#because i REFUSE to spend FOUR MORE HOURS on the same warm ups

[antonsgf]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ bf!anton pt. 2 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

bye this is so long overdue oops !! part one is here !!

bf!anton likes to send you little texts throughout the day just to update you on what he's doing while on schedules and he most definitely miss you :(

he would also send tik toks and .5 pics of his hyungs just for funisies and you should send some back !!!

speaking of tik toks, yall would spend hours creating some !! your drafts are filled with 100s of silly little videos

especially trendy couple vids like this one :))

bf!anton would definitely bring you around to hang out with his hyungs and of course they would tease him !!

but don't worry because you would definitely defend your man if needed be !!

like imagine one night yall are having a group movie night and you're all snuggled up next to tonny and giving him a smooch on the cheek

next thing you know eunseok is like "ugh get a room :P"

without a beat your response would be like "damn bro i would be mad too if i didn't have someone kissing up on me like get a gf :P"

everyone is like ":O ohhhhhh shit!" "you finally met your match hyung :)" lmao you and eunseok would go toe to toe !!

you gets down and you dont play about your tonny !! it's all jokes though so no worries :))

aside from that anton would feel so much pride and happiness from the sight of you getting along with his hyungs esp sohee !! but like sohee was lowkey his wingman tho LMAOOO

tonny is an unconfirmed taurus venus, which in my delulu head means one of his favorite things to do with you is taking a nap or cuddling which leads to said naps !!

he just give top tier cuddler like !! his arms look so warm and welcoming adafklhfjhafjhd

imagine yall cuddling up all nice and peaceful !! you're wearing one of his t-shirts and he's holding you all warm and snug throughout the night against his chest ahhh !! i would simply just die right then and there fr !!

the next morning you wake up with his arms still around you and you're like stuck physically because his arms are locked in !!

it's always the same scenario of you two being like

"ant we gotta get up :3" "ahh just five more minutes baby :3"

his sleepy self would refuse to let go because being bed with you is like paradise !! and he doesn't want it to end...unless...

"i'll make your special yogurt parfait you like for breakfast :)"

he would relunctantly let you go but only because how could he turn down his special greek yogurt parfait that he is more than capable of making himself made by the love of his life ???

and it's not even all that !! you literally found a recipe on tiktok and made it for him one day !! now he texts you every now and then wishing you were around to make it !!

"babe it's literally four ingredients ??" "but it's not the same when you don't make it :(("

food would be another part of his love language because we all know how much our boy loves his snacks !!

and how could you deny your boyfriend from a treat that's handmade from you ?? like make it make sense ??

thanks for reading and waiting lmaooo !! might make make this a series but no promises !!

feel free to send me asks or let me know what yall think :3

♡ kimmia ♡

[emberfaye]

Kids are kind and loving because they've had it modeled for them and have learned how to be, often from their parents. I hope you'll allow yourself some credit for that.

Keep going. Your children are so lucky to have you.

thank you. I'm much better about knowing that in my heart and soul nowadays. It's what makes these moments so precious to me.

"fun" backstory lore below

I did not get to ahve a good support group from my family when i first was pregant, and had post partum. so already from the start i was led to believe i was wrong and to feel guilt for how things had turned out.

and then like 4 years later i thought i finally had the family i wanted, the family i always hoped for--we were hanging out, talking about deep stuff. they trusted me with their mental illness and i trusted them with mine. we were spending vacations together and laughing.

I found out new years day, catalyst being a facebook post i knew was about me because I can connect the fucking dots, that these four had been gossiping behind my back about how i was a shit parent, forced my kids on everyone else so i didn't have to take care of them, was an awful person, "didn't deserve to have kids, didn't deserve to be a mom", and so much other stuff.

The reasons? My oldest, at age 4, wasn't completely potty trained. So obviously i was a failure (It didn't matter that in a year long period he broke his arm, had an abcess to be removed from his butt, and fell in the toilet and scared himself. not that they knew that last one, or thought the first two would affect his potty training). Also, the whole thing started ebcause I left two toddlers at my parents house, safe and warm and playing with their cousins to spend the night on new years eve at like 1am, instead of dragging them home with me on a thirty minute drive, unloading them at the apartment not far from a college campus ALONE because my spouse was working, and coming back in five hours with laundry. Like. yeah, lets drag them and make them miserable even though they are going to pass out soon and still be asleep when i come back. Makes sense.

I never got closure. I will never get closure. This almost 11 years ago, and other than that one awful day, where other family members stepped up to defend me it never got talked about by those four people. the facebook person texted me an apology and claimed that was enough, one person said they tried to get the person not to post but were they wrong? One refused to talk to me at all. One just kept saying they weren't going to get involved (yet they failed to acknowledge or admit they were already involved for shittalking me in the first place)

So yeah. I spent years having to justify my parenting to myself. Even if everyone else kept saying I was doing fine, doing great--I had random people coming up to me in restaurants telling me how good my kids were, I had happy involved kids, i had teachers telling me "whatever you're doing, keep doing it", I had the mom look down and could calm a group of not even my kids with it---I still felt like shit at it.

This was on top of regular depression and on top of regular family dysfunction.

It was a long process to get to the point where I can say I'm a good mom. And even now when I face a challenge i find myself sometimes reverting into that mindset. I also have issues with trusting people and being talked about behind my back--I don't wanna say it's a trigger but like...it's something.

But my kids are loved, and loving, and they like each other and they like me, so I am making it through, and more importantly, I'm very hopeful they'll never relate to songs about broken homes and feeling inadequate to the same extent as me, and that's fucking good enough

[you-are-constance]

its probably not good that i have a four hour rehearsal tomorrow and still don't have the music we're supposed to be working on

[savnofilter]

Bunny Headcannons

   Midoriya | Todoroki | + Shindo x [fem]Reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): sexual content, breeding kink, mocking/teasing kinks, bit of power play.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: .6k [3 mins]

𝐢/𝐛: one, two, three, four, five.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞: masterlist + [students masterlist]

𝐚/𝐧: ahhh omfg. @mci-writing past the fact youre a good writer, i have no idea how you are able to create and pull off such a concept. jfc these were so hard to write… after today, i’ll leave this concept to you njvfnkjvn,, anyways!!! this ones fo yhu!!! ilysm <3

this is me attempting bunny!deku.

well well… where do i even start?

he is definitely the needy type, shyly clinging onto you or full on pouncing on you.

he is one to always hold you close, big spoon to the max.

he likes to spoil you with gifts and his favorite pastime is to have you participate with him in his favourite hobbies too.

ᥫ᭡ and if the activity calls for it, he'll want to be snuggled up into you or have you in his lap. ie; his faves like notebooks, watching videos etc. 

speaking of being pressed up against you… hows cock warming sound to you? cuz he loves it.

& im gonna take a gamble and say that he doesnt really favor subbing as bunny!deku.

he is a fan of cock-warming you, often whispering in your ear, “You’re squeezing my cock s-so tight…” as he holds you hostage in his hold.

Izuku will needily grind into you while firmly having his arms wrapped around your waist and keep you there till he's finished and you’ve had enough.

he’s one to fuck you until your lips sore and puffy. your nipples and any other sensitive spots on your body sharing the same fate. 

a master at after care as well.

ᥫ᭡ would he be a good bunny if he wasn’t?

he loves to call you pet names. he has a passive territorial side to him which makes him act like this, but never ever compare it to one of a dog’s nature,,, it makes him teethed.

he has this urge to keep you stuffed but also keep you protected at the same time.

theres never a week where you guys go where he isnt trying to breed you. but the moments where isnt are super memorable too. 

shouto is probably the hardest one to write with between these three,,,

loves to follow you around? theres no better explanation for this. 

not totally a PDA type of person but he loves to hold your hand if in public.

just like Midoriya, he likes to spoil you too. 

ᥫ᭡ whether it be love hotels, gifts, dates etc. hes the man to spend it all on you. 

is okay with being away from you, but when he comes back from a long time… just know hes all over you. 

on the other hand, he's more of a quiet-dominant-needy type.

he likes to give you lots of kisses and caresses. 

just like his quirk, hes more than comfortable switching it up.

he absolutely adores you so whether hes (power) bottoming or not, his end focus is to have you pleasured. 

he is a big fan of pinning you down and having his way with you, maybe sometimes a little taunt here and there…

dont let those fool you though! bunny!shouto will forever be your #1 SIMP.

there really isnt anything different with sfw bunny!shindo. hes basically the same, nothing too pg if youre around him long enough. 

because of this, he is not shy of PDA.

whether it be having you in his lap, holding hands, holding more than other questionable things, and even kissing. 

unlike todoroki, he's a verbal dominant type. 

refuses to ever be small spoon, he wants to go to sleep knowing youre protected in his arms. 

bunny!shindo loves you to death but will waste hours just enjoying the way that he can make you cry and beg to have his cock deep within you. 

more of a tease than anything, not afraid to taunt you either. 

"It's almost like you're in heat, are you that needy already~?"

ᥫ᭡ the answer is yes.

his antics is never fails to tear you up and get you frustrated. he feels accomplished for making you like this—yk, fiending for him like your life depends on it.

is not shy with using his tongue, fingers, toys,,, etc??

even with how much he loves to taunt and play with you, im convinced that thats just how bunny!shindo shows his affection for you. 

in his own bully ways.

[forthehpfanboys]

Broken Stitches

Pair: Hermione Granger x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Hermione usually gripes about your dirty clothes being everywhere.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), oral (female receiving)

Smut Prompt 40: “Is that my (shirt/uniform/jersey- this has so much potential it hurts)?”

Notes: I have never written hetero smut before so I’m starting off light (please go easy on me, I'm trying). I’m gonna save the big smut for the next request. Lowkey think this is terrible but uh, ya know. And word count wise? This should probably be a fic but I got carried away-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Usually, when you leave clothes around, Hermione nagged about it. She’d grumble for hours- literal hours- about how you have a dirty clothes basket for a reason, how she’s not your mom and shouldn’t have to clean it up, even though your dorm is shared with a bunch of dudes who each treat it like their person clothes bin, and literally no one asked her to clean it up.

Lately, she’s been quiet. She hasn’t been shrieking or nagging or threatening to hex you unless you clean it, she’s been leaving it be, which was very uncharacteristic for your girlfriend. Another weird thing was that your quidditch jersey was completely missing and you needed it for the game coming around. You asked everyone in your dorm, and not a single one knew where it ran off too.

It wasn’t until you walked into her own shared dorm and saw Hermione laying across her bed, reading a book… In your quidditch jersey, which looked cleaner than usual. You stared at the baggy shirt laying against her skin. You couldn’t see the title of the book, but you could tell by the white cover and the big cursive red letters that it was clearly a romance novel- and it was getting to the good part, you could tell because she kept shifting her legs and pressing her thighs together.

“Babe?”

Hermione almost jumped out of her skin. She slammed the book shut and shoved it under the blanket, crossing her arms over her chest. She quickly looked over at you, the heat spreading across her cheeks like a typhoon of red. Her bubblegum pink tongue dragged across her lips quickly, her knees coming up to her chest.

"Oh, hey, love! How-um-how are you?" Hermione smiled, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She was blushing, you could see it in the dim light of her dorm. No one else was in the room-- the rest of the girls opted for spending quality time together in the warm spring air.

"Is that my jersey?" You asked, pointing at the loose (h/c) t-shirt clinging onto her chest. She stammered over a reply, her cheeks brightening in color when your point drifted to the rectangular shape hidden under the blankets. "And are you reading porn?"

"It isn't porn!! It's a romantic novel filled with drama and heart stopping romance suitable for any young witch!" She huffed out, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes stared into yours.

"That may be true, but.. Does it have porn in it?" You smirked, leaning against one of the four posts holding together her bed.

Her jaw dropped at your cocky tone and said, "No! It's romance, (Y/n)! A man like you wouldn't understand."

"Really, cupcake? That hurts my feelings." You let out a laugh, watching her with dark eyes as she stretched her legs out. "So, you're not wet because of the story right now?"

"(Y/n)!!" Hermione picked up her pillow and threw it at you, but you managed to catch it and threw it back.

"What? Is it so bad to check on my baby girl?" You were grinning again-- her thighs kept rubbing together and her hands gripped the end of the blanket. You could practically smell her arousal.

"Fine! Yes! It has porn in it! Bugger off!" Hermione squealed, putting the pillow back into place behind her back so she didn't have to look at you.

"That's all I wanted to hear, lovely." you pulled out your wand. You shut the door, locked it and used a silencing charm all at once before throwing the stick off to the side and gripping the thick, red blanket

Yanking the blanket off the bed, and haphazardly throwing it to the ground, you crawled onto the foot of the bed and grabbed her ankles. You tugged her closer and ignored her squeal due to the sudden movement. From the fast bounce of her tits and the bare skin that got exposed as the jersey rode up when her body slid toward you, you could tell she was naked, except for one thin, piece of fabric.

You licked your lips, trailing your hands up her legs to her smooth thighs. You felt pure excitement when her legs naturally fell open, exposing the thin piece to you. It was hiding just one of your favorite features of her and it had a small wet patch right in the middle.

"Merlin, 'Mione.. You know just how to get me goin', don't you?" You spoke up, watching her face carefully as her eyebrows furrowed and her lip became trapped between her teeth. She gave you a nod, a few fuzzy strands of her hair falling into her vision. "Planned this yourself, didn't you?"

She nodded again, reaching for the end of the jersey and began to pull it up to her chest, revealing what you already knew. Her skin was bare. You saw her nipples harden from the cool breeze in the room and groaned again.

"My pretty girl. My wonderful darling, fuck." you laid yourself flat on your stomach after spreading her legs and your eyes were magically drawn to the wet spot against her panties.

Without hesitation, you dragged your tongue along her cloth covered sex, a needy groan leaving your lips at her taste. It was a flavor you had no issue devouring whenever she asked. You pulled her thighs farther apart, your nails digging into the flesh with another drag of your tongue. Her soft whined didn't go unnoticed, either. You raised yourself up, dragging your panties down with your teeth before sliding your hands to her pretty pussy lips.

Your thumbs carefully spread them so you could watch her walls clench around nothing. Another needy groan left you when her clit throbbed and you immediately latched your lips onto it, enjoying her squeal of surprise. Your eyes locked with hers and your own sex twitched against the mattress. Her eyes were completely fucked out- pupils swallowing irises the same way you ate her out.

Your tongue dove into her deeper expertly forcing a strangled moan from Hermione's lips. Your eyes fell half shut when your legs wrapped around your head but your tongue kept up a strong pace inside of her. Your hand not putting pressure against her clit went around to her ass, grabbing a cheek in hand and giving it a squeeze. The thumb on her clit began to draw those strong circles again and you enjoyed the way she bucked up into your face.

Her hands tugged at your hair in a feverous attempt to either get away from the onslaught of pleasure or get more. She moaned your name again with her thighs shaking around your head. You let out a moan, your own hips dragging across the sheets to give your hard on some relief, before you pulled your tongue free.

You dragged it across the folds once, twice, three times before spitting on her clit. The gasp she made was worth it. Your thumb went back to work while her head went back against the pillows. "That good, huh, darling?"

"Shut it." She moaned, her shin pulled you closer, practically forcing your face against her. You smirked against her before attaching to her clit again. It didn't take her long to cum--especially when you were humming against her. You helped her ride out her orgasm and pulled off with a chuckle once the overstimulation set in.

The only sound in the room was her frantic panting. She pulled the jersey back down and you carefully pulled her panties up after licking her clean.

"How do you do that?" Her voice was soft and winded, but it brought you joy. You smiled and kissed her knee.

"Magic, love." You did jazz hands at her, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes. You let out a giggle and sat up. If it wasn't for her pointing it out, you would've forgotten about your dick throbbing between your legs.

"Need help with that?" Hermione was already trying to put her chaotic hair into a ponytail- who were you to refuse a queen of what she wants?

"Yes, please."

-

-Taglist-

@LinkinRavenclaw

@re-blog-side-blog

@catboyazula

[gucciwins]

Roses and Romeo

Harry and Y/N come back to their hometown after eight years to open up a time capsule they buried ten years ago as high school sophomores. 

Word count: 20,534

A/N: Hello beautiful friends, hope you’ve been well. I’m really excited to share this story. It is a former high school sweethearts to lovers. Thank you to @havethetimeofyourstyles Jill for creating timetravelathon and allowing me to participate. I am very sorry it’s later but I finished!!! I do hope you all love it. 

Also this story is my baby, because i’ve never hit 20k before so this was new and exciting. I just had so many ideas for the story.

please come and tell me your favorite part!

_____

DECEMBER 1989 - SENIOR YEAR 

It's December, and all that is on her mind is how the grass would look covered in snow. The cold breeze, an extra jacket to stay warm, a blanket to bundle up with her favorite person. Safe to say, she can only imagine it because California, specifically Southern California, isn't so keen on giving her this one gift she asks for each year.

A huge smile spreads over her face as soon as she sees her house up ahead. 

It's not huge, but it is perfect for Y/N. She has the best memories growing up in a house full of love and laughter and the most gorgeous flowers. The iris and tulips bloomed extra bright this year. There is never a day her mom isn't fixing the garden. Her mother always makes sure she has fresh flowers in her room; right now, for the week, she has purple tulips. Also makes a lovely gift to take to her boyfriend. Harry always blushes when she brings him flowers. 

It also gets her extra kisses. 

Harry parks right outside but doesn't rush out to open her door like always, so she turns to look at him. He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel; she patiently waits for him to speak up. 

She'd wait all day if she could; he has a beautiful face, one that she will never get tired of gazing at. She especially loves that curl that flops down over his forehead; as much as he pushes it away, it bounces back as if he never moved it.

"It's Friday, love." Harry begins, "I think you should consider coming with me to a party." 

She pouts. "No, I want to listen to that new record my dad found, and I also have lots to study. Big exam on Monday."

"You're always studying." He groans. 

She frowns. "Not true! Calculus is my biggest enemy. Mr. Leanza is not easy on us." 

"Okay, Miss 101%." He pokes her cheek. 

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance. 

"I'm not going to go just for you to tease me." 

Harry leans over and steals a kiss before she can dodge him. "Let's play a game." He sees her roll her eyes but asks her to hear him out. 

She gestures for him to go on. "I go in and quiz you. Zero wrong out of all the flashcards you have in that bag of yours, and I get to take you with me. I already have parent permission. I'll have you know."

She narrows her eyes at him. Not ever surprised that her parents agreed, they trust Harry. He's given them no reason not to. She's about to tell him, no, but he gives her a big smile. His dimples are on full display, and she finds herself agreeing. 

She mutters a small "okay." 

Harry smiles, knowing how she likes to make him work for it, but he really enjoys finding new ways to win her over. He might have cheated, flashing her his dimples that he knows she can't resist, but he never said he played fair. "Only if I get to drive Nessie." 

Nessie is Harry's classy white 1966 Mercedes-Benz 230 SL. She was never interested in cars, but Harry speaks so fondly of his car that she has come to learn so much about it and loves it just as much as Harry and her father together taught her how to change a tire and check the oil on Nessie. They want to prepare her for anything, and she is thankful because Harry likes to test her from time to time. 

Harry smirked, knowing how much she loves driving. She loves it but does not cave in letting her parents get her a car. Her parents have wanted to get her a car since she got her license at sixteen, but Y/N claims it is too much money to spend.

Her parents tell her they have saved enough for her and her education. It's like raising an only child. They remind Y/N all the time since her brother has graduated university and now lives in San Francisco as an engineer in a growing company. 

Harry has been meeting discreetly behind her back with her parents on gifting her a car this Christmas. Although he fears that having a car will mean less of him driving her around. Meaning they will spend less time together and fewer backseat make-out sessions, but on an upside also means he'd have to help her christen it. 

"Darling, you dating me for my car?" 

"Yes, dearie. I started dating you back in our first year because you had Nessie, not because of those dimples and lame jokes.

"You told me you love them!" Harry gasps, offended. 

"Tell you what you want to hear." She shrugs, getting out of the car. 

"Hurting my feelings, love." Harry now stands in front of her taking her bag from her hand and closing the door behind her. 

"Let's get inside." She pushes him to walk in quickly, knowing her parents aren't home yet and her mom isn't due for another thirty minutes, and she would really love to squeeze in a make-out session. 

"Compliment me, then we can go in." Harry stands firm in front of her, a teasing glimmer in his emerald eyes. 

She reaches up and places her hands on his cheek, planting a small kiss on his nose.  

"You're a dreamboat, Styles." She whispers.

Harry can't help the blush that seems to be taking over his entire face. 

She pecks his lips and skips around him. "Let's get studying, then you can help me pick my outfit for later." 

Harry shakes himself out of the trance she always seems to leave him in. "God knows you need it

JUNE 1998 - SUMMER HOME 

Y/N had always known she was a bit crazy but honestly, deciding on making a 44-hour road trip from Massachusetts to California, where her hometown of Aurora takes the cake. 

Yes, she knows how unsafe it is to be a woman on the road alone, but she saved up for the trip and would be spending the entire summer home for the first time since graduating high school. A plus was that she knows the map really well, having studied it hard like one of her anatomy books. Also, helped that her father quizzed her on what roads and exits she would be taking. 

She's a good driver; her father always told her everyone else is who she had to watch out for. Honestly, she thanked her family for pushing her to drive more, and now she loves being behind the wheel. 

The road was never-ending, taking her where she wanted, and currently, she was aiming for home. 

It's four hours until she reaches home, a home she has not lived in for over eight years. A place that holds her most precious memories as well as most heartbreaking.

She's driving with the window down, enjoying the breeze, knowing the heat will only get worse the closer to home. A car passes next to her; she looks over briefly, taking in the vehicle's blue color. It does look a bit old; as the driver accelerates their speed, she notices that it's a Mercedes-Benz but can't make the model seeing as the driver must be eager to reach their destination now speeding off. If she's honest, those types of cars remind her of one person, and that's how she knows she'll never escape because she finds meaning for them in anything and everything life has to offer. 

The last few hours on the road pass relatively quickly because the next thing she knows, she's parking her Jeep Cherokee in what she used to call her parking. This car has spent nine years with her and runs like a dream. It was a gift from her parents, and at the time, she was nervous about the gesture but really grew to love it. It also came in handy, seeing as she now lives far from home and visits as much as she can. She hopes to make more trips up now that she has residency but knows it will be harder to get holidays off. 

Her parents understand; they do. She's following her dreams and achieving each one, and that is all they could ever ask for. 

Y/N gets out and gets her suitcase; it has her essentials and anything she's missing; she can come out later to get it, well her father will most likely fight her and do it on his own. 

Just as she is about to open the door, it swings open. Her mother doesn't give her any time to react and simply wraps her in a hug. A tight one full of love and happiness, an embrace she will never get tired of. 

"Hi, momma," Y/N murmurs, not at all ready to let go.

"Hello, my sweet girl. It's good to have you home." 

"It's good being here. Feel younger already." 

"Ah, same here. Come inside; I have lemonade served up and muffins because they are your favorite." 

Y/N smiles, knowing how much her mother made sure to have her well-fed always. No matter what she told her, she wanted her with meat on her bones. This also meant anyone who she brought home was given a big meal as well. Telling everyone and anyone they were too thin then proceeding to provide them with a second serving. This was her mother's way of getting into people's hearts through their stomachs. 

Y/N walked into the kitchen and smiled at how nothing had changed. Hanging on the refrigerator were her three graduation photos: high school at seventeen, ready to take the world by storm, at twenty-one graduating with the highest honor from Columbia University, and the last was graduating Harvard Medical school this past spring. She knew the next to join would be a photo of her on the first day of her residency. 

"Your father refuses to take any down; when your brother comes into town, he complains. Your dad shuts him up by telling him to go be a doctor, and then they could talk." 

It warms Y/N's heart that her parents are proud of all the accomplishments she has made. It's been a tough road, but nothing stops her until she accomplishes her goals, and starting her residency is the next stop. 

"Like dad's office is covered full of his accomplishments since entering that job in San Francisco." She jokes, transitioning the conversation away from herself.

"The oldest child always seems to be the most jealous." Her mother reminds her.

After eating a muffin or two, her mom sends her off on a walk, not wanting her to be cooped up in the house on her first day back. She has always loved walking around. It's something she did when her friends weren't able to offer her a ride. Also, her parents would walk her to the park every weekend growing up to run around in the grass and ruin more clothes with grass stains.

It's no surprise that she arrives at the entrance of the town's park. It looks like there is no one around until she really enters and finds a family seated on a picnic planet as their youngest tries feeding their oldest strawberries. It's a sweet sight. 

She keeps going, not at all wanting to disturb; soon enough, she enters the part of the park no one really visits and finds the old park bench with lots of initials carved in the wood, hers included. It creaks as she sits on it; she smiles, knowing that it is something that has not changed. 

There aren't many flowers in this corner, just a big willow tree offering her shade that she very much enjoys. 

It's nice being home, she's missed it, but she has loved living in new places, making new friends and connections. She spent her first four years in New York, and she loved the environment. It was a university filled with thousands of people never seeing the same face twice in the halls. Everyone was always in a rush to get somewhere but not here, not at home. Everyone stops her for a conversation. They talk to her as if no time has happened, as if she was still the young girl who helped her mom tend the garden each weekend. 

In a way, she always will be. 

She wanted this time to explore and travel because she knows this where she'll come back one day to lay her roots. She and her future husband will marry here, maybe at the botanical garden with the beautiful flower arch all year round. It's where she sees her children growing up and running around as she once did. She's got her residency to finish up, but she's looking forward to when she can call Aurora home again. 

After sitting for a while, she decides she will come back with a book or two next time. If she's going to be here all summer might as well start by doing some reading on books she has not gotten around to reading. Y/N is thinking about leaving when her eyes spot a couple coming down a hidden path, a small daisy behind the girl's ear, her arm tight around her boyfriend's arm. He's got the biggest smile on his face. They look so lost in each other, one can feel their love. 

It reminds her of when she used to do that. When she did that with Harry before they broke up and never spoke again. It breaks her heart, but it also brings back some of the best memories. He'd always bring her here just so they could talk for hours so that she'd tell him more about the flowers and to kiss in private. 

One of her favorite memories is when they were in their third year of high school, and he asked to meet for a surprise. She stands up and shakes the memory away, not wanting to get lost in her thoughts. It's harder to do now that she's home and she can see him everywhere she looks. 

With that last thought brushed away, she decides to walk back home. She's got a few days to herself before meeting with everyone; there was the big reason she was back in town. 

It was time to open a box of memories. 

APRIL 1989 - JUNIOR YEAR

Harry is up to something. 

She suspects something because he made her walk to the park when he would always be quick to offer her a ride. Sure, it's only a ten-minute walk from her house, but he always says something along the lines that not everyone is as kind as they seem. 

It's April, and the flowers are in full bloom. She hears the birds singing, and she swears they sing of the beauty of the flowers. It's also bee season, meaning lots will be around the park, and as much as she loves them, Harry has a big fear of them. Y/N has mentioned various times that they don't mean to harm him; it can just happen. Especially if they get startled.

Y/N takes note of a new flower; it's a small white four-petaled flower that grows in fragrant clusters. They smell divine, but she knows she has never seen them. She really wishes she had her father's polaroid on her to take a photo and show her mother. Any other day she would turn back to do just that, but Harry is waiting on her. 

She walks to the back of the park where Harry has claimed their spot, their initials carved in the bench make sure of that. He's standing next to the viola's, and they stand dull next to Harry. 

"Hiya, angel." Harry greets hands hiding behind his back.

"Hello." She greets softly; Harry can easily note she's nervous. Any other time she would have given him the biggest hug, but right now is keeping an appropriate distance. 

"Are you nervous?" He teases, which honestly calms her down because if he's teasing her, it surely means he doesn't want to break up so she can toss that idea right out. 

The last few ideas left are that it's an important anniversary and she's forgotten, or he just wanted to be romantic. 

She hopes it's the latter. 

"Not so much anymore." She replies truthfully, stepping closer, desperately wanting to give him a hug. He looks warm in his knitted baby blue sweater; she knows it was a Christmas gift from his grandmother, his new favorite. 

 If he's not wearing his cardigan, he's wearing his varsity jacket, but it's at the dry cleaners because when it's not in his possession, it's in hers. She likes the heaviness of it, how small it makes her look. Harry is the perfect height, standing at what she thinks is 6'0, but she can't be too sure. His broad shoulders only seem to grow stronger each summer after returning from two weeks of football camp. At this point, she wears his varsity jacket more than he does. Sure, she can get an academic one she has more than enough patches to choose from, but it just isn't the same; besides, she rather spend her money on books and records. 

Harry tells her his favorite thing about her wearing his jacket is that it has his last name. He knows marriage is long down the line, but he does hope to share the same last name one day. 

It's his most prominent dream.

But currently, his big dream at the age of seventeen is asking the prettiest girl to prom. 

Harry brings his hands forward to reveal a dozen lavender roses in his hand. Y/N gasps at their beauty, not at all expecting this. They are gorgeous, and she can't wait to show them off to her mom as soon as she gets home. 

"My love," Harry starts closing the gap between them and bringing her left hand to his lips to place a soft kiss before setting it back down to rest close to his heart that is beating just for her. "Will you do me the honor of being my date to prom?"

She smiles wide, not at all expecting him to ask, let alone for it to be this romantic and intimate. 

"Yes, of course." She wraps her arms around his neck, and Harry spins her around, letting out a small holler of excitement. 

"The roses are beautiful; they must have cost you a pretty penny," Y/N tells him as soon as he sets her down so she can admire them again.

"Well, darling. You're worth every one. It also pays that your mom gets on well with the town's florist." 

She giggles, nodding. 

"Now, how about we walk over to my car and celebrate with a make-out." Harry wiggles his eyebrows at her, knowing he needs very little to convince her. 

"Harry!" She chastises, looking around to see if anyone heard, but the park is empty, not a soul in sight. "How about we take a stroll around the park, then we'll see afterward." 

"You're a little tease, love." She leans in and pecks his lips two times. He tries for a third, but she hurries off. 

"Come on, dove. We've got to see the rest of the flowers that are blooming." Y/N's voice is full of excitement at the chance of walking around the park for the next hour, hand in hand with her boyfriend. 

Harry grins happily, following after her, he may be young, but he knows he will do whatever is in his power to always see her happy and smiling.

JUNE 1998 - HOME

"Dad!" She yells as soon as she walks in the door; she sees him stand quickly from his seat on the couch and embraces her in a big hug.

"My baby is home." He whispers. 

"I missed you." 

"I missed you too, sweetheart."

"How was work?" 

"Awful, when I knew I had my two favorite girls at home waiting for me."

Y/N laughs. "Always a sap, dad." 

Her mother makes her presence known. "This is a lovely sight. I've missed it." 

"Yes, as have I." Her father gives her one last kiss to her head and lets her go. 

"Any plans?" Her mother questions walking back from the kitchen, placing a cup of tea for Y/N on an old family coaster. 

Y/N takes a seat on the couch, as do both her parents wanting to carry on the conversation.

"I'm meeting Sarah and Sydney for breakfast one of these days, most likely going to spend the entire day together. Then, everyone else won't be coming around until the week after. Think it will be on Friday, seeing as that is what worked for everyone's schedule. 

"Happy to see your friends." Her mom states, the wide smile on Y/N’s face confirming her statement.

"Yes, chatting isn't as easy as when we were in high school seeing each other that day. There are lots of emails sent back and forth between us." 

"Glad you girls stayed closed. Was worried you would all drift away." She reaches forward to squeeze Y/N's knee. 

Y/N knew she meant it about Harry. How no one thought anything would come between them that they would make it through university and settle down soon after. Oh, how wrong they all were. As much as they hoped for the best, they were each other's downfall. 

"It's a bit late; I'm going to shower and head to bed instead."

"Before you go, can I say something?"

Y/N recognizes the gleam in her mother's eye and nods, knowing she has to get this off her chest. 

"It's sadly a man's world out there, but you have managed to make it your own." She reaches forward and takes Y/N's hand in hers, pressing a gentle kiss before settling it in her lap. Y/N smiles. "I know you long to love and share it with someone, and I want you to remember that the person for you is out there. As a mother, I know these things, and I wish you nothing but the greatest things in life, but they all come when we are ready for it."

Tears well up in Y/N's eyes, she nods. Not replying to her mother's words because she knows if she speaks, she will cry. 

"Lorelai, you made her cry." He whispers, pulling both women into a squished hug. 

"I've always had your father, and I hope you find that someone for yourself." 

She pulls back and wipes her tears away. "Thank you." Y/N leaves her parents with a final hug.

She heads up the stairs to the room that holds all the memories she has kept locked away. In her home, there are no longer any photos of her friends or of him. Not like before, where they were spotted on every wall displayed for all to see. Her mother took them off after she left for university. It broke her mother's heart to see her suffer such a big heartbreak. Harry had become like another son to her parents, so they were all sharing the heartbreak. She missed everything about him, but it has been years since they last spoke. 

It's been eight years since they last talked, last kissed but not the last she's thought of him. He's coming for the time capsule opening, and as much as she tries to convince herself she's going to be alright, she knows she's not. Yes, she's moved on. She has built a life without him in it, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. 

All she can do is count the days until she leaves Aurora and goes back to the comfort of her apartment in Massachusetts. 

____

It's been a week since she's been home, and she knows everyone will show up in two days. The friends she was sure she'd never lose touch with but slowly did with time no matter how each tried, but life moves on. 

Y/N is nervous to see everyone. She's changed in the last eight years, but so has everyone else. She misses what they used to have in high school but honestly, getting to hear what everyone has been up to will be fun. Who knows, it might feel as if not time has passed at all? 

She met up with Sarah and Sydney earlier for breakfast at the old dinner. The girls spent a good five minutes embraced in a hug before they took their seats. They ordered too much to eat but, to no surprise, finished it all by the end of their conversation. 

The time together was spent mostly catching up and jumping from topic to topic. She did feel she was asked one too many questions about starting her residency and how they will be addressing her as a "doctor."

Y/N brought up Sarah's love life wanting to hear how they were doing. Sarah and Mitch did not start dating until after graduating high school, finding out they were going to the same university just an hour away from their hometown. Everyone was aware of Mitch's heart eyes for Sarah, but she was too focused on her internship, always wanting to do good. One can imagine how happy everyone was when news spread that Sarah asked Mitch out and was quick to say yes. Now eight years later, were happily moved in together. Sarah is a music engineer, and Mitch a music teacher at the local high school; as mellow as Mitch is, he gets on well with the teens. 

Having focused on love and Sydney quickly saying nothing new was going on with her, just that she was more in love than she could have ever imagined, it was time to hound Y/N, it seems. They asked about her love life and how good-looking the boys in Massachusetts are.

Y/N told them how nonexistent her love life has been since she graduated high school. It's not something she ever made time for, and her friends understand as much as they hate that for her. Sydney did not stop herself from making a joke on what seems to be Y/N's long dry spell. She shrugged it off, not at all bothered. Y/N assured them she knows how to take care of her own needs until the right person comes along. They all knew who she hoped would be the right person, but they knew better than to bring him up.

Once again, there was a change of pace. Sarah surprised them with tickets to Spice Girls at a sold-out Madison Square Garden concert on July first. Six tickets, a perfect number for their friend group. It was perfect, honestly. Sarah figured they'd road trip up the last week of June and could stay in Y/N's shared apartment with her roommate, who would not be home yet. Then take a train up to New York for the show. Also, told them they'd have hotel rooms for the night already, having an idea there would be an after-party. Y/N was all for it as was Sydney. 

Y/N has always loved concerts; it's something she saves for not bothered to spend some money to enjoy a great show for one of her favorite artists, especially in good company. The long queues were a downfall, but not everything is perfect. She has gone to concerts and knows that one can make the best experience out of floor seats and nosebleeds. Artists never fail to amaze. 

It reminds her of the first concert she ever went to that Harry took her to their senior year. The ticket stub she has pinned next to a polaroid that a stranger offered to take for them. It was before the show, and they had matching grins. It's still one of her favorites, and the reason she doesn't take it down is too good of a memory to keep hidden away. 

While seeing Sarah and Sydney was good and everything she hoped it would be, it did not prepare her to see the others. She had not talked to Zac in a long while, having no idea what he was up to. Mitch is quiet and only says hello when she has called with Sarah and Harry; well, it's like she doesn't exist to him. Not since their last day together. 

Y/N has two days to prepare.

Two days to wrap her head around the fact that she's going to see Harry. 

AUGUST 1989 - SENIOR YEAR

Many people told her to enjoy her high school years because they would fly by, and she accepted the advice and made memories to last a lifetime in the three years leading up to her senior year. Her friends and family have made each year memorial. Still, there is something about senior year, and knowing that it is their last year before university has her excited and anxious. 

Harry repeatedly told her how he wanted it to be their best year yet and promised to do just that. She has no doubt in her mind he will accomplish that in whatever way. He's managed to do so year after year. 

Harry made sure to pick her up each morning, never wanting her to worry about walking alone to school or arriving late. He made sure he knocked on her door every morning.

Depending on the time he showed up, he was ushered in for a homemade breakfast, or sometimes he said a quick hello before grabbing her hand and rushing out the door because they were running behind schedule, and Harry knew he could not make her arrive late. 

One thing that was always constant was how he carried her bag to his car and opened her door. He made sure she was settled before reaching down for his morning kiss. Sometimes, he went as far as putting on her seatbelt, just wanting to be close to her. 

Today was Monday, and he usually comes in, but today he selfishly told her to grab him a slice of toast because he was in a hurry. She didn't question him and sent her apologies. Her mom kissed her cheek and told her not to worry about it. A true angel, her mother was.  

Harry slipped her bag over his shoulder before ushering her in. She felt a little flustered with his urgency but let him be. He stole a quick kiss before going to the driver's seat. 

"What's got you in a rush today?" She asks, genuinely worried. 

He smirks, looking over at her. He seems calm, not that they've driven away from her house. "Thought we could use the extra time for some kisses. You deprived me this Sunday." He pouts at her, waiting for the light to turn green. 

"H, you know I have dinner with my grandparents one Sunday a month." She chastises him.

"I know, darling, doesn't mean I like it." He tells her. "Had to suffer a Sunday alone." 

"Well, at least I know how I can make it up to you." She teases. 

Arriving at school, Harry parks toward the back under a shady tree, one far away from everyone. 

"Want to sit on my lap, baby?" He asks, spreading his thighs, and as much as she wants to, she shouldn't knowing very well what he can convince her to do when in his lap. 

"Later, H." She promises. 

"I'm holding you to that, angel." He unclips her seatbelt, quickly placing his lips on hers. 

She feels how smooth his lips are and knows he stole her cherry lip balm again. "Harry, that's the third lip balm you've taken in two weeks." She pulls away, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip that he juts out. He gives her thumb a soft kiss. 

"Swear I was going to put it back this time." He moves closer, placing a kiss on her neck, slowly trailing down, pushing his varsity jacket down her shoulder, exposing more of her neck. Her black corduroy pants and white acrylic sweater, and her favorite worn-out Mary Jane's mother have been begging her to change out. She likes to think it adds an extra flair to her outfit. "You drive me crazy when you wear my jacket," He whispers in her ear.

"Does that mean you're always going crazy?" She whispers back, knowing he mostly wears the jacket during game days. 

"Always make me lose my mind." 

After a fun half-hour of making out, Y/N pushes him back, knowing she has matching bruised lips. She loves that everyone can see what she did to him. She also may have sucked a little too hard on the skin right below his collar, the love bite just barely visible. She pulls down the sun visor, looking in the mirror to straighten out her hair, that Harry just loves digging his fingers into. 

"Baby, what did you do?" Harry says, looking at the fresh mark just by his collar bone. 

She smirks, knowing very well that Harry loves when she marks him. Not doing it very often in fear of getting caught by their parents. 

"Got to remind those girls that stare at you who you belong to." She reapplies her lip balm before layering the new lip gloss her mom got for her the other day. 

"You know I've only got eyes for you, love." He says, caressing her cheek softly. 

His gentle tone of voice always makes her soft, but it also might be that his accent seems to stand out even more. 

"I know, H." She leans in to give him one more kiss but pulls back quick enough to not let him deepen it. 

"Sneaky, baby." He clicks his tongue at her, rushing out and rounding the car to open her door, offering her his hand. 

She gladly accepts it, placing a kiss on both cheeks before landing on his lips. 

"I love you, Styles." She whispers against his lips, eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath. 

"And I love you, my darling angel." He softly nuzzles her nose, causing her to let out a small giggle. 

"Let's get you to class." He says, throwing his arm over her shoulder pulling her in close. 

Harry is smiling wide; she takes notice as she looks up. He looks extra giddy. 

Too giddy, and it has nothing to do with their steamy make-out. 

She narrows her eyes at him, "what's got you extra smiley?" 

"Nothing, happy all the time."

"Nuh, uh. Styles. I know you. Fess up!" She stops walking, wanting him to answer her.

"It's because my girl marked me up today for all to see. Makes me feel special." He answers smoothly. 

Y/N looks at him in suspicion, not buying a single word he's saying, "I'm onto you, Styles."

Harry lets out a deep breath before stepping close to her. "Let me surprise you, darling." 

She instantly relaxes. "Okay, only because you know I like surprises."

"Thank you." He rests his forehead against her, happy to be in her space, forgetting all around him until he hears a shout of his name. 

Moment over, it seems.

"Let's get you to English Literature," Harry murmurs, intertwining his hand with hers making sure she's close by as Sarah greets her.

_____

It's lunchtime when they walk hand in hand to the lunch tables where Mitch and Sarah sit, stalling their conversion to greet them. Before she can take a seat next to Sarah, Harry pulls her in his lap. He leans in close to her ear and whispers that he'll give her his chocolate chip cookies Anne had baked. She silently agrees, grabbing the bag Harry was offering her. What he didn't disclose is that his mum had sent them specifically for her. They have three empty seats, but she can see Zac and Sydney approaching, carrying food trays. Meaning, neither had lunch prepared for the day. 

Y/N leans back against Harry getting comfortable, knowing that he wouldn't be letting her go any time soon. The chatter begins with how their weekend went and what this week's activities are. She knows she doesn't have much to do this week; her club meetings don't meet until next week. Harry has football practice all week, meaning she either visits the library or finds a ride home. She doesn't mind staying and watching his training, but Harry hates knowing she sits there alone for so long. He rather have her be home warm and cozy than on the cold bleachers.

Harry asks for her attention by placing a kiss on her neck, his tell sign that he's feeling left out. 

"Yes, H," She whispers for only him to hear. 

"Need your attention. Don't like sharing." 

"You're extra needy this Monday, dove." Y/N has his hands in her lap as she begins to trace circles on his palm; it's something that soothes him instantly. 

"I just want to know our plans this weekend." He kisses her cheek, nuzzling his face in her neck. "Rather you get parent permission early on than last-minute giving them a chance to say no." 

Harry's right; there are occasions where her parents have said no, and Y/N finds herself sneaking out from her window that conveniently has an old tree that makes it all the easier. 

Her parents trust them together, but if they really knew what happened behind locked doors, they would think otherwise.

"Do you want to go kiss a little?" He wants her to say yes. 

"At your car or in the abandoned hallway?" 

"What's quieter?" 

"The hallway, and it's closer." 

Harry nods, gently grabbing her waist and helping her stand. "We'll see you later," Harry says, interrupting their conversations. 

"Oh, Styles, you've corrupted her." Zac teases very well, grasping what they were about to go do.

"Think she's corrupted me. Who knew angels could be so dangerous?" Harry teases in front of their friends. 

Y/N feels her face warm, bidding them all a quiet goodbye. Harry, having rendered her a bit speechless. She swears she never knows what is going to come out of his mouth. 

Harry all but drags her to the hallway. He gently pushes her back against the wall next to an older poster for the school play. Y/n glances down at his lips before looking into his eyes.

"Did you really bring me here to kiss, or are you spilling the surprise?" Her eyes are big and filled with hope. 

"Sorry, baby. Really did want some kisses from you." He pulls her closer wanting no space in between them. "Really missed you. Can't believe we only have one class together." 

"It's like they know you wouldn't pay attention to me in a class with you." She teases.

"Kissy." He pouts his lips, feeling like they've talked enough. 

Who is she to deny him when he asks so sweetly. 

Y/N always felt like time stopped when she kissed Harry. She felt her heart pounding in her chest as her knees grew weak, and as if Harry knew, he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her up. Harry pulls away slowly, a smile growing on his face. He would never tire of kissing her. 

Harry leans in and nuzzles his head in the crook of her necks, slowly beginning to place kiss after kiss before he finds his favorite spot and begins to suck lightly, pulling a surprised moan from her. 

She pushes him back. "No love bites that high. It will keep us locked up in the house all weekend supervised. 

Harry tenses at the thought, knowing fully well her parents would do that, having done it before when they first started dating, and he thought more with the thing in his pants than his brain. "I guess I'll just have to bruise these pretty lips."

Never one to tell him no, a small nod is enough to make Harry lean in and take her breath away. He'd kiss her forever if he could, but the last fifteen minutes of lunch break would have to do for now. 

_____

Monday's always drag on; she goes home, does homework, reads a book, and waits for dinner to be ready. Most days, she joins her mother in cooking; both like conversing about their days. More than ever, they have lots to talk about, from holiday plans to the universities she is applying for. She has saved up allowance allowing her to use it for more universities than the average three. If it was up to her, she'd send one to all the universities because that is how confident she is not only about her grades but how she comes off as a student on paper. 

Dumping most of her books in her locker, she keeps Calculus in her bag, knowing the sooner that homework gets done, the less stress she'll have. Just as she shuts her locker, she hears footsteps approaching her. 

"Is my girl ready to go?" 

"She is." 

Harry swings his arm over her shoulder, and they begin to walk out the school doors that are kept wide open. There are groups of students lingering talking to another, and in the distance can hear cars driving away eager to get away. 

Y/N smiles at a girl who sends her a wave, recognizing her from her English course. Harry walks them under a tree, a reasonable distance away from everyone because, as she has come to know, he likes kissing her in private. 

"Our first game is in two weeks." Harry reminds her.

"Yes, exciting." 

"Will you be there, or is there a test to study for?" He teases. 

She frowns and takes him by the lapels of his varsity jacket that she gave back to him at the end of lunch because she claimed it was losing his smell. 

"Don't start, Harry. You know I've never missed a game, and I won't start now." 

"Was only teasing, love." 

"Didn't like it." 

"Sorry, love. Forgive me? He pouts, wanting her to smile at him instead of frown. 

"You know my price." Y/N shrugs. 

He sighs, nodding his head three times before moving to get on his knees, toying with unbuttoning her pants. 

She gasps and jumps away. "Harry!"

Harry can't help but smirk, "Isn't that always the price."

"I just wanted a kiss; no need to make a scene." He shrugs. "Now, don't you have a practice to get to?"

"Ugh, I do." Harry groans, dreading practice knowing the coach likes to run them twice as much for not working out on the weekends. 

"Give me a kiss, please. Then you'll come by later, right?"

"That is correct." He leans in, giving her three consecutive pecks on her lips. 

"Who's taking you home again?" He asks, wanting to make sure she's safe. 

"Sarah and Mitch." 

"Right, good. Well, off I go, poppet." 

"Bye." 

Harry turns and heads toward the field, where he can see the freshman already setting up drills and getting the water jug out to the bench. He's only taken a few steps when his angel's voice stops him. 

"Dove," 

Harry can feel his cheeks turn bright red at the term of endearment. He turns and takes two steps back to her. "Yes, lovie." 

"Will you give me one more kiss?" Her voice soft and innocent but the gleam in her eye is anything but that. 

Harry takes the last step towards her and holds her face with both hands reaching down and kissing her passionately. He pulls away after what feels like a lifetime, slowly as he tries to steady his breathing. 

"I love you," she whispers.

He presses a final kiss to her forehead. "And I love you." Harry turns and begins to jog away, recognizing he's got a limited time to get dressed and out on the field to warm up. He's a few feet away but turns his head to see her watching him still. "Tell your mom I'll be joining you for dinner." 

She nods, letting him know she heard him before he turns a corner and out of her eyesight. Only then does she go in search of her waiting friends who will bring her home. 

______

After Y/N informed her mother that Harry was going to join them for dinner, she got up to cook, wanting everything to be ready for when her father and Harry arrived, seeing it would be around the same time.

Y/N made herself scarce as her mother was in no mood to converse. Instead, she wanted to cook, and maybe if she planned her time accordingly, she would do dessert. 

Dinner time came around quickly, meaning she was lost in homework for a good few hours. She walked downstairs wanting to help her mom set the table when the front door swung open. 

"Hello, father!" Y/N bounced over to him, giving him a big hug and a peck on his cheek, one that he happily returned.

"Hi, my sweet girl." 

"Mom cooked a delicious dinner. We're just waiting on Harry." Y/N told him, knowing he's hungry from a long day at work.

"Won't have to wait long; Harry was just parking when I was on the steps." 

Y/N's eyes lit up at hearing that he arrived. Her father chuckled, "I'll go say hello to my wife, dinner in ten, okay." 

Y/N walks out to see Harry coming up the stairs in a cozy blue emblem sweater with denim Levi jeans and paired with his old white Chuck All-Stars. She smiled because he went home to shower, not wanting to wear his clothes from earlier or come over smelling like sweat, not that she minded. 

"You know we don't mind the sweat, H," She tells him as he's climbing up the last few steps. 

He shrugs. "I know, but I am a guest in your home and would never dare disrespect your parents and you, of course." 

Y/N grins. "Four years dating, and you continue to prove to be the most perfect boyfriend." 

Harry looks away, feeling bashful. "I wouldn't go that far." 

"I would, dove." Y/N closes the gap between them. "Now, I say you kiss me before mom calls us in for dinner." 

"It would be my greatest pleasure." 

____

Dinner was a success, conversation always flowing well. Y/N likes to sit back and listen to her parents talk with Harry as if they hadn't seen him in forever when he is more than likely to be here every other day. Her father is a big fan of football; he too was once a player. No, he wasn't quarterback; he was right-wing and helped his team make it to state championships. 

The high school team has won three state championships since Harry's first year as a freshman. They counted on making it the fourth year; no doubt in anybody's mind it would happen. Y/N picked up on her father's excitement going on and on about the first game and how it was the most important one now that scouts would be coming out more and more. Without a second thought, she reached over and placed her hand on his thigh, lightly squeezing, reassuring Harry she was there for him. He slowly turned the hand on his thigh palm up and intertwined them together. 

"Thank you so much for dinner, Lorelai. Luke, thank you for the great conversation. I can't wait to see you both at the game."

"We wouldn't dare miss it, Harry," Lorelai tells him, a wide grin on her face as she picks up the dishes. 

"Now go on; I'll help your mother with the dishes tonight." Luke gestures to them to get up and get their privacy. Y/N thanks him and takes Harry's hand, leading the way up the stairs. 

Now they are lying on her bed, it's got enough space for them to be spread out, but she prefers to lay across Harry, her head on his chest as he rests his head on her pillows. 

Harry had his hand in her hair, always calming for her and for him. Allows them to sit in comfortable silence, basking in the joy of being together. 

Many people ask them if they ever get sick of seeing each other every day and never giving each other space after dating for so long. That isn't entirely true because when they aren't at their respective extracurricular activities, they are found together. Harry's response is always, "she's my favorite person." Y/N just shrugs and smiles, "he's my best friend." 

Believe it or not, they spent around in her room listening to music or in his house watching movies from their grand VHS collection. Most thought they spent it making it out, not that they don't do that because they are just as in love as when they got together four years ago. When they walked into any room, her parents were sure they would be kissing, which is why the open door policy exists. Well, half-open is the agreement now. 

Harry looks around her room, his eyes settling on the polaroid photo on her bedside table, one of them smiling at each other, lost in their own worlds. It's dated 06-18-1989<i<, it was from one of their many summer days spent together. He decided now was as good as time to bring up what he had been hiding. 

"You know how we were making plans for the weekend, sweetheart."

"Yes, you didn't let us decide on anything." 

"Well, what if I did?"

She sits up and moves to sit in front of him. "Okay, I'm all ears. 

"You up for a drive?"

"Always, so drive me to the moon, please." 

Harry laughs. "Serious for a sec, baby."

"Sorry, yes, go on then." She interrupts him once more. "How far is the drive? You're not always the best driver."

"Ouch" Harry has his hand over his heart, feigning as if her words had pierced him. "Guess I won't tell you."

"That's fine." 

"Yeah. Is it?" 

"Yup." 

"Why's that?" He's confused; she's usually begging to know by now. 

"Simple, because I just won't give you any kisses."

"That's cruel."

"Oh well. I don't play fair." 

"Think you can resist me, sweetheart?" 

"Oh, I know I can." 

Harry shakes his head, response ready, but she stops him. "Remember who asked who out five different times."

"That's because you were playing hard to get. Claiming you just wanted to be friends for a little longer." 

"That was tru-" It's his turn to stop her.

 "Ah, yes, I know. I was getting impatient. Don't know if you know this or not, darling, but I had to scare off a lot of boys. 

"Trust me, H. I knew" 

"You did?" 

"Yes, I think it was because everyone knew sooner or later I was going to put you out of your misery."

"Yeah, by saying yes." 

"Oh no, I was going to say no."

"What changed?" Clearly, something had, and he just had to know. 

"You decided to show up at school wearing your Sunday best and brought me sunflowers. Told me they reminded you how much light I brought into your life. There I decided yes, he'll make a fine boyfriend."

Harry's smile is big, dimples on display just for her. Always for her. "You tease too much."

"But you love it."

"I do." He leans in and smiles as she lets him lead the kiss. It's slow and full of love. A love that only continues to grow each moment they are together. "I really do."

Y/N leans in, wanting to give him more kisses, wanting to be connected to him, wanting him to always feel her love. She's not sure how much time has passed when Harry pulls away. 

"You do realize we got sidetracked." 

"Yes, worth it if you ask me." She looks pleased. "Now you have to tell me, I gave you kisses."

Harry runs his thumb over her bottom lip, asking for another. She puckers her lips leaning forward, and connects their lips in a short soft kiss.

"Friday night, the Forum."

Y/N's eyes go wide; she was not expecting to hear that.

"No."

"Yes."

She sits there taking it in.

"Say it, baby." Harry likes that he managed to surprise her. 

"You got us tickets for Elton John." She whispers out, her eyes now locked with his needing him to confirm it.

"Yes, I did." 

"A sold-out show."

"Think it's going to be a fun night."

"How?" Although Y/N has an idea.

"Well, I called in on a favor with our dear friend Sarah and the radio station she's interning at." 

"I love her." She breathes out.

"Hey," Harry knocks her out of her gaze. "And me." 

"Of course, I love you." She moves forward, seating herself in his lap. "I love you. I can't believe you did this for me." 

"Yes, can't let you go off to uni without experiencing a concert." 

"You are perfect, Styles."

"Perfect for you."

There's so much love in between them; if anyone walked into the room, they'd be able to feel it. 

"Wait." Her hands now resting on his chest, a frown taking over her face. "How are we going to convince my parents." 

"Already done. Told them the plan and the itinerary, and your parents have agreed." 

"Perfect, I'm telling." 

"Is this why we're walking to school tomorrow?" She remembers him telling her he won't have his car. 

"Yes, taking it to the mechanic. I just want to make sure all is okay." 

"Marry me?" 

Harry can feel his cheeks warming up; she always makes him blush. He takes hold of her left hand and brings it up to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on her ring finger. 

"All in good time, my love."

_____

The week had dragged on, but it was finally Friday. She had been excited all week, and everyone could tell. Told her how she was jumpier, a lot more smiley, and twice as affectionate with Harry. She was happy.

She's at home getting ready; they would be leaving soon. Seeing as it was still a bit of a drive and no doubt would get stuck in traffic, seeing as they aren't the only ones attending the show. 

Y/N had gone over outfit after outfit until she finally decided on what she is wearing now. She's wearing a deep red power shoulder tucked into her favorite high-waist denim that makes her waist and butt look extra good. 

As she walks down the stairs, she hears the door and knows Harry is here to take her away. No matter what, he always stepped up to the door to pick her up; it still made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy. 

Her father is at the door speaking with Harry going over her extended rules and what numbers to call for an emergency. 

"Well, aren't you a dream," Harry looks her up and down; she does a slow spin for him on the heel of her black boots to give him the full look. "I'm a lucky man." 

"Glad you know it, H." 

She grabs hold of his brown leather jacket and runs her finger down it, it's an old one, but he takes such good care of it; one would think he just got it today. 

"Think you just took my breath away, H." She swears there are hearts in her eyes as she takes him in.

"That's exactly what I was going for." 

Harry and Y/N bid her parents goodbye; they wish them a safe journey. Her mother was excited to send her off; her father was a bit more worried but trusted Harry to keep her safe. 

The drive to the arena is filled with conversation over the upcoming year, Harry's final football season, and her volunteering hours how she was hoping to be accepted into the NICU's internship at their hospital. Also, lots of singing on the radio as well as Harry's CDs. From ABBA to Shania Twain, he had, but they settled on Elton John for the ride. 

In what feels like no time, they had arrived. Y/N is amazed at how big it is; she doesn't know much about the place just from what Sarah told her that it was large and no matter where she sat, she was going to have the best time of her life. Already having Harry at her side, she had no doubt about it. She can't stop smiling, and neither can Harry.

Harry grabs her hand as they both stare at the arena, where hundreds of people are lining up to enter. 

"Ready, love." 

"Yes, gosh. I might throw up from the excitement." 

"Oh no, let's get you a pop. It'll help."

"That sounds nice." Y/N leans up and gives him a gentle kiss. "Thank you, H." 

"Angel, I am more than happy to do this for you." 

Hand in hand, they walked into the arena, ready to sing their hearts out together. 

_____

Two hours of singing and dancing her heart off, and yet it still wasn't enough to tire Y/N out. Harry was sure she'd be clinging to his arm as he pulled her out of the arena, but she had asked him to wait out the crowd, and they stood in the emptying arena, arms around each other. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and it was still pumping hard. He kissed her lips one final time before swinging his arm over her shoulder and guiding them out to the chilly Los Angeles air. 

Y/N was all smiles, and she thinks it has to do with the man whose curls have fallen flat from all the sweating they did inside the arena. Being in a room packed around thousands of people will do that. She has never been in such a happy and united environment. 

It's a memory she's going to cherish forever. 

The drive home is full of retelling of their favorite parts of the night. Harry decided his was when Y/N turned to kiss him during "Your Song." He felt himself fall in love with her all over again. It's a feeling he never wants to end. 

Y/N's had to have been each outfit change. There were so many that she lost track, but she loved how unique each outfit was. It's something she knew she could never pull off, but she admired the beauty of each one. It was over the top and full of colors; it kept her mesmerized. It reminded her of life and how filled with color it really is. Also, when Harry sang his heart out during "Tiny Dancer." How he knew every lyric and didn't miss a beat, if she's honest, she didn't bother looking at the stage for the entire song too entranced in Harry. 

The smile does not leave their face, not during the traffic of getting on the freeway, not when they stopped by McDonald's and got burgers and decided to share a coke, and not even when they saw the sign welcoming back into Aurora. 

Y/N's smile didn't drop until Harry parked his car right in front of her house. She sits back against the seat and turns her head to already find a bashful Harry smiling at her. 

"Come here." He whispers. 

She unbuckles and sits in his lap, it may have been a few hours, but she missed being this close to him. 

Y/N didn't wait for Harry to ask; she simply leaned in and connected his strawberry lips with hers. She loved how soft they always were, and she knew she'd keep letting him steal her lip balms if they did such an excellent job keeping them soft and tasting sweet; then again, that could be all Harry. She lets out a small moan when Harry swipes his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for entrance, and she happily grants it. 

She wishes she can stay here forever, in his arms, kissing his lips, never having to stop. 

"Baby," Harry breathes against her lips.

Y/N knows what he's going to say; she's not ready to say goodnight. Instead, she keeps kissing him. "Just a little longer." She mutters against his lips.

Harry can't bring himself to pull away again and nods, allowing her to take control. He has a tight grip on her thigh, he wishes to move it higher, but he knows if he does, she won't be going inside tonight. She moves her lips down his jaw pressing gentle kisses.

"You drive me crazy." 

"Feelings mutual, darling." 

Harry pulls her back up and kisses her plush mouth. She tastes sweet, something he never pinpoints; all he knows is that it's intoxicating. He presses one final kiss on her lips and pulls back. She's breathing heavy, a large grin on her face. He knows he looks just as dazed. 

"Think you got to get inside now." 

"Don't want to leave you." She grabs a fist of his jacket, pulling herself closer. 

"I'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

She pouts. "Why so late?"

"Because you're going to want to sleep in." He brushes a bit of her hair away, she leans into his touch; she loves how delicate each touch is. 

"What if you come early and then cuddle me? Mom won't turn you away."

"She might."

"Not after I walk in and tell her how amazing the night was." She cups his cheeks, rubbing her thumb affectionately on his smooth skin. "She's got a sweet spot for you."

"And you." He reminds her. 

"Well, of course. I'm her daughter." She laughs but knows she hasn't convinced him. "Please," she whispers. She flashes him her best puppy dog look, knowing he won't be able to resist.

"Fine. I'll be here at eight, darling." 

"Perfect." She gloats. 

"Let me walk you up." 

Harry helps her back into the passenger seat so they can both head out. He grabs her hand, pulling her in close, not wanting her far for the last moments he has her. 

"You want to know something, H." She whispers, keys in her hand.

"What is it, angel?"

"I want to travel the world with you."

"The world." He gasps. "It's a big place, baby. Where would we start?" 

"London got to see the place you grew up before moving here. Of, course we'll save up and just spend the year traveling wherever life takes us."

"That sounds perfect." 

She hums, deep in thought, picturing visiting all these places she's only dreamed of with him by her side. To see the Eiffel tower, walk the streets of Scotland, and swim in the Amalfi Coast waters. 

"Dove," He hums, playing with a loose string of her jeans. "Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere you want. I'll make sure to take you wherever you want to go." 

"Take me to the stars, dovie."

"As you wish, my sweet angel." 

Harry brings his right hand up to her face and gently cups her cheek; she sighs, knowing precisely what he's going to do. She tilts her head up and feels his lips against her. It's the softest kiss of the night; it's gentle. It's her favorite kiss, the goodnight kiss, a promise to see her tomorrow. 

She breaks away the first time tonight, knowing if he kept going a moment longer, she wouldn't let him go. "Goodnight, H," She whispers as she begins to open the door. 

"Goodnight, love." 

Harry turns and walks to his car as he hears the door shut and hears her turn the lock. Once in his car, he takes a look up at her window, sends a final smile as he sees her waving him off.

He feels so much joy always being around her, but tonight it seems to have multiplied by a hundred. He knew tonight was perfect, but his favorite part wasn't even at the concert; it was standing outside her door as they spoke of their future together.

Happiness isn't always about the big moments but also about these small moments that make them feel invincible.

JUNE 1998

Y/N grabs a book from her bookshelf, not bother glancing at which one knowing if she stopped to read each title, she would be there all day. She heads to the yard, a picnic blanket tucked under her arm, so she can lay on it and soak in a bit of the sun. 

Her mother is trimming the leaves of the roses, wanting the flower to pop out more. Her father usually helps her, but he's finishing up last-minute work before coming out to join them. He has a good view of them from his office window. When she was young, he told her he chose this room because it's where her mom spends all her time, and he likes having his eye on her as she joins the beauty of her flowers. Y/N's known love all her life, and she's happy her parents have each other, but she can't help but feel like she let that one-of-a-kind love go years ago and fears she'll never find it again.

As she settles down on her blanket, she decides to rid herself of all thoughts and instead get lost in the words of Stephen King. She picked up a psychological horror. She remembers her father mentioning it was a good read and that she'd enjoyed it. Two pages in, and she knows she's hooked; it looks like she will be laying out here all day. 

At least that's what she thought when her mother interrupted her. 

"When are you meeting everyone?" 

Y/N puts the book down on her chest and looks over at her mom, who's still got her eyes on her roses. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"When are you meeting everyone?" Her mother repeats herself.

"Tomorrow."

"Time, darling?" 

"At one."

She hums in response. "I leave you in charge, and please be watchful over my roses." 

"Of course, I would never think of damaging your roses. Well, my roses, really." Y/N corrects. 

"Just because they were planted in your honor does not mean they are yours. You've cared for them for such little time."

"Excuse me, mother. I went off to university, but once I'm done and ready to settle down, I will be doing all the caring."

"Yes, because you will have time as a doctor." Her mother responds sarcastically. 

"I will be able to." 

Her mother decided to move on, knowing how stubborn Y/N can be. "Your father and I have lunch and dinner plans out of town, so you'll have the house to yourself for most of the day and night."

"You're treating me like I'm sixteen again, and it's my first time having friends over." 

Her mom laughs, and Y/N can't help but join. "You're forever, my little girl."

"Cheesy." Y/N teases.

Y/N leans back and gets comfortable, all thoughts of tomorrow pushed away and instead gets lost in the town of Bridgton, Maine. 

_____

It's time; everyone is making their way over. She can feel her palms begin to sweat, thankful there's a nice breeze outside to keep her cool. Y/N and her mom cooked pasta with grilled chicken and strawberry lemonade wanting to be ready for after the digging. Y/N would feel bad making them dig a hole, open a box, then head on out. These people are her friends, and she wishes to spend time with them, and what better than with food.

She's got ten minutes before everyone is due to arrive when she hears a car pull up and turn off right in front of her house. Y/N knows of only one person who shows up early.

Harry. 

Y/N thought he would be the last to arrive, but she's guessing old habits die hard. She takes a deep breath before opening the front door and walking out.

Harry would be lying if he wasn't nervous. He's about to see Y/N for the first time after years. He's seen her in photos; he knows she only continued to become more beautiful as the years passed. It's not the same as, no, because he knows what's separating them is a walk up to the door. 

He feels precisely as he did the moment he asked her out and, if he's truthful, how she made him feel their entire relationship. Harry's 26, but his heart feels 18, and at that age, he was deeply in love with the woman inside that house. He loves her just the same.

Harry takes a long deep breath before slowly letting it out. He could do this; he got out of his car and made his way up the path, where she was already standing waiting for him. It felt like no time had passed as if he was coming over to take her on a date--except they weren't even close enough to say they were friends. 

"Harry," She breathes out as he reaches the first step. 

"Hi" He sends her a small smile. "You look great." 

Y/N feels her cheek flush, and knows he can notice now that he's right in front of her. She takes in her outfit; it's simple, just a cropped red long-sleeved tee and black pants, with an old pair of black sneakers. 

"Thank you, Harry. As do you." And he really does. He's wearing loose green denim joggers with a matching jacket. He has left it open, showing a brown button-up, a silver cross necklace peeking out from the space he left unbuttoned. "Always on time still."

"Better early than late." 

She nods, not sure if she should continue the conversation or not. Are they going to stand out here in silence? It was never this hard; she hates this. Y/N rather keep talking than let themselves stand there in silence for another eight minutes. 

She clears her throat. "How'd med school go? Have you decided on a residency yet? Anne told me you were weighing your options." 

Harry doesn't try to hide his shock. "You spoke to my mum?" He asks in disbelief. 

Y/N grins as much as his English accent is fading; it always comes back when saying 'mum,' or well, when he's nervous. 

She nods. "I visit her when I visit my family. Recently passed when I came to see my mother who was feeling down and lonely as she put it even though she has dad to keep her company."

Harry smiles, knowing what weekend she was talking about because he had come the week after, and Lorelai had told him she was no longer as lonely. He thought it might have been because of his company, but it was because her daughter was home for a weekend.

When he's about to tell her where he decided, she waits patiently, staring up at him, a shy smile on her face but stops when Sydney comes and tackles Y/N in a hug. 

"Of course, Styles got first dibs on you." Sydney fakes her exasperation. 

"He knows how to be punctual." Y/N teases. "Looks like you bring the others as always." She signals seeing two more cars park; they park in the empty driveway.

"Just like old times," Zac screams out two bottles of wines in his hands. Mitch and Sarah walk up behind him, agreeing. 

Y/N looks around, and it's almost like old times. Just one small difference that makes her heartache. 

Everyone greets each other, sharing long hugs, and it's not long after that she invites everyone in and into the backyard. 

"Mom says if we mess up her roses, we are dead meat," Y/N informs them all as they all stand in a semi-circle under the spot they buried their time capsule. 

Mitch steps and pats Harry on the back. "If anything does happen, just say it was Harold. Lorelai has a soft spot for him." 

Sarah approaches water in her hand. "Y/N is her golden child who does no wrong, easy to forgive."

Y/N laughs. "Enough. No roses will be damaged. Are we clear?" 

She gets a chorus of "yes."

"Great, there are clear instructions that only Zac and Harry are allowed to shovel. Sorry, Mitch, mom said we've got to take care of your musical hands."

Mitch nods in appreciation. 

"What about the doctor? No care for him." Harry mutters a small smile on his face.

"Quiet Styles, you're a favorite still," Zac tells him, pushing a shovel into his chest. 

Y/N's happy watching the banter; it's like she's sixteen again, and they are trying to see who could dig their side of the hole faster. 

SEPTEMBER 1988 - TIME CAPSULE 

"High school friendships aren't known to last," Zac speaks out randomly, breaking everyone out of their conversations.

Harry sighs, "You're a downer." 

"I'm a realist." 

Y/N takes this in; she hasn't thought years down the line. She just assumed they would always be in her life. She can't see herself without them.

"What if we aren't friends ten years down the road?" Y/N voices.

Harry instantly picks up the concern in her voice. "I promise I won't let that happen, lovie." He assures her. 

"H, I know." 

"It's not uncommon for others to drift, especially when everyone has a different path after high school." Sydney comments. "My sister went through it."

"Let's write a letter, and we can bury it, open it ten years, but we have to do it together," Sarah suggests.

"Not a bad idea." Everyone nods in agreement.

"Let's do a letter and something important to us." Y/N proposes already having an idea of what to put.

"It's settled. We're burying a time capsule." Harry states. 

"One problem." 

"What now, Zac?" Sarah groans. 

"Where do we bury it?"

Slowly everyone turns their gaze on to Y/N. 

"Your house," Sydney tells her. 

"You all agree?" Y/n is surprised. 

"Your mom will never leave her house. It's gorgeous."

"Also," Zac chimes in, "You love it and tell us how it's going to be yours one day."

Y/N sighs and nods. "I will ask and will let you know."

_____

It took a lot to convince her mother, but her father liked the idea and supported her. Two against one, Y/N knew her mom was in a losing fight. After lots of hugs and kisses and promises of doing the dishes for two weeks straight, she got permission. 

They had decided on a Saturday, wanting to do it early in the morning, unsure how long they would take digging the hole. Her mom designated an area for them to open. 

Her mom allowed her to have the house to themselves, trusting them not to do anything but dig a hole. Y/N had everyone promise they would be on their best behavior. 

Harry and Zac volunteered to dig, and no one argued. It took over an hour for them to get a decent-sized hole. It looked tiring, but Y/N enjoyed watching Harry's muscle flex as he threw out dirt. Finally, being satisfied with the hole size, mainly Sydney, made them go longer; it was time to place their items inside. 

Y/N rewrote her letter a few times, never knowing the right thing to say. It wasn't until she was lying on the floor of her room with Harry's head in her lap did she know what she wanted to tell her future self. 

Mitch went first, putting in his first-ever guitar pic, Sarah her Walkman, Harry followed with a copy of Romeo and Juliet, Y/N a chained rose ring, she put it in but not before giving it a small kiss knowing she'd miss it. Zac decided on his baseball mitt, and Sydney threw in a signed polaroid of herself, knowing it'd be worth a lot more once she became famous for her art.

Harry locked it shut with the final object in the box and lowered it down with Mitch's help. It fit well, and they sat around as it began to fill with dirt. 

"Ten years, we'll come back and open it up." 

"Yeah, but like summertime. I'm sure we'll have more time during the summer than other months." Zac might be right for once. 

"June 1998," Sarah suggests. 

Everyone thinks about it for a second, it feels so far away, a lifetime, really, but yes, they all agree. 

Ten years' time, they will all be digging it up and will relive these moments. 

JUNE 1998 

Harry removes his jacket half an hour in, and there is nothing to complain about. He tosses it close to her side, and Y/N knows if things were different, he would have gently thrown it at her, and without a second thought, she would have put it on. She missed the times when he loved her. Because as much as she can't admit it out loud, she still loves him. 

Now she'll fake conversation with Sydney when her real focus is on Harry and how his muscles seem to grow every time he scoops some dirt out and adds to the pile. He's grown buff over the years, he was always tall and firm in high school due to football, but now he's more defined. The most significant change was in his face, more stern. Not as smiley; it might just be due to being around her. He must hate being in her presence after she broke his heart. 

Y/N lets herself get lost in thought when Zac cheers. She looks down, and peeking out in the corner is brown wood.

"We've hit gold." 

In the next five minutes, Zac and Harry dig as much of the sides as they can, and soon enough, they are lifting it out before settling it down with a big "thump." 

Y/N can't stop eyeing it; it's got dirt in every spot that meets her eye, but she knows what's waiting for her inside of that box, and she can't wait to have it with her once more. 

"Who's going to do the honors?" Mitch asks the bolt cutters in his hand, ready to hand them over.

Everyone looks around at each other; no one says a thing until Harry steps forward and reaches to take them from his hand. Mitch hands them to Harry, no question asked. Harry heads straight to Y/N; he stretches his arm out, waiting for her to accept the cutters.

"Think it's only fair Y/N does the honors, seeing as we made her do a lot of groveling to Lorelai ten or so years ago just for us to bury this; not that she let any of us know." Harry smiles, urging her to take it. Y/N fingers brush his rather quickly, but in that small second, she felt her heart rate pick up and fears he might hear it, although that is almost impossible. 

"Thank you." He nods, urging her forward. 

"Take your time, doll." Zac says sarcastically." 

Y/N is too busy getting down on her knees in front to see the glare Harry sent Zac's way. Everyone else catches the look; believe it or not, they all hope this is the moment that brings these two once lovers back again. 

"Here goes nothing." 

Y/N places the bolt cutters between the lock and counts down to three; it breaks right off the first try.

"You've got some strength!" Sydney exclaims; she was expecting it to take much longer.

Y/N lets the lock fall before reaching up and pulling the single latch. She scans everyone circling around her before opening the crate hating the creaking sound it releases. 

There on top are their most prized items from when they were sixteen. 

Sydney reaches in first, pulling out a polaroid and pink envelope. She flips it over and lets out the biggest laugh. Sydney turns the photo around, letting everyone see her in the photo wearing her then boyfriend's varsity jacket. It has her signature on the page. "I swore I was going to be famous for my art and would sell this for thousands." 

"One day." Harry offers. 

Sydney shrugs. "My boyfriend will appreciate this the most if I'm honest."

"He's that crazy for you?" Sarah asks.

Sydney nods, a shy smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm fortunate." She laughs, letting the moment pass. "Enough, Zac, please, you're next."

Zac, for the first time the whole evening, has fallen silent, almost looks nervous to reach inside. He takes a deep breath to go to the corner of the box and pull out a beat-up baseball mitt. Y/N can see his eyes well up with tears. He chuckles, "I swore I was going to go pro, but that senior injury year changed everything. In a way, Zac felt free; he got to pursue a career in travel journalism. "Enough sap, I volunteer, Harry." 

Harry nods, moving forward, sitting next to Y/N thighs touching; she feels her breath hitch; she doesn't dare move. He reaches in for the only book it's resting on the bottom, a white envelope with a scribbled 'H' on top. He sets the envelope aside but keeps the book in hand.

Harry smiles at the book in hand, Romeo and Juliet. It was not his favorite by any means, but it held a special place in his heart because it was the first book Y/N read to him when they first started dating. He remembers telling her he hated how she ignored him for words on paper, so he proposed she read to him aloud, and that way, they could bond. Y/N was thrilled at the idea; the first book was Shakespeare because it was a reading assignment, and she wanted it done that weekend.

 Harry hated the ending; he remembers ranting to Y/N as she ran her fingers through his hair to calm him down. He didn't understand why Shakespeare made these two people who were star-crossed lovers fall in love in a week only to have them die. 

Safe to say, it took a while to let Y/N read another one of Shakespeare's works. 

Y/N's eyes were on the book, and she watched as Harry carefully opened it to the first page, moving it back so that only they could read what was written on the cover page. 

It read: I've loved you for six months. I'll love you for six more. And maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to love you for life. Love, Y/N xxx

Y/N felt tears behind her eyes; she had to look away. She was so naïve at the age, but oh how she loved him, and she knew he loved her just the same. Y/N was so grateful to know she was loved, even if it was years ago.  

She doesn't want to go next; instead, Sarah reaches in to save her. Sarah pulls out her folded half of paper and her blue Walkman player. "Oh my goodness, this is going to have some golden tunes." 

Mitch chuckles, "You suffered without it. Think was the first time I ever heard you complain about something." 

Sarah sends him a playful glare. "Shut it! Why don't you go next, Mr. Sentimental."

Mitch is one to never say no to Sarah, so he shrugs and makes his way forward. Patting Harry on the shoulder causing Harry to shift closer to Y/N. Both Harry and Y/N don't say anything but don't bother to move away either. 

Sarah smiled as she watches Mitch pick up a guitar pick. It was the first one he received from his father. "Dad always said I had a guitar in hand." 

"Mitch, you've voiced your thoughts out loud." Harry jokes. 

"Funny Styles." That's the last of what Mitch says as he moves back to read his letter, and Sarah follows close behind. 

Y/N feels everyone staring, but really it's only just Harry. Everyone focused on their own letters but also waiting for a reaction. She slowly reaches in, first pulling out the pink envelope with her initial on the front; Harry wrote it for her, saying she needed a way to identify it years later. 

She sets it in her lap before reaching in and getting the item she's been thinking about all day. 

A silver rose ring. 

It was a gift from Harry; Y/N always spoke of roses and how much her mother loved them. Leading to Harry finding out she loved them just as much. He wore this ring for a long time; he found it in a store in London before they made the move here permanently. It's his last real piece of home, but Aurora had become home, and so had Y/N. It felt right to give to her. She cried, receiving it, and knew it wouldn't fit but told him not to get it resized. She surprised him by wearing it around her neck; she put it on a chain she had. There wasn't a day she wasn't seen without it. 

She holds it tightly in her hand as if Harry might rip it out of her hand, wanting it back, but it's hers, and it's special. Y/N never wants to forget her memories with Harry, no matter how much it hurts, thinking back on them. 

"I've missed it." She whispers. 

Y/N slips it over her head, letting it rest outside her shirt for all to see. She missed the look on Harry's face, but this might be the motivation he needs to speak with her. To talk about where they are now in life. 

Except Y/N stands up, brushing the dirt that was on her pants to head somewhere more private to read her letter she wrote to herself. She walks a few feet away and flips open the pink tab, pulls out a folded paper. Her eyes immediately go to the bottom of the page, wherein black ink, it says, "I love Harry (PS: he made you write that, but it doesn't make it any less true." 

Everything surrounded him; her love for him was just that large. She reads over her letter taking in the words of how her sixteen-year-old self said she was proud of her and that no matter what happens, it was all for a reason.

It's exactly what she needed to hear. 

Harry is watching Y/N stand there read her letter, and he feels the gaze of everyone else to go approach her. Years ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about it, he would have been at her side holding her hand or rubbing her back, but now he doesn't even know if they are even friends. Mitch nudges him, and he knows he should check on her, but she surprises everyone by turning around, a grin on her face. 

"Mom and I cooked lunch, so let's wash up and eat. All this sure has built up my appetite." 

"Don't have to tell me twice." Zac smiles, walking inside heading straight to the kitchen sink. 

The others begin to follow Zac inside when Y/N stops hearing her name being called. It's Harry standing by the hole, shovel in hand. 

"Should I cover it up?"

Y/N can't help the smile, Harry was always so eager to help, and she's glad his kind helping sport hasn't changed. "No, dad is going to cover it. Mom told him he needs to do more yard work. She called it bonding time." 

"Okay, if you're sure." 

"I am." 

"Let's head in then." 

As Harry is about to walk past her, she reaches her hand out, grabbing his bicep, surprising him. "Thank you." 

He nods his head. "Of course." 

Y/N sighs; there's so much left unsaid. Their breakup fresh on her mind seeing him walk away from her, bringing it all back. Oh, how she wishes things were different. 

She doesn't regret leaving for New York, but she does wonder if there was a way to have made their relationship work; would it have survived or crashed and burned. 

In a way, she's glad she never had to find out. 

Y/N puts her brave face on; she's surrounded by friends who love her and who she hasn't spoken to for longer than half an hour. She's going to soak in this time and enjoy it. 

There are other times to be sad.

MARCH 1990 - ACCEPTANCES

Y/N and Harry were both lost in thought as Harry drove them to their destination. There was a lot to think about

Harry was proud to get a full-ride football scholarship to UCLA and a partial for USC. They were close to home, and he got to play a sport he was good at. These universities were tough to get into, but he impressed the recruits. He didn't bother applying outside the state, knowing he couldn't be far from home. It felt wrong for him; he knew that wasn't the case for Y/N. 

Y/N always spoke about leaving the state. She had dreamed about it from a young age especially seeing her brother do it. Gabriel's stories only make her more excited for her future. She loved to travel, no matter the distance. 

Harry, of course, knew this; he just thought he could convince her to stay. 

Applying to schools was hard for Y/N; there were many universities she wanted to apply to, but she feared rejection, so she set a limit of six. Still, a high number; she just needed options. 

When acceptances came in, each application welcomed her. Two east coast universities offered full-ride scholarships, USC offered partial and others only half. She had the money for tuition, her parents saved for her, which she is forever thankful for but knowing she could move across the country like she always dreamed of was calling her name. 

The one thing that stopped her was Harry. 

Y/N had never known love until Harry, and she knows her leaving will jeopardize that. She also knows if she stays, she might not be happy, always stuck on the "what if?"

She was distraught as soon as she heard the news. Her mom saw her pace outside, then sit, pour herself tea then began the cycle again. Y/N dreamed of Columbia. It was her dream university, and to give that up, but also having to give up Harry, she couldn't pick; she didn't want to. 

Harry parks the car; he drove them to an abandoned cliffside that's full of wildflowers. Y/N didn't rush out of the vehicle as she once would have wanted to feel the cold breeze. Now, she stares ahead, letting the car fill with silence—neither one wanting to be the one to begin the conversation that would change everything.

"Is this the end?" Y/N asks her voice, betraying her, as she feels her throat tighten up.

Harry doesn't answer; he reaches for her hand and holds it tight. 

"It doesn't have to be. I don't want it to be." She's barely holding herself together. Y/N's staring at the side of his head, silently begging for him to meet her gaze. 

"Life isn't always as easy as the last four years have been for us," Harry tells her, finally meeting her eyes. 

"I love you. You know that, right." 

"I know." He whispers. 

Y/N shuts her eyes, repeats the words in her head she hasn't been able to voice out, knowing she's going to be breaking more than one heart right now. 

"I can't stay, Harry." Y/N blinks her tears away, but they come right back, seeing Harry holding back tears. "As much as I want to, as much as I can't let you go. I also can't stay." 

"Don't let me go then." He whispers. He reaches forward, cradling her cheek in his hand. It's the softest touch he's given her. It's as if he's trying to remember how she feels. 

"It's not fair." 

"I don't care." Y/N reaches forward to wipe the tear away that managed to escape. 

"But I do." 

"I don't care." He tries again, Harry can't let her go. She's his life, he's too young to know about forever, but he doesn't want to live a life without her. "I'll go with you."

Y/N lets her tears begin to fall at his words. "No." Her voice firm. "It's over if you leave."

Harry pulls back, hurt by her words but Y/N's just as upset. 

She lets go of her hold on him and hurries out of the car. Harry yells her name, begging her to come back, but she's too busy crying to listen to him. Soon enough, she's surrounded by trees, and there are two trails to follow, but she can't pick; it is faith mocking her in the smallest of ways. Instead, she settles for sitting right in the center on a patch of grass. 

Y/N sits hunched over, crying; that's how Harry finds her. He doesn't say a word. He sits next to her and pulls her into his lap. 

"I'm sorry. So sorry, darling." 

Harry begins to rock her back and forward, letting his tears all as he rests his chin on top of her head. Begins to whisper sweet nothings, just wanting her close. He hates that they are causing each other this hurt. 

Y/N's cries have stopped; she sniffles from time to time. The holds she has on Harry is iron tight as if he'd vanish if she let go for even a second."

"Summer." She whispers, breaking the silence. 

"What?" Harry is not sure what she can mean.

"We have Summer."

"Yeah, we do." 

"We have to let each other go at the end of Summer." Her tone is final.

"Y/N-"

Y/N stops him, "Harry, I'm not letting you give up your dreams for me, and I know you won't let me do the same."

"I can't say goodbye," He confesses. 

"Then we won't. We'll kiss goodnight and pretend like we'll see each other in the morning." 

"That's heartbreaking, love." He chuckles bitterly.

"I love you, Harry Styles." 

"And I love you, my angel." 

Harry is done crying, instead leans in and kisses her like he should have done earlier as soon as he had parked the car. The kiss is fast, not soft like all the kisses he's used to giving her, no he wants her to remember this kiss. He wants her to feel everything he isn't saying. 

I love you. You're mine. You're my best friend. I will love you forever. He wants her to feel it all. 

"Show me you love me." Y/N pulls back breathless, lips plush begging to be kissed again. Harry knows what she's asking, and he's not one to deny her. 

He stands up, confusing her, but he comes prepared. Harry walks for the blanket he dumped a few feet away from them, grabbing it and spreading it out. Y/N is quick to lay back on the soft blanket. It warms her instantly. She smiles, reaching her hand up as Harry leans over her, his bottom half straddling her waist, her hand intertwining in his soft curls. Y/N brings him down for a kiss needing his touch to be close. 

Harry and Y/N are wrapped in their own world, lost in their kiss; it's always been them against the world, but soon they are going to venture off separately. It's something that neither of them wants to wrap their head around, and they won't not until they have to. 

They will enjoy graduation together, hand in hand receiving diplomas. Y/N will deliver a beautiful valedictorian speech. The joint graduation party will be a joy and one they sneak away from to spend watching the moon reflect over the ocean. It's the one place they feel at peace, the sea being a favorite of both of theirs. The Summer will bring endless days out, travels up the coast of California even as far as making it to San Francisco for a trip. There is not a second where they don't spend time together, and their parents understand; it breaks their heart, but it's their future, and all they can do is support them. Their love will only grow this Summer which makes it more heartbreaking when they say goodbye in August.

But none of that matters because, for now, they have each other, and that is enough. 

Harry pulls back, leaning his forehead against hers, their breaths mixing together. 

"I love you." 

"I love you so much; it's not going away just because--" Harry stops, not being able to voice the words out loud. He can't say it, or he'll start crying. 

"I know, dove." She trails her finger up his chest until they right over his heart. Y/N can feel how fast it's beating; it beats for her. "Maybe a day will come where we can be together again, that's if you don't find someone else, which I understand if you do."

"It's not going to happen." 

"You don't know that," She mutters. 

"Hey, I love you. No one is going to love me like you do. I'd be a fool to love someone else." Y/N settles her chin on his chest. She's staring into his eyes, trying to find a hint of a lie, but there is none. There's only love and sadness in his green orbs. 

"I love you too."

Harry sighs; there's not much they can do to brighten the mood. "You know what we can do?"

"What?" 

"Make a summer bucket list. First on my list is to kiss the prettiest girl I know every day." She laughs, making Harry break out in a big grin. "Lucky for you, that happens to be you." He tells her, booping her nose with his index finger.

Y/N laughs; it's only March. She has the rest of Spring and all of Summer to love Harry. To love him with every bone and cell in her body because that last day will come sooner than she likes. 

_____

The end of Summer arrived, and she bid Harry goodnight with a kiss at the door like normal, like he was going to show up tomorrow bright and early for breakfast and kisses, but that wasn't the case. It was goodbye, even though neither of them could admit it. 

Y/N and Harry walked away from each other; they didn't say no contact, but it was like they both silently agreed on it because there was no letters or calls to each other, no visits to each other's homes, no visiting each other parents, at least not in the beginning

The love was there, but life goes on.

JUNE 1998

After a delicious meal and second servings, everyone sits back stuffed. Everyone enjoyed a lovely home-cooked meal with entertaining conversation. Y/N enjoyed watching it happen, not participating much in conversation. She never was that interesting, she felt, always let her friends carry the conversation. She could feel Harry glance at her from time to time, but Y/N still hasn't recovered, knowing that Harry's most prized possession at sixteen was a book she wrote a note in. 

Y/N wonders if he's regretting that now. 

"Have we overstayed our welcome?" Zac asks, taking Y/N's silence as something terrible.

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're fine. I like listening, fascinating conversations going on."

"Come on, share something with us." Zac urges her.

"Uhh… med school has been going well. Have all of the Summer off, might do some sightseeing before going home." 

"Yeah, driving home to Massachusetts instead of taking a plane like a normal person." Sydney winces at the thought, not at all wanting to think about the pit stops she had to make. 

"Maybe not the smartest idea, but I encountered zero troubles; my baby, Twila, runs smoothly." 

"Should get her checked out again before leaving." Harry comments.

Y/N nods. "Dad's been on my ass about that as well, but I've got no rush, especially since all I ever do here is walk around town." 

"Enough car talk, let's talk about the time Zac got his clothes stolen after gym class sophomore year." Sarah sets them off on a never-ending conversation of memories.

As soon as one story is finished, a new one is being shared. Y/N forgot most of these, but as her friends tell them, she feels each memory unlock and surfacing. The conversation goes on forever, with no end in sight because that's how friendship is; it's never-ending. Especially when all they did for four years was hanging out together, creating these memories they now are so fond of. 

It's around seven o'clock, the sun begins to set when everyone decides to head home. She walks them out, giving them hugs and promises of seeing each other again before everyone leaves town. Y/N notices Harry lingering by, but she doesn't say anything.

Y/N waves goodbye to Sarah and Mitch when Harry comes to stand by her. She waits for him to say goodbye, not going to rush him, which is why what he says next surprised her. 

"Do you want help cleaning up?" 

Harry looks shy, asking, and Y/N knows he's about to take it back, so she nods. "That'd be great." 

She walks back in, and Harry follows close behind, making sure to lock the door, just in case. "I'll rinse, and you put it in the dishwasher. Okay?" 

"Okay, yes." 

They begin to work in silence, the only sound of the running water. Y/N wonders if he's going to stay longer or if he's going to leave right after. 

God, she could really go for a glass of wine. 

As Y/N hands him the last plate, she dries her hand with the red dish towel before handing a white one over to Harry, who thanks her quietly. 

She leans back against the counter, debating asking him to stay for a drink or not. Harry catches her staring and smiles, unleashing the dimples. It seems he made the decision for her. 

"Do you want a glass of wine?" Y/N turns around, reaching up for a glass for herself, not wanting to face him just in case he rejects her. 

"Wine sounds great." 

Y/N grabs two stemmed wine glasses and opens the bottle of red wine rather quickly; she's surprised her hands aren't shaking because she's so nervous. She fills both glasses halfway before stepping forward to hand Harry his cup.

"Thank you." 

"No problem." 

Harry takes a sip, humming at the taste. Y/N isn't sure where Zac got the bottle. She's just happy it tastes good. 

"Do you want to sit outside, watch the sunset on the steps?" 

Harry agrees and steps out, holding the door open for her. She sits down, leaving room for Harry. He leaves a small space in between them. 

"I love sunsets, never the same." 

"Same as sunrises." 

"I'm not a morning person as I once was, a bit of a night owl." She shares.

"Oh really, why is that?" 

"I'm not sure." Y/N knows that's a lie; what she wanted to say is because she has no one to wake up to. No one to give morning kisses or morning cuddles. 

"You must still love mornings." 

"I do." He chuckles. "I do three-mile runs each morning." 

"Three!" She gasps. "I'd be tired the entire day; I prefer going on hikes or long walks." 

"Used to it already." 

"Pity, to your partner. Stealing cuddles from them." She mutters, taking a sip of her wine, hoping he didn't hear. 

Harry wants to respond, not sure if she was asking or stating. Oh, how he wishes he could know what she was thinking.

"Didn't know you were interested in medicine, Harry." 

"I wasn't, not until my injury." He rubs his shoulder as if he remembered the pain. "After finding out, I was done for; I just needed something entirely different. My physical therapist spoke about his journey to entering the field. He told me to enter something that captured my attention and something I would never get tired of learning about. It led me to psychiatry. My professors were great guidance." 

"John Hopkins, right?" 

"Yes, the very one." 

"Tough school." 

He laughs out loud, hand on his belly. "You're telling me, miss dean's list each semester. Graduating with highest honors from Harvard." 

"You know me, my head always stuck in a book." 

"Still don't take compliments." 

"Makes me feel weird. I love what I do; I can't wait to start and just learn it all. This sponge I call my brain is ready to absorb it all."

"I'm sure you're going to do amazing." 

"Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." She pats his knee before quickly retracting her hand back into her lap.

"Where is your residency?" Harry looks at her, a frown on his face. "Don't think I asked you." 

"Well, Harvard medical was a dream, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye, so I accepted Massachusetts General. I really love the environment they have in the hospital." She sets her wine glass down, turning her body to look at Harry. She misses the look of shock on his face. "Everyone is so kind--"

"Y/N," He tries, but she continues on.

"I went for a tour, and it was busy and crowded, but they were so kind with the children. When I entered the pediatrics ward, I just knew it's where I had to be."

"Y/N," 

"I already know who I'm going to be working under, and she's--" 

"Love," Harry tries his gaze on her face hoping to get a reaction.

That shuts Y/N right up; it has been a long time since she last heard that term of endearment. 

Her eyes are on Harry; he has her full attention. He can tell she's a bit stunned, but his news is life-changing. "I have my residency at Massachusetts General." 

"You what?" She was not expecting that news. Harry is in the same hospital as her. "Are you saying?" 

"We would have run into each other if we hadn't come home for the time capsule, yes." He answers for her. 

"Fate," she whispers.

Harry nods, eyes shining with tears. That one word was enough for Harry to know she might feel the same. 

He sees Y/N's eyes flicker to his lips, going back to his eyes, then leans in. He does the same, wanting to feel her close more than ever. 

"Y/N, you left the-" Harry and Y/N spring apart, the moment gone started by her mother. "Oh, hello, Harry."

Harry clears his throat, standing up to offer the woman who startled him a hug. "Hello Lorelai, wonderful to see you."

"How's your mother?"

"She's well. Left yesterday to visit my nephews for the weekend." 

"That's nice." 

The three now stand outside together, Y/N rocking back and forth on her heels, not able to standstill. 

"Truly wasn't expecting to see you," Lorelai tells him.

"We were catching up" Harry smiles at Y/N. "We were keeping each other company." 

"Very kind." 

"I should get going; it's late." Feeling as if he overstayed his welcome. 

Lorelai senses the tension a second too late as Harry is saying his goodbyes. "Well, please do stop by before you leave town." 

"Of course." 

"I'll walk you out." Y/N smiles at her mother as she leads Harry out through the side gate, personally wanting to avoid a run-in with her father.

Y/N, true to her word, walks him to his car; he is about to round his car, heading to the driver's seat but stops.

"Y/N?" His voice was shaky.

"Yes, Harry."

"Let's have dinner together." He rushes out in one go.

"Harry…" She pauses, "I--" 

He interrupts her. "Don't tell me you have a--" he trails off, not wanting to say the word.

"Course not." She replies quickly.

"But,"

Y/N takes a deep breath, taking a moment to get her thoughts together. "I won't do this unless this is it. This is the time I'm yours again. For good." 

"You've always been mine." He steps forward, hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She lets out a sigh, feeling a sense of peace take over her body. "Eight years and no one compared. No one ever will." 

"H." He can see the tears in her eyes. 

"I mean it. I've always been in love with you. I will always be in love with you. It will always be you."

Y/N closes the gap between them; they are the closest they have been in eight years. She searches his face for any sign of doubt but finds none. Only sees love in his beautiful emerald eyes.

"I love you." She confesses feeling a weight leave her shoulders as the words leave her mouth for the first time in years. "I never stopped. I will never stop." 

"Sweetest words I have ever heard. Words I want to hear forever." Harry's smile is one she had never seen before; it's wide, and she swears it reaches the sky. His eyes hold a shine they never have before. 

There's one last thing she needs for this moment to be perfect.

"Please kiss me."

"With pleasure." 

She's never dreamed of this moment in fear of it not happening, but it finally is, and Y/N swears she feels the stars aligned just for them. Harry's lips were getting closer, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She parted her lips and felt him washing over like a wave of warmth. She finally felt at home. Her whole body tingled, the feel of his frame leaning on jets as his arms wrapped around her tightly, afraid that she'd disappear. Y/N's fingers slowly moved up Harry's chest until they tangled with the back of his short curls. She tugged, needing more, feeling her legs buckle at the moan Harry let out. 

All she felt was love, and she wanted to feel it forever. Y/N let Harry pull away; he didn't go far, letting his forehead rest on hers. Their breaths mix together. There's a bashful smile on Y/N's face, but this moment feels too good to be true. 

Harry and Y/N stand there wrapped in each other's arms, lost in each other's gaze as if no one else existed and there was no risk of interruption. 

"I'll be here at noon tomorrow, going to take you out if you'll let me." 

"Yes, H. I accept." She kisses him softly two more times before unwrapping herself from him, putting a bit of distance between each other, or they very well would stand there all night kissing. 

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." She confirms 

Harry steals one last kiss, short and sweet, before getting in his car. He sends her a kiss that she pretends to catch and places it over her heart. 

She knows he is blushing even though she can't see it. 

As he drives away from her, all the hurt and pain of not having him washes away. Harry is hers, and she is his. 

All is right. 

Their paths finally crossed again, and this time there would be no final goodbye. 

_____

Harry showed up the day after as promised. Y/N was eagerly waiting, she had felt time go slow when they had been apart, but it's a monumental day because once again, after so many years, Harry and Y/N are finally reunited. 

She waited on the steps of her house like she used to when she was a teen waiting for him to pick her up and take her out on a date. It was bringing back the best memories. Harry parked right in front, and just as he was rounding his car to go meet her, she was in front of jumping in his car.

"Woah!" Harry was fast to react, only stumbling a little put holding her tight. "This is a nice welcome." He teases.

"Can you blame me? I missed you." She tells him, nuzzling her face in his neck. 

"Missed you too, love. Eight years, I've missed you." 

"Don't start, H. Don't want to cry. We're here now." 

"You're right." 

Y/N has Harry set her down; they stand there smiling at each other, taking each other in. 

"Up for a drive?" 

She nods. "Will you drive me to the moon?" 

"Anywhere you want, angel." 

Harry drives them to one place she hasn't visited because of the memory it holds. She's guessing it's because he wants to create new, better ones. 

"It's still beautiful here." She looks out through the window, not wanting to leave the safety of the car. She wants to stay close to Harry. 

Y/N sits in silence with Harry holding each other's hands, allowing each other to just enjoy this time together. The calmness of being loved and feeling loved. She knows there are lots to talk about, but she settles for the quietness for now. 

She's not sure how much time has passed, but she's now facing Harry, and he's toying with the rose ring hanging on her neck.

"Y/N," he whispers; she lifts her gaze from his lilac nails and hums for him to go on. "I have to ask." She lets his words sit in their silence. She knows what he's asking, the same thing running through her mind. 

"No." She frowns. "It felt wrong. I could never-- it was never you." 

Harry can tell she feels sheepish confessing this. 

She chuckles dryly. "I must sound lame; the last person I kissed was you eight years ago."

"No, it's not." He assures her. 

She sighs, "Harry." 

"It was the same for me. My friends tried to set me up multiple times, but it felt like cheating. No one understood." 

"So you haven't…" She trails off. 

"Well acquainted with my hand." He jokes.

She burst out laughing, and seconds later, Harry is as well. Their joyous laugh fills the car but also their hearts. 

"I love you." She breathes out, trying to catch her breath.

"And I love you." 

"Want to know a secret," she asks him.

He nods.

She turns her head to the window; she can see herself and Harry in the reflection. His eyes on her full of adoration. 

"I wrote you letters, hundreds. I've lost count, really, but I've got a box full; they are locked up in mom's attic." Y/N turns, looking back at Harry; there's a soft look on his face. "I wanted to send them, but I couldn't. I didn't want to interfere."

"Darling, that's-" he chokes up, tears escaping him. "Can I read them?" 

Y/N nods, "Of course, they were intended for you after all."

"Will you read them with me?" 

"Sure, if that's what you want." 

"Do you want to know something now?"

Y/N reaches forward and brushes a loose curl back. "Tell me." 

"Each book I've read, I have written a dedication in it for you." 

"What?" She says, surprised. 

"The new bookshelf in mom's living room is filled with books." He waits for her to nod before continuing on. "All books for you."

"Harry," It's her turn to cry now, it seems.

"Thought about you just as much, angel." 

"Do you think we did the right thing, letting each other go?" 

"I do."

"Why?" 

"It brought us together again. Sure it was the time capsule, but there is also Massachusetts." He reminds her.

"Isn't that wild?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "Same residency."

"It was fate, angel. Like you said last night." 

"Yeah, guess fate had a plan, after all, dove." 

Harry chokes up, tears welling up in his eyes. "What did you say?" 

"Fate had a plan."

"After."

"Dove," she breathes out, not even noticing she slipped it in; it came out like second nature. "You're my dove, my kind man, the love of my life." 

Harry grabs her face and connects his lips to hers. It's not soft; it's fast and hot but full of love. She leaned back, feeling the heat in her cheeks. Harry chases her lips, not finished yet. She lets him kiss her as he pressed soft pecks on her lips, liking the feel of her soft lips. 

"Is it too soon to ask to marry you?" Harry asks, trailing kisses down her neck. 

"No, never too soon." She giggles as he kisses a soft spot right under her jaw. "If I recall, I asked you one too many times during high school." 

Harry chuckles, nodding. "Should have accepted sooner." 

She looks at him, not being able to contain her laughter, knowing very well he should have.

"Marry me." He asks, all traces of laughter gone. He holds his breath, waiting for a response. 

"Yes, of course, dove." 

Harry seals it with a kiss. She accepted, and yes, it may seem rushed, but they aren't getting any younger. Their love was put on hold, and now because the time is right, they get to pick up as if no time passed at all. 

They are different people, but Harry and Y/N have only become more perfect for one another. 

2000 DECEMBER - MASSACHUSETTS 

Her eyes snap open, and she quickly sits up, throwing the blanket off herself feeling hot and unfocused, startling Harry making him drop the Pop-Tart he was eating to fall on his chest. 

She looks back at Harry, sitting up with crumbs covering his mouth and half-eaten brown sugar cinnamon sitting on top of his black sweats. 

Y/N can't help but laugh at the sight in front of her, her nightmare now pushed aside. 

"You're laughing." He pouts. "You gave me a proper scare." 

She frowns, "I had a bad dream." 

"Yeah, want to talk about it?" 

She shakes her head no, instead asking him an important question. "Why are you eating Pop-Tarts in bed?" She picks up the broken half and takes a bite, appreciating the strong cinnamon flavor. 

"I got hungry, but I didn't want to leave you alone, and honestly, I'd never willingly leave your cuddles." 

"Did you bring me my own?" She mutters, swallowing the last piece of his.

"Why, of course, I'm no monster." 

"What time are you going in today?" She asks as she opens up the package handing him half since she ate his. He happily accepts. 

"Noon." 

She glances at the alarm clock and sees it is only nine am. She mumbles an 'okay,' settling herself to lay her head on his chest. 

"How are you spending your day off?" His hand running through her hair, always wanting to be touching her in some way.

"In bed." 

Harry doesn't like that. "Still feeling sick." He states.

"Yes, but I'm fine." 

"Okay, but we do work in a hospital." He playfully reminds her.

She lets out a deep sigh. "I'll have Annie check on me tomorrow." 

"Thank you." He kisses her temple, definitely leaving crumbs of food behind.

"I love you, Harry." 

"I love you too." 

Y/N and Harry had come a long way from the Summer of 98'. They got back together and were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Their families were thrilled at the news of them getting back together and even happier when they learned about their shared residency location. 

That Summer led them to where they are now; two years into their residency programs and one year into marriage. 

Harry could not wait; he had wanted to take her to city hall for a quick signature but knew she deserved better. They were wed in the botanical garden under the beautiful flower arch she dreamed of. It was the wedding she always dreamed of; it was small and beautiful. Only their closest friends and family were in attendance. Their wedding photo; Harry gazing at her as if she put all the stars in the sky and Y/N smiling at the camera. It sits framed on Y/N's bedside. He decided it went there, so when he turns to look over at her, he sees all of her beauty laid out for him and the happiest day of his life. 

Harry had fought her on changing her last name, wanting her to be called Doctor Y/LN because she worked for it and was a man who wanted his wife to shine and do all she set her mind to. Harry went as far as suggesting hyphenating but still no. She changed her last name to 'Styles.' Y/N told him she spent years dreaming about it in high school, even years later when he wasn't by her side. It's an honor to share his last name because one day, their future children would as well. 

Y/N has a year left in her pediatrics residency, and Harry has two years to go. She has her fellowship to think about, which will add three more years; her focus on Critical Care Medicine. Harry has decided on Addiction Psychiatry which is only a year-long, but he's got his last two years to worry about first. 

Life has been going well, they've had their fair share of arguments but nothing they can't fix. Harry can't say he doesn't love making up; it always leads to a good time.

They didn't know what life had in store for him but looking around at the photos they have hanging up, a picture of Mitch and Sarah's little boy Nathaniel who only gets bigger every time they see him. A photo of Sydney showing off her engagement ring, face full of tears but smile large; Zac off traveling the country smiling in his picture of him visiting the Grand Canyon part of his trip to visit each National Park and document his journey. 

This group of six friends is living their dreams; at sixteen, none of them know what life would be like twelve years down the road, but if it wasn't for each of them having this friendship and deciding to bury a time capsule, they might not be where they are right not; happier and more in love than ever. 

Harry and Y/N are filled with love and know life couldn't be better than it is; incredibly grateful to be in love and be loved back just the same. 

Little do they know their love will soon have to be shared.

_____

Thank you so much for reading! 

I love you and I hope you loved this story <3

[classyklancey]

White Magnolia

Pairing: Keith Kogane x Lance McClain Genre: fluff (pining idiots) Warnings: Keith is so in love it’s gross Summary: Lance convinces Keith to go on a road trip with him to California. Keith struggles to hide his pining Word Count: 3.5k words A/N: this was supposed to be posted for Lance’s birthday but oh well-

Keith doesn’t know why he decided to indulge Lance in such a crazy fantasy. One minute Lance is just rambling about what he misses about Cuba and the next, Lance is driving them both from Texas to California in his blue Tacoma. Keith really can’t find it in him to complain though with the way the sun is shining on Lance’s beautiful bronze skin and the wind is blowing through his brown, curly locks.

What Keith can complain about though is Lance’s terrible taste in music. For some reason, Lance’s road trip playlist—which is mysteriously called ‘Not a thing to do, but talk to you. WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! HELLO WISCONSIN!’ and no matter how much Keith asks, Lance refuses to tell him why it’s called that—is mostly consisted of 90s songs. Being the pining idiot that he is though, Keith can’t find it in him to do any more than light teasing in Lance’s direction as he screeches all the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

One song does however catch Keith’s attention, especially since Lance immediately tries to skip it. “What was that?” Keith asks, smashing his pointer finger against the back button on the radio to bring it back to the song that Lance is currently blushing over.

“Nothing! Stop hitting the back button!” Lance screeches as he keeps trying to skip it only for Keith to hit the back button. They do this three or four times before Lance reaches his right hand over to smack and hit Keith. Keith grunts with every hit that Lance lands, not even noticing that the song he’s been trying to skip is finally playing.

When I first saw you, I saw love And the first time you touched me, I felt love And after all this time You're still the one I love, mmm, yeah-yeah

Keith starts to blush along with Lance, his hand smacking Lance’s away and finally bringing the brunette’s attention back to the song playing. Lance hurriedly skips it and looks at Keith out of the corner of his eye, but Keith pretends not to see as he looks out the window. Keith just assumes that Lance is embarrassed for having such a lovey-dovey song playing with Keith here, but Keith can’t help but feel that this is their song.

Keith is a stupid man who has been stupidly in love with someone who will never return his feelings for as long as they’ve known each other. Keith instantly took a liking to Lance despite having never even had a conversation together. Keith had always admired that Lance was so outspoken and friendly with everyone he met.

Well, except for Keith.

No, you see, Lance had somehow decided that Keith was his rival and that Lance would take him down. First, it was little things, like Lance trying to do better than him on quizzes and he’d brag each and every time he’d even get one single point more than Keith. That was annoying but it wasn’t too bad, Keith could handle that. It slowly began to escalate though over time until it turned to them yelling in each other’s faces and having to be pulled away from one another before it got physical. All that ended up doing was causing Keith to shut him out and pretend he didn’t even exist despite the fact that he could barely keep his eyes off of the blue-eyed Cuban. They ended up getting into the same friend group though since Hunk is friends with Lance, Keith is friends with Pidge, and Hunk and Pidge are friends with each other. It didn’t take them long to bring Keith and Lance together, even though it did take a long, long time. The duo eventually started to see each other as friends and became as thick as thieves.

Keith always craved for more though.

Keith is knocked out of his reminiscing when Lance curses because he missed a turn, his frown instantly becoming a smile when one of his favorite songs comes on. Lance goes back to screaming the words which causes Keith’s grey eyes to roll towards the back of his head. Despite his supposed annoyance, his heart is doing tricks in his chest whenever Lance grows focused on driving, which causes his screeching to become light, melodic singing.

Keith is starting to believe that this is what heaven would be like.

Keith’s eyes focus on Lance’s right hand that rests on the gear shift, his fingers tapping along to whatever annoying song he is playing. Keith suddenly has the urge to reach out and tangle their fingers together, to compare who’s hand is bigger and how their skin tones contrast beautifully.

This all repeats for a while, along with occasional chatter, for about eight hours before Lance grows too tired to drive on anymore. They have about twelve more hours to drive and Keith offers to drive while Lance sleeps, but Lance has an odd reaction. He claims he doesn’t trust Keith to drive ‘his baby’ but something Lance doesn’t know is that Keith has become a bit of a Lance expert. If they’re getting food and Lance says he doesn’t want any, what he really is saying is he doesn’t want to make Keith pay since he forgot his wallet. If Lance seems off and says he’s fine when Keith asks about it, what he really means is that he’s not okay but he wants to appear strong in front of everyone.

So, when Lance says he doesn’t trust Keith to drive his car, what he’s really saying is that he wants them to enjoy the ride there together. ‘It’s called a road trip for a reason, Keith.’ Keith doesn’t fight him on it and offers that they get some food before spending the night in a motel.

After getting some extremely greasy fast food and talking until really late, they finally head into their crappy and very worrisome motel. They both stop in the doorway when they find that there’s only one bed, making both of them stare at it in silence.

“I can sle—”

“I don’t mind tak—”

They both go quiet again when they both talk at the same time, both of their bodies turned slightly away from each other. Lance sighs and places his bag onto a small table by the door, starting to unzip it to pull out all his nightly routine items. “Look, why don’t we just share the bed? The floor is absolutely disgusting and I’m afraid one of us would catch something if we even tried sitting on it,” Lance says as he pulls everything out and begins heading for the bathroom. He makes a face when he walks inside of it before turning to smile at Keith and shooting him his signature wink.

Keith sighs and sets his bag on the chair by the table, deciding that he really didn’t want to sleep on the gross floor nor did he want to make Lance do it. Lance would probably complain about it through the entire night and all of his life if he ended up sleeping there anyway. Keith changes into his pajamas right there seeing as how Lance has seen Keith shirtless many times. Not that he ever seems to notice Keith’s shirtlessness…

The same doesn’t go for Keith though. Oh, no no. Keith has become the master at staring at Lance without getting caught. Well, sometimes he does and each time he’s caught, his face erupts in color. Lance always just assumes it’s from their recent workout or being out in the sun too long. Keith thanks God every day for Lance’s obliviousness despite the fact that he’s not religious. Keith catches himself staring at Lance more than the Cuban man does. He can’t help himself though. Lance has the looks of a god, what with his smooth, caramel skin, thick, curly hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, perfectly straight, white teeth, and the list goes on. Keith’s pretty sure he could write a whole book—no, a trilogy—on Lance’s perfect body. The thing Keith hates the most about his stupid crush though is that it’s not just his body that he likes. No, that would make Keith’s life easier and he’s pretty sure that the universe is out to spite him. No, Keith has to like all of Lance. His bad puns, his stupid finger guns, his cheesy pick-up lines, his corny sense of humor, his everything. Keith wants all of him more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“Alright, bathroom’s yours!” Lance calls as he walks back over to his bag, smiling when he sees that Keith is wearing the pajama set that Lance had gotten him for Christmas one year. “No way!” Lance shouts in glee before rushing to his bag to pull out his matching pair. Keith sighs down at his red pajamas before looking at Lance’s blue pajamas.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he grumbles as he walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I’m not doing anything!” Lance huffs as he starts pulling on his own pjs. Once they are all ready for bed, they stand at the foot of it in another silence.

“So, uh, what side of the bed do you want?” Lance mumbles. Keith shrugs, not really caring either way what side he gets. “Cool, can I get the left side then?” he continues, already moving onto that side of the bed before Keith can even reply. Keith huffs a laugh through his nose before crawling onto the right side. Both of them lay on top of the covers, too scared of what lies beneath the covers to let their skin touch it. Good thing Arizona is such a warm state cause Keith would think he’d freeze otherwise. Guess it also helps that their AC unit doesn’t work anyway.

Unlike Lance, Keith has always been an early riser, so he’s not surprised when he wakes up before the brunette. What he is surprised to find though is that Lance is laying on his chest softly snoring away. Keith’s arms are wrapped around Lance’s torso and he can’t help but to squeeze him a little tighter, hoping that this isn’t a dream. Keith then finds that the still snoozing dork is sweating buckets, if Lance’s semi-damp clothes are anything to go by. Keith’s nose wrinkles at how gross they are but, of course, Keith’s poor weak heart starts beating faster at the fact that they’re cuddling.

And maybe Keith’s wildly beating heart is what causes Lance to stir and to slowly blink his eyes open. He’s letting out a yawn and beginning to stretch before halting in the middle of it, his eyes growing as wide as plates. He suddenly jerks away from Keith, doing so in such a harsh way that it causes him to tumble to the floor with a scream. Keith laughs and sits up, crawling over to Lance’s side of the bed to look over the edge at him. He finds Lance frowning and glaring up at the amused look on Keith’s face.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles up at Keith, his frown turning into a pout as he sits up. Keith helps Lance up before offering Lance the bathroom first. Lance’s face warms as he stares at where he was once laying, Keith’s brow-raising up at him as he just stands there gawking. He then clears his throat and forces out a bad joke before scurrying to the bathroom.

They both take turns showering and while Lance is taking his, Keith lets his mind wander while he lays on the stiff bed. Keith’s stupid heart makes his stupid brain wonder what it would be like to wake up beside Lance every day, seeing the dried drool on the corner of his mouth and witnessing his sleepy blue eyes come to life the moment they see Keith.

Keith snaps out of his daydream when the bathroom door swings open and reveals a glistening Lance emerging with rolls of steam curling around his body. Keith recognizes the hypnotizing smell of Lance’s vanilla shampoo all the way from the bed, making his heart flutter with the familiar scent.

After Keith takes a brisk shower, they are on the road again. They stop to get breakfast at a diner before leaving the town that they stopped in. It isn’t until they’re in California that they stop again, this time pulling over onto the side of the road. Keith is about to ask why Lance is pulling over when Lance leans against the car and just looks out in front of him. Keith finally takes his eyes off of Lance to look at what Lance has stopped to admire.

When he turns his head, he sees just what Lance is marveling at. Before them are dozens of white magnolia trees that Keith begins marveling at right along with Lance. Keith slowly gets out of the car and leans against it beside Lance, his eyes finding the side of Lance’s face every few seconds. Keith’s eyes widen when Lance suddenly grabs his hand and begins tugging him towards the trees. “Lance! What are you doing? What about the truck?” Keith hollers. Lance just laughs and continues dragging him along without a care in the world, smiling when they reach the sweet-smelling trees.

Lance starts to hum a song as they weave their way between all of the trees, Keith’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest with the way the wind is blowing some of the petals and flowers off of the tree and onto Lance’s hair. They spend quite some time there, their hands still clasped together as they wander around. Keith and Lance end up racing from one tree to another and arguing about who clearly won. Once they settle on that it’s a draw (even though it most definitely wasn’t, Lance), they sit down beneath one of the larger trees to escape the unforgiving sun. They lean against each other and talk about any and everything, Keith’s heart threatening to pop out of his chest when Lance keeps mindlessly playing with Keith’s hands. Lance stops telling a story of something that happened last summer mid-sentence when a whole magnolia flower lands in his lap.

“These are edible, you know,” he says as he picks it up, studying it like it’s one of the greatest wonders of the world.

“What?” Keith asks, not being sure if he should trust Lance or not. This could be revenge when Keith told him that a flower he found on their weekly hike was good and tasted like cinnamon. Lance had been suspicious but ended up going for it anyway and immediately regretting it. Lance just about strangled Keith but Keith had laughed so hard that tears were falling down his face. It made Lance’s job of strangling Keith easier though since his body was so weak from laughter.

“Yeah. They’re actually pretty good. They have a mild ginger taste,” he explains. Before Keith can tell him to prove it, he’s already taking a bite. Keith watches with wide eyes as he chews and swallows, a soft smile coming to his face. Either it’s actually good or Lance is an amazing actor. He offers the flower to Keith and Keith decides to go for it just as Lance went for it when their situation was reversed. Keith found that he was, in fact, not lying.

When Lance finally decides they can leave, Keith stops him with a soft smile. He reaches up, tugs one of the flowers from the tree, and then faces Lance, finding his perfectly waxed brows furrowed together. Keith’s smile grows more as he tucks the flower behind Lance’s ear, causing the Cuban’s face to erupt with color.

Keith has changed his mind. This is what heaven must be like.

Lance finally lets Keith choose some music to play once they continue driving, his hand always coming up to tuck the flower back down behind his ear whenever the wind threatens to blow it away. When Keith plays some of his music though, of course Lance complains about the songs. Keith can tell he doesn’t have any malice behind his words though.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t loud and dizzying, Mullet?” Lance jabs, turning to look at him with a crooked smile when they come to a stop at a light. Keith scoffs and turns his gaze away from the many shops lining the street to face Lance.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t repetitive and annoying?” he fires right back with his usual smirk. Lance scoffs just like Keith did before turning his eyes back onto the road, his fingers going back to tapping on the gear shift, which brings Keith’s gaze back to his hand.

When they finally reach their destination in California, the sun is slowly starting to sink towards the horizon. Lance rushes out of the truck stop that they had decided to stop at when he notices it. “Mullet! C’mon! Hurry up! We are going to miss it!” Keith can’t really take him seriously when he’s wearing dollar sign shades that he bought in the gift shop. He’s sure he looks just as ridiculous with his alien eyes shades.

“Miss what?” he asks as he follows Lance at a much slower pace to his truck. Lance doesn’t reply though. Instead, he rips them out of the parking lot before Keith even has his door shut, making Keith screech and holler at him to slow down despite his laughter. He realizes why Lance was in such a big hurry when Lance parks and then flies out of his truck. Keith follows Lance down to the beach, a soft ‘wow’ leaving him when he sees the pretty blue water reflecting the sun that has just touched the horizon. Lance doesn’t seem to think Keith is going fast enough though, seeing as how he snatches his hand up and once again starts dragging him towards the coastline.

When Lance’s bare feet touch the water—wait, when did he take off his shoes?—the biggest smile that Keith has ever seen spreads across Lance’s face. Hunk wasn’t kidding when he told Keith that Lance belongs in the water. Keith smiles and gives his hand a squeeze before turning to look at the setting sun, not even caring that his boots are getting wet right now.

When the sun is gone behind the ocean’s waves, Keith notices they are facing each other with their hands tightly grasped together. Keith isn’t sure how they got into this position but what he is sure of though is that he’s never wanted to kiss Lance more than in this very moment.

“Keith…” Lance suddenly interrupts the peacefulness with a whisper, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy the longer he stares at Keith. Keith is momentarily shocked into silence when Lance uses his name instead of ‘Mullet’ but quickly recovers when he notices Lance slowly getting closer to him.

“Yes?” he whispers back, his voice refusing to get any louder in fear of shattering the dream-like state that they’ve created within the last few minutes.

Instead of verbally replying, Lance leans forward until their noses bump together and their breaths begin to mingle. Keith can taste the spearmint gum that Lance got from the pitstop on his breath, the smell becoming Keith’s favorite scent, second to Lance’s vanilla shampoo. Keith’s heart halts in his chest before going into overdrive when their lips finally touch, Keith’s breath stuttering. As their lips move against each other’s, Keith vaguely listens to the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls squawking.  

Keith is once again corrected. This is what heaven would be like.

Keith is knocked out of their blissful kiss when a bigger wave suddenly washes over their feet, causing water to spill down into his boots. He pulls away with an aggravated grunt, looking down at the saltwater that is now brimming his shoes. “Lance,” Keith growls despite the fact that it wasn’t necessarily Lance’s fault. Their dumb banter comes more naturally for them than anything else.

“What?” Lance crows with a look of indignation on his face, his arms letting Keith’s cheeks go to cross his arms over his chest. They fall into the usual repartee despite the fact that now their arms are wrapped tight around the other and refuse to let go. Well, that is until Keith goes ‘too far’ and makes Lance splash him with water. Keith glares at Lance like a murderous wet cat, his claws and fangs starting to show. Lance lets out a squeak before taking off down the coastline, his laughter deafening the sound of the waves that still lap at their feet.

Keith catches up to Lance with ease, seeing as how the tanned man isn’t actually trying to outrun his new lover. Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist and snatches him back, making Lance’s laughter cut off with a squeal. Keith spins him around which just ends up bringing Lance’s melodic laughter back.

Keith sets him back down and Lance immediately spins around to face Keith, setting their foreheads together. “We should go on another trip soon, Samurai,” he whispers before connecting their lips for another kiss.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Klance

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 15

Hannibal gives y/n an idea and y/n negotiates.

@viviace @deadman-inc-bikeshop @dovahdokren

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence

Aftercare was Hannibal's favorite part of the evening. He loved to spend long, indulgent hours pampering his darlings. But usually, there was only one. And that was Will. And Hannibal's clawfoot bathtub, although beautiful, was not big enough for both of you at the same time. Meaning, you had to take turns.

You and Will argued back and forth about who was in more desperate need of aftercare; each advocating for the other, of course. That was Hannibal's fault, really. He should have known better than to ask you to make a decision.

Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, sleeves rolled up and arms soaked to the elbow. "Who is first?"

Before you could speak, Will shoved you forward. "She is."

Hannibal knew better than to let the argument go on, and so did you. You followed him into the bathroom, the smell of lavender bath salts filling the air.

He removed your fluffy robe and watched you step into the warm bath. The water was just hot enough to soothe the aches in your muscles. Hannibal took his seat at the end of the tub where you rested your head. You leaned back and submerged your whole body. 

“You have such soft hair.” Hannibal said, pouring a bit of expensive-smelling shampoo in his palm. 

“Thanks, I use fabric softener and tumble dry it on low heat.” You answered. 

“You have a hard time accepting compliments, don’t you?” He probed, beginning to lather the shampoo into your hair. “Between that and the self-deprecation, I’d say you suffer from low self-esteem.” 

You felt yourself melting into him. The hypnotic motions of his hands chipped away at your defenses. “Is that really that surprising?” 

“For such an intelligent, sophisticated young beauty?” Hannibal chuckled. “I am surprised you don’t understand your worth.” 

“If it makes you feel any better,” You offered. “The fact that a psychotic cokehead fundamentalist Christian cult leader wants me dead tells me I’m doing something right.” 

“You are a force of nature, my indulgence.” Hannibal assured you, still massaging your head. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. You already know your power.” 

That got you thinking. Would it be so bad to just find a hunting rifle and blow Chase Mulvaney’s head off? What was stopping you? It certainly wasn’t your conscious. All your remaining moral fiber had been ripped to shreds over the course of the last month. 

“Tell me something about yourself, Hannibal.” You said, leaning back.

“What would you like to know?” He asked, retracting his hands. He cupped his hands in the water and poured some over your hair. 

“Do you ever think about morality?” You said, bluntly. 

The question pleasantly surprised him. “Quite a bit, actually. I like to think of myself as a student of philosophy, which deals heavily with the subject of ethics, human behavior, and yes, morality.” 

“Do you believe morality is subjective?” you tilted your head. 

“There’s not a doubt in my mind about it.” Hannibal smiled. “Those who think otherwise usually exemplify some of the best arguments for subjective morality.” 

“Religious nuts like Chase Mulvaney.” You said. “He and millions of others believe in objective morality, but can’t even keep it consistent among themselves.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal whispered. “You don’t have to wait for aftercare to talk philosophy with me. I would be happy to do so anytime.” 

You spent a half hour in the bath, Hannibal stroking, kissing and cuddling you. As much as you wanted to enjoy the affection, your mind was elsewhere. Perhaps it was just a hyperfixation, or post-multiple-orgasm clarity, but the only thought in your head was that Chase Mulvaney had to die. 

Your train of thought was chugging along smoothly until it was derailed by the violent buzzing of your phone against the tile floor. You leaned over the side of the tub, trying to make out the contact name from across the room. 

Hannibal dried his hands on a nearby towel and picked the phone up from the ground. 

“Who is it?” You asked. 

“This number is logged into your phone as just a picture of a...red demon?” Hannibal answered. 

“Oh, yeah.” You dropped your head. “I’ll call her back, just let it ring out.” 

“Who’s the demon?” Hannibal chuckled. 

You stepped out of the bathtub and reached for a towel. “Just somebody I know from work. Probably calling about covering a shift or something.” 

“Would that be the same person who believed I was the devil?” Hannibal raised an eyebrow, watching you wrap the towel around yourself.

You were about to say yes, but caught yourself. “No. Just some lady I work with who always refused to share her tips with the buses. Super entitled, total pain in the ass. I’ve been looking for an excuse to tell her off.” 

“Well, we can’t keep you from that, now can we.” Hannibal cupped your cheek in his hand and looked at your face admiringly. “There should be a clean nightgown for you on the bed. Please tell Will I’ll be ready for him in a couple minutes.” 

“Wow, you really did think of everything.” You rocked back on your heels and swung to your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let him know.” 

He kissed you back. “Thank you, my indulgence.” 

“Just one more thing.” You stopped in the threshold. “Could I please use your computer?” 

“I don’t see why not.” Hannibal looked up from the quickly draining tub. “By all means, what’s mine is yours.” 

You smiled and blew him a kiss before absconding into the bedroom. 

The nightgown he’d laid out for you had far more ruffles and lace than you’d consider appropriate for sleepwear, but it was comfortable and fit you well. 

You passed the message along to Will, but hurriedly. You were in a rush to be alone. You had some business to attend to.

You sat at Hannibal's desk, turned on his lamp and logged into your google drive on his computer. While you waited for the content to fully load, you scrolled through your contacts. When you found the demon, you pressed the green dial button.

It didn't take her long to pick up. "[F/N]! Finally, I've been trying to call you all night."

"Yeah, I know." You rolled your eyes. "Some of us have lives to live. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"No need to be snippy." She scolded. "I have an offer for you."

"If it doesn't involve a portion of ad revenue, I'm not interested." You shook your head. "I'm not settling for a flat fee while you make the real money off my experience. My goddamn trauma."

"Sounds like we woke up and chose bitchy today." She teased. "You're not even going to hear me out?"

"Freddie," you began, pulling up a document on the computer. "I happen to have a four-page, comprehensive statement of what happened that night right here. Half of it was cut out for the FBI report."

You could practically hear Freddie drooling already. "And?"

"I won't accept anything under $1200 for it." You finished. "Or 30% of all ad revenue on this article."

"That's not fair." She protested. "Best I can do is $750."

"You made ten times that off my first article." You leaned back in the chair. "Don't try to lowball me, Lounds, I can do this all night."

"Since when were you the assertive type?" She asked, deflecting the conversation.

"Remember when you told me my fifteen minutes of fame was running out and you were my only option to get my story out there?" You recalled.

"At the time, I was right." Freddie contested.

"That was before Chase went from a cokehead to a domestic terrorist." You said. "Now I actually can take it to a more reputable outlet."

"But here you are anyway." She said. "Extorting a small, woman-owned independent news site just for the hell of it. I've got bills to pay, y'know."

"With gaslighting like that, I'm sure they're astronomical." You rolled your eyes. Sighing, you propped your knees against the desk. "Look, I don't hate you, Freddie."

"I don't hate you either." She agreed. "I thought trashing each other was just our mutual love language."

"The only reason I'm considering TattleCrime at all is you." You admitted. "You're loud and unapologetic and it makes people listen to you. I need someone who can take the heat."

"Because you know that mainstream news outlets are going to cut your writing down to maintain the status quo." Freddie finished your thought.

You pursed your lips. "Exactly. You're the only one who's got the cajones to run the whole story."

"I'm flattered." She said, then paused. "If I move some things around, I can probably get you $1000."

You opened a new tab and typed some words into the search bar. You scrolled through the results, leaving Freddie without an answer.

"Hello?" She said. "[F/N]? Did I lose you?"

"How soon can you pay?" You asked.

Your phone buzzed. You had a notification from paypal. A thousand dollars from Fredrica Lounds.

"Right fucking now." She answered.

"You've got yourself a deal." You said, firmly. You typed out Freddie's email address and pushed send. "It's all yours."

[luna-writes-stuff]

Hello! I saw you want requests for our Durin gang huh? Can i request Fili who tries to get his s/o out of work cause she's working 24/7 without a day off and he's a prince who miss his girl :C (if you write for F!Reader, if not - gn!reader is perfectly fine, too💖)

- @errruvande 💖

Overworking, Fili Durin

Headcanons, female s/o

Tw: stress, crying, overworking, fluffy Fili

- He understands the pressure and addiction to work. Whether it is an approaching deadline or simply not being able to draw the line on where to stop, claiming you “just need to finish this last thing.”

- He knows the feeling, but he also knows how important time for yourself is.

- So he will try to get you out of your work, but very gently. At first, he’ll start braiding your hair softly or toying with the ends of it. Just the little things to relax you.

- He’ll probably offer you something to drink or he’ll bring you a quick snack in between.

- Then he’ll see if he can get a kiss from you. From there on, he just tries to convince you to join him in whatever he is planning to do. Sometimes, he likes walks, sometimes he enjoys simply laying on the bed, doing nothing but cuddling.

- Of course, he is aware of the fact you won’t immediately agree, so he’ll set a challenge or deadline for you. Maybe he’ll challenge you to finish writing something within ten minutes, but if you truly need to take your time, he’ll ask you to stop when you’re done with one part of the project.

- These small things bring you a sense of victory and satisfaction while Fili gets to take some time with you. It’s a win-win situation.

- Eventually, breaks become a normal thing. For every two hours you’ve worked, you’ll spend half an hour with him. If you don’t feel like getting back to work afterwards, that’s fine. He will stay with you the entire day if he must.

- If you will decide to continue working, the same rule applies. Busy yourself for two hours and then take a thirty minute break.

- And it truly works miracles for the both of you. It doesn’t feel like you’re missing out on anything important and Fili can get to see you function like a normal living being again.

- Yet, it’s not always you’ll stop after two hours. Fili respects your boundaries and (thankfully) would never steal something out of your hands or turn you around mid-work.

- Instead, he’ll just start a conversation with you. Over time, you’ll spend more time talking to him than actually focusing on your work. Therefor, you’ll still get that break. Whether you’ll realize it or not.

- This works vice versa too. As I said, Fili knows what it’s like to overwork yourself and not being able to stop. Thanks to his overworking in royal business, you get to see what it does to people from another point of view.

- Fili does need a good push before he’ll interact with you. He tends to hyper fixate and not stop until everything is done. He gave you permission to drag papers out of his hands whenever you notice it gets too overwhelming for him (or when he simply seems like he needs a thirty minute break himself)

- Only you are allowed to steal papers though. He knows you do it out of love and care, and not out of mayhem and chaos like his brother.

- One particular day had been difficult on you tough; there had been a very close deadline and one of your partners refused to work on a project, so you had been all by yourself and it just became too much. To the point where you could quite easily break out in tears.

- Fili knew, of course he does. He helps you with everything he can. He takes over the role of your partner, even if he has no idea what is happening or what is supposed to happen.

- It would surprise you how quick of a learner he is.

- He is also very good with time???? Like, he makes schedules for every little thing that needs to be done and it’s finished within record time????? It helps him work and focus and having a list where he can check things off helps him see progress and encourages him to work harder.

- So with him at your side, he gets it done within a matter of hours.

- Then, when there are only three/four hours left, it finally becomes too much for you and you just snap, letting the tears fall, explaining too him that it’s too much for you and you need a break, yet you can’t bring yourself to quit working, even for a minute. You just need the satisfaction of a finished product, but the stress has become too overwhelming.

- Poor Fili nearly breaks down crying too. He hates seeing you sad, always has. He just pulls you in a hug and let you rant to him about everything that has been bothering you.

- And it’s so relieving because he actually listens and comments on your problems, handing out great advice????? This man is amazing????

- You end up taking a quick break to get some fresh air and a nice cup of ice cold water. When you come back with him, all you want to do is forget about the project for the rest of the day. You had done more work with Fili than you would’ve gotten done in four days, and you still had two more until the deadline.

- You’d get there, you had convinced yourself, diving into bed with Fili, even though it hadn’t been dinner time yet and the sun had only just begun to set.

- Both of you were exhausted after all these hours of work. So Fili just pulled you next to him in bed, him spooning you as his hands held your gently, his head rested on top of yours, his breathing somehow always steady.

- And it calmed you down so much. The way his fingers would trace your hands, the soft thumping of his heart and the warm breaths he released every now and then,,,, you were asleep before you could even realize it.

- And so what if you and Fili slept through dinner and woke up the next morning. It was a great sleep the two of you had gotten. And a great stress relief.

[sakucherry]

The days blend into weeks in the Uchiha household. Each day was filled with a lightheartedness that had never existed before. Sarada finally begins school, enjoying each and every class. She likes studying and when she comes home, she and Itachi practice through her homework.

Sarada is a bright child. It warms his heart to see her so studious. After all, Sasuke and Sakura were book smart kids at her age once too. Genetically it makes sense.

Though, even if she didn't love school, Itachi would love her all the same. He might chide her softly to study more, but thankfully he doesn't even have to.

She's always throwing the latest book at him and asking him to help her.

Right now she's reading Shinobi Tales, and while Itachi thinks it fluffs up the realities of war, it does touch upon the importance of peace and how the era they live in is one Itachi is eternally thankful for.

However, today is not one of those easygoing days where they start reading chapter three together, stopping at each word to explain. No.

Instead, the academy calls Itachi at the request of Sarada. Her Mama was busy at the hospital, in a surgery she could not leave without the patient losing his life. Even so, it was Sarada who had cried to her Sensei that she wanted Uncle Ita if Mama couldn't come.

He rushed to the academy, panicked that his precious little Sarada had hurt herself. Instead, Shino-Sensei could only pitifully tell the angry, overprotective Uchiha Uncle that he had no idea why Sarada was so upset, but that she refused to participate after recess.

Itachi inspects her thoroughly, ensuring there is no fresh scrapes or cuts. She's all good. Shino says he sees nothing wrong with her chakra because his bugs tell him everything.

Itachi tells Shino to keep his bugs away from his niece. She didn't like creepy crawlies anyway. That might just be what scared her.

So Itachi, cradling Sarada as she wailed and whimpered and refused to utter a single word, takes her home. They sit together on the couch, the television a mindless drone, and she just cries. She grips the fabric of his shirt, her fat tears soaking through the fabric.

"It's okay Sarada."

He can only try to soothe her by patting her back. He had asked if she were in pain and she would shake her head no. She says she wants Mama and something else, but he doesn't understand though her wails.

Nothing Itachi does works. All he can do is hold her, tell her it's okay, but he has no idea what he's trying to assure her of. He's worried to death, and right when he's about had it and is going to march to the hospital and get his dear niece her Mama, the door unlocks.

Sakura rushes in and takes Sarada into her arms, forgetting altogether to remove her shoes or even utter a greeting to anybody. “I came back as soon as I could, I’m sorry I took long,” Sakura says, nearly breathless. “The patient—” she starts explaining, but then quickly stops. After all, the details don’t really matter as much as making her little one calm down. That’s her priority.

Almost immediately, Sarada is in her arms, sobbing. After a quick once-over, Sakura finds no injuries of any sort. She does not appear to be in physical pain at all. This could only be heartbreak, a mental struggle of sorts. Whatever it may be, Sakura will get to the bottom of it. So she holds her daughter and lets her cry it all out, caressing her hair and giving her soft kisses to her forehead. “It’s okay, Sarada, let it all out. And then we’ll talk, okay?”

In the meantime, Sakura waits, holding her daughter closely and hoping that her pain subsides enough for her to be able to explain.

Sakura’s mind wanders.

Her daughter is four years old now. In the weekdays, she goes to the academy for a couple hours in the afternoon, in a daily routine filled with Uncle and Mama and friends. In the weekends, she spends her time doing what four year olds do best: lighten up the world of those around them.

Only, today doesn’t seem to be that way. Something is wrong with Sarada, a representative of the academy told her back at the hospital. Sakura was forced to finish up her surgery as quickly as possible, and cut the rest of her workday off to go home.

As Sakura looks at this tiny human being that usually smiles and giggles all day without a care in the world, but is now seemingly timid, tearful and maybe even a little angry, Sakura wonders how. How was she and Sasuke ever capable of producing something so good, so pure? She looks down at her hands. These hands that can pulverise and destroy. The very same ones that can mend and heal. She mentally laughs a little at the paradox. As Sakura watches Sarada, she thinks this little angel must be the culmination of all the good deeds she has ever done in her life. That much she knows for certain. But right now, her angel is sad, and she needs her Mama. And Mama doesn’t know what to do.

Sarada’s sobbing ceases a little, and Sakura watches her little one attempt in her meagre way to explain the grief that she hasn’t even found out about. It has her heart shattering.

“Mama,” she starts, lips trembling, “everyone else has a Papa…”

Oh, Sarada…

Sakura shoots Itachi a helpless look and wraps her arms around Sarada’s little body.

“What happened, sweetie? Did somebody—“

“No,” Sarada cuts her mother off. “Everybody is nice,” she says, sniffing. “But ALL my new friends have Papas too. Like everyone. And they don’t understand and they ask too many questions and I don’t know anything!”

Sakura accepts a tissue from Itachi’s outstretched hand and wipes at her daughter’s nose. “I see..”

No bullies. It’s her observations, and peer pressure, and her inability to blend in because her family is different. Because she has no Papa. And even worse, she doesn’t know why, couldn’t tell them why. As Sarada spends more time outside and around her peers, she is starting to care about what’s missing to the level she never did before.

She knows she hasn’t seen her Papa since she was a baby, of course, but she doesn’t know he’s dead. Frustratingly, she doesn’t know how to explain anything to anyone because Mama and Uncle Ita never figured out how to tell her either. And now, she’s suffering for it. And as she grows older, she is more and more capable of voicing out her questions towards their little family’s peculiarities. But the hardest-hitting reason of all is that among the families of her peers, their little makeshift one did not belong.

It’s funny how easy it is to live the kind of life you’re used to, until you’re forced to look around and see that everybody else is living a different kind of life. To Sarada, most others at school had a more “normal” kind of family. Most of them had a Papa and a Mama. Some had two Papas, some had two Mamas, and some are missing a parent too, just like her. But they all knew the answers to all the questions that Sarada couldn’t answer. And no one had a Mama and an Uncle like she did.

Sarada explains to them that this morning, when Itachi had dropped her off in school, her friends had assumed that he was her Papa, remarking that he looked so much like Sarada. She apparently didn’t know how to answer them, and she had been feeling down since then. To make matters worse, later on at recess, one of her classmates had to go home early. He was crying as he was escorted out by his father. Sarada, curious as ever, applied the stealthy ninja skills that Boruto taught her, only to find that her classmate’s mother had died, and so he had to go home.

Dead. Gone.

Just like… Papa. Is Papa… dead?

She had been inconsolable since.

Sarada finishes her story, and in a meek voice, she repeats her thought, “Is Papa dead?”

Sakura and Itachi are too stunned to answer.

“So I… I will never have a Papa?” Sarada tearfully asks again, looking up at Sakura, her mother who had begun shedding tears herself.

Receiving no answer yet again, Sarada switches her gaze pointedly at Itachi who looked no better than Sakura. Her tears are blurring her vision, a silent plea in her eyes that is so clear to see, as she looks pathetically at her uncle—I wish you were my Papa.

[soobmint]

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.” 

-

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of  boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest. 

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together. 

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

- 

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood. 

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck. 

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure. 

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face. 

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into. 

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

-

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back. 

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

[amjustagirl]

CHAPTER 1 - TAKING FLIGHT

Fic Summary:

The sky Oikawa Tooru’s heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in. You are a fool to trust him with your heart anyway.

Where Oikawa Tooru does not make it to Argentina straightaway.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Icarus, Icarus, I must be blind not to see you long to touch the sun.

Updates every Monday

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x you, Oikawa Tooru x fem! reader

Genre / Wordcount : Angst (5.6k words)

Warnings: One non-explicit bedroom scene

Masterlist link here!

Join my tag list here!

“Home sweet home ”, Tooru declares grandly, throwing his hands out with the air of a conqueror bursting with pride at the sight of his domain. 

Never mind the fact that the apartment looks like it’s been hit by a tsunami of cardboard boxes and scattered bits of furniture. Or the fact that you’re covered in sweat and grime from lifting boxes and shifting furniture and you’d very much like to lie down and not get up for the next week or two, but you can’t because of the never ending list of things to be done - unpacking your belongings, filling in your enrolment paperwork, attending medical school orientation to attend. 

But his words wash away the tide of anxiety lapping at the edges of your mind. 

Tooru wept and gnashed his teeth when his parents refused to let him chase his dreams to Argentina, and not a single professional team in Japan even looked his way. Don’t be ridiculous, his parents told him with wagging fingers, especially when Chuo University sent a full scholarship his way. 

“It is the top school for volleyball” you pointed out, as he spent yet another hour lying flat on his back, eyes swollen from spent tears. “You could go there and grab everyone’s attention by being their starting setter for the next four years.”

He does not respond. You wonder if he’s waiting for the paint on the ceiling to crack. 

“Plus” you add slyly. “I’ll be at Chuo with you.” 

This catches his attention. “What d’you mean”, he mumbles, throat still sandy with salt. 

“I got into medical school there”, you tell him  ,  the smile on your face growing when he finally hurls himself bodily at you, both of you toppling off the bed and onto the floor. 

“You’ll be there with me?” he whispers in disbelief. 

You laugh wetly into the crook of his neck. “Every step of the way”, you declare, slipping your hand into his. 

You’ve both transplanted yourselves from your childhood home in Sendai to a tiny apartment in Tokyo, a veritable hole in paper thin walls. Your hearth is a pair of rusty iron hobs, and your bed is a cheap mattress on the floor, but sunshine spills in from the windows like liquid gold and Oikawa Tooru’s hand is warm in yours. 

You wonder what you’ve done in your past life for the gods to smile down on you, to bless you with a boy you love in a place you can both call  home .

You’re not usually this sentimental, but just this once, you tug him down towards you, stealing a kiss from him. “I like the sound of that”, you murmur against his lips. “Our home, Tooru”. 

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “Do you love me?” he asks, with a smile that cages your beating heart in his calloused hands. 

You are young. You are eighteen. You know nothing of the world. You know nothing of life. 

So you reply - “More than life itself”. 

He kisses you with languid ease, stealing the very breath from your chest. You tell yourself you have four years to work up the courage to ask if he loves you as much in return. 

“Medical supplies are expensive, so stop coming here to ask for cold presses that you don’t need”, you tell Oikawa Tooru, Captain of the Volleyball Club and currently a veritable pain in your ass for constantly hounding you during your shifts at the school’s sickbay. 

You resist the urge to sigh when he throws himself onto the cot, groaning dramatically - “How mean! You and Iwa-chan are the same - brutes, all of you! What’s a guy gotta do to get some tender love and care, especially when he’s injured?”

You cast a doubtful eye at the bandage over his right knee. “Iwaizumi said you recovered, but I guess if you’re really still injured…”

Oikawa grins, sensing victory in sight. “So you’ll give me a cold press and let me rest here during class?” 

You drop said cold press onto his knee none too gently. “Sure - though..” your voice trails off, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “That would mean you’re not cleared for practice. I’ll send a note to your coach.”

Gotcha. 

It’s your turn to grin when alarm dawns on Oikawa’s face, his eyebrows pinching together as he waves his hands at you, pleading you not to mention a word to his coach - pretty please with a cherry on top, he forgot to do his homework cos he was staying up late to watch volleyball videos last night and needs a place to hide, and you’re the kindest, bestest, person on earth if you let it slide this time, his knee is fine, just fine - 

You glare at him, unimpressed. 

He pouts, with the largest puppy dog eyes he can muster. Even you are not immune to his charms. 

“Fine”, you say flatly. “Just once.” 

He thanks you, promising never to darken the doors of the sickbay again without cause. 

Of course, he breaks his promise the very next day when he sidles in just before practice, dropping a milk carton and a bun on your table.

“An offering to the maiden of this shrine” he answers teasingly in response to the question in your furrowed brow, trying his best to exude arrogance and saunter off, though his efforts are defeated by the pink tint to the apples of his cheek. 

Oikawa Tooru, huh. You wonder. 

You and Tooru are drawn into the ebb and flow of university life. You wake up with him by your side each morning, kiss him on the cheek before you both head your separate ways. In a fit of fancy, you imagine that your front door is the portal to different worlds - a little like the enchanted door in Howl’s Moving Castle, a movie Tooru used to make you watch with him on repeat. When you step through it, you find yourself in the humdrum world of medical school - anatomy classes, stuffy professors, scalpels and knives. Whereas when Tooru steps through it - like the titular wizard, he bursts like a fiery comet into a wholly separate, magical world of whistles and drills and volleyball practices. 

Your worlds never collide in the day, even though from time to time, you sneak into the gym to watch him practice, unbeknownst to him. Typically, you only see him at night. Dinners are prepared together, shoulders jostling over the kitchen counter to cook rice and produce sourced from the supermarket’s discount bin, before you both huddle over homework. More often than not though, Tooru prefers to spend all his time crouched over his laptop, earbuds on, watching endless streams of volleyball matches. 

“Aren’t you ever tired of volleyball?” you ask when you see him analyse yet another video - Argentina versus Japan this time. 

You already know the answer before your question leaves your tongue but you ask it anyway, amused when he squawks in indignation and knocks over your cup of tea in his hurry to exclaim -  Sick of volleyball? Him, Oikawa Tooru? Never! 

Of course, you knew that. Chuo University is the top collegiate team for volleyball, so the coaches demand nothing but the best from their players. You watch by the sidelines as Tooru grinds his body into dust at volleyball practice, coming home every night with sore tendons and aching bones. Balancing a full business course load on top of that would stretch anyone to their breaking point. 

Anyone normal that is, because Tooru revels in his hectic schedule. 

You attend his first match and you’re blown away by how much he’s grown from being transplanted from barren soil into rich earth. The unerring confidence he’s already shown in his high school days blossoms into an elegant ease. His athleticism grows by leaps and bounds, his game sense sharpens, his sets learn true grace.  

He claws his way to a starting position with bloodied fingernails, in blatant disregard of anything that might stand in his way. He builds his own wings, starts to take flight, the light in his eyes shining brighter and brighter the closer he flies towards the sun. 

He is no longer the simple school boy you fell in love with from Sendai. 

“Will you go out with me if I win our next match?” he asks suddenly, lifting his gaze from the video he’s watching from his usual corner in the sickbay. 

“Do I look like a prize for some school boy’s grudge match?” You snipe back, head bent over your homework. 

“It was worth a try”, he hrumphs. 

You hide a smile. 

“I would go out with you even if you lose”, you tell him, though you do not lift your eyes from paper and pen. 

A laugh bubbles from his chest - surprised, delighted, triumphant. 

“I better make sure I win then. So you don’t change your mind.” 

He did not win that game, losing spectacularly in the finals in his second year against his fated rival - Ushijima from Shiratorizawa, a specter that still looms unti over every match he plays in up to today. 

True to your word, you sat on his doorstep, waiting for him to return home red eyed, throat raw. You let him drop his aching head into your lap, and like a maiden comforting a weary warrior, you pressed a kiss to his forehead as a balm to his wounds. Then you dragged him by the hand to your favourite ramen stall, ordering two bowls of tonkatsu ramen, with char siu, bamboo shoots, spring onions and gyoza on the side. An inauspicious first date, but you consider yourself lucky nonetheless for having him beside you. 

Things are different now. You are blind not to see him long to touch the sun. 

No one is surprised when Chuo University wins nationals. The only surprise to the media (but certainly not to you or anyone from Miyagi for that matter), is that Chuo University brings home the trophy with Oikawa Tooru as it’s starting setter. 

The boy king finally reaches the national stage. 

Even then, he is always, always grasping for  more .

“You were amazing!” you gush, as he finally breaks through the triumphant huddle of his teammates to swing you into his arms and greet you with his customary kiss. “I’m so proud of you!” 

His eyes glitter as he laughs, giddy with delight, face flushed with pride. “It’s just college, princess. Wait til I go pro”. 

Like Ushijima, you think, though that name remains unsaid. 

Wax feathers had already started to sprout from the knobs of his spine back in high school, budding beneath your fingertips like a cancerous tumour. Back then it was easy to be wilfully blind to them, but now it's become too obvious to be ignored. Oikawa Tooru’s ambition lies spread eagled, naked beneath the blinding lights of the sports hall. He has only just tasted his first real victory, crossed the first hurdle separating him from his dreams of greatness. 

“I’m waiting for that day then”, you respond teasingly.

You only realise later that you lied. He's left the confines of your arms in his quest for the skies.

You laughed when Tooru first broached the idea of sneaking out at night to gaze at stars in the sky. ‘What nonsense’, you’d said. What are the chances of seeing stars amidst the light pollution from a city, even a relatively minor one like Sendai? 

“You’re being a meanie, just like Iwa-chan”, he pouted. He kept whining until you gave in. 

Tooru picks you up from your home past midnight, chuckling when you label his rusty bicycle ‘a contraption from hell’ and ask him archly whether he truly expects you to entrust your wellbeing to the tiny rack meant to function as the pillion’s seat. 

“Stop being a princess, it isn’t as if I can magick a seatbelt from thin air” he teases. 

“Howl could”, you point out. 

“Well, I could strap you on with my bicycle chain if you prefer”, he answers blithely. “Get on, stop complaining”. 

He pedals all the way uphill to the deserted park near school, whining all the way about the strain the extra weight (you) puts on his knees (lies, all of them). You’re torn between pointing out that he chose to drag you out in the middle of the night and kicking him off the bike and commandeering yourself home instead. You choose instead to slap the back of his head. 

“Ow!” he squeals. “Brute!” 

“Hmph”. You fold your arms in satisfaction. 

When he finally finds a spot perfect enough to commence his stargazing adventure, he stops the back, spreads a picnic mat and hands you a flask of hot tea. 

“I don’t see any stars”, you say, after fifteen minutes of sitting, stiff and cold in the dark. 

“Don’t be impatient! The clouds will clear up soon”, he says, squinting hopefully. 

The sky remains overcast. 

You sigh, the breath expelled from your nose forming your own personal cloud. You are accustomed to Tooru’s quirks, his all consuming passion for volleyball, his love for all things outer space. You decide to indulge him a little, just once. 

“Why don’t you pretend we can see the stars and tell me your favourite thing about each one?” 

He brightens up visibly. 

“You won’t be bored if I did that?”

You prod his nose, but your eyes are fond. “Have you ever bored me?”

His chest swells. “I suppose not”, he crows, and proceeds to trace the constellations with elegant fingers, spinning stories and conjuring random facts about celestial beings you cannot see. You find yourself enthralled, not by his words, but by the lilt in his voice and depth in his eyes. 

“Why d’you love the stars so much?” you ask.

“Did you not just hear anything I’ve just said?” his voice teeters dangerously close to a whine. 

You click your tongue against your teeth. “I mean – trivia and myths aside. Why are you so fascinated by what are essentially flaming balls of gas and light.”

“The shallow answer is cos they’re pretty.” He says, laughing airily, before turning his gaze to you, the stark intensity in his eyes causing goosebumps to prickle the back of your neck. “But if my lady here is searching for a deeper answer, well. Aren’t stars the ultimate embodiment of the dreams of all humankind? Even as we strive and fail towards our petty goals, the stars are always there to remind us to look up and reach for the sky”

You flick his forehead. “Pretty words, for a pretty boy”. 

“Hey!” He scowls indignantly before he perks up. “Wait - did you see that? There’s a star!” 

The sky clears just enough for a pale light to peer through a gauzy cloud. You do see it, and it is indeed beautiful, but your attention has already been captured by the boy beside you. And Tooru being Tooru, naturally notices. 

“Why’re you staring at me instead of the sky?” 

Perhaps you’re drunk on the magic of midnight skies, perhaps you want to uncover the mystery of his smile yourself. Perhaps that explains why your eyes soften and why your words fall short of a whisper. 

“Because you are my sun, my moon and all my stars”, you say. “I like you better than anything in the sky.”

His mouth slackens and for a moment, his eyes are tender before his laugh breaks your flight of whimsy, and you bury your face in your hands, hot with embarrassment. 

“Forget I ever said that”, you plead. 

“Never!” he cries. “I’m going to remind you how cheesy you can be for the rest of your life!”

You end up having to kiss him to shut him up. 

In his second year, Sakusa Kiyoomi joins his team. Tooru finally meets someone who meets his impossibly high standards to fill Iwaizumi’s place as his ace. 

He’s literally bouncing on balls of his feet when he comes home after the first practice. 

“He’s so prickly and unfriendly but his receiving his top notch, and his game sense is fantastic, and best of all the spin he gives to each spike makes me drool - especially when I see the look on the other side’s faces when they try receiving his ball for the first time - ha ha! ”, he talks at you at breakneck speed as you both prepare dinner, side by side at the cramped kitchen counter. 

“Mmhm”, you reply, head thinking of the multiple lectures you attended today, the homework and readings you must do tonight to stay abreast. 

“-it’s his wrists, they’re so flexible it nearly made me puke when I first saw him stretch them”, he continues for the rest of the night, heedless of your wavering attention. 

You meet Sakusa at one of the few team parties you actually attend. You nearly stumble over him when you try to hide in your usual corner with a plate of food in your hand, watching as Tooru flutters around like the social butterfly he is. His nose and mouth are hidden behind a face mask, but even you can tell he’s uncomfortable to be around so many people, so you tug at his jacket sleeve gently to lead him away from the crowd to a seat at the top of the stairs. 

You don’t expect him to speak much to you, if at all, but to your surprise, he initiates the conversation. 

“He doesn’t take good care of himself”, Sakusa mutters. You nearly miss his words over the pulsing beat of the music. 

“Who doesn’t?” you ask - though you already know who he’s referring to. 

“It’s unhealthy, the way you push yourself”, you tell Tooru, hands on hips, standing at the door to Aoba Johsai’s sports hall. You hardly intrude here onto Tooru’s sacred space, choosing instead to stay in the library to study until he’s done with practice and you can both walk home together. But practice has long ended, and your patience has run short - not to mention Iwaizumi popped his head into the library to shoot you a worried expression, dark eyebrows pinched into a pained frown. 

You are aware of Tooru’s predilection for working himself to the bone. Or to the shredded remnants of the tendon of his knee, to be more accurate. So you tap your feet, looking pointedly at said injury. 

“I’m fine”, he tries to dismiss you without even looking your way. 

You refuse to let him. 

“You’re not fine”, you tell him coolly, taking another step towards the inner sanctum, the volleyball courts. White lines, painted into brown wood. A single ball, six per side, each jostling for their pride and god.   

“Tooru -” 

“I need to practice so I can win”, he snarls, handsome face mangled by an angry scowl. “Don’t be like one of those whiny girlfriends, you know I can’t stand that.” 

You are not so easily hurt by the barbs in his words. “You can’t win if you’re injured”, you attempt to appeal to his reason. “You know and I know and your coach knows that that knee of yours is going to cause you problems if you don’t rest it properly. So you better listen to me, because so help me - I can tell you that you’re not going to be able to come for practice if you keep pushing yourself tonight”. 

His anger simmers into a sulk. “You’re not a doctor”, he replies, a petulant whine at the tail end of his words. 

“Not yet”, you respond, and at that, he laughs, surprised that your arrogance matches his own. 

Your attention snaps back to the present when Sakusa calls your name. “Sorry”, you breathe. “Couldn’t quite hear you - who were you referring to again?”  

“Oikawa”, Sakusa says, confirming your suspicions. “Practises even though I know his knee hurts sometimes”. 

You thank him for telling you before carefully diverting the conversation to something a little more innocuous, buying yourself time to turn this new information over in your mind. 

You hear him hiss as you open the front door- “Iwa-chan, don’t be stupid, I can’t tell her yet!” 

It’s not an uncommon sight to come home at night to find Tooru cradling his phone to his ear whilst juggling a book in his other hand. It is the only time slot that he and Iwaizumi have to catch up. 

Still, it is uncommon for him to bolt into the toilet the minute he catches sight of you. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask him over dinner. 

“Peachy”, he replies between spoonfuls of rice. “Never been better”. 

He promptly changes the topic after that. 

“Not staying home for dinner?” you ask, arms wrapped around yourself as he lets the chilly air into your apartment, sitting by the open door lacing his training shoes up. 

“Wanna work in some more practice tonight”, he murmurs, gaze still locked on his shoes. “Serves and all that. Don’t wait for me, yeah?” 

“Right. Just...promise me you’ll take care of yourself, Tooru”, you answer, unable to keep the disappointment from leaking into your voice. 

He stands up, turns to face you with a cheery smile. “Of course I will. Anyway, don’t pout, princess”, he sing songs gaily. “We’ll spend some time together after the season is over, I promise.”

“Alright”, you say, unconvinced, reluctantly tipping your chin up to let him kiss your cheek goodbye. 

“Tooru?” 

You feel the mattress dip. “Go back to sleep, princess”, he whispers, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. 

“Where are you going?” You mumble, squinting your eyes at the clock by the side of the bed. “It’s four in the morning. The earliest you wake up for practice is five.”

“I just wanted to practice my serves a little more.” You hear him rustle in the bathroom. Sakusa’s words echo in your ears, and you sit up, bleary eyed. 

“Tooru?” 

“Mm?”

“Are you taking care of your knee? And getting enough sleep?”

He stiffens. “Of course”, he replies with the tight, plastic smile he only ever gives you when he’s trying to lie. “Why’re you asking me this? Who put ideas in your pretty little head?”

For the first time in your relationship with Tooru, you take care not to accidentally tread on the faultlines of his heart.

“I worry about you”, you say, gripping your sheets as he frowns. “I don’t think you’re sleeping enough - judging from the bags under your eyes, and you shouldn’t be over practising because your knee could very act up - “

“Look - I don’t have time to deal with this” he interjects with a snap. “Just leave me alone and go back to sleep.” 

“I’m only saying this because I love you, Tooru.” You automatically tack on - “More than life itself.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing out a sigh. “I love you too ok? Stop worrying your pretty head about my health and my knee - we agreed you only get to nag me when you’re a full fledged doctor, remember?”, he adds, with a cheeky smile that does not reach his hooded eyes. 

You let him walk out of the house without another word, cotton sheets crumpling in your clenched fists. 

You don’t get to talk about it that night because he chatters at you about Sakusa’s tantrum during practice because someone hid his towel, and you can barely get a word in before he slips off to shower and sleep. 

He starts to disappear for days at a time, even after the season ends with him not only taking home his second trophy at Nationals, but crowned the best setter in the collegiate volleyball league. 

He tells you that there are overnight practice matches and camps. That he’s staying over at his teammates’ flats. You believe him at first. There is, after all, no reason for him to lie. 

Still, it is a little funny he refuses to allow you to do his laundry from those trips. You brush away your friends’ concerns that he’s cheating on you -  Tooru wouldn’t do that, you assure them with a wide smile that hurts your cheeks. 

Tooru would never lie to you. 

Then you bump into Sakusa Kiyoomi on campus when Tooru is away again. 

It’s night time. Shadows bleed into concrete roads. You’re on your way back home from hiding up in the library all day, reluctant to return to a home without Tooru when you bump into the reticent spiker. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be away at practice camp?” you ask innocently, worried that an injury might keep him from playing, though from a quick scan he seems to be fine. 

“Practice camp?” He echoes blankly, his face an open book of confusion. 

“Tooru mentioned that he’d be away from some practice camp for a few days...” 

Your words trail off. Your heart flutters, refuses to accept the truth staring you in the face. 

Sakusa frowns. His answer is brutal, direct. “There’s no training camp - hasn’t been in a while”. 

“Oh”, you murmur. 

Realization needles its way into the space beside your beating heart, drills its way into the marrows of your bones. 

“Are you ok?” You faintly hear Sakusa say. It’s your turn to lie. 

Tooru comes home the next day, a quarter past two. You’re sitting on the threadbare couch cross legged, a textbook balanced on your lap. 

“Where have you been?” 

“Practice camp. Didn’t I tell you that?” 

You scoff. The page held between your fingers starts to crumple. Your composure frays. 

“Really?” Your voice starts to veer into hysterics, straight across the highway into your emotional stratosphere. “Sakusa Kiyoomi told me that there’s no such practice camp, Oikawa. How about you try again with the truth this time.”

He reels back. You can see him trying to formulate yet another lie. 

“Princess”, he begins pleadingly, but your temper runs hot and you short circuit at the sound of your nickname from his lips.  

You stalk towards him, grabbing the bag in his hand. Like a woman possessed, you wrench the zip open, holding the bag open above your head, emptying its contents out. Dirty clothes, a deflated volleyball, toiletries spill onto the floor. You comb through each and every item in search of a telltale sign - a lipstick mark, a woman’s floral scent, something, anything for you to confirm his infidelity. 

What you find, however, is not what you expect. 

A red jersey, lying limp in your hands. A contrast to the university’s colours of navy and white.  

You flip it around. 

The words EJP Raijin are emblazoned across the jersey in stark white. 

You look up at him. He stares back. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

He has the decency to look away. 

“Tooru”, you repeat, voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“I was afraid of what it meant. For us”, he answers, dropping to his knees in front of you. “You know I’ve always wanted to go pro - and when the Div 1 teams started holding try-outs, I had to go. I tried out for them all except the Adlers, and EJP decided to give me a shot, which was like a dream come true… But I didn’t know if you would be happy if I did take it up.”

“Take what up?” you echo. Your mind is not keeping up with this turn of events. 

“Move to Hiroshima to join the team.” He answers warily, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. “You know I’d have to, right?” 

You look at him with fresh eyes, this boy you profess to love more than life itself. Wings spread from his shoulder blades, moulded by madness and greed from fire and wax. The reflection of the sun gleams in his eyes. He has left you permanently for the skies. 

“What about me?” Your breath stuck in your throat even as you refuse to relinquish the last hold you have on him.  

“If you love me”, he begins, reaching out to cup your cheeks and it’s your turn to reel back because you know he’s about to throw back your own words in your face. 

If you love me more than life itself - won’t you do this for me?  

But you are no longer eighteen. You are twenty one, on the cusp of adulthood. You know a little more about life than you did at eighteen.  

You know that your life is here - in Tokyo, among dusty books and lectures and tutorials on anatomy and diseases and germs, and you cannot upend your life and uproot yourself to Hiroshima just to follow someone else’s dreams. You love Tooru, but you do not share his dreams of glory and gold medals, of fleeting victory, of Olympian greatness. 

“I can’t”, you say, with a firmness that surprises even yourself. 

Again, he does not meet your eyes. 

“Then what shall we do?” He asks, lips pressed into a straight line. 

For a brief and terrible moment, you are tempted to throw your dignity to the wind, to fall on your knees and ask him to stay in Tokyo with you. But you can no longer turn a blind eye to what’s been staring you in the face for the entire length of your relationship, so you bite the insides of your cheek and grit your teeth. 

“We will do what we must”, you tell him, your head held high. 

You do not know what hurts more. The lack of pause in his acceptance to your suggestion that you break up, or the painfully obvious relief in his eyes. 

He goes to sleep in your shared bed, oblivious to your pain. You do not join him, choosing instead to spend hours seeking privacy in your toilet, knees aching from the cold floor. 

You are clinical, even in your anguish.  

Wring the liquid grief from your lungs, lay it on the floor to dry. Filter the water from your windpipe, the salt from your eyes. Your organs are scattered on the floor, battered, broken, torn. Save for your heart - you will need to retrieve it, whatever’s left of it at least. You last recall seeing it beneath Tooru’s feet, dashed to pieces as he spreads his wings and takes flight. 

You will put yourself back together with steady hands tomorrow, fill the cavity in your chest with the remnants of your organs, secure them in place with stitches and staples. Given time, you think your prognosis is good. 

You are young. You will heal. 

But now, you are allowed an hour or two to grieve at the very least. To mourn the loss of a relationship you still hold dear, a relationship that you only realise has an expiry date in the short span of a night. 

You are a fool for not realising it sooner. 

Perhaps he cares for you, but you must now confront the fact that you’ve been wilfully blind to. He could never give you his heart when he’s already given his heart up to someone else - to volleyball, a far more demanding mistress. 

You cannot compete with her. You should not have tried. 

Tooru files the paperwork to drop out of university. You find another flat, this time for one. 

In the weeks before he leaves, you watch him flit about the flat, buzzing with excitement like an overgrown child. His wings nearly suffocate you with its ever increasing breadth and length, but you do not begrudge his happiness. You still love him desperately. You still want what’s best for him.  

You write him meal plans, scribble reminders on the proper care for his knee. You help him label his boxes, arrange for them to be sent to Hiroshima via post. You do not tell him how tempted you are to slip yourself whole into one of them. But you start to build a cage for the remnants of your heart, turning a deaf ear even as it pounds against the bars of your ribs. 

The time finally comes for him to get on a train bound for Hiroshima. The time finally comes for you to leave the flat. 

“Princess”, he says softly, catching your elbow as you stand on the threshold, pulling you flush against his broad chest. You do not trust yourself to speak as he gently tilts your face up to his.

“Thank you”, he breathes against your lips. There is a lingering taste of regret in his kiss.

“For what?” you manage to ask. 

 His eyes pool with affection, swirl with sadness. 

“For everything.” He takes your hands in his, presses a final kiss to your forehead. Your traitorous heart screeches at you to beg him to say. You smother it beneath reinforced walls of steel and bone. 

Icarus, Icarus. This is goodbye. 

You make him leave before you, watching as he turns his back on you. Then you steal a minute to potter through each room in the little flat that was your home. The bedroom, barely large enough for two. The bathroom, with a propensity for leaking, the shower where Tooru insists on serenading the neighbours, much to their discontent. The kitchen, full of memories of shared dinners, and quiet conversations. 

You bid farewell to two full years of happiness, press your forehead against the front door to whisper goodbye to your home. 

The lock clicks. You close the door. 

[hookingminor]

invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

-

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

-

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

-

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

-

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,” he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

+1

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

[bokettochild]

Day 4 - Trust Fall

Went with the prompt 'taken hostage' for this one, and I'm quite pleased. I might follow it up from another prompt on the list, but I quite like how it ended.

Suffer :)

There are many people who hate the Hero of Warriors.

It was a well-known fact, and something that had haunted him since the ends of the war, but he couldn’t exactly blame the folks who did. After all, it was for lust of the hero that Cia had killed so many, and there were families all across Hyrule who had lost loved ones because the hero had refused the affections of one lonely, corrupted woman.

Zelda had tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but that changed nothing; people had still died because of Cia’s lust, and still more had died because of his own over-confidence. So, when he walked the streets of Castletown and the people who wanted to thank him faded to the background as a single soul would stand and spit insults loaded with venom more poisonous than a deku baba, he would take their words and let them speak, never once challenging them, even when his men would protest and beg for permission to reprimand his attacker. Zelda had pleaded for him to stop, claiming that he lowered the moral of the army by not carrying himself strongly and with honor, but how could he rob someone of their voice when he’d already robbed them of everything else?

There was one upside to it all though; when Warriors met Legend, there was nothing the younger hero could say that could truly hurt him. Legend would huff and complain and tease and jab, but his insults were a gentle nudge in comparison to the hearty shoves into boiling lava that he’d seen from his own people, and he welcomed the verbal sparring with the other hero. It was nice to be able to speak back without having guilt rise in his chest, and he enjoyed getting to tease and bother the veteran hero in return.

In that manner, an unlikely friendship had formed between a hero who hated soldiers and a soldier who hated being a hero.

He was close to all of the others of course; Sky, Wild and himself would spend hours discussing their worlds and the systems of knights and training and the like. Time and Wind, his boys and the pride of his heart, would mess around with him and it warmed him body and soul to offer them advice or comfort after a long day (and having the two of them cuddle up when they thought no one was looking was an extra warm bonus on multiple fronts).

Four was- well, there was no words for the relationship he shared with the smithy. It was a relationship of exchanged looks and mutual silence. One of two brothers who knew each other as well as if they’d actually been born to the same mother, and who could read the others actions as if they were reading their thoughts. It was them flopping over each other and Four climbing onto his shoulders to reach things, it was him throwing the smithy bodily up towards high places and leaning on the top of his head when he was drained or feeling playful.

Wild and Hyrule were his baby brothers, the chaotic ones who he was helping to bring up right, the boys who needed a guiding hand and a firm voice to push them and guide them, but who reveled in warm hugs and teasing or encouraging words.

And Twilight? Twilight was his sparring partner, his closest brother and the one he’d probably end up socking in the face one day. There was enough said on that front. Legend very nearly made the same rank, except...

Except Legend was, truth be told, as much a kid as the others and despite their verbal battles, he didn’t think he could actually ever hit the kid for real, no matter how often he cuffed the pink head or pushed the short vet over in jest, he didn’t think he could ever cause the younger hero harm. Yeah, yeah, so maybe it was the big brother and father in him that said he wouldn’t live with himself if he hurt the kid, but it was also the soldier and captain that saw a reflection of every cocky recruit he’d ever trained and a certain mask wearing child in the vet’s painfully rare smiles and much more common snarky comments.

And he just couldn’t bring himself to hurt a kid in the first place.

No matter how much of an ass they were being.

“Seriously though, how have you not died?” Legend was scoffing, but the vet’s arms were wrapped tight around himself as the kid rolled his eyes. “I mean, one bokoblin? How is that the first time an enemy has ever grabbed your scarf?”

Warriors would have laughed it off with a tease about the vet’s lack of leg protection, but he could see the worry shining in violet hues and feel the tender bruising that wrapped around his own neck. He hardly remembered the last battle, adrenalin and the concussion had seen to that, but legend had been weirdly snappish with him since, yet simultaneously clingy in a way that was painfully uncharacteristic of their salty veteran. “Most monsters are just dumb.” He’d shrugged off at last, but Legend hardly looked contented, picking at his tunic and scowling at his boots as if there was something more he wanted to complain about or say, but he lacked the words to say it.

Oh goddesses, the vet really was like Mask, wasn’t he? All bashful worry and fussing disguised as insults and annoyance, but underneath just a kid who desperately needed the assurance that the people around him weren’t seconds away from death.

“I’ll be fine, you grouchy little bumblebee.” He scoffed, tugging at one of the vet’s long ears, just as he did with Time when the now older hero was getting to wrapped up in his head. “We’re in my world anyway and the monsters here are dumber than rocks.” Usually he’d just say ‘dumb as rocks’ but they’d met a talus in Wild’s Hyrule and he couldn’t honestly think of that phrase the same way since.

“Black blood makes them smarter.” Legend huffed, batting his hands away with a scowl, nose wrinkling up in an almost adorable manner as he sidestepped a swipe at his hair. “And I just fixed that thing for you, I don’t want to have to do that again.”

So much like Time had been, did the vet see it? Just like his middle kid and it was messing with his brain in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. How upset would Sky be if he gathered Legend in amongst his boys as well? The Skyloftian wasn’t particularly possessive of his descendants and he might not mind sharing responsibility over the vet. He’d have to ask, but only once he was sure Legend was out of earshot, the kid was barely tolerant of Sky coddling him, and even then, usually only when he was sleepy or scared shitless.

“Are you listening, Captain? I’m not mending that scarf again this week, you ass.” Legend flicked his ears, irritation at being ignored coloring his face with a scowl that quickly faded into surprise as a blue heap of fabric settled over his head and shoulders. Of course, the surprise disappeared too once Legend’s face was covered with the tail end of the scarf, and he had to grab the back of the vet’s tunic to stop him from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over the rocky path.

“What the heck, Wars?!” The teen squeaked, fumbling with the fabric as the captain let a laugh rumble up through his chest into his throat.

“You keep fussing about the scarf, yeah? Well,” He reached out to tug the loose end down, chest thrumming with warmth as the pout on Legend’s face beneath the scarf and a fierce blush. “So how about you keep it safe for me, just for a bit.” He shifted the fabric again, arranging it to lay better around the veteran’s thin shoulders. “You can give it back after the next battle, yeah? Then you’ll know it’s not damaged.”

The pink-haired hero rolled his eyes at that comment, but Wars didn’t miss how the kid nestled in amidst the blue fabric with a soft hum.

Oh yeah, despite all the teasing, it was clear Legend liked the scarf as much as his other boys. He hoped Sun and Sky didn’t mind sharing too much, because there was no going back now.

“Dramatic arse.” Legend huffed, but despite the vet tugging the scarf up over his nose and mouth he still saw the grin the lay beneath.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Time and Wind exchanging whispers while Twilight grumbled something exceedingly rude and fond all at once.

“Should we split up to find supplies then?” Sky asked, pointedly ignoring Twilight’s comment as he addressed the group as a whole, earning a thoughtful nod from Time.

“Probably best.” The man hummed out. “Groups of three, Hyrule and Wind, you’re with the vet, Four and Sky, you’re with Wars, Cub, Pup, I want you two with me, if something happens I want a responsible adult on every team, as well as someone who knows this Castletown well.”

Agreement thrummed over them as they split up, Wind catching his party members by their hands and pulling them off towards the tailor and apothecary shops so Legend could restock on thread and fabric and Hyrule could gather more healing supplies. Time’s group turned the opposite way, heading off into the main market square so Wild could restock on food stuffs and a new haversack for the traveler as Hyrule’s had had a hole worn in the corner that even Four doubted he could fix. Warriors himself led his team towards the fletchers and the forge, with the intent of buying more arrows and getting Four permission to repair a few of their weapons.

The chatter of the town was cheerier than usual, and to his surprise, not a single person spoke to him beyond the occasional inquiry about directions or an apology or insult after bumping into them. It was like he was invisible, or very nearly, and even those who made a point of calling out thanks or insults only waved cheerily to him as if he was just another passing soldier.

At the smithy, the Master Smithy, Gaepak, blinked in surprise for a good minute when Wars had approached to ask for use of the workroom. “Gen’ral? Is ‘at yew?”

He cocked a brow at the question. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Gaepak boomed a nervous laugh, motioning to his own short neck with a faint flush on his face as his ears twitched lightly. “’Ard to tell you apart from yer men wit’out that scaaf of yers.” The man apologized, and the apprentice at the blacksmith’s side nodded nervously.

He couldn’t help back slip into a disarming smile (although he had to fight not to slip into their heavy accent as well when he spoke). “Quite alright, gentlemen. I’ve just let it out to one of-”

“Yer boys.” the smith nodded knowingly, earning a snigger from their own short-statured smithy and a light chuckle from Sky.

Warriors flushed slightly. Really, the people of Castletown knew him too well. “Yes, one of my boys.”

“An’ a moighty fine father ye are.” Gaepak drawled with a grin. “Use the forge ta yer ‘eart’s content.” The smith added, moving back to his own workstation with a cheery wink. “Jist moind ye clean it up when ya done.”

Four had shouted something of a reassurance before moving to the offered work station with shining hazel eyes and fingers already flitting over the available tools to familiarize himself with them. In the meantime, Sky had shot him a knowing smile, eyes twinkling as the captain had flushed softly.

Four was deep into his work and the two of them had already finished a lengthily talk and a trip to the fletchers when Wind and Hyrule had burst in, heavy breaths heaving through the two and a healthy flush over two sets of rounded cheeks as wild eyes had turned to the two adults.

“Wind, you can’t bust into a forge! Four shouted over the clang of metal. “It’s dang-”

“Legend was kidnapped.” Wind blurted out, voice strained and barely holding onto the collected and controlled report method Warriors had drilled into all of his soldiers during the war.   Four’s hammer froze mid-air as the three had whipped around to face the two younger heroes, both knights stiffening instinctively as all laughter left their faces.

“What happened.” Warriors demanded, stepping forwards, jaw set and eyes hard as he met the sailor’s wavering gaze.

The aura of peace faded in instants, and soldier met the eyes of soldier as Wind snapped a neat salute. Unnecessary, yes, but trained into the kid by the other soldiers and probably a comforting sort of habit to revert to in the moment (Warriors felt the same about standing at parade rest as he listened to the kid’s report). “We were just entering the apothecary when a couple of folks approached Legend outside the door. He waved us inside to do our business while they talked, and Hyrule and I did as he asked. We gathered the needed supplies- that doesn’t matter though- the point is, when we were at the counter ringing up-”

“There was shouting outside!” Hyrule interrupted, fingering the strap of his faded satchel. “We thought it was just Legend being Legend, you know how he is but-”

“But then there was something of a scuffle and some bangin-”

“- and when we finished at the counter, because the man wouldn’t hurry up and refused to let us leave ‘till we’d been rung up-”

“Legend was gone!” Wind exploded, eyes shining with near panic as they met his own.

“Where were you exactly?” Wars demanded, mind already flitting across the list of people who were likely to have taken the vet. There weren’t many people the kid would have interacted with here, especially not alone, and saving the soldiers he’d accidentally embarrassed a couple of switches back (kid needed to wear some pants if he didn’t want to mistook for a girl) there wasn’t anyone he could really think of that would have cause to try anything. Sure, Legend’s winning personality might earn him a blow to the face from some of the rowdier townsfolk, but at worst he’d be left on the street on in an alley with a bruised face and a fractured rib or two, not taken away entirely.

As he considered, Four was already tidying up behind him only to have Gaepak wave them off with a worried look. “Moi boys will see to this ‘ere mess, don’t botha. Yew got a kid missin’ you go fetch ‘im, goodness knows Gen’ral that yew don’t need to be suff’rin’ that again.”

It was a bitter reminder, but he’d nodded his thanks all the same and grabbed ahold of Wind’s hand as he led the charge back into the street, Hyrule and Sky tagging along as Four made arrangements to come back later for the still cooling weapons before scampering out after them.

Searching Castletown’s streets would take hours, but after they’d run into one of his men, Bav, he’d filled the soldier in on the situation, and hardly had the words ‘my kid’ been out of his mouth before the other was nodding and agreeing to get the rest of the squadron to search the town. They’d found the others not long after, and the trio had dropped everything (even Wild’s slate for a hot second) to come rushing after them, their now two groups weaving in and out of alleyways and streets.

“Your wife?” A painfully familiar farm-wife had tutted. “First your poor daughter and now your poor wife. I’m sorry, luv, but I haven’t seen a thing.” Wind had crooked a smile at the groan Warriors had barely stifled as he led their group away, Sky and Hyrule both staring at the duo in confusion as they pressed further into the crowd.

Continued asking had brought up nothing, and after hours of trotting through the streets in a growing panic, Sky at his side and Hyrule nearly fluttering along with them, they’d finally been pulled aside by one of the soldiers and made to sit down in a guard-station long enough to drink some water and be caught up on the soldiers’ findings.

“Nothing yet, General Link, but we’ll keep looking. Until then, you should take a rest-” He’d moved to protest only to be cut off by a frown from one of his mates. “You’ll be run ragged by the time we hear word, and if the scamps intend harm of any sort, you’ll be in no state to help.”

He’d had to agree after that, but it hadn’t stopped him pacing while Sky held the other two close, rocking them softly and humming soft reassurances to the two smaller heroes that he’d bundled in his cape. The other four joined shortly after, Time demanding that Bav tell him what was happening and Twilight bundling over to grab Hyrule from Sky and curl up around him, the rancher’s nose buried in Hyrule’s curls as Four had settled between him and Sky, the smithies callused hands gently rubbing both their arms as he murmured soft reassurances to the others.

It was Wild that pulled him down to rest, flinty blue eyes sparking dangerously as the kid pulled him down to the ground and thrust something edible into his hands. Vaguely, he processed eating it, but his mind was too lost in spinning to take note if it was hot or cold or even what it tasted like.

When word finally came, it was with Bav’s face drawn and the entire guard having had to leave the post in wake of the nervous energy that flowed out from the exhausted heroes.

“Well?” He’d snapped to his feet, jostling Wild on accident as he did so and making the kid nearly toppled over with his sudden movement.

“An ultimatum, General.” Bav replied, clipped and carefully emotionless, even if there was pain in his eyes. “It’s addressed to General Impa, but-”

The note was snatched from waiting fingers before the other soldier had a chance to finish, and he was already breaking the seal as the man stepped back with a shake of his head and a murmured ‘poor man’.

The text that stared up at him stank, copper assaulting his senses as looping crimson script stared mockingly up at him. “General Impa,” The note read. “We have in our possession your branded puppet; the ‘hero’ of the war. We write to you now with a warning; should Hyrule and her queen not repay the debt owed to those fallen and forgotten, he will not be the first to pay the price.

“Repay that which is due, and release the prisoners who you hold unjustly under the claim of treachery. If this is done, your ‘hero’ will meet a kinder fate, and we may even allow you access to the corpse.”

The note was left unsigned, save a spattering of blood over where the signature ought to have been.

“A threat.” He choked, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. “It’s only a threat.”

“I wish, sir.” Bav’s eyes were downcast. “But they sent this as well.” A bundle, already unwrapped by the soldiers was offered to him. “But based on your description, that kid- I'm sorry, Sir.”

Trembling fingers tore aside the stained brown paper as he stared at the contents within.

A blood-soaked blue scarf stared back up at him.

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

I was thinking about an amazing fic wherein Geralt locks himself away in his own mind, leaving nothing but the wolf, and also one of my old friend’s fluffy h/c fics where a heat-crazed omega and an alpha who refuses to have sex with heat-crazed omegas cuddle for like 2.5 days straight, and also ace week. So. Here is this.

words: 1,737 characters: Geralt, Jaskier, Lambert, Roach, Eskel and Vesemir mentioned summary: Geralt forgets to take his meds (inspired by my own personal experiences with forgetting meds for longer than a week), and gets cuddly. Jaskier’s fine with it because it amuses him.

~

Geralt was acting strange.

Then again, he wasn’t a human, so his actions weren’t really supposed to be familiar. That made Jaskier happy, to be honest. He’d had enough of trying to puzzle out other humans; Geralt was just as complex, but far more straightforward.

But still, this fussing was out of character. He was so particular about hunting and buying food, and insisted on getting Jaskier a thick wool cape, and seemed hyper-aware of the changing seasons. Finally, Jaskier decided he wasn’t naïve enough for this.

“Geralt, why are you doing this?”

Geralt, half asleep and curled around Jaskier protectively, mumbled, “Winter soon. Gotta keep you healthy.”

Jaskier grinned, and squirmed over onto his back. “My dear, not that I’m complaining about your care, but why now?” he asked, booping Geralt’s nose.

The Witcher scowled and said, “You’re my mate. Have to take care of my mate.”

Jaskier’s heart tripped.

Geralt must have heard, because he suddenly became very awake, staring at Jaskier with wide eyes and a set mouth. Jaskier breathed in and out slowly; there was no point hiding his immediate reaction, but he should at least try to stay calm.

“Do Witchers see mates the same way as us humans?” he asked.

Geralt didn’t move for an agonizingly long moment. Then he said softly, “No. Mates are… they’re people we… you won’t betray us.”

Jaskier stared back. And then he grinned, and snuggled against Geralt, rubbing his nose on his Witcher’s collarbone. Said Witcher relaxed, wuffled in contentment much like a big, lazy dog, and wrapped Jaskier up tight in his arms.

“Mates are people you trust not to hurt you?” the bard hazarded, unable to stop grinning.

“Yes. Go to sleep, now.”

“Oh, alright.”

~

A month later, as they were beginning their ascent of the mountains, Jaskier decided that Geralt had been lying.

As soon as they had left the last human village, Geralt’s human habits began to fade into more animalistic ones: instead of cooking the few plump rabbits he was able to hunt, he portioned them out and ate the organs while Jaskier cooked the meat. He insisted on finger-combing Jaskier’s hair every night (which the bard quite liked). His movements became smooth in the way of a predatory animal, not a man with predatory mutations. Roach began to snort and sidle at times, trying to keep her distance.

And Geralt didn’t even pretend he wasn’t coddling Jaskier like a delicate maiden.

It was very odd. And yet, Jaskier didn’t really mind. Geralt wasn’t smothering him; he was simply far more attentive than ever before. More attentive than he was with Yennefer, even.

Jaskier’s breath catched, and he cleared his throat to hide the noise, trudging up the narrow path behind Geralt and in front of Roach. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about her--not when he was going to spend the winter with his dearest friend.

Geralt suddenly turned, stared at Jaskier, and then whined as his face melted into a look of worry. If he’d had wolf ears, Jaskier thought, apropos of nothing, they would be upright and shivering.

Jaskier smiled. “I’m alright, my dear,” he said. No matter how softly he spoke, the cold stone of the mountain caught the sounds and threw them into an echo as if he had shouted. “I was thinking of something, that’s all.”

Geralt closed the distance between them in three fluid steps and wrapped his arms around Jaskier, whining and sniffing the bard as if his scent would give away his thoughts.

Jaskier felt his heart grow warm again. “I’m alright,” he repeated, leaning into Geralt’s embrace. “I’m with you, aren’t I? I’m always alright with you.”

Geralt made a wolf-like noise of happiness, and then kissed Jaskier. When his mouth opened in surprise, the Witcher’s tongue slid in and licked the inside--and not in a sexy way.

“Ew!” he shrieked, wrenching back. “Geralt, you brute, what are you doing?”

“My mate,” Geralt rumbled. It was the first time he’d used recognizable words in nearly a week. He was also smiling, so fondly and sweetly. “My pretty mate.”

Jaskier’s cheeks heated immediately, and he pressed his face into Geralt’s neck. “Alright, you win. My… my mate.”

Geralt hummed in deep contentment. After several moments, they untangled from each other, Geralt licked Jaskier’s lips, and they continued their journey.

The cold of winter was setting in painfully fast. While much of the coast was quite pleasant, Jaskier had spent many years in Lettenhove shivering through storms and snow that killed at least three people every winter--but usually more. He knew what to expect from sharp cold; he’d just never been in a place this dry and cold.

They were only a few days away from Kaer Morhen when the air pressure changed so quickly that Jaskier’s ears popped twice. The dry feeling that had seeped into his every orifice vanished as the first snowstorm began to brew; he breathed in deeply and grinned at the moisture that sank into his mouth, nose, throat, and lungs. Now this was the kind of winter weather he was used to.

Geralt growled and hustled his mate and horse along as fast as was safe.

Jaskier barely had time to feel relief at the sight of the trail leveling out before the snowstorm opened and everything became a white-and-grey blur. He and Roach both stopped in their tracks, and he called out, “Geralt?! Geralt, where are you?!”

A dark form hulked into his personal space and embraced him. It smelled and felt like his witcher. Jaskier clung to him, and tried not to think about the day he had joined a rescue attempt to find the last fishing vessel in the middle of a wild storm. There had been sirens. The sailors used a horn to drive them away; Jaskier had panicked and started singing, and the sirens had fallen silent.

He wasn’t allowed on the ocean after that, and he was very glad.

But this wasn’t the ocean. He had never realized how much he trusted solid boats and salty water before he became so acutely aware that one misstep would send him tumbling through nothing.

Geralt hoisted Jaskier up in one arm, took hold of Roach’s reins, and continued on the path.

It seemed like a thousand years before hands tugged at his cloak, and Geralt snarled viciously. Jaskier clung tighter, and did not raise his head until they passed into a space that wasn’t windy.

“Ger’l?” he whispered.

Geralt rumbled reassuringly and nuzzled under Jaskier’s hood to lick his ear; the warmth of his tongue shocked the bard’s cold skin. “Safe,” Geralt said, and set him down on his feet.

Jaskier smiled, and promptly collapsed.

~

“He won’t take his medicine, not until his mate is awake.”

“That’s so stupid! Doesn’t he want to be able to think?”

“Yes, but he’s not Geralt right now. He doesn’t have a human mind. I told him he needed to get better at making it himself…”

Jaskier opened his eyes the barest crack, and tried to make a noise. He couldn’t. He was so tired and foggy.

Almost immediately, someone was kissing his face, and licking it, and giving tiny puppy noises of joy and worry. He smiled, and opened his eyes wider.

It was Geralt, of course, looking absolutely delighted. Jaskier reached up one shaky hand and booped his nose.

“Hello, darling,” he said.

“Hello,” Geralt replied.

~

There were three other Witchers in the keep: a tired father, a calm and kind elder brother, and a pissy baby who was only a few years older than Jaskier. They stayed far away from him, although they were courteous, and provided him with food since he couldn’t leave his nest by the fire due to Geralt constantly lying on top of him and acting like a love-sick puppy. Jaskier began to worry about that merely an hour after he woke.

Four hours after he was awake, the pissy baby brother approached with a tray holding two pottery cups. He set it down near Jaskier and ordered, “Give him the blue cup, it has his medicine in it.”

Jaskier looked at the cups. One was green and the other was a soft purple. “Ah… those are green and purple.”

The Witcher stared at him, then at the cups, then back at him. “What?” he said blankly.

“This one is green,” Jaskier pointed to said cup, “And this one is purple. Which one is blue to you?”

The Witcher pointed silently, and Jaskier nodded, picking up the cups carefully and handing the “blue” one to Geralt, who cocked his head curiously.

“It’s just a drink,” Jaskier told him soothingly. “It will help us both feel better.” He sipped his own and tasted spiced cider, which made him hum in appreciation. Geralt downed his drink in three quick gulps, set his cup back on the tray… and then yelped and rolled off of Jaskier, thrashing and howling.

“Geralt!” Jaskier tried to lunge for him, but the other Witcher held him back. “Geralt! What did you do to him?!”

“Gave him his medicine that he hasn’t been taking for probably three fucking months,” the Witcher said tersely. “Watch him.”

Jaskier never took his eyes off Geralt, heart pounding with fear. After a few minutes of thrashing, his wolfish sounds melted into human curses, and when he laid still, panting harshly, Jaskier strained towards him again. “Geralt!” he cried, reaching for him.

Geralt looked at Jaskier, frowned, then looked absolutely terrified. Before Jaskier could ask, he was up and out of the room.

“Geralt?” Jaskier repeated softly.

“He’s just embarrassed,” the youngest Witcher grunted, letting go of Jaskier. “Drink your cider. He’ll come back when I leave.”

So Jaskier drank, and the Witcher left, and after a whole three minutes, Geralt slunk back in and sat beside Jaskier. After a moment, the bard lunged and squirmed into Geralt’s lap, hugging him tightly.

“Welcome back,” he said.

“I licked you,” Geralt said.

Jaskier laughed merrily and kissed him. “Yes, you did. You also played with my hair.”

“And called you my mate.”

Jaskier paused. “Well… yes. Was that a mistake?”

Geralt shrugged and wrapped his arms around Jaskier. “Dunno. Do… would you mind if… are you alright with that?”

“Yes, my dear, I am very alright with it.”

“Oh. Good.”

And then Geralt snogged him senseless.

[narumi-gens]

A Last First Kiss

Miya Atsumu x Reader Headcanons

notes: I felt really bad about leaving you guys with so much Atsumu angst in those fake wedding date hcs that I decided to write some proper, fluffy New Girl inspired hcs. warnings: mentions of past infidelity but otherwise happiness guaranteed 

💋 It all started when you walked in on your boyfriend of four years cheating on you. With literally nowhere else to go (considering you had moved in with him and it was his name on the lease), you had shown up on Atsumu’s doorstep in a daze, asking if you could stay in his spare room for a few days while you tried to come to terms with your new reality, which is that you were now single and homeless. 

💋 You and Atsumu had always been friendly, even if you had never exactly been friends. He was always the guy that you could have a laugh with in a group setting, but you never knew him well enough to actually hang out just the two of you. In fact, the only reason you even ended up at his place was because you had dropped your purse (which contained your phone, wallet, cash, and credit cards) on the living room floor in pure shock when you saw some woman who wasn’t you with her mouth around your boyfriend’s dick, and Atsumu was the only person you knew who lived within walking distance. 

💋 A few days ends up turning into six months. This means that Atsumu is there when you cry so much that it feels like the tears will never end. He’s there when you monopolize the living room TV, sitting through the romcom marathons without complaint. He’s there when you fill the freezer with so much ice cream that you have to move everything else in it into the fridge. It also means that he’s there when you decide that it’s time to stop moping and get back into the dating pool -- and it doesn’t go well.

💋 It’s the first date you’ve gone on since the break-up. You spend all day freaking out because this is the first first date you’ve had in over four years. Atsumu looks at you like you’re crazy when you demand he tell you what young people do on first dates these days. 

💋 You’re so worried and incapable of doing anything that Atsumu’s the one who has to pick out your outfit, assuring you, “Look, this guy’s the lucky one, not you. He’s the one who needs to impress ya, not the other way ’round, got it? Now go get lucky!” before he sends you off on your date with a cheesy but encouraging thumbs up.  

💋 But it all ends up being for naught because four hours later, you trudge through the front door, face buried in your hands, embarrassment so great that you’re trying to will yourself to just disappear into nothingness. Atsumu watches in confusion as you shuffle into the living room, grab the blanket off the back of the couch, wrap it around yourself until you’ve bundled yourself up in a blanket burrito, and collapse next to him pathetically. 

💋 “How was yer date?” he asks and you just let out a whine that’s so high-pitched, Atsumu worries it might actually damage his hearing. He tries to console you, assuring you that it was just a first date and there are plenty of other fish in the sea and that the hardest part is over now because at least you’re now back out there. He continues to feed you well-meaning platitude after well-meaning platitude until finally you can’t take it anymore. 

💋 You peek your eyes out at him from the end of your blanket burrito just enough to give him a glare that shuts him up. “So, what happened? Was he a jerk? Was he boring? Was he ugly?” You sigh heavily and fully pop your head out of your cocoon, your hair now sticking up at odd angles. 

💋 “No, he was great and we had so much fun together,” you tell him, but the tone of your voice says otherwise. Atsumu tosses you a confused, “Then what’s the problem?” that makes your face scrunch up in embarrassment as you let out another whine as you replay how the date ended in your mind. 

💋 “He was such a gentleman and he was so nice. We were downstairs in front of the building and I could tell he wanted to kiss me and he started to slowly lean in and I freaked out and screamed then I gave him a punch to the shoulder, bowed, shook his hand, and called him ‘buddy’ before I literally ran inside,” you blurt out, all in one breath. You open an eye to look at Atsumu, who’s staring back at you with pure horror written on his face. 

💋 “Why? Why would ya do that?” he finally manages to ask once he’s over his shock and you groan, wiggling in your burrito until you can pull your arms free so that you can hide your face in your hands for the umpteenth time. “If ya don’t want to kiss him, then don’t kiss him!”

💋 “But I thought I did wanna kiss him! I thought I was ready!” you groan. “But when he was leaning in, I just...” you trail off and when Atsumu prompts you to continue, you just sigh wearily before dropping your head back to look up at the ceiling tiredly. “You wouldn’t get it.”

💋 “Try me,” he offers and although you refuse to look at him out of embarrassment, you can hear his sincerity. You let out another, quieter sigh. “I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with Shinji. I wanted to it all with him -- get married, have babies, grow old together.” You glance over at Atsumu and see how his expression has softened. “And when I saw Taichi coming closer, all I could think about was how I couldn’t see myself doing any of those things with him.”

💋 He’s quiet as he takes in what you’ve just said, thinking over your words before he gives you a kind smile that puts you at ease. “Don’t ya think yer worrying too much over this? It’s just a first date. If ya wanna kiss him, then just kiss him. Maybe you’ll feel that magic when ya do. Live in the moment a little.”

💋 "Look, promise you won’t think I’m being stupid?” you ask softly and you wait for him to nod before continuing. “I want the next first kiss I have with someone to be the last first kiss I ever have. Even if it’s not actually the case and even if things don’t end up working out. In the moment when it’s happening, I want it to feel like it could be my last first kiss. And I just...didn’t feel that with Taichi. It just felt like any other first kiss.”

💋 You wait for him to laugh or tell you that you’re overthinking things. You wait for him to say that all the romcoms you’ve been watching have distorted your sense of reality. You wait for him to tell you that you just need to get laid. But in the six months that you’ve been living with Atsumu, you’ve learned that he never does what's expected. 

💋 “I don’t think that’s stupid,” he says simply after a few moments and now it’s your turn to be shocked. The look he’s giving you is just so kind that it makes your heart flutter happily in your chest, the disastrous end to your date slipping further and further into the recesses of your mind. 

💋 “Y’know, we’ve known each other awhile now, but it’s only since ya moved in that I’ve realized how soft ya are.” Soft. He says it thoughtfully. He’s not teasing you or pointing out some sort of perceived flaw. The word sounds almost...fond. “Yer heart’s soft.”

💋 The statement hangs over the living room, but it doesn’t feel heavy or oppressive. It feels warm and comforting. It feels like someone finally understands you. He then drops his hand on top of your head and smooths down your messy hair affectionately. “Don’t feel stupid for wanting to be soft, okay?”

💋 The sudden lump in your throat keeps you from being able to say anything in response, so you beam back at him and nod your head, furiously blinking away the tears that you can feel threatening creeping up on you. He smiles back in return and brushes your hair behind your ear before he stands up. “I gotta get up early tomorrow for practice,” he says. “Ya gonna be alright?”

💋 “Yeah, I will,” you assure him, meaning it wholeheartedly. But then you smile at him sheepishly and hold out your hands. “Can you help me out of this blanket though? I think I’m stuck.” He rolls his eyes dramatically, but makes no other complaint as he takes your hands in his and helps you stand. 

💋 He then lets go of one of your hands to grab onto the end of the blanket, using the hand holding yours to slowly twirl you around twice until the blanket comes fully loose and he can drop it onto the couch. Slightly dizzy, you clutch his forearm with your free hand and take a moment to reorient yourself with a soft giggle. 

💋 When you look up at him, you see the same softness in his eyes that he seems to see in you and it catches you by surprise. Your heart starts to beat a little more quickly in your chest, but you don’t know why. All of a sudden, you realize how little space there is between the two of you -- only a couple of inches at most. 

💋 And then his lips are on yours -- needy, hungry, desperate, soft. The kiss feels like a flash fire. Where only moments ago, you were feeling warm and content and fuzzy, you’re now at the mercy of a white-hot heat that starts in the pit of your stomach and spreads out so rapidly that it’s consumed your entire being in a millisecond. 

💋 His arms are wrapped around your waist, pulling you close before one slides up your back and he buries his fingers in your hair, quickly running them through your stands. Then both hands are running down your sides before they’re both on your back once again, his touch warm through the fabric of the dress he picked out. It’s like he’s so eager to feel every inch of you that he can’t keep his hands in one spot -- he needs to feel all of you.

💋 It’s not even that deep of a kiss, his tongue only briefly darts out to run over your bottom lip before it returns back to his mouth. Instead it’s really just his lips moving against yours, hinting at what more might feel like but never going far enough to actually let you have it. And it just makes you more desperate as you return the kiss. 

💋 But just like a flash fire, it’s over almost as quickly as it began. He gives you one, two, three more kisses before he’s pulling away, your foreheads resting against each other, his breath hot on your face where it mingles with yours as you both pant for air. Then, he leans in and gives you one final, chaste, soft kiss before he meets your glazed eyes.

💋 “A last first kiss, huh?” he murmurs, his voice rough and low and threatening to ignite the fire all over again. His hands slowly slip from you down to his sides and you miss the warmth of his touch already. You can only dumbly nod in return, your breathing still shaky as you try to catch it. The corners of his lips twitch upwards, something fun and mischievous and affectionate and...happy written plain across his face. 

💋 “Goodnight,” he says gently and once again, all you can do is nod, still too dazed to do anything else. He seems to understand your plight because you can see how his eyes are shining with mirth. But his flushed face is a clear giveaway that he’s just as affected as you are. 

💋 You’re still frozen in place as you watch him walk away until his broad shoulders disappear from sight and you hear the door to his bedroom close. Slowly, you raise a trembling hand up to your face and brush your fingers against your still-tingling lips, where you can still feel the ghost of Atsumu’s. 

💋 Your mind is racing, but there’s only one thought that you’re able to fully grasp onto, desperate not to let it go as a small, soft smile appears on your face. You want more than anything for that to be the last first kiss you ever have.