimidated by his size, and how he’s towering over her, speaking down to her with his low, raspy voice. She just stares up at him with wide eyes. 

He grabs a hold of himself, wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, and just the feeling of his own hand gets him twitching and leaking precum already. She’s the sweetest thing, looking up at him with those big eyes, nibbling at her lips nervously. He pumps himself a few times, spreading his slickness down his shaft and all over his head. She’ll be able to taste him all the way down, feel him coating her tongue and spurting down her throat. 

He guides the tip to her lips, muttering a soft, “open up.” She’s so eager and obedient, parting her lips without hesitation and even going so far as to stick her tongue out for him, the precious little thing. He’s grinning like the joker, dimple in his cheek at the erotic sight in front of him. Gripping himself, he taps his head against her tongue softly, and traces a circle with the tip of his cock around the flat of her tongue. He does this a few times, his own fist sliding his cockhead over her tongue, the rough texture of her tastebuds heavenly on his sensitive tip. He feels smooth and slick on her tongue, and she sits there like an angel, tongue out and staring up at him sweetly as he does whatever he pleases. His cockhead is ruddy and red, so incredibly sensitive to the touch, and he groans through his smirk. Do you know how attractive it is to see a man moaning with a smile on his face? Y/n feels her panties soaking, and worries that it might be seeping onto his bedsheets. 

It’s honestly been a while for Harry, since he’s hooked up with anyone. He hasn’t dated anyone in a while, and it’s hard to find someone that he trusts enough to be himself with. He wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to trace his cock on any random person’s tongue, wouldn’t be calling a stranger “bunny” or whispering for them to open wider so he can push himself further in. 

“Come on bunny, show me what you can do,” he murmurs, encouraging her to grab a hold of his cock herself. That little taste of him from when he traced himself over her tongue has made her insane – she’s addicted to how he tastes and wants him further in her mouth. With his encouragement, she circles her tongue around his head. Tentatively at first, but when he groans out and bucks closer to her, she starts swirling more and more eagerly. She’s drooling for him, her mouth filled with saliva and just watering for his taste. She’s breathing heavily and small little whines are leaving her chest as her tongue slides from his head down his shaft. God. It’s addictive. She wants to lick up and down his cock for ages, just feel him on her tastebuds, but she also wants to wrap her lips around him and feel his cock fill up her mouth, but then she also wants to just jerk him off with her hand while she sucks his pretty balls into her mouth and roams her tongue around each other – oh the options are all so enticing, she’s overwhelming herself. 

Spit is dripping down the side of her mouth from how drooly she is over him, and she stops licking up and down his shaft and all over his head for just a second to swallow thickly. And then she’s immediately back on his dick, this time closing her lips around his head and sliding herself down his length, feeling the underside of his shaft against her tongue and his head tickling the back part of her throat. She wants to take him further so badly, wants to feel him fill up her throat, make her throat bulge with his thickness, just suffocate on his length – but when she pushes herself forward she has a teensy little gag, and has to pull off to catch her breath. “Oh, bunny,” he groans, biting his lip, “fuck.” She looks up at him teary eyed, her lips slicked and her chin covered in her spit and the copious amount of cum he’s already leaked into her mouth. It’s a sight that he’ll be dreaming about for days, every single night with his fist wrapped around his cock before he goes to sleep or when he’s jerking off in the shower before going to class. She wraps her lips around his cock again and bobs up and down eagerly, pushing herself forward so that his cockhead reaches the back of her throat, and then pulling back quickly so that his cock almost falls out of her mouth. She does this over and over again, her  tongue still lick at him as much as she can, flickering her tongue at his pretty tip and trying to lap up as much cum as she can, steadily leaking out of his slit. He’s so yummy and hot and she just wants to taste him and swallow him and feel him filling her throat – she tries to deepthroat him again, but disappointingly fails again. He’s just too big for her. 

She pulls off with a cough, huffing upset. She looks up at him sadly and he hushes her, delicately tracing a finger on her face, “S’okay bunny,” ((her heart races and does a few backflips every time he calls her bunny)), “we’ll work on it.” And oh, she can’t wait for that. Can’t wait for him to train her throat, get her adjusted to his size so that he can push himself down, fuck her face and stuff himself down her throat until he’s spurting long streaks of white cum into her mouth. Or maybe she’d tell him to pull out just in time so that he could coat her face. Or maybe she’d make him wait until she got his cock inside of her hole and he could fuck into her and cum right inside of her, pressing his balls up to her ass so that he could get it as deep as humanly possible. 

If she can’t get him down her throat today though, then she makes up for it by wrapping her lips around his balls and stuffing her mouth full of them. Her tongue circles around them, tonguing at the spot right between the two, and she makes sure to give each one a bit of their own separate love as well – sucking their roundness into her mouth, feeling how full they are. All while tugging at his cock and looking up at his red face, his flushed neck and the veins bulging in them. 

“Sweetheart,” he cries out with a loud moan. His fingers ball up into fists at his sides and his abdomen is clenching and fluttering erratically, “gonna make me cum. Where d’you want it, hm?”

She pulls off of his balls with a loud pop. “In my mouth,” she whines, as if it’s obvious. She’s been lapping at his slit, suckling out the yummy precum so desperately – she wants it all now. 

Fondling his balls and sucking harshly at his tip, she pulls the final trigger. His hips thrust forward and he groans out, his hands tightening in her hair as long spurts of white cum shoot out of him, coating her tongue and trickling down her throat. Her mouth overflows, stuffed full of his cock without enough room for all the cum that he’s spurting out to fit – so it trickles down her chin instead. She takes it so well, swallowing it all and suckling at him gently until there’s nothing more for her to suck out, and his cock sits limply against her tongue, worn out and sucked dry. 

His chest is red and heaving, and he’s weak in the knees. His sweet little bunny, so quiet and gentle in class, was the dirtiest little minx he’s ever had. He saw stars when he came, his ears ringing and his vision going white. It was a trip to heaven. 

He’s gonna have fun with her, for sure. 

+++

The used bookstore that Harry and y/n walk into is a thirty minute drive from campus. The store is dimly lit, fairy lights lining the shelves and small tables filled with books from local authors between the rows of books. There’s a cafe next door where Harry and y/n each get a hot chocolate to warm their numb fingers (it’s raining outside, again), and the smell of roasted coffee beans lingers on their clothes and follows them into the book shop. 

It’s warm in the book store. Not as warm as the cafe, but still warm enough for y/n to shed her raincoat and for Harry to unwrap the big, fuzzy scarf that he’d tied around his neck. His oversized gray sweatshirt is lightly stained with raindrops, y/n having convinced him that they didn’t need an umbrella, that they could just race out of the car and into the bookstore and only get a little wet. Either that, or he’d have to carry around a wet umbrella all around the bookstore, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to hold her hand while they shopped. And that simply wouldn’t do. 

With her fingers laced with his, they walk around in the fiction aisle, saying nothing. Y/n’s eyes trail over the multitude of used books, the ones with the colorful covers and bubbly fonts standing out to her the most (it’s hard to not judge a book by its cover!). Harry sips quietly from his hot chocolate and stares at y/n every few seconds, before averting his eyes to the floor. Or to their joint hands. He suppresses a smile to himself. 

It’s hard for him to contain his excitement. Since they started their relationship, it’s all been very hush hush. The only time he ever gets to touch her is when they’re at his apartment. He’s not allowed to hold her hand when they’re walking around campus, not allowed to stare at her for too long in class, even though he wants nothing more than to just watch her read and write her notes. Sometimes on Friday nights, when campus is empty and everyone has gone home, she’ll close his windows and lock his office door and let him give her a few kisses in the privacy of his office – but other than that, no PDA. It’s too risky, too scary, she whispered to him the night that they made it official, under the shield of his comforter. She didn’t want to have any rumors or whispers circling around, even if their relationship wasn’t explicitly against the rules. He, of course, would do anything for her. 

He was good about it. Kept his eyes off of her, didn’t praise her too much in class, kept his hood up whenever he went to pick her up in the middle of the night. But he’s an affectionate kind of guy – he’s the kind of boyfriend who wants to wrap his arms around her when they’re standing in line at the coffee shop. He wants to put his hand on her thigh when he’s driving her home from school, send her off with a kiss everytime she leaves his office hours. So being able to come to a bookstore in another city, where they wouldn’t see any of her classmates, and hold her hand while she looks for books… it’s such a special thing for him.

Her hand is warm and soft, and she wears these delicate little rings that clank against his bigger, clunky rings. Her nails are painted a dark burgundy color (courtesy of him, who whipped out his stash of nail polish and painted her nails after she whined about her hands being too shaky to paint her nails herself), and he rubs his thumb over her painted fingers lovingly. 

She untangles their fingers to reach for a book, and Harry’s hand feels cold and lonely. He tries not to visibly pout, and stuffs his hand into his pocket to maybe recreate the feeling of being held by her hand … but it’s not the same. He takes a step forward so that his chest is pressed against her back, and rests his chin on her shoulder, looking over at the book in her hand. Y/n smiles to herself – her boyfriend is like a puppy that can’t go three seconds without being pet or loved on. She tilts her head towards him and gives him a little kiss on the cheek, right on the spot where a dimple forms three seconds after she kisses him. His nose wiggles as he slowly says, “I actually have that book, if you want to borrow it.”

“Oh, really?” she hums, putting the book back. “Was it any good?”

He nuzzles his face closer to hers so that their cheeks are touching, and he can feel the chub of her cheek as she smiles. “4.5 stars.” 

His hand not holding his hot chocolate finds her hip as she spins around to face him, and he stares down at her with stars in his eyes. His dimple softly pinches his cheek and his lips quirk up to one side in a lopsided smile. She looks soft and sweet and cozy, in a white long sleeved top, a lacy trim at her collar, and a bow pinning her hair back. A heart shaped pendant rests in the center of her chest, a gift from him, and her eyes are bright and wide as she stares back up at him. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and her fingers tangle in the back of his hair.

She giggles as Harry just stares down at her and says nothing. “What?” she laughs, not understanding why he’s looking at her like one of the stars in the sky.

“Just so pretty, bunny,” he murmurs quietly. He leans forward, his nose nudging against hers for a kiss. She struggles to kiss him back through her own smile, but her painted nails scratch at his scalp while his fingers dimple her hips. His lips are sweet like the hot chocolate he’d been drinking, and she wonders if she tastes just as yummy and chocolatey – or if he’s just licking into her mouth because of how lovey and affectionate he’s feeling today. Her back presses against the bookshelf and his hips press into her front subtly, but it’s not in an insanely horny way, and more of a desperate attempt to press his body as close to hers as possible. To feel her chest against her chest, and feel her stomach against his. 

He loves kissing her, loves her pretty lips and her pretty face, her warm cheeks and her soft eyes. He sucks and licks and nibbles on her lips with quiet hums, and pulls off only when her giggles get too strong and she’s not kissing him back anymore. “Stop laughing,” he huffs, skimming his lips against her jaw. 

She giggles some more. How can he just casually call her pretty and kiss her in between bookshelves and not expect her to burst into a fit of shy, love-struck giggles? It’s too much for her, and the only way she can rationally react when she’s so happy and giddy is to giggle it out! “Sorry,” she smiles bashfully, her giggles still prominent, though, as the stubble on his upper lip tickles her cheek. “More kisses, please.”

He can’t help but smile at how sweet and polite she is, asking for more kisses. He puckers her lips against hers again for a quick kiss and starts a path up her cheek and all over her face too, which just sends her into a fit of even more laughter. He huffs out a chuckle of his own, and shakes his head, checking around them to make sure that they’re still alone in this aisle of books. 

“Wanna go to the sci-fi section?” he whispers to her. (He’s a bit of a sci-fi nerd himself and has turned y/n onto a few of his favorites, so now they’re both sci-fi fans). 

“M’kay,” she hums, her fingers untangling from his hair and sliding down so that her hand hooks into his arms. “Maybe we can see if they have that Andy Weir book you were telling me about, and go read it together in the cafe? M’hot chocolate is almost done and I want a cheese danish.”

And nothing sounds better to Harry than that. 

+++

hope u guys looveddd it !!! such a fun story to write and i really loved this couple. thank u for reading and dont forget to send me an ask or rb so that i know u guys liked it and if u want blurbs and stuff!!!!

Prose Masterlist

[louisaland]

PSOLC vignette « Grades »

OK, so this is inspired by the amazing @themetaphorgirl ‘s PSOLC ( Criminal Minds AU) as we discussed a situation with Hotch and Emily in the same class and she gets a better grade than him, though he put in way more effort. I haven’t written in aaaaaages, so 1m super rusty, but I had fun and feel like I nailed Strauss’s character

“ Did you hand in your essay OK, Bubba?” Alex asked Hotch as she sat down at the table, deftly readjusting Spencer’s tray once she had put hers down too.

“Yeah, thanks Birdie. Once you looked through it for me I typed it up and printed it, then I handed it in last week.” he replied, stirring raisins into his oatmeal.

Emily’s head jerked up, eyes wide and her spoon halfway to her mouth. She quickly regained her composure.

“Uh, Hotch, what’s today’s date?” she asked.

“It’s the 22nd, Emily. And yes, it is the date our 2000-word  essays are due in for Strauss. The essays she assigned us last month that are worth 40% of the semester’s grade.” he replied, shaking his head and frowning at his classmate’s disorganisation.

“Oh, I knew that, I do actually listen in class sometimes, Hotchner! And it’s no biggie! I’ll write it in French and Chapel.” Emily responded nonchalantly, her eyes reflecting her panic and stress. «  We’re studying the present indicative of first group verbs and adjective agreements, which is obviously very difficult, but I’ll make it work » she announced, trying hard to sound convincing but failing miserably.

“Alexandra Catherine Miller, room-mate extraordinaire,  what can you tell me about the leitmotifs in To Kill A Mockingbird? Just asking for a friend!” she asked Alex, eyes wide, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling, tilting her head to the side.

“Oh, that’s easy! I read it when I was 7, but the main themes are…”, Spencer interjected, gesticulating wildly, his eyes shining with excitement, as Alex placed a finger on his lips to quieten him.

“Sorry, Emily, but I really can’t help you now. I asked you if you wanted help when Hotch asked me to look through his first draft, and you told me you had ‘almost started it’, so you’re just going to have to face the consequences” Alex answered, a sympathetic look on her face. 

« But if I don’t get an A, I’m going to fail! And Strauss offers no make up tests or extra credit! I hope you’ll come to my funeral as Strauss is going to eviscerate me. » she replied, biting her lip as she realised just how much of a challenge she had to face.

Hotch muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “you made your bed, now lie in it”.

Penelope looked aghast.

« Well, I am so glad I only have Strauss for debate. She sounds like the kind of person who has a favourite child! » she shared, shuddering at the thought of having more classes with her most terrifying teachers. 

Just before the bell for second period rang, Emily dashed into class, almost tripping over Chris Callahan’s legs and narrowly avoiding crashing into Kate Carter’s  neighbouring desk before flinging herself into her assigned seat towards the back of the class, clutching several sheets of rather crumpled notebook paper. 

Ashley Seaver smiled sympathetically at her before resuming her chat with Jordan Todd about the new crime series with the hot male lead that they were both obsessed with.

The final bell rang, cutting their conversation short. The class fell silent immediately.

“ Pass your essays up to the front now. Some of you have already handed them in, but I needn’t remind you that is no guarantee of a good or even a passing grade. “ Strauss announced, shooting a pertinent look at Hotch.

“Miss Carter and Mr Callahan, how many times  have I told you that there’s no PDA in my classroom?” she scolded, glaring at the offending students, who were holding hands.

“And no, don’t answer that, it’s rhetorical! Get out your grammar books, page 82 and complete the sentence parsing that we started last class. There is no need to talk.” she announced, having gathered all the students’ work in a pile on her desk.

The class got to work and their teacher turned her attention to the papers in front of her, scowling at some and shaking her head at others, that she liberally annotated with her red pen.

Two weeks later

“ Well, on the whole, I was disappointed with your essays. As Juniors, you really should have mastered these basic concepts by now. You do realise, if you go to college, your professors will make me look like a Disney princess. I have a feeling that college might not be the right fit for everyone here” Strauss declared, casting a disapproving look around the class.

“However, there was one standout essay that I gave an A to. I had to take some points off for presentation, but the student in question provided some excellent analysis. It’s the only A I have given so far this semester. Emily Prentiss, I did not expect work of such caliber from you. » she continued.

She then proceeded to return work by grade.

«  A valiant attempt. Mr Hotchner, but you should definitely ask Miss Prentiss for some pointers for the next assignment » she said, handing Hotch his paper that had a big red B+ on it. 

He shot Emily a dark, murderous  look, but she just grinned and thumbsed up when their eyes met.

As the bell for lunch went, Hotch uncharacteristically shoved his books and papers haphazardly into his backpack, pushed his chair against his desk with more force than necessary and stomped out.

Emily was smiling broadly at their usual lunch table, chatting to Penelope about hairstyles as Hotch arrived, slamming his tray down.

Alex looked over at him with a concerned look, but he just prodded his mystery meat violently, eyebrows knitted tightly together.

«  Hi Hotch! Are you still hung up over your grade from Strauss? I’m sure I can help you do better next time » she said sweetly.

«  Just how did you get an A? » he questioned angrily.

Rossi looked up from his mashed potatoes, intrigue written all over his face.

«  Emily! How did you do it? Strauss hardly ever gives A’s! Please teach me your ways, you… witch! » he exclaimed.

«  I’ m just naturally brilliant, I guess. Perhaps I should request a transfer into the AP class. And don’t ‘Emily’ me! » she replied smugly.

« That’s a great plan, Emily. Except a) there are no places left in the AP class, and b) your last grade was a C minus, I believe? » Hotch declared.

She sighed and returned her attention to her plate of food.

Hotch would hopefully get over it by the time they graduated, she mused.

[indigolover97]

We’re Dripping In It

Chapter 1: Pied Piper

The next day Jungkook tries to ignore the jacket as he gets ready for his classes and tries to forget how warm he felt inside it. Tries to forget the beautiful words written in the notebook. But he doesn’t want to leave it behind, who knows, fate might be kind to him again and he’ll be able to return it.

With a resigned look to himself in the mirror, he slips the jacket back on, this time over a gray hoodie before picking up his backpack. He dodges the various seedy neighbors and yelling couples that litter the hallways until he’s on the street.

He checks over his missed messages from yesterday as he makes his way towards campus. He feels a pang of remorse at seeing Jimin’s frantic messages for his near lateness yesterday, but scoffs when he sees nothing after he had left him to flirt with Hobi-hyung. There’s one message from his brother Seokjin, reminding him to eat healthier, but there’s nothing else. He breathes a sigh of relief, thankful not to have missed any call-in from work for that night.

He decides to pass through the alleyway again today. Half hoping, half not, that he would run into the owner of the jacket again. He doesn’t.

He steps out onto the street from the alleyway telling himself not to feel bummed about it. He makes it halfway through his day before Yoongi, his boss, sends him a message about work and his plans for grocery shopping after class fly out the window.

The club that Yoongi owns, D-Town, is popular for underground shows; rappers, unknown artists, musicians, and freestyle dancers. Jungkook has worked as a bartender for him ever since he came to Seoul. Yoongi was the only person to give the scrappy, disheveled kid from Busan a chance.

He texts Yoongi back an agreement for the late shift tonight, then sends a message to Jimin not to wait up for their shared class tomorrow morning. And to save him some notes for it like a good hyung. He snickers at Jimin’s sassy reply before pocketing his phone.

The club is packed by the time Jungkook is ready for his shift, having placed his stuff in the employee lockers and mentally prepared himself for the long night. He helps Jisoo finish her line of customers before taking over the bar alongside Taehyung.

“How’s classes going, Kookie?” Taehyung asks after an hour of driving drinks out. There's always a pause just before a show starts on stage and they take full advantage of it to catch up and drink some water.

“Busy, as usual.” Jungkook answers with a shrug. “It’s just the start of the new semester, I’m not too stressed yet.”

Taehyung hummed as he sipped his water, “That’s good to hear, you gonna pick up more shifts then?”

Jungkook can only shrug as an answer before a new swarm of customers come up to the bar. What he truly enjoys about working at D-Town is that there’s no charming or low-key flirting with customers to get good tips, there’s no need for it. Most that come usually tip well because the show of the night is the main attraction, the alcohol just an added bonus. Plus Yoongi paid them well enough not to rely on tips.

“Who’s performing tonight?” Jungkook asks, after the swarm goes back to the dance floor, the lights dimming to signal the start of the show.

“I think it’s just some returning artists, nobody new tonight. Hey, when are we gonna finally have you up there, huh?” Taehyung nudges Jungkook in the arm and pouts at him. “Yoons has been saying for weeks that he thinks you’re ready to be up there.”

“He has?” Jungkook scrunches his brow at Taehyung’s nod. “I just.. I don’t know. I don’t think any of my music would fit this scene.”

Taehyung shrugs, “So what, you remember that lo-fi dude from last week? He killed it, even if you could barely hear him over the screaming crowd.”

Jungkook laughed at the memory, “Yeah, I guess I can't be that bad.”

“Exactly!” Taehyung cheered, clapping his shoulder. “Talk to him about it before you leave, you know he’ll be upstairs all night anyway.”

Jungkook eyed his hyung’s fond smile, “You let him stay that late, for shame hyung, letting your husband work all night with no rest.”

“Oh he’ll get plenty of rest later, trust me.” Taehyung rumbled with an exasperated eyebrow waggle, making Jungkook gag.

“Keep your bedroom life out of the sanctuary of my bar, please!” Jungkook whined, turning to finish cleaning the empty glasses on the bar.

Taehyung just cackled loudly as he turned to organize and restock their selection of vodkas and whiskey. The rest of the night passed with relative ease, the rotation of artists on stage kept the crowd thoroughly entertained, giving the bartenders something nice to listen to as they worked. Yoongi had a strong vetting system before allowing anyone on his stage, ensuring that every single one was a near hit for the night.

When 3am hit the clock everything began to shut down, last calls for drinks were given and the final band began to play until the club was empty. Once the doors were locked behind the last customers, the cleaning crew entered the room and began their rounds. Taehyung and Jungkook set to work getting the bar ready for the next day before calling it a night.

“Come on, you’re not getting out of this, let’s go up to Yoongi’s office.” Taehyung stated firmly, clutching Jungkook’s arm as he put the leather jacket back on.

Jungkook barely had time to grab his backpack and close his locker before he was being pulled up the long stairway towards Yoongi’s office. Taehyung didn’t even bother to knock on his husband's door, just waltzed right in and plopped down on the couch. Jungkook, ever polite, hovered at the door until Yoongi glanced over to him from his desk.

“Ah Jungkook-ah, how have you been?” The older man drawled, setting his pen aside from the papers he was writing on.

“I’m good hyung, thank you. Tonight was a busy one.” He answered, plopping down in the seat in front of the desk.

Taehyung stretched one of his long legs to poke Jungkook’s thigh, “Yah! Jungkook-ah, ask him before I do!”

Yoongi looked expectantly at Jungkook, completely ignoring his pestering husband on the couch. “You need something Jungkook-ah? Hyung can help.”

“It’s just… hmmm… I think I’m ready. I think I’m ready to perform one of my songs.” Jungkook stuttered out, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke.

Yoongi broke out into a wide, gummy smile, “Yeah, you think so? That’s wonderful Jungkook-ah, what song would you like to sing? We can have you in as the main event on Saturday.”

Saturday was the biggest night for D-Town. Yoongi only reserved his best performers for that night. To be giving Jungkook a spot, and it being his first performance ever, was huge.

“Wait hyung that’s…”

“Perfect, Yoongles! Just perfect!” Taehyung cut up, leaping up from the couch and rushing over to crush the older man to his chest. “Kookie will do so well, I know he will! Saturday night is perfect for him!”

“But..” Jungkook tried again, but stopped at the look Yoongi was giving him in between Taehyung’s arms. It was a stern but proud look.

“You will do well enough for our Saturday crowd, Jungkook. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. And if you agree to it, I know just the song you should sing.” Yoongi said gently.

Jungkook eyed the pair in front of him, Yoongi’s parental face in full effect and Taehyung’s beaming one, before hesitantly nodding his consent. Taehyung cheered and danced about the room while Jungkook and Yoongi began to discuss the song.

Jungkook only left after Yoongi was satisfied with their plan for his stage and Taehyung’s pestering for them to head home had become too much to ignore. He waved off their comments on having him stay the night at their penthouse as he closed the door behind him. He caught a glimpse of Yoongi’s gentle smile as he tugged Taehyung down for a kiss, the softness of their embrace made a twinge of loneliness pierce through his heart. The feeling didn’t leave him until he was halfway home, the cold early morning air making him clutch the leather jacket tighter across his body.

Without even realizing it he had taken himself back towards the alleyway, the peaking morning sun spilled between the two buildings eliminating it in an eerie glow. It was empty but Jungkook didn’t dare step through the passage. Without glancing twice, he began walking the long way around the buildings until he was on the street on the other side.

He glanced down the alleyway one last time, still empty, before heading up to his dingy apartment. This time he laid the jacket down on his chair as soon as he stepped inside and went to bed with an empty stomach.

The next day he headed for the closest grocery store. With his wallet much heavier from his paycheck last night, he confidently filled his cart with essentials. And to please his Jin-hyung, he added some healthier options with his piles of ramen packets. With giddy steps he carried his laden bags back to his apartment and set them nicely inside his cupboards and fridge.

Glancing at the clock Jungkook was shocked to see that he was nearly running late for an afternoon class. Rushing out the door he didn’t even hesitate to take the alleyway as a shortcut. Only it wasn’t empty this time.

Just as he was rounding the corner a tall figure stepped out from the alleyway. If there hadn't been quick action on both their parts, Jungkook trying to come to a screeching halt and the man grabbing him firmly around the waist, they would have fallen to the ground.

“Woah there, little one, where are you going in such a hurry?” A deep voice purred above Jungkook’s ear.

Jungkook jerked in surprise, his eyes widening as he got an eye full of the handsome face of the owner of the jacket. The dim shadows of the alley had done this man no justice. Jungkook was utterly speechless at the attractiveness of the man. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he gazed down at Jungkook and right in the corner of his cheek Jungkook thought he saw a hint of a dimple there.

“Cat got your tongue, little one?” The man teased with a smirk, and yes there was a dimple poking out of his honey colored cheek.

“Ah.. sorry…” Jungkook stuttered, slowly backing out of the man’s arms. “Just late for class… again.”

The man raised an eyebrow, folding his hands behind his back as he took a step away from Jungkook to survey him fully. “Is that a common occurrence for you? Being late?”

Jungkook vigorously shook his head in denial, “No, I try not to make it a habit.”

The man hummed a pleased tone, “That’s a good boy.”

Without knowing why, Jungkook blushes at the tone and the dark look the man has fixed on him instead of feeling creeped out by it.

“I believe you have something of mine,” the man continued, looking down at the jacket that Jungkook is wearing.

“Oh right, of course.” Jungkook moved quickly to unzip the jacket and take it off his shoulders, but was stopped midway by a pair of hands. He looks up in confusion at the man gently shaking his head.

“No, no you can keep the jacket. Please, it looks good on you.” He says with a chuckle, before reaching inside the jacket to the inner pocket where the notebook sits. Jungkook sucks in a breath at how close the man comes to him as he slips the notebook out. “I’m talking about this.”

“Oh,” Jungkook gasps, trying to shake himself from his stupor as the man backs away again with the little black book in his long fingers. “Your lyrics… they’re beautiful.”

“Ah,” the man ducks his head bashfully, Jungkook is shocked to see a slight red tint to his cheeks. “Should have known you might have snooped, but thank you. I hope this,” he gestures the notebook in his hand before slipping it into his pocket, “can just stay our little secret. I have some people that don’t need to know this side of me.”

Jungkook can only nod in response, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion but he doesn’t dare ask. The man smiles and softens his face, sending shockwaves through Jungkook’s body, then begins to back away.

“I’ll see you around, little one, keep my jacket safe will you?” He winks then turns and walks out of sight before Jungkook has a chance to even ask his name.

Jungkook is still in a bit of a stupor on his way to class. He doesn’t fully shake himself from it until he’s at Yoongi’s practice studio that sits on the third floor of D-Town. It's where all auditions and practice runs of performances are held. Yoongi introduces him to the six dancers that will be performing with him, some he recognizes from training in Hoseok’s studio. Speaking of the man, Hobi waltzes into the practice room sipping on a Starbucks.

“Hyung, what are you doing here?” Jungkook gasps in shock.

“I’m going to be helping you with the choreography,” Hobi answers with a shrug, pulling his sunglasses on top of his head as he takes another long sip of his iced americano.

“Ugh, how can you drink that shit. Buy the real stuff from a better cafe next time.” Yoongi sneers as he passes Hobi, the other man simply winks in reply before tossing his empty cup in the trash can.

“Alright!” Hobi said cheerily with a clap of his hands. “Let’s get this thing started!”

Hobi was as grueling and hard headed as Jungkook remembered, he pushed all of them to panting states as they ran through the choreo over and over again. Never once was he cruel, firm yes, but not cruel. They only had a few days to get everything together, they had to make the most of every hour of practice.

By the end of the night, Jungkook is sweating buckets and he can’t feel his feet, but they’re nailing it. With every run they’re getting better, him and the dancers becoming completely in sync.

After running it one last time, Hobi clapped his hands in delight. “I think you guys have nailed it! We can stop here.”

They all dropped like flies to the ground, groaning and panting in relief while Hobi simply cackled in delight.

“I expect this same energy tomorrow afternoon, so get some rest tonight!” He laughed at the groans he gets in response as he heads out the door.

Jungkook thanked all of the dancers individually, bowing to all of them as they left one by one until he was the only one left in the room. With his body still buzzing from practice he walks over to the stereo and plays his song again.

The song Yoongi had chosen. The one that Jungkook had spent hours, days, working on. And now it was alive, it played in the room. He flopped onto the floor, unknowingly using the borrowed leather jacket as a pillow and listened to the song blare through the speakers.

Taehyung found him hours later, snoozing on the practice floor and gently shook him awake, guiding him up to the penthouse of the building; his and Yoongi’s home. Jungkook barely noticed Yoongi looking up from the couch as they entered the apartment. Taehyung said something to him that Jungkook didn’t hear as he was guided into a guest room and tucked under the covers. He felt a hand comb through his hair and his shoes being pulled off his feet before everything went dark.

[desultory-suggestions]

Heyy, idk how to say this but im gonna try putting it in words, i took two gap years for giving an exam and now i won't make it, i can't find the right option to choose what to study and everytime i think about studying for a certain course, i get bombed with what if i hate the job that comes with and im scared. Do you have any advice for me? Ive been clueless thinking about everything and its just idk what to do

Hello, darling. This is a very common fear. It’s always been so frustrating to me that we’re expected to not only choose one thing to turn into a career, but do so at such a young age. So many people choose something and burn out because of this. However, it doesn’t have to be that way. I think taking those gaps was a great idea, you deserve all the time you need to explore and rest from academics. Here are a few centering questions and points I think may help.

Do you want to go to college? Do you feel like you should/have to or do you want to but feel worried?

Many people feel college is the only way. While there are fair concerns about starting a career with no degree, many forms of work don’t need one. A good example is trade work, which is often hands on learning. These are worthy pursuits! Additionally, if you want to pursue something such as art but feel no need for a classical education, maybe finding a job that lets you do that is better.

What are your top five passions?

They don’t need to make sense for university or a career. Say they’re bread, crayons, Russian literature, snails, and gaming. Those are all tangible things! Make a list and then think about what makes you so happy about them. What’s the common ground? How can you make these your study?

Have you considered not choosing one thing yet? Or at all?

Many universities and colleges offer unique opportunities in two ways. One is to be undeclared as a major. At my university and others they place you in University Division, where instead of starting right away on one topic, you explore any and all that interest you. Nursing? Sure! Painting? Yes! Finance? You bet! This was you can test what you like and don’t like. Secondly, many places now offer a whole degree that’s tailored by you for you. For example, my university has an office that will help you create a major. I know a student who’s studying music and neuroscience as one cohesive major.

Are you doing this for you?

So many people attend a university for their family or social standing. Please remember that this won’t be good for anyone, it will only burn you out.

What’s so bad about changing?

A consistent fear of students across the globe is “what if I change my mind?” It’s a valid fear, but not so scary as it sounds. A perfect example of this is in fact my brother. He got halfway through a BA in political science and well. He hated it. It wasn’t engaging the way he thought it would be, he didn’t enjoy his classes, and he was afraid of his future work. So what did he do? He went to his advisor, they talked and by gosh he changed his major. It delayed him a little while, but now he will graduate spring of 2023 with a degree in outdoor education and parks. Hold space for the fact that change is possible and ok. It will not be the end of the world. A woman I know for her PHD in economics and then became a minister. You won’t be the wildest story.

Quick Tips: Interview people with jobs you’ve considered. Literally just email and ask them! Most people will love to talk to you. Ask your professors as well, and chat consistently with them. Never underutilize your advisory office. They seriously know what to do. Take one class every semester that’s completely out of what you normally study, challenge your mind.

In the end no matter what happens it truly is okay. If you change your mind you do. But I know somewhere in your heart is a bright passion for something. You’ll find it, by typical methods or not. I’m here if you have any more questions! I love talking about academics and education. Also I have a good track record of helping people choose majors. Best of love and luck!

-Evan

[beautiful-songbird]

The Green Cloak [1] - A House to Call Home

Chapter 2 →

Pairing: Slytherin!Tae x Slytherin!OC

Genre: fluff, angst, hogwarts!au

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: bullying, use of jinxes

Summary: Cherry is sure her life at Hogwarts is going to be awful after the horror stories she’s heard from past students, but a group of friends proves her otherwise.

The train was packed. And loud. Cherry hid in the corner of one of the seats under her cloak as the people around her chatted. Her cloak was not one that granted her invisibility, but it sure seemed like it did. No one paid her any mind, which she was grateful for. She was nervous. She’d awaited this day for years, and now she just wanted to go home. She didn’t like that she’d had to say goodbye to her parents and brother for a whole semester. It would be scary to face this year without them.

She’d been told she’d make good friends here, but she wasn’t so sure about that. She’d heard the horror stories from some of their neighbors. Kaitlyn had been shunned by her house, Michael had gotten expelled, and Bennet had been sent home halfway through the year because one of the other kids gave him some sort of poison.

So, in short, Cherry was terrified. Her father didn’t tell stories of his days at the school, and her mother hadn’t attended it. She had no older siblings to talk to about it either. Her only sibling, Aspen, was two years younger than her. He was certainly excited for her first day of school. But she wasn’t.

“Hey, have you tried any of the snacks?”

Cherry was silent. She didn’t want whoever was speaking to notice that she was so near to them.

“Hey. Cloak person.”

Cherry felt a tug on her cloak, and she froze.

“No thanks. I’m not hungry.”

“…all right.”

The person didn’t speak to her again for the rest of the ride, which she was thankful for. It didn’t ease her nerves in the slightest, though.

↫֎𓇚֎↬

At least one thing seemed to be going right today. Cherry had been sorted into Slytherin. Just like her dad had been twenty-five years ago now. She kept a tight grip on her cloak as she sat down at the table.

“Hey. You getting hungry now?”

She jumped, glancing over in surprise. This must’ve been the person who had been talking to her on the train. She recognized his voice.

“No. I’m fine!”

“Oh. Well…that’s a shame, I guess. Welcome to Slytherin, though. We’re happy to have you.”

Once she could tell he’d looked away from her, she took a better peek at him. He was pretty. He had to have been one of the younger students, because he was still around the same height as she was. His hair flopped around when he turned his head, but his ears seemed to be his most prominent feature from where she was sitting. She looked away just as he turned around again. she didn’t need to be caught staring at someone on the first day of school. Maybe this school year wouldn’t be so bad if she had someone like him prancing around the same common room as her, though.

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Cherry found her home squished up against the corner of the window that night. Her new roommates were all unpacking their things in their bedroom, and she didn’t care to join them. She took a long glance around the common room, smiling at the thought that her father was once sitting in this same room.

There were currently quite a few of the older students in the room, but most of the younger kids unpacking. Cherry sighed. She wanted to go home. Today had been extremely boring, and none of the girls in her year seemed to want to talk to her. They’d all been chatting among themselves in the room when she’d left.

“Hey.”

Cherry jumped, her eyes widening as she looked up. Why was he here again? It was almost as if he was seeking her out. He sat next to her on the floor.

“How has your first day been?” he asked.

“It’s been ok.”

“Aw, just ok? Made any friends yet?”

“No.”

He frowned. “Well, that’s ok. You’ve got time.”

“Where are your friends?” she asked. “You’ve been here for a while. Surely you have friends.”

“They…” he started, glancing over at her. “Are in their own dorms right now.”

“You don’t have any friends here?” she asked in surprise.

He shrugged. “I have acquaintances I guess. But we’re not close.”

“Oh.”

He nodded. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

There was a long pause. She tugged her cloak around her again, attempting to hide herself in it.

“Um…no.”

“Hey, looks like you were meant to be in Slytherin,” he changed the subject, tapping her shoulder.

She glanced down. Oh, he was talking about her cloak. It was a deep green that was amplified in the light streaming through the water outside the window.

“It’s my dad’s.”

He smiled. “Is it? That’s cool. He was a Slytherin too?”

Cherry nodded. “Oh…what’s your name?”

“I’m Tae. And you?”

“Cherry.”

“Nice to meet you, Cherry. I’m a third year, by the way.”

“Wow,” she breathed.

The corners of his lips turned up slightly. “You wanna hear a story?”

“Uh…sure?” she replied in a small voice.

He scooted closer to her, leaning to whisper in her ear. “I wasn’t supposed to be in Slytherin.”

She glanced up at him in alarm. “What?”

“My parents are both muggles,” he smiled. “And the hat spent nearly two minutes trying to sort me. It wanted to put me in Ravenclaw. I asked for Slytherin, though, so here I am.”

Cherry raised an eyebrow. “It let you choose?”

“Well, I think it was biased towards Ravenclaw since neither of my parents are…you know, wizards.”

“I thought you couldn’t get into Slytherin if you didn’t have a magical parent.”

“Well, in the past that was true. Not anymore though. Now it’s just more likely that you’ll be in a different house if you’re muggle-born.”

“Huh.” Cherry glanced at him. “Cool.”

“Yep,” he replied, popping the p. “Is there anything you’re looking forward to this semester?”

“…going home?”

He laughed. “All right, I suppose there’s no trying to get you excited about this year. That’s ok. I think you’ll like it soon enough.”

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Cherry hated to admit that he was right, but he was. The first couple weeks weren’t so bad. Her dormmates actually turned out to be pretty nice, and a few of the other kids in class would talk to her occasionally. All in all, it was going pretty great.

Cherry plopped down at the lunch table. She was a few minutes late, and the yelling in the lunchroom had already started. The Gryffindor seeker was screaming across the room at Slytherin’s keeper. Again.

Tae sat down next to her. “I can’t believe anyone can get Yoongi going like that. He’s always silent until she starts talking.”

“Yeah. It’s because they’re both to stubborn to admit to liking the other,” one of their housemates, Solar, commented from across the table. “They need to just shut up and kiss already.”

“They’ve got one more year to do it before she’s graduated,” Tae laughed.

Cherry smiled. She wasn’t very talkative still, but it was nice to have people around her willing to engage in conversation that could include her.

“Tae, you’re trying out for beater, right?” Solar asked.

“Hey, that was supposed to be a secret!”

“Ohhh, sure. That’s why Jimin was talking about it in class this morning.”

Tae mockingly rolled his eyes, suppressing the grin that was sneaking onto his face. He shoved a bite of food into his mouth to distract himself.

“Cherry, how’s your first few weeks of school been?” Solar asked.

Cherry glanced up in surprise. “Um…they’ve been ok?”

“What’s your favorite class?”

“Potions…I think.”

“Mmm. I hate that class.”

Tae rolled his eyes genuinely this time. “I’ve heard this a thousand times.”

“Ok, listen! My caldron doesn’t like me! I can’t explain it, it just doesn’t. Until you figure out how to fix that for me, stop getting annoyed when I say I hate that class.”

Tae smiled innocently at her, and Cherry glanced between the two. Was something going on between them?

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Per a rule that had been instated after the development of modern technology, students weren’t allowed to use phones or any other sort of electronics at school. At all. Which meant the only contact they had with their family was through good old-fashioned letters. Cherry sat in the corner reading one from her family that she hadn’t opened at breakfast that morning. There were three long paragraphs from her mother about how much they missed her and news about what was going on at home, but beyond that the only thing on the letter was something illegible written by her brother. Or at least it would’ve been illegible to most. Cherry could read it.

Send me chocolate frogs, signed Aspen in the sloppiest handwriting Cherry had ever seen from him. He probably didn’t want their mom to be able to read what he’d written. Her dad had at least signed the letter. He never had a lot to say, so she hadn’t really been expecting anything from him.

She folded the letter up and tucked it back into its envelope before hiding it under her cloak. Then she leaned against the glass, staring out into the lake. She had homework to get done, but she didn’t want to do it right now. She wanted to go on a walk, but they weren’t permitted to do that. Which made sense. The place was huge, and the adults were all in their offices or rooms for the night. But that didn’t stop Cherry from wishing she could leave.

Just then, the door to the boys’ dorm rooms was thrown open, and two of the sixth-year boys came stumbling out.

“I told you! You can’t go anywhere near her! She’s a pureblood, you rat! Mudbloods aren’t supposed to date purebloods.”

Cherry sighed and rolled her eyes. She glanced back after a few seconds of silence to see what was going on. A tall guy, who looked rather like a stick, was towering over another guy. From the looks of it, the tall guy had been the one yelling. He looked like steam was coming out of his ears. The shorter of the two just had a look of displeasure on his face.

“That’s not for you to decide. Ruby can tell me herself if she’s got a problem with me.”

The taller boy scoffed. “Well- well I’m sure she will!” Then he stomped off back into the dorms.

The shorter boy just shook his head and found his way over to the windows. He leaned against one of the panes, staring out at the water with Cherry. He didn’t seem to notice she was there, so she relaxed again and returned her attention to the lake.

“You’re Tae’s friend, right? Cherry Wood?”

She stared up at the older boy then. Oh. This was the keeper. Yoongi.

“Yes.”

He glanced down at her then and smiled. “I’m Yoongi. I’m his cousin.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

She shrunk back into her corner. Why was he talking to her? This was very odd. When she looked up again, he was gone, nowhere to be seen in the common room.

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Herbology was not a class Cherry enjoyed being in. She didn’t like plants, and it seemed to her that the plants didn’t like her either. Thankfully, she didn’t really have to make contact with any of the plants. She wasn’t sure how she was going to survive doing that in the second year.

“Hey, can I borrow your book? I accidentally left mine in our dorm.”

Cherry glanced to her side. Bella Taylor, one of the girls she shared a room with, was sitting there.

“No. I need my book.”

“Well, can you at least share?”

Cherry gave up, sliding the book over slightly so Bella could see the page they were supposed to be looking at.

“Thanks.”

After class, Bella followed Cherry to lunch.

“Do you hang out with Sophia and Jade at all?” Bella asked, even though she knew the answer was no.

“No. I talk to Tae and Solar.”

“Oh. Aren’t they third years?”

“Yeah.”

“Um…do you want to eat with me and Jade today?”

“You can eat with me and Tae and Solar.”

Bella grinned. “Ok!”

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Cherry didn’t hide under her cloak for the first time that night. The other three girls were never asleep by ten, but usually Cherry would try to sleep despite their chattering. This evening, she joined them. Well…sort of.

“Did you hear about what happened to Nina Baker?” Jade asked.

“The Ravenclaw?” Bella inquired.

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t she drink an alihotsy draught on accident?” Sophia jumped in.

“Yeah. Not sure how you do that on accident,” Jade muttered.

“Isn’t she a third year? They don’t learn to make those until fifth year!” Sophia exclaimed.

Ok, so maybe talking to her roommates wasn’t as exciting as Cherry thought it would be. Wasn’t there anything else to talk about?

“Ooo! Have you guys seen Timothy?” Sophia asked.

“Which Timothy?” Bella wondered.

“Timothy…uh…I don’t know. He’s a Hufflepuff. He’s in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Ohhh that one!” Jade grinned. “He’s cute!”

Cherry sighed and rolled over in bed, burying herself under her cloak. She did not want to hear these girls gush about boys for the next hour.

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Cherry pulled her cloak on. She was about to leave to head to the first quidditch game of the year. She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. She’d seen the professional games, but she’d never seen a grade school play before. This was going to be interesting.

She let out a fearful shriek on her way out of the dorms. Bella had jumped out from behind the door and surprised her.

“Don’t do that!” Cherry exclaimed.

“Why not?” Bella grinned. “Are you excited for the game?”

“Not really,” Cherry admitted.

“Well, that’s a shame. I’m really excited! Jimin is one of Gryffindor’s chasers. I can’t wait to see him play!”

“Jimin? When did you ever see him?”

“I talked to him on the train,” Bella smiled.

“Oh. Ok.”

“Aren’t you excited to watch Tae play his first game?”

“Sure.”

Bella shook her head. “You’re not fun.”

“Thanks.”

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Cherry thought the game had been relatively boring. She’d never been a huge fan of watching quidditch but seeing Tae so thrilled to be on the field made her happy.

Slytherin had won the game just barely, which Cherry supposed was nice. Bella was complaining for some reason. Traitor. She should’ve been sorted into Gryffindor as far as Cherry was concerned.

That evening, dinner was disrupted by yelling again.

“Just admit that Gryffindor is better than Slytherin!” Ruby hollered across the room.

Cherry had to wonder why none of the adults bothered to tell them to keep quiet.

“Are you kidding me? Sit down and eat your dinner,” Yoongi replied calmly despite the fact that you could hear his voice through the whole room.

“No. I don’t think I will,” she replied before climbing out of her seat and crossing the room.

Yoongi sat in confusion for a few seconds as he watched her. Then he spoke again.

“Why won’t you jus-”

He was cut off by her abruptly grabbing his collar and kissing him.

Cherry took a bite of her food. Well. This was awkward.

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Sitting in the Slytherin common room that night was not fun. Ruby’s cousin had once again taken to yelling at Yoongi, which no one really understood. Yoongi had been innocently sitting at one of the tables doing his homework when the taller boy had slammed open the door that exited the boys’ dorm rooms.

“I can’t believe you’d do this!”

“She kissed me, dude, you can’t blame me for this,” Yoongi replied. “Let me get back to writing my paper, thanks.”

“I don’t think I will. Let’s duel.”

“No thanks. I have homework to finish.”

“Yeah, well it can wait. It’s not due for another day at least.”

“Hey,” Tae tapped the tall boy on his back. “Leave him alone.”

The boy spun around. “What’s it to you, pipsqueak? This has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah, well if you’re going to stand up for your cousin, I’m going to stand up for mine.”

And that was how Tae ended up in the hospital wing.

↫֎𓇚֎↬

“Tae, I could’ve handled that guy! You didn’t need to talk to him!” Yoongi exclaimed as he paced the room.

“Yoongi, I’m fine!” Tae replied before wincing.

Cherry was seated next to the bed, glancing back and forth between the two of them. The left side of Tae’s neck and part of his collarbone were swelling.

“Hey, it’s his problem, anyways. The whole house is mad at him for losing us thirty-five points.”

“He deserved more than that, honestly,” Cherry muttered. “He physically injured you.”

“It’s not an injury…just swelling,” Tae cringed again.

“Mmm, cause you’re definitely not in pain.”

Tae sighed and closed his eyes.

“He should be suspended,” Yoongi commented. “He shouldn’t have been using spells at all in the common room.”

“Yeah, well that’s not how the system works,” Tae muttered.

“I’ve noticed.”

↫֎𓇚֎↬

Tae spent the next few days in the hospital wing as he recovered. Cherry walked into the wing on Monday afternoon after her History of Magic class ended. Solar was seated next to him reading him her notes from class. Cherry silently approached them.

“Cherry! Guess what! I can go to classes tomorrow,” Tae grinned when he noticed her.

She smiled. “That’s great, Tae. Ruby’s cousin is getting detention for a week. He was polishing some stuff in the hallway when I passed him.”

Solar laughed. “That’s great. He deserves it. I’m glad he at least got some punishment that doesn’t affect the rest of our house.”

“Have you seen Yoongi?” Tae asked. “He said he’d come by today, but I don’t know when.”

Cherry shook her head. “I saw him at lunch, but that was it.”

Tae nodded. “That’s ok. He’ll probably show up at some point.”

“I did see him briefly in the hall today,” Solar commented. “He and Ruby were together.”

“Nice. Maybe they do have a chance to get together before the year ends.”

Cherry glanced between them. “Has he liked her for a while?”

Tae nodded. “I heard about her before I even came to Hogwarts. He’d mentioned her in front of his brother, and he never let it go. Told our whole family before Yoongi could stop him.”

“Oh,” Cherry frowned. “That wasn’t very nice of his brother.”

“He got in trouble for telling everyone, I think.” Tae shrugged. “It was really cool to meet her when I came, but they were always fighting! She made seeker when she was in her fourth year, and she was always after Yoongi once he joined the Slytherin team.”

“I always thought it was just because she liked him and wasn’t sure how else to talk to him,” Solar admitted. “She started a fight with him on the first day I was here.”

“Remember how that one Ravenclaw threw some chips at her when she started yelling?” Tae asked, chuckling.

“Yeah, that was a weird day. I thought the whole school was nuts because of that!”

Cherry smiled at the two of them, unsure what to say. “Well, that sounds fun.”

↫֎𓇚֎↬

The rest of the semester was pretty tame. Ruby’s cousin didn’t mess with Yoongi again after the whole event out of fear of getting expelled, and Tae healed up pretty nicely.

Christmas break seemed to have come too soon. Hogwarts was covered in snow as the students prepared to leave, though the outside world would not be as snowy this time of the year.

“My brother said to bring him home some chocolate frogs,” Cherry laughed. “Should I?”

“Nah. He can wait until he comes or buy some himself,” Bella grinned.

“I don’t see why you can’t take him a few,” Tae replied. “Make it his Christmas present.”

“He asked me months ago if I’d send him some,” Cherry laughed. “And I never did.”

“Wow, you’re so mean.”

Cherry shrugged.

“Last time we were on this train you spent the whole time hiding in the corner,” Tae nudged her.

“That was Cherry?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah.”

Cherry flushed, instinctively hiding in her cape.

Series M.list

A/N: ok this is actually going way better than I thought it would :)

It would be greatly appreciated if you reblogged the story if you liked it!

Taglist: @jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger @jinnie-forthe-winnie @taehoneycheeks @aianloveseven @bangtansjonas @fly-you-dam-fools

[unwrittenlibrary]

Fine Line

Summary: There’s a fine line between love and hate and you’re not too sure which side you’re on with Harry anymore. Part Two to What Kind of Man 

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: I said this in the first part & will repeat it. This is purely fictional. This in no way reflects how I feel Harry would handle this situation in reality. I’m really using Harry as a character. DO NOT READ THIS if you feel the situation of cheating and staying together will impact you strongly or offend you. That is not what I want when reading my story. 

Notes: I urge those uncomfortable with cheating to avoid this. I also urge those who dislike this kind of writing to avoid. I came up with this story at a point in my life where my parents were divorcing, I was going through a break up and was lost. I’ve decided to finish this story because I put so much effort into it for it to end unfinished feels wrong. I can’t speak for anybody and how they would handle this situation. 

Thank you for 1000 followers. That is crazy! 

-

You’ve got my devotion. 

But man, I can hate you sometimes.

...

You sunshine, you temptress.

My hands at risk I fold.

-

April. 

The first two sessions had gone by in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say to answer the therapists questions. You weren’t sure you even wanted to talk at all. 

“Y/N.” You look up startled out of your thoughts. “Do you feel like talking today?” Her eyes are kind and understanding. Her degrees hang behind her head and you zone in on them. Dr. Walsh had been the only therapist who could take you on in April. Any others that you called had informed you their next opening for new patients wasn’t until the end of May. 

You supposed it could have been worse. So far, Dr. Walsh had come across as kind and understanding of your hesitance. She had never forced you to talk and had only tried to get you involved on your own accord. 

“What would we talk about?” You ask instead of ignoring in silence like you had the past two sessions. You can see Harry turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you remained focused on the two degrees hanging behind Dr. Walsh’s head. 

UCLA. “What year did you graduate?” You ask before she can answer your original question. “From UCLA.” 

“We can talk about whatever you want. How you two met. Your kids.” You raise an eyebrow and she smiles. “1996.” 

“I thought we were supposed to talk about our issues. Why would we talk about our kids or how we met?” You answer her question. You can tell Harry’s eyes are moving back and forth between the two of you, like he’s unsure if he should get involved in the conversation. 

Dr. Walsh shakes her head. “Sometimes the best place to start is with what makes you two happy. You’re here to work on your relationship, right?” 

The two of you nod. “Then I’m not worried about starting with the most painful part of your relationship. I want to learn about it. If I can learn about your relationship then I have more knowledge on how to help you repair it, if that’s what you want.” 

“Okay.” You agree. You feel some of your tenseness fade away. You were here for a reason. “We went to UCLA too.” 

She nods. “You did? Were you studying the same thing? Is that how you two met?” 

You look down at your fidgeting hands and let out a laugh. “Not quite. I was a creative writing major and Harry was political science. We met in a World History course our sophomore. It was a general requirement class.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Professor Ward.” 

“Mind if I sit here?” You look up and your breath hitches. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Bright eyes and a sweet smile that could take anyone’s breath away. 

You nod hastily. “Yeah. It’s all yours.” You move your notebook over so he has a bit more room on his half of the table.

“Thanks.” He drops his books on the table and flops down into the chair. “Harry.” He reaches a hand towards you and you meet him halfway. 

You offer your name up easily and his smile brightens. “What brings you into a World history course?” He asks quietly as the last bit of students rush into the few seats left up front. 

You smile. “Creative writing majors have to take one broad history course before focusing on any history of writing courses. Ward’s class was the only one with openings that didn’t start at eight.” 

“Creative writing. That’s cool.” Harry’s spinning the pen in between his fingers. “You want to be a writer?” 

You smile nervously and nod. “That’s the goal. What brings you to Ward’s World History?” 

Harry laughs softly. “I’m a political science major, this is just a required gen ed.” 

“Political science. What’s your plan with that? Am I sitting next to a future senator?” You give him a teasing smile. 

“Lawyer.” 

You shrug, “Senators have to start somewhere.” The professor comes in and that halts the conversation from going anywhere else. As Professor Ward goes over the syllabus you see a piece of paper slide across the table towards you. You look over at Harry, but he’s looking ahead with a smirk on his face. 

You unfold the paper and there is a number written in messy handwriting taking up the small page. 

“Bold.” You whisper to him and he shrugs. “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.” He whispers back. 

“So you both liked each other right away?” You look up as you're dragged out of the memory of meeting Harry. 

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I think so.” 

“Definitely.” Harry agrees. “I’m lucky I was running late that day. The seat next to her was the only good seat left. Plus, she helped edit all my essays. I was a shit writer before her.” 

You smile softly at the memory. “Y/N?”  You look up and Dr. Walsh is watching you closely. 

“That class sucked.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “We had so many essays. He’s right, he was a shit writer before me.” 

You finally spare a look over at Harry and he’s watching you with soft eyes. “That was our first semester of sophomore year. We were attached at the hip after that.” You look back down at your hands. 

“Did you guys start dating right away?” She asks.

“Pretty much. We started dating right before winter break.”  Harry answers for the both of you. 

She nods as she eyes the clock on the wall. “Does that memory still make you happy?”

You nod. Your memories hadn’t been ruined. But that didn’t really mean anything when you could barely be in the same room as Harry now. “Of course. But… Things are different. We’re not twenty-somethings with no responsibility. We’re parents. Partners. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. And now it feels like we don’t.” 

Harry looks over at Dr. Walsh as she studies you. She was obviously taking in your words and processing a response to them. “I think the biggest question you need to find the answer to is, do you want to fix this marriage?” She finally says looking pointedly at the distance between you two. 

You pause and mull over her question. “Can we fix it?” You ask quietly. 

She shrugs. “I can’t answer that for you. It’s my job to help you find the answer, not give it to you. What I can tell you is; Sometimes people walk out of this with a new appreciation and love. Sometimes people realize it can’t be fixed. Nothing is wrong with either, it’s just up to you two to figure out which one it is.” 

You look over at Harry and find him watching you with hopeful eyes. You knew he wanted to and felt like you both could fix this. 

But you weren’t sure. “I don’t know.” 

-

The drive home is silent for the most part. Music playing softly from the radio as you stare out the passenger side window. 

“I don’t know what to say.” Harry says as he pulls the car into the driveway. He puts it into park but doesn’t turn it off so the music is still playing as he turns to look at you. 

Gemma’s car was parked behind your own. You see the curtain move slightly which is a telltale sign that a child was peeking out the window. It quickly falls back into place when your eye catches Serena’s. 

You shake your head and look back down at your lap. “What is there to say?” 

Harry shuts his eyes and you see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “I want to fix this. I’m trying. Do you want to fix this?” 

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t try and guilt me, Harry. I didn’t cheat, you did. This… This mess isn’t my fault and it shouldn’t be my job to fix it.” 

“I’m not trying to guilt-“ He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “That was a shitty thing to say. I know. I just want to know if we’re gonna make it through this. If you think we have a chance.” 

You look over at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know. All I can think about is you fucking another woman while I was home with our kids. Telling them that you were just busy. That we would have dinner tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.” 

Harry flinches like you’ve hit him. You turn away but don’t stop talking. “I know a month may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. We’ve been together for seventeen years, so what’s a month?” You laugh humorlessly. “But how long have we been distant? How long have you been staying late and missing dinners?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry whispers and you see him clench his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from falling.

“It’s been months, Harry.” You look around the yard. Your and Persephone’s plants needed maintenance. “We had Jack and then everything changed. We stopped date nights. Family game nights faded from existence. We stopped having sex. I… I don’t know what happened.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything so you sigh. “I’m trying, Harry. It may not seem like it to you, but I’m trying.” You unbuckle yourself and move to get out of the car. 

Harry reaches out and wraps his hand gently around your wrist. “I know.” He stresses the word. “I know you are.” 

You nod and the two of you just watch each other for a moment. You break away from him first. “I’m sure the kids are peeking out the window. We’ve been out here long enough.” 

The both of you climb out of the car silently. The door flies open by the time you reach the second step of your front porch. 

“Mama!” Oliver comes flying out towards you. “Mama. Never leave us again. Baby Jack is crazy.” He grips you tight and you laugh, the tension immediately leaving your body as you hug him back. 

Gemma comes to stand in the entrance with Jack on her hip. She gives you a weak smile and you smile back. “Come on, I’m sure Aunt Gem is dying to go home after watching you crazy lot for two hours.” 

Gemma leaves quickly handing Jack off to Harry and giving you and Harry both kisses on the cheek. “Let me know about spring break, Y/N!” She calls as she rushes out your front door. 

“Spring break?” Harry asks as he bounces Jack in his arms. 

“We’ll talk about it later.” You say sparing a glance down to Oliver, who’s still attached to your leg. Harry nods before moving towards the living room. Oliver follows behind him and you’re left in the front hall alone. 

You take a deep breath before following them. 

-

Harry sleeps in the guest room. You can’t bring yourself to allow him back into the room you two shared. 

His clothes remain in his half of the closet though and his toiletries had remained in place on the bathroom counter, so you saw him every night before going to sleep. 

Dr. Walsh had suggested the two of you used this time to try and reconnect. “You don’t have to sleep in the same bed yet. It’s completely normal for you to need time apart, Y/N. But I do want you two to talk before bed every night, I know you have four kids and it may be your only true alone time to reconnect emotionally before you ever do anything physically, even just sleep.” She had offered at the end of your session after you had admitted you weren’t sure how you felt about Harry and your relationship now. “This is a good way to figure out if you can still see yourself together.” 

You loved him. You didn’t need her to help you answer that question. He was the father of your children. You had over a decade of amazing times together. But you couldn’t look at him without your chest aching. 

“What was Gemma talking about spring break?” Harry sits on the lounge chair you two had placed in the corner of your room. Jack’s bassinet used to be next to it, but he had recently moved into his own room. 

You sit on the end of your bed with your arms crossed over your chest. “Olly has been asking if we could go to Disney World. I was talking to her about maybe surprising him and Serena for their birthday since it falls during the kids break this year.” 

“That sounds really nice.” Harry smiles and you nod. “I’m sure the four of them would love it. I can put in for the week tomorrow. I have a bunch of paid time off I need to use up.” 

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You want to go? We haven’t been on vacation since the beach trip before Jack was born.”

Harry’s face turns stoic. “Of course I want to go. I told you I was going to spend more time with guys.” He walks towards the dresser you have pushed against the wall. “Here, pull your laptop out, let's book this now so we can get a good room.” 

You gape at him. It had only been an idea you were considering for the twins birthday. Although, it was coming up and you were running out of time to make a decision. 

“Are you sure you can get the time off?” You ask instead of listening to his direction. 

Harry nods resolutely. “Can I?” He points next to you and you nod. You lean over to your nightstand, where you had left the computer the night before while writing. 

You push it open. “I’m gonna go get Persephone.” You stand up and hand the laptop to Harry. “She can help plan some stuff with us, so we know what these young kids want.” You give Harry a weak smile and he nods. 

You shake your hands out as you make your way down the hall towards your eldest daughter’s room. You knock softly on the door, “Seph?” 

“Come in.” She calls and you push the door open. She’s got her show paused and is curled into her comforter. “What’s up, mom?” 

“Can you help your dad and I with something?” You ask hesitantly. “I know it’s late, it’ll be quick.” 

Persephone gives you the same dimpled smile Harry has, “Of course. I was gonna be up binge watching this show anyways.” She unwraps herself from the blanket and grabs her phone before following you back to your bedroom. 

“Hey, lovebug.” Harry gives her your favorite smile. One he’s somehow reserved solely for you children. Soft and bright while his eyes shine proudly. 

“Hi, daddy.” She plops herself down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead and the smile that spreads across Persephone’s face is contagious. 

You take a seat next to her, so she is squished in between the two of you. “You know how Olly has been asking about Disney?” You ask quietly. You and Harry had put the twins down an hour ago, but Oliver was known to sneak away from his room for a cuddle with you. 

She nods instead of verbally answering and Harry pulls up the booking website. “Your mom had the great idea to surprise the twins for their birthday.” 

“Really?” Seph asks excitedly. Your family trips usually consisted of beaches or visiting grandparents. The last time you had been to Disney was when it was just the three of you. You weren’t sure she could even remember most of the trip. 

You bump her shoulder softly with an excited grin. “Really. Jack is old enough that he can get probably through a day there without screaming his head off. Aunt Gem said that she could come to help watch him so you three can have fun.” 

“That sounds awesome!” She lifts her head from Harry’s shoulder and looks at you happily. “What did you need my help with?” 

“Picking out where to stay. You guys are the focus of the trip so we want you to stay where you want to, not us.” You gently take the laptop from Harry and place it in her hands. “So tell us your top three and then dad and I will pick from there so you still get to enjoy some of the surprise aspect.” 

She scrolls through the website for a few minutes while the three of you sit there quietly. You glance over at Harry hesitantly. He’s looking down at your daughter with bright eyes. 

You quickly look away when his eyes move up to meet yours. “Okay. I added the three I liked the most to your favorites! Did you guys need anything else?” 

You both shake your head. “Just keep this a secret. It’s going to be a surprise.” You smile excitedly at your eldest. She had grown so much, but seeing the childlike shine of excitement in her eyes brought you a bounty of joy. She was still your baby. 

Persephone nods before handing the laptop back over to Harry. She presses a kiss to both your and his cheeks before hopping up and making her way towards your door. 

You give her a confused smile when she pauses and turns back around to face you again. She takes in a nervous breath before speaking. 

“It’s really good to be all together again.” The words are quiet and fearful. “Um. I love you guys. Goodnight.” She turns on her heel and bolts out the room and back down the hall. 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispers. His tone is similar to her’s. Quiet and full of fear. “I love you all. I know I hurt you, but you are all my world. Those kids are what I’m most proudest of.” 

“I know.” You look over at his lap. His hands curled tightly around the laptop still open in his lap. “I never doubted how much they meant to you Harry. I know how much you love those kids.” 

You want to reach out and pull his hand into yours. Something you usually did when Harry was scared or nervous. But you kept your hand firmly planted in your lap, unable to give him that forgiveness. 

“I was never afraid of you not loving them. I was-“ You stop unsure of what to say. What were you afraid of? “I was afraid that I had given so much and you still wouldn’t have chosen me.” 

Harry looks over at you with sad eyes and you let out a humorless laugh. “Harry, I’ve never regretted having Persephone so young. I’ve never regretted being home. But, I just want you to show that… that you appreciate me.” 

“I do appreciate you.” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He places the laptop in the empty space in between you. You watch as he works through what to say, his tension clear in his eyes. 

“But…” He trails off like he’s still unsure of what to say. “I’m here. I want to be here. I want to show you that I appreciate you.” Harry takes a deep breath and places a hesitant hand on your back. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

You take a deep breath. “Let’s focus on this... I want the twins to have a great birthday and for Seph to have a great spring break. Things have been tough for them too. We can figure the other stuff out later.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls the laptop back towards him. You can tell he wants to though. That he wants to talk this out and get in deep.

You just can’t bring yourself to do it. 

-

“A family vacation can be very cathartic for couples struggling.” Dr. Walsh gives the two of you a kind smile after you reveal what you had planned for your kids. “But, it can also bring about stress at being in such a small space for such a long time. Especially when you’re still struggling to communicate.” 

“I’m really trying.” You say quietly, on edge at the idea of you and Harry bringing about any stress on a trip meant to be for your kids. “We both are. I think.” 

“I know.” She gives you an understanding look. “You guys do your homework. You said it yourself, your nightly conversations aren’t painful anymore. But talking about small things is only the beginning of strengthening your communication.” 

“So you want us to talk about the affair?” You ask. “The big thing.” 

She shakes her head. “Eventually. Sweeping it under the rug or ignoring it can only cause more tension. But there are other things I’m sure you want to talk about as well.” 

“Like what?” Harry asks. He glances over at you before looking back at Dr. Walsh. 

“Anything either of you felt was an issue.” She explains. “Big or small. Anything you think contributed to your distance. Try to remember, you’re not placing blame.”

“Not even for the affair?” Harry sighs and you shut your eyes. “How can I not place blame? That’s not my fault.” 

“No.” She agrees. “I’ve never agreed with placing blame for something like that on the victim. Do you want to start with talking about it?” 

“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not finding all these so-called small issues so we can then excuse the cheating. I won’t do that.” You say disdainfully. 

“We don’t expect you to.” She glances over at Harry. He looks pained but he nods in agreement. “Of course not.” He says quietly. 

You take a deep breath in before nodding. “Okay, then where do we start?” 

“A lot of times, affairs feel like they come out of nowhere. They do.” She gives you an assuaging look. “But it’s also important to remember that there were issues before it and they’re still there to be worked through. We want to work through the big problem, but oftentimes couples work through that but not other things and end up separating.” 

You nod and take a deep breath trying to think through issues. Things had felt perfect during your pregnancy with Jack. 

You were excited, a fourth child and it was a boy, you and Harry had been hoping for another boy. Harry had even planned the small family vacation to the beach so you could enjoy time together as a family of five before it became six. 

“We argued.” You say quietly. The family vacation slips from your mind as your exhausted tears come to your memory. “Um. I had Jack and I was exhausted and we argued. It was barely even an argument.” 

“He still won’t eat?” Harry asks, coming into the bedroom. He was still in his suit from court and you feel angry heat flush through you at how put together he looked. How well rested and up he looked. 

You shake your head silently. Harry seems to not notice your tense jaw as he pushes his way into the closet to find clothes for the night. You turn to look down at Jack laying restlessly in your arms. Tears rush to your eyes as you stand and place Jack in his bassinet and finally get a look at yourself in the mirror hanging next to the closet door. 

You hadn’t showered since Persephone had left earlier the previous day and after running around to get the twins settled with Gemma and taking care of the baby all day you felt tense and gross. 

Harry comes out and smiles kindly as he watches you step towards the ensuite. “Can you watch him for a moment? I need a shower. I feel gross and it’ll help me relax. My nurse said getting tense makes it harder to breastfeed.” 

Harry looks down at his watch. “Something more important?” You ask before he can get a word out. “No. Just- I was supposed to hop on a conference call with Jeff, I’ll reschedule.” Harry tries to change the tone of the conversation, but you’ve already seen red. “Y/N, go shower.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say instead of moving. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with your child for half an hour.” You know you don’t mean the harsh words and that you’ll probably regret them all after you’ve taken a break but- “I’m home all day with him, but fuck if I ask you to watch him so I can shower.” 

Harry’s eyes widen at the cold tone. He crosses his arms defensively across his chest as he takes a step back from you, even though he was already several feet away. “I never said I was inconvenienced. You asked a question and I answered honestly. I don’t have a problem spending time with my own child, Y/N.” 

Your turn on your heel and stock into the ensuite and slam the door shut behind you. You hear Jack begin to fuss more and Harry’s whispers as he presumably picks the baby up. There wasn’t a time in the fifteen years you’ve had children that you’ve ever thought Harry didn’t want to spend time with his kids. You still didn’t. But the exhaustion and stress that you felt with Jack was unlike anything you’d felt before and Harry hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“It felt like you weren’t paying attention.” You say quietly. “It felt like you had no idea what was going on.” Dr. Walsh trains her eyes on you as Harry’s eyes flick around trying to figure out what argument you were talking about. 

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. Jack is curled in your arms as he eats and a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. You feel shameful at the words that had slipped out in an attempt to make Harry notice how upset you were. “I know you’re not inconvenienced by our kids.” 

Harry turns his head to look at you. He had been silently typing out emails as you fed Jack, upset but refusing to leave your side. “What’s wrong?” He asks as he slams the laptop shut. 

You want to tell him. How stressed and anxious you felt. How much tougher being with Jack was than any of your other children. How insecure it made you feel. You should tell him.

But. 

“How could I tell you all that and not sound like I’m angry at our child? Not sound like an awful mother?” You choke on the words. 

Harry stares at you with what looks like pity and you turn away. You didn’t want pity. You wanted help. You wanted him to understand. “You don’t sound like a horrible mother. You sound tired.” 

“What stopped you from telling him this?” Dr. Walsh prompts gently as you and Harry fall into silence. Her eyes flicker to Harry as he watches you with the same sad eyes. 

You shrug. “I just wanted him to notice. I wanted to feel like he still noticed me.” You let out a breath. “We love Jack, but Jack wasn’t exactly planned. We weren’t sure if we wanted a fourth and had only just begun talking about it. When I found out I was pregnant and figured out how excited I felt, I knew I wanted to keep him.” You explain to the therapist carefully. “We decided that we wanted him, but he would be our last one.”

You think of the doctors appointments and heavy warnings that a fourth pregnancy could wreck havoc on your body. 

“But I’m not twenty-three anymore and the pregnancy was really tough on me. And Harry knew. So he took care of the kids when I couldn’t and he planned vacations for me before I gave birth and it-” You breath catches. “It felt like you didn’t care anymore once I had him because I wasn’t in danger anymore. But Jack is stubborn and I was struggling.” 

Harry takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to steady your trembling hands. 

It’s a start. You guess. 

-

“I didn’t realize how tough Jack was on you.” Harry says quietly that night. You had been dreading sitting in the awkward silence. 

You shrug. “Babies are tough. Persephone was tough because we were so young. Serena and Oliver were tough because they were twins.” Your baby monitor makes a sound and you glance over to see Jack stretching his arms. 

You sigh and stand up. “Jack was… Jack was tough in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it was because I had four kids all of the sudden or because you started working more. I was exhausted all the time.” 

You leave before he can say anything in response, but you know he’ll follow you to Jack’s room. You push the door open quietly and hear Jack’s soft giggles. 

“Hello, handsome.” You whisper as he looks up at you. “What’s got you awake?” 

You pick him up gently and bring him over to the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room. Harry leans against the door jam. 

You rock back and forth with Jack in your arms and Harry watched with gentle eyes. You look up as Harry begins to speak quietly. “I wish I could take everything back. Just… Redo this past year.” 

You look down at Jack and run a gentle finger over his cheek. “You can’t. You don’t get redos in real life.” 

The room is silent as you rock your baby back to sleep and Harry watches. 

-

We’ll be a fine line.

-

Notes: Title song Fine Line. This is really a filler for the next piece, I needed April to get to May :/

A few things; I have them staying together written. While this has been my plan since I begun writing this part & the next, if it’s something people wanted, I could do two different endings.

Like I said, I wrote this at a low place for me and had always imagined it as some type of closure that I never got from my parents situation or from my ex. Cheaters suck. But, some people do work through it. Some people can’t. That’s the beauty of our autonomy, we decide. I got a lot (and I mean a lot) of messages urging me to be mindful of impressionable people who may read this piece & with that I want to say; Your situation is not this one. Some cheaters will always be cheaters. This is not in anyway trying to convince you that a toxic relationship is okay. Or that cheating is okay. Please remember this is fiction and not meant to do anything other than entertain you! This is a piece I wrote & a piece whose ending I choose. Thank you for reading. I love every single person who read What Kind of Man and thought, I want more of this person’s writing.

(please do not be mean to me, I write for fun & am very emotional thank u)

[incomingalbatross]

GF Fic: (Insert Time-Related Pun Here)

Having a birthday on the last day of summer was great when you were a kid.

When you were in college and vacation ended somewhere in the last third of August? Not so much.

“Grunkle Ford, I...I don’t think Mabel and I can make it to Gravity Falls,” Dipper confessed, the day before his twenty-second birthday.

“Is it the travel time?” Ford asked from the other end of the phone. “If your usual transportation is too slow, we can call in a favor or two for you kids—I know plenty of entities that would be happy to give you a lift as a birthday present—”

“No, I know, I know,” Dipper said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “And I really appreciate that, Grunkle Ford, I just...it’s not the travel, it’s being there. The other years we’ve been in college, our birthday was always on a weekend—last year was a Monday, but we spent that year with you guys instead of in school—”

“Thank goodness that seer tipped us off about her vision of 2020!” Ford agreed. “Taking a gap year to sail the Arctic with us was definitely the right decision for you two.”

“Right? Half a semester of online classes was more than enough. But—I mean, maybe it’s being back in school after being gone for a year, maybe it’s just early-semester problems, but...” Dipper sighed. “It’s just, I’m taking five classes, and I’ve got a TA job this year, and I’m getting back into the DD&MD group again and maybe planning to DM a oneshot as a Halloween event, and...” He sighed again. “It all looked much more manageable on my schedule. It was color-coded and everything!”

Grunkle Ford hummed noncommittally.

“Yeah, I know,” Dipper admitted. “Not the first time I’ve overbooked myself.”

“Not quite, perhaps. But it’s very good that you’re learning to recognize it and take steps to take care of yourself—when I was in college, I burned out routinely.”

“Mabel would sic the ‘Self-Care Fairy’ on me again if I didn’t learn.” The “Self-Care Fairy” was a truly terrifying onslaught of Mabelness, complete with costume and character voice, and would not go away until its subject had reached an acceptable level of well-being and had examined their mistakes. “Which is why...I have to cancel. If I came to Gravity Falls, even with instant travel, I’d only be able to get there around like 5:00 PM and I’d be stressed and anxious the whole time. And then I’d get back here exhausted and with no homework done and with class tomorrow, and...I just don’t think I can afford that.” Dipper paused, a knot twisting in his stomach. “I’m really sorry, I wish we could come...”

“Of course, Dipper, we know you do!” Grunkle Ford hastened to assure him. “Don’t feel sorry for us—of course we’d love to see you, but we just had the summer together. I’m just sorry you’re so short on time.” There was a moment’s silence.

“But how is Mabel doing? Is she facing the same challenges?”

“I mean, sort of.” Dipper smiled ruefully. “She kept trying to figure out some solution so that we could have our usual birthday and everything would work out, but...neither of us could come up with anything that would actually work. And she’s really busy too. She jumped back into school full steam ahead, and she’s got her Etsy store, and all her social groups to keep up with—you know she’s better at managing her energy than I am, but it’s still a lot.”

“I understand that,” Ford said. “You both do what you need to to keep up with your responsibilities, okay? We’re very proud of you both, you know.”

Dipper swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I know, Grunkle Ford.”

“Well, then, I’ll let you go—I imagine you have plenty to do right now! We’ll get in touch with you tomorrow, even if only by text.”

“Thank you, Grunkle Ford! Mabel and I are going to video-call at some point, we think, so there’s that. Say hi to Stan and Soos and Melody and the kids and everyone for me?”

“Of course, my boy. Have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The call disconnected, and Dipper sighed, throwing himself down on his bed. After a minute, he picked up his phone again and texted Mabel.

Just called Ford and canceled plans. He said to take care of ourselves and that he and Stan are proud of us.

Then he pushed himself into the homework for tomorrow until his phone buzzed.

Aww, of course he did. <3 Thanks for calling, brobro. I wish we could go, but you were right--I’ve got WAY too much booked. Why didn’t we check what weekday our birthday was FIRST???

Dipper snorted. Maybe we’re dumb :/

IMPOSSIBLE, Mabel sent back. Clearly an evil College Schedule Gremlin messed with our brains

Is that the same guy who makes it so you can never take the prereqs you need when you need them?

Yep!! And the one who fogs your brain so you THINK you’ve filled all your requirements until it’s too late to patch up the holes in your plan. His phone buzzed a second time after that text. ...Ugh, maybe there ARE gremlins in all the college systems

It would explain Blackboard, Dipper agreed with a frown. Huh, maybe they should look into that...

Anyway, though, u good for Zoom tomorrow?

Dipper huffed, reminded of the fact that they had no time for a paranormal investigation right now. Yeah, he typed, I can do an hour or so anytime after 5:30.

Cool, I will figure out a time and let you know!! Can’t wait to see your 22-year-old face!! :) Even if it sucks that we can’t party :(

Same, same. TTYL :)

Dipper tossed his phone aside again, shutting his eyes for a minute. It wasn’t just the party that had him down—though he would miss the bash that Gravity Falls usually threw on their birthday. It was...everything.

It was having a birthday without Mabel.

Oh, sure, they would talk, but they wouldn’t be in the same place. That was why, really, he’d hung onto their plans until the very last minute. He’d made it work on paper—taking an evening to travel to Gravity Falls, have a party, and be back in time for the next class—and it just felt wrong to admit defeat, to compromise on something this important. Their birthday meant the two of them celebrating together, having a good time, acknowledging that it was important.

This year wasn’t going to feel like a birthday at all, Dipper thought glumly.

But no, that was quitter talk. They were going to do their best anyway, because they were the Mystery Twins! Even if the situation was lame. Even if he was going to spend his time on the call with Mabel tomorrow doing homework and/or bursting with stress.

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “Why do I always overfill my schedule?” he asked plaintively.

The ceiling didn’t answer.

---

Dipper dropped his backpack with a thud on his dorm room floor, hastily unzipping it and digging out his laptop. He was late—he’d left his thermos in his last classroom, and been halfway across campus before he realized and turned around to go get it. He blamed his sleep deprivation (a week in, and his body still hadn’t readjusted to the rhythm of morning classes).

Now, though, he could finally pull up Zoom. He plugged in his headphones as he waited for it to connect (stupid dorm wifi), and was rewarded with an ear-splitting squeal.

“Happy birthday, Dipper!”

He grinned at her beaming face. “Happy birthday, Mabel!”

“Did you get a birthday cupcake?” she demanded. “Or at least a birthday cookie?”

He grimaced. “I got ice cream at the cafeteria, but I had to eat it there,” he confessed. “Here, I’ve got...a birthday candy bar?”

“Hmph.” Mabel looked crestfallen, but plastered a smile on anyway. “It’ll have to do! We can sing Happy Birthday, anyway. One, two, thr—”

Before they could launch into an inevitably out-of-sync rendition of “Happy Birthday,” Dipper heard a loud knock. Judging by Mabel’s startled turn towards her door, she heard it too—

Wait, what?

The knocking repeated. On both their doors.

“..Huh,” Mabel said thoughtfully. With a wordless glance between them, they both unplugged their headphones and went to their respective doors.

“Happy birthday, slugger!” Stan said, grinning, the instant he saw Dipper. Over the internet, Ford’s voice was greeting Mabel at the same time.

Dipper’s jaw dropped.

“Ha!” Grunkle Stan shoved past him into the room. Waving to the camera, he added, “Happy birthday, sweetie!”

Ford peered past Mabel into the screen. “Happy birthday, Dipper, my boy!”

“But—what—”

“Grunkles!” Mabel cried. “...But wait, why not just video call us? Not that we’re not happy to see your wrinkly faces, but you came such a long way!”

“Yeah, exactly,” Dipper said, waving his arm in confusion. “You guys—you know we can’t really visit, right? Even with you with us? We don’t have time. I dont want you guys to waste a trip—”

“But we didn’t,” Ford said smugly. “We came to bring your birthday presents.”

With a flourish, Stan produced something and handed it to Dipper. It looked like...a piggy bank, but with a clock face set into the side?

Mabel gasped. “It’s so CUTE!”

“But what is it, Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked.

“Simply put, my boy...it’s time.”

“It’s a Time-Savings Bank,” Stan said proudly. “Got our hands on these babies a few months ago, on a little side trip. See, when you’ve got some extra time—like, at night, or when you’re waiting for a pot to boil, or whatever—you can use these gizmos to store it up instead! Then when you need more time, you use the clock to take it back out. Whammo! You squeeze in a few extra hours between the normal ones.”

“Like Daylight Saving Time without the false advertising,” Ford added. “We know you two are short on time right now, but...if you’d like, there’s enough in here to give you and everyone currently at the Mystery Shack a good few hours of spare time. What do you say, kids? Still up for a party?”

“Are we!” Mabel crowed.

Dipper stared at this miraculous device. “But...that’s a lot of hours,” he said. “Where did you get the time?”

Stan barked out a laugh. “You kiddin’, Dipper? We figured from the start that at least one of you would burn out when you went back to school. We’ve been putting time aside in these things for months.”

“...Really?” Dipper said. Somehow, he found himself blinking rapidly, and swallowing down some obstruction in his throat.

Stan coughed uncomfortably, looking away. “I mean, it’s not like we gave you any time we had a use for. Just some odds and ends here and there...every day... Anyway! You kids wanna get this show on the road?”

“YES!” Mabel shouted.

Dipper beamed. “Definitely,” he said. “Absolutely.”

And a few minutes later, when they all found themselves in the Shack (courtesy of one of those “favors” Ford had mentioned yesterday), and Dipper had piled into the inevitable group hug with his twin and his grunkles—and with hours of birthday celebration in front of them all—he had to add, “Best present ever.”

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part V

[ previous ]  Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x Reader, Zeke Jaeger x Reader wc: ~ 8.8k Warnings: pining, testosterone, Zeke being a dick (who woulda thought), subtle manipulation (both on Zeke’s part that goes unchecked and accidentally on Mike’s part) A/N: Well, we’re gettin’ there. We’re truckin’ along. I’m sorry for the last chapter. And, I’m sorry for this one. But, I do still hope you enjoy it. I think we’re at the halfway mark here. 

Mike gets a text from you at nine PM three days before he’s supposed to go back to campus. It’s just a few words, a question that makes his heart drop to his stomach because you’ve never asked it before.

 Can we talk for a sec?

 He waits for a few minutes, tries to get rid of the panicked feeling rising in his chest, but he can’t get it to go away entirely, so he just bites the bullet and calls you. 

 “Heyyy,” you greet. Mike can already tell a difference in your tone. Something is definitely going on.

 “Hey, what’s up?”

 “I just, uh…” He hears you suck on your front teeth, a nervous habit he’s well versed in now, then you tell him, “I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back here.”

 Mike swallows. “Heads up about what?” 

 Are you leaving? Did you fail your summer classes despite all his help? Did you get into some kind of accident?

 You let out a long breath that Mike wishes he could feel on his skin. He wishes he could see your expression, wishes he could hold your face in his hands and tell you that whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Seems like he’s always wishing for things.

 “Um, I—uh… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

 The floor falls out from beneath him, and Mike drops with it, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He grits his teeth, trying to breathe normally—in through the nose, out through the mouth. This is about the last thing he expected you to confess.

 It’s apparently taking too long for him to gather himself, because you say his name, “Miche?” and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.

 “I’m here. It’s, uh, fine,” he lies. “It’s fine.”

 “Is it?” You sound worried, as you should because while Mike isn’t mad, he’s extremely disappointed, probably the most he’s ever been. 

 Taking a page out of your book, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 “Well, you—...” Met your mom? Learned your secrets? Tried to tell you that he loved you? All valid responses, but you just dismiss it with a quiet, “Nevermind.”

 Mike hums, lets the line go silent for a while, then musters the courage to question, “Do I know him?”

 “Yeah, I think so.”

 “What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

 “I mean he’s mentioned you, so I figure you’ve had at least a few conversations.” You’re getting that sassy tone, the one that signals you want to drop the subject, but you can’t this time. You’ve already warned Mike that you’re off the god damn market. You might as well tell him who exactly he’s gonna see you holding hands and sucking face with. It’s the merciful thing to do. 

 “It’s not one of the Pike guys, is it?”

 “No, no,” you laugh and it makes Mike want to scream because he doesn’t find this amusing at all, and it only gets worse when you finally answer, “It’s Zeke Jaeger.”

 Mike nearly hangs up then and there, but he somehow fights the urge. He does hold his phone away from his ear, though, stares up at his ceiling for a few seconds and stretches his arm out, then brings the device back. “Cool. He’s a… Talented dude.”

 “Yeah, but I mean, I’m not exactly starstruck or anything. Not after hangin’ out with you all of last year.”

 Mike rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his skull. “You don’t have to make this about me, ba—...” He catches himself before finishing the pet name. He can’t do that anymore. He can’t call you what he wants to. He can’t flirt or smooth hair out of your face. He can’t pick you up and hold you against the walls of the house. He can’t show you how much he cares for you. 

 “I know. I just feel kinda bad,” you mumble. 

 “You shouldn’t. It’s cool.” His flat tone is anything but cool, and you can probably tell, but there’s not much Mike can do about that.

 You’re pouting when you question, “You’ll still be my friend?” Mike can see the expression without actually seeing it, the doe eyed look you’d be giving him if he were in front of you right now. He can also imagine looping his arms around you and smiling crookedly and kissing your forehead, and fuck, he feels broken. 

 “Yeah,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t even be a question.”

 “Good.”

 You lapse into another silence, just breathing and waiting for the other to break. It’s you who does. You clear your throat and state one more time, “I just wanted you to know.”

 “Thanks.”

 “See you in a few days.”

 “Yeah,” Mike is barely listening at this point, just looks at the poster on the wall and lets it fall out of focus. “See ya’.”

 You don’t hang up immediately, like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but Mike saves you the trouble and presses the ‘end’ button on his phone then tosses it on his pillow and falls back onto the mattress. 

 He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. You’ve gone an entire year denying him, keeping yourself closed off and never once bringing up the possibility of actually being together. After all the time spent together, after all the date parties, all the sex, staying at each others’ houses. He feels like he knows you better than anyone else probably does. You let him in. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. You acted like you trusted him.

 So, why isn’t he your first choice? As soon as you realized you were ready to make a fucking commitment to someone, why wasn’t it him?

 Mike doubts he’ll ever get the closure. He’ll just have to cope with seeing you around campus with Zeke god damn Jaeger, have to pretend like everything is fine, like you haven’t ripped his heart out of his fucking chest. 

 Unbearable. It’s going to be absolutely unbearable. 

 *

 Moving somewhere new always blows. It takes so much energy that Mike doesn’t have, yet here he is, hauling bags and boxes up to his new apartment unit. Honestly, he would almost prefer to stay in the frat house instead of having to make all the trips up and down these god damn concrete stairs, but at least now he’ll finally be away from all the parties. That will definitely come in handy this year considering he’s not gonna want to go to a single fucking one of them. 

 Once all of his belongings are stacked in his fairly small living room, Mike glances around his new haven, already thinking about how empty it feels without all the guys milling about and dicking around. He doubts he’ll miss the constant noise, but it’s still something that will take some getting used to.

 What he will miss is seeing you all the time, waking up in his old room to see you still fast asleep on his pillows, sitting in the main room with the others, heckling them as they play various games. He’s been focusing on the small things for the last couple of days, the things he never took the time to really enjoy. It feels like he didn’t stare long enough or laugh hard enough when he had the chance, and now he doesn’t know when his next opportunity to do either of those with you will be.

 Mike scrubs a hand down his face, scratches the hair he’s let grow out a little too much, then slowly begins to unpack his things. He’s being melodramatic, he knows, but he can’t help it. He can either let himself feel sad, or he can let the unbridled fucking rage take over, and out of the two, he prefers the former. 

 Mike’s class schedule gets pinned to the wall in his bedroom. His laptop gets set up. Textbooks are tossed into a corner. He really doesn’t care to do much more than that, but he figures he should make the place at least a little presentable. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find someone to entertain.

 The thought makes him a little sick to his stomach, but it’s a sensation he’s slowly getting used to as more time passes.

 Mike knows he needs to pull himself together, needs to put on a brave face. Pretty soon all the frats will be dealing with the dirty rushers, all the kids who weren’t able or didn’t think to suck up to the brothers during the spring. Then there’s inductions and hazing… Fuck, fall semesters are so tedious even without living in the house. He’s never been a huge fan of it all, but he’s had this image to uphold since he became a pledge.

 Now, Mike isn’t so sure he can keep that image in place.

 He stays locked away for as long as he possibly can, but eventually there’s a knock on his front door—Erwin who shoots Mike a broad grin and wriggles his ridiculous eyebrows. “You ready, bro? Got a place all your own with no one to bother you—”

 “You’re bothering me.”

 “Can do whatever you want,” Erwin powers on, completely unfazed. “Bring back whoever you want, no pesky frat boys to get in your way ‘cause fuck those guys, right?” He goes to grab Mike’s shoulders while laughing at his own joke, but Mike swats him away. 

 It makes Erwin scoff, and then he’s pushing past Mike to get into his new home, looking around for just a second and breathing out a little, “Eesh,” before turning back and giving Mike a look of condescension. “Don’t tell me this bad mood is because of your little toy finding someone else.”

 “Okay, firstly, fuck off,” Mike squints at him. “And, secondly, how do you already know about that?”

 Erwin examines his manicured nails, buffs them on his shirt and tells Mike, “Saw her and Jaeger walking out of the bookstore earlier. They looked pretty cozy. Pretty giddy, too, all smiles and—”

 “Shut. The fuck up.”

 The other man snorts. “Calm down, dude. I’m sure you can get her back or whatever you’re trying to do. Zeke’s an assole. Won’t take her long to figure it out.”

 “We’ll see.”

 This time Mike lets Erwin clap a hand on his shoulder before he walks out but not without suggesting, “You really should brighten things up a little in here. Hang some fairy lights or something. Girls love fairy lights.”

 Mike rolls his eyes, not bothering to remind his friend that he only started unpacking half an hour ago, then physically shoves Erwin out of his apartment.

 So, you’re already walking around campus flaunting your new little fling, he thinks. Perfect. He’s really looking forward to seeing that everywhere. 

 Mike eventually has to go by the PKA house for a meeting. Some of the members are already discussing plans for rush week and parties. Should they have lists or just keep them open and direct everyone to the yard? Are they gonna stick to their regular forms of hazing or should they change things up this year? Did anyone stick out from spring? Mike doesn’t pay much attention, just scrolls through his phone skimming through the same three social media apps over and over. He reads through the text thread he shares with you, the one he’s never deleted, and thumbs all the way up to a few months ago just to see if anything had been different back then, if he had said or done something wrong. 

 But, he’s gone through it a dozen times already, and he never finds anything. Maybe you just grew while he was away, experienced some kind of self-actualization that prepared you for an actual relationship. 

 Or, maybe Zeke just has something that Mike doesn’t. 

 *

 Mike runs into you on the second day of classes. Thankfully, you’re alone, and as soon as you catch sight of him, you grin widely and launch yourself at him. It comes as a surprise, your full weight hitting him square in the chest when you jump, and he has to catch you like you’re an excited child.

 It’s too close. You’re too close. Body against his as you slide down to your actual height and rest your head on his chest.

 “I missed you, Zacharias.”

 He wants to lift you up again, lock your thighs around his waist and kiss you like he used to. Instead, Mike pats the top of your head and gently untangles you from himself. He makes sure to smile when you look up at him, and he’s glad you aren’t pouting or frowning, your expression soft when he tells you, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

 He asks how your summer classes went. You ask what his course load is like this semester. It’s just small talk, and Mike hates it. 

 “How’re your parents?” You question like you’re interested, but he can’t imagine you actually are.

 “They’re good,” he shrugs. “Dad got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Mom is doing the same shit she always does.” Like, making his favorite meals to heal his poor little broken heart. Mike hadn’t even told her about the conversation he’d had with you, and yet, as soon as he came out of his room the following morning, she just knew. 

 “Glad to hear it,” you nod. “Hey, do you wanna grab lunch or something? My next class isn’t til two, so I’m tryin’ to kill some time.”

 “Actually, I told Erwin I’d meet him,” Mike lies through his teeth. He’ll be using excuses like that for as long as he can. “Sorry.”

 “No, it’s cool,” you wave him off. “I’ll just grab Hitch or—”

 “There you are.” Mike stiffens at the vaguely familiar voice ringing out from behind him, hand flexing by his side as the school’s golden boy walks right past him and to you. “I was looking all over for you.”

 “Well, here I am,” you laugh, but Mike notes how forced it sounds. It’s a laugh that stems from nerves, he thinks. But why? Is it because Mike is here? Are you afraid of how he’ll act? Or, is it that you’re still in the phase of this “relationship” with Zeke  that you’re still anxious around him?

 The other man doesn’t even acknowledge Mike for a full twenty seconds. He heavily considers just walking away without a word, but the blond does eventually turn around to look at him and shows a smile that Mike would describe as slimy but you would probably call charming.

 “Zacharias,” Zeke greets and holds out a hand. “It’s been a minute.”

 Mike doesn’t like the way he says his last name. He only likes the way his friends say it. How you say it. Even if it started off as a way to keep your distance, he grew fond of it. Not as fond as his given name, of course, but hearing those four syllables from your mouth, always laced with attitude, never fails to make him smile.

 “Yeah, it has,” Mike agrees, clasping hands with him.

 He immediately feels Zeke stick his index finger out over his wrist, an attempt of taking control of the shake. Mike has seen it too many times to count, the petty attempt to flip hands so that one man’s is on top of the other. It’s a terrible way to flaunt one’s masculinity or power, and it’s never worked on Mike. 

 His hand is quite a bit larger than most people’s, after all. It’s definitely larger than Zeke’s, so when he tries to turn it, Mike doesn’t have a problem keeping his wrist straight. 

 The blond has to look up at him, actually tilt his head back because Mike has a good five inches on him, and after a couple more seconds, Zeke gives up on the pathetic display of dominance. That doesn’t stop Mike from squeezing his palm just a little too hard, though, just enough to see the muscles in Zeke’s jaw twitch. 

 When he lets go he chances a glance at you, finding you rubbing your temples. You mumble something Mike can’t hear, probably about men being stupid because there’s no way that little show escaped your notice. 

 Zeke steps over to you once again and asks the same question you had asked Mike—”You wanna get lunch, babe?” 

 Hearing him calling you that causes Mike’s blood to bubble in his veins, blistering from the inside out. It’s time for him to leave.

 “Yeah, sure,” you nod. Eyes flicking back to Mike, you force another smile and tell him, “See you around.”

 The two of you walk off, and Mike watches for just a little too long as Zeke laces his fingers with yours. Once you’re both a safe distance away, the fucker looks back at Mike from over his shoulder and smirks at him.

 Mike has long legs. He could easily catch up to you and punch Zeke square in the jaw, make his head snap to the side so that he drops to the ground. 

 But, what would you think of that? There’s no way you’d be happy with him, and if there’s one thing that would  be worse than Mike having to see you parade around with someone who isn’t him, it would be you ignoring him completely.

 *

 The first couple of weeks are honestly a blur. Too much is happening for Mike to focus on. The only thing that seems real to him is the ache in his chest. It distracts him day in and day out, through the late rushers and all the sucking up, through the first couple of parties, bid day and the first rounds of hazing. It’s just always there. 

 He is notably quieter when in the house, and it seems like everyone knows why. While Erwin pokes fun at him for his moodiness, Nile takes a more adult approach and simply asks how he’s doing, if he needs anything, going as far as offering, “You need me to punch that dude in the throat? Plant drugs in his bag? I’m pretty sure Gelgar has coke on his person at all times.” 

 He’s a good guy. Mike is glad he got voted in as PKA President this year despite Erwin giving him a run for his money. Nile is just personable enough to bring members in and have a good time at events, and just controlling enough to make sure things in the house are taken care of. Plus, Erwin doesn’t seem too broken up about getting Vice instead.

 It’s a relief when lacrosse starts back up, finally gives him a way to get some of his frustration out. The other teams have never been luckier to be wearing helmets otherwise Mike would have broken several noses within the first game alone. 

 The season has some overlap with baseball, games scheduled on the same day, sometimes at the same time. Mike keeps himself from looking into the stands to try to find you, scared that you’ll be there or scared that you won’t be, he isn’t sure.

 And, of course, Zeke’s face is plastered everywhere after he pitches a perfect fucking game. Mike wants to be angry, wants to spit on the flyers and punch every computer that’s displaying the college’s home screen, but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that if it were anyone else, Mike would be impressed. Pitching a perfect game is pretty fucking cool, and the school is lucky to have a player as talented as Zeke, but god, what Mike wouldn’t do to just curbstomp him.

 Your name still lights up on his phone fairly often to ask how games went or how his classes are going. You’ve asked for help with homework on one occasion and lunch on another, but after Mike lies about only being able to walk you through the material over the phone and shoots you down for lunch, you seem to get the picture. 

 He doesn’t want it to be awkward between you, but he doesn’t know how to act now. His entire relationship with you started off as a drunken fuck, and it’s been mostly physical since then. How is he supposed to be able to spend time with you without touching you? Even the semester you refused to hook up with him, there were still times when you were both actively fighting the temptation. Mike can remember seeing it in your eyes all the time, probably just as often as you’d see it in his. You’d sit with a leg pressed against his, fall asleep on his arm every once in a while, and he wants that back now, but there’s no way the two of you can do that anymore. He doesn’t possess the same self-control.

 Over the weekend, you end up cracking and trying again, asking for help with studying for a quiz, and Mike has to contemplate it for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in.

 Coffee shop on 7th? you text him, and Mike chuckles to himself. The only places you’ve ever studied together is at the library or in his room, and while he could only get as far as a hand between your legs in the school building, he would usually end up in bed with you whenever going over something behind closed doors. 

 It makes sense that you want to go to a busier place, more eyes to watch you. It’s irritating, but he understands.

 Mike grabs one of his own textbooks from the previous year, the one he actually bought so that he could highlight and take notes in the margins, then makes his way to the little cafe.

 He’s been to this particular shop many times before, with you as well as the girls who came before—the ones that never mattered. Mike easily spots you at a little table by the window, your own book and several papers spread out around you. When you see him, you grin then hurry to clear a space for him, organizing what Mike recognizes as reading guides. 

 “Hey, stranger," you greet.

 Mike nods, eyes landing on the green hoodie you’re wearing, the one that covers too much of you, that spills over the tops of your legging clad thighs and hides your little hands. It’s his, but it’s always looked better on you. The fact that you still wear it makes Mike’s heart swell a tiny bit as he takes his seat. The sun is hitting you just right and making your face glow, making your eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t know if he can do this.

 “So, what d’you need help with?” He prompts before he can make up his mind to turn right back around. 

 You slide one of the guides over to him and point out several circled questions. The blanks are filled in, but you ask him, “Why?” dramatically. “None of that makes sense to me.”

 Mike laughs through his nose and glances at the page your textbook is flipped to so he can open his own.

 “Why’d you keep your book from last year?”

 He glances up before turning it to show the highlighted lines, the starred passages, the little annotations for better understanding. 

 “One, because I worked hard on making it better, and two,” he feels his mouth curl up, the teasing coming naturally when he tells you, “I figured you’d probably benefit from it.”

 You squint at him, scrunching your nose up, and Mike takes a mental snapshot to tuck away. 

 “Rude,” you utter.

 He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “I think ‘thank you’ is the term you’re looking for.”

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just explain this to me if you’re so smart.”

 “You know I’m smart.”

 Mike doesn’t understand where the casual back-and-forth is coming from. Is it easy because he's done it so many times before? Words tumble from his mouth before they actually cross his mind, and he’s both grateful (it’s better than the awkward small talk he thought he’d have to make) and worried. If he’s speaking without actually thinking things through, what else might he do before his brain catches up? Will he smooth hair out of your eyes? Will he brush his hand over yours? Will he stare at your lips for too long? All of those are habits he hasn’t managed to break yet, but he will break if he accidentally offends you by crossing any of these lines.

 He sits with his hands tucked between his legs, only moving to flip a page or point something out with his pinky finger. He's reading upside down, and you're leaning over the tabe, staring at the book then staring at him. Mike tries to look through you instead of at you, but it's hard as you let out a little oh! when something clicks or pouting when it doesn't. 

 "I still don't get it."

 So, Mike finds different ways of explaining things because he knows this information very well now. It's still pretty fresh in his brain, and he may or may not have reviewed some of it when he saw how many of your classes matched up with his. 

 "Okay, I feel a lot better," you sigh once Mike has gone through every page. 

 Mike is more or less sitting on his hands at this point, gritting his teeth behind the grin plastered on his face because this is the part where he asks if you wanna go back to the house. This is the part where you wind down together, watching dumb TV shows or pawing at each other, rolling in his bed and laughing and moaning. That's what's supposed to happen. 

 "Alright, well, if that's it, I should get going," Mike tries, stretching his arms out and nearly smacking the person sitting behind him right in the head. 

 You snort, cover your mouth, and look away. It's what you always do. You can't look at him when you start laughing or you'll just laugh harder and harder, and while Mike adores it, the general public usually does not. 

 But, then Mike is snickering because he can feel the stranger trying to burn holes in the back of his skull, has to bite his fist to keep himself quiet, and when you chance a glance and see, you slam your head down on the table, whole body shaking with giggles. 

 It's always the little things that get you. On one of the walks with Scout over Spring Break, Mike had tripped over a stick on the trail. He managed to catch himself, but Jesus Christ, you didn't stop laughing for ten minutes. 

 "God fucking—" he's starting to lose it too as he stands and gathers your supplies from the table, tucking them all under one arm then using his other to pull you out of your seat. "We have to leave before they make us." 

 You hide your face in your hands, trusting Mike to guide you by the shoulders, and once you're both outside, you belly laugh until you wave your arms and gasp, "I can't—I can't breathe—I can't breathe!" Your voice is all high pitched and hysterical, and all Mike can do is bring you to his chest so that you can let your giggles die off in the privacy of his t-shirt. 

 He can feel your breath through the material as you calm down, eventually looking up and wiping tears from your eyes as you continue to grin. 

 Mike tilts his face down to stare at you, aware that all of his affections are shining right through his eyes, but he doesn't care because you don't seem to. 

 “You’re a fucking dork,” he hums, has a fully conscious thought of touching your face—no accident, no impulse, a complete, coherent, thought, so he does it. He just does it. Palm over your cheek, thumb gently tracing to wipe away another tear from your little fit. 

 You let out a long exhale, close your eyes and hum, then reach up to cover Mike's hand with yours. 

 Your fingers lock into the spaces between his, and you hold on for a few seconds before letting your hand fall, taking his with it. And, just like that, all the good feelings that had grown inside of him over the course of the study session disappear.

 "Miche," you sigh, still holding onto two of his fingers. 

 He smiles in a way that makes you frown, then mumbles, "Yeah, I know."

 After handing your supplies back, Mike kisses you on the top of the head before you can stop him, then turns and starts walking toward the street his apartment is on. 

 *

"Why are you always wearing that hoodie?" 

 You look up from your laptop just as Zeke steps out of his room freshly showered and shirtless. It's a sight that should probably make your mouth water, but instead it's gone dry at his question. 

 "Oh, uh, I don't really know," you bullshit. "It's just big and comfortable, I guess."

 Zeke uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair a little better, questions, "Well, whose is it?" while his face is slightly obscured. 

 If you pause, he'll probably be suspicious. If you answer, he will also be suspicious. And, you can't really blame him. People know you on campus as Mike Zacharias' friend or girlfriend or plaything or whatever. You assume Zeke having to walk around with that hanging over his head is pretty annoying.  

 "Oh, wait," he starts before you can answer. Squinting without his glasses, he grumbles, "That's one of the lacrosse hoodies, isn't it?" 

 You look down at the cracked logo and try not to smile at it. "Yeah. It's one of Mike's old ones."

 "Right." He pads over to you and takes your laptop from your legs despite your protests of being in the middle of an online assignment, setting it on the coffee table behind him. Then, using one arm to brace himself on the back of the couch, Zeke holds himself above you and takes your chin between two fingers so that he can tilt your face and kiss you. 

 It makes you melt. It always does. Your heart beats like a drum in your chest for about two seconds before it relaxes into a subtle thrumming, a white noise that drowns out everything else. 

 You straighten your back in an attempt to get closer, but Zeke pulls away ever so slightly, makes you chase after his lips and you do. You do because you want more, want him. 

 It's been weeks now and the farthest you've gotten with him, the farthest he's let you get with him, was the series of harsh kisses he'd ladened you with up against his front door a few days ago. He'd pushed your shirt up and shoved a knee between your legs, giving you something to grind against, but it never progressed to anything more. 

 You don't understand. It's not like he's never had sex. You've heard girls talk about him on campus, how he'd been seeing so-and-so for a couple months in freshman year, fucked some other chick at a party, etc., etc. 

 Then you'd met his actual ex the other day, one he dated officially for a semester last year before breaking things off. Her name is Rhi. She's very pretty. And, she had pulled Zeke into a full blown conversation without looking at you once. The way she batted her eyes and smiled at him, twisting her hair and shoving at him playfully—Oh yeah. She's definitely seen him naked. 

 You didn't say anything about it for a while, just stewed in silence until Zeke finally sighed and asked, "What would you like to know?" 

 He'd given you the vague outline—met her in class, studied together, decided to date, left her to focus on baseball. That excuse hit a little too close to home, but you'd let it roll off your shoulders. 

 The point is Zeke has fucked other girls, but he won't fuck you, and you need to know why because you're starting to get desperate. It's not a good look. It's one you never wanted to wear, but the way he stares at you and the way he talks to you, always pointing out your strengths, encouraging you, complimenting you is intoxicating.

 When Zeke's eyes are on you, it’s like you're the most important person in the room. He has some ability to make you feel that way, to make everyone feel that way you realized one night after a game. People flock to him. They want to listen to what he has to say. They want to agree with him where he can see. 

 It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't met him, but the best way you can describe it (a way only a few people will understand) is that he has a twenty for charisma. He's talented and smart and engaging, can convince anyone of anything the same way he's convinced you that he wants you. 

 Hand slipping behind your arching back, Zeke presses you against him for just a moment, then drops onto the couch next to you only to tug you on top of him. 

 You're already breathing too heavily, clutching his face in both your hands as you grind your hips against his. He squeezes your ass, smirking against your mouth when you whimper, then moves his hands to push both the hoodie and your shirt off. 

 You lift your arms, letting Zeke strip you as your mind grows hazy. He mutters more to himself than to you, a low, "Get this shit off," then carelessly tosses your clothes over the armrest. 

 Fingers climb up your ribs, almost tickling, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel that he's getting hard, thank god. This just might be the night, please fucking let it be. 

 You've never been a big fan of terms like ‘blue-balls’ or ‘blue-bean’, never even thought it existed, and it really doesn't; it's just a form of manipulation, of guilting your partner into sex, and you know this because you've had an entire rant about it prepared since high school, but right now, in this particular moment, you're aching. Your insides ache. Your clit aches. You just want—

 Zeke pinches one of your nipples hard enough to clear your head for a second, causes you to cry out and pull back. He lets go, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you and flicks over the sore bud with a fingertip. 

 "Zeke," you breathe, body trembling. 

 "What is it, baby?" He coos. 

 "I—"

 He snakes a hand between the two of you, ridding you of any and all thoughts as he rubs over your covered pussy. You're almost positive that if he keeps doing it, you'll start to leak through your leggings, right into his hand. 

 Panting, an old track plays in the back of your head, a deep voice, breathy and promising, gonna fuck you dry tonight.

 You lean forward to kiss Zeke again, letting him suck and bite hard enough to make the frown on your face look natural, like he put it there. 

 Flames are licking up and down your legs, then your arms, but even though it's Zeke's lap you're sitting in and Zeke's tongue in your mouth and Zeke's fingers massaging your pussy, it's suddenly Mike you're thinking about, and well… That can't be good. 

 You tangle your hands in Zeke's hair, the different texture bringing you back to reality. His thick beard is scratching against your face. His bare torso is wiry with muscle and pressed to yours. He moves his hand and raises his hips to meet yours, a groan catching in his throat. It looks like he's finally losing his composure, cheeks flushed, eyes are foggy. When you break away, he licks away the string of spit holding you together, tongue running over his lip seductively.

 "Can we—" you start, but Zeke speaks at the same time. 

 "It's getting late."

 Blinking at him, you find yourself experiencing too many emotions to actually identify a single one. You feel your eyebrows knit together, but it’s more from your confusion than it is your frustration. 

 But, you don’t want to be frustrated. You don’t want to be or look upset about not getting sex. That would make you a terrible person, and you’re not about to make him feel bad for not being ready to take that step with you. You’ve been on the receiving end of that, and it doesn’t feel good.

 The amount of times you’ve had to masturbate in the last few weeks is a little fucking ridiculous, though. 

 Nodding mostly to yourself to get your thoughts back in line, you slide off of Zeke to stand up. Your hand is trembling when you reach for your clothes, heat still coursing through you, but you manage to gently grab them from the couch rather than snatch them. 

 Shirt and hoodie back in place, you gather your things, feeling Zeke’s gaze on you the entire time. You don’t say anything, just nibble on your bottom lip as you run over all the events that took place over the night, what you possibly did wrong, what turned him off or just failed to turn him on in the first place. 

 After slipping everything back into your bag, Zeke finally gets to his feet and takes it from you, walking with you outside to your car. 

 “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he tells you, the picture of calm and collected while your body remains buzzing.

 “Okay, yeah.” 

 He puts your stuff in the front passenger seat, shuts the door, and gives you a sweet little peck that you wish lasted longer.

 Zeke says good night, begins walking back to the building, but stops and calls to you right before you shrink into the car. 

 Even from this distance, you can tell he’s looking you dead in the eye, face suddenly very serious when he tells you, “You can go ahead and stop wearing that hoodie.”

* For the first time since the semester started, lacrosse and baseball games do not overlap one another, and you're able to spend the warm afternoon in the stands, cheering on the friends you made over the last year. 

 The home team is dominating, Mike and Erwin are too fucking quick for their opponents to get in the way of. The way the ball just flies back and forth between them, like a game of keep-away, shows just how on-the-same-page they are. The other guys are good too, doing a spectacular job of staying one leg ahead, defending their star players and assisting in the offensive effort. 

 The last goal is made by Mike who launches the ball from the center of the field right into the goal, and both the crowd and the teams lose their fucking minds. 

 You're up on your feet screaming and clapping, voice breaking as your shrill cry tears your throat. You know you're being drowned out by everyone around you, but as Mike gets lauded for being the god he is—putting up with backslaps and hugs and a headlock from Erwin—he still manages to find you in the second row, grinning in that crooked way you love so much. 

 You don't know exactly when that started happening, probably sometime after Spring break. Or, maybe it was there since the beginning, just laying dormant at the back of your head so that you could focus on denying him. 

 It doesn't really matter now since you're actually with someone. That someone isn't around right now, but he's in your thoughts as your chest fills with affection and pride for your friend. 

 Erwin is shouting about another open party, and your mind is made up to not attend because Zeke wouldn't appreciate it, but then Mike is suddenly lifting himself onto the raised, concrete stands and pointing at you, and before you know it, you're hopping down the next bleacher without a care for the fans who have to lean out of the way. 

 He's incredibly sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck, but you don't mind. You were so convinced he would be mad at you or try to avoid you. 

 You're very aware that you had hurt him by getting with Zeke, and while he had been pretty guarded for the first few weeks, he's opened up some since that day in the coffee shop, when you'd nearly giggled yourself to death. You hadn't expected that to be what cracked his walls, especially considering how that visit had ended, but you're glad that it did. 

 "Haven't seen you cheering for me in a while," Mike laughs next to your ear. 

 He's dizzy with adrenaline, swaying back and forth as he squeezes you, and you tell him, "If you make us fall, I will beat you up, I swear." 

 "Okay," he says in a stupid voice of obvious disbelief, "Whatever you say." 

 You've been texting more, going over homework together, though you haven't needed his help in-person since he had switched books with you that day. It had been so smooth and subtle, you didn't realize until you opened it to study the following day, immediately noticing all the notes and highlights. 

 It had made you cry like a little bitch in the middle of your dorm, and you called Mike to thank him without bothering to hide your tears and hiccups. 

 "Come to the party tonight," he demands, but it's so soft, like he's still giving you a chance to say no. 

 The crowd is still yelling, so you have to keep speaking into each other's ears, and you ask, "Why? All the Pike parties are sticky and gross."

 "'Cause we haven't gotten drunk together in a while," Mike states in the form of a whine. 

 You snort, feeling his hair dripping onto your shoulder. You should probably be disgusted, but it's not the first time you've gotten sweaty with him, and it's definitely not the worst bodily fluid he's made a mess on you with. 

 "You know what happens when we get drunk together," you remind him with a smile he can't see. "Can't do that anymore."

 "I promise I'll behave."

 That's not the problem. You don't know if you can behave. You've been wound up for over a month now, and it is driving you insane. No matter how many times you get off alone in your room at night, you still ache as if you're being edged. 

 So, getting fucked up with someone you know for a fact can fuck you stupid… probably not the best idea. 

 "Miche," you protest, drawing his name out. 

 "Just think about it."

 He leaves you with that, hopping down and walking away with his arms in the air as everyone surrounding you cheers for him until he disappears. You just stand there amidst the noise, shirt now wet as you contemplate the pros and cons of going to another PKA party. 

 As always, Zeke asks what your plans are for the night, but for the first time since you met him, you lie. * King's Cup and Rage Cage and Beer Pong galore. Party-goers are pooling onto the lawn, and you're just waiting for campus police to show because of the chaos, but you're not necessarily scared of it. So you go to jail for a couple days. Worse things could happen. 

 Currently, you and Mike are sitting on the sidewalk nursing beers and giggling at the new pledges who keep running around the house in less and less clothes. 

 "Honestly, this isn't that bad," Mike tells you. "Erwin suggested we make them all watch snuff together."

 You give him an incredulous look as you raise the glass bottle to your mouth. "Erwin is a god damn psychopath, what the fuck."

 "We had to do it and didn't turn out too bad."

 "And, just like that, I'm scared of you."

 Mike laughs before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling as a brawny blond speeds past in nothing but boxers—Reiner, you think his name is. 

 There are only a few new guys who stick out to you—that one, a long-faced kid named Jean, freckle boy Marco, and, naturally, Zeke's younger brother, Eren. He sorta skeeves you out, so you've been doing your best to stay out of his sight despite never formally meeting him before. 

 "Kid's kind of a prick, a little too cocky. Always talking about how he's related to Zeke, or should I say your lo-ver," Mike chuckles, sounding amused, but he still downs the rest of his beer afterward. 

 You let out a little growl, just drunk enough to be too honest, and grumble, "Not my lover. Also, I would never use that term. So cringey."

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean it's weird and dramat—"

 "No," Mike cuts you off, "What do you mean about him not being that?"

 You fall back on the concrete, bumping the back of your head a little too hard and scrunching your face up. 

 "We haven't had sex. The dude just will not fuck me for some reason."

 "Are you serious?" 

 You glance at Mike and find his eyes wide in alarm. 

 "As a heart attack. I have never been so frustrated in my entire life." 

 You probably shouldn't be talking about this with him, one, because you assume it's like twisting a knife right in Mike's gut and two, because the more you drink, the less self-control you have. 

 He grunts then tosses his bottle into the yard for some poor pledge to slip on. 

 "His loss."

 "Whatever. I'm sure he'll come around eventually," you sigh then sit back up. "And, until then, I guess I'm practicing celibacy or some shit."

 Mike laughs hard at that, and it makes you smack him on the arm. "Yeah, good luck with that."

 "Shut up."

 "I'm just saying," he raises his hands. "You're, like, the neediest person I know."

 "Excuse the fuck outta me?" 

 "In the bedroom, dummy. Obviously not all the time."

 This is not at all where you wanted this conversation to go. The more you think about it, the more you feel that ache, the more you want to quell it. 

 "We should change the subject."

 Mike looks at you, flipping hair out of his eyes and smiling like the cocky frat boy he pretends to be. 

 "Why? Gettin' all worked up."

 "You are literally the worst."

 You stand and finish your drink, throwing it a few feet away from Mike's as you tell him, "I need to get a little more fucked up if I'm gonna deal with your ass all night."

 "Uh huh."

 He follows you back inside, but while you make your way into the kitchen, Mike stops to talk with Erwin about one thing or another. It means he has to entertain the masses, talk about the game, and you post up against a wall to watch him. 

 You should leave. Mike is looking a little too attractive in his stupid fucking pastel polo, and you're supposed to meet Zeke for lunch tomorrow anyway. Zeke, your boyfriend. 

 Or, well, he hasn't said it explicitly, but you hold hands in public and ignore other people, just make it obvious that both of you aren't interested in anyone else. 

 Except when Mike sidles up to you with foggy eyes and a smirk he hasn't worn around you in a long time, you groan at the thought that you are interested in someone else. Even if it's just one night, god, you need it so bad. And, you know Mike can give it to you. Exactly the way you want it. 

 It's Zeke's fault, really. You know he knows how desperate you're getting. If he'd just explain why he doesn't want to have sex, you could deal with it much better than you are now, but he continues to leave you in the dark. It makes you think you're doing something wrong. 

 Then, there's the problem of feeling like the shittiest person alive every time you get frustrated. You've spent nights trying to rationalize it, but it's hard to think straight when you're so, undeniably horny. 

 "Don't look at me like that," you tell Mike with a scoff. 

 "Why not?" 

 "'Cause you said you'd behave tonight."

 He cocks his head to the side and makes a face. "Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say to you."

 "Oh my god, you're impossible. And, drunk."

 "I'm not really that drunk," he waves you off. "It takes more than a few beers to get me fucked up, remember? Downfall of being this large."

 Jesus, he really is rubbing it in your face now. Wide with muscle and so fucking tall. Not to mention his—

 "I really cannot do this, Miche," you try again, gritting your teeth when his pupils dilate. "Zeke would be so pissed."

 "So? Come on, just one more time. I didn't know the last time would be the last time."

 You hadn't either. You don't know what you would have done differently had you known—maybe just taken the time to appreciate his incredible body more—but it doesn't matter now. 

 You try to sound firm and irritated when you snap, "You know you're being kinda manipulative, right?" 

 Mike tilts his head back as if you just shoved it, blinks a couple times, then swears out loud. "Oh, fuck." He takes a step away, eyes clear for the first time in several minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't even—"

 "It's fine," you wave. "I just wanted you to know. I'm drunk and you're hot, and I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke."

 "Yeah, I get it. Fuck. If you, like, wanna leave, I won't stop you. It was a joke, and then it wasn’t a joke and—That was a shit thing to do."

 "Little bit, but you get a pass this time," you laugh through your nose. "Just don't go pulling that bullshit on some unsuspecting freshman or anything." 

 He runs a hand through his hair, red with embarrassment, and you think to yourself, Mike is a good guy. One of the best. You don't know of many who would take that kind of criticism to heart—how many would feel genuinely guilty. It is college, and every girl knows the trend of fratty sports players getting off scot-free after being charged with sexual assault. Given his status at the school, Mike could definitely do something like that and get away with it.

 But, he would never. 

 You push him gently to show you aren't mad, tell him, "I still wanna hang out with you. We don't get to as much as we used to."

 Mike's small smile looks relieved as he takes a deep breath. "This isn't exactly the best place to just chill, but—"

 "I haven't seen your new apartment yet." 

 You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, your little tune changing ridiculously quickly, but you can't deny that you're curious. He's still your best friend, and you want to know what he's done with his new place. Is it bland like his old room in the house, or did he let his real personality show through? 

 "You sure?" He questions. 

 "Yeah. We can just, like, play video games or something."

 "Are you sure?" 

 He must feel terrible. You can relate.

 "If you don't want me over, just say so," you snort. 

 "No, no, of course I do. I just don't want you to feel weird about being alone or anything."

 "Nah, like you said, you're not really drunk. I'll sober up with water. We'll be fine."

 You don't know if you're trying to convince him or yourself. Without the presence of alcohol, you should be able to keep it together, and the distraction of Zelda or Mario will surely help. 

 "Okay, yeah," Mike nods. "Let's go then."

You don't even bother finishing your drink, just set it on a countertop and follow him out to his Wrangler. It's been a while since you've ridden in it. It's been a while since you've ridden him, your brain helpfully supplies, and as you pull up to the unfamiliar apartment complex, you once again begin to think that this was a bad idea.

[ next ]

[procrastinatingnerd]

Hi everyone! So this was my first time taking part in the @osemanversebigbang but I had so much fun!! I can't wait to read everyone's entries! 💜

Title: Angel Rahimi And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lunch Break

Characters: Angel, Juliet, Rowan, Jimmy, Lister, Bliss, two of Angel’s future uni friends (OCs).

Spoilers? Minor spoilers of important events in “I Was Born For This”.

Word Count: 3.6k

Ships: Bicci, one joke about Juliet/Rowan.

~Joan of Arc (Probably)

“I am so fucking tired”

“Right, time’s up, put your pens down.” The exam officer says from the front of the room. I scribble one last sentence before my hand gives out, and I all but throw my pen onto the desk, sighing as dramatically as I can. This week is a fucking nightmare. Exams and assignments are the piss. Fuck uni, I’m ready to drop out. Or drop dead. Either works, honestly.

As I leave the exam hall, I walk past some people from the students’ union. They’re handing out flyers for the Christmas ball next week. My housemates are all planning on going, but my friends and I planned our present swap for that night, so we’re going to spend it eating a fuck ton of snacks and watching the cheesiest Christmas films we can find. I can’t wait, I bought them each a bag of their favourite sweets from the American candy shop, it's going to be so much fun!

But that’s next week. Right now, all I want is to sit at a table that doesn’t have an exam paper on it, and eat something very greasy and very unhealthy. There’s a pizza place just on the edge of campus, run by some of the culinary arts students, and they make the best sauce ever. It’s pretty cheap too, which makes it a favourite for most people, especially at the end of a semester, when everyone’s bank accounts are running low.

I have about an hour until I need to be back in the exam hall, so I take full advantage of the outdoor seating and collapse into a chair after ordering. My pizza is brought out to me not long after, and I breathe in the smell. Nothing has smelt more gorgeous than the slices sitting in front of me. It’s a surprisingly warm day, for December at least, and for a moment, everything feels calm. I can hear a bird singing in a tree somewhere, other students are hanging around campus, most with their noses in their phones or in textbooks, and I actually let myself relax for a bit. I’ve done all the revision I can for this next exam, and I’m in desperate need of a break. I deserve this.

I pick up my first slice of pizza, and bring it up to my mouth. As I’m about to take a bite, however, my phone rings. I put the pizza down with a sigh and answer the phone without looking at who’s calling. Mum probably sensed I wasn’t doing any work, and is calling to check up on me.

“Hello?” I say tiredly.

“Angel, hi! Is this a good time??” I grin at the sound of Juliet’s voice.

“Hell yeah, it’s a perfect time! What’s up?”

“Wait, you don’t know why I’m calling?” Juliet says hesitantly. Shit. What have I forgotten now? I know it’s not her birthday. Wait, is it mine?? I swear exams rot your brain, have I actually forgotten my own birthday?

“No…?” I ask after internally monologuing for way too long.

“Oh my god, you don’t know??” Juliet screeches in my ear, “Angel go look at your phone, it’s urgent!”

Now very concerned, I put Juliet on speaker and, for the first time all morning, actually read the notifications filling my lock screen. I open the Twitter news one, and my mouth drops open in shock.

“Holy shit.”

On my screen is a news article with a headline that reads, “THE ARK’S JIMMY KAGA-RICCI AND LISTER BIRD’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED”, and just below it sits a large photo of Jimmy and Lister, standing outside a pub, kissing. I don’t believe it.

“Holy fu- Hold on a second. Mate, isn’t that the pub by Piero’s house?!” I say, bringing my phone as close to my face as I can, as if that’ll help me see better. There’s a loud shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and then I hear a gasp.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Juliet says. “Rowan said they were going on holiday, but I thought he meant abroad or something.” I smile at that. Ever since our little jaunt to Kent last summer, Juliet and I have kept in touch with the boys. We even have a group chat now; us and them and even Bliss is in it. I’m so glad we stayed friends.

At first, Rowan was really quiet, and if he did speak he and Juliet would almost always end up arguing, but they’ve been getting along quite well lately. I’m not saying I ship it or anything, I’ve learnt my lesson there, but I have to say, fangirl-to enemies-to lovers would make a wicked fanfiction trope.

“Did you see any of this coming?” Juliet continues. “Surely Jimmy would have said something to you?”

“He said he was dating someone, but didn’t want to give details because they were taking things slow. Well, that and that celebrity phone hacking scandal freaked him right the fuck out, remember?” I say.

"That's

right, he stopped talking on the group chat for like two weeks, didn’t he?” Juliet giggles back. “Well, nevertheless, I’m happy for them. They’re cute together.”

“Yeah, they are.” I grin again. “Oh my god, poor Rowan though! I’d hate to live with a couple, especially a new one! It’d be nauseating.”

“Oh I know, right? And imagine what’ll happen when they have their first fight!” Juliet gasps again. I shudder at the thought.

“I’m muting the group chat when that happens.” I joke.

“Not a bad idea.” Juliet laughs back, then pauses. “Oh, Angel, I’m sorry I’ve got the get going, but do you want to skype later?”

“Yeah, no problem! I’ve got a revision session at 6, but I should be free by 9ish?”

“Sounds perfect! See you then!” Juliet says, and with that, she’s gone, and I’m back to sitting alone with my pizza.

Jimmy and Lister. Holy shit. I don’t think anyone in the fandom saw this coming. Everything has been about Jowan, since the fandom started growing it’s the only ship that ever existed. No one bothered writing fics about any other pairings. The only Jimmy/Lister fics I ever came across were platonic ones, and even they made sure to mention Jimmy’s boyfriend Rowan.

Oh god, I hope they’re okay. The fans got so crazy when Bliss and Rowan’s relationship was exposed. Jimmy/Lister is the final nail in the Jowan coffin. Jimmy must be having the panic attack of his life! I’ve got to-

My phone rings again.

I look down at the screen, and see Jimmy’s name. I take a deep breath, and answer.

“Jimmy, hi! How are-”

“Have you seen it??”

“Yes.”

“Oh god. This isn’t how we wanted to tell you guys.”

“You sure? Because getting caught by the national press worked so well for you last time.” I tease. Silence. Oops, probably not the best thing to remind him of right now.

“Jimmy, you still there?” I say carefully. There’s a slight rustle on his end, which means he probably just nodded. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise. The fans will move on. They already did with Jowan, right?”

“But what if something happens again? Something like-”

“It won’t. You guys have better security now, and you’re doing less public events. You’re going to be fine.” I hope and pray that I’m saying the right things. Jimmy and I have gotten close lately, but I’m nowhere near as good at helping him deal with his anxiety as Rowan and Lister are. There’s more silence, until finally, Jimmy speaks again.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right. Thanks, Angel.”

“Course I’m right! If there’s one thing I know, it’s fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs, and I grin back. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. This is happening to Lister too, and no doubt Rowan and Bliss will be there to help you. Just talk to them.”

“Thank you Angel, I’ll go do that now.”

“Perfect! Love you Jim, I’ll text you later.” I say, and the call ends.

He’ll be okay. He’s got too many people who love him not to be. I take another breath and put my phone down on the table. As soon as I do, however, it buzzes again, and I see Jimmy is trying to facetime me. Now very concerned, I answer it and hold the phone up so he can see my face properly.

“Jimmy, are you okay, what’s happened??” I ask anxiously, but he looks fine. He looks at me with a confused expression.

“Nothing, I’m just talking to the others, like you said.” He says. It’s only me and him on the call. I stare at him in silence for a moment.

“Jimmy, mate… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not any of them” I say slowly, and to my surprise, Jimmy laughs.

“Yeah I know, but I was kind of hoping to have you here, too, if that’s okay?” He says sheepishly. “It’s okay if you’re busy, it’s just that… I don’t know, you’re good with this stuff and you make me feel calm? Sorry, I know that’s a lot to just dump on you.” Jimmy doesn’t look at me directly, and I start to feel tears in my eyes.

“Well damn, Jim, I guess if you truly love me that much, I can stick around for a bit.” I laugh, and quickly glance at the time. “My lunch break is only halfway over, anyway, so I have plenty of time to hang out while you talk to the others.”

Jimmy seems to let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and grins.

Just as I’m about to start talking again, I hear a ping, and Lister’s face appears on screen, followed by Rowan and Bliss.

“Hey Jimjam, you okay?” Rowan asks, looking as calm as ever. “Oh hey Angel.” He adds. I give him an awkward smile.

“Wait, Angel's here?” Bliss interrupts before Jimmy can answer. “Nice, how’s the week from hell going? Didn’t think we’d hear from you until you’d made it through.”

“Yeah it’s rough, but I’m getting there. This is a welcome distraction though.” I grin at her.

“So you’ve seen the pictures then. They look good, right?” Lister chimes in, before correcting himself. “I mean, it’s horrible they found us, fucking pricks, but you’ve got to admit we look good.”

“You can be so self-centred sometimes.” Bliss laughs.

“Come on Lister, this isn’t a joke.” Rowan chides him.

“Well, I guess he isn’t wrong..” Jimmy mumbles nervously and I see him smile a bit.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me!” Lister argues back at Rowan, who rolls his eyes.

“It’s still not something to laugh about.” Rowan says firmly. “Cecily’s already on damage control, cancelling some events, beefing up the security at others, and giving the tabloids hell. She’s also let your grandad know, Jimmy.”

“Wait, aren’t you guys all down there already?” I ask, confused.

“Nah we got back last night. That picture was taken when we went out for lunch the other day. Took their time printing it.” Lister says.

“Probably needed time to pad out their articles. Seriously, how can they write so many pages about two people dating?” Bliss adds.

“Probably whining about how Jowan is now well and truly dead.” Rowan rolls his eyes again. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that part.” I cringe slightly as he says that. I will never not regret being one of the Jowan fangirls.

“So Cecily’s already got a plan? That’s good, that’s a bit of a relief.” Jimmy speaks up, looking visibly more relaxed than he had sounded over the phone earlier.

“Yeah she’s got it sorted, so we can start planning our Christmas party!” Lister says, making the others groan.

“Lister what the hell makes you think we should be throwing a massive fucking party right now?!” Rowan says, his voice growing louder. Lister goes quiet, looking like he wants to shrink into his seat, before eventually speaking up again.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything big, I just mean… Angel, you’re gonna be in London with Juliet, right? Come over, drag Bliss with you, Jimmy can invite his grandad, Rowan you can bring Jade, and there you go, that’s our party!”

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Rowan says, surprised.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!” Jimmy adds.

“I’m up for it, Angel, do you think Juliet will wanna come?” Bliss says.

“Hell yeah she would, let’s do it!” I reply with a massive smile on my face. Partying with Bliss and the boys sounds like the best way to spend my Christmas London trip. I’ll make sure to tell Juliet about it when I talk to her later. As I start planning all the food I’m going to bring over, and wondering what the boys’ flat will look like at Christmas, the conversation starts up again.

“You sure you’re doing alright, Jimmy? I can come back home if you need me to.” Rowan says, focusing things on the issue at hand again.

“No no, don’t worry, stay with your family. They’d kill me if I made you miss out on spending time with them.” Jimmy jokes. “I’ve got Lister here, and Cecily’s number if I need it. My head isn’t giving me too much grief right now, anyway.”

“Wait, Lister, you’re there with him?” Bliss asks.

“Yeah, check it out!” Lister says, before picking up his phone and moving. He takes us out of what I think was his room, through a hallway and comes out into a large living room, where we can see Jimmy on a sofa looking at his phone. “Say hi to the chat, Jim!”

Everyone laughs as Jimmy gives an awkward wave to Lister’s phone. Lister then hangs up and launches himself into view of Jimmy’s screen, and the two shuffle about until they’re practically sitting on top of each other, faces

squished together so the tiny phone camera captures them both. I hate how cute they look together.

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jimmy,” Rowan says, smiling for probably the first time this whole call.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jimmy smiles back. “This whole situation is terrifying, and I’m more than ready to hide in my room and not see another mad fangirl for the rest of my life, but... if I did that we’d never get to hang out with Angel again.” He finishes, biting his lip as if unsure of whether or not the joke will hit.

“Uh..ouch!” I clap my hand on top of my heart dramatically and laugh, while the others join in. “I’ll have you know I’ve abandoned my fangirl ways. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, not completely but I’m not shipping real people anymore, so that’s something, right?!”

Lister is giving Jimmy a look of what I can only assume is pride for making a decent joke during a time of peak anxiety, Rowan has his head in his hands, probably contemplating his life choices now that Lister seems to be rubbing off on Jimmy, and Bliss still looks shocked that such a joke came out of Jimmy’s mouth, not Lister’s. When things calm down again, I check the time and speak up again.

“Well this has been fun Jim, but I’m afraid I have mad fangirl duties to be getting back to. Shrines to build, fanfiction to write, you know how it is.” I say sarcastically.

“Thanks again, Angel, for being here, and listening. And you’d better be right about that fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs again, although this time I see his smile falter a bit.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, moving as close to the screen as I can without squishing my face on it. “Things will settle down before you know it, in the meantime, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this.” Rowan and Bliss nod in agreement, and I see Lister hug Jimmy closer. Jimmy takes a breath and nods as well.

“Thanks Angel. And good luck with your exam. We’ll see you over the holidays.” He smiles.

“Yeah you got this Angel, go smash it!” Bliss chimes in, giving me a thumbs up and a grin. I say one last goodbye to them all, and hang up.

I look back down at my pizza, still uneaten. I need to stop letting myself get distracted during phone calls. I can eat and talk to my friends at the same time. I’m usually a master at it.

“Fereshteh!” I look up again. Either I’m going loony, or someone just said-

“FERESHTEH!” I turn around and see Mollie and Christina barrelling towards me, with the most excitement I’ve ever seen on a students’ face during exam season. They crash into my table and both start talking at once.

“Have you seen??”

“Did you know??”

“How long have they been together?!”

“Oh my god is this why you won’t tell us about what happened in Kent?!”

“Woah, easy on the interrogation! Seriously, you guys need to work on your interview skills.” I put my hands up in surrender and laugh. Mollie rolls her eyes at me.

“So? Did they tell you or what?” She asks again. I roll my eyes back at her.

“You know I don’t want to tell you guys anything about the boys. They trust me, and I’m not going to fuck that up because of some shit a tabloid prints.”

“How dare you appeal to our morality and ethics, we want gossip dammit!” Christina giggles, lightly banging her fist down on the table.

“Then stick to the Twitter pages.” I stick my tongue out at her. Mollie and Christina are two of my housemates, and are part of the Ark fandom. I never planned on telling them about Kent, but they figured out who I was thanks to the pictures of me and Jimmy on the train. I didn’t think you could tell it was me, but fangirls are like master detectives. They figured it out in less than a week. They haven’t told anyone though, they’re good mates.

“So how are you feeling about all of this? Whether you knew or not, having it out in the press like this is a lot to handle, especially after last time.” Mollie says, now in serious mode.

“It is a lot, definitely, but they’ll be fine. They’ve had this happen before and they know what to expect from the fans. I just wish I could be there for them.” I say, sitting back in my chair.

“I get

that, it must suck that you guys are so far apart now.” Christina chimes in.

“I mean it’s not like we ever lived close to each other before. The only reason we even crossed paths over the summer was because I was staying with a friend. But yeah, being away from them all is kind of hard sometimes.” I sigh dramatically, making Mollie and Christina grin.

“Are you going to visit them over Christmas?” Christina asks.

“I’m definitely going to visit my friend in London again, for a day or two, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to see the boys.” I quickly lie. “They cut back on public events but they’re still really busy most of the time. And this,” I gesture to my phone “definitely won’t help.”

“We’ll keep an eye on fandom updates for you, and try to shut any mentions of Jowan down,” Mollie says, reaching across the table and giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeeze hers back and give her a grateful smile. I mostly stopped interacting with the fandom after meeting the boys, reading fanfiction, and discussing theories with other fans just feels weird and creepy to do when the people you’re talking about are your friends. So it’s nice that I have Mollie and Christina looking out for them, and doing what I can’t. Christina has a pretty big following on Tumblr, and Mollie’s a Twitter ace, so I trust them to hold their ground with the fandom.

“Okay, you don’t have to give us any details, but genuinely, what do you think of Lister and Jimmy as a couple? Because I don’t think the fandom could handle a breakup.” Christina says after a while, making me laugh.

“Pfft, yeah I don’t think the boys could handle a breakup, either.” I smile. “But honestly? I think they’ll be good for each other. Lister is good at helping Jimmy relax and step out of his anxiety bubble, and Jimmy can help reign in Lister’s chaotic energy. Plus they’re freaking cute together, I mean just look at this picture!” I finish, gesturing dramatically to my phone again.

“They are so cute!” Mollie nods in agreement. “I’m actually shocked no one thought to ship them together before.”

“That’s the Jowan storm, for you,” Christina adds. “Can’t believe we ever shipped that.”

“So gross.” I shudder at the thought. Suddenly the alarm I’d set this morning went off, making us all jump.

“What’s that?” Mollie asks. I check the screen and practically leap out of my seat.

“Oh shit, my exam starts in 10 minutes!” I say, gathering my stuff up as quickly as I can. I say my goodbyes to Mollie and Christina and start running back across campus to the exam hall.

I make it just in time, much to the invigilator’s chagrin, check my bag in at the desk at the back of the hall, and collapse into my assigned seat. The exam starts, and it’s only when it does that my stomach reminds me that I never actually ate lunch. Shit.

I start to silently scold myself for being so stupid, when my mind starts drifting to the video chat with Jimmy and the others. He and Lister looked so comfortable with each other. Makes sense, they've known each other for so long. But even still, Jimmy looked so much happier once Lister sat down with him, and Lister himself practically seemed at home with Jimmy’s arms wrapped around him. I smile at my exam paper.

I’m so happy for them.

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Composed of the Elements

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary:  When a case takes the team to (Y/N)'s home town, her best friend Spencer helps her leave all the baggage behind.

Title Song: Sweet as Whole, Sara Bareilles

Word Count: 2705

Warnings: high school bullying, brief mentions of a case, smoking

“Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.” -Oscar Wilde

~

You walked into the bullpen with a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other.

“Morning, (Y/N),” your best friend, Spencer, called from his desk.

“Morning, Spence.” You sat down at your desk. Before you could get settled, JJ announced a case.

“We’ve been called in to a small town in Indiana,” JJ said, clicking on the slide projector.

“Wait. When you say small town…” you said, feeling your body tense.

“We’re going to (L/N)’s hometown,” Hotch confirmed. After going over the details of the case, he said, “Wheels up in thirty.”

Spencer reached for your arm, but you were up and moving to the bullpen before he could catch you. He watched as you grabbed your bag from your desk, ignoring Morgan’s attempts at conversation. Your usual peppy, outgoing self was gone, replaced with a stranger.

When the team gathered on the jet, they discussed the case together. You sat at the back of the cabin, staring out at the clouds, tapping on the table in front of you.

“Hey.” You looked up to see Gideon sitting in front of you. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “I never thought I’d be going back there. I thought I could leave and never look back.”

“Hey, I know it isn’t easy, but we need your help. You know this town and the people in it. That can help us.”

You sighed and stood up. “Fine.” Walking over to the team, you said, “One thing you need to know about these people: they don’t like outsiders. At all.”

“What do you mean by outsiders?” Hotch asked.

You scoffed. “Anyone who isn’t born and raised in the town. Even if you’ve lived there for years, if you weren’t born in Newton, you’re not to be trusted. You’ll see first-hand when we meet with the local PD.”

“What about the victims?” Derek asked you.

“I knew both of them in high school,” you said, flicking through the file. “But I don’t know what anyone has been doing with their lives.”

Spencer couldn’t help but notice the sadness in your eyes. Despite his aversion to touch, he reached out and rested his hand on top of yours. You were his safety net. He loved you, as more than just his best friend.

~

When the team got to the police station, you stuck to the back of the group while JJ and Hotch made introductions.

“Detective Miller,” Hotch said, holding his hand out. “I’m Agent Hotchner. You’ve already spoken to Agent Jareau. This is SSA Gideon, Dr. Reid, SSA Morgan, and SSA (L/N).”

“Wait. Little nerdy (Y/N) (L/N)?” the detective said, finally noticing you. “Wow, who would have thought you’d come back to Newton?” You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes down.

“Do you have a place we can set up a case board?” Spencer asked, noticing your unease.

“Sure.”

“Did you know the victims well?” JJ asked him.

The detective nodded. “We all do. Kelly’s my son’s teacher. Julia and I dated in high school. Our kids are friends.”

“Does everyone in town know each other well?” JJ asked as she helped you pin the crime scene photos to the board.

“Of course. We’re like a family. When your town only has 300 people, you have to look out for each other.” You couldn’t hold back your scoff. “You have something to say there, (Y/N)?”

“She’s Agent (L/N) to you,” Gideon interrupted. “JJ, Julia Coleman’s family is here.”

~

“You look different,” Detective Miller said to you as you worked late to help nail down the profile. “You look good.”

“Detective Miller-”

“Come on, you can call me Tim.” He stepped closer to you. “You don’t have to be so professional.”

“Excuse me,” you said, though it was no more than a whisper. You slipped out of the room and stood outside the precinct, leaning against the wall. You pulled a small box out of your jacket pocket.

“Since when do you smoke?” Spencer asked you, coming up next to you.

You lit a cigarette and took a drag before saying, “Since high school.” Seeing Spencer’s concern, you said, “Relax, I haven’t for a while. It’s only when I get really stressed.”

“You know, each cigarette takes about seven minutes off your life.”

“If it’s seven minutes I don’t have to spend with Timothy Miller or anyone else from this damn town, then I don’t care.”

“What did he do to you?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, (Y/N), it’s me. Talk to me. Please?”

You looked at your best friend’s pleading eyes and sighed. You put out your cigarette and said, “You know I didn’t have a good high school experience. After my mom died, my dad moved us to his childhood home. I moved schools halfway through the first semester. I was the weird new kid who wore all black with braces and clunky glasses and was way too into Stephen King books. I was an easy target.” You cleared your throat. “Julia and Tim were my biggest tormentors. When they dated, it was worse.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked.

You chewed your lip. “Tim asked me to the prom when he and Julie were on an off period of their relationship. I got so excited, like an idiot. I mean, I knew he didn’t like me in that way. After all, why would he?” You laughed, but there was no joy behind it. Spencer felt his heart clench at how you saw yourself. He thought you were the most beautiful, amazing woman to ever exist.

“But I thought at least I’d have a friend, you know? I rented a dress and did my hair, all that stuff. Tim said he was going to pick me up. He never came.” Your eyes burned with tears at the memory. “The worst part was, my dad didn’t know there was anything going on. After-after my mom died, he gave up. When he wasn’t working, he was drinking and smoking.” You shook your head. “Tim just brought all those feelings back.”

Spencer reached out and wiped the tears off your cheek. “You didn’t deserve any of that. No one deserves that.”

“Carrie was my favorite book in high school. I wonder what that says about me.”

“Why don’t we head back to the hotel?” Spencer offered, holding his hand out to you. “Rest might help us with the case.”

~

The next morning, the team discovered there was another murder. Misty Lincoln had been killed in the same way as the other two victims. Spencer was graphing the geographical profile while you sat at the table, staring at the crime scene photos.

“You see something?” Hotch asked you.

“I’m not sure. Uh, could I- could I take like two hours? I think there might be something that’ll help us in my dad’s old things.”

“Sure. But you’re not going alone. Take Reid with you.”

You knew better than to argue with your boss. “Yes, sir.”

When you and Spencer got into the SUV, your fingers started tapping the steering wheel as you drove, letting muscle memory guide you. You pulled into the parking lot of a storage facility. Spencer followed behind you as you passed row after row of storage units. When you finally stopped, you flipped through your keychain until you found one you were looking for. You hadn’t spoken to Spencer since getting in the car back at the station, and he was starting to worry.

After you opened the door to the unit, you looked at Spencer. “After my dad died, I moved all his stuff here. I got rid of some stuff, of course. What would I ever do with an old couch that had more cigarette burns than upholstery?” You ran your hand over a white garment bag. The golden lettering was faded, but Spencer could still make out the word bridal, and what he could infer was the word boutique from the few remaining letters. “Some things I just couldn’t get rid of.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Spencer asked you, picking up a picture at the top of an open box. You were between who he could only assume were your parents, and you all looked happy. You looked just like your mother. The small you, who couldn’t be much older than 8, clung to the woman’s side. Your father had his arm around your mother’s waist. It all looked very domestic.

“Sure,” you said, digging through a box at the back of the unit.

“Why have you been acting so different since we got here? I mean, you’ve been acting so meek and timid, which isn’t you. I once heard you threaten a cop that you would, and I quote, ‘shove your foot so far up his ass that he would taste the mud on your shoe.’ What’s going on?” He set the frame back on the top of the box.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess… I spent so long trying to distance myself from this place and when I came back, I was back to being a scared little 15-year-old.”

“But, you’re not, (Y/N). You’re strong and confident.” It was then Spencer heard you sniffle and noticed you were crying. “(Y/N)?”

You wiped your face. “Sorry. It’s just… I worked so hard for the image of me that you all see and-and I’m just so afraid that being here is going to erase all that. I worked so hard at the Academy to form an identity that wasn’t this and-”

“(Y/N), (Y/N), hey,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Breathe. Our image of you is not going to change just because your old tormentors are here. I- uh, we, the team, we love you. You’re our family. I think Garcia would riot if Hotch ever tried to get rid of you.” You chuckled at that and it made him smile. “Now, how about we get out of here and work more on our profile?”

~

When you got back to the precinct, Hotch asked you, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah.” You pulled an old yearbook out of your bag. “All the victims are from the same graduating class, and they were all in the same extracurriculars. Look.”

“We’re ready to give the profile,” Gideon said after flipping through the book.

Your team gathered the police department to deliver your preliminary profile.

“We’ve come to the conclusion that our unsub can only be a local,” Spencer said. “He-”

“There’s no way,” Officer Miller interrupted. “No one in this town would do that. Besides, why would I trust this walking stick insect over the people I’ve known my whole life? You’re wrong, Stick-Bug.”

“How dare you,” you said, stepping forward. The rest of your team stepped away. They knew what was coming. No one would say it, but they all knew how you and Spencer felt about each other. “How dare you talk to Spencer that way. Captain Bell invited us here to help you find out who’s murdering members of your community. You have no right to talk to my family that way.”

“Your family? These people are your family?”

“A family is anyone who makes you feel loved, and by that definition, yes. These people are my family. And if you ever talk to any of them like that again, I will bring your life crashing down around you with one simple phone call.”

“Oh, look who’s finally got a backbone,” Tim laughed. “Little (Y/N) thinks she sounds all big and threatening.”

“It’s not a threat, Timothy, it’s a promise,” you said. “And I’m sure Captain Bell would take you off this case if I told him you have a conflict of interest. I’m sure he’d love to know you’d had an affair with one of the victims. You and Julia never could stay away from each other, could you?”

Spencer fought a smile at seeing you return to yourself, as well as seeing Timothy’s face pale. He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a way to thank you.

~

The case was finally over. Like always, Spencer had been right. The unsub was a guy from your graduating class who felt the women from your class shunned and mistreated him. Thankfully, you were able to sympathize with him and get him to come in without any extra violence.

Hotch was giving the team the night in the hotel before heading back to Quantico in the morning. You were flipping through the channels on the hotel’s TV, already in your pajamas by 8:30. You finally settled on some old reruns of Friends when there was a knock at your door. You groaned and extracted yourself from your blanket cocoon and trudged over to the door.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” you asked after opening your door to reveal Spencer, still in his work clothes.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

“Spencer, I’m in my pajamas-”

“That doesn’t matter. Just, come with me. Please?”

You tugged your old sweatshirt on and followed Spencer down the hallway, to the elevator.

“Where are we going?” you asked him.

“It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“You trust me, right?”

“Of course, I do, Spence. You know that.”

“Okay well,” he covered your eyes with his hands and guided you forward. He dropped his hands and said, “surprise.”

You were standing on the patio of the hotel’s restaurant, the tables had been pushed to the side and lights were strung up all around.

“Spence, what’s all this?” you asked as he gently pulled you to the center of the patio.

“A way to say thank you,” he said. When he saw the confusion on your face, he said, “For sticking up for me at the precinct. I know it must have been hard to stand up to Detective Miller. And-and I remember you telling me that you don’t have many good memories here, and then I thought about your prom story, so…” He held his hand out to you as music started playing. “May I have this dance?”

You smiled and took Spencer’s hand. He rested his free hand on your waist, and your free hand rested on his shoulder as the two of you gently swayed to the soft music coming from the patio’s speakers.

“How’d you pull this off?” you asked him.

His smile was a bit sheepish. “Morgan and Garcia helped me pull some strings.”

“Of course they did. Garcia is the all-powerful puppet master.”

Spencer laughed as the two of you continued to dance. When Spencer heard you sniffle, he stopped and pulled away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He brushed a tear off your cheek. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “No. It’s happy tears.” When you saw that Spencer still looked confused, you explained, “I never thought I’d have someone in my life who cares about me this much. I mean, look at all this. You did this just to make me happy.” You rested your forehead against Spencer’s and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. Spencer’s arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Of course I did. I love you. I-I mean, I care about you. Because you’re my best friend and-”

“Spence,” you said, stopping his rambling. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for just a moment.

Spencer’s brain, which usually worked at three times the speed of the average person, slowed to practically a halt. You had just kissed him. The girl he’s been longing for just kissed him. She kissed him . You were about to say something to him when his brain finally caught up and he kissed you back.

When the two of you pulled apart, you said, “Well, I guess my prom was worth the wait.”

Spencer smiled at you and kissed your forehead before continuing to dance with you.

~

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." -Anais Nin

[bubsthebee]

Can’t Say It.

Aizawa x Reader

Word Count: 3,541

A/N: Fluff, dragged out but it’s a happy ending. One shot. Age difference (9 years) Reader is 22 while Aizawa is 31. Mentions of alcohol.  

Reader is a young teacher at UA who has a unique relationship with Pro Hero and coworker Eraserhead. After a while of getting to know each other, will they realize their feelings? OR will they let self doubt get in the way. 

CHARACTER REPORT

Position: UA SCHOOL ADMINISTRATION 

Job Description: Quirk Analysis and Evaluation Processing. 

Name: (L/N), (F/N)                Power: 2/5 D    Intelligence: 4/5 B

Birthday: (5/10)                     Speed: 2/5 B    Cooperativeness: 5/5 A

Age: 22                                 Technique: 5/5 S

Sex: Female (She/Her)

Quirk: Analysis 

-(Y/N) is able to instantly analyze a person and their abilities after observing them, familiarizing themselves with their qurik. This also includes evaluating/predicting situations with higher than average accuracy. With this ability, she can use this information with or against a subject. She can keep up to three peoples' worth of information perfectly memorized at a time. Anymore, her analysis starts to create more errors and her accuracy decreases. 

--

Ever since (y/n) started working at UA, everyone knew that Aizawa’s single streak was in danger. 

While the scruff chined 1-A homeroom teacher taught his bustling young hero course, she supported the admin staff! Specifically falling under processing and evaluating every student's quirk and how to help progress their potential. This means every homeroom teacher ran their notes and evaluations about their students through her every quarter, possibly more depending on how active and intense their training has been. She and her small team are a key to the school’s successful hero and support course. No matter how a quirk was used, they would find the best way to help them improve it. 

Classroom 1-A currently holds the record for most updates and changes to analysis (surprise). With an increase in updates, (y/n) has spent more sleepless nights making sure her work was perfect than she originally thought she was going to. Not that she minded of course! She was young, and found that it helped drive her to improve her passions and skill. Besides her administrative work, she also works as a substitute teacher for English, and Hero Strategy lessons twice a semester. If needed she is more than happy to help with summer lessons. 

Aizawa has had more than his fair share of interaction with the young lady, more than others if one was keeping track. After the hero noticed (y/n)’s sleepless nights because of his students, he offered to stay and bring her coffee. When (y/n) noticed extra heavy bags under his eyes, there would be a nicely wrapped lunch on his desk with a cute thank you note in return. 

Over time a unique relationship developed between the two that anyone looking in could clearly see. Including the students. 

“Mr Aizawa! Your lady friend left ya another lunch, you’re so LUCKY.” Denki and Mineta whined without hesitation. 

“Why don’t we get cute lunches made by cute girls?” 

“Shut up! That’s Ms. (L/n) you’re talking about, not some side chick you dumbos. I think it’s really sweet.” Mina cooed alongside some of the other girls. 

Their homeroom teacher could only sigh, carefully tucking away the lunch box into his work desk as he partially ignored their scattered comments. “Lucky or not, you all should have your notes out and study. Your test scores from  last week clearly tell me I haven’t given enough in class work time. Do I have to cut down on our outside training hours?” The instant shuffling of paper and pencils brought a small smirk to his face. Nothing got his students off his back faster than less training hours. As he took attendance and organized his schedule, the small peeks at the lunch box reminded him about his last encounter with his….coworker. 

--

“Midoriya is such a strange boy you know? I’m surprised his quirk doesn't instantly tear his body apart every time he uses it. I’m glad he’s getting a handle on it, I hated seeing him hurt himself so often.”  You were sat cross legged in your office chair, typing away at your laptop underneath a bright desk lamp. 

“I agree, he needs to learn how to use his body with his quirk.” 

“Exactly!- Well, it looks like his rate of injuries compared to training has decreased. Based off of Recovery Girls records, his quirk usage deteriorated his arm muscle effectiveness. This means he’s got to either limit his usage on his arms, or learn how to use the rest of his body to compensate.” Rubbing your eyes shifted your reading glasses off of your face, exposing the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. 

“You shouldn’t be getting such heavy bags under your eyes like that, you’re too young for those (L/n).” He always notices them, no matter how well hidden. 

“Ya, okay GRAMPS. You’re not that much older than me and YOUR eyes are just as bad, if not worse. And call me (y/n), we’re friends aren't we?” 

Rolling his eyes, Aizawa gets up with a huff to pour some coffee from the nearby coffee pot. “Midoriya is your last report tonight right? Go home, you’ve got Hero Strategy classes tomorrow.” as if on cue, he hands you the cup of warm coffee while you reach out for it with a quiet “Thank you”. 

The way you hold the cup in your hands and let the warm steam brush against your face leaves him staring at you with a soft look. 

“I guess I could leave a little earlier than I thought....” blowing cool air onto the coffee, you slowly take a sip of the warm beverage. Every time you see that look on his face, you can’t help but wonder what he’s feeling. 

After a short while, you both clean up and close the office up. It’s 1 AM and both of you are more than ready to get at least a few hours of sleep in. Like usual, he walks you halfway to your home before bidding his own goodbye. 

“Goodnight (L/n).” As Aizawa turns to walk away, he feels a small tug at his sleeve. 

“I uh-” Turning to look around, he sees you with pinker cheeks underneath a streetlight. How do you always look so...nice? No matter the light you always look nice. 

You slowly slid your hand down his arm to gently hold onto his hand. It was so soft, not just the hold but your skin. You couldn't even look at him but your voice was clear as day. 

“Thank you, for staying with me. I know how tired you must be too….so I feel honored that you decide to spend your important time with me- er, to help me. You’re a great teacher and man Aizawa. Good night.” Just as quick as the moment had started, your touch was gone and you made your way home. 

He was alone, yet he could still feel your touch on his skin. Aizawa stood there for minutes, looking at his hand in awe and strange curiosity. His coworkers and friends told him multiple times, “You two aren’t a thing?”, “It’s obvious that you fancy her Shouta.”, 

“She has to feel the same, you don’t see how she looks at you when you aren’t paying attention.” 

--

         The school bell alerting the start of their first class was what pulled Aizawa out of his mind, looking up to see (y/n) walk into the class with your information tablet. ‘Ah, right. Hero Strategy.’          “Good Morning class! Great to see you all again.” She was chipper as always, her makeup easily covering her endeavors from the night before. The young teacher wore simple black tights with her training sweat jacket, everyone murmured in excitement because this meant that there would be out of class training and demonstrations          Rubbing his exhaustion from his face, the black haired male stands up to go stand near (y/n). “You all have ten minuets to change and get to the field. Any longer and you’ll be stuck in cleaning duty for the week.”

         Iida is quick to stand and grab his fellow classmates attention. “Quickly but in order, please gather your things and head to the gym! No RUNNING!” As valiant as his efforts were, everyone rushed out of the class in fear of being put into the cleaning crew while it was out of their turn. 

         The small smile he saw on your face was sobering, calmly following behind you as you made your way to the gym. 

         Usually, Aizawa would sneak into his sleeping back and nap during other teachers' lessons. These ones were different for him. He would sit off to the side and observe how you worked with the kids.

 While some students could take simple suggestions and immediately apply them, others needed physical examples. You were more than happy to adapt to all their needs as they all trained with their new plans and teachers notes. While Tokoyami nodded and talked with Dark Shadow about your observations, Uraraka carefully mimicked your moves as you slowly countered her attacks explaining how they affected her opponent's momentum even more. 

         He knew you were a natural when it came to children and hero work. The obvious proof was right in front of him. That and he was nine years older than you, yet you both were doing almost the exact same job. That's where everything starts to blur for him. 

         After a quick practice round with Shoji, a rundown with Bakugo about his quirk usage along with Midoriya and the rest of the class, their first class of the day was over. 

         The rest of the day went normal, and (Y/n) left to finish the rest of her lessons while Aizawa did the same. 

 --

         After a long week, you were more than happy to have the weekend to yourself, or so you thought. 

Incoming Call: Keigo <(‘v’)> 

“Keigo?”

 “Hey tiny, sorry to bother but I felt like I should call in and see how you were doing.” 

 “I’m fine, just getting ready to watch some movies and order take in. Had a long week. You?” 

 “Gonna be heading out to an event soon! Glad to hear you're doing good. Any luck with your crush on the office grandpa?”

 You roll your eyes as you wiggle yourself into more blankets, clicking through the different documentaries you could find on YouTube.

  “I don’t have a crush on Aizawa, and even IF I did he is NOT a grandpa. He would probably want someone closer to his age anyway. The whole life experience gap and everything.” 

 “Yeah okay, whatever. Don't get mad at me when you realize I’m right and you're missing out on not being single anymore.” 

 “You’ll be the first person I call when you’re actually right. ” “Ouch-” 

 “Pfft, talk to you later Kei. I have an hour long video about the origin of heroes and it’s calling my name.” 

 “Bye bye!” 

-

         No matter how relaxed you were or how interesting the documentary was, you couldn't get you know who out of your mind. Could you have a crush on Aizawa Shouta? Silver Fox hero of the night? Grumpy man who likes taking naps in the middle of the day? You couldn’t lie, he was attractive and his personality was more than pleasant to you at least. It always felt like something was there between you two..between late night talks and having lunch together sometimes. It felt like there was a connection, and the only thing keeping you two from connecting was a waterfall of hesitation and doubt. 

 “Whatever…”

--

         “WoooOO! Staff Party, this is gonna be a blast Listeners! Present Mic here to keep your evening thrilling with an amazing music selection!” 

         Upbeat music with minimal words played through the old speakers of a rented out ballroom. It was the end of the first semester staff party, everyone was dressed semi formal with their hair done nicely and makeup to match. The decorations were nice, and tables were laid out with food, drinks and chairs to relax and chat. 

         Aizawa was one of the first to show up since he and Yamada came together like usual. Although he socialized with other teachers as they passed by, he stayed closer to the walls and talked with Kayama most of the time. He was dressed fairly well, a simple fitted dark g suit coat with normal slacks. The usually wild and wavy mess of locks was neatly tied back into a very clean half knot that showed off his handsome face. 

         “No date Shouta? I was sure that pretty young thing would be with you tonight. (L/n) Right, she’s such a lovely girl.” Kayama’s hair was curled beautifully around her, a long fitted dress with a deep V cut showing off her lovely charm. Aizawa only rolled his eyes, sipping on his Champaign class to avoid talking even if it was just for a second more. 

         “It would make more sense for her to come in with someone closer to her age or with a friend. She is the youngest person on staff you know.” 

         “Age this age that blah blah BLAH. I know love when I see it-” 

         “Not love, this isn’t some romance film Nemuri.” 

         With a small and understanding smile, Nemuri reaches out to gently pat her dear friend's shoulder. “Someday, you’re going to realize that the things that are holding you back are nothing but a reflection of your own worries. I know you’ll figure it out. You both will. Now try to have fun-” Her attention was stolen away for a moment, a glint of excitement in her eyes clear as day. “If you’re worried about how she feels and how she’s doing, why don't you go show her around and make sure she feels welcomed?” 

         Turning around, the first thing Aizawa see’s is you. A cheesy thing to say, but he almost feels his heart skip a bit.  

         You wore a black turtleneck underneath a midnight blue spaghetti strap dress that fit you just right. Knitted knee high socks and stylish black heel boots finished off your look along with a beautiful pearl pendant necklace. Your hair looked soft and styled in a way he had never seen it before. Your eyes were done up just enough in a way that made them shine even more than they usually do.

         He’s trapped, and he is slowly realizing that he never wants to be set free. 

         When your eyes scan the room for anything familiar, they finally land on a set of eyes that are looking right back at you. You have to stop yourself from visibly gasping, why did his eyes feel so intense? What was he thinking as he made his way across the room to you. 

         Like Moses and the sea, everyone carefully parted to let you both have your moment. They all knew the chemistry between you too, and were more than happy to leave you  alone as they carried on with their conversations and laughter. 

         “You look beautiful.” His voice was low, and held a sense of hesitant tenderness even he was unsure of. You knew he meant it. 

         “And you look very handsome, you even shaved for the party.” With a small laugh you gently ran the back of your fingers across his shaved cheek. This wasn't new, you had done this exact touch multiple times before when you made fun of his stubble yet- it felt more intimate than it ever had before. Aizawa knew he didn't mind it. 

         Carefully sliding his hand into yours, he lifts it up to press a soft and long kiss to your knuckles. “It is a special occasion. Would you like to join me tonight?” He was never a man who cushioned his words, straight to the point and expressing just how he felt was never an issue. You were different. 

         Accepting his offer, you move to accept his offered arm. The night starts slow as you both walk around and chat with other faculty members you work with. With Aizawas help you were confident that you were able to make some new friends, maybe going to this party wasn't so bad after all.

         Everything else almost felt like a breeze. Laughs were shared, drinks were drank- and barriers were being broken down. You and Aizawa found yourselves slowly standing closer and closer together, close enough to where your fingers would brush against each other when one of you moved. All of Pro Hero Eraserhead’s friends could only watch with warm and excited smiles for him. 

         Like always, nights must always come to an end. 

         While some people left to retire for the night, others stayed longer to help clean or help more than drunk coworkers make it home safe. “I’m helping Nemuri make it home Sho! You gonna be okay making it back tonight?” Yamada had Nemuri balancing into his side, laughing as she drunkenly waved some of the others goodbye. “Oh! You all can head back home together if you’d like. I’m just helping clean a bit before I head back home.” you politely cut into their little chat, holding a medium sized black trash bag in your hands. 

         Taking a moment, Aizawa starts to shrug off his coat as he takes the garbage away from you. “I’ll stay behind to help clean. If you’re alright with it I can walk you home.” with wide eyes, the younger teacher could only nod before she turned away to hide her reddening cheeks to pick up more trash and plates. 

         “No worries, now get em TIGEr. RaaArW-” As Kayama tried to cheer her friend on, Yamada tugged her away with an amused laugh of his own. 

          Not even an hour later, everyone was out and the sky was as dark and it could be. The only stars you could see were the large ones as the light pollution shrouded out the smaller and weaker stars. 

         This time around, Aizawa's coat was wrapped around (y/n) shoulders, her head resting on him as they linked arms on the walk back to her house. Instead of splitting off halfway, he walks her all the way up to her front door. It was silent for a moment, the events from tonight silently washing over them. 

         “Thank you Aizawa, this...was a really nice night. I don't think it would have been as enjoyable as it was without you.” (y/n) broke the silence, turning to face and look up at the man she knew she would never look at the same again. Rubbing his mouth in thought, his eyes flicker between the young woman standing in front of him and the road. 

         “I want to thank you as well. I-.” He paused for a moment. 

         “I would like to kiss you, but I understand if you wouldn't. I think after tonight you know what my feelings are for you. I didn't even know about them fully until tonight. Kayama- Midnight was right. I was letting my worries hold me back when I should have been forward like I always am-”  

         Time freezes when he feels your hands pull down his face, your lips eagerly pressing into a kiss with such raw love and desperation. Instantly his arms move around to gently lift you up into him. One minute, two..three. You both only break apart for air and your warm breaths mingle against each other. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now I think. My friend was right haha...maybe I do have a crush on you. I was just worried because I had no idea if you would even be interested in a relationship, let alone with someone as...young as me. I feel like a high schooler again haha.” 

         The fact that you were able to laugh the way you did and still hold him in your arms brought flutters to his chest. He knew now that he more than just saw you as a coworker or a close friend. He wants to be more. “I know what you mean. Who would want to be with someone as old as me? I would never want to make you feel like I was holding you back.” He would never admit it, but he felt like a young adult experiencing love for the first time...it was a bit embarrassing (in a good way.) 

         “You make me feel so helpless sometimes you know that?” pulling his head down again, (y/n) presses another soft kiss to Aizawa’s forehead. “What am I gonna do with you Aizawa?” 

         “Shouta.”

         “Huh?”

         “Shouta, call me Shouta if you want.” Thankful that it was dark out, he could feel himself heat up at the intimate suggestion. 

         With the way your eyes sparkled while you said his name, he knew he was hooked. There is no going back.          “What am I gonna do with you, Shouta?” 

         “You’ll figure it out eventually. I’ll help you along the way as long as you’ll help me too.” The shared silence was an unbroken promise to do the best you both can. 

         After sharing your final kiss good night, you watch Shouta walk down the street and out of view before returning into the comfort of your home. The jacket around your shoulders smelt strongly of the stoic man you now called yours. Enjoying the warmth and comfort his coat brought you, kicking off your boots you hop over your couch and settle into a comfortable position. 

 Calling: Keigo <(‘V’)>

 “WHY are you calling me at….2 in the MORNING. You gave me a damn heart attack-” 

 “You were right.” your voice was soft and held no regrets. 

 “Right? Right about what?” 

 “You were right, I did have feelings for Shouta. I said you would be the first person to call if you were right. And well, you were right.”          The next hour was spent catching your best friend up on everything that happened tonight. 

-

         On the other side of the story, Aizawa finally made it home and had no problem finding sleep that night. He felt as ease knowing that things weren't going to turn out as bad as he thought it originally was going to be. 

         He can't say it, not yet. 

         But he is in love. 

         And so are you.

[mediocre--writing]

au where steves dad is the abusive one?

ok i saw this whole thing a while back about how nancy slapped steve in s1 and he didn’t flinch or cower away and people said it could be a result of getting used to not flinching...

so steve’s dad is an all powerful, mighty businessman who needs the perfect wife and kid, meaning it has to be that way at home, as well.

steve is kinda used to it. like a little slap here and there are no big deal and he’s a little brat most of the time, so he kinda deserves it.

and, let’s just say, maybe billy moved to hawkins with his mom and her new husband (max’s dad) but he’s still pretty upset with the move. not as destructive, but still mad he’s been pulled from his home.

he befriends steve pretty quickly, they’ve got very similar personalities deep down and they recognize it pretty quickly.

billy’s a clingy friend. he’s the type of person to find one friend and latch on for life.

that’s why it’s so peculiar to him that he’s been friends with steve for almost a year now but has yet to go to his house.

steve’s always busy or his parents are having a brunch party or something. and billy gets it, sometimes you just don’t wanna be at your house and need a getaway, but this is bordering on ridiculous.

ridiculous as in steve has a drawer and a half of his stuff in billy’s vanity, plus a few jackets hanging on the hooks by the door. it’s weird.

and so, one random sunday that billy knew steve had nothing to fill his time on, he goes to his house as a surprise.

he had blissfully ignored the little signs between steve, himself, and his mom. the ones that flinch at loud noises and don’t particularly like bigger men. he figured it was whatever. he’d continue to barge into steve’s life if it was the last thing he’d do.

he rang the doorbell, waited for an answer.

“...nd when i get back there you better get rid of that bullshit you call a sense of humor or i’m gonna give you a real reason to cry!”

billy’s eyes widened at what he’d heard, but quickly composed himself as a man, he assumed john, steve’s father, answered the door.

“hi, how can i help you?” he was buttoning his shirt cuffs and looking annoyed as ever while staring down billy. as if he had better things to be doing.

“i’m here for steve,” billy have a small smile that felt more like a snarl.

“he’s busy right now—“

“but we’ve got a project. it’s due monday and we’re only halfway through,” billy chuckled as if he were telling an amusing anecdote. “you see, i’ve been blowing off our study meetings and he’s been telling me, you know, i’ve gotta do my share of the project, but i’ve been goofing off. you get that? right?

“so, anyway, my moms all on me about my grades and i need this project to boost it up, but i can’t do it without steve,”

john is still staring at billy with a nonamused look on his face.

“what class?”

“english. we’re supposed to compare and contrast whether elizabeth should have gotten with darcy or not. i’m pretty against it, you know. he was so mean to her and his only excuse was that he’s shy? sounds like a load of crap, ya know? but steve’s all for this mushy crap. he swears they should be together forever,” billy chuckles and keeps talking. “you know—“

“kid, if you shut up right now i’ll make sure steve’s down in a second, alright?” john finally cuts him off, looking about ready to rip his own hair out (or what’s left on the sides).

smiling, billy thanks him and walks to stand by his car, waiting for steve.

“go,” john says as he storms into steve’s room.

steve’s eyebrows furrow. his dads gotten mad before, sure, but never just kicked him out like this.

“your little friend... the one with the curly hair... he’s waiting outside for you to complete your english project,” john tweaks an eyebrow as he leans on steve’s doorframe.

steve’s eyes widen then he nods, collecting school stuff, just to make whatever lie billy spewed out believable. he pulls on a shirt and grabs a coat as he makes his way downstairs.

“when you get home,” john starts as he stands near the door, waiting for steve to come down, “we’re finishing our discussion, do you understand?”

“yes, sir,” steve nods as he smiles to his mother, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, which is the wrong move because it smacks and rubs at where the belt had hit earlier.

“go on, don’t keep him waiting,” john opens the door and steve practically sprints out the door.

billy gives a half smile as he gets in the car, steve walking around to the passenger seat and getting in, throwing his book bag in the backseat.

billy backs out of the (ridiculously long) driveway and starts driving out of the neighborhood.

“we don’t... actually have a project i forgot about by some chance, right?” steve asks meekly.

“i’m not even taking english this semester, steve,” billy says as a joke, but it comes out softer and almost sounds like he’s scared to say the wrong thing.

“why did you stop by?” steve asks as the boys pull up near the entrance to the trails that lead through the woods towards the quarry.

billy only shrugs as he turns the car off and gets out, walking down a trail, steve quickly following behind.

“you didn’t answer,”

“i—i don’t know?” billy admitted, shoving his hands into the tight pockets of his jeans. “i guess, i’ve never really seen your house and i was curious,”

steve nods as they continue walking in silence, only the crunching of leaves under their feet.

steve keeps glancing over to billy, wonders if billy can tell what happened by the way steve’s walking or talking.

billy keeps glancing over to steve, wonders what’s going through his head and how badly he wants to cry or scream.

eventually, after about 15 minutes of walking in silence, they reach the peak of the quarry, and billy sits down and hangs his feet off the edge.

he pats the spot to his left when steve stays standing behind him.

steve sits down reluctantly, careful not to scoot too close to the edge.

“my dad is a piece of shit, too,” billy says quietly as he looks over to steve, trying to gauge his reaction.

steve’s big eyes grow even wider before his head snaps over to billy, mouth opening and closing multiple times.

“it’s why my mom and i moved here. she divorced him when i was like, uhh—i don’t know—maybe eight or nine? but he kept bothering us. would show up at night and bang on the door, threaten my me and my mom, all that kinda stuff. it got worse when my mom started dating trevor, he kidnapped me once, when i was 10,

“got me out of school and just took me to his house and wouldn’t let me leave or make phone calls. trevor, he was a police officer in cali, and he was the one who helped my mom find me,” billy smiled as if it was a nice little story. “i don’t know what i would have been like if i’d have gotten stuck with my dad. he was mean and vile and hit my mom and i all the time until we just left, it’s the only thing that stopped it,”

“billy—“

“it’s not a pity story, steve. i’m trying to let you know that bad situations only get worse when you try to solve them on your own. and i know your parents probably won’t divorce or anything, so let me help you because i don’t want something to go too far one day that could have been avoidable if you just had someone,”

“i don’t—“

“don’t what?” billy asked, but it sounded more like a threat.

steve’s eyebrows pulled together and he sucked his lips between his teeth, face screwing up in a way that looked almost painful. “i don’t—i don’t know what i did—“

steve let out a gaspy sob that looked like it hurt coming out of his chest, tears that had been pooling for months finally breaking through the barrier, cascading down his face and, if this wasn’t such a heartbreaking moment, almost made his big brown eyes look prettier.

billy, scooting himself off the edge, pulled steve backwards so he could fall into billy’s chest and let it all out.

“you didn’t do anything, stevie,” billy brought a gentle hand up and down steve’s back and arm, “none of this is your fault, i promise. nothing you have done or will do is ever going to make his actions justified, ok?”

steve nodded his head slowly as he continued to cry, but it was less sobbing and more overflowing emotions at this point.

“do you wanna stay at mine tonight?”

“...please,”

“of course,” billy was tempted to kiss steve on the crown of his head, so he did. “you are welcome whenever you need to come over,”

“i’m scared to go back,” steve whispered, heard only slightly over the high winds.

“you don’t have to go back,” billy whispered in return.

“yeah, i do,” steve whispered again, “he’s already mad you interrupted—“

“interrupted what?” billy asked, wondering why steve left off his sentence.

“noth—“

“interrupted what?”

“was hittin’ me with ‘is belt,” steve said into billy’s chest, quiet as he could.

“stevie,” billy cooed, and, somehow, steve didn’t feel like he was being talked down to. it may have been the way it was said or who said it, but it made him feel safe.

they kept sitting their for another hour, at least, and just enjoyed the noise of nature. not loud men, not threatening home lives, just birds singing and wind blowing and the water lapping below the edge.

[snelbz]

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 9

A/N: Well. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? I’m sorry, guys, but this story just...wasn’t coming to me for a while. But now we’re back and I am so excited. Since it has been over a year and a half since I updated this one, please forgive us if there are a few details that aren’t perfect from the first chapters. Feels good to be writing my babies again.

Written with @tacmc.

Rowan woke up to the smell of cooking bacon and fresh coffee and he sighed contentedly. It had been two days since the hit that put him out of commission. He was hoping the rest and relaxation he’d enjoyed with his girlfriend would handle it, but it seemed that his body was protesting its natural healing process.

He groaned as he rolled out of Aelin’s bed, smiling when he found Lumi curled up in the hoodie he’d left in her chair in the corner. After giving her a scratch behind the ears, though the cat pretended he didn’t exist, he padded out into the living room, finding Aelin at the stove quietly humming to herself.

“Good morning,” he said, yawning as he pulled out a bar stool and sat down.

Aelin turned, and he was once agIn floored by how gorgeous she was, straight out of bed. That first night, when the fire alarms had pulled them all from sleep, he’d been convinced she’d scrambled to do her makeup before coming out onto the lawn. Waking up next to her two days in a row had proven to him that she was naturally beautiful and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Good morning,” she smiled and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “Hurting today?”

“Aye,” he said, stretching his arms in the air. He felt every muscle tense in his upper body and before he could say the words, Aelin beat him to it.

“I think you need to give the team trainer a call today,” she said, placing a plate full of bacon on the counter next to her.

Rowan stared at it, wanting to reach over and snag a piece, but was fairly sure she’d catch him when he grunted in pain trying to lift it. Plus, she was dumping nearly a dozen eggs into a skillet to scramble, so he was hoping she’d be feeding him soon enough. He nodded. “I was going to do that today. I was texting with him last night and he said he and the massage therapist could come here today.”

Aelin smiled. “That would be perfect. I have to go

to work in about an hour, so I’ll feel better knowing someone is here with you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You do know I’m a grown man, right? Lived on my own for about seven years?”

Aelin stuck out her tongue and continued cooking at the stove, before setting a plate down in front of him piled high with eggs, hashbrowns and crispy bacon.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He asked, as she slid onto the stool next to him.

She smirked and said, “Once or twice, but don’t worry. I’ve got a drunk voicemail to listen to if I ever forget.”

She winked and Rowan felt his cheeks heat, but regardless, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead and began to eat.

After his second full helping breakfast, Aelin got Rowan set up on the couch, babying him the entire time, much to his dismay, and he sent a text to the trainer asking him to call him when he got to the arena that morning. Aelin was getting ready and Rowan was playing NHL on his Xbox when the trainer finally called him back.

“Hey, man,” Rowan answered, pausing the game and propping the phone between his ear and shoulder.

Dorian’s voice came through the receiver. “How ya feeling?”

Rowan groaned as he rotated one of his shoulders. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

With a snort, Dorian chuckled. “Have you seen most of the Pirates’ team? They’re ridiculous; all of them are huge, freaks of nature. Rolfe is no exception.”

With a nod, Rowan cringed. He hadn’t realized the captain of the Skull’s Bay Pirates had been the one to lay the hit on him. “Well, whenever you and Sorscha have time, I’d appreciate it if you could make a house call.” There was silence on the other side of the line. “Dor?”

“Sorscha’s last day was Thursday of last week, I had no clue you didn’t know,” he explained. “The new therapist started yesterday.”

“Oh.” Sorscha had been the team’s massage therapist for years and Rowan vaguely remembered rumors that she’d be leaving them. He just never had them confirmed. “That’s fine, how’s the new guy?”

“She is...a piece of work,” Dorian admitted with a sigh. “You’ll meet her when we come by. You free for us to head that way?”

“Yeah, man, the sooner you get me back in working order, the sooner I can get back on the ice,” Rowan replied, debating on saying something about the home game they had that night.

With a chuckle, Dorian said, “Don’t even think about it, man. You’re not playing tonight. We’ll leave in just a bit and see you soon.”

The call ended and Rowan dropped his phone on the couch. He looked at the clock and hollered, “What time are you off tonight, Ace?”

She poked her head out of her bedroom and said, “Four o’clock, why?”

“Wanna go to the game with me?”

Aelin blinked at him. “You aren’t playing, Ro.”

“No,” he said, standing and stretching - and groaning. “But we can go sit in the player’s box and watch.”

“You want to sit next to me for an entire hockey game and hear my commentary?” She asked, grinning.

Rowan’s grin matched hers as he held out a hand, stepping towards her. She placed her hand in his and he gently pulled her towards him. “I promise I won’t be thinking too much about the game with you there with me.”

Aelin ran her palms down Rowan’s chest. “Well, that’s a tough argument.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down to kiss her. “You’ll go with me then?”

Aelin nibbled on her lip as she nodded. “If you get your ass on the couch and promise to take it easy today.”

He groaned softly. “Fine. If that’s what it takes.”

“Thank you,” she said, rising up on her toes to kiss him once more and turning back to finish getting ready. “You also have to make an appointment with your trainer.”

“He’s on his way with the sports therapist now,” Rowan said, watching her walk back to her room, enjoying every step she took. He really did try to focus on more than just her ass, but the leggings she wore weren’t helping his cause. When she looked back at him as she paused in the doorway, he had just enough time that she didn’t catch him - not that he thought she’d mind.

“Looks like we’ve got a game to go to then,” she winked, and disappeared into the bedroom.

About thirty minutes after Aelin left for the café, Rowan’s phone rang. “Hey, man. You here?”

His trainer and friend’s usually cheery voice was distinctly pissy. “Open up, Whitethorn. I’ve been knocking on your door for two minutes.”

“Oh, shit.” Rowan was up on his feet with a quiet grunt and ran to the door throwing it open. Dorian stood in front of his own apartment door, down the hall. He called, “Sorry, man, I’m staying with my girlfriend.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re Aelin’s boyfriend?”

Rowan paused and blinked. “Uh, aye? You know her?”

“I grew up with her, we’ve been friends for years,” Dorian said, the light tone returning. “I told the therapist your apartment number and she’s grabbing her table from the car. I should probably call her-.”

“No, it’s fine, I need to grab a few things from my place anyways,” he shrugged, grabbing his keys off the small table by the door. “We can set up in there so I don’t have to move Aelin’s furniture around.”

Dorian snorted. “Good call.”

Rowan unlocked his apartment and let Dorian in, turning on the lights and carefully moving things out of the way. Painfully.

He grabbed one of his least destroyed game worn jerseys and tossed it over his shoulder. He very much wanted to see her wearing it. “Aelin’s coming to the game tonight,” he said, grinning.

Dorian shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t even know who she is anymore.”

Rowan’s grin only widened.

“Hey, uh, can I come in and see Fleetfoot?” Dorian asked, looking out toward the hallway.

Rowan blinked and said, “I mean, sure.”

They headed back down the hall to Aelin’s apartment, leaving Rowan’s door open for the therapist to carry her gear in. As soon as they entered the apartment, Fleetfoot was bounding towards Dorian, excited like Rowan had never seen her.

Glancing up at Rowan while he rubbed her belly, Dorian grinned. “I gave her to Aelin our junior year of college. I promised if she got all A’s on her finals, I’d get her puppy. Guess who got straight A’s the entire semester?”

Rowan couldn’t help but laugh, smiling and shaking his head. “Sounds about right.”

Dorian’s phone chimed and he stood, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Oh she’s all set up and ready for you. Just head back down here when you’re done and we’ll talk about getting you on the ice again.”

“Aye, sounds good,” Rowan said and left, heading for his own apartment. The door was shut now, but he assumed it was just for privacy. He’d had to get sports massages before. They were basically a glorified regular massage. They focused on specific muscles groups, some quite intimate and quite awkward, but for the most part the etiquette was the same.

A dim room, quiet music or white noise of some sort, a special table covered in a white sheet, and the fact that you typically undress and are under just a towel.

Suddenly, Rowan froze with his hand halfway extended toward his doorknob, as he realized he was about to essentially be naked, alone in his apartment, with a woman he’d never met, as she rubbed her hands all over his body.

He’d had to get sports massages before. Just never while he’d had a girlfriend.

Maybe he should ask Dorian to come in and talk while she worked on him.

With a sigh, Rowan realized he was overthinking things. This was her job and he was judging her before he’d even met her. She was probably extremely professional and he was worrying for no reason.

With a shake of his head, he entered his apartment and asked, “Hello?”

A young woman rounded the corner, wiping her damp hands on a paper towel. Her long, black hair was braided back, and by the time her obsidian eyes met Rowan’s, he was frozen in place. For a moment, she didn’t react, and Rowan couldn’t breathe.

And then her eyes lit up and a small grin spread on her thin, red lips. His blood ran cold. He swallowed. “Maeve. What...the hell are you doing here?”

“Ah, Rowan Whitethorn,” she cooed. “We meet again.”

[excelsi-or]

your type (pt. 9)

Hello wonderful people!! I started a summer job and have been reading a SHIT ton, so I haven’t been writing as much. But I’m kinda back into this story again, and we’re about past halfway so I think we can get this done. :) I hope you’ve all been well~~

w.c. 3.1k (yeah, i’m not apologizing for length anymore. i hope you’re all cool with that lol)

pairing: jihoon x OC/reader

pt. 1; pt. 2; pt. 3; pt. 4; pt. 5; pt. 6; pt. 7; pt. 8

“You have a new boyfriend,” Jungkook says the next time they meet up for lunch in the fall semester.

She shrugs, studying her mug. “I guess so.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You’re still apprehensive.”

“It’s only been 2 months.”

“That’s enough time to know, don’t you think?”

She shakes her head. “It really isn’t.”

Jungkook rests his chin in his palm. “I told you I loved you after two months.”

“We were young and naïve then.”

With a smirk, he doesn’t bother to point out that that first ‘I love you’ had been only three years ago. “Well, how does he feel?”

“Not sure.”

“Trust your instincts on this,” Jungkook encourages. “You have amazing intuition. You told me before I’d even fully moved in with Taehyung that I’d probably wind up dating him.”

“I said that because Taehyung is a good looking, intelligent man and anyone would date him if they were in his proximity long enough.”

Jungkook snorts. “I guess that’s a fair point. But come on. What’s your gut telling you?”

“My gut says that it’s confused,” she replies honestly. “I can’t gauge how honest he is with me.”

“You can’t compare him and Byunggu. No one knew that Byunggu was going to blindside you like that.”

She chuckles. “Do you know how much he’s come up in the last few months? I haven’t talked about him in forever, and all of a sudden, he’s just the topic of every conversation.”

“New boyfriend will do that. Especially after what happened last time.”

She runs a hand through her hair.

“As someone who has dated you, trust me when I say, you’re an all-in kind of lover.” He nudges her fingers with his. “So just go all in.”

“Go all in? And then?”

“Well, if you get hurt in the end, we’re here. You have people around you to hold you up and take care of you. But you can’t go into every relationship anticipating an end.”

She studies the chai in her mug, the way it ripples when she moves her hands even a little. “I guess you’re right.”

Jihoon (13:41)

Hey, lemme know when you’re done at lunch.

Got some stuff I want you to hear before we head home.

Jungkook nods his head towards the phone lighting up at her elbow. “Is that him?”

She nods.

“Are you going to reply?”

“He wants to know when I’m done with you so he can show me something he’s working on.” She fires off a quick text.

“Works in progress?”

“I guess they’ve been less and less finished, yeah.”

Jungkook hums. “If Yoongi hyung were here, he’d say that means Jihoon really likes you.”

She finds Jihoon in the studio an hour later. Bumzu, one of the TAs, had directed her to the studio when she’d appeared in the music building.

“You’re legendary,” Bumzu had said. “Anyone who’s had Jihoon’s attention this long is legendary.”

She’d had no response for that.

Gently, she touches Jihoon’s arm to make him aware of her presence. Jihoon looks up at her and slides his headphones off. Wordlessly, he passes them to her, and she takes a seat in the spare chair. With her feet up, and her knees hugged to her chest, she listens.

“Can you bring up the sound of the piano? The bass seems to be overpowering it.”

She does this for an hour, and he adjusts as they go along. By the end of it, Jihoon is thoroughly pleased with how the song’s turned out.

“I wish I was as useful for your chemistry research,” Jihoon chuckles. He takes the headphones and puts them on the desk. “You going home?”

“No, I actually have dinner plans.”

Jihoon tilts his head at that. “You do?”

“Correction, we have dinner plans.”

“We do?”

“Jihyo told me to tell you that we’re going for dinner with her and Seungcheol.”

Jihoon’s sweet questioning face quickly changes into something of disgust. “Ew. A double date?”

“I think Jihyo wants to tell me something.”

“And Cheol and I need to be there? Why?”

She shrugs. “I have no idea.” She kisses the top of his head as she stands. “But you need to be ready by 5:30, okay? So, no spending the night here.”

Jihoon hums his agreement. He catches her hand and tugs her back towards him. He pouts up at her until she concedes to a kiss, a bemused smile on her face.

As she closes the studio door behind her, she bumps into someone. Stumbling away from her is a girl she recognizes but can’t place.

The other woman recognizes her first. “You’re Wheein’s friend, aren’t you?”

It takes her a moment. “Byulyi?”

Byulyi smiles at her. Her eyes dart to the door she’d walked out of and the smile on her face falters. “How are you?”

“Good. Just heading home.”

“You taking a music class this semester?” Byulyi asks, her eyes flicking to the door again.

“Oh.” She gets the meaning and the looks. “No. Just visiting someone.”

“Lee Jihoon?”

She holds her breath for another story and Byulyi doesn’t fail her. They start to walk towards the exit.

“If you’re friends with Wheein, you must be a nice person.”

She questions the connection, but doesn’t press that point. “And?”

“So,” Byulyi smirks, “why are you hanging around Lee Jihoon? The man’s manipulative and a swindler. He’ll con you of the love you have to give and leave you heartbroken.”

They push out into the sunlight, enveloped by the dying heat of the day. “He knows the right words to say and he knows exactly when to say them to get to you.”

If she hasn’t learned that already, then she’s an idiot. With a deep breath, she thanks Byulyi for the anecdote and the information. Byulyi is on the list of women Jihoon’s dated. These women follow her around now; the stories are variations of each other.

And at this point, she really doesn’t know what to do with them.

“I heard another one.” She sets her backpack down at the end of the dining table.

Jihyo glances up from her evolution flashcards. “Who?”

“Moon Byulyi.”

It only takes Jihyo a second to place the name. “Wheein’s music friend?”

“Yeah.” She empties her backpack on the table and then takes her water bottle to the sink to refill it. “I don’t know what to make of it. Apparently other people know Jihoon and I are…” She struggles to find a word.

“Dating?” Jihyo chuckles.

“I haven’t told him that his exes keep telling all his secrets.”

“I promise you, the look on his face when he looks at you isn’t one of a man who’s in for the sex or even just for the chase. He’s in. For all of that and all of you. I promise you that.”

The boys are already sat at a table when the girls arrive. Seungcheol pulls Jihyo’s chair out, and Jihoon looks conflicted as to whether he should do the same. Smirking, she slips into the chair next to him. She doesn’t kiss his cheek like Jihyo. She grabs his hand under the table and gives it a squeeze.

“Have you looked at the menu?” she asks him.

Jihoon shakes his head. “Not yet.”

She studies him for a moment. “Do you trust me to order for you?”

At this offer, Jihoon tilts his head. “Go ahead.”

Conversation is light. They play rounds of cards while they wait for the food. When Jihoon wins the last round of Shit Head, Jihyo and Seungcheol roll their eyes.

“You guys can’t win every game.”

She laughs. “You guys just aren’t good at games of speed.”

“Or strategy,” Jihoon adds with a smile.

Seungcheol stacks the cards as the food arrives. She leans towards Jihoon as she names the various foods before him. He’s pleasantly surprised at the range. There are foods that he will definitely eat, and a few that are out of his comfort zone but aren’t off-putting.

“So, what do you have to tell us?” Jihoon asks once everyone’s tucked in.

With his head bowed towards his plate, practically shovelling food into his mouth, Seungcheol answers, “We’re dating.”

Jihyo hits his arm.

“What?” Seungcheol lifts his head slightly to look over at Jihyo. “Did you want to make it a big deal?” He straightens up and looks at the couple across him. “We have decided that we are only going to see each other. Be exclusive.”

It takes a lot of effort to keep from laughing. Jihyo hasn’t had any other man over in the last month and a half. This isn’t surprising. The formal announcement is.

“That’s great.” Jihoon’s focus also seems to be on the food as opposed to the actual conversation. She nudges him with her elbow and he puts his chopsticks down. He mimics Seungcheol’s formality. “Seriously. This is excellent news.”

With a good-natured roll of her eyes, Jihyo meets Jihoon’s gaze. “The way you’ve committed, Jihoon, it’s really made us reevaluate.”

Jihoon furrows his brow at Seungcheol, but his friend won’t look at him.

Later that night, back in the safety of their apartment, Jihoon demands, “What the hell did you tell Jihyo?”

Seungcheol raises his hands in defense. “She asked me last month what my take on your relationship was! I couldn’t just tell her you were in it for a bet! I actually like Jihyo. I wasn’t going to tell her that your relationship was a façade. The only reason she decided to even give me a chance is because you’d been given a chance.”

Jihoon’s gaze could level mountains. “You straight up lied to her.”

“It was that or tell her that we bet on your relationship. You don’t understand how protective they are of her.”

Jihoon shakes his head in frustration. “What?”

“Byunggu?”

“Holy shit. What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he an actor or something?” Jihoon is almost tired of hearing about this ex-boyfriend.

“They threatened to ruin his entire career by blasting it on social media how awful a person he is. The girls have receipts. Even if your girl’s deleted all the messages and rid him from her life, her friends are holding onto them.”

Well, at least Jihoon knows the other man’s definitely not castrated.

“So, yeah, I lied a little about how real your emotions are.”

“Jihyo’ll be furious when she finds out!”

“What else was I supposed to do, Jihoon?” Seungcheol watches Jihoon begin pacing. “I like this girl. Genuinely want to make this work. Even if I only get a few months with her, it’ll be worth it to me. And if I can show her that I genuinely want to be with her in the time before we’re revealed to be the biggest assholes of all time, then maybe I can keep my relationship.”

Jihoon shakes his head in disbelief. “You and Soonyoung put me up to this bet. I told you guys I wanted to back out months ago.”

Seungcheol remembers that day. He was so sure that he would never be one to settle. At least not for years to come. “You can still back out. We can just give up, tell the others that your game isn’t as good as we thought it was. And if we end the bet now while everyone can get away relatively scot free, maybe we should.”

Jihoon shrugs.

Seungcheol catches his friend’s eye. “And I’ve seen the look on your face, Lee Jihoon. You have real feelings you’re scared to admit to.”

He rolls his eyes. “Did it not occur to you that I have to pretend otherwise this won’t work?”

“Whether you’re pretending or not anymore, I don’t know. But what I feel for Jihyo is genuine.”

Hansol (14:21)

You still on campus?

Late lunch?

It’s October and the air is getting crisper. She steps out onto the green with a scarf wrapped around her neck. She finds Hansol at the campus coffee shop. There are two sandwiches on the table, one for each of them.

“Seungkwan?” She slides her bag onto the floor next to her.

“Yeah. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to have lunch.” He grins up at her, all gums and bright eyes. “I can’t eat two sandwiches.”

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that Seungkwan gets upset when you don’t finish all your food?” She starts to eat and nods in his direction. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Hmm?” There’s a ball of food in his mouth and his questioning eyes make him look adorable.

Chuckling, she says, “Well, we’ve rarely eaten out without you asking me something.” She juts her chin in his direction. “What’s up?”

“I, uh…” His cheeks start to redden. “Have a question about a girl.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “That’s new. You’re usually pretty confident about that.” She chews a bit. “Shoot.”

“What made you decide Jihoon hyung was a good idea?”

She tilts her head.

“I have a reputation like hyung’s, but mine’s not real.” He studies the contents of the sandwich. “And I just… I don’t know how to convince her.”

“Ah.” After spending the last four months with the boys, she knows whose reputations are real and whose have been garnered by association. Hansol is the latter, not really dating all that much. The girls he pursues are particular, which must mean this girl he’s interested in is amazing.

“You could just tell her the truth.”

“Do you believe everything hyung says?”

She takes a bite, allowing herself some time to think through her answer. She decides that Hansol deserves her honesty. “Not at the beginning, no.” She lowers her sandwich and holds his gaze. “But a relationship doesn’t work unless you trust that the other person’s being honest. And it gets really tiring to second guess everything your partner’s saying.”

Hansol’s cheeks redden even more this time, the blush creeping up to his ears and down his neck.

“Have you lied to her already?”

Hansol’s eyes widen. His voice is tight, practically squeaking out, “What? No.”

She makes a face. “You’re blushing.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s brain scrambles. “I just… uh…” How does he avoid telling her that her relationship is a bet? “Talking about her makes me nervous.”

She lifts an eyebrow, impressed. It’s rare to see Hansol nervous or outside his comfort zone. “You must really like her.”

“Uhm… yes,” he fills his mouth with sandwich, “I do.”

“Then… just be honest. You’re not your reputation.”

Lettuce gets caught in his throat. “And she’ll just… buy that?” He coughs.

“If she’s smart? No. She won’t. But actions help. Prove to her you’re not your reputation. You’re a good guy, Hansol.”

Hansol stares at this woman who he has grown to like. Her company is great, she’s awesome at games, and her humour matches the group’s well. As conversation veers towards classes and research, Hansol can’t help but think about how the bet will end and how hurt she’s going to be. Four times over the next hour, his tongue almost slips. Almost letting out a secret that will definitely end her relationship. Not just with Jihoon but with every one of them.

She checks her watch. “I gotta get back to the lab. The NMR should be done now.” She slips out of her seat and pats his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Are you coming for dinner tonight?”

She bends down to pick up her backpack, slinging it back over her shoulder. “It’s at yours, isn’t it?”

Hansol nods.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

As soon as Hansol walks into his apartment, he says to Seungkwan, “We need to call off the bet right now.”

Seungkwan has his pink apron on that the boys got him as a joke. “I’ve been saying that for about four months now.”

“Well, we really need to call it off.”

Seungkwan waves his spatula at Hansol, but his eyes fall to the iced Americano in his roommate’s hand and he calms down. “We both know that the guys aren’t just going to do that. Not when they know Jihoon’s this close to winning.”

“What?”

“Do you just ignore all of noona’s feelings? The look on her face when she looks at Jihoon hyung? She’s fallen for him already.” Seungkwan huffs and then takes a long sip from his drink. “It’s just a waiting game now.”

Hansol shakes his head as he heads to his room to drop off his things. “Tell everyone to come early. We need to talk about this bet right now.”

Hansol rarely asks for anything from the others, so when they receive his text, they’re there in thirty minutes.

“What’s wrong?” Jeonghan asks upon arrival. He slips out of his shoes, his eyes not leaving Hansol’s face. “Who’s dying?”

“We’re assholes and we need to call off the bet now.” Hansol grabs his hand to help him over the one step into the house. “If you guys want the money, I’ll give you the money. But I don’t want to see noona get hurt.”

Seungkwan counts heads. “Where’s Jihoon hyung?”

Joshua has his phone out. “He got stuck in the studio.”

Hansol immediately calls Jihoon. When Jihoon answers, he puts the phone on speaker and sets it in the middle of the small dining table.

“What’s going on, Hansol-ah?” They can hear a mouse clicking on the other end. “Dinner’s not for another hour. I can’t make it right now.”

“I want to talk about the bet and you need to be here.” Hansol leans closer to the phone. “Can we just call it off? Hyung, you already know that she likes you. And if she,” he glances at Seungkwan, “if she hasn’t fallen for you already, she’s falling now. So, can we just end this before anyone gets hurt?” Hansol tips his head both ways. “Or more hurt.”

“Yes!” Seungcheol pushes through to the front so Jihoon can definitely hear him. “Let’s call it off.”

The ripple of agreement through the group is comforting to Hansol, but everyone listens when Jihoon’s voice comes through again.

“You guys thought I was still faking it?” His voice is soft, vulnerable. He’s even stopped clicking around on the computer. “Guys, I,” he pauses, trying to bring himself to admit it, “I stopped faking months ago.”

Seungcheol slams his hands down on the table. “We got in a fight last month about this. What the hell are you saying?”

“You told Jihyo without consulting me first. I wasn’t going to tell you that you were right.”

Now, Jeonghan slams his hands onto the table. This second smack causes Jihoon to swear. “So, this is real? Lee Jihoon has a girlfriend?”

“Hanging up now.” They can hear the smile in his voice. “See you guys later.”

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I am... so sorry for taking so long. I was not expecting the start of the semester to be so hectic. I can't promise I'll go back to posting as regularly as during the summer, but I can promise that I'm not disappearing. I promise. I WILL SEE THIS FANFIC THROUGH EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Thank you for the kind words and support while I've been MIA. Enjoy a chunky chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Little Saint Lottie

October 27, 1943

“I’m worried about her, Betty.”

“I know, Gladys. I know.”

Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Days seemed to bleed into each other, with no slumber to distinguish today from tomorrow. It wasn’t long after arriving at Azzano that she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. Bucky was gone. In his place, dozens of men awaited her arrival with sunken eyes and twitching lips that begged for relief, whether it be through a healing touch or a final blow to the head.

When the realization hit Lottie, there wasn’t much she could do besides throwing herself into her work; if she couldn’t help Bucky, the least she could do was help his brothers in arms. Although anxiety ate her up from the inside out, Lottie had confidence in Bucky’s abilities. He wouldn’t let himself die in some POW camp, he just wouldn’t. Because then who would take care of her and Steve? He’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them, she just knew it.

She threw herself into her work, rarely stopping long enough to have a proper conversation or a full meal; this bad habit of hers came to a halt, though, when she came upon a boisterous redhead in need of stitches. Lottie had been deep in thought while examining the gash above his forehead when the soldier cracked a grin and peered up at her without moving his head too much.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lottie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Private—” she glanced at his dog tags, “—O’Connor.”

“Ever done pinup? Maybe I know you from one of those cheesecakes we’ve got hanging up.” The man— more of a boy really, with his lanky frame and jovial smile —wiggled his eyebrows and ruined her diligent work of cleaning the blood from his wound.

The question left Lottie flustered; the idea of dozens of men gawking at her scantily clad figure left her feeling mortified, “Certainly not! I find that my talents are better suited for healing.”

O’Connor nodded and inspected her face carefully as she went to work on his gash once more. “I’ve got it!” Lottie nearly jumped away from him when he clapped his hands together, “You’re Little Saint Lottie, in the flesh!” The boy crowed his revelation, earning him glares from the other men recovering in the medic tent.

Lottie nearly dropped the needle that she’d been preparing to thread, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, it’s a funny story,” O’Connor chuckled, “Y’see, Sarge had this little photo he’d take everywhere. Always had it in his pocket, tucked in his helmet, you name it. Wouldn’t let the damn thing go. Anyway, we stole it out of his fatigues one day while he was cleaning up in some river ‘cause we wanted to see what the big deal was. Once we saw it was some dame—” Lottie shot him a look, “—lady, we started yanking his chain about it. He was just about as obsessed with that photo as my Ma is with her holy cards, so when he finally told us your name, we dubbed you ‘Little Saint Lottie,’ patron saint of the one hundred and seventh. That kinda pissed him off, but it’s not like you’re his girl, y’know? Though he sure acted like you were.”

Lottie was speechless. About halfway through his story, her mouth had dropped open and her hands had fallen to her lap. Here she was, looking dumb as an ox, while the soldier in front of her chuckled with childish glee.

“Me and the guys would even ask for your intercession whenever the chaplain came by to pray with us. Poor guy had no clue which saint we were talkin’ about. We tried to give it a place of honor in the tent but Sarge made us run laps when he found out we’d nicked it again.”

O’Connor nearly doubled over in laughter as he watched Lottie’s expression grow in horror. “Well as I’m sure Bucky— Sergeant Barnes has told you, I’m no saint. I’m just a nurse. Now hold still, unless you want these stitches to be more painful than they already are.” Before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out of her mouth, “Speaking of Sergeant Barnes, do you know—” she fumbled with the needle as she made the first stitch, “—is he alright? Did you see him?” The soldier let out a hiss of pain, “Yeah, I got a glimpse of him while they were takin’ him away. He was battered but alright. There’s no man quite like Sarge, I know he’ll be back. He’d fight tooth and nail to get back. That’s what he said at least, ‘cause he always went on and on about how you needed him and all that. He sure talked about you an awful lot for a guy who hasn’t even asked you to go steady.”

Lottie’s breath hitched at the final comment, the mere idea of going steady with Bucky reducing her to a stuttering schoolgirl. She began to tie off his stitches, “We’ve been best friends for over a decade, it’s perfectly normal to care for each other deeply without bringing affection into it.”

O’Connor shrugged, which jostled her arm slightly, “I’ve never heard a guy talk about his best friend like that.”

Lottie didn’t respond. She gave his fully sutured wound one last glance, “Looks like you’re all set. Now don’t do anything stupid to get it infected.”

He gave her a crooked grin and wiggled his eyebrows, Lottie nearly scolded him but held her tongue, “As you wish, Saint Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and moved along to the next bed, where another soldier waited with a smile just as wide. It seemed that these men had become pleased as punch to know their patroness had come to grace them with her presence.

The USO’s visit to their camp took Lottie completely by surprise. She’d spent so much time floating from one medic tent to the next that she’d ended up completely out of the loop of the camp’s other goings-on. It wasn’t until she saw the fully-erected stage in the middle of camp that she realized. Her heart beat powerfully within her; with Steve here, she would be one step closer to finding Bucky. One step closer to bringing him home. “They say he’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Mary beamed, obviously giddy to see the Star-Spangled Man up close and in the flesh.

Lottie returned her smile, though it was weak. The weariness was starting to catch up to her, making her feel much older than a youthful twenty-three. Her stomach was in knots with anxiety; she needed to get to Steve as soon as possible.

Betty stood with them as they watched the hustle and bustle of preparations, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones looking forward to seeing Captain America. All these boys care about is seeing a bunch of girls dancing for them on stage, not some hunk of meat in a red, white, and blue suit.”

Nancy, who had just joined the conversation, scoffed, “It’s quite disappointing how little you think of these men and their patriotism.”

Gladys rolled her eyes, “They’re still men, Nancy. Scantily clad women or a guy singing about war bonds? They’re gonna prefer the women.”

Several hours later, Gladys was indeed proven right. Although he’d been driven off-stage with jeers and taunts, Lottie was waiting for him with a warm embrace.

“Hey, Lottie,” She could hear the smile in his voice, she felt its warm timbre as it surrounded her and reminded her of home.

“Good to see ya, Stevie.”

Steve pulled away from her and gazed around the camp, a grimace growing on his features, “Things don’t look to good around here.”

Lottie nodded, a twin grimace gracing her lips, “The hundred and seventh started out with two hundred men. Now they’ve only got fifty left. They’re barely holding on.”

Steve’s gaze shot to hers the moment she mentioned the one hundred and seventh, “Lottie that’s— this is Bucky’s—” The desperate look in his eyes made her own calm exterior begin to crack.

“Stevie, I know,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, “I know, and I’m sorry. He’s not here. They— Those bastards took him, damn them!” For the first time since arriving at camp, Lottie cried. She sobbed and clung to Steve once more, feeling every bit like a scared little girl from days gone by.

Steve rested his hand against her back, “I’ll get him out, Lottie. He’s gotta be alive and I’ll get him out.”

She shook her head and wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, “No, Steve. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Lottie, you know I can’t put you in harm’s way like that—”

“Steve. I’m serious. What do you think I was doing that whole time I was with the SSR? Yes, we were making the serum, but they nearly trained us to death. I can shoot, I can use my knife. I can’t let you go without me.” Her voice was starting to crack, “We have to find Bucky together.”

There was silence between the two of them until Steve finally conceded, a wary gaze in his eyes, “Fine. But you need to be by my side the whole time.” Lottie nodded her chest warming with hope. “C’mon, we need to have a conversation with Colonel Philipps.”

The two of them jogged to his tent with their coats held above their heads to shield them from a sudden shower of rain. They entered the colonel’s tent, looking comical with their wet hair and heaving chests. Around them, soldiers and officials paced to and fro, examining maps or signing off various forms. If Lottie squinted, she could just barely make out the words. Letters of condolences; heartbreakingly clinical letters of regret for the losses of these sons, these brothers, these boys.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve began, “Are you planning a rescue mission? For the surviving prisoners from the Battle of Azzano?”

The colonel looked back at him with a straight face, “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s blond eyebrows furrowed, “But if you know where they are why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl,” before Lottie could protest, he shot her a glance as well, “and you’re just a nurse.”

Steve’s gaze on Colonel Phillips was cool, “I think I understand just fine.”

The colonel pushed past them, “Well then understand it somewhere else. Now if I read the posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

Steve grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her behind him, “C’mon, we’ve gotta get going. You go get changed.”

Lottie nodded; her medical uniform would impede this mission so she’d need to wear the fatigues that the government had finally issued to them. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she scrambled back to the nurse’s tent to change. She knew that Colonel Philipps would be terribly angry once he found out she’d shirked her night duties, but her loyalties to Bucky took precedence. The recovering soldiers were left in the capable hands of her peers. She swore as she nearly toppled over while yanking her boots on; it was rather hard to get dressed in such a hurry. By the time she was ready and had exited the tent, she was met with the somber faces of Agent Carter and Steve.

“Agent Carter, what are you doing?” For a moment, she feared that they’d already been caught, that the SSR was already putting an end to their mission.

The other woman pursed her lips, “I’m here to help.”

A mere half-hour later and they found themselves in the SSR’s plane, headed to Krausberg, where the POW camp was located. Howard Stark called out to them from the cockpit, “We should be able to drop you right at their doorstep.”

Fear was starting to creep into Lottie’s mind and burrowed itself deep within her gut. She heard the conversation continue all around her, but she was still processing the daunting mission before her. She and Steve up against Hydra. All alone. Even Bucky had struggled against them; he’d lost to them in the Battle of Azzano. Bucky. That’s what worried her most. It’s what filled her with the most fear. If she and Steve got through the Hydra camp safe and sound only to find that he was dead, Lottie wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it. She’d probably go mad, in all honesty. She’d end up in some institution, crying over lucky pennies and charcoal drawings while being molly-coddled by some woman in white. How tragic that would be.

Before her thoughts could become any darker, Lottie was jolted back to reality by the sound of bullets against metal. Steve grabbed his shield and her arm, urging her to join him by the plane’s exit.

Agent Carter shot up from her seat, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!”

He turned to respond, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” “You can’t give me orders!”

A smile grew on his face, “The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!”

Steve shifted his goggles and nudged Lottie, “It’s go time. When you see me pull the chute out, you do the same.”

Lottie nodded with a quiet determination, and together, they jumped.

Entering the base was painstakingly quiet; once they’d snuck into a truck and eliminated the guards inside, Steve and Lottie were left to mouth words and offer silent support through unwavering gazes. Once they’d safely passed the gate of the base, they exited the truck and swiftly dealt with any opposition.

Steve led her across the base with caution, giving hand signals when it was safe to turn a corner and sprint across a patch of unobstructed space. The two of them traveled with the shadows, avoiding any spotlights that could catch them in the act. Lottie scarcely felt that she could breathe, it was as if one exhale would reveal their presence to the multitude of guards.

Once they entered the main building, the two of them found themselves in what seemed to be a factory. There were giant sheets of metal everywhere and huge bombs seemed to surround them. Amongst them all, Hydra soldiers transported other metal parts and containers of glowing blue material. That did not bode well with Lottie at all.

Lottie spotted some guards walking to a lower level, jangling keys in hand. “Steve, they might be guarding the prisoners.” Her whisper was barely audible, fear keeping her from speaking any louder.

“The blueprints said they were below the manufacturing level. C’mon.”

They followed the guards onto a walkway that had large circular grates that cut into the metal, each forming the ceiling of small cells that the poor prisoners had been separated into. Lottie and Steve knocked the guards out and stole their keys. The two dropped to the same level as the cells and began unlocking their doors.

One of the soldiers gazed at them through the bars of his cell, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Steve panted from stress, “I’m Captain America.” He gave Lottie an expectant look.

“I guess I’m Little Saint Lottie,” she responded somewhat sarcastically, referencing the retrospectively comical nickname that was developed by the one hundred and seventh.

Some of the men cracked grins, “So you’ve heard our prayers, huh?”

“Loud and clear. Now let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She tried to ignore the growing horror inside of her upon the realization that none of these men had brilliant blue eyes. Not a dimpled chin in sight.

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” It seemed that the same horror was growing within Steve.

A man in a scarlet beret responded, his British accent prim and proper, “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “The tree line is northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. We’ll meet you guys out in the clearing with anyone else we find.”

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

Lottie couldn’t help but stare at Steve in amazement. Gone was that awkward boy from Brooklyn. He was a man now, a leader who could do anything he put his mind to. He’d grown so much, not just physically, but in his character.

While the prisoners worked their way out of the base, Steve and Lottie began their search for the isolation wards. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds of explosions and men crying out from below them while they traveled across metal catwalks. She could only hope that the cries of pain were coming from Hydra soldiers.

After turning several corners, they found themselves in an old hallway, surrounded by brick on both sides. They hurried down the corridor out of desperation; they knew they were running out of time. Lottie stopped suddenly when she heard a groan. It was close. She drew her weapon and dragged Steve into the room, her heart stuttering and her palms slick with sweat.

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…” That voice. Oh, how she knew that voice; she loved it so. Lottie heard it whenever she found the time to fall asleep. It crept into her sweetest dreams but tore her apart whenever it wiggled its way into her nightmares.

Bucky lay in front of them, strapped down to a table; his lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same phrase over and over again.

She rushed to his side alongside Steve and nearly let out a cry of happiness. Had the situation not been so dire, she would’ve descended upon him with a bone-crushing embrace and great big sobs of joy by that point.

Lottie whispered a quiet, “Bucky?” His eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape, “Is that— is that—”

“It’s us, Buck,” Steve nodded reassuringly as he tore at the straps across Bucky’s chest. Bucky looked up at him, taking his face in,

“Us?”

“Me and Lottie,” he nodded, tugging her closer so that the two of them could be in Bucky’s field of vision.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, finally feeling whole again. She’d gotten her Brooklyn boys back. Bucky only looked back in confusion, “Little Lottie, she— she’s always been here. Always. Stayed with me the whole time.”

It was Lottie and Steve’s turn for confusion. Lottie brushed the hair back from his forehead to calm him down and ground him, “Bucky, I’ve been with the SSR this whole time. We’re here to rescue you.”

Steve nodded and dragged him off the table, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky was obviously having a hard time processing everything that was happening, “I thought you were smaller.”

Lottie listened as the gunfire intensified, “Come on, we need to move.” Steve threw one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulder and the two fell into step behind her.

“What happened to you?” Bucky grunted out, pain etched into his voice.

“I joined the army.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve was growing agitated, “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Lottie huffed, “I’d sure hope so after all that effort I put into it.”

Bucky mustered out a befuddled, “Huh?”

“I helped to create the serum that made him like that.”

“So that’s why you left without saying a word.” Bucky’s tone was only slightly accusatory.

Lottie muttered a weak “Yeah.” They’d need to have a lengthier conversation once he wasn’t struggling to walk five yards.

As they crossed the catwalks to get towards the exit, the factory below them began to combust. Huge flames erupted from the metal contraptions and triggered explosions all around them. They hastily climbed the metal stairs to get to higher ground.

“Captain America, how exciting!” A thick German accent cut through the noise of explosions and gunfire. “I am a great fan of your films!” Before them stood two men; one was a short little fellow clad in a jacket and fedora. The other was tall and wore a distinguished Hydra uniform with its menacing crest emblazoned on his shoulder.

The taller of the two gave Captain America a once over as he strode across the catwalk that separated them, “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Steve snarled and punched the man in the face. The swift blow caused a blotch of redness to appear near his eye and a sinking feeling of realization settled into Lottie’s stomach. This was Schmidt, the monster who used the serum prototype.

Before she could say anything, Schmidt struck back and left a dent in Steve’s shield, “Haven’t I?”

There was a brief scuffle before Schmidt backed off while the other man pulled a lever, pulling the catwalk apart. With a grin, Schmidt began pulling at the skin of his face and revealed fiery red muscle and tissue beneath, just as Lottie had seen when she first began experimenting with the formula. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?”

Steve never got an answer. Schmidt and the other man had already boarded an elevator and left them standing on the catwalk, nearly helpless.

Another explosion went off, cueing the trio to leave, “C’mon, let’s go. Up.” Lottie instructed the men to follow her, though she wasn’t too sure how to escape the factory. All she knew was that they needed to keep ascending the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were faced with a metal beam that led to a catwalk with an exit. It was terrifyingly slim, with only enough room to place one foot in front of the other.

“Ladies first,” Bucky murmured, “but I’ll be right behind you.” Lottie felt sure of herself knowing that at least she wouldn’t have to cross on her own.

She took a tentative first step, testing how well it would hold her weight. Lottie tried not to look down at the fiery pit below while she carefully moved along the beam. It was a comfort to have Bucky behind her with his chest nearly pressed against her back as he followed her every step. Lottie had just scrambled over the railing of the catwalk when a jarring explosion shifted the beam’s position and sent it careening downwards. She gasped in horror as Bucky leaped to grab onto the catwalk.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!”

Steve stared at the two of them from across the pit, “Just go! Get out of here!”

Bucky slammed his fist on the railing, desperation tearing at his voice, “No, not without you!”

“Steve, please! We can’t just leave you here!” Lottie pleaded. Steve couldn’t die, not like this.

With a look of determination, Steve backed up and made a running jump to clear the gap between the two catwalks. An explosion threatened to swallow him up, but he made it over safely, although a little worse for wear.

Lottie and Bucky could only stare in amazement. Steve nodded to them both, “Let’s get outta here.”

Several ladders and a whole lot of dodging later, the trio found themselves trudging towards the tree line.

It was silent amongst the three of them; painfully, dreadfully silent. She decided it was time to break the silence, “Bucky, I—”

“Look, Little Lottie, I know you’re sorry, alright? And I forgive you. Even though you lied to my face and left without saying goodbye, I had a whole lotta time to spend forgiving you.”

Now that the fear of being caught by Hydra soldiers had fully subsided, Lottie allowed herself to let out a sob of joy and nearly threw herself at Bucky. She almost apologized for the force of her embrace since it was likely to hurt a man who’d been captured by Hydra, but he didn’t show any sign of pain. She’d need to remember that for later.

“I missed you so much, Bucky. I really did,” Lottie nearly whimpered. Gosh, she sure sounded lovesick. “I missed you too, Little Lottie.” His embrace was sure and strong, and with it, a flood of memories came back to her. Nights on her fire escape. A birthday evening spent swing dancing. A lucky penny slipped into her hand. For the first time in months, Lottie finally felt whole. Her heart that had been splintered into shards of pain and hopelessness had finally begun to mend itself back together. While she found comfort in his arms and forgiveness, she knew there were still so many words left unsaid; words that he needed and deserved to hear.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” Steve muttered, obviously peeved that he was being left out of their moment.

“Aw, come on, Stevie,” Lottie grinned and pulled away from Bucky a little to allow Steve to join their hug.

“And if I remember correctly, Bucky, I think it’s actually Little Saint Lottie now,” she grinned. While she couldn’t see his face at the moment, she just knew it was turning a gorgeous shade of scarlet, based on the sputtering coming out of his mouth.