#does thou need glasses to help your dusty eye holes?

[rk-x-yz]

..................is it a girl.....................

[gigilberry-wips]

if wishes were stars

This is my secret santa gift for @kirkwords​!

It’s a bit late, but technically I got it done on time sooooo here you go! I hope you enjoy this and I wish you and everyone here a very, very Happy Holiday!!

Word Count: 3,071

AO3 link

･ﾟ✧*: ♡ ･ﾟ✧ *:

In a secluded street of a nondescript town, there lived a run-down little toy store. What was special about this store was that it was owned by a man named Nicholas St. North, otherwise known as Santa Claus.

Not that he admitted to such a thing. On first glance, he didn’t much look the part either – instead of a fat and jolly little grandpapa, what you were met with was a tall, imposing wall of a man, with a rumbling, earth deep voice and tattooed arms that had likely lifted a reindeer or two in their time.

But the jolly part was still there, twinkling in his eyes. And every toy he made seemed to hold a touch of that fairytale magic.

A whispering, fluttering little thing, beating deep inside.

Thump … thump … thump …

Thump

A pair of cloth eyes blinked. They blinked again.

Looking down, they found two pudgy, cotton-stuffed arms. Those arms led into the puffed sleeves of a faded dress that might have once been pink but through age and time and the general negligence of items left behind and forgotten about had eventually faded to a dull, stained beige.

On one corner of the dress was a curling, embroidered word. Rapunzel. That was her name.

Rapunzel sat up. From where she was on the floor, there was not much to see beyond the wall of cardboard boxes. The dust motes hardly stirred in the dim lighting, and the few spiders spinning their webs ignored her presence entirely.

But in the distance was noise. Things moving around, talking, what might have been a few strains of music. Was it a party? Rapunzel liked parties.

She toddled up onto her stout little feet and followed the sounds. The boxes were not all uniform; every now and then they let through shards of light. Rapunzel made sure to pass through each of them – or at least she tried; some were too high up for her to reach. Occasionally she would stop and stare at how they lit up her dusty skin, or made the occasional stray glitter sparkle on the ground.

When the wall of boxes ended, Rapunzel did not find a party. But far above her head were strings of sparkling lights, enclosed in clear glass spheres. They looped in and out of the shelves that lined the isle, creating a woven canopy of brilliant yellow light. Large work tables occupied the space within the isle, pushed against the shelves and stretching up so tall that Rapunzel couldn’t see where they ended or what they held.

Rapunzel wandered amongst them. Her feet made prints in the dust that covered the floor, but she didn’t know that, not when her head was craned up and her sight was filled with floating lights.

She was so caught up in them that she didn’t notice when someone noticed her. She didn’t see it when that someone climbed down to reach her. And she definitely didn’t hear them until they stuck out their hand and said: “Hello!”

Rapunzel yelped. To her right was a towering pile of junk heaped under a table. And crouched on an outcropping was a colourless boy.

That is, everything from his clothes to his skin was coloured stark, pasty white, even his hair and cheeks and mouth. The only thing time and wear had done was fade his once fancy looking clothes to old cream and add several moth holes and tattered strands to it. The hand he held out was made of segments, smooth and hard as marble.

"Why are you shiny?"

The boy blinked two black pinpricks he had for eyes at her. He tilted his head. "... Pardon?"

"Your face, I mean. It looks a bit shiny where the light hits it." Rapunzel gently touched his hand with her soft mitt. "And your hand, why is it hard? And why is it shaped like this?"

"Oh ... I guess that's because I'm made of clay." The boy touched his face. His fingers made a light tap-tap sound. "My hand is like this because I'm a puppet ... I was a puppet. I'm not anymore. I'm free. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I gave myself a name." He pointed to himself. "I’m Jack. I like the name so it’s mine now. What's yours?"

"My name is Rapunzel."

"Is it really? How do you know?"

"My dress has my name on it." Rapunzel held out her dress and showed off the embroidery. Surely he'd never seen stitching this pretty before, and it spelled her name so that meant her name was pretty and good, too.

"Do you always listen to what your dresses tell you? You're funny." He went to poke it but Rapunzel batted his hand away.

"Well, if you don't like it-"

"I didn't say that. It's nice - really, it is!" Jack laughed, even as Rapunzel sulked. "In fact, I've got a friend who's playing dress-up right now. She'll tell you it's pretty, too. Do you want to meet her?"

"You have friends?" So there were other dolls there. Then another thought hit her. "Can I be your friend?"

"Sure you can!" Jack shook her hands. "There! Now we're friends. Come on, let's go meet the others!"

At first Rapunzel thought that Jack was going to make them climb up the junk to get to the table's surface. But instead, Jack led her down a winding path through the debris, until they heard a raised voice and the sound of laughter.

The heart of the junk pile opened up to a cleared space. A desk lamp off to the side illuminated two figures.

The laughter was from a wooden soldier. His paint was chipped and peeling, and where he should’ve had a black boot to match the one on his right leg, there was instead a rusted nail jammed crookedly into the wood.

While he sat on a pencil box and held his sides, a girl doll twirled in the middle of the space. Her long, puffy hair was a shiny red and she wore the most outrageous outfit Rapunzel’s button eyes had ever seen. The bedazzled purple headpiece didn’t even match the rest of it. The moment she caught sight of Jack and Rapunzel she brandished a sword bigger and wider than the spindly arms that wielded it.

“But hark! What is that I spy?” She declared. “A rascal! How dare the miscreant show his face?! Doest thou wish for a flogging, foul knave? For I shall bestow it myself!”

Jack ran up to her and dropped to one knee, flinging his arms out. “Why would I fight such a fair princess when we could dance the night away?”

She waved her sword at him and threatened to chop his head off. Meanwhile, the soldier sitting off to the side laughed even harder.

“… That’s not … how … it goes … at all …” He wheezed helplessly.

The girl tossed a grin at him. “Close enough, right?” She hung the sword in a makeshift shawl-turned-belt and raised a smug eyebrow at Jack. “You hear that? That’s the sound of success. You’re not the only one who gets to be funny around here, Jackie boy. Eat it and weep.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that goes either.” Jack stumbled up, his joints knocking together.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Now tell us who your new friend is.”

Rapunzel wandered up to the group. She did a shallow curtsy. “Greetings, all. My name is Rapunzel. I’m happy to meet you.”

“And we’re happy to meet you, too.” Jack pointed to the toy soldier. “That is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. There’s a really long and windy story about how he chose his name.”

Hiccup shrugged. “I’ll tell it to you if you want to hear it.”

Rapunzel skipped over to him and shook his hands. “I’d love to! I love stories! Please tell me whenever you like.”

“Uh, wow. Thanks?” Hiccup chuckled. “It’s nice to meet you too?”

“Okay, okay, okay. That’s enough of that.” They both looked over at Jack. Jack grinned. He swept his arms up and showcased the shiny girl in the shiny dress. “This is Princess Merida of Clan DunBroch.”

“Not anymore I’m not!” Merida swatted at him, and he spun out of the way cackling.

Pulling her sword out again, she swung it up. “No longer am I Princess Merida. From now on, I wish to be the warrior queen Boudica! Hyah!”

She did a spin and a leap, making the layered skirt swirl in her wake and the headdress fly off. She landed in front of Rapunzel, knelt on the ground and sword pointed at Rapunzel’s chin.

Rapunzel obligingly clapped. “Very good!”

“Thank you, thank you. All in a day’s work.” Merida brushed herself off and stood.

“Why don’t you want to be Merida anymore?”

“Because I’m one of several dozen Merida princess dolls.” Merida rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be the same as them. I don’t even know who this ‘Princess Merida’ is. I mean, sure, the name is fine, but does it really need a Princess in front of it? I’d rather just be Merida, and not-” Merida shook her outfit out. Rapunzel giggled. “-this, you know? That’s why I’m changing my wardrobe.”

On the other side of the clearing were racks of doll clothes and a large changing station. Many of the clothes were strewn about on the ground. Half of them were almost as outrageous as whatever Merida wore, the rest not looking like they’d even fit on her. These friends must have been here for a while.

A warrior queen, was it? Rapunzel had never heard of that, or much of anything really, but that didn’t mean she wanted to miss out on the fun. “Can I help, too?”

“Would you? Fantastic!” Merida looped her plastic arm through Rapunzel’s. “Let’s get to it. To start, I was thinking we’d look into something green …”

They did eventually find a dress that Merida liked, after many more dramatic outfit changes and general silliness. Granted, it drooped around the shoulders and she had to kick out the skirt to walk in it, but she said it was ‘comfortable for movement’ and ‘blending into the surroundings’. Rapunzel and Jack also dug up a proper belt for Merida to store her sword on.

“I think this calls for a celebration.” Rapunzel tugged the belt more securely and straightened up.

“What’s the occasion?” Jack asked.

“Because why not? Because we found a new dress for Merida. Because I met all of you and because we’re here together. Let’s do something nice.”

From where she admired herself on a plate, Merida smiled at Rapunzel through her reflection. “I think that’s brilliant.” Giving her hair one last flounce, she spun around. “What do you suggest we do? Shall we do a dance? A play? Want to go exploring?”

“I have an idea.”

They all looked towards Hiccup. Laid at his side was a trumpet about as long as he was tall that Rapunzel hadn’t noticed before. He used that to slowly pull himself upright and started walking into the junk pile, using the trumpet like a cane. “Follow me.”

They wound their way down one of the twisting paths until they came out to find a giant table leg. Unlike the others, this table leg had a strange device attached to it. There was a large box – what it was for, Rapunzel didn’t know – with long strands of belts tied to it. Those belts went up, up, up so high it passed above the table and out of sight.

The box had a little door that Hiccup swung open. “Get in here.”

Jack and Merida easily walked in, while Rapunzel craned her head up at the structure.

“What’s this supposed to do?” She asked. She almost missed the door and walked right into the side of the box when Hiccup caught her arm.

“It’ll take us up. Look.” Next to the box was a large red button, bolted onto the table leg. Hiccup pushed the button.

The button lit up bright red. Something hummed above their heads, and then the belts began to move. And they moved the box with it.

Up they went. Rapunzel gripped the rim of the box, which came up to her belly, happy as could be. The ground grew further and further the higher up they went, until they reached the table top and the ride met its end.

There were many things scattered on the table. But what caught Rapunzel’s eye was the structure right in the middle of it. It was a dollhouse. It was very large, at least three stories tall, and made of sturdy, unpainted wood. The best part was that it had a flat roof, with a few chimneys growing out of the corners.

Without a second thought, Rapunzel ran to it and started climbing it. The roof had a much better view of the lights, and she spun around and around and made them all blend together, bumping into Jack or Merida along the way and laughing with them.

The lights went dark.

They blinked at each other, button eyes and plastic and paint.

“… Where’s Hiccup?” asked Merida’s voice.

The door to the roof swung open. “Here.” There was Hiccup. “How do you like it?”

Rapunzel stumbled forward until she found his hand. “Why’d the lights go off?”

“The lights are connected to the outlet over there. I unplugged the wire.”

“Aww that’s not fair.” There was Jack, bumping into both of them. “We were having fun!”

“Look – no, no. Not at me. Look up.”

Rapunzel looked up. With the lights gone, it was easy to see that the ceiling above was made of glass. Through the glass was a blanket of starlight.

The dolls huddled together, hushed by the sight. Something about the light of the stars and the quiet of the room and the darkness that shrouded them made them keep close to one another.

On occasion, one would murmur a thought, or another hum a tune. Some thoughts led to others, which led to strands of conversation.

They passed those conversations between each other, lying on their backs and staring at the sky.

“Of course I remember how I came here.” Jack scoffed. “I escaped.”

“Exciting, I’m sure.” Even in the dark, Merida’s voice carried her eye roll.

“Shush, you. It was either that or they sent us to the scrap pile.” A sigh in the dark, followed by shuffling noises. “I remember hearing them talking, alright? I was supposed to be part of a set. But the other puppets, they said … that we came out wrong. Apparently, we were supposed to have bigger heads or something, be- what was it … exaggerated. We were supposed to have ‘exaggerated features’. But, well, here I am.” Jack waved his arms in the air, so that they showed up black against the sky. “I don’t know what happened to the other puppets from my batch, but I didn’t want to go so soon. So I escaped when no one was looking and ended up here.”

“… Okay, so that’s mildly interesting.”

“What about you, princess? What got you to come here?” Merida gave him a half-hearted shove. He went with it, and then rolled back to flop an arm on her.

“… Just me being myself, I guess.” Merida hummed. “I was up one night with the other dolls. The other Merida ones were alright, and I think … some of the other princesses, too, maybe, and a few more. But the rest of the dress up dolls were so annoying! All they wanted to do was comb each other’s hair or have tea parties or sing songs and that’s it. And like, those things are fine. I don’t mind them. But there should be more to life, shouldn’t there? Like going on adventures and fighting monsters and saving the world.”

“… Like in a story.” Rapunzel said.

“… yeah. Like in a story. Just like that.” Merida reached over Jack and squeezed her hand. Jack made a protest of being smushed, but Merida blew a raspberry at him and Rapunzel patted his head.

It was nice, being like this. Friends were nice.

“Do you remember how you came here?” Rapunzel turned her head to the right, where Hiccup was.

A pause, interrupted by a distant bell chime. “I remember … I remember waking up around books.”

“That’s how he knows so many stories.” Merida said.

“You’re the one who’s been here the longest, I think. Longer than me.” Jack’s voice went softer. “… that’s a long time, isn’t it?”

None of them answered. It wasn’t easy to tell what time was or wasn’t, when one was a doll.

“… Can you think of any story right now?” Rapunzel asked, to fill the silence.

“I think there’s one about the stars? You’re supposed to make a wish on one and it’ll come true.”

“Well, there are plenty of them here so that means plenty of wishes, right?”

“No, um … I’m not sure that’s how it works, Jack.” Hiccup shook his head. “It has to be … there’s supposed to be some other condition to it. Something special about it. Or about the wishing.”

“I know what I’m wishing for.” Rapunzel said. With one hand in Hiccup’s and another in Jack’s, Rapunzel spoke to the stars. “I wish that we can all stay together.”

A moment of quiet, with only their thoughts and the strange fluttering in their chests.

“… For how long?” Merida whispered.

“For as long as we’re friends. We’re friends now, right?”

“… we are.”

“We’re friends.”

“Friends for good.”

Friends to keep. Friends to stay.

In the dark where no one could see it, Rapunzel smiled.

She smiled for the moment and the company she had. She smiled for the lights she’d seen before and the stars she saw now. She smiled for the promise she’d made on the stars.

The stars. What beautiful things. To every corner of the room, to every corner of the sky, they breathed their glittering, infinite light. Like a promise of forever in an ever changing world. That was such a strange concept for lost, little souls, who had no place of their own but where they were, with no perception of yesterday or tomorrow, only the present. Only now.

In the sky, the stars carried wishes. Of things lost and things found.

In the dark, the night carried dreams.

[strangethings-everywhere]

Dust // G.M. x Reader

Masterlist Requested: yes Word count: Warnings: so much angst, wee mention of drug use, cursing, anxiety, allergies Author note: Happy 1917 day! Here’s a lil fluff. As a treat 

You’re a grad student who’s been working in the history library at Cambridge for almost two years and your coworker George Mackay is probably one of the most unbearable, stuck-up, horrendous know-it-alls you’ve ever met. Much to your dismay, he’s devastatingly handsome and the only person who understands your history puns. You hate him.

You arrived at the library almost an hour early, your XL thermos full of coffee and your bag full of snacks. You had just had a breakthrough in your WWI thesis and you needed tons of energy and time to start restoring some of the old photographs and documents you had uncovered. 

Unfortunately, his bags were already at the desk. You bit back a nasty stream of curses as you hung up your coat and pinned on your badge. 

The clicking of your shoes echoed down the hallway as you raced towards your favorite room, praying to the heavens that he wasn’t already there. 

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were going to be here too!”

God fucking dammit.

You turned, a fake smile stretched thin across your face. George Mackay, your fellow grad student, stood behind you clad in a blue button-up shirt, black dress pants, and black dress shoes. His blond hair was disheveled already by the magnifying glasses perched upon his head and his sleeves were already rolled up to make room for the white latex gloves he was wearing. 

He was your absolute nightmare. 

You had met George six months into your adventure at Cambridge. You hated him instantly. He was a know-it-all, constantly correcting you and making sure everyone knew he was the smartest in the room. The two of you were constantly competing at everything, whether it was putting away books or restoring documents. He was also doing his thesis on military history and that drove you crazy. 

You hated his stupidly handsome face. You hated how he looked so good with his sleeves rolled up and you wanted to just explode.

“Yes, I’m here to do some thesis stuff before work.” You said slowly. He grinned.

“Hey me too! Do you want any help?” 

“No, absolutely not.” You turned on your heel and kept walking. 

“Alright, just let me know! I’m always happy to help!” He called. You responded with a firm middle finger, which only made him laugh. 

Work was completely uneventful for most of the morning, as it often was. You avoided George and he avoided you, the two of you only coming together when your supervisor needed help. 

“Hey Y/N?” His voice floated through the shelves, making you pause and almost gag. 

“What, what do you want?” You hissed. His face poked through a hole in the books. 

“Miss Krysty needs us to go find a book in the back. Like, the old dusty labyrinth area.” He grinned, summoning a temptation to keep stacking books where his face was. You restrained yourself. 

“Why on earth does she need us to go back there? No one goes back there?” 

“Because someone requested a book, and it’s in the old dusty back! You’re smart, I thought you would be able to figure that out on your own.” He rolled his eyes. 

You shoved the books in your hand into the cubby, causing him to fall back with a groan. You bit back a satisfied grin as he poked his head through the next available cubby, rubbing his nose. 

“C’mon, she needs both of us.”

“I’m aware. I just have to finish stacking the books.” You sighed. George let out a huff and disappeared. Suddenly, he was at your side, shelving books at lightning speed. 

Deep in your chest, you began to feel something come alive. You recognized the feeling from those nights when you felt lonely or you had come home from a night at the pub. That feeling in your chest had summoned thoughts of George, with his disheveled hair and strong arms and you hated it. But as he stood next to you, shelving books and talking about a documentary he had just watched, you couldn’t help that feeling. 

“Y/N?” His voice snapped you out of your stupor and you realized you had been staring. “We’re done.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Your face burning, you pushed the empty cart to the desk and took a long sip of your coffee. “Alright, what’s this book?”

“I don’t have a title, only an ISBN number.” George held up a slip of paper with his writing on it. “Assuming a book that old will have an ISBN number.” 

“Why didn’t Krysty give you a title?” You asked as the two of you made your way towards the back. 

“The request wasn’t made with a title. Whoever made it only gave the ISBN number and Krysty said the book was in the back.” George shrugged. “I’ve never been in the back.” 

You had, once. It was an absolute maze of boxes and files and dusty old books with almost no organization. The first book hunt had taken you six hours. 

“You’ll get lost in there.” You shook your head and pulled out your key ring. The key for the back was an ornate skeleton key, which made the whole thing even more ominous. The lock creaked as you turned it, ignoring George as he scoffed in the background. 

“It can’t possibly be that… bad…” He trailed off as the door swung open and revealed the contents of the room. 

“Oh. It’s gotten worse.” You mused as you walked inside. “Come on. I don’t want to be here for another six hours.” 

It looked like a library graveyard. Files and boxes were stacked haphazardly against walls and bookcases, while books occupied every square inch of the floor. Cobwebs hung off the edges of the bookcases and dust was everywhere. You felt your sinuses protest at the very thought of entering the room.

Alas, dust must be braved. Sometimes, in the company of terribly handsome morons. 

Flashlights in hand, the two of you began your journey into the deep, picking over the documents and relics with a learned carefulness that only came from working in a library. Since the back room had no system of organization, you could only pray that the book would be somewhere easy to locate. 

George was surprisingly quiet, his usual holier-than-thou attitude absent. You had suspected that it had been replaced by a determination to find the book but as the hours dragged on, you became confused. He was working slower than you and he seemed to get distracted easily. Those were qualities that he would usually tease you about with a grin and a nudge as he brought you coffee, or asked to borrow a tool YOU needed.

“Y/N?” His voice dragged you out of your thoughts. 

“Hm?” You glanced up from your pile. George set down the book he was looking at and wiped his forehead, leaving an ashy streak behind. 

“D’you mind if I go look over there? I think it would go faster if we split up.” His blue eyes darted from side to side, refusing to meet your gaze. 

“Yeah. Just,” you grabbed his arm as he stood, “don’t go too far. You’ll get lost and then I’ll have to launch a search party.” 

He slowly removed his arm from your grasp, flexing it as though it ached. With a single nod to you, he was gone.

You felt smug at first, almost excited at the idea of getting to work by yourself. George was a thorn in your side, a burden to your academic success. A fiendish devil with the shaping of a Greek god, the wit of a Jane Austen protagonist, and the makings of a pure genius. You hated how smart he was because you felt like he was smarter than you but he was truly the only person who had ever challenged your intellect. In another life, you would’ve instantly asked him out for drinks to discuss Shakespeare or psychological theories or the philosophy of mortality. 

Slowly, you began to feel empty. Sorting books and papers in a dusty old room wasn’t the same without someone to argue with. It wasn’t as fun without someone to laugh about funny old titles with. Without George there, you didn’t have anyone to show the old drawing of a brain to. It became miserable. 

You realized that you were stacking things into two piles: things to show George and things that were not what you were looking for. You rubbed your face, ignoring the dirt and grime on your gloves. “Fuck. Fucking fuck.” 

With a heavy sigh, you gathered the pile of things to show George and began to walk in the direction he had gone. You called his name, weaving through piles of books and between shelves. He was nowhere to be seen. You began to wonder if he had forgotten about you or if he had found the book and left. 

“George!” You shouted. The stacks were up to your knees and the dust had gotten thicker, making your eyes water. “George, c’mon. This isn’t funny!” A lump began to form in your throat. You were alright with him teasing you, but him abandoning you in the dark? Not at all. 

You made it back to the beginning, to the door, with no sign of him. It took every ounce of your being not to cry as you tossed the papers in your arms to the ground and burst into the library in a cloud of dust. Your supervisor, Krysty, ran over to you.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” She asked, gathering you in a hug. You burst into tears.

“We couldn’t find the book and George went off by himself and then he left and I couldn’t find him and…” You choked out, chest heaving as you buried your face in Krysty’s shoulder. 

“George? I saw him not ten minutes ago.” 

Tears of fear quickly turned to tears of rage. You stood, almost knocking Krysty to the ground. “Where was he going?” You seethed. She pointed towards the grad student office. 

You had never experienced emotions like the ones you felt as you stormed towards the office. He had left you and you had no idea why it made you so goddamn angry. It’s not like he was your friend. It’s not like he had promised to come back. In fact, he hadn’t said anything at all. 

Images flashed through your mind:

George, bringing you coffee, as you restored a photograph at nearly three in the morning. You didn’t thank him, but he always made sure your mug was full. You never thanked him. 

He always seemed to borrow the tools that you needed. However, they always came back clean and in their proper places without you asking. 

George helping you shelve books. He would always put away the books that were out of your reach. You had assumed he was doing it to belittle you, that his little smile was coming from a place of superiority. You never assumed it was a smile of fondness. 

It couldn’t have been…

You threw open the door to see George leaning over his desk holding a bottle of pills. 

“George?” His name came out choked and confused. He jumped, obviously not expecting you to be there. 

“Y/N, I…” He held up the bottle. “I’m sorry I had to come to take these. I should’ve told you, but it just got so bad.” 

“What are they?” You ripped them out of his hand. “What are you on? Are you a druggie, what is this? Did you leave to get fucking high, what does this say?” You finally found the title of the drug on the label and felt your heart drop to your shoes. 

Allergy pills. George had left you to take allergy pills. You felt like an asshole as you slowly handed them back to him, sat down at your desk, and peeled off your gloves. 

“Y/N?” George kneeled down next to you. “I didn’t mean to leave without telling you. I’ve just got the worst dust allergy and I had to go take some medicine. My eyes were watering so bad I could barely see.” 

“You have a dust allergy.” You shook your head with a small smile. “And you work in a library?” 

“See I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d make fun!” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. You chuckled softly.

“I don’t make fun.” 

“Yes, you do. You make fun of me every day.” He furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Well, I’m… I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I think I’ve been a complete ass these past few months.” 

“Yeah, just a bit.” George grinned. You nudged him playfully.

“But seriously, why on earth would you bring a severe dust allergy to a library? Especially an old one like this?”

His face got red, all the way to the tips of his ears. “I guess… it had something to do with the pretty grad student at the front desk.” He glanced up at you through his eyelashes, his blue eyes full of admiration. 

“I-I thought you hated me…” You gasped, heart pounding.

“Maybe at first, when I realized that you were so much smarter than me. But no, I couldn’t hate you. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for drinks.” George smiled. 

You grinned. The ocean-eyed, history scholar was finally yours and that was what you had wanted all along. “Then you should’ve just asked, pretty boy. I would’ve said yes.”