#but yeah despite the pretty rough morning todays ended on a nice note

[roadkill-dreaming]

♡

[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | chapter one: you like milkshakes?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.3K

notes: confession, i am struggling these days with my insane attraction to min yoongi.  this guy has it all.  looks and talent and mystery and sweetness -- he’s the total package. so i really wanted to give him a story in this AU that i’ve come to love so much and i truly hope you guys enjoy it.  

i also hope you guys know how much i appreciate every single one of you. i see your reblogs and comments and likes and i try to answer every one because it truly makes my day.  you guys make my day.

i could not post this fic without shouting out the amazing @hobi-gif because honestly, if hope didn’t read it, did i even write it? and i’m sending major love to three people who are such a source of laughter and support for me, @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna @taetaewonderland. you guys keep me in stitches.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece! Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

*************************

Yoongi had fucked up.

He’d misread the massive man’s approach, tracking him in one direction when the guy was actually headed in another.  That’s how the asshole managed to catch Yoongi off guard with one meaty fist to the face. 

It didn’t matter that it was hundreds of pounds of fat -- not muscle -- behind that punch.  It was wielding more than enough momentum to blow up the side of Yoongi’s face like a bomb. 

That’s the night he landed in the ER at Songdo at nearly two in the morning, pressing gauze to his bleeding face.  

That’s the night he found himself chuckling inside an empty exam room, reading triage paperwork that made him sound like some kind of war hero instead of just an idiot who got caught looking the wrong way.

That’s the night he met you.

“Rough evening, Mister Yun?” 

Yoongi had looked up from the floor just as you’d breezed into the room, tablet in hand.  That moment marked the second time he’d been caught off guard that night.

“That looks like it hurts,” you’d murmured sympathetically, eyes raking over the bloody mess on his face.  Your gaze was clinical -- professional -- as you assessed his grossly swollen eye and the half dozen bleeding cuts that surrounded it.  

But then you’d stopped looking at him -- and stepped back to really look at him.  

Yoongi had taken one look at your enormous, dark eyes and your soft, sweet face and he was dumbstruck.  He’d blinked back at you with the only eye that could still move.  

“You’re a doctor?”

“Nope,” you’d replied casually, turning to reach for a pair of latex gloves. “I’m a janitor. But I’ve always wanted to give this medicine thing a try. You don’t mind, right?”  

Your eyes had sparkled then, bright with humor -- and Yoongi couldn’t help but grin despite the pain pulsing from the left side of his face.

“Here’s the deal, Mister Yun,” you’d said, pulling on your gloves.  “I’m a resident.  And I’m more than qualified to handle the -- situation -- on your face, but if you feel more comfortable waiting for the attending, I’m happy to step back.  Good luck seeing him before sunrise, though.”

“Nah,” Yoongi had chuckled.  “I think I’ll take my chances with you.”

“Good call.”

You’d leaned in close after that, gloved fingers firm under his chin as you turned his face from side to side.  You’d smelled fucking amazing.  The light, fresh scent that lingered on your skin sure as hell beat the disinfectant odor in this place.

“What happened to you tonight, Mister Yun?”

“It’s a funny story, actually.”

“Oh, great,” you’d said dryly.  “‘Cause it turns out, I love funny stories.”

Yoongi had flinched when you’d peeled the gauze back, exposing the angry wounds to the air.  But he’d forced himself to sit dutifully still as you got to work cleaning the caked blood off his face and eye.

“Thing is, I work for the circus,” he’d started, hissing under his breath when you swiped across an open cut above his eye.  “One of the elephants got rowdy while we were practicing a number tonight and just kicked me right in the face.”

You’d stopped dabbing at his eye then, one brow raised and a cynical slant to your mouth.

Yoongi liked that you knew he was full of shit right away. 

He liked that you’d played along anyway.

“God, I hate when that happens,” you’d said with feigned outrage, cutting your eyes at him as you dropped a piece of bloody gauze on the tray at his side.  

“I know, right?”

That’s when Yoongi had won a real smile from you, wide and genuine.  That's when Yoongi made the mistake of looking at you for just a moment too long.  

He knew it by the way your smile fell away as you cleared your throat and turned your focus back to his damaged face.

“Well, I have good news for you Mister Yun,” you’d said after a while, eyes scanning the freshly cleaned wounds.  You’d run your gloved fingers gently over one particularly deep slash over his eye and Yoongi felt a shudder run up his back.  “I’m pretty sure you’re going to live.”

“Well, that is good news.”

There was that smile again.  

It seemed like no time at all before you had him all patched up -- cuts sanitized and sealed with skin adhesive; swollen eye cleaned and medicated.  Yoongi had felt a strange kind of disappointment as he’d watched you gather your supplies, pull your gloves off and drop them in the trash can near the door.

“You’re all set, Mister Yun,” you’d murmured. “Watch out for those elephants, okay? I’d hate for them to ruin a perfectly nice face.”

Then you were gone.

***************************

Thing is -- Kim Namjoon is a rules guy.

It doesn’t matter that he runs a criminal organization -- or that the men in his employ are gangsters in custom ties and suits.  He expects dirty work done clean because that’s what sets the Gajog apart.

Rotate hospitals.  Use fake names.  Pay in cash.

All of those protocols are in place to keep any one of the Gajog from drawing unwanted attention.  Truthfully, Namjoon’s operations usually run so neatly his men rarely have to seek treatment for anything beyond the occasional black eye or broken bone.  That’s why he’d rather trust his men to legitimate doctors in legitimate hospitals than hand them over to some back-alley hack.

Thing is -- shit has gotten a lot more heated of late.  

An audit of the Gajog books has turned up millions in missing won, stolen over time by street-level guys all over the city.  Yoongi and Hoseok are the ones on the front lines, tasked with confronting those men -- getting them to pay and getting them back in line.

Sometimes they play ball.  Sometimes they don’t.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Yoongi knew the moment they arrived at the crumbling warehouse in the Nowon district that shit was probably going to get messy.  Their contact was fucked up -- sloppy drunk -- and belligerent from the jump.

After that, everything was a blur.

At some point during the scuffle, Yoongi heard his hand crunch under the heavy weight of the man’s steel-toed boot. The pain was still flaring hot from his knuckles when Hoseok finally took the guy down.  

Right now Yoongi should be at Asan or Gachon or any of the other half-dozen hospitals in the city.  He should have dragged his tired ass and bloody hand across town because those are the rules.

But instead -- for the second time in a month -- he’s sitting under the sickly fluorescent lights in an empty exam room at Songdo at nearly three in the morning.

Hoping to see you. 

*************************

Yoongi is gingerly flexing his aching fingers when a light knock sounds at the door.

It was a long shot that you’d be here tonight -- and an even longer shot that you’d be the one treating him. But when the door to the exam room opens, it’s you on the other side.

Yoongi’s pulse picks up in response.

“Sorry to keep you waiting tonight Mister -- ”  you stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide on his before darting back down the tablet in your hand.  You scan the screen slowly then look back up, gaze critical.

“ -- Mister Woo.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi replies casually.  “It’s no problem.”

You approach him slowly then, disbelief etched into your delicate features and Yoongi takes in every detail.

It’s like he’d forgotten how pretty you are since the last time he saw you.

You’re nothing like the flashy women who like to hang around the usual Gajog haunts.  You’re the kind of pretty that doesn’t cost hundreds of thousands of won a month to maintain.  The kind of pretty that doesn’t come off at the end of the night. 

Yoongi swallows thickly as you eye him, lips parted like you’re about to fire off a hundred different questions.  But you don’t.  

You play along.  

Again.

“Right.  Let’s get to it then, Mister Woo,” you say carefully, slipping on your gloves.  “What happened to your hand?”

“Well, you see, I’m a hot air balloon operator.”  

His mouth quirks into a smile and your eyes flash in response.  

“Wind was nuts today and the basket came down on my hand.  I think I might have broken something.”

“Hmm,” you murmur.  “Hot air balloon operator, huh?”

Yoongi winces when you take his hand between your gloved ones, gently applying pressure to each knuckle.

“Yeah.”

“That’s an interesting way to make a living, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi chokes down a groan when you press against one particularly sore spot.  You back off the pressure, turning to make a note on your chart.

“Well, I’m an interesting guy,” he whispers.  

You look up at him then, dark eyes focused and intense.  

“That you are.”

You’re looking at Yoongi like you can see inside him and the scrutiny makes him squirm.  He lowers his eyes to the floor and keeps quiet while you clean his hand and apply ointment to his cuts.

“Mister Woo, it looks like most of these are surface abrasions, but the knuckles concern me.  I’m going to have to send you for an X-ray.”

“Yeah, okay.  It hurts like hell.”

“I bet it does,” you say quietly, typing into your tablet.  “Someone is going to come and take you back when they’re ready.  I have to go check on some other patients, but I’ll be back when we have some images to go over.”

“Sure,” Yoongi breathes.

You take another long look at him before standing to leave and Yoongi wonders for a moment if he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s misread you like he misread that brawler who caught him with the nasty punch all those weeks ago.  

You could be off to flag a security guard.  Or leaving to call the police.

He really should have just followed protocol.

Yoongi sits in the quiet of that exam room waiting -- ready -- for trouble that never comes.  Because when a knock finally sounds at the door, it’s not the Korean National Police.  

It’s the X-ray technician.

Maybe he didn’t misread you after all.

*********************

It takes hours for you to come back.

“Mixed news tonight, Mister Woo,” you say upon your return.  “You have hairline fractures in three of your knuckles, which explains the pain.  Unfortunately, that means I’m not going to be able to do much for you beyond wrapping your hand.”

Yoongi nods.  “Got it.”

“And you should probably lay off the ballooning for a while,” you say under your breath as you lay out your bandages.  “Just a suggestion.”

“Good idea,” Yoongi chuckles.  “Safety first.”

You fix him with another one of those long, indecipherable looks before getting to work on his hand.  But you don’t say anything and the longer the silence stretches on, the antsier Yoongi feels.

“So…” he exhales, clearing his throat, “... you like milkshakes?”

“Everyone likes milkshakes,” you return evenly.  You don’t take your eyes off his hand or the flexible material you’re carefully wrapping around his sore knuckles. 

“Lactose intolerant people don’t like milkshakes.”

“Lactose intolerant people like milkshakes as much as the rest of us,” you argue.  “They just can’t tolerate them.”

“What are you, some kind of doctor?”

Your lips quirk with the threat of a laugh you manage to suppress but Yoongi catches the expression before it disappears.  You seem to relax after that.  He does, too.

“Dijeoteu has the best milkshakes in the city.  Ever been there?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you admit, taping off a bandage.  

“It’s not far from here.  Open twenty-four hours.  I hang out there sometimes.”

“So you’re a milkshake-drinking hot-air balloon enthusiast,” you murmur, inspecting your handiwork closely.  “Anything else I should know about you, Mister Woo?’

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Not really.  That about covers it.”

You hum thoughtfully under your breath as you finish wrapping the bruised knuckles.

“All done.  How does it feel?”

“Better,” Yoongi admits.  “Thanks.”

You gaze at him then, thoughtful -- expression soft with something that looks almost like concern.  Yoongi drops his gaze down to his bandaged hand.

This is the part where you’ve finished -- the part where you leave.  

This is the part where he should say something to you but he has no idea what or how.

“I would say come back soon, but this is a hospital and that seems wildly inappropriate,” you announce, voice breaking clear through his stupor.

You turn back to him just as you’re walking towards the door, and for a moment Yoongi thinks you’re going to give in and ask him any one of the dozens of questions that must be swirling around your mind.

But you don’t.

“Try to take care of that hand, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi nods.

“Thanks, Doc.”

**********************

YOU

Doctor Lee is on his Houdini shit tonight, apparently.

The ER is packed -- waiting room crowded with crabby patients -- and you are, once again, running yourself ragged to get to every last one.  Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

“Page him again,” you call out as you pass the charge nurse outside an exam room.  

A quick scan of your tablet confirms the toddler behind this magic door has been vomiting all night.  You shut your eyes and wish a slow, violent death on your absent attending.  Vomit is the single worst phenomenon in medicine.

“I’ve paged him three times,” Nurse Ko calls back.

“Page him again,” you repeat, forcing a smile and pushing into the room.

Thirty minutes and one change of scrubs later you are checking charts on the next patient in line.  You pat the pocket of your new scrubs and realize you’ve left a half-eaten energy bar around here somewhere.  

No chance you’ll get that back.

Lee picks this moment to reappear, back from doing God knows what.  He strolls down the hallway like a man with nothing on his to-do list.

“You paged for me?” he inquires casually.

“A few times, actually,” you mutter.  “I’m getting killed out here.”

“Relax,” Lee purrs, condescension dripping from his tone.  “We’ll get it done.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from firing back the half-dozen nasty responses that spring to mind. There is no we when it comes to Doctor Lee.  He’s always been flighty and inconsistent, but these days he’s practically a missing person.  You’re still not sure how hospital management hasn’t figured out that he’s making his resident run the overnight ER.

“There’s a guy down the hall who says he swallowed a magnet,” you say, waving a hand in that direction.  “If you can pick him up I can get to this head trauma.”

Lee sighs like it’s a major inconvenience that you’ve asked him to do his job.

“Yeah, I’ll grab it.”

***********************

It’s nearly four in the morning by the time you have a chance to catch your breath.

You walk out to scan the waiting area and to your relief, there are only a handful of patients yet to be seen.  Then your eyes land on one young man -- slumped into a chair in an oversized coat, hat pulled low over his eyes.

You freeze.  

The man in the chair must feel your stare from across the room because he straightens, giving you a better look at the face hidden under the brim of his hat.  You let go of a breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding.

It’s not him.  

It’s not the mysterious man with the fake names and the bogus stories and the insanely handsome face. You shake your head as you look back down at your tablet, silently chastising yourself for even entertaining the thought.  

You shouldn’t still be thinking about this guy and you know it.

But it’s driving you nuts that you can’t figure him out.

He’s never tried to play you for pills and that seems to be the only thing people lie about these days. But if his problem isn’t drugs it’s certainly something because no one lands in the hospital that many times, with that many phoney stories unless they’re up to no good.

So you ignore the nonsensical disappointment you feel when the guy in that chair is not the guy. 

Because deep down you know he’s either in trouble -- or he is trouble.

***********************

Your pager goes off for a second time and you silence the alert, tossing it onto a nearby blanket.

It’s not like you’re hiding out in here -- not really. 

It’s just that you’ve already had one patient cough up blood on your sneakers and another swing at you when you refused to give him narcotics, so this night is off to a spectacularly bad start.

Besides, Doctor Lee could use a taste of his own medicine.  

This week has been the worst, by far.  You’ve been seeing at least three patients to his every one and you’re exhausted.  If there’s any justice, he’s walking into the exam room where the infant with explosive diarrhea is waiting to be seen -- you check your watch -- right about now.

The door to the linen closet cracks open and you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“What, you thought I didn’t know about your little hiding place?”  Nurse Ko asks with a grin.  “I find everyone’s hiding place, eventually.”

“Haven’t found Lee’s yet,” you gripe. 

“Yeah, well he’s sneakier,” she laughs.  “Here, I brought you something.”  

She tosses a granola bar at you and it lands in your lap.  

“Thanks,” you sigh, ripping it open.  You take a bite and Ko leans against the doorframe.

“I don’t page you for my health, you know.”

“I know,” you whine around a mouthful of dried oats.  “I just needed five minutes.”

“Well, I’ve got a guy out here who says he’ll only see you.  Doesn’t want Doctor Lee and says he’ll wait as long as it takes.”

A piece of the granola bar lodges in your throat and you cough around it, spluttering while Ko looks on, amused.  She waits for you to collect yourself.

“Is he -- ”

“ -- hot? Yes. Very,” Ko smiles.  

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment at both the observation and the fact that it’s coming from a woman in her sixties.

“I was going to say young,” you grumble, standing and dusting your hands off with a towel.

“That, too.  Come to think of it, I know I’ve seen him here before.  You have some kind of admirer, jagiya?”

You flush.

**************************

“Good evening, Mister Kim.”

You hope the air of nonchalance you affect when you enter the exam room is enough to mask your jitters.  

Your mystery patient looks back at you with those dark eyes and a half-smirk that makes your heart trip in your chest.  You take a steadying breath as you look down at your tablet.

Get it together, girl.

“What brings you in tonight?” you inquire lightly.  “Sword-swallowing accident?  Lose a fist fight with a bear?”

Your mysterious patient chuckles under his breath.  

“Where would you get a couple of outlandish ideas like that, Doc?”

You look up at him just as the teasing smirk on his face becomes a full smile and heat blooms in your chest and face.  You force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“I dislocated my shoulder.  Did you know I work air traffic control at Incheon?”

You shake your head with amused weariness as you make notes on your tablet.

“Crazy night.  One of the planes nearly slid off the runway and I threw my shoulder out trying to get it back on track.”

“Did you save it?”

“Saved it and all 227 people on board.”

“Bravo, Mister Kim.” 

“Just doing my job,” he shrugs.  

You set your tablet down on the exam table with a thump, eyeing him as you reach for a pair of gloves.

“The charge nurse says you asked for me.”

“I did,” he admits.  “You never told me what your favorite kind of milkshake is.”

You cock your head to the side as you look at him.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mister Kim,” you murmur, feigning ignorance. “According to my records this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”

“Oh, yeah.  Right,” he chuckles.  

“You need some help getting undressed?”

“Yeah,” he admits, slipping one arm out of his leather jacket.  You lean in to help him pull the other side off, compelling yourself to ignore the way he smells like soap and sweat and man when you’re this close.

“It’s strawberry.”

You blurt the words out, anxious to give your brain a task that doesn’t involve analyzing this man’s smell.  Something about the mischievous twist to his mouth tells you he knows you’re flustered by his nearness.  

“I would have guessed chocolate,” he muses, reaching one hand down to grab the hem of his shirt. He drags it up his abdomen and you will your eyes to stay on his face -- refusing to give him any indication that you have more than a clinical interest in what lies underneath.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” you argue, taking over when he can’t get the shirt up any higher.  You push it over his head and carefully work it off his shoulder.  “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

“Mission accomplished, Doc.”

He gazes at you then -- chest bare and eyes sharp beneath those inky lashes --  and you feel a bolt of awareness run the length of your spine. You pray the heat you suddenly feel all over your body is not manifesting in damning spots of color on your face.  

You remind yourself to get back to work. 

He sucks a breath between his teeth when you press gently against the inflamed muscle and tissue.

“My shoulder’s been shit for years,” he confesses.  “I screwed it up when I was a kid and it hasn’t been the same since.”

“So this happens to you from time to time?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then I’m going to have to refer you for an MRI,” you say, and he groans when you press into his shoulder again.  “There could be a lot of scar tissue in here, but I won’t be able to know what’s going on until we get some clear scans.”

Your eyes flick back to his.  

Every word that’s ever come out of this man’s mouth is a lie -- but there’s something that feels honest about the way he’s looking at you right now.  Something that makes you feel seasick, unsteady.

“Turn to the side for me,” you say quietly, and the thin paper that lines the exam table rustles as he complies.  The relief you feel when he pivots away from you with those eyes and that look is whole-bodied.  

“For now, the best I can do is probably pop -- “

Your words trail off as your eyes lock on a wound that sits just a few inches from his spine, just above the line of his jeans.  The edges are white and soft with age -- the area long-healed -- but the trauma is unmistakable.  

Textbook.  

The anger you feel as you stare at the wound doesn’t make any sense.  

But you feel it anyway.

“Is it still inside of you, or did they pull it out?”

“What -- ”

“-- The bullet Mister Kim,” you interrupt sharply.  “If it’s still in you, I promise it will come out the second they load you into an MRI machine.  The hard way.”

The muscles of his back flex as he stiffens.  Tension bleeds into the lines of his body and into his voice when he finally speaks.

“It’s out.”

Neither of you says another word.

The room feels hollow now, painfully quiet without talk of elephants or hot air balloons or milkshakes.  The two of you work together silently to crack his abused shoulder back into place.  Somehow he manages to endure that pain without making a sound.

In the end, it’s you that has to speak first.

“That should hold you for now,” you say tightly, standing to toss your gloves in the trash.   You grab your tablet to make notes.

“You mad at me, Doc?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter, fingers flying over your screen.  “I don’t even know you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re mad at me?”

You tear your eyes away from the screen to find his.  

There’s no teasing or humor there anymore.  He looks boyish and unsure like this, peering back at you with somber eyes from beneath long black bangs that have fallen into his face.

“No more stories, no more bullshit.  Tell me who you are.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think better of them -- before you can consider how stupid it is to interrogate a complete stranger with a now confirmed history of violence.  Before you can consider that you have no right to the anger that now streaks white-hot through your veins.

“I can’t,” he breathes quietly.  “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head in disgust.

“Are you dangerous?”

Before he even speaks, you get your answer.  You get it in the way color erupts across the bridge of his nose and cheeks.  The way he looks away from you and down to his hands.

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” he whispers.

“I’m asking you,” you fire back.

He doesn’t answer.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, waiting for him to say something in his defense. Waiting for him to pull another gag and tell just one more ridiculous story.  But the seconds tick by and he says nothing.

“A nurse is going to come by with a sling. She’ll help you get dressed, too,” you say tightly, walking to the door.

You don’t know why your heart feels like it seizes in your chest when you turn to give him one more look.

“Take care of yourself, Mister Kim,” you say quietly.  “And don’t come back.”

*****************************

Glossary:

Dijeoteu: dessert

Jagiya: sweetie, sweetheart

*****************************

Tag List!

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[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 11

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: nothing (i think?) Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

a/n: hi all please be patient I am having some writers block/lack of motivation lately for writing so this series may be a bit on a pause (hopefully not) but I am working to get out more drabbles to maybe just get some inspo or something!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Waking up in Bucky’s arms felt just too good to be true. You were sure it was a dream, a nice, new dream Fate had blessed you with, but when Bucky shifted beside you and you felt every sensation, you knew you were truly awake. 

It also helped tremendously that you had a pleasant dream about him. It feels like centuries since you were shaken awake by the actions of The Winter Soldier. You couldn’t even consider any of it the actions of him next to you, feeling like the person in your dreams was and wasn’t the man in this bed. Everything felt like it intertwined dangerously, vines running through your mind. But, truthfully, you didn’t wanna think too much about it. You were finally getting your chance at the real soulmate experience, dates and dreams and all, and that was too priceless to spend time dwelling over much else.

Bucky awoke slowly, his normally rough eyes met yours in the softest manner. You two were tangled comfortably, still in most of last night's clothing, minus your panties and Bucky’s sweater which he must’ve ditched in the middle of the night. But none of that bothered you for a second. You were just too glad to be in this bed with your soulmate, cocooned lovingly in the sheets.

Bucky’s hoarse morning voice broke the silence, “Good morning.”

You smirked. “Good morning.” You shifted on your side and Bucky removed his arm from your waist, letting you get comfortable. The other arm around your shoulder stayed put. Quite surprisingly, it was his metal one. You could see Bucky’s torso completely now, the light from the sun hitting him in just the right way. Your eyes traveled from his arm to his shoulder, looking curiously. He was a fascinating phenomenon that you couldn’t believe was yours.

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t shiver away at the interest you were taking again in his arm and instead, indulged in your curiosity. “What’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?”

Your eyes snapped back to Bucky’s face. Your cheeks heated up from the question, feeling like you were caught doing something wrong. But Bucky didn’t look at all upset. Slowly, your eyes drifted back down and your hand came up to caress the base of his neck, just barely skimming his shoulder. He shuddered under the feeling.

“Does it… Does it hurt or anything?” You asked, suddenly feeling very stupid the second the words left your mouth. You bit your lip, trying to find the words to peddle back, but Bucky didn’t seem very bothered by it.

“No,” he shook his head. “I guess I don’t think much about it now. It’s just part of me. Obviously.”

You nodded, still letting your hand trace invisible patterns on his skin. “And you use it to fight bad guys?”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re still on that, huh?” You smirked and shrugged, wordlessly asking him to continue. “I… I help where I can. Don’t think it’s much to get excited about it but I like to think I have a hand in making the world better. It’s the least I could do since…” His words trailed off, leaving a kind of heaviness in the conversation. Bucky’s eyes lost their softness. They were beginning to water up but before any tear could escape, he spoke again. “You know, I actually am glad you brought this up. I have a mission soon.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?” 

He nodded and sat up in the bed, untangling you two. You followed his motions, gripping the blanket to you as you now sat side-by-side. 

“Should just be for a day or so. Mainly just gathering intel, nothing really crazy from the looks of it, but I still wanted to let you know.”

“W-When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Your jaw went slack. “You have a mission to leave for tomorrow and I’m just now hearing about it?”

Despite your rising anger, you let Bucky take your hand in his. He rubbed soft circles on your skin. “Doll, I promise, I didn’t know about it until yesterday morning.”

“Were you going to tell me?” You were a bit surprised by how softly your words came out, just barely making it above a whisper. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears, worry and uncertainty course through you. You didn’t know what these missions could really entail. Could they really just be intel gathering? What if stuff goes wrong? Stuff goes wrong all the time, right? Your head was swimming and all you really knew was that you were losing your soulmate for a bit. Sure, you had gone your entire life without him (and he went without you much longer) but now you two were connected. It was practically set in stone. The situation had changed drastically and now he was leaving to do God knows what…

Bucky let out a sigh, the noise forcing you out of your worried thoughts. He spoke gently as if sensing the uneasiness within you, “Yes, I planned to, doll, I just didn’t know how to bring it up. When you asked about my job again, I just jumped on the opportunity, okay? I swear, I wasn’t going to just disappear.”

You wrapped your arm around his, leaning closer to rest your head in the crook of his neck. He shifted to welcome the touch. 

“You can’t disappear,” you whispered. “After what happened that night on the phone…” It flashed back. The dial tone in your ear, the thought of Bucky gone in the night. You didn’t want to remember those feelings, really. “You gotta promise me you’re going to be safe.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle and you possibly would’ve found it comical, it was actually quite funny asking an ex-assassin to be safe, but thanks to the bond, there wasn’t anything funny about anything. You couldn’t imagine even having to put a bandaid on him. 

“I’ll be safe, doll,” he said. “Try not to worry.”

You scoffed. “Impossible.”

A moment passed before Bucky reached to cup the side of your face. Instinctively, you brought your face up to meet his. His expression as he stared back with a true whirlwind of emotions. Sadness, appreciation, love… But he didn’t express anything outwardly, and instead just placed his lips on yours. His body pressed into you as the kiss deepened, slowly pushing you back to the bed. You two fell back once again into the entanglement of one another. 

***

“You’re going to be okay, right?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, I’ll be fine.”

You tried giving an understanding nod but still, all you felt was worry as you and Bucky stood outside your apartment building saying your goodbyes. It was early and he had made sure to stop by before you had to leave for work. You thought you two had said your goodbyes in more ways than one yesterday but he wasn’t leaving so easily and you were secretly glad.

“I’m just making sure,” you sighed and reached to grab his hand. He accepted, intertwining your fingers.

“I know,” he nodded. “Are you going to be okay?”

You raised your brows. “Me?” You let out a small laugh. “I’m not the one going on a mission to do who knows what in God knows where.”

Bucky shook his head, a small smirk on his lips. “No, but I still have to make sure you’re safe here.”

“Bucky, I’ve spent a lot of time alone. I’m going to be just fine.”

Bucky’s expression morphed into something unsettling. He looked quite distressed at your comment, which you hadn’t truly expected, but hearing it out loud, you wanted to cringe at the statement. It was probably the most uncomfortable reminder but Bucky didn’t mention anything about it.

“I’m just making sure.” He repeated your words as a teasing remark, making you let out a small sigh of relief.

In a quick last-minute move, you pulled him closer to place a loving kiss on his lips. He smiled into it as his other hand came up to caress your cheek. Warmth raced through you as he broke the kiss.

“Have a good day at work, doll.”

“Have a good mission, Buck.”

***

You thanked your lucky stars that work today was ridiculously slow. It was almost the weekend but the usual rush of morning folks had dwindled pretty fast. Truly, though, this was a best-case scenario in your eyes because in between the fleeting customers and out of the watchful gaze of your boss, you took time to send Bucky some texts. While, yes, you knew he hated texting (who could blame him with the T9 keyboard he was working with) but you still thought they would be nice for him to read. 

I’m sure you’re high off in the sky getting briefed on your task but I wanted to wish you luck. You hit send with a goofy grin feeling a bit silly and a bit… concerned. Your worry for Bucky hadn’t stopped and you knew most likely it was consequences of being separated from your soulmate but you wished the gnawing at your soul would quit it. Still, though, a part of you felt giddy being able to send him cute little things while he was gone.

Your coworker took notice of your behavior quite quickly. As she came around the counter  restocking the syrups, she asked, “What’s got you all lovestruck?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your smile. “Bucky’s gone for a bit and I was just sending him a little love note.”

Your coworker chuckled. “A love note. Oh, how far you two have come.” With that sentiment, she went back to her restocking, leaving you to stare at your phone. You nodded to yourself realizing, yeah, you and Bucky had come far. You didn’t know if all relationships hit the gas pedal but there had always been an urgency with you even before ever looking at Bucky. You had wanted this for a while, always unsure if you would get it thanks to what the nightmares showed, but now it was real. It was as Bucky said, if it felt right to you two, then it must be.

Thinking of you. You sent off another little message before sliding your phone back into your pocket. You waited the rest of your shift but never received anything back, not that you really expected it, though. You figured if he had time to call, he was going to wait for that opportunity. 

Eventually, the clock hit quitting time and you exited the coffee shop, waving a brief goodbye to your coworker. Standing on the sidewalk, you half expected to maybe see Bucky eager to walk you home or take you to dinner but the street was gravely empty. You shook off the unusual thought and began your journey home. 

It was a fairly quiet night and you were thankful for that. It gave you a chance to just be with yourself for a second after a whirlwind of days and nights with Bucky by your side. Maybe this distance would be good, you thought. The distance creates a need and your reunion would be unlike anything you had ever felt before. You blushed at the thought.

You made your way into your apartment building and up the stairs. Unlocking your door, you threw down your items and began getting ready for bed. The softness of it was just begging for you. While you would’ve loved to be back in Bucky’s, you were dying for a bit of sleep to maybe ease your hyperactive thoughts of your soulmate and his mission. 

After taking off your make-up and getting on your pajamas, you crawled under the covers. Sleep hit you almost immediately, a new occurrence you were getting used to. You never really recalled a time when you were welcoming sleep with open arms.

But maybe you were counting your blessings too soon. Tonight ended up not being how it had been for the past few days. The nightmares came back in a sudden rush, way too fast for you to even think about what the hell was going on. You felt so lost, being pushed so many steps back in your progress, as scenes of fighting and guns blazing flashed in and out without any warning. The emotions came back as well. Need and anger were swelling in your heart as you fought and fought within the nightmares. Everything began feeling…so real. The nightmares felt strong as your body felt it had a mind of its own, tossing around your bed in panic as your brain filled with the images and… yells?

You were shaking now. You didn’t remember hearing sounds in your nightmares before but everything can be suppressed if you’re traumatized enough, you figured. But there was just something within you that didn’t feel right. Granted, nothing was right about the nightmares but this was different… these sounds felt real and sudden… Your brain was screaming. What the...

Something cold hit your back. At first, you had thought your blanket fell off but when you went to grab it, you found your hands were bound together. Real panic, nothing of the dream kind, raced through you. Your eyes bolted open. 

You didn't find your blanket because it wasn’t there. You weren’t in your bed. Hell, you weren’t even in your apartment. You were alone, shoved into a dark cell, your back pressed against a cold, metal wall. The panic was settling in but you couldn’t find the strength to react besides staring around frantically in the dark. You couldn’t make out anything, barely able to even see your own body. It was deadly silent.

You began praying to whatever was out there that this was just a dream, that you just really couldn't wake up, you had only thought you woke up. But that just wasn’t the case and a sad part of you really knew it. Nightmares suddenly weren’t just reserved for bedtime.

[andypantsx3]

conspire | 1 | scheme

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Shouto Todoroki was standing outside your workroom.

This was unusual, as in the three years you’d both been attending UA, Todoroki had hardly been spotted anywhere near the support course rooms. Class H was typically avoided by anyone who didn’t want your classmate Mei to catch wind of them -- and very few hero course students had proved willing to do so, once they’d encountered her the first time.

Todoroki was one of the smart ones.

He looked incredibly out of place and yet almost comically festive in the doorway of the studio, his red and white mop of hair matching the horrible red and white heart banner someone had tacked above the entry for Valentine’s Day. He stopped midway through the door, eyes flicking over the other offensively bright decor, including several violently pink heart balloons and heinous red streamers that hung from the ceiling like sausages curing in a deli.

A ripple of interest went through the female segment of your classmates at his arrival, and despite yourself, you perked up too.

You didn’t know much about him, but Shouto Todoroki had the most interesting quirk you had ever worked with. You’d been paired for a project earlier this year where you’d helped develop an adjustment to his temperature jacket that used pattern recognition to help it anticipate changes in his quirk, in order to begin applying temperature controls sometimes even before he’d made the switch from hot to cold or vice versa.

You hadn’t spoken much on topics outside the project, but on the subject of your work, Todoroki had proved himself smart as a whip, asking insightful and probing questions, and making sensible suggestions based on what he learned from you. He’d been so keen on your ideas and so shockingly easy to work with that you’d lamented the project’s end.

It had only lasted two weeks, unfortunately, wrapping up before you’d had the chance to really delve into his personality or the actual science behind his quirk, and you’d been dying for the opportunity to pair up again and really study him since.

Less importantly, Shouto Todoroki was also inarguably the most handsome boy in your year, maybe even at all of UA. He was tall, strapped with lean muscle, and equipped with a facial symmetry that was almost more deadly than his quirk. Even his scar did nothing to deter from his good looks, only adding a roughed up, roguish charm to his otherwise pretty features. The first few days of your project, you’d had to pinch yourself on the leg more than a few times in order to reroute your brain from his face to the actual jacket.

You’d since put effort into ignoring his appearance, but you couldn’t really help that your eyes were pulled to him like a magnet whenever he stepped into a room.

Like now.

Todoroki’s own grey and blue eyes scanned over the faces of your classmates, stopping when they landed on you.

“Y/N,” he said in greeting, and you raised a bewildered hand. Several nearby girls shot you betrayed looks, like you’d been keeping an association with him secret. You’d have shot yourself something of a questioning look, too, if you could have. What reason would Shouto Todoroki have to seek you out outside of class? It had been almost a month since the project together. What might he want with you now?

“Hi, Todoroki,” you said, wondering if you’d awoken in some parallel dimension where he thought you were friends. “Uh, what brings you here?”

“I have a personal request,” he said in his low, soft tone, stepping into the room and making his way over to your worktable. He’d shed the grey blazer of the school uniform for the crisp white dress shirt and tie, and he looked unbearably good. As he drew closer, you could see the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt.

You self-consciously pushed around the messy wires and metal framing on your worktop, trying to clear space.

A personal request. Had he come for some kind of support item? Your mind suddenly ran with possibilities, and a thrill went through you at the potential to study half hot half cold in earnest. This was the kind of extracurricular project you’d been dreaming of, maybe even something that you could scope out and build as your submission for your senior project next month!

“Sure,” you said, gesturing to the other stool at your worktop and rifling around in your bag for a pen and paper. You’d probably need to take notes.

Todoroki stared at you. “Ah, not that kind of a request,” he said, eyeing your pen and paper.

Your cheer dropped. Oh.

“I had hoped to ask you in private, actually,” he said, something like discomfort flashing across his handsome features. He looked almost nervous, and you wondered wildly what kind of support request would make one of UA’s big three this awkward. Was he having a problem with his quirk that he didn’t want to cop to?

“Okay,” you said, looking up at him, “lead the way.”

A cool hand came up to grasp your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. Your face burned at the casual touch, and you felt the curious eyes of your classmates on you as you were led from the room.

Todoroki steered you through the hall and around the corner to a small alcove out of the way of student traffic. The alcove had clearly had the same treatment as your workrooms, festooned with a banner boasting a bizarre pattern of tiny All Might silhouettes interspersed with hearts. Your eyes felt like they might catch fire if you looked at it for too long.

“How have you been since the project?” you asked Todoroki, in the interest of being companionable. “Is everything on your vest still working well?”

A smile touched the corner of his mouth as he turned to face you. “It’s incredible. It still surprises me that it can predict what I’m going to do before I even think to do it.”

You flushed at the praise. “I’m glad. It was really cool work on. Your quirk is awesome - normally there are only so many variables with pattern prediction like that but the two sides of your quirk increased the possibilities exponentially, so the algorithm was hard to code. I had to get a little extra help from an actual computer scientist,” you admitted, before slapping a hand over your mouth, realizing you were rambling.

His smile widened and your traitorous eyes caught on his mouth. “You sound exactly as you did the last time we talked.”

You winced. “Yeah, sorry.”

His eyes widened and the hand on your wrist tightened. “No, I didn’t mean--it’s nice,” he said. His fingers seemed to grow the tiniest bit colder where he held you. “I would have liked to have worked with you longer.”

You tamped down on another blush, looking away. “Yeah. It’s too bad.”

Just then, footsteps sounded in the hall, and Himari Honda came wheeling around the corner.

Himari was another student you’d been paired with for a project at one time, and she hadn’t worked nearly as well with you as Todoroki had. A general course student with a quirk that let her track anyone within up to a mile of her person, Himari’s goal after graduation was to become an actress, with a particular focus on playing the love interest of powerful hero characters. She was certainly pretty enough, with large eyes, high cheekbones, and shiny pink hair that she wore in a long plait down her back, but that’s where her appeal ended. She wasn’t horrible, but she was a little too self-interested and it had certainly shown in how she’d handled your pair project.

Himari smiled winningly at Todoroki, and it became clear to you that she’d tracked him with her quirk. You knew instantly why she’d come to find him, today of all days.

“Hi, Shouto,” she purred. His fingers tightened where he still held your wrist.

“Hello,” he said politely.

You stifled a laugh at the carefully blank look he’d suddenly adopted. You guessed he’d been fending off advances of this type all day -- you’d caught sight of his shoe cubby when you’d changed into your own uniform shoes this morning, absolutely bursting with chocolate and brightly-colored valentine's notes. He was too handsome for his own good, it appeared. Still, it was interesting that Todoroki seemed not the slightest bit interested in what someone who looked like Himari had to say.

“Maybe I should go,” you said, tugging your wrist back, but Todoroki gripped you tighter.

“I still need to talk to you,” he said. He fixed you with an intense look like he could pin you in place with his gaze.

Himari seemed to ignore you. “Shouto, I was hoping to talk to you alone.”

“I’m a little occupied at the minute,” he said, gesturing to you. You gave a little wave.

Himari shot you a betrayed look like you’d beaten her to the punch, then puffed up like she was drawing up her courage. “Don’t accept her confession! Accept mine! I like you -- please go out with me!”

Your jaw dropped. You’d definitely not been in the middle of asking Todoroki out, but damn it took balls to cut another woman off like that. You couldn’t tell if you respected her or hated her for her shamelessness.

Todoroki shifted uncomfortably next to you. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t accept your feelings. You see, I was just about to ask Y/N out.”

Your mind went blank.

He what now? Is that why he’d brought you to this alcove to speak to you in private? Is that why he’d been so nervous back in the support studio, asking to talk to you alone? Shouto Todoroki had wanted to ask you out?

You wondered at that. You couldn’t understand why, when he could have his pick of any girl at UA. You were fine, sure -- reasonably smart with good grades and a neat appearance, but you weren’t anywhere near his level of mind-numbing attractiveness. More than that, you didn’t even have a quirk, and it was impossible that someone who wielded a power like half hot half cold was going to wade that far into the bleak depths of the dating pool. He had plenty of other options, so why come to you...?

Then, like a slow sunrise, it dawned on you what he was actually up to.

Todoroki was trying to get rid of all the confessions in one fell swoop. If Himari went back to her classmates and told everyone what had happened, rumors would spread very quickly that Shouto Todoroki was a dead-end bet. No one would try to ask him out anymore if his heart purportedly belonged to another.

That sneaky little fuck.

“Right,” you said, perking up and playing along gamely. “And I was just about to accept,” you announced to Himari.

Todoroki threw you a wild look like he hadn’t expected you to take this track. Shit, had you been supposed to reject him instead? You could, you supposed, but what hot-blooded woman in possession of sound mind and sound body would possibly do so? Did he also want to start the rumor that you were a complete nutjob?

“Um, I mean, I was about to respond privately,” you backpedaled. “Uh, nothing confirmed at this point.”

Himari gave you a furious look, her large eyes filling with tears, and turned on her heel, storming off. Your heart went out to her, just a little.

“You’d really accept?” Todoroki asked you as soon as she’d gone. Something unreadable glinted in his two-toned gaze.

You thought for a moment. Did he actually want to do this? It was barely a couple months until graduation, but you had nothing to lose in helping him. Maybe this was also your opportunity to study his quirk more closely, if you were going to be spending more time together to keep up appearances. You might actually be able to use him for your senior project.

“Sure,” you said, smiling up at him. “If you wanted this, I mean.”

A smile curved the edges of his mouth. “I did, yes.”

“Great,” you said, “Then you’re officially my boyfriend, Todoroki.”

His smile widened. “It’s Shouto.”

You looked at him in question.

“My name, it’s Shouto,” he said. “I’d like it if you would call me that.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest. This was all pretend but damn it was cute anyway. “Shouto,” you tested it out, liking the sound of it in your mouth.

Shouto seemed to like it too, unwinding his fingers from your wrist to slip his hand into yours. The cool of his fingers between yours was soothing, and you quite liked the way it felt.

“Are you free Saturday, then, for a first date?” he asked.

He did nothing by halves, huh? You laughed. “Yes, I’m free. Text me the time and place?”

He agreed and you traded phones, plugging in each other’s numbers. Then he walked you back to your workroom and left you with promises to see you Saturday, after sending you a characteristically straightforward this is shouto text to confirm.

You smiled as you watched him leave, pleased to be in on his little scheme.

You’d never fake dated anyone before so you didn’t really know what you were getting into, but you thought this could be fun. You were looking forward to whatever Shouto had up his sleeve.

[sourstars]

past seekers, heart keepers

In rough times, he’s the water to your petals. He hopes you two can build from the wreckage, to bloom, and because you love him, trust in him, you do.

navi / masterlist / the playlist

tag list: empty! send an ask to be apart of it!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have rewritten or tweaked some of it!! enjoy! this went from 5.7K to 6.4K😳

EDIT: PLEASE KNOW THIS IS MONTHS OLD LOL

WORD COUNT: 6.4K

WARNINGS: angst, semi-slow burn second romance, reminiscence

PAIRING: Amajiki Tamaki x gn!reader

↳ LOVERS TO EXES TO LOVERS, RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIME ↲

Come Out And Play by Billie Eilish

“Yeah I know it makes you nervous, but I promise you it’s worth it,”

“Too shy to say, but I hope you stay, don’t hide away, come out and play,”

Tamaki falling in love was a slow thing, and he knew that more than anyone.

Like a pretty sprout fighting its way through the dirt towards a hint of sunshine, or a baby bird learning to fly for the first time; it was something learned, grown with care and perseverance. Slow burn at its finest, sure, but for the most part, life with him was soft, delicate, and quiet, and it was nice that way.

If he wanted, Tamaki could argue that things were best cultivated from the truth in one's heart, and in the instance of loving another, that would be no different.

A blossoming relationship in secret was what you both wanted, seemingly only the closest of friends in public spaces, but lovers alone. Holding hands under the table, lingering touches from a morning hug or a passing of notes; something just for the two of you. him and you, you and him, until it wasn’t.

Give Me A Minute by Lizzy Mcalpine

“Give me a minute, just one would do,”

“The city will move out of frame, but it’s still you, who remains.”

“I’d trade all I got in my name, for you instead, of this pain,”

“But it’s no one’s fault. we’re just… late.”

Relationships can end in millions of different ways, but to the both of you, this was unexplainable.

You imagined you two standing amongst the wreckage, and in your mind, you two were simple on separate edges of the universe, fingers grazing but unable to grasp.

The pain was apparent, but as you began to pull yourself away from the big three, you knew right now you couldn't look them in the eye, not with all of this weight, and so with a heavy heart, you once again settled into a routine before they arrived. Where you would once wait for Mirio and Nejire at the school entrance, you merely walked on. The corner store where you once bought snacks for Tamaki after missions was now a thing of the past, and you opted to take the longer routes to wherever you were headed.

It’s hard, you realized, to move on from a time and place where you once thought you’d grow old in, but time waits for no one, and with every passing day, you tell yourself it will get easier, but the feeling that ebbs in your heart refuses to leave, and when his eyes catch yours every morning, you’re sure you both always think the same thing;

Who knew it would end like this?

Break My Heart Again by Finneas

“You’re so blue, are you still breathing? Won’t you tell me if you find that deeper meaning? Do you think I’ve gone blind? I know it’s not the truth when you say, ‘i’m fine’.”

“You were the one but you were born to say goodbye, kiss me half a decade later. that same perfume, those same sad eyes.”

“Go ahead and break my heart again,”

“It be nice, to love someone who lets you break them twice.”

They say emotions can be reckless things, and with how they make a home in people, leaving memories in the wakes of others, you aren’t surprised.

Sometimes, as much as we wish we could snap our fingers and heal, we cannot. Sometimes, one of the only ways out is through, and happiness be damned, you are trying, despite what your tear stained pillows have to say.

But today the school load has finally lessened, and so with the moment to finally breathe, you take your time and unwind, shrugging off your uniform and settling into the covers once you’ve changed. It takes you exactly three minutes where the world doesn’t collapse, and then you’re right back when you started.

Tamaki towered over you, face flushed and arms covering his eyes as the silence overtook the world around you, and as the moments moved on, the confidence in you began to waver.

“Tamaki,” Your eyes trailed to your shoes, your own heartbeat thumping in your ears, “Please say something, anything.”

It took you three hours to feel brave enough to head back to the dorms that day. It took him two days until he’d finally caught you and kept a moment of your time long enough to explain he’d felt the same.

You suppose you had set yourself up for this, but what are you other than human if you don’t try to at least love with all you can?

Is it just me? by Emily burns

“I wonder if your friends have had to carry you home, and stay for the night because they don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I know it’s cruel, but I kind of hope you’re tortured, too.”

“‘Cause this would be one whole lot easier, god, I know that’s selfish but it’s true, if underneath some calm exterior, you’re all fucked up, too.”

“Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside, when I say that we broke up and they ask why — are you crying in the shower like a freak, or is it just me?”

It's been three months since you and him split up, and despite all attempts, you still couldn’t escape Nejire's schemes.

A nice group hangout, she’d said, snacks included, music, blah blah blah. She’d given you puppy eyes, how that was possible, you weren’t sure, but between those eyes and the fondness for her, you weren’t shocked you couldn’t say no. You were sure it was just a ploy to make you two bump into each other, anyway, from the way she’d fist bumped Mirio as she left.

It didn’t go as you planned, but has anything ever for you?

You’d spent it avoiding Amajiki like the plague until you had no choice, and when you’d seen the dark bags under his eyes, much like yours, you felt the questions struggle to bury themselves back down your throat. Why did you go? Why couldn’t you stay? What happened to us?

Instead, he’d said them for you, eyes dropped to the floor, cup held tight between his shaking hands, voice a cracked whisper but echoed against the walls.

A wobbly, forced smile crawled upon your lips, and you hugged yourself while you felt your resolve crumble, answering. Your voice is nothing more than a soft whisper, and even after you had escaped back to the safety of your blankets, you still imagined things could’ve been different.

“Why did it end? you tell me, Ta— Amajiki, you’re the one who decided to go.”

Life Moves On by Finneas

“She said ‘you know I love you’, I said ‘remind me’.”

“I stood with strangers, gazing at the girl that I once knew.”

“Life moves on, the way life does, but some things are prettier, the way life was, before we gave each other up.”

Tamaki sat at his desk, leg bouncing under his desk as he gazed into nothingness. His hair hid the classroom from him and for that, he was grateful. If he’d caught your eye today, he didn’t know what’d he do, the memory of what you’d said to him stuck so far in his brain.

“...you’re the one who decided to go.”

He remembers the day he almost realized he loved you as if it had just happened, like he’d be looking through glass, he swore he could almost touch it. Fat Gum and — what was his name? Some first year intern he could never remember the name of, perhaps he should’ve paid attention during the introductions.

Fat Gum was out on a solo mission, and to cover more ground, all three of you split up. Or, at least, he thought you did, but you had a way of always showing up at the right time.

Your steps sounded next to his, soft next to his slow ones, and your smile could light up the morning sky better than any big star could, and by some miracle, it was directed at him.

“He, Tama, d’ya wanna get some food after this? I heard there was a new place down a couple of blocks from here! The burgers are supposed to be so good you could die!”

Your eyes were crinkled as you looked at him, hands clasped behind your back and you raised a brow, patiently waiting for him to speak.

“S.. Sure, I-I don’t mi-”

You stilled, before you’d pointed a finger at him accusingly, your cheeks puffed out.

“Only if you want to! Remember you can always be honest with me, Tama, I’ll always be happy with whatever we’re doing, as long as it’s with you!”

He blinked twice, but by then you’d already begun dragging him down the street, wind whipping through your hair like it was trying to hold you.

“Come on, I bet you’re craving takoyaki, aren’t ‘cha? your favorite place is just this way!”

He swore his heart his heart couldn’t take anymore, and it felt like slow motion as he heard you laugh at his muttering, your head turning to look back at him.

“Just a little further, Tama! I can see-”

“Mr. Amajiki, please pay attention.”

A book was lightly smacked against his desk, his teacher looking at him disapprovingly, “Could you read the next part? Act two, scene five, please.”

Ah, yes. The princess and the knight at the ball, a dance with each other, the confrontation of all things, the confession of the ages. He supposed it’s what he deserved, the universe had a funny way of making things align. He glanced up at the class, but then all he could see was you, you, you, and suddenly the room felt too small, his ache for you too big.

Thorns grew from his chest, his mind racing on the edge of incoherence, and as he mustered up all he could to read, he thought only one thing.

Maybe if I was like the prince, if I was confident enough to say it back, I wouldn’t have to remember what life was like without you, again.

Ghost Of you by 5 Seconds Of Summer

“Here I am waking up, still can’t sleep on your side. There’s your coffee cup, the lipstick stain fades with time,”

“Cleaning up today, found that old Zeppelin shirt you wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt. We’re too young, too dumb, to know things like love, but I know better now,”

“So I drown it out, like I always do, dancing through our house, with the ghost of you, and I chase it down, with a shot of truth, that my feet don’t dance, like they did with you.”

Both ordeals replayed until you’d memorized them, and despite sleeping away the yearning, every time you woke up it still came back. You suppose it’s what you deserved, the universe had a weird way to make things clear. You could try to convince yourself that you’re fine, but who were you kidding? you’d barely slept, and when you did, you woke up crying.

Why did you say that to him? you slammed your head back onto your pillow, huffing to yourself. Pulling the covers over your head, you closed your eyes to take a breath, you never wanted to hurt his feelings.

But what about yours?

You remembered the day you almost realized you loved him down to the second, and if anyone asked, you’d be able to tell them everything down to the color of the socks he was wearing.

They were the funny fish pun pair you bought him for his birthday in the second year. Peeking out from the bottom of his uniform pants was what seemed like a million little tuna fish stitched onto the purple cloth with hooks through the mouths, the words if I were a fish, I’d be hooked on you, on both feet, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, you’d always remember a day that changed your life, because well, it kind of did.

Nonetheless, you crawled your way out of the depths of wallowing, pulling your closet open and sitting on the floor. Telling yourself you’d clean sooner or later was a lie that you knew you’d keep saying, but today it could be a distraction.

Pulling the pile of clean clothes from the corner of the closet, you began to fold them. All was fine until fabric too familiar grazed your fingers, and you froze.

It was his.

His, his, his.

It was his and you find you didn’t even need to look at it to know, and suddenly all you could think about was the day you’d gotten it, the day you almost realized exactly what he meant to you. you’d almost said it, too.

“Hey,” A mischievous grin stretched across your face as you side-eyed him, “What’s your favorite thing in the world?”

He sat on the floor a bit away from you, leaning against his bedside, and Tamaki tilted his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes as he gazes at you, “My — my favorite? I’d guess I have to say-”

“No wait—” You lifted a finger, cheeks ablaze as you pushed the stray hairs behind his ear, watching his face morph into soft surprise, “Let me guess!”

His eyes darted across your face and then back to yours, and as quick as the eye contact appeared, it was gone. Your hand was left in the air as he hid his face into the side of his bed, muttering to himself.

All you could make out were things like “too close” “pretty” “smells like” and then something about fruit and a garden, and if you thought you couldn’t get any happier, you bit your lip to keep the smile from hurting your face, to no avail.

You watched his feet curl up in those stupid punny socks as he attempted to hide his face into the depths of his bed sheets, and you took your opportunity, quickly switching from your shirt to his.

And then you poked him, a warmth flooding your chest., “Tama, you’re not going to get this shirt back anytime soon!”

He glanced up and the view of you wearing his oversized band tee was too much to take, and he picked himself up at the speed of light, fumbling into his covers, burying his under his pillow, timidly waving another thrown white shirt as a makeshift flag of surrender.

“Do you think I look pretty?”

Between him, his flushed cheeks, the soft cotton of the band tee and your laughter, you were sure that was one of the best moments.

Unbeknownst to you, Yes, he thinks, you do. You always do, because you, are my favorite thing in the world.

Too bad good things don’t last forever.

You ran your fingers down the shirt once more, before putting your better judgement aside and deciding to put it on one last time, but as you slipped it on, the mixed smell of your favorite cherry perfume and hints of takoyaki ran over you, the smell of him, of you, and suddenly it seemed like no one could understand how you felt.

Maybe you’d never get over him, and as you sit thinking on your room floor, every minute passing by made it clearer you knew nothing on what to do about it.

The Night We Met by Lord Huron

“I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again, take me back to the night we met, and then I can tell myself not to ride along with you,”

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you,”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you,”

It was four am, and he imagined life couldn’t get harder than it was before, with his anxiety and with all things bigger, heavier, than his existence. but a life without you was no life at all, and as he shuffled through the polaroids of you both, it never got any less true.

He picked one up, thumb running over your face, as if trying to trace your smile. It was everyone’s first year, the sports festival. Mirio faded into the background on the field, with his hands thrown into the air while post-match Nejire was flying around during the festival’s half time.

Anyone could tell Mirio would try to catch her if she fell, big silly smiles on their faces, but you, you were with him on the stands, arm slung around his neck, all pretty smiles, peace signs, and adrenaline.

He remembers his one, he remembers all of them, of course, but this one, this one is when he realized he loved you. It’s also the same day he almost said it to you.

The crowd roared as Mirio ran through the lower tunnel, his sweaty form running towards Tamaki. he stopped right in front of him, chest heaving and dirt on his cheeks but the brightest smile.

“Tamaki did you see me? I was like pow! like blam, kaboom! I can’t believe I won! I’m heading to the finals!”

The corners of Tamaki’s mouth quirked up, “of course I saw you,” he glanced away, his lips beginning to quiver in embarrassment, “But please, head over to recovery girl, and put a shirt on.”

A snicker from the blonde and a wolf whistle from Nejire later, and Mirio waved, jogging backwards towards medical.

Present mic announced halftime moments later, and before he knew it, he was watching Mirio and Nejire mess around like dorks from the stands. He'd only been there a minute before he felt an arm sneak around his neck, your camera hanging in the air, and your voice flooding his ears.

“Hey Tama, take a picture with me!”

“What?” He glanced at you, but you only smiled wider, before your eyebrow twitched as you heard someone fall.

“Mimi, Nej, if I go down there to find out one of you got hurt again after you were just healed, I’ll send you back to her myself!”

“Wah, you’re no fun! It’ll be Nejire’s fault anyway!”

“Say that to my face, coward!”

A few seconds later, he could hear the two bickering like an old married couple below and before he knew it, a big smile took over his features, and you took the opportunity.

You spun him, back towards the lower field and pulled him closer, lifting your camera and putting a peace sign with your other hand.

But even with all that, Tamaki’s eyes remained trained on you even after the flash, and his mouth opened to say something, but before he could, Mirio spoke up once more.

“Nejire is trying to get me naked!”

“No I’m not, Ijust wanna see if you have abs yet, you still look like a noodle! Show me!”

“I do not!” His laughter echoed across the stadium, “Get away!”

Your head snapped over to them, all bark but no bite as you cackled, “Hey! Don’t make me come down there!”

You placed your camera in his hands and rushed over, flinging yourself over the stands high edge with no fear, and he was glad no one saw his dopey smile, because he didn’t think you’d ever let it go.

But if it was you, maybe that wasn’t so bad, because if there was a safe haven out there for him, if there was a home, you were it.

His eyes glistened with tears, and he raised his head toward the ceiling in an attempt to hold them back as he held the photo to his chest. He missed you more than words could explain. He wanted to make it right. and maybe if he couldn’t use words, he’d try something else.

He could try, but it’s up to you if you’d listen.

Would you?

Stay by Gracie Abrams

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you, ‘I'm sorry’, know that I tried but my words always got in the way.”

“Wish I could tell you by now that I felt more indifferent, catching myself thinking about you more than I should. ”

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started, I don’t even have to stay,”

“If I woke up with you in the morning, I’d forget all the ways that were broken,”

The atmosphere of U.A from during school hours, to after, was completely different. it was almost a completely different place, and as you walked back to your dorm, you admired the peaceful air.

It felt soft, almost like a warm hug, but even though the cozy air felt nice, you knew this comfort wasn’t the one you’d wanted. Each  step you took felt like drums and soon you were lost in memories once again. With a sad smile, your fingers fiddled with one another while you got lost down the road of your mind.

It’s not your fault that you snuck into his room in the middle of the night. To be fair, you couldn’t sleep, and you thought you’d sneak in just to take one of his hoodies and go back to bed, but it didn’t work out that way.

You couldn’t resist the hands — who could resist the grabby hands? Sleepy Tamaki was something of a godsend, and when you’d crept into his room, he already knew it was you, and one of his arms lifted the blanket up and the other was his wiggling fingers beckoning you to rest.

Not crawling into the bed would be a crime, especially when he calls your name so softly like that, and you were a hero-in-training! Who were you to deny such a heartfelt request?

So, you’d settled into the bed, his hoodie soft and comfortable and his bed big and safe and him, oh so warm and adorable. His hair was messy and strewn across his forehead, and he tried to clear his bleary and tired eyes, but you’d just smiled and shushed him back to bed, humming a soft tune for him.

“Don’t go..” Tamaki mumbled, drool at the corner of his mouth, “You’re warm.. stay…”

His arm wrapped around your waist and an amused smile played on your lips. Sleepy Tamaki was always much more forward, wasn’t he?

Nonetheless, you shifted, laying on your back as he moved with you, his head coming to lay on your chest, his hair tickling your cheek as your fingertips softly moved to clear his face, your own eyes taking in everything.

“I’m not going anywhere, hun,” you yawned quietly, “I’m staying right here,”

The morning came quickly, and luckily, weekends were free to students to breathe.

You didn’t think you’d be able to go anyway, not when you could stay right here, with him curled up with you, his legs tangled in yours, and fingers like puzzle pieces.

There wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be, you’d always stay, if he was the one to ask, because you loved him.

Before you knew it, you bumped into the dorms entryway, and the fall to the ground startled you back into reality. But a glimmer of hope bubbled within you. Call it an epiphany, a revelation, a sudden realization, you weren’t sure, but you refused to hide anymore.

You could tell him, again. You could and tell him, and spill everything because was life worth it until you lived it with nothing but truth?

Was it worth loving someone if you could never tell them?

It wasn’t, so you were going to brave it, putting aside all that happened, you were going to do it even if it meant everything changed, right?

Could you tell him?

The choice was his to listen.

Would he?

I love you by Billie Eilish

“Maybe you won’t take it back, say you were tryna make me laugh, and nothin’ has to change today, you didn’t mean to say I love you.”

“The smile that you gave me even when you felt like dying’.”

“There’s nothing you could do or say, I can’t escape the way I love you.”

It was as if you’d read each other’s minds. string of fate be damned, this was beyond logic. It started in class. last class of the year and you couldn’t believe you’d gotten to this point. You were focusing on equations when you heard it, the tapping.

It was silly to think about, really. But the four of you spoke about languages once, during lunch, and Mirio had exposed Tamaki’s secret: he knew morse code!

It took you two weeks to learn it, just so you could have conversations without interruption, without the burden of heavy public attention.

His face when you spoke back to him through your pen was priceless.

But today was different, the taps were slow, firm, and most certainly not yours.

What's your favorite thing in the world?

Your head shot up like a bullet, looking forward at the board like it burned you, and you looked around to see everyone looking down at their papers, but when you looked in his direction, he was looking straight back at you. Perhaps you were crazy, simply wanting it to happen so badly you were imagining it, but before you could brush it off, it continued. softer, less confident.

Not wait, let me guess.

You closed your eyes and took a breath, your hands coming to your lap to grab the edge of your skirt and bunch it up. A beat passes by, and the final taps hit the room, and you just know it’s him. There’s no way anyone else heard that conversation, it was only you and him.

Look at me.

And you begin to, but before you fully turn, the bell rings, and the teachers are switched. now, it’s english.

Are you still listening?

Falling by Harry Styles

“You said you care, and you missed me too, and I’m well aware I write too many songs about you.”

“And I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again.”

“What if I’m someone that you won’t talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

There's one phrase he seeps all of his heart into, the one he taps away that almost startled you out of your seat. He listens to your knee bang against the bottom of the desk, and you give the teacher a sheepish smile, muttering you thought you saw a bug.

You two spend the rest of the last class sounding off, slowly trying to understand each other, and before he knows it, the final bell rings, but it’s a silent understanding that the conversation isn’t over.

You both pack your things, and you fall into step with him. Mirio and Nejire are surprised to see you both, and before Tamaki can speak, Mirio pulls her away, sharing knowing smiles and leaving the two in the hall.

It's a quiet walk to his dorm room, and when you get there, he watches you lean against his bed on the floor, your head leaned back against the sheets. His room is filled to the brim with boxes, the only thing left untouched being his bed and the messy, unmade blankets.

He says nothing until he’s settled beside you, and then you speak.

“You said you loved me in class. Make me understand, ama- Tamaki, when did you know?”

“Do you..” He wrung his hands together, “Do you remember our first time at the sports festival? Halftime?” he glanced at you, seeing you nod.

“It was then. I remember-” He paused, his heart hammering as he began to dig into his pockets, “I-I can, I can just show you,”

When he felt the material of the polaroid, he plucked it out and held it out to you, watching your hands cradle it like it was the most fragile thing in the world. In truth, as old the picture was, perhaps it still is.

Fragile, he think, both the memory and the means to hold it.He thanks you anyway for not ripping it apart like he imagined you could.

“I remember this,” You snort softly, “I remember having to keep a leash on Nejire and Mirio. I remember taking the photo too, but you didn’t even look at the camera. You were looking at—”

“You. I was looking at you,” He finished, and he saw your mouth fall open in surprise at the firmness of his voice, and he let himself feel a little prouder, “How could I not? I spent all my days with you thinking up different ways I loved you up until that moment. All I could do was look at you,”

Your face contorted into confusion, and then sadness, “Then why didn’t you say anything, Tama?” You looked down, bringing your knees up to your chest, your hand placing the photo in between you two, “You broke my heart. Months just down the drain, thinking you never loved me back,”

“I...” He pursed his lips, “I suppose I was afraid. I spent so much time being afraid of a world so much bigger than me, stronger than me. I was always so afraid that you’d realize I wasn’t worth it, and so when the chance came up to say it, it slipped me by,”

He’d seen your mouth open to speak and he put a hand on yours to continue, feeling your skin warm against his, “I’m not afraid, anymore. and maybe it’s too late, maybe you’ve already moved on and realized you are destined for nothing but the stars and more, but what life am so living if I always hide away and refuse to try?”

The silence in the room felt so thick he could hardly breathe, and as the time ticked by, the weight in his chest began to grow. Sighing, he began to take his hand back, only to startle when your fingers grasped his tightly.

“Would I be crazy..” He waited, watching your eyes drop to the floor, teeth nibbling at your lip, “Would I be crazy if I said I still loved you?”

And then your eyes widened and you waved your hands in front of you frantically, “I mean like, there’s still so much to sort out, but I mean j-just— I thought it was right to — oh my god I’m embarrassing myself!”

And despite everything left to be done and talked about, the weight in his chest lifted and all he could do was laugh, and so he did. He laughed until his belly hurt, and then he laughed some more, listening to you complain and whine about it not being funny, but was it truly not funny when you were clutching your stomach giggling, too?

And when he stopped laughing, he did what felt right. Hegrabbed your hands slowly, softly, lovingly, and pulled, making you gasp as you fell forward, only to have his palms hold your face as finally placing his lips on yours.

People imagine the universe aligning as something clicking into place and suddenly everything makes sense and will make sense forever.

Tamaki disagrees. He imagines if the universe were to align, it’d make a no bigger fuss for a planet than it would a human, the universe does the things it must, and perhaps this is why people find such big meanings in impossible things.

He finds this to be quite impossible, and yet, with one of your hands curled into his uniform tie and one into his hair, all he can think of is how right this is, how right it feels, how right it all is, just for this moment.

Loving the right person at the wrong time can have so many different ways of existing.

Maybe it’s not the life around them but rather what’s inside that needs growing before they’re ready. Maybe it won’t work out, or it isn’t the right person. Or maybe they need to grow a little courage, or hold onto hope a little longer before things can move forward, and if the universe favors you, time doesn’t matter, does it?

Not if you know they love you. Not if you love them back.

He knows there’s things to be done, amends to be made, time to be made up, but right now, he’s got you in his arms. He’s as close as can be, and you taste like wedding bells and blueberries and a pinch of I wanna grow old and wrinkly with you and you smell like cherries and destiny with a hint of Honey, I’m home, and he can’t wait to spill all of the secrets his heart has, because it’s yelling to him, them, them, they are the other half of me, and he smiles, because he knows.

Mirio and Nejire were his mind keepers, anchors in a world often too fast for him to ground himself, but you, oh you.

He’s glad to know you were still listening, for you are his heart keeper, and even if you’re both a million miles apart, it’ll always be with you, every time you’d call his name, because the key was always in the way you laughed, the way your body molds right into his, like something meant to be.

And who knows? With the way you’re trying not to smile as you try kissing him back, it might be.

Best years by 5 seconds Of Summer

“But I’ll build a house, out of the mess, and all the broken pieces. I’ll make up for all of your tears.”

“You’ve got a million reasons to hesitate, but darlin’ the future is better than yesterday,”

“Past love burned out like a cigarette, I promise darlin’ you won’t regret the best years,”

“I’ll give you the best years, the best years.”

If someone had told you that from freshman year to graduation, you’d fall in and out of love with Amajiki Tamaki and still pine after each other like idiots for the rest of your time here, you’d yell at them for being so rude, then laugh at the absurdity of it all and then smile.

Because falling back into love was much easier when you knew most of the ways someone could talk, and who knew there were so many?

In the midst of all of the announcements, after both of your names were called and you were handed your diplomas, in a sea of people, you’d felt his hand find yours. You peeked a glance at him, of course, expecting to see him squirming with anxiety, only to find him proud, grinning from ear to ear. He's sporting the second biggest grin you’ve ever seen, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

Love isn’t easy, by far, by any degree.

It’s both the hardest and easiest thing, it makes you feel so human, so alive but can also bring you so much pain. But if you someone had told you it’d feel like this, like home, like belonging after everything, that it would feel like sunlight, like takoyaki, and cherries and blueberries, and changing futures, you’d do it all again if it meant Tamaki would be endgame.

It was worth it if your best friends were what you’d always come back to.

Because with him, Mirio, and Nejire, what’s a couple of life’s disasters? What’s a few bumps in the road but stepping stones to a great living?

Life isn’t perfect, but when isn’t it ever? What is life but a grand scheme of reckless days and hearts so full of love they can do nothing but give?

You’d imagine the way you were smiling must be blinding, but all the energy surging through your body could never compare to the feeling in your heart when you looked at him, looked at them.

Life came in many different forms. You, for one, would say that you’d all be the parts that make up the universe. The stars were in Nejire’s eyes and the light of those stars was in her voice, and the cosmos were in Mirio’s words and all the space was in his arms, but the galaxies, the galaxies were in every part of Tamaki.

From the tuna fish socks, the drool, the band tee and the polaroid, he held the colors of existence in his heart and the passing of time on his lips, and you felt the warmth of being human every time he looked at you.

What was that song Nejire showed you once? She’d barged into the new apartment you and Tamaki shared, yelling about the saddest love song she’d ever heard, how did it go?

Oh, right.

You’ve got a million reasons to hesitate,

but darlin’ the future’s better than yesterday,

The two loud but lovable dorks were home. He was your compass, guiding you back to the shore, and you would try your best to never lose your way to it again.

Mirio and Nejire were your mind keepers, the laughter in a world so lacking of it, and all four of you together made up your own little universe, and what a gift that was.

But Tamaki, he has always been different.

I’ll build a house, out of the mess,

and all the broken pieces,

Even if your worlds decided to fall apart once more, you’d listen to the millions of ways in which he spoke, for he was your heart keeper, and the key was always in the shape of his hand in yours, and the sound of his name.

I’ll make up for all of your tears,

And even before your journey of life begins, you feel his fingers tighten around yours, and you slip Nejire’s hand into your free one, feeling Mirio tug his free one into hers, because what else is life but waves and waves of love with nowhere to go? Piles upon piles of chances and courage waiting to be taken?

I promise darlin’ you won’t regret,

the best years,

You try to imagine what comes next, and all you can think of is that everything that happened, and will happen, is meant to be.

I’ll give you the best years,

the best years.

And who knows? With your friends, and the love of your life, it just might be.

reblogs are appreciated!!

[estrel]

The Christmas Compromise

merry christmas, @lilliankayl !! ‘tis i, your secret santa! this ended up getting a little long, so there will be multiple parts up...soon. here’s the first one, which you will also eventually be able read on ao3 when it’s complete. hope you enjoy!!

Part One.

Dean feels his mouth start to form a lazy smile.

Through the winter chill and the foggy annoyance that his blankets are skewed around him to provide the least amount of heat and warmth, there is a distant recognition that the smell of coffee in the air isn’t just any brew.

Despite the effort to untangle the sheets from his legs and feet, Dean manages to bare his skin to the winter cold of his room, provided the damage to his heater. He makes a mental note to fix that later, after they come back. Dean can last a few days until then.

He can practically see his breath hanging in the air when he yawns, pulling on warmer clothes as quickly as his stiff muscles and numb fingertips will allow him. Sweats, then t-shirt, then hoodie, because he isn’t expected to be anywhere until later and he can always change before that if he needs to.

Better to die comfy than in plaid.

It’s early morning, judging by the darkness outside and Dean’s alarm clock that blinks 5:30 AM at him in white block numbers, but he can’t find it in himself to care that he’s awake to see hell freeze over. Lucky for him, there’s a quick fix to his sleepiness less than twenty feet away.

The socks take entirely too long to fit onto his feet. When they finally do, Dean yanks his door open and pads down the hall, stopping at the entrance to his kitchen.

It’s a modest kitchen—a modest home, really, but it does it’s job—and it’s empty save for an occupied chair at the kitchen table.

Dean stares for a second.

He’s allowed to notice clothes and posture before that second is disrupted by Miracle making a racket coming into the kitchen, and Cas turns to face them.

“Morning,” Dean greets him. The smell of coffee is much stronger here, and Dean can feel his mouth beginning to water.

Cas pushes a full mug towards Dean’s seat.

“Good morning, Dean. I made you—”

“My favorite brew,” Dean finishes for him. He sits, letting his fingers thaw under the ceramic of the mug and breathing in the heavy scent of Cas’ coffee.

“It’s everyone’s favorite brew,” Cas says, taking a sip from his own cup. “That’s why it’s the priciest.”

Dean levels a look at him.

“I have to make money somehow,” Cas defends.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waves him off, bringing the drink to his lips. The first taste is hot—too hot—and it burns his throat on the way down.

“You never learn,” Cas says. Dean doesn’t need to meet his eyes to know that they’re squinting at him. “You’ve been burning your tongue on my coffee for years, you’d think it’d make an impact by now.”

Dean only frowns and mumbles into his coffee something about “not every time,” to which Cas rolls his eyes.

They can only pretend to be angry with each other for a few more minutes before it subsides into companionable silence. Dean lightly kicks Cas’ foot under the table to get his attention.

“You gonna need a ride to work?”

Cas sets his mug down and shrugs. He’s still in his night clothes: a white t-shirt—Dean has never understood how Cas can stand the cold—and borrowed sweats, but he’ll probably burrow through more of Dean’s wardrobe to get his outfit for today. The guy might as well live here with the amount of time he spends at Dean’s place and the fact that Dean’s closet is practically Cas’, too, now.

I could always just ask him…

Dean swallows the last of his drink and stands before he can contemplate the question again. He busies himself at the sink, and then ducks under the counter to get Miracle’s food from the cabinet.

“Yes,” Cas says eventually, evidently having gone through every other option before arriving at that one. “Is it a bother?”

Dean pokes his head over the counter to look at him.

“No, man, you know I like driving Baby around. Besides, I’ve got some shopping to do, and, y’know…”

“Free breakfast,” Cas adds for him, a teasing note in his voice. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the muffins that go missing every time you drop by.”

Dean sets down Miracle’s food and whistles softly, standing straight once Miracle trots into the room and to his bowl to eat.

“Hey,” he points a finger at Cas, “Consider it a compromise since you never pay for gas.”

“It’s not like I haven’t offered,” Cas meets Dean by the sink to wash his cup out. “Do you want me to pay for gas, Dean?”

He’s standing close in that way that Cas always stands close—in the way that Dean has stopped correcting for years now. That’s just how he is, he reminds himself, and puts visible effort into keeping his eyes trained on Cas’ blue ones.

“No,” he says, “You don’t need to pay for gas. All I’m asking is that you look the other way when I happen to find a cookie just laying there for the taking. Do that, and it’s free rides for life.”

“When you say ‘laying there,’ I assume you mean in the casing, behind the counter, where only employees are allowed,” Cas sasses back, face stripped of emotion except for the slight furrow to his brow. Imperceptible, if it wasn’t Dean that was staring.

“So now I’m an employee?” Dean asks, finally pulling away from their bubble to pretend to clean the counter. “Jee, Cas, you shoulda told me. I would have put my apron on.”

Cas punches him lightly on the shoulder, done with washing his cup but fingers still wet from doing so. It leaves an imprint on Dean’s hoodie, which Dean acts like he hates, but it gives him a motive to attack Cas back.

They scuffle, elbowing each other and pushing each other around the kitchen—Dean even manages to try for a few tickles to Cas’ armpits and stomach, but still to no avail—until Miracle joins in and they stop so as to not accidentally step on a paw.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Cas says, once they’re done with the rough housing. Patting Dean’s back once, he leaves the kitchen and enters Dean’s room down the hall.

Warmer, now, with the extra movement in him, Dean leans against the counter to catch his breath. At least that’s what he tells himself, watching Cas mill around from door to door until he hears the bathroom shut and the shower start.

When Dean is sure that Cas is out of hearing range, he pulls out his phone.

“Bitch,” Dean starts, pressing the cold surface to his ear and cheek.

“Jerk.”

He smiles. “How’s it goin’?”

“Same old, same old. Got a case about to close up here real soon, so. Expect to see me at the Bunker in a few days.”

“You’ll be there,” Dean confirms. “Glad to hear it.”

“And you? Everything good?”

Dean shifts at the accusatory tone in Sam’s voice.

“Yeah, man. All good. Shop’s runnin’ just fine. Bobby says hi.”

A huff of laughter. “He still kickin’ your ass?”

Dean nods, even though Sam can’t see him. “Bobby’s Bobby. You know how he is, never a moment’s rest. Come to think of it, I actually had to remind him that it’s Christmas this week. The guy was asking if I’d be in on Friday. Had to tell him he wouldn’t be in on Friday, crazy bastard.” He hears Sam chuckle. “Oh hey, by the way, I think Rufus is coming with this year.”

“Really? Haven’t seen him since—”

“Yeah, I know. Well, he’ll be there—you can recount the tall tales of Rufus and Sammy to everyone as a Christmas present.”

There’s a pause, and Dean checks to see if the call had cut off before returning his phone to his ear.

“—coming?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Is Cas coming?”

Dean hears the shower shut off. The guy makes quick work.

“I was assuming,” he says.

“Well, you should ask.”

“Why?” Dean scoffs, “It’s pretty much a given, dude, he always comes.”

He can practically feel Sam’s eye roll over the phone.

“What?”

“I dunno, Dean, c’mon. You can’t just expect him to come whenever you call. He’s got his own family, you know, and—”

Dean grimaces, folding an arm over his chest. “No, he doesn’t. We’re his family. Those dickheads are—” He sighs, tries to contain the outburst before it can be unleashed. In…out.

“Trust me, Sam, he doesn’t want to see them. He’ll be at ours on Friday.”

“Dean—”

“Nice talkin’ to you, Sammy. I’ve gotta go, taking Cas to work.”

“Wait, he’s there?! Hang on a second—”

“Bye!”

He cuts the call before he can hear another word out of Sam, and just in time to see Cas in the bathroom doorway. He’s looking at Dean with his head tilted curiously, and Dean’s breath immediately catches in his chest.

“Was that Sam?” he asks. As if his hair isn’t all wet and towel-rustled, as if he isn’t dressed in Dean’s clothes.

“Yeah,” Dean croaks. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yes. He says hi.”

“I’m sorry I missed him,” Cas frowns, making his way over to Dean. Dean stills.

“It’s six,” Cas continues, “I should be at work by seven, if you can manage it.”

When Dean just stares back, Cas adds, “You should get dressed.”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“You’ve been wearing that hoodie for three days straight and you’re beginning to smell like Miracle,” he deadpans. “Go shower, I can wait.”

Dean pushes himself off the counter and brushes past him. “Thanks, Cas. How considerate.”

-

When Dean parks Baby in front of Heaven and Hell Cafe, he does so in his grey henley and several layers of long-sleeves, with jeans that do nothing to combat the cold.

Shivering, he follows Cas inside, and warmth envelops them upon entry, along with the jingle of the door bell.

“Cas!” comes a familiar voice. Dean hears more than sees a set of doors opening, and Jack is suddenly in front of them wearing a huge smile.

“Oh, Dean! Good to see you,” Jack lifts a hand in greeting, but it looks more like he wants a hug. Dean smiles back at him and waves.

“Hey, kiddo. Everything alright?”

Jack nods. “Yes. Although, I…I do need to see Cas for a second.”

“Oh, um. Of course.” Cas glances at Dean with a look that says ‘I’ll be right back,’ and follows Jack through the double doors that lead to the kitchen.

Dean trails after them half-way, stopping behind the counter to sleuth after some morning treats. He decides on what he thinks is a cinnamon roll, pulling it out of the casing and shutting the door as quickly as he’d opened it.

He stuffs the pastry in his hoodie’s pocket for later, and thanks the universe that it’s wrapped and won’t get covered in fuzz this time (he’d learned the hard way).

“—makes sense. Just let me know if anything changes.”

Cas appears through the doors looking slightly stressed. Dean fights to urge to get up and soothe, to run his hands across Cas’ shoulders and ease the tension there.

“You good?” Dean checks instead. Cas nods.

“Fine. Just…It’s fine. Didn’t you say you had shopping to do?”

“Are you kickin’ me out?” he jokes.

“No, but the shop opens in thirty minutes. Feel free to stick around if you’d like.” Cas’ eyes drop to Dean’s crotch area, and he quickly looks down to see what Cas is looking at.

“You can eat that here. No point in hiding it since the gig is up.” Dean lets out a breath. Cas had been staring at the lump in Dean’s hoodie pocket, where Dean was keeping his breakfast. What happened to ‘looking the other way?’

“Thanks, but you’re right, I should probably get going. I’ve gotta do errands and be at the shop later to work for a few hours. You coming over tonight?”

Cas pauses in the middle of putting his apron on, contemplating the question.

“No,” he says slowly. “Not tonight.”

Dean tries not to frown. Suddenly the weight of his phone in his pocket is ten times heavier than it was a few seconds ago. ‘Well, you should ask,’ the little voice inside his head that sounds like Sam, says. He sighs softly.

“How about, um. You’re—you’ll be there on Friday, right? Do you need a ride? I was planning on leaving on Thursday, if you wanted to come with. I know Claire’s heading out earlier. Jody, and all them, too…so.” Dean forces himself to meet Cas’ eyes. Something in his chest feels tight when he notices Cas’ expression has only gotten worse.

“I,” Cas starts, gaze falling to his shoes. “I don’t know, Dean.”

That thing in Dean’s chest solidifies and sinks to his stomach, settling there uncomfortably. 

“Don’t know what?”

Cas starts rummaging through the bakery cases, adjusting things that don’t need to be adjusted, meticulously cleaning crumbs from platters and making sure the little banners with the pastry names on them are all straight and perfect. 

“If I’ll be able to go,” he says finally, not looking up. “It’s the holidays and I’m busy here this season, people have been ordering pastries for Christmas, and I don’t know if I plan to close on Christmas day, because my regulars might want to come in still, and—“

“Cas,” Dean stops him, leaning over the counter. Cas notices and lightly tries to push him off so he can start on the counters, but Dean grabs his wrist to get his attention. 

“You’re going to work yourself to death, man. It’s the holidays. Your regulars will understand if you don’t show up on Christmas, okay? And you’ve never had this issue any other year, so...” Dean makes Cas look at him. “What’s really bothering you?”

to be continued...

-

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[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 2.1k words    ➷Humor, fluff, awkwardness, mild miild nsfw but not explicit, I will say I can only assume this kinda thing happens when you swap bodies lol    ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, ✈Part 3, Part 4

You initially dreaded the conversation with Hajime’s parents, wincing on the way through the door with a slight panic washing over you. But after a short and pleasant talk with them, you came to find the conversation flowed more naturally than you’d anticipated.

They’re not as doting to Hajime as they are to you, you note, but they’re friendly and pleasant and you feel as if you’re talking to your own family. Much like your own parents wanted a son, Hajime’s always wanted a daughter, so they often acted as your second set of parents. You feel a bit silly in retrospect, they’re as charming as ever with Hajime as they are with you.

They mostly inquire about Hajime’s day, and after a bit you excuse yourself to ‘study’, escaping to Hajime’s room. You’re beginning to feel positive about the next school day after the interaction, confidence boosted.

Who knew you would turn out to be such a good actress, better than you thought! Award winning, honestly. This whole body swap will be a cake walk. You can totally pull off being Hajime!

It seems you can definitely pull off the acting portion, but the sweat sticking to your clothes from your exhausting (emotionally and physically) practice is starting to make you consider the hygiene aspect of the swap. Which, has you feeling wildly uncomfortable.

This cosmic joke, shitty trope of a situation has you experiencing humiliation and embarrassment at levels you didn’t even realize were possible to achieve.

Normally after a grueling practice, you wouldn’t hesitate to hop straight into the shower and blast the hot water over your skin, feeling your muscles and aches soothed. But this isn’t your skin, or your muscles. You’re consistently reminded every hour, minute, and second, that it’s all Hajime. You should feel comforted that he’s definitely experiencing the same emotional crisis as you, but it only serves to heighten your distress.

Cheeks immediately heating at that, you recall the conversation with Hajime from earlier at the park.

“Just... let’s not think about it. And let’s definitely not talk about it. It’s a natural part of life.”

You know full well of the agreement you came to with red stained cheeks, but is there any way you could go without it? And drench yourself with Axe body spray? Or whatever it is guys like to use. You bet it would make a good repellent, no one would want to talk to you if you smelled like that.

You scrunch your nose, dashing the thought immediately, definitely not. Not only would it make you feel gross, Hajime would whack you first thing in the morning, and probably shove you in the shower himself.

‘No big deal, no big deal, it’s no big deal, you can do this!’

You find yourself chanting silent encouragements as you peel your shirt off, pitching it into a laundry basket. When you catch your reflection, a dark pink creeps across your features.

Yep, that’s still Hajime’s face, 

‘Gaaah, don’t look at me like that!’

You press your hands to your face, but you end up peaking through your fingers anyways. The low sweats definitely don’t help, and neither do Hajime’s well defined abs.

You’d been true to your word when you told Hajime you hadn’t seen anything, but now you’re a little desperate to know what the deal is downstairs.

You won’t look. You shouldn’t.  You don’t look. You definitely do not look.

You look,

pulling the sweats down, and shoving the briefs just past your thighs, you bite your lip at the revelation.

Okay.

Alright.

This is fine.

This is totally fine.

Hajime is just secretly packing.

WHAT THE FUCK?

You suppose it wasn’t necessarily a secret, it was always assumed of Hajime. You’ve also been privy to the third years’ cock talk at lunch, and he always did exude big dick energy, but damn Hajime.

Wait. Are you—

NOPE.

NOPE NOPE NOPE YOU ARE NOT DEALING WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.

You cover your face again, a recurring action today it seems, cheeks burning rampant and hotter than ever before. You feel a prickly hot and itchy feeling light a fire up your back to your neck, the heat of pure, unbridled, embarrassment coursing every vein.

Were you... getting a boner?

NOOOOOOO.

From being turned on by Hajime? While you are Hajime?

This is some paradoxical bullshit you are simply not having right now, not tonight, not tomorrow, and hopefully never again.

Despite the shame and humiliation beating down on your psyche, you risk a glance to see how much bigger he looks than before.

“Cold shower, yep. Cold shower helps, right?”

You immediately shove the briefs the rest of the way down, before hopping in the shower, starting it up at the coldest setting. Hopefully the freezing water will wash away not only your transgressions but also your mortification.

You squeak at the cold, bite your lip and shiver, tough it out, and will away the uncomfortable situation.

You sigh, hoping the morning will go smoother than the swell night you had, hopping down the steps of Hajime’s house.

You cross the street to meet up with him and Tooru, already seeing their figures across the road.

“Ha-Hey.”

You almost slip up with his name, but you make a clean save. Mentally patting yourself on the back, you glance to see Hajime’s bitter expression and—

Your jaw drops when you catch sight of... yourself. Your silent wish for a trouble-free morning is cast aside as you examine his appearance.

Hair unkempt, face completely bare, not even moisturizer or at least sunscreen to be seen, did he even try?

“Ha hey to you too, Iwa-chan.”

Tooru raises a brow at the odd introduction, clearly noting the slip up (and also the fact that Hajime usually settles for a short grunt and never a ‘Ha-hey’), but you can’t be bothered to entertain him right now with the current Hajime dilemma.

“Right, whatever,” you direct your attention to Hajime, “can I grab that thing I lent you yesterday?”

“What are you talking about? You’re being weird, Hajime.”

He warns you with a stern look, but you aren’t having it,

“I’m not, I know you have it, we can grab it right now. Tooru, you go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

You push Hajime back in the direction of your house, and Tooru frowns at his abrupt seclusion with zero explanation.

“Are you guys seriously ditching me?”

Tooru raises a brow, arms akimbo with a disgraced look.

“Yeah, we are, Shittykawa. Let’s go.”

You hate to diss Tooru without a solid reason, but it’s pretty on brand for Hajime, so you bite out the nickname with minor discomfort on your lips. You impatiently grab Hajime, before pulling him towards the steps of your house, Tooru’s complaints going unheard behind you.

“Hajime! You’re not wearing any make up! And my hair is a mess!”

You whine out, sitting him down at your vanity.

Hajime merely scowls,

“Seriously? That’s what this is about? Don’t scare me like that, I thought there was something wrong.”

He moves to stand, but you shove him back into the seat with a little more aggression than intended, you lowkey forgot how strong Hajime was.

And Hajime looks up at you with a incredulous expression, feeling a little scandalized, as a woman, that you would handle him like that.

“There IS something wrong though. I look awful! At least wear some foundation and mascara, that stuff is easy to apply!”

You pull out your make up box, flicking on the mirror light.

“I think you look fine this way,” he huffs, “you don’t need all that shit.”

A frown tugs at his lips, and you feel your heartbeat quicken at his earnest display. You bite back a wistful sigh, this is exactly the reason you’ve always been so drawn to Hajime. Rough around the edges, but there there’s no bullshit when it comes to him. He doesn’t disguise his intentions, doesn’t waste time saving face. He’s just genuine, unadulterated, Iwaizumi Hajime, what you see is exactly what you get, and you honestly wouldn’t have him any other way.

Setting aside your thoughts for another time to privately dwell on, you ignore the feeling. 

“Really? That’s nice of you to say. Keep going.”

You smile, pink dusting your cheeks. You hope your expression doesn’t look too soft as you continue to apply the makeup to his face.

“Fishing for compliments now? No way, Shitty-L/N.”

“Nooo! Don’t call me that!”

You pause mid powder to cry out in your indignation, to which he masterfully ignores fixating his gaze on something more interesting than your whining, like the window sill.

After a bit of complaining, back and forth bickering about how uncomfortable the make up feels, you continue with a light highlight and mascara. You stop once you’re satisfied with your work, not bothering to deal with any extras like eyeliner or eyeshadow.

“All this for what? It tickles, and you can’t even touch it.”

Hajime’s hand hovers over his cheek, careful not to smudge anything. You must’ve smacked his hand away too many times, it seems.

“You get used to it. Plus it can be fun to try different brands and colors, and the little confidence boost isn’t bad.”

“Not that you need it.”

Hajime sighs out, standing from the seat to stretch. You’re sure it’s meant to be an insult to the crude ego you (and Tooru) tend to display, but you sense an underlying meaning that winds up boosting your ego even more.

“Anyways, we’re all done! And with time to spare.”

You chrip, gleaming with pride at your work. Add that too the list of things you should be, actress, and make up artist (next to pro volleyball player of course).

Hajime glances to the mirror, “’looks nice, I guess,” he hums in very faint approval.

That’s as good as a compliment to you, so you’ll take it!

He shifts to make way for the door, hooking his school bag over his shoulder.

“And it was definitely easier to do it on you than myself. Hey, maybe when you learn how to put it on yourself, you can do it for me when we switch back?”

You hover around him eagerly, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to not smack his own body.

“No way in hell. The most I’ll do while we’re switched is that eyelash shit and the foundation or whatever,” he pauses, averting his eyes, “and only because it makes you so happy for some damn reason.”

You grin, ecstatic with his unexpected compliance, pulling him into a hug,

“And that’s perfect, eyelash shit and foundation or whatever is good enough for me!”

“H-Hey! Knock it off!”

It feels weird, being so much taller and hugging your body, but it still feels right considering it’s Hajime despite it all.

He tentatively returns the embrace, albeit awkwardly with one arm.

“We’re gonna be late if we keep bullshitting. Let’s go!”

He gently pushes you off and hightails it out of your room, and you laugh trailing after his awkward stomps.

 “Also, wear your skirt higher!”

You call out behind him.

“What? No way in hell! This is the school standard, you always wear it too high!”

He spins around, uncomfortably smoothing out the skirt pleats as if the action could make it lengthier.

“I have nice legs, and I want to show it off!”

You growl, chasing Hajime down the stairs, grabbing onto the waistline of the skirt.

“That’s stupid and you know it. Just who are you trying to impress?! They shouldn’t like you for your legs!”

He holds a tight grip on the skirt and you scowl, prying Hajime’s hands away to yank up the garment.

“No one, it’s called fashion!”

You successfully tug the skirt higher, but a bit too much considering your panties are on full display.

You snort at the sight, “Hajime, you dog, are you wearing my strawberry panties?”

Hajime feels a sense of shame at the sudden breeze, mockery, and unfathomable humiliation.

“Knock it off, it’s just a school uniform idiot! And what the fuck else was I supposed to wear?!”

He tugs the skirt back down and you click your tongue, grabbing a fist full of the fabric to hike it back up. 

“What are you two doing, we’re gonna be late!”

Tooru swings the front door open with a huff, eyes locking onto the both of you. You freeze position, instantly dreading the conversation that’s sure to take place shortly, whereas the tall setter halts at the display before him.

His precious, dear, sweet, childhood best friend’s hands are grasping at his brutish, caveman, heathen of a best friend’s biceps.

Said precious bestie’s hands are trying to shove aforementioned despicable heathen’s grip from her skirt, cheeks bright red

“Uh, this... isn’t what it looks like?”

A/N: I had extra extra fun with this part hahahaa,, sorry for the cliffhanger but I had to do it to ya, next part soon!

taglist: @cybergovl​

Masterlist, Part 4

[sparklingchan]

Tipsy Turvy || Choi San(Ateez)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Choi San

Word count : 5k+

Warnings : Cuss words , alcohol , hangover , mentions of over drinking, not proof read.

Genre : Fluff , a tiny bit of angst , romance , friends to lovers au.

Description : You have a complicated relationship with San , and the alcohol in your system makes it worse ( or better).

Author's Note : So with all honesty , I have NO idea how people behave when drunk so I searched it up and wrote this 90%  based on that ( and 10% on  my friends’ advice). I hope at least one of y’all get the horrible pun in the title  -_-

Please do reblog , like and comment if you like this. My DMs are also open so if you want to gimme a review , feel free.

Enjoy!

The coffee in the cup must have gone cold by now, because the moment you touch it’s surface ,you don't feel the same sting as you did a few minutes ago.

Not that it tasted good anyway. You're almost glad you didn't have to drink it but maybe, right now, you could use a sip or two to spare yourself a few seconds of peace.

"The coffee is wonderful, isn't it? It's my favorite one." The man in front of you - Mike - needs to seriously give you a break, or else there will be blood on the streets. Literally, "I'm glad you like it."

Does he not see the clearly disgusted look on your face ? Or was he so sure you'd like this drink just because he ordered it without even asking you?

"Yeah ,its fine." You sigh , touching your lips to the mouth of the cup and then putting it back down. You're not drinking that already tasteless and now cold coffee. No way.

"So ,y/n, since we're expected to give our parents an answer after this date, I'd like to know about your opinions first . And please be honest. I would hate to upset you." He says , scratching his chin .

Your eyes widen at the unexpected string of words. This is the first time since this stupid date began that he actually asked your opinion on anything.

"Well," you begin, your mind filling up with tons of words that you'd waited patiently to let out , "Marriage is a big decision. At least for me. And this is all too fast. I just hope we have enough time to know each other before our parents set the date."

He nods his head , “ I agree, I agree. Its important . Right."

You furrow your brows. His reaction seems very forced. Like he really didn't agree with you , but for the sake of it , he's agreeing.

"And what kind of qualities do you look for in a man,y/n?" You want to roll your eyes at the question but you pull your lips up in a smile, not quiet touching your eyes but enough to convince him. You wonder why he was trying so hard to save a date that had been going downhill from the moment he sat down in front of you. You guys clearly didn't like each other, and the spark was missing.

A spark you'd only ever felt with one person.

"Its difficult to describe ideal types but yeah,I'd like someone who's compatible with me and loving and well.. obviously respectful." You say. Mike chuckles at your answer , as if amused by it, "I was expecting you to say you wanted someone who's rich and handsome like...me , honestly. But it's alright." You wonder if he actually hears himself because he really sounded like a self absorbed piece of shit right now. And you'd really do anything to escape from this date.

"Well , I guess not. " you reply with a chuckle. In all honesty, you yourself don't know what your ideal type is. It's not about the conditions or requirements that a person fulfills. It's not a job , it's a connection. You can't confine people to certain criterias. It defies the whole purpose of that connection. And even if you did have qualities you looked for in a man , everything would always end up pointing at only one damn person. You push his images away even before they can surface into your mind.

"So anyway, as I was saying before the coffee arrived , my dad bought this really pretty yacht for me last month and it's super amazing to - " and you shut him out completely while he continues blabbering and you quietly sip the disgusting coffee in front of you.

You really want to groan now. Like on his face. Putting emphasis on how draining and boring this whole conversation is for you.

But all you do is smile and nod.

You were going to reject him the moment your parents set you up on a date with a ' nice and charming bachelor '. What side of Mike did they find even remotely nice or charming? You would never know. But one thing is sure now ,you will at least not have to deal with your parents pestering you for marriage after you reject Mike.

The weather is extremely humid today , despite it having rained in the morning so without a doubt , you'd spent your day indoors , reading a book and drinking unhealthy amount of fruit punch.

"Are they still upset ? " your parents should have seen it coming ,really. The rejection was as inevitable as the rising of the sun every morning or the setting of the sun in the evening. Yet , your parents are pretty disappointed at the decision even after three days since that stupid date. You , on the other hand are happy to have gotten rid of Mike - even if it meant your parents being angry.

Your younger brother , Jongho ,sighs into the phone, " What do you think? They really thought you'd finally marry now."

You don't really blame them though. Not at all. That's what they were always taught ,weren't they? Graduate high school, finish college ,get a good job and get married. The full circle.That is all they've every known yet you find yourself upset at the fact that they didn't consider your unwillingness to this marriage ( or any other marriage) at all. You're just barely starting to work ,you cannot throw away all of that to be a good wife and daughter in law. Sure Mike is the son of some rich man who does business with your father, but economical relationships cannot be a basis for a marriage.

"Well, I can't help it . I'm not marrying that asshole at any cost. " you huff , " He is so creepy and weird. Let mom and dad stay pressed. I don't care."

"Is it just because you didn't find Mike interesting or something else?" Jongho asks.

"I guess? " you reply, scratching the back of your head.

"You know , y/n, I understand that you don't want to get married and whatever but we both know there's a solid reason behind it and I am sick of you denying it all the time." Jongho is too honest for your liking. Too brutal , no sugarcoated words. Just the truth.

And the truth stings.

"Shut up." You grumble, fiddling with the book in your hands , legs dangling from the edge of your bed, " I told you not to mention it ever again?"

"Y/n, you love him. Okay? You have loved him for seven years now . It is high time you shoot your shot or else you'll end up with some rich asshole who doesn't give two shits about you!"

He's right,of course he is. His words are not really an opinion or a vague prediction of the future. Those are facts. But hearing him say all that out loud makes your blood turn cold in your body. Fear creeping through every inch of your skin , making it hard to think clearly.

"I don't think it matters if I love him or not. I gave up on him. We haven't spoken much ever since college ended. " you say.

" You didn't give up. You just ran away instead of acknowledging it. There's a difference." Jongho replies , " And for your kind information it's only been six months since college got over. You need to stop talking like it was twenty years ago or something. "

You chuckle at his last phrase, grateful that he's trying to uplift the weirdly tense mood. "I don't think I can do it , Jongho. I want to. I really do but I don't think he likes me back." You admit.

"You're delusional if you think he doesn't like you back, y/n. All the late night car drives, movie dates , eating unhealthy food late into the nights - San loves you too. Obviously he does."

You sigh ,running your fingers over the rough page of the book in your lap. 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' The words read out. The tightening of your chest increases.

"He was just being nice." You mutter.

Jongho sighs loudly from the other side , "Okay , believe what you want . I can't handle both you and mom-dad together, okay? Spare me your bullshit. Bye."

Wow, talk about being a rude, disrespectful child !

You are usually not the one to point fingers or put blame on other people , but you really despised your best friend right now. And you have every right to do so. Your best friend is the main reason why your parents are so desperately trying to get you married and see you settle down and have kids and whatever. Jisoo is the epitome of every good quality all parents desire in a daughter. She's perfect. Even more than that sometimes.

"How's your husband?" Your question doesn't sound very genuine - the words slipping out of your tongue like they were being forced out. But Jisoo seems to let it go.

"He's good , really good. " She replies ,taking a sip from the only can of cola you had left in your fridge. She passes it over to you.

"How lucky ." You mutter , taking a sip of the same drink.

"I know what you're thinking ,y/n. I know your ass is upset about everything that happened with Mike but things take time. Okay? I married early because I wanted to." she says, reading right through you like you were a book she'd read millions of times ,"If you don't want to marry , don't. Stop blaming yourself for not finding good guys." " I wonder if I'll ever find anyone even remotely nice, Jisoo. The only few guys I've been set up on dates with are not my type and well , Mike ... I don't know. We're just not compatible." You complain , " And besides I'm so terrified of marrying a guy I barely know."

Jisoo sighs , "Then marry a guy you've known for a long time."

"Who are you talking about?" You frown. You know exactly who she is talking about but you want to hear her say it. Say his name which you dare not even repeat to yourself when alone.

"Choi San ,of course. The love of your life ,your sun and stars , your sweetheart. " she says , her dreamy eyes widening to exaggerate her point.

You slap her arm hard , almost a little too hard. But you're convinced that she deserves it. "Ow !" She yells ,rubbing the sore area on her arm.

"That name is forbidden in my vicinity." You say.

Okay ,maybe now you are the one who deserves a slap. On the cheek. You couldn't believe that his name still fills your stomach with butterflies and causes your heart to beat so fast that you feel dizzy even though you claim that you're over him.

"No, it's not, y/n. Come on ,dude. You're still not over him. You will never be unless you confess and face the supposed rejection on your own. Only then you'll find it in yourself to seek other guys , unless that's not what you want." She jabs her finger on your shoulder softly , "That, or you can marry San himself. It's very simple ,really."

Now that she put it that way ,it sounds even more complicated and it sends your mind to a voyage into the sea of memories that you rarely even acknowledged anymore( or at least ,you tried to).

San's pretty eyes and alluring smile , the soft hold of his hand on your arm as you run to the movie halls just five minutes before it closes , the warmth of his hugs that you so dearly loved , his silky black hair that you've wanted to touch on so many occasions and the day you were sure he had leaned in to kiss you but your annoying brother decided to call just at that exact moment. You almost wish you could go back to your university graduation day , and wait a little longer for him after the event got over and tell him that he meant the world to you. More than he could ever imagine. You really wish you had waited that day.

"Jongho has this stupid theory that he likes me too. He's making me even more confused. " you say.

"At least Jongho has more brain cells than you. That kid deserves an award or something." Jisoo replies , chuckling.

"He's not a kid. He's just a year younger than me and you." You deadpan. Great, your best friend and brother are now on the same team.

She rolls her eyes , "Yeah , you are a kid too. Only a kid acts so naive and stupid when everything they've ever wanted is right there in front of them. Hell, even a kid would realise that San loves you !"

Jisoo talks a lot , but her words are never empty or vague. She says whatever she wants to and has to. And she is always able to make a point. But you're a dumb bitch who likes to pretend she's still not in love with her childhood sweetheart and is looking for love somewhere else.

"Anyway, can we go for a drink?"

"Glad you finally asked." Jisoo grabs your arm and drags you out of the house.

Your favorite bar in the entire world has to be the one you've been going to since you were in high school. From your first time drinking to vomiting in its toilet after having way too many vodka shots , from dancing with your friends to crying alone in a corner , that place has seen it all.

Coincidentally( not really), its Jisoo's favorite bar too.

"Okay, y/n. I think you should stop now. That's enough."

Coincidentally also ,you happen to not have a good alcohol tolerance yet an endearing desire to drown your sorrows in those glasses.

"No, I'm not even properly drunk." You whine ,your words only barely making sense to Jisoo. She grabs the glass away from you.

"Come on , let's take you home. " she tries to pull you from your seat , "Can't believe I thought it was a good idea to drink on a weekday."

"No, no, Jisoo. " you resist , pushing her away. " I want to..stay. here. I like it here. It's so warm and cozy . If I go home, I'll cry. I hate home. It's so ugly. Ew. This place is so pretty ."

Your vision is so blurry that your brain can't even form clear images anymore. You see Jisoo's form after squinting hard enough.

"You won't cry. I'll take care of you, y/n. Come on." Jisoo is so insistent you have to hold yourself back from punching her. Her lucky ass would never understand how much in pain your heart is in. And how much the alcohol helps in forgetting all that even just for a few minutes.

"You go home. I'll stay. I'll stay here for as long as I can. Away from all you blood suckers." You slur. And then giggle for no apparent reason.

Jisoo heaves a sigh ,sitting beside you. "Are you going to come with me or do I have to call San to pick you up?"

That was a threat. Jisoo always uses the same one and somehow, it always seems to work. Not today though.

"Hah! Joke's on you ! He doesn't care about me." You point at her face , giggling again.

San? Taking care of you? Funniest joke of the year.

"He does ,y/n. You know he does. What are you being like this?" She asks , rubbing your hand comfortingly. "I see the way he looks at you."

"He probably has a girlfriend already. He always posts romantic shit on Instagram. " you say ,resting your chin on your arm.

"He doesn't have one. I know he doesn't. He probably posts all that for you." She says.

You want to believe her but your brain feels fuzzy and foggy now. Like the sky on winter mornings.

"I want to see San, Jisoo. I miss him. I miss him so much. " you keep muttering under your breath , "Take me to him. I miss him."

Jisoo stares at you - wide eyed and slightly annoyed. Your low alcohol tolerance will get you into serious trouble one day.

"We can see him tomorrow. Let's go home now. Now." She pulls your arm again.

You push her off , "I said I want to see San ! Right now! Take me to him!"

You have never yelled at anyone while in a drunken state before so the sudden increased volume of your voice scares Jisoo. She let's go of your arm.

"Okay, will you come home after meeting San?" Jisoo asks ,taking her phone out to call a cab.

"Yes. No. Depends. I never want to be away from him." You say. "Take me to him , please. I haven't seen him in months. Years. I don't remember how long. Do you think he'll recognize me?"

Shaking her head , Jisoo makes a mental note to never take you out for drinking again.

San lives a few minutes away from your own apartment, but with traffic sometimes it takes almost an hour to reach his apartment.

Today must have been your lucky day because the traffic was almost negligible. Although you don't remember the journey to his house , you do remember his familiar voice greeting you and Jisoo like he had almost expected you both to arrive at his door this late at night.

"She was throwing a tantrum that she wanted to see you. So I brought her here. I hope it's not a problem. " Jisoo says in her sweet voice that she uses on everyone but you and her husband. You scowl.

"Hey, I wasn't throwing a tantrum! " You hit her arm again , but she puts on the fakest smile when San looks at the both of you with a confused face.

"And she's not very sober right now." Jisoo admits ,sighing. San presses his lips in line , observing you as play with the hem of your tshirt and your eyes are focused on his face. You never had so much confidence in a sober state. He knows this because he's seen you like this a million times before and hopefully, if all goes well tonight , he might see this state in the future too.

His stomach does a back flip when you stick out your bottom lip in a cute little pout.

"It's okay. She can stay the night here. I believe you have something important to tell me ,y /n?" San asks, titling his head.

You nod , beaming with happiness. Your eyes never leave his perfect face and his beautiful black hair which he decided to tie in a small ponytail tonight and his toned arms and his breathtakingly sweet dimples as he leads you inside, bidding goodbye to your bestfriend. Jisoo must be very relieved right now ,you think.

"Do you need a glass of water ,y/n?" San asks you , as he takes you gently by the arm to his bedroom. His alert eyes are always on your steps ,making sure you do not trip on anything.

"No. " you giggle. You're so happy to be with him alone at last that you can barely contain it . "I missed you ,San."

He laughs at your words ,shaking his head in disbelief as he makes you sit on his warm ,fluffy bed.

You've always wanted to sit there.

"Waoowww , this bed is so soft. " you swing your legs up and down with a big grin on your face , "I want to sleep on this bed. Oh my god ,awww."

San sees you lean down against the headboard and laugh at the ceiling, pointing out peculiar patterns . You look very content right now ,he notices. Your flushed cheeks , big , curious eyes , messy hair , yet he thinks you look beautiful like this - raw and natural and pretty.

"San! Sit with me, come here." You say , patting the empty space beside you.

San obliges without a question. He pushes you gently to the other side of the bed , himself settling beside you , careful not to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.

"What it is that you wanted to tell me ?" San questions, his fingers reaching upto your forehead to remove the strands of hair that cover your eyes.

"Promise me you won't be mad. " You hum into his touch ,wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around his body and snuggle into his chest. But even with alcohol in your system ,you know better than to do that.

"I promise." He replies with a toothy grin. His head leans on the headboard beside yours , his beautiful brown eyes drilling into yours ,making your knees go weak and heart flutter. And if it were possible to replace all blood from your body with physical adoration for Choi San ,you would have done it already. "Pinky promise?" You ask again ,lifting your right pinky up in front of his face.

Sighing , he connects his pinky to yours then pressing your thumbs together, "Pinky promise."

You take a deep breath then as naturally as ever ,the words you've always wanted to say roll out of your mouth , "I like you. "

San's breathing gets stuck in his throat , his whole being as if swallowed into a black hole for a few seconds. He stares at you like you were suddenly someone he'd never seen , never heard of before. Like you were a stranger that caught his eye in the mall. Like a gemstone he'd found while digging the ground. Like a precious falling star on a cloudy night.

"I-I mean we have known each other for sometime now. It's normal that you like me. As a friend." He stammers.

You roll your eyes , " I did not mean as a friend ,you idiot. I meant I like you as a man. You're so stupid, gosh." You punch his arm.

His heart skips a beat. He'd always known deep down his heart that this confession would happen one day or the other - but he had always hoped it would be him to say it first ,not you. His ego is a teeny tiny bit hurt.

"I know you don't like me , " you whine , your excited tone now suddenly switching into a sad one , " I know you won't date me."

San frowns at this new melancholic side of yours.

"Why would you think that?" He asks.

"I just know ,okay?" You say ,tears filling your eyes , " And that's why I agreed to an arranged marriage."

"You must have met someone nice then?" He takes his hand in yours.

Jongho was right - you love him. So much that it hurts to look at him ,knowing that one day you'll have to marry a man who isn't him. It hurts like someone is pressing a hot metal rod onto your skin.

You start sobbing.

"No! Of course not ! I don't want anyone but you! " You yell , a little too loud , " But my parents are still insistent about it. How do I tell them that I can't marry anyone else because I'm so in love with you?"

That's another new piece of information for San. But this one makes his heart drop into the deepest pits of his stomach , making him go numb for a few seconds. You were almost taken away from him, just because he'd always put your relationship in a complicated situation. You had almost held someone else's hand on the alter. You had almost ended up in someone else's arms.

The image of you with another man nauseates him and he decides to stop being a coward . Right now ,right at this moment .

"I like you ,too, you idiot." He says , not quite meeting your teary eyes." Don't go find anyone else. I'm here. I really am ,y/n."

His sincere voice washes over you like the first showers of monsoon - refreshing and enchanting. You feel like melting into a puddle under his gaze.

"I wasn't planning on anyway. " You sniff and rub your tears away. He leans in closer to your face , rubbing your cheekbones with the pad of his thumb. And you , being the shameless person you are , stare at his kissable, pink lips. If you lean in a little more , they'd touch and you could finally kiss him. You really want to . Would he mind ?

He presses a soft kiss on your forehead , pulling you into his warm embrace.

"I want to go to sleep and wake up like this every morning." You mumble into his chest , your hand playing with the hem of his t-shirt. "We will. I promise." he replies. The thought itself makes him feel warm inside , "I'll talk to your parents about the arranged marriage thing. They love me more than they would any other guy out there."

Your parents in fact do love San. Whenever they met him , they'd be filled with praises for him. Although a little jealous , you could easily see why San was so easy to like.

"You smell so nice." You say abruptly , drowsiness slowly taking over you , your eye lids getting heavier by the minute.

San's chest vibrates as his laugh fills the room , "Thank you, y/n."

"Will you be here when I wake up? You aren't going to run off, right? " You are just spewing out random sentences at this point but he doesn't complain either way. He likes this honest and vulnerable side of you.

"I'll be right here. Don't worry. " he whispers ,running his fingers through your hair , "But I'm pretty sure you won't remember anything tomorrow ."

You laugh, a big hearty laugh as you finally find enough courage to lightly wrap your arm around his torso. "I'll remember, San . I never forget."

San rubs your head soothingly , smiling to himself, knowing that even if you forget about it in the morning , he'll really be there to remind you of it. He'll be there by your side, as he always has been.

Every hangover is like a cycle that includes pain , regret and a promise to never drink so much again yet you somehow always seem to be struggling with the last one.

And the inevitable headache that follows makes you feel like someone had thrusted millions of knives in your head.

It hurt. Badly.

You stir in your position ,groaning at your throbbing head.

"Woah , good morning , sleepy head." San purrs into your ears , his early morning voice sending chills down your spine.

Wait. San? Choi San? With you in his arms? On a bed?

You sit up at the speed of a lightning bolt , breaking away from his warm embrace and crawling to the farthest corner of the bed. You look around the room , your heartbeat in your throat , taking in the unfamiliar surroundings that reminded you of what you might have done while in a drunken state.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your eyes scan San, his sleepy face pressed to the pillow and his lips curved in a smile. His white t-shirt hangs loose from his shoulder, exposing the skin near his collarbone and his black, messy hair covering half of his face.

And even in panic mode , your first thought is that he looks ethereal with that early morning glow. Is this what being whipped really means?

"Y/n, don't tell me you forgot what happened last night. " he says ,visibly annoyed. He forces himself up in a sitting position as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.

You look away from him , adrenaline rushing through your veins as you try to recall last night's episode. Surely ,you didn't sleep with him since both of you are fully clothed and you didn't feel sore anywhere. Thankfully.

"Y/n? " he calls you again but you don't reply because your brain is way too occupied at the moment.

You remember the sound of a very weird combination of words leaving your mouth last night and an even weirder combination of words leaving his. And that's when it hits you - you had confessed to him. Full on movie style. All those years of daydreaming and trying to keep everything a secret gone into vain , your heart placed naked in front of him.

"Oh fucking hell." You hold your head in between your hands ,closing your eyes.

Maybe this was all a dream and if you focused hard enough ,you'd wake up in your bed , alone and yearning for the man supposedly in front of you. But that would still be better than this.

"Y/n, it's alright. You don't have to be embarrassed. " San says, inching closer to you.

You sigh. It's not a dream and you have to face him now.

"I-I'm sorry for whatever I said last night. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable at all. I don't know what had gotten into me." You say, rubbing your forehead.

By now , San is kneeling right in front of you, his galaxy filled eyes never leaving yours.

"I should be sorry , you idiot." He says , gently tapping your forehead ," if I wasn't such a coward and had confessed to you earlier , everything would have been different now. But better late than never , right?"

You gulp hard.

Now is the time to wake up , y/n, I'm going to be super pissed if this turns out to be a dream, you wonder to yourself.

"So..what you're saying is - "

"I like you , yes. Not as a friend , not as a classmate. I like you as a woman and if you agree to this ," San leans in dangerously closer , "Then I'll like you as a girlfriend, too."

You didn't need time to agree to this. You didn't need a second thought. You only need a small tug at your heartstring , which happened everytime you see his eyes focused on you and only you.

"Yes." You say.

His face breaks into a massive grin as he wraps his arms around you , with yours around his torso. You can feel the fast beating of his heart against your cheek as you snuggle into his chest .

"Thank you. Thank you so much." He whispers into your hair. Your cheeks are burning red by now but it's alright. It's a good type of burning. You can come to like it in the near future.

You don't know how long it is before he finally decides to pull away , much to your dismay.

"I'm going to make breakfast . Are pancakes okay with you?" He says , his arms by his side but his body still close to yours.

"Yeah. Obviously. " You loved his pancakes, as a matter of fact. Once, Jongho had even forced you to confess to San during your college years just so he could eat those delicious pancakes whenever he wanted to.

"Okay. You can go freshen up in the bathroom by then." He then unexpectedly takes your face in his hands , inching closer to yours with every passing second, " Don't miss me too much though."

You pout, playing along , " I already do."

And just like that , he presses his soft , luscious lips to yours, enveloping them in a quick kiss.

"Bye." And just like that too , he runs away into the kitchen , avoiding confronting what had just happened while you are left frozen and shocked and petrified and all synonyms of those words in the English dictionary.

But you hear him hum his favourite song softly from the kitchen and your shoulders relax.

Relax , y/n , you tell yourself , it's just San and he is your boyfriend now.

[bnhayyy]

The Call (4)

Chapter Title: Bonds

Wordcount: 5.8k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Mikasa has a rough patrol with Annie, which managed to lead into a good day.

Notes: Ymir is far too fun to write. I can’t include her in every chapter, but my god.. I want to. Also! I would like to offer a big thank you to Celadon for continuing to help me with story planning as well as to Gabey and Cerdine for doing a spelling/grammar beta. Also, if you enjoy this fic, please consider sending me an ask, leaving a comment, or donating to my ko-fi!

Mikasa knew the difference a few nights of proper rest could make. However, there was a difference between knowing through memories that seemed to grow ever-distant and allowing herself to experience it once again. She felt... refreshed wasn't quite the word. It wasn't strong enough to describe the sensation that had grasped her. Even though her break had been interrupted by bouts of studying as she tried to play catch-up on her schoolwork, she still felt like new life had been breathed into her lungs.

The most unbelievable part? She had only allowed herself three nights. Somehow, those three nights had made a world of difference.

No, not 'somehow'. She knew exactly how and why.

Three nights of rest had done Mikasa a world of improvement because Erwin, Armin, and Annie were right. She had been wearing herself too thin.

Perhaps it was a little childish of her, but she didn't plan on admitting it to any of them. She didn't want to risk being faced with smugness - or worse yet - relief. It was bad enough that Eren had been following her around and shooting her looks of pleasure and pride since she woke up that morning. The real people in her life would simply have to be content with her changing her behavior and not making a big deal of it.

Or at least, changing her behavior as much as possible. Frequent breaks and regular relaxation time simply weren't something that a slayer could afford. Even if she wasn't alone, she would never be able to have a leisurely life.

However, it would be a lie to say that she had not started considering Annie's offer more seriously. She still didn't know if she could trust her, but she had already seen the wisdom in giving her a chance. This had added an element of temptation to that wisdom.

It was a Thursday, which meant no trigonometry. That meant her last class was at four in the afternoon, long before the sunset. She always left her slaying supplies at home on Thursdays and walked home to get them after class. It was never much of a problem for her. However, today it felt off. That temptation was following her, nipping at her heel with every step home.

She refused to acknowledge it outright. However, as it continued to nag at her, she decided that she could do something in the vicinity of giving in. She could acknowledge Annie's helpfulness enough to pay her a basic courtesy.

Mikasa nodded to herself. Eren gave her an odd look, but didn't comment.

His silence lasted until she had gone home, collected her things, and immediately went back to the door.

"Mikasa?" Eren was looking out the window, where it was still bright and sunny. His query was as plain as if he had spelled it out in neon technicolor.

Mikasa paused, hand on the doorknob, unsure of if she wanted to slump forward or sigh. In the end, she did neither. "I can start patrolling again," she said. "I should let Annie know before she wastes her time."

That was all. It was a sign of appreciation, an implication that she really was willing to consider Annie's offer, but nothing more. It wasn't a promise. It wasn't Mikasa letting anyone into her life beyond what she was forced to. It was just common courtesy.

Eren nodded, a playful glimmer in his eyes. Mikasa frowned, searching his gaze for vacancy or condemnation. She found none.

One of the odd things about Eren was that there seemed to be two different versions of him. Sometimes, he was distant and difficult to get a read on, cold, haunting, and unnatural. It was easy to remember that he was a hallucination when he was like that. Other times, however, he was animated and passionate, emotive and deceptively full of life. Whenever he was like that, she was sometimes tempted to think of him as an imaginary friend rather than a hallucination, for the other term began to feel irrationally cruel.

Because whenever he was like that, he reminded her of the boy she hadn't been able to save. He was easy to talk to as long as  he was like this. Too easy. If it was consistent, she might find herself faced with a temptation that was even more dangerous than the one she was currently grappling with and far harder to resist.

Mikasa might start pretending that he was really there.

She supposed it was a good thing that he manifested in the other state fairly often. As such, even in the moments where she gave in and almost let herself pretend, she could rest assured that they would only ever be moments.

"You know, I think you and Annie could be friends if you tried to get along," he remarked.

Mikasa released the doorknob as she turned to frown at him. There had been some tension between her and Annie so far, but not anything that she would classify as not getting along. Instead of pointing that out, she asked, "What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty similar, even without the slayer thing." Eren grinned. "You could probably be pretty scary together."

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

Eren faltered, his grin fading. "Ah," he said. "I just... I have a feeling."

In other words, it was just nice words in a voice that she had never stopped wanting to hear. Mikasa offered him a tiny, bittersweet smile. "We'll see," she murmured

"I'm glad that you're giving her a chance," he added.

Mikasa's breath caught in her throat as a thought occurred to her, unwanted and unbeneficial, but undeniable in how bright and fervently it manifested.

Would the real Eren want her to give Annie a chance? Would she even have a reason to?

Mikasa's gaze drifted then, past the illusion she was speaking with, as far into the depths of her apartment as she could look without turning her head. She refused to allow herself to turn her head, because if she did, she knew that she'd end up wandering back into the depths of her apartment, over to the chest that she kept her weapons in. She'd end up digging through it until she reached the thing buried at the bottom. And then she'd be too lost in guilt and grief to talk to anyone.

No. It had been over five years since that day, and she was a slayer. She had responsibilities that she couldn't neglect in favor of a memory. Even if that memory refused to let her go.

Besides, she had to talk to Annie. Speaking of which...

"Eren," Mikasa began, placing her hand back on the doorknob. "When I'm with Annie, do you think you can-"

"Go somewhere else?" Eren finished. Mikasa didn't let herself look at him, at the sad glimmer she was sure she'd notice if she did. He was painfully easy to read whenever he was like this.

"Yeah," Mikasa said. "It'll be easier without any distractions."

"Alright," Eren said. "Sure. I'll just..." He trailed off.

Despite her better judgment, Mikasa looked in his direction, only to see that he was already gone.

That was another thing about Eren. Hallucinations normally didn't go away when you asked them to, but sometimes he did.

If only it didn't make her feel so rotten.

*

Mikasa didn't allow herself to hesitate. With hesitation would come doubt, and doubt would make it too easy for her to turn around and run away. Instead, she walked onto the porch with all the ease and confidence that she didn't feel and raised her hand to knock on the door before she had even finished walking. Her feet stilled and she gave a single sharp rap with her knuckles.

She didn't need to knock a second time. Bertolt opened the door not thirty seconds later. Surprise flickered across his face when he saw her. It lingered as a friendly smile made its way across his face. Unsurprising. Mikasa knew that she hadn't exactly seemed like the friendliest person at their first meeting, and... no. Even if he had been at Erwin's meeting, she hadn't exactly been in a good mood then either. It likely wouldn't have done anything to help his impression of her.

She allowed herself to feel guilty for half a second before pushing the sensation back down.

"Mikasa," Bertolt greeted. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "Is Annie there?"

"Yeah," Bertolt said. "I'll go get her." He began to turn around, only to pause, a frown flickering across his face. Looking back at Mikasa, he asked, "You didn't exchange phone numbers?"

Mikasa paused. "Uh. I..." Didn't think about it. "Don't use my phone that often," she said.

Her cheeks felt warm. Not warm enough for her to worry that she was blushing, but certainly warmer than she would have liked.

Bertolt offered her a small, sympathetic smile. "I know Annie forgets stuff like that all the time," he said.

Mikasa frowned; she couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a callout or not, and if so, whether it was her poor social skills being highlighted or Annie's. It seemed that she wasn't going to find out either. Before she could decide if she wanted to go ahead and ask, Bertolt had turned around and was walking away. However, he hesitated just before disappearing down the hallway.

"Ah, you can come in, by the way," he said.

With that, he was gone.

Mikasa hesitantly stepped into the house. It felt better than standing out by the doorway. At least, it did at first. A few moments of awkwardly lingering in the hallway were enough to make her reconsider.

Thankfully, those few moments didn't get to stretch into anything longer. Footsteps soon began to echo through the little household, making a warm ball of relief blossom in her chest and spread out into her shoulders, driving her to roll them and loosen her posture. The sound was quiet, but what she had seen of Annie showed that she was a light, agile individual. That meant that she wasn't trying to muffle her footsteps, which was reassuring for a reason that she couldn't put her finger on. More importantly, it sounded distinctly like they were heading her way.

Annie appeared a moment later. The first thing Mikasa noticed was that Bertolt hadn't returned with her. The second was that Annie was dressed casually, but also in clothes that looked like they could take a beating. That meant that she was almost definitely planning on going on patrol tonight.

It was probably a good thing that Mikasa had stopped by to give her the news, then.

When the other slayer came to a stop a few feet away from her, Mikasa said, "I'm feeling better now."

Annie sighed. "Right to the point," she muttered.

Mikasa frowned. "I didn't think you were opposed to that," she said.

"I'm not," came Annie's response. "But I find it hard to believe that a few nights is all it would take to recover from the state you were in."

Her words were placid, spoken in a way that made it sound like they could be concern or condescension, and Mikasa couldn't tell which it was supposed to be for the life of her. She didn't know if she should smile or clench her jaw. As such, she did neither and simply offered a wary, "I'm a slayer. I recover quickly."

"I know how quickly slayers recover," Annie said. "I know that there's a mental weight as well as a physical."

"Nothing that I can't handle."

Silence as their eyes met. She didn't know how many seconds passed as they stared each other down. When Annie finally sighed and looked up at the ceiling, it didn't even feel like a victory. It couldn't be; she could tell that Annie hadn't truly given up nor relented. She was just looking for an easier path.

"You think you're ready to start patrolling again?" Annie asked, still staring up at the ceiling. An obvious question, which was probably why she didn't wait for a response. "Then go with me tonight."

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. "I don't need a babysitter," she said.

"Good, because I don't babysit." Annie lowered her gaze to give Mikasa a once-over. "You might be right, but you might also be overestimating yourself because you feel better than you did before."

Mikasa moved to protest, and Annie's eyes narrowed into ice-blue slits. "Am I wrong?" she pressed.

Mikasa faltered.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Annie pushed. "If you can honestly tell me that you're in top shape, that there is no chance that you're jumping the gun, then I'll stay home and you can go patrolling at home. But if there is any chance that you aren't at your best, then be smart. Let me support you, and least for tonight."

Mikasa let out a long breath, but managed to refrain from averting her gaze. "Fine," she said. "Meet me at the cemetery in two hours."

Annie nodded. For a moment, that looked like it would be that. However, before Mikasa could start to leave, she reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. "Here," she said, thrusting it over to Mikasa. "My number."

A quick glance down revealed that it was, indeed, a phone number. "Did you have this written?" Mikasa asked.

"The walls here are thin," Annie said. "I overheard you and Bertolt. Now he can't fret about proper communication."

The corners of Mikasa's lips twitched up. "Smart," she murmured.

"Practiced," Annie corrected. "Bertolt likes to fuss."

Like Armin, Mikasa thought. Except she and Armin weren't as close as Annie and Bertolt probably were. They couldn't be.

Putting the piece of paper in her pocket, Mikasa nodded. "I'll text you before I set out."

"I'll hold you to it," Annie said.

***

Two hours later, Mikasa and Annie met in front of the cemetery. Eren was still conspicuously absent, which brought about a cocktail of emotions that Mikasa decided to simplify and call relief. Patrolling with someone else was bound to be stressful and off-putting as it was. She didn't want the extra difficulty that would come from trying to tune out a voice that only she could hear.

They worked in silence at first, the term "worked" being used very loosely. The lack of tangible demonic activity meant that they mostly walked through the cemetery on the off chance that something would appear.

About half an hour in, Mikasa cast Annie a pensive glance. She wondered if Paradis would see an uptick in demonic activity once word spread that there were two slayers. Most supernatural beings with half a functional mind would avoid a city that had a slayer, let alone two. Yet there were still plenty who wanted to test their strength or taste the glory of killing a slayer. Aggressive demons, particularly unhinged magical practitioners, even particularly strong vampires like...

"So," a drawling voice cut through the night, its tone caught somewhere between bored and smug. "You know each other after all."

...Ymir.

The reaction was instantaneous. Annie pulled the stake out of her pocket and took a step forward the vampire, only for Mikasa to reach out and grab the other slayer by the forearm. Annie whipped her head around to glare at her, but Mikasa looked beyond her glare, at Ymir, as she hissed, "Don't. She's the one I was talking about."

Annie's eyes shifted just enough to shoot Ymir a wary look. "At the meeting?" she murmured.

"Yes." The vampire grinned, and Mikasa lowered her voice as she added, "She's stronger than the others."

"Awww," Ymir cooed. "You've been talking about me? I'm flattered." She waltzed a few steps over to a gravestone, where she sat down and shot them a laughing grin. "Want to do an interview? I'd be down."

Irritation spiked through Mikasa at the vampire's words, sharply enough that she almost grit her teeth. It was some small consolation that Annie seemed similarly affected by her blithe attitude, but was a little less talented at hiding that it bothered her. One of her eyes twitched just before she gave the vampire a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"She won't tell us anything useful," Mikasa murmured. "We'll just be wasting time."

Wasting time - just like they already were by standing there talking about it instead of acting. She couldn't let Annie go charging blindly at Ymir expecting just another vampire, but they couldn't do nothing.

"I know she won't," Annie whispered. "The ones like her never do." She paused, just for long enough to shoot another quick glance at the vampire lounging on the gravestone, then added, "We need a plan."

"Or you could just ignore me," Ymir called, a hint of irritation seeping into her voice. "That sounds like a fun way to spend the night."

"We flank her," Mikasa instructed."You go left, I go right."

Annie frowned, a faint downward twitch of her lips, and something flickered in her gaze. It made Mikasa pause. For a second, the air lit up with tension as she waited for the protest that she was sure was coming.

It was killed by a single decisive nod from Annie. "Alright," she said.

Annie stepped to the side and turned around so that they were both facing Ymir. As Annie adjusted her grip on her stake, Mikasa shifted her bag down her arm so that she could take her crossbow out. It was already prepped and loaded. The nature of the weapon meant that she would have to pause to reload if her first bolt didn't hit. That didn't stop it from being an effective weapon that allowed her to keep a distance from her opponent while providing an intimidating air that often bought her a few extra seconds.

Normally. She didn't trust that an intimidating weapon would have much of an effect on Ymir. The crossbow's delay coupled with the vampire's speed meant that she might well have failed if she didn't manage to hit her with her first bolt. Even so, their previous encounter made her feel like long-distance combat was the better route with Ymir. Enough so that she couldn't help but be a little wary at the sight of Annie with her stake.

At that moment, Mikasa regretted that she had taken this long to remember how few supplies Annie seemed to have on her during their first encounter. She would have pushed her to prepare better if she had. It was too late to deal with that now though. She'd just have to hope that Annie would take her cues and do the smart thing, dive in for quick hits at the vampire before pulling back out.

Meanwhile, Ymir sighed. She got off the gravestone and rolled her shoulders with all the careless grace of a cat. "I told you last time that I'm not ready for a fight, Ackerman," she said. "What makes you think that I'd want to take both of you on at once?"

Her voice was casual in a way that bordered on arrogance. Mikasa noticed how it made Annie's shoulders stiffen subtly out of the corner of her eyes.

"You don't get a choice," the other slayer said.

Ymir raised an eyebrow. "Bet?"

And then they were moving. Annie charged forward and to the left while Mikasa slid to the right. Ymir, meanwhile, ran away. Away, but not out. The vampire didn't seem to be aiming to get out of the cemetery. It was foolish of her, but foolish in a way that was to their advantage.

Mikasa didn't try to aim quite yet. With both herself and Ymir running, it would be a wasted shot. Annie didn't have that hindrance. As she drew in close to Ymir, she reached into her jacket pocket with her free hand and drew out a knife. Putting on a burst of speed, she managed to get mere inches from the vampire and pulled up her knife to slash across her throat -

- Only for Ymir to come to a dead stop and duck. Annie's own momentum made her continue several paces forward and slash at empty air. At that time, Mikasa readied her crossbow. However, just as her weapon lined up with her target's heart, there was a flash of movement. Quick as a blink, Ymir rushed several steps back, leaving Annie standing in the line of Mikasa's crossbow, stake primed and frustration scrawled across her face.

"You guys really suck at this teamwork thing," Ymir called in a laughing voice. She was still running - not away, but circling the area like a vulture. Mikasa spun frantically as she tried to keep up with her, trying and failing to take aim. She was moving too quickly for her to shoot at her and throwing too many unpredictable twists and turns into her path for her to predict where she would be in a few moments. Annie, who had fallen back into pursuit, was hot on her heels - but not enough. There were simply too many routes for the vampire to escape.

"You seem like you're good at close combat," Ymir told Annie. "Doesn't mean a thing if you can't get close to your opponent though."

As Mikasa gave up on her previous tactic and opened her bag to exchange her crossbow for a stake, Ymir crowed, "And you." The vampire's voice had taken on a note of exhilarated glee. It reminded her of a cat toying with a mouse - or a hawk who knew that the cat couldn't catch it. "Crossbows are a lot harder to use on someone who's actively being chased. Although it looks like you've finally realized that."

Stake in hand, Mikasa charged on Ymir. It got a loud, barking laugh from the vampire. "Too late! Should've planned ahead of time." As she spoke, she twisted around and changed directions. Now she wasn't just running in circles - now she was heading out of the cemetery.

Fuck. Mikasa forced herself to run a little faster. She drew up the right while Annie went to the left. Once they were only a few feet behind Ymir, they both began to draw inward without exchanging a word.

For one intense, pulsating moment, it looked like they would catch her. They both had their stakes. They seemed to have the same thought. The vampire looked like she was lagging.

Then, when they were only a foot behind her, Ymir laughed and put on another burst of speed. Annie cursed and Mikasa grit her teeth, both pushing themselves to try and keep up.

It was no use. When Ymir reached the edge of the cemetery and jumped over the fence, disappearing across the street and into a line of houses in a span of roughly ten seconds, they knew it was over.

Annie was the first to stop, digging her heel into the ground and letting herself slide to a halt. Meanwhile, Mikasa slowed down, but didn't stop until she came up to the fence itself. There, she rested a hand on one of the wrought-iron bars and stared out at where the vampire had disappeared.

"She was right," Annie said.

When Mikasa didn't say anything, the other slayer continued. "We weren't in sync. We should have decided on one fighting style before going after her."

"You were going to say something," Mikasa said, still not looking at Annie. "Before we went after her. You were going to say something. What was it?"

Annie didn't say anything.

Mikasa turned around to look at her. The other slayer seemed impassive for the most part, but the way she averted her gaze gave her the sense that she was second-guessing whatever she was going to say.

That wouldn't do. Enough mistakes had already been made today. If what the other slayer had to say might turn out to be useful...

"Annie?" Mikasa pressed.

"I was going to say that we shouldn't fight her tonight," Annie admitted. "I meant that we need a long-term plan if she really is that much stronger than other vampires."

Mikasa frowned. "She's the one who-"

"I know," Annie interrupted. "That's why I didn't say it."

Mikasa gazed back out at where the vampire had disappeared. It grated her to know that they had missed an opportunity to take care of Ymir, that she hadn't been able to swoop in and put her down like she usually did. She was also certain that doing nothing wouldn't have helped. But at the same time...

"We do need a plan," Mikasa acknowledged.

"We need to be on the same page the next time we see her," Annie said.

The same page. That meant the same tactic.

"Long-range combat is safer, but unless we can catch her off-guard, she might be too fast for it," Mikasa said, looking back at Annie. "Toward the end, I think she only slowed down to mess with us."

"But we were doing better," Annie pointed out.

Mikasa resisted the urge to look away again. "We were," she said.

"So if she approaches us again, we should both focus on close-range combat," Annie said.

Mikasa stared at her. There was something a little aggravating about the certainty with which she said it, the confident gleam in her eyes and the way she held her head high. She couldn't tell if Annie thought that Mikasa had made a mistake, but she was definitely confident that her method was the right one for the situation.

It was aggravating. It was challenging. It was also, as she stared at her, more than a little captivating.

There weren't many people who were able or willing to go toe to toe with her.

Pushing the unusual feeling down, Mikasa forced herself to do one of the most difficult things that she possibly could. 

"Alright," she conceded.

Annie gave a small nod before slowly turning around to head back into the graveyard.

They still had a long night ahead of them.

***

They encountered three more vampires over the course of the patrol; a busy night by Paradis standards. Unlike Ymir, the next two were dispatched quickly and easily.

By the time they killed the final vampire, it was almost a comfort to have Annie at her back.

***

Mikasa wouldn't say that she was in high spirits the next day. Such a thing was impossible. Despite the success of the patrol as they approached the end of the night, their failure to kill Ymir still weighed on her.

And yet...

And yet, for some unknowable reason, the world felt a little brighter.

That brightness was still lingering by the time her afternoon history class ended. It was the reason why when, instead of leaving, Sasha all but vaulted out of her chair and raced her way instead of just leaving, Mikasa didn't scramble to get out of the way to evade her.

She did, however, wonder at the excitement in the girl's eyes. There was nothing about Mikasa that felt like it should warrant that sort of look, yet there it was.

Moving at a rapid pace in a small classroom meant that Sasha very nearly careened into her and only caught herself at the last second.

"Jesus, Sasha!" Connie cried. He was still sitting in the seat next to Sasha's, but had maneuvered himself so that he was sitting backwards on the chair so that he could watch his friend. Despite his near-chastising tone, his expression held the glee of someone watching a trainwreck that was guaranteed to have no fatalities. An organized trainwreck. A monster truck rally.

Sasha didn't pay her friend any attention. Standing only inches away from Mikasa's face, she exclaimed, "Mikasa! Have you had lunch yet?"

Mikasa blinked. "No," she said. She usually skipped it.

"Great!" Sasha cried. "You're coming with me, then."

That was all the warning Mikasa got before Sasha hooked her arm in hers and started dragging her off. It would have been an easy matter to resist, but she hadn't brought her textbook with her and didn't have anything else to get before leaving the class, so it wasn't like she had any reason to write. More importantly, a combination of surprise and confusion was effectively preventing Mikasa from forming any higher thoughts for the time being. As such, she inadvertently submitted to being dragged around.

Connie stood up and trotted over to walk on her other side when they passed him. The movement pulled Mikasa out of her stupor somewhat, but Sasha still managed to get her out of the classroom and halfway down the hall before she could articulate anything. "I-"

"Don't bother," Connie cut her off, a playful grin on his face. "Sasha's made up her mind about something involving food. There's no stopping her now."

"Rude, Springer," Sasha said. "True, but rude."

"I'm just making sure Mikasa knows what your priorities lie."

Sasha let out a dramatic huff. Then, to Mikasa, she said, "We're meeting the boys in the food court. I thought bringing you would be a fun surprise!"

"The boys?" Mikasa asked.

"Jean, Marco, and Reiner," Sasha said.

"Oh," Mikasa said. "I didn't... know you all are friends."

She supposed it made sense. Reiner and Connie had been pretty friendly that time in Erwin's office, Jean seemed like he knew them, and Marco was friends with Jean. Connecting it all still made her head spin a little.

"Well, we're friends with Reiner and Marco," Sasha said. "Jean is more like..."

"A show horse?" Connie suggested.

"Exactly!" Sasha cried with a bright laugh.

"I see," Mikasa murmured.

So they all knew each other more than just in passing. They all liked each other - or at least got along despite a certain level of teasing. Again, it made sense. They were all socially outgoing. Meanwhile, Mikasa... well, she was outgoing. Social was another one.

And Sasha thought that bringing her over would be a pleasant surprise?

"Hey," Sasha said, her voice taking on a lower, softer tone. "You know that they all already like you, right?"

Mikasa blinked, a shred of surprise flickering across her face as she looked at Sasha. How on earth had she been able to read her so easily?

"It's true!" Sasha insisted, probably misunderstanding the reason for Mikasa's surprise. "We'd all like to get to know you more."

Ah. That made sense.

"Because I'm the slayer," Mikasa said.

"Because you don't get out enough and pretty much no one knows anything about you," Sasha countered.

That... was certainly a statement. Mikasa barely had a chance to process it before they had reached the entrance of the food court. There, as she continued eagerly tugging Mikasa along, Sasha nearly collided with her second person in less than ten minutes.

"Woah!" Krista exclaimed, taking a small, stumbling step away from the trio.

"Aah!" Sasha exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, Krista!" She held her hands up apologetically - both of them. Rather than simply letting go of Mikasa in order to do so, she interlocked her hand with hers and waved both of their arms about.

Krista shot them a warm smile. "Don't worry about it!" she said.

"Do you want to come to lunch with us?" Sasha asked.

"You're going to turn us into a caravan, aren't you," Connie muttered, but not without a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, no thank you," Krista said, voice polite and sweet as could be. "I need to get to class! Thank you for offering, though!"

With that, she turned around and hurried off down the hall. Mikasa turned her gaze back toward the food court, expecting that to be the end of it. However, her gaze wandered back to Sasha when she noticed that she was staring after Krista.

"You know," Sasha whispered, "Krista's one of the nicest people you can find, but I don't think she has many friends either."

Mikasa frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Everyone likes Krista." Even Mikasa knew that much. 'Krista Lenz' was a common name to hear around campus. She was humbly intelligent, exceedingly kind, and involved in many school activities. From what she'd heard, she was about as close to a perfect someone as someone could get.

"Yeah, but that's not the same thing as having friends," Sasha said. "I don't ever see her hanging out with anyone in her free time. It's... it's hard to explain, but it's... it's like..."

"Like you can't process the thought of an angel amongst us gluttons and fools?" Connie suggested.

Sasha let out a disgruntled squawk, and Mikasa found herself having to lean back to stay out of the way when Sasha leaned over to swat at him.

"I just think she could use more friends!" Sasha exclaimed.

"It's Krista," Connie said, laughing. "I'm sure she has plenty of friends. Now let's get going; I'm starving."

"And you call me a glutton," Sasha teased.

"You are," Connie said. "I'm only starving sometimes. You, on the other hand, are a bottomless pit."

"Sure, sure," Sasha said. "I see how it is." She sniffed, then finally released her grip on Mikasa's hand to re-link their arms.

"Come on, Mikasa," she said as he began to drag her along once again. "Let's not keep Connie from his feast ."

Mikasa felt the corners of her lips twitch upward. "Alright," she said.

As she smiled and listened to the pair of goofballs banter, she found that she felt a little lighter yet. It wasn't the same sort of odd warmth that she'd woken up feeling that morning, but it was... nice. That feeling only grew when Sasha succeeded in pulling her all the way to the table where her group sat and, despite all odds and expectations, they all seemed genuinely happy to see her.

That afternoon, as Mikasa listened to everyone's conversations and even contributed to them a little, a faint, dangerous thought crossed her mind.

She could get used to this.

***

It was a few hours before the sun would set, and Mikasa was back at her apartment, staring down at her phone and the scrap of paper laid down beside it. At the digits scrawled across it. 

She had been staring at them for longer than she would like to admit. 

"The worst thing she can do is say no," Eren pointed out. 

"I know," Mikasa murmured. 

And Annie wouldn't say no. She knew that much. The problem wasn't the possibility of rejection - it was the simple act of asking. 

"You're strong," Eren said. "But you're better when you're not alone."

Mikasa took a deep breath, and, despite the lightness that still lingered within her, refused to truly consider his words beyond their most surface meaning. The most important meaning. 

Working with Annie was the smartest thing to do. 

Carefully, she took her phone, put in the number, and sent a text. 

Mikasa: Patrol tonight? - M

Annie: Alright. 

Annie: We can train if you can come over early. 

Mikasa blinked. Something that straddled the line between apprehension and excitement rose up in her stomach. She pushed it down as she typed out her response. 

Mikasa: Sure

***

They only encountered two vampires that night. 

Between her and Annie, they were two of the easiest kills that Mikasa had ever made.

[marjansmarwani]

You Can Learn to Love (Again)

A Tarlos Teacher AU // 14.3K

[Read on ao3]

TK Strand needs a fresh start. He needs to get as far away from the memories and temptations of NYC as he possibly can so when he finds an opening at a prestigious high school in Austin, he jumps at the chance.

As things fall into place he is surprised to find just how well he fits into Austin; how well this new life he built for himself suits him. There’s only one complication: another (insanely attractive) English teacher by the name of Carlos Reyes whose existence does not fit into TK’s carefully constructed plans. The universe, however, seems to have another plan entirely.

Or, the Teacher AU absolutely no one asked for.

Welcome to the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written! I had a good time writing it and I ended up really liking it though, and I hope you do too. Huge shoutout to @officerrxyes for helping me with the edits and putting it up me throughout the entire process. 

-----

This is not how he had wanted to start his first day. He had been hoping to make a good impression, maybe make it through the first week without drawing too much attention to himself. 

 The universe had other plans, it seemed. 

 It had started with the traffic. He was still new to the area and had severely underestimated how heavy traffic was in this city (really, who knew?) Thankfully he had been nervous enough that he had left his apartment almost an hour earlier than he should have had to for a 4-mile drive, which had gotten him here with about 10 minutes to spare. 

 If it had just been that, it would have been fine. He could have shaken it off, gotten into his classroom and been ready to face the day with plenty of time before his students showed up. But no, it couldn’t be that simple. Instead, he was stuck here, in his current predicament. 

 By the time he arrived there was not a parking spot to be found. He had anxiously circled the parking lot twice before spotting an empty space miraculously close to the front doors. He thought maybe his luck had finally changed - until he tried to open his door. The car next to him was parked so close that he could barely even get his door more than an inch let alone wide enough to get out. He glanced over to the passenger side to find that car was almost as close. He banged his head against the steering wheel in frustration. Of course. Of fucking course - he had moved across the country, managed to get a job in one of the best high schools in the state, and now he was going to blow it because he was trapped in his car. Typical. 

 He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath before examining the situation again. There might just be enough room on the passenger side to open the door and squeeze out. Then he would just have to wait long enough that the other cars would be gone before he tried to leave at the end of the day. Totally doable — he just had to climb over the center counsel. He examined the layout and sighed. There was no way to do this gracefully. He took a silent moment to mourn his nice professional wrinkle-free first-day outfit before he resigned himself to the inevitable. 

 He had known it was not going to be a graceful process, but he had still underestimated exactly how awkward it would be. He cleared the counsel and got one foot on the ground outside the passenger door before carefully sliding himself out, careful not to let his door hit the car beside him. Once he had both feet on the ground he reached back in to grab his bag, which he pulled out before closing the door and walking to the back of the car. Once he was free of the confined space he took a deep breath as he smoothed out his clothes, wiping away any wrinkles. 

 “That was pretty impressive,” someone noted, voice full of amusement. 

 TK spun around to find an incredibly attractive man standing behind him, looking him over with a raised eyebrow. TK wanted to shoot back something clever but instead he tripped over his words, stuttering through half-formed thoughts before he blurted out “thanks.” 

 Inwardly, he groaned. Because this morning hadn’t been bad enough - now he was a stuttering mess in front of this guy who possibly had the most gorgeous eyes TK had ever seen and had just used those eyes to watch TK climb out of his own car like a contortionist. He was really winning today. 

 “Anytime,” the stranger returned with a grin. They stood there, not saying anything for a few more moments until the stranger continued, “Well I guess I should,” he trailed off gesturing towards the building. TK nodded vaguely before a glance at his watch pulled him back to reality, “Oh, yeah. Me too.” 

 “Well, I hope you have a good first day. My name is Carlos, by the way.” 

 “TK,” he offered, plastering on what he hoped was a charming smile. 

 Carlos grinned at him, “I’ll see you around, TK.” 

 And with that, he was gone. TK watched him walk away until the snap of the door closing behind him dragged him back to the present. He glanced at his watch again only to see that he only had two minutes before he would officially be late for his first day. 

 “Shit,” he muttered to himself before hiking his bag up in his shoulder and sprinting towards the door. 

 ------

 “Don’t forget to get those syllabi signed!” TK called to the retreating backs of his second-period freshman class.  “Whether or not you think it’s stupid does not change the fact that it is an easy grade!” 

 This earned a few chuckles from the students still gathering their things and he flashed a grin at them. Despite the rough start, the morning has actually gone pretty well. His first two classes had gone smoothly and the kids seemed like a good bunch. He was optimistic about the year. Now he was looking at his first prep period of the day and since there was no grading to tackle yet he figured this was as good of a time as any to try to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Plus, he needed to find the copier. He had printed out the syllabi for the first day on his home printer but there was no way he was going to keep doing that. He fully intended to use the school provided resources, thank you very much. 

 He was just about to grab his ID and keys and head out in pursuit of a copy machine or faculty room when someone stepped into his classroom. TK recognized him but couldn’t put a name to the face. 

 “Hey Mr. Strand, I just wanted to stop by to see how your first day was going. I’m Judd Ryder, one of the Assistant Principals.” 

 TK smiled at him, crossing over to shake his hand, “I remember you, you were on my interview committee, right?” 

 He nodded, “That’s right. I was pretty impressed by you, I think you’ll do great things here.” 

 “That’s very kind of you to say, I hope I can live up to it,” TK responded, a little taken aback by the praise.

 Mr. Ryder shrugged, “I was impressed by your thoughts on curriculum, but really I think you’re going to do a good job connecting to the students. You’ve got the freshman this year and they need that. That connection might be the difference between failure and success for some of them.” 

 TK nodded, unsure of how to respond. He fiddled with his lanyard for a moment before the AP laughed, shaking his head; “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you - my wife is always telling me I don’t need to voice every thought that pops into my head and, well clearly that’s a problem for me.”

 TK relaxed and smiled at the older man, “It’s fine, it’s nice to hear such good things, it’s just the first day and all—a lot to take in, you know?”

 Ryder nodded, “I hear that. Anything I could help with?”

 “Actually, yeah—any chance you could point me towards a copier? My printer at home will never recover if I try to do much more with it.” 

 “Sure thing, I’ll take you there. It’s on my way anyways,” he said over TK’s protests, “no trouble at all.” 

 They step into the hallway and once TK is sure the door to his classroom is shut and locked behind him they move down the hall, back towards the main hallway. Judd keeps up a steady stream of conversation all the way and TK nods and makes noises of agreement where necessary. It’s not that he doesn’t like Judd, he’s just not used to such an amicable relationship with administrators. It had never been like that in any of his previous schools. He liked the feeling of familiarity but knew that it would be a while before he ever completely bought into it. He was much more likely to err on the side of polite professionalism. 

 They had arrived at the faculty room now and as TK went to open the door it swung open as another teacher stepped out. He was a little older than TK and his eyes went wide as he halted inches from colliding with him. Judd laughed from behind TK, “Well I was going to say you two should meet at some point, so I guess now is as good a time as any. TK Strand, meet Paul Strickland, one of our Earth Science teachers. He’s also your neighbor.”  

 Paul grinned and stuck out his hand, “it’s good to meet you, man. I was going to stop by later on, but bumping into each other works too I guess.” 

 TK chuckled and took the offered hand, “I suppose it does. So you’re my neighbor, huh?” 

 Paul nodded, “And part of the grade level team. You’ll actually be seeing the rest of us in a bit—we have common planning 5th period.” 

 TK nodded, he had noticed that on the schedule. “Cool, well, I’ll see you then. In the meantime, I should get some copies done while I have a chance.” 

 “Don’t use tray 3—it always jams.” 

 “Thanks for the tip.” 

 “Don’t mention it; I know how much it sucks to have to spend your entire prep clearing out a paper jam.” 

 “Still, I appreciate it.” 

 Paul nodded and then with another smile and a wave to Judd, he was gone. They watched him go for a second before Judd spoke again, “You have a solid team to work with in your wing, I’m sure you’ll all get along fine.”

 “I think you might be onto something,” TK agreed. Then, with another thanks, he stepped into the faculty room, leaving the Assistant Principal behind.  

 ---

 Two periods later and TK was starting to remember how exhausting the first week of school was. The endurance it took to do this all day was nothing to scoff at, and each year in September it needed to be built up again. Somehow each year, he managed to forget that. As the last of the 4th-period stragglers filed out he sank into his desk chair and leaned back, allowing himself to take a deep breath. All he wanted to do was sleep for a week, but he still had common planning, hall duty, one more class, and an apartment full of boxes waiting to be unpacked. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now. 

 A knock at his door wrenched him from his fantasies of peaceful sleep. He jumped to his feet, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes as he looked towards the door to find Paul and two others standing on the threshold.

 “The first week is always the hardest, isn’t it?” Paul noted as he invited himself into the room, the other two at his heels. 

 TK nodded, only cutting off for a yawn, “You could say that,” he finally got out. 

 Paul gave him a sympathetic grin before turning to his two companions. “Guys, this is TK Strand, the new English teacher. TK,” he said turning to face him, “this is Marjan Marwani and Mateo Chavez, Math and Social Studies teachers respectively.”

 TK gave them each a nod and a smile. “So, we’re the ninth grade team?” 

 “One of them,” Marjan confirmed, settling onto one of the desks. “So you better get used to us - we’re stuck together and you get to see our lovely faces every day for this common planning period.” 

 “Where do we meet for that, by the way?” 

 “Your room of course,” Marjan said with a raised eyebrow, “the newbie always hosts.” 

 Paul rolled his eyes. “She’s kidding,” he informed TK, “but we do usually meet in here because there are more tables so it’s easier to spread out.”

 “Fine with me,” TK replied with a shrug, “you guys are more than welcome.” 

 The others smiled their thanks before Mateo spoke up. 

 “So TK,” he asked in what was clearly meant to be a casual tone, “how long have you been teaching?” 

 TK raised an eyebrow, “This is my 4th year, why?” 

 “Damn it,” Mateo swore mournfully as Marjan let out a bright burst of laughter. 

 When TK shot Paul a confused look he stifled his own laughter long enough to explain, “Mateo here is our probie. He’s only in his second year and he’s desperately hoping to find someone lower on the totem pole than him. You being new to the district and pretty young, he thought maybe he had a chance.” 

 Now TK grinned outright as he turned his gaze back to Mateo, “sorry to disappoint you probie, but I already put in my time as the newbie. You have my sympathies though.” 

 Mateo pouted as the other two laughed lightly at him. TK shook his head fondly and sat on one of the desks to survey this group—his new team. 

 As Marjan crossed to Mateo to ruffle his hair and Paul rolled his eyes at the pair while not quite being able to hide his smile, something settled in TK’s gut. They were going to get along just fine. More than that, TK had a feeling that as long as he had this group at his side he’d be fine. Maybe, despite the disastrous beginning, this year might not be the disaster he feared after all. 

 ---

 After the first day, things went pretty smoothly. He’d settled into a routine and beyond the usual unpredictable nature of teenagers, he had everything under control. He was feeling pretty confident about this change—for once he may have actually made the right choice. He wanted to savor that feeling, but there was still one more unknown element to his work life that he hadn’t gotten to experience yet: the department meeting. So when Thursday rolled around he waved goodbye to the rest of his team and set off to find room 306. 

 If his past experience was anything to go on this meeting would likely be nothing more than a waste of time. Just something they are mandated to do where they talk about goals and test scores and analyze data without actually accomplishing anything actionable. But it was still something new; a potential disaster waiting around the corner for him. He’s almost convinced that’s what it’s going to be too - everything else is going far too well. Something has to give at some point. 

 He found the room and entered cautiously; scanning the room as he took an empty seat. Everyone else is chatting amongst themselves and while a few sent him curious glances as he entered, for the most part everyone is minding their own business. He was so focused on surveying the room that he almost jumped when the chair next to him was pulled out and someone slid into the seat beside him. He looked over to see a woman smiling at him warmly, “You must be TK Strand,” she said by way of greeting. 

 He nodded and her smile somehow grew as she stuck out her hand, “I’m Grace Ryder, one of the 10th grade English teachers and yes, Judd Ryder is my husband,” she confirms. 

 TK chuckled as he took her hand. Apparently, his surprise at hearing her name was more evident than he had thought, “It’s nice to meet you Grace, and I’m afraid I don’t have a very good poker face.” 

 She laughed lightly and shook her head, “No, you do not. I can’t say I blame you though - new school, first department meeting, and someone comes up and knows your name - I’d be flustered too. But my husband has mentioned you so I figured I’d check-in, make sure you weren’t left out for the sharks. They do love fresh meat.” 

 TK raised an eyebrow, “It’s not that bad, is it?” 

 “They like a laugh, but from everything I’ve heard I think you’ll do just fine.” 

 TK was going to ask what she meant by that when her expression shifted again as she spotted something over TK’s shoulder. 

 “They’re not all bad though,” she said with a smile. “In fact, here’s one you should meet. Reyes!” The last part was directed at someone behind TK. He turned to see who Grace was intent on him meeting and froze. 

 “TK,” Grace was saying as the man walked over, “This is Carlos Reyes, one of the Senior English teachers and an all-around good egg.” 

 Carlos chuckled and TK felt a shock run through his body at how wonderful of a sound it was. 

 “You’re too nice to me Grace,” Carlos was saying as he bent down to give her a quick one-armed hug.

 Grace swatted at him, “I am exactly as nice to you as you deserve. Carlos, this is TK Strand - the new Freshman English teacher.” 

 Carlos turned his smile on TK, who was fairly certain he was going to melt in this very spot from the warmth of it, “We’ve met, actually—in passing. I didn’t know you were in the department, how’s it been so far?”

 “Good, it’s been good,” he managed to splutter out after a few moments and the mortifying realization that he had been quiet for too long and Grace and Carlos were both looking at him. 

 Carlos kept smiling at him, “That’s good to hear. I’m sure I’ll see you around but feel free to let me know if you need anything. I’m in room 214.” 

 TK nodded and then with a wave, Carlos was gone. TK shook himself from his stupor to find Grace giving him a pitying look, “Oh honey,” was all she said. Her voice was low, but it was clear she was suppressing laughter.  

 “What?” TK demanded, even as he could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks. Grace just shook her head and let some of the laughter escape. He turned away from her petulantly but she reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm. 

 “I’m sorry dear,” she said through her laughter, “I’m not making fun of you, really. I can’t say I can blame you either; he is quite something.” 

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded stiffly.

 “Yes, I’m sure you don’t,” Grace said, making an effort to match his tone. He rolled his eyes and shot her an exasperated look but she just kept chuckling quietly even as the meeting started. 

 It was good to know he had been right about this meeting being the disaster he had been waiting for—it was just not the kind he had anticipated. 

 ----

 The days marched on and more and more it felt like any other school year. TK had fallen into a routine; he had found his stride. He had found his footing with his students; he had found friends in his team. This change—the new job, the new school, the new state—was going so much better than he had anticipated. When he had sent in the application, it had been on a whim. He had been floundering in the shambles of what had been and desperate for a direction, a way out. This job had seemed like a desperate hope; a future he could only dream of surrounded by the wreckage of his old hopes and plans. He had just needed a point to aim for, an exit sign to direct him out of this mess. He had never expected it to actually work. 

 But against all odds and his own firmly held beliefs he made it work, he hadn’t failed. It was an exciting prospect, but also a terrifying one. With things going this well, it was only a matter of time before the proverbial other shoe dropped. He does everything he can to prevent that eventuality. He works hard, throwing himself into every lesson plan and every assignment. He tackles any administrative task as soon as possible, never letting anything sit on his desk. Above all, he takes a wide berth around room 214. Carlos’s smile may live in his head rent-free, but he can’t afford a distraction. Especially not one like him —one so objectively perfect. He’s not ready for that and to be so close to the possibility would break his still-healing heart. 

 He almost welcomes the distraction of his traditional beginning of the year benchmark essay—right up until he gets a look at the stack awaiting grading. He is in the middle of the first period’s stack when the rest of the team walked in for common planning. 

 “It’s only the second week of school,” Mateo noted, “isn’t it a little early to be assigning essays?” 

 “No,” TK explained, looking up from the paper he was reading, “because it’s my job to get them to high school level writing by the end of the year for the sake of all of the other English teachers and I need to know where they are at now so I know what to focus on.” 

 Marjan leaned on the corner of his desk and poked at one of the piles apprehensively, “Learn anything yet?” 

 TK sighed wearily as he circled yet another use of “bc” and left a comment indicating that abbreviations may have their uses, but they did not belong in academic writing. “Yes,” he said, looking up from the paper before him, “I have learned that we have a lot of work to do.” 

 Mateo chuckled and Marjan winced sympathetically. Paul, who had grabbed one of the essays off the stack and was skimming it, raised an eyebrow. 

 “I do not envy you, man,” he noted as he replaced the paper, “and I thought trying to hammer the format of a lab report into their heads was hard. This is next level.” 

 “Academic writing is something completely different from what they’re used to,” TK pointed out reasonably, “It’s my job to teach them how to do it,” he paused here as he glanced back down at the paper before him. “Doesn’t make it any less painful though,” he said with another sigh. 

 The others settled down at and on the desks nearest to his and watched as he skimmed through another paper, pausing occasionally to make a comment or correction. After a few minutes he looked up at them, eyebrows raised. 

 “Are you all just going to sit there and watch me grade these or…”

 Mateo shrugged and Marjan grinned back at him, “We’re offering you moral support, didn’t you know?” 

 He scowled and grabbed an old worksheet from the table beside him and balled it up to throw at her. She dodged it expertly and grinned even wider. Paul sighed from a nearby desk. 

 “Now children,” he admonished, voice filled with exasperation as he rolled his eyes at their antics. 

 “She started it,” TK pointed out reasonably. Paul shook his head and stood up. 

 “I think that as long as we can agree that there are no pressing matters to be discussed we can all take this time to work on our own grading, in our own classrooms. Any objections?” 

 Marjan looked like she was going to say something, but at TK’s narrowed eyes she sighed and shook her head. 

 “Good,” Paul declared with a nod. “Good luck with all those, man,” he added to TK as he headed to the door. TK wearily waved his thanks and then they were gone. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. He loved what he did really, but sometimes when faced with the stack of 120 essays and the reminder that other content areas didn’t have to do this, he sometimes regretted not following his father’s footsteps. Firefighters didn’t have to grade essays. 

 Inevitably, he would recall all of the reasons he didn’t join the family business: the long hours, the danger, the toll it had taken on his father over the years both physically and emotionally. Then he would think of all the reasons he loved teaching anyways and go back to work. This time was no exception. The only difference was that as he picked up his pen again to continue grading he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He should really call his father. It had been too long. He knew that his dad was trying to give him space, trying to give him the time he needed to adjust on his own terms; but his dad had been the one thing in New York he hadn’t needed distance from. He was the one thing he had regretted leaving. He needed to call him - he owed him that much. More than that, it would be nice to hear his voice. After he finished this class’ essays, he promised himself, he’d take a break and call his dad during his lunch. 

 Fate seemed to have a different plan though as the next thing TK knew students were entering his classroom. He glanced up at the clock in surprise, only to find that he had worked straight through his prep and lunch without even noticing it. He sighed and put down his pen, standing to go greet his students at the door. His dad would have to wait, it seemed. He plastered on a smile and got ready to start the lesson. 

 At some point, Marjan appeared in his doorway, a sheepish look on her face. He nodded to her and instructed the kids to read the next section in the text on their own and be ready to share some thoughts from it before he crossed the room to meet her. 

 “What’s up?” he asked, expression furrowed. 

 She held up the papers in her hand, “I forgot I promised the SPED teacher I would get these 408s sighed during our common planning. I have all the documents that you can look over later, but for right now could you just sign so I can get these back to her?” 

 He smirked at her as he took the papers; flipping through them to see what students he was signing for, “How could you have possibly forgotten? Were you so busy doing something else that maybe it slipped your mind?” 

 “Haha,” she responded drily, expression far from impressed. He shook his head and chuckled, but pulled a pen out of his pocket and used the wall beside the door to sign his name on the appropriate lines. He went to hand them back to her, but pulled up just short and held them just out of her reach, “do I have your word that you will provide me with the proper documentation for all these students so I can be assured I did not just commit fraud by signing these?” 

 She rolled her eyes at him, “Yes, I will bring them by at the end of the day.” With that she held out her hand for the papers, which he passed back to her. Then she was gone, and he turned back to his class. 

 “Alright, I asked you to have things to share, so who’s going to break the ice?” 

 There was the typical teenage silence before one of the girls in the back raised her hand tentatively, but not before glancing at her friends. 

 “Aniyah, what do you think?” TK asked her with a grin, perching himself on his desk. 

 “Mr. Strand, are you and Ms. Marwani dating?” 

 TK blinked at her. He glanced around at the rest of the kids in the room, none of whom seemed surprised by the question. “No,” he answered slowly, “why would you ask that?” 

 She shrugged awkwardly, glancing at her friends for support, “You guys just seem really close, and almost like you’re flirting?” 

 He shrugged, “No, we’re just friends, definitely not dating—not that it is any of your business.” 

 One of the boys in the front smirked at him, “I don’t know Mister, you two seem pretty friendly, I think maybe you’re in denial.” 

 TK met the kid’s eyes and raised a single eyebrow as he said drily, “I can assure you she’s not my type.” 

 Most of the kids nodded sagely, but a few seemed puzzled. He rolled his eyes and stood up, “Okay, ‘discuss Mr. Strand’s love life’ time is over. Don’t think you’re going to distract me enough that I forget about the homework. Anyone else want to share any thoughts on the reading—you know, the class work; that thing we’re here for?” 

 A few hands raised but even as he called on them he was chuckling to himself. Marjan was going to love this. 

 ----

 As time progresses TK sticks to his plan: do his work, make a good impression, avoid Carlos.  He’s successful in that last goal too, for a while. But of course, nothing good can last and one October afternoon in the faculty room, his streak is broken. 

 He crossed the room towards the mailboxes without glancing around and didn't think to check his surroundings until a familiar voice called for his attention. 

 “Hey TK, how have things been? You settling in alright?” 

 He froze, slowly glancing up from the flyer about the can drive he had been reading. He knew before he saw (there was no mistaking that voice) but his heart still skipped a beat just the same. 

 “Carlos, hey. Yeah, it’s been great actually. No problems at all.” 

 Carlos grinned at him and TK had to remind himself how to breathe. “Glad to hear it. Oh,” he said suddenly, “this is Michelle Blake, one of the school social workers. And my best friend,” he added with a roll of his eyes when Michelle, apparently, gave him a pointed look. 

 She grinned at his addition before turning to face TK. She looked him up and down appraisingly before speaking, “It’s nice to finally meet you TK, Carlos has mentioned you.” 

 TK flicked his gaze to Carlos who was very intently studying the rice in his lunch and studiously avoiding both their gazes. “Nothing bad, I hope,” he said lightly. 

 Internally, he was panicking.  

 “Definitely not. Nothing but the truth I’m sure, and the truth was all good.” 

 “Right,” TK said with uncertainty. He waited, but Michelle did not speak again. “Well,” he said eventually, “I should get going. I just wanted to grab these flyers and then I was going to try to use the rest of my prep to try and put together a mini-unit for Halloween.” 

 At this, Carlos looked up, “What are you thinking?” 

 TK shrugged, “I was leaning towards Poe. Always a classic, and in my experience, kids have always liked his stuff.” 

 “I have some materials you could use, if you’d like. I’ve done that before, so I have most of the stuff in one of my binders.” 

 “Really?” he didn’t even bother to hide the surprise in his voice. 

 Carlos nodded, “Sure. You can stop by at the end of the day, if you’d like.”

 TK hesitated. One the one hand, there was the pact he had made with himself: no distractions. On the other, there was a unit he wouldn’t have to plan. Which meant more prep time to spend on grading, which meant less work to take home.   

 “That'd be great, thanks. Room 214, right?” 

 As if he could have forgotten. 

 Carlos nodded in confirmation, “See you later then?” 

 “Absolutely.” 

 Then with a smile to the pair, TK was gone. He didn’t realize he was still grinning until he ran into Paul outside of his classroom. The other teacher looked at him suspiciously, “what has you looking so chipper?” 

 “Nothing,” TK said too hastily, judging by Paul’s look, “one of the other English teachers has materials I can use for a unit I wanted to do so as long as they work out, that’s an entire unit I don’t have to plan.” 

 Paul nodded appreciatively, “That’s a lucky break.”

 TK nodded again before excusing himself and stepping into his own classroom. The rest of the day flew by and before he knew it he was seeing his last class out the door. Once they were gone and the hallway was mostly clear of students, TK grabbed his things and headed up to room 214. There’s a trophy case down the hall and he stops and anxiously checks his reflection before approaching the door to room 214. It’s open but TK hovered at the threshold nervously, knocking on the doorframe to get Carlos’s attention. He looked up from his desk and the smile that spread across his face at the sight of TK nearly had him holding onto the doorframe for support.

 “Hey,” he said in what he prayed was a normal voice, “I was just here for those files, if you still wanted to give them to me?”

 “Actually, I’ve changed my mind and you can’t have them.”

 “Oh,” TK said, “I’ll just go then, sorry for—”

 “TK, I’m kidding,” Carlos assured him as he stood up from his desk. “I offered them, didn’t I? Besides, we’re working on college essays and applications; there won’t be any time for Poe this year.”

 “That’s a shame,” TK noted as he took a few tentative steps inside the room, “but I’m sure they’ll appreciate it when they have their applications done.”

 “That’s the hope,” Carlos agreed, “but right now they’re not too fond of me.”

 TK chuckled and Carlos looked up from the bookshelf he was scanning to see TK still standing a few feet from the door. “I don’t bite,” he deadpanned, “you can come in.”

 TK laughed nervously and crossed the room, coming to a halt several feet away from Carlos. The other man continued scanning the shelf and upon finding what he was looking for made a triumphant noise before turning to face TK, holding out a binder. TK raised an eyebrow and took it, glancing over at the shelves that were filled with neat rows of binders all clearly labeled.

 “You are aggressively organized,” he noted.

 Carlos chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah. I know it looks like a lot, but after switching grade levels a few times it’s the only way I can keep anything straight anymore.”

 TK nodded as he slipped through the binder, “That’s fair. I used to have a lot of binders like that too, but I thankfully digitized them before I moved down here. I can’t imagine transporting all those across the country would have been fun.”

 “No, I can’t imagine it would be. Guess it’s a good thing I have no intention of leaving.”

 TK looked up from the binder to see Carlos studying him. He smiled at the other man, who returned it before settling onto the desk across from TK.

 “I didn’t realize you were new to the area.”

 TK nodded, “Just moved here from NYC about 2 weeks before school started.”

 Carlos raised an eyebrow, “that’s ambitious.”

 TK sighed and nodded. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but everything happened so fast. Thankfully everything has worked out pretty well so this may not be the horrific disaster I thought it would be.”

 “That’s optimism for you,” Carlos observed dryly. “What brought you down here, if you don’t mind me asking.”

 TK’s hand froze in its journey down the page he was reviewing as his other hand clenched the binder tightly.

 “Just looking for a fresh start,” he said evenly, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the page before him and praying that Carlos could not hear the racing of his heart.

 If Carlos noticed anything odd, he didn’t let on.

 “That’s a big change. Did you come down here alone?”

 “Just me, myself, and my boxes.”

 “So why Austin then? I could be wrong, but it seems like a pretty big change from NYC.”

 “I wanted to leave the city and try something new. I saw this opening here, researched the school, and decided it was worth a shot. What about you though,” he asked, switching gears and looking up from the binder, “Austin born and raised?”

 “Yep, go Longhorns,” he said with forced enthusiasm. TK raised a skeptical eyebrow and Carlos pushed on, “never mind. So,” he continued, and TK noticed a change in his tone that had him looking up again, “leave anyone behind in New York?”

 There was silence for a moment as their eyes met and they both knew what was really being asked.

 “Just my dad.”

 “Yeah, I only have my family too. But there’s a lot of them so that’s more than enough.”

 TK smiled in spite of himself. “My mom’s in New York too, but she’s always traveling for work so really it’s always been just me and my dad. Honestly, leaving him there was the hardest thing about this move, and the only thing I regret.”

 He paused in the wake of his words, surprised by how much he just shared with this near stranger but before he could dwell on it Carlos was giving him a reassuring smile that set his nerves at ease.

 “Sounds like you’re close.”

 “We are,” TK confirmed, voice growing softer as he thought about his dad. “He’s still my hero, always has been. He’s a firefighter, and I thought I wanted to be one when I was young too. But as I got older, I saw the toll it took on him and decided to take a different path. I still love and admire him for doing it though. I couldn’t picture him doing anything else.”

 There was quiet in the room again. TK started to panic, thinking that maybe he shared too much (he still can’t believe he said any of that), but something about Carlos makes him feel so comfortable he hadn’t even noticed until the words were already out there. He’s about to apologize when Carlos speaks.

 “I get that. My dad was a cop and it was the same way when I was growing up. He was larger than life and my hero; I wanted to be just like him. But then I got older and decided I didn’t like the reality of law enforcement as much as I had the concept. I decided I could do more good from inside a classroom and well, here we are.”

 “Here we are,” TK agreed, “who would have thought?”

 Carlos laughed appreciatively and the sound washed over TK with all the warmth of sunlight. He smiled back at him before turning his gaze back to the binder. The conversation flows easily between them and before TK knew it he caught a glance at his watch and let out a curse when he realized how late it had gotten. Carlos gave him a questioning look and TK gestured up at the clock, “We should have left ages ago. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you up; I’m sure you have things to do.”

 “It’s fine, this was nice. Maybe if you stop by more often, we can chat in smaller increments. Otherwise I’m afraid this is just going to keep happening—I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go quickly if I don’t think there is a chance of it happening again within the next year.”

 TK rolled his eyes, “Well excuse me for being busy settling into a new school.” 

Which was a reasonable excuse. There is no way anyone would suspect he had been avoiding the other man (even though he absolutely had been).

 Still, this had been nice.

 He fingered the strap of his bag as he picked it up, “maybe we can continue this during lunch tomorrow? I’d like to actually ask you some questions about the materials, which is what I came here to do before we got sidetracked.”  

 Part of TK was praying he would say no.

 Instead, he grinned, “sure, I’d like that. Until tomorrow then, Mr. Strand.”

 “See you then, Reyes.”

 And with a wave, he was gone.

 His heart was still racing as he climbed into his car. He leaned against the seat and sighed. Operation avoid Carlos Reyes had officially crashed and burned. This was a terrible idea; he should find a reason to cancel tomorrow and go back to avoiding him as much as possible. This was a risk he didn’t need to be taking.

 But even as he sat here, he couldn’t ignore the warm feeling of the aftermath of a pleasant conversation. His mind was shouting at him that this was a terrible idea, but he was having a harder time believing it with every passing second. His rules said no dating, but there was no reason they couldn’t be friends, right?

[Continue Reading on ao3]

[natsukitakama]

It me. Hello. 😱 ~ 🐥 anon may i have.... 👉👈 Headcanons of Reader that is always really patient and caring with the members of levi squad meeting floch. And at first she’s aggressive towards him because he insulted Armin and she’s just trying to protect her babs. But later on growing to be shockingly just as worried about him as everyone else. confusing him when she pats his back and reminds him to drink water before giving a forehead SMOOTCH. Cuz he though she hated him. I wanna love him.

Author note : Hello 🐥 Anon, thank you for you request I’m glad you sent me something about Floch. I’m really sorry for taking so long, I kinda overworked myself. In addition it’s been week since I went back to college so I can’t work on my headcanon as much as I expected to. Anyways, done complaining ! I hope you’ll enjoy this I really wanted to write something good for Floch cause despite what he’s done in the manga I kinda like him ! 

I do not own that gif credit to the owner

Warning : some spoiler about the beginning of the next season 4 if you haven’t read manga after the anime don’t read this you might be spoil / fluffy / Floch being Floch but that’s okay / angst ? I don't know

Disclaimer : if you’re not comfortable with Floch that’s okay I've got plenty of headcanon on my masterlist I'm sure you’ll find something enjoyable. But please do not be mad at me for writing for Floch or against Anon because they ask a request about him. I won’t tolerate behavior like this. 

Masterlist 

You first encounter with Floch wasn’t very … calm. 

You didn’t mean to slap him right into the face, but when he went into your group talking shit about How you friends Armin should die so Erwin could survive. How he was useless and how humanity was about to fall down. Well you just saw red. It was his own fault, everyone in the 104th knew how protective you were with your friends. So yeah as soon as he was done talking shit, you just walked right in front of him and slap him. 

Everyone heard the loud « SLAM » coming from both of us, but they especially remembered the way you looked at him : if eyes could kill he would be dead by now. 

« Who do you think you are uh ? You’re nothing but shit on our shoes know your place baby boy » 

Then you walked pass him without letting him time to reply. Not like you cared about what he thought. 

Who am I kidding of course you cared. 

After couple hours, when you weren’t angry anymore you felt guilty. Not because of how you slap him but about the way you talked about him, he was part of your family too so you should treat him properly. That night, you promised yourself to make It up and apologize for your behavior and explain to him that what he said was bad but he didn’t deserve to be slapped especially in public. 

That’s what you did, next morning after dressing up you walked looking for Floch. You couldn’t not notice the way his friends’ face went white as soon as you walked into him. Just when he was about to open his mouth you shut him up 

« Listen, I’m here to apologize. I shouldn’t slap you that day but to me you deserve this. Everyone here went to hell yesterday and I know you more than everyone else could understand that, that day we lost a lot of peoples including Major. But you shouldn’t say to Armin he should die that day, you more than everyone else should  cherish any life. All of them are precious and useful. Still I shouldn’t humiliate you and hurt you so I ask you to forgive me, I can’t justify the way I act. Now be sure to eat enough and drink a lot of water, today is about to be harsh » 

Again before Floch could react, you already moved into your friends direction to be sure everyone was eating enough. Floch looked no stared at you hearing you scolding Eren for not eating his bread, then looking at Armin with a smile and for the very first time he felt something wrong, in fact his heart or maybe his chest or his stomach he couldn’t be sure but he felt something twisted right into him. Was he jealous ? Was he envious because you care about everyone else but not him ? No it was stupid he thought. 

But during the whole day, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. In fact he saw you during the whole day taking care of everyone : From Hanji and their lack of sleep to Mikasa who weren’t eating her breads to be sure Eren would eat enough. Because of his staring he wasn’t focus on his training and he ended up falling from a tree hurting his back in the process. 

Before he could even move you were already running into his direction with a worried expression on your face, Floch didn’t know what to say or to do. Why were you worried ? It’s not like you like him or anything. At this point after your scolding he was sure you hated him. But still, he saw you running into him, kneeling down looking for any broken bones, any cut, everything that might be painful for him. Your touch was sweet despite your hands being rough because of all your training, it was as if you were touching him with silk. 

« Are you alright ? Can you move ? 

W-What ? I mean yes, yes I can move 

Good. Now take my hand I’m walking you into the nursery you need to rest

N-No  I, I can walk and train i’m fine 

Who are you kidding ? You’ve been distant during the whole day you obviously need to rest »

Then you carried him into the nursery as you promised. Floch stay silent during the whole walk, he didn’t know again how to react. Why were you so nice to him ? Did you really notice how distant he was ? How could you possibly know ? He stared at you the whole day, he would notice if you were looking at him. Again, you weren’t supposed to be like this, not after what you said to him. You were supposed to despise him, because after everything you said he still believe that Armin couldn’t be in charge he couldn’t be the major. But you were right about something, he shouldn’t say that because he as Armin was lucky to be here they didn’t deserve to be here. He shouldn’t be here. 

He shouldn’t craving for your attention. 

He couldn’t prevent it though. Since the day he joined the 104th, he felt something about you. They way you were so caring and yet so strong and confident. 

Everything he will never be. Not matter how hard he’ll try. 

All he can do was to dedicate his heart. 

Dedicate his heart so you could be safe, so you could finally be free from those monsters. 

That day, while you were taking care of him, checking his back for any sign or bad injury, cleaning his wounds, pouring a glass of water for him, looking into the kitchen and cooking something so he could heal properly. Floch promised himself that he would be someone who deserves your kindness toward him. 

« Still daydreaming ? 

What ? 

I don’t know, tell me you are pretty quiet since I took you into the nursery. Is something wrong ? 

Well I wanted to ask you something but I don’t know if I should 

Go ahed I won’t eat you 

Very funny. Well I wanted to know why you’re like this ? 

Like what ? 

You know caring ?

I don’t know. I guess it’s just a part of my personality besides all of you are my family so yeah it seems normal to me to act like this 

There’s people who don’t deserve your kindness 

Are you perhaps thinking about someone in particular ? 

Me actually 

Why make you think you don’t deserve my attention ? 

Well I actually said to one of your close friends that he should die 

Good point. You recognized your mistake right ? 

Sure but I still believe the Major should survive that day 

You’re not the only one they’re plenty of people who believed he should survive … maybe he should but in the end it’s not up to us to take that decision. We’re soldier, we can’t see the futur we don’t know what would happen. 

The major did or at least that’s what I thought 

I actually believe he knows shit about everything, he just tried, he was cocky but he succeed that’s what we expected from him. Nothing more nothing less. But in the end, he makes bad decision and he lived with it. I don’t believe he was the only one able to save humanity. 

Then who ? 

Us. I mean that’s why we’re here right ? 

And the major was cocky 

*laugh* yeah you’re right I’m probably presumptuous but like I said any on us can’t predict the future all we can do is to work harder so tomorrow would be better 

Dedicate our heart 

Exactly. Now rest I’ll check on you tonight alright ? 

Sure. Thank you Y/N 

You don’t need to thank me Floch, but you’re welcome » 

Smiling at him, you walked into your friends so you could keep your training. 

After your talk with Floch, started to notice that in fact, your kindness had no limit and you were helping anyone ; including him the coward who weren’t able to save the Major or any of his friends. The coward who can’t have a plan on his own and decide to follow someone instead of having his own opinion. The one who decided to follow the very man he despises for being able to follow his dream not matter what. The coward who would have to kill his friends, his camardes in order to protect eldians, in order to protect you. 

Sometimes, he wonders if you still like him ? If you would still take care of him after the war, Would you take care of his wounds like you used to ? Would you cook his meal so he could heal properly ? Would you comfort him again when he’ll have nightmare ? 

Does he even deserves your kindness ? Is it right for him to crave for your attention ? To always walk into your direction whenever he feels down or when he was dreaming about that day in Shiganshima ? The day when he fail as a soldier ? 

For now, he will just enjoy your company as much as he can.

For now you don’t hate him, so he can still talk to you, go to you anytime he feels like he needs to. Enjoying every attention you would give him. 

For now he doesn’t betray you, he doesn’t disappoint you. 

But maybe.

Maybe you won’t hate him ? Maybe his action would make sense to you ? Maybe you would still like him ? Maybe he’ll be able ton confess to you ? Maybe you’ll understand that everything he does was to protect his people and you in particular. 

Because for him, you are his light, his everything that help him to wake up and do his duty. You’re the one whop help him to remember why he is doing this, you’re the one who help him so he won’t go crazy. 

You’re the one for him. 

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Penny For Your Thoughts (II)

Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has lived in the Potter household since she was eight years old. Even amongst the Potters, whom she knew loved her, she has never felt truly accepted, never felt like anything other than a burden. Until she went to Hogwarts. For the first time she had friends who weren’t forced to act as such, she had a family who loved her by choice. There, she met Sirius, the first and only person to ever truly understand what she was going through, to listen to her and not judge.

Chapter Warnings: Ummm not sure - maybe swearing?

A/N: And here’s part two! I hope you enjoy - here you’ll meet some of my OCs created for the series, characters who I genuinely love a lot so I hope you also like them! Please let me know what you think - especially if you’re on the taglist, hearing your comments always inspires me to keep on writing, so please do let me know. If you wish to be added to the taglist send me an ASK, replies to the parts asking to be added onto it won’t be responded to

“I told you - I have the worst sense of direction!” Y/N groaned as herself and Beatrice managed to take another wrong turn on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

“I thought you were exaggerating or - or being modest!” Beatrice laughed, nudging into her gently with her elbow. Y/N pulled a face at her.

“That would be rather Hufflepuff of me, wouldn’t it?” 

“Hey - this looks familiar!” Beatrice exclaimed as they turned another corner and Y/N wrinkled her nose, taking in the painting of a fruit bowl that they had stumbled across.

“B?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re back by the kitchens - we’re back where we started.”

“What’re you two doing here?” They turned to face back down the hallway where the Hufflepuff common room was located hidden behind a pile of barrels. Liane, Jessica and Eric were approaching them, grinning at their obviously lost friends.

“Waiting for you?” Y/N suggested.

“Forget the way to the Great Hall?” Eric teased.

“Maybe a little,” Y/N agreed.  The group continued on, led by Jessica who regularly looked over her shoulder as though to check that her newfound friends were still following her, worried that they may disappear.

“It’s a good thing we left so early this morning,” Beatrice commented to Y/N. “Otherwise we might not have made it to breakfast in time.”

“Why did you leave so early?” Liane asked as they entered into the Great Hall, which was already at least half full with students eating their breakfast.

“I was aware I’d get lost - B just came along for the ride.” Beatrice nodded solemnly at those words as they found themselves seats at the Hufflepuff table.

“I was under the impression that she knew what she was doing,” she admitted. “And I’m ashamed to admit that.”

“You’ve known me less than twenty four hours!” Y/N protested. “For all you know, I could have planned all of that.”

“Why would you have planned getting lost on the way to breakfast?” Beatrice asked in bewilderment.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve known you for less than twenty four hours and you expect me to spill my master plan to you,” Y/N scoffed.

Eric was watching the two girls interact, his brow scrunched together in confusion but a twinkle in his eyes that showed he was more amused than anything else.

“You’re both rather strange.” 

“Well that’s just rude,” Beatrice huffed, pouring herself some juice as Y/N picked up the water pitcher. 

“Do you think the professors will be nice?” Jessica blurted out the words, cutting off their conversation. Two spots of pink appeared on her cheeks when all four of them turned to face her. “Sorry,” she muttered, looking down at her plate. 

“You remember what Mum said, Jess,” Eric said calmly. “When she was here she loved all the teachers - she was even taught by McGonagall and Flitwick.”

“Who are they?” Beatrice frowned and quickly added: “my parents didn’t much like talking about Hogwarts,” Y/N thought she saw a hint of embarrassment in her expression and she noted how Beatrice refused to meet any of their eyes.

“McGonagall teaches transfiguration and Flitwick teaches charms,” Liane explained, buttering a piece of toast. “My parents told me that McGonagall’s a complete hard-ass though,” she added and Y/N saw Jessica’s eyes widen.

“Really?” Beatrice asked, staring at Liane.

“Yeah - really strict, apparently,” she confirmed. “Especially if you’re not in her house.”

“That’s not true,” Eric sighed, shaking his head. “The teachers aren’t allowed to favour those in their house,” he insisted but Liane shook her head defiantly.

“None of the teachers stick to that! All the heads of house are lenient towards their own students!”

“So d’ya think Sprout’ll give us a load of house points for like… breathing?” Beatrice asked and she shared an amused look with Y/N.

“Alright - laugh all you want now, we’ll see who’s right,” Liane scoffed, but there was traces of laughter in her voice.

“What do you think we’ll have today?” Jessica asked in her quiet, soft voice, her nerves about their first day seeming to override the shyness that she had shown the previous evening.

“I hope we have Potions,” Liane said eagerly, her voice completely changing from her previous tone of disbelief.

“Do you think you’ll be good at it?” Beatrice asked interestedly.

“My Dad’s fantastic at brewing potions - Mum says that he’s been waiting for me to go to Hogwarts so that he can help me learn how to properly do them myself,” Liane explained through a bite of toast.

“I heard that it was a really hard subject,” Jessica worried.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Y/N mustered up as much of a reassuring smile as she could manage. “What’re you looking forward to?” Jessica didn’t reply immediately, clearly thinking carefully about the question.

 “I think I’ll enjoy herbology,” she decided, nodding her head to confirm her thought. Beside Y/N, Beatrice completely lit up in delight.

“Really? I think I will too - I used to love gardening when I was at home!” She enthused. Jessica brightened at that and it wasn’t long before the two of them were talking excitedly about what they were most looking forward to studying - both of them, apparently, having already read through the text book that had been assigned for their year.

“What about you, then?”

“Care of Magical Creatures,” Y/N’s response to Liane’s question was immediate, the words out her mouth before she had a chance even to think about them.

“But… we can’t study that yet,” Liane pointed out, raising her eyebrows and Y/N let out a sad sigh, nodding her head.

“I know - sucks, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think I’ll be taking it,” Liane admitted with a slight shiver. Y/N frowned at her, confused, and her new friend offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m not… great with animals. They make me nervous.”

“All animals?” Y/N questioned in disbelief.

“Pretty much - they don’t trust me, I think. And so I also don’t trust them. We’ve got a mutual understanding going on.”

“It’s okay, I’ll change that,” Y/N reassured her with a mischievous smile. “I’ve been told I can be rather persuasive.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Y/N ignored Liane’s sigh and looked over at Eric. 

“What about you?” She inquired, but Eric wasn’t listening and was instead looking at his sister and Beatrice with what was almost an expression of concern that Y/N didn’t quite understand. “Eric?”

“What, sorry?” He was snapped back into the present, trying his best to feign attentiveness as he returned to the conversation.

“What subject are you excited for?” Liane repeated, rolling her eyes a little and running a hand through her scarlet hair, pushing it away from her face.

“Well… everyone’s excited for Defence Against the Dark Arts, right?” He pointed out with a ‘duh’ expression. 

Their conversation speculating over their new classes carried them to the end of breakfast, the food disappearing from the platters in front of them, the heads of house descending from the professors table at the front of the hall all carrying piles of parchment. 

Professor Sprout was a squat woman with greying curly hair with a tattered wizards hat perched on top. Her fingernails had dirt underneath and the skin of her hands looked rough to Y/N’s eyes, presumably from the many hours she spent outside in the Greenhouses. Her eyes, despite being tired-looking, were warm and welcoming, smile lines beginning to be etched into the skin around them.

She practically beamed at Y/N and her fellow first years.

“I didn’t get to say it last night - but welcome all of you to Hufflepuff!” Her words caused quiet cheers and giggles from the first years surrounding them. A freckled boy that Y/N didn’t know the name off looked as though he was going to pass out from joy. “For anyone who doesn’t know - I’m Professor Sprout. Your head of House and also your Herbology teacher!” Jessica and Beatrice exchanged yet another excited look.

Sprout handed out the parchment, one to each student, asking each for their name, welcoming them to her house.

“And your name?”

“I’m Y/N, Professor, Y/N Y/L/N,” she smiled. Professor Sprout’s face fell just a little and she nodded, her warm eyes softening even further.

“It’s lovely to meet you - welcome to Hufflepuff,” she said, her voice more gentle than it had been when talking to the other first years.Y/N took her timetable from her, staring down at the little squares labelled with her lessons, not wanting to meet the inquiring gazes of her new friends who Y/N could tell had picked up on Sprout’s change in mood.

“Charms first,” Y/N muttered, reading the writing. “And then Herbology,” she looked at Beatrice who was watching her carefully. “Pretty ideal for you, huh?”

Beatrice cracked a smile and nodded her head.

“Alright - we should probably get going. With Y/N’s complete lack of any sense of direction at all it’ll take us a good fifteen to thirty minutes to find the classroom,” Beatrice declared, standing up and stretching her arms out, smirking at her new friend who rolled her eyes, standing up as well.

“Well Jess has a thestral’s sense of direction so I’m sure we can use her as a guide.”

“I don’t…. understand?” Jessica asked, looking at Y/N with an apprehensive expression.

“It was a compliment,” Y/N assured her as their little group of friends made their way out of the Great Hall, clutching at their timetables. Y/N’s heart was racing with nerves, though she didn’t want to admit it aloud.

They walked together to charms, speculating excitedly about what they thought the lesson could hold for them, what Flitwick had in store to teach them. 

Unsurprisingly, considering how early they had left from breakfast, they were the first ones to find the classroom and lined up outside it, Liane talking animatedly about the different charms that she had already read up about. 

“Who do we have it with, anyway?” Eric asked, leaning against the wall.

Y/N glanced down at the timetable still clutched in her hands and her heart leapt in her chest.

“The Gryffindors,” she relayed, beaming. 

“Why’re you so pleased?” Beatrice asked.

“I already know some of them!”

“You already have other friends?” Beatrice gasped in feigned offence.

“What can I say? People love me.”

“Hey Y/N,” Lily tapped Y/N on her shoulder, who whirled around to grin at her.

“Hi! How are you?” 

“Good thanks,” Lily grinned. “How was your first night?”

“It was fun! Oh!” Y/N turned back to her group of Hufflepuff friends. “This is Beatrice, Eric, Jessica and Liane.” They waved at the Gryffindor girl, whose smile seemed to become shyer with the introduction. “And this is Lily - we met on the platform yesterday and sat together on the train.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lily said, taking Beatrice’s hand.

“Who’re your friends?” Y/N whispered to Lily, looking over at the three other girls dressed in red-hooded robes that had arrived with Lily.

Lily giggled at Y/N’s lowered tone.

“That’s Marlene, next to her is Alice and then that’s Dorcas.” Lily introduced quietly, pointing at each girl in turn. Y/N nodded her head but didn’t get a chance to respond further as James’ booming voice rang out from down the corridor, where he had just turned the corner to the hallway where the charms class was located.

“Y/N! Hufflepuff! Mum called it! Have you written to tell her yet?”

Y/N let out a heavy sigh, removing herself from the company of her friends and walked towards James, who was accompanied by a group of boys - one of whom she recognised from the platform to be Frank Longbottom.

“I haven’t, no - did you write to let them know you’re in Gryffindor?” 

“As if they need the confirmation,” James scoffed. 

“Wait - what do you mean your mum called it?” Y/N’s brows furrowed together as she registered what else James had said. 

“Ages ago! When you first-” James caught himself, “when you first started to ask about the House system. She told me and Dad that she reckoned you’d be a Hufflepuff.”

“She never told me that,” Y/N frowned and James shrugged.

“Well she told me,” Y/N gave him a withering look.

“I figured,” she met Sirius’ eyes over James’ shoulder and he gave her the same cocky smirk that Y/N was beginning to realise was a near-permanent fixture for him.

“Hey,” he nodded at her.

“Gryffindor, huh?” Sirius’ smirk seemed to fall briefly, a slightly worried look on his face as he responded, though he tried to cover it with a poor substitute of his previous confidence.

“My Mum’ll be so proud.” James snickered, glancing at his new friend.

“These are our other dormmates, by the way,” James said, gesturing to the other three boys who had joined in with the conversation held by the other Hufflepuff boys who had turned up shortly after the Gryffindors. “That’s Remus, Peter and - you remember Dad talking about Frank?”

“Your dad was talking about me?” Frank asked, breaking out of the conversation to shoot a confused look at James and Y/N.

“Mine was telling us that he went to school with your Mum,” James explained cheerfully, no hint of the embarrassment that Y/N was feeling having been caught in such an odd conversation. 

“Right…” there was still an air of unsureness in Frank’s voice.

“How was your first night anyway? You doing okay?” James lowered his voice a little, clearly knowing that Y/N wouldn’t want for their classmates to overhear him checking up on her. “You sleep okay?” He added knowingly.

“It was fine, James - I’m fine, I promise,” Y/N said with a smile and gave a half shrug, glancing back to her new friends. “They all seem really lovely.”

“I’m glad,” James smiled, nudging her shoulder with his. “And last night - you didn't…?”

“No - not last night,” she confirmed. Y/N suddenly looked to Sirius, who she realised had been standing with them as they spoke, looking interested. “I snore,” was the first thing she could think of as an explanation. 

Sirius started to laugh and Y/N’s embarrassment washed over her, not that she had time to dwell on it when Beatrice grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the classroom that Professor Flitwick had just entered into.

“You’ll sit with me, right?”

They found a table together in the middle of the classroom, Y/N sliding into the chair nearest the window, Liane and Jessica sitting in the row in front of them, Eric joining a fellow Hufflepuff boy at the table beside them. It was no surprise at all to Y/N that James and his new friends took seats right at the back of the classroom.

“Who was that?” Beatrice whispered to her as Flitwick started his lecture.

“I’m trying to listen,” Y/N returned and Beatrice fell silent.

“No you’re not - you’re doodling!” Beatrice accused, her voice still too low to be heard by anyone other than Y/N.

“Relevant doodling?” Y/N offered and Beatrice gave her a withering look, not bothering to reply further than that. 

“Now it’s over to you to have a go! Remember - swish and flick!” Flitwick announced, clapping his hands cheerfully.

“Any chance you were actually paying proper attention?” Y/N asked Beatrice as Flitwick waved his wand and feathers flew across the room to land one in front of each student.

“The levitating charm,” Lily whispered from the table behind them. Y/N looked over her shoulder at the Gryffindor girl who was smiling. “You know - Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Thanks,” Y/N whispered in return. 

“But who is he?” Beatrice repeated again, the classroom filling with noise as the eager First Years began to cast their first spells. Y/N got her own out of her robes and shrugged nonchalantly.

“Just a guy I grew up with - our parents were friends.”

[beanie-beebo-writes]

Call for Action

Series Summary: You finally get your dream job, but it comes with a cost.

Warnings: Description of panic attack

Masterlist

Note: Y/NN Stands for Your nickname

Chapter 5

Jensen pinned you against the wall roughly, both of you breathing heavily. You were silent, just staring at one another hungrily. Then his lips landed onto yours hard. You gasped in surprise as he kissed you. Daringly, you slid in your tongue; he tangled his own around yours.

After a few minutes, you decided it was your turn to pin him. You grabbed his shoulders and spun him so he was now against the wall. Jensen growled, giving you an idea. Before he could make another move, you sucked on the pulse point on his neck. He let out a moan before feeding his hands through your hair.

You broke apart for a moment as your anxious thoughts just began to catch up. “Are we going too fast? Because I feel like this should feel too fast.”

Jensen swallowed and caught his breath. “If it’s too fast, we can stop. It’s up to you, really.”

“Well, that isn’t fair. You have a say too.” You said.

Jensen looked down before looking back up at you. “I know I do. I’m saying that this pace is perfectly fine for me. But if it isn’t for you, that’s fine too.” He said.

You thought for a moment before smiling, causing Jensen to look at you quizzically. “Fuck it.” You said, pushing your lips back onto his.

Jensen smiled before you took him by surprise, stumbling with him into his bedroom.

-------

You straightened your clothes and stepped out of Jensen's trailer, feeling more rejuvenated than ever. Everything just felt right. Even though circumstances were somewhat normal to you, you were sure it shouldn't have felt normal. You brushed it off and focused on the next task on hand, setting up the location for the day. Before you could even step several feet from Jensen's trailer though, Jared spotted you. You cursed under your breath and tried to appear casual.

"Hey (Y/N/N); is it okay if I start calling you that?" He asked.

"Sure, fine by me." You said.

"Have you seen Jensen around? I couldn't find him all morning." Jared said.

"Uh yeah, he's in his trailer." You said, not realizing you had just admitted to Jared where you were all morning.

Jared did a teasing gasp. "You did it with him, didn't you?"

"What? No!" You lied, your blush giving you away.

"You did! No wonder Tracy couldn't find you, oh my god."

"Jared.."

"Oh (Y/N), you sly dog!"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"I will never shut up!"

"You better."

"Or what? You'll kick my ass?"

"No, but I will make sure Jensen hounds you and kicks your ass."

Jared bites his lip and resigns.

"Fine. But I'm still bringing it up to Jensen." He said.

"I can't stop you, can I?" You asked.

"Nope!" He said proudly.

"Ugh. I have to drive to location, I'll see you later." You said.

"You love me and you know it!" Jared shouted as you began to walk away.

"Yeah yeah." You responded.

-----

"Alright everyone, take five!" You shouted. "And please hydrate, I don't want to have to call the medical team." 

Today had been extra hot, and you had felt for everyone that had to be on scene. The scene was set in town, where there was little to no shade. Crew had brought along extra water coolers, mini fans, and umbrellas to help everyone out. You had mostly felt bad for the actors, who had to dress as if it was late September.

You guzzled your water and looked around for the guys to chat with them. You spotted Clif's SUV and tried to look inside, figuring they probably needed cooling off. And if they weren't in there, you figured at least he would know where their whereabouts were. You rapped on the window and it rolled down, revealing Jensen in the passenger seat and Jared in the back.

"I don't need anything, just wanted to chat. Can I come in?" You asked.

"Why not? Get a full carpool going in here." Clif joked.

You opened the back door and slid in next to Jared, relishing in the icy cold blast coming from the vents.

"I didn't know it was supposed to be this hot today." You said, leaning back into the soft seats.

"Me neither. I thought today was supposed to be cooler. At least that's what the weather said." Jensen said.

"You old people and your weather. Who needs a forecast when you got a front patio?" Jared teased.

"Yeah well, look who's sitting in the cold car. Hm?" Jensen teased back.

Jared stuck his tongue out at Jensen before going back to his phone, causing you to smile.

"How are you guys holding up?" You asked.

"Other than hot, I'm pretty good." Jensen said.

"I bet you are." Jared teased again. "I'm finally cooling off; Tracy from makeup had to reapply my foundation, again."

"He sweats like a fish, trust me." Jensen said.

"Fish don't even sweat!" Jared said with a laugh.

"Whatever." Jensen said.

"Where did you even come up with a phrase like that?" You asked in between giggling.

"I don't know! Just the first thing I thought of, I guess." Jensen said.

"Oookay then." You said, looking down at the time on your phone. "Whoops, it's been over five minutes. We gotta get back."

The two of them groaned, causing you to shrug. 

"Hey, you chose this job not me." You said, getting out of the car.

You ran back to your chair and pulled out your walkie, signaling for everyone to resume their positions.

"Alright everyone, places!" You yelled. "And… action!"

-------

After the scorching day had finally ended, you decided to head home for the night. As nice as it would be to go home with Jensen, you decided he would probably like some space. Plus, you were dead tired, and nothing would keep you away from your somewhat comfortable mattress. But before you could even think about that, your phone began to go off in your pocket. You looked down and pulled it out. It was Jensen.

“Just checking in after the long day we had. Hope you sleep well :).”

You smiled and began to text back. Check in.. Your mind had again wandered to your friend, Sue. Despite being tired, you had it in you to make one more check in tonight. You owed it to her, that was the very least.

“Thanks Jay (is it okay if I call you that?); I’m all good, just a little beat. Gonna hit the hay soon. xoxo” You texted.

You hit send and switched over to the phone app, dialing your friend’s number. You paused; was this the right move? You couldn’t help but think of all of the what ifs. Would she even want to hear from you? You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the quelling anxiety as the dial tone began. She answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” She asked.

“Sue, hey it’s (Y/N).” You said.

“Oh my god! Do my ears deceive me? How the hell are ya?” She asked.

You chuckled lightly. “I know, it’s been a while.. Sorry about that. I’m not too bad. I finally got that job I wanted.. with some other complications of course.” 

“I’m so happy for you!” She began.

You smiled at her radiating energy; that was one thing you always adored about her. Just by being around her, you could practically see the whole room change. She wasn’t necessarily the life of the party, but there was always a party around her. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it, as introverted as you could be.

“So, you mentioned other complications. Tell me what’s going on; you seem a bit.. not you.” She continued.

You sighed. “Well, I know I haven’t been exactly open with you about this, but mentally… I don’t know. I guess you could say I haven’t been doing too well. Lots of anxieties and doubts. Some from the new job, some just from everything in general. It’s been rough;” You rubbed your neck absently. “Actually, it’s been the main reason I haven’t been in contact with you lately.”

“Don’t worry about it (Y/N/N), I get it. You should have told me sooner, you know I’ve always been there for ya. And remember what your dad has always said..”

“The fight is best won with not one, but two.” You both said simultaneously.

“Yeah, I know.” You said. “I guess I just got so caught up in everything, that I forgot.”

“It happens. Hell, even if you have to put it on a sticky note somewhere..” Sue said.

“That’s actually a good idea.” You said. “Thanks Sue.”

“Of course, it’s what I’m here for.” She said.

“How have you been?” You asked.

“Eh, same as usual. You know me, always getting around.” She said. “I want to hear more about you though! You’ve had to have your share of excitement as a director so far. Meet any famous people?”

“Well, I'm actually dating someone I just started working with, one of the actors actually. We’ve hit it off pretty well. As far as famous actors or actresses go.. I’m not sure how famous these guys are, as I’ve never really watched their show.” You explained.

“Oh wow, congrats! That’s good to hear you’ve found someone. What are their names?” She asked.

“Well, the one I’m dating is named Jensen-”

“Don’t tell me, Ackles?”

“...Yeah?”

“(Y/N), you’re dating Jensen motherfucking Ackles?!”

“...Yeah?”

You heard her squeal momentarily before returning back to the phone.

“Dude, I love Supernatural! These guys are pretty famous, as far as I’m concerned!” She said.

“You would totally get along with Jared too, by the way. He’s a little bit like you.” You commented.

She gasped. “Really?” I’ve always been a Dean girl, but it seems like you’re the number one Dean girl now.”

“Oh hush.” You said, knowing she could see you blush without even being present.

She laughed. “I’m really happy for you, (Y/N). I hope things continue to work out for you.”

“Thanks Sue. Hey, I didn’t call you at a bad time, did I?” You asked.

“Hearing from you? There’s never a bad time.” She said.

You smiled. “Well, I got a long day ahead of me. It was good talking with you.”

“It was good hearing from you (Y/N), sleep well.” She said.

You could only wish you did sleep well that night.

[omiboshii]

SakuAtsu AU tw // major character death

"Sakusa Kiyoomi, you'll always be my favorite view."

-

Traditional painter Sakusa Kiyoomi who only paints sceneries and cute animals, actually paints a portrait of someone for once. The reason why he didn't paint portraits of people is because he dislikes them (as obvious as it seems; it has also been years since he last painted a portait of someone).

When he found out that Atsumu's birthday is getting near, Sakusa started doing rough sketches of him and drafting. He worked on this piece for a month and finished a week before Atsumu's birthday.

"I guess it's fine to give him his birthday gift a day early..." Sakusa mutters to himself as he looks at his finished piece, happy with the results of the effort he put in for a month; he's excited to give his gift.

Two days before the birthday, Sakusa talks to Atsumu over the phone, telling him they should meet tomorrow for Sakusa's surprise. 

"Omi, are ya watchin' the stars right now?"

"Yeah... the skies are clear tonight, so the view's nice."

"Night sceneries are your favorite, aren't they?"

"Mhmm," Sakusa leans on the window-frame, "I love them. They make me feel calm, and nights are more peaceful than the day."

Atsumu chuckles, "I agree with that, but my favorite view is better."

Sakusa raised a brow, "Yeah?"

"You shoyld ask me, Omi-omi!"

Sakusa rolls his eyes but laughs a little, "You're still so childish 'Tsum."

"Just ask me!"

"Fine," a small smile stays on Sakusa's lips, "What's your favorite view then?"

"It's you."

Moments of silence pass, before Sakusa speaks up again, "...You're not kidding?"

"I'm not, I'm serious."

"'Tsumu."

"Are you flustered right now, Omi-kun?"

"No, I'm not," Sakusa says despite the faint tint of pink spreading on his cheeks, "You always like to joke around like this."

"I told you, I'm not joking this time." Astumu's voice was calm, he's not laughing nor sound like he's smiling.

"...'Tsumu," Of course, Sakusa finds it weird, Atsumu being serious isn't an everyday thing, "Is there something wring?" He also finds it weird how silent Atsumu's background in the call is; there's no usual bantering from his twin in between, nor the sound of glasses clinking.

"'Course I am, Omi! I just miss ya-- since we haven't met in a week now."

Sakusa doesn't fight the smile that shapes his lips, "I miss you, too."

"Geez! Yer makin' my heart flutter too much."

Sakusa laughs softly and Atsumu chuckles, before they fall into silence.

"You should take a rest and sleep, Omi," Atsmu breaks the silence, "We'll see each other tomorrow."

"Okay," Sakusa looks at the waning mooon one last time before walking away from the window, "Good night, 'Tsum. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Omi," Atsumu says softly, then a long pause before, "...see you."

The next morning comes; Sakusa wakes up to a text from Osamu, telling him that Atsumu can't make it for today's plan and he should come to the address that was attached in the message. What's odd is, Osamu was apologizing. Aside from that, the location attached on the message was a hospital's address.

Sakusa doesn't feel good with this.

The next thing Sakusa knows, he's in a hospital room and someone is crying-- no, not someone else, but he himself is. There's a painful feeling in his chest, certainly his heart stings. The cold tears that that stream down on his cheeks prickle, breath stuck in his throat along with his words.

"Why..." Sakusa turns away from the one who sleeps peacefully for an eternity on the hospital bed, from Atsumu, to face Osamu, "Why didn't any of you tell me?"

His voice trembles and cracks, a harsh breath after. Osamu flinches, seeing how Sakusa looks so hurt, and betrayed.

"How could I?" Osamu snaps, tears form on the corner of his eyes once again, "If you could've seen his face when he asked me not to tell you, how could I?"

Sakusa shuts his mouth, Osamu clenches his fists, "That was what he wanted... to spend the rest of his days ordinarily."

Osamu must be having it worse, Sakusa thought; Watching his own brother spend the rest of his days ordinarily and not being able to do anything-- he can't imagine how painful it must be.

Sakusa looks at Atsumu, who lays on the bed with a peaceful look on his face. Pain grows even more with the thought of not being able to see him smile again, and knowing that they won't ever see Atsumu open his eyes again.

"...Since when?"

"Four years ago," Osamu also looks at his brother.

"And we only met a year ago..."

"He knew you even before that," Osamu wipes his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, "He wouldn't stop talking about how he finds you pretty."

Osamu picks up of what Sakusa thinks a photo album from the table beside, "...He wanted to give this to you."

Sakusa accepts, but he doesn't open the photo albun, afraid of what the contents of it could be; he hugs it close to his chest instead.

"...I'll give you two a moment," Osamu turns to the door, "Just call if you ever need something."

As the door closes with a soft click, Sakusa takes the seat beside the bed, placing the album on his lap as he reacges for Atsumu's hand-- oh how Sakusa hopes to feel the warmth he longs for again --his hands trembling.

Cold. Atsumu's hand is, as Sakusa holds close.

Sakusa brings Atsumu's hand close to his lips, letting out a shaky breath as he looks at the peaceful look on Atsumu's face. Tears gather up again in the corner of his eyes, spilling down continuously onto his cheeks, "'Tsumu..."

He sucks in a sharp breath, there are a lot of things in his mind, questions he wishes to ask but are left unanswered, "Why?"

Sakusa holds onto Atsumu's hand tightly, and swallows a lump in his throat, "When you said we'll see each other today, did you mean it like this?"

Of course, there's no reply; not a teasing "Yer too serious, Omi!" with a laugh at the end-- nothing. Only silence.

That day, Sakusa continues to grieve. Everything seemed to blur, he lets his own feet take him to wherever, and ends up at his atelier.

Vivid memories of the times they spent together in this spacious yet messy room flood in Sakusa's mind; the cozy feeling whenever Astumu visits, the random things they talked about, the sunsets they have watched together, the accidental small touches when their hands or fingers brush each other, the matching mugs that Atsumu brought for them ever since he frequently visited.

It used to be so lonely, until Atsumu persistently welcomed himself here.

But now it's all lonely again, even feels lonelier than before.

-

Two weeks have passed, the burial was done and Sakusa went. He felt numb ever since, he barely went home and spent his nights in his atelier instead. He would find himself spacing out and staring at Atsumu's portrait.

Every time Sakusa realized he was looking, there would be a prickly feeling in his chest, a feeling of wanting to cry yet no tears were shed.

Tonight, Sakusa leans on the window-frame, looking at the night sky that's filled with countless of stars yet none of them shines brighter than Atsumu did.

The wind blows softly, Sakusa closed his eyes, and for a second he could've sworn he heard a gentle whisper of "Omi," or maybe it was from the memories he's holding onto.

Sakus opens his eyes slowly, he couldn't help but hope even just a little that he could see Atsumu again, but the first thing he saw was the photo album.

The photo album that he was given to, sits on Sakusa's wooden easel, the ray of moonlight shining down on it. He still hasn't opened it, he couldn't bring himself to.

"I guess it's time to open it, huh..." Sakusa whispers to himself as he reaches out to get the item, then placing it down on his lap and takes a deep breath.

When he opens the album, Sakusa starts to sniffle. As expected, they were photographs that Atsumu took with Sakusa. Most of the photos had something written (with Atsumu's messy penmanship) below them, the dates of when were the photos taken and short messages and notes.

Even though there were tears, Sakusa couldn't help but laugh at some of the photos and messages. There were random photos, like a fluffy stray cat glaring at Atsumu with a note below, "This cat still doesn't like me.... :(( so I only took a photo of it!"

Sakusa continues to look at the photos and read the notes under them, page by page, until there were only a few pages left. Those few pages were stuffed with Atsumu's unsent love letters for Sakusa.

He skims through the remaining pages, to check if those letters were the only ones left to look at. Sakusa's heart tinged with pain as he reaches the last page.

On the last page, was a photo of Sakusa smiling, and the note below it was written: "It's a shame, I can't admire your beauty until our hair turns gray. But,"

Sakusa doesn't feel numb anymore, emotions surge through his chest as he lets out a sob when he reads the last line:

"Sakusa Kiyoomi, you'll always be my favorite view."

--End.

[starshineandbooks]

It’s not much, but it’s a start - Chapter one

summary- The third instalattion in many more of the Sanders sides soulmate AU I have made, This is my house in projectingville,I invite you all over.Virgil has a bad discussion with his just made ex, and his siblings get him out, Logan taking his triplet to a flower shop their sister said to go to.It ends much better than it starts!

Pairings- Romantic Moxiety, Mentioned Logince and Demus

Warnings - implied/refrenced abuse (It’s not there much but it’s there a little), Screaming, think that’s it

Ao3

Virgil has had more than enough, eyes wide as his beloved boyfriend- ex his mind supplies, screams at him.

“You’re crazy! Why would I stay with you?! You make everything harder, and you stifle me! You aren’t even my soulmate! I wasted years on you!” Micheal growls.

“I-”

“Are you raising your voice to my brother?” A woman asks, stepping between Virgil and Micheal, the former barely recognizing her before Logan is gently leading Virgil away from the situation.

“Excuse you? Which freak are-”

“Shut your mouth now, sugar, wouldn’t  want you to lose any more knowledge with that flappin’ hole of yours.”

“Why you little-”

Virgil is out of earshot, and Logan is guiding him into a car, Logan’s car maybe? No, Roman’s then. 

“Virge?”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. What happened?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“Okay. Okay, come on, We’ll take you to a safe place, come on.”

“What?”

“Bia’s always praising this place, come on now.”

Virgil stays quiet while Logan starts the car, leaving the parking lot of the restaurant quickly, long-distance might have been a mistake. But he’s here now. Oh who’s he kidding, he deserved this-

Virgil is suddenly walking into the door of a shop, the setting looks familiar, but where is he?

“I’m sorry kiddos, but we’re closed.” A voice calls from somewhere.

“I’m sorry, my sister Bia said if something happened tonight-”

“Hold up, Bia?” A laugh and a small man with wild curls appear from behind a floral display, “Why didn’t you say so? Oh, She’s so sweet, she’s all the time drawing me pretty flowers!”

“She’s what?”

“Yeah, she stacked courses, graduated, changed courses, she’s the lady who runs that tattoo parlor down the street, isn’t she? Bia Storm-Blacke?”

Logan nods, “Yes, you must be Patton then?”

“Logan?”

“Yes.”

“You look just like her. Or she looks just like- Sorry. Oh- honey,” Patton says gently and Virgil chokes a little, it’s too similar to his sister and mom, comforting and gentle, soothing like aloe on a burn, “Are you okay?”

Virgil, shaking and realizing he’s crying, shakes his head, no use lying. He’s always hated it anyway.

“Oh- C’mere,- Can I hug you?”

Virgil suspects that this Patton gives very nice hugs, and if his sister really did say to come here Patton can’t mean harm.

So, Virgil nods slowly, holding his arms out slightly, only to be pulled into a tight, oddly comforting hug despite not really knowing Patton.

Logan watches, hands clapped just so, barely fiddling with Roman’s class ring that’s a little too big but sits on Logan’s thumb.

Virgil’s skin tingles where Patton touches him through his clothes, and he jerks away as soon as it registers, eyes wide. 

He did not just lose Micheal to find his soulmate, that can’t be. Virgil loved Micheal, maybe Micheal yelled a lot, and maybe it was a work in progress, And maybe Virgil had or hadn’t deserved it, but he loved Micheal. With everything he’d had. Right?

Except, his mom hadn’t deserved his biological dad. Virgil has some thinking to do, but he can’t have met his soulmate so suddenly.

Patton stares wide-eyed at his arms, the tips of his fingers halfway up his upper arms is splattered like ink stains with purple and sky blue and a gentle gold with bright silver. A mess of colors and Virgil can’t help but know that it’s the right balance of each, can’t help the slight buzz in his mind at the mark claiming this undeniably pretty flower shop worker as his soulmate.

“Oh my goodness,” Patton breathes softly, eyes seeming to well with tears, or maybe that’s Virgil again.

“Fuck me,” Virgil grits, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Oh- I’m sorry,” Patton whispers. 

“What- it’s not your fault you dense bitch.” Virgil rolls his eyes, but flinches at the crumpling of Patton’s face, the face of a stranger that he is supposedly made for.

“I uh- I’d like to get to know you more if you want. But- I can’t offer you a relationship right now... But, I’d like friends, more later if we want it, but I think- friends maybe?”

Logan has his head tilted, one hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil swallows, at least Patton doesn't seem to want a romantic relationship right now, that’s nice. “I- uh- I’m in town for a bit, visitn’ my sister, wanna grab coffee tomorrow?”

“I know a nice place, it’s just down the road, the owner’s a little- silly, but it’s a good place,” Patton says gently.

“I’d like that,” Virgil says softly.

“I’m glad. Uh- I can open shop later, how eight-thirty tomorrow morning work for you? You can totally bring someone else too! I know- I’ve been told I can be a lot. And-”

“I might bring one of my siblings.” Virgil says then, “But- If Bia trusts you, you’re probably not horrible. Probably.”

“O-oh.”

“Uhm- You Okay Patton?”

“Oh- yeah! I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Virgil says, not believing it, but not pushing. He doesn't have that right yet anyhow.

“Well, congratulations to you two.” Logan says simply, “I wish you both luck.”

“I- thank you?” Patton blinks, looking to Logan as if surprised Logan is there at all.

“You are welcome. Now, I’ve been told if I come, to ask you for roses, lavender, and chamomile?”

“Oh, Bia’s usual order, uh sure. And- It looks like you two have had a rough night, Pick out any dozen flowers you like, for each of you, the order and the dozen flower sets will be on the house tonight.”

“Oh- Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Patton says softly, “Now, get a wiggle on kiddo, if someone made you cry like that I imagine your sister will be here any minute to coddle you.”

Virgil laughs softly, “You know here pretty well huh?”

“Oh yeah, she talks about you guys a lot actually.”

“Oh?”

“Says she misses you guys.” Patton shrugs, “And that you had decent music taste.”

Vigil laughs softly, a little shaky, but it makes Logan's lips quark, glad to see his triplet happy.

Patton hums, “You’re cuter than she said y’know?”

“What?” Virgil gapes, eyes wide.

“Bia, she tells everyone who’ll listen how cute you are, says you’re like a black kitten trying to scare others.” Patton’s voice is bubbly, and Virgil can’t help the indignant hitch his shoulders take.

“She what?!”

“She has a duo of friends that live up here with her, Jan’s backed her up, and Remus is usually- making food of some kind or other.” Patton shrugs, “I’m not really sure how they could be so vehement you’re adorable, and so under informing me of it too.”

Virgil scoffs, “I’m not cute!”

“You are, Virge,” Logan’s voice is seemingly cold, as usual, but Virgil recognizes the slight teasing lilt to it.

“I am not!”

“Yeah! What he said, probably!” A woman cheer as the door jingles happily, “Hey Patt, I see you’ve met my brothers?”

“Oh, hey B!” Patton calls, “I have, they’re very sweet.”

“Take it back,” Virgil hisses.

“Oh, they’re somethin’ alright,” Bia laughs, walking around the corner and Virgil sobers immediately.

“So, how are you today Patt?”

“Better than whoever got a hold of you three I’d imagine,” Patton goggles, “You want an Ice pack?”

“Nah, Remus and Jan can play patch up, I gotta get these two back to my place so they can sleep.”

Virgil stares at his sister, a bruising cheek and jaw, bloodied nose, a slight limp, another fight. This time with Micheal.

“He- did that?”

Bia turns, then shakes her head, “No, he yelled. His brother showed up and started fighting me because of some stupid, bigot reason or other. Now, you two are doing any better?”

“Oh, yes. Virgil found his soulmate!” Logan chirps, “Isn’t that great?”

Virgil glowers at the ground.

Bia looks between the brothers, then to a wilting Patton, “Lo, I don’t know. They’ve both had a really hard week, just- not every soulmate is romantic, lots are, some aren’t.”

Logan shrinks to himself slightly, “O-oh.”

“Hey, you didn’t do anythin’ wrong baby, come on, chin up or I’ll summon a Roman.”

Logan snorts, “Oh, yes.”

“She’ll do it,” Virgil says simply.

“I might get a duke, but it’s the thought that counts.” Bia nods sagely, turning to Patton, “And if you need me to go fight that- interestin’ lady I’ll do it. I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

Patton shakes his head, “No, I’m okay. It just- I just need time.”

Bia nods, “Well, we should be gettin’ outta your hair, see you later Patty.”

“Bye hon.” Patton waves, watching as Bia leads her siblings out of the shop with gentle hands and biting remarks of taunting between triplets. 

Bia hums, “So, Patton huh?”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Is apparently the soulmate that Micheal broke up with me over.”

“I’m sorry honey.”

“It’s-” Virgil sighs, “I don’t wanna talk about it, can we just go?”

“Sure, Ree and Jay will be thrilled to see you. You guys aren’t still fightin’ are ya?” Bia asks.

Virgil grumbles, “Noo… We don’t talk much but- we’re- we made up, we’re friends again.”

“That’s great, now, up the apartment stairs you go!”

“What- where do you- this is your place?!”

Bia nods, stopping in front of the doors to a brick apartment building, “Yep!”

“How? Isn’t it rough, it’s downtown?”

“Not as bad as you'd think, especially livin’ with Jan and Ree.” Bia shrugs.

“Oh god.” Virgil groans, getting into the elevator, “How are you still sane?”

“Bold of you to assume I ever was. Now, showers and to bed.” Bia says simply.

------- Next chapter

Okay, this is a little update/ author’s note feel free to skip!

I am writing the remile wedding fic

I’m editing the demus fic as well

Bia is a recurring character, if you want a fic focused on her, or any other ocs later, let me know, they like attention and keep trying to take over scenes.

I have sevral ideas, but Tumblr is a hell site and school is hitting full force, so I have less time to write.

[georgeharris0n]

Blisters On His Fingers - Chapter 2 - “First Date, If John Doesn’t Ruin it”

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapters: 2/25

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, Minor Paul McCartney/John Lennon

Plot Summery:  George can't help but watch Rory Storm and The Hurricanes play, but John and Paul know he just has his eyes for their drummer. Ringo has some problem with his hands, and George may just see his perfect opportunity to talk to the handsome drummer. (Hamburg Beatle Era)

Note: It’s herE! Here’s a litlle something, as a early Christmas gift! Multi Chapter Hamburg Starrison Fic? you bet! @cirilee​ and I worked very hard on research and planning for the fic and I’m so happy to finaLLY released the first continuation chapter (Thank you sOOO much Ciri! ily ::o::)

Read Chapter 1 Here

Inhaling the stale air in the Bambi Kino cinema was probably the worst thing to wake up to since arriving in Hamburg, but after last night, George barely even noticed. Peeking his eyes open, he adjusted to the artificial light in the damp cement block they called a room. He felt as light as air… George had kissed him. Ringo Starr, George Harrison kissed Ringo Starr.

It’s a wonder George had gotten any sleep at all after that. He remembers staring up at the pitch black ceiling for hours last night and just looking at his smile, the smoothness of his cheek and scruff of his jaw… reliving that moment when he just fucking went for it.

George let out a pleased sigh and stretched his arms above his head.

After a moment he turned over to the bed opposite his only to be faced with two snickering bastards staring back at him. Of-fucking-course, can’t have one single moment of peace can I?

“Sleep alright’ there princess?” John smirked taking a drag from his ciggy.

George groaned. No, not even John could ruin this morning for him.

“Shut up Lennon, and give me drag huh?” He reached toward the nightstand table for the cigarettes, but Paul swooped in all to quick before George could take a blow.

 “What the-”

 “You can have a ciggy after you tell us the details. So spill.” Paul smirked and scooted beside John, taking advantage of his leverage.

 “Details? I- what do you want to know? How do you know anything happened?” George stammered, he thought it would be easy to burst out and tell his best mates what happened, but his nerves seemed to get the best of him.

 Paul scoffed. “Well for starters, you woke up in this shithole with that dreamy smile on your face.”

George felt himself flush, gosh he was smiling pretty wide huh?

 “Yea, and not to mention you coming home at fucking 4 in the mornin’.” John quipped while tapping his ashes off onto the floor, which Paul detested, but couldn’t really argue with considering how nasty the room already was.

 “Well- I.. I’m sure you both enjoyed the alone time.” George teased, hoping to distract from himself a little longer. It held some truth, it was pretty hard living just the three in one room, even harder when he bunked with Pete. John and Paul rarely got to get cozy and the two of them were a committed item, which took awhile since John insisted he wasn’t “queer”. Course, he was over the moon for Paul the moment they met, which was pretty frustrating at first. George saw it, and he knows as soon as those two finally stopped being resisitent, they were all over each other.

 John leaned back lazily and chuckled. “I wish! Sadly, Paul wouldn’t put out. The only tossin’ and turnin’ all he’d do was worry about you getting home, real mood killer you are Georgie boy-” Paul smacked a pillow into John’s face before he kept running his mouth.

 “Piss off John! He’s distracting us! Come on’ George and tell us before John gets his teeth punched in will ya?”

George snickered at the display of Paul looking like an eager parent or older sibling, practically on the edge of his seat.

George fiddled a little with his hands, remembering how the night before he used these same ones to care for Ringo’s palms. How rough Ringo’s hands felt from years of drumming. George liked that much more than silky soft hands, it’s like every scar and callus could tell a story. He hoped Ringo would let him hold them again during their date- Ohfuck. THEIR DATE.

 “Shit! My date! He asked me on a date!” George was standing now, throwing off his blanket and immediately going into a panic.

 Ringostarraskedmeonadate! Howcould I forget thaT-

 The lad was already rummaging hopelessly for clean clothes to wear to no avail. While John and Paul were both now standing probably trying to catch up on the bomb he just dropped into the room.

 “You finally snagged a date with the Hurricane’s drummer?”

John was shocked like he couldn’t believe his ears.

 George looked up from his pile of clothes and he knew he was unfolding, it couldn't be stopped now. “I- well I kissed im’ first, then he asked to see me tomorrow, so… yes?”

 “Hold on! Wait- you’re telling me you kissed him and didn’t tell us? Just sat there like a smiling idiot knowing you kissed the lad we watched you pine over for months?” Paul was almost offended, all that waiting and George didn't tell him sooner?

 “Listen!” George didn’t have time for questions, the stakes were much higher now “Yes! Yes okay? I kissed him, and now we have a date,TODAY, and i have no fucking idea when he gets here so if one of you could get off your asses and HELP ME PLEASE!”

 George was losing his mind, he had no idea what to wear, how much time he had, what he was supposed to do- but of course, Paul did. “George, clean yourself up, and I’ll find you some clothes alright?”

 “Yeah, and calm down too, don’t want to spook him looking like you just left a crack house.”

 George looked over to the wall mirror, he did look frantic, definitely not first date with Ringo material. His eyes were wide, his hair was unruled, and he was nearly shaking. John had a point. This date was way too important, he can’t ruin it by being this nervous.

 George just needed to get ready and hope that he doesn’t make a fool of himself.

 Good luck with that.

 _______________

 Paul had George cleaned up real nice. Black drainies, and one of Paul’s clean white shirts tucked in made George cut a fine figure. Topped off with a large smooth pompadour. Very handsome and slim. Paul was very proud of the simple, yet refined appearance he made up for George’s date. He was a good looking lad all the same, and those fangs that pointed when he smiled had to be a deal breaker. Had he had more time (and spare cash), he almost wanted to go buy him a new fit to really shock Ringo. But- the look was still perfect in Paul’s opinion, but John was insistent he add his own little flare to the mix.

 “Make you look tougher, like on stage.”

 “He’s not going on stage John, he’s going on a date-”

 “Yes, and he’s going to wear the damn jacket!” John argued. Draping a leather jacket on George’s shoulders. He took a much larger role in the getting ready process then was expected. He and Paul fussed left and right over how George needed to look, what shirt, how to wear it, what to say, make his hair messy or clean. Boots or loafers. Smile or brood. The two just couldn’t agree.

 As per usual.

 “George needs this date to go off without a hitch! Who knows? If they go steady, we might get a new drummer.” John winked.

 Last week the lads had to get a replacement drummer to sit in after Pete hauled ass back to Liverpool for some kind of “family emergency”. John seems to think George’s date with Ringo could be an opportunity… Ringo was considered the best drummer as far as Liverpool was concerned, and despite George agreeing that Ringo was 20 times better than Pete, he didn’t like what John was implying. Paul seemed to catch onto it quicker than George was though.

“Oh no no NO, you’re not making George’s date about your little fued with Rory! That’s none of your business.” Paul chided, seeing through John’s casual tone. He knew that face and twinkle in his eyes. He was scheming, and John Lennon’s schemes never ended well.

 “I’m just saying, you can’t date between competing bands. If Geo plays his cards right-”

 George had heard enough, he wasn’t letting this crazy idea get to his head. He wanted to enjoy his date, not be John’s pon.

 He was about to speak up when suddenly a loud knock at the back door silenced the whole room.

 George looked at the door and felt his palms clam up. He shuffled his feet toward the handle. He thought he was going to pass out. This wasn’t even his first date, but it was his first with Ringo, and somehow that made it all the more important.

 Another, more faint knock, hit the door, making George jump back slightly. Is that him? Is he here? Gosh if it’s not him-

 “Don't just stand there! Open it.” Paul whispered, clearly waiting in anticipation.

 When George gathered up his non existent courage and opened the door up, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor…

 If he thought seeing Ringo up on stage, was in itself eye-catching, he was grossly unprepared for when he cleans up for a date.

 Ringo was standing at the door, looking a bit flustered, but non the less pleased to see George. That smile. George thought he might lose his footing had he not been gripping the door frame. He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He wanted to drape an arm around Ringo’s shoulders and admire how handsome he looked. He was stunning, he was sporting nice fitted charcoal trousers, with a white and black checker striped shirt tucked in. He even topped it off with a black corduroy jacket.

 “Hmm... now that’s what I call boyfriend material.” Paul muttered behind George, who was also admiring Ringo’s attire.

 George barely registered what Paul said until Ringo finally spoke.

 “Gosh, I’m- speechless, you look real handsome George.” Ringo gaped while he shuffled his hands out of his pockets.

The two were both clearly nervous, and George just couldn’t even believe Ringo was really here. Last night had felt too much like a dream to be real, but… it was and he was here and-

 “Whoa there Ringo! You got on this fancy get up for our little Geo?”

 Fucking. Hell. John.

 Ringo let out a nervous laugh “Suppose’ so,  not too fancy I hope. Havn’t got too much money for a proper restaurant...” Ringo scratched the back of his neck. He seemed a little embarrassed, but George was pretty relieved. He wasn’t into fancy smacy places like that anyhow.

 But- he was into getting out of here with Ringo as soon as possible before John kept talking. Which was the perfect incentive to push his nerves away for a bit.

 “WELL- Guess will be going then! See ya fellas!” George was already walking down the steps and quickly leading Ringo away before those two ruined the date before it even starts.  

 “You better have him home at a respectable time young man!!!” John yelled out after them which made George cringe. Gosh those two I swear-

 George ran a hand up his hair. “Sorry about them, they’re a piece of work.”

 Ringo snickered, “Funny though, don’t worry, bet they pick on ya’ too much huh?”

 “You don’t know the half of it.”

 George and Ringo were walking down Grosse Freiheit, opposite corner from the KaiserKeller where they worked and typically spent their time. George hadn’t explored much of this side of town, but it seemed Ringo knew where they were going, so he didn’t mind it.

 It was nearly 3 in the afternoon, so most places had slow business. Once it neared about 5, that’s when most of the sailor, drunkards, and “fast women” slipped out for the nightlife. Despite the occasional peek of a prostitute in the day, most afternoons were strangely quiet considering this was a red light district.

 When George arrived in Hamburg, the idea of living in such loose city, with so much sex and alcohol seemed exciting, but other than the advantage of drinking, George wasn’t too into the easy sex. John and Paul tried to set him up once, but he ended up horrified, having not been with a women and being pretty certain he was gay at that point. That only solidified it. He ended up sending her away, she didn’t seem to bothered by it. Probably just looked like a spooked young boy.

 Paul stuck around to apologize about it. Make sure he was okay. If anything George was almost happy to know he didn’t fancy girls. John and Paul were always so defensive about it, but when George was having thoughts like that- it felt comforting to know his friends were the same way. That they could understand.

 George saw Ringo veering toward the right. They must be close. The walkway was definitely in more uncharted territory, but- a little more secluded. Ringo reached out his hand suddenly, and George hesitated. Sure there wasn’t anyone around, and the area didn’t persecute lads holding hands, but- it was still out in public, and George didn’t quite feel comfortable for that just yet.

 Ringo’s smile softened and he lowered his hand into his trouser pocket. “No worries Georgie, the place is right back here, follow me.”

 George walked with Ringo down a narrow alleyway leading to a wooden doorway on the side of the building. Already regretting not taking Ringo’s hand, but certainly thankful Richie wasn’t offended by his apprehension.

  A quick knock on the door, and it was soon opened up by another fellow. Clean looking boy with rosy cheeks and a slender chin, about Paul’s age or older maybe.

 “Afternoon Richard, back again so soon?” The boy smiled, clearly pleased to see Richard here. Where- wherever they were. George felt his arms tense, hoping he wasn’t already feeling jealousy on the date that’s barely started. “Where’s your tall friend?” He continued, while giving George a disappointed side glare.

 “Afternoon! Awe this isn’t much his scene really, he’s more interested in birds.” Ringo looked past the boy, and pointed over his shoulder to a booth past the bar-room.

 “Mind if we have a seat over that way?” Before the boy could give answer Ringo was already sliding through the doorway with George in tow.

 Now standing inside, George could really get a load of the place. It was definitely a bar, but why it was so hidden away was beyond him. It played great music out of some speakers, which seemed to be connected to the local radio. It was pretty full too, especially for this hour, but no one seemed to be very rowdy, mostly just dancing or a having a nice drink.

 One thing that did catch Georges eye was the clientele. Every person inside was a bloke. Not a single girl in sight. 

 “Ringo? Is- is this a gay bar?”

 Ringo stopped in front of the booth and looked back at George shyly.

 “I- yes, it’s pretty classy, but I wasn’t sure, you know? If you’d been to one before.” George tilted his head, in all honesty he had never seen one before now. It just seemed like they were myths considering how well hidden they were. Not to mention John, Paul, and George never played in gar bars, or expressed interest in one before. Though, Ringo’s logic made sense, why not go to a place that’s guaranteed to be safe for a first date. Not having to watch your back if he wanted to hold Ringo’s hand or maybe share a kiss.

 “I’m… I haven't, but I really like it here, seems like a perfect first date spot to me.” George smiled, sliding into the booth.

 The date started out really great. Ringo was even more adorable on dates. He ordered them both some drinks and they sipped away talking. It felt like they spoke for hours on end. Ringo was so fun to talk to, he was cute and much more cheeky than expected. He had the cutest little blush when George decided to move over to Ringo’s side and sit beside him in the booth. Letting his shoulder graze next to each other.

 The topic of how they ended up in Hamburg came up, and George talked about meeting John and Paul, and about how they let him join the band. The band that feels like his family, like he was always meant to be apart of them. He told Ringo stories and pranks they all pulled on each other, and about how he practically had to knock sense into them both about their feelings for each other.

 “They were fighting like mad all the time. Mostly John, pushing Paul away n’stuff.”

 Ringo listened attentively, “You could tell? That they were… pushing each other?”

 “Definitely, those two were inseparable, and the way John looked at Paul and the way Paul looked at John- you knew. I knew for sure. John had hurt Paul real bad one day, said he didn’t need him around anymore. Paul was devastated.  I had to talk with John and get it sorted out.”

 “How’d that go?”

 “Basically told him to get his shit together and tell Paul how he felt. Honestly, I’m surprised the bastard listened.” George laughed letting his little pointed teeth stick out a tad.

 “So… how long have you known… you um.. fancied...” Ringo paused, trying to find the right words for the question, but George had a feeling he knew.

 “A couple years now… I had a couple girlfriends back in Liverpool, but it never really took. I knew I fancied boys, but I didn’t know for sure if I fancied girls too or not. Nowadays, I know I’m gay, but I’ve-” George paused feeling embarrassment flush on his face. He almost wanted to end the conversation there, hoping Ringo wouldn't push him further, but the look in those blue eyes. The soft, sweet way Ringo listened and gazed back at George. Like he was savoring everything, every look and word George gave him.

George wasn’t afraid, no, not around Ringo.

 “I-um… I haven’t had a boyfriend before.”

 George felt his hand shake at his sides, feeling unsure… clearly Ringo had been around more often, he was older after all, and knew about gay bars, probably had a boyfriend once or twice too. George didn’t know this stuff, he’d only ever kissed a boy once and neither spoke about it after the fact. Would Ringo want some inexperienced lad who-

 George felt a sudden warmth interlock with his shaking fingertips. He moved his gaze back to Ringo. He was holding onto his hands, rubbing his thumb over each knuckle. Smoothing the tremor that left the joint until they were steady and calm. 

 I might faint.

 “Hey, neither have I okay? I’m still new to this too, but I know I like you George. A lot.”

 George blinked wildly. Ringo was new to this?

 Ringo could see George’s confusion considering their current place of establishment and chuckled. “I’ve known I am for awhile, me mum even had an idea about it when I was younger, she could just tell I never fancied girls, but finding fellas ain’t easy and not exactly safe. So no, I haven’t either. Did find this place with me mate Johnny though, but he’s just a best mate, doesn’t really swing that way.”

 Somehow knowing dates and boyfriends were a bit of new territory for Ringo brought George lots of comfort. He could feel his shoulders slack under his jacket. He wanted to loosen up, really just enjoy the date. Show Ringo a good time.

 Hurriedly, George stood up from the booth pulling Ringo up with him. The radio had several patrons out of their seats and swinging to a solid tune. A jazzy one, clearly hitting the backbeat like a rock n’ roller. George gave Ritchie a cocky grin and twisted his arm around giving Ringo a spin. George did little kicks and fancy moves with his feet, while Ringo showed off his funny little moves on the dance floor as well. Being honest, Ringo’s dances were outright ridiculous, but- in an endearing kind of way. He was silly and smiling so wide. Really enjoying himself when he danced with George and purposely tried to make him laugh with funky jumps and head shakes. George loved how funny Ringo was, the way he could just go along with things and make it 10 times better? The way his smile peeked out when those teddy boy curls bounced on his forehead, George was ready to spend the rest of the night like this. Giggling like school boys.

 As it got later, the dancing got a little too crowded for both the boys’ taste, and they decided to step out for the night. The walk was much longer going back, probably because the two weren’t quite ready for the date to be over just yet.

 “You really do look handsome this evening George.” Ringo remarked as they walked the chilly street back to the cinema.

 George grinned with his cheeky fangs and bumped Ringo with his arm. “How bout’ a kiss then? Paul worked real hard to get me all dressed up like this. Got to have a little credit where credits due.” George leaned into the lads shoulder, batting his eyelashes for dramatic effect.

 Ringo applauded the flirtation, clearly George was getting more comfortable. Very coy.

 “Sorry, I don’t kiss vamps on the first date.”He quipped, poking the side of George’s cheek playfully.

 Had this not been their first date George would have half a mind to marry Ringo on the spot. The way they bounced off each other so easily was unbelievable. The only fault was that the date was ending so soon. The streets here are just so complicated and… adult. Nothing simple, like burger joints or parks. George hated the idea of only being able to go out in the afternoons. Nightlife here was just so loud and indecent. “Gosh, maybe one of these days we can catch a bus out of here, go somewhere a little more normal.” George said gazing out ahead at countless street lights that dawned every corner.

 Ringo’s eyes widened. “You want to go out again then?”

 George felt his throat shrink. Oh fuck- You idiot. He was already daydreaming about the next date without even knowing if there was going to BE ONE.

 “If- you wanted. I thought- I mean. This one seemed to be going really well, but if your not interested I completely-” stop rambling please oh god please stop.

 “George!” George thanked Ringo internally for stopping him before he dug his grave even further.

 “I’d love to go on another date with you.’

 George thought he was going to say something, but his brain decided to go out of commission in that moment. Ringo didn’t seem to mind, the look on George’s face told him everything he needed to know. This was special. This thing between them, very special.

 It was quiet on the streets surprisingly. Not a prostitute or drunk in sight near the back of the cinema. It was nearly 9:30, which was hopefully “respectable” for John, but George wasn’t ready for it to be over, not just yet.

 George stopped before the steps to the door and turned to Ringo. His nerves that had been present throughout the evening had vanished, something about how he was feeling, the look in Ringo’s eyes. He felt like he was staring into the ocean. So welcoming, and vibrant. How could he stand here and not be utterly at peace?

 Ringo soon moved surprisingly close him. George wasn’t sure what it meant at first, but to be fair, there were lots of things that George didn’t know.

 He didn’t know his lovestruck crush would stand before him tonight and gingerly touch his cheek, or that he’d get so close they’d share a cold breath in a Hamburg alleyway. George would never have thought months ago, when he first met the boy, that he too would lean into the embrace. That George would get to wrap his arms around Ringo’s waist, slipping past his jacket and rest his palms on the small of the drummer’s back. He didn’t know that they’d glace down to those soft lips. Unconsciously waiting… for what? He wasn’t quite sure. Yes, he was.

 Ringo’s hand gilded behind his neck. Stroking his thumb gently under George’s jaw. George felt a shiver go up his spine. Feeling his heart pounding like crazy. He wanted this. He really did. All night he dreamt of the event that occurred that night, about the feeling of kissing Ringo, the way his lips felt on his. He was so close to that again, only this time, he wanted Ringo to kiss him. 

 The drummer hesitated. They had kissed before, but the fervor in the air that filled the non existent space between them was thick. Both of the boys breaths were seen in the cold air as they exchanged them. Ringo lids fluttered, and George let his own shut. Darkness allowing every touch and caress to feel all the more real. Abruptly, a hand tugged the collar of his leather jacket slightly, and he was pulled into those lips again. Both bodies immediately reacting as the two shared an earnest kiss. Ringo taking control with impelling affection.

 It was delightful but chaste, far too short for the guitarist’s liking. When they separated a moment, George barely gave Ringo time to catch his breath before pressing forward and allowing his tongue to slide past his lips. His fleeting impulse crashed into Ringo, and his hands clenched at the fabric of his striped shirt.  Ringo responded with matched eagerness and the two were soon both kissing with more passion than they’d ever felt before. George even let a soft moan slide past his lips as he felt Ringo tangle his fingers further into his hair.

 Neither wanted to stop, but George’s head was already getting dizzy and Ringo’s footing was starting to give way on the edge of the steps. They both reluctantly separated, and caught their breaths still not bearing any space between them, chests heaving with cold air against one another. George just wanted to stay here with Ringo in his arms, barely able to stand and looking just as dazed as George probably does.

 “Gee Ringo…” George’s lip twitch upward. “I thought you didn’t kiss vamps on the first date.”

Chapter 3 here!